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It isn't until Brienne fails to appear at the evening meal that the prickle of unease in Jaime's stomach solidifies into worry.
It's not unusual for him not to see Brienne for most of a day. Tarth is still rebuilding after the ravages of war and the new Evenstar has much to do. But normally he at least catches glimpses of his wife as they go about their duties. Today he has not seen her at all.
One look across the main hall is enough for Pod to convey he also hasn't seen his lady ser in some time. Jaime immediately backtracks from the room and hurries to their chambers, but Brienne is not there either.
He checks the solar, the kitchens, the armory, even the sept, but Brienne isn't any of the usual places. Brienne knows Evenfall far better than him. There are a dozen hidden spots she could be lurking he might never stumble upon. He returns to their rooms, wishing there was more light, but chilly rain had rolled in during the evening, and even if it hadn't, the thin crescent of the new moon had set hours ago.
As he sits before the fire, thinking of the moon, the pieces connect in his mind.
Seven hells.
He's tempted to rush out the door and summon an army of servants with torches to search the hall and find his lady wife instantly, but that would draw attention that would only make Brienne feel worse.
He sends a message to the kitchen instead, asking them to bring a platter with bread and cheese for the lady and settles in to wait, staring at the flames.
Why? Why let me sire three bastards on my own gods damned twin sister but not father a trueborn child I could care for?
Why do this to *her*? The woman who deserves the best of this world and whatever comes after, who has kept Your faith better than any mere mortal could in this wretched fucking world? It wasn't enough that You damned her with loving me, a crippled oathbreaker who soiled her reputation, You can't even allow her a child?
As he broods, he can imagine what Brienne is thinking. She is hiding not just from the others but from him, and he knows exactly why.
He begins to marshal his arguments. The second she steps foot through the door he will disabuse his lady knight of any idea that this is her fault.
In the end, he doesn't, though, for when the door finally creaks open Brienne enters dripping rainwater and pale as a wight, her eyes red. Jaime nearly leaps to his feet and takes her in with one look before he calls for the maid and begins to fuss over her, scolding her for being out in the storm and letting herself get soaked through.
He hopes the condescension in his voice will provoke her usual reaction but it fails this time. She remains disturbingly compliant as he manhandles her out of her sodden clothes and dries her off and helps her into a clean shift. He wraps her in a fur blanket before the fire and pointedly looks at the tray the maid brought up as he brews hot tea.
She nibbles at a piece of bread but takes only a portion before setting it down again. He puts the mug of tea in her hand. She catches his hand with her free one, and he cannot bear the tears gathering in her eyes as she steels herself to tell him what he has already deduced.
"Jaime-"
"I know." Her blue eyes search his face and he attempts to tease her. "I can mark the cycle of the moon, wench."
She flinches back from him. Jaime refuses to release her hand.
It's been nine moons since they arrived on Tarth, with no sign of a child for the last six, which was when Brienne stopped drinking the moon tea.
"You should go," Brienne says, her voice barely a whisper, not looking at him. The words strike at his heart and he has to remind himself that she thinks she is sparing him instead of depriving him of the only reason he has to rise from bed every day.
"Is that an order, my lady? Do you want me to leave?"
"You should," she says, her voice harsh with the tears she is trying not to shed. "Find someone who can…" Her words fail and she looks down at her lap, staring into the mug of tea as if she can see the future there.
His heart aches with love for her, his fearless warrior, commander of men, knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the Evenstar of Tarth who faced armies of the dead and armies of the living, and the soft, womanly heart she has had to hide from the world that has always beat underneath her armor.
He goes to his knees before her. "Go find an actual woman, you mean? Some fertile young thing who can bear me a litter of cubs, unlike a broken, scarred freak? That's what you've been speaking to yourself out in the dark, isn't it, Brienne?"
Her body jerks at his words but he keeps his place and his grip on her hand. He knows the words sting but he has learnt through hard-won effort what happens when his love dwells too long with her own doubts and fears.
"You are too quick to blame yourself, my lady, and it is my sworn duty as your lord husband to defend you from any who would slight you, even yourself. Also you seem to be assuming the fault cannot be with me."
She gapes at him. "Jaime, you've.. you sired three children-"
"More than ten years ago, now, and those years have not been kind to me. There is no saying everything my body has endured since then has not rendered it impossible for me to produce any more. Perhaps it is the gods judgment for my sins. But the only way to be sure, ser, would be for you to set me aside and find man who is not a crippled old fool who might be a better match for you."
That suggestion, finally, ignites the battle fire in his wife's eyes. "You are not crippled or old, though a fool you very well may be. I don't want anyone else!"
"Neither do I," he reminds her, his voice as gentle as he can make it, to atone for pricking at her with his words. Brienne subsides at that, her fingers brushing against his in her lap. "I love you, wench. I am your husband, from now until the end of our days."
Brienne breaks as she whispers the words back to him and they end up sitting on the floor before the fire in a tangle of limbs. When they climb into bed, Brienne lays with her back facing him, and Jaime settles himself behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife, his face against her neck. Usually they sleep the other way around, but on this night she needs the comfort more than he does.
In the morning, they speak of more practical matters. The maester will examine them both, but in the meantime, Jaime observes that there are other options. "There are any number of children left without families in the aftermath of war. We could adopt a whole brood of them if you like."
"One would be enough," Brienne says, her cheeks flaring red in discomfort. "Are we to just… it feels strange to look for an orphan to adopt, as if it were acquiring a horse from a market."
He has to laugh at that. "I am not suggesting we shop for a babe, my lady. Merely that we remain open to what may be, if the right circumstances should present themselves."
She mulls that over and nods and they both go about their days.
*~*~*~*~*
The maester finds no evident reason why Brienne has not conceived. Nothing appears wrong with either of them. The man says such things can take time, which is not a great comfort.
Jaime struggles with the feeling of anxiety that often overcomes their lovemaking now. Too much is at stake each time they come together, and it cannot be helping either of them to worry so much about it.
*~*~*~*~*
Another three moons pass thus before a pirate raid on the eastern shore of Tarth summons the Evenstar and her lord husband to a village badly damaged and smoking in the aftermath. Jaime immediately begins revising the plans for the shore defenses they have been working on. He won't leave their people unprotected if he can avoid it.
A cry interrupts his thoughts and he walks to where Brienne is speaking to a young woman holding a squalling babe. "Not mine, m'lady," the girl is saying. "His mother was struck when the cottage there burned down. I took him in to nurse as there's naught else around recently with child to feed him, though I don't know how I can look after him and my own little one for long."
Brienne glances at Jaime and he recalls their conversation of months earlier. "What of his father?" he asks the girl.
Dead, it appears, also at the hand of the pirates. The father was of Tarth but lost most of his family in the war, so there are no relations in the village to take charge of the child.
Jaime holds his arm out and the girl deposits the babe against Jaime's chest. The boy quiets and blinks up blue eyes at Jaime.
"His name is Duncan," Brienne says, standing close and looking down at the boy.
Not a bastard, or a noble-born, but a strong and healthy child in need of a family. The right circumstances, indeed.
*~*~*~*
The first sennight is difficult, even with the nurse found hastily to take on the care of the child. Other parents have several moons to prepare for this; they have had barely a day on the journey back to Evenfall. Jaime has only passing experience with infants, as he was barely allowed to speak to his own children for fear of the secret surrounding their lineage. Brienne has even less and she looks terrified each time she is close to being left alone with the boy.
Jaime is pacing before the fire in the nursery one night, trying and failing to get the babe to sleep. Brienne finally comes in and Jaime all but shoves the child into her arms in his frustration.
She settles the little one against her broad shoulder, one arm awkwardly holding him in place. Duncan blinks up at her as she carefully wipes the tears from his cheeks. He gives a little sigh and snuggles into her embrace, his head over her heart.
They stand there together long after Duncan is asleep, Brienne staring down at the baby, Jaime watching them both. He can feel the seed of something take root in his heart, like a flower emerging from the darkness.
*~*~*~*~*
When six moons have passed since Duncan's arrival, life in Evenfall Hall has been shaped around the adopted son of the Evenstar and her husband. Jaime spends more time with the boy, his days being slightly less consumed with endless meetings than Brienne's, but when bedtime arrives, no substitute will work.
Jaime is using every trick he knows, but nothing is working. Duncan's eyes remain stubbornly open and his mouth is turned down in a way that looks quite like Brienne's. "You are definitely your mother's son," Jaime tells him, meaning every word, bloodlines be damned.
She appears soon after, thankfully, taking the babe from Jaime smoothly. He can see the smile lurking at the corners of her mouth about the whole thing, but what matters is getting Duncan to sleep.
Once the baby is settled for the night, Brienne joins him in their chambers to eat. She seems well, but as they catch each other up on their respective days, she takes only a few bites of her meal before turning green and bolting for the chamber pot in the corner.
He summons the maester over her objections. She had been down at the docks the day before and ships can bring in illnesses. Brienne protests that she doesn't feel unwell now that her stomach is empty, but that protest only lasts until the next morning, when she is sick again.
Looking at her pale face over the chamber pot, Jaime sees a realization hit her before it hits him.
"How long?"
"Two months."
"Seven hells."
*~*~*~*~*
They wait another sennight and then summon a midwife as well as the maester as discreetly as possible. Both agree, Brienne has all the signs of being with child. It is early yet, and they decide to tell only Podrick and a few others for the time being.
In the evening, Jaime finds Brienne already in Duncan's nursery, holding the boy and looking out the window at the sunset. Spring is arriving at long last.
It is strange to feel conflicted about this moment, when he and Brienne have desired the babe she carries for so long, but Jaime can see his own inner war in his wife's face.
"He's our son," she says, her voice both fearful and fierce at the same time.
"Ours." Jaime nods, his hand going to the baby's warm back as if to shield him. "But if there is a trueborn heir, that will matter. They might not accept Duncan as the heir if there is another child with the right bloodlines."
"It could set them against each other." Brienne presses a kiss to Duncan's head. "I was thinking about the Starks. If Jon Snow had been raised with the truth, that he was their cousin, and not a bastard, how differently things might have turned out."
"Robert would have killed him," Jaime says flatly.
"I know. But if Ned had been honest with Lady Catelyn, if they had all known, if Jon had known who he was…"
He should have expected this suggestion from the most honorable woman in Westeros. "You propose to raise Duncan as our son and this babe as our heir?"
"Duncan is ours. There is nothing shameful about his birth or how he came to be part of our family."
"And if it causes dissension between them?" He thinks of a thousand vicious fights between Lannisters about one thing or another. Dread coils in his belly at the thought of his own children reenacting such viciousness at each other.
She considers it fairly. "It may. But if we teach them well, love them both… it won't be easy, but when have we ever done anything that was easy?"
Brienne gives him a small smile, the closest to mischievous she can look, and Jaime has to laugh. He gathers his family in his arm and kisses his beloved's scarred cheek. "Never, wench, never."