Work Text:
Jaime found his wife sobbing quietly on the nursery’s floor.
At first he thought she was hurt, so he ran to her side, where she was propped up against the wall, and knelt next to her. “Brienne?” he asked softly, placing his stump on her shoulder and his other hand on her wrist as she kept her face buried in her hands. “Honey, is everything okay? Are you hurting anywhere? Should I call a doctor?”
Brienne shook her head wordlessly but refused to look up at him and her shoulders kept shaking as the tears continued to run down her wrists and forearms. Jaime remained in his spot, worried about what might be wrong. “Brienne, please. Tell me what is happening so I can help you.” If it was something about their daughter, she would surely tell him; but her feeling unwell was just as terrifying for him.
“She’s so tiny,” she mumbled into her hands. Little Joanna Lannister was currently sleeping in her crib, by the opposite wall, the lions, suns and moons mobile above her head. They had put a lot of thought into designing the nursery; it was filled with soft blues and gray blues, with yellow accents and light wood. Brienne had wanted to make sure the colour wouldn’t depend on their child’s sex, let alone the gender written on the birth certificate. And blue reminded them of all the best things in their life - of Brienne’s eyes, of the sea they visited often, of that cheap ikea sheets Jaime had torn by accident while taking them out of the washing machine, which caused Brienne to laugh so hard she had stubbed her toe on the laundry basket. Blue was the colour of the engagement ring Brienne wore, of the baby blanket they had both tried to knit and failed miserably, yet decided to put in Joanna’s crib anyway because it was very soft. It was not the colour of his daughter’s eyes, even though Jaime had hoped it would be, but he loved her the same.
He moved from his spot on the carpet to sit next to Brienne, pressing his body against her side and keeping his stump on her shoulder.
“She’s so...precious,” Brienne’s voice came out as if she was describing something holy, and it mirrored how Jaime felt about their child - something sacred, to be protected and cherished. “What if I hurt her, Jaime? What if I’m a bad mother?”
“You’re not.” Jaime’s stump moved from Brienne’s left shoulder to her right, his arm wrapping around her body. “You thought about it. You’re still thinking what to do to be the best mother she could ask for.”
Brienne sniffled and her voice still sounded choked as she spoke - yet it remained quiet, so Jo could sleep. “Thinking isn’t what she needs. She needs a mother who can act and who can do all those good things she deserves, not merely think about doing them.”
“You’ve already done things to ensure she’s well,” he argued softly.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Finally, Brienne slid her hands into her lap and leaned back against the wall and Jaime’s arm. “I don’t remember my own mother. I didn’t have aunts or friends I was close enough to visit at home. And my dad tried but he’s as awkward as I am. He hasn’t seen when I was bullied and didn’t know that he was playing into the toxic stereotypes, even though he had tried his best to raise me. What if I’m the same? What if I’m not what she needs?”
Jaime turned his head to kiss his wife’s temple. While standing, she was taller than him - but it was all in the legs, so when they sat together, they were the same height. “The facts of the case speak against this theory.” He heard her bark a short laugh through her tears and counted it as a small victory. “You have done extensive research even before we started trying for a baby. You know much more than what your father has known back then, and I know that, if new information resurfaces, you will research it and not be afraid of changing your ways.” Just as Brienne did for her work, she adapted quickly in life when obtaining new information and wasn’t afraid of admitting she had been wrong, apologising and changing her ways to accommodate someone’s needs. “And you have a support group your father didn’t have.” Jaime wasn’t talking about himself. Yes, he was the husband and supported her, but parents needed external support to deal with different life shit and raise well-functioning and healthy children. Sometimes she or he called Catelyn, asking if a certain behaviour was normal or if they should consult a doctor. Sometimes they needed to rant to someone about how Jo didn’t know day from night and all they could do was nap and take turns feeding and changing her. Sometimes the things just piled up so badly that they needed to press pause and spend an hour by themselves, while the other took care of their precious cub. They were not alone in what they were doing, their family and friends being there for them so they wouldn’t reach a breaking point. Which might be the point in this case.
“Would you like me to look after her as you take a break?” he asked.
“No,” her reply was soft but firm. Brienne’s right hand sought out his blindly, and he reached and tangled their fingers together on his thigh. Her hand was slightly dry because she hadn’t applied her hand cream for a while, the skin broken in one place. Jaime made a mental note to take a moment to rub some gentle hand cream into her hands. She dabbed her eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, the skin there red and probably sore. “I’m so afraid because I love her so much.” Her face crumpled and a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes then ran down her cheeks.
Jaime pulled her closer.
“I love her so, so much, I don’t even know what to do with this love. I get frustrated when she won’t let me fucking sleep for eight hours straight or when my boobs are sore. but I still love her so, so much. I would give her a star from the sky if she asked for it.” Brienne rested her head on Jaime’s shoulder and he pulled her even closer. “And I miss my work. I miss it so fucking much.” She dabbed at her nose with her sleeve and Jaime let go of her hand to take a tissue out of his pocket. “Thank you,” Brienne replied then blew her nose and crumpled the tissue in her hand.
“I’m sure Cat would send something over if you asked her,” Jaime suggested tentatively. They were not workaholics but they loved what they were doing. “Or you could check some of my files.” They had taken three months off together after Joanna had been born; then Jaime had gone to work part-time for two months as Brienne remained home with their kid. In two weeks they would switch, with her working part-time and him staying at home with their baby.
“Thank you,” she mumbled again, her voice no longer sounding as if she was currently crying. “But I still love her.”
“I know. I love her too.”
His tone made her look up. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were blotchy red.
“I love you too,” Jaime said. “And I will love you always.” As lawyers they had both developed that odd quirk that simply wouldn’t allow them to promise something without conditions. Jaime always laughed when Tyrion complained how he couldn’t simply agree to meet without adding that the meeting would happen ‘as long as the circumstances would allow it’. Brienne had said countless times that she would buy apples ‘if they would be in the store’ or go for a morning jog with him ‘if the weather allowed it’. But their declarations of love never had any conditions - and even ended with one or the other declaring they would love the other always .
“I love you too,” Brienne declared quietly, then rubbed the crumpled tissue under her nose.
They both looked at the sleeping Joanna. She hadn’t even moved ever since they had started their conversation.
“Look at her,” Jaime said, even though Brienne’s eyes were already trained on their daughter. “Such a good kid for her mommy, letting her cry in peace.”
Brienne’s laugh was watery but when Jaime turned his eyes to her he saw she hadn’t started to cry again. “Thank you,” she told him sincerely.
“You did the same for me many times.” Tywin Lannister hadn’t been the model father either, and with his own mother gone, Jaime also hadn’t had many parental role models. He had also given up on the idea of finding someone before he had met her. Not only had Brienne brought him back from his panicking about not knowing how to be a good parent countless times before, she had also never said a word when he had woken up from nightmares and brought their daughter to sleep with them, her body against his assuring him that she was real. The only thing Brienne did during those nights, was to place her hand on his shoulder, her warmth seeping into his skin and telling him she was real as well and not merely a figment of his imagination.
“Still.” She reached out for his hand again and looked down at their tangled fingers before looking up again. “I want to make you feel loved and appreciated.”
There was no other way to reply to that but lean in and kiss her softly, their joined hands resting on the carpet between them. Her lips tasted of dark chocolate, her favourite, and she sighed so quietly Jaime barely heard it. But he had - and he loved her even more in that moment.