Keeper

BONUS CHAPTER THREE: Nightmares

Blame me being too intrigued by House of the Dragon for this. I've also been pulled into ASOIAF tiktok... and it's sparked my love for Jaime again for the first time in three years. There might be some WHAT IF chapters coming after this.... 

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It's hard to forget the sound of the man you love screaming in the middle of the night. The first weeks in their little cottage on Tarth are some of the hardest. While Aislynn sleeps soundly in her cradle in the other room, Jaime often finds himself woken by nightmares he thought he'd never have to dwell on again. 

The blade buried in his sisters belly. 

The child who never lived. 

The blood on Rhaella's hands and lips. 

There were many nights where he was able to catch himself before waking his lady wife, who slept soundly - for those few precious hours she could as someone who had a new born - at his side, her fingers loosely wrapped around the curve of his hip. 

On those nights he'd woken up before the screaming started, Jaime Lannister would kiss Rhaella Targaryen-Lannister's fingers and slip from the bed to spend his nights on the sea shore outside of their cottage. 

There were more nights than not where he was, however, woken by the sound of his wife's pleading voice to just wake up. 

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Jaime liked to act like she was oblivious to his struggle. He liked to act like she didn't wake every time he slipped from the bed, stirred by the lack of warmth at her side and the gentle thrum of his heartbeat under her ear. 

On those nights she did wake up, Rhaella fed their littlest dragon and coaxed her back into sleep before joining her husband on the shoreline. 

Worn hands belonging to a dragon rider traveled the expanse of a broad, warm chest as she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her chin into his shoulder. Jaime sighed softly and leaned into the welcomed embrace of his wife. 

  "Come back to bed, my love." 

And most days, he did. 

This day, however, was the worst one she'd seen since they left Westeros. He'd turned in earlier then normal with the complaint of joint aches from wearing his hand too long in court - as Selwyn had begun requesting his presence as his newly appointed Master of War - and had yet to remerge from their bedroom. 

The whimpering was what led her to their bedroom door. Aislynn was poised against her shoulder, fisting the fabric of the tunic she'd stolen from Jaime to occupy herself by teething on it. He'd be thrilled to know his daughter thought his shirts tasted so good. 

  "Jaime?" 

The moment her hand wrapped around the door, a blood curdling scream of Cersei's name broke through the peace of their cabin and simultaneously frightened Aislynn into a fit of tears. 

  "CERSEI!" 

There's nothing quite like the heartbreak you experience when you can't save the man you love from himself. From the things that haunt him, from the choices he's made, from the mistakes that plague him. Even so far away from Westeros, Jaime just can't seem to let go of the memories of the throne room that keep him from peaceful sleep. 

  "Jaime," Rhaella pleaded, bouncing Aislynn back and forth to silence her frightened cries as she slowly entered the bedroom to try and rouse her husband. "Jaime, my love, please wake up. You're frightening the babe-" 

Had she not had such quick reflexes, Rhaella would've been the victim of a very nasty right hook to the face. 

His flesh hand just managed to catch her in the eye instead. 

Jaime snapped awake at the collision, green eyes wide with alarm as he struggled to ground himself to reality -- He was in his house, not the throne room, tucked into the bed he shared with his wife and not standing over his sister's dead body. 

  "Rhaella?" He called out, grimacing at the hoarseness of his voice as his gaze sought out the form of his wife. "Rhaella? Where-" 

His heart sank when he caught her in the corner by the door, cradling her face with one hand and their baby with another. He'd seen her fly dragons and fight wights, he'd seen her in the face of adversity and he'd seen her against people who would've rather seen anyone but a woman sit the Iron Throne. 

There was nothing quite comparable to the terror he was witnessing on her in that moment after waking. 

  "Jaime," She said quietly. "Are you alright?" 

  "You're asking me if I'm alright-" 

  "Because I've been feeling your nightmares and the sleepless nights for weeks, and I've done nothing but sit idly by waiting for them to fade like the memory of what I did to Cersei will just fade." She snapped. "I should've known better."

Jaime slipped from the bed and moved across the room to kneel in front of Rhaella, resting the palm of his flesh hand against his little girl's back. "Give me Aislynn," He murmured. "Let her father put her back to sleep." 

Rhaella was aware that Aislynn was her father's daughter, through and through. She had favored him from those very first moments she knew him. 

  "I'm sorry, little lion," Jaime murmured as he cradled his daughter in the crook of his arm. Aislynn whimpered and curled closer, face hidden by Jaime's tunic as he swiped at his face with his other hand while moving into the living room. "Father didn't mean to do it, you know. Sometimes our minds just like to hurt us more than we can hurt ourselves." 

Rhaella hadn't even noticed she was crying until she had found enough strength to stand and look at herself in the mirror. Even in death, she still can't leave us alone. She swept the pads of her fingers under her eyes and grimaced as pain flashed through the right side of her face. 

  "By the Seven," She muttered, gently probing the swollen skin. "That's gonna leave a mark." 

  "I'm sorry, Rhaella." The former Queen turned to look at her husband over her shoulder where he stood in the doorway, face hidden by a veil of grey and white hair as he cast his eyes to the floor. "I don't know what came over me. Are you hurt?" 

  "I've been hurt far worse, Jaime." She replied. "Come here. Please." 

Jaime reluctantly shuffled across the floorboards and took her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder as she raked her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I love you," He said quietly. "But it's hard." 

  "Grieving?" 

  "Yes." 

She nodded and pressed both hands to the nape of his neck, dragging his head upward to press their foreheads together. Jaime moved to rest a hand on her hip and slowly began to move in time with her. Back and forth, back and forth. 

It helped. 

  "Dreams pass in time." Rhaella whispered. "And grief, though difficult, numbs down to an ache that just tells you that you miss them. Grieving her is okay." She cradled his jaw in her hand and smiled. "But you don't need to do it alone." 

You don't need to do it alone. 

  "My Lady," Jaime said. "I would be honored if you would take me to bed." 

Rhaella grinned wickedly. "Now when you put it like that-" 

  "I meant to sleep, you wicked woman." He murmured low in her ear. "I sleep better with you beside me." 

She laced her fingers through his own and tugged him toward the bed. "Well come on then, handsome." Rhaella mused. "We could both use a good three hours of sleep before your daughter wakes." 

  "If she wakes before sunrise, she's your daughter." Jaime argued. 

  "Semantics. Bed. Now." 

For the first time since he'd stood in those hallowed halls, Jaime Lannister allowed his wife to curl against him and rest her head against his chest, fingers wound around his hip as she drifted into sleep. 

The winds and the crashing of the waves lulled him into the best sleep he had for quite some time after that.