Brienne drags her left palm against the dust of the Keep's balcony. She drags her dirty hand across her face, letting the remnants of ash caress her cheek. Down she goes, her fingers kissing her lips, encroaching her throat, trailing the scar down her chest.
Brienne holds their baby in her sword hand. She bathes her free hand in more debris, over and over again until it's black. She touches the baby's rose nose and cheeks like ripe peaches, in the first fuzz of his golden hair and above the same flickering green eyes that once made her sick with love. It's like war paint almost, as the two of them are covered in the dust and ashes of a thousand burned bodies. One of them must be Jaime.
"My Lady—"
She ignores the septa in their room. Brienne will wash him. She'll take care of him. She'll love him.
There's no moon tea before her tonight. It is only the real moon and her, the ashes of the dead and their child on her balcony. How long will the ashes be there to hold? How long can she expect to have them for, to kiss the crevices of her body only the moon has seen? When will the wind take him away?
A thousand men hold her in the dust, and it's a price Brienne doesn't mind paying. It's only in the ash Jaime's with them, after all.
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In the Name of the Mother
FanfictionThe one where Jaime dies killing Cersei, and Brienne is left with more than the memory of her first love.
