@ser-brienneoftarth

Tiny fingers pull at his hair and Jaime lets out a groan in his sleep, swatting away the intrusion and rolling over closer to his wife. However, it is mere moments before the space that had been between them is occupied and Jaime finally opens his eyes.

"Good morning, little lion," Jaime sighs. "I believe we established that this is mama's and papa's bed, did we not?"

The boy squeals in delight, launching himself into Jaime's arms.

Arthur was four moons past his second nameday and Jaime was still unaccustomed to the chaos that was raising a child. The boy was like a package of boundless energy and often times, Jaime was asleep with his son on his chest when Brienne returned from her queensguard duties.

In the past few weeks, Arthur had learned the trick of climbing from his crib. It was a rarity now to wake up without the boy nestled somewhere between them.

Duncan David Oliver

Born: 02/14/99

Star Sign: Aquarius

Eastern Star Sign: Bunny

Name in Gaelic:

Donnchadh

MBTI: INFP-T

My custom shirt arrived! See you tomorrow @taylorswift @taylornation <3 

(If you’re looking for a surprise song to play, I Know Places is a pretty good choice)

@thescaledqueen

The cool sea breeze felt good upon his skin, quelling some of the warmth that, as yet, he was not quite accustomed to. Two years in Winterfell had left him hardened against the cold. He had scarcely noticed it by the time they left.

King Bran, after much persuasion from Tyrion, had granted Casterly Rock back into the hands of the Lannisters, allowing Jaime to return to his seat as heir. Of course, his injuries from the Long Night had left him unable to bear any children, but he knew already that the title would pass to Shireen one day.

She sat beside him on the blanket atop the cliffs now, entirely lost in the book she was reading. Since they moved to the Rock and he had given her free reign of the extensive library, she was never without a book in her hand.

"Princess," he says eventually, hand locating his cane that laid on the blanket beside him. "Might you...help me up?"

Learning to walk had been a long and painful process, but he had excelled at it. The maester had told him he would never walk, and yet a year ago now he had regained some movement in his left leg, followed a few moons later by his right.

The snow fall heavily beyond crumbling stone walls and it shows little sign of stopping.

At least the bleeding had stopped.

They'd been on the road when they'd encountered a small group of Stark bannermen. Bronn had taken out two of them, when the arrow had pierced his side. The moment the fourth man had fallen, Jaime had half-dragged Bronn to the small shelter in which they now sat. Jaime had cleaned and dressed the wound using a strip of material from his undershirt- it was the best he could do.

The girl had ran to him before he'd even noticed her. Had she not shouted "uncle Jaime" as she'd bolted towards him, he might have dropped her as she lept into his arms. And, though still weary from battle, he lifts her near as easily as he had when she had scarcely reached his knees in height.

From @severityforgreatness ' ask.

The stench of burning man still pervades his every sense even two days later. He had heard that such a smell is difficult to forget and as it would so happen, there is truth in such a statement.

Daenerys had flown in on her great black beast, obliterating vaste swathes of his army with such reckless abandon that it had struck fear right to Jaime's very core. Of course, he had tried to end it, rode at her with spear in hand, yet his plan had failed magnificently.

"No, I don't expect you to be impressed," he answers coolly as he stands in Cersei'd chambers, ashes and blood still clinging to his skin and armour. He had came straight to her upon his return. "Cersei...this is not a war we can win. If she can slay thousands of men with one dragon, what can she do with three?"

@ladyxredxwolf [plotted]

How many hours has it been since her fingers had first dug into his forearm as they had slept? How many hours since she had sent him to find the maester?

He doesn't know.

It has been nearly four years since they had wed, a forced marriage in an effort to unite north and south. But the war had ended and the pair had, dare he say it, grown to share a genuine love. He had always thought he could never love anyone save for Cersei but gods, how wrong he had been! Sansa had stolen his very heart and he was wholly willing for her to keep it for the rest of their days.

Putting a babe in her had not come easily. Three losses had been suffered along the way and they had begun to accept that their bloodlines would die with them. And then, the Gods had blessed them with not one babe, but two.

Unlike the births of Cersei's children, Jaime had stayed away. Sansa had instructed him to do so- she had no wish for him to see her in pain. And, he supposed, he was glad of it.

But when the maester comes to fetch him what seems like a lifetime later, he barely even wasted a second before following him.

How does she still look so beautiful after such a long ordeal? He is completely in awe of her, even more so as his gaze falls upon the two babes nestled in her arms.

"My love..." he murmured, slowly seating himself beside her and kissing the top of her head. "I- you're okay..."