Disclaimer: It belongs to G.R.R. Martin, not me. Quite simple.

And This One He'd Hold

He needed to see them; that was all Jamie knew as he spurred his horse on cruelly to the cottage. He could only hope that she was there, that everything had gone alright. She was the only thing that had him fighting for his life; everything else was gone. His brother and the new Targaryen Queen had ensured that. They were gone; his children one by one over the past six years and finally Cersei as the Lannister dynasty (in all but name) had toppled spectacularly. He only wanted to see the Maid of Tarth, the woman with whom he had always had a rather unconventional relationship with both before and after they became lovers.

His grief had still not fully registered when he burst through the door to see her there.

"Jamie!" She exclaimed, lowering her sword and straightening from her fighter's crouch. She had changed little in the five years that he had known her. She was still massive with her straw-coloured hair and squashed features and a few missing teeth. Her eyes were still as blue and beautiful as ever, however: her only pretty physical feature. She also still dressed in men's clothes; she currently wore breeches, boots and a loose white tunic with the top buttons undone. It seemed she had been woken recently by the commotion.

"Brienne," he breathed as he stumbled towards her and took her in his arms. Both of them hugged one another one handed with their non-sword hand; he because he lacked a sword hand, her because she gripped a blade in it. He reached up with his sole hand and pulled her face to his to kiss her desperately. She was so different from Cersei, yet he never seemed to mind, something which surprised him to this day.

"Jamie, what's happened?" Brienne asked worriedly as they pulled apart. He closed his eyes tight against the well of grief that threatened to spring forth and leaned his forehead into her. He didn't need to say any more. She wrapped both arms around him briefly as he clung to her, his last rock, the last thing he truly loved.

Before he could manage to answer her question, however, there was a telling, loud whimpering sound from somewhere behind the large woman. He stilled and then looked up at her before glancing down to her abdomen. She shifted slightly to allow him to see a crib in the back corner. Jamie moved slowly around the large woman he had somehow taken into his bed and his heart even if he had not been able to take her to the altar of the Seven. She watched him with those large, pretty blue eyes as he approached the modestly sized crib. The interior was lined with thick blankets; she had clearly stinted herself in order to make the stirring infant within comfortable and warm.

"Is it…" he started as he put his hand lightly on the wood. One could never be certain with Brienne. She tended to make oaths to protect and deliver and serve to whomever she respected. For all he knew the rumors could be no more than that and this could be some tavern wench's child…

"She's yours, Jamie," she said. The Kingslayer looked up at her at these words to see the flash of hurt across her face. Would anyone ever stop misinterpreting him? "Who else's would she be?"

"No one's," Jamie told her, gently touching her cheek with his remaining hand and kissing her before looking back down at the baby. Her little face was scrunched up and her little fists balled as she waved them, still upset at being woken. The Kingslayer couldn't help but smile a little at her display of feistiness. The sound of someone approaching interrupted the tender moment and prompted Brienne to raise her sword again and place herself between the door and him and the baby. Jamie didn't bother. He was certain that he knew who was at the door. Sure enough, it was broken down and the small room was quickly lined with soldiers donning foreign armour followed by short, resounding steps that the Lannister didn't need to look away from the baby to identify.

"I suppose there's no hiding from you, little brother," he said, turning slowly to look over his shoulder. Tyrion stood there flanked by those freakish little soldiers the Dragon Queen had brought with her. The dwarf's face was grim; oddly enough he seemed to take no pleasure in this duty.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "I suppose it was you who strangled our sweet sister?" His words dripped with sarcasm at his description of Cersei. Brienne's blue gaze darted back to Jamie in alarm at this but she said nothing.

"And what would you have done to her? What would your Dragon Queen have done to her?" he asked him quietly, his hands still on the cradle and his back still mostly turned to the dwarf.

"The question is not what we would have done— we would have executed her— of course. It would be what some of her enemies would have done first. You did her a kindness, there's no doubt of that,"

"I couldn't let them butcher her like they did Tommen. Like my son. No point in denying that now. Will you butcher my daughter now, too, I wonder?" there was a sharp edge to his tone and Brienne raised her sword another fraction.

"Your—" Tyrion started before his mismatched black and green eyes flicked to the crib. There was a flash of realization. He glanced at Brienne and blinked, raising his eyebrows briefly but saying nothing. The Maid of Tarth, however, couldn't care less what he or anyone thought of the pair of them at that moment.

"Come any closer and I shall take your heads! I don't care how low to the ground yours is, Dwarf! You will have to climb over my corpse to touch her!" The Lady Knight flared. She wasn't about to let any of them near her child. Tyrion held out his hands in a placating gesture.

"At ease, my lady. Neither myself nor her Grace has a taste for slaughtering babies. Not all queens are my like our sweet, lamented sister, is that not right, Jamie?" Tyrion said, turning from Brienne to his brother as he spoke. He addressed his elder brother directly as he continued. "Your fate is sealed; you have to know that. Theirs is not. Come quietly and I will see that no harm comes to either of them,"

Jamie met his brother's gaze for several long moments before returning his attention to the baby in the crib. She looked back up at him and batted a fist at him playfully. A small, defeated smile crossed his face and he cocked his head slightly as he looked down at her.

"You know," he said without looking away from his daughter "I never held any of my children. None of them. Not once,"

He straightened and looked back at Tyrion. The Dwarf met his gaze. There was a long history between the two of them, and unlike their sister, the dwarf had always held reciprocated affection for his elder brother. Their previous farewell had been on bad terms, but five years was a long time and in Tyrion's opinion, Jamie had suffered enough to earn mercy if not forgiveness. In their separation Tyrion had also come to reflect that their father bore far more blame for Tysha than Jamie and that his brother had never had much of a taste for that particular form violence, that sort of violation. He had certainly never participated in any such horrific act. As far as Tyrion knew, as a matter of fact, the only women Jamie had ever bedded had been their sister and apparently this large, scarred, uncomely woman who stood so fiercely between them. Still meeting Jamie's eye, the dwarf nodded once.

Jamie looked at him a moment longer before he reached into the crib. Lifting the infant out was an awkward task with his one true hand assisted by the unbending contraption of gold that had been fashioned for him. Nevertheless he was determined and somehow, somehow, he managed it. He didn't care about dignity the moment she was in the crook of his arm. He secured her there with his good hand on her little chest and looked at her. He was aware of everyone watching him quietly yet couldn't bring himself to care about a few idle stares.

His child squirmed and complained, sensing the initial precariousness of his grip on her but then settled and looked up at him with mismatched eyes: one clear blue and one bright green.

"Well look at that," he said with a slight, amused huff "Half Tarth, half Lannister,"

He glanced up at Brienne with eyes that were slightly misted with mingled defeat and wonder.

"Have you named her yet?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No. Not yet," the large woman replied, her grip on her sword still tight and menacing. Jamie looked back down at his treasured bundle.

"I don't suppose naming her after the new Queen or her mother or something will give her a better chance?" he asked Tyrion without looking up.

"It's unnecessary," Tyrion told him "I told you, Daenerys won't harm the child. She abhors the killing of babes. Any babes. Even those of her enemies,"

"I see," Jamie responded blankly, running a finger along the curve of his daughter's cheek. The dwarf watched him sadly and took a step forward only to have the babe's mother lower her blade closer to his level. He held his hands up again and retracted his step.

"The youngest of Aegon IV's Great Bastards was Shiera Seastar, a maid renowned for her beauty. She had one blue eye, one green. Like your daughter," he told the unconventional couple gently. Jamie huffed a little with amusement.

"Sounds fitting," he said, a streak of pride in his defeated tone. She will be a beauty. A great, tall, strong beauty. What say you, Brienne?"

The Lady Knight's eyes were as misty as her lover's and she clenched her teeth to keep her lip from trembling as she nodded. She did not share his certainty about the babe's future appearance but had a difficult time pointing something like this out faced with her lover's imminent demise. She looked at him holding their child and fought against the tears that Jamie had already started to shed. A few feet away from them Tyrion took a half step forward.

"It's time for us to go, Jamie," he said "My friends here like to be prompt when carrying out orders from their Queen. They won't wait long,"

"She's the only one…I never held any of the others. Never," Jamie said, his voice strained as he tightened his hold on the baby.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But it's time to go. I can arrange for you to see them again after your trial," Tyrion told him sincerely. Jamie laughed almost hysterically.

"Before my execution, you mean?"

"Yes,"

Jamie looked up at his brother's candidness but was not surprised. He returned his attention to his daughter. He desperately committed every feature to memory, intending to ingrain them on his very sole if he could. He tried to picture how she would look as a child, as a maid, as a woman. His imagination had never been good but he still tried and it brought forth more tears. He closed his eyes against them.

"If I were to tell you that…if I told you that Brienne and I wed in secret could she—could Shiera have my name? The Lannister name?" he asked Tyrion quietly.

"But we—" Brienne started

"Please, Brienne!" Jamie half snapped, half begged. He knew her rigid, stead-fast devotion to her code of honor included resounding honesty outside of emergencies. Nevertheless he wished she could let it go and lie just this once. His voice quieted to a croak when he continued "Please. I want to have left something to my name that isn't Kingslayer or Sisterfucker. Let her be a Lannister. Not just another Hill. Please,"

Tyrion regarded his brother with the same, melancholy, pitying calm.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "I'll take her as my own Ward, if her mother has no objection. She'll want for nothing,"

"You swear?" Jamie pressed.

"By the Old Gods and The New and on my very life," Tyrion said. Jamie nodded. With great reluctance he turned to Brienne to give her the baby. The shield-maiden hesitated and they exchanged a look before she finally sheathed her sword to take the child, though once she had the babe securely in one arm she put her free hand on the hilt of her sword again in a silent warning to the armed men present. Only she and the dwarf heard the Kingslayer whisper his words of love to her as they transferred the product of it. The large woman held the child as tightly and as awkwardly as her one-handed paramour had; she loved her child with a mother's passion but even still mothering— like seemingly all other feminine things— did not come easily to her. She felt helpless in the knowledge that she was not likely to see her lover again as she watched one of the soldiers step forward to clap a set of irons on him.

"Rather a familiar situation, don't you think?" Jamie asked her with a forced cheer, holding up his manacled wrists. A tear slid silently down Brienne's cheek as he was marched forward by his escort.

Jamie paused and looked over his shoulder one last time as they neared the door, his gaze meeting the clear blue eyes that he had always admired before his gaze travelled back down to the mismatched eyes of his daughter. He didn't look away even as he was dragged off and the pair held each other's gaze until the Unsullied had closed the door between them.