Your marriage to Jaime had been unexpected, and on your part, unwilling. Nearly all marriages in Westeros were.

He had to leave the Kingsguard. You had to wed the Kingslayer.

But quickly into the affair you had fallen with child. Much to the plan of Jaime's father, Tywin. There needed to be heirs, a secure future for their house.

Pregnancy had taken a toll on you that you did not expect. Constantly tired, constantly sore, everything practically a hell on your back since around halfway in. It was difficult.

Jaime wasn't blind to all of this in the slightest. No, he wasn't as dull as many people had thought.

He saw how you ached. How you complained. How nearly every night now you would wake and pace the room until your restlessness subsided.

And even though he did not know how to properly comfort you, he tried.

You were nearly at the end of it all. Your form stretched so much hardly any gown or kirtle fit anymore. It had been a great expense to have new ones made.

But Jaime tried to be good. So in the night during one of your fits of being awake he had decided to leave the bed and comfort you.

"It isn't easy, my lady." Jaime whispered, settling in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and settling on your front. "The kicking and the moving. They're practically clawing to break free."

You just sighed to yourself because he was right. It did feel that way.

"When my sister was carrying her eldest, it wasn't easy for her either you know." He began to sway you lightly, just moving you to keep you calm. "And soon we will have this babe, or babes, pink and squalling in the cradle, leaving you sore and swollen for your efforts."

And he was right again. Because after all this time, that is how things would be.

It was all so difficult.