A/N: Italics are memories. :)

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It wasn't meant to happen.

It was purely a mistake...just the heat of the moment.

Or...at least, that was what she had been telling herself.

Running those words over and over again in her mind, as if trying to convince herself.

But still...the memories came, breaking through all the other thoughts, drowning them out.

Consuming her.

The feeling of his hands as they stroked down her skin...his finger tips running over het most intimate parts as he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, how I wish you were still mine..."

His honey coated words would say, setting her ablaze as his damp hair brushed lightly against her cheeks, leaning to press his cool lips to the heated skin of her neck.

Even then, years later, standing upon the balcony over looking the crowded throne room she felt her heart quicken, her breath hitching a notch as Sansa's eyes scanned up and over, passing over the heads of the others, disinterested, until...

...there he was.

Exactly how he had been the very day she had arrived at Castely rock and everyday there since it seemed.

Hunched over his books, arms outstretched as his fingers tapped, somewhat impatiently, against the papers spread before him, his shoulders rising and falling with his gentle breathing.

She felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth as some of his golden hair fell into his hooded azare eyes, cast ahead at the man speaking, his name unheard. Her fingers, clenched around the carved marble railing that stretched out along either side if her, itching to reach out and brush the curls back, once again feeling the silky strands running through her fingers. Her eyes slipped shut, her head lowering.

She could still remember it. So well, it seemed, that she could still feel the unique texture.

The foreign feeling of another person's hair cascading down her arms, fanning down her chest and stomach as he ran his tongue across her reddened flesh.

She forced her eyes open, her cheeks growing hot as she ripped her gaze from him and turned it towards the man seated at her side, watching in silence for a moment as he stared down at the circle of men far below with a kind of interest she knew she would never possess. His golden hand laid out over his lap, its shimmering surface catching the faint rays if light that filtered down from the small windows carved above their head.

He wasn't a bad man...not at all.

He was kind to her, gave her whatever he thought she wanted, offered her love and protection and that of her child...

But...

It surprised her when, out if the corner of her eyes, she saw the king suddenly stand and hurry away from the gnarled man, leaned precariously over the great iron throne, watching through curious eyes as the king ran, making his way to the doors as his men rushed forward to pull them open.

"My son!" Tommen called over his shoulder as he hurried, turning back only for a moment to flash a brilliant smile, his arms outstretched at his sides. "Margaery has birthed me a son!"

And, with that, he vanished.

Beside her there was a light chuckle, pulling her gaze down and over, away from the doors that where now slowly shutting.

"It looks as if we have a new member of the Lannister family." Jaime said, the happiness in his tone strained as he met her eyes, finding only distance in their blue depths. "Perhaps baby eyvie will have a little playmate soon."

Slowly, she felt herself nod wordlessly, watching him heave a sigh as he stood, ushering her forward on wobbley legs as she laced her arm through his. The hand, hanging limply down her side tightened into a small fist.

It made no sence...

Yes, it is more than possible to develop feelings for somebody over a significant amount of time...

...but she had known Jaime just as long as Tyrion and she felt nothing.

Nothing but duty whenever he kissed her lips or crawled into bed with her at night, causing her to endure another night of pain and discomfort as she tried to imagine it was Tyrion that was holding her. Loving her.

why couldn't she have felt this strongly when they were married?

She had asked herself this question many times during the last few monthss, and still she had no answer.

"Is everything okay, Sansa?" Jaime surprised her by asking, his voice was low and concerned as it broke through her whirlwind thoughts, silencing them with his simple words. She eased the scowl upon her face smooth and forced a smile as she leaned into his side, turning her face heavenward, her eyes meeting his.

"Yes, my lord..." her voice was not much more then a whisper as she spoke, hoping her words sounded heartfelt. "Everything is fine."

Her lie was feeble, and she knew it. Deceit had never been her strong suit.

She knew he didn't believe it by the way he looked at her, his eyes worried, an eyebrow cocked in accusation.

But still, he said nothing to call her out.

"Hello Jaime."

The voice sent the foreign heat of lust once again raging in Sansa's body, the cold finger of guilt running down her spine in answer as she turned my her eyes from her husband, letting her gaze roll over the beautiful, lion hearted man that was making his way over, his papers hitched under his arm.

"Tyrion." Jaime greeted, outstretching his hand to squeeze Tyrion's shoulder with more force than necessary, the small man's attention not failing to notice as his former wife sank back into Jaime, her eyes downcast as a sick feeling bubbled up in his stomach.

'She should still should be your's...' the little voice in his head said, feeling his eyebrows knit together as her head lowered, as if refusing to look at him.

"Was Sansa always this moody when you were married to her?" Jaime asked in a whisper, his voice yanking Tyrion's gaze to look over, his blue eyes meeting his brothers, slightly surprised by his bold words, before turning back to Sansa and taking her in from head to toe causing the girls cheeks to flare in the way he had always loved.

"Are you alright, Sansa?" he had asked, turning his head from where he laid beside her, his flushed cheek touching the crisp white pillowcase.

She had met his eyes, feeling a shy smile caress her lips as she took him in, burning the image of him stretched out beside her into her memory. His skin pinkened and glistening, his hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks with sweat, one arm outstretched towards her as he rose goosebumps along her skin, his fingers gently stroking her arm as she lost hetself in his eyes...the eyes she had once not even been able to stomach a glance from.

"Yes, Tyrion..." she had heard herself whisper, turning her body to lay a feather like kiss on his reddened, swollen lips. "Always..."

"My lady."

She was snapped back to reality by the gentle touch of his warm fingers winding their way through hers, pulling her down until she was level with him, his face mere inches from hers...so close...

...so close Sansa could feel his warm breath fan over her face as she resisted the urge to lean in and take in his scent.

Wine and rain. The odd combination that always seemed to hang on his skin.

A scent as familiar to her as the fresh morning snow that floated to the frozen ground at Winterfell when she was a child.

"Tyrion..." she had said, looking over at the scarred man at her side, his eyes closed, a peaceful look easing its way across his face.

"Hmmm..." he had said, his fingers slowly making their way through her tangled, bed mussed hair, letting the long, auburn strands fall over his arms and his face as she came to lean over him, he bed creaking with her shifted weight.

"Nobody...can ever know..." His eyes had opened at Sansa's words, settling on hers . "Not your father or your sister...not my brother or Jaime...Especially not Eyvie..."

It had been on the tip of his tongue to say that he understood. That is was alright.

But...it wasn't.

"It...is what is best, I suppose.." He finally replied, pulling his hand away ever so slowly as he dropped eyes, but not before a flash of sorrow shot through their bottomless depths, tearing into her heart like a knife. "Eyvie doesn't deserve this pain..."

"Oh, Tyrion..." Sansa suddenly sobbed, her head falling at her shoulders. "How did it ever come to this...why did we ever let it go this far..."

"I..." and, or once, he found he was speechless, only finding himself able to stare over at her as she slowly shook her head. "I do not know, my love."

Choking back another sob Sansa shot out, locking her arms around his neck, her hands resting just right on his back as to feel the steady beat of his heart thud against her finger tips. Like she had many times before she buried her face into his shoulder as his fingers slid up her spine to disappear into her hairline, pulling her close.

"Tyrion...I-"

"Are you okay?" he asked, a small twinkle hidden deep within his sapphire eyes.

A twinkle just for her.

She felt heat crawl up her neck and reddened her cheeks as she dropped her eyes to the ground beneath her only to look back seconds later, meeting his eyes as a small smile appeared against her lips.

"Yes, my lord..." she said, her voice soft as she watched his smile widen and warm as the words fell from her tongue onto his ears. "Always..."

"Tyrion...I-" She had cut off, her lips parted as she looked over at him, trying to find the words as he stared back at her through his eyelashes, driving all conherent thoughts away. "I..."

"I know..." he chuckled sadly, reaching up a hand to run his thumb along he silky texture of her cheek, a warm, loving smile splitting his lips and lighting up his eyes. "I love you too, my Sansa Stark. I always have."