Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/GOT. All I own is a turkey sandwich, a pair of rollerblades, and a goldfish called Gorbachev. Seriously.
Jaime's return home is met with as much fanfare as can be expected. Joffrey is indifferent to the return of the disfigured "uncle" who took barely any interest in him; Tywin raises his eyebrows at the sight of his son's bandaged hand, asks who is responsible, and promptly returns to his scheming; Tyrion greets him with his customary dry wit, declaring loudly that he has "come to give his brother a warm hand of welcome – after all, he needs it desperately". He leaves his reunion with Cersei for last, choosing to meet with his golden-haired twin in the privacy of her chambers. In one swift moment, she takes him in – his hollow eyes, his tattered rags, his vile disfigurement – and she hardens. "And how do you suppose a lion without its claws will survive in this world, dear brother?" she asks.
It's to be expected, really. After all, Jaime is no longer the Golden Knight of King's Landing. He is a cripple - relegated to the farthest corner of the room, mercifully forgotten. No longer a soldier and unable to strategize and understand politics like Tyrion, he is a far greater embarrassment to the family than his younger brother ever was. Lannisters do not tolerate such weakness.
Unfit for anything else, he chooses to be saddled with the task of guarding his brother's young wife, the Lady Sansa.
Lady Sansa is not the child he remembers. With her fiery red hair and porcelain skin, she has developed into an unnervingly beautiful woman. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, Jaime accompanies the girl everywhere from her daily walks in the garden to her time spent tending to sick peasants and passing out gold coins in the local village. Sometimes, he thinks she's just another empty pretty face. After all, even after all the deaths of her Stark clan, she swears her loyalty to Joffrey. She tells anyone who is willing to listen of her love for her dwarf husband, her admiration for the Queen Regent, and her shame in once sharing the name of a family that so openly defied the king that beheaded her own father. At court, she beams at the prospect of new dresses, blushes in the presence of handsome knights, and giggles at idle gossip. She claps her hands excitedly when the bards sing of her beauty, kindness, and grace and bows her head in the presence of all the arrogant lords and ladies of the court, reminding them all of her joy in taking the Lannister name as her own.
And yet, there are moments when he wonders if her shallow smile and dull conversation mask an angry wolf, eager to bear its teeth.
i.
Jaime's first glimpse of Lady Sansa's true character comes less than a month after his return to King's Landing. As he returns to his chambers one lazy summer afternoon, he spots the good lady striding purposefully along the Eastern corridor, curiously separate from her usual throng of ladies maids and castle guards. Suspicion aroused, he casually follows Lady Sansa into the armory - only to catch his sister by law slipping a bejeweled dagger into the billowing sleeves of her afternoon dress.
"My dear Lady Sansa" he smirks "If I had known you were so interested in weaponry, I could have procured you a real sword long ago".
She drops the small blade in a gasp. "Ser Jaime!" her mouth then quickly twists into a smile "Didn't anyone ever tell it's improper to sneak up on a lady?"
He laughs, "Well, it's a good thing I'm not a proper lord then, isn't it? Tell me, what could a lady like you want with this pretty bit of metal? Are you concerned I won't be able to protect you for the hordes of squires and servant boys falling madly in love with you?" He lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Don't try to deny it, now – it's written all over your face. You're trying to steal my job."
"And be robbed of your presence? I'd die of the heartbreak."
He laughs long and hard at her response. It's the first time he finds himself feeling something rather than utter contempt for himself and everyone around him and he can't help but feel a sense of appreciation for the little red head.
ii.
His new sister is a tireless angel of mercy in the outlying villages – the thought makes him roll his eyes and, purely out of habit, compare her to a different, golden-haired Lannister. Cersei would've never stooped so low. Begrudgingly, he trudges along behind her as she stops to offer kind words and parcels of food to the locals.
As Lady Sansa slips a small package into the blacksmith's filthy hands, he takes it upon himself to guard the wagon from the grubby hands of half-starved children. He is halfway through snatching a loaf of bread from the grasp of an especially cross old woman when he catches Sansa stealing off into one of the houses. Curious, he lets go of the bread and walks towards the house in question. As he stops to listen outside the door, he overhears a conversation that is clearly not meant for his ears.
"And you're certain you can deliver my message? There are spies everywhere – one misstep could be our undoing."
"I will not fail, Lady Sansa."
"My father and brother had every faith in you, ser. I will trust you to serve me just as faithfully." Her footsteps creak on the wooden floor.
"Gods be with you."
As the door then swings open, Jaime does his best to feign ignorance.
The rest of the outing goes generally without incident. Only until they are riding out of the village does the cry arise.
"Cersei Lannister may be queen of the realm," the voice bellows confidently "but Sansa Stark is queen of our hearts!"
The tiny smile that skirts past her lips does not go unnoticed.
iii.
At the wedding feast of Cersei and Ser Loras Tyrell, Jaime finds himself seated next to Lady Sansa, Tyrion no doubt off drinking himself into a stupor. He remains silent throughout the whole affair, hoping – like his younger brother – to drink himself into a pleasant numbness. In truth, he is angry at Cersei for abandoning him, angry at Tywin for orchestrating their sorry lives, and angry at himself for not being a better man. In the midst of his reflections, he does not notice Lady Sansa quietly sliding her chair closer to his.
"Fancy some fresh air, my lord?" She whispers.
He looks down to discover that he had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Yes," he replies, "Yes, I suppose that's wise."
Minutes later, they are standing on the castle wall, looking North. They sit in an almost companionable silence for a few moments before he slowly turns and looks at her. Her eyes are wistful and full of longing.
"I think you've got the balls for it, you know." He leans on his elbow, thoughtfully. "I think you could lose your guards, escape the castle, and make your way back to Winterfell." Here, he broke off, "It will be dangerous – there'll be a lot of men wanting to do unspeakable things to a pretty little thing like you, but" he trails off, "but I think you could do it." He looks her over, "You, my lady, have a way of inspiring loyalty in the most worthless creatures."
She looks vaguely amused. "Are you seriously suggesting I run away, my lord?"
"I'm just a drunk cripple, my lady. I never seriously suggest anything."
She laughs and a devious smile spreads across her face. "I am a Stark. We face our battles with honor."
Too bad, he thinks. Stark honor is notorious for killing good men.
iv.
After a sorry incident involving a servant girl's public beating and ensuing humiliation – the king's favorite pastime – he finds Sansa in the kitchens, doing her best to comfort the weeping maid.
She holds the girl in her arms, paying no mind to the blood, mucus, and tears staining her gown. "Quiet, girl." She rubs the girl's back soothingly. "Someone will hear."
"I don't' care!" the girl cries "King Joffrey's a monster, milady! He's as evil as the mad Targaryen! And he ain't even rightfully king!"
"I know," she whispers quietly, running a wet cloth over the girl's cuts.
The girl wails miserably. "Me older brother was a stable-hand and Joffrey killed him 'cuz he said his horse wasn't brought 'round quick enough. And just now, he beat me for no reason t'all." She blows her nose loudly. "I just wish –I just wish that someone would make 'em pay for what they done to us."
Sansa takes the girl's face in her hands. "Listen to me," she commands. "It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but I promise you that one day soon, the Lannisters will atone for their crimes. Joffrey isn't going to be king for long." Her eyes seek him out where he is standing in the doorway, daring him to contradict her.
For that moment on, Jaime knows that his family's greatest threat comes not from Stannis Baratheon or even Daenerys Targaryen – it is the unassuming little red-head with fire in her hair and ice in her heart that will be their downfall.
v.
He is out patrolling when a loud scream pierces through the air.
The castle is eerily quiet when he finds Sansa hunched over Joffrey's still warm body. His eyes travel down her form. Her own eyes were dead, completely devoid of any emotion. Blood and tears mingled on her face and dress. Her left hand was enclosed around a dripping, red mass. There was a gaping hole in Joffrey's chest.
"Are you mad, girl? Cersei will kill for this." He whispers urgently.
"He cried." She begins, in a daze. "I told him I was going to cut out his heart and he cried. What a stupid and cowardly little boy."
He makes a motion to pull her away from the body. "If we hurry, we might still make it out before anyone knows what's happened. We won't be able to take any of your belongings, but I guess we ought to count ourselves lucky if we escape with our lives."
"There's no point." She turns slowly to the window. "The dragons are coming."
He glances in her direction. There is, of course, nothing out of the ordinary in view. "Gods, you are mad, girl," he mutters while grabbing a wet cloth and wiping some of the grime off her face.
"You're a good man, Jaime Lannister." She looks up at him suddenly and grasps his gold hand. "If we had been born in another life, in another age," she says, with a somber expression, "I think I might've fallen in love with you."
No sooner does she says this then do the warning bells start clanging deafeningly.
vi.
King's Landing falls in two days; Cersei falls on her sword hours before she is found and Jaime is too tired and numb to even care.
Once the fighting dies down, Queen Daenerys takes her place on the iron throne and begins sentencing those she deems guilty of unforgivable crimes. When her guards unceremoniously dump him at her feet, he calmly looks up to meet her unflinching gaze. "Kingslayer," she begins coldly "you are here to answer for your crimes against House Targaryen."
"Oh! And here I thought this was a party," he drawls. "How awkward."
"Have you any remorse for your actions?" Her eyes harden. "I must tell you, Kingslayer. I am not inclined to be merciful today."
He opens his mouth to answer when a voice calls out from the crowd. "Your Grace! I beg a word!" The crowd parts and Sansa emerges.
"Lady Stark," Daenerys acknowledges, with a smile, "I understand I owe you thanks for rallying your Northern banner men to my cause. You have done me a great service, my dear."
"You are too kind, Your Grace." Sansa bows her head.
"You wanted to speak to me, Lady Stark? Ask of me what you will." The Queen inclines her head.
"I would ask," She swallows, "I would ask that you relinquish Ser Jaime into my custody."
A shocked silence settles across the room. To her credit, Queen Daenerys remains stoic. "Why?" she asks finally.
"The Kingslayer is not an innocent man," Sansa begins. "He has broken many oaths and he has killed many men. He has even wronged my own family." She takes a deep breath. "The Kingslayer is not an innocent man but I believe Jaime Lannister can be redeemed." The breath is exhaled with more confidence. "During my time in this city, he served me faithfully, displaying great honor and courage." She pauses for a moment. "If you allow me to determine his punishment, Your Grace, I think he could be of great use to me."
"What do you intend to do with him, Lady Stark?" The Queen inquires.
"He shall serve out his days as my advisor at Winterfell, helping me rebuild the North."
The Queen presses her, "You would trust this man?"
She eyes him evenly, answering slowly. "I would".
vii.
After that day, he often wonders how he ever thought Lady Stark was ever anything but a wolf.