This chapter is a longer one – there was a lot of ground to cover and characters for Sansa to meet. Thanks to all of you for reading. Enjoy!
Chapter 9
Sansa sat on the outdoor terrace in the Tower of the Hand, and waited for her tea to be brought in. She picked up the medallion hanging from the long gold chain around her neck and looked at it closely. It was beautiful. It was more extravagant than any jewel her mother had ever owned. Certainly more extravagant than anything Sansa had ever owned or even thought to own. She found that she liked it more because it had belonged to Jaime's mother. If Sansa were still the silly girl she was a year ago, the handsome husband and jewels that came along with being the Lady of Casterly Rock would have been everything she could have ever wanted. Now, it wasn't quite enough.
She missed her mother. There was something about Littlefinger that she didn't trust. But she didn't have any other options to get back to what was left of her family. Jaime would protect her, would be kind to her, but he wouldn't take her to her mother. And that was the thing she wanted most. She'd already made a mistake by refusing to leave with the Hound when he offered to take her home. She had been so certain Stannis Baratheon was going to win the battle that she had not been willing to risk trusting the Hound. Sansa was afraid to make another mistake.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Cersei flounced out onto the terrace and sat opposite her. "Good afternoon, little dove. I've been meaning to check on you today."
"I'm well, your grace," Sansa answered, wondering why she was there.
Cersei moved closer to Sansa, her eyes fastening on the necklace she wore. "Did Jaime give you that?"
Sansa nodded. "He gave it to me this morning. It's so beautiful. He said that it belonged to your mother."
"I did not know he planned to give you mother's jewels." She couldn't quite read the look in Cersei's eyes, but Sansa could she was not pleased. They sat in silence as the tea was brought in and poured for each of them.
Once they were alone again, Cersei turned to her. "How did things go with you and Jaime last night?" Her surprise must have shown on her face, because the queen regent continued. "You don't have a mother here to confide in. And you and I are sisters now," she said, taking a sip of her tea. "You needn't feel uncomfortable talking to me about this, even if Jaime is my brother." Cersei took her hand, her expression deceptively sweet. "Was he gentle with you last night, little dove, or was he…forceful?"
Sansa had no intention of describing to Cersei how Jaime had made love to her. Especially knowing the rumors about their relationship being more than brother and sister. She wanted to ask Jaime if the rumors were true, but she was too afraid. Cersei's perverse insistence on details made her think that the rumors were true. Why else would she ask? Sansa certainly wouldn't wish to hear such things about her own brothers. Perhaps the queen simply wanted to make her uncomfortable. If that was the case, she had succeeded.
"Come now, little dove, you needn't be embarrassed. I'm simply concerned. I spoke to a guard, and he told me that he heard your cries and…moans… through the door to Jaime's bedchamber. I wanted to make sure it was not from pain." Sansa could feel her face heat as the queen regent watched her, waiting for an answer.
"He did not hurt me," she mumbled quietly.
"I understand that your cries were heard again this morning. I do hope Jaime is not being too demanding of you in the bedchamber. That sometimes happens when soldiers return from war, not having had a woman for a while." Sansa couldn't meet Cersei's eyes. "Well?" she said impatiently, her eyes not moving from Sansa's face.
"He…He has been very patient. I believe he will be a good husband," she said, not sure what she was supposed to say.
"Did you enjoy being fucked by my brother?" Sansa's jaw dropped in shock, but she was saved from having to respond.
"What do you mean by having such an inappropriate conversation with your brother's wife?" Lord Tywin asked sternly. Sansa never thought she would be happy to see Tywin Lannister, but she was grateful he was saving her from this hell. Sansa could see Cersei almost shrink back in fear.
"Of course not father, I – I've never had a sister and I hoped to offer Sansa advice. To help her in her marriage. As a true sister would."
Lord Tywin gazed at Cersei with a hard expression. "I don't believe that is how ladies speak to one another, sisters or no. I take it you have no other business in this tower?"
"I was just leaving," Cersei said quietly. Sansa was amazed. She had never seen anyone make the queen regent cower in that manner.
As Cersei passed her father, Sansa saw him lean in to speak to her. "You will not do anything, no matter how innocent, to give credence to Stannis Baratheon's vicious lies, do you understand me?" Lord Tywin appears to think the rumors are not true, Sansa thought to herself. Maybe it is a lie.
"Of course, father."
Once Cersei left, Lord Tywin sat opposite Sansa. "I trust my son's gift to you this morning met with your approval."
"Of course," she said, touching the necklace. "I've never seen anything like it."
"You know that necklace belonged to my wife, Joanna. She is very much missed, even all these years later. She was very gentle, very lady-like. Not unlike you," he said, fixing his gaze on Sansa. "Duty was very important to her. I trust duty is important to you, as well."
"Of course, my lord."
"My son gave up a lot for you." Sansa looked at him in confusion. "Joffrey had planned to keep you as his mistress, once it was decided he would marry Lady Margaery. But Jaime wouldn't hear of it. He felt you were worth far more than that, and he insisted on leaving the Kingsguard to marry you himself. His duty to the Kingsguard was very important to him – to his honor. He sacrificed those vows for you."
"I didn't know that," she said quietly. Jaime had never told her that he'd done that for her. To be Joffrey's queen would have been bad enough. If they had made her Joffrey's whore…she would have thrown herself from the highest tower in the keep. She didn't know how she could ever repay Jaime for saving her from that hell. She began to feel guilty that she was considering a secret escape with Lord Baelish.
"My son Jaime was always meant to be my heir. He will make an excellent Lord of the Rock. He has talents that few men have." Sansa could see the pride in Tywin Lannister's eyes when he spoke of Jaime. Lord Tywin terrified her, but his love for his son was plain to see. "It is your duty, to stand beside your husband. To support him, provide him with comfort. I'm sure your mother told you that lords and ladies find love after they have married. Jaime is fond of you and, I believe, you admire him very much yourself."
She forced herself to hold Lord Tywin's gaze. "I…I like Jaime very much and I'm sure we will grow to love one another." She was telling Lord Tywin what he wanted to hear. But, Jaime was her husband and a part of her did want to love him and wanted him to love her in return.
"Sansa, do you understand your duty to my son? To House Lannister? I expect hear very soon that you are with child."
Sansa swallowed nervously. "That is my greatest wish, my lord."
"It is mine as well, my love. I assure you, Father, Sansa and I will work tirelessly to produce an heir," Jaime said from behind her. She didn't have to look upon his face to know that a sarcastic smirk was fixed there. Sansa fought not to blush at his reference to them "tirelessly" trying to conceive. Jaime sat beside her and leaned over to kiss her cheek, but also whispered softly in her ear, so quietly that only she could hear, "good thing you like my cock as much as you do."
She narrowed her eyes at him for saying such things to her – especially in front of his father – but he only gave her a cheeky smile in response.
She was grateful that Lord Tywin didn't acknowledge Jaime's sarcasm. "I'll leave the two of you. We have guests arriving every day for Joffrey's wedding. I expect both of you to attend the many welcome feasts as representatives of the King and of House Lannister."
After Lord Tywin left, Sansa hit Jaime, as she had hit Arya many times for her impropriety. "You can't say such filthy things to me in front of your father."
He chuckled. "But I'm free to say them elsewhere?"
"You're impossible."
"I suppose I should be pleased that you've gotten over your cold courtesy around me," he said, rubbing his arm, as if she had injured him and Sansa reluctantly smiled.
"Your father is quite proud to have you as his son."
"I suppose he is, now that I've left the guard and am once again his heir. My father cares very much about the family name and about establishing a dynasty. He was very angry when I joined the Kingsguard. It has always been important to him that I be Lord of Casterly Rock after him. That I have many children, many heirs. He was pleased when I agreed to marry you."
His words made her think of what Lord Tywin told her – that Jaime had left the Kingsguard to spare her from being Joffrey's whore. "He told me that I was to be Joffrey's mistress…but you wouldn't allow it. And that you left the Kingsguard to spare me that disgrace." She looked up and met his eyes. "I can never repay you."
"He should not have told you that. I did nothing so heroic, Sansa," he said. "If I were truly worthy of your thanks, if I was a better man, I would have insisted they free you. I would not have taken you into my bed. But I'm…weak…selfish."
"Why do you wish me to see you as a villain? I can see, whenever I thank you, you don't like it. It's as if you'd prefer me to dislike you."
"I don't want you making me into something I'm not. You should know by now that life isn't one of your songs. That knights are nothing more than killers. I learned that lesson as well. When I joined the Kingsguard, I thought it an honor." He looked at her. "I suppose I believed in your songs as well. But I realized soon enough that there was little honor in serving a mad king. I'm not the brave knight of your dreams, Sansa. Your father would tell you I have shit for honor. Maybe he'd be right."
"I know life isn't a song. And I know that no one's perfect. That you aren't perfect." But, there is a brave knight in you, Jaime Lannister. Whether you believe it or not.
Sansa let the topic drop when a Tyrell guard walked onto the terrace, the rose of Highgarden plain to see on his armor. "From the Lady Margaery," he said, holding a sealed letter out to Sansa.
"Thank you," she said, taking the parchment from him and opening it as he returned to the Maidenvault. She scanned the letter, seeing that it was the promised invitation to visit with the soon-to-be queen. Sansa looked at Jaime uncertainly. "She invites me to tea with the ladies of Highgarden." Sansa supposed she would have to go, but she feared leaving the safety of Jaime and the Tower of the Hand to get there. She read the letter from Margaery more carefully and smiled suddenly. "Ser Loras is to escort me to the Maidenvault," she said quietly. He would protect her. Her face must have betrayed her admiration for the knight.
Jaime leaned toward her, taking her chin in his hand. "Don't forget who it is you're married to," he said with a smirk. She opened her mouth to protest but Jaime didn't give her the opportunity. "I see the sparkle in your eye. I suppose Ser Loras would appeal to a young girl, despite his ridiculous flowered armor."
"Are you jealous?"
"I have no reason to be jealous."
Does he think Ser Loras would not want me? "Ser Loras gave me a red rose at my father's tournament, when we arrived in Kings Landing. He said no victory was half as beautiful as me."
Jaime chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it. "That is true. You are exceptionally beautiful. But Ser Loras…you'd be gravely disappointed with him."
"Why?"
Sansa misliked the smile playing at his lips. "I do hate to scandalize you, little wife, but if you insist…Ser Loras shared his bed – and his body – with Renly Baratheon, until his untimely death." Before Sansa could even react, Jaime gently kissed below her ear. "You would not enjoy spending time in bed with Ser Loras as you do with me," he whispered. "He would never appreciate your substantial physical charms as I do…"
"But…Renly married Lady Margaery."
Jaime chuckled against her neck. "Why do you think she's still a maiden after months of marriage?" He kissed her again. "How long did you keep your maidenhood after you said your vows?" He continued kissing her and covered her breast with his hand.
"Not all men are as depraved as you." She grabbed his hand, removing it from her body, scanning the area with her eyes. "Anyone could walk in here and see you groping me." She felt a tingling in her belly as he pulled her to her feet, a mischievous smile on his face.
"Then I suppose we should go to our bedchamber," he whispered against her neck. "I did just promise my father that we would produce an heir," he said in a low voice as he led her to their chamber. Sansa protested and expressed her shock that he wanted to bed her in the middle of the day, but Jaime's kisses and touches soon made her forget all propriety.
...
A few days later, Ser Loras arrived to escort Sansa to the Maidenvault. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was about Lord Renly's death, but she wasn't certain that it would be appropriate to say so. As a result, they walked mostly in silence. Once they approached the Maidenvault, two Tyrell guards opened the doors and Margaery emerged and swept down the short flight of steps to greet them. "Lady Sansa," she called, "I'm so pleased you came."
"You do me great honor, my lady."
"Won't you call me Margaery? And might I call you Sansa? We are to be family soon."
"Of course."
Margaery dismissed Ser Loras with a sisterly kiss, and took Sansa by the hand. "Come, my grandmother awaits, and she is not the most patient of ladies." Sansa had heard of Margaery's grandmother. She was nicknamed the Queen of Thorns and Sansa feared she was ill-prepared for her sharp tongue and quick wit, despite the time she had spent with Jaime and Tyrion of late.
A fire was crackling in the hearth, and the room smelled of roses – no doubt brought with the queen-to-be from Highgarden. A dozen women were seated around the long table. Margaery performed the introductions to her mother and various Tyrell cousins, aunts and relations. Last of all, Margaery brought her before the wizened white-haired doll of a woman at the head of the table. "I am honored to present my grandmother, the Lady Olenna."
The old woman smelled of rosewater. There didn't appear to be anything the least bit thorny about her. "My, you are young to be the wife of the Kingslayer. It is so kind of you to sup with me and my foolish flock of hens."
"It is kind of you to have me, my lady."
"I would be remiss not to meet with the future Lady of the Rock. I knew your grandfather, Lord Rickard."
"I never met him. He died before I was born."
"I am aware of that, child. It's said your Tully grandfather is dying too. An old man, though not so old as me. Still, night falls for all of us in the end and far too soon for some. You would know more than most. We are sorry for your losses."
Sansa glanced at Margaery. "I was saddened when I heard of Lord Renly's death. He was very gallant." Though, as she said it, Sansa remembered her conversation with Jaime and wondered if she should even offer condolences to Margaery.
"You are kind to say so," answered Margaery.
Her grandmother snorted. "Gallant, yes, and charming and very clean. He knew how to dress and how to smile and how to bathe, and somehow he got the notion that made him fit to be king."
"Grandmother," Margaery said, "mind your words, or what will Sansa think of us?"
"She might think we have some wits about us. One of us, at any rate." The old woman turned back to Sansa. "It's treason, I warned them. Tut-tut says my son, don't you want your sweetling to be queen? You Starks were kings once, the Arryns and the Lannisters as well, but the Tyrells were no more than stewards until Aegon the Dragon came along and cooked the rightful King of the Reach. Margaery, summon Butterbumps. Let us see if we can't make Lady Sansa smile."
Butterbumps, their fool, arrived before the food, dressed in a jester's suit and performed all manner of ridiculous tricks and dances. Lady Olenna pushed herself forward to rest her elbows on the table. "Do you know my son, Sansa?"
"He is a great lord," Sansa answered politely.
"A great oaf," said the Queen of Thorns. "His father was an oaf as well. My husband, the late Lord Luthor. Oh, I loved him well enough, don't mistake me. A kind man, and not unskilled in the bedchamber, but an appalling oaf all the same. He managed to ride off a cliff whilst hawking. They say he was looking up at the sky and paying no mind to where his horse was taking him. And now my son does the same, only he's riding a lion. It's easy to mount a lion and not so easy to get off, I warned him." She looked at Sansa, as if she had just been reminded of something. "Speaking of mounting lions, how do you find marriage to the Kingslayer? From the looks of Ser Jaime, I'd expect he's quite skilled in the bedchamber."
Sansa face felt as if it were on fire. "I suppose that gives me my answer. Don't blush so, my dear, with your coloring, it makes you look like a pomegranate. I want you to tell me the truth about this Joffrey," said Lady Olenna abruptly.
Sansa's fingers tightened together. The truth? Please don't ask. "I….I…I.."
"Who would know better? You were betrothed to the boy for quite some time, until the Kingslayer scooped you up. We have heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you?"
Sansa glanced about nervously. The ladies laughed at Butterbumps and ate, chatting to themselves. No one seemed to be paying she and Lady Olenna any mind, but even so, she was frightened. She knew that the walls of the Red Keep had ears, and she feared what would be done to her if she spoke the truth about Joffrey. She feared even Jaime would disapprove of her openly speaking of what he'd done to her.
Lady Olenna was growing impatient. "Has the Kingslayer cut out your tongue, child?"
"Joff…King Joffrey, he's…His Grace is very fair and handsome, and…and as brave as a lion."
"Yes, all the Lannisters are lions," the old woman snapped. "But how kind is he? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? Is he chivalrous as befits a king? Will he cherish Margaery and treat her tenderly, protect her honor as he would his own?"
"He will," Sansa lied. "He is very…very comely."
"You said that. Tell me the truth, no harm will come to you."
"My father always told the truth," Sansa spoke quietly, but even so, it was hard to get the words out.
"Lord Eddard, yes, he had that reputation but they named him traitor and took his head off all the same." The old woman's eyes bore into her, sharp and bright as the points of swords.
"Joffrey did that. He promised me he would be merciful, and cut my father's head off. He said that was mercy, and took me up on the walls and made me look at it. His head. He wanted me to weep but…" She stopped abruptly.
"Go on." It was Margaery who urged. Joffrey's own queen-to-be.
"I can't." What if she tells him? He'll kill me for certain then, and not even Jaime will be able to save me. "I never meant… I have traitor's blood, please, don't make me say more."
"She's terrified, grandmother, just look at her."
The old woman called to Butterbumps. "Fool! Give us a song. A long one, I should think." Butterbumps bowed low, let loose an enormous belch, then straightened, threw out his belly and began to sing.
Lady Olenna squirmed forward. "Even when I was a girl younger than you, it was well known that in the Red Keep the very walls have ears. Well, they will be better for a song, and meanwhile we girls shall speak freely."
"But," Sansa said, "Varys…he knows, he always…"
"Sing louder!" the Queen of Thorns shouted at Butterbumps. The wrinkled old lady smiled. "At Highgarden, we have many spiders amongst the flowers." She patted Sansa on the back of the hand. "Now, child, the truth. What sort of man is this Joffrey, who calls himself Baratheon but looks so very Lannister?"
Sansa felt as though her heart were lodged in her throat. Margaery was listening as well. "A monster," she whispered. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displeased him, he had the Kingsguard beat me, until Jaime came and put a stop to it. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it is so. And the queen as well."
Lady Olenna and her granddaughter exchanged a look. "Ah," said the old woman, "that's a pity."
Oh, gods, thought Sansa, horrified. Now Margaery won't marry him and Joffrey and Cersei will know I'm to blame. "Please," she blurted, "don't stop the wedding…"
"Have no fear, my son is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for your truth, child." Lady Olenna looked at her, considering. "It's a pity the Kingslayer has already claimed you for his wife. You would have done well for my grandson, Willas."
...
Jaime gazed over the great hall and sighed in boredom. He wasn't sure that he would be able to stomach the weeks of feasts and spectacle that went along with Joffrey's wedding to Margaery Tyrell. This was precisely the sort of thing that he despised about being at court. Sansa didn't seem to take any more enjoyment than he in the wedding festivities, but she was putting on a good face. He expected she would enjoy it more were it anyone else's wedding, being held at any other castle. He made a point to stay near her, lest his cruel relations attempt to harass her.
She had seemed preoccupied the past few days – as if something was weighing on her mind. He supposed that the girl had plenty that could be weighing on her mind, given all that she'd been through in the past few months, and he had not pressed her.
Jaime found that he didn't mind being Sansa's husband. He liked having a woman who was only his – and who he could claim openly. And he certainly enjoyed bedding her – he'd indulged in her body every night – and most mornings. He had tried not to hold her in his arms afterward, not wanting to act as if they were something they weren't. Not wanting her to believe he was a good man; someone she should love. Somehow, she found her way to his side of the bed because he always woke up with her in his arms, cuddled up against him. After four nights of it, Jaime had given up trying to physically distance himself from Sansa. He told himself that it wasn't any more intimate to sleep with his little wife in his arms than it was to have sex with her.
Sansa rested her hand on his arm and leaned over toward him. "Who is that man who keeps looking at me?"
Jaime looked across the ballroom, following her line of sight, and locked eyes with Oberyn Martell. He didn't know why he was surprised that the Red Viper was admiring Sansa. The man was notorious for his sexual appetites. Women, men, it didn't much matter. Apparently Jaime's look was all the invitation the man needed to cross the room.
"Ser Jaime," he said, "I understand you've taken a wife. Quite a beauty," he said, his dark eyes freely roaming over Sansa. Jaime was inclined to say something, but he was bored and knew Oberyn wouldn't actually touch her in front of him without his permission. At least he didn't think so.
"Sansa, meet Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne." He glanced up at the Red Viper. "My wife, Sansa Lannister." It still felt strange for Jaime to call her by that name. He sat back in his chair and watched in amusement as Sansa hesitantly allowed him to bring her hand to his lips. She does look quite beautiful tonight. Jaime had requested several new gowns from the palace seamstress for her to wear to all of the wedding festivities and he might have hinted that he would look favorably upon any gown that displayed her womanly figure. He was not disappointed in the results.
The Viper's mouth lingered a bit longer than necessary before Sansa pulled her hand back and he took a seat across the table from them both. He turned his cat-like eyes toward Jaime. "I never thought I would see the day you would take a wife. Though now that I see the woman who tempted you, I understand," he murmured, turning his eyes back to Sansa.
"I've never been to Dorne," she said tentatively, "what is it like?" Always the proper lady, Jaime thought as he sipped his wine. Even when the man is fucking you with his eyes. Jaime watched him weave seductive tales of Dorne and thought of his father's plan to wed Cersei to the Prince. Based on what Tyrion had told him about Cersei's sexual appetites, in addition to what Jaime had witnessed himself, he was beginning to think they might be well matched.
"My dear Sansa – may I call you Sansa?" he purred.
"Of course," she allowed politely. Jaime took her hand under the table, rubbing his thumb over her palm to soothe her obvious discomfort. She looked at him and smiled softly.
"How do you find being married to this rogue," he asked her with a smile, glancing at Jaime, the glimmer in his eye telling him that the Prince had some idea that Jaime was touching Sansa beneath the table, though he likely suspected something much more untoward than what was actually going on.
"I – I enjoy being married very much," she said, as the sipped from her wine.
"And does he fulfill his duties as your husband to your satisfaction?" he asked in a low voice.
"Oberyn, I assure you, she is well satisfied."
"As are you it appears." He saw the prince studying Sansa's neck and followed his gaze to a small red mark on her neck. Jaime smiled to himself. He'd never been permitted to mark Cersei, so he was taking full advantage of having Sansa in his bed, though she'd be furious if she knew one of his little love bites was visible to the world.
"You are a very attractive couple," he said, the hint of desire apparent in his eyes. "Should you ever wish for … company in your chamber, please let me know." He kissed Sansa's hand again before returning to his table.
Sansa looked at Jaime in question after the Prince left. "Did he just ask…" she trailed off as her face turned bright red as she realized what he had offered. "Both of us?" she whispered in question. Jaime fought to hold back laughter as she looked back at the Prince of Dorne curiously as her innocent mind tried to process what he had suggested to them.
...
Coming up in the next one: Sansa starts to doubt Littlefinger's motives…
