Jaime stood in the Great Sept of Baelor, his eyes on the assembled congregation, his mind somewhere else entirely. He still could not quite believe that this day had come. He had joined the Kingsguard when not much more than a boy, and even before he had taken the white he had seen himself as pledged to Cersei, never imagining he would wed anyone. Yet here he was, about to pledge himself to Sansa Stark. When word of this reaches Lady Catelyn, I have no doubt she will curse herself for not breaking my skull with that rock..

Tyrion, who was at his side, tugged his arm gently, "Brother I believe she is here," then walked to join their father and sister. Jaime avoided looking at Cersei, but he gave Tommen a brief smile and a nod, then noticed that Joffrey was not with his family. He felt rage rise within him as he realised what this meant, and, sure enough, at that moment, his bride came into view, escorted by a king practically beside himself with malevolent glee. Jaime clenched his jaw, but then his gaze moved to Sansa, and he felt his anger float away. He knew the woman he was to marry was beautiful, and he had often found himself admiring her, but today, as he watched her walk toward him, it was as if she had cast a spell. He coppery mane hung round her shoulders secured by the clasps he had sent as gift. With the sunlight falling into the sept, she looked almost as if she was illuminated from within, and she carried herself with the proud grace he realised he had admired in her since he had returned to King's Landing.

She came to stand beside him and bestowed him with one of her rare smiles. For an instant, he wondered why on earth he had told her he would help return to the North. Then, his good sense returned. She did not want to be bound to him and his family for the rest of her days. The ceremony began. As her Stark Maidencloak was removed he could not help but notice the beautiful, perfect skin of her neck and shoulders. He secured the red and gold cloak around her and, as he proclaimed her under his protection, he looked toward his family. I will see to it you never hurt her again. As they exchanged their vows, a feeling of discontent began to creep over him. He had taken vows as Kingsguard, and these were now made a mockery as he took a wife in addition to having killed a king. He was vowing himself to Sansa only to break these vows as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Unless she decides to stay. It should have been a bitter joke, but as their hands were tied, and he looked into her sparkling deep blue eyes he hoped that his bride may do just that.

Their sealing kiss was as chaste as the one she had placed upon his lips the night before. He could not help but wonder what it would feel like to have those soft full lips against his for longer. Once they had exited the sept and were in their palanquin, she turned to him with a smile. "Ser Jaime, I would like to return this to you now we are alone. Truly the words you spoke to me when you gave it to me meant more than anything anyone has said to me before."

She then placed the Direwolf ring on his finger. He looked down at her elegant hands, she truly was perfect. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

"Be assured that I meant them my lady."

They did not speak further, but the silence between them was companionable. Jaime was glad to be away from the scrutiny of the court and enjoyed the small respite available to them. Soon, they would arrive at the keep for the presentation of the wedding gifts, and the feast. Although he looked forward to neither, he felt dread rise within him at the thought of anything beyond that. Of course, she will ask me to take her back to her family. I only agreed to marry her to do just that.

They took their seats and the procession of gift giving began. Joffrey's gift came first, presented jointly from himself and Margaery, Jaime watched as two grey horses were processed through the hall. He noticed Sansa's face light up.

"Are you fond of horse riding my Lady?"

"I have not ridden since I came south, but when I was a child at Winterfell I would often ride through the Wolfswood with Arya and my brothers. We used to take our direwolves with us."

Her smile faded and she looked down; Jaime gripped her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He was gratified and proud when she looked up and gave him a brief smile in return. Cersei's gift was presented next, and Jaime saw Sansa's eyes glaze slightly at the elaborate banner displaying the words and sigil of House Lannister. He looked to where Cersei sat with her habitual smug smile; she raised a glass almost mockingly, but Sansa's simply bowed her head and thanked the Queen Regent courteously. Jaime found himself feeling proud of her grace and dignity, before he reminded himself that she was not truly his to feel pride for. Tyrion and Tommen gifts,came next and he noted Sansa's particular pleasure at his brother's gift of a harp; he had not even known Sansa could play. He wondered why his father had elected to present last: there could be no doubt that this was Tywin's choice. He was further surprised that the man himself strode towards them, surely what he bestowed was indeed precious. Then Jaime saw what Tywin carried and his blood turned cold.

His father's eyes had a softer look than usually, which called to Jaime's mind his return from captivity. He felt Sansa's hand tense in his, but he was unsure if this was simply because of nervousness or because she, too, was aware what they were to be gifted with. Tywin spoke:

"On the wedding of my son and heir, I present him with this newly forged blade of Valyrian steel. May he and his wife go forward and be blessed with a new generation of Lannisters forged with Stark steel."

He handed the golden, ruby studded pommel to Jaime, who took it and bowed. This time, Sansa was beyond a polite reply, and he could tell she was shaking. How could his father have chosen this moment to give him a blade forged from Ned Stark's sword? He gave me Ned Stark's daughter, too. As when the betrothal had first been made, Jaime was forcibly reminded of how much he was directly affected by his father's machinations for the legacy of house Lannister. He looked at Sansa's tense face and was reminded again of why this marriage was doomed to failure.

She barely exchanged a word with him during the feast and hardly touched the food on her plate. The meal felt excruciating, and, when the time came to dance, it was little better. As Jaime moved around the floor with his bride, he was acutely aware that the experience was completely devoid of the intensity he had felt when he had twirled Sansa round the Tyrells' solar. There were too many people watching, who wished them ill, and she remained downcast and withdrawn. He searched for some way to reach her in her aloof torment, but he was wary of making the situation worse.

All to soon, Cersei had claimed a dance with him, and her sharp eyes had noticed the direwolf ring at once.

"My, what a pretty little bauble! I'm sure she regrets she was so keen to part from the actual beast."

Jaime clenched his teeth, remembering the incident on the King's Road all those years ago, looking at it with fresh eyes now it related not to a child he had no interest in but to his wife.

Cersei was surveying him with malicious amusement.

"Come now, Jaime, I do not remember you lamenting the creature's death at the time – surely you aren't developing feelings for your little bride?"

"My only interest in Lady Sansa is the vow I swore to her mother"

It sounded hollow even to his own ears, Cersei was now looking at him not with amusement but with rage.

"I see you are, how sweet. Never for one second forget that I have only to tell her a few truths to destroy anything there could ever be between you. Although I am sure that will not be necessary – you are more than capable of destroying it on your own."

Her words stung him as well as imparted to him a fleeting feeling of fear. Unconsciously seeking a balm for this wound, he searched the room for his bride. As soon as he had located her, he could tell something had happened to upset her further. He left his sister abruptly and went to her.

"Sansa, what has happened?"

"Please do not concern yourself, Ser Jaime, the King was less than courteous to me when we were dancing."

Jaime could imagine exactly what this meant. Without thinking he placed an arm around her waist protectively.

"Shall I go and remind him of his manners?"

"There will be no need for that. Tyrion is discussing the matter with your lord father."

For the first time in his life, Jaime felt jealously of his brother rise within him. Tyrion, who had known of the perfect, thoughtful gift for Sansa; Tyrion, who always seemed to be able to make her smile. Jaime felt very keenly that he wished to be the one to do these things for Sansa.

His brother approached them then, and it was not just anger at Joffrey, which coloured Jaime's look and tone when he spoke with Tyrion:

"Am I to stand here and do nothing while my wife is abused by him?"

"Yes, Ser Jaime, that is exactly what you will do, for I have no wish to be a widow on my wedding night."

Sansa's outburst startled both men. Tyrion recovered first:

"Jaime, what Sansa says makes sense: you would not survive laying hands on the king, not with his guards about him here in the Keep. At best, you would be in a black cell, and I doubt even father could get you out of it. Now, I have spoken to our sire, and he has deemed that you should both stay here for one more dance, and then you can quietly retire to your chambers, forgoing the bedding ceremony."

Sansa's face flooded with relief:

"Thank you Tyrion. Ser Jaime, please, I know you are enraged, but just allow this to pass, for my sake if nothing else."

The look she gave him put any thought of resentment far from his mind, and, as so often when he was in her presence, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

The music was ending, and although his bride did not look at him, she grasped his hand tightly, which was enough to urge him out of the hall. He felt a tension building within him as they walked to what were now their chambers. He realised that he felt almost exultant at the thought of being alone with her, of having her all to himself.

He allowed her to enter the room before him, then shut and locked the door behind them. He thought this would make her feel at ease. However, to ensure that she did not ascribe a more sinister motive to the action, he immediately spoke.

"My lady, I am truly sorry for the tribulations you suffered today. I think, given all that has happened, it would be perfectly understandable that you should wish to sleep."

The smile she shot his way was warm and kind.

"Ser Jaime, I am now your wife, and the events at our reception do not change that."

"My wife, and yet you refer to me by my title?"

"Perhaps I like your title."

Sansa had dropped her eyes as she made this remark, her face turning red, but with a slight smile on her lips. It was all Jaime could do not to laugh with pure joy. Having her tease him like this felt so unspeakably right, but, more than that, it seemed that she was not about to abandon him and return to the Starks and the spark of hope this sent through him would have told him much if he had dared to let himself dwell on it. But whatever would pass between them that night, he needed to feel sure that it was her choice as much as his.

"Sansa, there has been no bedding, many highborn women do not bleed their first time."

Now her smile was laced with melancholy.

"It makes no difference. We are wed. If I were to return to my family and the marriage was annulled or… something else happened, what would my fate be? Married off to a man who saw himself as doing my family the great favour of relieving them of a daughter whose loyalty and honour were questionable? Left to spend my days as a maid since no man wants the leavings of another?"

She stopped there, and he was glad, for he did not know if he could bear to think of her meeting either of these fates. She was the most perfect, beautiful thing he had ever seen – she should have had handsome, gallant suitors fighting for her hand; she should have spent her days surrounded by love and happiness. She met his eyes and he was heartened further to see them shining still.

"No, Ser Jaime, I am your wife now, and I would like things to be pleasant between us. Do you want that too?"

He felt suddenly he wanted considerably more. However, he nodded, and she smiled although now he was aware of uncertainty radiating from her. She stood silently before him and it was not until she dropped her gaze and began to pull on the sleeve of her gown that he realised how little idea she had of how to proceed.

"Sansa, shall I help you unlace?"

She smiled at him and nodded, turning her back to him and brushing her luxuriant mane of red hair over one shoulder.

He began to unfasten her gown slowly, aware that his mind and senses were fully occupied by her, the delicate floral scent that came from her skin, its almost luminescent white colour, of which he revealed more and more with every eyelet he unhooked. In his darker moods, when he had considered a consummation of this marriage, he'd wondered if he'd be haunted by images of Cersei, but now the moment was almost upon him, every part of him was consumed by Sansa.

When he had finished, she turned to face him in her shift and her nervousness was palpable, but her determination was too. He put his hand to her chin and gently tilted her face towards him.

"Sansa, I promise you that in this, as in all else I will do my utmost to provide you with what joy I can."

"I know you will, husband."

He felt something within him melt at the term and the tone she used to say it. A grin on his lips, he lifted her face closer and leant down to kiss her softly. Almost as soon as their lips touched, he felt her mouth open and he slid his tongue inside. She tasted fresh and sweet. He moved, gently stroking her tongue with his, allowing his fingers to trail from her chin down her neck and along her shoulder, delighting in the shivers he could feel across her silky skin. They remained this way for some moments longer, before he broke away, resting his forehead against hers. She looked up at him with sparkling eyes and now her smile was radiant. He was aware he was grinning back. Without talking he took her hand and led her to the bed. Then he stood before her and removed his clothes. Jaime Lannister had always been a confident man, and he knew that his physique was well restored. Some wounds remained, but they were in no way disfiguring, still he felt unsure of himself at her lack of response. He knew that she was a maiden and that she had little knowledge of what was about to happen, but he suddenly felt very keenly that he would have liked her to display more enthusiasm. He bit back a desire to ask her if the sight of him pleased her, he did not want to make her self-conscious or do anything to cause her anymore discomfort. Not that night and not ever. She had responded to his kiss, perhaps, it was best to concentrate on touch. He moved to the bed and motioned for her to lie down. She did, albeit stiffly. He positioned himself above her and leant down to kiss her mouth once more. She responded readily and he felt his doubts melt away. In this position, he was pressed against her, with only the thin silk of her shift separating their bodies, he could feel her firm, full breasts pressing into his chest, his hips almost resting against hers. Although her legs remained flat on the bed, her arms came up around his neck, and her fingers began to brush through his hair. It was this sensation which cause him to again break the kiss moving his head further into her hands. He grinned down at her and was delighted to see that she seemed considerably more at ease. He moved back to her lips, but, this time, restricted himself to a brief peck, before moving down her face and neck and along her shoulders.

All the while he paid attention to her responses, muted though these were. It was clear from their earlier conversation that she meant to commit herself to this marriage, and he would do everything within his power to be the husband she deserved. He resolved to learn her body so that he knew exactly how to please her, exactly what gave her most joy. He noted that her breathing was quickening, and she gave occasional gasps and sighs. He gently moved one shoulder strap of her shift down and then the other. He looked into her eyes, watching for any sign of unease, and moved his hand to cup her exposed breast; at this, she sighed deeply and when he moved his fingers over the rosy nipple, she briefly cried out. The sound flooded him with want and an eagerness to hear more: he moved his lips to her other nipple, gently sucking, relishing the way her hips bucked upwards of their own accord. He continued this way for some minutes occasionally inverting the action, spellbound, watching her enjoyment. Her eyes were shut, her breath coming in rapid huffs; several times, he had even caught a whispered 'yes.' When he had stopped, she opened her eyes and looked down at him, and he could not help the satisfied grin that crossed his face: he placed his hands on the curve of her waist, revelling in how perfectly it fit his grasp and slid her shift down her legs. His wife was now completely naked before him, and he saw some of the rigidity return, although she made no attempt to cover herself. He kissed his way down her, over the soft skin of her flat stomach, his hands caressing the curve of her hips, his lips reached the thicket of hair between her legs and he moved his arms to position them under her legs, encouraging her to bend her knees off the bed. He lightly ran his fingers over the skin of her inner thigh, each time coming closer to her folds. When he did allow his fingers to brush over them, they were warm and wet, and a guttural moan escaped her throat. Applying slightly more pressure he quickly found her bundle of nerves and stroked it in a circular motion. At the same time, he moved his head down and plunged his tongue inside her. She was soon all but panting and he truly felt that he could have lapped at her sweet cunt all night. Everything about her was alluring and wonderful; the feel of her soft skin against his face and the way she shuddered and sighed every time he flicked his tongue around her was driving him to a desire that felt like the sweetest torture.

After what seemed like a short time, he began to feel her walls tighten and he sped up the action of his hand. Before long, she was convulsing around him, her thighs clenching against his head. Once her climax had subsided, he gave her a final kiss and moved himself up the bed beside her. The look on his young wife's face made him feel a king among men. She gazed up at him, trying to catch her breath.

"Well my lady, I did promise you joy," Jaime said then grew serious. "What comes next may not be so pleasant – at least, not at first."

She nodded but remained silent. Once again he put a hand to her nipple but this time he moved the other down to her intimate parts. She was still wet from his earlier ministrations, although she was incredibly tight. He carefully placed first one then two fingers inside her, watching her face and hating to see the expression of discomfort. He peppered her face, neck and chest with light kisses and this seemed to relax her, when he felt the muscles within her relax her knew it was finally time for him to consummate his marriage.

He moved himself so he was once again atop her, and, watching her intently, took his member in his hand and slowly moved it inside her. He moved with care, stopping frequently to kiss her. When he felt the barrier of her maidenhead against the tip of his cock, he thrust deeply and quickly feeling the barrier break as his wife cried out. He stopped moving and kissed her fully on the mouth, delighted when she responded to him, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. He had known this would hurt her but he was glad that she did not seem to be in considerable pain. He looked deep into her eyes, wanting to convey to her that this would be the last time he would ever cause her pain.

Her arms came up again and rested on his shoulders, then moved to his back. As he got deeper, he felt one of her legs entwine with his. He found a rhythm, and knew he would not last long not with the long build up to this and with her as tight as she was. He moved a hand to her breast and began to lavish attention on her nipple, having noticed she was particularly sensitive there. He could feel that his end was near and in his moment of completion he found her name upon his lips.

He flopped to one side, not fully aware of how much he had needed this release until he had it. Then he turned to Sansa and gently stroked her hair from her face.

"I am sorry if I caused you pain Sansa, a woman's first time is often unpleasant."

The smile she gave him was as radiant as the one she had worn after their kiss.

"I knew to expect that Jaime. Much of it was lovely."

"I am glad to hear it." And he truly was, more than he would ever have said.

She smiled and nuzzled into his neck. He hugged her to him, basking in the feeling of having her so close, of feeling her meld herself against him. After a minute she whispered in his ear.;

"I am very glad that it was you Jaime."

Soon, she was fast asleep in his arms.

Jaime could tell that he would not find slumber so easily that night. His mind was full of images and sensations of what had just occurred. He found himself wishing fervently that his bride had been more abandoned in their coupling. He imagined her wanton before him, urging him on, crying out his name over and over again, and he realised how badly he wanted her to want him with a desperate, all-possessing longing. He knew that if she would give herself to him like that, he would be able to do nothing but respond in kind. Jaime could deceive himself no longer. He had felt an attraction for Sansa for some time now. Despite this, he had more or less succeeded in convincing himself that the main feeling he had for her was one of protectiveness, that their relationship would not be dissimilar to the one Sansa had with Tyrion. But now, he could no longer deny, at least not to himself, that his feelings ran much deeper than that. He began to wonder if he might be falling in love with a wife who could never love him back.

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed or favourited : )

Next chapter we see how Tyrion and Margaery enjoyed the wedding.