Jaime stood at the foot of his daughter's bed while his wife sat gingerly on the edge, straightening the covers and smoothing the hair on her forehead. Jaime smiled at the two girls that owned his heart and wondered again how he had managed to be so lucky. Although often he would remember another girl that looked much like her sister, only with green eyes rather than the deep blue of her mother and he would find himself overwhelmed with grief for the children he lost. It had been difficult for him after Joanna's birth to come to terms with being a father again, but this time with a child he could claim as his own. Luckily, he had the most understanding wife in the world and rather then wanting no mention of Myrcella or Tommen (Joffrey was a different story), she made sure that he could love and grieve them properly. Their names would be known to their half-siblings (only as cousins for now) and their memories and lives celebrated.
Brienne moved across the nursery to nurse Selwyn, so Jaime took her spot on Joanna's bed. Apparently lacking Brienne's delicate touch he must have shifted the bed causing his daughter to stir. She opened one of her bright blue eyes "Papa?" she said sleepily and turned over revealing a doll that Jaime had never seen before. There was something familiar about it, but he wasn't sure what it was.
"Yes my sweet girl. Who's your new friend?" Jaime whispered, kissing her on her head. "Poor Cassidy is going to be jealous" he winked.
Joanna hugged the doll to her chest "Her name is Sally, please don't tell Mama. I don't want her to be upset with me."
"Why would she ever be upset with you for playing with your dolls?" Jaime said as he gently pulled the doll from her grasp, because there was just something about it.
"Mama didn't play with dolls. She played with swords."
"That doesn't mean you can't play with both. Look at your Mama now." Jaime turned her head towards Brienne. Her shirt was unbuttoned, revealing her breast that their son was now suckling at. She was breathtaking and blissful, her eyes closed, as she cradled him in her strong, muscular arms. At her side, as always, was Oathkeeper. A sword that had become a symbol of his love and devotion to her, and it meant far more to see her with it than the ring on her finger. "She has both a babe and a sword." Joanna watched her mother and brother for a bit, and relaxed in her father's embrace as she took his words to heart
Opening her eyes Brienne said "And if you are as lucky as your mother, you will find the man of your dreams who will know that you want both. Although it wasn't until I married your father that I knew how much I wanted babies as well as my sword. You've just figured it out a lot sooner than I have my darling daughter." Brienne gently placed Selwyn on her shoulder and rubbed his back to burp him before placing him back in his crib, already half asleep.
She came back over to sit on the bed with Jaime, "Now where did this Lady Sally come from?" Brienne asked Joanna.
Yes Jaime thought. Where did this doll come from and what is it that I can't remember.
"Uncle Tyri left her on his bed for me." Brienne and Jaime shared a look of disbelief. Tyrion hadn't been in his room for a week now and why on earth would he leave a doll for Joanna there. Jaime was staring at the doll when suddenly the pieces clicked into place for Jaime along with memories so sweet and painful of the daughter he lost that he felt them physically. The reason the doll looked so damn familiar is he had seen it before or one like it. He flipped it over and saw the toymaker's mark sewn in the doll's back. The man had one foot in the grave when he had gone to the shop to purchase them for Myrcella, there was no way he could possibly still be alive. That meant this was an old doll, a very old doll indeed.
"When did you get this doll?" Jaime asked his daughter.
"The day that everybody got to go to the fancy ball." Joanna pouted. She had desperately wanted to go see all the ladies in their beautiful dresses and wear a new one of her own. She was much more of a peacock like her father when it came to dressing up.
"You mean the day Lady Sansa moved into Uncle Tyrion's room." Jaime said gently. "I think this doll might actually be hers. I bought similar dolls for your cousin Myrcella" he said his voice thick with emotion "and Lady Sansa was close to her age."
Joanna's eyes filled with tears, "I didn't know Lady Sansa was moving into Uncle Tyri's room. I thought the doll was mine, and she had a note on her that said Sally and I DIDN"T KNOW." she started sobbing uncontrollably.
While Brienne cradled their daughter, who hugged her purloined toy to her chest tightly, Jaime was aware of the sudden prickle up his spine. Did Joanna just say something about a note?
Doing his best to disguise the utter panic in his voice, but not fooling his wife in the slightest who was staring at him with wide questioning eyes, Jaime asked. "May I see the note Joanna?"
Joanna pointed to a toy chest while sobbing pitifully into her mother's arms. "I'm sorry." she whimpered over and over again and the sound broke her father's heart. But he let Brienne console her as he now had to deal with the unforseen consequences of her innocent actions. Plucking the letter that said "Sansa" in his brother's flowing hand from a strap inside the lid, his heart broke again but for his brother this time. Oh Joanna, what have you done?
Sansa had, of course, sworn her brother to secrecy after the revelation of her feelings for Tyrion. He didn't understand, at all, why she couldn't, wouldn't act on them. Gods, what world was this where Jon was the romantic and she the pragmatist. She loved him but he was so naive sometimes. When she told him why even if Tyrion returned her affections, which he didn't, why it would never work between them, her words had fallen on deaf ears. He had told her that "Love was the death of duty." She was Lady Stark, Wardeness of the North, and it was both her duty and her privilege to serve her home and her ancestors. A duty and service bound in love for her people and the North with the blood of all the Starks coursing through her veins. Winterfell was her home and much like her Aunt Rosalyn, she couldn't wait to escape this place. So she flipped the words on Jon telling him that "Duty was the death of love." and asked him to never speak of it again, saying she was emotionally overwrought from the encounter with Harold Hardyng. Jon had agreed, but only after telling her she was making the biggest mistake of her life by burying her feelings.
There was of course far more to the obstacles between them than her duties to the North even if that was the excuse she told Jon. Tyrion was just too important to the Crown and just so damn good at his position that she would never ask him to come North for her. Not that he would. She had borne witness to his first stint as Hand under Joffrey and he was brilliant at it. The past few weeks had just reiterated that fact to her. He was born to politics as his brother had been born to wield a sword. Watching him this past week, had been almost unbearable. The sharp bite of his words, the deft manipulations of the other players had left her in awe. If the Summit
was a tourney, he would have won single handedly with Daenerys being the Queen of Love and Beauty as well as the Seven Kingdoms. She couldn't help her jealousy at that fact. His Queen would always come first. Daenerys had seen the potential in him, his singular sharp mind and good heart under the impish snark. Meanwhile she had snubbed his kindness and did not appreciate his good qualities so she could hardly blame him that his loyalties would always be first to his Queen, not to the wife that had abandoned him and married another. Not for the first time, she wondered if he was half in love with the fiery Dragon Queen who was all she was not. Fire, fury, and passion while she was cold, calculated, and reserved.
She toyed with her food at dinner, while the extended Lannister family spoke animatedly about their visit with Ser Addam. Sansa couldn't help but notice that Reyna was slightly flustered, and couldn't help smirking at her when she described the red haired knight. She was delighted for her new friend but poor Tyrion would be looking elsewhere for a wife after all. Which is precisely what he was doing, being wined and dined almost all week by the families of potential brides, proving he didn't need her at all to be a matchmaker. It didn't help one bit that his brother made pointed remarks about his absence with each one being a dagger in the heart as she thought about him being fawned upon by all the beautiful women she had seen in town. All it would take was for one to spark his interest, and they would fall for his charm in no time she was sure. The Queen's idea had been a good one and was sure to generate many wedding invitations in the months to come. She would just be sure to not attend one in particular, as her heart would be broken enough from afar. Plus she didn't need Jon to be looking at her the whole ceremony with that expression so like father's when he was disappointed in her when she was already ashamed of her own cowardice.
Although, she doubted very much that would be a problem considering they weren't exactly speaking right now despite how he had cared for her after Hardyng's assault. Sansa knew that was her fault as she had told him she didn't want to be friends anymore and he had taken it to heart. She didn't know what she had expected. Perhaps for him to have tried harder to fight for whatever it was between them? She had just been so hurt by the way he treated her and he didn't seem to understand why. And she wasn't sure if he even cared enough to fix things. Not for the first time, she wondered if avoiding Tyrion for the past week had been a mistake. It was childish she knew, but since he treated her like a child anyway, she may as well prove him right. It was painful enough to see him in his element as Hand, but to see him outside of large meetings very well may have killed her, aware fully now of her feelings for him.
The nights were the worst as she could smell him, almost feel his presence in his room surrounded by his things, even if he slept across the hall. His giant, comfortable bed had become a source of constant torment as her dreams of Tyrion had become far less innocent in nature of late sparking both fear and desire in her soul. More than once she had found herself trembling in her nightclothes hand on the doorknob ready to burst across the hall confronting him with the full force of her feelings and wants. But fear of his rejection accompanied by the cruel whispers of the monster she had slain (and damn him for being right about being a part of her now) that voiced all her own insecurities about being intimate with a man. That she was scarred, soiled, frigid, a ruined woman. She would combat the voice with the words of the whore who wore her scars proudly or Reyna who had found joy in her wedding bed. Exhausted by her internal battle, she would return to Tyrion's bed breathing in his scent wishing she wasn't such a coward before crying herself silently to sleep.
Preparing for her walk that night with Reyna and the happy young couple, Sansa wondered if she could confide in Reyna now that she was starting to be convinced that her and Tyrion would never be more than friends. Her heart lightened at the thought of unburdening herself to another woman, one who might understand and offer insight. However, her plans were interrupted by Ser Jaime's odd and somewhat desperate plea that she come to the nursery. Despite his prickly demeanor to her of late, she immediately followed him and he rushed her up the stairs holding firmly on to her elbow with his good hand. Several times he looked as if he wanted to say something to her, but his jaw just clenched shut causing alarm bells to go off in her head.
Outside of the room he stopped and Sansa could hear muffled girlish sobs from inside. Her soft heart propelled her towards the door, all her instincts telling her to do whatever she could to ease the hurt but Jaime's stopped her by quietly saying "Sansa."
She wasn't sure what shocked her more, the softness in his voice or the familiarity of his address. They had never exactly been friends, but she was aware more than ever that they both loved the same people dearly as she stared up into his green, green eyes that were so like the ones that usually pierced her from a much different angle. He raked his hands across his face before muttering "Where to begin" and Sansa started as he sounded so much like Tyrion's echo from long ago when he broke the news of their betrothal to her.
Sansa blurted out "Joanna, please start there. I can't bear to hear her cry."
"Yes of course. Just know there is much more to the story but let's get her settled first. Joanna found a doll on Tyr.. I mean your bed the day you moved into the tower. She thought Tyrion had left it for her, not knowing the maids had switched it over for you. Are you missing a doll?"
"A doll? I haven't had a doll since…" her memories flashed of her father giving her a beautiful doll even if she was far too old for one. She had still been angry with him and Arya, grieving Lady, and had treated his gift with disdain. Shame flooded her body.
She shook her head as Jaime gave her a quizzical look. "No, the doll wasn't mine. It may be that Tyrion did leave it for her."
"Are you sure? I happen to know the doll was made by the same elderly toymaker that I use to get Myrcella's from." If Sansa had any lingering doubts about Jaime's character, they evaporated as his voice caught with grief at his daughter's name. "I just don't know where he would get an old doll like that for Joanna."
A sinking feeling hit Sansa, "I might know. But I'd need to see it. I promise I won't upset her."
"As I said, there's more but I will tell you in private momentarily." he said opening the door.
Poor little Joanna Lannister sobbed quietly against her mother, but her swollen eyes became even more wet and upset as she spotted Sansa. Looking at her parents for support, she thrust a doll out towards her before uttering a tearful "I'm sorry I took your doll Lady Sansa." It was too much for Sansa's heart and she rushed forward to gather the child in her own arms and shush her apologies and tears.
It was only after she and Brienne finally quieted her that she finally looked at the doll. Tears threatened to prick her eyes as she held the last present her father ever gave her. Thinking not of herself, but the young child beside her she schooled her face into a pleasant expression to hide her grief. "I think this was my doll a long time ago when I lived in King's Landing. Someone must have found an old trunk of my things I left behind and wanted to surprise me." Sansa suspected she knew who that was and that caused the grief in her heart to lift slightly. "But you know I was too old for dolls when my father gave her to me. I never played with her or gave her a name which just doesn't feel right does it?" she asked Joanna. She smiled at her sweetly "But I bet you've named her and have taken good care of her."
Joanna nodded her head enthusiastically. "Her name is Sally and I've been very careful with her and I brush her hair and give her lots of love."
"Well then, I think she's found where she belongs. If you promise to take good care of her and invite me to the next tea party, she's yours to keep." Sansa said handing the doll back to her.
Joanna wrapped her arms around her hugging her tight her tears finally drying. "Even if you aren't married to Uncle Tyri anymore could you still be my Aunt Sansa?"
"That would make me very happy." Sansa said sincerely.
The usually verbose Jaime had remained silent during the exchange about the doll, but was quick to kiss his daughter goodnight and escort Sansa from the room while his wife settled Joanna back to sleep. In foreboding silence he escorted her to his brother's chambers where he deposited her in a chair by the fire before bringing them both a glass of wine.
Fortifying herself with a long drink of the wine, she turned to Jaime arching an eyebrow as he downed his entire glass in one gulp. He took a deep breath, steepling his hands before him and sighing. Sansa studied his profile and she could see the tension in his shoulders and the worry creasing his face. Quietly he began to speak without looking at her, "A little over a week ago, I waited in this chamber for my brother after he ran down to Flea Bottom to discreetly fetch Bronn and bring him to his ailing wife. When I awoke, my brother had returned looking more despondent than I'd seen him since that whore bore false witness against him at the trial." Icy cold guilt spread through Sansa's body when she thought of how she abandoned him that day although even in hindsight she didn't know if she would have changed things. If she had stayed she would have stood trial too. Would they have both been executed or fled to Essos together? Too many 'what ifs' swirled through her brain. Jaime's voice brought her back to the present. "I thought that Lady Jenna or the child had been lost but instead found that the reason for his misery was the falling out you two had. I would tell you it's foolish to spoil a friendship over such things as a bawdy song but I suspect that the reasoning for your anger had much deeper roots."
"You'd be correct." Sansa stammered as her heart hammered against her ribs as she waited for whatever axe was going to fall.
"I won't discuss all that we spoke of but just know he was deeply upset and hurt that he had lost your trust and friendship. He wanted to apologize to you but was at a loss for words, his thoughts scattered in the face of your anger with him." He turned to Sansa with a pointed look. "That man has talked himself out of certain death on multiple occasions, but he couldn't find the words to tell you how sorry he was? Let that sink in for a moment Lady Sansa so you know how much you truly mean to my brother."
Sansa took another sip of her wine, her hands trembling against the wine glass. But she said nothing as she avoided his eyes that were far too much like Tyrion's at the moment.
"So I advised him to take his time and write you a heartfelt letter of apology. Which he did" Sansa's head snapped up at that "but I know now that he pinned it to your old doll, although I'm not sure where he retrieved that, and well we both know where that ultimately ended up. He's spent the past week convinced you did not accept his apology and your avoidance of him confirmed that fact to him." Sansa's eyes threatened to fill with tears. By protecting herself from her own heartache, she had inadvertently hurt her friend. Because he was her friend, first and foremost even if she couldn't help but want more.
He pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to her, the wax seal of the Hand unbroken, her name in Tyrion's script on the front. "I'm so sorry Sansa, for this mess, for being less than kind to you this past week. It's just...he's my little brother, and this was a pain I couldn't protect him from so I took it out on you." Jaime stood, returning his glass to the sideboard before exiting the room, intuiting that she would want to be alone to read his brother's words.
The door wasn't even closed before Sansa, with a shaking finger, broke the seal on the letter and her eyes devoured the words in front of her. A muffled sob escaped her throat at the sincerity of his words and the proof that he really did see her now as an equal. An intense and all consuming desire to speak with him coursed through her. She could wait for him to return, but would she lose her courage if she did? And if he came back drunk and smelling like another woman's perfume would she be able to speak with him? Where could he be?
She flung open the door not knowing where she was going and was startled to see Jaime slumped against the wall his hands rubbing his handsome face that looked haggard at the moment. They both knew why she was there without speaking. "He didn't go anywhere for dinner, he just didn't want to make you uncomfortable by being here. He said he wanted to look at the sea and think about things."
Sansa raises her hand to his bicep and squeezes it trying to convey both her gratitude and forgiveness. "Thank you."
She flies out of the tower, grabbing her cloak along the way. The full moon at the moment making it almost as bright as day despite the storm clouds on the horizon. She wanders into the gardens not quite knowing where to look. In the distance she spots Pod and Joy stealing a kiss in the shadows, while their chaperone Reyna has eyes only for the red-haired Gold Cloak by her side who appears just as smitten as she. A painful longing tears through her own soul.
She heads deeper into the lesser used parts of the garden heading for the sea and the heavy growth is lit by torch light. Despite the light she has become somewhat disoriented and is starting to think it foolish to rush out here with no plan and no true knowledge of where to go. Despairing she thinks of returning to the tower to wait for Tyrion, when a rustling in the underbrush draws her attention. A large raven hops into the path tilting its head as if to study her. It hops a few time before gliding down the path stopping at a juncture. It looks at her again and then squawks impatiently as if it is waiting for her to follow. Shaking her head at the madness, she follows the bird as it takes her down a path that begins to look familiar. Eventually it emerges out onto a large balcony that overlooks the sea. A place where once she had mourned her family while Tyrion tried in vain to comfort her.
And there he was, his back turned to her. Deep in thought, his hair tossed wildly in the seabreeze he didn't notice her presence until the raven swooped to sit on the wall beside him with a rasping squawk before flying over the Blackwater.
It was then he turned, and their eyes locked.
Where to begin, where to begin….