"I wanted to wait until I found someone who would make me happy-"
"Then you should," Tyrion interrupted. Sansa ignored him.
"But then I realised I have already found him." Tyrion glanced outside to the empty yard. He wondered if the man she had chosen was a knight, one of her own perhaps.
"Who is it? A Northerner?" he asked curiously. Perhaps a Glover, to affirm that alliance. Sansa would not have ignored the politics of marriage.
Sansa's lips twitched, making Tyrion feel as though he was on the outside of a joke. "No, my lord. I was rather hoping you would do me the honour."
Tyrion's jaw dropped. Perhaps he was not on the outside of the joke. Perhaps he was the joke. "My lady, you jest." Tyrion remembered fucking her on the table. She'd been so beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman he'd taken to bed before her. She'd been so responsive and easy to please. And so honest and real, something Tyrion was not used to. Whores were so fake. Tyrion had simply become accustomed to that. Realness was not something Tyrion expected from Sansa either. Her mask was so well fixed. It had come off with her dress.
"I do not jest, Tyrion." She'd dropped the 'my lord' business that Tyrion had started when she entered the room to ensure a safe distance between them. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. "Who else would I want to marry?"
Tyrion could name probably ten men at Winterfell at that moment more suited to Sansa than he. And then there were more that he could name from Jaime's camp. All younger than Tyrion, taller than Tyrion, better men than Tyrion. Sansa reached across and put her hand on Tyrion's knee. Tyrion gaped down at it in horror. "I thought we could make each other happy," Sansa said. She was still wearing her mask but Tyrion understood that better now that he knew about the horrors of her marriage to Ramsay.
They could make each other happy. They would be friends. They would get on and probably argue sometimes but mostly happy.
It would be so easy for Tyrion to fall in love with her. So painful when she didn't fall in love with him. Although, the fantastic sex might help with the pain.
"Sansa, you've not properly thought about this." She quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, we had really fantastic sex and we were married once so I suppose it all makes sense but-"
"But what?" Sansa cried out. Tyrion blinked, surprised at the outburst. "You said you were unhappy despite being happy where you are. I'm happy where I am but I go to bed at night and feel empty inside." Tyrion sighed, dragging a hand across his face.
"A cock isn't going to help that, Sansa," he said. Sansa retreated back into her mask. Tyrion watched it happen and mourned for the flash in her eyes that had come with its removal. "You live here, in the North, and I am Daenerys' hand. You don't even like Daenerys."
Sansa didn't deny it, Tyrion noticed. "We'd sort something out. You could live here. You could be my hand. It was what we were going to do, once." Tyrion remembered that it had been his father's intention that they repopulate the north or whatever. He had never expected it to happen, given that he had never expected an heir. "We could have a child, lots of children, and be happy here, away from anyone who doesn't appreciate us. Just us - and Brienne and your brother, I suppose."
She made a compelling case. Tyrion didn't need to close his eyes to imagine children with Sansa, throwing snowballs or creating snow forts. Tyrion could see he and Jaime raising children in the same place, their wives best friends, their children as close as brothers. They would be a family. Tyrion's heart almost broke. He could feel tears welling in his eyes.
"And when children come along who are like me?" Tyrion asked, tears invading his throat. "What does your plan do then, Sansa?"
Sansa shook her head. "If they come, they come and I will love them, as I know you will. You believe me to be Cersei?" She did a good impression when she had the mask on, Tyrion considered, but, no, this woman offering to marry him was not his sister. Thankfully. "Tyrion, think about it at least," she said, standing. Tyrion nodded dumbly, watching as she stepped away from the window.
"You're leaving?" he said without thinking, cursing himself almost immediately. She gave him a look. The flash in her eyes made Tyrion's cock twitch.
"You want me to stay?" she asked, smiling seductively. Tyrion almost groaned. As if she would ever have to seduce him.
XXX
Jaime woke to a banging at the door. He groaned, wiping his eyes blearily and remembering the events of last night. His vision cleared, finding Brienne fully dressed in her armour, sword attached to her waist. "Who's at the door?" Jaime slurred. Brienne strode over to it. She had such confidence when she was wearing the armour he had bought her.
She opened the door a crack, very careful not to show her naked betrothed to whoever was at the door. Jaime grinned at the thought. "Who is it?" he called, solely to embarrass her.
And then she let Tyrion in and the small triumph that came from the thought of Brienne's red blotchy face due to embarrassment disappeared. "What do you want?" Jaime grumbled, sitting up and exposing his chest to his brother and Brienne. He felt the heat of the fire that Brienne had no doubt stocked up the moment she awoke.
"I need your advice."
"Again."
"Yes, well, I'm not exactly surrounded by friends, so, despite your absolute failure in the past at romantic relationships-" Jaime squawked "- I'm coming to you."
"I'm not a failure," Jaime said, gesturing at Brienne who gave him an amused look. "What happened? Did you fuck Sansa again?" Brienne glared at him this time.
"I'm going to go," she said, her eyes glancing away awkwardly. Jaime pouted.
"Don't I get a kiss goodbye?" he asked. She gave him a derisive look, scoffing and then leaving. Jaime gave the door an unhappy look. Tyrion pulled himself up onto the bed, leaning against the bottom end and pointing his short legs towards Jaime, who leaned back against the cushions, tugging the sheets up to cover his midriff.
"I did fuck Sansa again," Tyrion admitted, "after she asked me to marry her." Jaime's jaw dropped. "I know."
"What did you say?" Jaime asked, urgency mixed with excitement in his tone. "Did she get down on one knee?" Tyrion yanked at the sheet with a scowl, forcing Jaime to grasp it so as not to reveal himself. Jaime shot a glare at Tyrion, pulling the sheet up to his neck.
"I said she didn't know what she was talking about and she only wants to marry me because I made her come. Something to that effect anyway," Tyrion said, leaning his head against one of the posts of Jaime's bed. Jaime threw a cushion at his brother. "What?"
"Why would you say that? Potentially the most eligible lady in the Seven Kingdoms, and one of the most beautiful, asks you to marry her and you refuse? What is wrong with you?"
Tyrion groaned, "I know."
"And after refusing to marry her, you fucked her?" Tyrion nodded. "You really are a terrible person. I don't know why Sansa wants to marry you."
"She said we could be happy together. She said that we could have a family here and you and Brienne would stay -" Jaime groaned.
"We have to stay in the North?"
"Sansa wants Brienne to stay with her. She wants us to have lots of babies and all be happy together." Jaime thought the idea had merit. "And I can imagine it. It would be amazing and I would fall in love with her." Jaime blinked. "And I'd spend the rest of my life living in unrequited love with the mother of my children."
Jaime furrowed his brow, letting his sheet fall back to his waist. "So, to be clear, the reason you're not marrying Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell and your ex-wife, is because you're scared that she, the person who proposed to you, will not fall in love with you?"
Tyrion growled. "I appreciate how stupid it sounds, Jaime, but look at me. I'm not you! She wants me because I'm a safe option, not because she is in love with me."
"I'm not saying she is in love with you. I'm saying she could fall in love with you. And I do know how you feel." Tyrion scoffed. "No, I do. I never thought Brienne would allow herself to fall in love with me. She is so much better than me, so much more honourable. I've done horrible things and she knows that. What I look like isn't important to her; my honour is. How could I possibly make this woman fall in love with me? But she did. We don't choose who we love."
Tyrion gave Jaime a narrowed eyed look of scrutiny. "How long have you been in love with her?" Tyrion asked. Jaime rolled his shoulders as he considered.
"I'm not sure," he said eventually. "There wasn't some moment where suddenly I stopped loving Cersei and started loving Brienne. I feel as though there hasn't been a moment I didn't love her since I've known her but that's not true. I do know that even when I didn't like her I was willing to do anything for her, to make sure she wasn't hurt." Tyrion nodded, swallowing. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"What?" Tyrion said defensively. Jaime gave him a look to tell him to stop fucking around.
"You're torturing yourself for no reason. This woman wants you to marry her. You don't know how the future is going to pan out. She might fall in love with you. She might not. I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that you would be happy here, with a wife and children. You'd be Lord of Winterfell and have a family."
Tyrion clenched his jaw. Jaime watched him carefully. He knew that he was right here but that Tyrion had to come to the decision himself, or, when things went tits up, he'd only blame Jaime. Not that Jaime thought things would go tits up. Jaime rather thought Tyrion and Sansa would make each other very happy and he could see them falling in love, if they let themselves.
"So you think I should marry her?" Tyrion said. Jaime rolled his eyes.
"Yes."
"But I'm Daenerys' hand."
"True," Jaime said with a nod, "but you have to ask yourself what you want more: happiness or power." Tyrion gave Jaime a look which told him that his simplification of the situation was not appreciated. Jaime didn't care, stretching back against the pillows. "And given that the happiness comes with access to as much sex as you want, I think the answer is obvious," Jaime added with a smirk.
"As much sex as Sansa wants," Tyrion corrected.
Jaime snorted. "She let you shag her on the meeting room table. I'm sure she'll want lots." Tyrion's neck flushed and Jaime snickered. "Come on, Tyrion, it's not that complicated. What do you want more?"
XXX
Jaime checked that he looked as respectable as possible before knocking on the door to Queen Daenerys' solar, where he knew that she was meeting with her advisors until midday, thanks to his brother's visit that morning. It was nearly midday, so Jaime hoped he would be able to catch her. One of her unsullied soldiers opened the door, where Jaime found Daenerys at the head of the table, surrounded by Jon Snow, Varys, Tyrion, the female advisor who followed her everywhere, a Dothraki and the leader of her unsullied.
"Ser Jaime," the dragon queen greeted, looking up from her maps. She didn't move to cover them and Jaime didn't look. "What can we help you with?"
"I just wanted to inform you, your grace, that I have sent for the rest of the Lannister armies." Daenerys only arched an eyebrow. "They're under my command as Lord Lannister and will leave Cersei with no one but the Golden Company." Daenerys inclined her head.
"Thank you, Lord Lannister," she said, placing emphasis on his title. Jaime swallowed, hating his father's title. He nodded once and turned to leave, ignoring the look on his brother's face.
Jaime closed the door to Daenerys' solar with a click, hoping that that had won him a bit more trust. He wandered along the corridor to his next stop, Sansa's solar. He knocked twice and was greeted by a Northern soldier's scowl. Jaime smiled at him. "Is Lady Brienne within?" he asked. The soldier merely grunted and stepped aside to allow Jaime to enter.
Inside, he found the solar empty. He continued to Sansa's bedchamber, discovering Brienne in only her vest and underwear. He wolf-whistled from the open doorway, grinning at her discomfort at being practically naked around this women. Two of Sansa's ladies gasped in horror but Brienne only rolled her eyes, not doing anything to cover herself. Sansa glared at him. "How can we help you, Ser Jaime?" she asked, offering Brienne her breeches.
"I just wondered if you had agreed to allow Lady Brienne to take a week off after the wedding," Jaime said, standing upright and watching Brienne lace her breeches. The two chambermaids scuttled off with a wave of Sansa's hand.
"I have," Sansa said, smiling at Brienne genuinely. Brienne's neck flushed and she focussed on putting on her shirt. "I hope you will have a restful week."
"I hope not," Jaime replied with a smirk.
"Jaime," Brienne growled, flushing. Jaime snickered.
Sansa's lips were twitching. "Lady Brienne's outfit is taking shape very well," she commented as Brienne finished dressing and reached for her boots. Jaime snorted.
"I doubt that," he said honestly. Sansa turned irritated eyes upon him. "I truly would not care if she wore her armour, my lady. It's her wedding day." Sansa nodded once, giving him what he thought was a look of approval.
"I'm aware of that, Ser Jaime. I promise she will be comfortable." Jaime doubted that very much. "The rest of the preparations are going very well. Queen Daenerys has offered her unsullied to help decorate the sept." Jaime wondered how much of this Brienne had approved and how much had been done without her knowledge. She stood up from the chair, boots laced and armour on. "And I have planned a feast."
"A feast?" Jaime said, furrowing his brow. "I doubt many of your northerners want to celebrate a Lannister's wedding." Sansa shook her head.
"No," she allowed, "but this is Brienne's wedding, as you just pointed out, and you will find that Lady Brienne is well loved in the North." Brienne came to stand by Jaime. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "And, anyhow, we already planned to have a feast to celebrate winning the battle," Sansa said, striding into her solar. Jaime and Brienne followed. "I expected the Long Night to be prolonged. I find that we have enough extra food to have quite a celebration, enough to celebrate my friend's wedding and the winning of the war against the dead."
Jaime smiled at Sansa referring to Brienne as her friend. He was very proud of how beloved Brienne was. He couldn't believe she was marrying him. "Can I help you with anything else, Ser Jaime?" Jaime met her eyes. "Have you come to threaten to do me harm if I break your brother's heart?" Jaime chuckled. She was very direct. He could see why Tyrion liked her.
"No, my lady. I am sure you will care for it very dearly. I only hope that he will pull his head out of his arse and that some day soon I will call you sister." Sansa arched an eyebrow at Jaime and Jaime could almost hear the joke in her mind. She chose not to say it and Jaime was grateful.
"Yes, I will be very happy to be Brienne's sister," she said, taking a seat at her table. Jaime rolled his eyes at her lack of inclusion of him. "Brienne, go and have lunch with your betrothed," she said and Jaime could hear the smile in her voice. Jaime lifted Brienne's hand to his mouth and kissed it. "I have a meeting in two hours. Would you please come back for then?" she asked. Brienne nodded.
"Yes, my lady. Thank you."
Jaime grinned. Two hours.
XXX
"Fuck, Jaime," Brienne panted, tightening her hold on his hair and pressing his head closer to her. He took her clit into his mouth. Brienne's other hand balled in the sheets of their bed, letting out a sort of whining moan. She lost all control of the noises she made when Jaime's head was between her legs. "Fuck, fuck," she cried, feeling the pressure build. He was so good at this. He lathed his tongue against her, circling her slit while his fingers pumped inside of her. "More," she groaned, grinding against his face. She was nearing the top of the wave, ready to ride it to completion.
It didn't take much longer until she was coming against his face, his teeth pulling slightly at the skin that covered her clit and his fingers pumping through her legs' spasms. Stars appeared behind her eyes. She arched her back off the bed, gyrating her hips against Jaime's still moving tongue and wonderful fingers. "Jaime," she groaned when he moved away, her legs stilling and her head falling back against the pillows. He grinned up at her, licking his lips like a sated lion.
He came to lie beside her, body angled against hers, his erection hard against her thigh. He leaned his face down to press his lips against hers. Brienne could taste herself on his tongue. She tangled her hand in his hair and kissed him eagerly if inattentively, enjoying the lazy, slow feel of his lips caressing hers.
"I don't think Sansa expected this when she suggested I have a lunch break," Brienne said when they pulled apart, her breath coming quickly. Jaime snorted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
"On the contrary, wench, I'm sure this is exactly what she imagined." Brienne tapped his hip as though to admonish him. He ground himself against her side and bent to kiss her again.
"I do actually need some form of sustenance," Brienne said, closing her eyes against Jaime's kisses, spreading quickly from her lips to her jaw to her neck.
"Do I not sustain you?" Jaime asked against her collarbone. Brienne let out a throaty laugh.
"No," she said, letting out a moan when Jaime fixed his lips on her nipple, darting his eyes up to find her sapphire gems staring down at him.
"I'm sure you'll cope, wench," Jaime said with a grin, as he rolled his body on top of hers, reaching down to adjust himself so that he could thrust inside her with a grunt.
Brienne moaned, panting, "when my stomach is growling in this meeting, I'll send you to the seventh hell." Jaime chuckled against her lips.
"I welcome it," he replied, kissing her harshly and thrusting.
When Brienne arrived at her meeting later, Sansa greeted her with a hunk of bread and a mug of ale. Brienne blushed furiously.
XXX
