Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?
Warnings: It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)
Pairings: (Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.
Her Song of Fire and Ice
Chapter Five: Waited There Forever
Screams.
I'm sorry.
"The things I do for love."
You shouldn't have been there.
"The things I do for love."
Why did you have to see?
The things I do for love.
He loved so, so hard and why is it never enough?
Jaime pulled the kid up and onto the window's edge, steadying him and remembering vaguely how he watched this boy practice his archery and even giving a few pointers.
He glanced at Cersei, who gave him a frown and nodded. He looked back at the kid and gave a charming, friendly grin.
"The things I do for love."
And then he shoved Bran Stark back and watched him screaming and falling to his death.
Jaime's mind shuttered away from that scene then though, and when he recollected himself, it was to a dark room and harsh breaths that were painfully pulling out of him. He pushed himself upwards and stared blankly at the sheets pooling around his waist, trying not to think back to that scene.
Why was he feeling guilt? He knew he wouldn't have normally have felt it, especially because he knew how important it was to keep he and his sister's affair secret. Not when he loved his sister and would do anything for her, no questions asked.
But guilt just ate at him and he didn't know why or how to get it stop.
The scene kept replaying in his head over and over, haunting him just like the last moments before he stabbed King Aerys in the back, watching the Mad King screaming to "Burn them all!"
Except now, something else was being repeated —'Burn them all' was replaced by 'The things I do for love', and it was his voice in place of a mad king's.
Jaime shivered and slipped out of his bed, looking for a wash basin to cool his heated face with. Maybe if he already got ready for the day and busied himself, his mind would stop plaguing him.
As soon as he'd cleaned up and outfitted himself with armor, not bothering for a servant, Jaime left his room and went in search of something to occupy his mind. But it was extremely early and most everyone would still be asleep, except for much of the keep's servants starting to rise (if they hadn't risen yet to start their duties).
To his surprise and a bit of horror (and no small amount of guilt), he almost ran straight into Sansa.
(He should call her Lady; he should, he really should —but he couldn't, not after that lovely dance, that special moment, that —by the Gods though, that just made everything worse, and made what he did worse, made the guilt worse, made him worse —)
Jaime gave her a wavering smile, inwardly recoiling from her tired form, even though she tried to inexpertly hide it. She smiled back, not as brightly as her usual but no less sincere. She shouldn't be smiling so sincerely at all, not to him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, inwardly wincing at his tact and the informal questioning.
She said nothing of his familiarity though, her smile just lifting up a little more.
"Tired, I suppose you can say," she admitted to him. "I shouldn't burden you with such things though. You are a guest here after all."
"It's quite fine, Lady Sansa," he remembered his manners quite late. "I just see that you are not looking so well, if I may say, and was worried. And, after how casual and familiar we were the last we met, I would like to think we are —or at least could be —friends." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth as he remembered what he did to her brother. Some friend he'd be.
She briefly looked surprised before utter happiness seemed to brighten her up, and she briefly touched his arm.
"I appreciate your concern and kindness, Ser Jaime. Truthfully, after Bran's fall a few days ago, Mother's been quite consumed with grief," she bit her lip. "I worry over her as much as I worry over Bran; perhaps worse so, since Bran is stable and just waiting to wake up, and nothing more can be done for him. Mother on the other hand…Meanwhile, I am also working hard to make sure Mother's usual duties do not become forgotten and am trying my best to take care of everything."
Jaime offered a grim smile. "And I believe you are."
No thanks to him though.
Ever since Bran's fall from the Broken Tower (as it had been taken to being called after Bran's accident), Sansa had been running herself ragged trying to take care of everything. Her father tried to help out, but he had to do his own duties as well as getting everything prepared to travel with his household and to head out with the King. Robb, too, could not spare much time to help her, since as he was to more or less start taking over from their father, he would need to shadow and help out their father more while he was still around.
Which left much to Sansa in regards to running the keep, keeping an eye on her younger siblings, and continuing to take care of their royal guests.
Gods knew she was exhausted and wanted to rest. But she also knew she couldn't falter, and especially in front of anyone. She had to keep up a strong front, especially in front of their guests and as the current representation of House Stark's hospitality, in lieu of her mother. And as the oldest daughter and second eldest Stark child, she had to continue to uphold their name and honor, more so given any other House because of their lineage and long history and role in the North. She wouldn't dishonor them.
She was only lucky and relived, however, to find camaraderie and peace with her Soulmate's oldest son. Jaime, only called so in her mind, was sweet and kind, and everything she'd once hoped and believed a true knight would be like; he was just like one from the fairytales, like one from her songs and dreams.
It made her wonder about her Southron Soulmate, how a man such as Tywin Lannister was reported to be, could raise someone like Jaime then. Even a son like Lord Tyrion, who was bawdy at times, but kind and polite to her, and ever so friendly —yet also exceedingly intelligent and inquisitive.
A man as cold and hard as Lord Lannister couldn't possibly be just that, with two sons like that, right? Even his daughter, the extremely beautiful Queen Cersei, was so elegant and regal that it was easy to see Lord Lannister be equally as such, but she could hardly fathom seeing his hard character in her.
All three of Lord Lannister's children were so different from what she had heard his harsh character was like, that a part of her thought that maybe in private and with family, he must be quite different!
"I am ever so curious now," she muttered, walking past the stables.
"I want you to pay your respects!"
"Why? I don't care about the wailings of women!"
She stiffened up, both in unease at her unintended eavesdropping and because she recognized the voices.
And because of what was being said.
She let the conversation run its course and then peeked around the corner to see Joffrey unhappily stomping away, back looking tense and angry while he rubbed furiously at his cheek. The Hound, a fierce but unfortunate man in her opinion, followed after the Prince stoically.
Left behind was a disappointed but also agitated Lord Tyrion, rubbing his own hand.
Ah, he must've struck Joffrey then. Sansa took a deep breath and stepped from behind the corner, catching Lord Tyrion's attention. The Imp's, as most seemed to call him, mismatched eyes widened.
"My Lady!"
"I apologize," she started quietly. "I had not meant to hear any of that, but I was indeed walking this way when I overheard your conversation with Prince Joffrey. Perhaps I should have walked away when I first heard your voices, but when my own betrothed's voice carries over and speaks ill of my family, I could not but help by still my feet," her voice turned chilly, though she didn't mean to speak so towards her Soulmate's youngest.
Lord Tyrion's eyes looked at her sorrowfully. "He is young and impetuous. Perhaps, hopefully he will grow out of it and match your own maturity, Lady Sansa."
She breathed in slowly, furrowing her brows in thought. "I would hope so," she said, thinking of her own Soulmates and the longing that suddenly sprung up in her. Maybe maturity had somehow grown in her already, but she was still young and too youthful, and most assuredly inexperienced.
A woebegone child with fanciful dreams still lingering in her head.
Her hand traveled to her wrist, the easiest of her Marks to reach without obvious notice, and held tightly.
She thought of the three and of Joffrey, and felt resigned. She gave a small smile at Lord Tyrion.
"Both he and I are young," she acknowledged. "He may yet mature into someone worthy of being King."
And when he was mature enough, she would share the secrets of her Soulmates with him and maybe the two of them could come together and he would understand her.
(But most of her already thought that this boy-prince made something in her feel utter dread that she couldn't shake off no matter what she did.)
Sansa was helping Arya pack, both girls quiet. They'd just found out that Arya was not going to King's Landing with them, but being fostered at Bear Island. Sansa would be going with Rickon and Arya would be taken in by the Mormonts.
She turned to Arya. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy —you'd be less bored at Bear Island and you'll get to train like you want! And I mean training," Sansa gave her sister a small smile.
Arya gave her a hard stare. "We were supposed to go to King's Landing together."
"You wouldn't be happy," Sansa was bewildered. "Surely you would prefer Bear Island."
"You're going to be there with that cunt Joffrey."
Sansa stifled the unexpected laugh, looking over her sister fondly after her initial scandalized look at Arya's language. "Is that the problem? I'll be fine, Arya."
Arya scrunched up her nose. "Robb told me that because you're betrothed to that cunt, you're going to have to be nice to him and you have to side with him on everything. Even if he does something stupid, you can't speak against him. I think that's stupid, stupid, stupid!"
"You have a new favorite word now?" Sansa smiled, hiding her unease and upset.
Arya threw her hands up. "I'm serious, Sansa! He is the worse! I saw him earlier, when I was going to play with Mycah, and I saw him being an absolute arse to him! He's going to act like that towards you too."
Sansa's shoulders dropped. "He's young, Arya. He grew up like how princes most probably are used to —spoiled and used to getting their way."
"That makes no excuse and if he acts like that towards you, I'll cut his balls off!" Arya threatened violently.
Sansa's cheeks pinked, even as another unexpected laugh burst out of her. "Arya!"
"I mean it," she was stubborn. "That's why I should be coming with you. I don't trust him and I don't think he'll ever change the way he is. He's rotten to the core and always will be."
Sansa swallowed slowly, inwardly agreeing with everything her sister said. But what would she to do? Expose her Soulmates? Force them to acknowledge her? Have them know about her and reject her publicly?
What if they did accept her and then treated her just as badly or even worse than Joffrey? It would be more terrible than being hurt by Joffrey because these men were part of her soul, and she wouldn't be able to stand it.
Being hurt by Joffrey would be nothing compared to that.
Before Sansa could open her mouth, there was a knock on the door and Jon peeked his head in.
"'Lo, you two. I didn't expect you here, Sansa." He slipped into the room, holding a long bag. He reached in and took out a long, thin sword. "I was coming here to give this to Arya."
Sansa hid her smile, exchanging looks with Jon as Arya squealed and practically jumped on him.
"Watch it, watch it! The sword's going to stab you or me at this point, Arya!"
"Haha, quiet, Jon! Hand it over!"
Jon smiled and gently handed it over, and Arya admired it, waving it about slightly.
"This is great! Thank you, Jon," Arya beamed at him.
Jon looked over at Sansa. "Your sister doesn't want to reveal the fact she designed the sword for you and helped pay for it with me."
"Sansa!" Arya turned to her, eyes wide.
"You've always been comfortable and in love with the sword, but I thought something light and easy for you to wield would help you be faster and more maneuverable than your opponent, especially since you'd need all the advantages you could get against heavier and more experienced fighters."
This time, it was Sansa's turn to catch Arya and hold her tight, both she and Jon laughing at the younger girl.
"I'm going to call it Needle! You can have your needles, Sansa; I'll embroider the shit out of my opponents!"
Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister's suddenly boisterous, triumphant laugh that made her wish she would go to King's Landing with her.
"Speaking of lightweight, maneuverable weapons," Jon said then. He reached into the bag again and pulled out an elegantly carved quarterstaff, as crimson as the weirwood leaves in the godswood.
As Jon held it out to her and she accepted it in awe, she examined it and saw that it shared not just the red shade of the weirwood leaves, but the carvings of the leaves went up and down the quarterstaff, connected by thick curling vines that ended in snarling direwolf heads on either end of the staff. In the middle of it with the handle, she saw the classic Tully trout twined around it as an engraving. There were tiny hooks on the staff from close to one end to close to the other end, that connected a strap for her to slip the quarterstaff onto her back.
"Now that's a weapon," Arya said in admiration and a bit of smugness.
Sansa looked up from it to look at Arya and Jon side by side, grinning like twins at her.
"We had fun trying to come up with something for you," Arya crowed in pride.
Jon laughed, also delighted. "You should've seen Ser Rodrik! He was bloody ecstatic to hear about the quarterstaff piece we wanted and was just as excited to help out and make it. Even swore that the wood came from the heart tree itself."
Sansa wasn't sure about that, but she knew she was absolutely touched and about to get teary. To hide her silly tears, she threw herself at them this time, and they hugged each other tightly in one giant mess.
"I'm going to miss you two," Sansa cried, knowing she would and already feeling lonely at the thought of being in King's Landing without them.
Arya tried to hide her sniffle. "Whack Joffrey with that quarterstaff for me, will you?"
"I don't want to say goodbye either," Jon held onto his girls tightly and they focused on holding him back.
"I'm going to miss you, Jon," Arya hid her face against his neck.
And Sansa? She pulled back a little and the two exchanged a final look before she leaned forward and kissed his cheek firmly.
"We love you, Jon. You are a Stark. Remember that."
"I will," he whispered back and he knew he would, even if he knew that he was probably descended from Targaryens too.
Because this here was his family and the only ones he'd love and cherish.
Both girls followed Jon off and saw him to Uncle Benjen, exchanging goodbyes with their uncle and final ones with Jon. They both looked on sadly as he left and then Sansa and Arya turned to each other, both girls glancing at the waiting party that was going to escort Arya off.
"You said your goodbyes to Mother and Father yet?" Sansa asked quietly.
Arya gave a huff. "Mother didn't even want me to go. I would actually be agreeing with her, if only because I should be going to King's Landing with you and to make sure that arse of a prince doesn't think he can do what he wants with you, like he thinks he can with everyone."
"Well, you can train with the Mormonts and become so good that you'll finally travel to King's Landing and become part of my Queensguard," she teased Arya. "Although Mother would be horrified, since it would mean you won't ever marry."
"Then that's perfect!" Arya looked exalted at the idea. "You're the Lady out of the two of us; I'd much rather be a Ser!"
"Ser Arya," Sansa tried it out for her sister, who started to grin wildly. "Fitting."
It made her a bit melancholy though and reminded her Arya wasn't coming with her after all. She pulled Arya into a tight embrace that she started to protest about, though they died quickly enough and she hugged Sansa back just as fiercely.
"If he touches you any wrong way, I swear," Arya muttered against her shoulder.
"And if he's King?" Sansa asked solemnly.
"Then become a Kingslayer."
Of course that'd be her sister's answer.
Then again, that answer —more than anything —made the dread rise up in her more than ever…
Sansa finished up packing her own trunks, feeling sorrow fill her as she looked around at her chambers. This would be the last time she'd see it, perhaps the last ever.
King's Landing would be her home now.
"Someone looks a little lonely," she heard Robb tease and she looked to the entrance to see Robb leaning against the door frame. "Theon would be saying his goodbyes, but I think he's really upset everyone's leaving. I think he's particularly upset about you leaving too."
Sansa felt a little disappointed, wishing Theon would have come say his goodbyes, when she wasn't sure when the next time she'd be able to see him.
Robb left his spot, closing the door behind him and heading over to her.
"One more hug from your almost twin?" Robb asked, holding out his arms.
She stepped into them and wrapped her arms around his waist as his arms enclosed tightly around her.
"We're not almost twins; you're two years older, Robb," she said in fond exasperation.
"Exactly. Hence the 'almost.'"
She laughed and was going to pull away when he held onto her and refused to let go.
"Robb?"
She felt him take a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you so much," he muttered. "I'm going to miss all of you. Winterfell won't be the same without all of you and it's going to feel different. But you…You've always been there for me and we've always been close, especially being the eldest and the ones Mother and Father counted on. A lot of the responsibilities always fell to us and a lot of times we relied on each other. It's just…Sometimes it always felt like we were meant to be twins."
Sansa could feel her eyes getting watery again. "Oh, Robb…"
He squeezed her briefly. "I'm going to worry about you going to King's Landing, especially mostly on your own. Father will be busy with his new duties and Rickon will be depending on you. And you'll be stuck with Joffrey the Cunt."
She snorted. "Gods, you were the one influencing Arya on that."
"Who says she wasn't the one influencing me?" he asked innocently.
Sansa rolled her eyes, even if Robb couldn't see her.
"Seriously though, Sansa…I don't want you to be hurt. He's not a good person and I know you know it. Your Soulmates…maybe you're right about them. But maybe you're wrong. Maybe Mother's wrong about all of it and is too invested in her hurt and is a bad example. But then, if all she knew was the pain and hurt Father dealt her, surely they would not have had you? You were born after me, after Jon. The first child of love they had together and the child that should be a symbol that they could overcome that hurt and create someone as lovely as you."
She felt touched by his words, as much as she also could see truth in them too. Their parents went on to fall in love still, enough that she was born and then Arya, then Bran, and then finally Rickon. Even if Jon was a source of hurt, they loved each other and stayed together through it all.
"Could you not, even if I can't keep you from King's Landing, at least think on that and consider your Soulmates?"
And she thought, maybe Robb did have the right of it after all.
Most of her was still so skeptical and wary —terrifiedworriedtinysadunsure —and knew she'd keep agonizing over this.
In just moments, she would be leaving Winterfell. There was just one more person she had to say goodbye to, someone she loved and had always admired and mostly tried to model herself after.
Lady Catelyn Stark looked haunted and tired, praying over Bran's comatose body. Her quiet sniffling echoed in the small room and Sansa took a bit of time to gaze over her mother.
"He'll wake up," she said firmly. "I know he will. He's Bran."
Bran who they all knew was Catelyn's favorite child. Bran who was reckless, fearless, and wanted to be a knight. Bran the Brave, they always teased him.
Bran the Broken, her mind whispered traitorously.
Catelyn didn't even lift her head, gazing at Bran with weepy eyes.
"Arya's already gone, as is Jon. I'll be leaving with Father and Rickon now too," she said as quietly as she could, feeling like speaking louder would disturb the air.
"You're leaving?" Catelyn finally looked at her, looking at her tiredly.
"Yes," she stopped herself from biting her lip.
"I…see."
Sansa came closer and hugged her mother gently, moving over to sweetly kiss her brother's forehead. She stepped away from them and looked back at her mother, who smiled as best she could at her daughter.
"Goodbye, Mother," she said and started to move towards the door, stopping just before she was to leave. She saw her mother still looking at her and started to fiddle with her sleeve, before just holding it and looking at her mother meaningfully.
The words were stuck in her throat and she couldn't quite say it, but her mother knew regardless, older Tully eyes widening.
Catelyn gave her a sorrowed look and Sansa gave her a bittersweet smile back, giving her a nod in answer before leaving her behind.
Started 3/8/20 – Completed 3/9/20
A/n: Welp, this keeps escalating? XD Ahh, but at least they're on the move and leaving Winterfell. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Would love to hear what you guys liked and what more of! Thank you guys so much!
Quick Points:
1. Current GoT Fics: Her Song of Fire and Ice (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), A Red King Bowed (Roose/Sansa), and March to My Heartbeat (Stannis/Sansa). Also The (Im)Perfect VERSE, including Deck the Halls and now Count Me Down to Midnight, and now Be Still, Heart.
2. I just wanna update so I probably forgot everything that I probably should've or wanted to point out xD Quick update though this time, eh?