Ready or not, here we go.
Everything that man esteems endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away…
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
exhaust his glory and his might: Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
from Everything That Man Esteems by William Butler Yeats
Jaime
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He travelled from Casterly Rock on horseback, along with a small retinue, men his brother insisted accompany him, Bronn among them. He was both glad and bothered by this. In one regard, he was grateful not to be alone in the North, in the other, he was to marry Lady Sansa and Bronn had been there when Tyrion had done so, and with Bronn's mouth, both astute and uncouth, things were bound to be uncomfortable.
The closer they reached their destination the shorter and colder the days became, but still their trip had been pleasant so far, considering Bronn only knew that they'd both attend the Queen's wedding, swear fealty to Jon, and then he would get his castle and bride. Bronn was to be on his best behaviour, and he said he would be, but with Bronn, Ser of the Blackwater, and future Lord of the Twins, one never truly knew.
But it was in that temporary and comfortable lull, as well as the steady pace of his steed and the road, that Jaime's mind began to wander, and dwell on things he'd been trying to forget.
As a Lannister, there was no shortage of guilt on his shoulders, strange that the worst of it, the most daunting, had been born out of love. For her. He could not think her name, it still hurt too much to remember what she turned into, and what he let himself become.
He knew that if he was going to enter this union, false though it was, he could not come with lies and omission. Lady Stark deserved the truth, and if her brother cut off his head, well it's not as if he was not already taking that risk by going North. In any case, at least he'd be done with it all.
He thought of his would-be wife, remembering the first time he'd ever truly looked at Sansa Stark. It had been shortly after his return to King's Landing, and a few days before his son's wedding, after he'd lost a hand and gained a stump. Brienne's not so kindly reminder of his vow to protect the girl was still fresh in his mind.
It had been during some formal event for the King's upcoming nuptials, he could not remember exactly as there had been many of them, Cersei had been purposely ignoring him, and his brother had claimed illness and not attended. Bored, as there was no one else worth conversing with, he glanced about the room disinterestedly when she caught his eye. She had been sitting next to Lady Margery and as they spoke animatedly, he could not help compare the two. Joffrey's intended was a little older and more striking, and she moved with purpose, as if she knew of the effect her movements created in the opposite sex.
As for Lady Sansa, she had seemed to have forgotten her many layers of calculated indifference and ever present grief, because as she smiled at something the Tyrell had said, he caught a rare kind of softness in the northern girl, perhaps some fragment of who she'd once been. In that moment, he'd instantly known which would be a better wife in the end. And though it had not mattered that his son had not chosen her, since he'd died on the eve of his marriage, Jaime realized he would soon find out for himself.
He wondered if she knew yet of the Queen's ploy, and how she had, or would, react to the news. Considering both he and Sansa had been prisoners of each other's family, they had spent decidedly little time in each other's presence, she had not even really existed in his own mind until Lady Catelyn had first mentioned her daughters to him when he'd been her prisoner.
When she did, it was only ever about fulfilling his oath to her mother, and when Brienne had found her, in some small way, he had. Now though, he was about to swear a vow of another kind and he could not help but wonder if this new one negated the last.
As a boy, all he'd ever wanted was to be an honourable knight like Sir Arthur Dayne, yet it seemed he was doomed to be nothing more than a man without honour. His life was little more than a series of broken vows: 'protect the king', yet he'd stabbed his in the back, 'defend the innocent', yet he'd pushed one from a tower with the intent to end his life, 'honour thy father', yet he'd freed the brother who killed him, 'serve your family', though he'd suffocated his. The list only went on. He'd betrayed the dragon queen for love, and had betrayed her for duty. And now, he was about to break the only one left, to deliver her from his family and return her North', yet he was about to take her from it.
He had no choice though, not truly.
They arrived just after the sun fell, deciding to push on as the clouds were dark and looming, it would snow soon. The King in the North and the Queen of the South were in the Hall with everyone else, eating. He was grateful for his luck, with the ruckus of the meal, no one would notice him, nor Bronn behind him, enter.
He'd been sorely mistaken, as the hall quieted the minute he stepped in, and he never more felt like a cat in a room full of dogs. At least in the North, he was still the Kingslayer.
As he walked steadily towards the main table, he noted that none of the other high lords or ladies had yet arrived. Then he saw the man he'd once met as a bastard boy sitting in the centre, Queen Daenerys to his right, and Lady Sansa, his intended, to his left. There was an older man with a familiar face sitting next to her, and on the other end sat the Queen's confidants, Missandei and Grey Worm.
He kept his eyes on the King, and bowed deeply when he reached them.
"Your Grace, my Queen, Lady Sansa," He said cordially.
The King and Queen nodded back, and Sansa locked eyes with him for a moment, but did not move.
"Ser Jaime," King Jon replied, his expression dark but his voice even. "Welcome to the North."
He had no way of knowing of course, but by the look in his eyes, he was certain King Jon knew of his true purpose in the North. He was certain however, that neither he nor the Queen, knew of his secret rendezvous at the Tooth.
"Is Lord Bronn not with you?" The silver haired Targaryen asked then, her eyes darting over to Jon as she spoke, though he did not glance back at her.
Jaime wasn't sure when the man had slipped from his side, but he was suddenly never more grateful for the former sellsword's presence, as all eyes turned to him when he said, "Ay, your grace, I am here."
He stepped forward from the table he sat at with Jaime's other men, coming to stand beside him.
"Begging your pardons, your Grace, I was not aware my presence was requested."
He gave a pointed look at him, then bowed.
Queen Daenerys smiled, but it was Lady Sansa who spoke.
"It is customary for high Lords and Ladies to greet their King and Queen whenever the moment arises."
Her voice was not unkind though there was no grin on her face, and Jaime suddenly remembered this was not the first time they'd met.
"Do not worry Lord Bronn," Queen Daenerys said then, her voice accommodating, "It is a new world and we are all making new discoveries."
He nodded politely, but did not speak. So she continued, "Come, sit, you and your men must be famished after your journey."
She motioned to their table.
"Thank you Your Grace," Jaime said for the both of them.
Just as they were about to leave, the King finally spoke.
"Lord Bronn."
The man in question looked up from his bow, surprised to have been called out.
"Your Grace?" he answered.
King Jon did not hesitate, his voice even,"You once served Lord Tyrion did you not?"
This question was unexpected, to them both, as well as the Queen, as she only looked at her intended.
"Aye, your Grace, a long time ago."
He turned to his sister for a moment, her eyes catching his briefly, before he continued.
"How different is it serving his brother?"
Bronn glanced over at him, as if he was truly considering the question.
With a smirk directed towards him he answered, "He's prettier, your Grace."
Jaime knew Bronn well enough to know what that inferred, touched by the compliment, but wondered briefly if the King would actually believe that he was anything like his brother.
He nodded but did not speak, and when it became clear he would not, but the King's eyes never found the Queen's. Bronn bowed once more, and Jaime nodded, though he spared a glance at lady Sansa, immediately catching her eyes as she studied him intensely.
He turned before anyone could notice, knowing they would have time to formally talk. He felt her eyes follow him down the row, along with many others though he hardly seemed to notice them. When he sat, he looked up at her, but she was talking to the man beside her, and after a moment he turned to the food being placed before him.
"You're the most hated man in the North," Bronn said to him then, picking up his leg of chicken.
"Yet the most beautiful woman in this room, or second depending on who you ask, would not turn you down if you offered her your Lannister cock."
Jaime looked at him disgusted by his vulgarity that felt oddly comforting, then added with a smirk, "It's good to know where you stand on the ranking."
The Lord of the Twins turned to look at him, chewing, and had the decency to wait until he was done before responding.
"Oh the Queen would be number one certainly, if not for the gooey eyes she has for king Jon." He spoke lowly, so no one would hear.
Jaime laughed mostly for that than what he'd said, but now that he sat, and Bronn had cleared some of the tension, no one was paying them any mind.
"I suppose we know where you stand," He continued, giving him a look.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Jaime answered ambivalently, cutting at his own leg of chicken.
He could hear the grin in his companion's voice, "Sure you do. You made quite the effort to introduce yourself to her after all."
He glanced over again at Bronn, catching the quality of his expression.
"Your brother's ex-wife, no less, " He said before biting into the meat in his grip. "It's good to know you're a lecherous old man, just like the rest of us."
He did not look at her for a long time, not until it seemed Lord Bronn, had forgotten. When he finally did, his eyes locked on hers once more, but then someone walked past, and she was looking at the man next to her again.
And then he looked no more, even though he felt her eyes on him at times, for the rest of the night.
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He woke the next morning early, only slightly sore from his ride. He asked his squire to fetch him a bath, and as he waited he looked out at the morning light. The ground was covered in a thick layer of new snow, and he wondered how people lived here, surrounded by so much cold almost year round.
His water arrived, and they brought him some fruit, cheese and bread, and he ate a little while he waited. He stripped and got in as soon as they left, sliding in until he was nearly submersed. He sat there for a long time, letting the warmth soothe his bones and muscles.
After, he dressed and left his chambers though he wished to remain hidden there, and headed towards the main hall to find Bronn. It was a cold morning, but the castle was surprisingly warm. He wore his cloak, only because he hoped to go for a walk to stretch his muscles. He thought to invite Bronn, though he doubted the man would be interested, still he would try. As he approached the Hall he caught sight of a glimmer from the corner of his eye, and turned to see Lady Sansa approaching.
He hadn't wanted to admit it to his friend, but when he set his gaze upon her, he realized she was truly beautiful. At their secret meeting he'd been too distracted, first with worry then with despair, so he hadn't noticed how her auburn hair shone in the firelight, nor had he seen it shine in the sun as he did now. He'd seemed to have forgotten that her eyes were ice blue like the North she was from, and that she was a young woman now. There was a seriousness in her that was utterly alluring.
"Good morning Lord Jaime," She said when she reached him, as he'd stopped to wait for her. She bent her head and he bowed in return.
"Morning Lady Sansa, " He replied evenly.
"Heading to the Great Hall?" She asked simply.
When he nodded, she added, "As am I."
They resumed step, walking side by side. It was too quiet, so he spoke, "'I'm looking for Lord Bronn, if he is awake, I imagine it is where he'll be."
She said nothing to his words, and he felt all the more ridiculous for them. They walked in silence, the quiet heavy as they were surprisingly alone in a castle that was no longer completely asleep.
"How are you, Lord Jaime?" She asked, her voice gentle, concerned.
He knew what she meant though she hadn't said her name directly. He hadn't intended on bringing her up, not now when he was meant to do his duty.
After he'd found out that night in the Inn, he'd blamed Sansa, Littlefinger, himself. He'd raged and drank and mourned yet another woman he'd loved. He's not sure what it meant, but he had loved her. He knew now only Littlefinger was to blame, and if she was gone, he was grateful to have at least known her, and been a changed man because of her.
Another moment passed before he let himself answer.
"Well enough."
Her lips turned up slightly, though his words had been vague and unclear it seemed as if she knew that he had found some measure of peace.
"I know it is rather trite to say this, but all wounds can heal, it takes only time."
It was then that he remembered that she had suffered her own horrors, from her time with his family in King's Landing, to her time married to the monster that was Ramsey Bolton. He looked at her a moment and was reminded of Theon suddenly, something in their gaze that was the same, and though he'd always known on some level that they had been abused by the same man, it was only now that he truly realized what she had been through, and survived.
Brienne had not been wrong, he did not know many girls like her.
"Coming from you Lady Sansa, I would not say it is trite at all."
His tone was soft, and he hoped she would speak no more of honourable Lady Brienne. He could not bear it any longer. He was grateful when she said nothing, and they walked in silence, and it was not uncomfortable.
The hall was mostly empty, save for a few men eating at a table to the left, and the two former slaves from Essos, sitting at the head table, talking intently.
"It seems Lord Bronn has not yet roused from his slumber, as most of the castle," She said kindly.
"I should have expected as much," He almost grinned back.
He bowed to leave as she spoke, "You'd be more than welcome-" though she stopped when she realized his intentions, and he stopped mid-bow as well.
"I had hoped to persuade him to join me for a walk," He said as a means of explaining his sudden intention to leave.
This time she did smile, "You'll need many more layers if you intend to walk in the fresh snow."
"I had not planned on walking long," He answered, amiably though slightly confused.
"Two feet or a mile, you'll need warm boots and gloves at the least, if you do not wish to lose a limb," She said, her voice surprisingly light.
Feeling playful in return, he lifted his golden stump, "Another you mean?"
At this, she seemed embarrassed."I'm sorry Lord Jaime. I did not think..."
Again he interrupted her, "Do not worry. I've grown long accustomed to my missing hand. Hardly even miss it anymore."
He finished speaking with an actual grin on his face, and though he could not see, it felt real enough. At first she seemed unsure what to do, most people tended to react the same whenever he spoke lightly of his stump. After a moment, it seemed as if she decided not to say anything to his words, but as he was about to excuse himself once more, someone interrupted him mid-bow yet again.
"The King is ready to see you Lady Sansa," the voice said.
He turned to look at who it was, caught for a moment by his size, despite his obvious youth. By his armour he was clearly a soldier of house Stark, but he reminded him of the old King Robert, when he'd been young anyway, down to his beard and the surly look he shot Jaime when their eyes met.
"Ki-Lord Jaime," He corrected himself, though it fooled no one, "It is fortunate you're here, King Jon wishes you to remain in the Great Hall until he summons you."
He smiled perfunctorily, using it as a mask to hide his true feelings as he so often did. Though he was fairly certain that the man's words weren't how noble King Jon had phrased it, and he tried not to care what the wolf thought of the lion, he could not help feeling tired of that being held over him, especially when there were newer, worse sins he was guilty of.
He glanced over at Lady Sansa as he spoke, "I had no intentions of going elsewhere."
Thankfully she didn't dispute him and without another word, he bowed and left, though he only went as far as the table he'd sat at the night before. Their eyes locked for a moment before she followed the man out, and he tried to ignore the stares that covered him after she left the Hall.
He had long since broken his fast, and Bronn had come and gone, he'd been less than keen on strolling through the 'bloody snow'. However, Jaime now wondered if he'd even have the time himself, with how long he'd already been waiting.
He was being punished, of that he was certain, but the Great Has was no dungeon, and there was wine at least. By the time he was summoned, this time by a smaller and less abrasive guard, he'd already been certain that she was not coming back to finish their awkward conversation, and though he felt grateful for that, he wondered how he was going to marry this girl he could hardly speak to.
He did not have time to wonder long as he soon reached the King's solar, a pit forming in his stomach when he realized the Queen was nowhere to be seen. Luckily though, neither was the gruff soldier he'd encountered earlier.
"Sit," King Jon said once they were alone.
Jaime bowed and did as he was told, and didn't bother with false niceties, confident it wasn't going to help his case.
"Surely you know why you are here?" The King asked after a long moment.
Jaime knew what he meant, and hoping not to be misunderstood himself he answered, "I am here on the Queen's command."
King Jon's lips twisted into a false grin, "So you are, but it is I who rules in the North. Nothing transpires here that I do not approve."
"And I am glad of it your grace," He finally spoke, letting his voice sound as relieved as he felt.
It was likely this that kept the King silent long enough for Jaime to continue.
"But I am indebted to the Queen, and live by her mercy."
His words were poor replacement for the truth. He'd been aware of his sister's madness, long before the Dragon Queen haunted their shores, and he'd long since known it was his duty to put an end to her misery. But he'd been a fool, still was, blinded by love for a woman of his own imagination, so he'd betrayed the Queen, both of them, the day he tried to take Cersei away.
He could not say all this of course, it was not his place. The Queen had not made this information common knowledge, and though he doubted she planned to hide it from King Jon, he didn't want to betray her confidence by speaking out of turn, in case she had not already told him.
"But I am here, in the North, and my family has committed many crimes against yours, as have I. There is nothing I can say nor do that will undo the past. I do not ask for forgiveness, because in truth I do not deserve it, but perhaps it is time I pay the debt owed."
A Lannister always pays his debts after all.
He paused, taking a moment to find the right words. He'd planned a detailed confession, but in the end kept it simple.
"I pushed Bran, that day years ago. He caught us. Cersei and I— and I pushed him. I told myself I did it for love, for my family—"
He didn't get the chance to finish his words as suddenly he felt a hand crush his wind pipe and force him down to his knees. He heard the unmistakeable ring of steel being pulled from a scabbard and felt a rush of air as the door burst open almost in the same moment.
"Jon!" He heard a voice, a woman's, though he couldn't tell who as the side of King Jon's steel kept him firmly in his spot. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of red before it disappeared from sight and he heard the door close.
Lady Sansa.
She glanced at him for a moment as she came into view.
"I hardly think spilling his blood in your solar will solve any of our problems," She said seriously.
Reasonable though her words were, Jaime was certain they had not derailed him when he felt his blade graze his throat, followed by the immediate sting of broken skin.
"No. Just one."
She did not panic, only stepped closer, laying a hand on her brother's arm, "It will only undo everything you've worked for and it will not give Bran his legs back."
This finally worked, as King Jon pulled the blade back enough to allow him movement once more, and turned to his sister, her sudden burst into the room finally clicking into place. He did not seem upset though he wasn't exactly thrilled that she'd been listening at the door.
Her brows went up a little as she shot him a pointed look, "I had to make sure you weren't going to do something stupid."
Suddenly, her brother seemed exasperated once more, "And it does not bother you?"
"Of course it does Jon, as did Theon's betrayal, and yet, I found myself capable of forgiveness, because they are more than their mistakes, as we all are."
When she glanced down at Jaime, he turned away, as he found he could not meet her eyes.
"Bran survived. He lost his legs, and Ser Jaime his hand, perhaps that is the price he was fated to pay for his crime. Perhaps not, but I'm tired of fighting, aren't you? We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves."
The words must have meant something special to the King, as all his ire went out of him, and he finally dropped the blade to his side, sheathing it once more.
"What of your happiness Sansa?" King Jon asked.
By the turn in their conversation, it seemed as if they had forgotten he was there. He wasn't sure how that could be since he was still kneeling on the floor before them, but he couldn't bring himself to look up let alone move, though his knees were beginning to ache. He hoped he wouldn't be kneeling this long at the actual ceremony when he and the other Lord's and Ladies swore fealty to their new respective ruler. He tried hard not to listen to their words, but failed miserably.
"Let us worry about today, and figure out tomorrow when, and if, it comes."
He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by if, but he finally looked up. Her expression of indifference made him realize that she was as good at hiding her true feelings as he was, if not more so. She didn't not seem bothered by this impending betrothal, though there was no way she could not be. She'd heard the truth after all.
They both turned to him then, and it was clear neither had forgotten he was there. So he was grateful then, of the sudden tap on the door, as they looked away. He used the moment to lift himself off the ground, as Lady Sansa went to answer and King Jon let him stand. He dabbed at his neck with the sleeve of his tunic, a long sliver of blood stained the fabric, but it seemed the scratch was not deep enough for concern.
He was not surprised when he saw that it was the Queen who stood on the other side, her expression distinctly cool and collected though he could feel the undercurrent of distress in her forcefulness.
"Lord Jaime, Lady Sansa, I had not expected to find you here," She said as she entered the room, sparing each a moment's glance before she set her eyes on the King.
Lady Sansa closed the door behind her, and moved to stand across from him though her eyes were planted firmly on the interaction between her brother and Queen Daenerys.
"Jon, I had hoped to have a word."
The King remained silent for a few moments, and Jaime noticed that he was the only one in the room who did not hide behind a mask. His expression was dark and affected, his feelings were clear.
A few moments passed before he finally answered, his voice detached, "So speak."
She glanced at them, him and Lady Sansa, "Alone, if you would—"
"We will speak now, the four of us, or we will not speak at all," He interrupted, and Jaime knew this wasn't going to be pretty.
With a tight nod, she continued, "I know it is a lot what I ask. I should not have kept it hidden, I am sorry for it. But I must ask, for the good of our people. If all the kingdoms are truly united, there can be lasting peace, once and for all. That is all I seek."
"All of us under your thumb, you mean," He answered angrily.
She took a deep breath, and suddenly her hesitation was gone.
This is going to be downright ugly, Jaime thought then, steeling himself.
"Do you really think it is my wish to marry your sister to a Lannister, simply so that I may rule? I am a Targaryen and the Mad Queen's daughter, but I did not come to conquer Westeros, I came to free the innocent. As I freed the slaves of Essos, to break the wheel that crushes them, without bloodshed."
Then, as quickly as her temper flared, so did it suddenly subside.
"It was wrong of me to think I could demand such a thing when I have been sold into marriage. But I ask, for the good of all our people."
Her honesty still did not sway him as he finally spoke, "If I refuse, you will as well, will you not?"
Jaime wasn't sure what the King meant, he glanced at Sansa to see that she looked confused as well, but the Queen seemed to understand.
"No Jon. This war is as much mine as yours. My men, my dragons, we will will fight together no matter what Lady Sansa and you decide."
As the silence held, Jaime chanced a look at the King, and noticed that something she said had finally pierced through, but it was Lady Sansa who eventually spoke.
"What of Winterfell?"
"Your brother will remain here until we defeat the Night King."
"But after? You will whisk him to the South, and what will happen to the North? There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
The room stilled, as all eyes turned to the Queen. When she did not immediately answer, Jaime wondered if after everything, she had not thought of a solution to that problem.
"Give Casterly Rock to my brother, I never wanted it anyway," He said after a moment.
They turned to him then, each with their own distinct expression. Jon's was nothing short of contempt, as if he thought that that didn't solve anything. Queen Daenerys seemed to consider it a viable option. As for Lady Sansa, there was a brief flicker of curiosity, then it was gone.
It was Queen Daenerys who answered him, "That can be easily done, if it is her wish."
"And yet their children will still be half Lannister. Is the North to suffer Lannister rule after all?"
As he spoke, Jaime recognized the expression of Targaryen fury cross Queen Daenerys' face.
"How can there be animosity between Lannister men and Northerners if their liege lords share a child? I only wish to create a new future, a better one, for us all."
At this Sansa turned to her brother.
"No one has suffered more at the hands of House Lannister than I, but the ones who hurt us are gone. Tyrion was always kind to me, Jon and Ser Jaime sent me Brienne. I would not be here, if not for her. For the sake of the promise I made to her, and so more will not suffer as I did—"
She paused, her eyes finding his.
"I will marry Ser Jaime."
Before anyone could react, she turned to leave, gesturing for him to follow her out, leaving the King and Queen to speak alone.
"You never took that stroll did you Ser Jaime?" She asked once they were alone.
He kept his eyes forward, not looking at her as she walked beside him."I did not get a chance, no," He answered awkwardly.
"Would you care to now?"
He turned to her, caught by the invitation, though her expression gave nothing away.
"You look like you could use the fresh air," She continued, offering as explanation. "But perhaps just through the Godswood."
Though she was right, he wondered if that was truly her motivation behind the offer. Just as he'd been tempted to accept, he shook his head, knowing instinctively it would be wrong for him to tread his Lannister boots on such hallowed Stark grounds.
"Perhaps another time, Lady Sansa. If you'll excuse me."
He bowed without looking at her, and didn't turn back when he heard her call his name.
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Still hiding in his rooms, it was hours later when there was a knock at his door. He felt a pit in his stomach as his squire went to answer the door, but sighed in relief when he saw that it was Queen Daenerys who followed him into the room.
They were not friends, but in this place far in the North, aside from Bronn she was the closest he had. And there was enough straightforwardness in her way of speaking that at least he did not have to decipher her meaning.
She did not waste time, "King Jon has agreed to think on your betrothal. In the meantime, he has asked you keep your contact with her minimal, though he will allow you to escort Lady Sansa on the day of our wedding."
He was surprised King Jon had not broken off their own engagement, and briefly wondered what had made him change his mind. He said nothing though, and nodded.
"Yes your grace."
a/n: I'll be retitling this part of my series (when I posted I wasn't sure what to title part 1), to 'The Fullness Of Time'.
Thanks for reading, reviewing and following my fic.