Sorry this took so long, went through a long bout of writer's block, that's hopefully at an end. I know I said Tyrion next but I had to cut the middle man out again, to find inspiration.

He's next though, promise.

We shape our self to fit this world and by the world are shaped again.
The visible and the invisible working together in common cause, to produce the miraculous…

So may we, in this life trust to those elements we have yet to see or imagine,
and look for the true shape of our own self, by forming it well to the great intangibles about us.

from Working Together by David Whyte

Sansa

§

When she'd woken the morning of her wedding day, Sansa was surprised to find she had not been filled with dread nor excitement, only the tempered lull of calm. It'd been a strange feeling considering that although she'd agreed to the union, she'd still been anxious about it.

It was not only on account of him of course, her last wedding—and subsequent marriage— had been in Winterfell, and picturing herself within the customary settings of such a day, like the Godswood or the Great Hall, led to painful memories she only wanted to forget. She had not been able to avoid the feast in the Great Hall, but she married in the Sept instead—where her parents had—and tried to avoid the memories of her last union as she made this new one. She had mostly managed it, unlike her previous marriages, there was a sense of control in her third, and while she did not love him, at least she did not dislike him.

Initially, she wasn't sure why she'd added the Lannister colours, first to the cloak and then her dress, not until she realized why the look in his eyes was so familiar. She'd been in his position more than once after all, at the mercy of those around her—though his company was decidedly better than hers had ever been. Still, she realized she wanted to give him something, small gesture though it was, not only for giving up his position—for in cloaking her in her own colours and style he was doing just that—but he was also giving up castle and kingdom so she could rule her own.

She carried this in mind up until the day, and mingled with her own sense of security and control, it was no wonder that when she made those final steps towards him and her eyes found his, she was soft and warm and at ease. She blushed when she felt his gaze upon her, because there was not anxiety nor possession behind the look, but awe. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she was being seen for who she truly was, and she had never felt more beautiful.

By the time the feast had finished, the evening had already gone better than her first, partly in that ser Jaime was not blindingly drunk, and his manners were impeccable, but most importantly, there were no other Lannisters anywhere in the room. As for her wedding night, at least it had not been any more uncomfortable than her first.

§

In the short journey they'd made south, unsurprisingly little between them had changed. She and Jaime were still getting to know one another, and it was slow going to say the very least. Although she hadn't allowed him to take the floor again after the first night, the space between them had held. Only now, it was something else, something less tangible, but it was always there, hidden under the surface. She could feel it in Jaime's avoidance; during the day he frequently kept to Lord Bronn's side, and at night he waited until she was asleep before joining her. As for herself, she returned the courtesy by making sure to be up and dressed by the time he woke, and mostly keeping to herself on the road.

At first, Sansa thought her own steeliness—the rigidness in her back and the icy mask of courtesy she always wore—was brought on by this behaviour, and her constantly fidgeting hands tightening on the reins or whatever was in her grasp, was only a way to relieve her irritation at Lord Bronn's off colour sense of humour.

But as the days drew on she soon realized all those things she'd been feeling were but symptoms of something else, something that ran so deep, she hadn't even noticed it was there, pressing on her.

It was as the Twins came in to view, wide and brutish, two dirty columns rising into the sky like two grubby fingers, when she finally understood where it had stemmed from.

It was this place.

This was where her family had lost; she was on lands soaked in northern blood, on the verge of attending a wedding in the very same castle that had seen them die. The sudden clarity felt like a sharp pang in her chest, all the air in her lungs vanishing, the world around her slipping away as she was left in the haze of that truth.

"Sansa," A voice pierced through her discovery, loud enough to make her realize it wasn't the first time she'd been called.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Sansa focused on the person calling her. It was Jaime looking back at her, far enough away that his horse was still, waiting for her to catch up.

She took a deep breath before nudging her mare to a faster trot, trying to bury the truth once more, and letting the stiffness in her spine resurface knowing she would need it to get through this.

As she came to his side, she was surprised by the worried crease in his brow, making the already dark circles around his eyes look darker. Despite his claim that he was accustomed to it, the short nights were clearly not doing him any good. They were reaching the point where she'd soon have to address it, since it was obvious he never would.

He seemed to sense her studying him as he straightened a little, and the crease disappeared.

"Yes Jaime?" She answered, her voice steady, steely even, not wanting him to hear anything in her voice.

"It's getting late, we could push on, reach the castle by nightfall or set camp here tonight, and arrive in the morning."

There was little intonation in his voice, and the words had not exactly been a question, yet she knew he was leaving the decision to her.

She wondered for a moment how it had taken her so long to work it out, when it seemed clear Jaime had long since figured out what had been bothering her. She turned to the castle again, not immediately answering. On one hand, she could avoid spending the night under the roof that had seen her family die, on the other, she was only prolonging the inevitable.

"I'd like to push on," She answered, finally turning to him again.

He nodded lightly, forcing his lips into an agreeable smile, yet she could still feel his concern though he was trying hard to hide it. She returned the smile nonchalantly—or attempted to anyway, because while she appreciated the gesture, she didn't like being so easily read. Feeling the need to escape even her own thoughts, Sansa spurred her mare forward, and took the lead.

As promised, they reached the castle just after nightfall, and though they were greeted by Tully men, she felt as jittery as a fish out of water.

They were led directly to the Lord's solar, where the remaining Frey's waited for them. There were only the five of them, and yet Sansa felt her grip tighten on Jaime's arm as they approached. She hardly paid attention as each woman introduced themselves, and hardly noticed Jaime lead her to the table that had been set with their meal.

Bronn made the pretence of getting to know each Frey as they ate, though Sansa knew he'd long since made his choice, as only one of them had not inherited their father's looks, and men were all the same in this regard. Jaime played along as well, ever the gentleman, though she wasn't sure whose benefit it was for, hers or Lord Bronn's.

It was late when they finally retired for the night, and Sansa felt exhausted. After Bronn had made his choice, Lady Marissa, as she had accurately guessed, Sansa quickly took charge of the details. She was the only one prepared to make such decisions and she did not want to spend a moment longer in this place than she had to. By the next evening, Bronn would be married. Jaime, Podrick and herself would leave the day after that.

The quiet was heavy by the time they reached their chambers, and though she headed directly to the room as she wanted nothing but to sleep, Jaime made his way over to the table and pitcher of wine instead. She planned on only saying good night to him, and yet as she stood on the threshold of both rooms, they were not the words that came out.

"Don't you think it would be best if you called it a night?" She asked, her tone sharp, without the pressure of his eyes, her words came out as forcefully as she felt them.

Jaime stilled, from her words or her tone or both, the cup half raised to his mouth. Lowering his arm, he turned to her, his brow raised curiously, as if he hadn't understood what she'd said. Her lips lifted slightly into a disbelieving smile, humourlessly, astonished he was being so willfully obstinate. She took a few decisive steps towards him before speaking.

"You need a good night's rest, several in fact, and we still have a long journey ahead of us," She clarified, hands locked tightly in front of her, though she managed to keep her voice steady.

Jaime's expression shifted, and now there was a dubious glint in his eyes—as if to say, 'Is that so?'

She wasn't sure if it was his continued silence or the look on his face, or the accumulation of all the anxiety she'd been holding in, but something inside just snapped.

"If you did not insist on depriving yourself of sleep I would not have to say it, but you've left me no choice. From now on, you will sleep earlier or so help me, I'll—"

She paused unsure for a moment, in her ire unable to think clearly what it was that she'd do exactly.

He smiled then, seemingly suddenly amused in her anger.

"You'll what?" He asked smoothly.

Jaime's expression or more clearly, the mask he hid behind, rather than infuriate her further only helped to clear her mind. Finally the glare in her eyes flickered and was gone.

"I could have another room made for me, if you'd prefer," She answered seriously.

She couldn't help but be pleased when the smirk finally slipped from his face. They remained that way a little longer, until Jaime took a deep breathe and shook his head slowly.

"That won't be necessary," He answered, his voice subdued.

"Good, then I suggest you take advantage of the time and rest, you sorely need it," She said then, holding the door open for him.

He nodded, but she could feel his hesitation, as he didn't immediately move. A few moments passed before he finally stepped towards her, his steps slow. She exhaled lightly, feeling momentarily exasperated once more, and decided she'd give him some time to adjust to her new ultimatum.

"There are a few things I'd like to settle with Selyne for tomorrow, I'll be right back," She said after he passed her.

He sighed, probably in relief, and nodded again, before she closed the door behind him. As it had not been a lie, though it could have waited until morning, she made her way to the girl's quarters, and thankfully, Selyne was still awake. After readying for bed, she returned to the room, hoping enough time had passed so that he was already asleep. Sansa found herself mumbling the words like a prayer before she opened the door and her lips fell quiet.

As she stepped inside, only the crackling sound of burning wood filled the air. Her eyes immediately veered over to the bed where she saw her husband fast asleep, she'd not been wrong, so it would seem. She sighed, though it was half relief and half chuckle but kept her eyes on Jaime as she slipped in beside him, careful not to wake him but he did not so much as stir.

As she never truly let herself look beyond his eyes for too long—conscious that her actions never went unnoticed—her gaze lingered studying his face. In sleep, he almost looked a different man, his features relaxed in a way she'd never seen by day.

It was only now that Sansa realized how little they truly knew each other. They were making it through this union with little more than polite courtesy, friendly manner, and a sense of duty, but it could not last forever.

There was something between them though. Sansa had not wanted to admit it, not even to herself, but she could feel it—when she was not actively hiding behind her wall of courtesy—a kind of harmony in his company. Something likely borne from the loss of Brienne and what he'd done for her, and she for him.

And though there were so many other things keeping them apart—none of them good, there was something else Sansa was finally ready to admit to herself. She no longer wanted a stranger for a husband. She wanted a partner, someone she could trust, and though he was a Lannister, it felt like that could be him. She turned away from Jaime then, wondering how she would ever bridge all the space between them.

§

Sansa had just taken a bath, but had yet to put on her gown, when Jaime finally joined her the next day. She sat by the hearth, waiting for her hair to dry from the heat of the fire, writing a letter to Jon. Jaime had only just woken up, she could tell by the disarray of his golden locks and the dozy look on his face. She managed to suppress her chuckle at such an image, though she could not avoid the accompanying grin.

"Good morning, Jaime, " She said then, the frequently used formality feeling everything but.

"Good morning," He mumbled, blinking a few times still not completely awake, before running his left hand through his hair. He stood there a few moments, across the room, not focusing on her but looking around instead, finally moving when he found what he needed.

"You look well rested," She continued, as he walked to the table where she sat, though at the opposite end, where the pitchers of wine were, and a platter of cheese and fruit.

When he turned back to her, the fog of sleep had lifted a little as he smirked pointedly before answering, "Just what the maester ordered then."

He said nothing else, just poured himself a cup of the Dornish red and picked out a few cuts of cheese and some grapes as he let her sit with that, as there could be little doubt to whom he really meant. She fidgeted a little, slightly embarrassed by the inference, and turned back to her letter, dipping her quill for more ink but pausing before continuing, her train of thought long lost. She felt strange about the discussion they'd had last night, but couldn't deny they seemed to be slightly more at ease with each other after it.

She was finally finishing the note when she heard him set his cup down near hers, and from the corner of her eye saw him pull out the chair to her right and sit. When she looked up, he was not looking at her, instead he was yawning, eyes closed, mouth covered by his left hand, while his right arm, torso and legs stretched out as he leaned back against the chair for support. She held back a grin as she reached out for her own cup, though it was the Arbor white, and took a sip. When he opened his eyes, he looked over to her and down at the scroll in front of her before he finally broke the quiet.

"Writing to your brother?" He asked, voice curious.

She nodded, "To let him know we've arrived, and of Lord Bronn's wedding."

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably—the sooner the marriage the sooner we can leave this dreadful place—she reminded herself, not for the first time. They lingered in that silence as she sealed the scroll shut.

"I hope you don't mind but I had Rollam set out your clothes for today," She said then, trying to focus on something else, so her thoughts would not spiral out of her control.

"Everything all right?" Jaime asked suddenly, his soft tone bringing her focus back to him.

She smiled, trying her best to make it seem genuine, "Yes of course."

He quirked a brow at her, as if he didn't believe her, but otherwise didn't say anything, only reached out for his cup and took a long sip.

As Selyne, her handmaiden, arrived only a little while later, Jaime excused himself, retiring back to the room to wait for his squire. She was mostly dressed already yet this action, of adding or removing clothing in front of each other, was still uncomfortable and had not become ritual yet.

For a moment she wondered if it would not just be easier to get it over and done with, to share his bed so they could finally share a room comfortably. She knew little of the act, since all she'd ever known was pain, but with it had come a degree of honesty, in that she knew what he was, and he knew where to push.

Thoughts of her second marriage threatened to resurface, and as she had more than enough on her plate already, Sansa reached for her cup and drowned them out. After refilling it she brought it with her as she made her way over to her handmaiden, where the girl helped her finish dressing.

She sipped on her wine steadily, thoughts drifting back to her new husband as Selyne fastened the long row of buttons down her side. Sansa had just made it, in a new style she'd never tried, and though the gown felt a bit snug over her woolen shift, it suited her well.

Selyne was braiding her hair by the time Rollam finally arrived, the bundle of Jaime's attire full in his arms. He seemed to know where her husband was as he only bowed to her and headed for their chambers.

It was this little innocuous interruption—that even his squire knew they were not comfortable enough to dress in the same room—that made her realize the folly of this plan. If it was ever going to happen again, if she was ever going to let someone in, it would only be for the right reason. And though she knew Jaime would be nothing like the last—she refused to think his name—one truth made itself known above the others.

She was not ready.

There was only one other solution to the problem that she could see, and it seemed far more daunting somehow. They had to get to know each other. She took another long sip of her wine.

When Jaime finally emerged, she was in a pleasant enough state, feeling the flush of wine in her cheeks. He did not fail to notice it and though his lips seemed tempted to smile, his eyes were that shade of concern she was beginning to become familiar with. He didn't say anything about it, instead he offered his arm as if she needed the grip, and though she didn't—because she was too anxious to lose complete control—she took it anyway.

After the ceremony, during which she held onto Jaime's arm for the entire duration, Sansa made sure to drink steadily the rest of the night, the evening passing in a blur as she'd hoped. Jaime of course noticed, and though it looked as if he wanted to say something about it, he didn't. He did keep an eye on her, his own mostly, though he sent Podrick to her side whenever he excused himself. This bothered her, for reasons she couldn't understand, but was too preoccupied with everything else to fret about it.

She thought she'd been careful not to over do it, but by the time they were able to excuse themselves, and she finally stood, she felt the weight of wine like an extra limb. This time when Jaime took her arm, he was clearly finding her situation quite entertaining but he held her firmly and she held on too—for dear life, and he led them out of the hall with little consequence.

"Think you can make it?" He said, when they were finally alone.

She wanted to say something witty but all she managed was a wobbly nod.

"If you feel sick try letting me know, I'd rather you didn't do it on me," He smirked playfully.

She grimaced, feeling a little queazy at even the suggestion, and leaned her head on his shoulder and didn't even bother replying.

"I hope that was a yes," Jaime said after, though there was enough humour in his tone, she was fairly certain he was only teasing.

When they finally reached their chambers, Sansa felt unsteady, soft and pliant and loose and completely drunk. She giggled at the realization but silenced herself, remembering she wasn't supposed to do that. She looked up at him but he didn't seem to notice, instead he was focused on leading her to the bed where he helped her sit.

He let her go once it seemed she would not fall over, and stepped back. Immediately, she reached for the fastenings at her side, the tightness of her gown suddenly too much. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to undo the buttons, but soon grew irritated when they never seemed to end.

"Help me, would you?" Sansa asked, looking up at Jaime who'd already moved away from her and was quickly making his way back out.

He froze for a moment before he turned.

"Wouldn't you rather I got Selyne? I may not be of much help," He answered hesitantly, raising his stump as if it was all the proof she needed.

"No, it's late. Never mind I got it," She grumbled back, suddenly irritated by his nervousness.

Sansa fumbled with the buttons again, and managed to get half way down before she sighed exasperatedly and finally gave up, opting to pull the gown over her head instead. She had not undone enough though because as the waist reached her shoulders suddenly the angle of her arms prevented her from tugging it the rest of the way off, and she was stuck.

She began to panic, but then she heard him laugh, deep and heartily and fear was suddenly replaced with embarrassment. She wondered for a brief moment what a sight she must be to draw such a reaction from him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get your handmaiden?" He asked, tone amused.

She felt her cheeks start to turn pink and now wonder was quickly being replaced with humiliation. Turning away from him slightly, she didn't answer and attempted another tug instead, praying to all the gods, old and new, that it would slip off, but it didn't budge.

She exhaled, finally giving up as she was starting to feel an ache in her arms from the awkward position she was in. Just as she was about to speak, he did.

"Hold still," He said, sounding closer, his voice soft but still tinged with amusement.

She didn't say anything only did as he asked, and after a moment, through the layers of fabric she felt him place his hands, one pliant and one hard, just below her shoulders. His gold hand twisted into the fabric, thumb hooking on the bodice as his good hand pulled, until it was finally off.

"Thank you," She said as her eyes found his, then she chuckled almost nervously, still feeling self-conscious.

There was a slight hue of red on his cheeks too though, and he looked away and stepped back.

"You're welcome," He answered, before turning away again.

Sansa watched him for a moment, wondering if he was going to leave, but instead he moved over towards the chair by the fire, and began removing his own layers. A few moments passed before she realized she was still looking at him, so she turned and quickly made her way to the bed where she tucked herself in, and laid on her side, away from him so as to give him a little privacy.

The room had finally stopped spinning by the time she felt the bed dip beside her. She waited until he settled before she turned to him, knowing there would be no better moment than this, when she still felt the reckless confidence of the wine still coursing through her. His back was to her, but she didn't let that stop her.

"Jaime?"

Her voice had not been very strong but he must have heard it as he turned his head back to look at her expectantly.

"Yes Sansa?" He whispered, voice slightly unsteady, as if he was as nervous as she felt.

She didn't immediately answer, unsure how to start exactly. After a moment, he laid back, and turned his head so he was facing her, and though he seemed worried about what she was going to say, he only waited for her to continue.

"I know I've been rather…" She trailed off trying to find the right word, distractedly picking at a stray thread on her pillow. She abandoned the thread and looked up at him.

"Terse with you lately," She finally admitted, though that was probably the wrong word.

His face softened a little, but he didn't contest her phrasing.

"And though I suspect I do not have to tell you why, I still want to apologize."

Jaime smiled then, lightly. "No need, it's not as if I've been very forthcoming either. Why don't we call it even?"

She returned the grin, and nodded. They turned away from each other, Sansa mimicking his position by lying back. For a few moments, it was quiet, and though it felt as if the distance between them had finally closed, she knew at last what she needed to do.

If she wanted to get know him, she had to let him in first.

"When I was little," She started, interrupting the stillness, her voice timid as she hadn't heard herself sound in a long time. Jaime turned to her, gaze curious.

"Old Nan would gather us all, usually by the fire in Bran's room, Robb, Theon sometimes, Arya and even Jon, and tell us the old stories, of the wildlings north of the wall and the long night, with Rickon sleeping in her arms."

She stopped for a moment, lost in the past, which seemed so long ago, and yet she could recall every detail as if it had been just yesterday. She smiled then, as bittersweet memories filled her mind.

"Robb liked to tease us, me especially, as nothing ever frightened Arya and Bran seemed to like the scary stories."

She focused on Jaime again, for a moment worried the mention of her little brother had made things uncomfortable again, and though he was looking at her carefully there was a hint of something like fondness in his eyes.

Worries momentarily quelled, her grin widened as she continued, "I hardly ever made it to the end. Especially if Theon sat in, his presence always seemed to incite Robb."

She stopped there, not wanting her mind to stray into less pleasant memories. After a few moments, his expression grew wistful, and his lips turned up into a rueful smile. It was unfamiliar enough that her attention was effectively distracted.

"I've always had very vivid dreams, ever since I was a boy. When I was little, it was no problem, just the kind of dreams every green boy has, that changed of course, as I got older."

She understood what he meant, even though he'd all but said it. With a father like his, Sansa knew Jaime's childhood had been nothing like her own.

"I had trouble sleeping for a long time, still do sometimes."

When their eyes locked for a moment, his mouth pulled up a little at the corners, and she knew he was thinking of their earlier 'discussion'. She smiled back, feeling a light flush on her cheeks.

"Only my mother noticed, of course," He resumed, wistful once more.

"When she came to say goodnight, she would sit at the edge of my bed and sing to me. Sometimes she'd brush her fingers through my hair, and I would fall asleep to the sound of her voice. She only sang the sweet songs, the ones with happy endings. Perhaps she thought it would influence the sort of dreams I had. I'm not sure what it was, but I always slept better."

It was such a small thing they'd just shared, and yet she felt as if she understood him a little more, maybe even enough to take it a step further.

"Is this your way of asking me to sing you to sleep?"

For the second time, she heard Jaime laugh. She was surprised when she felt something like satisfaction at the sound of it. His voice was playful when he finally answered.

"I suppose that depends on your singing voice."

Now it was her turn to laugh.

§

After the mishap with her dress and their conversation later that night, things between them had improved, the rest of the journey passing much more smoothly. Every night when they settled to bed, they'd each share something about themselves. So far the topics had not progressed past anything too difficult, though she knew someday they'd have to discuss his family, her past, and everything in between. For now, it was enough.

There was a ship already waiting for them when they reached Seagard, complete with gold and crimson sails and detailing.

They morning they arrived, Sansa had woken early, unable to sleep, so she was on deck, enjoying the cool breeze, the sun just beginning to rise, when the castle came in to view. Tall and imposing, situated over the cliff with the waves crashing below, it was everything she imagined Casterly Rock to look like.

The castle itself was exactly as she envisioned it. Extravagant and ornately detailed, but tasteful, though it was mostly the sun that filled the rooms with gold, as it poured in through the large windows, making everything warm and inviting.

It was unexpectedly quiet though, the castle's inhabitants reserved but not unwelcoming. They seemed more curious than anything else, likely wondering how she had come to marry not one, but two Lannisters, whom of which were brothers, a feat she often found herself wondering about.

As for Jaime, he was quiet too, glancing at her nervously when he thought she wasn't looking. Still, he held her arm dutifully as he led her through the castle, speaking only to tell her where everything was. The tour was not uncomfortable, only a little bizarre, though the thought that she walked the same halls as so many other Lannisters had, managed to temporarily overwhelm her senses.

"I can't possibly show you the entire castle of course," Jaime said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

His eyes crinkled humorously when she looked over at him, "That would take the entire day, maybe longer. It'll take some time before you learn your way around, it's easy to get lost."

He spoke as if he knew this for himself and his words surprised her. Even when she'd been apart from Winterfell, Sansa could close her eyes and see it in her mind, in perfect detail, as if she were there. She'd never forgotten it, but Jaime only spoke of Casterly Rock in the recent past, as if he were just getting to know it for himself. He was scarcely wistful when he spoke of it, unless he was speaking of his mother. Sansa found herself wondering about the rest of his life, everything he'd yet to tell her anything about.

They arrived in that moment of course, to wherever he'd been leading them towards. Like the rest of the castle, at least what she'd seen of it, these rooms were bright and spacious as well. Beyond the windows she could see a long terrace overlooking the sea below.

"These were my mother's chambers," He said then, voice low.

He seemed to think it was important she know that, though she hadn't, not until he'd said it. Turning back to him, as he was still near the door, Sansa smiled earnestly.

"They're lovely," She replied, hoping he knew she understood what he meant.

Jaime returned the grin, his eyes softening slightly, "I thought you might like to rest for a bit, you did get up very early this morning. I'll have the kitchen bring you something to eat in case you get hungry."

"Where are you going?" She asked, the words slipping out of her mouth without any kind of control.

"There are some matters I must attend to, but I'll be back later," He answered politely.

She nodded, unsure what to say. Jaime took that as his cue, and continued, "Feel free to explore the castle, but try not to go too far down into the caverns, it's not entirely safe to wander alone, especially if you're not familiar."

After he left, she explored the rooms a little, then went out to the terrace for a little fresh air. The view was breathtaking, she was so high up the sea seemed leagues away, and it went on as far as her eyes could see. Looking out at the horizon, Sansa stilled, coming to a sudden realization. For as long as she'd been a prisoner of the Lannisters, it was her home they sought to conquer, but in the end, she had taken theirs.

For now, she was Lady of Casterly Rock.

When she went back inside, there was a platter of food waiting for her. Spotting the wedge of a lemon she plucked one of the small cakes from the plate, pleasantly surprised he'd remembered she liked them, and brought it with her to the bed. She settled back, eating it slowly, and looked about the room, still surprised she was here.

With the steady lull of the sea, it did not take long before she soon fell asleep. She woke some time later, not entirely surprised to find she was still alone. He hadn't needed to say it, Sansa knew the real reason he'd left was to give her some space. She'd not objected because she had in fact, needed it, but now, with his continued absence, she wondered if he'd needed it too.

She ate a little more and served herself a glass of wine, sitting on the terrace again as she finished it, enjoying the sun on her skin and the sound of the crashing waves under her feet.

When Jaime still did not appear, she decided to leave her chambers and roam a little or maybe try to find him, though as she walked down long corridors and through various rooms, she soon gave up knowing she never would. She settled on finding the Stone Garden instead, knowing that was where the Weirwood was located, and she had a fierce curiosity to see it.

It was not as beautiful as the ones in the North, twisted as it was, but its eyes were deep and piercing like every other Heart Tree she'd seen. She sat at its base, and closed her eyes, at once feeling at home in this place far from her own.

The sun was only just beginning to descend when she returned to her chambers. She was pleased to find Selyne waiting for her, the water for a bath already heating on the hearth. Feeling sweaty from all the sun and her stroll through the garden, it was a welcome sight.

She was sitting in the bath, enjoying the warmth of the water soothing her travel weary body, when she finally heard of her husband.

"Lord Jaime has had your supper brought up, my Lady," Selyne said, holding out a robe so Sansa could dry off.

She wasn't entirely ready to get out, but her stomach rumbled at the mention of food, so she stood reluctantly. She wanted to ask if Jaime would join her but found she couldn't say it, instead she kept silent as Selyne helped her dress and brushed her hair.

He was still nowhere to be seen when she finally returned to the antechamber, dressed in her sleeping gown, hair wet and loose. She felt a little let down he still hadn't shown, but said nothing about it, not until she was finally sitting.

"Is my husband dining in the Lord's chambers?" She asked her handmaiden, trying to keep her voice casual, as if she were merely curious.

"Lord Jaime is in his solar, my lady, with the steward."

"Oh," Sansa answered, even though it hardly satisfied as the answer she was truly looking for.

She moved the food about her plate for a moment, stalling, trying to find the courage to ask the question she really meant to ask, when Selyne smiled, and spoke again.

"Lord Jaime has not had any rooms prepared, save for these, my lady."

"Oh," Sansa said again, this time trying to hide her relief, though from her handmaiden or herself, she could not be sure.

Sansa was in bed fighting sleep, determined to remain awake, when Jaime finally arrived. He was still fully dressed, looking as if he'd hardly stopped moving all day. She had the sneaking suspicion he might not have even eaten dinner.

"Where've you been all day?" She tried to sound stern, but clearly didn't manage it as he did not seem to notice.

"Settling a dispute," Jaime answered honestly, but as if he did not want to speak of it any more.

She was too tired to press further so she only nodded. When she said nothing more, Jaime moved over to the table and began to remove all his layers, starting with his belt. He did not fumble much, but it would take him a while to finish, so she closed her eyes. She was tempted to let herself drift off, now that he was finally there, but then she remembered the reason she'd been waiting for him in the first place.

Sansa opened her eyes to look at him, as it had grown quiet, and noticed he was fumbling with his tunic, but couldn't see with what exactly as he was now turned away from her.

"Need help?" She asked after a few moments, when it seemed as if he might.

"No no, just a knot," He answered not turning around.

She was reminded then, of the night in the Twins when she'd gotten stuck in her gown.

"Are you sure you don't want me to fetch your squire?" She teased, taking advantage of the opportunity to exact revenge.

This time he didn't answer. She sighed a little, now feeling more alert, and got out of bed.

"Let me," She said approaching him.

He flinched a little, "No, no, it's all right, i've got it. It's just a knot."

She stood behind him, waiting for him to acquiesce, but as he kept pulling fruitlessly, gave that up and moved to his side.

"Let me," she repeated, voice a little stronger, the pull of sleep completely gone.

Jaime finally looked up at her, a little surprised she was standing beside him.

"It's just—" She didn't let him finish.

"A knot. Precisely. Let's not make it a bigger deal than it is."

For a few moments he didn't let go but yielded in the end when he realized she wasn't going to give in.

She began then, to pick at the tangle in the lacing of his doublet, it was small and tight, it was no wonder he'd been struggling with it. In an effort to relieve a little bit of pressure from the silence and their proximity, she brought up the thing she'd been waiting to discuss.

"I was thinking, that is—" She paused, both speaking and her fingers stilling as she looked up at him.

"I've been thinking, Podrick would be better suited serving you, as Bronn once did."

This had been on her mind for a while now, ever since Pod had begun training with him and Bronn in the yard. While she trusted him and he served her well, she could never teach him to be a Knight or to fight. More than anything, she owed it to Brienne, to finish what she'd begun.

He seemed surprised by the request, which in turn surprised her as it seemed like the obvious leap, considering Podrick's house had always served Jaime's.

Her gaze returned to the knot, pulling at it again, before continuing, "He doesn't have to be your squire, but he's smart, and capable. You already train with him, that wouldn't change, only now you could teach him."

"Teach him what exactly?"

There was a slightly sardonic quality to his voice that made her look up again, though her fingers continued moving as she'd started pulling the knot apart.

Jaime was smiling sardonically, and she frowned, feeling a flash of irritation.

"How to serve you! We've come to ready for winter and take an army North, that takes some preparation, or would you rather do it alone? His help might prove invaluable since I doubt you know more about the Westerlands than Podrick does."

Properly scolded, the smirk vanished from his face, just as she undid the knot, her hands dropping to her sides though she didn't move away.

"Thank you," Jaime said after a few moments, breaking the tenuous silence that had settled between them.

"You're welcome," She answered smiling lightly, feeling her irritation slip away.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Sansa added amiably, finally taking a step back.

Jaime starting pulling at his doublet loosening the laces enough so he could remove it. Feeling her cheeks start to heat up, she turned away, making her way back to the bed.

She settled back in her spot, managing to avoid looking at him, at least until he took a few steps towards her.

"What about you?" He asked then, after her eyes had found his. "There is no one more trustworthy to protect you."

She smiled then, touched by his concern.

"I thought of that as well. I should like to learn how to protect myself."

a/n: thanks everyone for reviewing! it means alot and I appreciate it truly.