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Chapter 5

Sansa tucked herself into a window seat in the Tower of the Hand, and stared into the early morning darkness. Ever since she had watched her father die, Sansa had not slept well. And her anxiety only increased as Joffrey became crueler and more violent towards her. She was afraid to completely let her guard down, afraid to let sleep claim her, lest he pick that moment to come and rape her. She felt much safer being in the Tower of the Hand – with Ser Jaime nearby – but she still didn't feel completely safe. It was strange to her that she found the presence of Jaime Lannister to be a comfort.

Sansa had spent a great deal of time watching Jaime with his brother the night before, as she tried to figure out the sort of man he was – whether he'd be kind to her or cruel. She had seen the genuine affection between the Lannister brothers – much like Robb and Jon Snow - and she found it reassuring that someone cared for Jaime and that he genuinely cared for another. He couldn't be all bad.

As Sansa looked around the empty tower, she thought about the time she spent living there with her father and Arya. She wished more than anything that she could go back to that time with her family. She thought about how she had fought with her father and her sister – over Joffrey of all people - and was filled with regret. She remembered the doll that her father gave her when they first arrived in Kings Landing and how she had complained that she wasn't a child anymore. Now, she would give anything to go back to being a little girl. She would give anything to go back to having a family.

She supposed that the Lannisters would soon be her family, but it wasn't a comfort. Tyrion was kind to her. And Jaime…well, she did like Jaime. Probably more than she should.

Sansa heard someone stirring, which surprised her because it was so early. The sun had not even risen. She saw that Jaime was dressed and leaving the tower. Sansa wandered after him – partly because she was curious about where he was going, and partly because she did not wish to be far from his protection. She knew that she shouldn't trust him to protect her as much as she did, but when she met his eyes, she saw kindness and a genuine desire to help her. She hoped she wasn't trusting the wrong person again.

As Sansa followed behind Jaime, she thought back to last night and how he had said goodnight to her at her door. She had never been so close to a man, other than her father. Being close to Jaime was nothing like that. She was nervous being close to Jaime. When he had spoken of them sharing a bed in only a few days, Sansa's whole body had trembled. She wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation. All she knew was that her body was aware of Ser Jaime in a way that it had never been aware of any man. No man had ever made her stomach flutter as he did. Of course, no man had ever spoken to her as he did.

She would die if Ser Jaime found out, but as she'd lain in her bed, all she could think about was what it would feel like to lie in his arms and she had wondered what it would be like when he bedded her. Her mother and septa had both spoken to her, very generally, about the marriage bed, but Sansa wasn't entirely clear on the details. She and Ser Jaime were to be married tomorrow and Sansa was beginning to feel a bit scared at the prospect of being Jaime Lannister's wife. She'd never thought she'd marry and be bedded by a man who was so much older, and more powerful than she. She longed to see her mother. She always thought her mother would be there to prepare her for her wedding night and her marriage.

As Sansa continued to follow Jaime through the Red Keep, she realized that he was going to the practice field behind the White Tower, where all of the knights practice sword fighting. She made an effort to be quiet as she trailed behind him – she expected that no one else was awake and the castle was almost silent. She tried to stay out of sight, watching Jaime select a tourney sword. She wondered why, since he had a sword sheathed at his waist. She hid in the shadows and watched him, not understanding why he was here alone, so early in the morning.

She watched Jaime as he tested his grip on several swords – using his left hand – before he selected one. Then he swung it. And she understood. Now that she'd seen the effort it took, and saw how inelegant he was – even to her untrained eye – she understood that he must not want others to know how weak his left hand was. The Kingslayer, the best sword in the seven kingdoms, could barely even swing a sword.

Sansa didn't want to shame Ser Jaime, so she stayed where he couldn't see her as he swung at a practice dummy. She felt a wave of sympathy for him, as he was clearly struggling and becoming frustrated. He must know that it will take time to gain strength in his left arm and to learn to use his left hand to fight. But it appeared he didn't. This went on for nearly an hour until Sansa could take it no more and hesitantly revealed her presence, walking over to him.

"Perhaps that's enough practice for today," she said, gently.

He was visibly surprised and annoyed at her presence, turning to face her as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "How long have you been watching?"

"I followed you from the tower." Sansa was worried that he was angry and shrank back a little.

"So you have seen how useless your future husband is," he spat out, his irritation clear. "I'm sorry if it shames you. A pretty young girl like you should not be forced to wed a cripple. The bloody Lannisters couldn't even give you a whole man."

There were so many emotions running through his eyes that Sansa had no idea what to say to him. She wasn't used to comforting grown men. And certainly not a man as volatile as Jaime Lannister. She heard him murmur something to himself about not even being a man and that he should have just died at Harrenhal, as he put the sword away, and Sansa felt that she must say something.

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her, and she took in the mix of shame, anger and fear on his face. It was the fear in his eyes that gave her the strength to touch him. She hesitantly touched his arm. When he allowed her to touch him, she raised her shaking hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his face, part of her still terrified to touch him when he was so emotional – not knowing if he would accept the comfort she offered or lash out at her in anger. Jaime was visibly surprised at first, but after a moment he leaned into her touch. "You're not useless. You've done more for me than anyone has since my father died. I see that you're stubborn, and I know you will get better with a sword. You're the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms."

"No longer."

She moved her hand from his face. "Your hand will get stronger and you will again be the swordsman you were before. Until then, you're not any less of a man. Not to me."

She thought perhaps she said something wrong as he advanced towards her and Sansa backed away, feeling the castle wall at her back. "You think so, little one? I don't even feel alive right now," he said, gazing into her eyes. "My whole life, I've only really felt alive in battle and in bed. It seems my days of battling are over. Bedding you is my last chance to feel alive." She feels herself blush bright red at his words. "It seems all of my last chances lie with you," he murmured quietly.

She had no idea how to respond to his words, though she couldn't help wondering what he expected her to do in his bed that would make him feel alive. Or what he meant when he said that all of his last chances depended on her.

"Do me a kindness, Sansa. Don't tell anyone what you saw. That the Kingslayer can't even swing a sword."

"I won't tell anyone. I – I'm to be your wife. I will keep your secrets." Jaime wrapped an arm around her waist and looked at her with an intensity that frightened her. "The – the, um, the castle should be waking soon," she tumbled out, unable to break his gaze. "Perhaps we should return to the tower."

Jaime smiled a devilish smile at her, moving even closer to her. "I don't think I'm ready to have you out of my arms just yet, my lady."

"You should release a lady when she asks." Her voice sounded strong, but inside she was a trembling mess. Even she could see the desire in his eyes and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

He chuckled softly, running a finger down her neck. "Don't worry, Sansa. I won't harm you. I just want to play with you a little." Before she could respond, Jaime covered her mouth with his own.

She didn't expect him to kiss her. And she certainly didn't expect it to feel good. She'd only ever been kissed by Joffrey, and while she had liked it when he first kissed her, those memories were long buried beneath the terror and shame that she associated with every other time he had kissed her.

Kissing Jaime was nothing like that. He was much gentler and slower than she expected, for being such a fierce warrior. A fierce lion, she corrected. He moved his lips over hers slowly. Once Sansa got over the surprise of Jaime kissing her, she began to mimic his movements, slowly kissing him back.

Sansa dug her fingers into his jacket, as her knees began to feel weak. She felt Jaime's tongue pressing against her lips and slowly opened her mouth allowing his tongue entrance. As his tongue moved over hers, Sansa was mortified to hear herself moan in the back of her throat. Jaime moved his mouth from hers, with a smile. "I see you're not entirely the proper lady." She narrowed her eyes at him and he kissed her softly once more before moving his mouth to her neck. "I've seen the wanton way you look at me," he murmured with a smile playing at his lips. He kissed her once more. "I should get you back to the tower before I compromise you too much...though from the looks of you, I think you'd rather like to be compromised."

She glared at him, too scandalized by his comments to respond, pulling her arm away from his and stalking back towards Tower of the Hand with Jaime trailing along behind her. She could hear him chuckling to himself, and she was not amused. He had kissed her, yet somehow he was mocking her as wanton for responding to him. She didn't understand how that happened. She wanted to point out that he looked at her with desire in his eyes, but it hadn't occurred to her until she stalked away. Sansa quickly walked ahead of him, thinking about clever things she could have said to him, had she thought of them.

She stopped suddenly, drawing back as she saw Ser Meryn and Ser Boros walking towards her. Ser Boros didn't pay her much attention, other than openly appraising her body, but Ser Meryn moved towards her.

"Well, if it isn't the Lannisters' little whore. I wonder if they'll continue to pass you around? Perhaps when Jaime tires of you, he can give you to his father. Or the imp."

Sansa looked around. She'd obviously gotten too far ahead of Jaime in her irritation. "You can't talk to me that way anymore," she said in a low voice, fear coursing through her.

"You're very high and mighty, now that you've got some clothes on you." He leaned closer to her. "But I have a good memory. You think I don't remember exactly what your teats look like? Or how red the hair is covering your -"

"Say one more word to her and I'll stick this sword so far inside you they'll never recover it." Sansa glanced back at Jaime and was startled to see that his face was etched in anger. His tone of voice alone was terrifying. She glanced at Ser Meryn and saw uncertainty and fear. Ser Boros had stepped back, not at all interested in challenging the Kingslayer, but Ser Meryn was stubborn.

Jaime reached toward her with the golden hand. He couldn't grab her with it, but he used it to push her behind him as he approached Ser Meryn. Sansa stood behind Jaime, and saw now that he clutched his sword in his left hand. Jaime's voice was full of menace as he addressed Ser Meryn. "You took a vow to protect the innocent. Tell me, how does beating and tormenting a young girl fulfill that vow?"

"The King ordered it."

"I see. And if the king ordered your sister to service all 50,000 Lannister soliders? If he ordered you to run a sword through your father, you'd happily do that as well?" It seemed the knight didn't have an answer for that. "Tomorrow Lady Sansa becomes my wife. You'll not so much as look at her ever again, do you understand me? Neither of you."

Ser Boros nodded. "I understand," Ser Meryn ground out.

"I hope so. Or else I'll remove your head myself. And Cersei will have to find Joffrey a new thug. Go."

The two knights couldn't get away fast enough. Jaime turned to her and she looked at the sword in his hand. "At least the legend of Jaime Lannister being good with a sword lives on."

"What if he had challenged you?"

Jaime smiled bitterly. "Then I wager it would have been a very embarrassing display. Are you all right?" She nodded. "They won't speak to you again, I assure you."

What had she done to deserve this man as her protector? She couldn't deny that Jaime Lannister scared her a little. She'd never seen one man go through so many emotions in such a short space of time. Just minutes ago, on the practice field, he'd been absolutely broken, in despair over how useless he believed he was. Then he had turned teasing and flirtatious as he kissed her. And when he'd spoken to Ser Meryn, he was absolutely terrifying in his anger.

"Will you walk beside me now, or are you still cross? Perhaps another kiss would turn your mood around?"

She scowled at him and he chuckled, offering his arm. "Come, Sansa. We've caused enough trouble for one day." She reluctantly took his arm, and allowed him to walk her back to the tower, as her mind raced, trying to make sense of Jaime and all of his contradictions.

"Thank you. It – it means a lot to have someone here who will protect me."

Jaime looked at her, and she could see that he was uncomfortable with her gratitude. "You shouldn't see me as a hero, Sansa. I won't allow anyone to harm you, but don't think that I'm a good man. I've done…I've done things I'm not proud of – things you wouldn't like. I'm not worthy of your admiration."

Sansa walked silently next to him, mulling over his words. She thought about how much misery she had felt – how alone she had felt – before Jaime returned to Kings Landing and decided she didn't much care what he did in the past. She didn't care what he did to other people. She only cared that he was kind to her. She wanted to say these things to him, but she sensed he wouldn't want to hear it – that it would unsettle him, so she merely nodded at his words and allowed him to escort her back to the tower.

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Next chapter: Lannister Family Dinner :)