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Chapter 10

Jaime looked down and saw that he was once again wearing the white armor of the Kingsguard. He held his right hand up and flexed his fingers to feel the strength in them. It felt as good as sex. As good as swordplay. Four fingers and a thumb. He had dreamed that he was maimed, but it wasn't so. The relief made him dizzy. My hand, my good hand. Jaime felt like a man again – nothing could hurt him now that he was whole.

He was once again standing guard outside the king's chambers in the Red Keep. Jaime turned as he heard a woman scream in pain and terror from inside the King's chambers. He could hear the king – the Mad King – laughing. Jaime had heard the same thing so many times before. So many times he had been forced to listen as the Mad King raped his queen.

"Jaime!" He realized that the woman screaming from within the King's bedchamber was Sansa. That she was screaming for him to help her. Jaime drew his sword and turned to enter the King's chamber. All of his brothers were there, lined up in front of the door. Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barriston Selmy, and all the rest. All the members of the Kingsguard, some long dead.

As Jaime moved toward the door, they blocked his entrance. "We have to save her," Jaime said, trying to reason with them. "We took an oath. To protect the innocent."

Ser Barriston gave him a hard look. "Not from him. Not from the king."

Sansa's screams grew louder and louder. Jaime raised his sword, running it through Ser Meryn, Ser Boros and three others, fighting his way into the chamber and saw Sansa on the bed beneath the naked king. Aerys Targaryan. He strode forward and grabbed Aerys by the neck pulling him off of Sansa. Jaime looked into the face of the mad king and drew back his sword. When he looked up again, it was no longer Aerys he held by the neck, but Joffrey.

"Let me go, Uncle. I'm doing her an honor by allowing a traitor's daughter to lie with the king."

"Jaime, that's enough," Cersei said from the corner. She was dressed in a thin silk gown, her crown on her head, reclining in an armchair. "Let him go."

He looked at her in shock. "You are watching him brutalize her? How can you let him become a monster?"

Cersei rose from her chair and slowly walked toward him, shedding her gown along the way until she stood before him naked. "Let Joff have her…and you can have me."

Jaime looked at Sansa on the bed, naked and bleeding. Tears were running down her face and her eyes were begging him to help her. Jaime didn't hesitate to draw his sword across Joffrey's neck, watching as blood poured from him before he dropped his body on the ground. Cersei screamed, and cursed him, holding their dead son in her arms.

Jaime took off his white cloak and wrapped Sansa up in it before lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, crying against him, as he carried her from the king's bedchamber. His remaining brothers were there, swords drawn. Jaime put Sansa on her feet behind him and began to fought them off. Suddenly, his sword disappeared from his hand and he fell to the ground. He took Sansa in his arms as the knights advanced. He held her tight, but they dragged Sansa from his arms as she screamed for him. "No," Jaime screamed. "No, no no!"

Heart pounding, Jaime jerked awake, and found himself in his bedchamber, the room dark, save the glow from the dying fire. He could taste bile in his mouth and he was naked and shivering with sweat, hot and cold at once. When he looked down at his sword hand, he saw the false metal, and couldn't feel his fingers as he had before waking. He felt sudden tears well up in his eyes. I felt it. I felt the strength in my fingers, and the rough leather of the sword's grip. My hand…

A small cold hand hesitantly touched his back. He turned and met Sansa's eyes. She gently rubbed slow circles on his back. "It was just a dream," she said in a small voice. He knew that he must be a sight.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Sansa," he said quietly, his eyes returning to the golden hand.

"That's all right," she whispered, moving her hand up his back and lightly threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "What were you dreaming of?" He imagined this was how she would comfort one of her scared siblings, and though it hurt his pride, the words tumbled from his mouth.

"I had my hand back," he said quietly, as he continued to stare at the golden hand. "I was…I could feel it. I could feel my fingers and I could feel…the sword in my hand. I thought it was a nightmare…that I hadn't really lost my sword hand." I was the greatest sword in the seven kingdoms. Now a sixteen-year-old girl comforts me after a nightmare. "Go back to sleep, Sansa." Jaime felt another wave of shame at allowing her to comfort him.

He felt the bed shift as Sansa moved in front of him, and rested her hand on his cheek, raising his face to look at her. "Remember when you told me that my scars showed my bravery?" She reached for his golden hand, moving it between them. "Then this shows more bravery than anything. You've survived unimaginable pain, Jaime. You're strong and you're brave." She moved closer to him, all but crawling into his lap. She held him against her chest, her breasts bare and soft beneath his cheek, and stroked his hair. Jaime moved his arms around her waist, holding her small body tightly against his, the desire for comfort overcoming his pride. "I know that you won't let anyone hurt me. I couldn't feel any safer with you, were you to have two hands." He looked in her eyes and saw such caring that it was difficult for him to look at her. "Why were you screaming?" she asked gently as she stroked his hair.

Jaime shook his head. "Nothing you need hear, Sansa."

He couldn't tell her that hearing about what Joffrey had done to her, witnessing his abuse of her firsthand, and seeing her scars had stirred up his long buried memories of the mad king. Jaime had been younger than Sansa when he'd stood guard outside Aerys Targaryan's bedchamber, hearing him rape his screaming wife. He had wanted to help the queen. He'd argued with Ser Barriston, saying that they were supposed to protect the queen, and been told that they were not to protect her from the king. Jaime had killed before, but the violence he listened to outside the king's bedchamber still haunted him.

Sansa thinks I'm brave. But I'm not. I'm a coward. I stood by while the Mad King raped the queen. I stood by while he killed Rickard and Brandon Stark. As Jaime held his young wife in his arms, he couldn't help thinking about his terror when she'd been ripped from his arms in his dream. Each day, he found that his desire to protect her, his possessiveness of her, grew and grew. He had no doubt he would kill to protect the young girl with whom he had shared his bed and his body for nearly a month.

Sansa didn't press him for details. She merely held him tighter. Jaime closed his eyes and nuzzled in against her breasts. She rested her head on top of his and ran her fingers through his hair, and over his back. It was absurd, but the feel of her skin against his, of her fingers threading through his hair, made him feel safe. He couldn't remember the last time anyone held him like this and comforted him. Probably not since his mother was alive.

She smoothed her hand over his hair and kissed the top of his head. He could hear her heart beating as he rested his head against her chest and allowed her to hold him. "You're a good man, Jaime," she whispered quietly. He tilted his head up and was startled to see her bright blue eyes staring right at him. Before he could react, she lowered her head to his, kissing him softly. He returned her kiss, gently moving his mouth over hers. The longer he kissed her, the more he forgot his pain and began to feel desire. Jaime was never one for taking a woman slowly and gently, but he found that Sansa's soft touches made him feel so good, that he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Jaime slowly moved to lay her on her back beneath him, never breaking contact with her mouth. He felt Sansa's legs wrap around him and moaned against her mouth. He broke their kiss and began placing soft, open-mouthed kisses on her neck and shoulders. Jaime nuzzled against her neck, inhaling her scent and began to feel at peace. Jaime and Sansa continued softly kissing and touching each other until they were both aroused. He met her eyes when her hand found its way to his cock. She stroked him a few times before guiding him into her. He closed his eyes as her warmth surrounded him.

Her mouth was on his neck, softly kissing and sucking as he slowly rolled his hips, moving inside of her. Cersei had never given him this sort of comfort. Never let him make love to her like this. He felt Sansa's body tightening around him and shifted to reach between them, touching her the way they had learned she liked until she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure. The feel of it pushed Jaime over the edge and he clutched her tightly as his body shook with his release.

Breathing heavily, he softly kissed her as his hand fluttered over her breasts, her nipples stiff under his thumbs. "Thank you," he said seriously, resting his forehead against hers. "No one would condemn you for refusing to offer me the slightest comfort, husband or no." He wanted to say more to her, but the words didn't come easy. He rolled onto his back, wrapping his arm around her as Sansa stretched out next to him, gently peppering his chest with kisses.

"I don't like seeing you in pain. Just as I know you don't like my pain," she said, her hand wandering over his chest and stomach, and down to his hip. "I never thought I would feel safe in the Red Keep, but I feel like nothing could ever harm me here in your arms. I care for you very much, Jaime. I lov-" she broke off abruptly, and he saw her color before resting her head on his chest again, looking away from him. She was going to say she loves me. He could feel her trembling beneath the hand that rested on her back. She didn't mean to say all that.

Jaime felt a strange flutter in his stomach. He never thought she would actually care for him. That she would love him. He didn't want her to. Jaime didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know if she expected him to say anything. The awkwardness between them was palpable. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at her feelings. She was quite young and the sexual side of their relationship must make her feel close to him.

Sansa pulled out of his arms and started moving away from him to lie on her side of the bed. Not that she ever stays there for long. "We should get some sleep," she said quietly, her voice shaking and vulnerability shining in her eyes. He couldn't return her words, but he could show her some affection.

"Let me hold you?" She looked at him uncertainly. "I tend to sleep better with you in my arms." She looked as if she didn't quite believe him, but nodded slightly, and slowly moved back into his arms. Jaime held Sansa against him and kissed the top of her head. "You're a sweet little wife, Sansa," he said softly, holding her close. Sansa didn't say anything back, and he could feel her heart pounding against him through her chest. He was grateful that he didn't feel any tears falling on his chest. I can't say what she wants me to say. She'll come to see that she didn't mean it. That she doesn't really feel that way. That she's just looking for someone to belong to. Someone to love.

...

Sansa walked toward the dining room to break her fast. Jaime had left their bedchamber early. She thought perhaps he was giving it another go on the practice field, after all of the emotion over his lost sword hand last night.

She thought about how Jaime had woken her with his screams. It had terrified her to see a man as brave and strong as Jaime so broken and afraid. She knew there was more to it than the loss of his hand, but he didn't seem to want to tell her about it. It didn't bother her, terribly. All she had wanted was to comfort him. As she held him against her, Sansa realized that she cared for Jaime. A great deal. Perhaps even loved him. She had thought she loved Joffrey, and those feelings were nothing compared to what she felt for Jaime. Her face heated as she thought of her idiotic words the night before when she was in bed with him. She didn't know why she said it. She always felt the most emotion for Jaime right after he made love to her and in her effort to comfort him she'd said far more than she intended.

Sansa didn't understand her feelings for Jaime. He was a Lannister – he was supposed to be her enemy, but she couldn't help caring for him. He didn't treat her as if they had been forced to marry. He was truly kind to her, and showed her tremendous affection. It troubled her that she could feel such emotion for him, yet still desperately want to leave Kings Landing and return to her mother. She didn't have anyone to talk to about her conflicting feelings and desires, and found it was all she could think of most days. As much as she had come to care for her husband, she knew that she belonged with her family, and she still hoped and prayed that Robb would come for her.

As she walked toward the dining room, she heard Jaime and Tyrion's voices. She smiled to herself. She found that she liked their relationship. Seeing Jaime's love for his brother had made her less intimidated by him in the beginning. She stopped dead in her tracks as she heard Jaime say her mother's name and waited, listening.

"Catelyn Stark seemed convinced you or I had sent some footpad to slit her son's throat. That one of us had given him a dagger. Did you?" Tyrion asked. Sansa held her breath. Oh, gods. Please don't say it.

"Of course not."

Tyrion continued. "She described the dagger to me while I was in her….company and it was mine. I lost it in a bet at Joffrey's Nameday tournament. To Robert. Jaime, do you happen to remember, when he was roaring drunk at Winterfell, and started bellowing how we kill horses and animals with broken legs, but we don't do the same for crippled children."

"You don't think he would have…?"

"No. But the children were there. Joffrey was there. True, the Stark boy was nothing to him…"

"But he was a child hungry for a pat on the head from his father. How has Joffrey turned out to be such a monster? He has the worst qualities of…both his parents. How did Lady Catelyn get it into her head that you had hired the assassin? When she took you captive and set off this ugly mess?"

"We can thank Littlefinger for that." Sansa listened even more closely now. "He told her that I had won the dagger from him when I bet against you at Joffrey's Nameday tournament. It could not be that he was mistaken…why would he want the Starks to think that I was to blame?"

"I don't pretend to know what plots Littlefinger and Varys sow…Cersei tells me he took in Lord Stark as well…assisted in his capture. It was Littlefinger himself who held a knife to Lord Stark's throat in the throne room, taking him captive for the queen. He presents himself as a great friend to Catelyn Stark, but he has done her a great disservice…and cost her her husband."

Sansa's eyes began to fill with tears as she heard Jaime addressing Tyrion again, this time with concern in his voice. "Father told me that Littlefinger asked for Sansa – that she be given to him when Joffrey broke the engagement for Margaery Tyrell. As a gift of thanks from House Lannister. Father thought he wanted her claim to Winterfell, but now I wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"You recall, I spent a few months in Riverrun with the Tully girls, before I joined the Kingsguard? Littlefinger was quite infatuated with Lady Catelyn…perhaps he still is. Sansa reminds me a bit of her mother at that age – in looks, if not temperament. Lady Catelyn never returned his affections, that I saw. She was besotted with Brandon Stark. Littlefinger was even fool enough to challenge Brandon to a fight for her hand. He's lucky Brandon didn't kill him."

"So, you think he was looking to have the daughter, in place of the mother?" Sansa felt every hope she had of returning to her mother evaporate to nothing. Lord Baelish was never really going to take me to my mother. I'll never see my mother again.

"Tell me, Jaime, have you come to appreciate your proper little wife?"

Though her mind was spinning over what they had said about Littlefinger, she wanted to hear what Jaime thought of her. "She has a gentle heart. She's much kinder than any of us. It makes Joffrey's treatment of her even more wretched. Father suggested that her manners were like mother's…he was right. She deserves someone better than an honorless one-handed knight."

Sansa wanted to tell Jaime that he wasn't honor-less. That he had been so honorable when it came to her. He could have been brutal with her. Or he could have simply been cold to her. He could have taken her to his bed, taken his marital rights and enjoyed her body without any care for her feelings. But he was gentle with her. Affectionate. He made sure not to hurt or scare her.

She waited as Jaime left through one of the other doors. "My dear goodsister, won't you join me?" Sansa cringed before entering the room fully. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm well. How are you, Tyrion?" He looked at her questioningly, and Sansa could tell that her courtesy wasn't going to get her out of this. "I didn't wish to interrupt the two of you."

"And perhaps you wished to hear what Jaime has to say about you when he thinks you aren't around?"

"Perhaps," she said quietly, pouring herself some tea. "You won't tell him, will you?"

Tyrion shook his head. "You like him, then?" She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "Why are you so afraid to admit that much? You clearly heard that he likes you as well."

"I heard. Joffrey and Margaery marry in less than a week," Sansa said brightly, trying to change the topic. "Will you stay or will you come with us to Casterly Rock?"

He seemed to sense her wish to change the subject from her feelings for Jaime, and she was grateful that he indulged her. She couldn't much focus on her conversation with Tyrion, her mind too preoccupied with what they had said of Lord Baelish. She wanted to ask Tyrion his opinion of the man, but couldn't think of a way to do so without raising suspicion. What more do I really need to hear? He lied to mother and father already. She tried not to let her face betray how defeated she felt. She hoped Lord Baelish would simply stay away from her, though she knew that was unlikely. He had said he would speak to her again about the arrangements to take her to her mother. Now she wondered what he actually planned to do with her. Her skin crawled at the implications of what Jaime had said about his interest in her mother. Cersei's right. I am stupid.

At least I still have a way out of King's Landing and away from Joffrey and Cersei. With Jaime.

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Thanks for reading. In the next chapter, expect a raven from the Twins, though the message may differ a bit from the books…