Thank you for hanging in through the drama, readers. I don't like having Sansa hurt either, but she and Jaime need to deal with the Cersei situation…a bit more drama ahead…

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Chapter 15

Jaime lay in bed, the sunrise lighting up his bedchamber, as he held Sansa, who was fast asleep in his arms. He had waited until she cried herself to sleep, and then gently taken her in his arms, risking her anger if she awoke. He needed to hold her. He'd hated watching her cry and not comforting her, even if it was at her request. So, once she fell asleep, he held her tightly in his arms through the night. He supposed he needed a little comfort himself.

Jaime felt like he had been through a brutal battle. Between Joffrey's death, Tyrion being taken prisoner for regicide and Sansa…Jaime glanced down at the girl in his arms. I've hurt the one person I would never wish to hurt. Jaime saw the revulsion in her eyes when he admitted to his sexual relationship with Cersei. He wasn't sure what it said about him that he felt a greater loss when Sansa pulled away from his touch last night than he felt as his son lay dead on the ground.

Jaime didn't know when she had come to mean so much to him, but he felt the pain deep in his heart when he saw the tears in her eyes. Tears that were there because of him. Jaime looked down at his wife, curled up against his chest, and was in no hurry for her to wake. He didn't want to see the pain in her eyes when she looked at him. Jaime had never been ashamed of his relationship with Cersei, until he saw the look on Sansa's face. Things will never be the same between us. Yesterday, I thought she and I would be happy together once we left here. Now she can't even look at me. He felt her stirring and softly stroked her hair. He watched her open her eyes and could see that she was still disoriented and dazed from sleep, and didn't remember. Not yet. Jaime cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers. He felt her begin to kiss him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He knew the moment she remembered the night before, when she stiffened in his arms, her hands moving to his shoulders and pushing him away. She has to listen to me. Really listen to me. Jaime moved on top of her, caging her body beneath his and forcing her to lie still and listen to him. "Listen to me, Sansa." He could see the defiance in her eyes. I suppose that's better than fear. "I'm sorry it hurt you to hear the truth. I know that you've heard the…rumors before. It can't have been completely unexpected."

She blinked. "I knew it was possible," she whispered. "I was afraid to marry you, in case it was true because…Joffrey had to get his cruelty from somewhere. Your sister's very cruel, though, so perhaps it's from her." He smirked at her obvious dislike of Cersei. "But then, you were so kind and gentle with me…I didn't think you'd act as you did with me if it were true."

"Don't think I was pretending with you, because I wasn't. You are my wife, Sansa. No matter what you think of me now, you will be by my side. You will share my bed; have my children. I can't change the past."

"It's not just your past, Jaime," she said quietly, finally looking at him. "She's here. She hates me. She's done so much to hurt me. Your…son with her, Tommen, is here. You'd have had me raise him and not even tell me he was your child."

"Sansa –"

"I know she's the reason you don't love me," she murmured, turning her head so she wouldn't have to look at him. He saw a tear roll down her cheek and reached out, wiping it away.

Jaime didn't know how to respond to her. "Not the way you think." She looked at him, not understanding. "I'm broken, Sansa. I don't think that I can be fixed. I don't think I know how to love anymore. I don't know if I want to. Love brings nothing but pain and destruction."

"I suppose it does," she whispered. "Do you still love her?"

"Not anymore." He saw that he had her attention with that. "You mean a great deal to me, Sansa." Jaime gently reached and touched her cheek. "Please believe that I care for you. That I want you." Jaime could see that she was torn.

"What do we do now?"

"Now, we're husband and wife. I am yours. Just as you are mine." Sansa had fallen asleep in her robe and it had come open in her sleep and in her attempt to get out of Jaime's grasp. He was suddenly conscious of her naked body beneath his. He lowered his eyes and looked over her body without bothering to hide his appraisal. He couldn't help smirking and she struggled to pull her robe closed.

"Do you intend to take your rights as my husband now?"

Jaime leaned forward and kissed her nose. "Much as I'd like to indulge in your body, I know you don't want to be intimate with me again…just yet."

"You have the right to my body, whether I like it or not, my lord." Jaime raised an eyebrow. Back to that, are we Sansa? "If it's all right, I'd like to get up now and get dressed," she said with cold courtesy.

"You're going to have to find a way to get past this. To be my wife."

"I don't know what you mean, my lord. I'm happy to be your wife."

Jaime sighed and moved off of her, letting her get out of bed. He leaned back against the pillows, watching Sansa as she walked into her dressing area. I suppose I'll have to win the girl over, all over again. Jaime knew that it would be far more difficult this time.

...

Sansa seemed glad when Jaime left her to go see Tyrion. He did some investigation around the keep before visiting his brother and Jaime didn't have any good news for him. As it turned out, Cersei had not stayed in her chamber long, dragging Tyrion's squire from his bed to question him, and having "witnesses" brought to her throughout the night. He had a good idea how her sister was getting information from them – with promises of money and her body – and that she cared little about the truth.

"Jaime," his brother said, brightening at his appearance. "Have you been able to reason with our horrible sister?"

He shook his head sadly. "There's no reasoning with her. I'd wager our sister doesn't favor me much more than you at this point." Tyrion raised an eyebrow in question. "I didn't show sufficient grief for the loss of the king for her taste."

"Then what do you suggest? She means to execute me and father won't stop her."

"There's always the trial. You may well be acquitted."

Tyrion turned from the window. "Who is to judge me?"

"Justice belongs to the throne. The king is dead, but father remains Hand. Since it is his own son who stands accused, and his grandson who was the victim, he has asked Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn to sit in judgment with him."

"Will I be allowed to demand trial by battle?"

"I would not advise that."

"Why not? Answer me, Jaime. Will I be allowed a trial by battle, and a champion to prove my innocence?"

"If you wish. However, you had best know that our sweet sister means to name Ser Gregor Clegane as her champion, in the event of such a trial."

"That bitch checks my moves before I make them…I shall need to think on this."

"I'm sorry, Tyrion. If I still had my sword hand, you could demand your trial today, and you'd be free. I'm sorry I've failed you."

"You haven't failed me, Jaime. I know you'd be my champion if you could." Tyrion sat beside him. "Does Cersei have witnesses against me?"

"She was working through the night to gather witnesses. She'll get more and more every day. I don't expect we'll hear much truth from them."

"Then I must have witnesses of my own."

"Tell me who you would have, and Ser Addam will send the watch to bring them to the trial. Tyrion…what happened? Before Joffrey died."

"The king was in rare form. He designated me his cup bearer before bringing two dwarves in to joust – one riding a pig, the other a dog. Once that…amusement had passed, he ordered me to joust against the winner. Then he started screeching that I had not had any pigeon pie, and shoved into his own mouth. And he started choking. You saw the rest."

Jaime shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Jaime. You didn't raise him to be that way. She did...Where were you, by the way?"

"I was…with Sansa. That was probably the first and last time I'll hear her say she loves me."

He could feel Tyrion's eyes on him. "I'm hesitant to say this, given that I'm the one about to be shortened by a head, but, Jaime, your look terrible."

He glanced up at Tyrion. "She asked if it was true…me and Cersei. Perhaps I should have lied…the look in her eyes…"

"Just tell her that it's her you love, not Cersei, and all will be well."

"It would hurt her more to say I felt something I didn't."

Tyrion sighed in frustration. "Does our sister have you so twisted around that you don't even realize what it feels like to love someone? Look how broken you are at the prospect of Sansa never forgiving you. You love that girl, whether you realize it or not. Even father said something to me about not expecting you to be so besotted with the Stark girl."

Jaime listened to Tyrion's words, but he was still uncertain. Cersei had always told him that they could only love each other because they were two halves of one person. That they were only whole together. Though he had to admit that he now found it difficult to imagine his future as Lord of Casterly Rock without Sansa by his side. In such a short period of time, she had managed to firmly ensconce herself in his life. And in my heart as well? Could I be that much of a fool? He'd dismissed his desire to return Sansa's words of love the day before as the effects of alcohol and a desire to please her but…now he wasn't certain.

Looking up at Tyrion, Jaime had a strong desire to change the subject. "We need to worry about getting you out of this mess. What do you need, Tyrion? What can I do?"

"Will my squire be permitted to come and go? The boy Podrick Payne?"

"Certainly. If that is your wish, I shall send him to you."

"Do so. The sooner the better." As Jaime opened the door, he heard Tyrion address him. "Brother?"

Ser Jaime paused. "Yes?"

"I did not do this. I would not kill your…I did not do this."

"I know."

...

One week after Joffrey's death, the mourning period ended, and the day of his funeral arrived. Joffrey's funeral service was at the Great Sept in the morning and Tommen's coronation feast was to be held that same evening. Jaime and Sansa were, of course, expected to attend the day's events, as members of the royal family. "My lady," Jaime said, offering Sansa his arm. She silently rested her hand on his arm as they left the tower of the hand to walk to the Great Sept. He could feel her stiffness and emotional discomfort as they walked together.

"I'm sorry you have to attend Joffrey's funeral. I know you don't mourn him."

"It's expected that we attend, my lord. I'm your wife and it is my duty to be by your side. You need not apologize."

Sansa had returned to her courtesies with a vengeance in the past week. He despised how cold and formal she was with him. The night after Joffrey's death, Sansa had climbed into bed wearing a nightgown and he'd nearly burst out laughing. He'd had no idea she even owned one. She shared his bed, but stubbornly stuck to her side, never cuddling against him as she had since the first night of their marriage. He would frequently catch her glancing at him, and he could see in her eyes that she wanted some closeness with him, but was denying it to herself. And to him.

The only time he could touch her, knowing that she wouldn't move away, was when they were in public, with others watching; or when she was fast asleep. Once he was sure that sleep had claimed his little wife, he would gently run his hand over her hair and kiss her forehead. Then he would carefully, so as not to wake her, take her in his arms, and hold her as she slept.

She had woken once, while he gently held her in her sleep, and he could see that she thought he was looking to fuck her. He was relieved not to see fear in her eyes, but her expression wasn't exactly welcoming, either. He couldn't deny that the thought of burying his cock inside of her was appealing, but he could see that she wasn't interested in resuming their sexual relationship. Not then, at least.

He looked her over as they walked to the Great Sept. Sansa looked dazzling in a black satin gown, with red swirls stitched into it. Her porcelain skin shone against the black, as did her shiny red hair. Her sadness over his past with Cersei was appropriate for the occasion – it would be mistaken as sadness for Joffrey's death. "You look beautiful this morning, Sansa."

"Thank you, my lord." He couldn't help wondering if she was actually trying to aggravate him with her excessive courtesy. They remained silent for the remainder of the walk to the Great Sept, taking their seats in the front row, next to his father and sister.

Once they were seated, he saw her looking over at Cersei and there was no mistaking the absolute hatred in Sansa's gaze. At least she doesn't look at me that way. He knew if Sansa had the power, she would strike Cersei down dead right there. Jaime couldn't resist leaning over and whispering in her ear. "You have no reason to be jealous of her."

Sansa glared at him, and pulled her hand away from his.

"Do you actually intend to let her execute Tyrion," she whispered fiercely.

Her whispers gave him the excuse he wanted to lean close to her, his lips against her ear. "Don't worry, my lady, I won't allow her to harm him. Or you." Jaime was encouraged by the fact that Sansa didn't move away from him, and Jaime kept his arm around her waist, holding her against his side. He leaned over and softly kissed her temple, as she maintained her serene expression, as if his kiss had no effect on her. Jaime looked down at the ground, desperately missing the affections of his sweet little wife.

...

Let me know what you think.

Next Chapter: Tommen's Coronation Feast & Sansa confronts Cersei…