I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow, but there were so many reviews, I decided to put the next chapter up early. Hope you enjoy it!

...

Chapter 17

Sometime in the night, Sansa had climbed on top of him, her arms and legs wrapped around him tightly. After a week of fitful sleeping, Jaime had finally slept soundly once he'd made love to Sansa and fallen asleep with her in his arms. He had been tempted, each and every night for the past week, to exercise his marital rights to his little wife's body, but something had held him back. Probably the fear of being rejected. He never would have forced himself on her, had she resisted his attempt to bed her. The wine he'd had at the coronation feast had given him the courage to try to resume the physical side of their relationship.

Jaime was relieved that she had let him be close to her, but he had hated seeing the vulnerability in her eyes when he was making love to her. He hated seeing how afraid she was of her love for him. She was plainly terrified that he would break her heart – as he already had when she learned the truth about his relationship with Cersei. He knew that her courtesies were her way of protecting herself from her feelings for him. Her way of creating distance between them. He wished she wasn't afraid. Not that he was any braver than her, when it came to love.

He'd said everything he could to reassure her of his feelings for her, short of saying "I love you." That's the one thing she wants to hear. Sansa may say that she knows life isn't a song, but he knew if her handsome knight told her he loved her, she'd forgive him. She was so alone in this world, and all she wanted was to love someone who loved her in return. He knew her well enough to know that. And it wasn't much she was asking for – to be loved by her husband.

Jaime couldn't deny that Sansa had become tremendously important to him; that he wanted her beside him for the rest of his life; and that he felt at peace with her in his arms. Jaime looked down at the stump on the end of his right hand, resting on her hip. He would only remove the golden hand in front of her. She was the only one who made him feel safe enough to expose his disfigurement. Maybe I do love her. Though, what I feel for her is nothing like what I felt for Cersei. Jaime had been absently running his hand over her body, and he felt her begin to stir.

Jaime moved his hand to her hair, running his fingers over it and kissing the top of her head before she lifted it from his chest to look him in the eyes. He could plainly see that she was embarrassed, though he couldn't figure out why. They'd had sex countless times in the two moons since they had been married. "What's the matter, Sansa? You seem out of sorts. Surely you're not embarrassed about our activities last night," he teased. "We've brought each other such pleasure many times since we've been married."

"I – I'm glad that I pleased you," she said, avoiding his gaze by looking down at his chest.

Jaime carefully rolled them over so he was on top of her, still resting between her thighs. He kissed her neck, moving towards her ear and then nuzzled against her neck, before looking into her clear blue eyes. "I've missed this," he offered hesitantly. "Waking up with you in my arms. Spending the morning holding and kissing and touching you."

"I wish to be a good wife to you, my lord. And…if it pleases you to hold me in your arms, then it pleases me." She's a stubborn little thing.

He moved off of her a bit, his eyes scanning over her. "Your eyes give you away, my lady," he murmured as he focused on her face. "I know you've missed this, too, Sansa. I can be a good husband to you if you give me the chance." He whispered his last thought, almost to himself.

"As you wish, my lord." He could hear the hesitation and waver in her voice, as her shaking hand reached toward him, gently stroking his hair. I know you want to give me a chance, Sansa. He had a sinking feeling that her walls would stay up until he was able to tell her that he loved her. What if I can't ever love her? Jaime didn't want to live the rest of his life with her distance. And he didn't want Sansa to spend the rest of her life with her guard up.

He leaned forward, softly kissing her and relaxing a bit as Sansa slowly returned his kiss. "I think I'll go to the practice field before the trial. We'll go to the throne room together." He kissed her once more before rising from the bed and walking to the washbasin. He could feel her eyes on his body as he splashed cold water on his face and pulled on his clothes. He glanced back at her as he stood in their doorway, smiling faintly at the sight of Sansa, curled up in his bed. I don't ever want to lose this. I don't ever want to wake up without my sweet little wife curled up next to me.

...

Sansa sat beside Jaime, in the gallery overlooking the Throne Room, awaiting the start of Tyrion's trial for the murder of Joffrey Baratheon. Hundreds had crowded in to see him judged. A long table had been brought in and placed before the Iron Throne. Behind it sat Lord Mace Tyrell in a gold mantle over green, and Prince Oberyn Martell in flowing robes of striped orange, yellow and scarlet. Lord Tywin sat between them. Sansa wasn't certain the chosen judges would be fair to Tyrion. She watched as he was led in by a dozen gold cloaks and couldn't help being reminded of watching her father led before the crowd on the steps of the Great Sept, and she moved closer to Jaime, linking her arm through his.

He glanced over at her, no doubt wondering why she was seeking to be close to him, after all of her efforts to create distance. "Are you all right?" he asked, kissing the top of her head. She nodded and the High Septon began the trial with a prayer, asking the Father Above to guide them to justice.

When he was done, Lord Tywin leaned forward and asked, "Tyrion, did you kill King Joffrey?"

Tyrion did not hesitate to answer. "No."

"Well, that's a relief," said Oberyn Martell dryly.

"Who did then?" Mace Tyrell asked.

"The gods killed Joffrey. He choked on his pigeon pie." If that's true, Sansa thought, then the gods are merciful and just.

Lord Tyrell reddened. "You would blame the bakers?"

"Them, or the pigeons. Just leave me out of it." Sansa felt Jaime sharply intake his breath.

"Guard your tongue, you fool, before it digs your grave," Jaime muttered, though his brother could not hear him.

She glanced across the open air to Margaery, who was wearing mourning clothes in the gallery opposite them, flanked by her mother, grandmother, and her ladies. Sansa carefully looked over each and every one of them, wondering which actually poisoned Joffrey. Jaime leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Don't be so obvious." She looked at him in question. "There is accusation in your eyes, when you look at them."

She had told Jaime this morning that she would testify to what Margaery said, but Jaime had refused to allow her to draw attention to herself in any manner during the trial, fearing that if she did, Cersei and the Tyrells would try to throw some of the blame on her. Sansa couldn't stop herself from offering again. "I could testify for Tyrion –"

"No," he whispered. "Tyrion would not want you to endanger yourself either."

"I would only be speaking the truth."

He looked at her seriously. "Sansa, I know you've not forgotten what became of your father, when he spoke the truth. The truth doesn't set anyone free here." She couldn't argue with that and turned her attention back to the trial.

"There are witnesses against you," Lord Tywin said to Tyrion. "We shall hear them first. Then you may present your own witnesses. You are to speak only with our leave." She saw Tyrion nod weakly.

The first witness ushered in was Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard. "Lord Hand," he began, after being sworn in to only speak the truth. "I had the honor to fight beside your son on the bridge of ships. He is a brave man for all his size, and I will not believe he did this thing."

A murmur went through the hall and Sansa turned to Jaime. "Why would Cersei offer a witness that believes him innocent?" she whispered.

"Keep listening."

She listened as Ser Balon spoke reluctantly of how he had pulled Tyrion away from Joffrey on the day of the riot. "He did strike His Grace, that's so. It was a fit of wroth, no more. A summer storm. The mob near killed us all." Sansa shuddered as she remembered the riot, and how she'd nearly been raped after several men chased her into an alley. Until the Hound came for her and killed them all.

Ser Meryn Trant was called next and Sansa must have visibly tensed at his presence, because Jaime gently rested his hand on hers. Ser Meryn was more than happy to condemn Tyrion in speaking about the riot. "He knocked the king to the ground and began kicking him. He shouted that it was unjust that His Grace had escaped unharmed from the mobs."

Ser Meryn went on to relate how Tyrion had stopped Joffrey from beating her, and Sansa felt her heart begin to beat faster. "The dwarf asked His Grace if he knew what had happened to Aerys Targaryen. When Ser Boros spoke up in defense of the king, the Imp threated to have him killed."

Tyrion interrupted him. "Tell the judges what Joffrey was doing, why don't you?" Lord Tywin merely instructed Tyrion to remain silent.

"Why won't they hear that Joffrey was having me beaten?" she whispered to Jaime insistently.

Jaime looked at her and saw her distress. "I know it's not fair, Sansa. But Cersei will not allow anyone to speak a word against Joffrey."

"It's the truth."

Jaime squeezed her hand. "There's little room for truth in here."

The Kettleblacks came next, all three of them in turn and Sansa felt Jaime tense beside her. She remembered what he had told her about seeing Cersei coupling with Osmund Kettleblack, and realized that was what bothered him – thinking about Cersei with another man – and she felt a stab of pain that he still cared who shared his sister's bed.

Sansa had been quite out of sorts this morning, waking up sprawled on top of Jaime, the both of them naked, as the memory of their lovemaking the night before had flooded back to her. His words to her last night had effectively seduced her and she had given in to the pleasure. It certainly made it difficult for her to maintain any sort of distance from him. When he'd told her this morning that he had missed their intimacy, she wanted to say that she did as well, but had been afraid. Now that she saw his clear anger at the sight of his sister's new lover, Sansa was glad she'd held her tongue.

Ser Osmund's testimony was the most damaging of them all, swearing that King Joffrey had long known that his uncle Tyrion meant to murder him. "It was the day they gave me the white cloak, my lords," he told the judges. "That brave boy said to me, 'Good Ser Osmund, guard me well, for my uncle loves me not. He means to be king in my place.'"

She saw Jaime's jaw tense and knew he was thinking about how Cersei would repay Ser Osmund for such testimony. She looked down at her hands, telling herself not to cry, and trying not to feel pain at what she saw as Jaime's jealousy over Cersei bedding another. I made a mistake with him last night – letting him touch me with his words. Sansa found herself distracted for the rest of the trial, as she tried to control her emotions and numb her aching heart.

...

Following the day of testimony, Jaime went, with a heavy heart, to speak to Tyrion. Lord Tywin had all but assured him that Tyrion would be convicted and executed and had ordered Jaime to go to him with an offer that would resolve the matter and spare Tyrion's life.

"Jaime," Tyrion said, refilling his wine cup, "did you and sweet Sansa enjoy the spectacle? I believe the two of you were the ones there whose presence did not nauseate me."

"Sansa…she's repeatedly asked to testify for you. To speak of Joffrey's cruelty to her and…accuse Margaery Tyrell."

Tyrion lowered his cup. "I certainly hope you forbade any such insanity."

"I did, but, I thought you should know."

"Starks are foolishly honest to the end. Good thing she married a Lannister to curb that tendency," Tyrion said with a smile. "She is very sweet, your wife. I thought I had such a sweet wife, once." Jaime hated when Tyrion brought up Tysha. It never failed to fill him with guilt for not having the courage to stand up to his father all those years ago. "Sansa seemed a bit out of sorts, from what I could see."

Jaime nodded. "She's still quite…heartbroken."

"She needs to know that you love her, not our bitch of a sister. Cersei has you so twisted around when it comes to love. She may succeed in taking my head, but don't allow her to destroy your life with Sansa." Tyrion took another swallow of wine. "Now she parades her lovers through to spread her lies. That awful Kettleblack was the worst of them. I wonder if father cares that she's paid for his testimony on her back."

Jaime laughed bitterly. It had infuriated him to see Cersei present her lover to spread such lies against Tyrion. And to see her take such delight in the prospect of killing her own brother. As he watched Cersei lead Kettleblack around by his cock, he couldn't help but realize that she'd done the same to him his entire life. And he hated her for it. "I don't know that father cares about truth one way or the other but, he has sent me here with an offer. It doesn't look good for you, in there. Perhaps the time has come for you to confess," he said.

"Say that again brother? I could swear you urged me to confess."

"If you were to admit your guilt before the throne and repent of your crime, father would withhold the sword. You would be permitted to take the black."

Tyrion had laughed in his face. "Those were the same terms Cersei offered Eddard Stark. Sweet Sansa can remind you how that ended."

"Father had no part in that. And I was not here."

"That much is true, at least. You expect me to believe that if I admit to being a kinslayer and a kingslayer father will simply nod, forgive me and pack me off to the Wall with some warm woolen smallclothes."

"I wouldn't expect forgiveness," Jaime said dryly. "He wants the matter put to rest. A confession would do that. I believe it is for that reason father sends me with this offer."

"Thank him kindly for me, Brother," said Tyrion, "but tell him I am not presently in the confessing mood."

"Our sister wants your head, and Lord Tyrell at least, is inclined to give it to her. His precious Margaery was drinking from the poisoned cup."

"Didn't you tell me his precious Margaery was likely a part of the plot?" Tyrion asked in a low voice.

"You don't actually expect him to acknowledge that." Jaime sighed. "Tyrion, the North would be a safer place for you than King's Landing, whatever the outcome of the trial. The mob is convinced of your guilt. Were you so foolish as to venture out into the streets, they would tear you limb from limb. That is not something I would wish to see. Nor would I wish to see Cersei take your head."

"I…I will think on what you said."

"Please think carefully," Jaime said as he turned to leave. "I'm trying to think of another way out of this for you."

Tyrion nodded. "Thank you, Jaime. If she does succeed in killing me, don't let her end your life as well."

"You think she'll be killing me, next?"

"I meant, Sansa. Don't let her destroy the life that you could have with her, if you would only let yourself."

...

Jaime had dinner for he and Sansa brought into his solar, having no interest in dining with his family after watching his father and sister's behavior at the trial and being sent in to offer Tyrion a lifetime at the Wall. Their dinner had been near completely silent as Sansa listlessly picked at her food. He couldn't figure out what had bothered her so much – if it was concern for Tyrion or the memory of Joffrey's treatment of her. She had resisted all of his efforts to engage her in conversation. Sansa was now curled up in a big chair with her needlepoint and he was on the sofa trying to think of a way to help Tyrion. At least she'll spend her evenings in the same room with me.

After spending over an hour thinking about the trial and failing to come up with a way to help his brother, Jaime's head was beginning to ache. Jaime looked over at Sansa. She looked so delicate and so beautiful. He wished he knew what had sent her scurrying back behind her walls today. She must have felt his gaze because she suddenly looked up and met his eyes. "I'm glad you're here with me, Sansa. I enjoy your presence."

"That's kind of you to say, my lord."

"How long is this going to go on for," he asked in exasperation. "I know this doesn't come natural to you. That you force yourself to be formal with me. What's stopping you from going back to where we were?"

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of me?"

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "Of how I feel about you."

He felt horrible as she looked up and met his eyes. The pain there was apparent to him and he would do anything to wipe it away. Jaime held out his hand to her. "Come here, Sansa. Please." Trembling, she slowly walked over to Jaime and took his hand. She stood there for a moment, as if she still wasn't sure if she would let him comfort her, before she sat beside him on the sofa. Jaime slowly put his arm around her shoulders and Sansa moved into his arms, cuddling against Jaime's chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he hugged her tightly. Jaime realized that he felt whole, just holding her. She really does belong here in my arms. He felt her tears against his neck and hated himself. "Please tell me what I can do to fix this."

"Why did you love her? What about her made you love her?"

Jaime certainly had not expected her to ask that. "Cersei and I…we're twins, you know that." She nodded. "She would always say that we were two halves of the same person. That we belonged together because it was the only way we were a whole person. That when she looked at me she saw herself. Her male self." He could see from her expression that Sansa didn't understand.

"You're not half a person, Jaime." She rested her head against his chest. "You didn't answer my question. What about her did you love?"

Jaime realized that he didn't have an answer for her. "I don't know." I can't think of a single thing about Cersei that I loved. Every word I would use to describe Sansa, everything I value in her, doesn't exist in Cersei. She's not kind, gentle, affectionate…Cersei's none of those things.

"Did loving her make you happy?"

He laughed to himself. "I'd say it brought me tremendous pain to watch Robert go to her bed; For Robert be the father to my children…never able to touch her publicly, to claim her publicly; to give up having a whole life, for her…No, it didn't make me happy."

"Being in love with someone…it's supposed to make you happy," she said quietly. "My mother always told me that being in love makes you feel safe and secure, that it brings you peace, that being with the one you love brings out the best in you and gives you strength, that all your troubles fade away when you're in the arms of the one you love. Love is supposed to make you happy, Jaime."

Jaime sighed, stretching his legs out onto the table in front of him, never letting go of Sansa as she cautiously curled against him. "Has it made you happy?" he asked seriously.

"Not at the moment but…it did," she whispered, looking at her hands in embarrassment.

"Why does it embarrass you that loving me made you happy?"

She shrugged. "Because I don't make you happy. You don't love me. You love her. It was stupid of me to think that you could…"

"Sansa, I told you, I don't love her anymore."

"Then why were you so jealous to see Osmund Kettleblack testify today? Her new lover?"

That's why she's been so upset. She thinks I'm jealous. Jaime sometimes forgot how young she was and that their relationship must overwhelm her emotions at times. "I was angry – not jealous. I was angry because of what she's doing to Tyrion. Bringing in her lovers and paying people, so she can kill Tyrion. Kettleblack can have her." Jaime reached out and gently touched her face. "How can you say that you don't make me happy? You have made me so happy, sweet girl. What you feel for me is real. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. I'd like to make you happy again."

Sansa slowly met his eyes. "Why? Why does it matter to you if I'm happy or not? I'm your wife and I'll be with you regardless of how I feel."

"You deserve to be happy. I like you happy, Sansa. When I think of my future, I've come to see you standing beside me," he said, gently stroking her face.

"What if the queen decides that she wants you back in her bed? What if you had to choose between us? Haven't you imagined her at your side your whole life?" She sounded so sad and so fearful, Jaime hugged her to him again.

"You are my wife. She had plenty of chances to walk away from the iron throne, to leave here so we could be together and she'd never do it. My love wasn't enough for her." He cupped her cheek, meeting her eyes. "What you told Cersei yesterday was true." Jaime noted her blush at the memory of her jealous outburst. "I am your husband. Not hers. You are in my bed. Not her. You mean the world to me. I know…I know what you want to hear from me and … give me some time." He saw the hope in her eyes before she rested her head on his shoulder again. "I've never been good at talking about my feelings but…know that you are very special to me. And I am…doing my best to show you how I feel."

Jaime held her tightly for a long time, murmuring sweet words to her and rubbing her back. "Will you do something for me, Sansa?"

"What?"

"If something happens…if I do something that upsets you, you have to tell me. I'm not very good at reading your mind," he teased, rubbing her back. "You may find it saves you some pain, if you just come to me instead of torturing yourself thinking that I'm feeling something I'm not."

She nodded, her hand resting on the back of his neck. "I'll talk to you. I will."

Sansa moved back into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Jaime could barely breathe when he felt Sansa softly kiss his neck. "Do you promise you won't leave me alone?" she murmured in his ear. "Everyone else I love has."

"I promise," he said, seriously. She hesitantly touched her lips to his. Jaime didn't hesitate to return her gentle kiss. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, gazing at her. She slowly worked the buttons on his tunic and pulled it over his head. Jaime leaned back, watching as she ran her hands over his chest. He loved watching her as she explored his body. She felt his gaze and looked up, a blush on her cheeks. "I'm yours," he whispered, rubbing his hand over her thigh. "Do you wish to go to our bed?" he murmured as she continued touching him.

She shook her head and Jaime pulled her against him. "How can I please you, then my lady?" he whispered.

She smiled shyly, resting her hands on his shoulders. "It would please me to spend this evening here, in your arms, as I am," she said, kissing him softly. "I feel safe with you, Jaime, when you hold me."

Jaime ran his hand over her hair as she rested her head against his chest. It still amazed him that such a kind, sweet girl loved him as much as Sansa did. He tilted her chin up and covered her lips with his own. He laid back on the sofa, with Sansa curled up on top of him, exchanging soft kisses and touches.

"Did you speak to Tyrion?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. My father, would like him to confess." She looked up at him in shock. "You saw what happened today. He can't win this trial. Not with the liars Cersei has brought forward." Jaime lifted his golden hand from her back, looking at it in anger. "If only I still had my sword hand, he could demand a trial by battle. I've tried on the practice field but…my left hand is still weak."

Sansa kissed his chest, her fingers dancing over a bruise on his arm. "Is that where you got all of these?" She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes. "Do you think I haven't noticed how battered your body is? You need to stop punishing yourself. It's not your fault Tyrion is in this trouble. And it's not your fault that you've lost your hand."

Sansa sat up and looked over his upper body, gently touching and kissing all of his bruises. Her mouth and her touches felt so good on his body. He was struck, yet again, that she was the only person to ever bring him such comfort. She might like to hear that. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek. "Sansa," he began as she looked up at him. "No one – not since my mother died when I was a small child – no one has ever comforted me as you do." He could see in her eyes that his words pleased her. "Come here," he said, beckoning her closer.

"Why do you want me closer?" she asked with a smile.

"I was just pondering how it is I've not managed to remove a stitch of your clothing yet."

She lowered her eyes, though the smile remained on her face. She's still so innocent at heart. Jaime reached for the laces at the side of her gown, loosening them a bit before sliding her gown from her shoulders, leaving her bare to the waist. "That's much better," he murmured, his eyes and hand roaming over her breasts.

He leaned forward, peppering gentle kisses over her neck and chest. Jaime playfully bit at her neck, causing her to gasp and he chuckled softly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that when lions play...they sometimes bite?"

He could see the mischief in her eyes as she moved her mouth towards his ear. "Wolves have fangs as well," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe. He chuckled again and heard her giggle. He lowered his head to kiss and nip at her breasts, causing her to giggle and tangle her fingers in his hair. She does make me so happy, he thought, smiling and laughing with her as he continued his playful kisses and touches.

They were both far too distracted to notice the door to the solar opening, until Cersei's voice rang out. "You can't hide away from the family forever, Jaime, I need -"

Jaime released Sansa's nipple from his mouth, holding her against him as Cersei stopped suddenly at the sight of them. His sister locked eyes with him taking in something far more intimate than sex, but quickly recovered herself and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her. There was no mistaking the hurt and shock on Cersei's face at seeing them in such an intimate embrace – so happy and comfortable together.

Sansa met his eyes and he couldn't interpret what she was thinking. "Do you wish to comfort her?" she mumbled, trying to move away, though Jaime held her fast.

"Don't let her separate us. That's what she wants." He tucked her head under his chin, kissing the top of her head. "And I wish to spend tonight alone with my wife." She relaxed into his arms, and Jaime hoped that she was able to push his sister from her mind.

"Will you take me to our bed?" she whispered against his chest.

"Why do you want to go to our bed?" he asked teasingly.

She looked at him in annoyance. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

He chuckled as he sat up, helping her to her feet. "I suppose I'll have to figure out for myself what would pleasure you," he said wickedly, scooping her into his arms. "No matter how long it takes." Jaime found that he didn't think once that night of how hurt Cersei was, as his mind was focused on showing Sansa how much he cared for her.

...

Let me know what you think. Next chapter: Lord Tywin speaks to Sansa about his expectations for her and Cersei seeks out Jaime…