Wow, almost 300 reviews! Thank you so much for all of the feedback and for continuing to read. It's going to be a bit more about character development for a while and exploring the relationships between Sansa, Jaime, Arya and Catelyn, but then there will be more action/adventure.

…..

Chapter 34

Sansa walked around the camp while Jaime met with Ser Addam and saw that Arya was sitting by a hole in the ground in which her friend Gendry was in the process of building a fire. Sansa hung back a bit, simply watching them. Watching her sister with Gendry reminded her of Arya's relationship with Jon Snow. The two of them had always been close and she knew it had been difficult for Arya when they had parted. She was glad that Arya found someone – that she had not been alone in the world after their father was executed. Sansa imagined that Arya had been just as scared and lost as she had been.

Since seeing her mother's reunion with Arya, Sansa had made an effort to stay near Jaime – near the one person she knew loved her and would never say anything to hurt her. Sansa watched as Arya and Gendry worked together to build the fire, and it took all of Sansa's will to resist the impulse to pull Arya to her feet as she crawled on her knees, getting dirt and mud all over her dress. I don't know why I bothered having her bathe.

"Why aren't you having dinner with your sister? Or your mother?" Gendry asked her, rearranging the branches Arya had just placed in the fire pit.

Sansa could see that her sister was annoyed by his question. "Do you want me to leave?"

"I was just asking. You've been looking for your family for so long, I thought you'd want to spend time with them."

"I saw my mother last night and I'll see her later. After dinner, perhaps. And my sister's always with the Kingslayer."

Sansa smiled as he whacked her on her arm. She would like it if Arya would join she and Jaime for dinner. She felt that her sister and husband had enough in common with Arya's interest in sword-fighting to carry on a conversation, much as she herself loathed the topic. But, Sansa knew that Arya was suspicious of her husband. "You shouldn't call Lord Lannister 'Kingslayer.' Not here in his camp of soldiers. And he's your sister's husband. Be more respectful." It was all Sansa could do not to snort. Arya was one of the least respectful people she knew.

"He's holding my mother captive."

"Yes, but he's treating her kindly. Remember how the prisoners were treated at Harrenhal? How someone was tortured to death every day? Lord Lannister doesn't do that. He seems to treat your sister kindly. And he let you keep that bloody sword, didn't he?" Arya huffed to herself, annoyed that Gendry didn't share her dislike for Jaime. "You didn't tell me how pretty your sister was… She doesn't look much like you, does she?"

Sansa smiled to herself as Arya grew angry. "She has a husband. He'll kill you if you look-"

Gendry started to laugh. "If you're going to help, then actually help. Go get some more branches."

Arya stood and stalked off into the woods and Sansa walked closer to their fire. Gendry looked up, startled, as he hurried to his feet. "Lady Lannister, "

"Please, don't get up on my account. I see my sister continues to refuse to act like a lady."

"Forgive me, Lady Lannister, I should not have allowed her-"

Sansa waved her hand. "If my…If my father could not make her behave, I don't expect you or I to have any better luck."

"Would you like to sit, my lady?" he asked, gesturing to a camp stool.

"No, thank you. I've been sitting all day. Thank you for being kind to my sister. For protecting her while she was all alone. Bad things can happen to a young girl when she's separated from her family. Especially in times of war." Sansa forced herself not to think about the bad things that happened to her at the hands of Joffrey and Cersei.

"It was my pleasure, Lady Lannister. She doesn't follow directions very well but…she helped me, too. She tricked the queen's men into thinking I was dead." He smiled at Sansa. "She had me convinced she was a boy there for a while."

"I expect it was easy for her. Arya always preferred the company of our brothers to being with me," she said quietly.

She felt his eyes on her and met his gaze. "She did tell me that she wanted to find you, as well."

Sansa nodded as Arya came scampering back, filthy, her arms laden with branches and leaves. Sansa couldn't help the look of annoyance on her face. "Arya, could you at least try not to look such a mess?"

She dropped the kindling on the ground. "We're building a fire."

"So I see. It doesn't make you any less filthy. If you wish to see mother after dinner, Ser Addam will escort you." Sansa nodded to Gendry and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry for how mother is," Arya mumbled, so quietly Sansa could barely understand.

"It's not your fault," Sansa said quietly, not wanting to think about how her mother felt about her. "Enjoy dinner with your friend," she said before hurrying back to Jaime.

….

After having dinner with her, Jaime had picked up his sword and kissed the top of her head, leaving her to work on the sewing she was doing for the baby, so that he could practice with Ser Ilyn. He never said that was where he was going, but he went most every night, after dark, when his men were huddled around their fires, drinking and relaxing. She'd waited a few minutes after Jaime left her before putting on her cloak and following him, concealing herself behind a tree, watching as Jaime practiced with Ser Ilyn Payne.

She had watched he and Ser Ilyn spar a few times during their journey, always being careful that Jaime did not see her watching. She remembered how frustrated and ashamed he had been at the weakness in his left hand the first time he tried to swing a sword with it. She didn't wish to shame him any further, and knew he would be embarrassed if she saw how soundly Jaime was beaten by the king's justice.

She felt certain that Jaime's left hand was improving after nearly a month of him practicing with Ser Ilyn. The first time she had watched them, Sansa had nearly called for the red cloaks to intervene and protect Jaime. She had been terrified to see Ser Ilyn, the man who executed her father, hold the point of his sword to her husband's throat. For a moment, she had been sure that he was going to kill Jaime, leaving her alone again. But once he let Jaime up, she had realized that he would never actually kill him. Ser Ilyn merely beat and battered and humiliated him. She'd watched as over and over he bested her husband, the point of his sword at Jaime's throat. The despair and anger was apparent on Jaime's face.

Sansa was no expert at sword-fighting, but the past few times she'd watched them, she had noticed that Jaime was able to hold Ser Ilyn at bay for longer and longer periods of time before the blade was at his throat. Several times she had been certain that Jaime was about to prevail. She could see that Ser Ilyn had to struggle to beat him.

She heard a noise behind her and turned to see Arya. She'd not been alone with her sister since taking her to their mother. She knew it was cowardly, but she didn't want to know if Arya felt the same about her as Lady Catelyn did. Sansa put her finger to her lips, silently telling her little sister to be quiet. Arya nodded and stood in front of Sansa, the both of them concealed behind a tree watching the two knights battle.

"Why are you hiding?" Arya whispered.

"Jaime would not want us to watch. He practices at night, with Ser Ilyn, so no one will know."

"Know what?"

Sansa wasn't sure whether to tell Arya the true reason, though she expected she'd see soon enough, if she stayed there watching Jaime and Ser Ilyn sparring. "How weak his left hand is with a sword. That he's no longer the best in the entire Realm. Ser Ilyn can't speak, so he can't tell anyone how poorly Jaime fights."

Arya watched the two men in silence for a few minutes. "He doesn't look weak to me. There's strength behind it when he swings his sword."

"Do you think so?" Sansa whispered. "The first time he picked up the sword with his left hand, he could barely swing it. Though that was months ago and he has been practicing so hard." Sansa thought about the bruises all over Jaime's body from Ser Ilyn. Perhaps he will one day be as unbeatable as he once was.

"Do you think he'll kill Ser Ilyn?" Arya asked excitedly.

"It's just practice."

"But they are using real swords."

Sansa paled. "They are?" Sansa had thought they were using practice swords, but she wasn't all that knowledgeable about swords. Though, she knew Arya could tell the difference. "I don't believe Jaime would kill the King's Justice."

"I would," Arya said with a hard voice Sansa had never heard before. "I have a list."

"You have what?"

"A list. Of people I'm going to kill."

Sansa wasn't sure if she was serious or not. "Whose on the list?" she asked warily.

Arya glanced up at her. "Joffrey was, but he's already dead."

"You promised not to hurt Jaime," Sansa reminded her.

"I know. He's not on my list. You like him a lot, don't you?" she whispered.

"Yes. He's…he's been a good husband to me." She wanted to tell Arya that she loved Jaime, more than anything, but her fear held her back. Sansa waited for Arya to tell her that she shouldn't like Jaime. That he was an enemy of House Stark, but her sister didn't say anything. Instead, she saw that Arya was watching Jaime and Ser Ilyn spar.

"Were you very scared? When you were alone in the capitol with Joffrey and Cersei?"

Sansa nodded quickly. "Yes. I was until Jaime came back. You must have been scared, too, before you became friends with Gendry." Arya turned and looked at her. Sansa could see that her sister wanted to say more, but she merely nodded before turning her attention back to Jaime and Ser Ilyn. She absently picked leaves out of her sister's hair as they watched the battle before them.

The two men seemed rather evenly matched, neither losing any ground to the other. Sansa gasped as Jaime flipped Ser Ilyn's sword from his hand, disarming him, and forced him to his knees. Jaime held the point of his sword at the man's throat. Seeing it – seeing Jaime so close to killing the man who killed her father filled Sansa with excitement. She realized that she shared Arya's wish that Jaime would kill the King's Justice. That Jaime would avenge her father.

She smiled to herself at the pride on Jaime's face. He finally beat him. Sansa raised her eyes heavenward and silently thanked the Warrior. She had not told Jaime, but she prayed for him – for his hand – every day. She prayed for Jaime to regain the skill on which he placed so much of his self-worth. She knew that being able to fight – to swing a sword – was what Jaime needed to feel safe. To feel like himself. She knew that being a great swordsman was part of what made him who he was. She'd never thought him more handsome than he was at that moment as he stood triumphant over Ser Ilyn Payne.

"We should go," she whispered to Arya.

"Why? Are they going to fight again? I want to see."

Sansa smiled, taking Arya's hand and leading her away, much as she wished to stay and watch her husband. "You can watch him again another night. I don't think Jaime would like to know that we were watching." Arya reluctantly allowed Sansa to take her back to her tent, glancing back at the two knights with interest.

….

Later that night, Jaime lay on his side, naked, stroking Sansa's hair as his heart rate gradually slowed. They were curled up under the furs, and he could see that she had a pretty flush to her cheeks and her chest from their lovemaking. She pulled him to her, kissing him as his hand freely roamed over her naked body. Her mouth moved to his neck. "You're such a brave…handsome knight, Jaime," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled as she raised her eyes to his, and he could see the admiration in her gaze. He kissed her softly, moving to kiss her jaw, then her neck, slowly moving his mouth over her body. "I love you very much…Ser Jaime," she breathed as he began kissing her breasts.

"Ser Jaime, is it?" he murmured teasingly, as he lazily sucked her nipple into his mouth. "Shall I call you Lady Sansa tonight?"

She batted at his shoulder playfully. "I saw you fighting Ser Ilyn tonight," she whispered hesitantly, threading her fingers through his hair. "You were spectacular," she said, a breathless smile on her face. He could see that seeing him win a battle had aroused and excited her. He knew that she liked knights, despite her assertions that she no longer believed that life was a song, but he didn't realize seeing him as a knight had this effect on her.

"Hoping I'll one day crown you Queen of Love and Beauty? I can just imagine the impure thoughts that would run through your pretty little head during a tournament."

She smiled shyly, a soft blush covering her cheeks. "I believe this was better than any crown."

He chuckled. "I agree, my lady." He gazed into her eyes, and felt whole. There was not a single thing in the world he longed for. "You are better than winning any tourney. Better than winning any fight."

When had Jaime returned to their tent earlier that night, he had felt a power and pride that he thought was gone forever. He had not felt it since Vargo Hoat had taken his sword hand. Tonight, Jaime felt as if he could conquer the world. After all the nights of humiliating defeats at the hand of Ser Ilyn Payne, Jaime had finally beaten him. It had not been especially elegant, but it had finally been his sword at the other man's throat, after hundreds of battles had ended with Jaime on his knees, the older man's sword at his throat.

While it was just one victory, and he'd been defeated when Ser Ilyn had challenged him to a rematch right after, Jaime knew that he was at last regaining the skills that had come so easily to him his entire life. As a boy, when he had first begun entering tournaments, he had been unstoppable. And it had been so easy. So natural. He'd taken his skill with a sword for granted. Now, he took pride and pleasure in each swipe of the sword that hit its mark.

Long before Sansa had become his wife, he'd grown dissatisfied with his life in King's Landing. And he'd often wondered what his life would have been like if he'd never given in to Cersei's demand that he join the Kingsguard. He supposed losing his hand was a small price to pay for what he'd been given since then – his sweet Sansa and the child in her belly.

He glanced at her and saw a mischievous smile playing at her lips as her fingers trailed over his back. "You say this is better than winning but, I know you were only this…"

"Passionate," he volunteered with a smirk

She blushed, no doubt thinking of how ardently he'd just made love to her. "Yes. I know it was because of your victory." She moved so they lay face to face. "I could see a light in your eye that has never been there before. A fire."

When Jaime had returned to her that night, the adrenaline and sense of power was still coursing through him and the sight of his beautiful wife – so happy to see him - filled him with arousal. He'd all but ripped off her clothes, growling as he stripped her naked and took her. He'd always been gentle with her, but tonight he could not resist his more animal instincts. And she'd not been scared of his wanton desire for her. If anything, it seemed to excite her to see how much he wanted her.

He felt her hand slide down his back and over the curve of his ass as she moved closer to him, her breasts brushing against his chest. "There seemed to be a bit of fire in you as well tonight, my lady. I don't know that you've ever made such noise as you did while riding my cock tonight."

Her mouth opened in shock and he could see she was appalled by his choice of words. "Do you think someone heard me?" she whispered.

He chuckled. "I'd expect so. The canvas walls are rather thin." Her face reddened in horror. "Don't worry, there are a few whores traveling with us…no way to be certain it was you."

"Why didn't you tell me to be quiet?"

Jaime had ceased to be annoyed by her lady-like tendencies. Now he found how easily she shocked rather adorable. "I like hearing you moan…especially when it's my name on your lips," he whispered. She shook her head in annoyance.

I feel so alive right now. His whole life, the only times Jaime had felt truly alive were when he was fighting or fucking. Tonight he had both. And he felt like himself – the self he was before being maimed. He never thought he would again when he lost his sword hand. For so long, he'd believed that his life had ended when his hand was cut off.

Jaime carefully removed his golden hand, and looked at the stump that remained. He'd never really looked at it. He felt Sansa move closer to him and gently stroke his hair. "You put on a brave face, but I know that you how difficult it has been for you…not being able swing a sword. Thinking you were useless and a cripple. I've…I've prayed to the Warrior every day for you," she whispered, embarrassed.

"Why?"

"Because I could see that you were hurting. I could see in your eyes how much it hurt you – shamed you – when someone would look at your golden hand or…say something about it."

Jaime was surprised she had noticed. He thought he had done a better job of hiding how much it bothered him. How much it cut away at his ego. Jaime had never realized how prideful he was until Vargo Hoat made him a cripple. Between Cersei's mockery and the uselessness of his left hand, Jaime had been filled with pain and shame.

"After the Bloody Mummers cut off my hand they…they burned the stump to sear the bloody wound. Days after they had snuffed out the torch they used…I could still feel the fire lancing up my arm and my fingers twisting in the flames. The fingers I no longer had."

He'd never told Sansa what he'd been through, but he wanted her to know.

"I never knew there could be such pain. My world shrunk to the throb of agony that was my phantom hand. They had hung it around my neck on a cord, so it dangled down against my chest. In mockery of the man that I was. One night, I finally decided to just go ahead and die."

"What changed your mind?" she whispered, kissing his forehead.

"Thinking about the only people in the world I loved."

"Cersei and Tyrion," she whispered.

He nodded. "I knew that I had to live for them. To see them again. So I forced myself to eat, to endure the beatings and humiliation. I would have given anything for a moment's kindness or a gentle touch. But there was none. Only more pain and cruelty. And when I arrived at Harrenhal they took me to their maester. I refused to take any milk of the poppy as he cut away the dead skin and poured boiling wine over the wound. I was afraid he would take my arm off…The wound was infected and…I don't know how I didn't die. I just thought about my brother and sister. That I had to survive for them. And when I finally made it back to King's Landing and went to Cersei…"

"She was with another man," Sansa finished quietly, wiping away the tears in her eyes.

"Though, now I know why I was spared," he whispered, kissing her softly as his hand moved beneath the furs to her belly. "I felt so worthless and humiliated and then…I saw you. I saw Joffrey hurting you. And I knew what you felt – your fear and pain. Do you understand now why…when I returned to King's Landing…why I needed to protect you?"

She nodded, pulling him into her arms.

"If I had to lose my hand, in order to get you, and our little cub…then I believe it was worth it." Jaime rested his head against Sansa's breasts, his hand resting on her belly, as she stroked her hand through his hair. I always thought I was meant for Cersei but I was wrong. He kissed Sansa's breast, over her heart and closed his eyes. I'm meant for this sweet girl who carries our child.

…

Next Chapter: Casterly Rock