Happy New Year Everyone! This chapter is a lot less fluffy than the others, since it deals with Jaime's past in King's Landing – the atrocities he witnessed as he stood beside the Mad King. Will knowing about that change Catelyn (& Sansa's) thoughts about him?

….

Chapter 41

Jaime was walking back from the practice grounds with Arya, when he saw Lady Catelyn walking towards him, her guards trailing after her. He could see a purpose to her walk and wondered what it was that had set her off now. She had largely avoided both he and Sansa during the time they had been at Casterly Rock, keeping to the section of the castle she shared with Edmure and Arya.

"You should run along," he whispered to Arya. "Go on," he said, seeing her hesitation. She reluctantly walked down the corridor leading to her bedchamber. "Lady Stark…how can I be of service?"

"Isn't it enough that you've taken Sansa as your wife? Now you're trying to lure Arya over to your side as well?"

"There don't have to be sides. I don't feel that it's necessary to make your daughters choose. Though you're certainly doing an excellent job of pushing Sansa away." He glanced at her guards. "You can leave us." They nodded to him and walked down the hallway, giving them privacy. "Lady Stark, you speak as if I've harmed Sansa in some way. I've only ever treated her kindly. Arya, as well, for that matter."

"You've say you've treated Sansa kindly, and perhaps you believe you have. That doesn't take away all the harm you've done in the past. All those you've wronged. Believe me, your misdeeds have already earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just."

"What gods are those, my lady? The trees your husband prayed to? How well did they serve him when my sister took his head off? How well did they serve Sansa?" Jaime shook his head, thinking about Sansa, praying every day for nearly a year to be saved from Joffrey, only to stripped and beaten again and again. Each time he saw the scars covering his sweet little wife's back, he knew there was no justice in the world. No gods protecting the innocent. "If there are gods, Lady Stark, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?"

"Because of men like you."

"There are no men like me. There's only me." He often wondered what another man would have done in his position when Aerys was about to set his plan into motion all those years ago. He'd only been seventeen – not much older than Sansa – and he had done what was necessary for the good of the realm. He sometimes wondered what Ned Stark would have done in his place. Would he have simply allowed King's Landing to burn? "You know, I was the youngest man to wear the white cloak–"

"And the youngest to betray all it stood for, Kingslayer."

"Kingslayer," he pronounced carefully. "And such a king he was! Here's to Aerys Targaryen, the Second in his Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. And to the sword that opened his throat. A golden sword, don't you know? Until his blood ran red down the blade. Those are the Lannister colors, red and gold."

"Only a man like you would be proud of such an act of dishonor."

"I told you, there are no men like me. Answer me this, Lady Stark – did your Ned ever tell you the manner of his father's death? Or his brother's?" She's so outraged for my crimes against Aerys, but does she truly know what he was and what he did? If she did, she'd be glad I cut his throat.

"They strangled Brandon while his father watched and then killed Lord Rickard as well," she said quietly.

"Killed yes, but how?"

He could see she was uncomfortable with this conversation. "The cord or the axe, I suppose."

"No doubt Ned wished to spare you. His sweet young bride, though perhaps not quite a maiden." She glared at him. "Very noble of him to marry his dead brother's betrothed…Brandon was different from his brother, wasn't he? He had blood in his veins instead of ice water. More like me."

"Brandon was nothing like you."

"If you say so. I expect you knew him better than I. You and he were to wed." They didn't speak of it, but Jaime and Lady Stark were well-acquainted. He'd spent quite a bit of time at Riverrun as a boy, when Hoster Tully fancied him as a match for his daughter, Lysa. For his part, Jaime had found Lady Catelyn to be much more worth his time than her histrionic sister. If he had not been so in love with Cersei – and the sword – perhaps things would have been different. And now, I'm wed to her daughter.

"Brandon was on his way to Riverrun when…when he heard about Lyanna, and went to King's Landing instead. It was a rash thing to do."

"I was there when he arrived. Brandon Stark rode into the Red Keep with a few companions, shouting for Prince Rhaeger to come out and die. But Rhaeger wasn't there. Aerys sent his guards to arrest them all for plotting his son's murder. The others were lords' sons too, it seems to me."

She nodded. "Aerys accused them of treason and summoned their fathers to court to answer the charge, with the sons as hostages. When they came, he had them murdered without trial. Fathers and sons both."

"There were trials," Jaime corrected. "Of a sort. Lord Rickard demanded trial by combat, and the king granted the request. Stark armored himself as for battle, thinking to duel one of the Kingsguard. Me, perhaps. Instead, they took him to the throne room and suspended him from the rafters while two of Aerys's pyromancers kindled a blaze beneath him. The king told him that fire was the champion of House Targaryen. So all Lord Rickard needed to do to prove himself innocent of treason was…well, not burn, I suppose."

He could see that he had Lady Catelyn's full attention. He could see that no matter how many years had passed, no matter how many children she'd born Ned Stark, a part of her still loved his brother Brandon.

"When the fire was blazing, Brandon was brought in. His hands were chained behind his back, and around his neck was a wet leathern cord attached to a device the king had commissioned from I know not where. His legs were left free, though, and his longsword was set down just beyond his reach."

"The pyromancers roasted Lord Rickard slowly, banking and fanning the fire carefully to get a nice even heat. His cloak caught first, and then his surecoat, and soon he wore nothing but metal and ashes. Next he would start to cook, Aerys promised…unless his son could free him. Brandon tried, but the more he struggled, the tighter the cord constricted around his throat. In the end he strangled himself." He saw her choke back a sob as he described the death of her betrothed. Her first love. I've begun the story. I may as well finish it.

"As for Lord Rickard, the steel of his breastplate turned cherry-red before the end, and his gold melted off his spurs and dripped down into the fire. Sometimes I can still hear the screams in my nightmares. All the while, I stood at the foot of the Iron Throne in my white armor and white cloak, filling my head with thoughts of…my childhood." In truth, he had filled his head with thoughts of Cersei, but Lady Catelyn didn't need to hear that. "Afterward, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, 'You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.' That was the White Bull, loyal to the end and a better man than me, all agree."

Jaime could see that Lady Catelyn was still affected by what he'd told her. "Aerys was mad, the whole realm knew it, but if you would have me believe you slew him to avenge Brandon Stark…"

"I made no such claim. The Starks were nothing to me." Jaime laughed bitterly. "I will say, I find it fascinating that I am reviled by so many for what I believe to be my finest act. At Robert's coronation, I was made to kneel at the royal feet beside Grand Maester Pycelle and Varys the eunuch, so that he might forgive our crimes before he took us into his service. The crimes that made him king." He fixed his gaze on Lady Stark. "As for your Ned, he should have kissed the hand that slew Aerys, but he preferred to scorn the arse he found sitting in Robert's throne. I think Ned Stark loved Robert better than he ever loved his brother or his father…or even you, my lady. He was never unfaithful to Robert, was he?"

He saw the rage in her eyes. "I will separate Sansa from you if it is the last thing I do. She is an innocent and desperate to believe there is good in the world. She believes you are a hero – that you saved her – but the truth is you are a monster. She's just an innocent young girl – a maiden – who had been separated from her own family, and terrorized by your lover and your bastard son. Perhaps she has convinced herself she loves you – if only to make it bearable when you touch her and defile her night after night, but the day will come when she sees who you really are. And then you'll lose my daughter, forever."

"That's quite enough, my lady."

"No, it isn't. You don't deserve Sansa. You don't deserve someone as kind and innocent and good as her. You must know if Stannis takes King's Landing, he'll come for you and your wife may be executed along with you. Or do you not care what happens to her? If you truly care for her, you'll let her go before you destroy her along with yourself," she spit out, turning on her heel and walking down the hall, away from him. She's not wrong. I don't deserve a sweet girl like Sansa. But I'm far too selfish to let her go.

…

Sansa looked through the many scented oils and soaps that Jaime had given her, before selecting some to add to her bathwater. She'd just had the bath drawn, and finished lighting candles when she heard Jaime enter his bedchamber. "Jaime," she called out. She heard his footsteps and smiled when she saw him standing in the doorway. Sansa walked toward him, tilting her face up to kiss him, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. "Will you join me?" she asked softly. "It is rather romantic," she said with a shy smile, as she began working the buttons on his surecoat.

She knew he wouldn't deny her. He never denied her anything. Jaime helped her remove his clothes before reaching for the tie on her robe, sliding it from her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his chest. "I love you."

He kissed the top of her head before he climbed into the sunken bath first, then took her arms and helplped her to join him. The marble bath was enormous and could easily seat five people. Sansa settled beside her husband in the enormous tub, sighing in pleasure at the feel of the hot water that engulfed her up to her neck.

Sansa reached for a washcloth and, after soaking it in the water and adding some soap, she began gently scrubbing her husband's chest and shoulders. She smiled as he moaned in pleasure at the feel of the hot water and the washcloth scrubbing his skin. She knew he was usually sore after his time on the practice grounds. He would usually spend some time working with Arya – and also battle one or two of his men, which she knew her sister delighted in watching. "I believe I should be bathing you, Sansa. Given your condition."

She brushed his hair off his forehead, wetting it in the process, as she studied his face. He is so very handsome. I can't believe I even looked at Joffrey all those months ago in Winterfell, when I could have looked at Jaime. She kissed his forehead before moving the washcloth to his shoulders. "I wish to take care of you tonight," she murmured.

Sansa squealed as he slid his hand under her thighs and lifted her onto his lap. "Why am I receiving such treatment tonight?"

She smiled to herself. "I just…you're so wonderful to me and I want to be sure you know that. I know my mother was very unkind to you today."

"Who told you that?"

"Arya. She…was listening from her chamber. I almost think she was worried that mother had hurt your feelings." He chuckled. "She likes you very much, even if she would never admit it aloud. I hope you know that my mother's wrong about you, Jaime. You're not a monster. She may think that I don't really love you, but she's wrong." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I know that this is real."

Arya had repeated their mother's conversation with Jaime, and Sansa had worried when Jaime took so long to return to their chambers, instead wandering the halls of the Rock and spending time with his soldiers.

"You know your father would disapprove as well, don't you, Sansa? Of you and me…together."

"I'm not so foolish that I believe he'd be happy, but he would understand that you are my husband. And you are the father of my child. My father understood duty and honor. To a fault. And he would know that my place is with you. He wouldn't…he wouldn't insist on separating us." At least, that was what she wanted to believe. What she needed to believe.

"Your father…he could never get past the fact that I'm the oathbreaker who murdered poor sad Aerys Targaryen. No one could. It always comes back to Aerys." Jaime chuckled bitterly, turning to look at Sansa. "You saw my brother set the Blackwater Rush afire?" She nodded. "Wildfire will burn on water. Aerys would have bathed in it if he dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire."

Sansa settled between his legs, her back against his chest as he spoke. He wrapped his good arm across her chest, holding her tightly and resting his head against hers, as steam filled the room from the hot bathwater.

"After losing the Battle of the Bells, Aerys finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. Prince Rhaeger returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father, his former Hand. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock and that made the king even more paranoid. He saw traitors everywhere. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King's Landing. Beneath Baelor's Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself."

Sansa shivered at the thought. The Battle of Blackwater was still fresh in her mind, and she remembered the Bay being set aflame and how terrifying it had been. She could only imagine how awful it would be if the fire were not contained and had been able to consume all of King's Landing.

"Everything was done in the utmost secrecy by a trio of master pyromancers – Rossart, Belis and Garigus. Aerys's Hand – my father's replacement - was not utterly stupid, and with the pyromancers coming and going night and day, he became suspicious. I'd thought the man craven, but the day he confronted Aerys he found some courage somewhere. He did all he could to dissuade him. He reasoned, he jested, he threatened, and finally he begged. When that failed, he took off his chain of office and flung it down on the floor. Aerys burnt him alive for that, and hung his chain about the neck of Rossart, his favorite pyromancer. The man who had cooked your grandfather in his own armor. And through it all, I stood by the foot of the Iron Throne in my white armor, still as a corpse, doing my duty. Guarding my king and all his secrets."

Sansa wanted to tell Jaime he could stop. She could tell from his voice and the tension in his body how it affected him to talk about his time serving the Mad King. Arya had recited in excruciating detail what Jaime had told their mother about the deaths of their grandfather and uncle. My poor Jaime has seen such horrors. She didn't want Jaime to ever think about these things again. Now, she understood why he had nightmares sometimes. But, Sansa could see that he seemed to need to tell her this story, so she merely leaned against him, rubbing her hand comfortingly over his leg beneath the water and let him say his peace.

"My Sworn Brothers were all away, fighting the war and guarding Lyanna Stark, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was Tywin Lannister's son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all. Rhaeger met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When word reached the court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia should have gone as well, but he forbade it. He thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat."

Sansa shivered, despite the hot bathwater and the steam that had filled the room. Jaime must have noticed, for he held her tighter before continuing his tale. "The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Aerys thought the fire would transform him…that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash."

"Your father was racing south with Robert's van, but my father's forces reached the city first. Pycelle somehow convinced the king that his Warden of the West had come to defend him, so he opened the gates. The one time he should have heeded Varys, and he ignored him. My father had held back from the war, brooding on all the wrongs that Aerys had done him and finally determined that House Lannister should be on the winning side. The Trident decided him."

"It fell to me to hold the Red Keep. I was only 17 years old then, and was tasked with fighting my own father and all of his forces. And I knew we were lost. I sent to Aerys asking his leave to make terms. My squire came back with a royal command. 'Bring me your father's head, if you are no traitor.' Aerys would have no yielding. Lord Rossart was with him, my messenger said. I knew what that meant. He was about to ignite the wildfire. So, I changed out of my white armor of the Kingsguard and went toward the throne room."

"When I came on Rossart, he was dressed as a common man-at-arms, hurrying to a postern gate, to carry out Aerys' mad wishes. I slew him first. Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers. Days later, I hunted down the others and slew them as well. Belis offered me gold and Garigus wept for mercy. Well, a sword's more merciful than fire, but I don't think Garigus much appreciated the kindness I showed him."

"Why did you put on your golden armor?" she asked, turning to face him, her fingers trailing over his shoulder.

"It didn't seem right…to slay the king while dressed in the armor of his sworn protector. My own concept of honor, I suppose."

Sansa knew all about Robert's rebellion but she had never heard anything like this. "Why does no one know this? That the Mad King planned to kill everyone."

"The knights of the Kingsguard are sworn to keep the king's secrets, sweet girl. Would you have me break my oath?" Jaime laughed. "Do you think your father, the noble Lord of Winterfell wanted to hear my feeble explanations when he found me sitting on the iron throne? He only had to look at me to judge me guilty."

Sansa ran her fingers over Jaime's jaw, her eyes scanning his. There should be songs written about my Jaime. He is a brave knight. She knew Jaime was right about her father – he had definite beliefs about right and wrong. Whenever Robb or Jon or Arya had gotten into trouble and tried to offer explanations, her father was generally unmoved. He would not have cared for Jaime's explanation of why he'd broken his vow to protect the king. But she cared.

"You're a hero." She rested her hand on the side of his face. "You saved the realm as you always wanted to when you were but a boy becoming a knight."

"And then I tore the realm apart. I'm no hero, Sansa. I've done...many things to be ashamed of." She knew that he meant his children with Cersei when he spoke of tearing the realm apart. Though, Cersei was the one who passed her bastards off as the King's. She was the one who did not allow the King to get children on her. She didn't like to think about it, but Sansa knew Jaime had begged Cersei to leave Westeros with him and their children, but she never would. She wanted power more than him. He was not the one who wished to put their children on the throne.

Sansa covered Jaime's mouth with her own, kissing him as a brave and honorable knight should be kissed by his lady and adjusting her position to face him more fully. She kissed the side of his face as he wrapped his arm around her, nuzzling against her neck. "I love you, Jaime. I know you don't agree and that you don't wish to hear it…but you are a hero. Perhaps I was too hasty when I said there are no true knights in the world. You are the brave and handsome knight I always dreamed of when I was a little girl."

"I broke my vows."

"Perhaps some vows must be broken." Sansa believed her words, though she couldn't help thinking that her father would never agree with her. "You did what was necessary – what was right to protect the innocent."

She loved him so much, and to learn that he'd been scorned by the entire realm for longer than she'd been alive broke her heart. She had noticed how Jaime flinched whenever anyone called him "Kingslayer." Whenever anyone accused him of having no honor. Of being an oathbreaker. She thought him so brave and so good to sacrifice his name – his reputation – in order to save the realm and still keep his vows as best he could.

Jaime had done so much to protect others but…who protected him? She knew very well that there were many who would kill her husband on sight. She knew that there was a huge bounty on his head; that killing Jaime Lannister was a huge prize. The thought of Jaime being killed or taken prisoner terrified her. I'll protect you, Jaime, she promised him silently. I won't allow anyone to harm you. She rested her head on his shoulder, cuddling in his arms until the water cooled and they retired to their bed.

….

I hope you liked it! Catelyn absolutely grew to love Ned, but I don't think she ever stopped loving Brandon, and I think it would absolutely affect her to hear Jaime's description of his death. And I think Sansa would be truly moved by the reason why Jaime killed the Mad King.

Next chapter: A little fluff and then Sansa speaks to her mother about Jaime and the child she carries