Chapter 87

Jaime leaned against the railing of the ship, watching the wind softly blow Sansa's hair back behind her shoulders. In that light, her hair looked nearly the same color as the rising sun. It reminded him of the Rock, when the morning sun hit it on an early summer morning. Jaime closed his eyes in pleasure at the feel of the warm sun on his face and breathed in the clean salt air. They no longer needed to wear their heavy cloaks or woolen socks. As soon as they neared Dorne, the sun shone for longer and longer every day and the temperature began to steadily rise. Jaime had finally begun to feel warm for the first time in months.

It had been nearly two weeks since they had weathered the great storm. Gendry had recovered well and Jaime had promised him a permanent place in his household. The ship had survived the storm as well, though not without a few scratches. The mast that had fallen was in desperate need of repair. Their Captain was used to repairing ships while on the high seas, without stopping for supplies, so they continued on their journey, with only some patch work done. The mast that had fallen was in great need of repair, and as a result, they were traveling at a slower pace. Both Jaime and the Captain were more concerned about reaching the Free Cities than repairing the mast. So they had continued on and their perseverance was being rewarded now that they had escaped Winter.

"It's so beautiful," Sansa breathed, looking across the water at the sunrise. Jaime knew she'd never before seen the sun rise over the clear blue ocean as she did now. He watched her, feeling content. The light of the sun made her skin look just as golden as his own.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her cheek.

"How much longer until we reach the Free Cities?"

"Tommen and I marked the map this morning," he reminded her. "We should finish our travel around Dorne tomorrow and then reach Lys a few days later." Sansa nodded absently, biting her lip and looking out at the sunset once again.

Sansa pointed towards the land, so far in the distance it could barely be seen. "Is that Starfall there?"

"We passed Starfall yesterday. The home of Ser Arthur Dayne. The Knight of the Morning." He was a true knight. Sansa would have admired him greatly. "We should pass Sunspear tomorrow."

"Have you ever been there? To Dorne?"

"No. Though, if my mother had her way, I would have. If she had her way, if she had lived…I expect Princess Elia would have been my lady wife." Sansa looked at him in surprise. "Her mother and mine were childhood friends. They wished for their children to marry. Unfortunately, Elia and Prince Oberyn were sent to visit – sent to Casterly Rock – very soon after her death. My father was still mourning her and…he rejected the betrothals rather insultingly." Jaime rested his hand on the small of Sansa's back, distracted by his thoughts of the past.

"What was she like? The princess? Father and Mother would never speak of the Rebellion or Prince Rhaeger and…Aunt Lyanna. I always wanted to hear father's stories about them and the Great Tourney at Harrenhal. He changed the subject whenever I asked him. But you can tell me about it, Jaime."

He smiled to himself. There was hesitation in her voice, though it seemed her curiosity had got the better of her. She knew that Jaime did not relish speaking of that time. She knew he blamed himself for the death of the Princess. But, he supposed, the memories weren't entirely unpleasant. They were part of who he was.

"Princess Elia was very beautiful. Childbirth made her frail but…it did not change her beauty. She was very kind. Very ladylike. Very gentle. Princess Elia would have made a magnificent Queen." He looked down at Sansa. "She was not unlike you, in her temperament." Though they may have been opposite in their looks, Elia and Sansa were both far too good and innocent for the game of thrones. "I should have protected her. If not to fulfill my oath as a member of the Kingsguard…then out of respect for my mother."

Jaime had been there when the Princess learned that her husband had run away with Lyanna Stark. Prince Aegon had still been a babe in arms. She had schooled herself not to show her pain, but her eyes gave her away. Jaime had not known what to say to her. Rhaeger was such a fool. To throw his lady wife away for the Stark girl. He had seemed to love his wife. Though, apparently he had not. Jaime knew that nothing would make him forsake Sansa. He would never insult her as Rhaeger had insulted Elia.

Being so close to the Tower of Joy made Jaime wonder what had happened there. Only Ned Stark knew for certain, and he had never spoken of it. Not even to Robert. He'd simply announced that Lyanna was dead by the time he cut through Ser Arthur Dayne to get to her, and fled to the North with his bastard as if he were in exile. Jaime had always wondered what Ned Stark was hiding from. The Starks had never been so reclusive until after the Rebellion. It was shocking to Jaime that Sansa had never left Winterfell until she came to King's Landing. Perhaps Ned feared someone running off with his own daughter. Sansa is certainly worth starting a war over.

Jaime was distracted from his thoughts when Sansa pulled away from him abruptly and leaned over the railing. She was emptying her stomach over the side of the ship. Perhaps she was better off below deck. Staring at the water can make a person sick. Jaime wrapped her hair around his hand, pulling it back from her face. He handed her a handkerchief and rubbed her back when she stood upright again. She had seemed fine – radiant even – moments before but now he saw sweat on her brow and she appeared pale. She reached into her pocket for a mint leaf, and chewed on it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

"Perhaps you should go below deck. It seems being on the water doesn't agree with you."

"I'm not seasick," she said quietly, wiping her mouth and grimacing. "I'm…with child. We're going to have another baby."

He should have known. As often as they made love, it was no surprise that Sansa would conceive again. She had probably been with child before they left the Rock. He wasn't as stunned as he had been when he learned Sansa was carrying Julianna, but he still felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. "You're certain?"

She nodded. "I've missed my last two moonbloods. At first, I thought it was the stress of our escape but then the sickness started." We'll have another little one as sweet as Julianna. He kissed her forehead pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back to soothe her nausea. "You're happy, aren't you, Jaime?"

"Of course I am." They had spoken about adding to their family, and they both wanted more children. Their babe had been such a joy that the thought of another one appealed to the both of them. "But you weren't sick at all with Julianna. Are you feeling all right?" Jaime worried that something was wrong with the babe, or with Sansa. "You said you've been sick before?"

"Once or twice," she said sheepishly. "My mother said that every babe is different. That she was sick when she carried some of us, but not others." That reassured him somewhat but Jaime knew they had to get to the Free Cities quickly. There was not a maester on board to take care of Sansa, should something go wrong and he had no intention of taking any chances with his wife's health.

"Perhaps you should go below deck and lie down? Let me escort you."

She laughed and pushed at him playfully. "I'm pregnant. I'm not an invalid." She reached up and touched his face. "I'm fine. It's just a bit of mother's sickness. We across the Realm when I was carrying Julianna. I can manage another week on a ship."

He nodded, holding her in his arms again and kissing the top of her head. "Promise me you won't wear yourself out."

"I promise. Tommen asked after Myrcella," Sansa said quietly against his chest. "He knows she's in Dorne and…he wondered if we would stop to see her. I told him probably not…that it was too dangerous to delay our trip to the Free Cities at all, but…he may ask you and I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

Jaime nodded. He rarely thought of the daughter he had fathered with Cersei. As a girl, Myrcella was even farther removed from him than Tommen and Joffrey. She was always with her septa. He knew that she resembled her mother and seem good-natured like Tommen. Other than that, Jaime could not have called forth a single memory of the girl. Julianna is my daughter. Not Myrcella. He knew it was terrible of him to think so…but it was how he felt. Myrcella was Cersei's daughter. And he did not know her at all.

Jaime and Sansa both turned towards the captain at the sound of shouting. As he listened carefully, Jaime realized that a ship was approaching and turned to look. It was far in the distance, but the orange sails of Sunspear were clear to him. "How long until they reach us?" Jaime asked. "If we continue at full speed?" He knew full-well they could not outpace the ship with the damaged mast.

"They will overtake us by tomorrow morning."

Sansa looked at Jaime fearfully, even as the ship raised the white flag. I fell for that once with Daenerys. I'll not be tricked again. He knew that it was too much to hope that the Martell vessel did not know who they were pursuing. The Martells blamed House Lannister for Princess Elia's death. He wondered if they also blamed the Lannisters for Prince Oberyn's death during Tyrion's trial by combat. One thing's for certain – they aren't coming to offer us asylum from Daenerys Targaryen.

…

There was a time when Tyrion would have given anything to be wed to a beautiful, high-born girl like Margaery Tyrell. Yet now, as he entered his bedchamber on this, his wedding night, he felt nothing but dread. He supposed part of it was because of who the girl was. Margaery Tyrell was no innocent flower. She was conniving and power-hungry. She and her wily old grandmother had nearly been the death of him.

Tyrion had wanted to refuse the marriage, but he knew that Daenerys would not look upon such a refusal with a kind eye. She needed to get the former queen under her thumb, and a marriage to her Hand was the most logical option.

Tyrion had exacted an agreement from the Queen that Lady Margaery's family was not welcome in King's Landing. He certainly did not intend to suffer the same fate as Joffrey. Only Lord Tyrell had been permitted to travel north, in order to give her hand to Tyrion during the ceremony in the Great Sept. Lord Tyrell was to leave straight away to return to Highgarden. There was no mistaking the contempt and disgust in the man's eyes when he handed his perfect little rose over to the monster of Casterly Rock. Daenerys's dragons were the only thing keeping him from speaking his mind.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Tyrion looked around his bedchamber and saw no sign of his lady wife. Perhaps she's hidden in father's carriage, and plans to return to Highgarden in the morning. He couldn't much blame her if she had no desire to lie with him. No woman had ever lain with him without being tossed some of his father's gold. Except for Tysha.

Tyron heard rustling from behind the dressing screen and he was clearly able to see her moving back there. By design, no doubt, he thought as he sat in a chair before the fire, warming his hands. Despite himself, he turned and watched her, taking in the outline of her pert breasts as she removed her clothes. He wondered if she actually intended to let him between her legs. She somehow managed to get through three marriages without a proper bedding. Of course, Joffrey was killed at their wedding feast, Tommen was a child, and Renly preferred her brother. He shuddered to think what she had planned for him.

Tyrion expected her to emerge from behind her screens in some ridiculous virginal confection, but instead she emerged completely naked. She is beautiful. He swallowed hard as he felt his body begin to react to the sight of Margaery Tyrell in all her naked glory.

"Would you like some wine?" she asked in a low voice, turning to pour a cup before he answered. His eyes slid over her firm arse and Tyrion knew he was in trouble. Gods help me…at least I'll die well satisfied. She approached him with the cup, completely unashamed of her nudity and held it out to him.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Drink some yourself, first. My lady."

She sighed and looked heavenward before taking and large swallow. Margaery stood looking at him as if he were a complete dolt. "It's perfectly safe," she said sweetly, handing the cup to him.

Relieved, Tyrion drained the cup and crossed the room to refill it. He'd been too fearful of poisoning to drink a single drop at their wedding feast. And his mind and body were such a jumble, he needed some drink to dull his senses.

"May I call you Tyrion?"

"You may." He returned to his chair, drinking his wine and watching her warily.

"I know you don't trust me," she began, kneeling on the furs before him. She moved her hands to his tunic, beginning to undress him, and Tyrion was too startled to even respond. All he could do was watch her, his eyes riveted to her long elegant fingers. "You will trust me. In time," she continued, slipping his vest from his shoulders. "If I cannot be queen…I shall be the wife of the most powerful man in the kingdom."

She had stripped his tunic from his body and removed his boots, leaving him in nothing but his breeches. Tyrion began to feel uncomfortable and ashamed as her fingers moved to the laces of his breeches. He stilled her hands with his own and she looked up at him in question. She's the first woman I'm not paying since I was thirteen. A paid whore knew better than to show her disgust at his twisted, deformed body. But this girl will not.

"It's all right, Tyrion," she whispered, brushing his hands aside and resuming her efforts to undress him. He couldn't look at her when she finally revealed his body to her eyes. He didn't want to see the disgust in her eyes. He focused his eyes over her shoulder, on the fire, even as her hand brushed his cock and it sprang to life.

What in the seven hells is wrong with you? Can you only fuck a woman if you're paying her? Tyrion could hear his father's voice in his head.

Tyrion desperately found his voice. "Perhaps we should blow out the candles."

"Why?" She sat up on her knees, moving closer to him and resting her elbows on the arms of his chair. Her breasts were practically brushing his chest. "Don't you wish to look upon my body?"

"You're very beautiful, my lady," he replied automatically. "As I expect you already know."

"Margaery," she said, a soft smile on her lips. "Call me Margaery."

"Margaery," he repeated in a whisper, hesitantly reaching to touch her breasts. He waited for her to flinch away from him, but she didn't, though he saw from her expression that she wasn't expecting his touch. "You don't seem at all nervous at the prospect of giving up your maidenhead."

She shrugged, her breath catching as he tugged at her nipples. "I see no reason to be nervous. A bedding is expected. And…I expect you will be rather…skilled…at this. More so than any of my other husbands would have been." She closed her eyes briefly in pleasure as Tyrion watched her carefully, trying to determine if she was acting or actually enjoying his touch. Tyrion knew that he wouldn't find love with Margaery Tyrell as Jamie had with Sansa. But he supposed he could indulge in the pleasure of her body. Even if it meant he'd have to sleep with one eye open.

Tyrion felt her hand sliding along his thigh until it closed over his length and she began stroking him in a way that showed experience. He met her eyes and she shrugged. "There are many things that…bring pleasure which do not take a girl's maidenhead. We're much more free with such things in Highgarden than in the rest of Westeros. I should think you would appreciate that," she finished with a sly smile.

He sat forward and pushed her onto the furs, climbing on top of her. He touched and kissed and sucked at her skin, moving his mouth and hands all over her body until she was wet and quivering but she stopped him before he could mount her. She's come to her senses.

"Tonight we must go to the bed," she whispered, taking his hand. "You may take me on the floor another night." He just looked at her, not understanding. "There must be proof on the sheets in the morning," she explained.

Tyrion allowed her to lead him to the bed, though he could scarce walk or think clearly, so consumed was he with arousal. She lay on her back, making room for him between her thighs. Before he entered her, he had the fleeting thought that this girl would have been the perfect wife for Lord Tywin. I doubt she's ever truly lost focus from her goal. Tyrion pushed aside all thoughts of his father and groaned against Margaery's breasts in pleasure as he pushed inside her and took his pleasure.

He tried to remember that he was not to lower his guard with his lady wife, but it was awful difficult to hold that thought at the moment. The began moaning and running her hands over his body. The sounds she was making convinced him that she was taking pleasure in their fucking as well.

I suppose there are worse ways to die.

…

Jaime stood on the deck of the ship with Sansa by his side. His men were lined up at the railing, crossbows in hand, as the smaller skiff, neared. Now that it was closer, the sigil of Sunspear was clearly visible on its sails. As the Captain had predicted, it had not taken more than a day for the other ship to gain on them.

Jaime saw Prince Doran standing at the helm, and a blonde girl stood at his side. Jaime knew the girl must be Myrcella. Does she know I'm her father? Does she know I killed her mother? He felt his stomach tighten in a knot at the prospect of seeing Myrcella under these circumstances. Perhaps she hates me and came to watch her guardian kill me. Jaime's anxiety increased the closer they came and he felt Sansa squeeze his hand.

"Don't worry, Jaime. I'm here with you."

He looked down at Sansa and saw unease in her eyes as well. The children had been sent below deck, but she had insisted on staying with him. He saw that his little wife's gaze was trained on Myrcella – not the Dornish prince. Why would the girl make her so disquiet?

He didn't have the chance to ask her, though, as the Dornish vessel grew nearer, its white flag still raised. Jaime had instructed his captain to do likewise, but he was far from relaxed, having ordered his men to arm themselves with their crossbows, should the Dornish attempt to board their ship.

Jaime glanced down at Sansa again. I suppose this is our last hurdle before we reach the Free Cities. Our last battle with the past.

…

Thank you all for sticking with the story. For all of Tyrion's confidence with women, I thought that it would evaporate (at least for a moment) when he was faced with a high-born in his bed, rather than a whore. Bedding Margaery would play on all of his insecurities (just as Sansa's reaction to him in the book did).

Jaime and Sansa will have more to do now than they have for the past few chapters which have been a bit fluffy. (Trying to mix the fluff with the horror of this series is a challenge, but I don't want to write all doom and gloom.) The next chapter is going to explore Sansa's feelings about Myrcella – who is Jaime's daughter though she looks so much like Cersei – and the fear and anxiety their reunion may cause Sansa.

Let me know what your thoughts are and again, thank you for reading and reviewing.