AN: So, I didn't get to the Feast in this chapter, because everything that came got longer than expected. Sorry, it'll be a little longer for those who were waiting for Arya & Gendry to see each other again.

I decided to post this chapter, and put the Feast in the next one, rather than make everyone wait for me to finish a super-sized chapter.

…

Chapter 114

The tournament had gone on for far longer than Jaime remembered. Tournaments always seemed to end too soon. Though, as he thought about it, Jaime realized that he'd never before been to a tournament as nothing more than a spectator. Not since he was a small boy. Only a few years ago, it would have eaten him alive to sit there and merely watch a tournament. He'd competed in – and won - so many tournaments over the years, he'd lost count. But now, there had only been a tinge of regret that he wasn't on the competition field.

This time, he'd had to make do with his children's bubbling excitement throughout the tournament. Julianna had asked half a hundred questions about every knight that entered the lists, while the boys had been more interested in their weapons and armor. After each joust, little Julianna had spring to her feet and applauded the victor, though she didn't know any of them, except by their banners. All three children had loved it and insisted that they should have a tournament at Casterly Rock to celebrate Jaime and Sansa's return.

While the jousting may have been a distraction, nothing could make Jaime forget the sight of the massive dragon flying toward him, its flaming breath shooting out and nearly burning him to a crisp. He'd thought Sansa was unaware of what was happening at first, when she walked towards him. Then he thought she'd taken leave of her senses. It was only when the dragon turned away from him – the moment Sansa stepped into its path – that Jaime realized what she had done. And realized what her brother Bran had done. He remembered how both Tyrion and Jon Snow had written to assure Sansa that Bran had complete control of the dragons.

He remembers.

Between answering the children's many questions, Jaime had watched Sansa and saw her warily looking back in her younger brother's direction several times throughout the tournament, while absently speaking to Arya. Bran remembering being pushed from that tower was what Jaime had feared most when they learned that the boy had survived the Greyjoys and the Boltons taking Winterfell.

It was one thing for Sansa to forgive him a heinous transgression against a dead sibling. But he wondered if she would be able to forgive when she had to look that sibling in the eye – when she had to see her brother and see the physical damage that Jaime's act had done to him. When her brother could scorn her for loving the man that had crippled him.

His wife knew him well. When Julianna jumped up from her seat for the tenth time to applaud some knight from the Vale, Sansa had moved over, sitting as close to Jaime as was proper; grasping his hand and rubbing her thumb back and forth over his skin. They each had one of the twins on their laps, but Sansa had inclined her head towards him and softly murmured that she loved him. He had met her eyes then and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

After the tournament, he and Tommen had gone with Tyrion to his solar. Jaime would have preferred to speak to his wife, but he knew that the day had been difficult for Tommen. He knew that he should see to his eldest son. That he should reassure him in some way that he was still a part of the family he had with Sansa. Tyrion's company had always soothed Jaime and today was no different. For a time, he'd managed to forget the past that was weighing on his mind. Though, his thoughts meandered back to young Brandon Stark as Jaime made his way to his and Sansa's chambers.

Jaime entered his bedchamber and saw no sign of his wife, though he heard the laughs and shrieks of the boys coming from their adjoining room. He stuck his head in and saw that Arya was back in the breeches and tunic he remembered, a wooden practice sword in each hand, battling both of the boys at once. The twins each had wooden practice swords of their own.

Julianna was sitting by the window, prim and proper as always, with Arya's massive direwolf sprawled at her feet. The beast was lying still, but her head was up and she was watching every move of her mistress, waiting for permission to join in the fray, no doubt. He could see Julianna's disapproval of the ruckus from clear across the room. When she noticed Jaime her eyes lit up and she hurried to him, delicately stepping over the wolf and careful to avoid being hit with a wooden sword.

"Father, they've been jumping onto the furniture, fighting Aunt Arya. Mother never lets them fight inside," she whispered urgently.

"Where is your mother?" he asked, ignoring her complaints about Arya and the boys.

"She left and asked Aunt Arya to watch us. Mother didn't say they could act like this, though."

He smiled at her serious expression and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "It will be all right, Lioness. Uncle Tyrion's done far worse to the furniture, I assure you. Little sister?" he called out.

Arya scowled, though she managed to turn the battle around so she could face him. "Yes, Jaime?"

Rickard abandoned the battle once he noticed Jaime and ran over to him, reaching for Jaime to pick him up. He smiled and lifted his youngest into his arms. Rickard held out the wooden sword he had been playing with. "Look, Papa. Aunt Arya brought them for us to practice."

"Where did you get these swords?" he asked Arya, noticing that they were imprinted with the seal of House Targaryen.

"They don't guard the royal armory very well here," Arya responded as she and Gerion continued the battle. Jaime sighed inwardly. The Queen already detested him. He certainly didn't need her staff to find pilfered practice swords in their chambers. Arya could see his annoyance. "Since when are you so proper, Jaime? I didn't bring a wooden sword with me, nor did any of the Night's Watch. And I didn't think we should practice with live steel. I had to borrow them from somewhere. I'll put them back and the Dragon Queen will never know."

He looked down and met Julianna's eyes. He didn't much care for the superior gaze of his six year old daughter, who was clearly thinking that she told him so. I'll never hear the end of this from her. And she'll certainly tell her mother.

"Where is Sansa?"

"She wanted to see Bran. She said they didn't get to speak much at the tournament," Arya replied, continuing to parry back and forth with Gerion. She stopped for a moment, seeing the worry on his face. "Her guards went with her."

Jaime nodded absently. "Thank you, Arya, for…practicing with the boys. We'll see you at the feast tonight."

Arya lowered her sword, her eyebrows knit together as she considered him. She could see that something was amiss, but didn't feel comfortable asking him what it was. And she saw that he wished for her to leave him.

"We'll practice more later," she promised Gerion, patting him on the head and leaving the chamber with her massive direwolf trailing after her. She stopped in the doorway, looking at Jaime with a question in her gaze and he nodded for her to go.

Jaime lowered himself into the chair beside the window while Julianna ordered the boys to take a nap before supper. He knew that he should tell her not to boss her little brothers around, but he didn't have the energy. He had no doubt that Sansa loved him but he did question whether she would look at him the same in the face of her brother's hurt and anger. The boy already tried to kill him. Certainly he wouldn't hesitate to ask Sansa to leave him. Jaime felt a soft touch on his wrist and met the sparkling green eyes of his daughter.

"Are you sad, Father?" she whispered. "You shouldn't be. The tournament was wonderful and…you and Mother will dance all night at the feast. Her dress is very beautiful – she let me pick it out."

He smiled at his daughter's attempts to cheer him. Jaime scooped Julianna onto his lap. She leaned her head against his chest and let him hold her, though she usually resisted being treated as a small child. Jaime rested his head against hers and breathed in the scent of her hair – the same color and the same scent as Sansa's.

"I love you, Father. It will be all right," she whispered and Jaime grimaced, knowing that he shouldn't allow his daughter to comfort him. He was to make her feel safe and loved, not the other way around.

"I love you, too, Lioness," he replied, kissing the top of her head.

…

Sansa knocked softly on the door in Maeger's holdfast, knowing that her brothers were on the other side. Her hand shook nervously. She had impulsively set out to speak to Bran, leaving Arya in charge of her children. Julianna had wanted to go with her, but Sansa knew that she and Bran needed to speak privately. She had gone back and forth in her mind, wondering if perhaps she shouldn't bring up the past until Bran did. But it was the thought of Bran trying to hurt Jaime again that had spurned her forward. She knew that she could find the courage to speak to Bran, if it meant saving Jaime's life.

Jon answered the door, and smiled. "Look who it is."

"May I come in?"

"Of course, Sansa." Jon opened the door wider for her and she nodded to her guards to wait for her outside. She nervously stepped inside and the first things she saw were Ghost and Summer, who immediately stood and walked over to greet her. "Do you remember her?" Jon asked, patting Ghost on the head.

"They're huge," Sansa remarked, petting each of the direwolves. Lady never had to chance to grow so large. She felt her eyes sting as she pushed back tears at the thought of her direwolf. She realized that she was the only one of her siblings who didn't have a wolf anymore. Sansa often wondered if she was really a Stark, without Lady. She'd lived in the South for so long…perhaps there was no more winter in her blood.

"Where are your little ones?" Jon asked. "Did they enjoy the tournament?"

Sansa smiled. "They loved it. They're back in our chambers playing with Arya. Might I speak to Bran? Alone?"

Bran seemed uneasy at hearing her request. He'd not spoken a word to her since she arrived at his bedchamber. He'd merely nodded in her direction from his spot by the window. Jon looked between the two of them. "Of course. I've been meaning to check in with my men before the feast tonight. I'll leave you two." He kissed Sansa on the cheek before leaving, Ghost padding along beside him.

"How are you, Bran?" she asked softly, sitting beside him. Summer walked over and stretched out at their feet.

He continued gazing out the window as he spoke to her. "I would have like to come here…with you and Father and Arya. I mean…if things had been different. If the war hadn't happened."

Sansa smiled sadly. "I don't know that it would have been much better, even without the War. Joffrey…would still have been Joffrey. Nothing could have changed that." Sansa looked down at her hands, uncertain about how to proceed. "How do you like living at the Wall with Jon and training the dragons?"

"It's what I was meant to do. I know that. I always wanted to serve the Realm and…I'm good at it."

"Yes. I've heard so much in letters from Jon and Tyrion and Arya about how you can control them. About the power that you have over the dragons. They've said that you are better with them than the Queen. That the dragons don't do anything that you don't want them to do." Bran continued to stare out the window, but Sansa could see that he was affected by her words. That he knew what she was getting at. "You know, don't you? You remember what happened…when you were hurt."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning to look at her finally. "I didn't mean to. I didn't. I didn't…I didn't remember anything but when I saw him…through the eyes of the dragon I…I'm sorry."

Sansa knelt before him, resting her hands on his knees. "No, I'm sorry."

"I didn't think you…you knew?"

Sansa looked down, unable to meet her brother's gaze as she nodded. "I was so alone before Jaime…and so scared. I knew he was a Lannister and that he was our enemy but- by the time I found out what he did to you, I, I already…"

"I know you love him. I saw…I saw you. Through the heart tree when I was beyond the Wall. Before Jon found me. I saw you with him and…I was glad that you were safe and happy with him. I know he loves you, too."

Sansa nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She wouldn't wish away her marriage to Jaime – not for anything – but there were still moments when she felt guilty. Guilty for so many things. For finding happiness with an enemy of her house. For loving the man who tried to kill her little brother. For having so much when the Lannisters had taken everything from the rest of her family. Most of all, she felt guilty knowing that Bran would live out his days at the Wall, never knowing the kind of love that she and Jaime shared.

"Don't cry, Sansa," Bran whispered, covering her hands with his own.

She wanted to tell him that Jaime regretted the past – regretted hurting him – but it sounded like so little in her head. Jaime had never made excuses for his behavior to her. In fact, they never spoke of it. But she had thought about it and she understood why Jaime had pushed Bran out that window. If he hadn't done it, he, Cersei, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen would all have been executed by King Robert. Sansa knew he only did it because he was faced with a threat to the lives of his family. Sansa knew that Jaime would kill anyone to protect her and their children. Without a second thought.

Jaime could never make up for what he'd done to her brother – not to Bran – though he'd done so much for her over the years. She knew that her husband was a good man. Perhaps he wasn't always, but he had been for as long as she knew him.

"You won't…Bran you won't try to hurt him again, will you?" she asked weakly. "I know that he hurt you but…"

"I know you need him and your children need him. I know that...he's part of your pack now. I won't…I would never hurt you, Sansa."

Sansa reached up and ran her fingers through Bran's hair as her mother did to all of them when they were children. "You will always be part of my pack as well, Bran. And I…just because I love Jaime doesn't mean –"

"I know," he assured her. "Perhaps…this is how it was supposed to be for all of us."

She hugged her brother tightly, and wondered if he was right. If everything that had happened – all of the horrors they had endured – was for a purpose. She knew that she was meant to be with Jaime. And we would not be together, were it not for all that happened in the past.

She sat with Bran until Jon returned and then returned to her chambers in the Tower of the Hand, Jaime's guards silently following behind her. She knew that Bran spoke the truth when he assured her that he would not seek revenge against Jaime. She had seen it in his eyes. Sansa slowly walked through their rooms, looking for Jaime. She stood in the doorway of the children's room, smiling at the sight that greeted her. Gerion and Rickard were curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep, while Jaime sat in the heavy chair by the window with Julianna in his arms. It appeared that she was asleep as well, though Sansa wasn't certain, since Julianna always protested about taking naps, saying they were "for babies."

Sansa quietly stepped over to the bed, gently running her fingers through her sons' golden curls. Looking at the sweet faces of her children – both of them the very picture of their father – Sansa knew why she couldn't bring herself to regret finding love with Jaime. Losing Jaime would mean losing everything that she held dear.

She looked up and met Jaime's silent gaze. He must know where I've been. I didn't ask Arya to keep it a secret. She walked over to him and lightly ran her hand over his head and down the side of his face, cupping his cheek and leaning down to kiss him before resting her forehead against his.

"Have they been sleeping long?" she whispered.

He shook his head, sliding his arms more securely beneath Julianna before carefully standing and carrying her to the bed, where he placed her beside the boys. It had been a long day for all of them and it didn't surprise Sansa that the children were exhausted. She was a bit tired herself, to tell the truth. She leaned over to kiss her daughter's forehead before taking Jaime's hand and leading him from the room, closing the door softly behind them.

Sansa felt Jaime's arms wrap around her waist and he tucked his head in the space between her neck and shoulder. She pressed back against him, pulling his arms tighter around her body. She waited for him to speak first, but Jaime seemed content to hold her and silently breathe against her neck.

"I spoke to Bran," she said tentatively. "About the dragons."

"And about what I did to him?" he whispered against her neck.

Sansa closed her eyes. "Yes." She could hear the fear and sadness in Jaime's voice. He was the strongest person she knew. She relied on his strength to reassure her and to keep her safe. She hated the rare moments of insecurity he had about her love for him. She turned in his arms and rested her hands on either side of his head.

"I love you, Jaime. I'll always love you."

"How can you love me?"

Sansa lifted herself up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. "How can you ask me that? How could I ever turn my back on you?" she asked softly. She felt the warmth of his hand in the small of her back as he pulled her toward him, despite his fear. "You're a good man, Jaime. You're not…you're not the same man that you were. And I could never love anyone as I love you." He clutched her tighter and rested his head atop hers. "And everything's going to be fine," she assured him. "You must believe me." She lowered her hands to his hips and gently pushed him back towards the bed. "We've had a long day as well, Jaime. Lie down with me for a while, before the Feast?"

He smiled slightly and nodded. Sansa knew that Jaime wouldn't refuse her. He pulled off his boots and reclined on the bed, waiting for Sansa to join him. She curled up beside him and pulled him towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head against her chest. Sansa ran her fingers through his golden hair, the way she did to the boys, and kissed the top of his head.

Everything will be all right, she told herself, closing her eyes as she continued to absently stroke Jaime's hair. It has to be.

…

Next chapter: The coronation feat (I promise…I already started writing it)

Just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who is continuing to read this story and especially to those of you who take the time to leave such thoughtful reviews of the story. I read every one and it is absolutely what keeps me writing this in those moments when I'm not feeling inspired, so thank you. I appreciate the encouragement and support for my story.