authorsnote: edited 18/07, as before (honestly this has been re-edited to chapter 10, but I will disclaim regardless).
damn I love this story, love this couple, hopefully you do too!
also in terms of where I am with this story I've got a bunch mapped out, a bunch of twists planned and feel it will 100% be 20+ chapters, not sure where tho.
pls review if you want, fav/follow and most important of all, enjoy!
songrecs: the scientist - coldplay, the emily james version is pretty too
Dread.
That was all she could feel, it rushed through her alongside the blood in her veins. In the pit of her stomach she could feel it, in the lump in her throat, in the quickening of her heart. The fear invaded her senses, made it almost impossible to breathe, made her feel like she might collapse, swoon, and hit the floor. It was as though time had stopped, like everything was in slow motion, she could hear her pulse in her ears, could barely hear the chatter that broke out around her.
She had been so careful, so careful and yet she had crumbled, unable to stick it out in the forest. She had thought she was doing well but clearly stopping so soon had been foolish, but goodness, what were the odds? The odds that she would run into Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer and one of the few people who knew her face. What kind of injustice from the gods was this? She had been discovered, and her run, her escape, her hope to get back to Robb, it was all dashed now, all because of the man in front of her.
The innkeeper looked on in shock as the Kingslayer spoke her name, as did the rest of the patrons of the inn, though there were few this early they gossiped as they realised a noble woman was in their midst. Sansa knew she'd receive no help from anyone here, they were southerners, and this close to Kings Landing she had no allies, no friends. She stole a glance at the innkeep and she shook her head, she had been right, she would get no help here.
She was alone.
"Lady Sansa?" He spoke again, and her gaze returned to him, her expression still frozen with fear, eyes like a deer in the headlights, hands shaking by her sides, she felt like she might vomit even, that soon she'd be back to Kings Landing, dragged by the Kingslayer.
He looked worse than she remembered. When he had ridden into Winterfell he had been glowing, all long blonde hair and a dashing but arrogant smile of white pearly teeth. She had thought him handsome before her attention had been fixed on Joffrey. Now he looked underfed, tired, his hair was hung rather than ruffled across his shoulders, he did not look like the Kingslayer she remembered, but the grip he had on her wrist was hard, strong, he was still strong, much stronger than her and she knew her chances of escaping him, of escaping the Lannister's twice were slim to none.
Still, she had to try.
She would not be dragged back to the Capitol, to the lap of the Lannister's. Her life in Kings Landing had been bad enough before, she couldn't imagine how much worse it would be now after her escape attempt. She would hope to be executed, to end the suffering but she knew they'd keep her alive, their little northern hostage. But it would be so much worse, they'd probably force her into marriage, she'd lose what little freedoms she had, had. What would be the point in living then? She knew she'd rather die than return.
And so, she had to escape, and as she looked up at the Kingslayer, for she was tall, but he was taller, she knew escaping him would not be easy, not at all. Escaping on the road would be hard, for there would be nowhere to run on the flat stretch of road between here and Kings Landing, beside the forest which she did not know well. No, it would be too risky. She would need to escape now, though that presented its own risks, what other choice did she have? She would not return to Kings Landing, her option was to escape, or die trying.
Now was the time, she had no choice, she had to try. And so, without flinching, without uttering a word to answer his question, without an answer for his bewildered expression she let out a bloodcurdling scream, an awful shriek of pain, of horror, of fear; all the things she was feeling. She was sure it would have shattered the windows if they were weaker.
It vibrated off the walls of the inn, her cry and she saw those around her cringe, people squealed, glasses dropped, and Jaime, Jaime Lannister flinched, and that was all she needed, that was her opening and what she had hoped for with her scream. He flinched and she took her chance.
She tugged her arm free of his strong grip, and whirled around, her skirts fanning behind her as she ran for the door, she was fast, outside and to the horses in less than a minute. She made a beeline for the stables, for her horse which had been washed and fed. She had her bag over her shoulder, she just had to make it to her horse and then ride hard, ride North, ride towards her freedom.
Lady Sansa Stark?
Of all the things he had expected to run into on his journey South; bandits, northerners chasing him down, soldiers, all sorts, he would not have expected to run into the Stark girl. He could hardly believe it was her, for he had barely known her, spared her a glance or two before and had not even spoken to her. But he was sure it was her, that fiery red hair made her stand out, and was so like her mothers, whom he had spoken to many times. It was her, the red hair, the grey gown, the delicate features, it was all a dead giveaway. The bruises and scrapes on her face and hands spoke of how she was in an inn on the side of the Kings Road, she'd escaped, escaped his family and was on the run, as was he.
He almost admired her for it, for having the guts to do something so dangerous. From what he had heard of Sansa she was a perfect Lady, courteous, kind, and dutiful, dreaming of a handsome Prince of southern Knight with a pretty song to sweep her off her feet. That did not match the scared girl in front of him, who'd risked her life to run from his family. It was ballsy and not something he would have expected from her.
He understood her motives and yet he was surprised she had managed to make it so far. She was a beautiful girl, anyone with eyes could see that, and though she had attempted (poorly) to cover it, she was of high birth; how had she made it this far on the Kings Road? How was she not dead in a ditch somewhere or the captive of some bandit or raper? She was lucky, very lucky.
Not that, that was relevant for the moment. He looked across at her, and he could see how terrified she was, and for a moment the how's of how she had got here were not relevant, now he just had one question to ask himself.
What did he do next?
Did he drag her back to Kings Landing kicking and screaming? Did he return her to his family as a hostage, as his family would want him to? As would be important for their side of the war effort? That would be the logical thing to do, but it was not that easy.
He had sworn a vow.
And so, did he take her back to her mother? The woman who had freed him in exchange for her daughters? Did he follow his family loyalty to the Lannister's, or did he honour his vow and return the Stark girl to her mother, for he would not have his freedom without that vow? What loyalty did he follow? The one to family, or the one to his vow? Vows and loyalty, always so confusing, as he had told Lady Catelyn…
'So many vows, they make you swear and swear. Defend the King, obey the King, keep his secrets, do his bidding, your life for his. But, obey your father, love your sister. Protect the innocent, defend the weak, respect the gods, obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow for another'
So, which vow did he follow? Which loyalty did he follow?
He was snapped, quite violently from his thoughts though as he heard a scream, a shattering scream so full to the brim of fear and pain he wasn't sure it was real. He flinched in response to such a painful sound, and he realised the flinch was what the Stark girl had hoped for when she had opened her mouth, and in an instant she was gone, out the door, skirts whirling behind her.
He followed her immediately, he couldn't let her escape.
It didn't matter for the moment what he intended to do with her, he could not let her go it alone. He was a Knight, and any Knight worth his oils would protect a vulnerable girl. He may be dishonoured, but he had a duty to protect the weak and Lady Stark certainly fell into that category. She had been lucky so far on the road, but luck would not keep her safe forever.
He didn't want to think about what horrors she would face on the road if she were alone. All he knew was that she would never make it back to her family, she probably wouldn't last more than a few days. Death would be the least painful option if he let her go it alone.
And so, he followed her quickly, and he rounded the corner to the stables swiftly. He was her straight away, trying to climb onto her horse with the aid of the stable boy. She was quick he had to give her that, but he was quicker. He moved forward, fast and pushed the stable boy to the side before wrapping his arms around the girl's waist and he pulled her down from the horse, his arms like bands of steel around her middle.
He ignored her shrieks, her cries, her pitiful attempt to fight him. He held strong as she kicked, punched, and lashed out, she didn't even bruise him. He was too strong for her, and she soon realised that, and her fighting turned to despair, and the sobbing began. The sound of her cries made him cringe, but he did not let go.
Jaime had never been good with crying women; Cersei rarely did such a thing and he was not used to it. He could only hold onto her, to stop her running as she sobbed, as she shook against him from the intensity of her cries. He did not attempt to offer any comfort; he knew she would reject it.
"Please" She managed to splutter out between her cries and with a twinge of guilt he ignored and a small sigh he moved his arms, scooped her to his chest. He heard her protest, but he ignored her and carried her into the main stable, it was vacant, and he moved inside quickly. He sat her down on a stack of hay and took a seat next to her. He was closer to the door, and it was only when he sat down did he let her go.
He was pleased to see she didn't try to run then, she was Eddard Stark's daughter after all, he knew she wasn't stupid and so she knew trying to get past him would be futile. He hoped they could talk, for they needed to, but she just continued to cry, her only defence in the face of her fear. That too he didn't understand, the few times he had been scared, it was not tears that came to him but determination.
He could hardly blame her though, she was quickly terrified he would take her back to Kings Landing, to his family. As he watched her, doubled over, sobbing continually, wailing almost in pain, he knew his decision was made.
He would take her home.
She was an innocent, a crying girl who just wanted to go back to her family. Hadn't he wanted the same thing for months? How could he fight so hard to return home and yet not let her do the same?
And then there was the vow, the vow he had made to her mother. He had broken so many vows now, too many to count, but perhaps he could honour this vow, the one he had made with Lady Catelyn, and the vow to protect the weak. Perhaps that needed to come first, perhaps that could come first. Perhaps this was a vow he could honour.
He would take her home; he knew as she sobbed there was no other option. And perhaps, in taking her home, in reuniting her with her family and getting her away from his, perhaps he would regain some of his honour.
It was over.
She had known as much the second his arms had wrapped around her waist and he had pulled her from her horse. It was over, finished, her pitiful escape attempt was dead before it had even really started. She had experienced a few precious moments of freedom but that was all they would be, a few sacred moments before returning to her cage, though she knew when she returned her cage would be even smaller than before.
He would force her to go back, to go back to his evil family and she would be a prisoner again. They'd marry her off, force her to birth some Lannister spawn and then kill her probably. At least she wouldn't be forced to suffer her entire life, that was the only silver lining she could find, that surely eventually they'd just kill her. How depressing, the only thing to look forward to now would be her death.
But…perhaps that could come sooner. For what would she have to live for if she returned to Kings Landing? Nothing. So maybe, she should take some control, the small part of control she had left. Instead of going back she could take control, end her suffering now, keep some part of her. She'd rather die than return, than marry a Lannister, than birth evil Lannister children. No, she'd sooner die, and perhaps, perhaps she should.
She continued to sob, for she had no control over it now, but she managed to calm a little, calm enough to reach for her back at her side. She shot the Kingslayer a side glance, she would have to be quick very quick.
And she was.
In a second, she reached into her bag and withdrew the butter knife she had packed on the top, it had a serrated edge, certainly enough to do the job. And so, she jumped to her feet, to the back of the stable, away from the Kingslayer and placed the knife at her neck, the sharp edge of the blade at her throat. Her hand trembled but she held it in place, held it firm. She would not go back to the Lannister's; she'd die before she let them take her.
"Lady Sansa" He spoke then, following her to stand, his hands held in front of him, a sign of peace and surrender. His eyes were on her hand more than her face then, on her throat where she held the weapon that would end her life. Sansa had always hated knives, swords, weapons, Arya had loved them, she had hated any kind of weapon, but now, now it would end her suffering. She tried to tighten her grip then as Jaime took a step closer and she took a step back, but it proved impossible, she was already gripping it tightly enough she might injure her hand from the force.
"Stop" He spoke, gently, as though speaking to a wounded animal, she supposed that was how he saw her, wounded, desperate, a girl so scared and so at her end that she'd rather slit her own throat than return to Kings Landing.
"Stay back" She said, a tremor in her voice, eyes wide with fear, hands almost shaking. She pushed the blade closer to her throat as she took a step back from him again, though he followed with another step forward. "Get back" She said again, her voice breaking a little, and yet he did not relent with another step forward. She followed with another step back and she realised the stable wall would soon be at her back, nowhere to go, only one thing to do.
"You have no reason to hurt yourself" His voice remained gentle, but she didn't trust it, didn't trust him. She would never trust a Lannister, not ever again, she had learned that lesson the hard way. "I will take you home"
For a moment she was almost stupid enough to hope, to hope he was telling the truth and she felt that flicker of hope in her heart, like the last flame of a candle or last dying ember of a fire, and yet it was gone, extinguished as soon as it had came. He was Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, murderer, betrayer, Lannister. He had broken every vow he had ever sworn! Killed his King, attacked her father, gods if the rumours could be believed he had spawned Joffrey! He could not be trusted, not now, not ever, he was lying to her.
And so, she shook her head, no steps back to take now, but there was only one thing she could do and she took a deep breath, she had to do this, she had no choice, better than returning to the Capitol.
"Liar" She hissed at him, though there was no malice to her tone, only fear which had invaded everything.
"I made a vow to your mother" He said, hands still held up, voice still soft, it sounded odd, his tone free of arrogance, she found it suited him, "She set me free, in exchange I swore a vow I would return you to her, to her side and your brothers" He took another step forward, "I swear it, on the old gods and new, on my honour"
She almost laughed then, but instead her voice was panicked, though she looked at him with contempt as she spoke, "You have no honour" It was vicious, and she took another deep breath, and another, it was time. And so, trembling, she pressed down harder on her neck, and prepared to rake it across her throat. She was ready, she was going to do it.
She just wasn't fast enough.
His face had contorted into anger for just a second at her words, but then eh was on her, he was too fast, moved too fast for her to act. He had the knife out of her hand before she could even move before she could do more than make a shallow cut at her throat. He yanked the weapon away from her and she tried to hold onto it, but he was too strong for her and had it out of her hands without a fight. As he took it from her she felt a little trickle of blood at her neck which she clapped a hand over as she sunk to the floor to her knees. Now it was over, now she'd be a prisoner once more.
She looked up at him as she knelt, why couldn't he have let her die? On her own terms? Why couldn't he have let her have her choice? Because he's a Lannister she thought bitterly, they were all evil. She looked up at him then, almost resigned though fear remained in her expression, in her blue gaze, his gaze was hard as he looked down at her, stood over her.
And yet, his expression seemed to soften and he held out a hand for her to take. She looked at his hand but did not take it, she would not take it, not from him, her escape may be over but she wasn't going to come back to Kings Landing willingly, if he wanted to take her he could drag her.
She willed herself not to cry, as she trembled on her knees. It would do no good to cry now. How many tears had she shed in the Red Keep? And what good had they done her? Again and again she had sobbed as Joffrey's guards beat her, as Cersei sneered and the people gossiped, and yet they made no difference. Tears were of no use, not here. Still, she couldn't stop them, as several trickled down her cheeks, it was all she could do to stop herself from bawling.
"Sansa" He spoke again, his voice still gentle, hand out, as he took a step forward to her, "Come now, I won't ask again"
She knew she had no choice, none at all, she would not escape now, he was taking her back to Kings Landing, lying to get her to go back easily so he wouldn't have the fuss, he probably thought she was stupid enough to believe his lies about taking her home, once she had been, and for a second she had been, though it hadn't been stupidity, just hope.
She didn't take his hand though. Instead she pulled herself to her feet, tried to stand with some dignity, even as the tears continued to trickle. She just wiped away at them, nodded, and didn't say a word before following him out. She would return, try to keep some dignity, there was nothing else now.
"You should have let me die" She mumbled, before she followed him, back, back to her cage.
He knew she didn't believe him and hell he could hardly blame her. He knew she thought he was lying as he lifted her onto the horse, pulled himself up onto it and behind her (he could hardly let her ride by herself, he didn't fancy a horse race and he knew she'd bolt the second she saw the chance). He knew she thought him an oathbreaker, man without honour, liar, he hoped perhaps he could prove her wrong.
His resolve had hardened more and more throughout their fight. When she had pulled that knife on herself … it had shown just how desperate she was, how scared at the idea of going back to Kings Landing, that she saw death as a better alternative … it spoke to her fear. Sure, he was certain she wouldn't have been able to actually kill herself, slitting a throat was harder than people assumed but the fact she'd been willing … the intent had been there, well that had finalised his decision. How could he take her back after that?
No, he couldn't. He would return her to her family, that decision was made, he'd take her back.
Still, he said nothing more to her about it for he knew it was pointless, she would not believe him, and what had he done to make her trust him? She didn't know him outside the stories she had heard. It was pointless to try and convince her, she would realise he was truthful as they made their way North, she would realise he intended to honour the vow, that he still had some honour left.
He rode them out of the inn, and as he did so he took a glance at the road. The road led back to Kings Landing, to his family, to Cersei and yet as much as he wished he could take it his resolve did not waver, if it had he would only need to listen to Sansa sniffling to harden it again, or her words, 'you have no honour'. That had hurt, and he knew he needed to prove her wrong.
And so, with one last look he turned them around. He noticed the Stark girl lift her head, look back at him for a second, and he met her gaze then, gave her a nod, an expression that said, 'I told you so'. That made her drop her gaze, but her tears seemed to stop, as he turned them, and carried on forward, to the North.
He would regain his honour, he would, and Sansa Stark was the key to it.
soo thoughts?
let me know what ya think and let me know what you wanna see! I've already had requests for more lannister's/stark's in the story and don't stress they will be heavily involved, I just wanna give our couple a lil breathing room before the fam's pour in.
lemme know what you thought, fav/follow blah blah, (always appreciated ofc).
speak soon.