authorsnote: writing this chapter gave me a fuzzy feeling, or 'the fuzzies' as I'm now dubbing them.

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also I'm working on a new jaime/sansa wip (bad I know!, but I can't help it), so keep an eye out and feel free to put me in your author alerts so you don't miss it!

songrecs: ghost - justin bieber

Joining the road was the only option she knew, and yet she still felt her hands tremble, and she tucked herself a little closer to Jaime, as they left the village, bellies fuller, lips less parched, but much more alert now (and anxious in her case, Jaime just looked tense), to face down their only option.

At first it was quiet, on foot it was of course much, much slower, but it was quicker walking on an established path than it had been wading through farmland and knee high grass. It had stopped raining now which was good, but there was a chill to the air; Sansa embraced it though, it reminded her she was getting closer to home, away from the oppressive heat and smothering of the South, back home to the Northern snows and the family she missed so much.

She hadn't really thought about what would happen once she reached her family, never quite allowing herself the hope. She did have hope now, like a candle she was holding close to her chest, the flame burning brighter and brighter as she went further North, the hope coming alive in her more and more, the hope growing and burning brighter each day.

And so she allowed herself, as Jaime took the lead, hand always on his sword, she shuffling along next to him but slightly behind (so he could push her out of the way and behind him if trouble came long, as they both feared it inevitably would), allowed herself to think just for a minute or two on what could happen if she made it home.

Could, she didn't quite have enough hope to say would.

She knew the second she saw her Mother she'd leap into her arms, pull her close and just be held. She realised she was probably taller than her now, but still she'd want to be tucked close to her, like a little girl coming home to her Mother, as she was … as she hoped to be.

Robb she'd turn to next, and he'd bundle her up, make her feel safe in his embrace, would likely pull her up, feet dangling off the floor, exclaim how she was only an inch or two shy of his height now. He'd smell like Northern pine, like home.

Maybe there'd be others with them; maybe Arya had found her way to them and would run at her, tucking her arms around her middle as Sansa held her as tightly as she could. Maybe Jon had come South to fight with them, and he'd hug her too, as she offered him a thousand apologies for how short-sightedly she'd treated him in their childhood.

Maybe some the Northerners she'd known as a child would be there. Sansa had heard so little about the sack on Winterfell, where Bran and Rickon had died. Maybe Maester Luwin had made it out, Ser Rodrick too. Maybe they were all together and would rejoice at seeing her home. ]

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There was no certainty.

All she could do was hope, hope her homecoming would be everything she'd prayed for, everything she'd hoped for, for years. For so long she'd held onto the tiniest tendril of hope, of returning home, the only thing that had kept her from flinging herself out of a window of the Red Keep, was that prospect.

Hope had continued to build in her now, like a little flame she was nurturing, and yet she couldn't do either; couldn't let it go, extinguish it out of fear it would never happen, nor allow it to spark an ember and consume her, fear of not reaching her family stopping her.

She was in limbo, just waiting, waiting until she either made it home or didn't.

It was almost simple, what things had been reduced to; she'd return home to her family, be with them, be happy, and vow to never leave them again, or she wouldn't, she'd die, or they would, or somehow remain separated forever. It was as simple as that.

Bar one factor.

Jaime.

She hadn't really allowed herself to think too deeply what returning home with Jaime in tow would mean. To Northerners he was the enemy, he was a hated enemy. They'd clap him in chains the second they saw him.

But she couldn't, wouldn't let them – what would that mean?

Could she convince her family to leave him be? She doubted it. Even if she somehow convinced them of how he'd changed, of what he'd done for her, of the truth of many events of his past … he was still too valuable a prisoner of war not to use.

Her blood ran a little cold at that, and she glanced at Jaime. He continued to walk, oblivious to her churning fears, too focused on scanning the area, hand on his sword. She didn't say anything to break that, just stepped a touch closer to him before allowing herself to sink back into her thoughts.

She couldn't leave her family, but she couldn't leave Jaime. But she knew she'd be unlikely to convince them to just let him be. But then Northerners had honour and stuck to it – Jaime had seen her home safe, had protected her, returned the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, the sister to the King in the North, home safe; surely that had to count for something?

Surely it did?

She didn't know, but she knew she wouldn't know until she found her family. For now she could push it aside … for now.

And yet, as the day wore on her mind lingered on it. As an hour passed, and then another, Jaime ever vigilant, she kept thinking.

What would happen? Would they accept Jaime had seen her home safe? Would they imprison him, kill him, trade him for the freedom of the North?

She had no answers, and only endless questions.

"Sansa" Jaime broke her out of her thoughts then, eyebrow raised, a lilt of a teasing smile on his face, as he held an apple toward her, "Miles away?"

She managed a sheepish smile, nodded before taking the apple. It was creeping on to evening now, and Sansa realised they'd walked further than she thought. The path remained steady but the endless farmland had continued on to a point, and they now approached a patch running through an orchard, better coverage but more risk of people hiding.

She almost laughed at herself; here she was scanning the terrain just like Jaime, how far she'd come from sewing and endlessly brushing her hair, how different she was now.

"We'll eat as we walk" Jaime offered and Sansa nodded. Now they no longer had a horse they had too much ground to cover to have the luxury of regular stops, no, they had to be much more mobile, less sleep, less rest, more walking.

The journey before had been hard, very hard, but now it seemed harder, endless. Still, as Sansa took a bite of her apple, and offered Jaime a smile as he did the same; she couldn't ask for a better companion.

That was the problem.

A few hours later and evening had fallen, the moon rising higher in the sky, the vestiges of day fading away. It wasn't quite pitch black, and Jaime had managed to obtain a large branch and light it (a pause in which they'd been able to relieve themselves, eat, drink water and rest for twenty minutes under the shelter of a tree), giving them some illumination as they carried on.

Sansa had never been bothered or scared of the dark. In Kings Landing it had been her one respite from the events going on in front of her, she'd almost revelled in it, here, she didn't quite feel the same, but it didn't spook her as it might seem.

She still kept close to Jaime though, his torch guiding them. There was no rustles in the orchards or in the fields indicating anyone, but she knew to be careful.

"How do you feel about the dark?" She asked in a hushed whisper, feeling it appropriate for the setting. They'd been quiet most of the day, the constant walking hard work, and yet they kept a slower pace now it was dark; hard to, before they'd settle for the night, and so conversation didn't seem quite so draining.

"I've never minded it" Jaime said with a shrug, "I'm used to it, using it as a cover for battle, sitting under the stars when travelling" He turned to her then with a smirk, "Is this your way of telling me your afraid of it?"

She gave him a good natured little shove and he laughed, to which Sansa grinned, there were few sounds so nice as Jaime's laugh.

"No, I'm the same" She said with a little nod, "It never bothered me, nights are so much longer up North, and in Kings Landing it meant I could escape to my room"

Jaime nodded; they hadn't talked at length about her treatment at Kings Landing, and if Jaime tried Sansa knew she'd try to find a way to shut it down. She wasn't ready to get into it, not yet.

One day maybe she would be, one day she'd unpack what happened to her and maybe try to heal from it, but not now, not here.

She knew she'd been changed by her time in the Capitol. It had hurt her deeply, leaving a scar that would never heal, only be soothed, and only with time, it had, had many a negative effect on her, and yet some positive to, to her annoyance almost.

She was less trusting now, which was good, any naivety long shed away. She knew she was a better listener, observer, would perhaps make a good spy even, laugh the thought. She had learned to blend into the background, to keep her mouth shut and ears open. She'd learned the value of secrets, and lies, though always tried to hold onto the idea of honour.

Sansa hadn't even begin to consider the change her family would see in her. Gone was the sweet, Ladylike girl of the North, singing and dancing, idyllic and sweet. Now in her place was someone who would always think to lie first to protect herself, who rarely showed her true emotions unless there was explicit trust, and who's trust was not won easy.

Gone was little Sansa Stark, Lady of the North, looking for a kind and good husband, ready to take her place in the South.

Here was Sansa Stark, a woman grown, stronger, no longer content to curtsey and sit on the side-lines. She hadn't become a player, but she was no longer a pawn, never would be again.

Before Jaime she'd vowed to never be near another man in any romantic sense again, had vowed to never marry.

All before Jaime.

She wasn't sure where she stood on that now. In Kings Landing she'd made a vow to herself; to never be at the mercy of another man, marriage included, but then she bought her fingers to her lips, remembering Jaime's kiss, remembering how he'd held her in the rain, remembering how he'd held her hand and stroked her hand.

She didn't know where she stood now, perhaps wouldn't for a little while.

"Sansa?" She realised she'd done it again as Jaime jolted her out of her thoughts for a second time, and her smile was even guiltier this time, though Jaime didn't grin this time.

"Are you okay?" He asked, eyebrow raised, coming to a pause, which she followed.

She nodded; she was … mostly. "Just thinking"

"Dangerous thing to do" Jaime teased, and her little smile and roll of her eyes had him laugh again; she liked that about Jaime, he'd always find the humour in something, it was infuriating and endlessly uplifting all in one.

A contradiction; a moniker that fitted Jaime Lannister in more ways than one.

Kingslayer, Redeemer.

Lannister, Stark saver.

Killer, Saviour.

Arrogant, kind.

Bullheaded, sweet.

So many contradictions, even too many for her to unpack; she just hoped she'd have the chance.

"We'll stop for the night now" Jaime offered, and Sansa nodded. It was creeping towards being pitch black, and a torch would only get them so far, until it burned out. Plus they'd been walking flat out for a better part of the day, they needed to rest.

It hit Sansa then, just how tired she felt. Her feet were sore, her legs too, and she yawned at the back of her hand, her nose wrinkling, to which Jaime grinned, "Definitely time to sleep then" Another sheepish grin and Sansa nodded.

She continued to smile as she followed Jaime into one of the orchards, further back some of the trees she could just about see had some fruit; they'd be raiding those in the morning she knew.

Jaime had a good ability to do that to her; make her smile. Something so simple, and yet had been so rare for her. It was welcome, and she smiled at his back as he wove them to a denser part of the large orchard, more trees packed closer together, and out of the sight of the main road. Sure, if someone came looking for them they'd be found, but passers by wouldn't be able to see them.

It was the best they could hope for.

As they sat down, Jaime handed her a large wooden bowl of the potatoes they'd purchased at the market, they both sat on the floor and ate quickly. They'd long gone cold and yet they were filling, starchy and welcome. They then split an apple as well and finished off one of their two waterskins, having been conservative with their water drinking throughout the day, it wasn't more than a few sips each, but the juicy apple helped quench any lingering thirst.

She didn't want to be spoilt, but she longed for a feather bed, a hot meal and as much water or even maybe fruit juice as she could drink. And yet this was the price of freedom, one she'd happily pay.

It didn't make her long any less for a lemon cake though.

Jaime sat himself against a tree, and Sansa went to sit opposite, but Jaime shook her head as she went too, and held out an arm for her. The lit branch smouldered now as Jaime had put it on its side on a pile of leaves, allowing a smouldering, soon to go out fire. It gave enough light that she tucked herself into Jaime's side with a little smile.

And that was how they spent the night, the embers dying with each gentle brush of the wind, before flickering out entirely. The weather was mild, and yet when snuggled together, it almost felt warm. Their bellies weren't full nor thirst fully quenched, but it was enough, enough to allow some measure of comfort.

"You know I'll get you home right?" Jaime whispered to her just as she was drifting off and Sansa turned her head to him. She could barely see him now, the dark lying over them like a blanket, one that if anything made Sansa feel safer; sure they couldn't see anything, but no one could see them either.

Just how she liked it.

"I know" She said, because in a way she did, she felt it, somewhere in her bones, Jaime would get her home, or die trying.

She was surprised he needed the reassurance, and yet reminded herself he was struggling on this journey just as her, sure he could handle the cold and hunger better, but he still felt it, just as she did. Perhaps he was even having the same thoughts of her; worries of what reuniting with her family would mean for him, perhaps they were on the same page.

It was those thoughts that in a spark of inspiration, a burst of courage, she leaned up and placed a kiss to Jaime's cheek, his skin a touch rough under her lips, but warm, and had something warm inside of her at the brush of her lips, especially as when she lingered, Jaime cupped her cheek, and tilted her head, brushing his lips to hers then, in a featherlight, gentle kiss, that was as close to perfection as anything Sansa had ever felt.

"You'll take me home" Sansa whispered then, as Jaime still held her close, their foreheads resting on one another's, his lips ghosting hers, and Sansa knew, no matter what happened with her family, she'd have to force them to accept Jaime, as she could never leave him, "And then you'll stay"

"I…" Jaime began, but she leaned in then, with more courage than she ever thought she'd have, placing her lips to his, ever so gently, not ready for anything more, and yet she felt a fluttering sensation in her, and warm sparked and flooded her chest, her fingertips, her toes, as she did so. As Jaime's hand cupped her cheek closer, as hers came up to rest on his chest, her lips lingering a touch longer.

She didn't want to hear any doubts, or worries, not now, not when she knew they wouldn't matter.

She had two certainties now; she would get home, and Jaime would be with her. They might not make it, they might die, but there was no possibility of her returning home without Jaime, she knew that now, and that clarity only kept her lingering for a moment at Jaime's lips, his brushing against her again, lingering too.

Perfection.

"You'll stay" She whispered again, never expecting the one to be offering reassurances, to be the one making the decision, and yet as Jaime nodded against her, as he tucked her into him, her head moving to his shoulder, tucked into his neck, her lips almost against the skin of his throat, it felt good, it felt good to be the one with the answer, to be the one comforting Jaime.

He offered her endless comfort after all; she was glad to return it.

And comfort they both felt, as tucked together, in an apple orchard somewhere on the border of the Riverlands and the Vale, Sansa Stark and Jaime Lannister fell asleep, the ghost of his lips still on hers, the journey, not even close to being complete.

For either of them.

sooo thoughts?

I do hope you enjoyed! I really enjoyed writing this - writing introspective sansa is always my fav, especially with added fluff!

I've had A LOT of question about kings landing, and I promise the whole kerfuffle of whats happening their is coming! but jaime/sansa are my priority, and I just can't stop writing my bbys growing, and falling ever so slowly in love! sue me!

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speak soon