authorsnote: I know I know this chapter is overdue, but hopefully the content makes up for the wait
also, if you're a fan of jaime/sansa (and me writing them) do check out my new WIP for them 'Amazing Grace' it will be updated asap!
songrecs: everytime - britney spears (I adore the lewis capaldi cover that came out this week)
Morning came, and another after that, and another after that.
Each day was the same, they made as much ground on foot as they could, ate what they had taken from the market, orchards, fields, and a rickety village stall they found, drank rainwater and the fresh water of running streams, hid among the trees and bridges and tall grass, and slowly but surely made way.
Very, very slowly.
Gods he missed riding on horseback, the ground one could cover, the sheer distance that would be eaten up by the thundering of hooves. He missed how quickly they would see the road disappear behind them, how each day they would venture to a new place, new terrain, new area, how it felt like they had the wind at their back.
Now, it was the opposite.
They trudged on and on, and though both tried to remain optimistic, they were making progress after all, just slowly, it was difficult to do so when said progress was just so slow.
As they had crossed into the Vale the weather was more volatile in the valleys of the mountains, wind howling against them, and then as they broke into endless fields it took a while to navigate through the long grass (and at one point he'd had to piggy-back Sansa when they'd come across a snake, and she'd refused to take a step further until they reached a path).
Rain got to them a few times, which was good for drinking, and keeping clean, but left them cold. It was a miracle neither of them had gotten sick yet.
And yet, even as he lamented the lack of horse, and yawned his way up at dawn, and shivered in the rain … it was oddly peaceful.
Thanks to her.
As she held his hand when navigating tricky terrain, as she shared food with him, sitting close enough their knees would brush, as he tucked her under his arm and cloak as it poured, as at night she slept next to him, hand in hand, always.
Some nights he delayed sleep just to catch glances of her with the fire smouldering next to them.
He had never felt this content, looking at her as she slept, innocent and beautiful, never with a sneer or a smirk, always just Sansa, kind and sweet. She made him feel peaceful, even as they starved, struggled, and slept in shaky conditions, the contentment she gave him got him through.
He could never go back.
Not just because he'd be labelled traitor, not just because he wouldn't be welcome anymore, not just because he couldn't leave Sansa for his vow, but also because he didn't want to.
Imagining being without her, not sleeping next to her, not feeling her hand in his … it wasn't an option, not for him, not anymore.
He didn't think it was love; Jaime wasn't sure if he could love again, not after Cersei, but it was whatever came closest.
It was happiness, something he hadn't felt properly in a very, very long time.
She hadn't anticipated travel without a horse being quite so hard.
Sansa had known her travels would be difficult, even forgetting the very real dangerous she had accepted months on horseback or foot would be a struggle, but she had never realised how much, and had always thought she'd be on the back of a horse.
She knew she had toughened up a great deal, had even made an effort to do so, but at heart Sansa was still a Lady; she was Lady Stark, and she was not quite yet at the stage of being tough enough to endure everything in silence.
Her feet hurt as they walked mile by mile, through endless fields, often without food until they ran across a village market or tavern (though they didn't dare linger, never mind stay the night). Eventually as they made their way into the Vale the fields changed to paths snaking through mountains, rocky and harder to navigate but at least a change of scenery.
Her thighs and legs hurt from the constant walking. From the moment they woke side by side to the moment they slept side by side, usually in between some trees, or hidden in tall grass or behind some rocks, they were on the go. They took breaks to gulp down the water (thankfully wells were a lot more common in the Vale and so they never went thirsty), and eat the meagre food (though they got lucky at a tavern early on and cleared them out of bread, dried meats and cheeses, enough for at least a week), they weren't for long before they were back on the go.
Her legs hurt, her arms hurt, everything hurt, and yet with each day it got a tiny bit easier. At first it hadn't felt that way, but now, two weeks since they'd lost their horse it was getting more bearable.
She'd never been portly, but she'd always been slender, soft, living a sedentary life bar walks around Kings Landing. She had eaten little in the Capitol, bar lemon cakes and sweet things (she'd struggled at dinners to choke anything down, surrounded by enemies) and so she had always been thin, but now? Now was different.
She felt stronger, some muscles developing on her thighs and calf's, her arms growing a touch stronger from carrying stuff, the muscles in her stomach tougher as they ploughed uphill. She'd never be strong enough to fight or jab a large sword but she felt a little tougher, a little stronger and she found herself smiling at that, especially as Jaime teased her.
He'd squeeze her arm muscle and claim she was getting bigger than him, would pretend to race her up the hill, would laugh as she collapsed next to him each night, and often fell asleep head in his lap even when they just stopped for a break. She in turn teased him at times as she ran ahead of him, as he sometimes mumbled in his sleep, as he guzzled water like a dying man. It was nice, it was fun, and it passed the time.
There was little to do when walking, and so they chatted but also took in their surroundings. Sometimes Jaime would hear something and they'd fall silent for hours, at night they didn't speak, quiet, using the pitch black to hide them, but otherwise they talked, Sansa began to take in and understand the Vale and they made the endless journey.
The journey home.
As Sansa reminded herself with every ache, every groaning pain, the one time she'd accidentally stepped on a sharp piece of rock and Jaime had, had to clean the cut and reassure her no it wasn't deep enough to get infected, and no her foot wasn't going to fall off (at least he'd waited a full day to tease her and had only laughed when she'd shoved him in response), she reminded herself it was all to return home, to her family, to Winterfell, to those she loved and missed.
Home.
It was all worth it in the face of that, all worth it
She tried to keep that in mind the next morning, and had to remind herself several times.
They had been awoken early, barely past dawn by a torrent of icy rain. Their shelter for the night had been a grove nestled along a mountain path, and it had hidden them well but offered no protection against the cold storm that came on so suddenly, Sansa she hoped she was still dreaming.
She was not.
It was freezing, and soon she and Jaime were both soaked to the bone. They used the blankets they had to wrap around their bags, to shield their change of ratty clothes from the rain, so they had something to change into when it stopped and used their final blanket to encase the remaining food, a bundle of oat biscuits, a loaf of bread and two blocks of cheese they'd picked up at the last tavern, essential things.
And so they had little protection for themselves. Soon enough Sansa's hair was slick to her shoulders and her dress was almost moulded with her skin. She was shivering a little, but Jaime encouraged her to keep a fast pace, hoping the briskness of their walk would at least create some warmth.
It didn't.
Finally, they were forced to take shelter in what looked like an abandoned barn, it was cold, windows blown out, no door, and cramped, smelled of horses and was empty, and yet the roof offered some protection from the relentless rain, and that was what mattered.
"Up there" Sansa said, her teeth chattering, arm shaking as she pointed to what looked like an intact loft in the barn, just a small shelf, but the roof looked mostly intact there, and it offered more shelter. At Jaime's nod she ran to it, and he boosted her up, and followed her.
It was still cold, she still shivered, and yet it was better than being outside, the loft offered some more protection against the freeze.
"We should change" Jaime said as he vaulted up next to her, pushed their blanket with the food to one side, and then pulled out their thankfully dry(ish) clothes, handing her, her spare dress and grabbing breeches and a shirt for himself.
"What?" Sansa asked, eyes widening, the loft was only two bed lengths long, and about as deep as a bed and a half, no privacy, "Why?" She asked, and she knew despite the cold her cheeks would be red.
"We're stuck here until morning" The gale outside certainly agreed, "And we'll catch a death if we stay in wet clothes" He shook his head, and then quickly yanked off his shirt, hanging it over the side of the loft, it wouldn't dry by morning but maybe be a bit better.
Her eyes widened as she confronted Jaime in front of her bare-chested. She shouldn't look.
She did.
He was strong, she'd known that, but could only truly see it when he was shirtless. His chest was muscular, and the rippling muscles in his arms made her gulp; that was what drove the power behind his sword swings, behind his deadly blows, and as he went for his trousers, she gasped and averted her eyes as best as she could, to which of course he laughed.
She still caught a peek of his thighs, just as muscular, and knew she must be the colour of a tomato.
"Sansa" He said then, as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. She felt funny, and not just embarrassed, but … strange. Warm, she didn't know what it was, she was freezing on the outside but felt a little warmer.
It reminded her of when Sandor had kissed her, a fleeting peck nothing more, but it had warmed her from the inside, and as she'd glanced at Jaime when he'd been shirtless, she'd felt the same again.
Yes, her cheeks were definitely as red as apples.
"Yes?" She asked, her teeth still chattering.
"I'll look away" He said, and she knew he would, nodded, but still shook as she went for her dress, she'd never been naked next to a man before, looking away or not.
But, she knew he was right, she was freezing, and needed dry clothes. And so she hurriedly reached for the laces at the back of her dress and near cursed as she realised in the rain and storm they'd become tangled.
With no maid Sansa had become used to lacing herself in and out of her dresses, and wore a shawl so often it didn't matter if they were messy, but as she reached for them, the awkward sitting down position (as the loft was a slanted roof, neither of them could do anything more than kneel), it was impossible to undo.
Her cheeks flamed as she realised what she needed to do, as Jaime was right, she could catch her death like this.
There was that warm squirmy feeling again.
"Jaime?" She asked, and she knew her tone was hushed, nervous, "Can you undo my dress laces?" She asked, her voice shaking a little too now.
A pause lasting what felt like minutes followed, and she near asked again, until she felt hands at her back.
She couldn't see but he'd nodded, nodded as he'd near choked on his words.
His fingers worked quickly, efficiently, and yet her breathing hitched as his finger brushed her bare skin for the first time, it was callused, not soft like hers, callused and yet somehow exceedingly gentle.
He went back to unlacing, and his fingers didn't brush her skin again.
She missed it.
"There" His tone was rough as well, and she just nodded, unable to speak, something felt like it was pressing around them, tense and thick.
She was quick then, trusting Jaime to turn away, shrugged out of her ratty dress and smallclothes, hung them over the edge of the loft, and quickly re-dressed, first in small clothes, and then her second dress, a bit less scruffy, in a pale blue Tully colour, but her a year ago would have shrieked at its condition; that made her smile, none of that mattered now.
"Okay" She said, but her voice continued to shake, even with the dry clothes on, and the shelter from the barn, she felt warmer, but continued to tremble. "You can turn back around now"
And she turned to him too.
Another little gasp left her lips as she looked at Jaime then, there was something to his gaze, something smouldering, something intense, like a fire raging. She knew the blush hurried back to her cheeks as she met his gaze, her Tully blue, to his Lannister green.
She used to hate that colour, still did really, though Jaime was the exception.
He was the exception to all of it really, her hatred for the Lannister's, for Southerner's in general. The one exception to her.
"I…" She stumbled, unsure what to say. Jaime's gaze felt like what she had when he'd brushed her back, when she'd seen him shirtless, warm, from the inside out.
"Sansa" His voice was gravelly then, and that sent something shooting through her and her eyes widened as she recognised it, her hand going to her throat at the shock of it.
Desire.
It was different to everything else she'd ever felt. The silly crushes she'd had on Joffrey, on Ser Loras, her wistful dreams about Willas Tyrell, all paled in comparison, this feeling? This was real, it was warm, and it was for Jaime and Jaime alone.
"Jaime" She repeated his name back to him as he had hers, though whereas his tone was rough, even a little harsh, hers was breathy, and she could feel her heartbeat hammering into her chest, like a hummingbird, eager to be set free.
"I.." Jaime's turn to stumble, "I'm sorry"
"Why?" She asked, and then realised she'd nudged herself closer to him, they both knelt from where they'd changed, and she'd shuffled closer, only inches between them now.
"I shouldn't be thinking what I am" He said, and his tone had hushed, the storm outside raged, ignored, it was only the two of them in the world at that point, the two of them and nothing else.
"What are you thinking?" Her voice was near a whisper now, but she knew he heard her.
"You know what I'm thinking" He responded, and she nodded before she could stop herself.
'Men only want one thing from a pretty girl'
Shae had said that, and though Sansa was naïve, she wasn't that naïve, she knew what men wanted, how they looked at women with lust, how many had looked at her with it. She had hated it, always wrinkled her nose in disgust, she didn't want their desire.
But when Jaime looked at her with it … as he was now, there was no disgust from her, only the mutuality of it.
My goodness, was she looking at him the same way?
"We can't" Jaime said, shaking his head, and he looked nervous then, somehow that made her feel bolder, and she inched forward again, close enough that her nose near brushed his chin. She'd been closer than this to him, under the bridge, in the orchard, in the forest.
They'd even kissed twice.
And yet, as Jaime leaned down to her, this time was different.
Their first kiss had been in the market, at Harrenhal. It had been one of desperation, of fear they'd be torn apart, it had been explosions, fire in the air, it had been wonderful.
And then under the bridge, it had been a brush on the lips, gentle as a butterfly's wing, and the very best thing Sansa had ever felt.
This was different, and in some ways better.
This kiss was crushing, as Jaime lowered his lips to hers, first he was gentle, one brush, two, and then he pulled her closer, hands at her waist, and hers naturally fell to his chest, and his kiss deepened, deepened right down to her soul it felt.
As he kissed her, his lips against hers, his tongue running along her bottom lip, as he even nipped her bottom lip, it was like the zing of desire she'd felt earlier had taken over her, she was still a little damp from the rain, the storm still raged outside and yet she felt warmer than she could remember ever being.
A little whimper left her lips, of joy, of desire, because she knew that was what it was. She had never felt this for anyone before, not even close, and as her arms slid around Jaime's neck and they somehow came together closer, she never wanted it to end.
And yet, as her arms slid around his neck, as a moan left her lips, Jaime pulled back.
Her eyes widened, and she was even so bold as to reinitiate, and yet Jaime stopped her.
The sting of rejection might be one of the worst things she'd ever felt in comparison.
"Sansa we can't" He repeated, and yet his voice shook.
"Don't you want … me?" She asked, nervously, and her cheeks flamed again, running down her throat, all the way to the top of her dress, a fierce contrast with her hair.
Jaime groaned then, and that near made her giggle, if not for her nerves, "Of course I do" He cupped her cheeks then, pulled her back in for a kiss, and she went willingly, so willingly, she practically melted into him, and yet again it was cut short. "But we can't"
"Why not?" She didn't even know what she was asking for, mainly for this to continue, for it to never stop.
"Sansa" He paused then, "You are a maiden"
"Of course, I am" She said quickly, eyes widening, did he think she wasn't?
He laughed then, though it seemed pained, "I know I was stating that" A small pause, "We can't do this, not what I want to do to you"
"Oh" Her eyes must be like teacup saucers she knew, wide as day, and yet the idea of it, of Jaime taking her maidenhead … somehow that settled into her, settled and …
Felt right.
The prospect of it before had always been horrifying to her, taken on her wedding night as part of her duty, never had it felt like this, like something she wanted to do. Maybe it was because she'd never felt like there had been someone, she'd want to do it with.
No one had ever made her feel like Jaime did after all.
"Because we're not wed?" She asked, that had to be it, she thought to herself, and it made sense, she'd sat through enough lectures and lessons that her maidenhead was sacred and saved for marriage; that had never been in question for her.
"Exactly" Jaime said with a nod, "We're not wed, and I would never do that to you, dishonour you like that"
She paused then, nodded, even smiled, she knew he'd deny it, but Jaime was a gentleman … in some respects at least.
And then she blurted something out, simply following her own train of thought, not really thinking before she spoke, but as she reached the conclusion (and did so with a smile), she couldn't stop herself from simply saying,
"Well why don't we wed?"
ooooof I love to leave it on a cliffhanger!
well hot damn, here we go. I will say, this won't be frequent, this story is agonisingly slow-burn, but the payoffs are always worth!
let me know watcha think, I'd love to hear your comments, what is coming next d'you think? one hint: we will be back in KL next chapter, and our budding lovebirds will resume this conversation...
speak soon