authorsnote: a lil new years chapter for you all, 2023 will be the year of more regular updates, this I vow (and will try to keep!)
do enjoy
songrecs: a drop in the ocean - ron pope (og fanfic song)
Jaime Lannister is not often a man taken a-back.
He has seen a mans head severed from his body (has severed quite a few heads himself), has been beaten, starved, humiliated, has killed too many men to count on both hands, has let his sword lead him, has committed sin after sin against the Gods, had let Cersei lead him around like a dog.
He is usually a man somewhat immune to surprise, and when on the rare occasion he is caught off guard (usually by his Father or Tyrion; both much more similar than either of them would ever admit), he is usually able to mask it, with a cocky laugh, a raise of his eyebrow the only hint of his disbelief. He is no schemer like Tyrion or Cersei, but he is a Lannister, he is able to pretend, laugh and cover up any surprise.
Except when faced with a very earnest, beautiful, and sweet Sansa Stark basically asking that they marry.
He splutters, he coughs, he has to stop himself from immediately screaming 'no', and instead just finds her blue eyes, Tully eyes, and looks at how utterly innocent they are, walls of ice no more now she trusts him, and just earnest and kind.
And yet, just his silence, his surprise has some spark in her eye dying, withdrawing, and she clutches her hands in her lap, and seems nervous, and he feels a sharp anger, wanting to kill any man who has upset her.
Slightly confusing considering it is him.
And yet his reaction, of the fierce need to protect Sansa, from any kind of harm is not unnoticed by him, yet he ignores it for the moment, instead focusing on Sansa, who beautiful as she is, looks wilted by his response.
"I understand" Her tone is wooden then, reminding him of those dreadful courtesies he had hoped were gone for good (at least with him), "You don't want to marry me"
That's her conclusion?
He does not deserve this girl; but then he already knew that. He probably never will.
"Sansa" He hurries forward then, in the small space managing to pull her close, clasping her hands in his, they are cold and he rubs them warmer, hoping to alleviate her chill and her sadness.
"Do not ask me a question I cannot refuse, not when it is such a bad idea for you" He chides almost, for of course he'd marry her, the thrill of it had struck him for just a second; not having to leave her, and yet he knows it is impossible.
Deep down Jaime Lannister knows he loves her already, but he isn't ready to confront that.
Not yet.
"For me?" She asks, eyes wide and animated again as she catches his gaze, blue to green, "Why? I want to marry you"
God, she'll be the death of him.
"No" He says with a shake of his head, "You want to go home, you don't need to take me with you"
"But I want to go home with you" She insists, are all Starks this stubborn? He knows the answer to that.
"I don't want to leave you Jaime" Her words near break his heart, for he feels the same.
For a moment it is quiet, as they both naturally lean in, and rest their foreheads together in comfort, there is silent but for the rain hammering down outside. Silence as they just breath each other in; Jaime and Sansa, and how he wishes he didn't have to leave her.
It has only been a few short months since they met for the first time properly and yet he can't imagine being parted from her side, even though he must be, he knows that, his resolve may waver, but he knows the reality.
As much as he wishes he could ignore it, he can't.
"I don't want to leave you either" He whispers as they sit together, in the abandoned cold barn, the rain thundering outside, in some Vale settlement, miles away from each of their homes, and yet together, which is all that matters to Jaime.
It will be agony to leave her, but he knows he must.
"Your brother, your Mother, the Northerners" He pauses, sighs, "They will never, ever accept me, they shouldn't, not after what I've done to them at war" He says, shakes his head against her, feels her nails dig into his hands as he clutches at him, "They will throw me in a jail cell as soon as I step foot into their camp or to Winterfell, they will take my head the day after"
He expects her to nod, to understand, to realise why he will get her to Winterfell, send her in and then go, perhaps to exile, he has no desire to see Cersei ever again, perhaps he can stay in the North, watch Sansa from afar, make sure she is safe, but he can't be with her. He expects her to know that, to understand.
But as always, she surprises him.
"Not if we're married" She says and she sounds furious, determined, clutches him tighter, but then releases his hands to bring them to his face, to cup his face, to force her gaze to his, her has never seen her so sure of something and that makes him smile, just for a moment, until sadness overtakes his grin, this can never be, and her not seeing that makes it harder.
Does he want to marry her?
He knows the answer in an instant.
She is so different from Cersei, everything she is not; innocent, kind, charitable, humble, she is beauty personified and the only reason his honour has not completely abandoned him. He had thought it once before and held it like a talisman over his heart, where it had remained;
Sansa Stark is his salvation.
And yet, she has become so much more than that.
"They will never let me marry you Sansa" He insists, can't she see? He knows then he will do as he thought, stay in the North, watch from afar, make sure she is safe and happy. It will kill him to see her marry, to see her live the life he wants with her, but it will be enough for him, that he took her home, that he kept some shred of his honour, that she is happy.
It will have to be enough.
It will kill him, but it will have to be enough.
When did he fall in love with Sansa Stark? He isn't sure, but its there, beating in him as surely as his heart does.
But it is better than the love he felt for Cersei, purer, kinder, it doesn't corrupt him, cause him equal pain and pleasure, instead no it makes him smile, laugh, it makes him want to protect her, shield her innocence from the world, it makes him want to love her, truly love her, in a way he never wanted to love Cersei, out in the open, true, and real.
This is real.
Perhaps the first real thing he has ever had.
And so, with that, knowledge, resting next to his heart, it will kill him to let her go, to watch from afar, perhaps as she marries, has her own babes and lives a happy life, he can do it, he can do it to see her home with her family, where she will be truly happy.
This might be how it was always meant to be, to regain his honour, to be her silent protector, to fulfil his vow, not just to Lady Stark, but to Sansa herself.
"No" Sansa says, breaking him out of his slightly martyrish plans, "No" She says shaking her head, her long red locks plaited back but some shaking out of her braid, falling in front of her face, her lips screwed up in anger, her blue eyes filling with tears, he hates to be the cause of her pain, but he knows this is how it has to be.
"You're right" She says, and he almost breaths a sigh of relief, as much as it hurts, at least Sansa understands, but then …
"They won't let you marry me, I know that" She says with a nod, seems surer of herself now, grips his hands, raises his head, and he should have known as a spark lights in her gaze, should have known she'd never accept his self-imposed exile, "So we'll just marry before I get home"
As the rain thuds outside, as the storm howls, as Sansa smiles in earnest and excitement at him, Jaime laughs, he laughs and laughs, and then pulls Sansa in for a kiss, crushing their lips together, and when she winds her arms around his neck he pulls her close.
"Your Grace?"
"Yes?"
"Word has come from the Deepwood Motte that the harvest is being tilled, but the grain stores were raided and halved by the Iron Borne, they are requesting aid"
"See twenty farmers sent, double their pay for the time, but tell Lord Glover we will require a quarter of the harvest"
"Yes, Your Grace"
"Nephew?"
"Yes?"
"Raiders from the Dreadfort have attacked settlements along the Weeping Water, the new Lord of the Dreadfort requests aid"
"Send fifty Stark men, ensure they are paid well, and that the Dreadfort gives them respite and rest"
"I'll see it done, who shall lead the party?"
"Your advice?"
"Send Smalljon, he is bored training the men here and will relish the chance"
"Sounds good to me"
"You're growing into it well, nephew"
"Am I?"
"You are, Your Grace"
"Your Grace?"
"Yes?"
"The repairs of the Keep are going well, the courtyard and main Keep are being repaired quickly, the training grounds are done, the Godswood was thankfully untouched, and the hidden food stores were untarnished"
"Good, thank you Clay"
"I just thank you for making me Castellan, Your Grace"
"It is Robb, Clay, we grew up together, I hardly expect you to bow"
"I know Robb, but your Mother glares at me when I'm so familiar"
"She does not, but no, that all sounds good, thank you"
"However, do you want the broken tour repaired? We have builders working day and night to repair Winterfell, this might be the opportunity to fix areas neglected before"
"Good idea, see it done"
"Of course, Your Grace"
"Robb?"
"Yes Arya?"
"Have you heard anything about Sansa?"
"No… nothing yet"
"But you heard nothing last week"
"I know"
"Is she dead?"
"I don't know"
"You can't be serious"
"I am, deadly"
"Arya is alive, she should be your heir"
"So she can marry, and the Stark line can die?"
"That bastard cannot be your heir"
"We have already discussed this Mother, my decision is made, Jon already rides from Castle Black"
"I'm sure he does, probably hoping to steal your crown early"
"I won't tolerate this Mother, Jon's letter spoke of needing aid"
"The Northerners will never accept this!"
"I know what they will accept, I am their King"
"Robb please…"
"Its decided Mother, I'm sorry but that is my final word"
"Any word?"
"None, Your Grace"
"I know we don't have many men South of the Neck, but you're saying there's been nothing from the Riverlands? Nothing?"
"Your Grace, it is a miracle that one of our few spies in Kings Landing overheard that Sansa had escaped the Capitol, we are unlikely to get any more information about her whereabouts, Lord Bolton controlled the most spies and we are struggling to rebuild the network"
"I named you Master of Whispers Lord Frey as my wife recommended you and I wanted a Frey on my council, don't make me regret it"
"I am already rebuilding the network, Your Grace, I will serve you loyally"
"My sister is alone in Westeros! We have to find her!"
"We have men scouring the Riverlands, Tully guards Your Grace, but the land has been ravaged, it is difficult"
"Send more men"
"The Tully's have no more men…"
"Then send some of your kin, there are enough of them, but ensure they are accompanied by Tully's"
"I'll send the order Your Grace"
"Thank you"
That night they slept soundly.
The barn offered little protection, but after a few kisses (and she had loved each and every one of them, each warming her up, a smile plastered across her face), they had snuggled at the back together, tucked themselves under threadbare blankets and fallen asleep in one another's arms.
It was perfect.
She had never expected this with Jaime, never, and yet now she couldn't imagine being without him, hence her insistence that they not be parted.
Just the thought of it … of Jaime taking her North and then having to leave…
Of course, she wanted to return home, more than anything, but staying with Jaime was a close second, she couldn't possibly pick between the two.
But she was confident in her solution, her family wouldn't part them once they were married, they couldn't.
And if they tried … she didn't know what she would do, but she did know that she wouldn't let them, that would have to be enough, and then her and Jaime would navigate it together.
"Jaime?" She whispered as she woke, eyes blinking open, she felt well rested, just having a roof had been a blessing, and though she shivered, and her stomach grumbled she felt as comfortable as possible.
And it was all worth it in the end, not just to get home to Robb and her Mother, but what had happened with her and Jaime along the way, what had developed, a little smile played on her lips, she had always been looking forward to the end point, the destination, and yet what had happened on the journey had turned her cheeks pink and given her true happiness for the first time since leaving Kings Landing, since leaving Winterfell even, all of those years ago.
Happiness … at one point she had wondered if she would ever feel it again, and yet it only took one glance at Jaime and her heart swelled with it.
How could she ever leave him?
"What?" He moaned, it was early, Sansa never slept much, even now, four or five hours was enough for her to feel better rested than she had in Kings Landing, she was sleeping six or seven now, Jaime less as he always kept watch as she fell asleep.
"Shall we move on?"
"You kill me my Lady" He said with a groan, and she shrieked as he pulled her back down into the crook of his arms, planted a kiss to her hair that made her blush the same colour as it, and tucked his head atop hers, "Sleep more, or you'll be exhausted on the road"
"But we need to cover ground…" She tried to insist, each step towards her home had her longing for it even more, and yet found herself snuggling into the crook of his neck, basking in the warmth and comfort, and she was tired, and could perhaps sleep a bit more…
"We will after a touch more sleep, we'll make our way to a village, stock up on supplies and then find an orchard" He mumbled, still sleepy, it was quite sweet.
"An orchard?" She asked, her nose wrinkling with confusion.
"There's no Weirwoods in the Vale, but if your Gods are to be believed they are everywhere, and so we'll marry in front of an Oak and that will have to be enough"
And that stole her breath away, for a moment or two, she was silent, as her heart felt like it might burst and run over.
"What? Are you telling me little Lady Sansa Stark doesn't know the Northern marriage ceremony by heart?" The mocking in his tone had once annoyed her (it still did a little), but now she found it endearing (and a little annoying)).
"Yes, of course" She'd known it since she was five, "But don't you want to marry in front of the Seven?" She asked, that was what she had imagined, and yet the idea of marrying in front of her Father's Gods, even if it was Oak instead of Weirwood … it filled her eyes with tears.
"I barely believe in any of them, but you're a Northerner, we'll marry in front of your Gods, best as we can" He said, and she could hear his smile in his voice.
A smile that turned into laughter as she squealed in delight, and hugged him close, her cheeks aching with joy, was she dreaming?
No, she wasn't, and as Jaime tucked her close and they settled more sleep, she did so with a grin from ear to ear, feeling as though she must be dreaming, wasn't this too good to be true? She had escaped the Lannister's, was on her way home and was marrying the man she'd fallen in love with, for she knew now more certain than ever that she did love him. Surely, she was dreaming?
And so, she smiled as they caught a few more hours of sleep and decided perhaps it wasn't too good to be true, but then, not all good things could last either, not that Sansa knew that.
Though she would again.
Soon.
and there we go, back with jaime/sansa and lots of fluff
for now
ahahaha, I know its mean, but this story is fluff and angst, one must balance the other
do review if you can