authorsnote: here we go

and so we have a wedding...

songrecs: chemtrails over the country club - lana del ray (you're in the wind, I'm in the water, nobodys son, nobodys daughter...)

Come morning she was sure she'd never felt so alone.

The weight of the morning rested on her shoulders as surely as any anchor could. It was as though she had a chain bound to an anvil dragging down her spine. As she bathed, scrubbed, drifting in rose and lemon scented water, she thought it must be a wonder she wasn't dragged under the water.

She did allow herself to sit under it for a while, opening her eyes under the water, contemplating not coming back up, but as she struggled for air her body gave her no choice and something instinctual in her kicked in, forcing her up with a gasp.

There would be no escaping this.

And so, as she was pulled from the bath, dried, her hair treated and then brushed a thousand times, she bit so hard on her bottom lip she could taste blood. It should be her Mother brushing her hair, her Mother making it gleam, but no, her Mother was dead. Sansa felt thankful somehow, her Mother wasn't here to see this, to see her marry the enemy.

To see her become a traitor to herself. If she were honourable, she'd have jumped from that window, dashed her skull and brains on the floor, and gone to the grave a Stark, not live as a Lannister.

But she was too much of a coward, traitor it was.

As they dressed her, first in small clothes, little slips of lace in white that barely warranted the words, and then her more full skirt, corset, and then … her wedding dress.

Objectively it was beautiful, golden, hints of rubies and diamonds, displaying the Lannister she would become and the Stark she would leave behind. But gold was the theme, already showing her future name … the golden Sansa Lannister. Even the slippers they moved her feet into were golden. They wound golden ribbon through the hair they piled atop her head in the Queens traditional style. Golden and ruby bracelets encircled her wrists, she didn't miss the irony of being near manacled with Lannister colours.

Her necklace was golden and diamonds, pretty, more Stark, but not enough, none of it was.

But she didn't even squeak as they tugged and pulled at her dress, as they didn't miss a single hair in cinching it back. As they sprayed her with jasmine perfume, dabbed rouge on her cheeks, but left most of her face bare, probably to reinforce the Maiden angle.

Not for long though was it?

She was glad she hadn't touched breakfast, had stuck with a light fruit juice, she was sure she'd vomit anything up.

No Mother here to tell her what would happen, yes, she knew, at the wedding Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer would remove the white and silver Maiden cloak they were fixing to her shoulders, replace it with one to match the dress, of red and gold, and then he would take her maidenhood in truth.

Tonight, she would be his, in every way it mattered, if she ran, he would find her, if she were caught, she'd be returned to him, she'd be his until the day she died, and then she'd go to the ground as Sansa Lannister.

"All done" The Maid said, satisfied, stepped back, yanking Sansa from her melancholy. She but glanced in the mirror, at her pale face, pretty but pale, at the stunning dress, but it wore her rather than she wore it. She only spared a smile as she turned and looked at the maidencloak, traitors or not, House Stark had to be represented there, and the running direwolf, in grey and silver on the white of the cloak, gave her some comfort.

Some.

But as they opened the door to march her out, there was no comfort left, none, she felt like she was walking to the executioner block.

All she could think as she made her way through the corridors of the Red Keep, to the carriage that would take her to Baelors Sept was the only thing that stopped her from trying to make a run through it, either out the window or to the streets of Kings Landing, even knowing she wouldn't get far…

I am a Stark, I can be brave.

He had hoped for some quiet, in the carriage to the Sept, he was afforded no such luxury.

Cersei and his Father sat opposite, not given a moment reprieve, perhaps it was to make sure he actually made it to the Sept and didn't try to make a dash for a boat to Essos, in truth he'd be half tempted were Tyrions life not on the line for this.

He had to remind himself of that, as he was marched to the Sept to marry, he had to remember it was all for Tyrion, for his brother who had been dealt the hardest cards in life and had still tried to thrive and had in many areas. Jaime couldn't and wouldn't see him go to the grave too early for his time.

"I don't know why you felt the need to accompany me" Jaime says, wishing he'd followed Tyrions likely example of bringing a pitcher of wine, "I don't need babysitting to my wedding"

He spoke only to his Father, Cersei and he hadn't spoken in days, weeks even, things had been odd since he'd returned, but word had gotten to her of the agreement with his Father, and she'd barely looked at him since.

It made it easier, almost, even though nothing about this was easy.

But it had to be, if Cersei were begging him to back down, that would surely test his resolve, the silence made it easier, to stand by Tyrion, even if it meant driving what he realised would be the final straw between himself and his twin.

There would be no going back after this, no more Cersei, he knew that.

Knew and despised everyone for it, most of all Cersei herself, for accusing Tyrion, for doing this to them, for choosing power as she always did, and for never choosing him.

He despised himself too, but as he looked at the golden hand, one gift from Cersei before this coldness, he didn't help but feel he might deserve this all.

He had promised, vowed even to bring Sansa Stark home, was this a version of that? Keeping her safe? Protecting her from Lannisters that would surely treat her worse? It was a poor man's version, but it was all he had.

He had nothing else to give her. There was no home to return her too anymore, and Tyrion depended on it, this was all he could give, he hoped it could be enough … though deep down he knew it wasn't.

"You need to act accordingly" His Father said, tone stern as always, even him agreeing to inherit and marry wouldn't change the endless disappointment, he was hardly surprised, "You are the Lannister Heir, and marrying a Lady of a Great House, you must act right"

"The Starks are traitors" Cersei said cuttingly, looking out at the window at neither of them, dressed in black, rubies at her throat, she was as beautiful as ever, and as far away as he could ever remember her being.

"Yes, but they are still the Great House of the North, and your second son will inherit it and need that recognition" His Father said, Jaime didn't even bother to nod.

"And so you will…" He began.

"Act accordingly" Jaime cut in, craving that wine again, "Got it" He said quickly, and then ignored his Fathers glare, he was used to those too.

He had promised to marry Sansa Stark, and a son for Casterly Rock, another for Winterfell, and a spare or two, he would do his duty, to keep Tyrion, and Sansa safe, even if the latter hated him for it, he would do it.

"And I expect you not to follow your brothers example" Of course, it couldn't be left there, he didn't look up as his Father spoke again, "You will consummate this marriage, and you will do so tonight, make sure of it"

"I'll do my best" He joked again, but there was no laughter, only silence, as the carriage continued on, taking him to this marriage.

It almost felt like he was walking to the execution block, maybe that was what vows were meant to feel like, that serious.

'Vow after vow, they make you swear and swear…'

This vow he would not break, on his honour, his life, he would not.

The walk to the alter felt as though it was both ten thousand steps, and as though time didn't pass at all.

She only looked forward, didn't glance side to side, didn't glance at Tywin Lannister standing in the place of her Father, as he'd assumed the position without a word, just an arm she had to take. She didn't look at him, or even at Jaime Lannister, who she could see stood on the alter, but she didn't look.

She only looked straight ahead, glassy eyes, didn't meet Margaerys sympathetic gaze, or Cersei's gold expression, didn't glance at Tommens smile, or the High Septons serious expression, no, she looked straight ahead, but felt detached form it all somehow, like she wasn't really seeing it.

Until the time for the vows came, and it all felt so wrong.

Not just because it was Jaime Lannister, or because this was Kings Landing, but it felt wrong to be married in a Sept. Even though she had prayed at a Sept in Winterfell, had followed the teachings of the Seven, had listened to her Septa, she'd also prayed at the Godswood and the Hearttree, had looked to the Old Gods more and more over the last years … and it felt wrong, to be married in front of the Seven, and not her Fathers Gods.

She'd never marry in a Godswood, and that, more than anything, had silent tears trickling down her cheeks as the High Septon began to speak.

"In sight of the Seven I will bind these two souls, sealing them as one for eternity" The High Septon began. He produced the ribbon, and she raised her hand, rested it atop of Jaimes, she noticed it was warm, and was thankful it wasn't his golden one.

The ribbon was wound around their hands, back and forth, and then, they turned to one another, and the High Septon spoke again. "Now you may say your vows"

And so, they spoke them, Sansa had them memorised since she was four, she presumed someone had forced Ser Jaime to remember them before the wedding.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days"

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days"

They both spoke clearly, even as tears trickled down her cheeks, her voice was quiet, but clear. Ser Jaime sounded clear too, and she couldn't identify an ounce of emotion otherwise.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection" The Septon boomed, and then she turned her back, remembered having to kneel to allow Tyrion to do so, she'd endure that all again, she knew, now she was aware how good Tyrion would be to her in their marriage, she got the sense Ser Jaime would not be so chivalrous.

She bit down hard on her lip as her Stark cloak was whipped from her back, and cast aside, she somehow knew she'd never wear it again, one marriage failed, the second one wouldn't be allowed to.

This cloak was heavier than the one Tyrion had cloaked her with. Heavy with jewels, and Ser Jaime, even one handed didn't struggle, secured it to her back, clasped the ends, and then even swept her hair out from under it, it was only as he touched her neck as he swept her hair did she flinch, and only for a fraction before she straightened up.

"Your Grace, your Grace" The High Septon indicated to first Cersei, and then Tommen behind her, coronated or not, "My Lord Hand, my Lords, my Ladies" The rest of the crowd she hadn't even glanced at, "We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, cursed be he who would tear them asunder!"

Sansa felt numb to it now, she remembered all of this with Tyrion, it felt harder, knowing this time she would get no reprieve of annulment, but she still felt as though she were watching it all from far away, rather than participating. The tears on her cheeks were the only thing that felt real.

"With this kiss" She only just managed to keep still, to not flinch, by sheer force of will, as Ser Jaime spoke, Tyrion had skipped this part, "I pledge my love" He spoke, clearly again, and Sansa fought the urge to tremble, and instead turned to Ser Jaime, her eyes wide, her cheeks wet.

She wondered if he could taste her tears as they kissed.

It was a chaste kiss, gentle, and Sansa noted his lips were soft, if she'd have loved him she would have called it sweet, instead she was only thankful it was easy, as Ser Jaime pulled back, and held her hand high as applause rang true across the Sept.

Cursed be he who would tear them asunder…

Would she curse herself to hope for it? To hope this marriage would fall apart as her first had? Maybe then they'd think she were cursed, maybe then they'd leave her alone, maybe then she'd die with a Stark name.

But no, she knew that wouldn't be allowed this time, as the crowd began to disperse, and Ser Jaime squeezed her hand, and she turned to him eyes wide.

"Come on" He said, his voice was gentle, and that surprised her, though what surprised her more was as he reached out his real hand, and wiped the tears on her left cheek away, before repeating with the right, no more followed, she didn't dare let them, "No tears today"

"So, I can cry tomorrow?" She asked, stupidly, letting down her walls just to be difficult, there was no place for that, not here, her walls were her only defence, her courtesies, her armour, she'd surely wither and die without them.

I have turned from porcelain, to ivory, to steel…

But then he surprised her again, "As much as you want" Ser Jaime said, and it felt like mocking, but he did not smile, or perhaps he did a little, but it seemed sad, "Come along"

And so, she followed as Jaime took her hand again to lead her down the steps, her Lannister cloak dragging on the floor, heavy on her shoulders, matching the weight she had felt from the morning, now it was real.

But somehow the slight ease of Ser Jaimes words, his momentary kindness, it helped lighten the load just a touch, not enough, not enough to stop her from drowning, but enough to see her say goodbye before the waves swept her away.

He was a Lannister, kindness didn't matter, and as he led her from the Sept, his hand in hers, even as he helped her into their own carriage, waved at the screaming crowd, she knew she needed to remember that, kindness was useless, she'd married an enemy of her family, what did kindness matter?

Nothing.

And as they settled into the carriage, opposite one another but silent, even as she felt the first peace she had all day, she had to remember that, he was a Lannister, the enemy, a kind word and wiping her tears didn't change that.

Nothing would.

and they are wed ... almost

wanted to give a little bit of jaimes perspective and those will be regularly sprinkled in but remember this is primarily sansas story and will be treated as such

I hope you enjoyed, next we have the wedding feast and the bedding, and then ... who knows? (I do aha, you will too soon!)

speak ... soon!