Ella's Oneshots

[Ella]

Fandom: Game of Thrones
Summary: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth; Sansa strongarms Jaime into a conversation about his newfound relationship and makes an unsuspected offer; oneshot based on 8x04.
Words: 1346

A Fragile Trust

               “Lady Stark!” Jaime felt his face growing flustered as if he were a fifteen-year-old girl on his first date. He was glad that he had at least made sure that he was properly dressed before heading to the washing area, or he would really have had something to explain to the girl who was, frankly, staring him down as if he was nothing more than dirt under her shoe.
               “Ser Jaime,” she greeted, her voice cold as the snow that was slowly coating every last holding of the North.
               He missed that sweet little girl, if only because she was the one Stark at King’s Landing he didn’t have to pay much mind. Perhaps a little more because he had seen so much of his own daughter in her, if not for the colour of her hair. He wondered if Myrcella would have become like her, a woman of stone, if she had lived too long in this world. Not for the first time, he found himself secretly grateful that his daughter never had to experience the largest torments of his world – that she never had to suffer in ways that Sansa did, and that she never had to see her mother become what she had become. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, willing his thoughts away. Thinking of his family would do him no good here. He had Tyrion, and that should be enough.
               “What were you doing in Lady Brienne’s room?” Sansa asked, her eyes not leaving his. She was nothing like Myrcella had been, this girl. She was her mother’s daughter. Fire and ice.
               “As you may well know, Lady Brienne and I have been acquainted for quite some time now. I was just… paying her a visit.”
               Sansa didn’t speak for a while. “Walk with me,” she then said.
               “I was actually–”
               “Walk with me.” Her voice left no room for questioning.
               Jaime raised his eyebrows, but complied, following her through the darkened hallway that led to the main stairway. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the torches on the walls gave enough light to illuminate the lady’s beautiful hair and porcelain skin. She was truly the epitome of everything beautiful in the world, and Jaime thought to himself that his brother must have counted himself lucky to have been married to such a bride. Except she had been a girl. A girl barely older than Myrcella. “Where are we going?”
               Sansa didn’t answer.
               “I’m certain your brother would be displeased to know you are spending time with the Kingslayer. Alone.”
               Sansa stopped, and raised her gaze to meet his. “I’m no king, so I have nothing to fear from you.”
               Jaime’s lips curled up into a grimace.
               “I don’t trust you,” Sansa said.
               “And yet you elect to spend this lovely morning walking through corridors with me. Please excuse me if this causes me some confusion, my lady.”
               “Comedy is more your brother’s area of expertise,” she said. “I know you won’t hurt me, Ser Jaime. You have no reason to. But I don’t [i]trust[/i] you.”
               “I apologise, but I truly don’t understand what you want from me. I’ve sworn to fight for your brother’s cause, I fought, and–”
               “–and now you’ve crawled into bed with my sworn sword.”
               Jaime blinked once. Sansa looked as if she hadn’t spoken. As if she’d delivered a common message. Impassive. She’d grown into a great liar, and for the first time Jaime wondered if he should be the one fearing to be alone with her.
               “You don’t deny it,” she said.
               “I–I am uncertain how this is any of your business.”
               “As I have mentioned, Lady Brienne is my sworn sword.”
               “That doesn’t mean you have any right to know about what sexual activities she is or isn’t undertaking,” Jaime said.
               “Lady Brienne has also been a true friend to me. She swore an oath to my mother, and she has upheld it.”
               “Of course she has,” Jaime said. “She is the most honest and loyal knight I have ever known.”
               “And yet, she is electing to spend her time with a notorious oathbreaker. She spoke against the dragon queen. For you. She is fond of you.”
               “I–do you truly think so?”
               Sansa smiled lightly. “If she weren’t, would she have allowed you to share her bed?”
               “I suppose not,” Jaime said softly.
               “Will you stay with her?”
               “Excuse me?”
               “Lady Brienne keeps her oaths. She will stay with me while the forces head South. Does this mean you are staying in Winterfell too?”
               “Well–I mean–” he stumbled over his words. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t given it any thought. He hated the North, more than anything. The cold, the people, the dreary atmosphere… This whole place reminded him of one of his most terrible acts, especially since the results of his actions were so clearly visible in the figure of Brandon Stark, staring at him with those passive eyes, and those words full of knowledge. Brandon Stark, who had all but predicted his death.
               The South was warmer, still. Of course, the South had its very own winter. The South meant facing Cersei again. It meant watching her lose a war, it meant fighting her. Fighting his own family. His own army. Men he had grown up with and men he had once been willing to die with. He wasn’t sure if he could do that either. He knew what Cersei had become, and he wanted to see her fall more than anything, but he was selfish. The combined forces of his brother, the dragon queen and Jon Snow would be enough to eviscerate her sister. He didn’t need to, perhaps didn’t want to take part in it. He wasn’t ready to face the truth, and the thought of Brienne’s smile was enough to make him forget Cersei’s piercing eyes. He knew he didn’t deserve Brienne, not by a long shot. But last night, when she had fallen asleep and he had caressed her skin with his remaining hand, he realised that he loved her. He loved her, in a way he hadn’t loved Cersei for a long time. Where he had always been Cersei’s, Brienne was as much his as he was hers. He wondered if Sansa Stark could see that.
               “You’re welcome to stay in Winterfell for the time being, should you choose not to fight this battle,” Sansa said, breaking his chain of thoughts.
               “I–what?”
               Again, Sansa showed the faintest hint of a smile. “Your brother was right about you,” she said, her voice low as if she wasn’t addressing him. “I can see you are fond of her too, and I would wish for you to feel welcome in our home as long as she resides here.”
               “I–I thank you, Lady Stark.”
               “You’re most welcome, Ser Jaime,” she said, ever the gracious host, and she turned to leave.
               “May I ask you one question, however?”
               “Of course.” Her features smoothed over any surprise she might have felt.
               “You said you don’t trust me. And yet you are willing to allow me to stay in your home. Even after all I’ve done. And I’ve done a lot, I know that.”
               Sansa stepped a little closer. When he had first met her, she had to look up to him. Now she was almost as tall. As tall as Myrcella would have been… “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you with Brienne and, honestly, split between you and the wildling caveman my brother brought in, I am uncertain who would be the better option, since neither of you so clearly don’t deserve her. But Brienne has chosen you, and I trust Brienne. If Brienne fought with you, and now I see she cares for you more than as… a long-time acquaintance. For her, I will tolerate you.”
               Jaime bowed his head. “I know I don’t deserve her. But I will try. Whatever it takes.”
               Sansa smiled, this time truly, and placed a hand on his right arm. “I will hold you to that promise.”