fic: let's make a deal (ASOIAF, Jaime/Sansa)
let's make a deal
a song of ice and fire / jaime/sansa / 659 words
fortosca1390, I love you bunches, bb.
He finds her amongst the ice and snow, though it is not in the North. The rumors, so many of them that they are all more confusing than they are helpful, tell of the flight of the last Stark to the corners of the Kingdoms. She cannot be in that many places, so Jaime puts his head to thinking and listens to the whispers. The wench helps him, though it is ultimately himself that puts it together. Murmurs and tellings of the Vale and a woman there who sat to the right of the Lord Protector and had married the Heir.
Jaime finds her, and stares at her once he sees her. This is not the girl he thought he came to rescue. The furs she wear sit bulky on her rounded shoulders, and there are breasts now he can see beneath her blue gown. This is a woman, and it is with a wolf’s smile that she greets him.
“You come too late,” she calls out from her seat in the great hall. She sits on the high backed chair, a thin circlet around her red hair.
He moves forward with caution a heavy warning in his mind. There is something wrong here. “Lady Sansa,” and her face tightens at his address of her. “Where is Lord Baelish?”
She rises from her seat, a tall woman now too, he sees. She steps down the raised dais. Her teeth shine ivory white, and her grin is wide. “Gone.”
Jaime’s hand, the good hand, flexes over the hilt of his sword. “I see. And your husband?”
She lifts her chin. “You must have heard wrong. I have no husband.”
He gives her a grin, quick twist of his mouth. “No?”
Her eyes slip over his clothing, down his form, lingering on his gold hand. “Sansa Stark has no husband.”
He understands then. “I see.”
Sansa Stark, a wolf, the last one left in the Seven Kingdoms, turns away. She steps to the side, and is tall enough she only has to incline her head slightly to look him in the eye. “So you see, you are too late. I have no need of a rescue, ser.”
“You would not go home?” Jaime turns his body to follow hers as she circles around him.
“Home to what? Broken stones and burned out rooms I once lived in?” The wolf’s snarl is back, and her eyes are a hard blue. “No, I will not go there yet.”
“I am sworn to see you to safety, by your lady mother.”
She blinks, and a peculiar expression comes over her face. Her eyebrows constrict, and her nostrils flare. “My mother is dead. Your vow means nothing.”
“It still stands, I would see you to where you desire.” And it is all I have left, Jaime does not add, though he does think it.
Sansa thinks it over, staring at him, unwavering in her assessment. “I have not trust in you, or your family’s name. But I know that vows are important. I have need of a military commander if I am to take back the North. And have my family’s revenge.”
His hand tightens on his sword. There is little left he has to offer, but this he can. And killing those responsible for what is left of King’s Landing is an attractive thought. “If that is what you need.” He can see that she is not murdered.
She smiles, a terrible smile of promise and nothing of innocence. “I will keep you alive so long as you are useful to me.”
Jaime bows at the waist, a quick, sketchy move. “Then may I ever keep in your favor, my lady.”
a song of ice and fire / jaime/sansa / 659 words
fortosca1390, I love you bunches, bb.
He finds her amongst the ice and snow, though it is not in the North. The rumors, so many of them that they are all more confusing than they are helpful, tell of the flight of the last Stark to the corners of the Kingdoms. She cannot be in that many places, so Jaime puts his head to thinking and listens to the whispers. The wench helps him, though it is ultimately himself that puts it together. Murmurs and tellings of the Vale and a woman there who sat to the right of the Lord Protector and had married the Heir.
Jaime finds her, and stares at her once he sees her. This is not the girl he thought he came to rescue. The furs she wear sit bulky on her rounded shoulders, and there are breasts now he can see beneath her blue gown. This is a woman, and it is with a wolf’s smile that she greets him.
“You come too late,” she calls out from her seat in the great hall. She sits on the high backed chair, a thin circlet around her red hair.
He moves forward with caution a heavy warning in his mind. There is something wrong here. “Lady Sansa,” and her face tightens at his address of her. “Where is Lord Baelish?”
She rises from her seat, a tall woman now too, he sees. She steps down the raised dais. Her teeth shine ivory white, and her grin is wide. “Gone.”
Jaime’s hand, the good hand, flexes over the hilt of his sword. “I see. And your husband?”
She lifts her chin. “You must have heard wrong. I have no husband.”
He gives her a grin, quick twist of his mouth. “No?”
Her eyes slip over his clothing, down his form, lingering on his gold hand. “Sansa Stark has no husband.”
He understands then. “I see.”
Sansa Stark, a wolf, the last one left in the Seven Kingdoms, turns away. She steps to the side, and is tall enough she only has to incline her head slightly to look him in the eye. “So you see, you are too late. I have no need of a rescue, ser.”
“You would not go home?” Jaime turns his body to follow hers as she circles around him.
“Home to what? Broken stones and burned out rooms I once lived in?” The wolf’s snarl is back, and her eyes are a hard blue. “No, I will not go there yet.”
“I am sworn to see you to safety, by your lady mother.”
She blinks, and a peculiar expression comes over her face. Her eyebrows constrict, and her nostrils flare. “My mother is dead. Your vow means nothing.”
“It still stands, I would see you to where you desire.” And it is all I have left, Jaime does not add, though he does think it.
Sansa thinks it over, staring at him, unwavering in her assessment. “I have not trust in you, or your family’s name. But I know that vows are important. I have need of a military commander if I am to take back the North. And have my family’s revenge.”
His hand tightens on his sword. There is little left he has to offer, but this he can. And killing those responsible for what is left of King’s Landing is an attractive thought. “If that is what you need.” He can see that she is not murdered.
She smiles, a terrible smile of promise and nothing of innocence. “I will keep you alive so long as you are useful to me.”
Jaime bows at the waist, a quick, sketchy move. “Then may I ever keep in your favor, my lady.”