perfect armor, a perfect dream
A few weeks ago, I got contacted by Steph (userfriendly_x) and Ellyce (astoria-potter) on Tumblr to help out making a Jaime/Sansa fanmix for Vassiliki's (biliki) birthday! It was super fun to do and they are just the most gorgeous, lovely girls (ahem, they put in some Dany/Jon for me) and I had a great time getting to know them better! I hope Vassiliki enjoys it, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB! <3
So yeah, I did the cover and picked the tracks, and Steph and Ellyce approved of all my bumblings and then split duties on the ficlets which are GORGEOUS, so enjoy!
◊ rabbit will run / iron & wine
last i saw mother, she covered my ears
when they caught me i offered the captain a beer
because the rabbit will run, and the lion has nothing to fear
we bricked up the garden and know what it means
and we've all kissed a virgin as if she were clean
and i still have a prayer, despite all the colours i've seen
and judgment is just like a cup that we share
i'll jump over the wall and i'll wait for you there
we'll pass the weeds in our vision of things to come
Jaime offered Sansa the flagon of wine, smiling ruefully when she refused, as always. She looked almost as tired as he felt. She never took her gaze from the dying embers they had kindled in the shelter of the ruins.
"We could stop running, you know," he suggested. "The Queen may be merciful."
She looked at him then, her eyes near as red as the face of the heart tree behind her.
"Winterfell is my home," she said softly. "I'll wait here. For them."
She did not ask him to stay with her. But he would. There was nowhere else for them.
◊ beast and beauty / damien rice
there once lived the beast and beauty,
in a forest of trees where the fruit was so fruity,
picked one and ate to feed his doubt
so she put him out, she put him out.
oh no, my low and lonely friend
how slow are we gonna take this bend,
it's a long road with a cold and stony end,
where do you go to pretend?
The road is a long one, and they weave their way through some forests and whatever else seems safer (or wherever they won't be pursued).
They trot past an abandoned village, and Jaime hands her a peach.
She takes it (hesitantly), and then frowns. "Where did you get this?"
He laughs. "Does it matter?"
"Don't you want any?"
Ah, ever the gracious lady."No," he lies, letting out another laugh. "Eat it, Sansa. You'll need all the strength you can get."
She does, and as much as she tries to stop it from happening, a trickle of juice gets on her chin. She sees him looking at her and flusters. "I'm sorry." Her voice is hasty.
Jaime grins at her. "Why are you apologizing?" Then he reaches over and uses a single finger to wipe the juice off.
Her blush deepens. "My lord..."
He thinks he might lick his finger, just to embarrass her a bit more (and also because he is sure that the juice is delicious, but he won't admit that), but he won't. "We have a long road ahead of us, my lady."
◊ lonelily / damien rice
i gave me away
i could have knocked off the evening
but i lonelily landed my waltz in her hands
in a way i felt you were leaving me
i was sure i wouldn't find you at home
and you let me down
you could have knocked off the evening
but you lonelily let him push under your bone
you let me down
it's no use deceiving
neither of us wanna be alone
She had never seen him dance before, and was pleasantly surprised by the graceful way he spun her around the floor. She kept her eyes politely trained over his shoulder, and they waltzed in silence for several moments.
"I did not think you would come," she admitted. He smiled wryly at that.
"The anniversary of the downfall of my house? How could I miss that?"
He was angry at her still, Sansa could tell. Angry for what he had lost, for what they both had lost, for being here, for everything. Yet he was here and he was holding her still and she knew that without her, he had nothing. And what do I have?
"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. He said nothing, only drew her closer and she knew not what he took from her.
◊clam, crab, cockle, cowrie / joanna newsom
i do as i please
now i'm on my knees
your skin is something that I stir into my tea
and i am watching you
and you are starry, starry, starry
and i'm tumbling down, and I check a frown
well, just look around
it's why i love this town
just see me serenaded hourly! celebrated sourly!
dedicated dourly; waltzing with the open sea
clam, crab, cockle, cowrie
will you just look at me?
He likes to bathe at night, in the springs. She follows him one evening, hides behind a tree (although she doesn't try very hard at it). She tells herself it's because she wants to see what he is up to, or talk to him, but really, it's just an excuse.
Jaime knows that she is there (he is no fool), but says nothing for a minute or two, simply smirks. The night sky is shining down on him, the stars seemingly dancing. He leans his head back and calls out, "Do you like what you see, my lady?"
She blushes fiercely and walks until she is a few feet away from him (she can hear the leaves crunching beneath her feet). "Jaime."
"Sansa." His eyes flutter open and he gives her a lazy grin. "Won't you join me?"
Before, she might have glared at him and stalked off. All she does now is smile back at him, takes her slippers off, and dips her feet into the warm water.
They sit like that, him bathing and her swishing her feet back and forth, talking about everything and nothing until the moon disappears and the sun rises in the sky.
◊ last love song for now / okkervil river
take my sword from the slaughter.
melt it down into vapour, and my armour, too.
i hear hot blood flap and flutter
from your temple to shoulder,
and all through you.
He tells her stories, if only so the silence did not drive him mad. He'd always thought young girls liked stories, yet they seemed lost on Sansa.
"Someone told me once that there are no stories," she says suddenly one day, as he is in the midst of regaling her with deeds of Ser Arthur Dayne.
"There are," he disagrees. "But they are stories for a reason. All the heroes died."
"Perhaps not all," he thinks she says then but he cannot be sure.
◊ lay of the last survivor / okkervil river
her father face down on the ground
out in the cold
walked her way 'round
a hill where the sun's sinking down
into the snow
-
how right we felt
with our hands tightly closed
around something we broke
and then our whimpering sisters
sobbing well-wishers
He can always find her in the godswood. Sometimes she is praying, sometimes she is simply sitting there. Sometimes he joins her and dips his head, sometimes he stands back and lets her have her own grief.
When he finds her today, she is asleep, her knees drawn up and her head resting atop her crossed arms. She is biting her lip and murmuring in her sleep. He sits beside her, and he can hear the names of her family, all those who have been taken from her.
Jaime wants to do something - wipe that uneasiness off of her face, have her smiling again. He would place his arm on her shoulder, but he does not know how that will fare. Maybe he should leave? This is her place, after all, her own-
Sansa's eyes open, and he opens his mouth to speak (apologize? ask her something? what?), but then she lays her head on his shoulder, and his hand reaches out for hers, feeling, and they sit in silence, quietly mourning what they have lost.
◊ your protector / fleet foxes
she left a week to roam
your protector's coming home
keep your secrets with you, girl
safe from the outside world
you walk along the stream
your head caught in a waking dream
your protector's coming home
She'd never been to Riverrun before. It felt strange to think that this was where her mother had grown up. She gazed at the godswood, and tried to picture her mother, her sister, and Petyr running amongst the leaves but all she could see was ghosts.
"This place is bloody cursed," he grumbled at her side. "I have no luck with Tullys." She laughed at that.
"You saved my uncle's life, and his son."
"Try telling your uncle that."
She slipped his hand into his and peered down into the Trident at her reflection. For a moment, it was her mother's face staring back at her.
◊ bird on a wire / adam cohen
like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
i have tried in my way to be free.
like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
i have saved all my ribbons for thee.
-
he said to me, "you must not ask for so much."
and a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "hey, why not ask for more?"
If these were the days of Florian and Jonquil, she would give him a ribbon from her hair as a token, kiss him on his cheek, and cheer loudly for him as he jousts. But they are not Florian and Jonquil, and these are not those days, and Jaime is (in his way) broken (not just physically). He hides it from most of them, but she can see it. Perhaps its because he tries to hide it from her more than the rest of them, perhaps its because she herself was like that, and perhaps its both of those things. She stays with him, and persists, and tells herself it most certainly has nothing to do with the warm feeling and strange fluttering she feels clawing inside of her when she sees him.
"Why?" he asks her one day, when they are standing out on the balcony (the wind is in her face, messing up her hair, but she likes it).
Jonquil would say something along the lines of how Florian is her love, but Sansa and Jaime are not them. So all she gives him is, "Just because."
He laughs at that, a strangled sound, but soon both of them are smiling and laughing and whatever it is between them makes her heart soar with (could it be?) happiness.
◊glass / bat for lashes and i tried to hold him
i tried for the creed
i'll make a suit of colours
to stop the blinding mirrors
sew a cape of red and gold
stifle up the beam
with the perfect armour
with a perfect dream
She reminded him of Brienne sometimes, the way she couldn't bring herself to trust him. Unlike the maid of Tarth however, she hid her wariness behind a cool shield of courtesy.
He was making a botch of cleaning the wound in his side, when she finally approached him of her own will. She took his cape, and soaked it in wine before pressing it gently into his wound. He hissed in pain but bit back any obscenities. Compared to the searing agony of losing his hand, this was just a scratch.
"I never thanked you for saving me," she ventured quietly after a while.
"I'm glad you agreed you needed saving."
For the first time since her rescue, she looked straight into his eyes.
"Why did you come?"
"For honour," he lied.
◊ margaret in captivity / the decemberists
i have snipped your wingspan
my precious captive swan
here all clipped of kickstand
your spirit won't last long
don't you lift a finger
don't you snap and jaw
limber limbs akimbo
rest until rubbing raw
This is a dance of sorts, another game that they play at. Sansa wishes for the days when they were able to smile at one another and confide and things were simpler, but those days are gone.
His words cut now (but they are never cruel. It means he still cares, she supposes.), and it is almost as though he wishes to rid himself of the sight of her.
She thinks she knows why he is this way. He does not want her to be to attached to him, has no wish to see her mourn for him when that time must inevitably come. But don't you know already, Jaime? I have for so long now, and I will.
◊ soldier / the goo goo dolls
when you were naive you were so invincible
and you laughed at anyone and anything that ever got in your way
but now the mirror shows the change and you don't see that
you're sinking back into the crowd, an echo fading
i know things change, your world has slipped away
i know things change, but you're living like a soldier who's caught in the fray
don't lose your faith, it's not so cold, it's not too late
Jaime doesn't realise it, but Sansa knows there's only so much you can hide.
The mask that used to be his face slips when he returns to Maegor's Holdfast for the first time and is faced with the remains of Cersei's belongings. He doesn't ask her to, but she knows to leave him with his grief. She only returns when Maester Tarly begs her to, nervously telling her how he has been commanded to have the servants clean out the apartments but he is too frightened to ask Jaime to leave. He's picking through a jewelry box when she finds him.
"Cersei never let me bring her gifts," Sansa isn't even sure if he's talking to her. "She said it was too dangerous. What harm is there in bringing my beloved sister a present, I asked?" He shut the box. "It's like I never even existed in Queen Cersei's life,"
It's hard to try and comfort him, over a women that brought her only grief. But she stays. For him.
◊ winter's heir / sea wolf
stepped out through melting ice
took care in the coming light
cathedral bells ringing down
branches blooming all through town
in our ears a steady ring
kept us moving towards the spring
it was a long, long cold year
but the thaw is finally here
i've thought it through
i'm sure i want too
and i saw you there upon your chair
in the light of winter's heir
They all pledge fealty to her now, croon and aww and ooh over how beautiful she is - their Lady of Wintefell, as though their allegiance was always hers. Sansa plays them all well, but he can see her grow frustrated at times. Nothing shows on her face - oh, no. She is the perfect picture of the smiling and graceful lady, but it's the way she tucks a hair behind her ear or touches her lobe (the little things that she does when she's upset, he's noticed) that make him realize.
So he catches her eyes and smiles every now and then, and she draws herself even straighter than she already is (if that's even possible) and resumes holding court in her father's (no, hers now) hall.
"My lady," he says, his cloak sweeping behind him as he kneels in front of her.
She smiles, that smile she has just for him, and him for her. "My knight. Rise."
◊the traitor / sea wolf she of the bloom and frost
of cucumber and olive oil
she of the spring i've lost
to the song of the nightingale
well, the penitent man will be forgiven
but the black-hearted will rot
so, oh, golden king forgive me
for not being what i'm not
for not being what i'm not
"I think that went rather well," Jaime annouces cheerily.
"She banished you!"
"Seeing as I murdered her father, I see that as a relatively decent outcome."
Sansa shook her head in disbelief.
"Wait here, I shall speak to my bro- the King, on your behalf."
Jaime indicates the shackles binding his feet.
"I won't be going anywhere, for now. Better fly, little dove."
◊ the last bombed city / the indelicates
god bless the warring nations
every soldier at his station
i can tell my girl how pretty
the fires of the last bombed city
and hereafter i'll be a killer
and i'll drink out my days with a century who'll hate me forever
Kingslayer, Kingslayer. The people have never loved him before, and they certainly do not love him now that Daenerys Targaryen is the queen. If anything, they hate him more for it (oh, their loyalties are quite fickle). It doesn't bother Jaime (if anything, he views it with amusement).
But it bothers Sansa, he can see. Her brows furrow and she opens her mouth before closing it once more.
"Do you not like me now that the commons loathe me?" Jaime teases, but there is another question there. Perhaps she won't want him now that he is doomed. He wouldn't blame her (if anything, he would advise her to head back to the North and rule and forget about him, but he knows that a mention of that would infuriate her).
"No!" she practically shouts. "It's just that... if they knew... they shouldn't, Jaime. They shouldn't. Not to you."
He wonders when he began to care so much about what she thought, and she of him.
◊ next to the last romantic / josh ritter
all the girls know his fame
men curse his name
and they talk about him like he's magic
but he's the next to the last true romantic
and he can't rest until he's next to you
he's stolen hearts like they're horses
and horses when hearts can't be found
he keeps riding from one horse to one horse to one horse towns
that gets him down
"Kingslayer," Jon spat the name as if it was a curse.
Jaime shrugged indifferently.
"Do I really deserve that? It's not like I killed you."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for my Lady wife."
Sansa emerged from behind Jon, blushing fiercely. Jon could only stare incredulously.
"Sansa... You didn't..."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Jon."
"Your Warden of the North can marry who she pleases, can she not?" Jaime beamed innocently at Jon, taking an indecent amount of pleasure in the horrified look on the King's face. Sansa moved to take her horse from Jaime's squire, Pod. He smiled at her and held out his golden hand.
"Come, my lady wife. It's time to take Honour and Glory home."
"To Winterfell?" she asked timidly, not daring to hope.
"To Winterfell."
You can find it as a zip here!
Vassiliki's Tumblr
Ellyce's Tumblr
Steph's Tumblr
My Tumblr
So yeah, I did the cover and picked the tracks, and Steph and Ellyce approved of all my bumblings and then split duties on the ficlets which are GORGEOUS, so enjoy!
◊ rabbit will run / iron & wine
last i saw mother, she covered my ears
when they caught me i offered the captain a beer
because the rabbit will run, and the lion has nothing to fear
we bricked up the garden and know what it means
and we've all kissed a virgin as if she were clean
and i still have a prayer, despite all the colours i've seen
and judgment is just like a cup that we share
i'll jump over the wall and i'll wait for you there
we'll pass the weeds in our vision of things to come
Jaime offered Sansa the flagon of wine, smiling ruefully when she refused, as always. She looked almost as tired as he felt. She never took her gaze from the dying embers they had kindled in the shelter of the ruins.
"We could stop running, you know," he suggested. "The Queen may be merciful."
She looked at him then, her eyes near as red as the face of the heart tree behind her.
"Winterfell is my home," she said softly. "I'll wait here. For them."
She did not ask him to stay with her. But he would. There was nowhere else for them.
◊ beast and beauty / damien rice
there once lived the beast and beauty,
in a forest of trees where the fruit was so fruity,
picked one and ate to feed his doubt
so she put him out, she put him out.
oh no, my low and lonely friend
how slow are we gonna take this bend,
it's a long road with a cold and stony end,
where do you go to pretend?
The road is a long one, and they weave their way through some forests and whatever else seems safer (or wherever they won't be pursued).
They trot past an abandoned village, and Jaime hands her a peach.
She takes it (hesitantly), and then frowns. "Where did you get this?"
He laughs. "Does it matter?"
"Don't you want any?"
Ah, ever the gracious lady."No," he lies, letting out another laugh. "Eat it, Sansa. You'll need all the strength you can get."
She does, and as much as she tries to stop it from happening, a trickle of juice gets on her chin. She sees him looking at her and flusters. "I'm sorry." Her voice is hasty.
Jaime grins at her. "Why are you apologizing?" Then he reaches over and uses a single finger to wipe the juice off.
Her blush deepens. "My lord..."
He thinks he might lick his finger, just to embarrass her a bit more (and also because he is sure that the juice is delicious, but he won't admit that), but he won't. "We have a long road ahead of us, my lady."
◊ lonelily / damien rice
i gave me away
i could have knocked off the evening
but i lonelily landed my waltz in her hands
in a way i felt you were leaving me
i was sure i wouldn't find you at home
and you let me down
you could have knocked off the evening
but you lonelily let him push under your bone
you let me down
it's no use deceiving
neither of us wanna be alone
She had never seen him dance before, and was pleasantly surprised by the graceful way he spun her around the floor. She kept her eyes politely trained over his shoulder, and they waltzed in silence for several moments.
"I did not think you would come," she admitted. He smiled wryly at that.
"The anniversary of the downfall of my house? How could I miss that?"
He was angry at her still, Sansa could tell. Angry for what he had lost, for what they both had lost, for being here, for everything. Yet he was here and he was holding her still and she knew that without her, he had nothing. And what do I have?
"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. He said nothing, only drew her closer and she knew not what he took from her.
◊clam, crab, cockle, cowrie / joanna newsom
i do as i please
now i'm on my knees
your skin is something that I stir into my tea
and i am watching you
and you are starry, starry, starry
and i'm tumbling down, and I check a frown
well, just look around
it's why i love this town
just see me serenaded hourly! celebrated sourly!
dedicated dourly; waltzing with the open sea
clam, crab, cockle, cowrie
will you just look at me?
He likes to bathe at night, in the springs. She follows him one evening, hides behind a tree (although she doesn't try very hard at it). She tells herself it's because she wants to see what he is up to, or talk to him, but really, it's just an excuse.
Jaime knows that she is there (he is no fool), but says nothing for a minute or two, simply smirks. The night sky is shining down on him, the stars seemingly dancing. He leans his head back and calls out, "Do you like what you see, my lady?"
She blushes fiercely and walks until she is a few feet away from him (she can hear the leaves crunching beneath her feet). "Jaime."
"Sansa." His eyes flutter open and he gives her a lazy grin. "Won't you join me?"
Before, she might have glared at him and stalked off. All she does now is smile back at him, takes her slippers off, and dips her feet into the warm water.
They sit like that, him bathing and her swishing her feet back and forth, talking about everything and nothing until the moon disappears and the sun rises in the sky.
◊ last love song for now / okkervil river
take my sword from the slaughter.
melt it down into vapour, and my armour, too.
i hear hot blood flap and flutter
from your temple to shoulder,
and all through you.
He tells her stories, if only so the silence did not drive him mad. He'd always thought young girls liked stories, yet they seemed lost on Sansa.
"Someone told me once that there are no stories," she says suddenly one day, as he is in the midst of regaling her with deeds of Ser Arthur Dayne.
"There are," he disagrees. "But they are stories for a reason. All the heroes died."
"Perhaps not all," he thinks she says then but he cannot be sure.
◊ lay of the last survivor / okkervil river
her father face down on the ground
out in the cold
walked her way 'round
a hill where the sun's sinking down
into the snow
-
how right we felt
with our hands tightly closed
around something we broke
and then our whimpering sisters
sobbing well-wishers
He can always find her in the godswood. Sometimes she is praying, sometimes she is simply sitting there. Sometimes he joins her and dips his head, sometimes he stands back and lets her have her own grief.
When he finds her today, she is asleep, her knees drawn up and her head resting atop her crossed arms. She is biting her lip and murmuring in her sleep. He sits beside her, and he can hear the names of her family, all those who have been taken from her.
Jaime wants to do something - wipe that uneasiness off of her face, have her smiling again. He would place his arm on her shoulder, but he does not know how that will fare. Maybe he should leave? This is her place, after all, her own-
Sansa's eyes open, and he opens his mouth to speak (apologize? ask her something? what?), but then she lays her head on his shoulder, and his hand reaches out for hers, feeling, and they sit in silence, quietly mourning what they have lost.
◊ your protector / fleet foxes
she left a week to roam
your protector's coming home
keep your secrets with you, girl
safe from the outside world
you walk along the stream
your head caught in a waking dream
your protector's coming home
She'd never been to Riverrun before. It felt strange to think that this was where her mother had grown up. She gazed at the godswood, and tried to picture her mother, her sister, and Petyr running amongst the leaves but all she could see was ghosts.
"This place is bloody cursed," he grumbled at her side. "I have no luck with Tullys." She laughed at that.
"You saved my uncle's life, and his son."
"Try telling your uncle that."
She slipped his hand into his and peered down into the Trident at her reflection. For a moment, it was her mother's face staring back at her.
◊ bird on a wire / adam cohen
like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
i have tried in my way to be free.
like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
i have saved all my ribbons for thee.
-
he said to me, "you must not ask for so much."
and a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "hey, why not ask for more?"
If these were the days of Florian and Jonquil, she would give him a ribbon from her hair as a token, kiss him on his cheek, and cheer loudly for him as he jousts. But they are not Florian and Jonquil, and these are not those days, and Jaime is (in his way) broken (not just physically). He hides it from most of them, but she can see it. Perhaps its because he tries to hide it from her more than the rest of them, perhaps its because she herself was like that, and perhaps its both of those things. She stays with him, and persists, and tells herself it most certainly has nothing to do with the warm feeling and strange fluttering she feels clawing inside of her when she sees him.
"Why?" he asks her one day, when they are standing out on the balcony (the wind is in her face, messing up her hair, but she likes it).
Jonquil would say something along the lines of how Florian is her love, but Sansa and Jaime are not them. So all she gives him is, "Just because."
He laughs at that, a strangled sound, but soon both of them are smiling and laughing and whatever it is between them makes her heart soar with (could it be?) happiness.
◊glass / bat for lashes and i tried to hold him
i tried for the creed
i'll make a suit of colours
to stop the blinding mirrors
sew a cape of red and gold
stifle up the beam
with the perfect armour
with a perfect dream
She reminded him of Brienne sometimes, the way she couldn't bring herself to trust him. Unlike the maid of Tarth however, she hid her wariness behind a cool shield of courtesy.
He was making a botch of cleaning the wound in his side, when she finally approached him of her own will. She took his cape, and soaked it in wine before pressing it gently into his wound. He hissed in pain but bit back any obscenities. Compared to the searing agony of losing his hand, this was just a scratch.
"I never thanked you for saving me," she ventured quietly after a while.
"I'm glad you agreed you needed saving."
For the first time since her rescue, she looked straight into his eyes.
"Why did you come?"
"For honour," he lied.
◊ margaret in captivity / the decemberists
i have snipped your wingspan
my precious captive swan
here all clipped of kickstand
your spirit won't last long
don't you lift a finger
don't you snap and jaw
limber limbs akimbo
rest until rubbing raw
This is a dance of sorts, another game that they play at. Sansa wishes for the days when they were able to smile at one another and confide and things were simpler, but those days are gone.
His words cut now (but they are never cruel. It means he still cares, she supposes.), and it is almost as though he wishes to rid himself of the sight of her.
She thinks she knows why he is this way. He does not want her to be to attached to him, has no wish to see her mourn for him when that time must inevitably come. But don't you know already, Jaime? I have for so long now, and I will.
◊ soldier / the goo goo dolls
when you were naive you were so invincible
and you laughed at anyone and anything that ever got in your way
but now the mirror shows the change and you don't see that
you're sinking back into the crowd, an echo fading
i know things change, your world has slipped away
i know things change, but you're living like a soldier who's caught in the fray
don't lose your faith, it's not so cold, it's not too late
Jaime doesn't realise it, but Sansa knows there's only so much you can hide.
The mask that used to be his face slips when he returns to Maegor's Holdfast for the first time and is faced with the remains of Cersei's belongings. He doesn't ask her to, but she knows to leave him with his grief. She only returns when Maester Tarly begs her to, nervously telling her how he has been commanded to have the servants clean out the apartments but he is too frightened to ask Jaime to leave. He's picking through a jewelry box when she finds him.
"Cersei never let me bring her gifts," Sansa isn't even sure if he's talking to her. "She said it was too dangerous. What harm is there in bringing my beloved sister a present, I asked?" He shut the box. "It's like I never even existed in Queen Cersei's life,"
It's hard to try and comfort him, over a women that brought her only grief. But she stays. For him.
◊ winter's heir / sea wolf
stepped out through melting ice
took care in the coming light
cathedral bells ringing down
branches blooming all through town
in our ears a steady ring
kept us moving towards the spring
it was a long, long cold year
but the thaw is finally here
i've thought it through
i'm sure i want too
and i saw you there upon your chair
in the light of winter's heir
They all pledge fealty to her now, croon and aww and ooh over how beautiful she is - their Lady of Wintefell, as though their allegiance was always hers. Sansa plays them all well, but he can see her grow frustrated at times. Nothing shows on her face - oh, no. She is the perfect picture of the smiling and graceful lady, but it's the way she tucks a hair behind her ear or touches her lobe (the little things that she does when she's upset, he's noticed) that make him realize.
So he catches her eyes and smiles every now and then, and she draws herself even straighter than she already is (if that's even possible) and resumes holding court in her father's (no, hers now) hall.
"My lady," he says, his cloak sweeping behind him as he kneels in front of her.
She smiles, that smile she has just for him, and him for her. "My knight. Rise."
◊the traitor / sea wolf she of the bloom and frost
of cucumber and olive oil
she of the spring i've lost
to the song of the nightingale
well, the penitent man will be forgiven
but the black-hearted will rot
so, oh, golden king forgive me
for not being what i'm not
for not being what i'm not
"I think that went rather well," Jaime annouces cheerily.
"She banished you!"
"Seeing as I murdered her father, I see that as a relatively decent outcome."
Sansa shook her head in disbelief.
"Wait here, I shall speak to my bro- the King, on your behalf."
Jaime indicates the shackles binding his feet.
"I won't be going anywhere, for now. Better fly, little dove."
◊ the last bombed city / the indelicates
god bless the warring nations
every soldier at his station
i can tell my girl how pretty
the fires of the last bombed city
and hereafter i'll be a killer
and i'll drink out my days with a century who'll hate me forever
Kingslayer, Kingslayer. The people have never loved him before, and they certainly do not love him now that Daenerys Targaryen is the queen. If anything, they hate him more for it (oh, their loyalties are quite fickle). It doesn't bother Jaime (if anything, he views it with amusement).
But it bothers Sansa, he can see. Her brows furrow and she opens her mouth before closing it once more.
"Do you not like me now that the commons loathe me?" Jaime teases, but there is another question there. Perhaps she won't want him now that he is doomed. He wouldn't blame her (if anything, he would advise her to head back to the North and rule and forget about him, but he knows that a mention of that would infuriate her).
"No!" she practically shouts. "It's just that... if they knew... they shouldn't, Jaime. They shouldn't. Not to you."
He wonders when he began to care so much about what she thought, and she of him.
◊ next to the last romantic / josh ritter
all the girls know his fame
men curse his name
and they talk about him like he's magic
but he's the next to the last true romantic
and he can't rest until he's next to you
he's stolen hearts like they're horses
and horses when hearts can't be found
he keeps riding from one horse to one horse to one horse towns
that gets him down
"Kingslayer," Jon spat the name as if it was a curse.
Jaime shrugged indifferently.
"Do I really deserve that? It's not like I killed you."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for my Lady wife."
Sansa emerged from behind Jon, blushing fiercely. Jon could only stare incredulously.
"Sansa... You didn't..."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Jon."
"Your Warden of the North can marry who she pleases, can she not?" Jaime beamed innocently at Jon, taking an indecent amount of pleasure in the horrified look on the King's face. Sansa moved to take her horse from Jaime's squire, Pod. He smiled at her and held out his golden hand.
"Come, my lady wife. It's time to take Honour and Glory home."
"To Winterfell?" she asked timidly, not daring to hope.
"To Winterfell."
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