An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Joyce knows he couldn't have left her too. Fate has a funny way of working out sometimes.
Oops. Just gonna drop this fic that I wrote in the span of the last hour because my Jopper feels are so damn strong after s3. So yeah, don’t read if you haven’t seen it yet because SPOILS AHOY!
Anyway, this is my way of kinda trying to explore Joyce a bit more post-canon, and well not to give it away but there is a reunion and this really put my mind at peace after all the tears in that last episode alone.
So hope you guys enjoy. Btw it does feature some Jancy although it’s pretty background (I DO HAVE A JANCY FIC TO WRITE NEXT THOUGH!) <3
Another fix-it, for Tyrion/Sansa with some fun protective Sandor thrown in for good measure. [Multishipping is a source of joy you guys]
Rough summary: Tyrion gets two invitations, and reconnects with someone he cherishes.
Also on AO3 here
Tyrion had received the news of the state of the world following his capture through broken valyrian, as he wasn't fluent in most tongues beyond the one he was born with though he had tried to serve the Queen as best as he could. He was aware that he had not done what was right all of the time, and if he could go back perhaps he had could have done better.
He had made his bed so to speak, he would lie in it now and possibly die without ever seeing the ones he loved most. Though they were much fewer now, he still longed to be in the presence of his brother who was much more broken than he was the last time he saw him, Lady Sansa who had taken her place as the Queen in the North like she had been wanting to do for so long.
He imagined that would share very little words, but he was glad she found happiness where she could.
When they came for him, he had been prepared to die and so perhaps it was a curse that he continued living in spite of all the misdeeds he had done. He would see to King's Landing, a mockery that he was sure his dear father would have loathed if he still drew breath. Tyrion hadn't wanted this either. He would have much more likely to have to be sent off somewhere else but the council had deemed it necessary. Each region needed someone to look over the people and make sure they were treated right.
Sansa had made her thoughts known on this clearly. He had no ill will for the people so he would serve them as the city rebuilt once more. The North was returning to its solitude of being independent once more.
Tyrion felt sadness about this, there was little reason for him to enter Winterfell once more with this in mind but he did not object. This was always Sansa's plan. To look after her own people they needed to exist freely.
He was surprised when he received the notice of her coronation, and an invitation to join the festivities.
Bran sat next to him during the coronation, occasionally glancing at him for the reaction he expected. The boy who normally appeared emotionless seemed to have warmed at the inclination of normalcy in his home. "If you're waiting for me to make a scene, you'll be disappointed."
"Never. I'm curious as to what you'll do. There are some who have reservations of Sansa inviting you to this." He answered quietly.
"I've never had any malice towards her."
Bran produced noise of mirth but didn't reply immediately. He waited until everyone made to move to their tables to tell him. "It's not about that. You're still a Lannister."
Tyrion sighed.
"Watch out for Sandor when you go to say hello," Bran warned him as Podrick came up behind Bran to wheel him away, he was going outside for reasons that Tyrion couldn't begin to imagine. He was such an odd boy.
He was struck by another thought however, he had said Sandor hadn't he? He had nearly forgotten about the Hound who had been thought to have perished with his brother. He had returned to Winterfell then?
It was almost hard to miss the large man as he stood nearest to the Lady of Winterfell. He still looked as mean as ever but there was something else in his eye as he stood watch.
Tyrion decided it was better to get this over with now. He planned to keep it short.
Approaching Sansa as he was was a spectacle in itself, nevermind the fact that Sandor seemed to train his sight on him the second he could properly see him. He stopped close enough that he wasn't seen as a danger to her.
"Your Grace, Ser Hound?" He greeted in confusion.
"Aye," Sandor responded in kind. "Surprised you made the trek, Imp."
Sansa rolled her eyes at her guard. "Sandor. He's fine. I invited him myself."
"One has to wonder what went through your head."
Sansa laughed. "I'm sure you'd like to know. Give us some room. He doesn't bite."
Sandor shuffled a few paces away, and Tyrion took the moment to stand beside the Lady.
"You look well, my Lord. Thank you for joining us." She nodded, as he gave her a gentle bow.
"It would be stupid of me to not mention that you're the reason I'm here at all."
Sansa smiled, "You still had to make arrangements to get here Tyrion. It's not all on me though, it pleases me to see you clean."
Tyrion nodded, the last time they had laid eyes on each other he was in shackles and covered in dirt and piss. "You make a beautiful Queen, my lady."
Sansa didn't deign a verbal reply in this. She just gave him a look, soft and familiar. A reminder that there was so much they still needed to work through but this was a good start.
He imagined this would not be his only visit in the days to come. He had to rebuild this relationship too.
Before any damage could be done, he decided to take his leave and was surprised to find Ser Brienne waiting for him just outside the doors. "My Lord."
"Good Ser." He nodded.
She extended a scroll to him, nervously.
Before opening it he knew what it would say. A note from Jaime, asking if he would extend his journey a bit longer to follow Sansa to Tarth.
His brother was trying to be coy, but he was a bit out of touch. He was no fool.
"This will be my first Knights wedding. How refreshing." Tyrion grinned at Brienne who was flush in embarrassment.
It wasn't to be for a couple of months from now but the idea made the half-man very elated. His brother was getting his happy end.
It was all he could hope for, for the time being.
The ceremony wasn't superfluous at all, a change for the better knowing that the newly wedded couple had made strides to not cause too much of a fuss. It was a rather interesting affair, two knights having fallen in love; one of which was a Lion. A battered one but a Lannister still. Unless he decided to do something unexpected, and it didn't hit him until he was having a stroll against the shores with Sansa after drinking that perhaps this was a new age for the brothers.
"I don't think this is how I imagined it going at the beginning of this journey." He mused aloud.
Sansa peered down at him. "That your brother would marry someone not your sister or that you would end up here with me, again."
"Where is here exactly?" He ignored the first question knowing that was just a jibe.
"A new beginning on the shores of Tarth." She quipped, innocently.
"I could have sworn I had returned into your good graces long before today." He drew in a breath.
"Watch it." The Hound wasn't too far behind, the ever vigilant guard to his Queen.
Sansa let out a laugh. "He isn't wrong though, Sandor. I haven't been upset with him in some time. However, this feels nice to be able to joke and not be afraid for once in my life."
He felt that too. "It is. Pray it should continue for however long you wish it."
Sansa was content to extend her hand to his. This was good.
Here’s a take on Jaime doesn’t die, and ends up on Tarth.
Also on AO3 here
It starts to hit Jaime while talking to his brother that this all sounds shrewd now that he’s come this far. This intent to not hurt someone he cares about feels less obtainable now that he’s supposed to be trying to protect another who he used to love so much more.
He tried not to think of the two women as different coins. They each made him who he was today, but only one made him want to take it all back. Go back North, where it’s much too cold but there is less to worry about. A place where he had been accepted despite all he had done.
This also meant that he would let a child he had fathered perish. This weighed on him but not as much as it should have. It had been so willing to give that up to be with Brienne. Brienne who he had left crying in the harsh cold in Winterfell.
He kept thinking of her eyes, and the feel of her hands as she pleaded with him. It made it so damn hard to be mean. He didn’t want to leave. He knew he should have stayed.
When he had been stabbed by the Iron born fellow, it had become more clear than anything else. Turn back now or you won’t be able to apologize, to see her face.
He kept hearing Tyrion in his head. Pleading with him much like his knight, to save their evil sister and so he pressed on but if only to end it all. By his own hand he would do it. There would be regret but it would be done. It pained him to move but he kept going.
The walls crumbling after he drove a knife into her chest. She had asked him why and he had finally confessed, “Because I loved you. It had to be by my hand. Because you have no hold over me anymore. Because I want to go back home to be with the one person who cares about me. Who sees the good in me.”
His sister had been lost while he spouted off all the truths he could muster. Tears and pain shooting out from the stab wound. He managed to get far enough away to not be buried with her but he was still hit by falling stone. He pushed on.
He was limping entirely by the time he fell into the dingy that had been waiting at shore. He used what little strength he had to push off. He hoped his brother could forgive him. There was no more saving here, apart from his soul that was barely in tact.
He was bleeding out, he knew. Half of his body I’ll equipped to move again. He who wasn’t much of a praying man asked for a miracle. Let the water take him some place safe.
His eyes closed.
The next time he awoke there was a maester standing over him. He didn’t know him but he let him ask how he was feeling? He felt like he was dying, but he retorted with an ‘alive’ before he started to cough.
Before the maester could leave he asked, “Where am I?”
“One of our men spotted you a few miles off the coast. You’re in Tarth, Ser.”
He had made it somewhere safe. A bloody miracle that it ended up being Tarth of all places. He had to be in that dinghy for a long while, unconscious and half dead.
He asked to contact Brienne, the Maester looked surprised. He supposed it was odd for a Lannister to be acquainted with someone such as the Lady of Tarth.
She comes a few days later with Podrick. He is finally able to sit up at least to greet them.
He knows he must look terrible by the scared look on her face as she kneels in front of him. “You idiot.” Her voice has lost it’s anger, in place of despair.
“I still live, yet.” He smiles at her even though it hurts. The maester told him he’d have to use a cane to get around. The ligaments in his leg were worse than they thought. He’s done the majority of the healing, and there isn’t much more that he can do.
He decides it serves him right for attempting to return to old ways. He is older now still, it might be time to retire his sword.
He ignores the thought instead to greet Podrick who has a giant grin on his face at the scene. “Are you gonna stand over there all night?” He calls.
Podrick looks sheepish before walking over to the bed. He places a hand on Jaime’s good shoulder. “It’s good to see you breathing, Ser. Lady Sansa hadn’t recieved any word of you. Tyrion has been detained.”
He nods in acknowledgment.
He tunes out the rest of Pod’s rambling and looks at Brienne who looks rather glum. He uses his sole hand to cup her cheek. “I would like it if you were happier, all things considered.”
Brienne leans into his hand. “I am glad to see you. I worry you won’t be able to hold a sword again.”
“A burden I’m willing to bare. I’m not sure if you noticed but I’ve got gray hairs.” He jests.
He notices her restraint to hit him. He laughs.
Podrick tries to leave them as subtly as he can.
“I’ve still not forgiven you. I do count it as odd you ended up here.”
“The gods have smiled down at me, I suppose.” He says softly.
“Something like that. I’ll give you a tour when you’re well enough. I’ve asked Sansa if I could take some time off here since it’s been many moons since I’ve come back home.”
He nods. He knows it’ll take a bit of time to return to how things are but he is glad to be in his love’s presence once more.
“You deserve that much, my lady.”
She doesn’t correct him, instead pressing so soft kiss on his brow.
Jaime thinks all things considered they will be alright in time.
My favorite thing about today so far has been a collective of Breera shippers and myself talking about Bran's ability to have children in the comments of a chapter I posted late last night.
It's just so funny, and we were mostly serious. Shoutout to y'all keeping the ship alive. I feel blessed that no one has told me to stop mentioning it in the fix it collection yet. THEYDESERVEDBETTER2KFOREVER
Sidenote: I posted two chapters of chatfic that I didn't think people cared about (on tumblr, ao3 fam has been super sweet) but you can read: BenJen reunites with Jon at the Wall (they didn't show his body therefore he's probably still his half zombie state and I just love Uncle BenJen so let me have it),
Bran is giving Tyrion a hard time while also going through a mopey stage because he misses someone
Sansa is glad that not all of her siblings chose to leave home. Although Arya with Gendry sailing West, and Jon having to take the black once more she feels at peace knowing that her little brother chose against leaving the North to lead the Six Kingdoms.
It wasn't what he wanted. Besides, there is someone she knows he wanted to connect with and it would have been stupid to make her go all the way to King's Landing. Her little brother is many things but foolish, he is not.
But Sansa isn't as worried anymore. She gets to oversee her people knowing she's done the best should could. She isn't alone either.
The Hound bends his knee as he greets her with a smile he doesn't know to get off his face. "Your, Grace."
As if to say he always knew she'd make it. She just had to find her will to fight, and so she had.
She knows he misses calling her Little Bird. She's grown out of it and now has a proper title. He has respect for those at least.
She knows that no one else understands why she chose him. He was a brute, and had a tongue like a knife. Sandor has always meant well and he once promised to protect her. He was paying that forward and so much more.
She also cared for him deeply. Something that he couldn't wrap his head around but she could tell he was grateful. To have someone like that.
She was glad that she hadn't needed to bury him like so many others. She thanks the old gods and the new for that. One less person to mourn. One more person to cherish.
Jaime: Did you make me sound good? Make it a good story?
Brienne: I didn't have to.
Jaime: *slowly standing with use of a cane* Of course you would say that. You have to deal with me until the end of days
Brienne: That doesn't matter. It was my choice.
Jaime: Oh yes, pulling me from the rubble and shipping me off the Tarth to meet with later. Great choice.
Brienne: I didn't hear you complaining.
Jaime: I'm not. I'm a bit broken, more than I was but I'm with the woman I love so how could I be upset?
Brienne: *smiling* Funny.
Jaime: Your father said yes.
Brienne: *swallows* You still haven't asked.
Jaime: *steps closer* I would get down on my knee but I don't know if I'd be able to get up.
Brienne: Make it count then.
Jaime: Falling for you is a pleasure, you loving me back is a privilege. One which I'd like to continue until I draw my last breath preferable surrounded by several blonde children, if you'll have me? Marry me, Ser Brienne.
