#jansa

[desired-paradise]

[martingroch]

[sansalannistark]

Jaime & Sansa

[justadram]

A Choice Made

a Jaime x Sansa fic written for @astairelover. Thank you for your donation to help fight Nazis!

Request: Sansa is married to Jaime instead of Tyrion.

“Pack what you can carry.”

His little wife looks up from where she sits perched on the edge of a chair, back straight, though she is alone in her chambers, where she is rarely disturbed either by him or the servants. Always perfectly poised. Sometimes Jaime wonders whether she is ever at ease. But then, why would she ever feel comfortable in the home for which only he has any lingering affection? She is a prisoner here as much as she was in King’s Landing, despite his halfhearted efforts to assure her she might leave if she likes.

Both of them know he is a terrible liar.

For all her unexpected strength, Sansa would not survive long alone on the road, and as soon as Cersei heard of the girl’s disappearance, soldiers would scour the countryside to drag her back by her hair if need be. He might protest, but it would do little good. Sansa is House Lannister’s and the crown’s claim to the North—for all that frozen landscape is soon to be worth. As much as Cersei raged against the match, when it was made at the expense of his position as Commander of the Kingsguard and their proximity to each other in King’s Landing, she clings to the necessity of it now, as she does every remnant of power. Even as it slips like the sands of the Sunset Sea through her fingers.

“My lord?”

“Pack. As quickly as you can. For a fortnight. Longer. So long as you can carry it.” They’ll leave on horseback, but they might need to abandon their mounts for a less conspicuous mode of travel. Safety, speed, and visibility will be at war with each other as much as the kingdoms themselves.

“Is Daenerys coming?” she asks, as she rises to her feet, pale hands clutched before her waist. Taller now than the day he married her. Slimmer too. Sometimes she looks more a woman and less a child after he’s gone no more than a handful of days.

Abandoning the defenses of Casterly Rock, Jaime left more than a moon ago for a diplomatic summit between his twin, the Dragon Queen, and the King of the North. The meeting exposed a new threat, one even more terrifying than dragons, though their fire will forever cause his heart to pound. That creature, the thing they unleashed before those gathered in the dragonpit should have made any man’s bowels loosen. And yet, his twin proved as untouched by an animated corpse as she is the impossibility of fighting dragons. Cersei would rather have them all die than relinquish her hold on the throne. There was a time not so long ago he would have marched to her tune, not for power or a title, but so they might finally sit side by side. He would have gone to the ground for her.

Not anymore. There is no honor there, and he sees how little love means to her.

He stalks into the room, boots thudding dully, as he takes in her sparsely accommodated chambers with a distracted eye. He doesn’t even know where she keeps her sad grey dresses or the heavier fur he had made for her before his departure, when snow began to drift down from the sky. He hardly knows her, and still he’s made his choice.

Rubbing the space between his brows with his knuckle, he clenches his jaw.

“The Dragon Queen will be dead soon, I wager.”

“Then…?”

“Pack your things. Now,” he says, letting his hand drop to his side. The sharpness of his voice makes her step back until her skirts press into the seat of the chair. “Do it or I will be forced to do it for you, and you’ll wear mismatched gowns and cloaks for the rest of your days.”

Her rosebud mouth flattens into something unbecoming. “I won’t go back to King’s Landing.”

“Good. We’re agreed then, for that’s the last place I’d think to go.” He didn’t ride hard from the place to return to the madness brewing there. Cersei will be furious when she finds he’s fled, ignoring her orders to lead their men into certain death. If he sought shelter there, she would take her fury out on Sansa, the source of his wavering loyalty.

“North?” she asks, sounding suddenly as girlish as the namedays she counts, betraying a hopefulness that should summon naught but pity for her naivete.

It does not. But like calls to like. There is that part of him that longs for beauty and honor and purpose in spite of everything. A part that is not so different from her, which makes it increasingly difficult to mock this young wife his father foisted upon him.

“Yes, well, I should have said that is the last place we’d go. It goes unsaid, as we shall also not seek out the deepest of the seven hells.”

She lifts her nose at him. “Jon would welcome us there if you vowed to help him fight Daenerys. I know he would.”

Before Jaime left for King’s Landing, Sansa did not bother to pass along a message for the young king, perhaps not trusting him to do it. Since word of Jon’s elevation to the title, however, Jaime has suspected Sansa harbored a desire to reunite with him.

“Your brother seeks onehanded knights then?”

”Good men are always welcome.”

Jaime snorts at her smooth lie wrapped in flattery. “It isn’t Daenerys I nor your brother are chiefly concerned with.”

“Did he… ask after me? Did you speak to him at all?”

He might have sought him out and told him of his sister, but he did not. It didn’t even occur to him.

He points at a chest in the corner. “You can pack while you pester me with questions.”

But she doesn’t move. Compliant by tutoring and as a means of self-preservation, she still can be remarkably stubborn when she wants to be.

He stalks over to her, chest expanding in exasperation, as he places his hand on the small of her back to urge her to move along if need be. It is unusually cold in her chambers with winter closing in and no fire lit, but she is warm beneath his touch through all the thick wool and linen underthings. She is warm and supple and full of promise.

His gut twists and he draws his hand back, instantly regretting his impulse to push her forward. Under his protection, no man has handled her roughly. It was the one promise he made her on their wedding night.

Or perhaps it is the other urge he buries that flames his cheeks.

He clears his travel roughened throat. “If your brother was here, he would tell you to stay well away from the North. There will be nothing left of the North to salvage once this winter is over.”

“How most unfortunate for your family, seeing as it is my entire reason for being here.”

“I have assured you countless times that I never wanted your bloody northern claim.” His bark is nearly the last bit of energy he has left. He shifts on his feet. His back is aching and his arse too. He could have gone straight to the kitchen to demand food and drink to revive his weary flesh. Instead, he directed his feet to her chamber, so as to not waste one moment and further risk her safety. “We are all in grave danger. You must try to trust me, Sansa.”

He doesn’t usually speak her name. Not aloud and not in his private thoughts. She is his little wife, my lady, the shewolf, and when he wants to irk her especially, Lady Lannister. But who she is—Sansa Stark, who he vowed to protect—feels more inescapable than ever.

He cannot save Cersei, not even from herself. He couldn’t save his children, none of them. But he could save Sansa.

“You’re frightened,” she says, eyes gone round as her head tilts and she takes him in from dusty boots to sweat stained undertunic.

“With good reason.” He’d be a bigger fool than he already is if he was not consumed by terror at the thought of those creatures crawling through the halls of Casterly Rock, scratching at their chamber doors with empty mouths wide.

“And tired too,” she says with a sigh. Her defiance melts into something else, dewy eyed and intoxicating, that empathy she can’t entirely suppress. He rarely allows himself to see it. Even more infrequently to want it—the sweetness of a wife that he can rightly claim as his own. “Let me call for sustenance. I’ll help you with your boots.”

She makes these small gestures, pretending at being the perfect wife, though they have never even consummated their vows. In lonelier moments, he convinces himself these offers of hers speak to a hidden desire of hers that he might welcome in time.

“A thoughtful offer, but there’s no time for that. We must away. To Essos, as far as can be, as soon as we can. I know you would rather be done with me, but I won’t leave you to die.”

Her throat rolls under the high neck of her modest gown. She is quiet, but not due to a lack of intelligence—there is always something going on behind the blue of her eyes—and he can see it now, the churn of her thoughts. Finally, she nods, as she draws up her skirts in one hand.

“Essos,” she echoes back at him. “Shall I pack for warmer climes then, my lord?”

“We’ll buy you new when we cross the sea. Dress for what we face until then, and nothing too grand.”

He means to take every bit of gold he can stash away on their persons. Enough to book passage and start ten new lives. A life comfortable enough for the heir to House Stark and Westeros’ largest and least hospitable kingdom. Enough to finally fulfill not one but two vows—to protect Catelyn Stark’s eldest daughter and to love her as the septon bid.

If the rest of the world they leave behind dies, then for once, his vows might not conflict and prove impossible to see through.

After all, she is pretty, and in a certain light, he can imagine them two figures in a song.

[jeaanmoreau]

YOU ALREADY KNOW!!! 🎃 + jaimesa + will/elizabeth (potc)

It always sent his heart racing, being here, at her house. Even as he spoke with her father about the new sword he’d forged for him, his mind was on her; would she look well today? She would surely be going to Commodore Snow’s ceremony, perhaps she’d be wearing a new dress.

Jaime did not consider himself particularly knowledgeable on women’s fashion, but somehow he had memorised each and every one of Sansa Stark’s dresses and the occasions in which she wore them.

The sound of footsteps on the staircase alerted him to a third person’s presence, and Jaime drew his gaze up to the top of the stairs where she was descending, looking like a porcelain doll in a beige gown adorned with flowers that was certainly a new acquisition.

“Sansa,” her father called out. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Jaime would not have said that he shared Ned Stark’s point of view on many things. Not some of the ways he ruled, nor some of the things he chose to be. On this matter, however, he had spoken it directly out of his mind.

“Jaime!” she greeted him enthusiastically when her eyes fell upon him. “It’s so good to see you! I had a dream about you last night.”

It was like the girl didn’t know what she made him feel; all the ways in which his chest tightened and his stomach churned at her very existence. At the proximity between them, even with Governor Stark standing there.

Like she didn’t realise that his mind had gone on overdrive at the thought, the knowledge, that she had dreamed of him. That she had lay on her bed last night and thought about him, like he had done a thousand times over, cursing himself every time for desiring the unattainable.

“About me?” he found himself breathing out, shifting on the spot, hyper aware of her father’s presence next to them, even as Stark gave directions to the servants to take the sword to the carriage and followed them out of the house. If it could even be called a house. The entrance hall was larger than Jaime’s entire holdings.

Sansa didn’t take her eyes off him, still wide eyed and smiling like it was a common occurrence for her to dream of him. “About the day we met, do you remember?”

She had been a child back then. Not ten years old. It had been terrifying, watching her grow up into the woman she was today, slowly becoming conscious of just how much he was falling in love with her, when he could have been her father.

At eighteen, Sansa Stark was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. The governor’s daughter, the most desired girl in the port, and she had dreamed of him.

Jaime couldn’t keep his eyes off her face, swallowing and giving her a smile in return. “How could I forget, Miss Stark?”

“Jaime, how many times must I ask you to call me Sansa?” she asked him, leaning forward, placing a hand on his wrist. It almost burned, her touch, and he found himself looking down at her hand, long, pale fingers.

The name was a temptation upon his lips, sweet and dangerous and entirely inappropriate, just like she was.

But Jaime had never been appropriate. “Sansa,” he corrected himself, the hissing sound of it making his tongue tingle.

The smile she gave him in return was blinding; her face drew his eye so intently that he didn’t even turn to look at where her breasts were pressed up together by a corset, tighter than the ones she usually wore.

Governor Stark called out her name from outside, and Sansa glanced towards the door, starting to walk towards it. As if pulled by a magnet, Jaime followed her.

“Will I see you at the celebrations afterwards?” she wondered as they headed to the carriage. The door was open for her and her father was already inside. If Sansa had asked if she would see him in England, Jaime would have booked a ship the following hour.

He held out his brass hand to her to help her step into the carriage. “I’m certain I’ll find you, Miss Stark.”

The door shut between them, so he almost missed the flash of hurt on her face, and he wanted to slap himself. Sansa. But the horses had started trotting forward and the carriage rolled out of sight and Jaime was too late.

join my halloween celebration!

[finsandfryingpans]

*to littlefinger*

Jon: touch my sister, and I'll kill you myself.

Sansa: lol don't worry I got it

[godsfavouredprincess]

♥ - Sansa x Jaime aw yeah

big heart = family headcanon

This crack ship is the best to have modern AU headcanons for.

In my modern!AU, Jaime is at first incredibly daunted and more than a little terrified about being a father, because (1) no good paternal figures in his life, and (2) what if he fucks it up, somehow? How could you possibly make up for that mistake? It’s someone’s life.

Sansa brings up the topic every now and then, in her trademark courteous way (but he knows her, he knows she’s finding a way to be delicately insistent because she wants them to work out a plan together, instead of just ‘doing a duty’ or stumbling into a happy accident), and he usually deflects it with promises to talk about it later, or says they should wait for a better time.

Eventually, however, he caves and tells Sansa just why he’s so unsure–and she takes him by surprise when she says she’s afraid, too. But that’s why they need a plan, a goal to strive for. Through their time together she’s learned that having your heart in the right place and with the right person is sometimes more than enough to make something work. They both work best when they’ve had time to think of something and learn the best ways to deal with their fear.

After that, they’re a team and absolutely inseparable. Picking out what room the baby should have, what color they should paint it (neutral tones, with lions and wolves in profile, flanking either side of the crib). They read all the books they can, come up with lists of names that they’re constantly adjusting or refining (most of their texts to each other for a whole day are just a tennis match of names back and forth).

All that goes up in smoke when their daughter is born, and Sansa declares her name is Lilian, with no room for argument. Jaime laughs, and, when they all go home, paints their daughter’s name on the wall over her crib as best he can. It’s a little slanted and sloppy, but he tries not to dwell too much on that.

As the years go by, they’re both doting and devoted parents, with Sansa being a little more stern. They both read to Lilian at night, and as she gets older, Sansa teaches her how to play piano and sew. Jaime teaches her how to paint, and often catches himself being very grateful that she only has his eyes, a deep, dark green. Lilian’s hair is brilliant, bright and auburn like her mother’s, and she has the Stark look–serious almost to a fault, with pale lips and a slightly round face. The Starks, as one could imagine, are quite happy with this, and are frequent guests at Sansa and Jaime’s home to help around the house or to let Lilian play with her cousins.

Tyrion’s the only Lannister to bother visiting after the baby’s born, and he says what he and Jaime are both thinking: “You can barely tell she has anything to do with you.”

So imagine Jaime’s reaction when Lilian’s first word is “dada”, and she grows up to have his sense of humor, and his same crooked smile. Imagine his reaction when he watches the determined and brave young woman their daughter grows up to be, and how that makes him want to be a better person, too? She makes him want to be braver and better, someone worthy of Sansa–and their home becomes one of the happiest and warmest places to be. All because of her parents’ fear of getting it wrong, and how hard they worked to try to make things right.

Life is demanding and terrifying, yes, but that doesn’t mean being a slow learner is a bad thing. You’ll come around eventually, and you won’t be alone–and that’s what the two of them learn by being a family.

[406ink-blog]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:  Sansa is making preparations for Jon & Dany's wedding, but it's bringing back painful emotions. She has another encounter with Jaime Lannister when he shares a story about her Aunt Lyanna. She offers him a chance at redemption.

Author’s note:  I know not everyone ships Jaime and Sansa.  I know it’s not canon.  Sorry, not sorry.  You ship your way, I’ll ship mine - even if it is a crack ship lol

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters Characters: Jon Snow, Jon Snow | Aegon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane, Tyrion Lannister, Gendry Waters Additional Tags: Jonerys, JonxDany - Freeform, Fanfiction, Fluff and Smut Summary:

Jon and Dany face the challenges ahead after arriving at Winterfell