44

Jaime

With the battles against Euron won and done, Jaime Lannister was once again stripped of his armor and back in a cell now that he was through giving what he had to offer in order to be out of the damn place. Still, at least it wasn't the black cells. Some part of him felt glad to know his broken promise didn't resort to such a sentence in Aegon's eyes.

Laying on the stiff wool blanket that was his bed, all Jaime could do was count the seconds until Aegon or someone else arrived with some men from the Night's Watch to take him to the Wall. At least he had a nice view out the window. He didn't even need to get up to see the red comet blazing in the sky. He remembered the day he first saw it years ago. So much has changed since then. He had changed. But thinking on it, he couldn't help but question if it was for better or for worse?

To his surprise, the one who came wasn't Aegon or any of his men. It was Ser Jorah Mormont. "Kingslayer," the Bear Knight said bluntly, "Queen Daenerys would have words with you."

Jaime sat up. What did Daenerys want with him? "I'd love to, but my imprisonment is under Aegon's authority, not hers." His mind was guessing that Daenerys sought justice for his broken oath to her father now that he was no longer protected by his oath to Aegon now.

"The King has granted us this meeting, else I wouldn't have walked through your door. Now you can get up or I can drag you." Ser Jorah's hand which had been resting on the pommel of his sword drifted down to the handle.

Jaime's jaw tightened. And now his protection even as a prisoner was gone. "Then by all means," he said as he stood up, "let's not keep your queen waiting then."

Part of him had felt this day was long coming. Ever since he first heard about Daenerys Targaryen's miracle of birthing three dragons and marching on the cities of slaves and masters, Jaime was able to imagine the worst of things if she had come and conquered Westeros from his family. He would be in the middle of court, surrounded by the sheep following the ruler with the greener pastures, facing judgment for doing what he knew was the right choice that day.

But it was not the court that Ser Jorah escorted him to, it was the small council chambers.

The Queen was standing by the window, back turned to the entrance. Such a slight little thing in her black leather dress, completely at odds with how she was portrayed by all. The Dragon Queen. Mother of Dragons. Breaker of Chains. All a small, petite girl.

Turning at the sounds of footsteps, Daenerys regarded him. "Ser Jaime Lannister," she said as Jaime was presented before her. Jaime took a seat in one of the chairs, while two Dothraki surrounded him. Ser Jorah Mormont walked just behind Daenerys, ready to protect her if warranted. "I trust you've been comfortable."

"I have a window and a fur for the cold, stale bread and cheese for meals, who needs more than that in the world?" Jaime replied. "I suppose congratulations on your return are in order."

"Thank you." She nodded to the Dothraki and Ser Jorah and the three men took their leave of the room. It was just the two of them now.

"Are you sure that's wise, your grace?" Jaime asked. "I could try to lunge out and strangle you or go for that dagger you have." His little jab didn't phase her, in fact it went completely ignored.

"My brother, Viserys, told me a hundred times over about the man who murdered our father. The Kingslayer who stabbed his sworn king in the back at the order of his traitorous father." Jaime tried not to sigh. Despite the lack of an audience and being in the throne room, this was going exactly how he imagined it would. However, Daenerys surprised him. "Your brother told me a different story though. Of why you did what you did, of why you murdered my father and nearly ended the Targaryen dynasty."

Jaime instinctively sat up. "Who else would ever believe the word of the Man Without Honor besides my own brother? Who else would have cared?"

Daenerys' eyes were averted to her hands resting on the table. "There was a time that I would not have believed such a truth. I believed my father was a great man, and a great king my enemies lied and slandered about. But then a day came when Ser Barristan Selmy told me the truth."

Jaime's brow raised.

"My father was an evil man, and if he had his way, we would be speaking in a field of ash and rubble had you not done what needed to be done." Daenerys brought her gaze up to him once again. "Aegon knew this when he offered you your white cloak again, and yet you broke your promise. Why?"

"Why?" Jaime repeated, both in a tone that was amazed that someone would ask but also himself asking why someone would ask.

"I'm giving you the chance Ned Stark did not the day the realms saw my father's body at your feet."

Jaime took in a breath as he felt his neck tighten.

"Would you rather not answer and let the world assume you for what you are? I heard that you're a man who cared care less of what people think of him-"

"That's what I wanted people to think." Jaime shot back, feeling his hand start to tremble. "That every time they said Kingslayer and Oathbreaker behind my back, it was just empty words." his right arm started to twitch, as though it still had a hand attached with fingers to tighten into a fist. "I went down to see her to say goodbye. I knew what she had done, how many lives were lost that day at Baelor. And she still was given the chance to live, and I was given the chance to be redeemed as a knight and a father. I wanted her to know that, I wanted to hope that she would be happy for me the last time we saw each other."

A calm silence followed and Daenerys simply looked at him. Then, she stood up and walked over to the head seat of the table, picking up something Jaime had not seen there before but couldn't breath when he did.

Daenerys walked over to him without a word and held out his white cloak. "Aegon gave you a second chance, Ser Jaime," Daenerys said. "And now I'm giving you a third because I believe you." She set the cloak on the table. "Don't waste it." She took her leave of him, and Jaime was alone to look at the cloak that held so much weight on his shoulders for so many years.

He sat down in the chair in front of where his cloak was, not able to look away until moments later when someone entered. It was Tyrion.

As Jaime was surprised to see his brother coming to see him, it was clear that it wasn't Tyrion's intent. As soon as his younger brother saw him, Jaime nearly watched Tyrion leave as quickly as he came without a word.

"I'm sorry, Tyrion," he managed to get out.

His brother halted and turned back around, shooting a terrible stare back at him.

Jaime wished he was better with words, but he never was. He wanted to speak a song's worth of words to say it better than two words.

"I believed in you, always. Before the people stopped believing in you and after. I trusted the brother that taught me how to ride more than anyone else, I trusted that you'd ride day and night to fight for me at the Eyrie. Any time I needed help, I always trusted that you would be the first one I could count on. And whenever you needed help, I made certain that I would be the first you could as well. I had Bronn teach you to fight again, I did everything I could to protect your children against every enemy that wanted them dead." He paused, only to take in a breath to seeth at Jaime. "I refused to let you live a life you didn't want in exchange for father's judgment-"

"You did that for yourself," Jaime shot back, "don't even try to gain ground from convenience. I won't…" Jaime took a breath with a shake of his head. "I'd take back the lie if I could. Every day since then, I've always regretted it. So I made sure I wouldn't be that boy who was too terrified of his own father any more, not at the cost of your life, Tyrion. Because I was the Golden son. I could kill my King, murder a boy, fuck my own sister, and lose my hand without father ever raising a his to me." he stepped closer to Tyrion, still holding onto his white cloak. "I don't know what else I can do, Tyrion."

"You can give me the life father stole from me back!" Tyrion shouted. "For the short time I had her, I didn't care about wine, or whores, or gold, or even the respect I desperately tried to gain from the great Tywin Lannister. I just wanted her."

"And you killed our father, the man who made sure you never had that life." Jaime reminded.

Tyrion's jaw tensed and were he close to a seat, he would have taken it. "And here we are now. You're getting what you want once again while I am at my own mercy. All must be perfectly well in the world now since that's how it's been."

A silence overtook them both. The weight of all their wrongs to each other setting heavy in the hearts of both Lannisters.

"Is this what we are then?" Jaime asked quietly. "Lannisters but not brothers."

"I suppose it is. You can't forgive me and I can't forgive you." Tyrion took in a breath, straightening himself. "I wish you good fortune in the war to come, Ser Jaime." And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Jaime alone to mull in his thoughts.

What could he make of this? Who was he supposed to blame for how things were? His father had the bulk of it, but it was Jaime's choice to lie to his own brother… and it was Tyrion's choice to shoot that crossbow…

Jamie sighed, clenching his fist into white knuckles, all the while yelling at himself in his mind for what he was supposed to do. He swore that he would never abandon Tyrion, and he couldn't let that happen now. He lost his parents, his children, and his sister. No more, he wouldn't lose his brother too.

He had to make things right as best he could. But what could he do?

Jon

Instead of flying back to the Red Keep on dragonback, Jon, Sansa, and Daenerys all agreed that taking their time getting back would be more favorable, mainly to recover from their battle weariness that lingered. Having a couple of days to themselves on the sea was wonderful, and it gave Jon enough time to understand much of what he needed to do, mistakes he made that he needed to correct, but also prepare to handle the damages of these battles with Euron.

Robin Arryn of the Vale was on his way to King's Landing and the leader of the Dornish fleet that came to their aid was also on his way.

Jon expected the obvious things from both parties such as justice for Gulltown and compensation for Dorne's help and the wounded pride from Ellaria's execution. If the Raven were still with him, then he might be able to know the better details that could help him in facing these lords, but he was gone and while Bran had become stronger in his power, he was not available at a moment's notice.

But, even without the Raven's help, Jon had two others to help him who would always be at his side from now on. And while he had a lengthy discussion with them about how to handle Dorne, Daenerys had instead adamantly said that she would face the lords of the Vale herself.

The afternoon of their arrival came, and those who remained in the Red Keep awaited the return of the King. Everything went as though it were just another day of formality for all of them. No one present had been absent to witnessing war.

Jon had made the call that there would be a meeting of the court, but first he had to address his council, and his friends.

The Small Council chamber was filled with those of the council, including Varys, Missandei, and Melisandre. The only one who was missing was Tyrion who had left Dragonstone a day earlier but was nowhere to be found in the Red Keep.

"It's time I explained a few things," Jon said to all of them, "and I don't expect forgiveness for how I've been to you all. My visions… they weren't that. It's far more complicated to believe." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find where to begin. Should he explain the whole truth and recite his history to them?

"You could start with saying you're sorry for being an arse," Arya said, leaning on his desk with her arms crossed.

"Aye, right. I'm sorry, to all of you. Ever since leaving Castle Black I've… I've held onto feelings of people I thought you all would become… could have become. I wasn't allowing myself the benefit of believing that people can change, and I think that was rooted towards myself most of all. But no more. I'm not holding onto my past any longer."

It looked like Sansa and Daenerys were the only ones to really understand what he meant to the full extent.

Jon nodded to him and turned back to his council. "When we get to Winterfell, it's time I told you all everything."

"What do you mean everything?" Olenna asked.

"I mean the truth about what happened before I woke up. I didn't have visions, I didn't see anything. I only said that because it's far more believable than the truth."

The Blackfish crossed his arms. "Waking up from death is unbelievable enough, your grace. Do you mean to say that everything you've said has been a lie?"

"No, just the part about having visions. We're all headed for the same future now, so there's no point in secrets anymore. I just hope you'll be able to understand why I had to." He took in breath, composing himself in a kingly manner. "Right now we need to begin sending our gathered forces to Winterfell."

Davos leaned forward. "We got the ships to ferry men, so the journey itself won't be long. But gathering all the men called to arms and transporting our resources, that'll be the killer. But thanks to the fights with Euron, we're halfway there."

"I reckon it'll be nearly two moon turns from now before we see Winterfell," Jon deduced. "We'll send a raven North to announce that we're preparing for the expedition now."

Sansa added her thoughts to the matter. "We should send out ravens to Houses that might need assistance as well."

Jon nodded. "Let's review every correspondence we've received in the last fortnight and start from there."

Daenerys spoke up. "I'll return to Dragonstone and begin regrouping my forces. My Dothraki can aid with those that will be traveling on the King's Road."

"So be it," Jon said.

The meeting concluded swiftly, everyone immediately set about their duties. For the entirety of what remained of the morning all the way into the late afternoon, not a moment was wasted to get everything that could be done as soon as possible.

When the time came that a breath of fresh air could be taken, it was spent by Jon and Sansa at the edge of the gardens where Drogon had nestled, waiting for Daenerys.

Sighing deeply, Jon tried to keep a smile about his lips but it came hard for him. Not that the scene before him was a sad one. Daenerys and Sansa hugging tightly, the latter's tight woolen dress and the former's leather riding outfit allowing the both of them to meld their bodies flush against the other. He couldn't hear what they murmured in the other's ear, but the kiss shared between them was the purest of affection.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms loved to see it, the two most precious women in his life - considering his history, it was still surreal at times. Not that Sansa loved him, for since returning to the past Jon thought of what he could have done differently to save Sansa from her fate. Rather, the hate shared between Daenerys and Sansa… it had changed here to a passionate love. By the gods, was he a lucky man. They were both beautiful.

Sharing one more kiss, the embrace broke and Daenerys whispered something in Sansa's ear, smiling mischievously, and then walked over to him. The same outfit he had seen her wear in his past, the day she had returned from attacking the Lannister army. Just like then, her face was radiant. Unlike then, a smile brightened it akin to the sun on a warm spring day. "Jon," she said.

He didn't dither, opening his arms and accepting a loving embrace. One Jon allowed greedily. "Is there any chance I can persuade you not to go?" The reason for the wound on his normally good mood.

Daenerys giggled, face pressed into his neck. "You know I must. My armies need me at their head now more than ever."

"Anything you need to say can be sent by raven."

"You and I both know that isn't true." She pulled back, cupping his stubbly cheek. "They need to see me as the woman they know me to be, just as your people need to see you as the man you really are. I will wait for the two of you to join us before we move north."

Jon closed the embrace once more, kissing the crown of her head possessively. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you again."

Daenerys's expression softened and she kissed him again. "I promise I'll be fine, my love. I shall not engage in any risks and surround myself with as many guards as I can… my Unsullied and bloodriders, loyal men."

"Good." He touched her side. "You're precious to me, Daenerys. I lost so much time to be with you, and I wish not to lose anymore."

"I will await your return to Dragonstone when the journey north begins, so I advise that you apply the same to this one." The last she murmured into his ear and then looked at Sansa. "Don't forget what I told you." This was the sensual, teasing Daenerys he had missed, that had haunted his memories and dreams when trapped in the frozen lands Beyond the Wall. The one he had so loved in that boat, now returned to him. "I expect to be hearing every detail about what you two are up to in my absence."

Jon only smiled, kissing her knuckles. "I nearly forgot how passionate you can be."

Her smirk matched his and her violet eyes were sparkling. Daenerys, expression returning its earlier emotion, hugged him close once more. "I love you."

"I love you."

Soon her embrace was replaced with Sansa's, the two of them watching as Daenerys mounted her dragon. The beautiful Targaryen at home on dragonback, her silver-hair pulled back into the magnificent Dothraki war-braid. Sansa sighed. "I miss her already."

There was a catch in his heart. "I cannot emphasize how happy I am to hear that."

A sad smile was on Sansa's lips. She sighed, shoulders slumping. "I never knew I could love others like this, as deeply as this. It's nothing like infatuation with blind eyes. But I can feel there's a part of me still afraid of it all being something it's not. A lie, a blackmail, a knife in the back."

"Sansa," Jon came face to face, cupping her warm cheeks in his hands, "I swear to you until my dying day that I love you more than I knew, and so does Daenerys."

"I know," Sansa smiled, holding him tightly, "as long as I'm with you, I know in my heart it's true." Tugging on his arm, she gestured to the gardens. "Come. I have a surprise for you."

Linking her arm with his, Sansa led Jon down the walkways to the gardens just as a tender snowfall began to happen all around them. "I never apologized yet," Jon began, "but the cloak you made for me was burned at Gulltown, so I need another."

"Well then we have a happy coincidence on our hands," Sansa smirked, "I started on a gift for Daenerys before your hunt at the God's Eye, a cloak of her own I hope she'll like. And I decided that you could use another that's more befitting to your father's heritage. But, you shall have another for our side as well."

Jon smiled as they passed by a vines of orange ivy getting covered with snowflakes. "While you're at it, could you refashion my tunics for the winter season? My colors don't go at all with the snow," he said in an obnoxious highborn style of the south.

"Aegon Targaryen," Sansa looked at him incredulously, "since when do you start telling jokes?"

"Since I have a desire to be happy again," he told her as they came over the part of the gardens that overlooked the Blackwater.

"This was my favorite place in all the Red Keep," she told him, drawing him down a path flanked by snow covered bushes and underneath a canopy bare as bone. "I loved it before father's capture, and after it was my only refuge. Spending time with Margaery and all that. It looks better in the summer, but it does have a certain image to it that's peaceful now that I look at it."

"I can see." The end of the path found a gazebo with crawling vines along its beams, a view overlooking the cliffs of Aegon's High Hill and Blackwater Bay beyond. Not only that, but among the snow burying the autumn fauna was the bright red of the weirwood leaves reaching tall from the Godswood nearby. "It is beautiful."

She nodded, gesturing to a table laid out with some fruit, two cups, and a jug of something. In addition, there was a fine sofa on the opposite side of the table.

"Seems you were planning on bringing me here." There were purple linen drapes embroidered with gold all along the openings. Sansa went over to those that hung at the entry way and let them fall, concealing them from sight from the paths. Only the outward view of the bay and the Godswood below could be seen now.

"Daenerys helped me come up with it." Sansa grinned. She slipped her cloak off and set it gently on the sofa.

Jon took a seat as Sansa poured the liquid into the two cups. The smell was clear to him. "Black Ale?"

"Father's favorite." Sansa took a seat across from him, prim and proper as any lady of high birth. "Thought I preferred wine like mother, but the Stark in me seems to have won its war of conquest." She sipped the ale, eyes never leaving him. The moment sparked a flutter in Jon's chest. There was something seductive about the scene before him. "I would never leave Winterfell, unless it was with you by my side. Or Daenerys." Sansa leaned back in the chair. "Jon, there's something I need to say before it becomes too late to say it. And please don't think of this as my attempt to warm you to my feelings about it."

Jon at first felt the urge to steel himself for what it was, but he didn't allow it. "What is it?"

Sansa folded her hands in her lap and looked at him. "The North. The southern Kings of old have always seen us as the brutes hiding under trees and stone in a wasteland. You don't because you are from the North, you know what our home is to us, but they don't and they do not care. The North is better off as its own kingdom with its own King." Jon opened his mouth to speak, but Sansa raised a finger up, "but, that is simply how I feel. And maybe you can agree with some of it, but I can't simply turn away from such. You were at the Wall when it all happened, fighting for the bigger things. I am not trying to blame you, or discourage you into siding with me, I just want you to know. But since I finally have you and Daenerys, it's become something less to me now. What I want most are the two of you."

"Sansa…" there was a deep part in him that wanted to be angry again. But now with things as they are, with his newfound love for her, he didn't have any desire to act on it. "I don't disagree with you. I'm proud of our home, our lands, our people. But I don't know how to give what they desire without losing the loyalty of the rest of the Kingdoms."

"Neither do I. But it doesn't matter, not now. Only you matter to me. I love you."

He replied without hesitation. "I love you too."

In that moment, something changed in Sansa's gaze. It was always present, but now it transformed her entire face. Eyes lighting up, jaw dropping just a hint, pale cheeks coloring… she rose from her seat, practically jumping. Her goblet tipped over and the ale spilled before it rolled off the table and clanged to the ground. Jon didn't have much time to react when Sansa hiked up her dress above her knees, straddling his lap with one slender leg to each side of him and kissing him fiercely.

Not that he would ever deny her.

"Say it again," she murmured, arms looping around his neck.

He was glad to. "I love you," he said as they kissed.

"Mmmm…"

Deft fingers trailed down his chest, causing Jon to groan. Sansa leaned down until she stared into his eyes. "I love you, Jon." They kissed. Languid and sweet, putting their words into action.

Jon ghosted his hands down her back, making her shudder. A beautiful woman, one of the great beauties of the Realm. Not a Valyrian as Daenerys was, but perhaps their shared wolfsblood called to each other as his dragonsblood called to Daenerys. Their foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.

Sansa cupped his cheek, suddenly chuckling. "Mighty conqueror, Aegon reborn… and yet your wolf bride is taller than you." She ran her hands through his hair, electrifying him. Jon stood up, lifting Sansa at her back and they both trailed over to the sofa and fell on it, Jon cushioned Sansa on him.

She suddenly reached for his belt and began to work at the buckle.

"Here?"

"Daenerys told me how the Dothraki make love outside. I want to try it."

"People might hear us," he pointed out as his shirt was lifted over his arms.

"Good. Then they'll know that I am yours as you are mine." Suddenly Sansa ghosted her lips down the side of his neck in a manner that made him shudder. "You've said I love you many times when we were young." The belt was vanquished, leaving the waist of his trousers quite exposed to her attack. "Is it the same as then?"

"No," Jon replied, working at the collar of Sansa's dress, bringing it apart to her shoulders and exposing her pale skin. By the gods, she was bare underneath her dress. "It is not."

"So… I am no longer your sister?" She tugged down, fishing out a particular part of him. Jon's breath hitched when she wrapped her fingers around it. They were so wonderfully warm.

He shook his head, feeling her skirts rustling as she continued to kiss his neck. "You're my woman, my love, my everything."

Sansa smiled against his skin. "You are a Targaryen. I know what a good sister must do for your dragonblooded brother." she leaned back and snaked her way down his chest, her hands pulling his breeches down and exposing his member at full mast at her.

"Sansa- hah… ah," Seven hells, this was new. He never did this with Daenerys or Ygritte. Was this what it felt like when he kissed them down there? If it was then by the Old Gods and the Red, he silently thanked that Starks were incredible with their mouths.

He looked down and saw her looking back up at him and smiled. She pushed her dress from her shoulders completely, her breasts bounced when they were exposed to him and the cold outside.

Someone could have been walking by at this very moment. They wouldn't be able to see, but they would be able to hear what was about to happen. Heavenly bliss existed upon the earth, and Jon felt it as Sansa gently lowered herself until he was sheathed inside her. His grip on her waist tightened, and she released a gasp followed by a low moan. One that caused him to twitch within her depths.

Pulling back, Jon crashed their lips together, tongues tangling as they adjusted to their new configuration.

She rippled around him, an almost sinful pleasure. One he never imagined would be his in either life.

A tear pricked at her eye, but her smile was radiant. They kissed again with his tongue exploring her warm, inviting mouth in rhythm as she rose and fell smoothly on him, the two wolves possessing all the time in the world.

The sofa creaked, threatened with collapsing from how hard Sansa bucked her first night with Daenerys had been calm and gentle, but now Sansa was becoming bold and confident, full of passion that slept within her for a long time.

Her arms wrapped behind his neck and touched at his shoulders, passionate and with the utmost ardor to please him. It made Jon want to please her too, kissing up her neck. His hands moved down her back, then reached underneath her ruffled dress to cup and squeeze her the softness of her bottom.

She moaned as she began rocking back and forth, kissing him back hungrily, her chest mashed against his. "You're the only man who I would do this with."

"Good… I'll allow no other."

She groaned in ecstacy, breathing heavily as she continued to ride him. Jon clung to his lovely sister, keeping them flush against each other until both tensed at the same time. A gentle breeze from Blackwater Bay washed over their overheated bodies when he finally shuddered and released inside. "Jon…"

Sansa churned around him, and all Jon could think was that there was nothing he could ever compare this too. It was new, it was unheard of in his past, and that truly made it wonderful.

They held each other close for several minutes, kissing softly and recovering. A sudden chuckle left Jon's lips. "That was spectacular."

Sansa purred, ghosting her lips along his neck, certainly covered in marks and bites from her passion. "I want more and I don't care where. In the woods, on a bed, or in a cave."

Jon smirked and brushed her hair aside. "My faithful stewardess has disappeared and a hungry lecher replaced her." A simple brush over her bare skin made her jaw shiver and her insides twitch on him.

Her eyebrows arched as if the answer was completely obvious. "It's getting colder so we better try to keep warm."

All of King's Landing had scratched flint into hearths and braziers through the city, but none were needed to keep warm the passion of a dragon and a wolf in heat.