They’ve had this conversation so many times- while riding side by side through the dense woods, while sitting together by the weak campfire, while curled up against each other under tattered furs on a tiny camp bed. She always takes care to look him right in the eye- lack of eye contact is the easiest way to spot a liar, Petyr used to say-
And he always nods, always attempts to mollify her with a non-committal “As you say.” But his eyes seem to look past her, never locking on her own fervent gaze. Then he tries to divert her attention, whether with crude japes to make her gasp and laugh or with the deliberate movement of his hand over her curves, his lips on her collarbone-
But tonight, Sansa clenches her fingers in the short wisps of gold on Jaime’s head and pulls his face up. He knits his brows together with some annoyance, but she proceeds nonetheless-
“You don’t believe me.”
He sighs, a dry, heavy sound. “Why does it matter whether I believe you? I’ve sworn to protect you regardless...”
“It matters to me.”
She feels him shifting away from her, as much as he can in the narrow cot. “I’ve never known you for a liar. If you say that you didn’t, I’ve no reason to believe otherwise.”
That’s not an answer, she wants to scream, but he closes the space between them at once, his arms wrapping around her, his left hand slipping down the back of her shift to trace the thick ridges of scar tissue that cover her shoulder-blades.
Sansa shivers- she hates to be touched there, and he knows it- and Jaime whispers in her ear-
“All I am saying is that if you did do it, you’d have had every reason.”
A part of her wants to drop to her knees and thank the gods for this unlikely friendship, for Jaime’s choice to support her over his own sister, his own family-
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timeasmymeasure
FILL: Jaime/Sansa; "Ignorance and Bliss"; R (Part One)
Date: 2012-03-12 08:22 pm (UTC)They’ve had this conversation so many times- while riding side by side through the dense woods, while sitting together by the weak campfire, while curled up against each other under tattered furs on a tiny camp bed. She always takes care to look him right in the eye- lack of eye contact is the easiest way to spot a liar, Petyr used to say-
And he always nods, always attempts to mollify her with a non-committal “As you say.” But his eyes seem to look past her, never locking on her own fervent gaze. Then he tries to divert her attention, whether with crude japes to make her gasp and laugh or with the deliberate movement of his hand over her curves, his lips on her collarbone-
But tonight, Sansa clenches her fingers in the short wisps of gold on Jaime’s head and pulls his face up. He knits his brows together with some annoyance, but she proceeds nonetheless-
“You don’t believe me.”
He sighs, a dry, heavy sound. “Why does it matter whether I believe you? I’ve sworn to protect you regardless...”
“It matters to me.”
She feels him shifting away from her, as much as he can in the narrow cot. “I’ve never known you for a liar. If you say that you didn’t, I’ve no reason to believe otherwise.”
That’s not an answer, she wants to scream, but he closes the space between them at once, his arms wrapping around her, his left hand slipping down the back of her shift to trace the thick ridges of scar tissue that cover her shoulder-blades.
Sansa shivers- she hates to be touched there, and he knows it- and Jaime whispers in her ear-
“All I am saying is that if you did do it, you’d have had every reason.”
A part of her wants to drop to her knees and thank the gods for this unlikely friendship, for Jaime’s choice to support her over his own sister, his own family-
And yet. Family.