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Once during her girlhood, Sansa had been told the tale of the slipper crafted from glass; a slipper that had been said to have been enchanted by the most handsome of gods.
The slipper appeared before the purest of hearts and would transform the wearer into the most beautiful of them all.
Alas, the magic faded deep into the night and the spell would be lifted.
Sansa had begged her father to find her such a slipper and on her 7th nameday, a craftsman had delicately crafted her set out of ice and she danced in the snow until the magic disappeared leaving her with soaking feet and a smile on her face.
Sansa stared at the slippers in front of her now. Forged with dragonglass, Jon Snow had remembered the same story. After the war of the dead had been won, Dragonglass was scarce and rare, Jon melted down his second sword once the war was over and Sansa had been gifted it as a favour to the north.
These slippers were intentionally too big for her however.
The war between Cersei and Daenerys would begin soon. The Lannister soldiers that now drank with their brothers in arms would soon be facing one another.
Sansa had long since lost the council of Little Finger, but she knew one or two things about love. The innocence of her girlhood had melted along with the slippers, a pleasant memory frozen in time; but Sansa found small traces of it could be found within tiny moments.
The celebration tonight would supposedly be the last time Jamie Lannister would break bread with the Starks; his sister had long since recalled him back to the capital to prepare for the next war.
The soldiers who were loyal to Jamie Lannister had followed him despite going against the crowns orders and Sansa had seen first-hand how Jamie cared for them.
Her uncle had certainly been against the idea of Jamie even leading their foot soldiers into war. Edmure had almost cut open the man from where he stood, but after a few quick sharp words Jamie brought out a woman and child protected by his soldiers on the journey north.
Edmure Tully had cried tears of joys as he was re-joined with his wife and son.
And Jamie smiled at the warmth of their reunion.
Something had shifted. Something had changed. This wasn’t the Jamie Lannister Sansa had met briefly in her foolish years. While time had hardened Sansa’s heart, oppositely it had softened the armour around Jamie’s.
One day while overseeing the Stark Soldiers, Sansa caught Jamie looking towards her, the look on his face was openly vulnerable and awestruck as though he’d been gifted something precious but fragile.
Sansa soon realized that it wasn’t herself that had enraptured Jamie’s gaze but the Lady Knight, Brienne of Tarth, who was stood beside her in a heavy discussion with Arya Stark.
Sansa watched Jamie carefully as his gaze suddenly shifted on her, he gave Sansa an awkward but friendly wave before quickly disappearing among the rest of the soldiers.
The Lady of Winterfell knew by now what that look meant.
-
At first Brienne had outright refused the gift.
Brienne didn’t particularly like the idea of dancing; it brought back to many painful memories from her own girlhood.
She’d been treated like a princess before the act was dropped and she was humiliated and reminded of her ugliness.
So when Sansa presented Brienne with the slippers, Brienne went pale.
She had been told the same story of the woman with the glass slippers.
Except the story she’d been told had ended with the woman being rejected for her plain looks after the magic had worn off and committing suicide because of her ugliness. It was meant to teach children to be truthful to themselves; but Brienne had always felt the sting of the moral far more than the other girls.
“I can’t accept these M’lady.” Brienne told her. Sansa rolled her eyes at the woman’s stubbornness.
“Oh and what will you wear tonight for the dance?” Sansa asked glancing down at Brienne’s dirty winter boots.
“My armour of course, someone needs to stand guard in case anything happens.” Brienne replied back.
“And what would Ser Jamie think?” Sansa said while pretending to read an old scroll.
Brienne looked caught off-guard by the mention of Jamie, cheeks reddening.
“I… Jami- Ser Jamie is free to think what he likes; my priority is your safe-“
“Well you won’t have to worry about my safety, I shan't attend.” Sansa cut in.
Brienne looked surprised.
“It’s crucial that I recheck our current stock for the remainder of the winter. I’ll be with Arya so I won’t need protecting.” Sansa said pushing the slippers towards Brienne.
“It’s rude to refuse a rare gift Lady Tarth.”
Brienne sighed before taking the slippers in her hand.
They felt light in her grip, fragile- she wondered if they could truly support her.
“I don’t have anything to wear though.”
-
Jamie couldn’t get Brienne off his mind.
In truth she was never far from his thoughts.
He dreamt of her on a number of occasions. He dreamt of holding her, touching her skin, tasting her lips. Brienne came to the land as dejected as they come. The men she fought with mocked her at every turn and yet she had climbed higher than they could ever wish to be.
Honour had died once he killed the mad king; everyone mocked Jamie Lannister, Kingslayer. It had broken Jamie inside, to have saved so many and yet be so mocked.
But Brienne had been mocked every moment she tried to shine as a knight and yet she stood back up when they knocked her down.
Jamie finally felt like someone. His may have lost his hand for it, but he had regained his sense of honour, his love for life and identity.
Brienne.
Brienne with her stupidly prideful morale.
He didn’t want to leave her here. He didn’t want to fight her.
Jamie knew what his heart wanted now.
He would tell her tonight.
-
Jamie felt a little silly tucked away in the corner.
Bronn, Tyrion and Pod were sat around the same table, throwing dies across the wood and spilling coins into the winner’s hand. Jamie caught Bronn’s eye as he drew in a large stack of coins to his chest; giving a shrug as Pod pouted at his much smaller pile of silver.
He felt the world tilt a little as he saw her then.
It was odd to see her look so differently and he felt anger flare as he noticed a lot of others ogling his lady.
She wobbled as she entered the tavern, looking around nervously as people continued to stare.
The blue dress she wore framed her body perfectly, giving her a softer look. Her hair had been brushed out and then curled into tiny ringlets, and her slippers gave her a few extra inches of height.
Brienne wobbled on her feet, panicking as the eyes fell upon her.
Even Pod and Bronn had stopped playing dice and were staring at her.
Brienne closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The cruel laughter of the past echoed in her head, the jeer of horrid children cutting into her.
And then there was a warm hand in hers and she found herself being led out outside insistently. And if it wasn’t for the two dice slipping out of Bronn’s sleeve, causing uproar, perhaps people would have cared more.
-
Jamie led Brienne into the courtyard.
The moonlight pooled and lit the snow below them; the glass slippers prettily glittering in the light.
Brienne felt his eyes upon her and she tightly clenched her hands as he inspected the craftsmanship of her dress.
It was like her two house colours went hand in hand. Red highlighted every one of her scars, every one of her many honourable badges. But blue brought out her skin tone, her eyes, and her vulnerability.
Jamie felt a need to protect the vulnerable part of Brienne. He wanted to know more about this locked away part of her that sort escape through their longing gazes.
“Brienne.” He breathed, cold air rising from his lips.
She looked at him then, unsure of what was expected of her.
And when he touched her hand and looked at her, she saw his own vulnerability.
There had been something in their gazes for the longest of times, a look that had no name. It was pure and light as if it too was made of snow, although significantly a lot warmer.
They were meant to fight against one another. They were meant to hate each other. When in truth their hearts cried for the other.
She had held her hand out to him, to join her, so many times.
And now it was his turn.
“Brienne. I once said we don’t get to choose who we love.” Jamie whispered. Her gaze shifted from his, eyes clouded with pain.
“I know.” She whispered back. He stared back at her thoughtfully before he brought his good hand to her face; her startled expression was just as beautiful.
“Brienne, can I kiss you?” Jamie asked. Brienne stared at him, eyes widening in disbelief as Jamie Lannister, a man considered extremely beautiful leaned in and claimed her lips.
It was just a few seconds but once Jamie pulled away she sought his lips again.
Jamie made sure to be gentle and kind, he wanted her to know exactly how much she meant to him.
“I love you.” Jamie whispered and her eyes lit up and sparkled just as magically as her slippers.
-
On the day that the Lannister Soldiers were set to return
Sansa stared down at Brienne of Tarth as she trained with Oathkeeper in the courtyard.
Back in armour, Brienne had resumed her knightly duties and was readying herself for the upcoming battle.
It was Jamie Lannister that surprised them both.
The golden man donning light armour approached Brienne with Widows Wail and bowed his head to her, he offered her his hand.
“May I have this dance my lady?” He asked.
Her smile in response was beautiful.
Sansa chuckled and turned away from the two giving them some privacy as they danced with blades.
When Sansa entered her room that night, she found the pair of slippers on her bedside table, a scroll hanging off them loosely.
Dear Sansa Stark
While your gift is admirable
I’m afraid my lady doesn’t require attached slippers.
I plan to remind her of her beauty for a considerably longer duration
Until the war is over, please bear with my men.
Jamie Lannister