His spouse... a wolf.

Jaime should've been prepared for it when Tywin first made Tyrion into marrying Sansa. He had counted his prayers and his luck that he hadn't been requested to abandon his vows just days after his little brother's disastrous wedding, but it had all been for nothing.

He, too, had been wed to a wolf. Though this one older, more sensible — or at least so he assumed, for he didn't have the strength in him to look you in the eye after he had promised Catelyn he'd get you and her younger daughters to safety back in Winterfell.

Winterfell, the same who was now ruled by people who were not wolves.

Arya was dead, for all he knew, and Sansa was still being paraded around and mistreated by Joffrey. If Jaime had any more power, he would've done something to stop that a long time ago.

He didn't like to think of himself as someone bad, someone unworthy of love, but every time he was forced to walk past your chambers he could feel his heart being split in two. If it hadn't been for him and his actions moons ago, Ned would've been alive and you wouldn't have been forced to marry the Kingslayer.

Perhaps, even then, Ned could've served as regent, or maybe the remaining stag would still try to take over King's Landing in the very end. Maybe Jaime would've had his head on a spike long ago, with the heads of Cersei and his entire family by his side.

His feet halted to a stop outside of your chambers. He didn't know what he was doing, only that the ring on his left hand weighted so much it was hard to think twice about his actions at that moment.

Jaime knew that you were still his spouse, and although it was clear you hated him he didn't blame you for it. How could he, when all that was wrong in the world happened to you because of what he had done in the past? He couldn't possibly hope to change things, but he could hope that one you would forgive him.

He knocked once with his good hand, then twice.

"It's... It's Jaime. May I come in?"