Searching for Purpose Chapter 1: Arrival in the North, an a song of ice and fire fanfic

Hello everyone! I've been wanting to do a GOT fic for a while, and some other fantastic stories have inspired me to start writing finally! I'm also going to try and make this a solid slow burn Jaime/Sansa story. I'm playing around with the ages a bit, and there will be an explanation of why in the story itself, but for now, just imagine Ned and Catelyn being married earlier, and they're both closer to Tywin in age. Tywin has also been aged down, so his children are slightly younger as well. Jaime will be 30 and Sansa 18 at the start of this story. Enjoy!

Jaime gazed into his reflection in the creek and closely scrutinized the image of him in donned in the armor of the Kingsguard. The tall Lannister form blessed with broad shoulders in the immaculately made plate mail made for an impressive figure. Years ago, Jaime would have instantly smiled at his visage being the stereotype for a dashing knight. Now the armor just served as a perfect reminder of the lie that Jaime's life had become, no, the lie that it always has been. Even in his youth, Jaime never allowed a squire to care for his armor. Sure, he would allow a squire to help him put the armor on and off his person, but no one apart from the Kingslayer would clean his uniform. The Lannister imagined that he was renewing his oaths as a knight with every meticulous brush he made on his legendary armor. Every smudge he cleaned was supposed to be a reminder that no matter the mistakes he made; Jaime could still rediscover good intentions living beneath the sins.

Having just passed his 30th nameday a few months prior, the practice hasn't changed for Jaime Lannister. Only he would care for his armor; however, there was no longer any therapeutic recovery for his actions. Instead, Jaime felt a growing sense of dread as he removed the daily grime from the suit of mail. Tension would build in his stomach as the plates of armor were slowly added to his form. The once comforting weight the armor brought had been replaced with an oppressive reminder of his stolen freedoms. How long did it take Jaime Lannister to realize that he was miserable?

Jaime wished that is had been a sudden revelation; that he had woken up in a cold sweat one night determined to take his life back into his own hands. Unfortunately, it took years for Jaime to realize that almost everything he held dear in his life had taken him for granted. The Kingsguard was supposed to be the highest honor imaginable for a knight, but instead, it was a prison. Jaime thought he had been chosen for his valor and strength with the sword, while in reality, it was a move meant to slight his father. Jaime had spent his youth suffering the insanity of a tyrant and his early adulthood watching another king drink and whore. What hurt even worse than his meaningless oath to vile men was the ruin of his heart by the woman he loved before all others. How many times had Jaime dismissed or made excuses for the looks and touches he witnessed Cersei offer other men? If Jaime hadn't walked in on his sister with that oaf Kettleblack, would he still be enthralled by her?

The Lannister knight once thought that his entire life would be dictated by his father; however, it seemed that every important person in his life had been orchestrating his fate. No more. Jaime promised to himself that he would take his life back into his own hands no matter the consequences. The Lannister didn't yet know what life he wanted for himself; he had spent so long letting others do that for him that it would require some discovery. Yet, for the first time in years, Jaime was excited to tread down a path he had never encountered, one of his own making. Jaime rose from his fixed position by the river and made to move back into the column traveling North.

For the first time in years, the weight of his armor didn't bother Jaime, he knew it wouldn't be there for much longer.

Sansa dutifully followed her mother through the vast hallways of her home. Catelyn Stark had a way of making every order seem a gentle reminder instead of the blatant command it actually represented. This ability was especially useful when seemingly half of King's Landing had decided to visit Winterfell. Even though she has spent 18 years of her life within these walls, Sansa was convinced that she had never interacted with half the servants she encountered as her mother made her rounds throughout the castle.

Catelyn looked at her eldest daughter out of the corner of her eye, "Are you sure you haven't seen her?"

Sansa fought the urge to roll her eyes as she responded, "Mother, the last time you asked me was ten minutes ago. I've been with you since then. If you haven't seen her, then neither have I."

"She had to pick today of all days to disappear?" Catelyn seemed to ask the Seven, as they narrowly dodged a group of men heaving kegs into the great dining hall.

The deep worry lines on her mothers' face had never seemed so prominent, which prompted Sansa to reassure her, "Arya knows how important today is. She may move at her own pace, but she'll be there." There was no way Arya would forget the arrival of the King and who knows how many knights. Sansa was sure her younger sister would want the best viewpoint to see them all arrive.

Catelyn took a deep breath, and nodded, likely coming to the same assumption as her daughter. The Stark matriarch turned towards her eldest and said, "You should head towards the courtyard yourself. The Stags and Lions will be upon us soon."

Sansa returned her mother's smile at the small jest and began moving towards the area where the Starks would meet the royals.

"Sansa?" Her mother's voice stopped the redhead. Turning back with a questioning glance, Sansa saw a hint of exasperation and apprehension in her mother.

"Your necklace." Catelyn began, as Sansa unconsciously palmed the beautiful golden necklace with an emerald centerpiece that was gifted to her by Lord Manderly for her 18th name day. "Don't you think it's a little too gaudy? Why don't you try the silver brooch your aunt gave you."

Catelyn didn't even wait for a response from her polite command before continuing on her way. Sansa stared after her mother and redirected her course towards her own chambers. That is something she certainly wasn't going to miss when she traveled to King's Landing.

A few years ago Sansa would have been tripping over her skirts to bend over backwards to follow every suggestion her mother made, but the constant high standard for propriety has begun to wane on the girl. Gods forbid she try a fashion that is different from the approved norms of Northern standards.

Sansa sighed as she entered her room and removed the relatively tame jewelry. Sometimes the inevitable journey to King's Landing would leave her shaking with anxiety, but there were occasions where she welcomed the escape from Winterfell. Sansa loved her family dearly, but after eighteen years she needed a break from the Starks. Catelyn was as loving a mother as Sansa could ever hope for, but her passive-aggressive manner of parenting is exhausting.

Then there is Arya. With every year, Arya seemed to become more difficult. The younger Stark daughter defied every expectation of a noble woman. Sansa's parents may have put up with it when she was younger, but they have begun bringing the hammer down now that Arya is at an age where she can marry. Every time the possibility of marriage is even mentioned in Arya's presence, the young girl would start a screaming match and ultimately rope Sansa into the debate. It wasn't her fault that her match required Sansa to wait longer than most noble women, yet Arya would see Sansa's situation and call it unfair she could not wait as long.

Sansa entered the brisk courtyard and noticed the third primary reason for her desire to leave her place of birth. Theon Greyjoy. The eyes of that smirking prick seemed to follow her wherever she would go. Being of the same age, Sansa once thought of Theon as another brother, but puberty changed that opinion drastically. Sansa rolled her eyes at the gaze of the Iron Islander and made to stand next to her already waiting parents. It wasn't long before the other Stark children, sans Arya and Jon Snow, completed the welcoming line. For weeks this courtyard has been a constant buzz of activity, yet the commotion halted as the distant noise of marching and galloping horses reached Winterfell. If it were not for the occasional snowflake, the sign of Summer beginning to end, one might think time had stopped within the castle.

The standard bearers arrived first. Baratheon Stags and Lannisters Lions overran Winterfell in seconds and painted the grey castle in red, black, and gold. Sansa expected to see the royals and Westerlands in attendance, but the amount of Western sigils present seemed odd to the young girl. Why would so many Western families send representatives North? Of course, the Queen is a Lannister, but did her father's bannerman always send along such a heavily enforced retinue? Sansa didn't have time to further contemplate the abundance of Western sigils when her younger sister burst onto the scene and clumsily avoided the scolding of her mother. Sansa found Arya's brash entrance suspicious, her sister had proven time and time again that she was able to sneak up on whomever she pleased. The elder daughter found her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed Torrhen Karstark silently joining Jon and Theon in the line further removed from the main Stark family.

Sansa rolled her eyes, 'My sister needs better companions.'

Knights followed shortly after the standard-bearers. Two members of the Kingsguard led the column in their impressive armor, Sers Meryn Trant and Boros Blount, Sansa believed. Surprisingly the Crown Prince followed after the Kingsguard. Sansa found herself underwhelmed by the frail boy being jostled by the simple trotting of his horse. Beside Joffrey Baratheon was a far more curious subject, a beast of a man wearing a helmet in the shape of a snarling dog.

'Couldn't ask for a better bodyguard,' Sansa mused as the Clegane knight begrudgingly helped the struggling prince off of his horse.

The attention of the Stark heiress was taken from the giant silently cursing as the boy found himself caught in the stirrups, when a small group of Lannister knights entered the courtyard. Sansa would later admit that she had taken no notice of any of the men at the time, save for one. The man leading the Lannister knights was adorned in the priceless armor of the Kingsguard; however, he seemed to forego the notion of wearing a helmet. Sansa was incredibly thankful he had made that choice. Jaime Lannister was the perfect image of a noble knight that Sansa would fantasize attending to her every need. His emerald eyes shone immaculately and contrasted perfectly by his mane of golden hair. Sansa was so smitten with taking in the appearance of the man universally hated in the North, that she missed the arrival of a giant wheelhouse and a horse struggling under the immense weight of its king.

'That is what a King should look like.'

Grim. Grim and desolate. These were the first impressions Jaime had of the North, and he found that they also applied quite well for the Starks. Although, there was a notable exception out of the miserable lot. Jaime looked at the eldest Stark girl and saw his boyhood impression of a beautiful noblewoman. The two sapphires acting as her eyes seemed to pierce right through him, and their effect was only exaggerated by the flowing crown of fire atop her head. Before locking eyes with the girl, Jaime had noticed all of the Starks were adorned in some form of gray cloak, yet hers seemed softer somehow.

It was at this moment that Jaime realized that while the girl was giving him a look full of curiosity, the rest of her family certainly didn't share her interest. The honorable prick Ned Stark barely glanced at the Lannister knight, but his brief glance was full of loathing. Catelyn Stark, ever the dutiful wife, shared her husbands' loathing in her eyes, but added a touch of disapproval. Jaime glossed over the rest of the Stark pups, while stopping briefly to gaze at the red locks of the eldest daughter, but he also took note of the restless look in the younger daughter.

Jaime's musing on the various Starks was cut short when his liege dismounted off of the much relieved horse and approached Lord Stark. There was an almost tense moment between the two men, before they reunited like long lost brothers and embraced. Robert moved down the line and Jaime did his best to hide his grimace as Robert laid slobbering kisses on the hands of Sansa and Catelyn Stark. It wasn't long before Robert dismissed his Queen and disappeared into the crypts with Ned Stark. Cersei Lannister was once again publicly shamed by her husband in favor for a dead woman. Years ago that would have made Jaime want to kill Robert, he didn't give a damn now.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime saw his dear sister making her way towards him, and immediately turned to leave the courtyard that had somehow gotten icier with her presence. The Lannister twins haven't had a conversation beyond a couple passing words in months, and Jaime planned on keeping it that way. Besides, Jaime already knew what his sister was going to ask- no demand, of him. Their little brother was supposed to have presented himself in the courtyard after the royal wheelhouse had arrived, yet Tyrion Lannister was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Jaime had heard from some of the Lannister men-at-arms about a popular brothel in Wintertown, a small village down the road from the Northern capital.

The Kingslayer found himself walking downhill from Winterfell with two men quickening their stride to walk at his side.

"I don't understand how these Northerners defied the Targaeryans for so long. You'd think that living in a place like this would make you desperate for warmth." Lyle Crakehall muttered in his booming voice that turned every whisper into a declaration.

Jaime glanced to his left to observe the knight. Well to the left and upwards by a good margin. Lyle Crakehall, second son to Lord Roland Crakehall was likely one of the strongest men in the Seven Kingdoms. At first, Jaime didn't care much for the Crakehall knight, for the slightly older man resembled a Robert Baratheon that never lost his edge. In time though the straightforwardness and fierce loyalty of Lyle won over the Lannister Kingsguard. If it were not for the beastly monsters from House Clegane, Lyle Crakehall might be one of the more famous knights of Westeros. This fact seemed to infuriate Lyle, better known as the Strongboar, and he's made it somewhat of a personal endeavor to best the Clegane brothers. Jaime made sure to spar with the Strongboar regularly to ensure that his ambition didn't get him killed and leave the Westerlands deprived of one of its' finest warriors.

"You hit the nail on the head Crakehall." Addam Marbrand confidently answered from Jaime's right, "To survive in this frozen hell you need to be strong. There's no place for weakness in the North."

Ironically, Addam Marbrand could be considered the opposite of Lyle Crakehall. Where Lyle was a giant with broad shoulders, Addam was slim with a tall figure. Lyle had long locks of brown hair, while Addam had a short crop of blonde. Lyle thought with his sword, while Addam was more prone to use his brain. House Marbrand have always been staunch supporters of the Lannisters, and Addam was no different. Even Tywin Lannister noticed the loyalty and clever nature of Addam Marbrand and rewarded it by often naming him commander of their outrider divisions. Jaime grew up with Addam, and considered him one of his closest friends before being tricked into leaving the Rock for a hypocritical order of knights.

"Tell that to the Reeds." Lyle snorted, as he brought up the typically smaller statured men just north of the Neck.

"Tell that to the Boltons." Jaime chipped in and effectively ended the conversation. Nobody would dare consider the Boltons weak. Their house sigil advised people to not underestimate them.

They walked in silence for a few moments towards Wintertown, before Lyle began again, "I just don't see much military potential in these lands. They can barely afford to make it through winter let alone fund a war."

"You're right." Jaime answered, "You don't see it, but that doesn't mean it's not there. The North is larger than most of the other kingdoms combined. There will be abundant natural resources in this land for a millennia. We're lucky to be a coastal power. We outnumber the North three to one, and I'd wager that our men are better disciplined."

"It's hard to train an army that is so dispersed." Addam agreed with the son of his liege lord.

Lyle smiled as he began again, "Not to mention their arms are shit compared to our own. Not even the Reach can supply men like we do."

"Addam has a point though." Jaime mentioned as he observed the working Northern men they passed on their trek to Wintertown, "The typical Northerner would best the typical Westerner one on one. They know discomfort. It's with them from birth. Our wealth and prosperity is as much of a disadvantage as an advantage."

Addam smiled grimly at that thought, "I'd still prefer to have gold than muscle."

Lyle appeared torn on his answer, but ultimately agreed with Jaime, "The typical Lannister soldier could be improved."

Jaime smirked as a thought briefly crossed his mind, but filed it away for later as they were entering Wintertown proper. "Now, where can I find my darling baby brother?" Jaime mused out loud as he tried to find a brothel out of all of the seemingly identical buildings.

"In Lannisport or King's Landing, you'd just look for the building with women wearing next to nothing outside." Lyle remarked as they tried to pick out the right place.

Addam snorted and elbowed Jaime, "Second sons."

Jaime smiled at his friend's joke and wandered into the middle of the town. Their armor drew attention wherever they went, and soon after, glares. Thankfully, Jaime noticed a building where soldiers appeared to enter and exit frequently. The trio made their way in that direction and the growing smell of incense proved their assumption right.

A large man stood by the door and studied the knights as they approached. The bouncer seemed as if he were about to ask them for their weapons, but once he got a closer look at the Strongboar, he thought better of it. With the door held open for them, Jaime led his loyal bannerman into Wintertown's famous whorehouse. Jaime looked around and scoffed at the incredibly bright colors and overwhelming smell of foreign spices. This was not the first time Jaime had sought out his younger brother in a brothel, which led to the Kingslayer having somewhat of a knowledge in these matters. In Jaime's professional opinion: this place was like if someone tried to recreate what they were told a brothel is supposed to resemble.

Despite its' cliche appearance, there was impressive stock on display. As soon as the knights entered, a flock of scantily clad women approached them, which inspired a bizarre desire within Jaime.

'Women.' Jaime almost laughed. For the first time in sixteen years he was free of his absolute loyalty to Cersei. It goes to show how convincing her false pledges of love and devotion were, that his first thought of sleeping with another woman literally occurs within a brothel. Jaime eyed a tall buxom redhead in the back and contemplated the idea for a moment; however, he ultimately decided that his discovery of carnal pleasures outside of his immediate family would not occur in a Northern whorehouse.

"I'm looking for something exotic." Jaime exclaimed jokingly, "He comes up to just over my knee and never knows when to stop talking."

The tempting redhead offered him a dazzling smile, which good for her wasn't missing any teeth, and pointed to a back room. Jaime didn't immediately approach the room, instead he pulled out his coin pouch. Fishing out fifteen silver stags, Jaime offered five each to three of the waiting "hostesses". Bidding that they follow him, Jaime walked to the indicated door and opened it with a wide grin.

"Do you know the meaning of a closer door in a whorehouse?" Tyrion, who was clearly occupied, asked his older brother.

Jaime could not help but smile at the antics of his brother and simply reminded him, "The feast is at sundown. Do not leave me alone with these people."

The Kingslayer turned to leave as the waiting girls flowed into the room behind him. Addam Marbrand was at Jaime's side once more, but the Lannister stopped once he noticed the absence of Lyle.

At Jaime's raised eyebrow, Addam remarked, "He said he'd catch up with us later."

Jaime chuckled and rolled his eyes, "Second sons indeed."

Eddard Stark watched his childhood friend throw himself into a chair before Ned's desk and try to catch his breath. It disturbed Ned how long it took Robert's chest to stop heaving for air and finally settled enough for the King to speak without straining himself. Lord Stark looked forward to catching up with the oldest Baratheon brother; Ned was about to open his mouth to inquire after Renly and Stannis when the King cut him off.

"Lancel!" The King screamed for his squire, "Bring me one of those Northern ales they were rolling out!" A stumbling of feet was heard outside the door of Ned's solar and Robert laughed uproariously at the sound.

Robert shook his head, "Such a stupid boy. Did you want one Ned?"

Ned thought about answering, 'Robert, I usually don't drink right after lunch,' instead, the ever dutiful Stark said, "No, thank you, my King."

The Lord of Westeros looked insulted by the response, "'No, thank you?' 'My King?' First, you won't have a drink with me, and now you insult me with honorifics and pleasantries?" Robert's voice steadily grew louder as he questioned his oldest friend.

A moment of silence passed between the two of them, much like their initial meeting. Ned vanquished the silence by stating:

"Robert, you're a drunk."

The King looked at his Warden of the North and nearly fell over from laughing with him. During their fit, the door cautiously swung open and the thinnest Lannister Ned had ever seen apprehensively entered the room. Lancel held a tankard of ale so large that his arms seemed to shake under its weight. Robert took the tankard with a firm grasp, and Ned was relieved that even under all of that fat there was still the strength Robert exuded in their youth.

Robert wasted no time in taking a deep gulp of his ale and made his satisfaction clear with a lengthy sigh.

"You can't find this in the South." Robert chuckled as he looked meaningly at his Northern brew, but the pleasure in his voice disappeared in an instant as he shouted once more at his squire, "Piss off boy! Go count your allowance in a corner somewhere I can't see you."

Lancel seemed relieved at the command and dutifully bowed before his King and Ned before exiting the room far more quickly than he entered.

Robert looked at Ned and shook his head, "I'm fucking surrounded Ned. I trip over Lannisters with every step. I swear they multiply when my back is turned."

"Tywin would want his roost to grow." Ned murmured, doing a poor job at containing his hate for the Old Lion.

"In more ways than you know," Robert grumbled, as he avoided his friend's eyes and focused on his drink. "You know why I've come, Ned, I need you."

Eddard Stark was concerned by the worry in his King's voice, and he warily answered, "I have six children Robert. You're asking me to almost cut them out of my life entirely."

"Without Jon Arryn, I have no idea what to do." Robert admitted in what was likely the closest he has ever come to begging. "I'm no good at ruling Ned. This should have gone to you or Jon, but I ended up on the throne. Support me now, just as you did when we were younger. Your children aren't that young, besides you could bring some with you."

Ned sighed; Robert always had a way of convincing him of anything given enough time. Lord Stark had also been considering another matter since word came of Jon's death and the King's journey North.

"I suppose it would be good timing to wed Sansa to Prince Joffrey."

Ned didn't miss the widening and almost shameful look in Robert's eyes as he brought up their old pact.

"What is it?" Ned inquired immediately, "We've planned on uniting our houses for decades. What changed?"

"The fucking Lannisters!" Robert bellowed and rose from his chair. The King began to pace the room as he spoke, "We're in for it bad Ned."

"How bad?"

"Six million gold crowns in debt bad."

Ned's face paled at the thought, and sought answers, "How could this have happened? How could Jon let this happen?"

"Ask that weasel Littlefinger!" Robert yelled and drained what remained of his tankard, "The Crown owes three million to Tywin Lannister and another three million to the Iron Bank."

Although still shocked at the enormity of the debt, Ned found himself able to ask, "What does this have to do with my daughter's engagement?"

Robert's anger began to fade, and his apologetic look returned, "Ned I appreciate you waiting all these years for Joffrey to come of age. I know it's a lot to ask a Lord to hold off on marrying his oldest daughter. But we need to lessen the control of the Lannisters. The only other family capable of rivaling the Lannisters in wealth are the Tyrells."

"You'd trade a wolf for a flower?" Ned almost shouted in his anger.

"Winter is coming!" Robert screamed, invoking the Stark words as all hints of regret left his face when Ned raised his voice. "Would you have me borrow another million from Tywin Lannister to feed the Crownlands? The Reach will feed us all if we allow Margaery Tyrell to call herself a Queen."

Ned slumped back in his chair. The Northern Lord was exasperated, but could see the logic in Robert's plan.

"And how will Tywin Lannister react to this?"

"He's also getting what he wants." At Ned's confused look Robert continued explaining, "He came to me months ago with an offer. The Lannisters will forgive a third of the debt if we release the Kingslayer from his vows."

"You would put a price on oaths now!" Ned almost screamed.

Robert had no problem taking his voice even higher to respond, "When the price is a million golden crowns, yes!"

Both men stared at one another silently with rage-filled eyes, but as with all brotherly squabbles, the two sat down once more and already began the path to forgiveness.

"This is happening Ned." Robert guaranteed, "You're my Hand. Bring Sansa to King's Landing. She's your firstborn; she'll have a legion of suitors in the capital."

"I need to speak to my wife and children first."

"You've spoken to your King." Robert dismissed as he rose a final time to leave. "And I get what I want."

Sansa didn't think she had ever seen the great dining hall of Winterfell as full as it was at this moment. The feast had been in full swing for over an hour, yet nobody appeared ready to leave. At her position on one of the higher tables, second only to the royal couple and her parents, Sansa could look over the entire hall. Unsurprisingly, the men in attendance had divided themselves into different tables based on allegiance. Northern men primarily occupied the hall, but there were a couple of tables full of only Lannister or Baratheon men. The Stark woman much preferred observing the many strangers who came to her home than conversing with the boy sitting beside her.

"Your home is beautiful Lady Sansa." Joffrey Baratheon complimented in his gratingly high pitched squeal.

Sansa easily slipped on her mask of courtesy and replied, "You're too kind my Prince."

The redhead almost rolled her eyes at how easily her comment seemed to appease the blonde Baratheon as he leaned back into his chair with another tall cup of wine. The boy was spectacularly unimpressive. His speech, form, and personality all left one wanting. Sansa once dreamed of her betrothed as a dashing hero who would make every moment he spent with her a paradise. Fortunately, reality hit Sansa long before she met the darling Prince, and she had time to school herself in hiding disappointment.

Sansa was brought out of her sullen state by the sound of a particularly rowdy laugh from down below. Once again, Sansa found herself staring at the King in disbelief. Instead of sitting at the highest spot reserved for him beside his wife, King Robert had his face in a serving girl's bosom while being cheered on by his men of arms. Robert appeared only to take a break when he wanted another drink but then dived right in for more.

The Stark daughter turned to view her Queen and was impressed by the Lannisters' ability to appear as if nothing was the matter. A horrible thought struck Sansa then, as she realized this could be regular behavior for the Baratheon King. Sansa gulped as she realized she could be following in the footsteps of the Queen.

Courtesies be damned, Sansa motioned for a servant to pour her a second tall glass of wine. If her mother tried to raise a stink about a grown woman having a second glass of wine at dinner than Sansa would just inquire if the Starks had enough moon tea to stop Robert from siring a bastard on their dining hall floor.

Looking once more out into the great hall, Sansa found herself searching the primary table claimed by men from the Westernlands. Sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by his knights and little brother, was Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingsguard had seemed so morose this morning, but he seemed to become an entirely different person when fraternizing with his brother and fellow knights. Sansa grew up watching her younger siblings interact, but she doubted she had ever seen smiles so full of love than the ones Jaime shared with his brother. The Stark girl wasn't sure how long she had been staring, but eventually, Jaime's eyes found hers once more. Sansa was thrilled to see that the mirth in his eyes didn't disappear when they met her own; she might dare to say that his amusement grew in that moment.

Jaime Lannister's smirk turned into an unbelievably dashing smile, and Sansa felt her heart pound as he silently raised his drink in her direction. Feeling her face flush, Sansa burned to return the gesture, which led to her failing to notice the actions of her younger sister.

"Arya!" A voice full of disbelief screamed over the hall.

Jaime wasn't laughing at the girl. Honestly, he was not laughing at the eldest Stark girl who was fleeing from the hall after her younger sister flung what appeared to be the chocolate cake directly at her face. No, Jaime was laughing at the audacity of the younger girl and the fire in her eyes as she struggled when her elder brother dragged her away.

"If only more Northerners were like that." Jaime couldn't help but state to his table, "These people are all so grim."

Tyrion nodded sagely beside him while he polished off his fourth cup of wine for the night. Addam smirked in agreement as he clinked cups with the sons of his liege lord. Jaime doubted Lyle heard him at all over the sound of his own laughter that hadn't diminished at all since the younger Stark girl launched her volley.

Jaime looked across the hall and frowned as his eyes found the king. Robert Baratheon was slumped over in a chair with a serving girl splayed across his lap. The Kingslayer was incredibly relieved that since the plan to excuse his vows had been approved, the king wanted nothing to do with the Lannister. Currently, it was Ser Meryn Trant's duty to ensure Robert didn't drown himself in alcohol.

Speaking of the king, Robert Baratheon let out a mighty belch that seemed to echo around the halls, and then shouted "Music! Give us a song!"

The Kingslayer groaned as a table of Stark soldiers broke into a dreadfully boring song about maintaining honor before all else.

"Their septas would be proud." Tyrion joked as the Lannister table broke into rowdy laughter, which attracted several glares from the Northerners in attendance.

"Oh! The Lannisters think they can do better!" Robert interrupted the Northern ballad and challenged the houses loyal to his wife's family, "Then give us one of your golden melodies!"

The Lannister men all seemed eager to acquiesce to their King's demands, especially if it meant stopping the Northern drivel, but there was confusion over what song was to be chosen.

Ever the dutiful bannerman, Addam began to break out the Rains of Castamere, but Jaime was still sober enough to read a room and stop the attempt.

Jaime felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down at his fairly inebriated brother, "Come, Jaime, you've always had the prettiest voice in the family!"

At Tyrion's suggestion, several of the loyal Lannister men voiced their agreement and the spotlight turned to the Kingslayer. Jaime made a show of taking a deep swig of his drink to buy himself time to think of what song to begin. It needed to be something lively, something that would scandalize these prudish Northerners and give them a taste of what their precious honor denies them. At that moment, a wide grin spread across Jaime's face as he recalled a song often heard from sailors in the bars and docks of Lannisport.

Jaime rose to his feet to the cheers and jeers of the hall, and began in his powerful voice:

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

Early in the morning?

As soon as Jaime began, the men from the West immediately picked up on his tune and were more than ready to join in for the chorus:

Weigh heigh and up she rises,

Early in the morning?

Having begun the song, it was Jaime's responsibility to sing the first verse:

Shave his belly with a rusty razor,

Early in the morning!

The entire table of loyal Lannister men came back together for a powerful chanting of the chorus. Once the chorus was chorus was complete and the original refrain began once more, Jaime had to choose someone to sing the next original verse. Jaime made his decision known when he lifted his brother onto the table and gestured towards Tyrion to begin. The younger Lannister did not disappoint:

Put him in a bed with the captain's daughter,

Early in the morning!

Having understood the flow of the song and becoming quite enchanted with the joyous simplicity in its' rendition, the Baratheons and even a large number of the Northerners lent their voices to the next chorus. Near the end of the refrain, all eyes were on Tyrion to see who he would choose to lead the next verse. The little Lord raised his hand and with a pointed finger signalled that Robb Stark would had the duty of continuing the sea shanty.

The heir to Eddard Stark had been happily following along with the song, but seemed bewildered at the prospect of improvising a new verse. Thankfully, Theon Greyjoy saved the Stark lad from embarrassment by quickly leaning in and whispering some advice. Just as the refrain ended, Robb stood from his seat:

Give 'im a hair of the dog that bit him,

Early in the morning!

The participation of the Stark heir encouraged the rest of the dining hall to join in and the jubilant chorus of the sea shanty could be heard throughout all of Winterfell. Jaime smiled at his success in getting the Northerners to abandon their solemn songs in favor for a more lively tune, and found that the attention of the hall had been taken off of him and placed on Theon Greyjoy as he prepared to take the next verse. In his slightly inebriated state, Jaime made the mistake of looking upon his sisters damned beautiful form and felt his mirth dissipate. Suddenly feeling an urge for some fresh air, Jaime carefully exited the crowd. The Kingslayer successfully reached the exit to the dining hall without his men or the Northerners noticing; however, he failed to notice a piercing set of blue eyes following him as he slipped out.

How. Dare. She.

For years Sansa had put up with the barbaric actions of her younger sister, but this was going too far. Arya wasn't a child anymore; she should know better than to embarrass the Stark family in front of not only their King but their bannermen and the other great houses! After having thoroughly cleaning herself and selecting a new gown, with the help of Jeyne Poole, Sansa intended to return to the dining hall and having a few words with her sister. So blinded in her rage, Sansa didn't realize that her parents would have surely removed Arya from the hall after the incident; however, this allowed Sansa to witness the singing prowess of a certain Lannister.

The young woman was momentarily stunned at the rowdy state of the great hall, something she had never before seen take place. Sansa found herself swelling with pride when Robb was able to join in on the fun and took great pleasure in seeing the scandalized look in her mothers' face. Hiding in one of the many doorways of the hall, Sansa must have been one of the few, likely only sober, people to notice Jaime Lannister sneaking away from the festivities.

It may have been the elder Lannister brothers' departure, or Theon's crude suggestion towards the drunken sailor's predicament, but Sansa found the mood in the hall to lessen. Feeling an urge to go for a walk herself, Sansa began to navigate the many winding hallways of Winterfell to emerge on its great walls. Now despite what some may say, the Starks do feel cold. Winter was still a ways away, but anyone walking along the top of Winterfell's walls late at night would feel the sharp bite of the northern elements. While her heritage hadn't given her immunity, Sansa had developed some resistance to the cold and the cloak she grabbed at the beginning of her stroll kept the worst of the chills at bay.

Breathing in the crisp air of the night, Sansa moved from torch to torch along the walls of her ancestral keep and happily brushed her hands along the wooden and stone fortifications looking over the land. There was a strange comfort in enjoying one's home with nobody else around. Solitude may normally demand some introspection, but the familiar atmosphere of a cherished home drives away all anxiety and paranoia. These moments had become few and far in between for the eldest Stark child, and she would have avoided contact with anyone to allow them to last as long and possible. But she hadn't planned for coming upon Jaime Lannister leaning against her home's fortifications as he gazed at the night sky.

Sansa smiled as she realized the tune on the wind was his whistling of the shanty that now echoed throughout most of the castle. As she covered the distance between the two of them, Sansa thought desperately as to how she would greet the Kingslayer, but he saved her the trouble.

"I must admit, the endless plains of the North do allow for a wonderful view of the stars."

"Do you often stargaze Ser?" Sansa questioned before she could clamp her mouth shut.

Jaime tilted his head towards her without fully turning his body to face the Stark before responding "I haven't had the occasion to in many years. King's Landing at night is a maze full of thousands of torches that make the stars all the more harder to find. I haven't enjoyed a sight of the sky this clear since I was a boy at Casterly Rock."

"Oh?" Sansa mused, moving to stand beside the Lannister as she became engrossed in his confession, "Is a Lannister admitting that Casterly Rock and Winterfell are comparable in some way?"

That drew a short laugh out of Jaime, as he quickly corrected himself, "Not for all the gold in our mines. The view here is impressive, no doubt about that, but the Rock still has you beat."

More interested in observing the Lannisters' face than the night sky, Sansa prodded further, "How so?"

Not taking his eyes off the constellations, Jaime answered, "If you ever visit the Rock, insist on standing atop it. From that height all the torches of Lannisport couldn't hide the stars. Better yet, the Rock overlooks the ocean and the stars are wonderfully reflected in the water. Some nights you can even hear the tide steadily enter and retreat as the stars gaze down from above."

Forgetting the stats entirely, Sansa found herself far more interested in the surprising poet that was Jaime Lannister.

Finally breaking away from the night sky, Jaime turned to face the young woman and hit her with his customary smirk. "Good evening Lady Sansa."

"Ser Jaime" Sansa returned with a small bow of her head. "If you don't mind my asking, where did you learn that song that has taken over my home?"

Jaime smiled at her comment and readily replied "Sailors of course. Lannisport is one of the largest coastal cities in the Seven Kingdoms. You can't walk down the street without hearing a recently docked crew drinking away their pay in a tavern."

"Do you often encourage nobles to sing about drunken debauchery?" Sansa felt like a younger version of her mother when asking, but the redhead couldn't help herself.

Jaime pointed at her vigorously and immediately answered, "That's exactly why. You Starks are all so grim and righteous. The very thought of entertaining some self-indulgence over your precious honor is sacrilege. It must be exhausting; I feel tired just existing in the same vicinity as you lot."

Sansa felt a surge of offense bubble up within her at that remark. Sure his critique matched exactly with her own feelings as of late, but only she was allowed to point out the faults within her family.

Against her better judgment, Sansa attempted to throw the Kingslayer off his game by challenging him, "I suppose you best get used to Starks then, we'll be your kin soon enough."

The redhead felt a small measure of victory at the immediate widening of Jaime's eyes, but it faded when she realized the response was not one of frustration but confusion.

"I don't take your meaning." Jaime honestly replied to the taunt.

Now it was Sansa's turn to be puzzled, the man was a Kingsguard and uncle to her betrothed, how could he not know of the upcoming nuptials.

"The Prince and I…" Sansa awkwardly stated and watched Jaime's face gradually turn from confusion to shock.

"Wait a moment." Jaime began as he seemed to gather his thoughts, "Has nobody told you?"

Bewildered and more than a little concerned, Sansa replied, "Told me what?"

Jaime seemed reluctant to be the bearer of this message but continued nonetheless, "The King has been making plans to secure a betrothal between Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell."

Time seemed to slow for Sansa as she processed the Kingslayer's words. The silence and quiet contemplation on Sansa's part must have appeared like devastation to the Lannister as he began to utter apologies; however, the Kingslayer ended his half-hearted attempt at comfort when the Stark girl erupted into a fit of laughter. Sansa gleefully threw her arms in the air and even did a spin of celebration in front of the equally amused and confused Lannister knight.

"Dare I say it, but you actually appear to be relieved that you're not going to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Jaime mused as Sansa's celebration continued.

Realizing that repeatedly pumping her arms in the air in joy may be unladylike or seen as offensive to the Lannister, Sansa did her best to contain herself as she shakily replied through a series of giggles.

"Have you ever been forced onto one path for your entire life with no say in the matter whatsoever?"

Sansa had asked the question earnestly, but she was too thrilled with the cancellation of her betrothal that she didn't observe the older man's reaction. If she had, she would have seen Jaime's face turn into one of absolute shock as he struggled to voice a reply. Feeling a sudden rush of energy fill her being, Sansa merrily continued her walk along the walls of her home.

"Goodnight Ser Jaime." Sansa offered as she continued her stroll with a renewed vigor and a quite literal skip in her step.

That section of the wall was quiet long after she left, but in time a small voice was barely audible over the wind.

"Goodnight Sansa."

"That poor fool is going to break an arm." Addam mused, as Harrion Karstark attempted to block another mighty blow from the Strongboar with his shield.

Jaime nodded in agreeance as he watched the "friendly" competition between the Northern and Southern warriors. Lyle had taken yesterday's discussion of regional military prowess to heart and sought to inspire his fellow Westernmen by challenging as many Northerners as he could find. The eldest son of Lord Rickard Karstark was the fourth Northerner to foolishly accept the challenge of the giant Western knight.

It was early in the morning, yet quite a crowd had been drawn to the training grounds as Lyle Crakehall laid waste to his Northern foes. Jaime shook his head as Harrion let out a yelp of pain after barely blocking another strike from Lyle's massive greatsword. The Western knight was famed for his foregoing of a shield in favor of a larger sword, which ironically gave him a fighting style more akin to Northern practices. Harrion had entered the bout equipped with a longsword and a shield, but had been forced to remain on the defensive the entire match. While only using practice weapons, the heavy swings Lyle delivered to the Northerner's shield would surely leave a bruise if not more traumatic bludgeoning damage.

Trying to avoid one of his men maiming the heir to the cadet branch of House Stark, Jaime yelled "Finish this Crakehall!"

Inspired by the shouts of Jaime and the surrounding Lannister men, Lyle pushed forward with a fury. Harrion braced himself for another downward slash, but was unprepared for the Strongboar to switch his aim with a frightening speed. Lyle swiped Harrion's feet out from under the man and kicked his longsword away. Before the Karstark could rise again, Lyle placed his blade on his neck and the crowd roared at his continued victory. Well, the Lannisters in attendance cheered his victory, while the Northerners jeered the Westerner.

Despite the glares of the Northerners, no other man moved forward to knock the Crakehall knight off his pedestal. Lyle was embraced by several Lannister men-at-arms that immediately began petitioning him for training. Jaime smiled at the knight's success in invigorating their men, but was broken out of his musing by a strong Northern accent.

"That's a good man you have there." Ned stark remarked, suddenly appearing at Jaime's side.

"One of the best." Jaime replied, being able to hide his surprise with a practiced ease, "I hope you aren't offended by our sport."

Ned didn't meet the Kingslayer's eyes as he continued speaking, "Every man here is willing. Although I'm surprised you haven't partaken."

Seeing an opportunity to satisfy a long-time desire, Jaime immediately pondered "But who would be a fitting challenge for the Kingslayer? Perhaps the Warden of the North?"

"It wouldn't do for a Kingsguard to be seen fighting the Warden of the North, even in sport." Was all honorable Ned Stark offered in return.

'More like the Warden in the North doesn't want his men seeing him being repeatedly made to eat the dirt within his own castle.' Jaime thought as he struggled to hide his disappointment.

"But perhaps you'll be interested in fighting someone in my place?" Ned questioned with a hint of a smile on his normally stern face.

His interest piqued, Jaime inquired, "And who would be your champion?"

"I believe the two of you fought together at the siege of Pyke." Ned mentioned as he turned away from the fighting grounds. Jaime followed his gaze and set eyes on one of the few anointed knights of the North, as Lord Stark announced their arrival.

"Jory Cassel."

"Nooooo!" Sansa heard Arya whine as Lyle Crakehall defeated yet another Northern warrior in Winterfell's training yard.

From their high vantage point on the walls of the castle, the Stark sisters were easily able to observe the melee that had taken the attention of most of Winterfell. Sansa had been instructed by her mother to retrieve her younger sister for a family breakfast, but the two had been sidetracked by the lively display. Normally Sansa would have no interest in observing the fighting men practice, but her interest in the Western knights compelled her to stay and indulge the insistence of her sister.

"Harrion is always too hesitant." Arya remarked, as she offered the same level of criticism that an experienced castellan would, "He thinks that a shield wall will keep any danger at bay."

Sansa didn't have much to offer in return and simply replied, "The Strongboar certainly proved him wrong."

Arya had to begrudgingly agree that a Westerner got the better of one of her Northern champions, but she was quick to refute "Torrhen would've wiped the floor with him though!"

Sansa rolled her eyes and decided against engaging with her sister over the girls' new crush. It was a badly kept secret that Arya was falling for one of Lord Karstark's spare sons. If Torrhen had been the firstborn then all would have been fine, but a daughter of Ned Stark would never be married to a second son. Sansa gave her younger sister a rare look of pity, as the match would have been one of the few she would have accepted. The younger Stark girl began to drone on about the finer points of combat, which Sansa pretended to acknowledge, but the elder Stark was actually considering a new idea.

'Perhaps,' Sansa thought, 'if I marry well enough… our parents won't feel the need to pressure Arya into an advantageous match.'

A marriage to the next King could have secured that security for Arya, but that was no longer an option on the table. Sansa would just have to endeavor to find another eligible bachelor of the same value as royalty, which even sounded ridiculous in her head.

The redhead released a brief sigh, but found her eyes narrowing further as she noticed a familiar figure enter the training yard.

Sansa was about to point out the figure, but her sister beat her to it by stating "Is that Jory?"

"Will he challenge Ser Lyle?" Sansa was shocked at the thought. The men Lyle had bested were familiar to her, but none of them had been constant figures in her life as she had grown up. Jory was like another brother or a young uncle to the Stark girl.

"Jory is surely a match for the Strongboar!" Arya confidently boasted as she excitedly jumped on her heels.

A few moments passed and the girls watched Jory prepare two practice swords, but it was not Lyle Crakehall who entered the small arena. Sansa wasn't able to withhold a gasp as Jaime Lannister easily caught the practice longsword thrown to him by Winterfell's captain of the guard.

"The Kingslayer versus Rory!" Arya exclaimed as she almost shook from anticipation. Sansa meant to reply, but the girl found her mouth suddenly as barren as the desserts of Dorne.

A moment later the blunted steel began to flash in the training yard.

Jory Cassel was an excellent knight and surely one of the finest men the North had to offer; however, even to Sansa's untrained eye he was in over his head facing off against Jaime Lannister. Unlike the Strongboar, Jaime allowed his opponent to take the offensive and seemed to patiently measure their ability as he deflected their attacks. Jory ran himself ragged trying to get past the defenses of the Kingslayer, but the Lannister almost seemed to predict his movements. Apparently deciding to push back, Jaime parried a maneuver Jory had tried once before and nearly forced the Northern Knight to fall on his behind.

Sansa found some strange delight in watching Jaime surge forward as Jory's footwork could barely keep up with the Kingsguard. A few more well placed swings saw Jaime breach Jory's fumbling guard and disarm his opponent.

There was a cheer in the training yard as Jaime accepted his opponent's surrender and offered a hand to help the man rise from the ground.

It was silent between the girls for a moment until Sansa found herself grinning happily and questioning, "Could Torrhen Karstark have done that?"

Once the commotion had died down in the courtyard, Sansa tore Arya away from the ramparts and the two travelled to the modest chamber the Stark family broke their fast together. Sansa hid a smug smile, as even though the Stark girls were late to the meeting, their father and brothers were later still. Between her husband and children, Catelyn didn't seem to know where to aim her unapproving gaze. The Stark matriarch instead decided to aim her displeasure at Jon Snow, since today was one of the occasions where their father talked into joining the family for a meal.

Conversation revolved around the recent fights in the training yard and the impending journey South. Sansa was uncharacteristically quiet during breakfast, merely offering polite responses and making no attempt to actively engage with her family. The elder Stark daughter only spoke after Robb scooped little Rickon into his arms and left Sansa alone with her parents.

"Mother? Father?" Sansa cooly said aloud as she looked at her parents who were still focused on the last remnants of their meal.

"Yes, darling?" Ned inquired, although he didn't take his eyes away from his breakfast.

"Did you plan on waiting until we arrived in King's Landing to inform me that my betrothal had been broken?" Sansa's innocent voice acquired; however, her eyes were full of ire.

Ned and Catelyn Stark both nearly dropped their cutlery as they stared shocked at their eldest daughter. The Lord and Lady pushed aside their plates, certainly having lost their appetite, and looked to one another almost nervously.

"Well-" Ned stammered as he looked to his wife for guidance on how to broach this unexpected subject.

Seeing her husband at a loss for words, Catelyn chimed in, "We intended on pulling you aside once the preparations for the journey South were complete."

Seeing his wife regain her composure allowed Ned to find his and the Lord nodded at his wife's words.

"Then I will still be going South?" Sansa asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course." Ned answered with a smile, believing his daughter was still hopelessly enamored with stories of chivalry and dashing knights. "I'm sorry that I can no longer make you Queen, but I will find you a husband that is honest and noble."

Sansa had to allow ice into her heart to not falter at the genuine affection in her father's voice, which gave her the strength to continue.

"So I will have my will and desire stripped from me again? I will be matched with a man even stranger to me?" Sansa shot off, managing to keep her voice from rising like a child.

Ned's smile disappeared into a confused frown, as Catelyn immediately chastised her daughter, "That is the duty of a noble woman. You know this. Honestly, you're beginning to sound like Arya."

"No." Sansa disagreed, "I sound like a sane woman. A woman who would like to know the man she would spend the rest of her life with."

The solar was quiet for a moment. Sansa stared defiantly at her dumbstruck mother and disappointed father. Ned gave out a low sigh, as his disappointment was not rooted in his daughter's actions, but his inability to give his little girl what she desired.

"Sansa." The Stark patriarch's gentle voice began, as he took his daughter's small hands into his own calloused ones, "I can't allow you to not marry."

Beginning to break at the kindness in her father's eyes, Sansa pleaded, "Then at least allow me to make the decision. Allow me to find my own husband who will be a proper match for the eldest Stark daughter and one that I know will not hurt or shame me."

Tears began to descend Sansa's face, as her father brought her into his arms and whispered gently into her ear, "You have my blessing sweet girl."

Jaime breathed in the Northern air that he was unfortunately growing accustomed too, as he saw the banners of the King disappear from the castle. The honorable King Robert occasionally felt the need to prove his manhood by throwing spears at wild animals and having his men chase after the untouched creatures. The Lannister was spared the torture of accompanying the King this day; however, Jaime almost desired to go forth and weather the Kings' droning if only to avoid the hellish boredom of the frozen Northern castle.

Lyle, Addam, and Tyrion decided to go on a ride through the countryside, so they were not present to amuse the Kingslayer. Jaime's sister was a subject the elder Lannister brother wished to avoid entirely, which also ruled out their bastard children. As a member of the Kingsguard, Jaime couldn't lower himself to challenging common soldiers to a practice fight. Finally, speaking to Northerners made Jaime want to rip out his golden hair.

Although there was one redheaded exception.

Sansa Stark. The young woman was surprisingly welcome company to Jaime. The Kingsugard didn't know if it was her similar lack of control in life or her breathtaking beauty that was endearing a Stark of all people to one of the most famous Lannisters.

That's why it took Jaime off guard when he looked up to see none other than Sansa Stark herself smiling at him from across the courtyard. Jaime was stunned at the cheerfulness in her face, but he managed to wave a hand in greeting a moment later. Although, as soon as Jaime's hand raised, the smile was replaced by a confused brow. Jaime immediately put his hand down, worried that his casual gesture may have offended the noblewoman, but grew even more concerned as her confusion turned to terror as her hands quickly moved to stifle a scream.

Jaime didn't have to guess the cause for her reactions, as a sickening thud rang throughout Winterfell as Bran Stark hit the ground a few dozen feet from where Jaime stood.

And that is chapter one! I hope everybody enjoyed the direction this story is going!

Until Next Time