HI THERE thank you for sticking with me if you're here again, reading the update. I was planning on posting it later, because i wanted to add another piece, but I figured it's been long enough so here is the next chapter. Please please review! I love to know your honest thoughts.

Robb's POV

Robb watched his friends of the King's Guard face each other in the tourney, Balon Swann being the most successful. Balon had just knocked ser Harry Sawyer of his horse with only one tilt. Robb applauded, seeing his sister do the same in the corner of her eye. He knew very well neither of them was paying much attention to the tourney.

His sister's handmaiden leaned in over his sister's shoulder, whispering names to her, like she had done regularly for a large part of the day. The girl didn't appear quite bright, but she seemed to make herself useful to his sister regardless.

"The regal looking one, in red. On lady Olenna's row, surrounded by the two guards and a friend. With the braid, half his chest out. He's the prince of Pentos," she told Sansa, as his sister nodded discreetly, scanning the crowd, all the whilst clapping at Balon's success.

Robb looked for the man as well. He hadn't managed to adequately welcome every important person coming to the city as etiquette required, especially the foreigners. It had been the same with the Martells. Maybe etiquette wasn't one of the Stark king's fortes.

"Bastards and concubines, yet looking for a wife. It is said he likes Westerosi women. Princes of Pentos can be sacrificed in times of crises, so perhaps not the safest choice."

The man they were looking at seemed too old, in Robb's mind, to ask for his sister's hand. But then again, he was probably no older than Jaime Lannister had been. He had a thick moustache, dyed purple.

"The one with the silver tunic," she continued. "Three rows below. Bald. One of the triarchs of Volantis. Nyeossos Vhassar. On his third term, likely to be reelected. He's been looking at you quite a lot. Talking about you, as well."

Sansa and Robb's eyes did the same movement, and landed on the said man. He was slightly closer to her in age, though older than both of them, and looked kind. His garments and his slave's suggested piles of wealth, being that the young man next to him was tattooed but still better dressed than many Westerosi noblemen.

"Slave cities," Robb said, chipping in. The girl and Sansa looked over at him. "Talk to them, but you won't marry someone who makes his money off selling people. We can't be hypocrites."

Neither Sansa nor the girl responded, but they understood and probably agreed. Robb hadn't even entertained the possibility to marry Sansa to an Essosi. He hadn't truly thought about marrying her to anyone. But it seemed to him that he needed to solidify his reign in Westeros before making alliances outside of it. Unless they were in dire need of gold. Robb knew the custom in the Free Cities was for the husband to pay the bride's family, rather than the other way around. It could be useful, but maybe more likely for a second sister rather than the eldest.

As prince Oberyn and ser Loras had been defeated, the two most likely to champion, ser Balon was left to try and defeat the mystery knight. The winner would crown the queen of love and beauty. Balon couldn't possibly marry his sister, a prospect which made Robb wish for his victory. It would entail little drama. He was glad Oberyn and Harry had recently lost. They would've been too ostentatious in their pursuit of Sansa.

The musicians were playing during the intermission and Robb turned towards his sister. She looked absent. Sometimes, he felt disconnected from her. Now that they were older, it could be hard to feel the bond they used to have. It made him look for foolish ways to rekindle it. "I've sent for Jon," Robb blurted out without thinking. "He'll be here for the wedding."

Sansa looked surprised, and stared ahead blankly for a few seconds. She then exhaled shakily. The strange expression ended in a smile. "It will be sweet to see him again," she said, slightly shaky and insecure, but genuinely.

Robb knew Sansa and Jon hadn't been the closest in Winterfell. He didn't tell her he hoped the visit of the lord commander would end in a permanent fashion. He wanted Jon by his side. Maybe as his Hand. He needed to appoint one soon, as the position had been vacant for too long, but could find no suitable candidate. Tyrion was probably the most apt, but it was delicate to give a Lannister power. If Jon, as brother of the king, could be forgiven of his oath and that could be accepted considering his kinship.

He looked over the crowd, growing restless with anticipation. Everyone was ready for the sun to set on the tourney, as it sent of its last strong golden rays. Myrcella seemed to enjoy herself, which gave him content. He liked seeing her distracted, consumed by the thrill. She was southern after all, enjoying the entertainment he found so odd. She was sitting alone, her brother probably off attending to ser Arys, as they had arranged. He wished he could sit next to her. Listen to her hold in her breath. Squeeze his hand in anticipation. Maybe it'd make him appreciate the game after all.

"Myrcella," Sansa started, turning toward him.

Robb fiddled on his seat, feeling busted. Had she seen him look at her?

Sansa looked back at the crowd again, causing Robb to exhale. "Yes?"

"Maybe I should make her my lady-in-waiting. If that is appropriate, as a bastard."

Robb nodded. He didn't care much whether it would be deemed appropriate. "It's a good idea."

"You made her brother squire to ser Arys," she said observingly.

"Yes," he replied, trying to look as neutral as possible.

"You care for the boy?"

He ran his hand through his hair. He was terrible at lying to those who knew him. "I cut his mother's head off." He didn't say much more, but Sansa stopped asking. The guilt was true.

"Do you think it wise to have the brother of the deposed king taught by one of the best knights in the Kingdom in close proximity to that king's usurper?"

"It's Tommen." Robb responded. He couldn't imagine the boy as any type of danger.

"He's Tommen now. He's young and innocent and kind. But he'll be a man someday. He might change by then."

Robb was surprised at her distrust and weariness. "So what should I do? Send him to Casterly Rock, to find some Lannister loyalists?"

Sansa didn't answer. She was considering his words. "Keep him close," she then said, giving in to his idea. "Have him watched, though. And don't give him all the tools he'd need to start a rebellion within ten years."

Robb sighed. She had a point. Maybe he'd have to talk to the boy, see for himself what he was like. Surround him with people loyal to the Starks.

"If you forgive Jon's oath", Sansa continued. Robb was surprised she mentioned it, as he hadn't expressed his plans on that front. "He could be a good match for Myrcella."

He didn't answer. He had a hard time processing the words and he stared at her with a blank expression, then turned to watch Myrcella, who was laughing with Tyrion. Obviously, he hated it. He didn't want to think of Myrcella marrying anyone, much less his brother. Two highborn bastards might be a decent match indeed. He could grant Jon a castle and a lordship and they could live comfortably, if they could ignore the sneers and mocking for the rest of their lives.

"Or-" Sansa continued, much to his dismay. "If Trystane still cares for her and she for him – his paramount."

Robb frowned and sighed. He didn't understand why she felt like discussing Myrcella's fate. It irritated him and he was bad at hiding it. The prospect of Myrcella leaving for Dorne to be a prince's whore didn't thrill him much. But what was worse, was that he didn't know if it would thrill her. They hadn't talked much of the Martell boy. He knew she had been in love, in a way. More than with him?

"There are more urgent matters to settle than Joffrey's siblings," he responded, effectively ending the conversation.

"Like what?"

"The North. Marriage. Mine, yours."

Robb didn't see his sister's expression because the music started again and the two finalists were met with a wave of applause. He sat up, glad it would all be over soon. He had made it through his first tournament without casualties. That is, besides the hedge knight that had fallen when he disappeared with Arianne. He did not know how he was doing.

The opponents prepared themselves, assisted by their squires. The horses looked slightly tense. Robb could tell people in the audience were making bets. He wondered how it was possible to make a bet with a mystery knight involved. The man had won everything up till then, but so had Balon. Balon was a member of the Kingsguard, but perhaps the mystery knight had proven himself as well. There was no way to know.

The two finalists started charging at each other, and Robb practically felt the crowd collectively hold its breath. The two lances came closer together, but didn't manage to push either one off their horse. This movement continued, and each time they missed each other the crowd let out a breath, inhaling again when the horses charged at each other again after another failed tilt. The fifth tilt ended in a loud clash of metal and Balon fell off his horse. Robb rose nervously, but it seemed Balon was not injured. The crowd finally exhaled and started to cheer and applaud the victor. He felt Sansa rise next to him, as well as his mother, joining the applause. He eventually applauded as well.

The mystery knight seemed rather nervous after winning, looking around and not guiding his horse in any particular direction. A servant approached him, holding out the lily laurel for the Queen of Love and Beauty on a pillow. The knight slid the laurel onto his lance, and guided his horse toward the dais. As expected, he let the laurel fall into Sansa's lap. Robb looked at her while the crowd cheered. She smiled appropriately, accepting of the honor but not boasting. Robb could tell her feet were shifting, though, nervous of the possible repercussions. Sansa nodded thankfully at the knight, a faint blush visible on her cheeks. She looked enthralling in her gown, a sight to sing about, but the red colour of it once more bothered Robb, feeling as though she had tried to present herself as a Lannister widow.

"Who honours me so?" Sansa asked, her voice, though not very loud, managing to silence the crowd.

The knight looked hesitant to do anything and for a second Robb wondered if he was deaf. But sure enough, he then took off his helmet and locks of white-looking hair fell out, contrastingly framing a rather young looking face.

"Edric Dayne, my princess," the knight answered, not quite loud enough for everyone to hear. A wave of whispers flowed through the crowd, repeating the winner's name to those who hadn't heard it.

The excitement was palpable when Robb spoke. "You are a very skilled knight, ser Edric. It comes as no surprise." Robb tried to gage Edric's expression. He knew his father had killed the legendary ser Arthur Dayne, the boy's uncle. Maybe he was resentful. But Edric's face only betrayed his dislike of being watched and talked of, his body language and youthful face making him appear ten years younger than when he was anonymous.

"You flatter me, your grace. But I am no knight," Edric replied. "Merely a squire."

Robb's eyes widened, surprised. He wasn't extremely well versed in knighthood as the tradition was Andal, but Edric Dayne had elegantly beaten every opponent and seemed ready to be knighted.

"Join us at my table, lord Edric," Robb said. "Let's eat!"

The crowd cheered at the suggestion and everyone moved towards the feast in the field where they had eaten only hours before. The dinner started early as the sun was only just starting to set. The only thing Robb felt was relief that his very first tourney had ended with no scandal in sight.

Sansa's POV

Sansa sat beside Edric Dayne, who on his other side was flanked by Robb. The first course of the feast was already served and the musicians were playing as the sky was turning gold. Edric was not much younger than her, perhaps a year, but his face still needed to harden and a beard had not yet started to seriously grow. His eyes were dark blue, and his hair pale blond, making him seem less Valyrian up close. He felt like a boy and a man simultaneously, depending on the tone of his voice and the movements he made. Kind and gentle, he seemed, and Sansa could not have wished for a better victor of which to receive the laurel she was now wearing on her hair. She knew people were watching them talk and wondering, but she did not care to hide her curiosity.

"Have you been to King's Landing before, lord Edric?"

"Yes," he replied with a soft smile. "I have. I was at the Hand's Tourney years ago. I saw you, receiving a Tyrell rose."

Sansa grinned. "Did you like this Tourney better?"

Edric was thinking. "Not really," he replied, a blush starting to form. "I didn't foresee winning, you see. I don't feel comfortable at the centre of attention." He remained silent for a while. "I was Beric Dondarrion's squire, back then."

"Beric Dondarrion," Sansa repeated, trying to remember the name. She chuckled, remembering Jeyne's words. "I remember him. Handsome, wasn't he? My best friend took a fancy to him at the Tourney."

"Yes," he said with a smile. "At first, he was."

"Is it from him you learned to fight so well?" Robb asked, joining the conversation.

"We were sent by your lord father, your grace, to the Riverlands. He had to lead the expedition against ser Gregor Clegane's raids. I was so fearful at the Mummer's Ford. We were ambushed, you see. Beric was dying. Afterwards, we formed the brotherhood without banners."

Sansa nodded. She had heard of the brotherhood, fighting in King Robert's name, at first. Attacking Lannisters and supposedly protecting the weak.

"I learned a lot, in the brotherhood. Beric taught me, but so did all the others. I stayed even after Beric finally died. I only went back to Starfall when I heard of your victory, your grace."

"Starfall must be beautiful," Sansa said.

"It is."

They remained silent for a while, until Robb declared "I shall knight you tomorrow, lord Edric. It is high time you receive what you've earned."

Edric looked startled. "Kn- knight me?"

"It is only right," Robb replied.

Sansa knew Robb had never knighted anyone as a northerner, and he would have to be explained the details by one of his King's Guards. But she knew that as King of the Andals, he didn't have to be a knight himself to knight others.

Edric's astonished expression remained. "I didn't mean to-"

"You've fought in the brotherhood for years and have just won an important tourney. You show excellent character. First thing tomorrow, Edric," Robb said, patting his back quite brotherly, breaking the kingly demeanor. "You can stand vigil in the sept tonight. Tomorrow, the High Septon will anoint you and I will dub you."

"You honor me, your grace," Edric managed to say.

Robb patted him on the back again and proceeded to disappear after ser Patrek whispered something into his ear. "If you'll excuse me."

The knight-to-be was baffled. Being anointed by the High Septon in the Great Sept of Baelor and dubbed by the King in the throne room was the greatest possible honor. Edric definitely deserved his knighthood, and the honour that accompanied his family's legacy. But Sansa felt that Robb felt guilty, in a way. He probably wanted to make up for their father's victory over ser Arthur. Maybe even for the mysterious suicide of lady Ashara that followed.

"We should dance," Sansa said to him.

Edric blinked a couple times, until he regained his composure. His face made Sansa laugh. "You crowned me Queen of Love and Beauty. It's only right you should be my first dance."

"I can't dance very well," he said.

"I can. I'll lead discreetly," she whispered, as she stood up.

They walked to the dancing area and Sansa felt graceful in his arms. His few stumbles were easily masked by the flowing of her skirts and hair. The music was joyful, the dancers were elegant and the golden rays of the sun felt warm on her skin.

"My princess. I feel I must tell you something," Edric started, looking nervous, whilst trying to concentrate on his feet.

"Yes?"

"I think it might be better now that no one can hear us. The music is loud enough."

Sansa kept dancing as if they were only talking of the weather but was attentive.

"I've met your sister, Arya."

Sansa's heart skipped a beat and she lost her composure for a second. They stopped dancing, but she quickly corrected herself and kept up the dance.

"When?"

"Years ago. She was captured by the brotherhood."

Sansa wanted to know so much more, but had a hard time speaking or even just processing the words. "How was she?"

"She looked good," Edric said quickly, reassuringly. "She was dressed as a boy, hair cut short, with a friend. Escaped from Harrenhall. But she was recognized by Harwin."

"Harwin," Sansa gasped. A guard of her father's.

"Yes. So the brotherhood knew who she was. Beric wanted to ransom her to the Tully's or to your brother Robb. She was well cared for, I swear. I tried to befriend her. After a couple of weeks, though, she managed to escape."

Sansa kept dancing, though unsettled by the information. Whilst performing her final spin she realized the news was a dead end. It confirmed Arya had survived after disappearing from King's Landing, but didn't guarantee she had continued to survive after escaping. Where had she escaped to? If she was alive, wouldn't she have heard of Robb's victory? Why was she staying away?

"Thank you," she mumbled, curtsying.

She could barely gather her thoughts before she was asked by the next sealord of Braavos, Tormo Fregar, to dance. He would be the second of many.