A/N: My deepest apologies for the long absence, dear readers. When I started this story, I was five months pregnant and it was already not exactly the easiest of pregnancies. Not long after my last update, I began experiencing serve pain in my wrists and fingers, making it unbearable to type and almost impossible to write with a pen for more than a short note. I was retaining water so badly I had developed pregnancy induced carpal tunnel. Until after my daughter was born and my body started to flush out, I could not write anything. Then, the demands of a new parent set in. Between that, utter exhaustion, and some post-partum depression, I had no desire to write anything. Once things finally settled, I suffered with writer's block. For over a year. I couldn't manage to create anything more for a single story I currently have in development. Anything I wrote was just pure crap. Thankfully, things seem to finally be moving again. While I am still stuck on writing chapter thirteen for Dark Wolf, I have the ambition to continue on with typing up and uploading what is already written for the rest. I can only thank you all for your patience and the love you have given to this story. It warms my heart more than I can possibly explain.

Furthermore, as we move onward, I would like to remind everyone that this story is an AU. Some things will be the same or similar. Others are going to be very different. I've inserted a completely new character into a powerful noble house that is essential to the plotline. It is bound to create ripple effects, some of which have already happened.

Now, please enjoy this long overdue chapter.

Chapter 4

Brielle rose from her bed just before the sun's light began to creep above the horizon. For as long as she could remember, she had struggled with staying asleep for long periods of time, even when she was exhausted. Thankfully, at this point she was used to it and had learned to survive on little rest.

While Brielle started to move around, Dawn watched from the bed. The pup observed as her mistress splashed her face with cold water and dried off, then began to do her habitual morning exercises and stretches. Within fifteen minutes the young woman was finished, ending her morning routine by quickly dressing into her training clothes. As she finished lacing up her boots, Brielle gave a short whistle, calling Dawn to her in an order to follow. The pup quietly leapt from the bed and trotted over. Smiling down at the eager little direwolf, Brielle swung her cloak over her shoulders, then opened the door. The two proceeded to sneak down the many halls of Winterfell for the kitchens.

The young woman and direwolf were both surprised to find the rooms unusually deserted for this time in the early morning. By now, Agatha and Sera should be starting the fires up as the rest of the kitchen staff prepped what would be needed for the many occupants of Winterfell's breakfast. However, Brielle was not all that surprised and secretly glad. The feast had raged on for quite a few hours after she retired no doubt, which left the kitchens without staff to pester her with questions or normal chitchat. Normally, Brielle did not mind. She enjoyed interacting with many of the servants. Today was merely a day where she desired to be left to her own thoughts for any sort of dialect. She especially had no desire to discuss with any of the younger women her surprise betrothal. That was a subject she would actively avoid for the moment.

After a little rummaging around, Brielle managed to find a small loaf of day old bread, a couple apples and a few strips of smoked jerky for a light breakfast. A few scraps left over from last night's feast were easy to find in the waste bins put aside for the dogs, which served as Dawn's morning meal. The growing pup greedily ate up the meat pieces while her mistress munched on her loaf. Once Dawn was finished, the two made their way to the godswood. It was just as Brielle was finishing the last of her apple and tucking the other away for later that they entered the domain of the Old Gods.

A soft smile came to the she-wolf's lips as she walked under the canopy of the many ancient trees. While she may have been born in the light of the Seven, Brielle had never found any comfort from sitting in the small sept her uncle had built for his southern lady wife. Instead, she always felt as if she were a stranger, unwelcomed by the New Gods, as much an outcast in their eyes as she was to the rest of the world. But here….here among these many ancient trees and the air of times long past, this was where she knew she was welcomed. Even the carved face upon the great weirwood provided comfort and solace. The crying ancient face and the dark red leaves bothered Lady Catelyn and Sansa, but the once bastard looked upon the heart tree as if it were an old friend.

Throughout her childhood, the dark haired beauty had traversed the entirety of the three acres that made up Winterfell's godswood, this small piece of the old forest left untouched for ten thousand years. Hours she had spent here alone, with Jon, or sometimes even with Theon when they wished to escape the prying and knowing eyes of those older than themselves. Yet she would soon be forced to leave this long time comfort. She would go to the South, where those who still worshipped the Old Gods were looked down upon as if they were heathens by those who followed the Seven.

Brielle sighed and took a seat on one of the large roots under the heart tree, mulling over that new realization. As if I was not already to be considered an outsider by the rest of the Lannisters. I do hope none are foolish enough to try to convert me. They will be sorely disappointed. And if they persist, I may have to prove how much of a "heathen" we northerners can be.

The fact she was to be the one to marry the heir of House Lannister must be such a disappointment for the current Lord of Casterly Rock. After all, how could it not? Tywin Lannister was forced to wed his eldest son to a legitimized bastard in order to gain him back as his heir. The Old Lion's hands were tied. Brielle tried not to dwell on it, but she could admit there was a small amount of fear that her future father-in-law would look on her with nothing but disdain and contempt. The young woman knew she should not be worried about this, it would be nothing new. But this was Tywin Lannister, a man who took great pride in his house and would no doubt view her joining with Jaime as a stain upon the Lannister legacy. Of noble blood she may be, but that was of little consequence to those who still viewed Brielle as no better than the manner of her birth, regardless of King Robert's decree. After all, she had no lands to inherit, nor great wealth to give to her husband. All that the she-wolf had was the name Stark, which was why many of the northern lords, as well as a few from the Vale and the Riverlands, had made an offer for the Dark Beauty of Winterfell's hand. For the great men who ruled it, her only worth in this world was her name and Brielle highly doubted that meant much of anything at all to the Old Lion.

As the hours of the early morning passed, Brielle remained sitting under the heart tree in silent contemplation. Dawn had scampered off, leaving her mistress to her thoughts as the pup stretched her own legs and explored the area. Brielle did not begrudge her furry companion. While the pup was exceedingly obedient, Dawn was still very young, full of energy and a natural curiosity of the world around her.

While Dawn wandered, her mistress thought over all that had happened the previous day. After all, there was so very much to contemplate. What would her future hold married to the heir of Casterly Rock? How was she to survive a lifetime of living among southerners? Could she truly match the skill of Ser Jaime Lannister, the man considered to be the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms and who had trained with her legendary uncle? The young woman beseeched the gods for guidance. She received none, but still felt more at peace with her uncertain future by the time she rose from her spot to leave.

When Brielle and Dawn emerged from the depths of the godswood, the sun was now above the horizon and life had returned to the yard as servants and soldiers went about their work. Brielle stayed out of their way, minding her path as she quickly walked over to her second favorite place in Winterfell. She could already hear the stomping of impatient hooves and periodic snorts.

As Brielle entered the stable, the smell of hay and horse dung immediately greeted her nose. Out of habit, her tongue made a sharp click, causing a dappled gray mare's head to pop out over a stall door. The mare gave a happy knicker in greeting. Brielle smiled in response, walking further down the aisle in order to stroke the fair beast's head with great affection.

"Good morning, Mist," the she-wolf greeted while pulling out the second apple she had swiped earlier from the kitchens. The mare took the treat delicately, having learned long ago that good manners were rewarded.

Once Mist had taken the last remnants from her hand, the young woman grabbed a nearby bucket of brushes, then entered the stall along with Dawn. The mare and direwolf shared a quick greeting, in which Mist gently bumped the pup on her rump as she passed, before Dawn settled down into some straw to observe.

Brielle set to work immediately, rubbing her mare down as she informed the beast all about the king's arrival, the welcoming feast, and her most unexpected betrothal. Out of the three, the young woman spent the most time venting her frustrations about her upcoming marriage and future husband.

"I still can hardly fathom it, Mist," Brielle whispered to the mare, trying to stop any passing stable boys from overhearing her words. "I've accepted my fate to marry the lion, there's nothing I can do to change that, but it is somewhat hard to believe. I'm no one of real consequence, after all. However, Uncle told me the king is amused by how much this match has enraged the queen." Her forehead creased as her mouth turned down at the thought. "I can't help but feel somewhat used knowing that small fact."

Mist said nothing, merely continued to munch on her hay and enjoy the feeling of the brush running through her coat. Brielle was silent for a time, her thoughts now turning fully to Jaime Lannister.

"I can admit he is quite handsome. A golden lion, to be sure." Brielle huffed in exasperation. "Yet I want nothing more than to take up Ice and stab him through the gut. I doubt Uncle would let me. It'd be a mighty disservice to such a great sword."

"And it wouldn't be a disservice to me? I'm appalled to hear you think so little of my life, little wolf."

A small gasp of escaped Brielle as her head whipped around to the stall's entrance. There, in all his smug and golden glory, stood the knight who was responsible for all of her problems. What she began to believe was his trademark smirk was already splitting Jaime's lips. It seemed as if his face knew no other expression than this, except for that of boredom. Her eyes had already witnessed both far too many times over the course of a single day.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, Jaime smirking at her surprise while Brielle attempted to come up with something witty or at the very least biting to say in response. However, her mind had drawn a blank.

Giving up on trying to defend her words, Brielle finally opted for a simple greeting. "Ser Jaime."

The corner of his lips twitched at that while his eyes almost looked disappointed in her reaction. "Lady Brielle. Although, it is only lady because your uncle managed to convince his dear old friend the king to make you legitimate. If he hadn't, it'd still be Brielle Snow, wouldn't it?"

He was trying to goad a reaction out of her, just as he had with his words about the North and Jon last night. Unfortunately for him, what he said was nothing Brielle was not already keenly aware of. Furthermore, he had no way of knowing his future wife would have very much preferred to remain a Snow.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to continue brushing Mist, who pointedly ignored the knight leaning against her stall door. "If that were the case, then you and I would not be about to marry. A fate I think you have demonstrated clearly enough how very much you wish to avoid."

Brielle did not look at the lion to see how her words affected him, but she doubted she spoke anything that was not true. His actions and words so far were proof enough of his displeasure at their betrothal. It took a night and hours of contemplation in the godswood for the she-wolf to realize that was all this was. He did not want to leave the Kingsguard. He did not want to marry her. So, he would be taunting and cruel in his own way, making it clear to all just how he felt about their future together. Well, two could play that game and Brielle had no plans to allow her husband to think he could act in such a disrespectful manner toward her, no matter the fact she shared his feelings on the match. They were stuck in this together. The sooner he realized it the better for them both. They would make something good of this marriage, even if it was only friendship or at the very least common curtesy and respect that they could have between them.

"And are you so desperate to marry and become a lioness, little wolf?" He asked with heavy sarcasm.

Brielle dropped the brush into its bucket, then patted Mist's neck one more time before turning to face the southern knight. His green eyes were alight with some sort of emotion the young woman could not identify.

"I have no desire to marry any man. Or leave the North for that matter. Winterfell is my home and it always will be," she told him, her voice strong and clear. "However, I am a woman of noble birth, despite the circumstances surrounding it. What I want has no significance to the king, who is free to promise my hand to whomever he chooses should he desire to. As it happens, he has chosen you. I may not like this match, Ser, but I am not going to try sabotaging any hope for some kind of relationship between us simply because I am being denied the freedom to choose my own fate."

Surprisingly, Jaime did not have something clever to say waiting on his lips. He simply stared at her, his smirk replaced by an almost solemn expression and his brow furrowed. It was so out of place, Brielle could hardly fathom what she was seeing.

At last he spoke, this time with a tone of voice unlike any he had used with her before. "You really are quite something else, you know that, little wolf? Such a pity. Those of the South will swallow you whole and spit whatever's left of you back out."

If not for his tone, Brielle would have taken offense at Jaime's words. However, she realized in that moment that the knight before her seemed to pity the fate he believed she would face once they left the North.

He does not think I am strong enough, that somehow I will be taken in and destroyed by the South's falseness. The barest of concern he exhibited in that moment surprised Brielle more than she could say. But she believed it misplaced. How easily he forgets I am already very aware of the dangers awaiting me.

"You pity me needlessly, Ser Jaime. Leaving Winterfell for Starfall when I was ten provided quite the education," she reminded him. "Regardless of it, I wouldn't pity the lone wolf just yet. I am a lot stronger than I appear, I can promise you that."

The smirk was back, this time his voice taking on a condescending tone. "Yes, I'm quite sure you are. Forgive me for doubting you, my lady. You'll have to demonstrate your strength to me when we cross swords." He cocked his head to the side, contemplating her. "Though I doubt you'll last longer than five minutes in the ring, I'll still humor your challenge, little wolf. If only so you may feel that you've tried to defend the honor of the noble House Stark."

He's taunting you, let it go. Brielle had to remind herself of this with some difficulty. He'd only grow more amused if she lost her temper. It was certainly not a very common thing to be sure, but her family, Theon, and the residents of Winterfell could all attest to what a scary sight it was to behold. Hers was a cold, biting, and often quiet rage, making her at times as unforgiving as the northern climate. And while Brielle was one for decency, those responsible for igniting her rage could be sure of some kind of retribution, very often in a rather underhanded way. It was perhaps the one thing she had learned a little too well during her stay in Dorne. Time visiting with House Martell at Sunspear certainly had added to that part of her education. Thankfully, she had her uncle's teachings to balance it.

Brielle looked Jaime boldly in the eyes, her violet orbs igniting in challenge. "Then I suppose I should not waste anymore of your time, Ser. I will meet you in the training yard momentarily, if it pleases you, with sword in hand."

The lion's smirk only grew, his green eyes alight with dancing amusement. "I await your arrival with baited breath, my lady."

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Ned Stark left Robert's quarters with an exhausted sigh, having just announced he would accept the offer to be named Hand of the King. His mind was troubled by the entire affair, especially with Lysa Arryn's accusations from the previous evening still circulating his head. The Lannisters killed Jon Arryn if Lysa was to be believed. They plotted against the king. And now, by the king's command, he was forced to give away his precious niece to these lions, a girl he loved as his own daughter.

Even before Lysa's message, Ned could feel nothing but despair and a deep burning rage over the forced alliance. He had no desire to be connected to House Lannister in anyway, especially through those of his blood. The old memory of the massacred bodies of Elia Martell and her children were one of many reasons he wished for the betrothal to be ended. What if Tywin Lannister would do something similar to Brielle once she had proved no longer useful to him? Ned could not imagine the Old Lion to be happy in anyway over this marriage. And then there were the Kingslayer's actions at the very end of the Rebellion, when he stabbed Aerys Targaryen in the back. The man had no honor. Doubtlessly, Jaime Lannister would have no problem forsaking his vows to Brielle as he had those to the king, and that was not a man Ashara's daughter deserved. He could not imagine her mother approving of such a man. Nor Jaime's old comrade, Arthur Dayne.

Ned's brief words with the lion last night at the feast certainly had not warmed him anymore toward the impending marriage either. The man was even more arrogant and condescending than the last time Ned had seen him. The Lord of Winterfell worried for his niece. However, Ned knew Brielle was strong. She'd had to be after the many years of holding the station of a bastard.

The fact it had taken so long for Cat to agree to his petitioning Robert to make the girl legitimate still bothered him. To an extent, Ned understood his wife's reluctance. Brielle was a constant reminder of Brandon's betrayal, just as Jon was of his. And, despite her denials, Ned could tell Cat feared the possibility of Brielle trying to challenge Robb's inheritance. If Brielle were a man Ned would have certainly shared his wife's concern. The horror and violence of the Blackfrye Rebellions came to mind. However, he knew his niece. That girl would die for any of her cousins. The desire to govern the North did not exist in her heart. But to appease his wife, a stipulation was added to Brielle's legitimacy; neither she nor her children could ever inherit Winterfell unless all of his children and their descendants were to die.

It was small comfort to know House Lannister could never get theirs hands on Winterfell. After all, they still would have his beloved niece.

Suddenly, Jory Cassel called out to him. Ned turned to face the man and was immediately on edge. His captain of the guard appeared to be quite distressed.

"What is it, Jory?" he asked.

"Please, my lord, you must hurry to the training yard," Jory beseeched him. "Lady Brielle is crossing swords with Ser Jaime. She challenged him for a remark made against the honor of your House. And she refused to listen to Rodrick when he tried to put a stop to it."

Ned was already walking with all haste before Jory could finish. The younger man kept pace with his lord as they made their way to the training yard. Once outside, they could easily see the crowd of Stark, Baratheon, and Lannister men formed around the ring. Somehow, the sound of clashing steel managed to cut through the cheering and jeering of the men. As he broke through the crowd, Ned spotted Robb, Jon, and Theon on the other side of the ring, a mesmerized Arya clinging to his eldest. Even Tyrion Lannister was watching, a queer look on his overly large head. Finally, Ned's eyes latched onto the sparring individuals. He could hardly look away from the sight.

He knew Jaime Lannister's skills, but this was almost a mockery. The man was toying with Brielle. Any experienced swordsman could see it. However, Brielle was also toying with her opponent. How did Ned know this? She was using her left hand. If he didn't fear the possible repercussions from this fight, the lord of Winterfell would have been amused by his niece's gall.

Before Ned could put an end to this foolishness, a strong hand fell on his shoulder.

"Don't even think about it, Ned," Robert warned. "I've heard enough talk about the girl having some skill with a blade. I want to see how she fairs against the Kingslayer. Who knows? Might even help him grow a fancy to her." The king laughed at that.

Ned shook his head. "Your Grace, please. You can't-"

"I can and I am," he snapped. "Dammit Ned, just let it play out."

The added pressure on his shoulder ordered Ned to concede, which he begrudgingly did. He loved Robert like a brother, but Ned hated the man's use of his power in that moment.

The lord of Winterfell looked back to the ring and felt his heart almost stop. For he saw the moment when the match was no longer a game to the Kingslayer. This fight was now very, very real.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Finally!

Brielle felt relief and excitement when Jaime stopped toying with her. She could see the moment everything changed, when he decided to put an end to this mockery of a fight. Gone were the incessant taunts, replaced with killer silence. However, the she-wolf was more than ready for him.

With a sudden fluidity not yet seen by any of their southern guests, Brielle changed sword hands, allowing her more dominate side to take over. She noted, with pure delight, Jaime's momentary surprise before his eyes hardened. Then, he lunged.

They danced with each other like never before. Brielle reveled in the rush thrumming through her blood. She imagined she was meeting the Jaime Lannister her legendary uncle had known. This version was still arrogant, there was no question about that, but he was controlled, strategizing and analyzing his opponent for the next move. His eyes watched her with predatory intent.

A small smirk played at Brielle's lips in triumph. This was the man she had wanted to meet, to speak with about those from long ago and have a chance to learn about. For she would come to know him, just as Jaime would learn about her. Brielle was not a weak wolf to be devoured by the traps of the South or ravenous lions. She was strong, cunning, and patient. She knew when to strike and when to wait. It was with a heavy heart that, despite her dislike of the sigil, Brielle already knew she would make a great lioness.

Time passed as they each parried, thrust, swung, and ducked from different blows. Yet Brielle could not have said how long they fought. Nor could she say what words the crowd shouted around them. All she could concentrate on was the warrior in front of her, watching her body and sword closely with those piercing green eyes.

Unfortunately, the fight was dragging on. Brielle could feel the first signs of exhaustion starting to take hold. Her hands and arms ached from catching Jaime's powerful blows, the controlled strength behind each strike astounding. If not for the amount of years spent training, her build, and her height, Brielle knew the southern knight would have bested her easily. But this wolf would not go down without a fight. Her future husband would know her strength. And he would respect her, the woman he was to marry.

Sweat dripped down her face, cheeks reddened by the cold and exertion. As she rapidly blinked to clear her vision from the droplets running into her eyes, Brielle barely managed to stop Jaime's sword from finding her neck. She struggled to hold him from advancing, his sword and hers battling for dominance. His face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing into her violet orbs.

"Yield, little wolf," he demanded of her in a sharp whisper.

Those words finally succeeded where all of the lion's previous taunts had failed. Brielle felt her blood begin to boil in rage, her anger rising at his audacity. After all this time, after everything she had done, he still looked down upon her. He truly believed her to be weak.

The wolf will never yield to the lion!

"No!" She growled, shoving Jaime back with a surge of unknown strength. From there, the she-wolf attacked. Brielle was finished with his arrogance, with his belief in her own insignificance. How dare he?! She was Brielle of the Houses Stark and Dayne, a force to be reckoned with in her own right. And he would recognize that, even if she had to beat it daily into his obnoxiously thick head.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jaime held his own against the girl's onslaught, but he could not mask his surprise at the strength which returned to her blows. He'd thought her nearly spent a moment ago. Now, he felt a tendril of uncertainty. Could the wolf actually beat the lion?

No, he wouldn't allow it.

Jaime fought back with equal fury, meeting each blow with a greater fervor. It was the first fight in ages he'd felt even a moment of doubt. Yet even with that, Jaime reveled in their unexpectedly long exchange. After all, he couldn't remember the last time a fight in the training yard made him feel so alive. They parried, thrust, blocked, and spun around each other. There truly seemed to be no end. Suddenly, there was an opening and Jaime took it. His sword moved forward with great strength, aimed for a finishing stroke—

And just like that, it was all over. There they stood, swords at each other's throats and an eerie silence fallen over the crowd. Jaime and Brielle breathed in unison, their chests rising and falling from exhaustion as Lannister green bore into haunting violet with great intensity. A draw. The little wolf had managed to bring the fight to a draw. And her eyes were smiling, shining bright with withheld excitement. It dawned on Jaime then. The girl felt it too, these feelings of pure exhilaration and disbelief. In that moment a strange jarring sensation spread throughout the knight's body. He did not know what it was; only that he was left more confused than ever before.

Suddenly, a lone clapping broke the heavy silence. Both golden and raven black heads turned to look at the source. There stood Tyrion, eyes shining bright and smiling in wonder, as he clapped at the outcome. Slowly, others joined in while the sound of applause and shouts of excitement and disbelief became almost deafening. Each fighter lowered their weapon and took a step back. Brielle looked at their audience, almost mesmerized at the praise she received. For a woman who did not like to be the center of attention, this was one instance where it was obvious she reveled in it. And Jaime could only look at his future wife with his own sense of wonder. This was the woman he was to marry: strong, passionate, clever….and kind. Her words to her cousin from last night floated through his mind. What sort of woman was she, truly? Jaime cast his eyes back to the crowd, scanning the many faces, but not really seeing any. Then, he tilted his head up towards the walkway balconies and that is when he saw her.

Cersei stared down at the training yard with such fury that Jaime almost believed he would erupt into flames. His twin's eyes were roaring with an intensity that burned him even from this distance. He felt a sliver of unease make its way down his spine as her gaze shifted to the woman mere feet from his side. Then, Cersei turned and she was gone.

One thing became very clear to Jaime in that moment. His sister truly feared she would lose him. On the trip along the Kings Road, he had quelled her fears, but now it was all for naught. Cersei would try to hurt Brielle, physically, mentally, or both. And Jaime couldn't allow it. He still may not want to marry the girl, but Brielle had proven herself to him, at least here in this ring, that the niece of Ser Arthur Dayne was worthy of his respect. And protection.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A/N: To my fellow Princess Bride lovers out there—yes, I thought of Westley and Inigo's duel while writing their fight. And yes, for anyone wondering, Brielle is fairly ambidextrous. However, her right hand is a little more dominant and her preferred hand to use for sword fighting.