Josephine sat by the side of her brother looking over the map of Westeros. Robb was purposely talking quietly to the Karstark beside him. They had come back from battle a few hours ago with a prize - Jaime Lannister. Robb had bested him on the field and was now talking about what to do. They had tied him to a post in the middle of the camp. Robb had said it was to ensure nobody could steal himself away in the night but Josephine knew it was also to humiliate him. Robb, although he wouldn't admit it, was incredibly happy with his victory. His bannermen was ecstatic with the victory more than anything else. It was the first time, Josephine felt, that everyone thought they would win the war. Josephine was happy as well but nervous.

As they travelled further south they needed more alliances. The Freys were lucky; they were first in and snagged the King and Arya. They had gained Olyvar from the Freys who was proving surprisingly competent at his job and Robb seemed to like the man. However, she was the next best thing for the next lord. Every castle they passed Josephine wondered wherever she would be left there with a husband or not. She was convinced Robb would tell her beforehand if he had to and that both he and her mother would be resistant to anything below her stature. They were likely hoping one of her former proposed suitors would offer her hand again.

Back in Winterfell, when the world was a different place, there was talk about sending her South either to Dorne or to the Reach. She had been cautious about this as had her father and had only ever wrote one letter to each suitor feigning friendship while her father negotiated on her behalf. Normally she would be annoyed by her father acting so much on her behalf without consulting her but she allowed it. At the time it was because she was having a reoccuring dream of a castle by the sea. In the dream she felt happiness bloom in her stomach as she sat on the sand letting rays of sunlight hit her. When she had told Sansa she was reassured this was her future and she would be happy.

Her heart was flushed with cold water and ached. She couldn't think about any of that. Her father was dead. Sansa was trapped. Arya was trapped. She had to do something.

"When are you going to visit Jaime?" She finally asked.

She could not sit idly. She was allowed in Robb's war room as a figure of authority. She had negotiated with the Freys and several other river lords. She had kept the Boltons by their side as they ventured further was somewhat politically savvy and Robb trusted her. She hadn't been there when Jaime had arrived instead answering letters on Robb's behalf.

"Late tonight or perhaps tomorrow night. I need to look strong."

"He cannot be treated too badly, Robb, if we are to gain any use than him he has to return whole. No torture, no pain, no parts missing."

Robb finally turned to face her, a little anger flashing through his eyes, "What are you proposing? Special treatment?"

"Princess, his family have caused this whole war! We cannot treat him better than the soldiers that fight for us," the Karstark shook his head several times.

Josephine stood up, "I did not suggest that. He can get one meal a day but he will get that meal every day. He can stay tied to that post but he will only get treated by our healers and he will be permitted to wash in the river once a week. He is Tywin's heir. Tywin shares no love with him otherwise."

Robb shared a glance with the Karstark as if wondering which of them could think of a response.

"He won't be going to the river. A bucket of water can be delivered. And he can have a meal once the soldiers have been fed."

She rolled her eyes, "You are acting as if I am on his side and not yours, brother."

He smiled a bit at that, "Karstark see he gets visited by healers tonight. I do not wish for him to die due to wounds."

Karstark bowed and left quickly leaving them in the tent. Finally Josephine hugged her brother, barreling into him with a force. Her face hit the metal breastplate perhaps too hard and mud smudged agaisnt her. This was the first moment alone since he had arrived. He stank of blood, mud, and sweat. Tears pooled in her eyes.

Nobody sang about this part, not truthfully. In the songs the knights always returned unscathed and happy. Their sisters and wives and lovers beared nothing but happiness towards their knight. Despite Robb being back she still felt dread in her stomach. He would be gone again soon.

"Take your time with Jaime. We have an advantage here," She whispered conveying her plea for him not to leave as if it was a tactic.

"I will do as advised."

No promise was made as it always was with Robb since he became King. She pulled back but he held onto her arms, keeping each other close. His eyes were enveloped in sadness. She shook her head as if it could shake off the feelings she had.

"Your lords are terrible at politics. I fear it is a northern vice they have been little help in managing affairs out of the field. It is a shock they managed to name you King."

Robb laughed his chest shaking slightly, "I believe you have always known that. How is mother?"

"Not much help either. I fear she doesn't know this is a war. She seems to believe that we should have stayed quiet in Winterfell."

Robb''s laugh stopped and Josephine regretted her words slightly.

"I was thinking of sending her back."

"It may be best. Although I think she worries about missing my wedding."

Robb now let go of her and looked over the table.

"You will not get married for war. You advice is valuable."

"And there is nobody that we need that much south, not unless we meet another so-called King," she nudged him in the ribs.

He looked uncomfortable with the prospect, "I do not think you need to be married at all. Ever."

She giggled, "As all older brothers believe. If there is reason for me to marry to ensure your future, brother, I promise I will do my duty."

He looked at her through the sides of his eyes. Robb had underestimated her. She was thriving with the politics. She used to be a giddy girl who enjoyed riding and listening to bard songs about princes and princesses. Sansa and her had never spent a day apart. The only difference between the two was physical. And perhaps Josephine had been close to Jon and himself as well. She was the better rider and would often boast as such. In the year before this began she had broken in her own mare - a golden haired horse - and was the first to train her direwolf fully.

Winter was a seemingly docile direwolf compared to Grey Wind. He was taller but also skinnier. Although some confused the two due to their near identical coats. But Winter was paler than Grey Wind by a few shades. Josephine had giggled with Theon and Jon about the name of her direwolf. Robb remembered those days fondly perhaps happier remembering them than he actually was at the time.

He used to find her ease around everyone annoying, feeling her ease meant he needed to be on guard. She would laugh hysterically at the dumbest jokes which, predictably, drew every man towards her to gain a boost to their ego. When the King - the old King - had visited she was by Tyrion's side as if shackled there. Robb cared little until he saw the Kingslayer by her side as well on the rare occasion. Her laughs had been far and few between since this started.

He did not want her to marry. He, at the very least, could ensure her happiness.

"I know," he held her hands, "I think you should talk to the Kingslayer. I do not want our usual integrators used on him, you may be able to find how Sansa and Arya are."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, "Thank you," she kissed him on the cheek before making her way out.

Winter rose from under the table and followed his liege. Josephine had tears in her eyes for some unknown reason. Her emotions were overwhelming her. She needed a bath and perhaps she would visit a campfire and find someone singing a tail of some sort of fantasy.

However, first her eyes met Jaime Lannister. He was leaning agaisnt a post, his hair caked in mud, a cut on his forehead, and a smirk on his face. His blue eyes were trained on her.

How did he appear as if he was still in control? Her heartbeat quickened. She had known Jaime. Not as a friend but she had laughed by his side. She was foolish, her own mind remind herself, she grew attached the everyone she spoke to. But she was raised to be a fool - as Old Nan would say - and was nothing but a summer child.

Jaime, she deduced, looked slightly surprised at her leaving the tent or maybe that she was staring back from her rooted spot. She took a few steps towards him until she was seven short paces from him. Neither spoke. His smirk widened slightly.

"My lady," He nodded his head in an attempt of an exaggerated bow, "Do you want to sit on my lap and let me tell you stories like the last time we met?"

She shook her head first for few seconds, not having the will to speak, "I… I never did that."

What a weak thing to say! Gods she was one of her brothers closest advisors! She was meant to be skilled in the game of politics and words! She knew none of this pressure was given by the men around her. They all expected Lord Bolton to be in charge on writing letters to their enemies and potential alliances. They were all shocked when she was given such task and likely expecting her to fail.

His smirk continued however, "No, you are right, you didn't. But I could never refuse if you asked."

Again her head shook before words came out, "Are they alive?"

His eyes softened slightly but only for a millisecond.

"Yes."

"Did you know my father has been executed in response to your capture?"

Jaime tried to hide his shock, "No. Rather foolish of them to do so."

She nearly smiled, how odd to be discussing such things with this man, "Indeed. This war won't end without more blood spilt."

"Hopefully not mine."

"I want you to know that I tried to protect Tyrion. I had sent sellswords to discreetly watch over him if they were to cross paths. I, uh," she looked away not being able to look in his eyes, "I am sorry for what happened."

Jaime laughed but she did not know at what, "Is this meant to make me trust you? Is this meant to make me think that we are friends and not at war? I would have killed your brother, my dearest, I would have slain him."

She looked shocked and Jaime was pleased by the fact. Her eyebrows creased hard, straining the porcelain skin of her forehead. Her formerly smooth plump lips pursed tightly. Jaime wanted to laugh again. She looked like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

"You should be careful of saying that. I seem to be the only one insisting you survive this imprisonment. You are surrounded by people who detest you and have little qualms in you dying by their hand. The Boltons wanted to cut off your fingers and send them as warning."

He merely rolled his eyes, "The Boltons are cruel people. I trust your honourable brother would do no such thing."

She smirked back and crossed her arms, "He is not my father. Robb is a King. He ha

s little patience for Lannisters or this war." Jaime opened his mouth but was interrupted by two short men rushing up to her.

"Princess," they bowed and Jaime smirked at the title.

She looked like a princess as they were described in songs of the legends. Her long brown hair curled around her enticing men to follow the tendrils to the rest of her body. Jaime had ignored her when arriving at Winterfell as soon as Robert had walked to her first before anyone else. Jaime had known what would happen as they heard rumours the closer they got to Winterfell. Josephine resembled Lyanna almost perfectly. Jaime had attempted to warn Cersei but hadn't managed to. Robert had stared at the girl for a while before Eddard spoke up. Her eyes were muddy sinkholes that caused men to get stuck in them agaisnt their will. Her skin was unblemished.

Her figure had been hidden on the first day. Jaime and Tyrion had darkly joked this was Eddard's way of protecting his daughter from the King. Although on the second day she was wearing something more akin to her age. Jaime could still remember the dress although he assured himself he only remembered it because Cersei had ranted about it for months after. The blue dress wrapped around her body deliciously showing the few freckles on her back. The skirt glided into shades of gold with patterns on her bodice. Jaime had be next to Robert when she entered the room.

Robert had, at the moment, began insisting that she travel down to the Capitol. Cersei mentioned Joffrey but Robert had brushed the proposal of Joffrey marrying her off. That had settled the atmosphere darkly. Eddard had ignored it. Robert had only danced with her once for a short while before his namesake cut in. Jaime had attempted to whisk Cersei away but she had refused. He had been upset that night, he could dimly remember. Cersei almost seemed jealous of the girl which had enfuritated Jaime. Cersei had never cared much about Robert and his ventures into flea bottom but now she was watching her husband intenly.

That was when Jaime went to talk to her as she sat by Tyrion. She had laughed at his dry wit and giggled at Tyrion's stories. Jaime could remember, briefly, Cersei's fury. Cersei insisting that her laughing and giggling was all fake. Cersei ranting how she was trying to steal the attention. Cersei asking what he thought of her. Jaime had replied honestly. He did not think she was prettier. They had fucked that night several times.

When he met Tyrion the next day, his brother had made a comment about Jaime and the girl. Tyrion always did such thing after Jaime spent a lot of time with Cersei often making Jaime wonder if he knew. Tyrion was on his way to visit her in the weirwood and made a comment about how the best feature of a woman was her ability to make a man feel like he had wit. Jaime had attempted to ignore the comment - Cersei was the smart one out of the twins.

He finally tuned into the conversation.

"Don't call him that," her voice was sharper than he was ready for.

"Sorry Princess," the fatter man bowed and eyed Jaime.

"It is Ser Jaime Lannister. He is a member of the Kingsguard and our ward. Calling him a Kingslayer sounds like we are condemning Robb does it not?" She tilted her head and Jaime almost laughed.

"Yes Princess," the other one nodded.

"He has cuts to his head but I believe nowhere else. Wash and make sure they are not infected. You can do it out here. I do not expect to see shoddy work from our best."

"Thank you for allowing me to keep my pretty face, Princess," Jaime interrupted smirking up at her.

She looked down at him and her cheeks brightened slightly, "If I could sew up your mouth I would."

"Most women think that is the best part."

Her cheeks now flushed with colour instantly. She just nodded at the healers and scattered away, stumbling a little at first. Jaime let the two men inspect him quickly. His mind on Cersei and her blue perfect eyes. His mind on Cersei and his fear of what would become of her. His mind knowing that Joffrey was King. His mind knowing that Cersei was now in power. He felt a chill glide down his spine but chose to ignore whatever that meant. His eyes instead stared at the mud even when they were closed all he saw was the mud around him.