A She-wolf and Dinner

[Winterfell 298 AC]

Sansa.

When the King and his royal party first arrived in Winterfell, Sansa had thought Joffrey to be the most gallant young man in the entire world, a Prince that even Princes bent their knees to; he was perfect... too perfect, too much like the songs, too much like the heroes in the stories. So, it hadn't taken her long to realise a mummery was at play. But, in truth, she'd found that Joffrey Baratheon was nought but a spoilt child, not gallant, not princely, and certainly not the fighter he claimed to be.

Even Sansa, who had no great love for swords, lance, and mace, could see that Joffrey was a decent fighter but nowhere near as good as he thought himself to be, and Robb had proven that many a time since the first day of the King's stay in Winterfell. And she smiled at the memory, a Prince of the Realm sprawled out in the mud and snow. Sansa was sure that Arya would have laughed aloud had she been there to see it, for even Sansa had to stifle her giggle as she watched it play out from her window.

He was wroth after it, too; that was the one thing Joffrey had taken after his father's House; all else about the Prince was pure Lannister, with hair of beaten gold and deep green eyes that sparkled like the emeralds the Queen wor, and pouty lips that left Jeyne and little Beth swooning each time he rewarded them with a smile. Yet, despite not having that presence even petty lords had, he was undoubtedly handsome.

...Jon did, though. Her brother had an authority about him that sometimes seemed to drown out even her father's. But it appeared Sansa had been the only one who had ever seen it; she noticed these things about Jon despite her not being the... greatest sister.

Thinking of her brother brought a sad smile to her lips, and she wondered what he would make of Joffrey Baratheon. "Too much like a girl, with that hair and those pouty lips... Stuff some lemons in his tunic and..." She could see how he would have wiggled his brows then and giggled. Then, feeling the tears come unbidden to her eyes, Sansa wiped them away before they could fall and felt Lady rest her head on Sansa's thigh.

She looked down at the wolf, and forlorn golden eyes looked right back. "I'm alright, Lady," Sansa said, sniffling as she scratched behind the wolf's ear the best way she liked. Lady whined some more, and Sansa smiled negligibly. She could hide her sorrow from many, but Lady missed her big brother just as much as Sansa did, so the wolf knew she was lying.

She sighed and tried covering up the fact she'd been crying: 'Best not show weakness in front of the Queen,' she told herself. 'That would not do well for my family or me.' Queen Cersei and Joffrey shared much, in looks and mannerisms alike, and Sansa liked it not how they would sneer whenever they thought no one was watching.

Tonight would be another feast, the fourth one since the King's arrival; each night, they would feast, and Sansa would be forced to listen to the lies Joffrey whispered in her ear, so she knew not to let them see her tears, Joffrey most of all; he'd not liked the crying of Rickon one bit, and had near forgotten his mummer's farce. The King also disappointed Sansa greatly, mayhap even more than Joffrey himself; he was fat and loud and not at all the man her father spoke of so reverently. Jon, too, would think the same...

...Why were her thoughts going back to Jon so much? Had she not gotten over the grief of him leaving? Hadn't she been punished with memories of days long passed enough? She was sick of crying, yet every night, she would think of her brother and weep at the memories of when she was younger and a better sister to him...

Sansa wanted to speak to Jon again... she wanted that more than anything in the world, to say how sorry she was for being so horrible to him and to tell him how she loved him just as much as Arya, Bran, and Rickon did. She just wanted her big brother to come home. 'Yon...' she thought sadly and heard Lady's whine and thought her wolf was thinking of her own brother.

When the knock came, Sansa must have been staring at herself in the looking glass for an hour at the least, so, shaking her head, she rose to her feet and fixed her dress, a dark grey, almost black gown that brought out the blue of her eyes. Then, putting on her best smile, she crossed the room, opened the door, and was greeted by Joffrey in the colours of his House, the Lannisters, not the Baratheons, though still gold and many would think it the latter and not the former he was honouring tonight.

'Has something happened?' She wondered as she noticed how much more elaborate his attire was this night than the last four. So deep in thought was she that Sansa hadn't seen the way the Prince's eyes travelled up and down her form before he nodded.

"You look splendid, Sweet Lady," he said, and she gave him a radiant smile, and she knew he liked it by the look in his eyes. "My mother will have quite the competition tonight, it seems. I would be honoured to escort you to the feast if you would have me?"

Then, as she took his offered arm, they walked through the halls of the Great Keep, shadowed by the giant Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's sworn shield, and Sansa thought about why Joffrey had a different air about him tonight, a little dose of that presence that lords were wont to have surrounded him, and Sansa liked it not.

"You must be most proud of your father, My Lady," Joffrey said after a moment.

"Your Grace?"

"Oh, forgive me. How could you have known?" He chided himself before smiling at her, a sickeningly sweet smile, more genuine than the others. And, for a fleeting moment, Sansa's heart fluttered before she remembered the lying nature of this boy who would be King. "There is to be a new Hand, or would that be Paw?"

It took her a second to understand the poor jape, but she smiled nonetheless when she did. "My father is to be the new Hand of the King? Oh, how marvellous, My Prince!" She heard a soft whine at the thought of her father using his newly granted power to find Jon and looked at Lady as the wolf padded beside them. "Most proud, yes, most proud indeed. No man is more apt to serve the King than my father."

She ignored the scoff from the big man that escorted them to the Great Hall. Stifling her smirk when she glimpsed the nervous sheen in green as Joffrey glanced at Lady, she was glad to know that Lady scared him as much as his own Hound did her. Though, by the look of it, it seemed that Lady didn't only unnerve the Prince, but terrified him. 'Good, let him be terrified; let him know that he is only a stag, and wolves hunt stags more oft than not.'

Briefly, Sansa imagined his reaction had he seen her brother's Ghost as tall as Bran prowling around Winterfell, nought but the sound of wind through his fur as the white wolf crept up behind him. 'Would he scream like Lord Umber?' She thought, remembering that day.

"No beast has a right to be so silent," he had thundered as Jon apologised to the Lord of Last Hearth for the wolf startling the giant man. "It makes no sound, not even when it walks or breaths. It's fucking unnatural!"

"Aye," Jon agreed, grinning as he scratched behind Ghost's ear. "It's why I named him Ghost, that and because he's white. But, My Lord, I promise you he's as gentle as a kitten."

The giant Lord had scoffed then, and Jon chuckled. "Your wolf here could tear Goatsbane to shreds instantly, and you call him gentle, Snow!"

"Keep that fuckin' wolf away from me!" So the SmallJon, also called Goatsbane by the She-bears of Bear Island, was halfway up the broken tower when he shouted at them; he, too, had been on the receiving end of Ghost's sneaky antics.

Giggling at the memory, Sansa ignored the curious look Joffrey gave her and instead watched as Arya came running around the corner, dragging plump Tommen behind her. Arya saw them, thought about something, and approached them, tugging the young Prince by the arm and glaring at him when he groaned. "Shut up, or I'll get Nymeria to chase you again."

The wolves had greeted each other in the way they always did, one delicate and very much not, and Arya let go of Tommen to grab Nymeria when the wolf got too close to Joffrey for her liking, much to the boy's relief. Sansa saw Tommen stiffen, his green eyes wide with panic as he looked from Nymeria to Arya.

"You wouldn't," he said weakly, and Sansa had to bite her lip to stop laughing. Arya glared at him, and by the shiver, Sansa knew Tommen was wilting under her sister's stare.

"I would. If I wanted, and I will if you don't shut up," Arya said when she knew she had won. Then, she pinched Tommen on his chubby cheek. The Prince whined but didn't say anything. "Some running might be good for you. Princes need to be lean and quick, not fat and slow."

"Stop that, Arya," Sansa said when Joffrey looked at her sharply, his eyes demanding she made her sister stop shaming his brother so. Still, she could see the amusement in his eyes as he glared at her.

Arya clicked her tongue, let go of Tommen's cheek, and pulled at her dress while the Prince rubbed his stinging cheek. "Gods, whoever made this dress is worse at needlework than I am. What did I do now, Sansa?"

"You should not shame Prince Tommen such as this," she chided her sister, gaining only the same glare she had given Tommen moments ago. And despite herself, Sansa smirked at her, to Arya's surprise. "He is our guest, so you must do your best to remember that."

Arya hummed and thought about it, but before she could voice her thoughts, Tommen cut her off; thank the gods. "She's right, though," he said dejectedly. "I must eat less, lest I become ill fit to wield a sword. Father wouldn't like that; did you know they call him the Demon of the Trident? Father was the strongest man in the whole world then!"

"What did I say?" Arya rolled her eyes before glaring at the Prince again.

"Yard, Nymeria, run," Tommen replied quickly, and Arya nodded, smirking, and patted said wolf's head.

"The Little Prince's wrapped round your finger, wolf girl," said Sandor Clegane in his rough, raspy voice, the corners of his lips twisting in an upward curl and the burned skin twitching ever so slightly as he spoke.

"You're an ugly fucker," Arya said to a loud laugh from the Hound and a gasp from Sansa. "No one will mess with you. You're big, but the wolves would eat you up as quick as that." She snapped her fingers, and Nymeria showed her teeth as if to prove she would; Lady only cocked her head to the side and stared at the burned man.

"The Little lady's got one hell of the tongue," Sandor chuckled when Arya dragged Tommen through the doors, Nymeria rushing passed them to steal whatever she could from the guests' plates. "But if she speaks that way to me again, I'll cut it out, I promise you that," he added, looking at Sansa with fury burning in his eyes.

Sansa didn't know why, but she smiled at the Hound, believing him not. He growled, shouldered through the door, and shouted for ale to loud cheers from the Umbers and the King. Joffrey huffed, and they walked through the doors as the herald loudly declared their arrival.

The moment she sat down, she felt Lady lay her head on Sansa's thighs under the table and sneakily fed the wolf a chunk of meat from her plate. Lady took it delicately from her hand and ate it with nothing but. Sansa laughed a little at that; the wolf kept her wildness inside just like her.

Smiling at her father when he looked at her with a look that told her he knew she had been crying again, she turned to eat and drink the glass of wine her mother had permitted each of her siblings for tonight. As she looked around the hall, taking in the loud laughter from every table and the curses that rang out whenever Nymeria scored herself some food, Sansa wondered whether Jon was eating a warm meal with Ghost.

—————

[Greywater Watch 298 AC]

Jaehaerys.

He had nearly fallen from his chair laughing as Brynden attacked the dish the instant it was laid down before him and almost lost it completely when the boy looked from his clean plate to Jae's half-full one, then to Jae, and made his eyes big in that way he knew how. Then, rolling his eyes, Jae slid his plate to Brynden, mussing the boy's hair when he grinned before attacking that plate too.

Jae looked apologetically at the Reeds. He saw Meera barely containing her laughter, Jojen eating sparingly as his eyes never left Jae or Ghost in the corner by the hearth, and Lady Jyana as she stared wide-eyed at Brynden, trying and failing to convince his squire to eat slower. But Howland's expression confused Jae, not exactly disgust, more shock and confusion, though still amiable despite that. How one man could show so much through his eyes, Jae knew not and found he liked that about the Lord of Greywater Watch.

"Forgive him, My Lord, My Lady," Jae said sheepishly, glancing at the still-eating Brynden. "I've not yet taught him proper decorum yet." He flicked Brynden's ear, earning a muffled whine and a glare, but slowed down.

"That's alright, lad," said Lady Jyana, smiling warmly. "You must not have had many warm dinners in your travels from Winterfell."

"Unfortunately, you have the right of it, Lady Reed," he said.

"Please, call me Jyana," she told him, and he smiled. "You will be staying with us for a while, might as well forgo the formalities. I was never one for propriety anyway."

"Nor was I, Jyana, and yet we must not forget it lest we offend some southron prick someday," he jested to a snort of laughter from Meera and a chuckle from Howland.

"Does he know?" Jojen asked after the dishes were taken away, turning all eyes to him. "Brynden, I mean. Does he know your truth yet?"

Jae looked at Brynden, who turned to look at him with an expectant look. "Now's as good a time as any," he sighed and looked at Howland. "But first, I would ask Lord Howland if I am trueborn."

"Aye, your mother told us on her deathbed that she and your father wed before the Isle of Faces and in the light of the Seven, overseen by the High Septon himself, witnessed by your goodmother and the three that died that day by the tower," Howland said. "She saved everything for you. All the proof you need is in my solar, that and more."

Jae let out a breath of relief. He was trueborn; his parents were in love and married, and another weight was lifted from his shoulders when Howland said Elia was aware of everything, but he grew sullen when he thought of the three Kingsgaurd who had given their lives for his and offered them a silent prayer before nodding.

"How did you know I was coming?" Jae asked, suddenly realising that Howland seemed not at all shocked to see him walking through the gates of Greywater, though he should have known something was amiss when the two men came looking for him in Moat Cailin after the Usurper had ridden on. "I'd not told anyone; only Brynden knew we were coming here."

"My father and I are gifted with the sight," said Jojen, and Jae nodded. "He saw you riding from Winterfell, and then I saw you by the river. You dream, too, don't you?"

Jae thought about answering truthfully and decided he had no need to hide anything from these people. Though he knew he should be upset that Howland had told his family of Jae's truth, he wasn't, at least not enough to be angry at the man who had been close with his mother. "Aye, I dream, but not of the now."

Howland was shocked. "You see into the past? What all have you seen?"

Confused but also very much not, Jae answered honestly, "I see the memories of my kin long gone. Daemon and Aegon, Maegor and Jaehaerys, Valarr and Aerion, just to name a few." Then, Jae heard the sound of a mug hitting the table and turned to a wide-eyed Brynden.

"Kin? Targaryen names? Kin?! What secrets do you have, Jon?!"

Sighing, Jae turned to his squire. "My name is not Jon, in truth, but Jaehaerys Targaryen. My mother was Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and my father was Rhaegar Targaryen."

"But-but," Brynden's face had gone terribly pale, so much so that Jae feared he may lose consciousness. "The stories- Prince Rhaegar- what?"

"Aye, it isn't easy to learn; I know that most of all," Jae said softly. He put a hand on Brynden's shoulder, squeezed it, and looked into the boy's eyes sternly. "Howland tells me they loved each other, and despite not knowing him long, I trust his word more than any on this." He could see the happiness his words gave Howland from the corner of his eyes, but he was more focused on his squire's reaction.

Brynden's eyes darted around, but eventually, after a long silence, he locked eyes with Jae, and his face grew serious. "Does that make me a squire to a King?" He deadpanned, and Jae stared at him blankly, but when Meera burst into laughter, Jae joined her, and the others did too.

—————

Hiya, it's me, Alex. Back at it again :D

Thanks for reading my superb work!

I hope you all like Sansa's first PoV; I wanted her to be a little different, more Stark-y compared to her canon character—i.e. She's a little wilder on the inside, less than Arya, more than Bran, way, way less than Rickon if that makes sense. And she's also not as naive as her canon counterpart, but she still has some naivety, which is typical for a child her age. (She's TV-age, by the way, and most will be unless stated otherwise.)

Also, if you picked up on them, there were some changes to Arya and Tommen. Joffrey, though less noticeable, had some changes to his character. After all, it is fanfic, and who wants to read a copy-paste character anyway? Not me. I can tell you that much :p

Anyway, thanks for reading! Oh, and *pokes fingers together* Stones? (Ew...) Stones would be appreciated; I like feeding my puppers, after all.

Have a good and dandy day, Dudes and Dudettes!

BYE :D

-Alex.