Paris was its usual chaotic self. The mules and carts of traders travelling to-and-fro. The carriages of the nobility with pristine looking drivers and well cared for horses picking their way through the mass of moving bodies, rubbish and waste. It was a magnificent dirty city. All of the splendours of the civilised world at your fingertips. Yet despite all that, Jaime had realised that the capital had been missing one thing. The one thing that, in his eyes at least, made it now the greatest place in the world. And that was (Y/n).

He had to admit that he couldn't remember a day that he had enjoyed himself so much. Well, at least since he had left his old life behind. Since he had left (Y/n) behind. And even though Robb, Tormund, and Jon had been able to monopolise all of (Y/n)'s time, just being able to look at her face again after all those long years. Just to feel his heart skip a beat every time she smiled at him, for now, was enough. Though he had to admit that every time she did look at him, he could really only think about her marriage. About how she would find herself forced to be with a man that would never understand her. That would never know who or what (Y/n) really was. A man that would force her to be something she wasn't. That would make her throw away her stick swords and muddy dresses, in favour of a sewing needle and a quiet, obedient life. Jaime knew that such a life would be difficult for (Y/n). She was far too headstrong to be quiet and obedient. Too filled with dreams to wish for a boring life. She had spoken of the Musketeers long before Jaime had ever thought about joining their ranks. Gone on about their daring escapades. How she had wished that she had not been born a girl so that she could run away to Paris and join the Kings special guards. And that one day, despite her gender. She would be able to wear the fleur de lis crest, proudly. Yet now, here she was, looking every inch like the lady that she had never wanted to be. And despite her sweet smile, Jaime knew her well enough to know, that her quick and intelligent mind was trying to think of ways that she could get herself out of this current predicament.

"I think that that is a wonderful idea, Tormund." (Y/n) suddenly said. Jaime shaken from his thoughts at the thought of what Tormund's wonderful idea could possibly be.

"What's a wonderful idea?" Jaime enquired. Not sure that he liked the smile on the big man's face.

"Tormund has suggested that we go to the nearest tavern. And I happen to think that that is a magnificent idea." (Y/n) replied, as she took hold of the grinning Tormund's arm.

"A tavern? I don't think that would be a good idea, (Y/n). There are no establishments around here that would be suitable for a lady. Perhaps........"

"Then, Jaime. It is good that I am not a lady. And I have every intention of being as unladylike as possible until I am forced to marry. So, I think that Tormund's idea it absolutely wonderful." (Y/n) interrupted. The others smiling at him, as they crowded around her.

"You know, Jaime. You were always such a worrier. Always fussing. You should learn to enjoy life a little more, and not take things so seriously." (Y/n) added before turning around and continuing on her way down the street, with Tormund, Robb and Jon in tow. Leaving Jaime to catch up. The Musketeer feeling as though he was young again, and that once more (Y/n) was leading him into an adventure.

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"To (Y/n). Welcome to Paris. The city is more perfect for having you in it." Robb announced as he and the others raised their glasses in salute. The musketeers clinking their glasses with the Countess. All of them, in particular Tormund, refraining from what they would normally do, which would be to see who could down the contents, the quickest.

"And it is a pleasure to be here. I only wish I had made the journey sooner. Then I would have been able to spend more time with my dear friend Jaime, and all of you." (Y/n) replied, a soft sigh following her words as she raised her own glass. Jaime able to see in her eyes, the look of sadness that she had so desperately been trying to hide.

"You know. I always wanted to be a Musketeer, even from being small. Jaime would probably never admit it, but when we were children, we would pretend that that was just what we were. We would find only the best sticks. The straightest. The strongest. And we would chase one another through the woods. We fought between the trees, imagining that we faced all of the king's enemies. And when we had bested them, we would face one another. The only one of us that could never be a Musketeer, always winning." (Y/n) chuckled, as she looked over at the slightly blushing man across the table. Jaime knowing that despite her beliefs that he had always allowed her to win. The truth was that (Y/n) had always been better with a sword than he had ever been. And that their fights were always won by the lady, fair and square.

"Is that right?" Jon chuckled as he, Tormund and Robb turned their attention to the now very uncomfortable looking Jaime.

"Yes. I am afraid that Jaime always left himself open. It was quite a failing of his until I showed him how to counter it. And he used to drop his arm, too early. It left his arm, shoulder and head vulnerable to a counterattack. But after he got hit in the side of the face once too many times with my stick, he learnt not to do it again. I swear that his father must have thought that he was the most accident prone boy in the whole of France. I am sure that every day that we played together that he would return back to the chateau with a new bruise or cut. I know that he never told old Tywin what had really happened. And now look at him. One of the finest Musketeers there is." (Y/n) continued. Smiling fondly as she thought back to all the apologises that she had had to give Jaime. Apologises for catching him with her stick or making him graze his knees as they jumped over roots and fallen branches. For sending him home covered in mud with little twigs and leaves stuck in his mop of beautiful blonde hair. Yet she knew that just like her, he wouldn't have changed a single thing.

"It sounds to me like the wrong one of you ended up as a Musketeer. I say that we make you an honorary Musketeer, (Y/n). If you are still as handy with a blade as you used to be, then I am sure that the Captain wouldn't mind having you under his command. And anyone that can best Jaime with a sword, must be good." Robb commented. Jon and Tormund agreeing that that was a wonderful idea.

"I doubt that I would be capable of besting Jaime now. I am sure that he is far better with his sword than I could ever dream of being. But being a Musketeer, even if only an honorary one for a short while would be a privilege. So, if I may be allowed." (Y/n) said as she got to her feet and raised her glass.

"ALL FOR ONE."

"AND ONE FOR ALL." The four men added as they joined (Y/n) to stand for the salute. Their glasses meeting in the middle before the group downed the deep red liquid.

"Oh." (Y/n) suddenly exclaimed as her eyes fell onto the street outside. A young woman passing by with a basket overflowing with the brightest fresh cut flowers.

"If you will excuse me for just one moment, gentlemen. I will be back shortly." (Y/n) told them, before making for the door, and rushing out onto the crowded street to find the young flower girl. The three other Musketeers looking at Jaime who had no idea what his old friend was up to any more than any of the others.

"I don't know." Jaime shrugged.

"But maybe we should follow her. Paris isn't the safest place if you don't know what you are doing or where you are going," Jaime told the others, as they grabbed their hats and made for the door, hoping to find the Countess before she got too lost in the throng.

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(Y/n) dodged through the crowd as if she had been doing it all her life. The people reminding of her of the trees that she and Jaime would play around in the forest. The lady's eyes never leaving the surprisingly fast moving young girl that she was after. It sounded silly, but in the past, she would always give the golden boy a small daisy every time they played. The young man never failing to allow her to place the simple flower in his flowing locks, before they would run off and play. And now (Y/n) felt the need to continue that tradition. Even though she knew that as a grown man, the flower would not be finding itself in his thick hair. (Y/n) suddenly huffing to herself as she realised that she had not only just lost the girl in the throng of bodies. But had also managed to lose herself.

"And what do we have ere? Looks like we got one that thinks she's a lady, lads." A gruff voice chuckled from behind her. (Y/n) turning to find herself confronted by four rather unsavoury looking men, dressed in a red garb.

"I beg your pardon. I am looking for a little tavern called The Suckling Pig. I was..........."

"Ya must be new there. I didn't know that they had a girl as fine as you are working there. I might just have ta make that place my new tavern ta drink at. Tell me, beautiful. How much do ya charge?" Another one of the men asked as he came up to her and placed his hand on her cheek. (Y/n) quickly knocking it away.

"How dare you. And if you ever touch me again, I swear that you will never be able to touch another woman again. Now, let me leave, or I will make you all regret it." (Y/n) growled, as she glared at the men. Watching each of their moves carefully.

"Ya got a big mouth fa a whore. Maybe I can find something ta fill it for ya." The biggest and nastiest looking man stepping forward and pulling at the drawstring on his breeches. The man stopping in his tracks as (Y/n) pushed her long skirt to one side to reveal the sword that was strapped to her waist. The lady drawing the blade from it sheath. Her body moving instinctively into a fighting position.

"And what do ya think ya gonna do with that? If you haven't noticed, we are tha Cardinal's men, and ya out numbered." The big man told her. His brows furrowing as (Y/n) began to laugh.

"This? Oh, this. With this I am going to show all of you what it is to pick a fight with me. And outnumbered or not, you are all going to regret this. I may not be a real Musketeer, but I fight like one. And beating four of Cardinal Baelish's fools, will make the victory all the sweeter." (Y/n) replied, as she gestured for the foul men to attack. The lady loving nothing more than a good fight.