"Uugh!" Arya made the loudest wail of annoyance and pouting. "Why'd you get to go? Wouldn't your 'delicate sensibilities' be all offended or go all faint?"

"Arya," Sansa said sharply. It shut her sister up, looking at her with wide eyes. " A man died. Father lopped off his head and he died. That's not something worthy to brag about seeing."

Her younger sibling looked appropriately chastised for once.

"Sorry," she muttered. "That's not what I was meaning to say..."

Sansa softened and patted her sister's shoulder. "Yes, I know. But it really isn't something you'd care for."

Arya absentmindedly nodded, stretching her neck and looking ahead. "That's the archery range 'round the corner. I hear people up ahead and cheering."

Her sister snatched her hand up and rushed forward and Sansa inelegantly followed, stumbling over her feet at first before she managed to regain her footing. When the two girls peeked around the corner, they saw that Bran was at his archery lesson, being encouraged and advised by Robb and Theon, though he kept missing most of the time. Also surprisingly there was the King with Ser Jaime observing, and little Tommen was excitedly cheering on Bran.

"It's good of him to be learning," King Robert nodded in approval, while she and Arya overheard from above at their hidden alcove. "Blasted Joffrey can't be bothered and then whines when he can't shoot anything. Or waves around a sword, expecting everything and everyone to just fall on it for him!"

Ser Jaime's handsome face looked impassive as he answered dryly. "He's the Royal Prince, Your Grace. It is as he's grown up to believe."

The King's lip curled and he scoffed. "He acts like a godsdamned pansy."

She heard Arya snicker quietly beside her, but Sansa hid her grimace. If her betrothed's own father spoke of him as is, and his uncle implied his spoiled upbringing, it did not sound as if she would come to like her betrothed any time soon.

"Hey, Sansa," Arya whispered to her, tugging at her sleeve. "Shoot an arrow at the target."

She looked at her in askance. "What? I can't! Bran's practicing."

"So? They need to be upstaged and get shown up," Arya said stubbornly. "Hit a bullseye! No one's even looking our way, so you don't have to be seen —though you should. Show them we can shoot too and we can even be better at it."

"It's different," Sansa insisted. "It's not just us —the King and his family is there."

Arya huffed. "Who cares. Come on, Sansa!"

Sansa eyed the bow and arrow Arya was trying to push her way, biting her lip. She was tempted, if only because she could see how much it made Arya happy and she also knew she liked when Sansa showed off her shooting skills, since it showed off Arya's teachings.

"Alright," she muttered, taking the bow and notching the arrow. She took a deep breath and focused, pulling back the arrow to her cheek and keeping steady. Then she let go and watched as the arrow hit bullseye. Grinning widely, she grabbed Arya's hand and started to run away as they heard commotion spreading around from where they left everyone behind.

Sansa's laughter felt like bubbling up and out of her.

~♛♛♛~

When Sansa thought back to the execution, if the memory and sight of it didn't haunt her, it was the man's words. He'd sworn, even up to his last breath and right to the time his head was separated from his body, that there was a danger beyond the Wall.

The White Walkers.

It made her shiver, more so when she'd seen her father briefly worried before he'd schooled his expression into his normal somber look. The King obviously looked unphased and Joffrey had just scoffed, but the gathered Northerners were all uneasy. Sansa couldn't shake it from her own mind and ever since then, she'd been thinking about the man's words, about the existence of White Walkers, of the possible threat beyond the Wall.

The Wall where Jon had been stubbornly talking of going to with her.

She'd wanted to shake him, tell him to just stay there in Winterfell. She'd even threatened to tell Arya! She'd already spoken with Robb, but her brother had only looked pained and had told her it was Jon's decision. Well, she hated his decision.

And it was even worse now, if there were truly White Walkers around there and Jon could very well be in danger if he really went. He was family, her brother (even if that wasn't blood truth), and she had no wish to hear of him putting himself in danger there or worse —dying in the frozen lands of the Wall.

"Ugh!" Sansa hit her hand against the wall next to the bookshelf, distracted from beginning her search.

"Sansa? What are you doing here?"

Sansa stiffened up, turning hesitantly towards Old Nan and eying the old woman warily. Old Nan stared back.

For some reason, Sansa's hair —despite her mother having red hair as well —made Old Nan freak out and bring up all sorts of superstitions. Maybe it was the shade of red, maybe there really was something wrong with it that only Old Nan could see. But Sansa still was slightly scared to go near the older woman.

"You're not usually here, Old Nan," Sansa couldn't help fidget.

"I saw you come in," Old Nan blinked eerily.

Sansa's feet shifted, ready to bolt. "Um...just...looking for books."

"On what."

Old Nan always seemed to know far more than she let on. It was really creepy and Sansa never felt comfortable.

"White Walkers," she whispered, unable to to keep it to herself under Old Nan's knowing gaze.

Old Nan made a strange throaty sound, gaze not looking away from Sansa. "White Walkers come before even the Age of Heroes. They come before and created The Long Night. Borne of the Children of the Forest and wild magic, White Walkers were long before you and me, girl."

She blinked long and slow again, eying Sansa thoughtfully. "They'll all say White Walkers are just creatures of legend, but don't you believe them," she warned Sansa, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes moved to gaze on Sansa's long, red hair, making her flinch and want to retreat, remembering again all the times Old Nan had ranted against it and had tried to shear it all off.

And when Old Nan reached out to grab some of her hair, she nearly bolted then, if it weren't for the tight grip on her red strands.

Old Nan scoffed under her breath. "Perhaps it's best you are of fire, Sansa. Ye'll be needed in the next War of the Dawn," she said cryptically, letting go of Sansa's hair.

She turned her back on Sansa and walked away, limping a bit in her own age. Sansa let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and nearly screamed when a hand landed on her shoulder. Robb raised an eyebrow at her, though his eyes followed after the disappearing back of Old Nan.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

Sansa bit her lip. "I was...You remember that man talking about the White Walkers?"

This time both of Robb's eyebrows flew up. "What about? Don't tell me you're freaked out about them. They're just legends!"

Sansa pursed her lips. "What if they're not?"

Robb looked uncertain. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't hurt to read up on them," he said, looking around at the library.

She hugged him tightly. "Oh thank you, Robb!"

He rolled his eyes, patting her back fondly. "Alright, alright. Let's start going through the books. Actually, let me go see if Jon wants to help out —might interest him since he'll be going to the Wall and see these things."

"Or convince him to stay here and not go to the Wall," Sansa said darkly.

"Maybe," Robb said dryly, but left her to go find Jon.

Sansa began pulling books out about the time before the Age of Heroes and had just put what she had down when not just Jon and Robb entered the library, but they'd brought along two of their royal guests. Myrcella and Tommen stood behind her brothers, looking at her shyly.

"We got stragglers," Robb grinned at her. "Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen asked if they could help us out when they overheard me talking to Jon about looking up the White Walkers. Apparently Prince Tommen loves folklore of all kinds and Princess Mycella wanted to help out."

Sansa smiled kindly at them. "Thank you for joining us! If only my younger sister would be a little more inclined to read up on history."

"I ran across her and asked," Jon's lips twitched.

"As soon as we mentioned the library though, she claimed Septa Mordane wanted her to practice her embroidery and ran off," Robb said with a laugh.

Sansa shook her head. "Now I know that's a lie. Arya would never want to practice her embroidery, even if Septa Mordane ordered her too."

"I'll tell her she missed out on 'scary, creepy stories' when I see her," Jon said in amusement, picking up a book.

"Okay, I guess it's time to get to work," Robb picked up a book as well. "We're starting with the Age of Heroes?"

"Old Nan said White Walkers were before then," Sansa told them. "So like before that time."

While Robb and Jon worked together, Tommen and Myrcella gravitated towards her more, though Myrcella was curiously (and adorably) glancing at Robb and Jon with a slight blush on her cheeks. It made Sansa discreetly smile to herself and wonder which of them Myrcella was interested in.

"Oh! I found a mention of them!" Tommen exclaimed in excitement. He got their attention and read the passage aloud, which detailed a little on how they came to be.

"Good job," Robb praised him, making him duck his head and smile shyly. Sansa agreed as well, causing his face to turn red.

"Sounds like a fairytale," Myrcella thought aloud. "A dark one though!"

"Fairytales can have basis in real life," Jon said solemnly. "Soulmates are one such proof."

"Soulmates?" Myrcella's eyes widened.

"Yes," Robb said, giving a hard look towards Sansa, who studiously ignored it. "In the North, Soulmates are real and are treasured partners. If you have a Soulmate, it is the most precious gift you can receive from the Old Gods and an acceptance from the New."

"I've heard of them!" Tommen's excitement escalated, but his words made them look at him in surprise. "I ran across them in one of the books I'd read. I even asked the High Septon about them and he was really excited to tell me all about them, though he was actually rather sad that more people didn't know or believe in them. It's not really known around the West and South, but I know that Dorne and the East have high beliefs and hopes in them. The West is also a little more interested in Soulmates, even if most don't believe."

The West! It made something in Sansa squeeze, like someone's hand had reached into her chest and taken her heart and just squeezed it to the point where she had trouble breathing.

Would Lord Lannister know about Soulmates then? Would he know what it meant, would he accept her? Or would he know and still reject her? Would he not care in the least?

"They occur mostly in the North, though that's not known," Robb informed the royal siblings. "It is a cherished custom and tradition of the North."

"I wish I had a Soulmate," Myrcella sighed wistfully.

"Yes, some are more lucky than others," Robb looked at her pointedly and Sansa wanted to shove her brother.

"It would be a fairytale come true," Myrcella added on, looking bashful and dreamy at the thought.

"You have the right person here to ask about that!" Jon laughed and Sansa almost looked at him in alarm. Did he know? "Sansa knows all about and loves anything to do with knights and fairytales! Her head's always in songs!"

Relieved but distressed, Sansa almost corrected him on that. Used to. She used to be in love with anything to do with all of that. Now...now she knew the truth and lived in reality with everyone else. But looking upon the faces of Tommen and Myrcella, she didn't think she'd be able to completely crush their own hopes and dreams so young.

She gave them a sad smile. "I do admit to having an old fondness for tales of knights and all the romantic and fantastical fairytales."

Before she could speak more, there were several knocks on the door to the library and a semi-familiar voice spoke through it.

"Pardon the intrusion, but I was told that the Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were in here," she heard Ser Jaime speak.

The Stark siblings exchanged looks while both the Prince and Princess excitedly got up from their seats to greet their uncle. The door opened and Ser Jaime peered in, while the duo had reached him and greeted him happily.

Sansa gazed at him, feeling her breath falter.

This was her Soulmate's son. This was his flesh and blood and part of her already seemed to reach out and become attached.

Ser Jaime was the son of the man whose name was neatly carved into her soul and written boldly on her wrist.

~♛♛♛~

Jaime idly browsed through the small sept that Winterfell held. He was, by no means, a religious man and didn't hold much faith to the Seven. It was, however, a thought that since so little others visited the sept (except for the Lady Stark, for whom Lord Stark had created the sept for), that he thought it might be a possible place for he and Cersei to engage in certain activities in with much wanted privacy.

Though quiet and empty, the windows from up high were currently letting in the sun and casting a bright light inside the sept, creating a rather beautiful glow about the place.

A soft scrape brought his attention to the kneeling figure and he winced. Not so empty after all then.

But when the person stood up, fiery hair cascaded down to fall behind her back and when she turned, the light from above cast her in a nearly unearthly sight.

Low and behold, it was almost as if he stood witness to the Maiden Reborn.

"Oh! S-Ser Jaime," her face flushed and she gave a hesitant smile to him. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'd just arrived, Lady Sansa," he gave her an easy smile, recovering smoothly as he walked slowly over to her. "I was merely curious and have been looking around your lovely home, my Lady."

Her smile became a sweetly, timid thing that actually made him want to smile honestly and goofily back. He loved Cersei, but sweet smiles from her (even for him) were rare, if they even happened at all. And this girl...this girl's smile lit up a room, brighter than even the shining sun above lit up around her.

A sudden thought entered his head and, thinking quickly, he held his hand out.

Lady Sansa had mentioned quietly sometime before of an old fondness for knights and fairytales. He didn't see the harm in indulging the girl, and playfully letting her have a knight for a moment to play pretend and have a tiny fairytale moment for herself.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance, my Lady?" he grinned widely, winking charmingly.

He could see her eyes widened and the visible hesitation, before she lightly bit her lip even as she held back a full smile that still escaped a little.

"Of course, Ser Jaime," she mockingly curtsied and lightly placed a hand in his.

Pulling her a bit closer to him, he began to lead her into a dance while he started humming. After a moment, her own humming joined his and they danced in the brightness of the sun, in the quietness of an empty sept.