A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited so far! You guys made me smile seeing how a small taste garnered such positive feedback. We are finally into real chapter lengths. They will vary, but I do tend to write longer chapters. Not huge, but definitely longer than what the prologue was.
Also, perspective will change throughout chapters more often than not. Overall, those perspectives will be of Brielle and Jaime, but there will be others here and there when it is most important to the plot.
In general, I will be aiming to post on Sundays. As I am posting this chapter earlier than that, do not expect another by the end of the weekend. Stranger things have happened but unfortunately I can't spend all of my free time glued to the computer writing. The next two chapters are fully written, but still must be typed and edited, along with creating new material at the same time for what is coming after.
A quick note to the reviewer "Guest": Thank you for mentioning and, in essence, reminding me how much Jaime respected and admired Ser Arthur. It helped in writing what I think is a better representation of his character here and in future chapters than what I originally had planned :)
This is my first attempt writing Jaime. I am incorporating what I have taken away from Nikolaj Coster-Waldau's performance on the show and other fanfics I believe have captured his personality in writing. If you feel something is not right or doesn't fit, please feel free to contact me and I will take your suggestions into consideration moving forward.
Again, thank you for reading!
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Chapter 1
The last few weeks had thrown all of Winterfell into a blur of activity. Not long after Brielle and the rest of the Stark children had received their direwolf pups, a raven arrived from King's Landing. The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had passed and King Robert was now currently travelling for Winterfell along with the royal family. A Baratheon rider had galloped into the courtyard early this morning announcing the king's impending arrival. The royal party was expected around midday.
Personally, Brielle wished they weren't coming at all. A slight feeling of dread had slowly settled into her stomach as the days wore on. It had made for some very intense sparring sessions in the training yard and a lengthy lecture from Ser Rodrick. The Master-at-Arms may have taken up her training after discovering her cousins were teaching Brielle in secret, but he would not tolerate such unnecessary force under his watch. Brielle had been properly chastised and had taken to spending hours in the saddle instead.
Not that Lady Stark would allow any of us to leave the grounds today. If I could, I'd ride for the Wolfswood and come back only after the royal party was gone. We do not need so many southerners in the North.
A soft yip caught the young woman's attention, drawing her eyes away from the hallway window. She smiled down at her little pup. Dawn had grown nearly triple in size over the course of a few weeks and was her constant shadow, just as the other direwolf pups were with their masters and mistresses.
Another yip escaped Dawn as she suddenly ran forward to greet her unnamed sibling as the pup and Bran came running around the corner. His eyes were lit up with excitement as he came to an abrupt stop in front of his cousin. Brielle put her arms out to help steady the boy.
"And where are you running off to in such a hurry?" she asked with a laugh.
If it was possible, Bran's eyes lit up even more. "The king's almost here! I spotted the royal party just down the road."
Brielle's stomach lurched, but she managed to keep her discomfort from showing. He's so excited. I can't take that away from him. There's no need for him to worry about our visitors too. I'm sure that I and most of the adults are doing a fine enough job of that.
She smoothed down his windswept hair and gave the boy an infectious grin. "Well, we'd best grab our cloaks and hurry to the yard then, shouldn't we?"
He nodded, although his face fell slightly. "Mother says the direwolves must be locked up in the Godswood for now."
Brielle could see the sense in her aunt's decision, even if she didn't like it. "Then we must move as fast as Grey Wind. It wouldn't do to be late for the king. Besides, I do believe your mother would have our hides if we were."
Bran laughed and the two were off. They dashed to their rooms for their cloaks, then made quick work of dropping off the pups at the Godswood. Brielle could tell Dawn was not happy about the arrangement, but submitted to her mistress' order to stay put and not make a fuss.
Soon enough, all of Winterfell was standing and awaiting the king's arrival in the courtyard. Even Arya managed to make it to her place in line before the royal party started pouring in. However, she was relieved of the helmet on her head by an exasperated Lord Stark. Most who saw the incident either chuckled or smiled. Brielle, Jon and Theon were among that number. The three were standing behind the Lord and Lady Stark's family, with Brielle in between the two. Even after the king's decree made her legitimate, her place was still between them; her cousin and the man who once could have held her heart if only he hadn't been so stupid.
She glanced at the kraken. Even now, she knew he regretted his choices from two years ago. His eyes and actions told her as much every single day. But they both knew it would never change what had happened. It was why Theon had refused Lord Stark's proposal of a match between him and Brielle last year. Brielle deserved a better match and a man that she could love, he'd said. Her uncle had certainly been surprised, but had not pushed the issue. Thankfully, the matter was never brought up again. Instead the two chose to remain friends, even if Brielle struggled to trust him as she once did.
Movement at Winterfell's portcullis diverted Brielle's attention to the present once more. Finally, the royal party had arrived. And what an entrance it was.
Mounted soldiers and knights entered in great numbers ahead of an unseemly large wheelhouse. Brielle assumed it housed the queen and her children. She struggled not to look on the elaborate carriage with disdain.
Such delicate southern flowers. If they stay too long, I am sure the cold of the North will make them shrivel up and weep. Her mouth twitched in suppressed humor.
Behind the wheelhouse rode in more mounted men, as well as a very rounded black haired and bearded beast of a man. Her uncle knelt when this rider entered, as did everyone else. Brielle realized this was the king. Again, she struggled not to show her disdain. This was supposed to be the same man who led a rebellion against the dragons? Who killed Rhaegar Targaryen with a single blow to the chest with his war hammer? No, this was nothing more than a mockery of the great warrior Robert Baratheon had once been. Brielle could only feel disappointment at what her uncle's friend had turned into. The childish wonder from the stories she enjoyed in her youth of such a man had now turned to ashes in her mouth.
The king rode forward and dismounted his poor horse. It was a big beast but even the creature's back must feel relief from its heavy burden. He strode forward with purpose and came to a stop before Lord Stark, who rose at His Grace's gesture. The residents of Winterfell followed their lord's lead and rose as well. The courtyard was completely quiet except for the sound of their guests' horses snorting and the sound of shifting armor.
"Your Grace," Lord Stark greeted.
King Robert looked very serious and stern as he inspected his old friend. "You got fat," he declared. A moment of shock and unease ran through everyone until the tension was broken by the king and Lord Stark's laughter. They embraced and everyone relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.
As the king greeted the Starks, Brielle noticed the rest of what must be the royal family and a few handmaidens disembarking the wheelhouse. A woman with light golden blonde hair, who was all wrapped up in furs, stepped in front of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.
This must be the queen. She certainly holds herself like royalty. Or is that simply the way all lions carry themselves? Queen Cersei Baratheon of House Lannister, the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms. Or so it was said. Brielle was not convinced. She believed her cousin Sansa held a greater beauty than that of the woman looking upon their home with barely withheld distaste.
As her uncle and estranged aunt greeted the queen, Brielle felt a prickling along her skin. It was the feeling of being watched. She scanned those newly arrived. Surprisingly, the culprit was easy to find.
A knight with golden armor, a white cloak and hair the same spun gold as the queen stared at Brielle. His unnerving gaze created a strange disquiet in her stomach, very different from what she had felt since learning of the king's impending arrival. When he realized she was staring back at him, an obnoxious and self-satisfied smirk split his lips.
So, this is the Kingslayer. Ser Jaime Lannister. Brielle's face remained impassive while the lion continued to smirk. The air of superiority he exhibited in that moment did nothing to impress her. A shame, really. Brielle had hoped to speak with him, if only to learn of his experiences fighting and serving alongside her dead uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne. After holding his gaze a few more moments, she turned her head, dismissing his presence.
Yet for a time after, she could still feel his eyes upon her. She busied herself with thoughts of the feast to come that night. It'd certainly be a grand and boisterous affair. Much more lively than what the courtyard was now.
It wasn't until Lady Stark started to direct people in order to get the royal party settled that Brielle looked back to where he stood. But the Kingslayer was gone.
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It's like looking at a ghost.
Very few things surprised Jaime anymore, but seeing the grown up daughter of Ashara Dayne and Brandon Stark was one of them. The girl truly looked like Ashara reborn. However, there were hints of the Wild Wolf too. Her face was not as delicate as her mother's, or her body for that matter. Where Ashara had been almost willowy, her daughter had meat on her bones and was pleasingly bosomed. Jaime was certain that if she wasn't Ned Stark's niece, the king would likely cast his eyes on her. That was a fate he only wished on the whores the selfish bastard paid.
Jaime was also surprised at how tall the girl was. She had come from tall stock on both sides, so it really shouldn't have been a shock. Although it was quite amusing to see how the girl towered over or was equal to that of a good many of the men. He'd wager she could meet his eyes with little effort.
While he would readily admit he had not looked forward to traveling to Winterfell only to spend an undetermined amount of time amongst the Starks, Jaime had harbored a small curiosity to see the niece of Ser Arthur Dayne. Seventeen years ago, word spread like wildfire when Ned Stark took the frail one year old bastard child of his older brother from Dorne to raise in the North. Of course, there were those who believed the girl truly another bastard of the current Lord of Winterfell, but Jaime knew better. He'd accidentally overheard a private conversation between Ser Arthur and Princess Elia about the knight's sister not long after the Tourney at Harrenhal. He knew the girl came from the Wild Wolf's seed.
Suddenly, those haunting violet eyes met his green, as if she knew someone was watching her. An unnerving jolt went through him. For a moment Jaime was transported back to King's Landing over eighteen years ago, a newly anointed knight and prior to his ascension to the Kingsguard. He remembered meeting those same eyes for the first time in the throne room. And now he saw them reflected in someone else.
Then, the spell her violet gaze had cast was broken as the girl's eyes moved as if to take him in. The movement was small and the perusal quick, but he saw it all the same. Jaime couldn't stop himself from smirking. He wondered what the girl thought as she looked at him, at the man everyone called Kingslayer as if he couldn't hear. Unless if it was Robert of course. Jaime could almost believe the man he guarded as his king didn't know his name with the regularity the oaf called him by that vile moniker.
Their gazes met once more before her head turned away, dismissing his presence. Jaime felt his smirk strain. Another wolf judging the lion. Perhaps you're more like dear old Ned after all, little wolf.
After the king and Stark made for the crypts, Cersei approached him, her distaste for her surroundings clear to read for her twin. She came close and spoke in a hushed tone. "Where is our brother?"
At his nonchalant shrug, Cersei's lips tightened ever so slightly. "Go and find the little beast. I don't need him making a fool out of the Lannister name more than his mere existence already does." And with that his queen walked away.
Thankfully, Jaime did have an idea where Tyrion was, so finding him shouldn't prove too difficult. After all, with his brother's habits and tastes, it was usually best to start with the closest brothel. He gave the girl with violet eyes one more glance before mounting his horse and riding out of Winterfell as everyone else began to help settling the royal party in.
Brielle Stark, formerly a bastard and my unasked for future bride. Jaime shook his head in annoyance. First, the woman he loved was bedded and abused by the man he called king. Now, that same king and his own father planned to saddle him with this girl from the North. Sometimes, the gods truly were cruel.
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That evening, Brielle was finishing with her hair for the feast when a soft knock came at her door. A recently freed Dawn raised her head from where she lay on Brielle's bed and flicked an ear toward the room's entrance.
"Brielle, may I come in?" Asked her uncle's slightly muffed voice.
Her brows furrowed in surprise. Lord Stark rarely visited her room, and those few times were usually instances that foreboded nothing good. Often it was bad news or a lecture for something she had done.
"One moment," she called. The young woman quickly finished the braid she had been working on and rose to open the door.
When she gazed at her uncle on the other side, she immediately knew something was very wrong. Despite his attempt to hide it, Brielle could see it in his eyes. There was a storminess hinting to troubled thoughts that had not been there earlier. The young woman could only wonder what transpired between her lord uncle and the king down in the crypts.
He walked in and led her over to the bed to sit. He took a seat right after, leaving Dawn between the two as the direwolf watched closely. Unconsciously, he reached out and started to stroke the pup's fur as he attempted to speak. Brielle only felt her unease grow.
"Uncle," she started. His eyes met hers. With a fortifying breath, she continued. "What has you so troubled? I've never known you to be like this unless it is something horrific."
His eyes softened as he observed his niece. After another moment to collect his thought, Lord Stark spoke. "The king's arrival has brought many demands that cause my troubling thoughts, sweet girl. The foremost, and his true reason for coming, is to ask if I would accept to be named Hand of the King."
When he didn't continue, Brielle had to forcibly shake herself from her shock in order to speak. "You do not wish to accept?"
Her uncle sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face in weariness. "In truth, I am not sure. I have no desire to leave Winterfell or my family, but I believe Robert when he says he needs me." He paused, then caught Brielle's gaze again. "There's more."
Brielle sensed that whatever he was about to say had something to do with her. It was the only explanation for his presence in her room this night. Her uncle had never sought her council or advice on the workings of the North. She could not see why he would start now.
"The king has also delivered two proposals of marriage for our family," he informed her, his eyes turning apologetic as he spoke. "Robert wishes to join our houses by marriage through Prince Joffery and Sansa."
Thank the gods. While Brielle did not like the thought of Sansa marrying the Crown Prince, she was grateful it was not her that the king had chosen. The little of Joffery she witnessed so far gave the impression of a self-centered spoiled brat. Perhaps he would grow out of it, which would be for the good of the realm, but Brielle had no desire to risk being married to such a man, particularly one two years younger than herself. He truly looked like such a boy in comparison to her cousins and Theon.
So, who am I to marry? She held her uncle's gaze, working very hard to keep her voice even in order to not give away her unease. "And what of the other proposal?"
Brielle could see he struggled to say the words. Was it truly so distasteful? "The king has been in contact with Tywin Lannister in recent months, who has given his consent to this match."
Sudden panic gripped Brielle. I'm to marry the Old Lion?! He's old enough to be my grandfather!
Lord Stark must have seen something of her panic for he reached over and took her hands in his. "Fear not, sweet girl. I'd never consent to marry you or any of your cousins to a man as old as he."
The fear gripping Brielle lessened its hold, but only just. "But it is a match proposed with House Lannister?"
He nodded. "A few months before he died, Jon Arryn suggested a marriage joining House Lannister and House Stark in order to create better blood between us. Robert has agreed it is a good idea."
Despite her own despair at the thought of marrying a lion, the logical part of her brain could see the sense of the match. For years there had been tension between the lions of the South and the wolves of the North. Brielle had never asked why, but assumed Tywin Lannister and his eldest son's actions at the end of the rebellion were partly to blame.
Now the king has decided I will be the offering of peace for our two houses. Wonderful.
At her silence, Lord Stark began to talk once more. "Robert has agreed to release Jaime Lannister from the Kingsguard and to return to Tywin his heir on the condition that Ser Jaime marry you."
Brielle finally understood the dread she had felt since it was announced the king rode for the North. She could say nothing. Her tongue was tied and her body felt numb in the face of this shocking and honestly quite scandalous news. A man could not be simply released from the Kingsguard. Their vows were taken for life. The only way a knight could end his service was with his death. Yet as it was the king's personal guard, perhaps it made sense he could do with it as he wished. The thought did not make Brielle feel any better.
Suddenly, Jaime's face from earlier in the courtyard came to mind. The smugness and arrogance he exuded in spades. It helped to break the numbness gripping her, allowing annoyance and anger to spark to life in its place. All of this was possible because her uncle had petitioned the king to make her legitimate. What was being forced upon her now was his fault.
Yet when she turned her accusing eyes upon him, Brielle was struck by the look of grief and anger that consumed his gray gaze. He did not want this either and blamed himself. The hatred that had just consumed her immediately dissipated. He had not asked for this, nor did he want it for her.
He gripped her hands harder. "I am so sorry, Brielle. If I had known this would happen, I would have pushed for the match between you and Theon. Or accepted one of the many proposals for your hand from the northern lords. But now it is too late."
Tears began to prick at her eyes hearing the sorrow in her uncle's voice. "Is it truly too late? There must be something you can do, Uncle."
Lord Stark shook his head. "Believe me, I tried. It is why the king and I spent so much time in the crypts. I argued against the match, even begged Robert to consider a different Lannister at the very least. One closer to your age and with more honor." Her uncle sighed. "However, he would not hear any of it. His mind is set and nothing I say will change that. I believe the fact that the queen is so enraged by the match has something to do with Robert's resolve."
Brielle withdrew her hands from his and stood, wrapping her arms around her torso. "I've wished it before in the last three years and I wish it now more than ever. That you had never asked the king to grant me legitimacy," she whispered.
Large and rough hands gently grasped her shoulders, turning her around. Her uncle's face was solemn, his eyes still holding grief for what his friend had all but decreed. "No, Brielle. That is one thing in this life I will never regret. Your mother would never have forgiven me if I had allowed you to remain a bastard all your life. And I never would have forgiven myself."
"Yet Jon is still a Snow," she accused.
His eyes clouded over and Brielle could tell her uncle was uncomfortable with the charge. She had made it years ago when her relationship with Jon was at its worst. It was obvious the accusation still stung.
"Someday, when the time is right, I will tell you why I never asked Robert to make Jon a Stark," he told her.
Well, that was at least better than his silence and stony look the last time she'd spoken of it. Perhaps when next I say it he'll actually explain his reasons. Brielle could only hope.
"I don't want to marry him," Brielle declared.
Her uncle nodded, his expression changing to one of understanding and sympathy. "I know, Brielle. But the king has all but decreed the match. He plans to have your betrothal announced tonight at the feast."
The young woman almost shuddered at the thought.
Her uncle's grip on her shoulders tightened, commanding her attention. Her violet eyes met his gray. "Brielle, this match will happen, unless Robert should suddenly change his mind, which I sincerely doubt. However, understand that I am not simply throwing you into the lion's den. You are a Stark, a wolf of the North. Never forget that. You are kind and brave and strong, and Jaime Lannister is a fool if he thinks to rule over you."
Brielle's brow furrowed. "But he is to be my lord husband. The law allows him to rule over me."
For the first time since entering her room, Lord Stark smiled. "Then you shall have to show him otherwise. You are to be the future Lady of Casterly Rock and Wardeness of the West. You are born with the blood of the First Men and belong to the Houses of Stark and Dayne. And you are honorable, dear niece. Perhaps you can make the Lannisters a house with honor once again."
Brielle snorted at the thought, but nodded she understood all the same. Maybe she could help to change the image of House Lannister. She still despaired at having to marry the Lion's heir, but it could be one good thing to come from this marriage. Not only that, she would one day help rule over the Westerlands.
I've never wanted to rule. That has long been Sansa's dream.
Yet Sansa would rule, as Queen no less, and Robb would one day become the Warden of the North. All while Brielle helped to rule in the West. This revelation made the young woman pause. With this arrangement, House Stark would hold a greater power and influence throughout all of Westeros for the first time. They could help to shape the future and secure a lasting peace in the Seven Kingdoms.
Maybe I should be thanking the king rather than damning him. She may be forced into this marriage, but Brielle would not waste this opportunity. She would simply have to make the best of it. After all, the peace and prosperity of the realm was more important than her personal desires. Brielle knew this, even if it felt unfair. However, she would do her duty, for the good of the realm.
To her uncle's surprise, Brielle hugged him. After a moment, he returned the gesture. They stayed that way for a time. Finally, Brielle stepped out of her uncle's arms. She gave him a small smile, even if she was not truly happy. The last few minutes had brought on an array of emotions in such a short amount of time. Now, she was left with a begrudging acceptance to her fate.
"Thank you, Uncle." She took his right hand in hers. "Not just for now, but for everything. You have always done your best by me, even though I am not your own. I will always be thankful for it. You truly are a man of honor and justice, and I can only hope to emulate such qualities when I face the burden of ruling."
He squeezed her hands in encouragement. "You will, Brielle. I have no doubt of that." Lord Stark let go of her hands and stepped back, making his way for the door. "I will leave you to finish getting ready. But please, keep the news of the betrothal to yourself for now."
"I will." As she said those words, Brielle wasn't entirely sure she meant them. She wanted to talk to Robb, Jon and Theon about it, especially Robb. She knew if she explained the good that could come from this alliance he'd be more receptive to it. Certainly, he still wouldn't like it, the same as she, but he'd tolerate it for the sake of the realm. She also wanted to make sure that neither of them decided to do something stupid due to their feelings on the betrothal. It did not take a great imagination to think of a few possible scenarios her cousins and the kraken could find themselves in. However, her uncle's raised eyebrows at her quick response made Brielle realize he had an idea of what she was thinking. She smiled sheepishly.
Her uncle started to open the door when an idea came to the young woman.
"Uncle," she called to him. He paused, looking over his shoulder questioningly. "If I am to be forced to marry Jaime Lannister, then I have one condition."
His brows rose again, this time in surprise. "What condition is that?"
For the first time since her uncle arrived at her door, Brielle felt a spark of happiness and control over the situation she found herself in. This was her first step in making her marriage work. "We must be married here in the Godswood. I will accept a ceremony in the Light of the Seven with a septon should that be desired, but I will not give my vows in a sept."
A proud look overcame Lord Stark in that moment. A small smile played on his lips as he nodded. "I will speak with Robert. I am sure we can arrange it. And it would make me happier to see it so."
With that, her uncle departed, leaving Brielle alone with her thoughts and Dawn for company. She glanced at the direwolf pup, who sat on the bed watching Brielle with perplexed eyes. Dawn tilted her head, as if asking a question. Her mistress sighed, then walked over and scratched the pup's head.
"In less than a day so much has changed. I fear even more change is coming and very soon, my friend."
Dawn made a soft noise, as if to say she agreed. It did nothing to make Brielle feel better at the uncertain future looming ahead.
