A/N: Still a while away but I want to be really careful and warn any readers that certain events in this story could be triggers/ triggering. I'll give a warning at the beginning of certain chapters just to ensure that everyone reading this is warned. Anyways, I hope you guys are enjoying. Feedback is always treasured and welcomed. (Also, I wanted to let you guys know that in my mind, Sansa is aged up to about 17/18. That's just the age I personally visualize her at)

He had been surprised. He hadn't seen her in over a year, and in the grand scheme of things a year was a very short amount of time. She'd changed. More than he thought was possible. Of course she had been living with his family for a longer period of time than any human ought. He hadn't paid any attention to her of course, so his memory of her was foggy at best. What he remembered had been boring and tediously similar to everything he despised in the opposite sex. A stick figure, giggly and concerned with dresses and knights; the lack of knowledge apparent in her eyes.

Now he almost yearned to see that. She was still thin, but was the type of thin every woman desired to be, with curves instead of the girlish flatness of youth. Admittedly, when he first saw her walking towards him, he could tell she was beautiful. She had the characteristics many women strived for; high cheekbones, thick red hair, pale even skin, and a trim frame.

Her eyes were what struck him. They were a pale blue grey that held such depths that he felt her could be swallowed whole by them if he stared too long. They were haunting and whispered of horrors and pain, things that made him shiver. He had been captivated by them as they met his own, luring him closer and closer. Sansa had blinked and the moment had ended; her eyes were a simple light blue that seemed empty and hollowed.

Sansa jumped when Jaime spoke, looking directly at her. "Does the food not appeal to you?" She glanced at him, hands curling and uncurling in a nervous habit. "No, it's fantastic. Really."

He snorted and met her eyes for the second time that night, before his gaze flicked down to her plate. "I think it would be difficult for you to ascertain that considering you haven't put a single shred of food into your mouth. Are you able to taste food with your eyes, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa blushed and fumbled for words, "Ah no. I just- I- I'm not very hungry but-"

"I see. You're too scared of your new husband to eat." His tone had an edge and Sansa couldn't tell if he was teasing her or was completely serious. Her hand shook as she stabbed a piece of roast duck with her fork and lifted it to her lips. It tasted like ash.

"How is it? Is it fantastic?" Jaime drawled, eyes focused on her mouth.

Sansa swallowed and nodded hesitantly, eyes focused on her plate. His gaze lingered for a few more seconds and he only looked away when Tyrion distracted him with a lighthearted question about the festivities. She had thought she wanted him to address her and acknowledge her existence, but his biting tone and scathing eyes made her feel even worse than being invisible.

She jumped at the feel of a firm and calloused hand gripping her arm. Jaime leaned closer and said, "Time to dance. We're all performers tonight."

Her brow furrowed but she allowed herself to be led from the table. Dread built slowly and her stomach lurched in anticipation. The music was lighthearted and cheerful, discordant and clashing to her ears. They should be playing a funeral tune, if they wanted to accurately accompany the event.

Jaime's grip was strong and she barely had to hold herself up, allowing him to guide them in time to the music. She didn't glance at him and he stared above her head, eyes focused on something out of her sight. They were both silent and Sansa found solace in it.

The girl was light as a feather, and glided easily as he led her across the floor. She was a quiet thing and he was already frustrated by her timid nature. He didn't have the patience to coax and reassure, to make anyone feel soft and fuzzy and safe. His eyes met Cercei's from across the room. She was still and motionless, standing in the corner holding a glass of wine. One of her fingers trailed in the glass, swirling the liquid around and around. She raised an eyebrow at him, and her eyes held an unspoken promise in them that he answered with his own.

Another couple moved to block his line of sight and his gaze shifted away from her. He felt the girl's heartbeat quicken against his own chest and he realized he'd grasped her more tightly than he'd intended. Instead of apologizing he smirked down at her, "Do I make you nervous, little wolf?"

He saw her visibly gulp and she responded in her soft voice, "No. . .Yes."

Several moments passed and then he whispered in reply, "Good."