A/N: I hope I passed on Catelyn's character. Here is Sansa's first chapter.

I've always found Sansa the most difficult to write. I always envisioned a modern Sansa as being interested in politics if she got to witness her mother or father dealing with their subjects in a just and orderly manner, so this Sansa, while she is still a bit of an airhead when it comes to romance, dreams and songs, is more politically aware of at least the Northern Country.
I actually relate to Sansa and Arya the most, but for some reason I find Sansa difficult to write.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but this fic's plot. All rights go to George RR Martin.

Sansa woke with her usual bubble of happiness on the morning of July first. Surely, SURELY her sister Arya would be in a better mood today, considering it's her sixteenth birthday?

Arya had been nothing but difficult all month and Sansa knew it was because she was loathe to leave Winterfell, to leave her friends and their uncle and cousin behind. While she understood to a certain extent about Arya's behaviour, she couldn't be in the same room with her without pulling her hair out. Arya was infuriating and frustrating to everyone around her and, Sansa hated to admit, she was being a selfish bitch.

Their father had made a major political decision and Arya couldn't see past her own wants and needs to realise that this could benefit the Northern Kingdom. It would strengthen the already-strong ties between Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, but Arya never thought about that. She always thought of 'poor Arya, having to leave the coldness of Winterfell to go to the terrible capital city'.

Contrary to popular belief, Sansa wasn't an idiot and she knew the way of political matters. She knew that as a princess, she had to marry someone of high birth, though the medieval law of betrothals were non-existent - each royal child in each royal family were able to decide who they wanted to marry within reason. Sansa had set her eyes on Joffrey Baratheon, her childhood crush. She remembered he had been a literal, perfect representation of a Prince Charming - a tall build, golden hair and piercing green eyes; he was the image of his handsome uncle, Jaime Lannister. Sansa sighed to herself as she got into the shower and started washing her hair.

The last time she had seen Joffrey, she had been eleven years old and in love, but Arya risked everything with her selfishness. Joffrey had been kind and courteous to her after the numerous pranks pulled on both herself and him and he had told her he didn't blame her at all for her sister's outrageous behaviour. Sansa and Arya had never been close and Sansa wished at times that Arya could act more like a girl and a proper sister rather than a wildling tomboy.

As Sansa dressed, she wondered what was going through her sister's head. Ever since their first visit to King's Landing, Arya had become sullen, angsty and secretive and she was desperate to know what had made her that way.

Sansa went downstairs and helped herself to two pieces of multi-grain toast and jam, watching as her father finished his coffee and put it in the dishwasher before grabbing his briefcase for another day of work with the King in the South. He would be home in time for dinner, Sansa knew - her mother would thwack him, King or no, if he didn't turn up for dinner on time. Sansa loved her paretns' relationship. They had been one of the few arranged marriages as Catelyn had first been engaged to Sansa's uncle Brandon, but in a freak accident that killed both him and her grandfather, she and Eddard decided to strengthen the alliances and marry. Watching them together, Sansa knew that over time they'd fallen in love and their affection for each other was well known throughout the North, which presented the Kingdom with a united front and therefore a stronger rule.

Sansa had been raised to be down-to-earth and that the subjects of the king is what kept the Kingdom going. Her father, noticing her interest in politics when she was seven years old, had taken her aside each month so that she could watch how he dealt with the common people of Winterfell. She marveled at the time how her father, though softly-spoken and kind, was firm in his judgment and silently commanded the respect of everyone around him. She vowed, when she was a lady or a queen, that she would rule with the grace, sincerity, morality and kindness of her father.

Sansa left the house after she finished breakfast and decided to go for a walk around the King's Estate next door to the manor house the Starks were currently residing in. She was walking to Baelor's Sept when she saw him, tanned and golden-haired and taller than she remembered. She paused and watched him.

Joffrey Baratheon moved with grace and elegance, his slender but firm body rigid and straight. Sansa wished she had used more effort to make herself look pretty for him, but she hadn't chanced on seeing him quite so soon. As if sensing her, Joffrey looked up and saw her and Sansa knew then that he remembered her. He smiled widely and walked over and Sansa felt his arms encase her as she hugged him back, breathing in his cologne.

"It's been too long, My Sansa," Joffrey said softly, smiling down at her. Sansa flushed at his words, smiled back and pulled away a little.

"It has been almost six years My Prince," she replied. "What brings you to Baelor's Sept?"

"Perhaps the fates drew us both here today," Joffrey suggested in his silky voice. Sansa went weak at the knees and giggled. Joffrey kissed her hand formally with a smile. "Perhaps you would like to walk around the palace with me," he murmured. "Mother, Myrcella, Tommen and myself would be honoured by your presence at morning tea."

"I'm honoured for the invitation," Sansa said politely as they started walking. "Do you go to King's Landing Private School?"

"I'm nineteen," Joffrey answered and Sansa flushed, remembering that he was older. "I'm hanging around my father and learning to rule so I'm ready when it's time."

"That sounds interesting," Sansa said. "My father teaches me when he can. He knows I have an interest in politics." They walked peacefully around the palace and then inside.

Sansa checked her watch and gasped - she had been with Joffrey for two hours. "Is everything alright?" Joffrey asked her.

"Yes," Sansa answered. "I just didn't realise the time passed so quickly." Joffrey checked his watch and grinned.

"Mother, Myrcella and Tommen will be waiting for us," he told her. He led her through the palace and to the dining hall where three blonds were waiting with fruit and biscuits.

"Look who I ran into," Joffrey said as he led Sansa to his mother, brother and sister.

"Sansa," Cersei said kindly. "It has been too long my dear."

"I agree," Sansa replied. "I don't wish to intrude-"

"Nonsense!" Cersei laughed. "Have a seat Sansa and help yourself. There's plenty for all of us." Sansa sat down and a servant poured iced tea into a glass for her. The gesture left Sansa feeling a little uncomfortable - in Winterfell, the children were expected to serve themselves unless there was a feast. Just because they happened to be royal, they didn't have to spend taxpayers' money on laziness, her parents had always told her and she believed in the sentiment wholeheartedly. Tax money was for spending on roads, healthcare and to help the needy. Nevertheless, she kept her mouth shut and helped herself to an apple, some grapes and a biscuit.

"How are your brothers and sister?" Cersei asked.

"Oh," Sansa said, surprised. "They're well, Your Grace. Robb will be in his third year of university come September."

"What is he studying?" Tommen asked curiously.

"Political science and business," Sansa answered.

"You're in your final year this year, aren't you?" Cersei asked her. "Your father had mentioned it."

"Yes Your Grace," Sansa answered. "I'm hoping to study political science, business management and history at university."

"Following in Robb's footsteps?" Joffrey asked and Sansa nodded with a smile.

After morning tea had been cleared up by the servants, Joffrey offered to walk her home.

When Joffrey and Sansa stopped outside the front door, Joffrey tucked some hair behind Sansa's ear. "It was so good to see you again," he said with a charming smile.

"Same to you," Sansa replied. Joffrey's gaze dropped to her lips and Sansa remembered their first kiss.

She had been twelve, he thirteen and they had fought because Arya had pranked Joffrey again. Sansa had been deeply mortified and Joffrey had blamed her, but after a week he had come to her with a butterfly necklace, begging her forgiveness and then he had given her a chaste kiss.

She knew this time would be different - she and Joffrey were both older and Joffrey had surely had experience in this sort of thing, because Sansa certainly hadn't.

"I feel like we have a connection," Joffrey said with his heart-warming smile. Sansa felt her heart race.

"I feel the same," she admitted with a small blush. Joffrey cupped her cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips softly to hers and oh, it was wonderful and then she was kissing him back and putting her hands on his shoulders, but it was over too soon. Joffrey pulled away and kissed Sansa's forehead and stepped back.

"I would be honoured if you would have dinner with me this Saturday," he told her.

"I'd love to," Sansa replied. She knew without a doubt that she was in love and Joffrey seemed to feel the same way for her. The very thought made her smile widely.

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty," Joffrey said. He turned and left and Sansa took a few minutes to calm her racing heart and to get rid of the blush that had probably been permanently visible from the time she bumped into Joffrey. She was about to go inside when she saw a large black motorbike pull up and, curious, Sansa watched as the tall person on the back got off and took off their helmet. The man on the front took off his helmet, but Sansa was too far away to see. Her heart stopped when Arya hugged the man tightly and, deciding she'd seen enough, went inside and started wondering on how to confront her little sister.