Hello everyone!
First of all I'd like to say how happy I am that people are actually reading my story. I've always imagined an alternative where Robb doesn't betray the Freys and wondered how that would go. I'd also like to apologize for any possible grammar mistakes, because English is not my native language. If you could be so kind to review my story and tell me what you think, that would be so helpful to me! I'd love to know if you have remarks, questions, tips and ideas for me! Everything is welcome. I hope you enjoy (reading about) the day Sansa's been dreading for a while now - her wedding day.


Standing behind the enormous doors of the Sept, Sansa could hear and feel her heart beat in her throat. She was trying very hard to stay calm and composed, but she could see her hand shaking. The doors would open any minute now. She'd have to walk slowly but steadily down the stairs without tripping towards her future husband. She'd have to lay her hand on his and repeat the words of the High Septon. As a girl, Sansa would've been so proud to marry a Lannister in the Sept of King's Landing, with all the lords and ladies in attendance, as the High Septon would say their vows. But this was not the Lannister I ever even dreamt of marrying.

It wasn't cold at all but she felt a shiver go down her spine. She didn't even know how long she was going to have to stand there. And then she was actually going to have to walk there. Should she smile? Should she run away? Should she just stare at the floor like her guts told her to?

You are the blood of the first men. The daughter of Winterfell. A Stark of the North. Act like it.

The guards opened the great wooden doors. The Sept was lit with candles and all the lords and ladies that mattered were there, in a circle, with a passageway for her. She couldn't focus on the beauty of the scene, because all she could think about was the rest of her life.

After a while of staring into the distance her vision was getting blurry. She realized she had been standing there at least 10 good seconds, if not more. People were starting to shuffle and whisper, staring at her. She blinked and tried to focus on what waited for her. My dear husband. He was beautifully dressed and she noticed they had put something gold in the place of his right hand. How befitting.

When Sansa saw some of the guards started to whisper and heard a guard behind her cough, she stepped down the stairs slowly. One foot ahead of the other. She was concentrating on the walk as if it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. In her dreams, her father would've escorted her towards her husband, one he would've picked out for her. But there she was, walking all alone down the aisle towards the people she hated most.

Her head was held high, her mouth closed and her stare was blank, as if her eyes weren't truly present. Her face must've looked like a statue's. Again, her vision got blurry. Don't cry. Be brave. Be proud. Be defiant. She knew a bride was expected to smile, but despite her best efforts she felt a single tear fall down her left cheek in silence. Everyone can see you cry on your wedding day. Her vision sharpened and she met Jaime Lannister's eyes. Was it shame? Regret? Pity? She was unable to read his expression. But she could very well make out Joffrey's as she passed him. He looked as pleased as ever with a malicious grin on his cruel face.

She stopped in front of the stairs that went up, where her husband to be was waiting. He seemed patient enough, but the High Septon looked keen to get it over with. So she slowly walked up the stairs, careful not to walk on her beautiful dress. It was all the dignity left to her.

Sansa felt in trance during the ceremony. She couldn't focus on anything the High Septon was saying. She saw it all pass in front of her eyes, as if it wasn't her own wedding. At some point, he took her grey maiden's cloak off and replaced it with a deep velvet one. Then she had to put her hand on his. At her touch, his hand shivered. She didn't know if his hand was warm or hers cold, but the difference in temperature was shocking. A ribbon was tying their hands together and she heard the words they both had to repeat.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days." She said in a shaky voice. She noticed his was unsteady as well, but stronger, and more determined.

Then came the moment she had dreaded the night before.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Jaime lowered his head but she made no move to raise hers. When she saw his face approaching, she closed her eyes. I don't want to see it. Soon enough, she felt his lips on hers and the brief peck only reminded her of the night before. Yet Jaime didn't taste like vanilla. He had no taste whatsoever.
Suddenly they were both facing the crowd and being applauded by the audience. She couldn't help but let her eyes wander over the guards, to see if Tobias was there. Had he seen it? Let it go. If her mother had known she had kissed another man the night before her wedding, she would've been terribly disappointed. But then again, her mother would've never made a Lannister match for her. I'm the bloody Kingslayer's bride.


The sixty-six courses of the feast had been unable to incite her appetite. Or her husband's. Jaime was sitting next to her, staring at his cup of wine. The music was loud and the laughing was overwhelming. How could everyone be so happy at a wedding where the couple was practically drowning in sorrow?

Sansa had drunk too much and she knew it. But not scarcely as much as Jaime. He reached out to his cup, but with his right hand. He knocked the cup over and the wine spilled on the table. As a reflex, Sansa stood before the wine could ruin her dress.

"Sorry, sorry, Sansa,…" he said. His voice didn't seem like his. For a while, he stared at his golden hand before bursting into maniacal laughter. "How ridiculous." he chuckled. The thought of him reaching out to his cup with a hand he couldn't move seemed to make him almost cheerful. "No amount of gold can bring my real hand back, aye?" He looked up at her and laughed again. His aye had sounded like a mocking northern aye.

"If you'll excuse me." Sansa said, offended. She walked away from the scene. She couldn't stand it any longer.

"Of course, wife!" said Jaime while he motioned a maid to refill his cup and clean the mess he had made.

Sansa had nowhere in particular to go. She didn't want to talk to anyone and pretend to be happy. But before she could regret her decision to stand up, she saw Tyrion Lannister approach her.

"My lady." he said. "I'd congratulate you, but I doubt it'll do any good."

She just stared back at him. She had no more energy to smile.

"You see, Sansa, I must apologize for my brother's behavior. He normally doesn't drink this much. This wedding is probably as overwhelming to him as it is to you."

"I sincerely doubt it." Her voice was dry and resentful. But she just felt empty.

Tyrion smiled apologetically. "You must think my brother is still the arrogantly selfish Lannister Kingslayer. I must admit that, to others, he wasn't particularly nice before. But captivity has changed him. He's not the same man he was when he left. That might seem unlikely to you, but… try. You might find yourself happy in a few years. I can promise you that he'll never hurt you."

"You think bearing Lannisters will make me happy? There's only two ways this can end, my lord. Either my brother wins and this marriage is annulled, or my life will be a miserable shadow of what I thought it'd be." Or I grant the Stranger my company.

Tyrion seemed surprised at her frank words and quickly looked around, checking if someone could've hurt. "I would advise you to not express your sincere feelings to anyone else, my lady. It might be unsafe for you. Maybe you should try to see the bright side, consider yourself lucky. At least it wasn't me!" he chuckled awkwardly, trying to cheer her up.

Why do I even trust the Imp? "I thank you for your concern, my lord." Sansa curtsied and left. She saw Cersei eyeing her and she tried to walk in a different direction, but it was too late. Cersei had seen her already. She motioned Myrcella to follow her and approached Sansa.

"Oh, there you are, little dove. What are you doing? Fleeing from your husband already? My dear, if you think this is bad, just wait for the bedding."

Sansa's face flinched but she couldn't bring herself to react. I'm sure my wedding night will be the happiest night of my life, your grace, she was supposed to say, but the words just stuck in her throat.

"And the actual marriage. Oh, yes. What a drag that will be! I'm glad I don't have to do that all over again." Cersei smiled viciously. "But it isn't all that bad, is it, little dove? You'll finally have Lannister children of your own! Makes us wonder what they'll look like… Like you? Or more like your father? Or maybe just like us."

Sansa imagined a little girl, running around palace halls, looking just like Cersei. She tried a crooked smile but the queen saw right through it. She enjoyed it.

"Ser Jaime-"

Cersei cut her off. "It's lord now. He's been released of his holy vow to wed and bed you! How romantic isn't it? I bet you can't wait to see your future children."

At Sansa's expression, the queen laughed cruelly. "Don't worry, dear,… If you close your eyes for two seconds you could imagine they're Joffrey's. Like you've always wanted."

"I will be honored to carry lord Jaime's children, your grace." Sansa said. Just like you did not so long ago. It took all she had not to spit in her face.

"And carry them you will." Cersei said, probably more bitterly than she planned. She nodded and walked away, leaving Sansa to Myrcella. The princess smiled, looking lovely as always.

"Congratulations, Sansa! I do hope this beautiful wedding makes you happy."

Sansa forced herself to smile. Myrcella was not to blame for any of it.

"You look enchanting, Sansa, truly! The men in here are having a hard time keeping their eyes off of you." Myrcella laughed.

Sansa looked around. She did notice more eyes on her than usual. But then again, it was her wedding.

"I've never seen such a dress. It looks like moonlight itself! You truly shine, Sansa." Myrcella chuckled, waiting for her to respond.

"Yes, it is a pretty dress…" she said, absentmindedly.

"I hope I'll look just as radiant as you on my wedding day! Trystane would fall in love with me instantly, looking like that."

Sansa was glad she could change the subject and took Myrcella's arm whilst they walked around, evading the busy crowd.

"When will you return to Dorne? Do you miss it?"

Myrcella blushed. "It starts to feel like home. I actually can't wait to return! But mother wants me to stay a while longer… I have to be present at Joffrey's wedding, you see. And then I will return and my wedding will be planned in Sunspear."

"It must be glorious there…"

"It is! Oh, you should see it Sansa! I'll invite you to my wedding! You and uncle will come together, you'll love it." Myrcella quickly seemed to regret mentioning Jaime. She coughed awkwardly.

"I doubt I'll be able to come." I'd probably be locked in a room until I give birth to a son. "But that's fine, the heat is not really my thing." Sansa smiled halfheartedly.

As they walked back to the feast, Sansa noticed Jaime being talked to by his father. Tywin didn't seem pleased with him. As she approached her seat again, the powerful man nodded towards her and tapped Jaime on the shoulder before leaving.

"Ah, wife. There you are! I thought I'd lost you already. Not very convenient timing, right before the bedding!"

Sansa juts sat down and took a sip of her wine.

"It's great wine. Very wise of you to drink. My father however does not appreciate the wine flowing at this table." He said mockingly, while picking up his cup. "I think he'd understand if he'd only taste the wine. It really is amazing wine. Don't think I've ever tasted better wine. This wine is exquisite! Even the Dornish can't compete with this tasteful wine." He mumbled off, admiring the wine. "Don't you agree, wife?"

"I couldn't agree more, lord Jaime."

"Lord?" Jaime asked, more to himself than anything. He looked confused for a while before he exhaled "Ah! Yes, that's true! I'm the heir to Casterly Rock now!". He laughed bitterly. "Just like father always wanted."

Sansa just stared ahead, and her eyes locked with Margaery's. The future queen gave her an encouraging nod with a firm look. No trace of a smile on her face. Sansa knew what that meant. Don't let him touch you.

"My lady, I have been ordered to dance with you."

Sansa turned her head towards her husband, surprised. "I didn't know a Lannister took any kind of order."

For just a second, she knew she had hit his pride, but then he just chuckled. "My father cannot be disobeyed. You'll learn that soon enough, now that you're a Lannister." He stood and asked for her hand.

"May I have the honor of dancing with my beautiful wife?"

Does he think this is a joke? "I don't think so." she said coldly.

He stood there, looking at her pensively before lowering his head and sighing. He approached her ear and she felt a chill go down her spine as she smelled his alcoholic breath. "It's dancing or bedding, Sansa. I doubt you're keen on retiring to the bedchambers already."

His eyes seemed honest and sincere and for a moment he didn't look drunk, but serious. She was in no rush for the bedding, so she stood and took his hand that was all sweaty and sticky from the wine.

They walked to the center of the hall where other lords and ladies were dancing, and he stumbled. She wondered if he'd be able to dance in his condition, but he gracefully recovered and slid his right arm around her waist before taking her left hand .

Sansa knew he was a good dancer, and she knew she was as well, and they just swayed on the music, not even looking in each other's eyes, in complete silence. They knew the steps perfectly and looked way better together than they felt. This is miserable. After a while, she noticed people were looking at them, admiring the sight of the elegant couple dancing. But they all knew better than that. A Lannister and a Stark could never be a happy couple.