"Ah, the little falcon. And just where are you off to, I wonder?"

It seemed as though she had stumbled directly into the path of the Kingslayer…

…

"Begging your pardon, Ser," Sabrynna managed, her cheeks burning a brilliant red as she stumbled back just a bit in her haste to put some distance between herself, and the man now standing before her, and found to her dismay that Ser Jaime almost automatically extended an arm to steady her, whether she wanted him to do such a thing, or not, "I hope I did not harm you."

"You seem to be the one thrown off balance, my lady—"

"Then I hope I do not offend."

"Why should you? Is it written somewhere that a woman must never own to even the slightest of imperfections?" Ser Jaime mused, a slight chuckle escaping as he took note of the look of surprise that flashed across the young woman's features, though she did go to some length to mask that astonishment, and school her features back into the epitome of gentle grace before she shook her head and made her reply.

"I make no claims to be perfect, Ser Jaime."

"Then you are one woman in a million, my lady."

"I think not," Sabrynna countered, entirely uncertain over whether she should join in the obvious mirth currently being enjoyed by the man that was still blocking her path, or simply beg his pardon once more, and make a getaway as quickly as she could thereafter. In truth, all that she wanted in that moment was to complete her journey to Jon's table, and find the familiar comfort in his presence that had been momentarily stalled by Ser Jaime's presence in the first place. But in spite of how fiercely she wanted to get away from the man—how very aware she was of the sudden influence of the wine she had enjoyed, and how it had made her a little less steady on her feet than she may have been, otherwise—Sabrynna also knew that Jaime Lannister was not a man she wanted to risk offending.

He was the Queen's twin brother, after all, and a member of the Kingsguard, and she owed it to her Aunt Catelyn to remain the very picture of feminine propriety that she knew she was expected to be, her own comfort be damned.

Somewhat steeled by such thoughts, Sabrynna found herself capable of summoning a faint smile to her lips, then, her grey-green eyes meeting her companion's as she swallowed once, and forced herself to hold his gaze while he spoke when every instinct she possessed all but demanded she look away.

"If you will permit me to pass, Ser, I will be of no further trouble to you, and we can both be on our way."

"And where will you go?" Ser Jaime wondered, his tone giving proof that he truly had no desire to hear her answer, despite the fact he had asked the question at the start, "Surely you do not mean to turn in so early."

"I simply wish to—pay a visit to my cousin."

"Ah. The bastard."

"Jon," Sabrynna corrected, unable to entirely mask the venom in her tone that always seemed to rise to the surface whenever Jon was spoken of in a less than favorable light. Of course, as yet, Ser Jaime had not said anything other than the bare truth, whether or not the young woman felt his succinct description was in any way deserved. But even with such knowledge, Sabrynna would have been a liar to pretend she had not already bristled at the thought of just what he might say next, her smile fading away as quickly as it had come as she endeavored to finish speaking to the man before her, and be on her way before she said or did something she, and her family might regret, "I find I have not spoken with him since the feast began, and I wish to rectify that as quickly as I can."

"You wish to dance with him."

"I—Ser Jaime, I never said—"

"You did not have to," Jaime cut in, a wry grin toying at one corner of his mouth as he once again shifted to block Sabrynna's path as she moved to step around him, and took note of the rather poorly suppressed sigh of resignation that escaped her lips as soon as she discovered what he had done, "I confess, I overheard you mention something similar to the boy—Stark's eldest."

"Robb."

"Yes, that was the one."

"Well, as you appear to already know of my intentions, perhaps you will permit me to see them to fruition," Sabrynna began, her head held high no matter how she could feel her cheeks still blazing beneath the weight of Jaime Lannister's unreadable gaze, "I beg your pardon, again, for stepping in your path."

"If you wish to find a dance partner, my lady, perhaps you ought to realize a better option stands before you."

"I—I am afraid I do not take your meaning, Ser."

"I mean myself," Ser Jaime explained, chuckling once more as Sabrynna's expression turned from simply bemused, to something not all that far from open disbelief, instead, "That is, of course, if you wish to avoid offending my sister."

"I fail to see how sharing in a dance with family would risk that."

"I believe that would depend on the station of said family member, my lady. Does the boy even know how to handle a woman on the dance floor, I wonder?"

"He was taught by the same dancing master as my other cousins," Sabrynna informed, her gaze momentarily straying to where she now noted Jon sat at the table she had been attempting to reach, his dark eyes riveted upon Jaime Lannister's back, while a muscle twitched against his jaw, "I suspect his talent is adequate for the cause."

"I daresay mine is better."

"Regardless, Ser Jaime, I would not wish to cause you any trouble," The young woman persisted, once again attempting to step around her impromptu companion, only to find that he had once again reached out to grab her arm, his fingers curling about her wrist gently, despite the fact that the strength inherent in even that light hold gave proof to how he could restrict her movement still more than he already had, if he so desired.

"I insist."

Recognizing she was trapped, whether she wanted to acknowledge such a thing or not, Sabrynna forced herself to grant the knight before her a confirmatory nod, her eyes catching the slight shift in his features as he became aware of his apparent victory, and had chosen to react in kind. In next to no time at all, he was tucking her arm through his own, a smile that never reached his eyes drawing the corners of his mouth upwards, as though he truly were a lion that had just caught its prey. But before that realization and the potential implications therein might cause Sabrynna to lose her nerve entirely, regardless of how many people watched them as the knight led her to the widened swath of floor, and the musicians began to strike up another tune, the young woman forced herself to cast one final glance back over her shoulder towards Jon, her eyes meeting his as she attempted to convey precisely how sorry she was that her attempts to draw him into the celebration that the rest of the family partook in had gone so terribly wrong…

To say that the expression upon his face was anything less than stony would have been a lie.

…

Jon Snow watched as Jaime Lannister kept a steady hand upon his cousin's waist while they turned about the dance floor with a select few other couples, his teeth grinding together as he saw the precise depth of unease that was so apparent in Sabrynna's youthful features, no matter how she did her best to play the part of the proper lady, smiling and sharing in small-talk in equal measure. Of course, he would have been a liar to pretend that some small part of him was not overwhelmingly proud that she had managed to stay standing at all, what with how even he had seen her trembling beneath the older man's touch not that long after their near-collision not long ago. But a still greater part simply wished that he could stand, and move towards them in order to free his cousin from the arms of a man she danced with, the consequences he might incur for interfering with Queen Cersei's very own brother be damned.

Leave it to him to desire to do the one thing that he knew he could not—was that not, after all, a bastard's lot in life?

Suppressing a low growl at the thought as he did what he could to force it from his mind, Jon soon became aware of the steady pressure of a soft warmth against his shin, his gaze momentarily drifting away from his cousin and her dance partner as he glanced beneath the table, instead. As though the creature had sensed his distress, Ghost was planted firmly at his side, red eyes almost seeming to glow as they stared at him with an earnest sort of wisdom that went far beyond the intuition present in any other animal Jon had known thus far. And although Jon knew he still had a long way to go as far as it pertained to settling his mood, he was also very well aware that the direwolf's presence at his side would perhaps curb his more reckless impulses until he did.

If only Sabrynna's wolf had been permitted at the feast, to do the same for her.

Unbidden, a soft snort of amusement left him, even in the face of his otherwise sour mood, one corner of his mouth twitching as he imagined the myriad of ways Shadow might react upon seeing her mistress in such distress. Like Jon himself, the twin to his own wolf seemed to have a peculiar ability to sense even the slightest of changes in Sabrynna's temperament, no matter how fervently she might have wished to keep such a thing a secret. And although Jon knew that he had only been able to keep Ghost with him throughout the feast because he was not permitted to sit at the same table as the royal children, that did not stop him from regretting the fact that he had not summoned the wherewithal to come up with a plan to slip Sabrynna's wolf in as well, along with Ghost.

Not for the first time, he mulled over the reality of how the two albino wolves were every bit as attached at the hip as he was with Sabrynna, herself, and he knew that, whether Ghost showed evidence of it or not, this enforced separation would pain him every bit as much, if not more, than it pained Jon to sit in enforced silence as Tywin Lannister's eldest son held his cousin close while the musicians transitioned to their next song.

Of course, Jon was forced to admit that some part of him still admired the man, tales of his prowess and courage in both battles, and tournaments having reached as far as the hearths of Winterfell, and possessing the ability to render him in awe, even as a young boy, that such skill were even possible to begin with. But great heroics aside, the only thing that occupied Jon Snow's mind in a moment such as the one he now faced was that this was also a man who had earned himself a bit of a reputation as one that was not to be trusted, and all as a result of the one act that had given him his fame in the first place.

He did not wear a sword that he could thrust through Sabrynna's back at any time he chose, but that did not mean that he could not harm Jon's cousin in other ways without ever landing a blow against her.

Grinding his teeth together once again as the thought filled him with an instinctive need to secure his cousin's presence at his side, and not Ser Jaime's, Jon felt the fingers of his right hand curling into a fist upon the table while his other hand reached for the momentarily ignored tankard of ale in the same motion. The liquid burned as it made its way down his throat, and although that was not entirely enough to distract him from the darker nature of his own thoughts, Jon would have been blind to ignore that it did seem to dull his anger, at least a bit, a slow breath hissing out through his nostrils as he noted that the next dance had already come to a close, and his cousin was dipping into the very picture of a perfect curtsy, while Ser Jaime bent in the briefest attempts at a bow, before turning on a heel and heading back towards the table that housed his sister, and her children as well.

In the wake of her dancing partner's absence, Sabrynna remained alone in the space of flooring in the Great Hall that had been cleared for such merriment, her grey-green eyes startlingly guarded, despite the redness to her cheeks that even Jon could see from where he sat a few feet away. But even as he swung his leg over the bench to stand, and head towards her on his own, Jon became aware of Robb moving her way as well, his brother's significant advantage in proximity allowing him to secure Sabrynna's presence for another turn about the floor, and thus giving Jon leave to head off in the opposite direction towards the door at the other end of the hall, Ghost padding along at his heels as he left the feast with the knowledge that, at least for the moment, Sabrynna was in good hands.

Now all that remained was tamping down the bitter sting of regret he felt that came about in response to the realization that propriety all but forbade him from being the one to be the first at her side, no matter how fiercely he may have wished to do exactly that.

…

Not long after she had finished her dance with Robb, Sabrynna had found her feet carrying her away from the lingering sounds of chatter and music that echoed in Winterfell's Great Hall, her hands worrying away at one another almost without her conscious awareness while she moved into the outer yard, and started on the familiar path that would lead her to the godswood, instead. She could hardly explain it—the somehow instinctive desire to venture to a place that had honestly terrified her when she had first seen it upon her arrival at Winterfell, all those years ago. But now, as she stepped upon the soft coating of leaves that blanketed the ground in that silent place, the young woman knew that it would have been the only place to provide her with the solace and comfort that she felt she needed, whether she had wanted to confess to such a desire or not.

She knew, of course, that her departure might have been seen as disrespectful to King Robert and Queen Cersei, and the royal children as well, particularly as the majority of her family, save for Arya, remained in the Great Hall even now. For a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the simple distraction presented by the memory of her younger cousin's enforced journey to bed, after having succeeded in flinging a small bit of food across the hall to land smack dab upon poor Sansa's cheek, much to the older girl's mortification. But almost as soon as a faint smile had come to tug at the corners of her mouth, Sabrynna found the expression dying out far too quickly, her lips pursing into a frown, instead, as she strode over to the stump at the base of the heart tree her uncle sat near every time he ventured here, himself, so that she might take a seat, and smooth her hands over her skirts not long thereafter.

In contrast to the warmth of the Great Hall, Sabrynna could do nothing save for shiver now in the evening chill present in the godswood, the soft wind that rustled the weirwood's red leaves causing her to lament over not having the forethought to stop by her chambers to grab a cloak before she came. It had been as though something far stronger than she could truly comprehend had driven her here, against all logic, and certainly without preparation for the climate she would find upon her arrival. And yet, now that she was here, Sabrynna found herself all but powerless to summon the wherewithal to depart, her breath puffing out in a visible cloud before her face as she curled her arms around her frame, and glanced down at the stillness of the dark waters at her feet.

Finally free of the seemingly thunderous noise of the gathering set about for their royal guests, the young woman found that now, she had sufficient freedom to think back upon the events that had transpired therein, her brow furrowing just a bit as she called up each memory, one by one. In the chill of the night, the fog created in her mind from the wine she had consumed only seemed to fall away, leaving her ready and able to evaluate her decisions, such as they were, whether she truly wished to or not. And in spite of the fact that she tried as valiantly as she could to come up with some other reason for her sudden retreat to the godswood, when propriety demanded she remain with her family and their guests, Sabrynna was forced to admit, there in the solitude of the godswood, that the true reason behind her fears and apprehensions was not her inability to succeed in sharing in the merriment with the one person she knew would need it most. It was not the manner in which the King seemed to draw woman after woman near him, even with his Queen seated mere feet away. And it was not even the predatory gleam in Jaime Lannister's eyes as he had danced with her for far longer than she might have dared believe he would.

No, what troubled her the most, and paralyzed her heart with the fear of retribution had been the icy gaze of the Queen as she watched her move about the floor in the arms of her twin, her own green eyes blazing despite the way in which her expression never faltered from its mask of impenetrable calm.

Frowning as Queen Cersei's face seemed to swim in her mind, as though taunting her with both anger and a startlingly aloof nature that Sabrynna was powerless to ignore, the young woman shook herself minutely, and redirected her gaze to the soft ripples on the surface of the dark water at her feet while a sudden breeze blew through the godswood, and caused gooseflesh to prickle upon the skin of her arms. Try though she might, she could never recall having seen the older woman's eyes blaze in such a fashion, as though a fire had been kindled in their depths that could never be put out, not even when she was still a young girl, glued to her father's side at court.

The only time Queen Cersei had even given a hint of possessing such ire had been when Robert had insisted her uncle take him down to visit the crypts.

Unable to make sense of that particular realization, or the commonality it may have possessed with her own brief foray with Jaime Lannister, Sabrynna exhaled in a rush, and did her best to rid her mind of such thoughts at all, the dull ache that had taken root at her temples prompting her shoulders to slump, as she simultaneously became aware of muted footfalls making their way towards her through the foliage upon the ground. Instantaneously, grey-green eyes flicked towards the sound, the tension that had taken root in her shoulders rather rapidly fading away as she realized who it was that had come after her, in the first place. And although some small part of her felt alarmed at her uncle's presence, knowing full well that he still had guests to entertain, the young woman would have been lying had she said that she was not abundantly grateful that he had been the one to find her, instead of someone else, entirely.

"I thought I might find you here," Ned began, warmth apparent in his tone as he approached, and removed the cloak he wore about his own shoulders to drape it across his niece's instead, "You look rather pensive sweetling. Does something trouble you?"

"Nothing that I can readily explain," Sabrynna confessed, watching as her uncle's expression trended towards a frown, while one of his large hands simultaneously moved to tuck an errant lock of auburn hair behind her ear, "I suppose I simply—wanted some quiet, after the noise of the feast."

"You are trembling."

"Only because of the chill."

"And yet, as you say the words, I sense even you do not fully believe them," Ned supplied, registering the surprise that flickered its way across Sabrynna's features, and smiling faintly in response before sitting on the stump beside her own while she took the liberty of drawing the cloak he had given her more tightly about her frame, "What is it, child?"

"I wish I could tell you," Sabrynna sighed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment as she tried and failed to come up with some adequate means of explaining to her uncle exactly why she had suddenly become so withdrawn, "But I cannot seem to form the words in any way that would make sense."

"Did something happen at the feast? With Ser Jaime, perhaps?"

"No. Or, at least—not in such a way as to say he had given undue offense."

"But he did trouble you," Eddard surmised, his eyes holding Sabrynna's as he read her answer in her expression, before she ever had the chance to say the words aloud. He had been watching, of course, while Jaime Lannister spoke with his good sister's daughter. He had seen the way the young woman tried so valiantly to remain unflappable, even in spite of the way the man obviously put her on her guard. And although he often lamented the myriad ways in which his daughters and his dear niece were a mystery to him, while Catelyn listened patiently with a smile playing at her lips, the Lord Eddard Stark had known, with just a single glance at the woman now seated beside him, that she had been far more unnerved by her time spent with the Kingslayer than she dared to admit.

"What did he say?"

"It was not—it was not him who caused this," Sabrynna said, then, her eyes drifting down to where her hands rested, fisted in the fabric of the cloak her uncle had given her, though even that was not enough to render her blind to the way they trembled, "Not truly. He was—he was the very picture of a gentleman, if truth be told."

"If he truly were what you say, I doubt you would have felt the need to venture here."

Knowing her uncle had the right of it, Sabrynna kept her gaze fixed upon her hands where they rested in her lap, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she tried to summon the courage she felt she needed to tell her uncle the truth. It was not that she did not trust him, of course. Not when he had done nothing but see to her safety every since she first arrived at his home. But that fact notwithstanding, Sabrynna still felt the slightest reluctance over telling her uncle precisely what it was that had chilled her blood in her veins, the lingering memory of cold green eyes holding her pinned beneath their gaze causing her to shiver before she became aware of the weight of Ned Stark's hand reaching out to grasp her own, and envelop it in a solid and reassuring warmth while he spoke.

"You may tell me anything, Sabrynna. You know this."

"I do," The young woman confirmed, managing a small smile for her uncle's benefit, before glancing back to the still waters of the pool beneath the weirwood, and staring into its depths in the hope that its serenity would grant her the wherewithal to speak further, without any fear, "And I do not tell a lie when I tell you that Ser Jaime is not what troubles me, Uncle. I swear it."

"Then what does? Or, who?" Lord Stark inquired, squeezing Sabrynna's hand in a gesture that he hoped would be reassuring, and reaching forward with his other hand to tuck a finger beneath her chin to draw her face up to meet his gaze head-on, "I swore to protect you, you know, from the moment you entered my home, and I will do so. But I cannot have a hope of keeping that promise if you cannot tell me what it is that you fear."

"You will think I have lost my nerve—"

"Why don't you allow me to be the judge of that?"

With her last attempt at keeping her uncle's inquiries at bay gone, as quickly as the last of the summer snows beneath the rays of the dawning sun, Sabrynna forced herself to manage a simple nod in response to the request that had been made of her, a shallow breath puffing out in the chilled air around her as she squared her shoulders, and tightened the hold of her hand upon her uncle's for a moment before she summoned enough strength to reply.

"The Queen."

"The Queen," Eddard repeated, doing his best to keep the sudden dread sparked by his niece's confession from making its way into his expression, though he knew full well that Sabrynna had every reason to fear Cersei Lannister, if the woman had been angered by her actions in any way. On the surface, Ned could find no reason for such a thing, particularly as, to his knowledge, Sabrynna had been granted few enough opportunities to interact with the older woman at all. But something in the way the young woman had seemed so reluctant to give voice to her worries at all had given Ned the impression that she just may have stumbled into a way to fix the Queen's ire upon her, whether intentionally or no, and that fact alone gave him the leave to shift until he had abandoned the stump sat beside her own in favor of kneeling in the foliage at her feet, the hand that did not hold her own lifting to cup her face against his palm for a moment or two more, before he spoke once again.

"She will not touch you, Sabrynna," He promised, knowing, somehow, that he would get nowhere in attempting to discern exactly why his young niece seemed to believe she was worthy of Cersei Lannister's anger, and settling instead for giving her every reason to believe that she was safe in his care, even if she had, "Nothing will touch you while you are here in Winterfell. That is a promise."

"And you have no idea how much that means to me, Uncle. How grateful I am that you have allowed me to be here at all."

"Ah, but I think that I do," Eddard corrected, smiling at the young woman looking down at him with something he could only describe as abundant gratitude, her eyes shining with tears, though she seemed to be exerting her best efforts towards keeping them in check. Not for the first time, he was brought to mind of exactly how similar her current situation had been to his own, growing up as Jon Arryn's ward in a place as foreign to him as Winterfell had surely been to her, upon her arrival. And although he hoped that she would not follow in his fate, getting swept into a war that she could not escape, Ned also knew that Sabrynna Arryn would likely stand as strong against the assaults from all sides that he himself had faced, even if she did.

She may doubt her own instincts, and her youth may have kept her innocent to the darker ways of the world, but if there was one thing Eddard Stark knew, it was that his niece possessed an inner strength that would see her, and hopefully his children as well, so long as they all remained close, through anything that the evils of the world threw their way.

"What would you say to venturing back inside, and sitting by the hearth for a time?" The Lord of Winterfell asked, then, aware of the momentary flash of apprehension in Sabrynna's eyes, though she managed a nod for his benefit, regardless, "You need not return to the feast, child. But I daresay your cousins and aunt will want to see that you are safe with their own eyes, after so long apart."

Whether they had truly had any reason to worry or not, Ned knew that Catelyn and his children would relish spending the remainder of the evening with the young woman he now tucked against his side after helping her to stand, his arm curving about her slender shoulders to keep her there while they returned, together, to the castle and the warmth inherent therein.

Whatever threats that the Queen did or did not pose to all of them could be dealt with at a later time.

…

Well, hello there, dear readers! And welcome to a very inexcusably delayed, but hopefully no less enjoyable new chapter in Sabrynna's tale! I am once again offering my sincerest apologies for taking so long to get back to this story, and as always, I promise that long delays between posts are never my intent! But regardless of the time it took to get this chapter updated, I truly do hope that you are able to find it within your hearts to forgive me for the delay, just as I hope you enjoyed what you found to read, and that it was worth the wait! I promise I am nowhere near to being finished with Sabrynna's story! So, I hope that everyone is willing to stick with me, as I promise there will be more to come, no matter how long it takes!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far, as well as to those that have stuck with me from the very beginning, and have been beyond patient with my somewhat sporadic new installments! I am beyond grateful for each of you, and I can only hope you enjoy this chapter every bit as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last. A special shoutout, of course, goes out to last chapter's reviewers: jean d'arc, KingofTruands, M, and Cherryhacola, for leaving such wonderfully encouraging words of support! I truly do appreciate it, more than any of you know, and of course I cannot wait to hear what you think this time around as well!

Until next time, my loves…

MOMM