Jaime had been summoned to Sansa´s solar after the commotion he had stirred all along the castle with his boisterous arrival. He knocked after the guards flanking the door gave him the signal to pass and, as soon as he was granted access by the occupant of the room, he adopted a somber expression. He was determined to keep himself in good terms with the current queen and warden of the North and head of house Stark and of Winterfell, who in addition happened to be his fiancée's best female friend (as her male one was himself, he thought with a flash of smug possessiveness).

And regarding the betrothal subject, which neither Jaime nor Brienne had had time to divulge yet, Sansa would be the first to know about the news.

But before they addressed that topic, Jaime knew he was in for a string of well-deserved veiled threats. The once frightened and extremely reserved girl he met at King's Landing had hatched out into a strong, smart, confident, politically cunning and straightforward woman he had come to respect and even fear a little. The Starks were people you didn't want to upset or cross if you valued your own skin and knew what was convenient for your health. The North remembers.

"Ser Jaime," she said formally, sitting behind an old and dark oak desk, austere like the rest of the castle chambers. The Stark family name suits them very well. This castle is as stark as its owners. Sansa gestured to the chair where her visitors sat. He obliged and remained prudently silent. "I'm glad you look to be in good health after such hard travels. Even stronger men might have succumbed to the hardships of traveling during winter, not to mention your ordeals at King's Landing." At this, her gaze steeled. "Tell me the truth, Ser Jaime. I want to make clear that I've defended your love for my sworn sword through thick and thin. I observed you during your stay and how you behaved whenever you were by her side. How your eyes softened and your countenance was that of a humbled man. I'm not blind, Ser Jaime. You may be many things, but humbleness is not one of your qualities. You only truly show it when in her presence. That's how it was evident to me that there was much more to your feelings than what Brienne believed. She was certain you had left her because your affair was simply a rebound and nothing would make her see otherwise. She has developed deeply rooted self-confident issues due to her height and prowess as a warrior which the Westerosi society doesn't approve in a woman. Therefore, she's never regarded herself as a woman capable of winning a man's affections. Your leaving her only reinforced that belief. But I'm not misled by lack of self-confidence and I can infer you felt obligated to Cersei and your child because she was your sister and you had to try to make her see reason and live for that son or daughter. All your other children died because of her disproportionate ambitions, schemes and her bad guidance, as in Joffrey's case, though he didn't need encouragement in that regard like the monster he was. That new child was her chance to start again and learn from her mistakes, or that was the card you would put on the table when confronted with the hopelessness of her obsession with the iron throne. You should have known she'd never relent, but I understand why you had to try. Tell me if I'm wrong." After the long tirade, Sansa kept her stare firmly on his.

Jaime studied her with a renewed respect and admiration. She had been spot on in everything. Am I that obvious, predictable and transparent for a girl not in her twenties yet? I need no more proof that I'm getting old, he thought with an amused resignation.

"You're not, Your Grace. That's all true. I had the intention to take Cersei to a safe place and, once ensured that she was out of danger, come back to Brienne and grovel at her feet all around Winterfell until she had pity on my sorrow self."

Sansa furrowed her brows in incredulity. "I can't fathom how you thought that would work. Leaving Cersei behind, I mean. You were lying to yourself if you believed that. She had her clutches well sunk into you."

Jaime's first instinct of feeling ashamed by the accuracy of her affirmations was surpassed by the certainty of his rightful purpose. "I don't deny it wouldn't have been easy, Your Grace. But I was determined like never before in my entire life. One way or another, I'd have come all the way back to my true love, if she would still have me."

Sansa seemed satisfied with the sincerity of his response and didn't press the matter. "I believe you. For some strange reason, I trust you to do the right thing from now on where Brienne is involved. You're welcome to Winterfell as long as she is happy. But let's be clear. You hurt her again, I won't be merciful. And I'm not only speaking for myself. There is Pod, an entire army and a whole castle staff who would get in line to make your past hardships in life seem like a walk in the gardens in comparison to what they'd bestow on you."

He smiled openly. Challenges always spurred him on. He had come to the right place even if the climate wasn't to his liking. "It's just fair, Your Grace. I wouldn't expect any less. She's worth it all and much more."

"That's something we both agree on, Ser Jaime. Anything you'd wish to add or clarify?"

He squared his shoulders. "I've asked for her hand and she has accepted. Do you give your blessing?"

Sansa's eyes widened. He was pleased to have taken her by surprise. "Of course. A wedding is long overdue." The girl couldn't suppress her content smile, as if his formal commitment to her friend was the definitive confirmation she needed. "You may retire, Ser Jaime. Take rest and in a matter of days we'll discuss your role in the castle. We don't tolerate lazybutts," she needled with a smirk.

Jaime stood, bowed with his own mischievous smirk and strode out to the hallway. She's still so young after all. Of course the prospect of a happy wedding would melt her ice a little.