Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?
Warnings: It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)
Pairings: (Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

Her Song of Fire and Ice
Chapter Six: Sleeping With Ghosts

Eddard took in the the redhead solemnly. Part of him was still unsure about this, but most of him needed the reassurance that his daughter wouldn't be alone. Arya wouldn't be there with Sansa to keep his eldest from keeping her head too much in the clouds. He'd always wanted to let Sansa continue to be her sweet, dreamy, naive self and just shelter her from the world…yet something told him she couldn't be that girl anymore.

And King's Landing put a shiver down his spine that made him reluctant to make this trip.

But Robert had asked, practically demanded he be his new Hand and that Sansa and the Prince be betrothed to one another. Another part of Eddard almost wished his daughter had gotten her wish —that she had been given a Soulmate.

Prince Joffrey's demeanor didn't inspire much confidence in him, but he was still a boy yet…He hoped the boy would grow and mature.

"I thank you for agreeing to this," Eddard said, voice as quiet and serious as ever as he anchored himself to the present. The woman in front of him smiled prettily, and curtsied properly.

"Of course, m'lord. I am quite honored."

"It's 'my Lord.' Remember that you are to be a Tully cousin from my wife's side and that you are accompanying Sansa as a handmaiden," he said, trying not to let his anxiety show.

This was not a ruse he was comfortable or sure of, but Sansa needed someone to be there by her side, and especially someone who could see through the inevitable lies and manipulations Sansa would encounter in that snake pit of a city. And as he somewhat knew of this woman enough because of his sons and Theon's frequent visits, he could at least be assured of her character and of her capability.

And yes, he knew Robb and Theon (and Jon at one point) had come to Wintertown to visit the brothel. He did pay attention to his kids and though he may have left it almost well enough alone (aside from the strong assurance that precautions be taken at the brothel), he did not say or do anything about it or let them know he knew.

He admitted he wasn't the hovering type of parent…at least in an obvious manner.

Eddard, however, was very much always a parent that overly worried in the background, especially regarding his girls. Well, girl. Arya was more of a son and seemed much more capable than even his brooding Jon (who was strangely too much like him, considering…). Sansa, on the other hand…

His sweet, delicate daughter —his Firebright princess made his nerves stand on end and worry to be a permanent addition to his emotions every minute.

Which was made worse by their current situation.

If only he could've fostered her elsewhere, like Arya, instead of having to bring her with him to King's Landing…

"She's coming this way," he noted, inwardly taking a moment to compose himself so he wouldn't alarm his daughter to his distress. "Sansa, come —I want you to meet your new handmaiden."

"Ros!" Sansa blinked, looking at the 'former' whore beside Eddard.

He blinked himself and then remembered (with a mental cringe) that his daughter had set up arrangements for Lord Tyrion personally. Who would've even thought a thing like that to do?

Certainly not himself or Catelyn.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I see you know…each other. As…you know, your friend Jeyne will be taking over soon from her father on his duties in Winterfell, so she couldn't come with you to King's Landing as your handmaiden. However, Ros has agreed to come and you should remember that she is a cousin on your mother's side."

"I understand, Father," she smiled brightly, his lovely girl, and then turned her attention to 'Ros' unquestioningly. "Shall we? I was just going to see what there is to break fast right now!"

As the two females left, Eddard let out a breath. That had actually gone well. Hopefully, some of his anxiousness will be alleviated. Robb and Theon should be fine at Winterfell and Rickon was enjoying himself; Sansa would also do well looking over her younger brother and making sure he wouldn't get into too much trouble. And with her looked after…

There was also Arya, who would (hopefully) be delighted and having the time of her life, getting to do things she wanted to do and enjoy. He'd argued long and hard with Catelyn about sending Arya to Bear Island, even though initially they'd both wanted her to go to King's Landing and learn to try to be just a little more ladylike, but he was glad that he'd been able to convince his Soulmate.

But then there was Jon.

His 'second eldest'. His bastard.

His nephew in truth.

Lyanna's son.

It pained his heart to still think of his beloved sister. To remember that all he had left of her was Jon, and that if the truth ever got out, his son in all but blood would be murdered —and by his friend.

Not even Catelyn knew the truth and he couldn't tell her. It hurt her thinking Jon was his, but he also knew that the moment she knew, she couldn't keep it a secret.

Her sister would be the first to know, or someone in her family. She couldn't allow them to continue thinking he'd dishonored her and have a stain lingering on their marriage, at least to her family's knowledge, even if she promised to never tell anyone else and knew it was important that no one else knew. And somehow or other it would be spread and let known still.

And even if she would've agreed to keep it from her family, he knew that she would have at the least told her sister. Catelyn and Lysa had, at one point, been very close —at least he knew on Cat's end. His Soulmate would speak fondly of Lysa and believe in her staunchly (as she had not too long ago, as they received that letter accusing the Lannisters of a very heinous crime…), though Eddard himself thought that Lysa wasn't all there in the head. Neither did quite a few others either.

The point being though, that Catelyn would've told her (especially to vindictively show that Eddard had not betrayed her after all) and which would've led to the one man closer to Robert than he knowing. As the late Hand of the King, Jon Arryn would've told Robert immediately.

And Jon would not be going to the Wall. He would not be alive for that matter.

Sometimes he felt bitter at his sister for leaving him in this predicament, for forcing him to forever deal with Robert's heartache, for creating and driving the rift between he and his Soulmate, and for Jon's ever questioning hurt over his parentage.

He was getting too old.

More so when he remembered back to his parting with Jon and the uncertainty he'd been left with.

It had sounded like Jon knew who his mother was.

"The Wall isn't a safe place," Eddard murmured, clasping Jon's shoulder firmly. "You must be mindful and always be careful with yourself. And the cold there is much more dangerous than the cold of the rest of the North."

"I promise, Father," Jon muttered, looking down in embarrassment. He saw him hesitate before Jon reached up and placed his hand over Eddard's. "I want you to know I'm glad you decided to take me in, that I understand everything you have ever done for me. I know she was precious to you and you would do anything for her, and therefore for me."

Jon hesitated before he actually leaned in and embraced Eddard quickly, though he just as quickly stepped back.

"I will always be a Stark," he told Eddard stubbornly. "Stark blood runs in my veins and that's the only thing that matters to me."

Jon gave an uncharacteristic grin that was all too reminiscent of his Lyanna, and which made Eddard's breath hitch.

"I'd rather run with wolves anyway. I might actually be terrified of heights," he teased.

His grin lingered as he gave a small wave, and then he was turning and heading over to Benjen, his boy's direwolf trotting behind him faithfully.

By the Gods, Eddard had realized then that Jon might have even realized who his father really was.

"Ned! You look like you're about to be sick," Robert came over, chuckling at him. "Come have a drink with me!"

"It's too early to be drinking," he deadpanned, but Robert just snickered and grasped a shoulder, dragging Eddard after him.

"Bah! Never too early for me. Damn these days —back then, we were young and drank when we wanted, and damned the time. You're just getting old, Ned."

"You're getting old as well, Robert," he snorted. "And fat."

Robert cackled, smacking Eddard's back. "I'll say! Nothing to fucking do but eat, drink, and fuck."

He wanted to point out that there was a kingdom to run as well, but Robert would just wave him off and let the statement go over his head.

Sitting down at a table set up for the King, Eddard ignored the wine and fiddled with some fruit, still feeling his age.

"You've learned of the Targaryen bitch by now, yes?" Robert asked, looking irritable now. "And her fucking brother."

Eddard uneasily watched the King. "Yes, I've heard."

"I should send for their heads," Robert sneered.

"They'll never be able to cross the sea," Eddard pointed out. "There's no need to be so hasty. They are just children after all."

While he waited for Robert's angry rebuttal, instead he near had a heart attack when he heard Sansa's voice speak up instead.

"They're also children who've grown up angry and hating their place in life and blaming the King though," she chimed in and he turned to face her, wondering if his face reflected the shock and horror he was feeling. He hoped he looked as he normally did, but inwardly he was thinking he was going to become a mess and just fall apart.

Why, Sansa?

Afraid the King would lash out at his daughter, he hurriedly faced Robert. But the King only looked smug.

"See? Your daughter has sense, Ned! Let her speak. Go on, sweet Sansa. Tell me your thoughts on this."

While his daughter became flustered, he looked to Ros, who stood behind his daughter, blinking and looking lost, holding two bowls of the morning's stew. Oh. Sansa must've been trying to bring him some. What timing, he mentally pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That is…even if they're children, they know what happened to their family, to their legacy, to their parents. If they have people taking care of them, they're probably raising them to remember that and to feel hate for the King," Sansa said as gracefully as she could, though he could see his daughter's age in the way she nervously fidgeted with her hands.

"I imagine that they're not without any resources over there and that no matter how long it takes, they could come cross the sea. Maybe it's later, much later, and not a worry for now…but it's not a bad thing to be prepared, is it? Better to have plans in place than to be rushing to defend ourselves."

Robert grinned widely, clapping Eddard on his back. "You've got a smart one, Ned. My son's a lucky boy —he'll have a Queen that can rule better in his stead! Especially since he doesn't have much sense himself." He looked back at Sansa again. "What would you do with this situation then?"

"My lord father is right that as children, perhaps some leniency could be shown? Even if they will not acknowledge and appreciate it, everyone else and your legacy will," Sansa started diplomatically. "You could reach out, send a missive, but that guarantees nothing, especially if it gets intercepted. But it hurts nothing to try. In the meantime, perhaps you could bolster your forces and begin preparations for an invasion? With a focus on your fleet, since if they do come, it'll be on water…"

Robert blinked, though he frowned. It made Eddard wince, though he also couldn't help staring at his daughter.

Where had all this come from? Who was this girl? This was so different from the Sansa he knew —but was it really?

His little girl had always been rather responsible and had taken her duties seriously —why wouldn't she take this as seriously, especially if one thought of (if she thought of) her upcoming nuptials and soon to be duties as Queen?

The whole idea of any of this made him balk and want to take his daughter back to Winterfell, hide her in its very depths and not allow anyone near her.

And with the way Robert was looking at her…

He held his breath, waiting…He was searching for the right words to say to placate Robert, to keep his daughter safe —

"Those are good words," Robert said quietly. "My brother Stannis is a good militaristic man, for all his boringness and placidness. He's Master of Ships as well and would do good with this. I'll think about this…letter, but our defense will be well tended to once I've talked to Stannis as soon as we have reached King's Landing."

While Eddard tried not to stare at his friend in shock, Sansa curtsied uncertainly and took the bowl from Ros, offering it to Eddard. He accepted numbly.

"I apologize, Your Grace," Sansa told Robert guardedly. "I hadn't known my lord father would be with you, or else I would have brought another bowl to offer you with as well."

Robert nodded and waved off her concern. "Don't worry, deerling." Deerling? "Enjoy your food. Your father and I still have much to discuss."

Sansa curtsied again before she left with Ros. Robert turned back to him, reaching for his bowl while grinning widely.

"Besides, you'll share with me, won't you, Ned?"

"Yes, of course," he said faintly, still feeling bemused about this whole thing.

He ignored Robert laughing at him.

"Sansa!" Rickon whined. "I don't want to learn about the Houses!"

"You'll have to learn them," Sansa said patiently. "Mycah, you wouldn't happen to have any sweet bread with you?"

"I do, my Lady," the younger boy beamed at her, taking it out of a bag he'd held. "Thank you again for allowing me to accompany you."

Sansa smiled sweetly at him, glad she'd run across him when she had and remembered the boy from Arya. Mycah was a nice boy —part of King Robert's retinue, a baker's son that was eager to help and had agreed readily to come with them and play with Rickon. Ros sat beneath a tree, stiffly next to Lady. Shaggydog was beside Rickon, tongue lolling out and as active as his human partner.

"So every time you get one right," Sansa started. "Mycah will give you a piece of sweetened bread you can have or you can share with Shaggydog. Okay?"

At that Rickon brightened up. "Okay!"

Sansa hid her own smug smile at her success and began teaching Rickon, happy when a good chunk of time had passed and everyone was having a good time, with Rickon also doing well with his lesson. Ros had even relaxed a little more beside Sansa's familiar and both direwolves were behaving.

"What a group! I wish I'd stumbled along and found you all earlier!"

Sansa tried not to stiffen up, but she turned to her betrothed with a polite smile.

"Joffrey, won't you join us?" she asked. She should at least ask him, try to build a bridge for him, so they could have at least a civil sort of marriage…

"I would love to," he said and though he didn't look it after, she had seen his face briefly look irritable. It was gone before it could be commented on by the others, but she'd seen it and it made her wary.

She shouldn't be so wary around her betrothed, shouldn't she?

Her Soul Marks burned against her skin and she hid her shiver, discreetly reaching to her wrist and rubbing the Mark there that was hidden under her sleeve.

"Lady Sansa, I have more sweet bread, if you'd like to share it with the Prince," Mycah offered generously, and she was about to accept when Joffrey sneered and stepped towards the other boy menacingly.

"How dare you talk to my betrothed, peasant? And as if I want your poor-tasting bread! It's probably as poorly made as you!"

"…He is the worse! I saw him earlier, when I was going to play with Mycah, and I saw him being an absolute arse to him! He's going to act like that towards you too."

She tentatively touched his shoulder. "My Prince, it's my fault. I brought him along because I enjoyed his bread —"

The smack to the side of her face had her reeling, both in shock and from the actual hit. She'd stumbled back, but it was the surprise shout of Mycah and her brother that jolted her back to her sense, enough to see Mycah staunchly put himself between her and Joffrey while Rickon had rushed to her and was grasping at her arm.

"Sansa, Sansa, are you okay?" Tears blurred Rickon's eyes.

"I —" she didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected that at all, but part of her felt maybe she should've.

"You peasant! Move out of the way! She is my betrothed!"

"I-I won't! Not if you're going to hit her again!"

Ros was beside her as well, gently holding her face to examine it and looking furious, with Lady brushing up against both of their legs in comfort.

"Idiot boy!" she muttered. "If he wasn't the Prince…"

But Gods, he was…Sansa's hands twitched to grab her quarterstaff and do as Arya had asked, smack him back, but there were so many others around her to be punished, even if she wouldn't be…

"I hate you! I won't let you near my sister! Shaggydog!"

She blinked and whipped her head towards Rickon, who she hadn't realized had left her side and was angrily confronting Joffrey, letting his emotions cloud him like the child he was.

"Rickon, no!" she shouted, but Shaggydog had already rushed forward and bit down on Joffrey's arm, the one that had been holding a sword (when had he pulled that out?).

Joffrey shouted in pain and Sansa was horrified how the situation had escalated. As Joffrey howled, Sansa ran to Rickon.

"You have to call off Shaggydog," she pleaded. "Please, Rickon. We're in enough trouble —he'll have Shaggydog killed!"

Rickon stared at her in tearful shock, calling off his direwolf reluctantly.

"You have to make him go!" she said in a rush. "Even if he's not with you, Rickon, at least he'll live. Tell him to go!"

Rickon bawled as the Prince ran off from them, and her brother stumbled towards Shaggydog as Lady followed Sansa towards Mycah, who was being looked over by Ros.

"He'll be fine," Ros whispered to her.

He was a little banged up, but the baker's boy smiled at her weakly and nodded to confirm. Oh Gods, he'd only just been trying to protect her! They all had been! What a mess this had turn into…

Why couldn't Joffrey had stayed away?

She watched as Shaggydog finally rushed from them and her brother began bawling out loud, ugly tears. She moved towards him to gather him up and started to lead him back to the camp.

As soon as they reached it, Sansa had Lady wait by the area that had been set up for the direwolves to stay at. Then they were herded into the biggest tent, where they were surrounded by so many people and face to face with the King. Sansa's insides felt frozen and she swore she'd throw up then and there. Then she'd be even more horrified.

"What in the Seven Hells happened?!" King Robert roared. "And stop crying like a pansy!" he glared at his son.

Rickon sniffled and opened his mouth, but Sansa's hand immediately flew to grab his arm, squeezing it warningly.

"It's all been a misunderstanding," she said carefully. "What happened was —"

"He hit Sansa!" Rickon said shrilly, jabbing a finger at Joffrey.

Rickon was young; of course he'd be emotional.

"Mother told me to never hit a Lady, but Father also says that I need to keep people in line and show their place!" Joffrey hissed, glaring at them.

She saw Queen Cersei gain a pinch look on her face, while King Robert's face grew stormy.

Sansa cut in. "It was a misunderstanding," she could not have Rickon be punished. Not her sweet, little brother, who she was supposed to look over and take care of. Not Ros, who hadn't done anything wrong but be there. And not Mycah, who was just trying to protect her.

She repeated it firmly. "It was a misunderstanding and my fault," she had to emphasize that so none of the blame was shifted to the others, and because she knew she could take the punishment because of her status. They couldn't.

"Rickon needed to learn his lessons and I was helping him, and I'd brought along the baker's boy to have sweet bread as incentive for him and his familiar. My sweet Prince," 'sweet' tasting like syrup gluing her mouth together, "misunderstood the baker's boy's presence, I think. Rickon got emotional and upset, like the young boy he was," she said, hopefully as a reminder and for leniency, "and the baker's boy believed he was protecting me." Which was the truth, and she had to keep reminding herself not use Mycah's actual name, so she wouldn't show any familiarity.

There was terse silence and Sansa chanced a look at her father finally. His face was its normal grimness, but his eyes…for once they looked stormy and revealed a flurry of emotions.

"I see," King Robert said slowly. "I will be having a talk with my boy." He laughed stiffly. "Us Baratheons have a possessive streak though! Forgive our heated blood."

"But Joffrey's arm!" Queen Cersei interrupted. "Our son has been hurt! Something must be done —the boy's wolf should be put down!"

Sansa stiffened up, even as Rickon burst into sobs and was screaming out 'no's!' She gave a look to Ros, who nodded to her and took up Rickon, quietly shushing him.

"Rickon's direwolf ran away," Sansa said quickly.

"There's still one wolf left," Queen Cersei was still upset.

Sansa could feel the blood drain from her face as she gasped. No. Not Lady!

"You can't!" She found herself being the one unable to keep composure. "Not Lady! Please, no! Not Lady! She didn't do anything!" she pleaded. Her father closed his eyes and looked away.

King Robert cleared his throat. "Let it be a lesson of themselves and all around them, no matter who or what they may be."

"If anyone is to do it, I will," her father replied tensely and Sansa felt tears blind her.

"Please excuse me," Sansa said, throat feeling clogged with emotion. "I shall be in my tent."

She barely noticed she was dismissed, taking Rickon from Ros and heading away from there and towards the tent she shared with Rickon and Ros. She entered and collapsed onto the floor, dragging Rickon with her.

Terror rushed through her. They were going to kill Lady —Lady who had done nothing wrong except to stay obediently when Sansa had told her to at her spot —and was now stuck there and easy prey to be executed!

It wasn't fair! Rickon and Shaggydog had just been playing around and they were having a good time! And then Joffrey had come along and decided that-that —she didn't even know why he had reacted the way he did!

Her sobs caught in her throat and she and Rickon clung to each other, crying and unable to move from their spots. Ros sat beside them, petting their hair and murmuring something.

"My Lady? It's me, Jaime Lannister."

"S-Ser Jaime," Sansa hiccuped, but could not bring herself to stop crying.

The opening flap was pulled and Jaime stuck his head in, looking down at the crumpled trio. A look she didn't recognize passed over his face.

"I wanted to check on you," he said softly. "And I've brought dinner. I'm sure the three of you are hungry."

He reached down by his feet and picked up a tray to hand to Ros, who held it for the group. He hesitated before he stepped in and sat down by them, folding in his long body awkwardly, especially with his Kingsguard armor.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching out and fingers lightly brushing against the side of Sansa's face.

She flinched and his fingers retreated quickly.

"I'll mix up an ointment to help," Ros said politely when Sansa didn't answer and had looked down, the older woman watching him carefully with narrowed eyes.

"I see," Jaime muttered, glancing at her and Ros. He looked at his lap.

"Is Mycah okay?" Sansa sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"The baker's boy?" he asked after a moment. He gave another pause. "He ran off as well."

Sansa felt horrible. She hadn't wanted to cause Mycah any trouble.

"It's for the best," Jaime said. "What he did was admirable and understandable, but he still…attacked the Prince."

"He did not!" Rickon said hotly. "The Prince beat him up, even though all he did was stand in his way so he wouldn't go after Sansa!"

"He's still the Prince," she said hollowly, which made her mind scream. Her Soulmates wouldn't treat her like this, would they? They wouldn't, right?

But what if they did?

Jaime's pretty green eyes, light as the green of grass on a spring day, watched her intently. He spoke softly and she thought she'd imagined it.

"I once served a Queen who was mistreated by her King. In fact, I still do. And I don't want the future to be the same."

He bowed slightly. "Lady Sansa, I wish you a happier life."

He left them behind and Sansa stared after him silent and solemn.

He'd lied. He'd lied about the baker's boy because he'd already seen the way Sansa had pleaded and then grieved after her direwolf.

Jaime couldn't tell her the Hound had run the boy down and killed him.

Instead, he'd lied and told her the boy had run away and had saved his own skin. Better alive than here and being punished.

Not dead, like the truth.

Hearing her cries outside her tent was like an echo of a long time ago, when he had to listen to Queen Rhaella crying out behind her doors.

Jaime couldn't do that again. He couldn't, especially since he was doomed to have a repeated performance every time he listened to Fat Bob degrade his sister and sleep with whores every night.

He was tired of serving selfish, depraved Kings.

Sansa's life had already become upended the moment they entered her life; Jaime knew that, because he had become part of the problem and hoped she would never find out about her other younger brother and Jaime's fault in his fall. He couldn't be part of her direwolf's death too.

That meant that he'd had to hurry and let the direwolf loose and run it off, before Ned Stark could break his daughter's heart and kill her pet. Jaime wanted to try to save some part of her from heartbreak.

If only he could make sure she didn't continue on to King's Landing as well…

Robert felt his skin itching. It wasn't a real itch where he could scratch at it until it bled. No, it was the kind that got under his skin and he couldn't get to it no matter what he did.

The large party of people continued the last stretch towards King's Landing, but Robert was in a bad mood.

Ned looked pissed and was staying with his own camp, which put Robert in a worse mood because he was stuck with all these cunts around him and unable to talk with his only friend.

And then there was that monster of a wolf having disappeared before Ned could put it down, putting Cersei in a snit (which made Robert's mood even more sour, having to deal with her). And he knew Ned hadn't let it go because he'd followed after him, inwardly hoping he could 'accidentally' scare the thing off and the whole thing be given up as a lost cause. Except no wolf.

He knew the girl or her brother had nothing to do with it, having been confirmed by many witnesses as having stumbled in a crying mess to their tent and personally confirmed by that Lannister cunt, who'd followed after them.

Wolf must've sense the air and escaped, just like the boy's wolf. Good for them, but that didn't help Robert any.

Aside from Ned and Cersei, his future good-daughter's heartbreaking expression made him feel like a bastard.

It was like disappointing Lyanna all over again.

Years after her death and Robert couldn't let her go. He'd loved Lyanna until all of the Seven Kingdoms had felt it, until death and blood and tears and anger was all that he could surround himself with —and it still wasn't enough.

The last he truly could remember of her face was a blurry outline of disappointment and heartbreak at knowing he'd fathered a bastard child in the Vale, despite his claims of love. He couldn't remember her face anymore, but he could still remember that moment, that feeling. It had never left him.

Now, now it was happening all over again. After he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted —uniting his family with Ned's and a Stark and Baratheon marriage! It was not him, but his son at least. But now it was falling apart and now Ned was requesting to talk to him at King's Landing and Sansa, sweet darling girl, was folding in on herself and not talking to anyone.

"This is all just a pathetic mood. I don't understand what all the fuss is about?" Cersei drawled, her aged beauty stained by the mild disgust painting her face.

Robert's jaw clenched.

Ignoring her, he turned towards Cersei's twin, watching the Kingslayer trotting along on his horse next to them.

"You checked in on the girl, didn't you?" Robert grunted. "How was she?"

That idiot boy of his…striking Ned's daughter. He'd been tempted to strike him back, in payment for striking Sansa. His good-daughter shouldn't be treated this way! She was to be a Baratheon, Joffrey's wife. It was unforgivable.

She was to be the Queen that Lyanna hadn't been able to have been.

"Distraught," Lannister said quietly, watching Cersei guardedly. "She…she and her brother were crying together."

Damn the Gods.

If he'd married Lyanna, he would never had struck her. He would've been happier with his lot in life, even though he was stuck being the damn King. He would've had children that he cared for —not that he didn't love them, but Joffrey was a menace and tested his every nerve. His younger children were sweeter and he adored them more, though Tommen was a little too soft…

But Lyanna's children with him would have been perfect.

Because he loved her in a way he would never love Cersei, and he'd sworn he would have the Stark family love him and his family in the way it was always meant to be if Lyanna had been his.

King's Landing came into view and he huffed out a sigh of relief.

"Finally," Cersei drawled. He gritted his teeth and rode farther ahead.

Gods damn his wife and son.

And now that the entire company between he and Ned's people had arrived, the all too solemn mood was noticeable and Robert cursed every deity he could. This wasn't what he'd wanted and planned for.

They'd all managed to enter the city and gone to the palace, with enough time for everyone to have handled settling in on their own and finding their rooms, when Ned had called upon Robert and all he could do was curse more in his head. He'd curse more outside too, if he wasn't getting ready to face his friend.

"Robert…I do not believe the betrothal is a good idea. I refuse to have Sansa wed your son. I want the betrothal broken," Ned said firmly, not looking away from Robert.

"I'm the King," Robert growled. "And I wish for the betrothal."

"And Sansa is my daughter! I will not have her treated that way," Ned actually shouted.

Robert grimaced. "And I will make sure that Joffrey learns his lesson," he insisted. "Sansa will have nothing to worry about."

Joffrey had better learn. He wouldn't have him treat the girl that way.

"Be that as it may, I still wish for it to be broken," Ned refused to waver. "At this time, your son is not fit or mature enough to be with Sansa. You wouldn't want Princess Myrcella to be treated like that, would you?"

Robert glowered at his friend. "Of course I wouldn't!" Just the thought made his blood boil. But breaking the betrothal…He grimaced again. "Fine. Let me work on Joffrey in the meantime and come back to the betrothal at a later point at least."

Ned didn't look happy about that. "Very well. We can revisit at a later point. But as the betrothal is broken now, if I find a more suiting suitor, I will be considering them closely."

"Yes, yes," Robert answered irritably. "Go set things up for you and your household —you'll have lots to do, I assume."

Ned nodded and left, leaving Robert to glare at his desk. He opened the box he'd brought with him from Winterfell, intending to get drunk, and stared in consternation at the wreath of blue Winter Roses. He swallowed thickly and carefully picked it up.

Lyanna had loved Winter Roses.

Standing up, he walked out of the room and went searching. After searching and asking directions discreetly, he found the correct chambers and knocked, only entering once he heard her say he was allowed.

He opened the door to Sansa's assigned chambers and watched the girl gracefully flit around the room with her handmaiden helping. She turned towards the door and stopped in shock.

"Your Grace!"

"Your aunt loved Winter Roses and I had these picked from the glass gardens at Winterfell," he said gravely. "I hear you love flowers as well, Lady Sansa."

"I do," she said.

One side of his lips quirked up halfheartedly and he held the wreath up to her.

"I believe it'll be lovelier on you than to be stuck dying in my trunk, forgotten and ill used."

She hesitantly glided over on light feet, taking hold of them. He took one of her hands before she could take the wreath away and looked into her eyes. They were as blue as the Winter Roses and he wondered if he could recall the color of Lyanna's eyes if he tried hard enough.

"I am sorry, for what it's worth," he muttered. He didn't specify on what and she still gave him the sweetest smile.

He had loved Lyanna for over fifteen years and had held onto her memory since even before her death. She was gone, he knew.

But now, there was still yet a Stark woman here to be appreciated.

It was the least he'd owed the love of his life, wherever Lyanna's soul rested…

Started 3/21/20 – Completed 3/23/20

A/n: Shit, I didn't expect this chapter to become as long as it did…This was not fun to edit ;-; That said, I hope you guys ended up enjoying the larger than normal chapter? Please leave some feedback and let me know what you're all excited/want to see, what you like, etc! Thank you all to my readers and I hope you guys keep reading~

Quick Points:

1. Ros: Because I want Ros to be the Doreah to Sansa's Daenerys? XD Except, you know, without the show version!Doreah's backstabbing. Plus, I kind of liked how in the show Ros was kind of protective and mindful of Sansa in King's Landing…

2. Robert: …Shrugs? Eh? Dunno, I knew I wanted to write him in here like this, but didn't think I'd end all that in depth and super into his head XD I don't know how well I was able to do that? But it was fun and I just…Dunno. Just like Robert/Lyanna. The way he talked about her in the beginning episodes got to me and then on youtube I had the luck to run across a really fantastic made edit of them, so…

3. Current GoT Fics: Her Song of Fire and Ice (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), A Red King Bowed (Roose/Sansa), and March to My Heartbeat (Stannis/Sansa). Also The (Im)Perfect VERSE, including Deck the Halls, Count Me Down to Midnight, Be Still, Heart and tomorrow Drinks on Me, Beads on You.