Jaime shivered under the furs draped around his shoulders, pulling them closer to him and once again cursing the gods forsaken North. He found himself wishing for his armour, armour that would have better trapped heat and kept at least his ears from freezing off. But the King had insisted that Jaime ride into Winterfell not as a Kingsguard but as a Lannister, as the father of the bride. An idea that most likely came from my father, Robert could care less about appearances.

Leaving King's Landing should have been a relief for Jaime. He had spent years there with nowhere else really to go. He couldn't go back to Casterly Rock, as that was where his father resided, and he didn't really want to sit through countless lectures about family legacy and "doing his part".

His father had always used him as a pawn, and Jaime would resist it as long as he could. He would not break another oath, would not take another wife, and would certainly not sire anymore children. The last time he had left Cersei, abandoned her, he had been reduced to half the man he was. Never again. With Cersei is where I belong, we came into this world together and whatever gods there are never meant for us to be separated. They've made that clear enough to me.

So he had stayed in King's Landing, serving as a glorified bodyguard. If Cersei's place was there, then so was his. He followed the King, or the Prince, or his sister. He stood outside of the King's door as he ate and shit and slept and fucked women who weren't his sister. He stood outside his door as he dishonoured his sister, or even worse, as they got into screaming matches that threatened to tear down every stone of that cursed keep. It would end with Robert's hand across Cersei's cheek, and Cersei's hand staying his once he escorted her back to her chambers.

There was one other option, of course. Another option that Jaime did not like to dwell on, that he had all put pushed from his mind.

For twelve years, Jaime had done everything he could to avoid going North. The King needed the Kingsguard, and he was one of the best swords in the Seven Kingdoms. He couldn't just abandon his King, could he? He couldn't abandon his sister and his royal niece and nephews.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to see his daughter, in fact he had thought about her quite often at the beginning. How she was getting on with the Stark children, how her training with Addam was coming along, and he had looked forward to the letters updating him on her progress.

But as time went on he found himself more hesitant to reply, more unsure if visiting Winterfell was the right thing to do. What good could I have done for her in Winterfell? The girl is cursed with an oathbreaker for a father, a father who cannot look at her without seeing her mother. There was nothing that he could give her that he already hadn't. She had his name and the Lannister legacy and all the power that came with it. When she had left so had Shaena's ghost, and perhaps she would have a chance to grow up without her mother's shadow hanging around her shoulders. That's the best that Jaime could give her, the most he could do aside from a powerful name.

If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he hadn't wanted to see the accusation in Alysanne's eyes, Shaena's eyes. The sorrow and the confusion as she had looked back at him when she left Kings Landing. How could he explain to her that he hadn't any say in her leaving, that it wasn't any fault of his but was instead his own father's decision.

He had failed her enough times in her life, and he had no desire to add to the list.

Besides, the Red Keep wasn't so bad anymore. There were still ghosts, but they were few and far between now. None resided in his sister's bedchambers, in his sister's arms, and so that is where he had stayed.

Until blasted King Robert declared that the entire Court was going North to see the last dragonspawn in Westeros wed, and Jaime was out of excuses. The moons they spent traveling were once again filled with restless nights for Jaime. The nightmares that his sister chased away soon returned, as it was hard to steal way to her bedchambers when they made camp or stopped at Inns. The few keeps they did stop at were unfamiliar, and the risk that came with spending the night together too high.

There were familiar dreams, the ones filled with fire and blood, but there were new ones as well. One's where Alysanne replaced Rhaella, another woman at the mercy of a cruel husband. One's where Alysanne burned and no matter how far he ran he couldn't reach her. There were nightmares of moments he had missed in Alysanne's life. He dreamt of her growing up at the Rock, growing up and living with him in King's Landing. These were perhaps the worst. He knew how to handle the familiar, the ones with fire and blood. They were easy enough to chase away, all of those demons far in the past.

But how does one chase away what could have been? What was lost and can never be retrieved? The dreams of chasing Alys around the Rock, echoes of laughter following after her. The dreams of dancing with her at feasts and crowning his daughter the Queen of Love and Beauty at tournaments. All dreams he had cherished when Shaena was still with child, dreams that he now made every attempt to drown and chase away.

The dreams of a foolish man, a boy in truth.

They approached the gates of Winterfell and Jaime braced himself, the knot in his stomach only growing in magnitude. He had seen her only four years ago, but he still found himself unsure of what he'd find when he finally saw Alysanne. A lot can change in four years, gods know that Myrcella looks different with every passing day. When Cersei's wheelhouse was stuck in the gates he didn't know if he was thankful for the delay or eager to get this over with, the delay only allowing more time for the knot to grow and fester.

Finally, the wheelhouse was moved and the procession proceeded. Jaime rode through the gates, his eyes scanning the waiting crowd before he could stop himself and- his heart stopped. Shaena, there stood Shaena. For a moment he saw Shaena, Shaena as she was when they met, young and full of life, eyes filled with mirth.

The illusion didn't last long, for her hair faded from silver into gold and her eyes from lavender into a familiar green. The mirth dissolved into a steady coolness, a practiced stoicism, Alysanne facing forward with the rest of the Stark family. She looks so like Shaena, the same nose, chin, my cheekbones, he thinks. Cersei's cheekbones.

She's lined up with the Stark family, presented as a part of the family. And she wore Stark grey, her hair done in a northern manner. Jaime took a moment to wonder what she would look like in Lannister colors, in the colors that Shaena so often wore and favored.

He hadn't expected her to look so… grown. He's not foolish, he knows that time has passed, time that can never be regained, but a part of him still expects the girl of six namedays. The girl with the wide eyes and stained dresses and scuffed knees. She had come to King's Landing not long ago, but he hadn't seen much of her during her visit. No matter how hard he tried, whenever Jaime thought of Alysanne it was first Shaena he saw, and then it was that same child that he waved away all those years ago.

I avoided her when she last visited just as I had at the Rock, old habits are the hardest to break I suppose. He avoided thinking about that visit as much as possible. How he had failed to keep her out of Robert's path, and the glaring reminder of just how many years he had missed of her life. If she was out of sight then he could pretend that thing's were as they were supposed to be. That there had been no Shaena, that it had been as Cersei had always planned.

That painful reminder of years lost stood in front of him now, a woman grown, just past her eighteenth nameday. She had her mothers height but none of her frailty, cheeks flush in the cold. She was strong, and stood proud with her foster family. She looks as though she belongs, more so than she ever did with me, he thought with a slight ache in his chest.

He didn't know if Alysanne saw him or chose to ignore him, but he watched as they all fell to their knees as Robert entered.

Robert bid them all to rise, and he watched Robert intently, waiting to see how he greeted his daughter. He greeted Lord Stark as an old friend, and Lady Stark perhaps a bit too familiarly. He greeted who Jaime assumed is the Stark heir, his soon to be goodson, Robb before coming to Alysanne.

Jaime didn't miss the way Robb Stark tensed up as the King looked intently at Alysanne. I wonder how much she's told him about her last visit. About Joffrey and Robert and their feelings towards dragonspawn.

Another way he had failed Alysanne, but what was he to do? He was sworn to the King and his heir, not to any of his family. He served at the whims of the King, and his sister if truth be told. The King dragged poor Ned Stark down to the crypts, Lady Stark led his sister to her rooms, and he supposed he no longer had any excuse to avoid speaking to Alysanne.

His footsteps crunched on the gravel as he walked towards her and she looked up, and Robb Stark stiffened once again as he approached. Foolish boy. What does he think I'll do? Run her through with my sword?

Alysanne stood straighter, her hands folded in front of her. "Father, it's good of you to finally make the trip to Winterfell," she said, her tone formal and, unless he's imagining it, a bit cold.

"Alysanne, I've missed you," he replied.

Her eyes flashed. "Have you?"

He blanched. "Yes, I've, I wanted to visit, been meaning to visit," he said.

Alysanne hummed. "Aye. I'm sure you've been very busy guarding the King. Grandfather made sure to inform me whenever he visited."

"Alys, I'm-" she didn't let him finish.

"If you'll excuse me, father, I believe Lady Catelyn said something about needing my help with the feast tonight." She turned to Robb. "Robb?" He offered her arm and she took it, walking towards the keep. She looks like a northerner, and she talks like one now too.

A servant found Jaime and offered to lead him to his room. He followed, taking in the sprawling keep that was Winterfell. It's grey, so very grey and he couldn't imagine anyone being happy here. Between the dreary colors and frigid temperatures he's not sure how anyone could find any sort of warmth. He reached his chambers and found that the items he's brought with him have yet to be brought up. Instead he turned to the man who led him from the yard and asked him where Cersei had been placed.

He had yet to find anyone who shared as much distaste for the North as Cersei did, and he was beginning to see why she despised it so. If he had any chance of warming up, it was with Cersei. He nodded to his brothers guarding the door and knocked, waiting for her to answer. It's a maidservant who opened the door instead and he pushed his way through. Cersei was quick to dismiss the maids buzzing about her and she turned to him.

"I saw your daughter. She looked so dreary in that grey," Cersei said by way of greeting. He gave a non committal hum and threw himself into the spare chair by the hearth, looking around her chambers.

They were bigger than his, but he supposed that's to be expected. He's only a Kingsguard, after all. Cersei continued talking, unphased by his lack of engagement. "The Starks have ruined her. She'll rot up here, Jaime. She doesn't belong here, she belongs South, with us."

Jaime sighed. "What would you have me do, Cersei? Steal her away? She's to be married in a few days." He leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes.

She scoffed. "Of course not. Robert wouldn't have it anyways," Cersei came to sit in the chair across from him. "I did try. I spent the better part of the last year trying to convince him it'd be better to marry her to Joff where he can keep a closer eye on her," Cersei added.

"I imagine he took that well," Jaime snickered.

"I could have done it, but he has his eyes set on that Stark girl now. Not even Jon Arryn could convince him of another match, were he still with us," Cersei said, a hint of annoyance lacing through her voice.

Jaime rose from where he was sitting, approaching the vanity in her room and fiddling with the objects atop it. "Perhaps the Stark boy is best for Alys, I pity the girl who gets stuck with Joffrey."

Cersei pursed her lips. "It would have been different had they grown together. We could have raised her to be a true Lannister, one Joff would respect." Jaime doubted that. He'd seen the way he corners Myrcella, how he tormented poor Tommen. The way Joffrey had cornered Alysanne and struck fear in her. But Jaime knows what arguments he can and cannot win with Cersei and decides to change the subject.

"You mentioned the Stark girl. Do you really think he'll be able to convince old Ned to send another Stark daughter South? They didn't part on the best of terms if I remember correctly," Jaime said.

"He's in need of a new hand, what with Jon Arryn finally passing. Ned Stark can't very well refuse him," Cersei retorted. Jon Arryn. A shame that had been. For all that Jaime had grown to loathe him, no one else could rein Robert in like he could.

"Jon Arryn. I must say, I wasn't expecting his health to fail so quickly," he said, and gave Cersei an accusing look.

"What did you expect me to do Jaime? He was growing suspicious," Cersei said in response, growing defensive.

Jaime rolled his eyes. "The old bastard was always suspicious of our family. If he knew anything he wouldn't have waited so long to make a move."

She rose and approached him. "Have you learned nothing? What do you think he would have done had he finally been face to face with Ned Stark? He-" she looked around, suddenly suspicious. "Let us not talk of this here."

"Whatever suits you, sister. I didn't come here to discuss the dead bastard anyway." He led her towards her bed. We've time to spare, haven't we?

Jaime returned to his rooms later, and it did not take long to bathe and ready himself. He found himself with a bit of time to spare yet, and went to wander the training grounds. If he was to be stuck here, he may as well find somewhere even remotely familiar.

It's then that he found Addam Marbrand, Addam who he had entrusted with his daughter's life. Addam, who had hardly let Alysanne out of his sight in King's Landing, and thus had seen very little of Jaime.

Addam stopped sparring and sent away one of the Stark boys who he had been instructing. He turned to Jaime as he walked towards him, pointing his sword down into the dirt. "Jaime. A strange sight to see you, here in Winterfell," Addam greeted.

Jaime raised an eyebrow, wondering if there is a slight to be found there. "It's hard to break away from the King to travel this far North."

Addam gave a tight smile. "I'm sure," he said, "have you talked to her? To Alysanne?"

"Ah. Briefly. After the King left to the crypts," Jaime responded.

Addam looked down, leaning his weight onto his sword. "She's missed you."

Jaime snorted. "She seemed quite eager to leave my presence earlier," he said.

Addam bristled, standing up straight once more. "Well she has. Missed you, that is. I imagine she's angry as well. Probably doesn't know what to say to you, or maybe she thinks you don't want to see her."

"Angry? I've not done anything to-"

"You've not done anything, and perhaps that's the issue," Addam broke in. "She hardly knows you, Jaime. All she knows of you she knows from the letters you send her, if you can even call them that. Those and any stories I can remember of our time growing up. Gods, man-" he cut himself off and took a breath, shaking his head. His face was almost as red as his hair. Jaime was taken back by his friend's sudden anger. This isn't the Addam I remember. He was always easy going, steady and never letting his temper rise.

Addam continued before he could get in a word edgewise. "The only people who have come to visit her are Tywin and Tyrion. You hardly made time for her in King's Landing. What is she to make of that, Jaime?"

Jaime went silent, not sure of his next words. "I never intended for it to be that way," he ventures.

Addam shook his head, not looking as if he fully believed him. "You may be able to convince her of that, if you still wish to try," he took another steadying breath before offering him some advice. "She likes dancing. Ask her to dance tonight, talk to her for once."

Addam stalked off, and Jaime was left feeling quite forlorn. It wasn't the reunion he imagined having with his childhood friend. He had wished to talk with him of Alysanne's training, to inquire more about her life here at Winterfell and about the family she was marrying into. Instead I find a man quick to anger. Has time really changed him so much? Perhaps it's the time spent so far from his home.

Jaime continued his exploration of Winterfell before the sun began to fall from the sky. He made his way to the Great Hall and took a seat at the far edge high table. It wasn't long before the feast began.

The King entered first, escorting Cersei. Then came the Lord and Lady Stark, Joffrey following them, escorting the elder Stark girl. Golden hair shining in the light, a smug smile smeared across his sharp features. His nose was Cersei's, as were his cheekbones and eyes. But there was something in his chin, and the shape of his face that was different, that wasn't Cersei's. He didn't recognize it, and he didn't know if he cared enough to ask Cersei who his nephew's father was. I don't wish to know who else my sister has been with.

Myrcella came next, escorted by one of the Stark boys. Her hair, nose, cheekbones, everything about her was all Cersei, and by extension his, he supposed. One daughter I lost the chance to be a father to, and the other I'll never have the chance to. He considered himself lucky that at least he has the chance to see one of them grow up.

Tommen was last, escorting yet another ghost of the past. At least this one likely haunted Robert as well, a Lyanna around every corner for him. Tommen's grown, and had lost most of his baby fat. Most. His cheeks were still full, but that too would fade as he grew. He imagined that when that happens, it would be like looking into the past, as he once was. Young and foolish and full of hope. A good lad, his nephew. He used nephew lightly, as Joff was his only real nephew.

The feast was loud and raucous and Jaime was thankful to be sitting far from Robert when he pulled a serving girl onto his lap. He would dishonour my sister so publicly? In his friends keep? What I wouldn't give to drive a sword through his back.

Jaime refrained from the ale and wine the King seems so fond of. For now, at least. He would prefer to keep a clear head until after he dances with Alysanne. He was almost as nervous as he was at the start of the day, unsure of how to approach his own daughter. Perhaps more nervous now, given the cold reception in the yard earlier.

The dancing had been well underway by the time he made his way to where Alysanne was seated. She was sitting next to the eldest Stark girl, the one who had been escorted in by Joffrey, and they appeared deep in conversation. They both looked up at him as he approached, a pleasant look on the Stark girl's face and a mask of ice on Alysannes.

"Alysanne," he gave her a slight bow. "I was hoping to dance with you."

There was a pause as Alysanne looked to the girl next to her before rising, taking his hand without a word.

He led her to the floor and they began to dance as the musicians started the next song. They dance for a moment in silence, the icey mask remaining on her face.

He waited for her to break the silence first, but several minutes passed and still nothing had been said, Alysanne instead keeping her gaze directed over his shoulder. He cleared his throat. "You look lovely, Alys."

She glanced at him briefly, her eyes returning to a point over his shoulder as they spin around the floor. "Thank you, father."

He swallowed. Was she always so difficult to talk to? She used to never shut up. "How have you found Winterfell?"

"Cold, but it's home now," she said, not eager to offer any more information.

They continued for another moment in silence before he saw Robb Stark watching him from the wall, eyes as sharp and watching as, well, a wolf. "And Robb? He doesn't mistreat you?" He prodded.

He saw a slight smile play at her lips, the most emotion he's seen from her in a long while. "Aye. He's kind and treats me well. He doesn't dishonour me."

Jaime only nodded, fighting the urge to raise an eyebrow at her usage of "aye" yet again. A very northern habit she seemed to have acquired. "And the wedding. You're pleased?" He ventured, trying to encourage her to tell him more of her life here.

Alysanne nodded, and did not offer any words on the matter. They take another few turns before she stops and looks at him, the ice on her face replaced with slight apprehension. "Why do you never speak of mother?" She asked.

Jaime started. Of all things, Shaena? "I speak of her," Jaime retorted.

Alys shook her head. "No, you don't."

"Why are you asking about her here, now? This is hardly the time," he bit back.

"Hardly the time? I'm to be married within the week, without my mother, and I know nothing of her save that she was pretty and liked reading of the Good Queen Alysanne," she took a breath, the effort of keeping her voice at a reasonable level evident in the way her voice shook.

Don't make me speak of her. Not here, not now. Don't make me tell you of how I failed her. He looked down at her, his grip tightening on her shoulder. "I do speak of her, just-"

Alys interrupted him and he felt heat rise to his face. "Just not to me."

"Well what would you-"

She interjected once more, and he found himself struggling to control his irritation. "Anything. Just tell me something-"

It's he who broke in this time. "Fine. Would you like to hear of how her father tormented her? Of how he held her hostage and burned men in front of her? Or how about how she bled out in front of me, leaving me with a babe to raise on my own." He didn't realize that they'd stopped dancing, and now stood to the side. His fists are clenched and the reality of what he's said to her hits him as she takes a step back, the anger washed off her face and instead its sorrow. She gaped at him, eyes wide. I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean to say it. If I can just explain to her-

"Alysanne," she turned and walked off before he could grab her. Alys reached Robb, who was sitting with who Jaime assumes to be the Ironborn hostage, and said something to him before he offered his arm. They began to walk out of the hall, the younger Stark boy who followed Addam around trailing after them.

Jaime returned to his seat and grabbed an unattended mug of ale on his way. He looked out and met Tyrion's questioning gaze. Jaime turned away and drained his mug, holding it up to grab a servant's attention.

His mug was refilled and he quickly drained that one as well. Jaime looked up again to find Addam staring him down, his face filled with disappointment and, is that anger? What right does he have to be angry with me? He's in my service. My father's service. I owe him nothing.

Jaime decided he'd had enough with the feast when he also saw Lady Stark looking at him askance. They can stare all they like, but I don't have to be here to suffer it. He stalked from the hall and towards where his chambers are located.

He saw Robb Stark headed his way, giving him a nod as he passed by. He was halfway down the hall when Robb turned and called out to him. "Ser Jaime!" Robb shouted.

Jaime turned around, doing his best to keep his balance. "Yes?" Jaime said in return.

"She waited for you," Robb replied, glowering at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"She waited for you. Every nameday that Lord Tywin would visit. She would wait for you on the battlements, and when she didn't see you she would spend the rest of the day in her room," Robb said, his tone bordering on seething.

"Watch your tone, boy," Jaime warned.

Robb stood straighter, ignoring him and giving him another glare. "All she did was ask about her mother-"

Jaime strode towards him, Robb stopping short and backing up a few steps. "You'd do best to avoid speaking on things you know nothing about," Jaime shot back.

What does this boy think to do? I have armour older than he is. Jaime turned and stalked away towards his rooms, slamming the door behind him. He rested his forehead against the door and took a moment to collect his breath and steady himself. When he turned around, he found a wooden box sitting on the desk, demanding his attention and holding his gaze.

I had forgotten about that blasted thing. Shaena's jewels, and the Lannister cloak he had draped over her shoulders the day they were wed. Packed and sent North on his father's insistence. He felt his heart clench. They're Alysanne's by right. I shouldn't have snapped at her as I did. I don't know what came over me.

He approached the box and ran a hand over the lid. It was elegantly carved, an S placed in the middle. His hand hovered over the latch but he couldn't bring himself to open it, not yet anyway. Instead he picked it up and slid it under his bed, not wanting to be faced with the contents that night.

He crawled into bed and under the furs, not bothering to undress. Sleep found him, and so did dreams of Shaena. Shaena, looking at him with all the fury of a dragon.