"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
Sir Jon Targaryen was fatigued by the efforts of his adoptive father, Lord Mance Rayder, to find him a suitable wife. He had met many women from the virtuous to the seductive and yet not a single woman had caught his eye although many stroked his desire.
So he was here at Winterfell Castle, attending another ball at his father's bequest.
"Sir Targaryen, have you met my sister: Sansa?" The host of the ball and the heir to Winterfell, Prince Robb of House Stark, approached him.
The woman with him was akin to a Pre-Raphaelite beauty with creamy porcelain skin and fiery red hair set in curls. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady." He bowed slightly.
"Enchanté, Sir Targaryen." She extended her hand. Her ice blue eyes met him directly and he saw a hint of stubborness in the jut of her chin.
He suppressed a smirk. "Would you care to dance, Lady Sansa?" He offered his hand to her, noting the delicate hands encased in the finest silk gloves.
"Indeed." Her answer was curt and her face stern as if carved from stone. "For what is there to do at a ball if not dance and be married off?" She muttered under her breath although her lips barely seemed to move.
Jon led her onto the ballroom floor, swept away with the scent of rose that adorned her from head to toe. "These are rather tedious events, are they not?" He whispered as they took a turn across the floor. "And, the expectation of marriage is a rather foolish one from a single acquaintance."
"They would be much more enjoyable if one could take pleasure in the dance and one's partner without the burden of marriage hanging over one's head." Sansa conceded as her lips curved into a smile. "Is marriage your intention, Sir Targaryen?" Her eyes widened with a flash of mischief."
He let out a gruff chuckle and his normally hard black eyes softened to a twinkle. "To the right woman in time." He felt the small of her back, soft yet with a steel, and caressed it with a gentle touch. "And, is it yours, Lady Sansa?"
"If the right man could persuade me." She felt a blush rising in her cheeks as she took note of his appearance properly for the first time. He was a handsome man with jet black hair and a glint in his eyes. "And, you may call me Sansa."