Winterfell's Evening Feast

Winterfell's great hall.

The welcome feast held to honor the king's arrival was exceptionally lively. Everyone in Winterfell had come.

On the high platform sat Lord and Lady Stark, along with the king and queen.

The princes and princesses, along with the lord's children, sat at a slightly lower level. Sansa accompanied the Crown Prince, Arya sat with Prince Tommen, Robb accompanied Princess Myrcella, and Bran was responsible for looking after his three-year-old brother Rickon.

As for the Bastard Jon, Lady Catelyn was unwilling to let him insult the royal family, so she only allowed him to remain with the young attendants at the far end of the hall.

The king laughed loudly. "Ned, what do you think? Was my entrance impressive enough today? Fucking thrilling! 'King's Landing'—what a fine name! My son came up with it!"

Hearing Robert call him by his nickname, Eddard forced a smile at his brother and king.

His conversation with the king in the Crypts that afternoon had left Eddard unable to feel happy.

The responsibilities of the Hand of the King were too great. He would issue orders in the king's name, wield authority, command the armies, and oversee justice. If the king was absent, ill, or faced any other emergency, he would even sit upon the Iron Throne and rule the realm directly.

By comparison, Eddard preferred the title of Lord of Winterfell.

But how could he refuse when the brother he had grown up and fought beside was asking for his help—and when it was also an appointment from the king?

The king had even proposed an engagement between Sansa and Prince Joffrey.

Eddard's mind was heavy with worry.

Joffrey silently watched Lord and Lady Stark.

The success or failure of this trip to Winterfell was of great importance. Which path he could choose in the future depended on where House Stark stood.

For now, things seemed to be progressing well. Eddard Stark had not rejected going south on the spot, which meant success.

Some hesitation would turn into refusal, while other hesitation was the same as agreement.

The next focus would be House Stark's next generation. If he could win over the Little Wolves, then for at least the next few years, the North would become a stable rear base.

Joffrey glanced at the Little Wolves beside him.

Robb tried to remain calm and courteous in every movement, Arya could barely sit still, and Bran listened to the knights below telling stories while caring for little Rickon.

Whenever Sansa's gaze met his, it darted away at once. Every thought in the young girl's heart was written across her face.

Joffrey shook his golden hair, letting the warm firelight fully reveal his exquisite features to Sansa.

"Sansa, it's too warm in here. I'd like to learn more about this ancient and magnificent castle. Would you be willing to take a walk with me?"

Sansa hardly considered what the prince had said. "I would."

She only felt as though her dream had come true.

Joffrey thoughtfully helped Sansa to her feet, then guided her step by step through the bustling, crowded aisle toward the great doors.

Many people noticed the scene at the edge of the high platform. Other than Eddard Stark, whose lips moved slightly, everyone merely cast teasing looks their way and smiled kindly.

Jon pondered Joffrey's true intentions.

Just as the two were about to cross through the doors, Jon heard the Crown Prince's voice.

"There is a place for you in King's Landing."

With that simple sentence, Jon remembered his conversation with the Crown Prince that afternoon.

King's Landing... Could I go to King's Landing too? Most of The Night's Watch are scum and criminals? What could I do in King's Landing?

His uncle Benjen Stark nudged him with an elbow.

"Jon, what are you thinking about?"

Jon hesitated. He had already decided to tell his uncle that he wanted to join The Night's Watch, but now...

"Nothing, Uncle."

Ghost gently nibbled at his hand. Jon stroked its fluffy fur and did not eat anything more.

Winterfell was especially quiet at this moment.

A single great door seemed to divide two worlds. Inside was lively and restless; outside was cold and lonely.

What a dark, solitary castle.

Sansa trembled slightly as she breathed out a puff of warm air, which turned to white mist and vanished in the frigid night.

Joffrey thoughtfully removed his woolen cloak and draped it over her.

The golden cloak bearing the Crowned Stag covered the cape embroidered with the Direwolf sigil, almost like the solemn cloak-changing ceremony at a wedding.

Surrounded by warmth and dreams, Sansa was intoxicated.

The mood was perfect. Joffrey held the dazed girl tightly, and the two nestled together in the ice and snow for warmth.

After an unknown amount of time, Sansa shyly came back to herself.

"Joffrey~"

She wanted to push Joffrey away, yet feared that her prince might misunderstand.

"Let's go back to the hall. It's so dark outside, I can't see anything. It's frightening."

Joffrey had no intention of wasting time at the feast.

He picked up a torch and wrapped his other arm around Sansa. "Don't be afraid. As long as I'm here, no strange creature will dare come near you. With no one else around, we can finally speak from the heart."

He could guarantee that he held absolute affection for Sansa.

A beautiful young girl who adored him, innocent and pure, with the powerful and ancient House Stark as her dowry—who would dare say he did not love Sansa?

The two walked slowly through the castle at night.

The snow beneath their feet made a steady crunching sound, while the torch crackled and illuminated a small patch of space around them.

Amid the silence and darkness, the two could feel each other's presence even more clearly.

Sansa had the illusion that the world was only this large, containing only two people deeply in love. I hope this path goes on forever.

They stopped in a sheltered corner beside a wall.

The faint fragrance from Sansa's auburn hair soon lingered around them.

Joffrey gazed deeply into the girl's sapphire-blue eyes.

"Sansa, when I first saw you, I thought I was looking upon a beautiful and noble princess. The North should not be the only one to have you. You should become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and let the whole world behold the splendor of true beauty."

Sansa's cheeks flushed, and her eyes shimmered like a clear spring. She felt as though she were in a dream.

Joffrey gently brushed the girl's long hair.

"The Gods have blessed us. My beautiful princess, our fathers have decided to betroth us. I feel nothing but heartfelt happiness."

"Sansa, the queen of love and beauty in my heart, will you be my wife?"

How could a girl who dreamed of love refuse?

"Oh, Gods! Joffrey, my prince, of course I will!"

Their eyes drew together, then shyly fled apart.

The two moved closer and closer.

Sansa felt the prince's scorching breath, his burning affection.

This can only be a beautiful dream.

The prince's lips pressed against hers. A numbing bolt of lightning surged through Sansa's entire body, scattering her thoughts until only the sensation at the tip of her tongue remained clear.

Sansa instantly lost all strength.

Before she could go completely limp, the prince's powerful arms wrapped around her, followed by an even fiercer storm.

She tasted the prince. Rich and fervent, brimming with vitality—the scent of Flames, the taste of steel, the mysterious touch of flesh and blood that tempted one toward a fall into hell.

A bewitching sensation beyond anything she could have imagined, even in her dreams.

This was not a dream.

As her consciousness blurred, she confirmed that undeniable fact. Her heart held only wild joy.

Gods bless us.

Let this moment last forever.