2 Arriving At Winterfell

You can look at a map all you want. Memorize ever location in Westeros and know ever keep, castle and rundown town from the deepest south all the way up until the furthest point north.

Yet none of it will prepare you for how bloody big Westeros is.

A bit of trivia I remember from my previous life is that Westeros is about the same size as the whole of South America. On a map, it looks similar in size to Britain, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Which meant, I'd been riding on the back of a horse for the past month. All because mother wanted some fancy carriage that weighed more than it should have and had such shit suspension, the already slow speed had to be slowed even further to stop it from falling apart on the rougher roads of the North.

Which led to a week long trip - two weeks if you took your time - turning into a month long trip. Luxury comes at a price, I guess.

Alas, the month was up and we'd arrived.

We rode through Winter Town, through the gates of Winterfell and into the inner courtyard where there was a crowd waiting for us. Northern folk don't really like anyone from the south and that was quite apparent as all that met us were indifferent faces or even scowls on especially confident people.

Seeing Joffrey ahead of me, I spurred my horse to catch up to his and rode by his side. Looking over at him, he seemed about ready to explode in anger at the perceived slight. Grabbing his attention, quite literally, I jabbed his shoulder lightly and his head spun toward my direction so quick I thought he might twist his own head off.

If only I were so lucky. Sibling hatred aside, he reined himself back in a little when he saw my serious look and I overtook his horse but not before speaking under my breath in a whisper only he could hear, "Don't embarrass us with your tantrums, brother. Or else."

Leaving the threat hanging in the air, my horse overtook his and I came up right behind the leading Kingsguard - my uncle, Jaime. Or my biological father. I prefer calling him the former, honestly.

Soon after, we came to a stop and I looked to the front line of the people greeting us.

While the rest of the procession came through the gates, first my mother's carriage and then the King himself, I took in the appearances of the people in front of me.

As you'd expect, everyone looked much older. Jon and Robb were both fully matured, older than me by a year. Which made them 19-years-old, for reference. Sansa was only a year younger, probably being conceived shortly after Ned Stark returned from the Rebellion as a way to appease Catelyn after Ned came back with Jon in his arms.

Arya, Bran and Rickon were 11, 10 and 5, respectively.

If there's one thing I must say, it's that rumors didn't do either Catelyn or Sansa any justice. Both the redheads were absolutely stunning. Sansa even more so than her mother. When I caught her glancing toward me, I looked toward her and smiled before giving her a wink that sent her blushing red like an apple and averting her gaze from me. Robb and Jon had seen me do it, taking turns glaring at me and looking to see if Ned Stark had seen my actions but nothing came of it and I dismounted my horse just as the King did so.

Everyone in attendance kneeled and went through the motions as the 6'6" fat King walked over to Ned. Even from here I could smell the wine on his breath, so I could only imagine how pungent it was for the Starks.

A not so subtle hand gesture from the King and Ned raised from his kneeling position, followed by everyone else.

What followed was exactly what happened in canon. Robert and Ned had a bit of a laugh, Robert hugged Catelyn, ruffled Rickon's hair, shook hands with Robb, complimented Sansa's beauty in a surprisingly non-creepy way, asked Arya for her name and joked around with Bran. Nothing really changed, except he looked over to Joffrey and I before gesturing somewhat urgently for us to come over with his head.

Unclasping the sheathed heavy claymore from my side and the two longswords from my other side, and I placed them in a bundle on my horse's saddle before walking toward the Starks. I did so as a sign of respect - of politeness. I was showing I trusted them enough that I needed no weapon.

...Of course, there were dozens of armed guards ready to attack any who threatened the royal family, but it's the thought that counts.

And the slight appreciation in Ned's eyes as I approached told me I'd made the right call.

Joffrey being Joffrey did no such thing and approached shortly behind me, his hand lazily resting against the pommel of his uselessly expensive sword. It was of good make and made by a renowned blacksmith...but the price had been hiked up a few thousand dragons purely because Joffrey wanted it bejeweled with rubies and emeralds. A waste of money and it ruined a good blacksmiths sword.

Walking up beside my 'father', he slapped me on the back before addressing Ned, "One of my eldest, Tommen. Just like me back in my prime, ay?" he laughed boisterously, gesturing up and down at my body.

Through whatever you may call it, I grew to be the same height as Robert is, which made me 6'6". Nothing compared to the giants Sandor and Gregor Clegane but more than enough to tower over normal people.

Except where father had a pot belly and an aging body, I had a body just reaching it's prime. I was tall, hard with muscle wrought from intense exercise and genetics, broad-shouldered and blessed with very handsome features. I was a walking ego trip for the King who thought I was truly his biological son. I'll admit, I do feel bad for him at times like these but who am I to rain on his parade? Not to mention that doing so would ensure my head getting put on a spike.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark. Father has only spoken good words," I complimented as I held out a hand that Ned gladly took, "Though he did mention a few embarrassing stories from your youth. I hope you forgive me but I did laugh about the one where he put eels in your bathwater," I chuckled and after realizing what I said, Ned laughed along with me and so did Robert.

Taking back his hand after giving me a firm handshake, Ned looked to Robert and smiled, "He's took after your joking nature, hasn't he?"

As those two swapped verbal barbs, I turned to Catelyn and gave a small bow.

"Lady Stark, it's a pleasure to meet you also," I smiled at her, my small bow only really putting us around eye level because of our height disparity. In return to my greeting, Catelyn curtsied to me while smiling politely, but I could already tell she didn't like me all that much. Probably because of my resemblance to the Lannisters - of which I was sadly a pure 100% Lannister, so I can't really fault her for that quick judgment.

Turning to the left and walking a few steps beyond Ned and my father, I was face to face with Robb. He took more after his mom than his dad in terms of appearance - he had auburn hair, Tully blue eyes and a robust, stocky frame rather than the lean one his father sported. He was taller than his father as well, at about 6'2"/6'3". Which meant we could see somewhat eye-to-eye.

I put my hand out, wanting to keep the whole situation civil if not for future success, then in the spirit of keeping the current situation from souring and turning awkward.

"Robb Stark," I said, followed by a nod, "Maybe we can go hunting in the Wolfswood during my stay here? I've heard there are stags abound in these parts. Wolves too. The two of us should fit right in," I joked, cracking a humorous smile which Robb surprisingly returned.

"Aye, we can do. I'll teach you how real men hunt," he said with a competitive tone, though I took no offence from it. Honestly, I was just surprised he was treating me so well after he caught me winking at his sister.

Chuckling at his words, I nodded, remembering to hold him to the promise. I didn't want to wither away up in the North without doing anything, and hunting some prized game seemed like the perfect way to spend my energy. Finally, I turned and walked in front of Sansa. I can honestly say it was the first time I'd felt my heartbeat speed up outside of training or fucking.

It wasn't love at first sight or any of that crap. I'm no naive boy who thinks that sort of thing is possible. But she truly was a sight to behold.

Auburn hair a shade lighter than her mother's, making it light enough that it shimmered like copper under the scarce sunlight from above. Her eyes were an almost unnaturally vivid blue, and they looked like the seas of Dorne - sparkly and full of warmth.

I must admit that I truly was taken aback by just how underplayed the rumors were.

Her face was beautiful, with full pinkish red lips, a straight nose, lovely almond-shaped eyes, unblemished pale skin--I couldn't find an imperfection on her face.

Luckily, I had extremely fast reaction speed. Which meant all these thoughts of mine didn't make it so I was just staring dumbly at her face - which would've been supremely awkward. So, in the spirit of that never happening, I put on my best smile and took Sansa's hand before bending down and kissing the back of it. All in all, an extremely straight forward way of showing respect and interest in a woman. At least by Westerosi standards.

"The rumors I'd heard about your beauty did it no justice, Lady Sansa," I brought myself back up, though I held her hand for a second longer as I saw her flush even redder than she had when I winked at her. I felt her pulse skyrocket through contact with her hand and finally let it go when I saw her staring starry eyed up at me, "I'm in awe at it," I frankly told her, only flustering her more.

...Okay, that's a pretty good start. So, Tommen, don't fuck this up. You've got something good going on here.

What am I doing? Trying to get a wife, I guess.

As I pulled back, I caught a few stares aimed at me. Most importantly Catelyn, Ned and Robert, who were all showing different reactions due to my obvious courting of Sansa. Catelyn seemed taken aback, Ned was scanning with his eyes like he was a UAV, and Robert just smiled and looked somewhat proud.

Joffrey was getting zero attention as well, and he looked about ready to pop a vein in his forehead when people turned to look back to him.

Wearing a smug smile, he didn't shake hands or bow to anyone. He just nodded to people.

...And one day he's going to wonder why nobody will love or support him? Arrogant prick.

Either way, conversations continued before Robert began to get impatient and practically ordered Ned to take him to the Stark Crypt. Though not before he gave one last look between Sansa and I. After this, we all dispersed.

The Starks going about their business, while the guards and servants got back to doing their jobs. Myself and Jaime were tasked with finding my other uncle, while the rest of my family were escorted to where they'd be staying until the feast that was planned for tonight. I already knew where Tyrion was, but even without the foreknowledge, I'd know exactly where to check. Same goes for Jaime.

Which is why, after some directions off of a nearby servant, we arrived at the local whorehouse.

Upon entering, the two of us got more than our fair share of lusty glances, with some particularly aggressive women calling out for us to join them for a few rounds. If I hadn't just met a woman dozens of times prettier than all of them, I might have just accepted their offer.

But, alas, I was on a mission and my uncle was an incestuous pervert, so no offers were accepted and we gave them a few stags to tell us what room Tyrion was in. Or, as Jaime so poetically put, where's the Dwarf with the blond hair.

Within moments, we were in the room with my uncle being straddled by a whore. He looked from underneath her and rolled his eyes, while the woman looked a bit stunned by who she was seeing.

A Prince and a member of the Kingsguard suddenly barging into her room? This must be one of her top five fantasies.

"Do neither of you not understand what a closed door in a whorehouse means?" he complained without any real heat in his voice, to which the woman laughed as she rolled off of him and to the side while Jaime just shook his head and headed over to a pitcher of wine where he poured himself a cup.

"I come with good news, brother," Jaime started before smirking at me, "Our nephew has finally found a girl who fits his standards. He started courting Sansa Stark as soon as he laid his eyes on her," he turned to me, as did Tyrion, a wide smile across his face, "Tell me, nephew, did you rehearse the lines? Or did you come up with them on the spot?"

Rolling my eyes at these two, I gave a nonchalant smile, "As much as I enjoy being the target of your verbal teasing, my dear uncles, can we not diverge from the matter at hand?" I said before looking to Tyrion, "Mother wants you at the feast by sundown. If you're late, she really might kill you," Tyrion deadpanned me before turning to Jaime who conceded and gave a nod, showing what I said was the truth.

"But this is just--"

"--The first of many courses, I know," I interrupted Tyrion and brought my hand to my mouth and performed a wolf whistle, "You'll have to do a bit of speed 'eating', uncle," I laughed as a trio of scantily clad women rushed into the room and toward Tyrion.

Jaime warned him of being late once more and then we left, on our way back to Winterfell. I was in need of a very thorough bath for tonight's feast.

Huh, would you look at that? This is the first time I've been excited for a feast in years.

I guess canon starting really is making this whole thing more exciting.