Sansa had never much admired the knights of the Kingsguard the way Bran had. There was the odd tale she liked of course, the stories and songs of Dragonknight and his sister the Queen foremost amongst them. Yet she had never had a chance to see them up close before King Robert had come to call, and one of them caught her attention more than others. The Lion of Lannister, he was called, and Sansa was able to ignore his other title easily enough. Aerys had been wicked; he had murdered her aunt and uncle and lord grandfather, and if he had not been killed Sansa would not be wedding a prince, just the heir to Storm's End. But of course Joffrey was so handsome and perfect and courtly that she loved him for him, not his title. Being Queen one day was just something that made it all the more splendid.
Joffrey looked like his uncle more than his father, and for that she was glad--her Joffrey would not be a fat old drunk when he was old and in his thirties. Sansa told herself it was that though that drew her eye to Ser Jaime when he walked Winterfell, always being gallant and offering his sister his arm. They were so alike. Sansa had decided that she would give Joffrey twins when they were wed, and she was so caught in her daydreams she did not notice that the queen's attention had fallen on her. For a moment Sansa thought she saw some irritation in the Queen's green gaze. But then it was gone, and Sansa decided she must have imagined it. They all had such pretty eyes, the Lannisters; emerald jewel tones and so becoming. Sansa wondered if her eyes were at all sapphire-like, but no-one had ever said so. Were her mother's, she wondered? Everyone said she had Mother's look. And then she realised she was not paying attention, and flushed as Queen Cersei drew her attention by informing her that Joffrey wanted to spend a moment with her. She was giddy at the very idea, and it was all the more wonderful that Queen Cersei asked Ser Jaime to escort her. She entirely missed the look Jaime shot his sister, but he did offer her his arm.
Sansa took it and they made their way along the upper bailey. She had no idea where Joffrey might be, but his uncle clearly did. Sansa glanced at him and sighed happily; one day she would look like Mother, Joffrey would look like Jaime, and they would have children with sun and fire in their hair and emerald and sapphire eyes. Ser Jaime stared at her, and she blushed. "Have you found Winterfell to your liking?" she asked the knight, hoping a courtesy would make her seem less foolish. There was a pause and Ser Jaime was smiling when he answered her, which she thought was good. "It's to His Grace's liking," he almost drawled, "and that is what matters, is it not my lady?"
Sansa could see how that was true, and even if not she would hardly argue. "The King is happy to be here, I hope," she ventured, "and we are both happy and honoured to receive him."
She could not read the expression on Ser Jaime's face and when he told her, "You're certainly a happy one," she did not know what to make of that either.
It was hardly a criticism so she smiled again. "You're kind to say so, Ser, and kind to accompany me."
"Yes," said Ser Jaime, his smile obvious, "I'm known for my kindness--amongst my many other virtues."
Sansa knew at once she had said something wrong, but he seemed more amused than offended. She hadn't meant to be silly or funny and she did not like being laughed at, yet she was clearly at fault. "Joffrey says so," she said helplessly and unconvincingly, even to her own ears. Whatever was said about Ser Jaime, he was loyal to King Robert, and more importantly he was kin to the Queen and Joffrey, and Sansa would do much to earn his good opinion.
But it was too late. As they rounded a corner, Sansa found herself for once wishing for a moment away from her betrothed so she might better charm Ser Jaime. And Joffrey had the Hound with him; she wished he would have a proper guard, a whitecloak or a knight, for looking at the Hound's face made her feel ill. Worse still, Ser Jaime was still mocking her, and releasing her arm, he bowed to Joffrey.
"Thank you for your kind words, nephew," he said with an amused glance at Sansa. She blushed, but Ser Jaime left before Joffrey could demand an explanation.
"Come, Lady Sansa," Joff said taking her arm. "My father speaks of winter roses when he is in his cups and it's only fitting you show me."
Sansa was so relieved he had not questioned his uncle's words that she would have shown Joff the stables or the crypts if he asked, but the glass gardens were pretty. "Glady, my lord," she said. "The winter roses are the most marvellous shade of blue, and they may even be blooming now." Joffrey took her arm and Sansa did not even care that the Hound followed them as long as he stayed behind and out of sight. He could watch them just as well from there.