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Sansa had never really felt the icy tendrils of death before; yes, she knew the concept of it but she had never felt it actually affect her before. Yet, affect wasn't exactly the word that summed up her feelings. It wasn't like a large chunk of her life had been ripped to shreds - no, it was just having the knowledge that this person will never live again, scared her a little.

Sansa had small memories of Bobby Baratheon. He was never a large character in the on-going story of her life. For a small period of time (from when she was around five or six), Bobby Baratheon was "uncle Bobby" and Sansa generally associated him with beards and bear-hugs. Then, when she got to about six, he seemed to almost drop away from the Stark family. Sansa was too young to realise that her father had purposely put a distance between them - he had turned clean after all.

And thus, Sansa Stark, firstborn girl of the Stark family, found herself in a respectable black dress with her long cascades of fiery hair draped over one shoulder; trying to look every part, the mature adult that she subsequently wasn't.

A few eyebrows were even raised by the arrival of the Commissioner and his family - Ned Stark was notorious for how clean he was and the simple idea of him being in the mafia's pockets was too ludicrous for most to imagine. These people obviously didn't know the old friendship between the two men; a friendship that would be better described as brotherhood. It wasn't a commonly known fact that Ned Stark used to be in the mob - one couldn't even begin to imagine such a thing. Yet still, her father seemed to be sad in that solemn way she saw her brothers adapt to as they matured.

Her eyes shifted around their little merry band of family-bonds. Arya was still wrestling with her hair, much to her mother's annoyance and Bran's mild amusement. Rickon was silent, a little unusually. Robb reflected his father's iron-hard look of hiding his emotions. Robb didn't have his father's looks, so it looked a little weird to see a lack of that boyish smile of his. Jon, however, Jon looked precisely like her father so that he mirrored the emotions etched upon his face with a near, picture-perfect clarity.

When they were younger, Sansa heard some conflicting opinions on Jon. Robb immediately adopted him as a blood-brother (even if they were still half-brothers) and you would never hear him say a bad word about Jon. However, she also spent a large amount of her time around her mother, who had a whole plethora of bad things to say about her husband's extra-marital son. To Sansa, Jon was nice enough, if you could get him to open up - and there lay the problem; it was very hard to get someone to open up their bottled-up feelings.

She shook her head to shake the random thoughts from her mind as she turned to the grieving widow. Even when she was grieving for her dead husband - she still looked stunning to the young red-head. Sansa had saw her before - at parties and other things that Bobby invited Ned to. To Sansa, the new owner of the Baratheon estate and wealth, was beautiful and everything she ever wanted to be. Sansa was either too young or too innocent to see the dark looks that always festered in her eyes. Sansa was like that.

Her eyes were suddenly trailing another person. Shifting in her seat, she leaned past Robb, who was in deep conversation with Jon, and tried to catch sight of the stranger that was definitely not some old mafia boss. Not some old mafia boss by a long shot. The stranger was handsome and tall with a sharp look and an even sharper jaw. He couldn't have been older than twenty, at the least; a college boy? Suddenly sitting through a droll experience of watching, so called grievers, turned to subtly eying up a guy that was way out of her league. [i]One can dream Sansa[/i], she reminded herself with a sigh.

Sitting back down in her chair, she was thankful that her brothers didn't catch her openly staring at some guy; God, they would tease her for weeks. As usual, she subconsciously allowed her hand to trail up and take a soft strand of auburn hair between her fingers before curling it. Her eyes got caught up in Dark, Handsome Stranger's path and she couldn't help but notice the smile that was thrown towards her. Her cheeks instantly lit up with a fine blush as she subtly turned to check there wasn't anyone who looked remotely-pretty behind her.

After realising that there was no one pretty behind her, she turned back and felt her gaze run up to his. [i]God those eyes... catch a hold of yourself girl![/i] She snapped out of her dreamy state and gave him a disapproving look before fixing her posture. The audacity of him to be flirting with her at a funeral! Yet still, she couldn't help but let her eyes draw over to look at him before giving off a small smile. Silently, she thanked God that Jeyne wasn't here - she'd be flat out giggling at this point.