Chapter 1

The dancers twirled with gaiety as copious amounts of wine flowed and laughter and chatter rose all around her in the Great Hall. Sansa tapped her toes in time to the music and watched everyone celebrate. Her own heart was light because she felt joy for Margaery who had just birthed her first daughter. Margaery and Joffrey had produced several little princes over the last few years, so a princess was treated as a delicate, precious addition to the crown.

Margaery was not there. She was still abed after the recent birth of her daughter, but Joffrey was there. For once, Sansa thought he looked genuinely joyful. Margaery had tempered the cruel streak in his temperament over the past four years, but he had still grown into a difficult-to-manage man. The only time Sansa had ever seen him look truly happy was immediately after Margaery gave him a new baby. She wondered what Cersei thought of the baby's name: Margaery Olenna. Sansa tucked a little smile away because she knew it must grate dreadfully on her sister-in-law's nerves.

"Enjoying the feast?" asked Joffrey pleasantly enough as he stopped at Sansa and Tyrion's table.

"Yes, your Grace. I wish Princess Margaery Olenna a long and happy life," said Sansa.

"She's quite beautiful, isn't she?" asked Joffrey. Fatherly pride erased his hard edge for just a moment.

"I saw her last night, "said Sansa. "There's never been a more beautiful princess."

"She has Margaery's face and hair, but she'll have Lannister eyes," said Joffrey. A smile broke through the harsh lines of his pinched face. "The Queen adores her as do I."

"Every lord in every kingdom will fight for her hand. I trust your Grace will choose wisely and well when the time comes," said Sansa.

Joffrey waved at a Lannister cousin and departed. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. It was somehow worse to deal with Joffrey in a good mood than a bad one. It was easy to manage his foul tempers, but a rare happy mood was harder to navigate. She never knew when it might dissolve and she'd have to face twice the wrath he normally showered upon her.

She noticed that Tyrion hadn't said a word to her or Joffrey throughout the entire exchange. She glanced at him. He stared off, not really seeing the party. Several empty goblets of wine sat before him, and he motioned for another to be brought to him.

"Leave the entire tray," he commanded the serving girl.

Tyrion drank a lot these days, reflected Sansa. He'd always drunk far too much, but over the last year, he seemed to be breaking records.

"The baby is really beautiful," she said to him. "I didn't compliment her for Joffrey's benefit. She's absolutely lovely."

Tyrion grunted, a noncommittal noise designed to make her think he was listening when he wasn't. He didn't even slide his eyes her way.

Stunned, Sansa couldn't remember the last time they had exchanged words.

"Are you feeling well, my lord?" asked Sansa.

Tyrion didn't answer her. He picked up a goblet of wine and drained it. After he'd licked the last drops of wine from his lips, he picked up a second goblet and drained it as well.

"Have I done something to offend you, my lord?" asked Sansa.

Suddenly, he turned to look at her. Sansa couldn't remember the last time they'd made eye contact with each other. There were layers of gloom, anger, and sadness in his large green eyes. The smile he plastered on his tanned face was unconvincing.

"Everything is as it always was, my lady," he replied.

Sansa shrank in on herself, unbelieving. They had been married for four years now, and she'd never witnessed such aloof, distant behavior out of him. True, they had never consummated their marriage, let alone kissed again after their wedding, but Tyrion had always played the role of husband gallantly in public—even if they never spoke at home. He'd not even mentioned her eighteenth nameday last week whereas before he'd always remembered to present her with a small gift out of duty.

Cersei came over to the table, more out of a sense of obligation than out of any true warmth toward them, but Sansa was thankful for the timely interruption.

"Your Grace," said Sansa.

"I was beginning to think I'd never get a granddaughter," said Cersei. "She's a living doll. I see a good bit of Myrcella in her."

Sansa didn't mind Cersei anymore. She didn't care for Cersei, but she was no longer intimidated by her. After the indignity of being married to Loras, a young man who refused to bed her, Cersei had busied herself with Jaime and their grandchildren. Cersei's humiliation at being married to a man who was repulsed by her had erased most of the court's fascination regarding Sansa's unconsummated marriage to Tyrion.

Sansa looked long and hard at her sister-in-law. It was strange that the two of them had anything in common, but there they were: two women who were more or less political prisoners, wedded in name but not the bed.

"I think she has Myrcella's eyes," said Sansa, feeling genuine enthusiasm. Myrcella had been a sweet girl, and her death by poisoning had nearly killed Cersei. "That is to say that she has your eyes, your Grace. Myrcella looked just like you."

"That is very kind of you to say," said Cersei. For just a fraction of a second, she smiled a true smile. Sansa thought she saw her sister-in-law's eyes tear up. "So few people speak of Myrcella. It's healing when people remember her. She did no one wrong. She was simply sweetness."

Sansa felt a moment of genuine pity, and she tried to push it away. She disliked humanizing her sister-in-law, but she also knew that Cersei had lost most of her power to Margaery. Cersei had fallen low, and with Margaery taking up all of Joffrey's spare time and providing him with so many heirs, it was difficult for Cersei to even see her son.

"Perhaps I will see you in the king and queen's chambers," said Sansa. "I intend to visit the little princess regularly. It's hard not to be jealous of Margaery and Joffrey with such a perfect baby. I'd love to have a baby like the princess."

"Perhaps." Cersei grew uncomfortable and smiled her old, brittle smile, and the moment between them passed. "Tyrion, aren't you even going to speak?"

"Your Grace," he said absently.

"How much wine have you had?" asked Cersei as she took in the empty goblets before him in horror.

"Not nearly enough," Tyrion replied.

Cersei gave Sansa a slightly concerned look before leaving them be, and then Loras came over to their table to ask Sansa for a dance.

"Do you mind, my lord?" asked Sansa.

"Have I ever?" asked Tyrion, reaching for another glass.

Loras led her into the throng of dancers, and soon they were in the midst of a celebration that Sansa didn't feel. Loras looked angry with a red flush upon his cheeks and a furrowed brow.

"Is everyone in bad spirits this afternoon?" asked Sansa.

"I wish I were dead," he whispered in her ear.

"Loras! Why?"

"Lord Tywin is at me again," he whispered.

"How?"

He bent closer to her ear, so close that his breath tickled her. "He says that if I don't consummate my marriage to Cersei, he's going to see to it that I become a eunuch so that I can't enjoy myself with anyone else."

"Loras!"

"He's just mad enough to do it, too."

Sansa couldn't dispute that. Lord Tywin was just mad enough to do that to Loras. It would come cleverly: an accident at a tourney or perhaps a fall from a horse in a dangerous place. If Tywin had threatened it, he had already come up with a masterplan to make it real.

"Oh, Loras!" said Sansa in sympathy.

"I suppose I shall have to find a way to do my duty," said Loras between grit teeth.

Sansa was astonished that Lord Tywin hadn't treated her own marriage in similar fashion, but the truth was that with Margaery always having another baby and with Joffrey needing lots of small council help to successfully rule, Lord Tywin didn't have much time to manipulate people. Sansa felt that the only reason he was ignoring her and Tyrion's sham marriage was because he was distracted by Cersei's own marital humiliation.

"I'm very sorry," said Sansa.

The dance ended, and he thanked her heartily and bowed. Suddenly feeling very tired, Sansa turned to look for Tyrion. She supposed it was as good a time as any to depart the party, but with equal parts surprise and dismay, Sansa saw that Tyrion had already left the celebration.