I hadn't slept at all the previous night. My room was too stuffy; the thick King's Landing summer air had come in and refused to leave. I was down to my small clothes and a sheet by the time my maid came to wake me. She pushed back the curtains on the window and let in the sunlight, only to find me awake with a book propped upon my lap and a candle burning low.

"Good morning Montira." I said dismissively, engrossed in my tome of Myrish history.

"My lady, did you sleep at all last night?" She asked through a sigh with her hands on her hips. I dismissed her concern with a grunt and a wave of my hand. Montira would have none of that, so she slammed my book closed and helped me out of my bed, despite my protestations.

She was helping me into a white and pink gown with cap sleeves and beautifully embroidered flowers about the bust when my brother knocked upon the door. I bid him enter and had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. He was dressed in Lannister red, as usual. He owned many different, beautifully colored tunics but he always insisted on wearing red. He didn't want to be disloyal.

"Good morning Lancel," I said in my most bored voice, picking at a loose string on my bodice. Unlike my cousins Cersei and Jaime, who were also twins, I held my brother in a rather negative regard. I loved him, he was my brother after all, but he was a simpering sycophant bending to the whim of whoever was in power. Just like our father. His employ as the King's cupbearer and squire didn't help. The King constantly berated him, calling him simple and making japes about his virginity. I luckily escaped being my cousin's handmaiden, as I once accidentally set her hair on fire. She had to cut it down to her shoulders and had hated me even more ever since. I had also spilled things on her dresses, couldn't sew to save my life, and had sneezed on her food more than once. I was left to my own devices after a month.

"Father and Uncle Tywin's vanguard is half a day's ride from the city. They should arrive mid-afternoon." He said tersely, sitting at my table across the room and helping himself to a piece of fried bread. We usually broke our fast together, to keep up the appearance that we enjoyed each other's company. This was King's Landing, appearances were everything.

His news excited me. I went and sat with him, choosing bacon and a scoop of eggs. We hadn't seen our father since we were eleven, when he sent us to live at court. Today was the eve of our seventeenth nameday, and he was coming to celebrate with us. Since our odious cousin Joffrey's nameday was at the end of the week, our uncle was coming as well to celebrate and attend the grand tourney and ball the King had insisted upon.

It wasn't my nameday or my father's visit that excited me, it was the tourney and the grand parties that went along with it. I enjoyed the joust well enough, but it was the swordplay competition that I loved. The big, strong men throwing hunks of metal at lithe, young partners excited me in more ways than one. At seventeen and still unwed, I knew my father would soon pair me with a valiant young knight we saw at the tourney this week. Perhaps Loras Tyrell, the knight of flowers. He was handsome and incredibly talented with both lance and sword.

"I do hope father will make you a marriage pact soon." Lancel commented between bites of his third piece of fried bread. We had always had a certain connection as twins, much like our famous cousins.

"And why is that, dear brother?" I asked with a certain amount of venom in my voice. Montira busied herself with tidying my chambers with the help of her little daughter, Tonette.

"A husband will tame your wild ways. Make you more ladylike." His comment irked me.

"Need I remind you that I've been at court just as long as you have? We even had the same septa as children." I took a dainty sip of coffee and dabbed at my mouth with my napkin.

"Yes, but you've always been rebellious. You lock yourself in the library for days on end, you insist on practicing your mummer's tumbling…the lords and ladies of court are not kind." He said, the last part barely above a whisper. I rolled my eyes and slumped down in my chair while spreading my legs, sitting like a common man would. "That's exactly what I mean, Marlowe. You act spitefully every time I bring this up."

"Then stop bringing it up." I sat properly again and waved my hand at him, "You may go now, Lancel."

He pursed his lips and nodded, reminding me that I should be at the gate when Father arrived. I watched him go, and then rolled my head to the side, looking at Montira and Tonette. They were still stripping my large bed.

"Montira, am I not ladylike enough?" I asked casually.

"Of course you are, my lady. You're a beautiful, mannered, learned lady. Any man would be lucky to call himself your husband." She had heard this question many times before, and the response sprang to her lips almost instantly now.

I sighed and moved to my vanity and let Tonette brush my hair while her mother finished stripping my bed and did away with my dishes. The girl was no older than six, with pitch-black hair and eerily dark eyes. Her face was almost a perfect circle with her little features evenly spaced about it. She would grow into a beauty, I was sure of it. She kept her eyes on my hair as she brushed it and didn't speak until her mother came back and dismissed her to her lessons with the septa.

I had Montira keep my hair simple, with a long blonde triple braid running down my back. I thought the hair in the capitol was a little silly-looking and overly ornate.

I struggled to remember what my uncle looked like. It wasn't really his arrival I was looking forward to; it was my cousin Tyrion's. He and I had been the closest of cousins since I was five years old. He was fourteen, but still only about an inch taller than myself. He was my size, so I persisted until we became close friends. When I was seven he taught me how to tumble, and I continued with it most every day since. We kept in touch with ravens, communicating at least every fortnight.

In addition to my dress, I added a necklace my father had sent me from Casterly Rock on my previous nameday. It was a gold chain with a gold lion's head pendant, with emeralds where the eyes should be and an amber mane. I had worn it once before, on the day I'd received it. I wasn't much a fan of jewelry; I was much fonder of books.

When Montira finished my hair I picked up my book and told her to bring my lunch to the library around midday, and to fetch me when my father entered the city. I spent the afternoon in the library in my favorite place, an overstuffed armchair covered with soft bear's fur. I slung my legs over one arm and rested my back against the other and dove headfirst back into Maester Effret's History of Myr. The Maester had written some of my favorite tomes about the Free Cities. I devoured his Pentoshi Origins and Braavos in An Historical Perspective. He described each city with such rich detail that I could smell the spices in the air and feel the hard red brick beneath my feet. I heard the calls from the market, tasted their delicacies, and marveled at their buildings without having to step foot outside the Red Keep, however much I wanted to. It was my escape.

My deepest wish was for my father to fund a tour of the Free Cities for me, maybe even as far as Qarth. I wanted to go before I was to be married, but I knew that would never happen. My father wouldn't think it proper for me to go by myself. I had once asked my cousin Jaime if he would escort me. That earned me a hearty laugh and a pat on the head from my king slaying cousin. "The realm couldn't spare its greatest fighter for that long." He joked as he ruffled my hair.

I had just reached the chapter on the accidental discovery of glassmaking when Montira entered with my lunch. Some soft-boiled eggs and the breast of honeyed chicken with carrots and peas.

"What news of my father's arrival?" I asked, taking a sip of sweet red wine she had snuck up for me.

"Only about an hour now. They are riding fast at Lord Tywin's request." She reported.

I rolled my eyes, "Of course they are. My father can't wait to see what an embarrassment I've become."

"Your father is eager to see you. It has been five years since he's seen his oldest children." Montira was much more forgiving of my father's gutlessness than I was, always rationalizing it away.

"Yes, I'm sure that's it." Sarcasm filled my voice as I pushed my plate away, downing the rest of the wine.

"Careful, my lady, we don't want that going to your head too quickly." She said, taking the goblet away from me. I smiled and thought of my father's face if I greeted him after five years slobbering drunk. He would marry me to the nearest lordling just to be rid of me.

"Thank you, Montira. I will be heading out to the yard until my father arrives." I stood from my chair and moved to put Maester Effret's book back on the shelf. I would finish it another time.

"Going to watch the knights?" she teased. I stuck my tongue out at her as we left the library together.

It was a cloudy day, but the sky still shone blue through the thick, puffy clouds. I watched my cousin Jaime slap around a young squire before he went to bathe before his father arrived. He smiled my way and nodded, and I nodded back.

I continued watching while the squires practiced their swordplay, parrying and lunging and thrusting their swords at each other, hoping one day to be as good as my cousin. I watched until I heard a commotion coming from the general direction of the main gate, and then gathered up my skirts and ran for the gate.

I arrived, out of breath and flushed, just as the portcullis was being lifted. I took my place next to my brother and tried to slow my heartbeat. I couldn't tell anymore if it was the excitement or the run that made me breathe as heavily as I was. I could feel my Queen cousin's disapproving look without even seeing it.

My Uncle Tywin was first, riding a beautiful stallion draped in red, escorted by my cousin Jaime in his valiant white armor. I felt sympathetic towards the horses, draped in red felt on this hot day. My father followed, always his brother's second-in-command. I couldn't help but smile when he disembarked from his mare and walked straight at my brother and I. He took us in his arms, one in each, as he had when we were small. I could see the tears brimming his eyes as he held us at arm's length and took each of us in.

"Lancel…you're so tall." He said, looking to me. "And Marlowe. You've grown into a beauty to rival your cousin."

I smiled as I saw the Queen bristle at my father's comment, "I do hope you mean my cousin Jaime. If Her Grace heard you say that your head would soon don a spike."

"And sharp-witted, too. We shall have no trouble making you a match, shall we?" He kissed my forehead before turning his full attention to Lancel. "Lancel, you must tell me all about your progress as the King's squire."

My Uncle came up behind him before my brother could answer, "Kevan, we have matters to discuss. Come."

Our father gave us each a kiss before following his brother off in the direction of the Tower of the Hand. What business they had with Jon Arryn, I had no clue. I didn't have time to ponder what before I felt a tug at my skirt. I turned around and smiled at the sight of my cousin Tyrion standing with his arms outstretched.

"My dearest Marlowe! You grace me with the vision that is your smile!" he exclaimed.

"I fought it as hard as I could, dear cousin, but alas I could not conquer it." I giggled and tried to stifle my grin. I bent down and hugged my favorite cousin.

"Well isn't this a sight? She's two-thirds your age and thrice as tall." A female voice chortled from behind us. I stood and faced my queen cousin, who had once been the most beautiful woman in Westeros, some said the entire world. Age had begun to rob her of this beauty, so she often lashed out on me and other maidens at court. Jealousy, thy name be Cersei Lannister.

"Thrice? The girl is no giant. Now you, on the other hand, sweet sister…" He trailed off as Cersei gave him a venomous look before striding after her father.

I immediately took Tyrion up to the library for some quiet. We each sat in a chair with a book, reading quietly until Montira entered and said that my father wanted to see me. She led me to the chamber of the Small Council, which confused me. Neither my father nor my uncle sat on the council, why should they call me here?

We entered and saw my father, uncle, Lord Varys, Lord Renly, the King (who looked incredibly bored), and the Queen sitting at the far end of the table.

"Come here, Marlowe. Sit down." My uncle said forcefully.

"Where is Lord Arryn?" I asked out of plain curiosity, taking a seat between the King's brother and Lord Varys.

"He has taken ill, which is why I've been forced to sit here and talk tedium with your blasted family." The King fumed. I could see Cersei tense.

"This is a matter of great import, dear husband. And it involves your friends. You should be glad we included you." I had once seen a mummer's show where one performer walked along a tense rope twenty feet above our heads. The rope looked so tight that it could snap at any second. Cersei's voice sounded tighter.

"Just get on with it, then!" King Robert half-near roared.

"Yes, Your Grace. Marlowe, you turn seventeen on the morrow, correct?" My uncle asked and I nodded before he continued, "It is high time you were married. And since we have been seeking to win the loyalty of House Stark as more than just Robert's long-ago bannermen, we have decided to propose a marriage pact between you and their eldest boy, Robb. The ravens have already been sent to Winterfell."

I was speechless and my eyes were wide. I could feel all their eyes on me, expecting me to respond. It was a few moments before I could think of something.

"Well…if the ravens are already gone, I have no say in the matter. Thank you for letting me know." I rose and my father put his hand on mine.

"My dear, the North is not so bad. It is a wonderful match, you should feel lucky." He looked up at me with his washed-out pale green eyes and I pulled my hand away.

"If the boy looks anything like his father, count yourself lucky. Ned was the best-looking of damn near all of us. And don't get me started on Catelyn Tully!" The King chortled from his chair.

"Why not Myrcella? Surely a distinguished house like the Starks would prefer to have a princess than the Queen's cousin? Why not pledge Joffrey to one of their daughters?" I asked, trying my best to hide the panic in my voice.

"Myrcella is too young to be sent away. And since she may someday rule the Seven Kingdoms, she must remain here to learn how. You, on the other hand, are expendable." My cousin snapped at me, turning up her chin and looking smug.

"Lord Stark has made it clear that his daughters will not leave Winterfell before they've flowered. At least, not without their father." Lord Varys explained in his sickly sweet tone as placed a hand on my arm. I pulled it away and bowed quickly.

"Thank you, Lord Varys. Please excuse me." I left quickly and heard my cousin's tone of disapproval from outside the door, but I didn't hear her exact words.

I waited until I was in my bedroom with the door locked to burst into tears. The North! They might as well ship me to Slaver's Bay and sell me to the highest bidder. Maybe I would get to see the Wall, and I'd read about the fort of Winterfell and the overall beauty of the North, but I'd also read about the cold. How it could so easily kill and maim. I was born during the last winter, and could not remember it so well.

Montira knocked and I let her in. She carried my dress for the evening's feast in her arms, a long crimson frock with a large Lannister lion embroidered on the back in gold. She helped me into it and laced up the back, offering some cool water to help calm my red, swollen face. I accepted. While she went to get it, I undid my long braid and shook out my hair. A knock came at my door and I answered. It was Tyrion, looking rather solemn.

"I have heard about your betrothal." He said as I let him in.

"The North, Tyrion! What could be worse than that?" I asked, slumping into my vanity chair.

"There are many worse places I can think of. Here, for example." He said only half-joking.

"And why is that?"

"The Starks have been weathering winter since the First Men. They do it better than anyone. And with my sweet sister and King Robert at the helm, I imagine the stores of King's Landing will run short rather quickly. Both are awfully fond of overindulgence."

"Yes, I know." I murmured. He waddled over to me and took my hand, looking me in the eye.

"There are worse things than marriage. And besides, I've heard the lad is quite comely." He patted my knee and for the first time that afternoon I felt comforted.

I nodded, "I've heard so too. Our children shall be beautiful, if they don't turn into icicles first." I smiled and so did he as he kissed my hand.

"That's the spirit! Now come, let us get intolerably drunk and give our fathers something else to hate us for!"

"But cousin, have you had your afternoon whore? You simply can't function without one!" I teased him and he smiled, going along with my jape.

"I have decided to postpone my afternoon whore. I will take two evening whores instead. See you at the feast, sweet Marlowe!" He said, cartwheeling out the door and away down the hall.

I stayed in my room another few minutes for Montira to return and fix my hair. As I left my room, I splashed some water on my face and sighed. It was bracingly cold, and I wondered if the cold was all I had to look forward to.

"Winter is coming."


Author's note!

Hey all! This is my first Game of Thrones story and I'm excited to share it with you! Please review! I'd hate to be that person, but I'd like at least five reviews before I put a new chapter up!

Thanks!