Chapter Seven: Your Secrets In My Skin
A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers as always! Sorry for the pestering author's note – I wanted to put it at the beginning of the chapter but this wasn't done yet. But if you haven't, please please PLEASE check out the link to the Games of Thrones Christmas 2012 Awards o my profile. Also, this chapter is rated M for a sex scene in Robb's part.
Lyandra couldn't deny the fear coursing through her veins as she remained on her knees before Joffrey and his mother, Cersei. She kept her head down, for in truth she worried what she might see in their eyes. Was she already condemned? Perhaps Robb's concerns had been right. Maybe she too would lose her head, like her father before her. Lyandra forcibly pushed away the thought and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. She just wanted to see her sisters. That was all. She just needed to know that they were alive.
"I say we have her executed." Joffrey practically spat the words. Lyandra tensed and she couldn't help the panic that flared within her. Her instincts told her to get up and run, but could not and would not. She was a she-wolf, and she would not flee from her fate. She raised her head, slowly, uncertainly. Joffrey stared down at her with icy eyes. "Just like her traitor father and traitor brother."
"Joffrey, don't be absurd." Cersei's voice was calmer, more reasonable. She watched Lyandra with as much hatred as her son, and there was no mercy in those green eyes. However – perhaps there could still be a chance. "We can't have her killed, she has committed no crimes. She will remain here with her sister Sansa. She has sworn fealty. You can't execute her."
Joffrey scowled, displeased. Lyandra was rather grateful for Cersei's presence, her constant whispering in her son's ear, for otherwise she supposed she would be sent out to meet the executioner as well. Weak with relief, Lyandra staggered to her feet when Joffrey motioned for her to rise. A cold smile cut across Cersei's face.
"Perhaps it is time for the Stark sisters to be reunited. Sansa, dear. You may come out."
Lyandra glanced around wildly, suppressing a cry of delight when she noticed her lovely younger sister tentatively making her way out from behind a pillar, where she had no doubt been watching and listening to the entire thing. Sansa hurried across to Lyandra – in a dignified fashion, of course – and flung her arms around her older sister. Lyandra realised that her little sister was as tall as she was now. Nonetheless, she clung to Sansa with protective arms, unwilling to let her go.
"Lyandra? Why are you here?" Sansa inquired.
"I am here to atone for our father's crimes," Lyandra forced herself to get the words out of her mouth, "As well as our brother's."
"Little dove, it seems that your sister may be of use after all," Cersei informed Sansa with a saccharine smile. "She is only little younger than my cousin Lancel. Perhaps a betrothal between him and Lyandra would be a wise decision."
Lyandra immediately understood. She had heard that Lancel was completely under the thumb of his cousins and uncle, Tywin. By marrying her to him, they would ensure that Lyandra remained a prisoner forever in the only way they could. She seethed with the injustice of it, yet knew there was nothing she could do about it. Lyandra reluctantly released her sister, watching Sansa carefully. Even now, she wasn't sure whose side her sister was on.
"Where is Arya?" Lyandra inquired as it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't seen her youngest sister. Dread coiled like a sleeping snake in her stomach, and she had to prevent herself from panicking once more. Surely there must be some kind of explanation as to why Arya had not been presented to her as well.
"The little brat has so far managed to evade us." Cersei's face closed off, her eyes cold as marble. "But we will find her."
Relief surged through Lyandra. This was better than she had expected. At least one of her sisters had managed to evade the clutches of the Lannisters. She breathed an inaudible sigh, before clutching at Sansa's hand. Now that she had been reunited with her younger sister, she was reluctant to let her out of her sight. Cersei noticed with a smile that, as usual, never reached her eyes.
"Perhaps I should introduce you to Lancel." Cersei got to her feet and crossed over to the two Stark girls. "I am certain he'll be more than pleased with the arrangement."
Lyandra's first thought was that Lancel looked rather like Jaime. He was polite and yet somewhat nervous when Cersei introduced him. He kissed her hand and smiled a little apprehensively as Cersei explained her idea of betrothing them. Lyandra remained in stony silence, even when Lancel's eyes raked over her. She knew that he was judging her, trying to discern whether he found her a worthy bride. She viciously hoped that the answer was no.
"What do you think, Lancel?" Cersei inquired, as though Lyandra was not present at all. She could see that the Stark girl was fuming; however there was nothing that she could do about the situation.
"She's pretty enough," Lancel replied, although his gaze was somewhat disdainful. It must be because of what she was: a Stark. A wolf girl. There was also something about the way he kept looking to Cersei, as though constantly seeking his cousin's approval. It struck Lyandra as slightly odd, for reasons she couldn't quite place.
"Good." Cersei smiled sweetly and caught hold of Lyandra's arm, leading her out of the room. Once they were out of earshot of the others, Cersei dug her nails into the girl's arm, causing Lyandra to wince. "Sweet Lyandra, I can't imagine what would bring you to King's Landing. If you had hoped to come here with the foolish notion of setting your sisters free, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken."
"Why would you think that, your grace?" Lyandra's tone registered nothing but an innocent astonishment. She locked eyes with Cersei. I can play this game just like you can. "I have simply seen the error of my family's ways. My brother is a renegade and my father was a traitor. They deserve whatever is coming to them."
Lyandra was glad when she found some time to spend with Sansa, although the two girls were kept under heavy watch. She was beginning to grow frustrated, for she was beginning to see the impossibility of escaping King's Landing. It made her grow desperate, but she knew she needed to calm herself down or else risk making irrational decisions. She sat across from Sansa, watching as her younger sister ate the fruit on the platter with steady hands.
"How have they been treating you?" Lyandra asked quietly. Her sister gave no indication she had even heard the question, elegantly dissecting an apple. "Sansa?"
"I have not been harmed," Sansa murmured, although Lyandra knew immediately by the way her younger sister averted her eyes and concentrated on her food that she was lying. Lyandra leaned across and gently caught Sansa's wrist, caused the younger girl to look up.
"Sansa, what have they done?"
"Joffrey…" Sansa shook her head, unable to continue. Lyandra's grip tightened slightly around her sister's wrist, and she went cold inside. She had always known Joffrey to be a cruel boy, with a sort of sadism to his personality. Now that he was King…Lyandra shuddered, remembering how adamant about her execution he had been. She pressed a crumpled piece of parchment into her younger sister's hands.
"Look. I'm writing a letter to send to Robb and Mother."
Sansa examined the words on the parchment, her eyes widening as she saw that her older sister had written down the atrocities she suspected Sansa to have been through, the absence of Arya and also that she would be promised to Lancel. Sansa snatched up the parchment and tore it up, much to Lyandra's shock. She reached across and caught her younger sister by the shoulder.
"What are you doing?!"
"You can't send that," Sansa protested, before glancing around and adopting a quieter tone. "That could be seen as treason, Lyandra. They could kill us both. They already killed Father. I watched them do it. I don't want that to happen to me."
Lyandra raked a hand through her dark hair in frustration. Sansa was right, yet how else was she supposed to let Robb and their mother know what was happening? How else did they ever have a chance of escaping King's Landing? She knew that she would become a prisoner herself and have to bide her time, but the time for patience was over. They needed to find Arya. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. The best plans were always the one that came naturally over time. If Lyandra tried to force anything, she and Sansa could end up dead as well.
Samaria sat nervously beside Robb Stark – her husband – at the feast prepared in their honour. Of course, House Frey was definitely not known for being small, and it seemed that many of Samaria's relatives had come to wish her well in her marriage to the King in the North. She played with the long, flowing white sleeves of her dress. She had done her part wonderfully. She had said her vows and allowed Robb to place a brief, chaste kiss on her lips. However, Samaria was all too aware of what came next: the bedding.
Robb was too busy listening to a joke Theon Greyjoy was telling him. Of course, there was nothing for him to fear. Bedding wasn't supposed to hurt for men, but according to Samaria's married sisters, for women it was not a pleasant experience the first time around. A hand on her shoulder brought Samaria out of her reverie, and she turned with a delighted smile as she saw Roslyn standing behind her chair.
"Congratulations, you're a married woman now."
"Oh, don't be silly," Samaria couldn't help a nervous grin. "You will take a husband soon yourself."
"I hope so." Roslyn smiled, sinking into the vacant seat beside her older sister. "You know, it will be alright."
Samaria feigned ignorance. "What will?"
"I know that you're nervous about the bedding," Roslyn placed a hand over her sister's. "You never could hide anything from me. But don't worry – it's only a small prick of pain and then it's over. Like when you pricked your finger on the sewing needle."
Samaria couldn't restrain a small laugh at that. She had never been as patient with sewing as her younger sister, and she had pricked her finger many times. However, she doubted that losing her maidenhead would the same sort of pain as that. She risked a glance at Robb, who was still deep in conversation with Theon.
"Your Majesty."
Samaria at first thought the comment was addressed to her husband, before she saw Catelyn Stark crossing over to her with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes. No wonder – Samaria had heard rumours that all three of the woman's daughters were currently in King's Landing, in the clutches of Lannisters. It was a shame, really. Samaria would have liked to meet them. Lyandra, the oldest, was no more than a year her junior.
"Lady Stark." Samaria inclined her head, and Roslyn murmured some excuse before quickly vacating the seat so that the older woman could take it. Samaria was a little intimidated by Catelyn, if truth be told but she did not say anything on the matter. This woman was now her good-mother.
"It's about time for the bedding." Catelyn offered Samaria her goblet of wine, watching as the young girl took a tentative sip. She was not an extraordinary beauty, but she was pretty enough. Personally, Catelyn thought Robb could do better, yet she knew that her son was merely doing his duty by marrying the girl.
"Come, Samaria!" Theon Greyjoy took her arm and hauled her to feet, spinning her around. He seemed too loud and crude for Samaria's liking, but considering his closeness with Robb, she doubted she would be permitted to say that about him. He and the other young men tugged her out of the hall and into the bedroom. Theon smirked as he unlaced her dress, sliding it down.
"I don't doubt Robb will be pleased with you. You're quite a pretty little thing."
Samaria couldn't quite help the flush that burned in her cheeks, even more so as the young ladies undressing Robb brought him into the room. Once the pair were fully undressed, the young men and women filed from the room with much giggling and joking. Roslyn paused briefly to give Samaria a worried look, before she closed the door behind them, leaving Samaria alone with her husband.
"You've gone all red." Robb walked over and kissed the top of his wife's head. Admittedly, this was rather awkward for him as well. He had never bedded a woman before and didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing, but he had often heard Theon's rather graphic descriptions of his time in the brothel.
Samaria jerked away from him and went to lie on the bed, taking calming breathes as she looked up at the ceiling. The pain would be over quickly, she had been assured. She could only hope her sisters were right about that. She had never appeared naked before a man, and now she felt a little self-conscious. She was a little slender. Hopefully her body pleased Robb. He climbed on top of her and kissed her, but she turned her face. There was no need to pretend there was anything romantic about this. Robb had only married her because it granted him her father's support.
Robb sighed heavily, but kissed Samaria's neck instead. Don't make it sudden, Theon had said. Make sure to give her some pleasure before the actual act of making love. That way, it wouldn't be as painful. He kissed down her collarbone, hands fondling her breasts. Samaria began to relax beneath him, trailing her hands uncertainly up Robb's back. He ran a hand up her leg, over her thigh. She gasped at the sudden feeling of his fingers inside her, tensing up a little.
"It's alright," Robb told her a little huskily. Samaria remained still beneath him, beginning to feel her muscles loosening a bit as she surrendered to his ministrations. After a moment, Robb withdrew his fingers and crawled over her. She braced herself, but Robb just kissed her neck for a few moments. She opened her eyes, wondering if he was inside her and she hadn't felt it – but then Robb thrust into her quickly, breaking through the barrier of her maidenhead. Samaria couldn't help but cry out at the sudden pain.
"I'm sorry," Robb muttered, his hands running down her sides before his fingers tightened around her hips. He gently pushed her legs a little further apart, his movements at first slow and cautious but then faster as he started to lose control of himself. Samaria gasped as pleasure started to take over from the pain. Robb groaned in pleasure and his movements became more erratic as he drew closer to his finish.
Samaria ran her hands through his dark, curly hair. She tilted her head back as her own pleasure intensified, a strange tickly feeling starting in the bottom of her stomach. Robb reached his climax with a loud groan, flopping onto her in exhaustion. With their sweat-slick bodies pressed so close together, her heart racing, Samaria could almost feel that this was something other than a marriage of convenience. However, it would be foolish to forget.
"Did I hurt you?" Robb inquired as he rolled off her. He did not put her arms around her, which Samaria was grateful for. She did not need comfort now that the act of making love was over. She simply needed her own space.
"Only a little." Samaria offered him a small smile. "I'm alright now."
"That's good," Robb muttered tiredly, before curling on his side and falling asleep. It took Samaria much longer, her body aching with the pains of lovemaking and her heart aching at the pain of having to leave her family behind all too soon. She would be Samaria Stark, Queen in the North – but she would give anything to just stay and remain Samaria Frey.