His lips curled into a snarl as he watched. Anger pumping through his veins. She was his. She belonged to him. Not some stupid, second son Targaryen. She was going to be his Queen, not some pathetic lady of a household. Everything about her was Queenly. The way she walked, the way she talked, the way she held herself, oh and the way she spoke back to him. Sneaky and sly, cutting him down with praises. A clever girl and a beauty.

Mother had always told him how rare it was to find a girl who was as clever as she was beautiful. He suspected his betrothed was one of the very few women like that. And he wanted her. Wanted every part of her. Make her his and only his. She did not need anyone else. She did not need her family – it was why he stole their letters and forbade her from contacting them; why would she need her pathetic brothers and mewling sister? She did not need his pathetic, disgusting uncle – he was a bad influence on his lady. And now? Now she did not need the stupid princess or the Targaryens, especially her ridiculous cousin.

Yet there she was, stood in the gardens with her arm looped through Jon fucking Targaryen's. The laugh on her face was excruciating to look at. So, painfully, beautiful. She never laughed like that around him, and it made him want to slaughter the prince right then and there. Her hair was alight under the sun, and she looked as beautiful as ever. The dress she wore was as red as blood, made of some kind of silk, the embroidery on the bodice silver – not gold, which made the anger in him flare up once again – and despite everything, he could not ignore the black and red handkerchief that she was-

Horror stricken, he watched as his betrothed wrapped the small sheet of material around Jon fucking Targaryen's arm.

His betrothed gave another man her favour.

Clenching his hands, he let out a snarl. Sansa Stark was his.

His late father had promised him that a Stark girl would wed into the Baratheon family. He trusted his fathers word. He believed that Sansa Stark would be his, always his. The way Lyanna Stark was never his fathers. Though Robert was convinced Lyanna loved him when all evidence prove to be contrary. Joffrey promised himself two things. One, he would have the Stark girl and her love, the way his father never had his. Two, he would never lose to the Targaryens.

One day, he would sit on the Iron Throne, and then Sansa would have no choice but to love him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms wanted to be Queen. If the Iron Throne was what it took for his lady to love him, then of course he would win it. He would win the damn throne and give Jon fucking Targaryens head to her on a platter.

Perhaps he would keep the girl alive. The princess seemed to light up his love, and it would give his Sansa someone to spend time with when he was doing his kingly duties.

The Targaryens were a spawn and needed to be destroyed. His mother had told him so from before he could understand what it meant. The Targaryens ruined lives and crushed the hope that lived within the citizens of Westeros. He would be the king that liberated them all. Once he sat in the throne, he would have it all. A kingdom, a people and a wife who was his and his alone.

Sansa would then dance with only him, he would be king and she would have no interest in anyone else. Sansa would only be free to roam the halls when he was by her side. Such a beauty could not be left for prying eyes. They would only know her to be his and his alone. She would be warm, willing and his. Give him children. Boys with blonde hair and those beautiful blue eyes. Girls with green eyes and hair like fire. Mayhaps he would even let her name one of them after one of her siblings. A little boy named Bran or Robb – Sansa would like that.

Together they would divuldge in his every fanasy. Together they would rule over the Seven Kingdoms. When the war began, he would be the one to cut down Jon Targaryen, the thought of him showing Sansa the princes head made him feel gleeful.


"Red is truly your colour." Rhaenys laughed, taking her arm as they walked to where the tourney would be taking place. "I would have given you a dress with black embroidery – which truly looks better with red than silver – but that would likely give off the wrong impression, no?"

Sansa felt her face flush as she gave a small nod. "I do not think the Lannisters would appreciate that at all. Cersei already believes that you are poisoning my mind."

Danaerys – call me Dany – scoffed to her right. "If anything, we are rescuing your mind. I know if I had to live with them for as long as you have, my mind would be broken beyond repair."

The laugh that slid past her lips surprised her, though she did not regret it in the slightest. Being around the Targaryens was as easy as being around her own family. A large part of her suspected that Arya would love to meet the Royal family, who were more laid back than she would have guessed. Correct names and titles, even propriety did not seem at the top of their lists. They were fun, laidback, loyal and yet responsible. Despite the rumours and cruel words, Sansa could not imagine a more perfect royal family.

"Tyrion helps keep me sane." Sansa said truthfully, laughing lightly as she spoke. "I would not know what I would have done without his companionship."

Dany nodded. "I hate the Lannisters, yet I like Tyrion. I never do consider him to be one of them. Perhaps it is because he is so likeable."

"Tywin is too conniving. Cersei is too critical. They are all impossibly arrogant. Always looking as if they are plotting something." Rhaenys muttered, eyes darting around.

"Because you never look like you are plotting something." Dany said dryly, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Rhaenys gave a dry laugh and shook her head. "At least none of my schemes are malicious. I only have the best intentions in my heart. All I do is look into fathers fears and try and confirm or deny them."

The thought of anyone scheming made Sansa's stomach lurch, but she refused to show it on her face. She had known what Kings Landing was like, and she believed with all her heart that Rhaenys would never do anything malicious. The older girl was far too kind to seem the type to do anything horrific. It was something else about home that she missed so terribly. No one ever had any ulterior motives, everyone was an open book. If there was a problem, the problem was discussed. No one tried to steal power from under anothers nose.

In her time at Casterly Rock, she had learned a lot about scheming. It was all Cersei and Tywin had ever seemed to do. Locked away in Lord Tywin's solar until the late hours of the day discussing things that Tyrion said he wished to have no part in. Never would she forget Tyrions words one late night, when he had drank a little too much Dornish wine, a pained look in his eye and a tremble in his lips. 'My dear, when the world goes tits up, I will always do what I can to help you. Like all of us, I do not wish to be remembered as a villain in this world. I promise you now, I will never have a hand in helping them.' It was in that moment that she knew that whatever Cersei and Tywin were up to, it was no good. She knew that the Lannisters were plotting something awful, and she vowed to herself that she would never play a part in their schemes. Not willingly, anyway.

Her breath was stolen from her chest as she took in the sight before her. The sheer number of people who had turned up to watch the first day of the Tourney was almost overwhelming. Sansa had never seen so many people in one place before, yet she kept herself calm as they made their way to their seats.

When Rhaenys had told her that of course she was to be sat with the Royal family, her heart had stuck in her chest. Each moment she spent in Kings Landing seemed to be better than the last, even with politics occasionally being thrown into the mix. If the rest of her life was to be spent caged in Casterly Rock, she could live with the joy in her heart of having had such a glorious time with some of the nicest people she had ever met.

Being sat amongst the Targaryens made her feel out of place. Queen Elia was beautiful as she sat on the Kings left. Viserys was sat to the Kings right, whispering something that made both Rhaegar and Elia laugh. Dany was sat just in front of her brother, while Sansa and Rhaenys were sat closer to the Queen; something that made her heart beat twice as fast in her chest. Despite wearing one of Rhaenys gowns, she still felt so out of place. There was nothing regal about her, certainly not compared to the Targaryen family; who were all dressed in their traditional house colours.

Guilt seeped through her as she realised how long it had truly been since she had worn a dress in the colours of her house. For so long she had been wearing gowns given to her by Cersei, often Lannister colours. Once again, she was sat among a House that was not her own, wearing colours that did not belong to her – colours that did not belong to a House.

'I would have given you a dress with black embroidery-'

Targaryen colours were better than Lannister colours, she may have looked better by the sides of the Royal family in the wrong colours. But the message that would have been sent out across the Seven Kingdoms would shame too many people.

As the Tourney began, Sansa found it difficult to pay too much attention, thoughts trapped on how as the only Stark in the south, she should be properly representing her house. However, Dany successfully cut through her misery with an amusing commentary of the Tourney participants, Viserys encouraging her with his own occasional comment.

"We all know Loras is going to get through to the final round, why does anyone bother trying." The prince stated in a very dry and bored tone. Following his comment, he gave a mock yawn, causing Dany to let out a laugh.

"I just hope Aegon keeps his promise and knocks him off of his horse."

Rhaenys hummed in agreement with her aunt as she took a sip of wine. "Of course, that would involve Aegon actually getting through to the final round."

Dany gave a small huff, and Sansa turned to look at her friend. "You do not think he will win?"

Both Dany and Rhaenys laughed, and for a moment Sansa felt as silly as Cersei often claimed she was.

"My dear Sansa, Aegon never wins." Rhaenys chuckled as she tilted her head towards Sansa. "He gets too cocky. My brother loves to show off, it's his biggest downfall. I have my money on him coming in fifth." She paused, and her face became a little more serious. "Do not get me wrong, Aegon is a highly skilled swordsman, and if this was a real battle I do not doubt he would win. But Tourneys – he has not taken them seriously in years. My money is on Jon winning."

Viserys snorted from behind them. "I love my nephew, but I would sooner put my money on Aegon winning."

"I would not be so sure if I were you, uncle."

Sansa focused back on the field, watching as Loras Tyrell won a round for the third time. Both Jon and Aegon had won each round they had been up for as well, and she could not help but feel proud. When she had given Jon her favour, she had expected to feel some sort of guilt over the matter, a betrothed lady should not be giving her favour to another man, yet she had not felt a shred of it. Instead, Joffrey had been the furthest thing from her thoughts when she had decided that giving the small token to her cousin.

Her whole life, she had dreamed of the Tourneys in the south. Of gifting her favour to a knight who would crown her their Queen of Love and Beauty. The glamour of the south was mostly fabricated, she believed, but there was good and true people there; some of whom she could imagine being the inspiration for songs and stories for centuries to come.

Since her betrothal to Joffrey, she stopping dreaming of things she knew would never come to pass. Her life was not a story or a song. Her life would go the same way hundreds of other ladies lives went, and she had come to accept this. Dreams were meant for sleep. Yet sometimes, when her spirits had been lifted, she would imagine being stolen away in the middle of the night by some brave knight. Like how the Wildlings were stolen away, or how Rhaegar had stolen Lyanna. Then she would spend a few moments in her betrotheds company and remember what life really was.

Focusing, she watched one of the many Lannister boys ready themselves, lance seeming to almost shake in his hands. It surprised her that he had managed to last so long, as the nerves that radiated off of him were noticeable to anyone who paid attention to him. But then, she supposed that most people would not be paying attention to the young man as everyone gaze was focused on the youngest Targaryen.

As it had been for each round Jon had participated in, her heart found its way into her throat. Part of her felt guilty for wanting to watch another Lannister be knocked from their horse, but no one had to know what she felt on the inside. No one could possibly hear her silently wishing for Jon to win – she was supposed to route for the Mountain, Cersei and Joffrey had told her as much. The Mountain was not someone she had ever liked, a monster in the form of a man. Watching him kill a poor knight with no consequence made her feel ill, but she continued to watch on anyway. Never would she allow herself to look weak in front of the Targaryens.

She watched as both men tilted their lances and the horses lurched into action. The Lannister boy missed and Jon almost knocked him off his saddle with a slight of the lance. Unless the boy pulled himself together, it was likely to be the shortest round yet.

Eyes glancing to the crowd, she easily spotted Cersei looking somewhat frustrated as her eyes remained focused on what was occurring in front of her. Sansa refocused on the round, watching as the two men rode by once again, Jon knocking the shaking boy from his saddle with ease.

"If you cannot ride against a prince, why bother participating in these things?" Viserys muttered under his breath.

"You would think a Lannister would be more involved in knocking a Targaryen off their horse." Dany replied.


Travelling north while avoiding the Kingsroad was far more difficult than he had predicted. Not that he had predicted an easy journey. It felt as if the Wall got further away by the day. With every step he took, it was like the Wall moved three paces back.

"You know- We don't have to go the Wall." Hot Pie suggested, his voice raspy from a lack of energy.

"What do you mean?" He paused, looking behind at his- Friend?

"Well-" Hot Pie raised his hand slightly as he took in a deep breath. "The North is hardly like the rest of Westeros. No one knows us here, and Lannister men would not dare cross into this barren land. Rather than swearing off living real lives, we could just start new lives here. 'Cause, I've been thinking. I would be a terrible Nights Watchman. I- I don't want to give up things that I might eventually find, you know?"

The younger boy made a good point. It was not like he wanted to join the Watch. His boss had sold him to the Watch and that was the only reason he had continued on. When the Lannister men had come for him, he believed that the Wall would keep him safe from death. But a life at the Wall was hardly a life at all. Giving up a chance at his own life was not something he had really thought about. He had skills, just like Hot Pie did. If they could find work, they would not have to settle for a life of bitter cold.

"You said it yourself, this land is barren. Forging a life here would be incredibly difficult. You know that, right?"

Hot Pie shrugged. "Other people have done it."

"Other people are from the North."

It was not like he did not dislike Hot Pie's idea, in fact, the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a better idea than giving up an unknown future. But the north was untameable and cold. There was nothing about it that seemed appealing in the slightest. He preferred the heat of the south.

"You can hardly set up a life for yourself anywhere else. Those Lannister men would find you and kill you."

Groaning he slid a hand down his face. Part of him simply did not want to admit that maybe, just maybe, Hot Pie was right. Rather than wasting his life away at the Wall, he could do something useful. The only safe place in the world for him, aside from Essos, was the North.

"Okay, fine. No one wants to waste their life at the Wall anyway."

And if the Lannisters did decide to start their rebellion, then he would be well equipped to get a little pay back for the lives that were lost on his behalf.


The feast that followed the Tourney was enjoyable. Dany sat next to her, excitedly telling her about the adventures Viserys had promised to take her on. The older girl was the same age as Robb, and the wine made her wonder what it would be like if her brother was betrothed to the fiery Targaryen. A thought she pushed down because Dany had made it obvious that she had no intention of marrying any time soon.

"I should take you with me."

The comment made her almost choke on her drink. "Pardon?"

"Think about it." Dany nodded, eyes drifting to the floor where Rhaenys was dancing with Aegon. "If my niece does not marry Aegon, she has agreed to travel the free cities with me." Her lips turned upwards as she leaned closer. "Once I return from Braavos with my brother, I will tell you. If you are still not wed to the Baratheon boy, run away. You, me, Rhaenys, travelling the free cities. The adventure of a lifetime."

She was certain that Dany had drank far too much Dornish wine, but she would not complain. The more time she spent with the girl, the more she was reminded of Arya. There was no doubt in her mind that if it was Arya sat where she was, there was only one word that would slip past her lips. Instead, six slid past Sansa's.

"I shall hold you to that."

A grin lit up Dany's face, her hand grasping her upper arm. "Mayhaps we could even travel to Dorne first. I assure you, it would be just as safe for you as Essos will be. Rhaenys and I will smuggle you across the world."

And not for the first time, did Sansa feel that the Targaryens were as much her family as the Starks. They were the friendliest people she had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and she hoped that the time she spent with the for the Kings nameday festivities would not be the only time she ever got to spend with them. It was with blind hope that she prayed to the Old Gods that Rhaenys would write her once she had left. And it was then that she decided it would be more than nice if Dany, Aegon and Jon all wrote her too. If she was not allowed contact with her family, then maybe she could live with that. She could write letters to Jon and have him give the Starks news on her behalf.

"Are neither of you dancing?" A new voice cut through the air, and Sansa's heart lurched into her throat as the Queen settled in the seat next to her.

"We were, but watching people dance while trying to better their position in parliament is far more entertaining." Dany replied, taking a sip from her chalice. "I suppose I will dance with Oberyn."

The Martells had arrived late, just before the feast started, and once again Sansa had felt far too out of place. She felt so plain and uninteresting sat amongst the Targaryens and the Martells. Prince Oberyn had travelled across instead of his brother, who ruled Dorne. With him, travelled Princess Arianne, Prince Quentyn, his paramour Ellaria Sand and two of their daughters Elia and Obella Sand.

As Dany got up to find Prince Oberyn, Sansa felt her nerves increase. During her stay, she had not had a real conversation with the King or Queen. Whenever she was near them, Rhaenys, Jon or both were with her.

"Are you enjoying your stay, Sansa?"

Swallowing Sansa met the woman's black eyes as she gave a small nod. "Yes, my Queen. I have been having the most wonderful time."

"I do not think I have seen my daughter more excited than she has been over the past few days. I am glad she has found a friend in you, and I would like to think that you have found a friend in her."

"I have. The Princess is wonderful, and I am honoured that she wants me as her friend. It is rare to find truly good people in this world."

"That is very true." Queen Elia paused, her eyes gazing out at the dance floor. "The world can be a very lonely place if you have not a friend in the world." The way she spoke, made Sansa wonder just how lonely the Queen was.

A small part of her questioned how inappropriate it would be to place a hand on the Queen's arm; the younger Targaryens were casual around her, but she knew that the King and Queen were, well, the King and Queen. There were boundaries and she refused to break those boundaries, she wanted to make the best impression that she possibly could.

"Loneliness is the worst." She said quietly, and the Queen nodded.

"I vowed to myself I would never allow my children to be lonely. When I saw myself in Rhaenys, I suggested that she find herself a friend, someone she could really trust. For a while, she did not believe there were trustworthy people out there, I suggested that rather than looking south, she looked north. Your aunt was a good, loyal woman, and in the short time I knew her, a good friend. I wanted my daughter to have a good and loyal friend, like I could have had in your aunt." Sansa felt her stomach twist as she hung on to every word the Queen spoke. "I see my children fight the world inside their heads. All having the best interests of others in their hearts. If asked, they would do their duty in a heartbeat. I would rather they lived their own lives, but I suspect that the little freedom they have is being ripped away from them faster than they think."

Elia placed a hand on Sansa's forearm, an expression that could only be described as motherly on her face. "Live while you can. Freedom in this world lasts for such a short period of time, you often miss it when the chance occurs. Now, go and dance."

And then the Queen squeezed her arm before getting up and leaving her at the table. Nodding to herself, she got up and made her way to the floor. Dany was still dancing with Oberyn, Aegon was dancing with Princess Arianne and Jon was dancing with Rhaenys. Catching Tyrions eye, she walked towards him.

He smiled as she approached and held out his hand. "Would you like to dance, my lady?"

With a nod, she took his hand. "Why else would I be here?"

"Looking for some cynical company?" He offered, and she gave a laugh, shaking her head.

"Well I suppose I could get that along with a dance."

"Very true, my lady. Very true."

Tyrion had never been anything other than kind to her, and she appreciated his company. It was more than welcomed in Casterly Rock. Despite his reputation, she found his company to be wonderful, far preferred over anyone else who lived in Casterly Rock. Myrcella was sweet, but there were moments that Sansa saw nothing but Cersei in her. Tommen was quiet and often a victim of Joffrey's cruel behaviour. Sansa did not know him well enough to make a fixed opinion – Joffrey preferred her to stay away from his siblings.

"The Targaryens truly know how to feast, do you not think?"

Sansa smiled, giving a brief nod. "Oh yes. I have never seen a feast quite like last night, or tonight's. I am thoroughly impressed."

"It appears my nephew is not. This is the second night in a row he has left early."

Internally, she winced. The topic was one she had hoped to avoid. "I noticed."

"Cersei is beside herself with the humiliation of having her son leave early." Tyrion's lips twitched upwards. "Meanwhile, I am having the time of my life. Befriending Targaryens and getting to celebrate without having to see Joffrey's face every time I look up; mayhaps we should just stay here when everyone leaves."

"Oh, definitely. I am certain they would not notice we were gone until they were halfway back to Casterly Rock. That would give us plenty of time to board a ship and sail to Essos. Eat, sleep and drink as much as we wish."

"That my dear, sounds like the perfect plan. I am certain my father would get over his loss soon enough."

They discussed their life in Essos. How they could live however they wanted and never have to face Cersei or the Lannister plots ever again. How they could live a good life and never have to worry about being found, because it would be easy enough for them to hide on the other side of the world. The more Essos was mentioned, the more fleeing there seemed like a better idea.

By the time Sansa left the hall to make her way back to her temporary chambers, all she could think about were silk gowns and fine Braavosi wine.

The feeling of a clammy hand wrapping around her hand ripped the perfect image of travelling Essos with Dany, Rhaenys and Tyrion out of her mind. Her heart lurched and the breath slid out of her mouth as she felt her back slammed against the wall.

"Hello, my lady."

She looked up, meeting the bright green eyes of Joffrey, and her heart froze in her chest as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Hello, my Lord."

"So, my lady, might I be enlightened as to why you have been avoiding me?"

The room began to spin, or perhaps it was just her mind. Her lungs struggled to take in air as he stomach twisted. The sneer on her betrotheds face was enough to make her feel ill. Fear pounded through her veins as he leaned in closer.

"I want an answer, Sansa." He spat her name out and her heart clenched.

"I- I do not know what you are speaking of. I have not been avoiding you my lord." The lie spilled off of her tongue as easy as if it was the truth.

"Do not ever lie to me. You have been avoiding me. Plotting with the pathetic Targaryen scum and I do not condone it. You are mine, not theirs. Do you understand? You are to be my Queen, not their bitch."

Her heart was racing as she tried to think up a way that could easily get her out of the situation. Something that might ease Joffrey's temper. "Jon is my cousin. I have not heard from my family in over a year, can you blame me for wanting to spend sometime with the only family I might ever see again."

She knew it was the wrong thing to say when she watched Joffreys face contort. Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes, bracing herself. The pain that shot through her face did not hurt nearly as much as the shame that burned through to her very core. Her mother had raised her to never be anything less than pleasing for her betrothed – and later, husband – and she had done the opposite of that. She had not pleased him. There were no pretty words to fix whatever mess it was that she was in. Nothing could be done to make up for the shame that was growing in her chest.

The sound of a growl, a surprised yelp and the sound of someone colliding with a wall caused her eyes to fly open. The sight in front of her had her frozen to the spot. Ghost was sat in front of her, muzzle pulled back and teeth bared. Jon had Joffrey pinned to the wall opposite her. Forearm pressed against her betrotheds throat.

"How. Dare. You." His voice was low and dangerous.

"She's my betrothed." Joffrey hissed back, voice sounding weak as he struggled for breath. "I can treat her as I wish."

For a moment, she had to wonder if it was Jon or Ghost who growled in response. "Lay a hand on her again, and I will make you wish you were never born."

Pulling away from Joffrey, Jon turned to look at her. The look in his eyes made her heart pound in her chest and the breath slip past her throat. For the first time, she found herself wondering what might happen if she was to run forward and kiss him. Thank him for standing by her, despite the shame she had brought on herself.

Jon would never hurt me. Her mind whispered, and she realised that perhaps the Gods had more planned for her than she first thought.

"Come on, Sansa." Jon's voice was rough, as if he was trying to keep himself in check. "Lets get you back to your chamber."

With a nod, she took his arm and he led her away. His footsteps had more purpose than hers, her chest too tight and her heart beating so hard and fast she thought she may pass out. Perhaps her grip on Jon's arm was a little tight, but she was sure he did not mind. Something told her that Jon was more furious with Joffrey than he was with her.

"I am sorry." She said quietly. "I- He was most displeased with me. I should have-"

"No." Jon paused mid-step and turned to look at her, eyes burning. His hands clasped her shoulders. "He had no right to lay a hand on you. That boy is a monster, Sansa. And if he ever does that again, I swear I will kill him."

Opening her mouth, she promptly shut it. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find words to say. There was nothing she could think of that could express how she felt.

"Th-thank you, Jon."

"I will get you out of this Sansa. I can promise you that."

Yes, the Gods had so much more planned for her.