Staring at the parchment in his hands, his stomach twisted as he shook. The door opened yet he ignored it, the bile rising in the back of his throat.

"Mother is looking for you."

The words entered his ears yet they slid right back out as he continued to stare blankly. Words he had read four times over circling his head. How was he supposed to tell his father? How was he supposed to hand over the parchment to his father and watch as the Lord of Winterfell read the words.

"Robb!"

It was hardly as if his worst fears were being realised, more like everything he warned Sansa of was coming to pass. That with age, Joffrey's treatment would only get worse. When they were younger, the boy had done nothing more than grab at Sansa's arms a little to tight and bruise them – bruises Robb (and eventually Arya) would help hide from their parents. It's a ladies duty to do what pleases her betrothed. The moment he had heard his sister utter those words, he had vowed that when he was betrothed, he would treat his bride-to-be with as much kindness as he could possibly muster.

"Robb?" Arya snapped, ripping the parchment from his hands.

Turning to look at his sister, he watched as the impatience on her face morphed from worry to horror, to an anger he had not seen on her face in a long time. The parchment in her fingers shook, and her grip tightened, her face hardening.

"I will kill him."

There was doubt in his mind that Arya would do exactly that. Unlike Sansa, Arya was not the ladylike type. She would not shy away from bloodshed or conflict.

"There happens to be a rather long queue." He muttered sourly. "And Jon happens to be a hell of a lot closer."

"If Jon kills him, then there would be extreme consequences. If you kill him, there would be serious consequences. If I kill him, then there would less likely be a war that follows. I'm hardly the heir to anything, and I'm not the first-born daughter either."

"I am pretty certain Father would sooner condone me killing him, than you."

Arya's face contorted and Robb almost took a step backwards. "I don't care."

Of course she didn't. With a sigh, he snatched the parchment from his sisters hands. "We need to show father."

"Yeah, because he will do something about it." Arya muttered under her breath as she walked away.

Following behind his sister, he felt the frustration bubbling in his chest. "He can break off the betrothal."

"Oh, and I am certain the Lannisters will take that so well. 'Oh yes, of course, we will send our prisoner back home to our favourite House-'" She snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah- no. If anything, that would only aggravate them more."

"Then what would you do?"

"Steal her."

He blinked, staring at the back of his sisters head in confusion. "What?"

"I would sneak away in the middle of the night, ride my way down to Casterly Rock, hide for a few days as I plan my way. I would have Nymeria and Lady with me, so that I have back up. Then, once I had worked out my best route into the Lions Den, I would sneak in under the cover of night, have Lady or Nymeria kill any guards that get in my way as I slip into Sansa's room. Then I would wake Sansa up, quickly explain that it was a rescue, 'kidnap' her, keep her hidden until Winter when I could bring her home. No one would dare come here in the Winter, they would be stupid."

For a moment, he wondered if he should really be surprised with the amount of time and thought his sister had put into her rescue plan for Sansa.

"It would kind of be like one of those stories she loved so much."

Of course that was Arya's logic. Stood outside their fathers chambers, Robb looked at his sister carefully. "Whatever father says, do not go running off to rescue Sansa. Bran is half convinced that's his job, and I could not stand to hear anymore of your damn bickering."

Three knocks on the door, and the were granted entrance to their fathers solar. Suddenly the heaviness returned to Robb's chest as he walked closer to their parents. The parchment feeling as heavy as a weight. It made him feel sick.

"What's wrong?"

Either their mother knew them too well, or neither himself or his sister were very good at keeping a blank expression on their faces. He held the parchment out and their mother took it from his hand.

He knew the moment she had read those dreaded words. Watching as her face went from worried to horrified.

I do not know if it is my place to say such a thing, but you asked me to look out for your lady sister. I promised to protect her if necessary and asked that I should inform you if anything was to happen to Sansa. Nearing the end of a feast, I left to retire early when I bore witness to your sisters betrothed harming her.

The entire letter made Robb feel ill. Knowing that his sister was unhappy, that she did not want to be with the Lannisters.

She has previously informed me of her unhappiness in Casterly Rock.

"Ned-"

"Arya, Robb, leave us please."

Robb met his fathers eyes and knew in his heart that it was not a request. Despite wanting to hear his parents conversation, he knew that should he stick around he would not like what he heard.

"What? But we want to know what you are going to do about it!"

"Arya, sweetheart, please leave us to discuss this."

"I want to-"

Wrapping one arm around the waist of his sister, he hauled her off of the ground and left the room.


"What?"

The rage he had been feeling since finding Joffrey slap Sansa had barely dissipated. It was controllable, but any time he even caught a glimpse of the blonde boy it was almost all consuming. The fact that he was still in the Tourney surprised him. Rhaenys was convinced that participating was helping him take his anger out on something.

When he had explained to Aegon and Rhaenys why he was so angry, their reactions were that of horror. Aegon had ranted on and on about how wrong it was, and how he was even more horrified that someone had the gall to harm another person inside the Red Keep of all places. 'What kind of twisted moron pulls a stunt like that?' After cursing Joffrey to the Seven Hells and back, Rhaenys had fled to find her friend.

'It's my duty to make sure she is going to be alright.'

'She went to sleep.'

'I do not care, I need to be there for her.'

It had been over a day since the incident and he still could not find it in himself to expel the utter hatred he had inside himself for Joffrey out. As if holding onto that hatred would help him. There was that small part of him that kept saying that it would make going through with his plan easier. If he held onto that hatred that he would not feel guilty about what he was going to do. The other part of him argued that he was never going to feel guilty anyway. It was what he wanted to do. In his heart it was what he wanted, whether he hated Joffrey or not he would stick to his plan.

"When I decided to agree to marry Rhaenys, father said that was all he needed to hear in order to marry you to Margaery. Apparently she is rather taken with you."

"Does Rhaenys know?" His throat was dry as he stared at his brother, the horror running through his veins.

"Not yet. We are announcing it at the feast after the Tourney tonight though – no time to really do it any kind of romantic way. Father says that after all the festivities, he will announce your betrothal to Margaery, give the people one last 'spectacle' before they all leave."

Running a hand through his hair, he groaned. Anytime he wanted something, everything always got in the way. The Gods had a habit of dangling what he wanted in front of him and putting up every obstacle they possibly could in the way. Sometimes he wondered how easier his life might have been had he been raised in the North with his mothers family.

"Why would the Tyrells even have an interest in me?"

"Uh, because one day you will be hand of the King, and that would be a pretty powerful position. The Tyrells want power."

"I knew accepting that offer would come back to bite me in the arse." He tried to force out the joke, but Aegon just raised an eyebrow, expression almost emotionless.

"I will make the job worth it." Aegon ran a hand through his silver hair. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go and give the shittiest proposal in the history of romance to Rhaenys."

After his brother left, he allowed his heart to completely sink. In three hours, the last day of the Tourney began. In three hours he was building up to go through with his plan, and once again there was an obstacle. This time in the form of a very politically savy young woman. His father would likely kill him if he pulled any stunt that might jeopardise their standing. The Targaryen family were still doubted after the last war. There were whispers that Rhaegar was as mad as his father.

Jon knew that to be lies. There was nothing mad about Rhaegar, he was a kind and just man. A man who did everything in his power to make the world a better place. If Jon jeopardised that, he was certain his father might never forgive him.

The betrothal is not public knowledge.

Yet Sansa's was.

Rhaenys was all for his plan. When he had first mentioned what he intended to do, she had clapped her hands together in excitement before nodding enthusiastically. Of course, Rhaenys divulged her reasons as to why she thought it was a good idea, and Jon promptly tuned out. Her dedication to the belief that the Lannisters were up to something made him wary. When she told him she thought his plan might reveal a card or two in the Lannisters hand, Jon almost decided against it.

When he saw the bruise on Sansa's face the next day, his mind was firmly set. Three simple words keeping him from swaying.

Father did it.


"I cannot believe you would be so stupid." His voice boomed around the room, eyes locked on his grandson. "What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?"

It brought him joy to watch the young boy take a pause. Second thinking his decisions. The boy had no self control, and if he was not reigned in any time soon he would blow everything they had been working for. Cersei had to reign her son in, if not, he would have to step in. Joffrey needed a good attitude check if he ever wanted to sit on the Iron Throne.

Being caught at harming his betrothed by her royal cousin was a mistake. Harming her at all was a mistake. If they wanted the loyalty of the Starks, they would need Sansa to be theirs. She needed to be treated as if she was one of them, not below them. Neither his daughter or his grandson seemed to know that. Tyrion, however, did know how to treat the Stark girl. The youngest Lannister had befriended the girl and managed to help corrode her opinion of their family even more. Never would she willing sit with the family for a meal, yet she would happily sit with Tyrion for hours on end.

If only he could persuade his son that their cause was just. If Tyrion was to side with his family, then it would be easy enough to marry the Stark girl to him. She would be far more pliable in Tyrions hands than she would be in his monstrous Grandsons. He would not even have to tell the Starks he had married the girl off until news began spreading around the Kingdoms. They would take the Lannister side to keep the girl safe, then when the war was over, they would continue to behave in order to keep the girl alive.

"She was lying to me. Telling me that she was not ignoring me when she has been!"

His grandson was petulant and frustrating. If his plan did not rely on Joffrey, he would have kept the boy in Storms End.

"Perhaps terrifying and slapping her was not the right way to get answers from her. Has your mother not told you that manners are your best weapon."

"I do not care! She is mine. Mine! Not theirs. Mine!"

Swallowing carefully, his eyes locked on his youngest son. Enforcing his new plan would be a lot more difficult that he first thought.


Being in public felt humiliating. Since Joffrey had slapped her, she had avoided the Lannisters at all costs. She had spoken to Tyrion once, tears in her eyes telling him that she hated Joffrey – Gods, she hated him. All she wanted was to get as far away from the monster as possible. Tyrion had nodded and wiped away her tears, telling her that it was okay, he understood. He was there for her, and would do all he could to protect her. Just like he had been doing since he first saw the bruises blooming on her arms just a year previously.

Rhaenys had told Sansa that everything would be alright, that for the remainder of her stay at Kings Landing a member of the Targaryen family would be by her side. Even Viserys and Elia had walked through the gardens with her while Rhaenys, Dany, Aegon and Jon attended to other guests. The kindness the Targaryens showed her made her wish more than ever that it was their family she was marrying in to.

If her father broke her betrothal to Joffrey and she went home, she could suggest an alternate. Tell him that she thinks she knows who she could fall in love with if given the chance. She had even written another letter to her family, telling them how much she hates the Lannisters. How she wants nothing more than to run away from them and return home. Rhaenys and Aegon helped her write the letter, encouraging her to tell her family the truth. Each word was more painful to write than the last, but she did it.

"Stop worrying, my dear. You look beautiful as always."

Rhaenys reached over to clasp her hand as they watched the Tourney. There was not many rounds left. Ser Loras had knocked Aegon off of his horse not moments ago, and Aegon had laughed the entire time. Rhaenys had been right when she said her brot- betrothed did not take the Tourney seriously. There had not been a round in which Aegon did not laugh like a lunatic while encouraging the crowd to cheer. Despite losing against Ser Loras, the crowd continued to go crazy for their prince.

"Only two rounds left."

She wished that made her feel better, but it meant another two rounds sat in the hot sun. Another two rounds of being surrounded by people who could see the outline of her shame marked into her face. It did not matter how much powder Rhaenys and Dany had used on her face, Lady Margaery still asked what had happened.

Never had she been more humiliated.

Rhaenys had started to fabricate a story when Dany had boldly stated that it did not matter and that the situation was being handled. With a nod, Margaery had apologised before changing the subject.

It felt like the world could see her shame. That the world could sit there and judge her. Accuse her of being displeasing and ruined. The bruise was nothing more than a warning. A purple and blue warning that told everyone that she was damaged goods. That she was not good enough for anyone.

Her whole life she had been raised to be a good lady. A pleasing lady. She had promised her mother that she would make a good wife one day. That she would give her mother grandchildren who would grow to be happy and strong and beautiful. All she wanted was to live a happy life. The stories and songs always made life seem better than it really was. Perhaps she should have grown to be more like her sister. Strong and wild. With more of the north in her than there was.

She could claim to be a Stark as often as she wanted, but Arya would never let someone harm her. Arya would never let herself be betrothed to a man who would treat her so awfully if she was remotely displeasing. In fact, the only person her sister strived to please was herself. Perhaps Sansa should have grown to be more like her sister. More like her father. More like a Stark.

Perhaps that was why she wore the simple grey and white gown while surrounded by the red and black of the Targaryens. The gown was simple, and one of the only ones she had been allowed to take to Casterly Rock with her. It was a little too hot for wearing the woollen dress, but she was a Stark and she wanted the world to remember that. She wanted the Lannisters to remember that.

When it was the final round in the Tourney, she tried her hardest to keep focused. To hope that Jon won. He was sat on his horse, lance in hand, looking far more ready than he had throughout any other round. Ser Loras was waving at the crowd before readying himself, giving off an air of expecting to win. As both men lowered their helms and prepared their lance's, Sansa felt her hand tighten in Rhaenys.

Everything happened so quickly, as if she was not really watching it at all. Neither man landed a hit on the other during their first go, and Sansa's heart pounded in her chest. With a second charge, Sansa held her breath, watching as Ser Loras's lance hit Jon, knocking him sideways. Yet Jon managed to keep himself on his horse, steadying himself as they got ready for another charge. Her free hand grasped the chair as she watched wide eyed.

The third charge and she could no longer feel her heart beating. Watching as both men angled their lances, Jon tilting his just before sliding to the left to avoid being hit by Ser Loras. Jon's lance hit Loras's torso and the force of it knocked him backwards off of his horse. It took a moment before it sank in, and Rhaenys all but dragged Sansa to her feet as they cheered for him.

Pride bubbled in her stomach as she watched her cousin throw one hand up in the air as he rode a lap around the crowd. Her heart had started back up again as she sat down, watching with as much pride as she could muster. The last time she had felt so much pride was when she watched Bran hit the bullseye for the first time with his bow.

There was a silence as Jon was given the crown of flowers. The crowd watching eagerly to see who he would crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Watching him ride back along the field, he seemed to be going at a slow trot, as if teasing the entire crowd. Eventually, he stopped his horse by the Kings stand and removed his helm. Natural instinct had her eyes wanting to look at Rhaenys, whom she expected Jon to name. Yet before she could move a single muscle, she realised his eyes were locked on her. Getting off his horse, he walked up to her the crown held in his hands.

"Lady Sansa, I would name you my Queen of Love and Beauty."

Her heart pounded in her chest as the crown was placed on the top of her head.

For a long moment, the silence was deafening, only broken when Dany and Rhaenys began to clap their hands together.