Hey guys! I'm soooo sorry for this delay. Please forgive me, I promise I didn't forget the story :) Here you go, new chapter! Please REVIEW that makes me very happy and more likely to post a new chapter sooner rather than later ;) And also I'd just want to ask you if it bothers you that the 3 contenders' POV are not shown? I go with Margaery for this, cause she's been in the story the longest. Please tell me if you'd like Roslin/Arianne's POV, or if you think it's not necessary. ENJOY & REVIEW


Margaery's POV

The Rose of Highgarden stood on the balcony, watching over the gardens. Her ladies in waiting were sitting at the table in the shade, chattering about meaningless things. Margaery had been standing there, her eyes looking for silhouettes she knew, walking through the gardens. She squinted her eyes when she saw a glimpse of a grey form running fast and scaring people. Grey Wind. She instantly started looking for Robb, but was disappointed when she saw it was only Sansa taking the direwolf outside. Arianne Martell was with her, tagging along, the girls had crossed their arms and Arianne was seemingly telling a story Sansa was only half listening to. A wave of worry hit Margaery; the princess of Dorne was getting close to the sister of the king, who was supposed to be Margaery's friend. Her grandmother had told her it was vital that she keep Sansa close, to be her favorite contender.

The Blue Bard and the other musicians started singing a ritmic song, and the girls started dancing cheerfully. "Margaery, come dance!" they shouted.

Margaery ignored them, suddenly seeing Robb in the gardens. She wanted to go join him, accidentally run into him, but before she could even move she saw he wasn't sitting by the fountain alone, but with Myrcella. They were talking, nothing more, but Margaery thought she noticed something off in Myrcella's behavior. She was touching her hair and smiling at him a lot, and even though she was far too far away to actually be sure of it, Margaery was sure she could see a sort of blush on her cheeks. She had never paid much attention to Myrcella, after all, the girl was now a worthless bastard. But now, she was wondering if there was more to her. The girl was undeniably beautiful, had grown into a woman in Dorne, her skin was tan and her hair light and her smile luminous. She had an innocent brightness about her. Was she shrewder than Margaery thought? Was she trying to be the King's favorite, and receive the benefits that befit such a position? To share his bed, bear his bastards and rule the court beside his Queen?

"Lady Margaery, come bless us with your dancing skills!" the Blue Bard yelled as he started her favorite ballad.

Margaery sat down on a chair, resting her head on her hand. No, Myrcella couldn't be planning anything. She couldn't possibly be that clever. And besides, Robb was far too honorable to have a mistress. He was a Stark, he'd remain faithful to his Queen, and even if he didn't, he'd never humiliate his wife by openly honoring his mistress. It wasn't possible.

The door opened and lady Olenna walked in. She dismissed the musicians and the ladies quietly disappeared. She walked to the balcony. "It appears we might have another obstacle," she said.

Margaery looked at her incredulously. Had she, from her own balcony, just seen the same thing as her granddaughter? The likenesses between her and her grandmother made her chuckle.

"What are you smiling about?" Olenna asked as she sat down across from her, picking grapes from the fruit bowl. "Even that bastard is ahead of you."

Margaery's smile dropped. "That's not true."

"You only had one conversation with him, my dear."

"It was a good conversation."

"If he takes a liking to that bastard, who knows? If he beds her, the noble Stark might end up marrying her!"

Margaery chuckled incredulously. "He wouldn't be that stupid," but the look on her grandmother's face reminded her of Ned Stark's stupidity down south.

"If he spends more time with a bastard girl than with 3 noble ladies all desperate to marry him, it's safe to say there's a problem."

Margaery sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Don't do that dear, you look gasthly."

"What do you want me to do, then?" Margaery asked, agitated. "I am out of ideas!"

Olenna leaned towards her. "It shows."

Margaery raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"It shows that you're distraught. Insecure. Desperate. That Dornish whore and that pretty Frey girl are stepping on your toes, and now Cersei's bastard is as well? People are whispering."

Margaery got up, walking around in a tense and restless manner. "I need something they don't have."

"Exactly. If seducing the King doesn't work as well as we'd thought, and seducing the sister isn't enough, you'll have to seduce someone else."

"Who on earth is there left to seduce?"


"Enter," lady Catelyn said when Margaery's guard knocked.

"Good day, lady Catelyn."

"Hello, Margaery," Catelyn said, putting down her embroidery. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

A guard walked in, carrying an enormous vase with beautiful flowers. "The harvest's been, once again, very blessed for the Reach," Margaery said with a smile. "More than that. Beautiful flowers have grown all over the fields. I wanted you to have the first assortment."

Catelyn rose, admiring the flowers. "Beautiful! I've never seen orange flowers like these," she said, touching the bright petals.

"Fire lilies, my lady," Margaery said. "A new species we've started growing in Highgarden. They're quite rare."

"Thank you, lady Margaery. You are very kind. Come sit with me," Catelyn said, and they sat down at the window. Margaery observed the woman as she put her embroidery aside. Her hands were elegant and her cheekbones high like Sansa's, and she had the very same haunting blue eyes as Sansa and Robb. She looked at least 5 years older than Cersei, even though they had the same age. Margaery wondered which had aged her; time or loss. She had been beautiful for sure, but it seemed like war had drained her. Yet her grace had remained.

"Highgarden must be very beautiful this time of year," Catelyn said.

Margaery smiled brightly. "It must be. The flowers are all blooming now, I've heard."

"You must miss it greatly."

"I do. I miss my brothers, and my friends, and the view," she smiled, remembering her home, but then saw Catelyn staring out the window with melancholy. "But probably not as much as you miss Winterfell."

Catelyn flinched and Margaery could see the pain on her face. But before she could say anything, Margaery took her hand.

"My father wants you to know, my lady, that the forces of the Reach will be happy to help reconquer the North and chase the Greyjoys away if asked. Winterfell belongs to the Starks. The Tyrells will do anything to help."

Catelyn smiled gratefully; "My son will be happy to hear it." She observed Margaery, seemingly thinking her words through. Then, she poured them both some tea. "Tell me, lady Margaery, I've heard you've tried to betroth my sister to your brother Willas a while ago?"

"Yes," Margaery answered, calculating her answer, "Your daughter was very unhappy in King's Landing. I thought she'd be safe in Highgarden, away from the queen and Joffrey, and with Willas. He's very gallant and gentle, and I'm sure they would've been happy together. But Tywin Lannister heard of it, and intervened quickly. As soon as Jaime got here, they were married. There was nothing we could do."

Catelyn squinted her eyes listening to Margaery, and it made the girl nervous. She was listening to her every word, like she was evaluating her. But she didn't say anything about it.

"Margaery, you often do charity work, don't you?" she asked, blowing on her tea.

"Yes, I do," Margaery said, relieved. "Many nobles down south are quite repulsed by the poor, but I've heard that it's different up North?"

"The gap between noblemen and commoners is less significant in the North, yes. But I don't think we do your kind of charity."

"Orphans are my main passion. I couldn't imagine living without my parents, without a family. They're often not taken care of properly. They lack food, housing, clothing, proper attention. So, I like to visit them, and to help in any way I can."

Catelyn smiled approvingly. "I imagine you're quite popular among the poor."

"The people tend to like those who feed them," Margaery said with a chuckle.

Catelyn nodded and sipped at her tea. She understood the message. Margaery had a feeling she could read her much better than most could and it made her uncomfortable.

"There has been peace and prosperity in King's Landing ever since Robb won the war. The people know this and are grateful."

"That's not entirely correct, my lady. There's been peace and prosperity in King's Landing ever since the Tyrells allied themselves with the crown and silenced the troublemakers with nutrition."

Margaery chuckled nervously. It was clear Catelyn had a more southern touch regarding court intrigue and power than Robb. She could see through the Tyrells, Margaery felt it. But it didn't matter. What mattered was her response to it. She was intelligent. Surely she could see the Starks needed the Tyrells?

Yet Catelyn wasn't saying anything, observing Margaery. So the girl nervously kept talking. "I've been to a market down at Flea Bottom recently, and they were all talking about how happy they were about king Robb. He's much different than Joffrey. He's considerate of them, he gave them time to mourn and pardoned all the soldiers fighting against him. Joffrey would not have given them such mercy. They know that."

Catelyn looked pensive. "I'll talk to my son about your charity work. Maybe he could accompany you on one of your trips?"

The cunning rose of Highgarden smiled, trying to contain her content. Olenna would be pleased. It was a small triumph, but an important one. "He would be more than welcome."


Sansa's POV

Sansa's handmaidens were getting her ready when Torhen arrived. "Come in, I'll be quick."

Torhen entered, admiring her chambers. He walked around, taking all the richness in. He touched her curtains, seemingly surprised at the softness and transparence. Eventually, his eyes landed on her handmaidens. Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Torhen, I need you to do something for me," Sansa said as one handmaiden lightly powdered her face and the other dabbed a greasy and pink substance onto her lips.

Torhen observed the process, looking confused. "I- I thought I was escorting you to the barracks?"

"You are. And when we get back, I need you to find someone for me." Sansa's handmaidens moved onto her hair, pulling top locks back in elegant twists. Torhen stared at the handmaiden's hands' intricate work like it was the most impressive thing he'd ever seen someone do.

Torhen leaned against the wall. "Who's that?"

Her hair was ready and Sansa dismissed her handmaidens. As soon as they left, she turned to Torhen. "Shae. She used to be my handmaiden, I haven't seen her since the battle."

"Hate to break it to ya, my lady, but she's most probably dead."

Sansa glared at him. "No. Shae's very capable of defending herself. And her body was nowhere found. Make sure you ask around the castle. She's quite petite, has black hair and a foreign accent from Volantis. And whenever you take a break from looking for her, you'll find me a new handmaiden."

"You've already got maids. Very capable ones at that," he said, awkwardly pointing at her hair. "Never knew they could do that with just their fingers. And so fast!"

"They're either Varys' spies or Littlefinger's. I'm betting on Baelish. I want a trustworthy handmaiden. A smart and loyal one."

"Fine," he said, sighing. "I've got my work cut out for me. And here I thought I'd live an easy live."

Sansa smiled. "I'm not paying you so much for nothing."


The barracks were less crowded that night than they had been the last time she'd been there. Many beds were empty, some were covered with a sheet, a visible contour of a dead man's body underneath it. The smell was worse than last time, but less overwhelming.

"Princess Sansa!" the Grand Maester said, surprised, rising slowly from his seat. It took him an eternity to reach her. Sansa heard Torhen sigh of annoyance behind her.

"How can I assist you?"

"No need to assist me, Grand Maester. I came by to see how the wounded were doing, if you need anything. And to know when these barracks can be used again."

"In a fortnight, I'd say, the barracks will be empty by then. Everyone will be healed enough to leave."

Sansa smiled. "The crown thanks you and the Silent Sisters for your efforts."

The Grand Maester sat back down and Sansa walked through the beds, trying to not look too eager to go find someone. She smiled at the healing soldiers, surprised to see her. She made small supportive talk with some of them, all the while wondering why what had been Tobias' bed was now empty. She kept looking around, to see if they'd moved him. He couldn't possibly have left already.

She walked towards his bed. The sheets hadn't been removed and looked like they'd been freshly used. Her hand ran across the coarse textile, remembering the feel of it against her skin. He wouldn't have left without seeing her first. It just couldn't be true. She had said she'd come back.

"They came to get him," a weak voice said with a grunt. Sansa looked up; the wounded man across from Tobias' bed looked at her.

"What?"

"Yesterday, I think, or the night before. They came," he said, before a bad cough interrupted him. Sansa rushed over to the man and helped him up. She arranged his pillow and he leaned against the wall. "They came, a couple of soldiers or knights, I don't know, I was half asleep." He breathed heavily and coughed a little more. "They took him."

Sansa didn't know what to think. "Did he go willingly?"

"There wouldn't be at least 4 armed men if they thought he'd come willingly."

"Did you hear anything of what they said? Did you recognize someone, a voice, a sigil, anything?"

"I didn't hear. Half deaf," he said, pointing at the gruesome gaping hole on the right side of his face, "But they were tall, broad, bearded, pale. Not from the south, I think."

Sansa stood. She knew what that meant. The man continued coughing, but she didn't hear it anymore. She paced passed the Grand Maester and Torhen, heading out of the barracks and ignoring their calls. Torhen caught up to her. "My lady, where are you going so fast?"

"We're paying a visit to my brother."


Balon Swann and Patrik Mallister were guarding Robb's doors when Sansa arrived.

"Princess-" they tried, but Sansa burst inside Robb's study without listening.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

He was in the company of Mace Tyrell and Tyrion Lannister, all sitting around his desk. They were discussing the imminent arrival of the lords and ladies arriving for the ball. Sansa was clearly disturbing.

"Princess Sansa, I'm busy," Robb said disapprovingly.

Sansa pursed her lips to keep from yelling and stared him down.

The men eyed Robb and he nodded with a sigh. Quietly, they left.

"Sansa, you can't just barge in on-"

"What did you do to Tobias Lance?"

Robb said nothing, he just stared at her. Sansa had hoped he'd deny, but he just looked at her.

"Where did he go, Robb?"

"He left."

Both pairs of icy blue eyes stared at each other, neither backing down.

"Why?"

"It was high time for him to leave King's Landing."

Sansa tilted her head. "That was not your call."

"Oh, but it was."

Sansa shook her head in disbelief. She felt her cheeks get warmer, and it was not a mere blush. "How dare you." Her voice trembled in anger, and she hoped she wouldn't cry. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to yell.

"As the head of House Stark, I decided to send away the man who might've stained your good name. Your reputation."

"You are my brother." Yet he looked so strange to her. Like she was seeing him for the first time.

Robb rose, suddenly towering over her. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. I am your brother, but I am also your King. Don't forget that."

Robb's face was hard like he'd never been before. "You put everything on the line. And for what?"

"It was nothing!" she yelled. "You sent him away for nothing!"

The doors opened and Catelyn walked in. "Nothing? If it was nothing, Sansa, you wouldn't here throwing a fit and embarrassing yourself over it."

Sansa turned towards her mother, incredulous. She hadn't thought of her involvement.

"Don't yell at your brother. If you must yell, yell at me. Your brother merely informed me of what he knew. I made the decision. I sent him away."

Sansa stared at her, her mouth open, feeling like she didn't know her mother at all.

"Where did he go?"

"He left!" Catelyn answered. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that you came out of this lion's den untouched? Unblemished? Your honor preserved? I did not raise you this way! Where's your dignity, your propriety, your decorum? You did put everything on the line! And for what? For a stupid hedge night who got to your head with pretty lies and soft kisses? Are you an idiot? Giving away your most prized possession to that?"

Sansa couldn't believe her. "You think I came out of that marriage untouched? Unblemished? I almost jumped off his bloody balcony!" she screamed. She heard the echo of her voice carry and felt the tears fall down her cheeks. "Why does the fact that he didn't force himself on me make everything fine? I'm not carrying a Lannister, my maidenhead is intact, and that's all that matters to you? You know nothing of what I endured here! Neither of you! You were off fighting a war and I was here, on my own, staring at father's cut off head and suffering for your victories!"

Catelyn and Robb were staring at her and she could see the shame in their eyes. But they weren't ashamed of themselves. They were ashamed of her. The only thing that mattered to them was the worth of a Stark's maidenhead.

Sansa felt sick to her stomach and turned towards the doors. But she stopped before she opened them. "You're supposed to be my family and you betrayed me."

Catelyn shook her head. "Don't you dare, Sansa. You betrayed yourself."