An: Unless it is something truly egregious, don't bother pointing out that my grammar sucks. English isn't my first language and I'm dyslectic on top of that. I reread the chapter five times and unleash a Microsoft spell/grammar correcter upon it, and that's the best your going to get from me.
The royal family lived in Meagor's Holfast. To reach it, Sansa and Catelyn had to walk across a drawbridge over a dry moat with iron spikes waiting to greet any who'd fall. Even should the city walls fall, and the walls of the Red Keep afterwards, the royal family could still hold out for months inside the Holdfast. It was like another castle that was built into the Red Keep. A truly impressive amount of paranoia. Sansa supposed it was fitting, considering the family that had built it. The Targaryens had been great in success and follies both.
There was still no sign of the Queen or her children. They had sent a servant to fetch them instead.
The message was clear. 'You are not important for us to bother stirring ourselves. Come to us instead.' It was disappointing after the easy welcome the king had given them. Sansa wondered if the king would even be here.
Turns out, he wasn't. The only people that were present at the dining table were the Queen, her children, and some servants. Prince Joffrey gave them a courteous nod. The youngest, Tommen, looked bored, while princess Marcella looked at Sansa with interest. The queen meanwhile greeted them with a warm smile and cold eyes. "You've travelled far ladies. Please be seated." They did so.
"Thank your grace," Catelyn said. "And please, let me say how grateful I am to you for giving my Sansa this opportunity."
"Your gratitude is misplaced Lady Stark. It was my beloved husband who insisted on accepting your proposal." By her tone, it was implied that the queen had been against it.
"You have concerns?" Catelyn asked.
"Oh no. I'm sure your daughter will make a lovely servant for Myrcella."
Sansa looked, and yes, her mother's expression had indeed tightened at that. Servant wasn't an inaccurate term, as a lady in waiting was supposed to follow her patrons lead, but it was a slight.
"I am sure she and I will be great friends," Sansa said, smiling at Marcella who tentatively returned it.
Cersei smiled. "She's talented indeed. I can't even tell that her smile is fake."
"She's always been special," Catelyn said, and her smile was less convincing than Cersei's.
"Special," Cersei chuckled. "A girl wanting to get close to the royal family to advance her status? You can't throw a cat in this place without hitting someone like you." she looked at Sansa. "The only thing that's special about you, is that're from a family that my Robert is fond off. So you're offer was accepted where all others were turned away."
"You seek to protect your children from false friends," Catelyn guessed.
"Yes, and now that I've been forced to accept one, I might be forced to accept others in the future. So now I hope you understand my. . . . concerns."
Sansa again looked Myrcella. She was younger than her by just over two years, making her almost as old as Arya. The princess looked contrite, seeming sorry on her mother's behalf, though not brave enough to speak up.
Maybe it was better to be attached to the princess instead of the queen after all?
"I am here partly to reaffirm the friendship between house Stark and Baratheon, to carry it through to the next generation. It's true that we are not friends right now, but I'm hoping we can be. I promise you; I will look out for the princesses well-being as if she were my own sister." And that was no lie. She'd look after her, for her own sake as well as hers.
Catelyn looked pleased with her. "Nobody is friends when they first meet. King Robert and my lord husband weren't at the start, and yet their bond grew strong enough to break the Targaryen dynasty."
"Then maybe you should have sent one of your sons here instead of a girl, but your point is well taken." Cersei said, again looking at Sansa. "I will be keeping my eye on you." It sounded like a threat.
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Myrcella had been told about the Stark girl as soon as the grownups had decided on the fostering.
She could also tell that her mother was not happy about it, even before the tense dinner. The princess could recall a lecture by their mother that they could only trust family, so that might be the reason. That particular lecture had been given to her and all of her siblings, but Myrcella could tell it had been mostly aimed at Joffrey.
To Myrcella, it sometimes seemed like her mother forgot that she had more than one child. Cersei always seemed to find time to spend with Joffrey. Never Myrcella or Tommen. And King Robert didn't make time for any of them.
Myrcella and Tommen had mostly been raised by castle servants. Though Myrcella would never admit it out loud, her septa Eglantine was more of a mother to her than Cersei. She didn't have a father figure in her life at all. Her closest friend was her younger brother Tommen who usually followed her everywhere.
Despite her little brother, Myrcella often felt lonely, and was tentatively hopeful about their new guest. Her first impression was that Sansa was a little intimidating. She was older. Nearly eight to Myrcella's five. And even if they had been the same age, it looked like Sansa might still be taller.
"Children have an easier time making friends when their parents aren't looking over their shoulders," Cersei said. "Joffrey, please show Lady Stark around our home. And look after your siblings."
'No mother don't!' Myrcella thought. She was even less likely to make a new friend with Joffrey nearby than with their mother nearby. She wasn't brave enough to object though.
Joffrey didn't look happy but dutifully said. "As you wish, mother."
It was both not as bad and exactly as bad Myrcella imagined. Not as bad, since Joffrey seemed to actual be trying to make a good impression. He could pretend to be nice if he wanted to. Mother probably instructed him or something.
It was exactly as bad as expected since Sansa seemed to be mostly ignoring her in favour of Joffrey. Just like everyone always ignored them in favour of Joffrey. Sansa asked after his routine, his lessons, the court, and he answered with both truth and gossip. Sansa asked if she could observe some his sword lessons, and Joffrey said he didn't mind.
It wasn't fair. Sansa had come here supposedly to be her friend and not Joffrey's. Jon Arryn had said so! Instead, she and Tommen trailed after the two older children like two shadows.
"Can I show Sansa my garden," Myrcella asked.
She had recently been given a small garden in the Red Keep. It was one of the few things she had that she was proud off, and she hoped it would impress Sansa.
At Sansa's questioning look, Joffrey said, "Myrcella does keep a small garden. The servants have done a good job of making it look pretty."
"Not just the servants. I help too," Myrcella argued. She did help. A little bit. When they explained to her what she was supposed to do.
"That's not something to proud off. Dirtying your hands like that. . . It's unbecoming of a princess."
"Perhaps, but I do understand," Sansa said. "You're prouder of something when you make it yourself. Like my dress. I might have been able to buy something finer." Myrcella doubted that. "But by having made it myself, I love wearing it even more."
"I suppose that's true," Joffrey consented. "I go hunting sometimes. The meat of something I catch myself always tastes better." As they made their way to the garden, Joffrey told stories of some of his hunts. He went into very detailed descriptions of how the animals died. It was the first time today that he showed his crueller side. As he had a gleam in his eye as he talked about how a rabbit he had caught had thrashed as the knife game down.
Poor Tommen was cringing, and his eyes were getting wet. He loved animals. Myrcella wanted to sent him back to his room, to play with some of his knew wooden knights.
"A prince should be working to become a knight," Joffrey said with a sneer. Myrcella took a subconscious step, placing herself between her older and younger brother. "Not playing with dolls of them." Myrcella didn't bother to point out that even Joffrey hadn't started practicing with a sword when he was four.
"Oh, let him have his fun. He's clearly not enjoying himself here. And I'm sure you'll be a magnificent enough knight for both you and Tommen," Sansa said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Joffrey preened at the compliment. "I could if I wanted to. But I'll be a king. Not just a knight."
"Oh? May I ask what kind of king you're hoping to be."
"Strong and fierce of course. Like father. A great warrior King who crushes all his enemies," Joffrey said, mimicking pulling a sword from his hip.
It was so brief, Myrcella nearly missed it, but for a moment, Sansa's smile vanished, and she seemed to be rolling her eyes. Then it was gone, and she clapped with a simpering smile. "I hope to be there to see it, your grace!"
Myrcella was tempted to just follow Tommen to his room. Sansa clearly seemed more interested in Joffrey than her. Yet, she had noticed something off about Sansa, and she continued to follow to see if she could figure out what.
Sansa revisited the topic of hunting. Instead of ushering the conversation quickly past the uncomfortable parts where Joffrey liked to toy with his prey, Sansa chose to linger there, asking for even more details. After that, she moved on to his sword lessons, and again they lingered on how Joffrey tended to humiliate and toy with weaker opponents. Sansa laughed along with him.
Joffrey smiled and shared stories eagerly with the enthusiasm of any child that had found someone to share his interest.
'Could Sansa be like that to?' Myrcella thought, suddenly afraid. She didn't want to spend years around a female version of Joffrey.
At the end of the tour, it was Joffrey that asked Sansa to meet again later. Usually with Joffrey and new courtiers, it was the other way around.
After her older brother left, Sansa turned her gaze to Myrcella. The princess didn't flinch, but it was a near thing, and she suddenly felt very small.
Sansa sighed. "You didn't need to keep following us princess." Myrcella didn't know what to say to that. "I'm supposed to get to know you, but a crown prince is due attention."
"I'm used to it," Myrcella said stiffly.
"Are you now?" Sansa said and crouched down a little, so she didn't tower so far above Myrcella. "Do you want to return to your garden? We didn't spend as much time there as you obviously wanted."
Myrcella wasn't sure she wanted to spend any more time around Sansa, regardless of where, but nodded meekly all the same. As they walked, Sansa told of her own family. Her brothers and sisters. And the antics they got up to.
Myrcella noticed that during that entire conversation with Joffrey, Sansa very rarely had said anything about herself. It was different now.
As Sansa, in clear exasperation, told of how she was forced to be the responsible older sibling for everyone, including her two older brothers, the older girl didn't seem quite as scary anymore.
Instead, Myrcella thoughts now went to Sansa's family. At how different it seemed from her own home. It made her sad. And before she knew it, Myrcella was sharing her own anecdotes. Mostly stories of herself and Tommen.
"Nothing, about your older brother? Mine always felt it was their duty to make us laugh," Sansa said, studying Myrcella's expression. Myrcella said nothing and was remembering less pleasant experiences. "Ah. I see."
'Could she read minds!' Myrcella thought. "See what?"
"That you don't wish to answer," Sansa said and shook her head. "Never mind. Come, and share your ideas for this garden of yours. Maybe I'll be able to help," Sansa looked at her cautiously. "If you'd like that of course."
"You're not just doing that to be my friend, are you," Myrcella said suspiciously.
"Of course, I am," Sansa said bluntly, her smile dimming somewhat. "That's why I came here."
Myrcella blinked. Not sure if she should be angry about that or not. "Then you're not a true friend?" It sounded like a question even to her own ears.
"Why not? I want to spend time with you, and in so doing, you'll come to care for me, and I'll come to care for you. And so, we'll reach a mutually beneficial relationship commonly referred to as 'friendship'."
That was a very strange way of looking at friends, Myrcella thought. She always thought that friendship was something that just happened. You liked someone or you didn't. Or you pretended, and that's what you needed to watch out for. Especially if you're a prince or princess. Mother warned about it often to Joffrey.
"My feelings for you are calculated. That doesn't mean they can't be genuine."
Though Sansa wasn't smiling anymore, Myrcella trusted the calm face Sansa now showed more than the previous one.
"So do you want to talk about your garden, or not?" Sansa asked.
"Only if you talk about something you like to do later," Myrcella said to Sansa's visible surprise. "If being friends takes work, then I have to work on it as well, don't I?"
Sansa smiled, and Myrcella felt it was the only real smile she showed all evening.
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Catelyn only stayed for a few more days, enough to convince herself that Sansa would be alright. Just before she left, Catelyn told her she believed she was pregnant again. The news was shared during their last meal together, with Lord Arryn, and aunt Lysa.
Lysa tried to be happy for her sister, but Sansa could see the envy in her eyes. Poor woman.
A routine was swiftly established in Sansa's life. She continued her lessons with the Septa for the short time it took for her to learn all she had to teach. Afterwards, a Meister was brought in for more advanced numbers and histories. Beyond that, Sansa spend most of her 'free time' with Myrcella, and felt she was making good progress in ingratiating herself with the princess. The girl was obviously lonely and would soon look up to her like a surrogate older sister.
Besides Myrcella, Sansa also tried to ingratiate herself with the crown prince. Sure, she had figured out he had a mean strike the first day, but he was still the heir to the throne. The law of the land was clear, and a sadistic streak wasn't enough to remove him from the line of succession. Nor even if he took out his urges on some smallfolk here and there. So long as he didn't decide to burn down a Lord Paramount who was allied with nearly half of the seven kingdoms without a good reason, Joffrey would still be king someday. Besides, a leader was expected to inspire some measure of fear in both his followers and enemies.
And Joffrey was looking to become a handsome young man by most standards. And in this primitive society, prettiness was associated with goodness. Another reason why he'd likely be fine.
To that end, she showed an interest in his activities. She often looked on as he practiced with a sword. The master at arms joked that Joffrey tended to work harder when she was watching. She accompanied him when he went hunting in the Kingwood. And Sansa did her best to distract him when he was being mean to his siblings.
Sansa didn't think she'd ever be able to genuinely care about someone like Joffrey, but marriage in this society was thankfully more pragmatic in nature. Tanya had never really understood romance either, nor friendship truth be told. A partnership based on mutual benefit? That she could understand.
Her other target in the city, Renly Baratheon, didn't have a lot of time or interest in spending time with a girl that was nine years his junior. A pity.
Two months after her arrival. The Tyrells showed up.
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It was telling that Queen Cersei did consider the Tyrell's important enough to come to greet them personally when she didn't do so for the Starks.
Sansa knew why the Tyrells were here. Margaery Tyrell was to be fostered in Kingslanding to be Myrcella lady in waiting alongside Sansa. The timing of it was too convenient. Sansa didn't doubt this was done in direct response to her own introduction to court. A sort of 'you're already making plays for the position of queen, so will we.'
This was a problem. Sansa may be a daughter of a Lord Paramount, but the North was objectively the least valuable of all the seven kingdoms. The Iron Islands didn't count. The North was poor, scarcely populated, and compared to the other kingdoms, it took them a small eternity to fully muster in case the realms devolved into war. There was a good reason the North, besides the Starks, rarely married outside itself. Not many wanted them.
Compare that to the Reach, which Sansa would argue was the most powerful. It could raise the most men and was half of the breadbasket of the whole realm. The Riverlands being the other half. The only thing that the Starks had over the Tyrells was that their blood was much older, and so they were considered 'nobler' in the eyes of the nobility. And the Reach wasn't as united behind the Tyrells as the North was behind the Starks. There were still many Reacher houses that claimed closer relation to the old Gardeners Kings than the Tyrells. But that just meant that the Tyrells would want a royal marriage more than anything, since it would secure their own power as well.
Really, if the king didn't seem to have a soft spot for the Starks, she would have considered her chances to be exactly zero. Sansa doubted she could sell herself as a lady of the Riverlands as well as the North.
The Tyrells had also come with more people. Margaery had a few lesser cousins with her. No doubt they were seeking to intimidate her with numbers!
"Welcome to King's Landing. I'm sure you'll absolutely love the princess!" Sansa said with her best smile.
"Thank you. I'm sure we'll be great friends," Margery said, her smile even broader than Sansa's. Sansa, not to be outdone, gave her enemy a hug of friendship. After a moment's surprise, Margeary returned it.
"I absolutely love your dress!" Margeary gushed. "I heard you made it yourself even."
Sansa noticed that while her dress might be finely made, so was Margaery's and hers was made of more exotic materials. Ivory silk, Myrish lash, and pearls.
From anyone else, Sansa would have believed the compliment. But Margeary was no doubt insinuating that Sansa's family was too poor to have anything decent made for her. Bitch.
And from then then on, Margeary competed with her for Myrcella and Joffrey's time. Mostly Joffrey's truth be told, as Margeary tended to prefer the company of her own family over the princess who was four years her junior. Sansa only had Myrcella, as she didn't trust the Tyrells and nobody else was worth her time.
At least Cersei didn't seem to like Margeary any more than she did Sansa.
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Tyrion Lannister was shocked away from his reading by a scream coming from a nearby living room. When he ran past the door, he first noticed several servants in a state of near total panic. And a young voice shouting sharp commands.
When he got closer, he saw Margeary Tyrell lying on the ground, screaming. The reason was obvious as half her face was swollen with burn marks. He saw a crumpled carpet, and a messy fireplace with scattered logs. Tyrion deduced the girl must have slipped on the carpet somehow and fallen into the fireplace.
Sansa was setting on her knees next to Margaery and seemed to be administering first-aid treatment.
"The Grand Maester," Tyrion asked to the room in general.
Little Sansa looked at him. "Joffrey has already sent his sworn sword to collect him."
Joffrey was there as well and was looking irritated at the whole situation in general.
In what seemed like a long time, but was in reality two minutes, Sander Clegane came running to the room. From the looks of it, the Hound had just grabbed Grand Meister Pycell in his arms and carried him here.
After putting down Pycell, Sandor nearly collapsed. 'How fast must he have run?' Tyrion wondered.
Sansa had been whispering encouraging words to Margaery to help keep her calm, but now that Pycell was here, she stood up. "Everything is going to be okay." And then she looked at Joffrey. "It's all a bit much. I need a bit of space if you don't mind."
"I could accompany you," Joffrey offered. Tyrion suspected Joffrey just didn't want to be here anymore than Sansa and was just looking for an excuse.
Also, something about Sansa's words felt false to him. She said she needed space, but she didn't seem disturbed. In fact, she seemed like the calmest person here.
"That's very sweet of you," Sansa smiled at the prince. "But someone has to stay with Margeary." And without another word, she was off. Tyrion caught a glimpse of her eyes and there was a sort of gleam in them. Something utterly unbefitting of this situation. Tyrion didn't understand what it was exactly, but it caused him to sneakily follow the young Stark girl.
He followed her into a dark isolated corridor, and there she just stopped. Tyrion didn't know what he had been expecting. For her to run back to her aunt to tell her what happened maybe?
Still keeping out of sight, Tyrion looked and what he saw would haunt his thoughts for a long time. It seemed Sansa really did just want to be alone, but not because she was distressed by what happened.
Sansa was hunched over, and from this angle, Tyrion could just see her expression. She had her thumb touching her lips which were spread into a wide evil looking grin. Her features were shadowed in the darkness, but her pale blue eyes almost seemed to glow with excitement. She looked like a small bundle of sadistic joy only barely holding itself back from screaming her triumph to the world.
Sansa must have run because she didn't want anyone to see how much she delighted in Margaery's suffering.
'She's worse than Cersei!' Tyrion thought. And slowly started backing away, being even more careful now not to make a sound. He feared for his life should this monster notice him.
When he was safe – though Tyrion later thought his fears made no sense. Surely, he could overpower a nine-year-old child? – Tyrion thought that she and Joffrey might truly have been made for each other. All the same, he thought this kingdom scarcely needed another monarch such as her.
At that time, Tyrion was almost certain that Sansa had somehow caused Margaery's fall.
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Later, when Sansa was alone in her room, she dropped herself down on her bed with satisfied smile.
Sansa hadn't caused Margaery's fall. Sansa considered herself more civilized than that. That didn't mean she couldn't be happy when fortune smiled on her.
Margeary had been a pretty girl. And for young woman, being pretty, was one of the best ways to increase their market value. Sansa wasn't sure whether Margaery's scars would be enough to tilt the scales to favour Sansa as the next queen, but her chances were a lot bigger now.
'My luck in this new world just keeps on coming!'
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Cersei had come to see Margaery's injury for herself.
'Poor girl,' Cersei thought without any real sympathy. 'This world is cruel to ugly woman. Not that I'd know anything about that,' Cersei smiled wryly to herself. 'but this might be an interesting opportunity.'
'When will I wed the prince?'
'Never. You will wed the king.
'I will be queen, though?'
'Aye. Queen you shall be. . . . until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear.'
Words that had haunted Cersei for a long time. Usually, she worried more about the part about the valonqar, but ever since Sansa and later Margeary arrived. . . .
But Margeary would never be more beautiful than Cersei now.
'She's perfect,' Cersei thought.
"Dry your tears child," Cersei said, sitting down next to Margeary and putting on her best sympathetic expression. Cersei suspected that Margaery's tears had less to do with her pain and more with her lost beaty. The girl already seemed to know how the world worked. "Don't worry. There is far more to being a queen than simple beauty."