We've been away from King's Landing for quite some time now. It's time to go back there. A lot happened in the Riverlands and in the Stormlands in the time being. Let's see what people in the capital are doing while the fighting takes place outside the Red Keep.
SANSA VIII
She hurried along the corridors of the Red Keep, Sandor Clegane behind her, pushing her to walk quickly without touching her.
"Hurry, little bird. The longer you keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you," he warned her.
"What have I done? Please tell me," she begged him as they approached the Great Hall.
"You've done nothing, little bird. It's your brother."
"My brother is a traitor," she repeated. It was an automatism for her now. She knew the words by rote.
"Keep going, little bird, and maybe you'll live."
This wasn't to reassure her. "I only live for my beloved Joffrey."
"Well, let's hope he still wants you to live then." The great doors of the Great Hall of the Red Keep opened. About thirty people were waiting inside, and their heads all turned when she entered. However, it wasn't their judging or worried expressions that terrified her the most, but the king himself. Joffrey was sitting on the Iron Throne, a crossbow on his knees. His cruel eyes landed on her as soon as she walked inside the throne room. The crowd split before her, as if she was a queen whose head was about to be chopped on the executioner's block.
The Hound walked by her side, just a little behind her.
"Be brave." She barely heard the words, but he said them before he walked passed her and took his place alongside the other kingsguards before the dais. She fell on her knees.
"Your Grace."
"Kneeling won't save you now," the king said. He stood up and pointed the crossbow, loaded, towards her. "Do you know what fate awaits every traitor?"
"Death, your Grace," she replied, not having the choice.
"Yes, death."
"Your Grace, I am no traitor," she pleaded, new knots forming in her stomach at every second.
"I'm the one who says whether you're a traitor or not. They say we are responsible for our family's actions. You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons."
The crossbow was still pointed in her direction. One movement of Joffrey's hand, and she was dead. "Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that, I beg you, please…"
"Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage."
Lancel Lannister was one of those men Sansa always thought as comely and well spoken, but the recently named kingsguard showed neither pity nor kindness in the way he spoke to her and the way he looked at her.
"Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on my father, Ser Kevan Lannister, with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain."
Gasps of horror ran through the crowd, and horror wrapped cold hands around Sansa's throat. Joffrey was still targeting her with his crossbow.
"Killing you would send your brother a message." Sansa looked away, tears flowing out of her eyes on her cheeks. That's it, it's the end for me. They will write songs about how I died in Joffrey's hand. "But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand." He lowered his crossbow. "So we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Lancel."
Whatever relief she might have felt at the news she wasn't going to die faded. Ser Lancel Lannister approached, contempt and anger for her in his eyes, but also something else. His eyes were red. He turned to the king. "What would you have me do, your Grace?" he asked with a hard voice.
"Punish her. Hit her. But leave her face. I like her pretty."
There was a pause during which the knight looked at her, and then the punch came. He reached her shoulder with his gauntleted fist. Then he kicked her in the belly, driving air out of her and making her fall on her knees.
"Lancel, my lady is overdressed. Unburden her."
She heard the noise of something being unsheathed. A grip on her clothes from behind followed by a strong pull and her gown was ripped. Sansa had to cover her breasts with her hands.
"If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder. Hit her with your sword!"
Another unsheathing sound, and Sansa truly thought her end had come.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The voice of Tyrion Lannister cracked like a whip. She turned to see him, half a dozen men following him, all wearing the red armor of House Lannister. These were the men Robb fought.
"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?" he asked, disgust plain, as he reached the place where she was.
"The kind who serves his king, my lord," Lancel Lannister replied, his voice shaking.
"Oh, shut up! Feel lucky that you are a Lannister, or else I would have you whipped like every man in the Westerlands who beats an innocent child. Someone get the girl something to cover herself with."
Sandor Clegane approached and pulled his cloak, then wrapped it over her shoulders. She tightened it, as if it could protect her.
"She is to be your queen. Have you no regard for her honor?" Lord Tyrion asked his nephew.
"I'm punishing her," Joffrey shouted back.
"For what crimes? She did not fight her brother's battle, you half-wit."
"You can't talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!" He turned away and went back to sit in the throne. That didn't stop the Lord of Casterly Rock from approaching him further, climbing a few steps on the dais, a long shadow lingering behind him. The kingsguard made no attempt to stop him.
"The Mad King did as he liked. Has your uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?"
"No man threatens the king in the presence of the Kingsguard." Ser Lancel Lannister said very loudly, like a herald who wanted to be heard at all cost.
"I'm not threatening the king, cousin. I am educating my nephew. When you want to know what a threat is, remember the one I made for you, Ser Lancel."
Sansa saw the knight's face pale. "The queen will hear of this!"
"No doubt she will. And why wait? Run to her, good ser. Joffrey, shall we send for your mother?" Joffrey flushed. "Nothing to say, your Grace? Good. Learn to use your ears more and your mouth less, or your reign will be shorter than I am. Wanton brutality is no way to win your people's love… or your queen's."
"Fear is better than love, Mother says." Joffrey pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."
His uncle sighed. "A pity Stannis and Renly aren't twelve-year-old girls as well. Vylarr, bring her. Ser Barristan, clear the court. I need a good discussion alone with my nephew."
Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought that Ser Vylarr and his men would bring her back to her bedchamber, but instead they led her to the Tower of the Hand. She didn't set foot there since the day her father fell from grace and her life turned from dream to nightmare.
They brought her to what she recognized to be Arya's former bedchamber. Inside, a steaming tub was waiting for her, and several handmaidens, including the one who cleaned her wounds after the riot.
"Sansa, by the gods, what happened to you? Come. Get her clothes off. They're not good for anything now. Everything is going to be alright."
She let herself be guided to the tub by Sera Durwell where she was washed until all her skin was pink. After she was clean, Maester Frenken came to see her. He spread a salve across everywhere the fists and feet of Lancel Lannister had landed, then gave her some essence of nightshade.
"Sleep a bit, child. When you wake, all this will seem a bad dream."
She slept. When she woke up, the bad dream wasn't over, and the morning sun had been replaced by the darkness of the night. A robe was laid near her. It wasn't one of the gowns she usually wore, but she put it on all the same. It was fitting for her size overall, though it also felt too loose at some places.
She remained there, crying, thinking about how miserable her life had become, how alone she was. Joffrey beat her, humiliated her, and no one did anything, except for the Hound and the Imp. Knights were sworn to protect the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Even Ser Barristan, who was always kind with her even after her father was disgraced, did nothing.
After some time, someone walked in. Sera Durwell brought her a platter of cheese, bread and olives, with a flagon of cold water.
"Take it away," she commanded.
The girl was about to lay the platter on the table. She stopped in her movement for a second, then placed the food where she intended. "Lady Sansa, you must eat something. Believe me, you'll feel better after."
No, she wouldn't feel better, but she realized at the same time that she was thirsty. She emptied two full cups of water, Sera helping her to pour it.
"I heard what happened in the throne room. I didn't believe the king would go so far," the girl said.
"I am paying the price for my brother's treason," Sansa replied.
"It's not your fault. We should not suffer for the actions of our family."
"I am."
"Me too," Sera whispered. Sansa barely heard it. "The dress fits you well."
"Thank you," Sansa replied numbly. She had no interest talking about clothes or fashion right now, not after what she just went through.
"I think Lady Margaery would like to see you with it. It's one of hers."
Sansa was about to take an olive but halted her movement. "This robe… belongs to Lady Margaery?"
"Yes. It was of the first Lord Tyrion had made for her when she arrived at Casterly Rock. You're already as tall as she was back then."
Sansa immediately felt very odd. "I… I shouldn't have…"
"Don't worry, she won't say anything. I brought the dress myself. It was the one that seemed to fit your size the most. Anyway, Lady Margaery doesn't wear it anymore. It no longer fits her body."
Sansa managed to convince herself that Lady Sera was telling the truth. The Lady of Casterly Rock had always been kind with her. She was the only one who tried to warn her about Joffrey. Sansa missed her. She had no one here, and when she talked with Lady Margaery, she had the impression someone was listening to her, even if she was careful with what she was saying. Now that she was gone, Sansa felt more lonely than ever, and she was more afraid of Joffrey than ever. Since her departure, Sansa was almost killed in a riot and beaten before the entire court. She felt safer with the Lady of the Westerlands around.
"Are you afraid, Sansa?" Sansa was taken aback by the question. Before she could think of an answer, Lady Sera resumed. "I mean, there are rumours about a battle in the Riverlands, about Ser Kevan and Ser Jaime being dead. Some say Robb Stark will be at the doors of King's Landing in a few days. I'm afraid of what might happen if we are attacked."
"My… my brother would never kill you. He's only after Joffrey, for what he did to my father. He is a traitor," she added in the end.
"Yes, I suppose if he takes the city, you will be free. That's one good thing that will come out of it, I guess." She scoffed. "Look at me. I worry about myself when I'm safe behind walls while my best friend is out there, and I have no way to know if she's still alive."
"Your best friend?" The conversation they had after the riot slowly made its way back to her mind. "You're talking about Mira?"
"Yes."
"What is she doing? I mean, what is she doing outside King's Landing?"
"Lord Tyrion sent her to discuss peace with Robb Stark. She must not have been far from Harrenhal when the battle took place. If she was caught in the middle of it…"
Sera Durwell didn't dare to finish her idea. There was something Sansa found odd. "But your friend is a handmaiden. Why would Lord Tyrion send her to discuss peace with my brother?"
"Oh, well…" Lady Sera laughed nervously. "Maybe I shouldn't worry too much about Mira. Her father is serving Robb Stark. He will make sure nothing happens to her if she is caught."
"Wait, her father is serving my brother?" How could the father of a handmaiden serving the Lady of Casterly Rock be serving the Lord of Winterfell?
"Mira is from House Forrester, a northern house."
The name of the house rang a bell. She remembered a time, long ago, when her lord father came back from a visit to a castle called Ironrath, the stronghold of a powerful house sworn to House Glover. He said the place rivalled with Winterfell in beauty. Lady Sera kept speaking.
"I regret you didn't meet her. She was with us when we went to Winterfell, but she didn't follow us there. She went to visit her family. When she finally came back, you were gone."
Sansa nodded abstractedly.
"Is it true all of your brothers have a direwolf?" she asked all of a sudden.
"Yes, they do." The painful memory of Lady rushed back.
"I saw the white one at Casterly Rock when he was grown up. I can understand that people are scared of them."
"You saw a direwolf at Casterly Rock?" Sansa asked, not understanding how a direwolf could have been seen at this place.
"Yes, the white one. The one with your brother Jon. Well, your half-brother."
"Oh, yes, it's true." She had almost forgotten that Jon had spent some time at Casterly Rock. It had been so long since she saw him or any of her siblings. She felt like she would hug them all, even her bastard brother, if they were ever reunited.
"He seemed nice. Your brother, not the wolf of course. Not very talkative, but he seemed to be a good person. Is your brother Robb like him?"
"Well… they… Robb is more… I mean, he's more comfortable around people."
That's all she could say. She realized how little she knew about her half-brother, the only brother who didn't have the same mother as she did.
"Well, Jon Snow wasn't very comfortable around people, that's true. He mostly kept to himself. Except with Mira. He spent a lot of time with her. I even saw them dance at a feast. I think she invited him to her wedding. They…"
Sera Durwell was interrupted by a knock on the door. Tyrion Lannister walked in. "Lady Sansa. Lady Sera."
"My lord." Sera Durwell stood up in respect, and Sansa did the same.
"Thank you for keeping company to the Lady Sansa, but I wish to have a private word with her now."
"Of course, my lord."
As the handmaiden proceeded to leave, Tyrion Lannister looked at her and frowned. "Lady Sera." The girl stopped in her path. "Did you choose this dress?"
His wife's handmaiden looked quite uncomfortable all of a sudden. "My lord, I'm sorry, I just thought…"
"That's alright. You may go."
No one had to beg her to leave, and Sansa was alone with the Lord of Casterly Rock. The last time it happened was after the riot where she almost got killed. He looked back at her, then shook his head and took a seat. She did the same.
"I'm sorry. I've been used to see my wife wear this dress. It's disturbing for me to see another woman wear it."
"If you want, my lord, I can…" she began.
He interrupted her with a raised hand. "Don't bother. I won't make a case against you for a dress after what happened today. Keep it. She no longer wears it anyway." A heavy silence followed before he said something else. "I trust I am not disturbing you?"
"No, my lord." No more than Sera Durwell did. Did you send her to spy on me?
"The food is to your satisfaction? If there is anything else you need, you have only to ask."
"You are most kind. And this morning… it was very good of you to help me."
"Oh, yes, I am the very soul of kindness and goodness." From his tone, it didn't seem like he thought what he was saying. "I owe you another apology. Something else that should never have happened. But what do you want? My kingly nephew has the wits of a goose and the charm of a dead slug."
"He is the king," Sansa flatly said.
"You're right. The king has the wits of a goose and the charm of a dead slug."
Did he really think so, or was he trying to make her reveal her true loyalty? All the people who dared to mock Joffrey paid the price. Could Lord Tyrion truly be speaking like this without suffering the consequences? Did Joffrey send him to test her, so he could get another reason to beat her like he just did? There was a lingering thought in Sansa's mind about this. When Tyrion Lannister intervened, none dared to stop him, not even Joffrey. There was something in the king's eyes she hadn't seen in a long time in the throne room, when his uncle walked in. Fear.
"Tell me the truth. Do you want an end to this engagement?"
She replied instinctively. "I am loyal to King Joffrey, my one true love."
"Well, Lady Stark, you may survive us yet. In any case, you have a right to know why Joffrey was so wroth. Five days ago, a battle occurred north of Harrenhal, on the Kingsroad. Your brother's army smashed against my uncle Kevan and won a victory. We received word only this morning."
Good. Robb will kill you all. "It's… terrible, my lord. My brother is a vile traitor."
The Imp smiled wanly. "A traitor, maybe, but he proved he was a man, to the opposite of my nephew today who proved how childish and stupid he is."
"Ser Lancel said Robb led an army of wolves…"
He gave a disdainful bark of laughter. "Ser Lancel's a wineskin warrior who wouldn't know a wolf from a cat. Your brother had his direwolf. In fact, there were two. Your half-brother Jon Snow was fighting too. My brother Jaime was stupid enough to attack their rearguard without enough men, and without being prepared. It was a trap and they were encircled. My uncle arrived just in time with the bulk of our forces to prevent disaster, but that wasn't enough to avoid defeat. Jaime managed to escape, but Kevan and his sons Martyn and Willem were both captured. In fact, if Lancel seemed so angry at you today, it's probably because his father and brothers are now prisoners. Ser Gregor Clegane was killed too, and I say good riddance. He was more trouble than anything. We lost half our men. Either they died in the battle or they deserted. The army is already regrouping and reorganizing as we speak. Don't rejoice too much, my lady. Your brother won a victory, but not the war."
"I'm sure that in the end, whoever deserves to win will win?"
"And who decides who deserves to win? The Battle of the Kingsroad is not the only one that took place recently. Robb Stark merely evened the odds, for the moment. We still have fifteen thousand men blocking his way to the capital, and then we have the city walls with the thousands of men guarding them. With your mother's home under siege, I doubt he will march on us anytime soon."
"My mother's home is under siege?" she asked.
He blinked and sighed. "Sorry, my tongue is too loose, as always. I thought you knew. No one told about the Golden Tooth?" She shook her head. "There was another battle there, a few days before this one. My uncle Stafford and the army of your grandfather, Hoster Tully, fought. And this time, my house won. The Tully armies are disbanding and running away. At best, there are a few groups still resisting and disturbing our supply lines, but nothing more. Thirty thousand men have followed the River Road. I received the confirmation an hour ago that the castle was under siege."
What joy Sansa felt when she heard Robb had won against the Lannisters was crushed by this news. Her lady mother had often talked to her about Riverrun. Sansa wished she had the chance to visit it one day, and now it was surrounded by Joffrey's men.
"There's something else you should know, my lady, and you're not going to like it at all." His face only showed regret. He waited to speak. Sansa dreaded what would come. "Riverrun is not the only castle with problems. Winterfell has been taken, by the Ironmen."
A stone fell in her throat. The Lord of Casterly Rock seemed to wait for a reaction, but she didn't have any. She couldn't react.
"We don't know much about it yet, but it seems Balon Greyjoy decided to start another rebellion. Truth be told, I considered that as a possibility when this war began, but I didn't expect him to attack the North. I thought he would launch an invasion on the Westerlands or the Reach. The regions are way richer. But for now, he seems to limit his operations to the North. A few places have fallen. There are raids on the coasts. And a group of Ironmen somehow managed to take Winterfell." He crossed his fingers and leaned towards her. "Look, we know Brandon and Rickon were there. We have no news from them. Up to now, we must consider they are still alive, but I won't lie to you. The men of the Iron Islands are not like us. We don't know what could happen to them. I'm really sorry."
Bran and Rickon. Were the Ironmen as horrible or worse than Joffrey? Was it even possible to be worse than Joffrey? She did a surreal effort to not show her distress. "My brothers are traitors. All my brothers are traitors."
A heavy silence fell, and then Lord Tyrion spoke. "Don't say that again."
"I beg your pardon." She was genuinely surprised.
"I mean, you can say that before Joffrey, to avoid trouble, but don't say that in the presence of someone else. I saw Bran and Rickon at Winterfell. I met them just like you. They are children, too young to understand what a rebellion or a treason is. Your other brothers and your mother can be called traitors, it's true. They rebelled against their king, that makes them traitors as a matter of fact. But Bran and Rickon have nothing to see with this. If someone else than you in House Stark doesn't deserve to suffer from this war, it's them."
They remained silent for a moment. Sansa didn't dare to speak. There had been a certain hedge in the small lord's voice. He threatened her in case she would call her brothers traitors again. How was she supposed to deal with this and Joffrey who wanted her to do whatever he wanted at the same time, which included saying again and again that her family were turncloaks, rebels and criminals.
"I'm sorry to bring you these news." His voice had gone softer. "But I would rather have you hear the truth this way than from someone else. If Joffrey ever taunts you about this, better you are prepared." She couldn't argue against this. "And it is better to accept a horrible truth than to believe in a beautiful lie. I may have other bad news for you, however."
What else? Couldn't they be done with bad news for today? "What is it, my lord?"
"You will never marry Joffrey."
The blunt statement confused her. How was that bad news? Still, she didn't show it. "My only wish is to be loyal to Joffrey, and to marry him as soon as I can."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but you won't. There is too much bad blood between the Lannisters and the Starks to hope that a marriage could mend the fences. At least, not a marriage between you and Joffrey. My lady wife and I are working on an alternative. There will be other battles, but I don't give much chance to your brother Robb. I can raise another army in the Westerlands. Your brother and Hoster Tully can't raise more troops. Stannis and Renly are fighting each other. Dorne now supports Joffrey, and as soon as the Tyrells enter the fight, your brother will not stand a chance. The next time you visit the godswood, pray that your brother has the wisdom to bend the knee. Once this war is over, I'll make sure you never live again near Joffrey. Where would you want to live?"
"I will go wherever the king wants me to go," she replied.
She felt there was something very strange about the Imp. It was the same feeling she had when he wished her all the happiness in the world before she left Winterfell. He had added you'll need it and had looked to pity her, just like he did right now.
He nodded. "Of course, you will. Well, until the time the king gets bored of you and decides to send you away, there's something we can do to help him forget you. Or at least, to help him forget you more quickly. I know you refused my offer to come and live in the Tower of the Hand, but it still stands. My nephew would certainly reduce his more than welcomed visits to you if you lived there. And I think Margaery would like it to have you closer to her when she returns."
She thought about that for a moment. After what happened today, she was no longer sure. Did she take the best decision by refusing him the first time? Would it be a mistake to accept the second?
"Well, my lady, in the meantime, this is for you."
He produced a red rose. Sansa hadn't noticed one when he entered. He laid it on the table close to her. "Wherever you're going my lady, I think you might receive more of these." He smiled from the corner of his lips. "I'll let you stay here for tonight. Make beautiful dreams of knights fighting valiantly in tourneys. It might help you."
His words triggered something. The red rose. Someone offered her one just like this at a tourney. It seemed like it was in another life, and yet it was barely a year ago, at most. She looked at Lord Tyrion. He still had the same smile. Then he turned away and walked to the door. He put his hand on the handle.
"My lord. I accept."
"Good thing. I'll have your things brought to you in the morrow. Have a good night, my lady."
Tyrion summarized all the battles and army movements that recently took place in the war. Unlike Margaery who purposefully hid the Battle of the Kingsroad to Catelyn in the previous chapter, to encourage her and Renly to abandon the war, Tyrion is not hiding anything to Sansa since she is not a player with significant leverage in this war. He doesn't endanger his position by telling her the whole truth.
Of course, some of you might have noticed that he didn't mention Renly's or Loras' deaths. This chapter happens at the same time than the previous chapter, or not long afterwards, and Tyrion is unaware of these recent events. For him, Stannis and Renly are still fighting. His ignorance of recent events explains in part why he seems so sure that Robb cannot win the war.
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Next chapter: Mira
