Late October, 298 AC
As Ser Boros Blount led Sansa out of Maegor's Holdfast, she did her best to calm her racing heart. The bells at sunset the night before boded ill- the king was dead, Sansa knew it, and she was surrounded by Lannisters and their men.
When Ser Boros came for her, with his bald head and his flat stare, Sansa wanted to hide like Merissa, to weep like Jeyne. Sansa only managed to leave her room with her head held high by clinging to her courtesies. A lady's armor is courtesy , Septa Mordane once said, and Sansa needed armor to face the brutes who had killed Hullen and Quent and...and... no, she would not think of it, they would not dare.
So she had forced herself to smile, and compliment the ugly knight on his splendid garb, and bid good morrow to the Lannister guards who surrounded her door. Had one of them killed Quent, striking the blow that spilled his guts like ribbons? Had one of them stabbed Hullen, who only ever wanted to care for his horses?
Ser Boros led her to the council chambers and knocked loudly. What were they going to do to her? Sansa strained to hear the soft voices within.
"—a stupid girl, and wet with love for Joffrey. Let me manage her," the queen said coolly. How had Sansa ever trusted her, loved her, believed her to be kind? The voices died, and Ser Mandon Moore admitted them.
The chambers were lavishly decorated, a wonder to behold, but Sansa took no joy in the sight. Queen Cersei sat at the end of a long table, in a black gown with rubies like drops of blood. Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Lord Varys sat around her. Baelish frightened her with his cold eyes, Pycelle sickened her with his defense of the Mountain, and Lord Varys... Sansa didn't know what to make of Lord Varys. She wished she were back in Winterfell's plain halls, among folk she knew and loved.
Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa's tummy roiled with unease. "Sansa, my sweet child," she said, "I know you've been asking for me. I'm sorry that I could not send for you sooner. Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment. I trust my people have been taking good care of you?"
Sansa's lips had gone dry. She must be courteous, she must say nothing to hurt Father or Arya.
"Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking," Sansa said politely. "Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what's happened, or where my sister is..."
"Us?" Cersei seemed puzzled, and Sansa bit her tongue until she tasted coppery blood. Already she had failed her people.
"We put the steward's girl in with her, and a maid" Ser Boros said, before Sansa could think of what to say. "We did not know what else to do with them."
The queen frowned. "Next time, you will ask," she said, her voice sharp. "The gods only know what sort of tales they've been filling Sansa's head with."
"They've not said anything, your Grace," Sansa said earnestly, fighting the urge to cry. "They're frightened, they're good girls, I'm teaching them needlework."
Queen Cersei looked at each of the councillors in turn. "It is not the duty of the prince's betrothed to teach needlework to girls so far beneath her. What shall we do with these little friends of hers, my lords?"
Not Lord Baelish, anyone but him , Sansa prayed, but it was no use. Sansa's skin crawled as the queen entrusted them to Baelish's care and ordered that they be gone before Sansa returned. Not a word was said about Arya- had she escaped? Or had they killed her?
The queen bid Sansa sit beside her. As Sansa sat, she felt eyes crawling over her body. Baelish was staring at her as though she were naked, a sly smile on his face. Sansa shivered, and tried to compose herself by examining his tunic. It was of fine green velvet, stitched with golden mockingbirds.
Mockingbirds. Lord Baelish's insolent voice echoed in her head. For the sake of the love I bear for Catelyn, I will go to Janos Slynt this very hour and make certain that the City Watch is yours. Sansa couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. Dimly she realized tears were pouring down her cheeks.
"Sweetling?" the queen said, her voice as sweet as honey. "Are you well?"
No, Sansa was not well, her Father and Arya were gone and here she sat with the man who betrayed them and the queen who had ordered the deaths of all the Stark men. Someone was panting heavily, choking on air. The world spun, and she swayed in her seat.
"Pycelle," the queen ordered, and within moments something awful was thrust before Sansa's nose, something with the most wretched stench she had ever smelled. She must be brave, brave like Arya, strong like mother. Sansa forced herself to take a long, slow breath, then let it out.
"You worried us, child," Queen Cersei cooed, a look of concern on her beautiful face. "What has upset you so?"
"I- I-" Sansa stammered, desperately trying to think of what to say. A stupid girl, wet with love for Joffrey. "I'm frightened that you hate me, that Joffrey hates me," Sansa managed, trying to sound as lovestruck as she had felt at Winterfell.
The queen's face softened, and she laid a hand on Sansa's wrist.
"Sweet child, why would you think that?"
"Because- because I was locked in a room for days," she replied. The queen shook her head, the very image of motherly sorrow.
"That was for your own safety, sweetling. We found you all alone in the godswood, without a guard in sight. Why were you there, my dear?"
"I- I was hiding there, Your Grace," Sansa said. "And then I fell asleep, I slept all day, until Ser Arys found me." She must make them think her stupid, stupid and trusting.
The queen's lips tightened for a moment, and Sansa's breath caught in her throat.
"Hiding from what, dear child?" Cersei asked.
"From- from- from my father, your grace, he said he wanted to send me away from Joffrey." Sansa rubbed her eyes as though she was about to start crying again. "Please don't let him, I love Joffrey." The queen smiled- Sansa had passed the test.
"I know, sweetling, and Joffrey loves you dearly." Sansa forced herself to gasp with delight, but the queen shook her head.
"I am afraid we have some grave news about your lord father. You must be brave, child."
What followed was a dizzying back and forth between the queen and her councilors as they recounted Eddard Stark's supposed treason. Their eyes watched her every move, their ears heard her every gasp of disbelief. With voices as gentle as poison they sighed over her traitor's blood, her unfitness to marry Joffrey. Littlefinger defended her, claiming she resembled her mother, but he was no friend. They all wanted something from her, and they were toying with her like the kittens toyed with grasshoppers. Sansa did not have to pretend to be afraid.
At last Cersei Lannister came to the point. They wanted her kin to stay loyal. As loyal as you were to the king? Sansa thought. She wondered what the queen would do if she dared say such a thing. Rip out her tongue like King Aerys had done to Sir Ilyn Payne? The thought made her tremble.
The queen took Sansa's hand in both of hers, gently rubbing her hand as if to soothe her. "Child, do you know your letters?"
Sansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, Maester Luwin said so. She spelled the words right every time, and didn't smudge the ink.
The queen asked- in truth, she ordered- Sansa to write to her family, tell them of Lord Eddard's treason, and beg them to come swear fealty. She needn't worry about the words, they would tell her what to say. And if her family obeyed, why, she'd prove she was no traitor's blood, and wed Joffrey when she flowered.
They brought her quill and parchment, and began dictating the letter to her mother, the Lady Catelyn Stark. Sansa wrote a few sentences, then stopped, staring at the page. She needed to send a message, a true message, not these falsehoods. But how?
"Sansa, my dove, is something amiss?" The queen asked, her voice sweet and patient.
"I- I feel dizzy and faint, Your Grace, might I perhaps have something to eat?" Sansa asked. The Queen paused, as though weighing whether to coddle Sansa or frighten her.
"Of course, my sweet, you've had such a shock," the queen said, kissing her forehead.
They awaited the refreshments in silence. By the time Sansa had eaten a bit of roast chicken and greens, she had an idea.
The queen leaned over Sansa's shoulder as she dictated the letters. She spoke slowly, giving Sansa time to write her exact words. Sansa obeyed, praying her hidden messages would escape Cersei's notice but not mother's or Robb's. It was doubtful that Lord Hoster Tully or Lady Lysa Arryn would see them, as they did not know Sansa, but she put a message in each of their letters anyway.
At last she was finished. Her hands were cramped and ink-stained, and her tummy was tied in knots. The queen reviewed each letter, then had her seal them with wax and her father's direwolf. Then the queen thanked her, and sent her back to her room.
As Ser Mandon Moore closed the door behind them, Sansa strained to hear.
"As obedient as I told you, though perhaps stupider," Cersei laughed. "Her words were half misspelled. Keep your men looking for the other one- we need them both."