Dark, desolate, stinking walls began to close in, as I put forward my weakened legs one after the other, unable to suppress the rising of panic. Leaning down on my knees, rubbing the good skirt on the stinking, dirty floor, I looked down at the map, adjusting the wicker of the flickering lamp.

The map seems to point me right behind my cousin's chamber, if one could believe that Jaime had drawn this map while serving his time in the King's Landing. Of course, on hindsight, it makes more sense that Jaime, who'd lift a quill like sword to scratch on his missives wouldn't have sat hours together to draw a map of Red Keep's hidden passages and tunnels, with colors to mention the different kind of traps or the number of steps needed to be taken to reach each hidden doorway.

It took a day for me to accept that this was an unsuccessful expedition, what with many doors having a secret keyhole, with no key in hand, and being famished for the whole sleepless night, as I'd wandered hungry, angry, and utterly miserable.

"Please!" Sansa spoke from behind the door, and I jumped up, running towards the door. I could call her out to see if there was some way to open the door. "You cannot tell anyone." I paused and leaned towards the door as I traced the stone wall.

"And what do you want me to do, Lady Sansa?" The voice chilled my bones, prickled my skin. It was a whimpering, soft, peculiar voice, belonging to a man, but I could do nothing other than to be silent. "Does it have to do anything with the bastard girl?" The man questioned, standing closer to the door I was standing behind, and I wondered if he could sense me here.

"No!" Sansa shrieked. "We need more time, as we'd told you before. You very well know why this shouldn't be known to anyone." My cousin seemed to teeter close to hysterically crying.

"Well!" The man took steps away from the door I stood. "I will see what I could, but remember, if the chance is lost, then I cannot help you." A door behind shut close with a loud noise, and Sansa made unceremonious noises by sitting on a creaking bed and screaming inside the pillow, before she pulled a chair and began writing a missive with her quill.

Walking back, retracing the path that I'd come with the help of the map, I reached my chamber, filthy and stinking, filled with an unwanted knowledge. I was welcomed with Jory's indignant howl at me being irresponsible for leaving unassisted in a foreign land. I sat on a plump chair, with my fingers on my lap as I heard the man list out all the incidents that I'd made myself vulnerable by leaving the chamber without a company, and how he was being admonished by Jaime of all people, for not protecting me, and how my uncle Ned Stark had been inquiring every alternate day about me and my health, and my safety.

I told nothing in response, unlike my usual rhetoric of explaining how bastards are adventurous or how there will be no harm happening upon me, and the chamber became so quiet that only Ghost's breath was felt.

"My lady," Jory whispered, observing my silence. "Where did you go? What happened?" He questioned, his brows knitting together.

"I have no clue." I answered, working my way towards the bath chamber where the tub of water had turned cold. "Does my uncle write to you every day?"

Jory did not answer. Perhaps he was aware that, irrespective of the answer to that question, I would not feel better. Of course, Ned Stark would write missives to the guard he'd sent rather to the niece he'd lied to. I closed my burning, sleep lost eyes, and felt the chill of ice, the dampness of cold, and the warmth of the Winterfell halls, and I licked my lips as I tasted the juice of poached plump pears, soaked in strong wine that I'd often nicked from Robb's plate to get the second serving, as I heard my uncle's stern, stoic voice speaking with his household.

"Jory" I called, turning towards the man who bought forty guards from the North, with no idea of the future awaiting them. "I will join you for the breakfast today."

The corner of his lip curved, relieved from the change of heart, and he left the chamber with a joyful strike. I washed myself till my skin felt raw, and bruised, and wore a new dress that had sleeves till my finger, the hem of it sweeping the floor, and styled my hair that I knew best, under the conditions where Mya seemed to be mysteriously missing.

Applying butter lavishly on the crusty bread taken out fresh from the oven, hot and warm, I bit on it, letting the crunch be heard to the end of the table, whilst Sansa gently nibbled on the edges of the sausage, soft and delicate. The Guest Hall of Maegor's Holdfast could hold a five hundred seats at a time, and by the time we arrived for the breakfast, the men of the household guards had already done with their second serving.

Jory, Alyn, Fat Tom, Harwin and the rest of them relished the sweetness of the South, with juicy peaches, sharp plums, iced honey milk that had a hint of sawdust, and the never ending flow of wine. Awkward and unsure of my place, I'd entered the Hall, evidently expecting for an attempt from one of them to insult or threaten me or my family.

Alyn was the one who'd offered his seat upon my arrival, and Harwin'd poured iced honey milk into my cup, cheering with smiles and awkward greetings.

"The silver direwolf pin suites us all, my lady," Alyn prided for the silver pins, and the silver mails along with the woolen cloaks of the direwolf running on an icy field.

None of it was my doing, and I felt a rush of shame creeping up on me before a beastly guard barged in the conversation, telling, "The King had sent his daughter to see us. The Princess, gods forgive me, was kind and regal. She apologized for the incident at the castle gates."

"You mean the Princess Rhaenys?" I asked five times, before Jory acknowledged that to have happened, that my sister—the sister who I'd thought to be haughty and pompous, had come after the first day, to check on the Northern guards to get to know of their safety and well-being.

"We heard what had happened in the King's Hall." Alyn interfered, and let that silence hang there, letting me to see their solidarity, loyalty and alliance towards me. "We did not expect you to choose our Northern cause."

I wanted to declare that I had neither chosen sides, nor had I abandoned my family, and merely did my duty, but they wanted me to side with them, had wanted me to make them feel their cause, their anger against the south, their distrust towards my family. And I desperately wanted to be accepted by them, belonged with someone even for a short interval of time, and simply accepted the gesture.

Sansa'd chuckled then, her sweet voice a cadence of mockery and taunt, a mere whisper to my ears. "Is it really hard to choose when you have no choice?"

I clenched my fists, my jaws locked tight, the plate of food in front of me already beginning to lose its appeal, and I felt that chasm between us growing larger and larger, dark and deep, inexplicably out of control, separating us far and farther. "Is there something bothering you, Sansa?" I asked her the honest question.

"Dear cousin," she smiled, all silly and full of fondness. "Come, let us walk." She picked me up from the chair, her face a mask, her secrets a hidden wonder. "Lady Margaery and her companions should be waiting for us."

Lady Margaery welcomed us both to the garden gazebo surrounded by roses of various kinds, its scent too assaulting for my taste. The variety of colors, ranging from black to white, astounded me, and they were of no order, no pattern, just filled with a rainbow of a spectacle.

"Breathtaking" Sansa muttered, and I wished I could reach out to her heart, open it, and read every aching line of it. But then, I was a hypocrite. I wouldn't want Sansa to do the same to me. I wouldn't want her to see my lustful, hungry desires.

"Every single color was bred from Highgarden, imported all the way through the sea." Margaery's own pride matched those roses, brimming in its hues. Even the lady was colorful, joyful, her green gown embroidered with tangles of twines, roses, and thorns. "The garden soil was dug out, seven feet below, replaced with the richest red soil from the Reach. The servants refill it every moon's turn, of course with manure."

"An extravagance for mere roses." I answered, my fingers touching the petals of a white rose.

Margaery looped her arms in mine and took us both inside the veiled gazebo, where there sat seven ladies, all laughing giddily, playing a harp, a fiddle, a jester among them throwing balls in the air. "Girls, come on, welcome our guests." she admonished them, and everyone jumped up with excitement and curiosity, and in an instant they surrounded her and Sansa, full of questions, cloaked jests, and the usual chatter. Sansa began fitting right in with the crowd.

They enquired after the North, silly things, what flower grew there, what food was special, about knights and champions, and Sansa answered everything wittily, sprinkling humor here and there.

"Lady Visenya!" The girl named Elinor, looking sweet with a hint of amusement, sat next to me. "We saw you leaving with the Prince on the feast." The girls giggled under their breath. "Where did he take you?"

I should have crimsoned as my father's dragon sigil, that for a long second I just wished I'd not come to see these girls. Margaery came to rescue me, like the knight that I wished I was. "Do not trouble the Princess, Elinor. The King has her ear. You wouldn't want to lose yours."

"The King has sold both his ears to the other two." Elinor laughed cheekily and even Maegaery joined with her, and there I sat, unable to see through anyone there.

"A sister and brother might have a thousand tales to exchange? Why would that matter?" It was Sansa who defended me, and the perplexed eyes of mine never moved from her. She had never defended me, never came for my rescue, and just when I assumed she must have harbored a loathing for me, she was there, willing with her natural authority over others to stop their mockery of me, which by now, I was very used to, as a matter of fact.

Elinor's face turned sour, and she murmured an apology, like a petulant child still sour of not getting what she wanted. And the Lady Alla begun to sing a song—sweeter than what the bard screeched in the feast, and I listened, almost forgetting everything that went on there, when Lady Margaery looped her arm in mine, and leaned against my shoulder, which made me rigid and tensed, my mind racing all thousand directions.

"Sansa says you are a better singer than Alla."

I smiled awkwardly. "My cousin is favoring me in front of you all."

"I would too, if you were my cousin."

I doubted that. Even Sansa was beginning to surprise me. The Lady Alla finished her song, and the Lady Desmora began weeping with a sad smile on her face, often peering at me, like she wanted to tell me about something, but was prevented by the circumstances. Somehow, Desmora reminded me of someone that I long forgot.

Margaery cheered at Alla's song and looped her fingers through mine, taking me towards the rose garden. I couldn't relax around her, with her words too saccharine, flowers too perfumed, moves too calculated, it feels like I was being tested and used.

"I apologize personally for how Elinor teased you."

Do you?, I wanted to ask, but I found myself growing cynical rather pleasant and friendly. What would I get by antagonizing this girl? Besides, having a companion here might be helpful. "It was a harmless, curious question. I wouldn't have minded answering it."

"The girls go mad at hearing any piece of information regarding Prince Aegon. They all are already in love with him."

"And what about you?" I couldn't stop myself there, but she was not shy like I thought she would be.

"He is charming, without a doubt. I have been in King's Landing for more than two years now. And I can say this much. The royal litter has their way of getting what they want. Have you spoken with Princess Rhaenys?"

She was elusive, and I let it slide, thinking of a sister who'd not come to meet me but the guards who were sent for me. "I did not get a chance for it."

"I am surprised. I assumed she would be the one to welcome you to the castle."

Feeling sick, I walked without answering, and much to my surprise Margaery seemed to indulge in her own head and in her own world, and we found two knights strong and handsome, one with brown locks tumbling down his eyes, and another coal-black hair as dark as night, striding towards Margaery with a retinue of their own.

"Sweet sister." The lord in a leather vest embroidered with golden roses embraced Margaery, giving a peck on her forehead, and the other one, who looked somehow familiar, with an easy smile, bowed to her, before seeing me, and taking my hand to his lips.

"My Lady Visenya!"

"Lord Renly" I whispered to wind, the resemblance of him to Mya sending a shock through me.

Margaery introduced her brother, who took my hand as an obligation, and we exchanged pleasantries, but something seemed amiss. "Lord Renly, what fancy have you taken on King's Landing?" I questioned.

"Why, my lady, isn't this a fine place for valor, gambling, and finding fine women like you?" He winked. "Not to mention the attraction of gluttony and debauchery." He moved to my side, letting the siblings talk to each other. "You must ask me anything you want here. I am used to all the salaciousness of the city and to assist Ned Stark's niece must make my brother sleep happily in his grave."

This was the first time in the King's Landing I heard of a southerner speak good about my uncle. "You must be ill favoured here for taking my uncle's side."

Lord Renly bellowed a laugh. "I came here as a boy, because of your Lord Father's ill-favor. That will not be changing anytime soon."

I recalled then, of what once Lady Catelyn had informed of Lord Renly being taken as a ward of House Baratheon by the King. Unaware, I felt a longing sympathy for him. It was not easy to live under someone else's home, pretending we belonged there, but not in reality. I knew how it felt. "I regret for lacking tact, my Lord."

"Tact or not, what madness made you bring my brother's bastard to your father's court, my lady?"

I'd not pretend that I was not aware of Mya's identity. It was not something that anyone discussed in the North, but I'd been aware of the whispers. How would I know that Mya looked so like her father? How would I know that Ned Stark would let her come with me when she looked like that? I remembered how Lord Connington accused Mya to be the traitor's bastard, and how Mya felt terrible of ever coming to the place, where her Father was a cursed name. "I was foolish to think that no one would harm a young girl like Mya. I thought she could find a knight or a lord to take her hand, worthy of her station here."

"Not in King's Landing. She would make a good decoration on the city walls' pike."

A jolt went through me, and I kept telling myself that father would never let that happen, but I was no more confident. I did not know the man. I did not know what his temperament was. Yet, yet, I wanted to defend him. "My Father is said to be forgiving, even on the battlefield."

"Did he, now?" Renly laughed at my words. It seemed everything was a laughing game for him.

"Did he not make your brother, Stannis, the Lord of Dragonstone?"

"And your sire is more a fool than gallant for doing that." Renly criticized. "The idle talk of my boring brother tires me to no end, my lady. Tell you what, we are riding to an inn named the Broken Anvil near the walls of the city. You are welcome to join, if you can garb yourself like you did on the day you went gallivanting down the roads with your wolf." I felt miserable that even a ward of my father knows of my activities. He was about to leave before he turned towards me. "Oh, and bring my brother's bastard, if you would. I would like to know her."

"Mya!" My fingers began gauging my skin. "Her name is Mya Stone." He nodded, again with that foolish smile, and left with Lord Loras Tyrell, and I found Sansa coming out of the gazebo, her arms wrapped around Alla, smiles deepening into her eyes.

"Renly is a fool to invite a lady to an inn, of all places." Margaery plucked a rose, twirling it in her fingers. "My brother tells we look so alike that we could be mistaken for sisters." I smiled, but I found it disconcerting that she was blatantly lying, since her brother said nothing of that sort. What was she getting at? "We both have brown hair." She began to place those roses on my hair, just like how hers was arranged. "We could be sisters, if you wish."

I laughed at her, and wondered and puzzled, unable to find what she wanted from me, when Sansa took my hand, and we bid farewell to the girls. Looking at Sansa, I plucked ten flowers of white, blue, red, and black, and arranged it in her head the same way Margaery did for me.

"You are shining, Lya." Sansa took my hand, giddy with joy, and we ran towards the Meagor's Holdfast, giggles coming out naturally, and by the time we tired of that, she wrapped my fingers in hers, breath drawing loud and long, held my stare like she was on the verge of admitting something, but too scared to admit.

I wished we didn't grow apart, where we hold secrets, I wanted to tell her. Instead I told, "Thanks.", not feeling shameful in a long while. "For taking my side." I wanted to help her, but I'd no way to see through her.

So I left with Mya, to the Broken Anvil, in men's garbs and Ghost as company.

The inn was filled to the brim with lust, men, lusty men, the stench of ale, wine, smoke, and burned bacon. The innkeeper looked at me, growling with distaste, like she'd done with people entering her abode. I was about to offer her two silver coins, when ten gold coins scattered on her desk, and I found my uncle Viserys looking at me with a perplexed gaze.

"For all of us." He said without taking his away from me. "Including thia bastard. And that bastard's bastard." His pointing fingers were too polite.

"Lord Renly has taken the Main Hall, milord." The lady was full of sweet smile, but he did not even hear her, with his retinue at his rear.

Mya gave a worried glance at me, and keeping my fingers around the sword, I followed the silver-haired group, whose path marked men to cower and whimper, as they scattered their way for them.

"Is this whom you wanted me to meet?" Mya worried her lips, and I shook my head, honestly not knowing why Renly would invite someone like my uncle, and not mention it.

"This should be a normal thing. They are meeting in the open. And the innkeeper knows my uncle and Lord Renly. It must happen frequently."

"Lord Renly?" Mya's face went long and sullen, and I cheered her trying to tell how he wanted to meet her, but I was interrupted by the Lord himself, when he kissed her hand, and apologized for not meeting her before. She wasn't as comfortable as me, but they walked away with him asking her a tonne of questions, and she just nodding and whispering.

The Main Hall was a dimly lit long chamber, with cushions of seats on the rug of carpet, too low on the ground, with women in scanty dresses offering everyone drinks and food, and I took a cup of wine, rethinking why Renly had really offered to bring me here. He could have met Mya in the castle. He could have told anything he wanted to tell in the castle. Did I fall easily for his easy smiles and promising words? Would my father learn of this adventure and disown me?

"The Prince summons you."

I turned around and found Lord Gerold Dayne, one of my uncle Viserys's companion, with a face that would have looked beautiful if not for those sinister eyes that seemed to want everything.

"And you inform your Prince that I am not his servant to come rushing at his summon." I felt bolder with the taste of wine in my tongue, and Gerold tilted his head, becoming alert and curious about my answer, and he inched close to me. I wished he would take his sword, but he looked at me with a disgust. How opposite he was from Ser Arthur Dayne, my father's sword?

"You will rue this day, bastard." He spat and left me to my cups, and my uncle stared at me with vengeance in his eyes, but I was past his threats. I knew this much of my father, that he would prefer me over Viserys, and I felt a thrill of power in me to hold it against my uncle.

There was a singer, and some dancers too, and a fool, all of whom performed for the Lords present there, some of whom were from Vale, Harry the Heir, and his Royce companions. Lady Catelyn had always spoken about the boy at my uncle's tables, whispering in his ear to make a match for Sansa with him. There were many Reach lords, including Ser Hobbar, and Ser Horas of Redwyne, and I recalled Lady Desmora, with her tear-filled eyes in Margaery's retinue.

There was another boy, fat and unorganized, pricked and prodded by Ser Hobbar, teased and humiliated, as he beat the boy and he whimpered for every strike. My uncle was obviously amused, entertained, and I walked towards that crowd in particular, unable to bear with them.

"We should dress him in the maids' garb." My uncle suggested, and Ser Hobbar seemed to like that suggestion.

"You heard the Prince. Remove it." He ordered, and the boy was on his knees, crying and pleading, but he seemed compliant, ready to remove, ready to give up, ready to surrender.

"Stop this madness," I ground my teeth, as I helped the boy on his legs, and the cheers of the Hall died down, with Ser Hobbar, already retreating. "Is this what it means to be a knight? Have you no shame?" I spat, as he looked down at the floor.

"Well, well, well" Viserys came to my sight. "The knight in shining armour is protecting her lady love."

Ser Hobber, whom Sansa'd called Slobber, smiled at the prospect of having the Prince on his side. "Leave him be, uncle. The people do not serve you for your jests."

"Much the shame. If he won't serve me, then you do. You already seemed to have dressed like a knight. Just kiss him and make him your bride."

I glowered at him, and his eyes flared purple, like those of the setting sky. Viserys walked with a staggering pace, his breath a mix of spiced wine, and sweetened ale, as he bent close to my face, his face ethereal like my father's.

"Kiss the boy, and proclaim he is your bride to the crowd, bastard. I will forgive all your past crimes."

I stepped back and unsheathed my sword with the lion pommel. "Make me." I challenged, and his nose twitched, as I heard four swords unsheathing before me. Of Lord Gerold's, of Lord Aurane's, and of Ser Hobbar and Ser Horas. I would not be able to best four against one. Jaime could, and would, cut through them like a piece of meat, but not me. Why was he not with me? I missed him so much, my heart clenched.

Loras began to unsheathe his sword, as he tried to wade through the crowd, but Renly stopped him with words and pleas, and Margaery's brother seemed to have a fit with Renly before he left the Hall. So much for inviting me to your party, Renly! At least, he had the sense to send Mya with Loras, who had begun to weep.

"Hurt her just enough that she bends her knee to me. I do not want my brother to come and complain that her pretty face is gone." Viserys ordered and moved aside, sipping his wine, his fingers glinting off several colored gems.

Aurane came first, pushing away Gerald, the Darkstar, a long sword in his hand. He mimicked various poses, swinging it in the air, threatening me. "Do you like to fight, Princess?" He questioned, closing in on me, a gleam of joy more than malice.

I did not wait. Cutting his steel on the left, I pressed on, the sweet scent of sweat clinging in the air, as I blocked all his moves, waiting for him to make a mistake. He was tiring himself already, what with his heavy body moving too much, swinging too fast, and within moments he exposed his side, when he took a huge lunge to finish off the fight. I hit him with the flat of my blade, and he fell, the crowd roaring in disappointment. In some way, I was too. He was too easy of a target. "You tell me the answer, my lord." I snickered, and he guffawed, raising to the floor, ready for the next round, when I felt a sharp pain on my arm, and I turned to see the Darkstar with a sick smile on his face, as he tilted his head.

"Do not fight with an archer and be proud of your victory."

I was shocked for a moment at his blatant dishonor, but then, if he was Viserys's dog, what else could I expect? My arms shrieked with pain, but I didn't want to give him that hope, by letting it show on my face.

Darkstar was not Aurane, for sure. The swirl of his sword extended like a part of his arm, like how Jaime'd tell. He did not wait to dance; he did not wait to test me, he'd already learned of my moves from my previous fight. And he gave right, and left cut, directly coming to attack my head, as I kept going back and backwards in my defense.

He pressed on me, cornering me, and I surprised him when I took a cut to his thighs, letting him bleed. That only made him angrier. Good! I wanted him angry, out of his mind, and out of his power. I was backed to a corner, though, and I wanted him out of my way. I bent down when he came to hack my head, and pushed him with all my strength down to the floor, rolling with him, when I heard Viserys shout. "Gerald. Stop. I do not want her dead."

He did not stop though, and I lost the grip on my sword, my hands grabbing at nothing. I did everything I could to roll around, his sword piercing every piece of rug where I'd lied, and I thought I would die as his final thrust descended on me, but with some Old God's grace, someone threw his sword with theirs, and backed him to the wall, his body thudding with a loud crunch that he ought to have died, but he breathed, simmered, with hot breaths and shivering lips and his strength was matched by Ser Arthur himself, who pushed him down with a disgust and agony on his face.

"Leave him be, Arthur. We were merely playing." Viserys looked disheveled as he walked to Ser Arthur, but did not try to offer to help the Darkstar, who left immediately out from the Hall, blood spilling from his leg.

"That was playing for you?" Ser Arthur raged at Viserys, his hand swinging the Dawn, and Viserys backed off, with his arms raised up in air. "He was ready to murder your niece."

"Did he?" Viserys smiled skittishly and looked at me, my blood drenching the rug. "You had to bring him?" He asked past me, and I turned to find Aegon standing there, behind me, in two feet distance, his eyes wide like saucers, all at me, his eyes wary, shocked, utterly out from the presence, and I raised from the floor, searching for my blade. "Look at her, Arthur. All hale, healthy and pompous for a bastard. No harm done. Go back to my brother and do your duty."

"Of course, I am going back to your brother. And he will hear of what you've done." Ser Arthur thudded past him, and came to me, apologizing profusely, and took a jab at the lords and knights in the Hall, but his words did not matter to them. He was powerless, even if he was the greatest knights. I helped the fat boy, who cried and shivered, more shocked of the fight I had that he apologized more than anything, and introduced himself as Samwell Tarly, and he wanted nothing other than to leave that place.

"You cannot protect him forever." Viserys simmered, angry, too close to me, hovering, and there was a warning in his tone as he held my arm. "And you cannot forever be behind Arthur's mercy or that of my brother's." I shrugged his arm, hating that he was even my family. "You are giddy at the thought that I would be punished. Aren't you?"

I didn't respond, and found Aegon still to be standing there in the same place, just looking at me, like how my father had merely stared at my presence when I came to his court. I felt irritated.

"Take my word, niece. I lived here spending my waking days for sixteen years, and he threw you out for all these years. He will never choose a bastard over his trueborn brother."

"Are you done?"

Viserys was agitated at the thought of this news reaching my father, or angry that it would all be between me and him. "Rhaegar has never taken your name in all these years." I stopped and Samwell Tarly, took my arms, like he knew how much it was hurting me. But I had to hear. "Oh, trust me, niece. There is truth to my words. He ordered everyone in the castle to never take your name."

"Liar"

Arthur was behind me, offering me a cloak, requesting me to join him. "Ask Arthur then. You trust him, I suppose. Tell you what." He came close and leaned down till his purple met my gray. "Hasn't it been a moon since you came here? Then tell me, niece, why hasn't your father invited you to the Weekly Revel?"

I did not understand, and that was enough for Viserys, and he left with a smile, bowing to Arthur, stamping down Tarly's boots, his intention to hurt me already achieved. And I walked with Arthur and Samwell on the roads, already the moon beginning to ascend the sky, the shop-keepers closing down, one by one. And strangely, again I felt those eyes, and there she was, staring down at me, her red orbs a fiery crimson.

"Is it true, Ser Arthur?" He did not answer. The sword, Dawn, tied to his back, his eyes drawn and tired. "Did my father order everyone to not take my name?"

"He had his own troubles, Princess. Do not take Viserys's words to heart. He was always a bitter child. Bitter at failing in everything."

I asked no more, and even Samwell felt my sadness, and when I reached my chamber, I wanted nothing more than to leave this place.