The three Stark sisters sat in silence as they rolled under the gates of the Red Keep. An enormous carving of a stag head watched over them. The smallfolk gathered around to watch curiously as the new Hand of the King and his entourage passed through.
Inside the courtyard, more members of the royal guard were lined up, as well as a few of the servants. Father ordered them to get settled in, and Cate numbly followed behind Septa Mordane, Sansa, and Arya.
Cate looked around her room in the Tower of the Hand. Balmy air kissed her skin, and the smell of the sea washed in through the window, drowning out the stink of the city.
It didn't make her feel anything. It was just another room in another Keep to her, warmer than her room in Winterfell but a room all the same. Two Stark men hefted her trunk into the room and set it down on the floor. She thanked them with a wordless nod, and flopped on the bed. She couldn't be bothered with unpacking.
The queen hated her, the prince hated her, Arya and Sansa hated her, Myrcella probably hated her too, and Father ... Cate had let him down. She'd let all of them down.
She'd let Moondancer down, too, and she was glad her direwolf wasn't alive, because if she was she'd probably also hate Cate.
Nymeria had gotten away, but Moondancer was found - why, why had you separated from your sister, Cate wanted to cry - and cornered by a Lannister guard, and a spear was driven through her skull.
It didn't matter that she made Joffrey tell the whole story, that Mycah was found and his account matched Arya's and Cate's. It didn't even matter that Joffrey had threatened his own betrothed and her sister, that he would have killed the butcher's boy and maybe even Arya. Arya had hit Joffrey, Cate had shoved him, and a direwolf chewed his hand bloody, and that was enough to send Cersei Lannister into a seething rage. Lady was to be killed in place of the others, who were to be killed on sight.
Sansa and Arya had begged and pleaded, Sansa sobbing wretchedly, "Lady didn't bite anyone, Lady was good!" They were merely sent away.
And once they were gone, Moondancer was dragged into the room with a spear in her neck. Cate went near feral. She had launched herself at Cersei, and Father had to grab her and hold her back as she screamed.
Joffrey sneered. "It's just a pet," he mocked her.
Cate called him exactly what he'd called her sister earlier that day.
In front of everyone.
She didn't know if her betrothal still stood, and didn't care to find out. She didn't even wish for Sansa to marry him in her place anymore.
Later that night at dinner, when Father was busy, Septa Mordane pleaded with Cate to host a tea with the queen and offer an apology. "It's what your mother would want," she tried.
"Even Mother has standards," Cate shot back.
At night, Sansa crept into her new room and begged Cate to think about it.
"Let him marry some Tyrell or Martell, or a Lannister cousin," Cate grumbled.
"A marriage would build an alliance between us and the throne," Sansa reminded her. "The Starks have never married into the throne."
"Better to stick with tradition, then."
It wasn't until the next day, after a tense lunch with her sisters and her Septa that ended with Cate angrily excusing herself from the table, that Father finally came to her room.
"Cate, open the door."
Cate shot a dirty look at the door from her bed. There was a sigh, and Father knocked. "May I come in?"
Cate rolled her eyes, and went to open the door.
Father looked tired. That was the first thing she noticed, and it took her by enough surprise that she merely stepped back and let him into the room.
"So," Father sighed again. "It seems you've already made a few enemies."
Cate closed the door. "I don't care."
He frowned. "Please, Cate, try to understand. I don't want to frighten you, but I won't lie to you either. We've come to a dangerous place. Northerners haven't been in the Red Keep in ages."
"Maybe for good reason," Cate shot back, crossing her arms.
"The Crown Prince would be your husband. You would be safe, secure."
"Not if he threatened me with a sword every day!" She cried. "I never wanted to marry him in the first place! I hate him, and the queen, and the king! I hate them all!"
And she burst into tears, rushing forward and burying her face in her father's tunic. He was silent, just wrapping his arms around her and holding her there, stroking her hair as she cried after weeks and weeks of silent raging and then numbness. Sobbing, she inhaled deeply - the smell of the Godswood, and snow, and smoke, and home clung to her father's tunic.
Gods, she wanted to be home.
"You won't marry Joffrey," Father murmured into her hair. "I promise."
We love ourselves a snarky Cate Stark. And by we, I mean me. Thank you for all the reads!
