It was always the worst for them when Joffrey summoned them to the throne room. Daenerys and Sansa had attempted to make themselves pretty for the king, that was how he preferred them, but the Hound, the man with the burned face, had told them that they should come at once, Joffrey would only get angrier if he was forced to wait. She was in a light purple gown, one that he had picked for her. She knew that Joffrey saw it as his own, a piece of his own royal power. So far this had been enough to prevent him from ripping it to shreds before the eyes of others, or spilling blood on it, but today, with the way the Hound was insistent on them coming quickly... who could say.
When they were done, the Hound led them to the throne room, passed a few courtiers whispering to each other. Daenerys hated herself for feeling glad that they were looking at Sansa more than her, that she seemed to be the cause of Joffrey's anger this time, though what was she supposed to have done... she had been here... nothing but obedient, singing the songs that she had been taught to keep her safe.
The throne room was silent. Joffrey was slumped over the Iron Throne, a crossbow in his hands, looking furious, much like her brother had a before. Something had happened that Joffrey had not wanted, but had been powerless to stop. She knew that face enough, Viserys had worn it plenty of times. Glances told her that everyone in the room seemed to know why they had been called here.
"Your Grace," she said, kneeling low. How she had fallen, never to bow to the Usurper, but to bow instead to his son... or not, if the stories were to be told.
Sansa mimicked her and bowed her head. "Kneeling won't save you now," Joffrey spat. "Take the dragon bitch aside, I would speak with my lady." Daenerys felt herself pulled to the side, firmly but gently, by Ser Aron Santagar, the knight from Dorne, ever loyal to her house. She looked back at Joffrey.
"Kneeling won't save you now," the king said. "Stand up. You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons."
"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that, I beg you, please-"
"Get her up!"
The Hound pulled her to her feet, not ungently.
"Ser Lancel," Joff said, "tell her of this outrage."
Lancel Lannister had looked like people she had seen in the east, people who had gained something valuable and thought it more than a crown. "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell upon Ser Stafford Lannister with an army of wargs, not three days ride from Lannisport. Thousands of good men were butchered as they slept, without the chance to lift sword. After the slaughter, the northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain."
Pity for Sansa coiled around Daenerys' heart, and squeezed tightly. "You have nothing to say?" asked Joffrey.
Joffrey lifted his crossbow and pointed it at her face. "You Starks are as unnatural as those wolves of yours. I've not forgotten how your monster savaged me."
"That was Arya's wolf," she said. "Lady never hurt you, never!"
"And then your brother stole her away," Joffrey said, "and I will make him pay for that, I will kill him. I wish I'd done it that day. I killed a man last night who was bigger than your brother. They came to the gate shouting my name and calling for bread like I was some baker, but I taught them better. I shot the loudest one right through the throat."
"And he died?" With the ugly iron head of the quarrel staring her in the face, Dany wasn't surprised that that was all Sansa could think to say.
"Of course he died, he had my quarrel in his throat. There was a woman throwing rocks, I got her as well, but only in the arm." Frowning, he lowered the crossbow. "I'd shoot you too, but if I do Mother says they'd kill my uncle Jaime. Instead you'll just be punished and we'll send word to your brother about what will happen to you if he doesn't yield."
Dany paled, she knew that tone, the words didn't matter, she knew what followed that tone. She wanted to look away, but that wouldn't help Sansa, and Joffrey would likely punish her as well if she did. Any excuse to do so, he took, punishing the two of them was a favourite pastime of his.
"Boros," Joffrey said, "Meryn." Dany winced as Boros Blount slammed a gauntleted fist into Sansa's stomach, knocking the air from her. "Leave her face," Joffrey said. "I like her pretty."
Dany forced herself to watch as Meryn pulled out his sword and started laying the flat of it against her thighs. Sansa was weeping and pleading for mercy.
"Enough," the Hound called.
"No!" Joffrey said. "Harder, make Robb Stark hear her."
The two knights continued to punch and beat Sansa, as per Joffrey's orders, leaving her face.
"What is going on here?" Silence fell as everyone turned to the entrance of the Throne Room. The King's uncles were marching through. The elder one, his moustache neat and trimmed and his expression stern, leading the way, his younger counterpart coming up from behind, having to take three steps for every one of his brother's, and he looked furious. Behind them came a force of Lannister soldiers. "This seems beyond the behaviour of a knight, sers," the Hand of the King said plainly.
"We obey the King, my lord," Ser Boros said simply. "In all things."
The Hand was approaching the throne and the two Kingsguard stepped between them, swords out. The Hound walked over, but his sword remained in it's scabbard. The Hand of the King merely beckoned and a score of Lannister swords were at his back. "Put away your blades, sers," he said, calmly, but very clearly threatening them. "I would hate to have to give those cloaks to men more worthy."
The knights glanced at each other before gently sliding their swords into their sheaths. "Your Grace," the Hand said, walking around the Kingsguard and not looking at them at all, like they meant nothing to him anymore. "I know you mourn for your uncles and cousins who perished at Oxcross, but this is not the appropriate way to show your grief."
"I'm punishing her," Joffrey insisted. Thanks to the steps, he was still looking down at his uncle.
"For what crimes?" Tyrion Lannister interrupted the two. "She did not fight her brother's battles."
"She has the blood of the wolf!"
"And you have the-"
"Tyrion," the Hand warned, holding out his hand to placate his brother. "Help Lady Sansa to her feet." Tyrion did so, but Daenerys' eyes were fixed on Joffrey and his uncle. "Your Grace, you have two ears and one mouth, you should use them in that proportion. Reigns find themselves cut short when kings dispense wanton brutality... against their people and their queens."
"Mother says fear is better than love," Joffrey replied petulantly. It was a sentiment he shared with Viserys. He pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."
"She does," Loren Lannister admitted, nodding. "But Robb Stark, Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, they do not, and they are the ones in open rebellion." Joffrey moved to interrupt, but the Hand kept speaking. "The Mad King tried to rule through fear, and your noble father, the late King Robert, did not fear him, and became king as a result. No one mourned the Mad King's passing, nor should they have."
Joffrey seemed mollified by the mention of his father. Viserys dreamed of being like Rhaegar, did this boy dream of being Robert Baratheon? It would seem he did.
"Your Grace, please, go and mourn in private, alone. There are many petitioners waiting to attend court, allow me to shoulder your burden for the day, I doubt that is helping you, older, more experienced, and wiser men than you have felt the burden of stress weaken them."
Joffrey seemed angry at being told that there were better men than he, but after one look into his uncle's eyes, his eyes dropped. "Yes," he said. "I must go and mourn our losses."
He left the room quickly, his Kingsguard following behind him.
Loren Lannister ascended the Iron Throne, and when he sat upon it he looked a thousand times the king that Joffrey was. "Tyrion, please take the Lady Sansa to my tower."
"My Lord," she said, stepping forwards. Loren Lannister fixed her with his deep green eyes. "Please, may I go with the Lady Sansa?"
He contemplated for a moment, then nodded, dismissing her with a wave as the Lannister guardsman, led by the Lord Loren's top knight, formed up around the throne. She hurried after Tyrion Lannister who, along with a clansman and his pet sellsword, were guiding Sansa Stark from the throne room.
"Unless you have business for the throne," the knight boomed. "Clear the court!"
Tyrion led them to a part of the Keep she had never been to, the Tower of the Hand. "Maester Frenken will see to your injuries, my Lady," Tyrion said, as he led her to a bedchamber. Sansa lay down on the bed and Daenerys took her hand. "I will return shortly."
Daenerys stayed with Sansa as a maester in grey robes rubbed a sweetly smelling ointment into the welts on her legs and felt the side of her chest for broken bones.
The Maester left shortly, and Daenerys and Sansa stayed, silent, as Sansa broke down and wept for her injuries.
Not long afterwards, there was a knock at the door, and Daenerys helped Sansa to sit up and fold her dress straight. When Sansa nodded to her, she called out that it was okay to enter, and the two Lannister brothers entered the chamber, the elder carrying a tray of food, the younger, a jug of water, placing them on the table.
"You held court quickly, brother," Tyrion teased.
Loren scoffed. "Tell Joffrey there is work to be done, and he scurries away. I only had to clear the room for a few minutes and then left to do more important things." He glanced at Sansa. "I am sorry for my nephew, my lady," he said.
"We know you aren't to blame," Tyrion added. "You have the right to know why he was so wroth with you."
"Yes," Loren said. "Tell me, my lady, was your brother always so disobedient? For he always seems to do everything but what others want him to." She heard the tone of respect in his voice, but Sansa looked only confused. "Six nights ago, your brother fell on our uncle, Stafford Lannister, at the village of Oxcross. He won a crushing victory, we only heard this morning."
"That's terrible, my lord," Sansa sang to him. "I hope my brother dies a traitor's death for this."
"Of course," Loren said, not buying her facade for a second. "My Lady, I see to the needs of the realm. Your Brother has not achieved his independence yet, which means for now, he is a rebel. Any harm that comes to you, harms the Lannister cause. For this reason I am moving you here, to these chambers, my men will watch over you. I will have your possessions sent for."
"My lord," she said. "Please, there is no need."
"Need does not come into it, my lady," Loren replied simply. "You are moving here. From here you can sing your tune only a little while longer. This marriage to my nephew will not mend the rift between Stark and Lannister, it will not go ahead, Tyrion and I agree on this. My men will keep you safe from Joffrey, and ever bedding him."
Daenerys felt saddened, Sansa had become quite the companion to her.
"My Lord," Sansa said. "Please, I know you mean well, but your men are Lannisters, I... couldn't."
"I understand well enough," Tyrion said. "If you prefer, I could grant some of my own clansmen, or perhaps some of the women, if that will make you feel more at ease."
Sansa looked at the bed. "Please, my lords, unless they will protect me from ghosts, they cannot guard me. My father's ghost, and those of his men inhabit these walls."
"Ghosts cannot harm, my lady," Loren dismissed.
"But they can haunt," Sansa replied at once. "My Lord," she added.
Loren nodded. "True enough. Perhaps a friend then," he turned to Daenerys. "Would you be willing to stay with Lady Sansa?" He asked her. "I am sure this place holds more ghosts for you than anyone. You can comfort each other."
"I... thank you, my lord," she said. "I will, gladly." She felt Sansa squeeze her hand in thanks.
Tyrion nodded. "It is settled then. I will have Daenerys' things sent for brother."
"Please do," Loren said. "In the meantime, I will have some men assigned to you, go nowhere without them, and you will not come to harm."
"Please, my lord," she asked Lord Loren, "which chamber will I be having?"
Loren looked around. "You will join Lady Sansa in this one, you can ward off the ghosts in the night together."
"Yes, my lord," she said.
"Good," Loren said. "Come Tyrion, we have work to do, before Joffrey makes more of a mess for us to clean, and Robb Stark has now robbed us of yet another army to use." He glanced at Sansa, "it may be the case that you will be going home sooner than expected."
They left, and Daenerys wrapped her arms around Sansa consolingly. As Sansa wept into her shoulder, tears of pain, sorrow and relief all at once, Daenerys thought on what this meant. Another victory for Sansa's brother, and Lord Loren said that Sansa might be going home sooner than expected because of it. She prayed not. As much as she wanted Sansa to be free of Joffrey, Dany didn't know if she'd be able to cope alone, and she hadn't heard anything from Ser Aron beyond passing courtesies since he took her to the cellars to see the dragon skulls.
