Had it really been over a year since she had first travelled the Kingsroad northward to Winterfell? Rhaena felt it was more than a lifetime ago. The endless days dragged on and there seemed to be a stagnation in the war effort, with kings appearing all over Westeros claiming one throne or another but Joffrey remained blissfully ignorant and lavished in his comforts whilst ignoring the cries of his subjects outside of the walls of the Red Keep. He spent his mother's money to pay for a grand nameday tournament in his honour since the crown itself had none and all were invited and expected to attend, including Sansa. Rhaena observed that Sansa looked as though she wanted nothing more than to leave, taking no joy in displays that had once thrilled and excited her. She sat neatly and silently, like a bird in a cage who had forgotten how to sing though Sansa could sing the tunes well enough when she was required, parroting whatever nonsense would please the demanding boy-king Joffrey.
Watching with expressionless antipathy as the Hound clubbed his opponent with his mace, Rhaena stood behind Sansa and watched as she flinched with every strike the Hound made. It was not long before the Hound had ripped his opponent's shield from his grasp and although the knight managed to land a blow against the Hound, it glanced off the snarling helmet rather uselessly. The knight was struck so forcefully that Rhaena was certain she heard the distinctive crack of breaking bone before the knight fell over the side of the wall and crashed into the courtyard below. A decisive win, one which Joffrey took delight in as he rushed forwards to peer over the wall and stare in fascinated admiration. "Well struck." He mused before then calling out a little louder to the Hound. "Well struck dog!" Turning with that sadistic grin to Sansa he then pointed to the body of the unfortunate knight as he was dragged away, a trail of blood left behind him. "Did you like that?" Questioning her expectantly, Sansa lifted her chin slightly before responding.
"It was well struck, Your Grace." As much as Rhaena loved Sasna, she wished she would use that head of hers a little more sensibly. Joffrey did not care for dainty, innocent little girls who could only obediently repeat what their betters say. Sansa needed to take an active interest in what Joffrey enjoyed, even if it was entirely fake on her part, to relish in violence and convince him that she had value as company. She needed to seduce him. To make him believe that her devotion and love was unconditional, and that he had conquered her when in truth she was the one subtly pulling at his strings. Sansa was a fool. A sweet fool, but a fool all the same.
"I already said that!"
"Yes, Your Grace." Not even bothering to hide her disdain, Sansa then coldly looked away from Joffrey who glared at her in turn before turning aside. He was growing bored of her. When Joffrey grew bored of his toys, he would break them. Rhaena shifted nervously as Joffrey called for the next two combatants, her eyes levelling upon Sansa who felt the stern gaze of her friend behind her and risked a quick glance behind her. Rhaena arched an eyebrow and attempted to convey to Sansa that she needed to do better. It was all a game of pretend, surely she could do that much. Hearing the next two men being called, Rhaena and Sansa swiftly returned their attention to what lay before them. Lothor Brune answered promptly, a freerider who had been paid by Lord Baelish to participate, however his opponent, a Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard, failed to show himself upon the first call. There was a moment of awkward silence before the steward called for Ser Dontos once more, and in reply a clumsy clattering came rushing down the steps in the shape of a portly and red-faced knight who in truth looked utterly ridiculous.
"Here I am!" Gasping for breath with his breastplate still unfastened, Ser Dontas barely seemed able to keep hold of both his pike and helmet as he waddled into view, dropping the helm as Joffrey stared at him incredulously whilst Myrcella and Tommen both giggled as they thought him funny. "Here I am." He repeated as he picked up his helmet and attempted to place it on his head only to realise that it was backwards, the broad rim covering his eyes so he quickly turned it around as he continued to address the king. "Sorry Your Grace, my deepest apologies." This man…was clearly a halfwit. If he thought he could appear late in front of a boy like Joffrey on his nameday, inebriated and clearly unprepared, then he was just asking for death.
"Are you drunk?" Joffrey demanded in a tone which was enough to set Rhaena on edge.
"No." Ser Dontos denied though the evidence suggested otherwise. "No, no, Your Grace. I had…I had two cups of wine."
"Two cups?" The snide remark was the first warning as to what Joffrey intended, but it was the wild glint in his eye that betrayed the rest. "That's not very much at all." Gesturing to the cups and the wine set beside him upon the table, Joffrey acted and spoke with a practiced cordiality which he had long since mastered to lull others into a false sense of security. He could even go so far as to fool his mother with his act, though of course she was blinded by her love for her precious firstborn. "Please. have another cup." The halfwit of a man clearly was unable to sense the danger which lay before him as the prospect of wine given by the king was a temptation far too lavish to resist.
"Are you sure, Your Grace?"
"Yes, to celebrate my nameday." Giving a grin which made his cheeks rounder than a pair of plums, Ser Dontas thanked the king for the honour, remaining utterly ignorant of his situation. "Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my nameday. See that he drinks his fill." Ser Meryn, who until now had been standing to the left of Sansa below the raised dais, gave a little bow to his king in acceptance of his instruction before he then moved towards a still clueless Ser Dontas to then thrust out his hand and begin to push Ser Dontos backwards, alarm now finally rising to his features though rather than fear he seemed more confused than anything. Had Rhaena had his intelligence, she would have been dead years ago. Ser Dontos was restrained and forced to his knees as a hunting horn was fetched by Ser Meryn and another guard brought a small barrel of wine. Only now did Ser Dontos seem to understand his predicament as the horn was forced into his mouth and the wine poured directly into it, forcing him to guzzle and drink desperately but it swiftly overflowed and choke him. Turning her head away, Rhaena chose not to watch as Joffrey settled himself back into his chair. Monster. Creating such a scene in front of his younger brother and sister and forcing them to watch. Poor Myrcella looked extremely sickened and kept her head turned away from the sight.
"You can't!" Hearing Sansa suddenly cry out in protest caused Rhaena to snatch up her head and take half a step forwards to instinctively silence her but the damage was already done. Joffrey stared at her in outrage, and only then did it dawn on Sansa that she had spoken aloud.
"What did you say? Did you just say I can't?" Thinking quickly, Rhaena willed Sansa to give a clever answer to pacify the boy-king and keep his anger from turning entirely onto her.
"I only meant…it would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday." She quickly countered with a pretty smile that she had spent a great deal of time practicing in front of the mirror for until it had seemed believable. With her quick answer Joffrey settled a little, his outrage quelled but remained scathingly reproachful at the nonsense she had posed to him.
"What kind of stupid peasant's superstition…?" Joffrey began to mutter in complete disbelief, but at least he was not calling for Sansa's head to be put on a spike. Rhaena would have wept with relief had she not been in public as Sansa had demonstrated for the first time that she had a quick tongue and a sensible head upon her shoulders. It was the Hound who spoke, agreeing with Sansa as he told the king that whatever a man sows upon his nameday would be what he would reap all year. Finding it strange that the Hound of all people would speak out, Rhaena could not help but glance towards him. Sandor Clegane had done many things that seemed out of character for him. She did not doubt that he remained as ruthless and harsh as before with a taste for blood and killing, however there seemed to be a softness he possessed that he did not show to anyone. Or at least, did not allow anyone to recognise. It puzzled Rhaena, because she could not exactly call it kindness…perhaps sympathy. Whatever the reason, she was grateful that he had spoken for Sansa, supporting her claim casually enough that Joffrey decided to take heed of his protector's word. "Take him away. I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool." To this Sansa seemed to receive divine inspiration, daring to speak again to Joffrey as Ser Dontos was released and swiftly expelled the wine that had been forced down his throat.
"He is." She began quietly before gaining confidence, putting a slight edge of mockery in her tone as she looked at Ser Dontos before then pandering to Joffrey with her sweet smile and adoring gaze. "A fool, you're so clever to see it. He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death." Rhaena felt like falling to her knees and giving praise to the gods. Sansa was finally learning. Joffrey seemed to find pleasure in the idea of making a knight into a fool and humiliating him every day far more than simply killing him. Perhaps death would have been more merciful.
"Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos?" Calling to Ser Dontos as he was forced to his feet in order to be addressed by the king, Joffrey also rose from his seat with a wicked smirk. "From this day, you'll be my new fool." Of course, no one could protest, least of all Ser Dontos so all he could do was bow and thank his king graciously, as well as Sansa who had all but spared his life with her quick thinking. So one death has been averted, but how many more would there be in the future? It was doubtful Sansa could save them all, but knowing her kind nature, Rhaena worried that she may very well try. She would have to try and teach Sansa that she could not save everyone and it would be better to think only of herself from now on. It was imperative that she begin to steel herself to unpleasant things such as this, because otherwise she would have no armour to protect herself with later when it would truly matter. Expecting the celebration and festivities to simply continue, the proceedings were interrupted when a voice called out which drew all attention to the source. Rhaena especially moved forwards closed to Sansa from where she stood with the rest of the servants behind the dais as she recognised the voice and hoped that she was correct.
"Beloved nephew!" A number of whispers and gasps followed as a strange group of people entered into view and approached with none other than Tyrion Lannister leading the way. To see him was like receiving rain after wandering for weeks in a barren desert. Her heart convulsed as her stomach twisted and Rhaena began to feel weak at the knees. He was alive, Tyrion was alive and he was returned to King's Landing. She had an ally once more. It took every ounce of her self control not to simply run directly to her little friend and embrace him with all her might, but Rhaena remained invisible and still, but silently glad and celebrating internally that Tyrion had safely returned. She could only imagine the tales he will have to tell her of his unexpected adventures. "We looked for you on the battlefield. You were nowhere to be found." Reaching his nephew Tyrion immediately helped himself to a cup of wine whilst his retinue remained standing to the side, Joffrey looking more than a little nervous to see such wild looking characters suddenly in his presence.
"I've been here, ruling the kingdoms." He excused rather pitifully though Tyrion paid little heed to it, speaking with a sardonic drawl as he helped himself to his wine.
"What a fine job you've done." Now he turned to Tommen and Myrcella, the only children of his sister whom Tyrion, or in fact anyone, could genuinely love. "Look at you." Smiling tenderly to his niece, Myrcella grinned as Tyrion kissed her cheek lightly. "More beautiful than ever. And you!" Gesturing to Tommen, Tyrion then indicated Sandor as he spoke to his younger nephew. "You, you're going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking." Both children laughed innocently at this as Tyrion smiled lovingly at them before then looking to one man in particular who appeared to be little more than a mercenary or a sellsword. "This one doesn't like me." The man then looked to the Hound whom he stood beside, glancing him up and down before giving a wry expression.
"Can't imagine why." Watching the entertainment before her, Rhaena hid her smile by bowing her head as Joffrey interrupted.
"We heard you were dead." To this Myrcella promptly told Tyrion that she was glad that he was not, Tyrion drinking more of his wine as he moved forwards.
"Me too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world." At that moment he had reached Sansa whereby he looked directly at her and immediately lost all sense of joviality which became replaced with sincerity and sympathy. "My Lady, I'm sorry for your loss." He gave Sansa a bow who at first did not know how to respond, for it was the first time other than Rhaena someone had shown such genuine sadness for the death of her father and offered tender condolences to her without a hidden agenda. She floundered for a moment, but just as she had recovered her wits and was to make a response, Joffrey once more interjected himself with a sharp and cruel tongue.
"Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor!"
"But still her father." Nonplussed by his nephew's complete lack of empathy, Tyrion dared to glare contemptuously at the boy and reprimand him in public. Only Tyrion would ever have such gall, and Rhaena always admired him for it. "Surely having so recently lost your own beloved father you can sympathise." Joffrey was unable to make any intelligent retort to his uncle so instead looked expectantly at Sansa, daring her to speak. Considering carefully her words, Sansa then looked to Tyrion and repeated the tune that she had been taught to sing, keeping her expression void of all emotion no matter what she might have felt on the inside.
"My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey." A quick quirk of his brow was the only indication Tyrion ever gave of his disbelief before he smiled understandingly to the pitiful creature in front of him.
"Of course you are." Looking to his wine, Tyrion drained it away before sighing in satisfaction. "Well, enjoy your nameday, Your Grace. Wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done." Putting aside his now empty cup Tyrion move between Sansa and Joffrey in order to step down the dais behind them, walking directly past where Rhaena stood with her head bowed submissively. At first Tyrion did not recognise her, merely glancing in her direction but he quickly looked again and recognised her features for they were unmistakable, only her hair was no longer a crisp silver white but a dull brown. Her eyes rose and met his, bright and calm, however now that Tyrion could see Rhaena, he also saw the amassed collection of bruising on her face and neck. Her dress covered her shoulders and arms, but Tyrion did not think for one moment that she did not have other battle scars adorning her elsewhere. A quick smile, an expression of gladness, then it was gone and she returned once more to the meek and invisible servant of whom no one took interest. For the sake of not drawing attention to her Tyrion did not stop or linger but continued to walk away with his entourage even as his nephew called after him, demanding to know why he had come. He would know soon, they would all know, and Tyrion was determined to put his newfound power to good use.