Sansa found that the songs were not complete lies; King's Landing did in fact glitter and sparkle. The ladies wore bright silks that showed more skin than Sansa would ever dare, and they wore heavy jewels that seemed like to drag them into the dirt. They wore their hair in elaborate twists and updos that Sansa had been unable to imagine as a child, and they adorned their hair witheven more jewels in a way Sansa had never seen. But that was not what made the city sparkle.
It was the sweat dripping down their necks from the suffocating heat, the venom that dripped off the fangs of the vipers at court. They caught the sunlight more brilliantly than the jewels or silks. The perfumes that the courtiers doused themselves were cloying and only made her head throb, but perhaps that was better than the stink of the city that crawled around every corner.
The ladies at court all seemed so kind. They smiled and complimented her hair and dresses, invited her to teas and dinners and for strolls through the gardens. They will all want something from you, Alysanne's words echoed in her head. If she looked past the smiles and compliments she could see the venom on their tongues, the vacant look in their eyes as they smiled. She was the hand's eldest daughter after all, and the soon to be betrothed of Prince Joffrey if the King got his way.
Another hindrance if she were to be honest. The rumour granted her a certain influence and status, but it plagued her all the same. If only father would sit with me and let me share my thoughts on the matter. But he was all too busy these days. It seemed the Good King Robert had no desire to rule. On more than one instance she had seen her father sit on the Iron Throne and hold court while the King hunted. An imposing sight, and she thought he looked more like a King than Robert.
Father was busy, Arya and Bran had their own friends and adventures to tend to, and Sansa more often than not found herself alone with Jeyne. Jeyne or whichever other lady deemed her worthy of their company. Her days were filled with needlework or long walks through the garden and she found the songs had never been more wrong. The songs had promised feasts and balls and tourneys, and there had been a tourney and there had been feasts but they were not nearly as exciting as she thought they would be. The sweat and venom and politics were still at the forefront.
Sansa hoped that she did have a true friend in Myrcella, however. The Princess had been kind to her in both Winterfell and in King's Landing; and Sansa knew her to be a friend to Alys. She'd invited her to sit with her and her ladies rather than leave her to fend for herself at court and it had eased her nerves. And perhaps she also had Prince Tommen, although he seemed to spend most of his time with Bran in the training yard or exploring the dungeons of the Red Keep. In the few interactions she'd had with him he'd been kind and nothing like Joffrey.
Joffrey, who had so cruelly threatened the butcher's boy and had claimed Nymeria tried to attack him. Sansa had never been so grateful for Alysanne's forewarning of him. She knew from Alys' stories he was cruel, but to be so blatantly so? What would he have done had I not talked him down? She shuddered to think of it. Perhaps if father does betrothe me to Joffrey I will have Myrcella and Tommen by my side. She loathed to think of what would have become of Lady and Nymeria and Summer had they not been sent home early. When Cersei called her father and Arya to answer for what had happened she had inquired after Nymeria, or the "great beast" as she had called her. Perhaps she only wanted to ensure she was secured, she hoped.
Joffrey had been quick to apologize once they reached King's Landing, but Sansa not for one moment believed it to be genuine. He had smiled sweetly and said the right words, presenting her with a necklace and a promise to treat her with more kindness. If only he would continue to ignore me. That would be a true kindness. After the incident on the road it had been as if she did not exist, but now he hardly left her alone. If he wasn't busy tormenting his brother or some servant he was forcing his presence on her. He would insist on a stroll through the gardens and Sansa would smile and accept graciously as she was taught, although she would have much rather feigned illness or a prior engagement.
The time I spend with him will give father and the rest of the court the wrong idea, she feared. The last thing she wanted was for her father to take her placation of Joffrey as affection and agree to the betrothal. She had tried to speak with him about the matter, but he'd been so busy as Hand that he hadn't the time. He's always in his solar with that book or speaking with Littlefinger about matters of coin.
If it wasn't Joffrey insisting on her presence, it was the Queen. At least once per week she found herself presented with an invitation from Cersei. Tea or a midday meal or dinner and each time she found herself without a way to refuse. Cersei isn't so bad I suppose. She could be much worse. She always complimented her dresses and the way she wore her hair, but there was still something about her that made her wary. Still, it wouldn't be wise to make an enemy of the Queen, and so Sansa continued to placate her as well as Joffrey. Much as she had this morning when she accepted yet another of her invitations.
Sansa strolled through the winding halls of Maegor's Holdfast towards the royal apartments. She knew the way now, but the first few times she had found herself horribly lost. She'd had to ask the servants and guards for the way. She arrived at Cersei's chambers and waited as a handmaid notified Cersei of her arrival. The maid reappeared and ushered her in and Sansa swept into a low curtsey. Cersei didn't rise from her seat. "Little dove," Cersei took a sip of the wine in front of her. "Come, join me," she gestured to a place set across from her.
Sansa rose and took the place set for her. "Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace. It was very kind of you."
Cersei gave a dry smile. "Of course." She waved over servants who stood to the side with platters of food. They made idle chatter as they ate. Cersei asked after her dress and complimented the craftsmanship, taking a particular note of the Lannister-crest necklace Joffrey had given her.
Cersei took a sip of her wine. "You and Joffrey seem quite fond of one another. He is certainly fond of you."
Sansa did her best to make her face appear pleasant. "His grace is very kind, it is an honor to spend such time with him."
"Hm," Cersei raised her goblet to her lips. "But yet your father has not agreed to a betrothal. Why?"
Sansa fidgeted with the skirts of her dress. "I don't know, Your Grace. He doesn't tell me such things," she lied.
Cersei raised a brow. "You do want to marry Joffrey, don't you little dove?"
Sansa's heart rate picked up. "It would be an honor, your grace. I can only hope my father agrees to the betrothal."
Cersei smiled again. "Well then perhaps I could talk to your father for you. He couldn't refuse both me and my royal husband.
No no please no. "I couldn't ask that of you, your grace. I shall speak with him on the matter when he has the time." And tell him to tell the king no.
Cersei placed a hand over hers. "It would be no trouble. He's been terribly busy, but he'll make the time to talk with me," she waved over a servant to refill her wine. "What has the Hand been doing? Small council business?"
Sansa took a sip of her own wine, grateful for the change of subject away from her betrothal. "I believe so, your grace. He's alway pouring over books and meeting with the Master of Coin."
Sansa almost missed the way Cersei's eyes hardened for at the mention of Littlefinger. "Lord Baelish? I can't imagine he's pleasant company." Cersei gave her a slight, conspiratorial smile. Sansa bit back her own smile. "Tell me, little dove, how are your brother and sister finding the city? I believe your brother Bran is a squire for my own brother."
"He is well pleased, your grace. It was a very generous offer," another lie. Sansa knew Bran was miserable, even if he didn't say it. He used to dream of squiring for a member of the kingsguard. What changed?
The rest of her day passes as all the others had. She explored the gardens with Jeyne and avoided the other ladies at court. She spared a moment for Myrcella, who had invited her to share her opinion on a new dress she had commissioned. It was that evening, as she ate dinner with Jeyne that one of her fathers men found her with urgent summons from her father.
On her way to her fathers chambers she found Arya, who was still filthy from her lessons with the Braavosi man. "Do you know what father wants?" Arya asked.
Sansa shook her head. "I haven't a clue."
They entered the room and saw Bran already there, sitting across from father and looking pale. What has he done now, Sansa wondered. They took the seats next to Bran and waited patiently.
Her father took a deep breath and arranged the papers on his desk in a neat pile before continuing. "I'm sending the three of you home. You'll leave tomorrow by ship, Jory will escort you."
Silence enveloped the room. Leave? "Father," Sansa began carefully, "can we ask why?"
"It is safer at home. You won't change my mind, you'd best go pack your things,"
"No!" Arya interrupted. "Tell us why! You can't just send us away! I have friends here, and Syrio is here!"
"Arya," Sansa tried to quiet her.
"It isn't fair!" she continued on. "Why isn't it safe?"
Her father held up a hand and Arya quieted again. "Syrio can go with you. You'll have to trust me. I'll explain it all later, but for now-"
"If you won't explain then I'm staying." Arya said and crossed her arms stubbornly.
"Tell them." Bran whispered.
He studied Bran's face. "Are you certain?"
Bran nodded, and her father beckoned them closer. He explained what Bran had told him in a low voice. The Queen, the Kingslayer, the threat to Bran. Jon Arryn and the manner of his death and the investigation he was conducting beforehand. The book of lineages and how her father suspected the King's children were not his own. It was all so much, and if Sansa had not been seated she's certain she would have fallen.
"That is why I need you to leave. I cannot have you three here when I bring this to Robert."
Arya did not protest this time and instead quietly followed Bran back to their chambers, but Sansa remained.
Her father only looked at her in question. "Sansa?"
"I can't leave."
He sighed, dejected. "I'm sorry, Sansa. The Queen spoke to me today and I know you wanted to marry Joffrey. But surely you see now that you can't? I'll find you someone else, someone brave and gentle and strong."
Her mouth twisted. "I don't want to marry Joffrey. But the Queen thinks I do, and she'll grow suspicious if I leave so suddenly."
He tapped his finger on the desk. "It matters not if she's suspicious. She'll know soon that I plan to go to Robert."
She'll know soon? Sansa scrunched her brow. How would she find out such a thing? "What do you mean?"
"I plan to warn her. I'm going to give her a chance to flee with her children. If she's smart she'll be halfway to Casterly Rock by the time I tell Robert."
Sansa stared at him in shock and her heart plummeted. "You-" she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. It took everything in her to keep the volume of her voice low. "Why would you tell her such a thing?"
"Because I have seen enough murdered children!" His eyes blazed. "Robert would have their heads bashed in for what Cersei has done! I'll not rob her of a chance to save them!"
"You'll give her a head start is what you'll do!" Alysanne told me once that she loved nothing more than power and her own children. "Do you think she will just stand aside and let her son be removed from the line of succession? You saw firsthand what Tywin Lannister did to gain this power. He will not stand meekly aside and allow it to be taken."
Her father slumped into his seat and rubbed a hand over his face. "He will kill them. Cersei and Jaime and the children."
Sansa thought of Myrcella and how welcoming she had been, and Tommen who was so kind. "Send Arya and Bran home tomorrow. Jeyne with them. You can claim that betrothals have been made, or perhaps mother just missed them. But if I leave in such a hurry then Cersei will know something is wrong."
He nodded and they sat for a moment in silence. "Lord Baelish has promised me the gold cloaks. Perhaps with them and my own household guard I can keep the children safe from harm until Robert has calmed."
Sansa frowned at the mention of Lord Baelish but agreed all the same. The way he looked at her set her on edge. Why would he help father? What does he want? She again remembered what Alys had told her, about not trusting those in King's Landing. But if father has already made arrangements with him it is too late. I'll have to trust him.
She sat in her rooms the next afternoon after her brother and sister left and felt sick. Jory and a number of household guards had accompanied them but worry gnawed at her stomach all the same. They will be far from here when father speaks to the King. They will be safe. The thought did not ease her mind. Jeyne had seemed so hurt by the dismissal and Sansa's heart clenched to think of the way her face had crumpled. If only I could tell her why, then she would understand.
She could see ships sailing on the blackwater from where she sat and she imagined that one carried Bran, Arya, and Jeyne, safe from the Queen's reach. I wish my father had let me come with him to speak with Littlefinger. "There is no need for them to think you are a part of this plan. You're already more involved than I would have liked," he had said. It was not knowing that was the worst. She wanted to be prepared for what would come, to know when the gold cloaks would sweep in and take Joffrey and the rest of them. She worried at a frayed hem on her dress.
Her father had planned to wait a few days to give Arya and Bran enough time to gain distance from King's Landing. It seemed the gods had different plans, for the day after their departure the King organised a hunt and met his match in a boar. She'd been strolling through the gardens when her father found her and grabbed her arm, his face pale and his eyes panicked. "The King is hurt."
Her eyes widened. "Hurt? How badly?" His eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, father," she stepped forward to embrace him. However much King Robert had changed, she knew her father loved him dearly. She tried to imagine what it would be like to lose one of her own siblings, or even Alysanne or Jeyne.
It had been hard enough to leave Alysanne and Robb, her mother and Rickon and Theon behind. It had been harder still to send Arya and Bran away. She couldn't fathom never seeing any of them again, let alone seeing them so gravely injured. The thought made her stomach curdle.
He pulled back and held her by the shoulders. "He's not long for this world. Go to your rooms and stay there until I come to fetch you. I have to move now, before Robert dies."
Sansa nodded before she turned and fled. She wound through the halls and up the Tower of the Hand and didn't stop until she reached her rooms. She was out of breath by the time she got there. Sansa stayed locked in her chambers for what felt like hours. She paced around her room lost in her own mind. At one point she was certain she could hear the sound of steel clashing. That doesn't make any sense, it is only your mind playing tricks.
The bells began to ring. The King is dead, then. She waited, but her father still did not come for her. At least Arya and Bran are far from here. What would have happened had they not left? Sansa did not want to think on it, but she found her mind wandering anyways in the silence with naught else to do. The three of them were never in the same place at once, and her father would not have been able to warn each of them. It matters not. They are safe.
It was dark before anyone came for her. A hard knock on the door startled her and she nearly dropped the book she had been skimming through. She slowly approached the door. "Who is it?" She called out.
"The Queen has sent for you," the nameless voice shouted back.
Her blood ran cold. The queen? Has my father failed? She ran through her options in her head. She could refuse to leave her rooms as her father had told her, but what good would that do? The queen would only order her doors broken down and have her dragged to her chambers.
Sansa stood and wiped her sweaty hands on her skirts. She opened the door enough to peak out and saw Ser Meryn's jowly face scowling down at her. "I'm to escort you to the Queen," he barked.
"Very well," she said. She followed beside him and tried not to let the shake in her hands show. She focused on her breathing as well, not wanting the unevenness of her breath give away her concern.
Ser Boros Blount stood at the door to Cersei's solar and nodded at Ser Meryn, ignoring her completely. He opened the door and Ser Meryn followed her through. Cersei sat at her desk, straight backed and regal as ever. Ser Jaime stood behind her, along with the Grand Maester, Lord Varys, and Littlefinger. He helped my father. What is he doing here?
Sansa curtseyed low. "Your grace," she greeted.
Cersei bid her to rise. "Take a seat, Sansa. I'm afraid I have dreadful news."
Sansa sat on the bench and straightened her skirts. "Is it about the King, your grace? I heard he had been injured in a hunt."
"The King unfortunately did not survive, but that is not why I have called you here. I'm so sorry little dove, but your father has been arrested." Cersei gave her best sympathetic smile, but all Sansa saw was her empty eyes.
Her heart sank. "Arrested? Whatever for?"
It was Lord Varys who answered. "King Robert was still living when your father tried to seize the throne. He hadn't the decency to wait until he drew his last breath. Had it not been for Lord Baelish, he might have been successful."
She glanced at Littlefinger and rage began to build in her chest. She did her best to quell it. "Please, your grace. There must be some kind of mistake." The only traitor here is you. You and your brother, Littlefinger and the rest of you, Sansa argued silently.
Cersei sighed and gave her a pitying look. "Little dove, I know this may be difficult for you to understand. Your father tried to steal the throne from Joffrey."
Sansa hid her hands in her skirts and clutched at them. "But he would never do such a thing! This is all a misunderstanding, please just let me talk to him. He knows how dear Joffrey is to me," she lied.
Cersei tilted her head. "Your father is a traitor, and yet you still want to see him? Some may think you yourself were a part of his treason."
"The girl is innocent, your grace. It was only her father who met with me. Give her a chance to prove it," Lord Baelish said. He met her eyes. He knows. He knows that my father spoke to me of the truth.
"Sansa, sweetling, write to Lady Catelyn and your brother. Word will soon reach them, and it would be truly dreadful if they reacted rashly. Best the word comes from you," Cersei held a quill out to her.
Sansa took it and eyed the parchment in front of her. "If I write to them, will you let me see my father?"
Cersei sighed and shared a look with Maester Pycelle. "You disappoint me. Perhaps Lord Baelish is wrong."
"No! I'm innocent, I swear it. It's only… what will happen to him?" She widened her eyes and tried to draw tears.
"That depends. On your brother and on you. Write to him and tell him to come to King's Landing and swear fealty to King Joffrey." Cersei gestured to the quill in her hand.
Sansa furrowed her brow. "Your grace, my brother will be concerned for my fathers wellbeing. Perhaps my father could be given the chance to take the black."
Cersei studied her face. "And what would stop your father from joining with your brother at Winterfell and continuing his treason by waging war against the Crown?"
She clutched at her skirts harder. "He is an honorable man, your grace," she pleaded.
"An honorable man who tried to steal the crown from your son, your grace," Pycelle wheezed. "He is a traitor. He cannot be trusted and neither can his children."
Cersei met Ser Jaime's eyes over her shoulder. "You forget, little dove, that my own niece currently resides in Winterfell. I would be setting your father loose, and if your brother fails to journey south they would have a hostage." Sansa looked at Ser Jaime over Cersei's shoulders but he would not meet her eyes.
"That is true, your grace," Lord Varys chimed in. "And my little birds tell me that Lord Eddard's other two children are well on their way to White Harbor. I can always send for them, of course, if you would like a hostage of your own."
Sansa swallowed and steeled herself. Forgive me, Alysanne. For the promise I could not keep. "Perhaps, your grace, I can stay as an assurance. I will stay and marry Joffrey, as the late King Robert wanted. It would be more than I deserve as a traitor's daughter, but it would perhaps encourage my brother to stay his hand."
Cersei made a show of contemplating the offer. "If the Lady Sansa could encourage her father to admit to his treason and accept
Maester Pycelle sputtered. "Your grace, the daughter of a traitor is no fit consort for a king. Who knows what treasons she may hatch?"
Cersei studied him and started to turn back towards her. "Please your grace, I only wish to right my fathers wrongs and ensure that Joffrey takes his rightful place. I won't hatch any treason, I swear it. I love him dearly." The more she lied and spoke of her fathers treason the more her heart ached. She felt as though she were betraying him and betraying her family. Please let them understand and forgive me, she pleaded to the gods.
Cersei nodded and gave her a thin smile. "Write to your family. Afterwards I will let you see your father, so that you may convince him to accept our very generous offer."
Sansa took quill to parchment and wrote what the Queen dictated to her. Her hand shook and it felt as though she was using her own lifesblood for ink. She met Cersei's eyes after she finished and handed her the parchment.
"There, little dove. Was that so hard?" Sansa's stomach churned and her heart sank even further. Cersei gave her a dazzling smile, one that glittered with venom.
Ser Meryn escorted her back to her chambers, but this time they took a different path. The path they took was soaked with blood. The blood of her fathers men, whose faces she knew from childhood. There was Tomard and Desmond, Cyan and Pothard and Varly, it seemed as though every one of her fathers men had been put to the sword. She held her composure until she was alone in her room, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot.
She did not sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes she saw blood, or the faces of the dead men they had passed and their families back home. When I speak to father I will tell him to go North, but not to the Wall. I will tell him to call the bannermen, to answer blood with blood. She thought again to the songs of her childhood. The songs that had been filled with lies.
She would marry Joffrey if it meant her brothers and sisters could go home, if it meant her father could return North. She would marry him and stay in King's Landing if it meant that her father could spread word of the Queen's treason against King Robert, if it meant that he could avenge the northern blood the Lannisters had spilt. She would marry him, and pray to the gods he didn't kill her.