Since her brother had left, Morganna had felt that something was off. It wasn't a particularly noticeable feeling, but she was on edge and had little to no idea why.

She had written to her mother, as Ren had asked her to, telling the woman that he was coming north. She also spoke of her uncle's injury, and the circumstances in which it happened. Lord Stark had taken six days and seven nights to wake up, once the Maester lowered his dosage of milk of the poppy. Morganna had thought then that they would soon all be leaving for Winterfell, as Ren had said they would, but upon visiting her uncle the first time he was conscious, he had informed her, Sansa and Arya that he was Hand of the King once more. Robert apparently didn't hold a grudge towards his old friend for very long, nor, by the looks of things, did he wait around for the man to get better, going hunting the very morning after reinstating his Hand.

Two days later, her uncle had summoned the three of them to his solar, explaining that they were soon going to be travelling back north by sea. This confused Morganna; why would they be leaving if he was still Hand? She was also rather annoyed, as although she missed her family in Winterfell and the Dreadfort, she liked being in King's Landing, and would miss Myrcella when she was gone. Arya seemed pleased by the decision once her father assured her that she could bring her dancing master with her. Sansa on the other hand, was furious. Somewhere in between her protests and whining about wanting to marry Joffrey, her father seemed to come to some sort of realisation and cut her off, sending them all away without explanation.

Just over two weeks passed. To everyone's surprise, the king's party returned early, unusual for Robert, who, according to Myrcella, liked to spend as much time away from the city as possible. It was not the triumphant return that was expected, despite the enormous dead boar that was carried between two horses.

Morganna didn't find out until later that day that the king was dying. He had received a mortal wound fighting the boar, her uncle explained to them, and would be dead by morning. Lord Stark also said that they would be leaving at noon the next day, by ship, so to finish any packing they might have and be ready to go on time.

Morganna awoke that day to the sounds of Lannister men drilling in the yard. Arya begged her father to let her have a final dancing lesson before they left, and Lord Stark gave her permission. When Sansa asked to go and see Joffrey one last time, her father refused, even when Septa Mordane offered to escort her. Sansa ran weeping to her chambers, of course, and Morganna decided against asking to see Myrcella; she'd seen her the day before, and the girl was likely grieving her father with her family. Morganna wasn't particularly good at comforting people, nor did she enjoy it.

She wasn't even sure if she'd grieve her own father's death or not. Lord Bolton had never been a father like her uncle was to his children, sitting with them around the fire at night and telling stories. Her mother was never particularly warm either, hardly the type to sing her or her siblings to sleep, or fuss over them when they fell over and grazed a knee, although she did give good hugs. And some of Morganna's happiest childhood memories were learning to ride with her mother, galloping across the moors surrounding the Dreadfort beside her. Her mother seemed far more relaxed the further away they got from the castle, smiling more freely and letting a slightly less measured and restrained side of her show.

She wondered what her mother would do now. Something strange was definitely going on, or they wouldn't be going back north at all. Her mother would know more about what was going on if she was here, and she could actually do something about it, too. At that thought, Morganna stopped concerning herself with the matter altogether. Even if she knew what was happening (no one would tell her), even if she knew what she needed to do (she did not), no one would listen to her, because she was twelve years old.

With Sansa and Arya both gone, Morganna was the only family member present when Grand Maester Pycelle arrived to inform her uncle that the king was dead. Lord Stark insisted on calling a small council meeting in the Tower of the Hand, sending Morganna away. She went up to her chambers, looking in on Sansa, only to see that her cousin wasn't there. She must've snuck away whilst everyone was distracted. Morganna was amused at the thought of her well-behaved cousin misbehaving in such a way. Sansa was inexperienced in such things as sneaking, and would likely be caught and sent back soon. Morganna wanted to be there to laugh at her surely-tearful apologies.

So she waited there in the tower, playing the good girl for once. Lizzie Lewis was there finishing up Sansa's packing and tidying up Arya's, and she was always good company. They had a laugh together at Sansa's ridiculous devotion to Joffrey, and Lizzie too had noticed the bruises on Arya's arms and legs, supposedly from dancing lessons, but no one could be that bad at dancing. Personally, Morganna suspected her younger cousin was skipping her dancing lessons to go and wrestle in the mud with the servant's children or urchins from the city, although that didn't explain why she wanted her dancing master to come to Winterfell with them.

Morganna heard her uncle and some of the men downstairs leaving the tower. Sansa still hadn't returned, which was odd, and Arya wasn't due back for half an hour. She vaguely considered using the terrifying secret passage she'd found behind the fireplace in her chambers to sneak out just for the hell of it - which was what she'd done to go and see Ren when she was meant to be in bed - but she was lucky last time to have brought a candle and not gotten lost down there, or fallen and broken her neck. She glanced out the window. The Lannister guards were no longer out in the yard training. They were normally there until midday.

Then the shouting started, very quickly followed by the sound of steel on steel.

"What the - " Morganna ran to the window - Arya's room was above the entrance - looking down and seeing the tower surrounded by red-cloaked Lannister guardsmen. Not only that, they were fighting the Stark men that guarded the entrance.

"They can't do that," Lizzie's eyes were wide and shocked as she joined her. "Lord Stark's the Hand,"

"Something's wrong," Morganna said, feeling a stab of fear. Ren had made it seem like something bad was going to happen. "Gods, they're killing them," She stared in disbelief as their own guardsmen fell. The heavy wooden door was beaten in, and redcloaks poured into the tower.

"They're coming up here," Lizzie turned to her, looking more scared than Morganna had ever seen her, contrasting the always-laughing girl she knew. "That door was the only way out," Morganna would likely be fine, they wouldn't harm a highborn girl for hostage value alone, but she didn't like the idea of being a prisoner, and gods know what would happen to Lizzie.

"There's a passageway, in my fireplace," Morganna hurried across the landing and into her chambers, Lizzie close behind. "I found it sneaking out to see Ren, it goes up into the tower and goes down too, coming out near the postern gate," They both tried to ignore the shouts of pain and clash of swords coming up the staircase from not too far below them. What in hells was going on? Surely this meant open war; one noble house couldn't simply attack another in the middle of the Red Keep without repercussions, let alone the household guard of the Hand of the King.

"I can't fit down there," Lizzie was pale, looking at the small hole in the fireplace Morganna had uncovered. "You could barely fit down there, and you're much skinner than me,"

"It's that or let them catch us," Morganna replied. "They're getting closer, listen," That seemed to make up the older girl's mind.

"You get in first, then," She said, nudging Morganna on. "I'll follow, in case I get stuck," Morganna, stopping only to collect the knife Ren had given her for her birthday, manoeuvred herself into the narrow gap. Lizzie was right, if she was much larger then she wouldn't fit. The older girls' hips and shoulders were bigger than hers, gods she hoped she'd get through.

It was almost complete darkness in the passage. Last time had been sufficiently terrifying that even Morganna, normally the most reckless and adventurous of all her siblings and cousins, had sworn never to go down there again, and that had been with a candle. This was pitch blackness, climbing down a rickety ladder into the gloom, feeling carefully with her foot to see if the rungs were broken below her. She tried not to think about all the spiders and bugs that were surely all around her as she made the rather perilous climb down the ladder.

For a terrifying second, she thought Lizzie wasn't coming down after her, but then the little remaining light was blocked out from the top, and the older girl just managed to squeeze inside, pulling the slab shut behind her. The one good thing about the tight space was that no man could ever hope to follow them that way, although Morganna suspected this passage linked up to several other fireplaces in the tower, including the Hand's chambers.

The pair didn't dare talk as they climbed down into the darkness, rung by rung. The walls were thick, but not that thick, and Morganna could still hear shouting and the moans of dying men from the other side. She thought of Jory, still wrapped up in bandages in bed. She bet they killed him as well. Bastards. At one point Lizzie slipped on the ladder, letting out a yelp of panic, and they both froze for a second, waiting for someone to realise where they were. After several tense seconds, nothing happened, so they carried on, her stomach feeling like jelly.

"Here," Morganna had been feeling the wall with her toe as she descending each rung - it wasn't like she could see it - and made contact with the ledge she had used last time. She stepped off the ladder, feeling her way into the passage. "Gods, it's pitch black. I can't see a thing,"

"I've got a tinderbox," Lizzie said a little shakily as she too stepped onto the ledge, clutching at Morganna like a lifeline. "Hold on," There was a rustling sound, the sound of flint, then a faint light from the tiny candle she carried, illuminating both of their sweating, grubby faces.

"I wonder where that ends up," Morganna peered over the edge of the ledge into the seemingly bottomless blackness below. "It might go under the walls,"

"If you don't know, we won't risk it," Lizzie said. "What if the ladder runs out, or breaks? The bit we just came down creaked far too much for my liking," Morganna was glad she was the one to say no to that idea.

"That's why I only came down here once after I found it," She said, setting off down the passageway. "It was lucky I didn't carry on down, really, only I had similar thoughts and stopped when I found this,"

They walked largely in silence until they reached the trapdoor. It was near the postern gate, like Morganna said, situated in the narrow gap between the stables and the walls, and under a large pile of old straw from the nearby stables, so no one could see them scramble out. Brushing dirty straw smelling strongly of horse manure off of her dress, Morganna moved forward to investigate, but Lizzie stopped her.

"Put this on," In the light of day, Morganna suddenly noticed the girl was wearing a cloak she definitely hadn't been wearing before, as Lizzie took it off and handed it to her. "You're too recognisable in that dress. And get that jewellery off too," That was a good point. Morganna gratefully took the roughspun cloak, her own plainest one, and removed her necklace and earrings. She realised she didn't have any pockets, so gave them to Lizzie who had several, before peering out from behind the building. She could see all the way across the outer yard, over to the small hall, the Tower of the Hand rising up behind it. Redcloaked Lannister guards, together with the city watch, were fighting the Stark men openly in the courtyard, to the death. She saw two familiar guards cut down even as she looked on; the Lannisters had strength in numbers on their side, and the Starks were clearly losing. Morganna watched as Septa Mordane was dragged across the courtyard, sobbing for the Mother's mercy, by a pair of jeering goldcloaks, and for once felt a stab of pity for the woman. Only a stab, however; she was more focused on getting herself out of here.

"Gods be good," Lizzie murmured beside her. "Even the Septa," Morganna silently agreed. The full impact of these events was suddenly hitting her now as the initial shock started to wear off. Sansa had left the tower ages ago - Morganna hoped she had the sense to hide, but somehow doubted it - and Arya would hopefully be alright, if she could find her uncle and the rest of the men. But what about her uncle? Where was he? He would hardly stand for slaughter like this... which meant that they had him too.

"What about Sansa and Arya?" She turned to Lizzie, suddenly panicked for the first time.

"There's no time," Lizzie shook her head regretfully. "They're highborn. They'll be fine,"

"Then why are you so scared for me?"

"I -" The girl hesitated. "There really isn't any time. We need to go, someone's going to notice you're not there at some point and come looking. You're not as important as a Stark, but they're not just going to let you go," Morganna was in agreement, but frowned.

"Won't there be guards on the gate? They obviously don't want anyone getting out,"

"Look around, it's chaos," Lizzie's optimistic tone was forced, and she bit her lip, clearly wondering the same thing. "They won't have put the word out yet that you and the other girls aren't there,"

"If we stay here, we get caught anyway," Morganna reasoned.

"Exactly," Lizzie sighed. "Right. Postern gate. And keep your head down, you're too recognisable," Morganna nodded.

Luckily, though the gate was not unguarded, it was under-guarded, the majority busy fighting Starks. The two left on the postern gate were clearly the dregs of the barrel, as all it took was a stone thrown in the other direction by Lizzie to make a noise that that both off them drawing their swords and going off to investigate. Hoping desperately that none of the guards on the battlements saw them, both girls walked briskly towards the gate - running would attract too much attention - keeping to the edges as much as possible, praying that it wasn't locked. It was, but the keys were on a ring abandoned on the guard's table. Morganna quickly snatched them up, struggling to turn the heavy lock, until Lizzie took over, and they both slipped out, shutting the door behind them and keeping flat to the walls so the men on the battlements wouldn't notice anyone leaving.

"We shouldn't've have got away with that. That was very, very lucky," Lizzie breathed in disbelief, daring a quick smile. Her face then sobered. "Now we've just got to get out of the city,"

The older girl seemed to have a decent knowledge of the streets, which was fortunate, as Morganna had no idea. The one time she'd gone out with Ren it had been dark, and they hadn't gone very far from the castle or the main streets.

"How do you know this place so well?" She asked as they entered yet another dingy side-street.

"Your brother took me out a lot," Lizzie gave her a brief grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, which were stressed and harried. "I've got a good memory for things like this. Good thing, too, or we'd be proper lost," They were heading towards the Mud Gate, as Lizzie insisted it was quickest, if you went down the Hook road. It also meant avoiding Flea Bottom, where everyone's eyes were peeled for any sign of riches, and even the briefest flash of Morganna's blue silk and gold lace dress from under that cloak would have thieves descending onto them like carrion crows to a battlefield.

They neared the gate, the smell of saltwater and fish in the air the closer they got to the sea and emerged into fishmonger's square. The square was busy, as it usually was at this time of day, meaning the gate itself was blocked from view. As they elbowed their way through the crowd, Morganna realised the ship Lord Stark had paid for would be there, and mentioned this to Lizzie.

"No," The older girl said. "We don't know if he's been paid yet. If not, he wouldn't take you, not with all the trouble making it unlikely he'd get his money. The Lannisters don't know about the ship, true, but if the captain's heard they're looking for Starks, he might just turn you in himself for a reward - " Lizzie broke of, cursing under her breath as they made it through the crowd and saw the Mud Gate was swarming with goldcloaks. No one was allowed through. The people in the crowd weren't happy about it, but there was little they could do against the goldcloaks but grumble and shout the occasional insult.

"There are other gates," Morganna said, though her panic was growing.

"They'll be worse, they'll be expecting us to go north," Lizzie bit her lip. "Alright. I've got a plan, but you stay here," There was something in her tone that made Morganna uneasy, but she nodded, and watched as the older girl approached one of the guards.

From the provocative way she was standing it was obvious what she was doing. Gods, that's your plan? She really must be desperate. Morganna stood there next to the walls, waiting for Lizzie to be shoved back or rudely refused, but it seemed to be working, although she didn't like the way a couple of the other guards were muttering together and looking at Morganna herself. Lizzie seemed to be a good actress, laughing even as the guard grabbed at her crudely, beckoning Morganna over.

"Me and my sister need to get past to help our father," She batted her eyelashes up at the man, not talking in her normal voice; she was putting on a southern accent. "He's out of the river and needs us to help bring in his catch, we do it every day. He'll beat us if we're not there soon. I'll make it worth your while, if you just let us through. What's the harm?" The guard gave an appreciative laugh that Morganna didn't like.

"This offer for the both of you, then?" Lizzie's smile didn't even falter.

"I'm afraid not," She said, even adding in a giggle. "Anna's only a little girl, flat as a plank. Why would you want that when you can have near a woman?"

"Fair enough," The guard grunted, glancing at Morganna - who didn't have to pretend to be annoyed by that - amused. "Come on then, sweetheart. Your sister can go on through while you and I find somewhere more quiet," Lizzie barely looked at Morganna, hanging off the man's arm as he lead her into the guard house, hands already all over her. Morganna had never seen anything quite so sickening. She stared after them, in shock that Lizzie would actually do something like that, even to get them both out, but was jolted back to reality when someone grabbed her shoulder.

"Get off me!" She exclaimed, in her clearly northern voice, struggling to keep her cloak covering her dress.

"It's her alright," The man who had grabbed her, one of the remaining guards, chuckled to the other. "Saw her next to Lord Stark at the Hand's tourney. You his daughter?" He turned back to Morganna, who felt like she was going to be sick.

"The Hand?" She was a good liar, she always had been a good liar, so good that only her parents or sister could tell when she wasn't telling the truth. But that had been when the only consequences were a scolding from her mother, or at worst her father's punishments. Her voice shook in a way it never had before. "I'm no lady, she told you, we're just here to help our father," The man holding her laughed again.

"And where is it you live again?" He asked her, clearly disbelieving. "King's Landing, is it?"

"River Row," Morganna lied.

"Really?" The guard raised an eyebrow, grabbing her hand roughly and turning it over. "You've got the softest hands I've ever seen on a Blackwater fisherman's daughter. And the strongest northern accent, come to that," She was at a loss, as the men laughed at her. She remembered the knife Ren had given her, that she'd snatched from her chambers during the escape and hidden in her skirts, and gripped the hilt tightly under her cloak.

"What about your whore of a friend?" The other asked with a leer. "Please tell me it's one of Lord Stark's daughters our Evan's fucking,"

"Come off it," The first guard snorted. "As if a lady knows how to talk like that. She'll be some servant," He turned to Morganna, who remained silent. Should she use her knife? If she was quick enough, she might surprise them, and be able to rush past and through the gate.

"Game's up, girl," The second stepped closer. "Tell us who you are, or we might just decide to give your pretty serving girl friend over to the barracks," Morganna wanted to spit in his eyes, but decided that would make things worse for both of them. She had no experience with the dagger. If she was quick, she might be able to stab the hand of whoever was holding her, and make it through the gates, yes, but they knew the area along the river much better than she did, and would surely catch her within minutes. These were sensible thoughts, but as the men stared down at her, amused at her predicament, her reckless nature overtook any rational thinking. Better go down fighting than be meek and biddable.

She had no experience using a blade, true, but she did have the element of surprise. She brought the dagger out from under her cloak, clumsily stabbing at the wrist of the man holding her. The knife sank deep into flesh, and the man gave a yell, letting go. And Morganna ran. She realised in a split second that the Mud Gate was locked too, so shoved and pushed her way through the crowd in fisherman's square, ignoring the angry shouts and indignant protests behind her.

A skinny young girl could slip through the crowd easier than a larger person could, but people moved out the way of the armed goldcloaks, clearing a path. She tried to outrun them, but she could hear their voices getting closer and closer. A few had moved around to the way out of fisherman's square, cutting off her escape route. The ones pursuing behind her were so close now, and, realising it was hopeless (if she was honest, she'd realised that before), she whirled around with the knife, slashing and stabbing at any of them she could reach. She got a few lucky hits in; she got one of them in the eye, and another one in the wrist, but a heavy blow to the back of her head sent her sprawling to the dirty ground with a cry, her head an explosion of pain.

"That's not Stark's daughter," She heard a voice say above her. It sounded distant, muffled, and all she could do was lie there with her face in the foul-smelling mud, dazed. "She's too tall. That's his niece, the Bolton girl," Someone stepped closer, and her knife was taken from her loose grip.

"Nice steel," He whistled. "I'll have that," Morganna gritted her teeth, wishing she could bring herself to move, but even that small movement sent waves of pain through her head. Mother would never be so weak, she survived the Mad King.

"Bolton?" Another voice said anxiously. "We should've been more careful. Lord Bolton's nasty, worse than the Old Lion, lots of the northmen I've been drinking with say. He'll flay your whole skin off and wear it as a cloak if you harm his daughter,"

"Well Lord Bolton ain't here," The second guard snapped at him. "Besides, her mother's the Whore of Winterfell. You know that bastard Ren Snow, don't you? This one probably ain't even trueborn either," He gave a dark chuckle that made Morganna's blood boil. She wished she still had her knife, so she could stab it through his boot.

"Who said anything about harming her?" The first man said. "All I want is a nice tidy reward for handing her in to Queen Cersei. She did tell us to watch out for Starks at the Mud Gate," How did the queen know that? Only the Starks knew that. "I'm thinking she'll come quietly, now," He chuckled. Morganna felt two pairs of hands lift her off the ground. She worried for a moment that her cloak was not hiding her dress anymore, then realised that it was covered in mud and filth now anyway. Then she realised that it didn't matter anyway, they knew who she was.

"Let my friend... go," She murmured as they hauled her to her feet, hating how weak her voice sounded. Both men hooted.

"Pretty thing like that? No chance,"

"She's my brother's..." She paused. What exactly was Lizzie to Ren? She wasn't sure, so she made something up. "... betrothed. He'll tear you apart... if you touch her," Every word hurt. That last part wasn't as much of a lie.

"Evan's done more than just touched her by now," One of them snorted. "And besides, Snow isn't here either, and won't be for a long time if he knows what's good for him," Morganna had no reply to that. All that, for nothing. Since the fighting began, she had hoped vainly that they might be able to escape from this. Now though, as she was dragged through the streets, her head pounding with pain through the indignity, further and further away from Lizzie, she saw that hope had been absurd. She felt more useless and defeated than she'd felt in her life.

They marched her up to the castle, and after a short conversation with the guards on the main gate of the Red Keep, they were let in. They led her past the Tower of the Hand, past the bodies of men she had known for years, hoping to the gods that her uncle wasn't amongst them, until they reached a part of the castle she had only ever been let into when accompanied by Myrcella. Maegor's holdfast was formidable, and she bit her lip as she saw a body impaled on the stakes in the moat.

They brought her into a bare-looking chamber. The guards shouted for someone, making her wince, and several serving women hurried over. There was some conversation between the two, but Morganna couldn't focus long enough to listen. A bathtub was hauled in, but one of the guards didn't leave, even when one of the older women looked at him reproachfully.

"She's a wolf in lady's clothing, that one," He just shrugged. "Stabbed four men trying to escape. I wouldn't put it past her to try to drown one of you in that tub," He did turn away, however, sitting in a chair that faced out the small window.

Morganna didn't have the energy or strength to protest as the women unlaced her dress, tutting with each other at all the mud and dirt, saying what a waste it was. They washed her off with rags and a basin of cool water at first, getting the majority of the mud off. She watched as the water turned a nasty shade of greyish brown. Then they helped her into the tub. That water was cool as well, and she cringed away slightly, but was rather glad of it. The cold was helping her regain her senses, feel less sick, and when they washed her hair it soothed the growing lump on the back of her head.

Having been washed and redressed - into one of her own dresses, green and black, which had presumably been brought from the Tower of the Hand - the Grand Maester's assistant had a look at the back of her head, declaring her fine so long as she rested for a day or two. She was then shown up the stairs by a pair of guards, still feeling a little dizzy, but had regained enough of her senses to ask questions. No one spoke to her at all, however, merely opening a door near the top of the holdfast and pushed her inside.

"Morganna!" For perhaps the first time ever, her spirits rose a fraction as she saw Sansa, alive and... well, not safe. Alive and unharmed, for now. Jeyne Poole was also there, and tears were running down both girls' cheeks. "What's happening? No one will tell me anything. I've asked to see Father, and Joffrey, but no one answers," Joffrey, why in hells would she want to see Joffrey at a time like this?

"They're killing all the Stark men," Morganna sat down heavily on the bed, suddenly exhausted, her head spinning. "I don't know why. Last time I saw your father was when he left the tower with some men. The fighting started not long after that,"

"Why did it take you so long to get here?" Jeyne asked, tears still streaming down her face. "I was in the tower and they shut me in here hours ago. They came up the stairs and dragged me away, they were killing everyone, my father - " She burst out sobbing again, and Morganna looked away. She had forgotten about Jeyne, who shared a room with her father Vayon Poole several floors below.

"You're not making sense, Jeyne. Why would they kill a steward?" Sansa asked in what she seemed to think was a comforting way. "He doesn't carry a sword. I'm sure he's alive and well, isn't he?" She gave Morganna a pointed look. She was tempted to bluntly say no and agree with Jeyne that her father was likely dead, but was too weary of the day to deal with the fallout.

"They walked me right past the Tower of the Hand and I didn't see his body," She said instead, a little uncomfortably. She wasn't good at making people feel better like this, and it didn't placate Jeyne, but at least she stopped crying so noisily; it was hurting her head. Sansa turned to Morganna again.

"You didn't say where you were,"

"I escaped," She said listlessly. "There's a secret passage in my fireplace. Me and Lizzie went through it and came out near the postern gate. We got out into the city and tried to go through the River Gate. Lizzie tried to trick them into letting us through," She wouldn't tell Sansa exactly how, she didn't think she could sit through any piously disapproving looks. "But they knew we were coming. I don't know how," She frowned. "The guard said the queen warned him about our ship, but I don't know where she would've heard about that,"

"One of our men must've let it slip by mistake," Sansa said, although she didn't meet her eyes, and there was something decidedly off about her tone. There was a pause.

"Where's Arya?" Morganna asked, suddenly realising her cousin was absent. "Is she in another room?" She was expecting to hear something like the girl was too wild or badly behaved to be put in here, but Sansa just bit her lip.

"I don't know," She said, actually looking concerned. "I tried asking about her, but they wouldn't tell me anything,"

They were left in the room for the rest of the day. After an hour or so of waiting for her head to stop pounding - it didn't - Morganna spent the time searching every inch of the room for some way of escape, despite Sansa telling her to stop it, that they were safe here. They were anything but safe, and the walls seemed to be closing in on her the longer she was in here, so she looked in the fireplace for another secret passage, patted down the walls, moved aside tapestries and the small book case, even the big heavy wardrobe. The noise of her struggling to move it aside sent the guards in, who were bemused at her antics, laughing as they moved the wardrobe back.

"Try the window, girl," One said mockingly. Morganna already had. Although the windows opened, they were at the top of Maegor's Holdfast, which was a vertical drop down to the moat of iron spikes, a body already impaled below them. She would've even attempted the climb then, except there were no ledges or handholds of any sort. Trying to escape that way would be suicide, even if you were Bran.

Eventually, she had to conclude that the only way out of this room was the door, which was constantly under guard. Even if she got out of the room, there was no way she would get down to the next floor, let alone out of the Holdfast. When Sansa and Jeyne eventually fell asleep - Jeyne still quietly weeping, Sansa having pulled herself together - Morganna was determined to stay awake, sitting next to the window and staring out into the darkness, until she could no longer keep her eyes open and woke the next morning as the sun rose, with cold arms, a sore head and a stiff neck from sleeping awkwardly on a chair.

That day was maddeningly dull. All the fighting was over, and no one spoke to any of them, despite their questioning of the servants that brought them food - Sansa asked politely, whereas Morganna grabbed one poor maid, refusing to let her go unless she got answers, but the guards outside the door came in at the noise and tore her off the girl - and no one of importance came to see them. The only blessing was that Sansa had finally stopped asking if she could talk to Joffrey or the queen. By the end of the day, all three of them had grown even more desperate for news, and Morganna was growing more and more restless with every passing minute, ignoring Sansa when she asked her to stop pacing around the room, even though her head hurt. It was more than frustrating being stuck in here, not knowing anything, where her uncle was, what had happened to Lizzie, or Arya.

At sunset, the low, mournful sound of bells began to toll.

"They're for King Robert," Sansa said needlessly.

"Bit late," Morganna snorted without any humour, sat on the chair by the window again, not that she'd seen anything more that day than men clearing away the bodies of the Stark household guard, who by the looks of things had been slaughtered to a man. The king had died yesterday morning. That was what had started all of this trouble.

The day after that, the Kingsguard came for Sansa. The ugly, fat one, Boros Blount, escorted her from the room. Morganna tried to ask him questions, get him to take her with him too, but the knight ignored her, and when she tried to rush out the door, she wasn't surprised when she was shoved roughly back inside, making her head spin even though it had been slowly improving. Sansa was gone a long time. Morganna spent the time pacing, ignoring Jeyne's pleas for her to stop it, every now and then staring out the window with keen eyes, searching for any trace of her cousin, her uncle, Arya, Lizzie, even Ren, miraculously returned to get them all out.

Then they came for Jeyne.

"Where are you taking her?" Morganna rounded on the guards that came into their room, asking Jeyne to gather her things together.

"To see her father," One of the grunted unconvincingly. "He's in Lord Baelish's chambers. Hurry up, girl,"

"He's lying," Morganna narrowed her eyes. "Jeyne, your father's surely dead, he's trying to trick you," The girl looked terrified, tears welling in her eyes again, but carried on packing.

"You don't know that," She said, but looked a little warily at the guard. There was no time to try to convince her, not that either of them could do anything even if she could.

"Come on," The guard guided the girl out of the room, another taking the small bag of belongings she had with her. The door shut, and Morganna was alone.

Sansa returned some time later, looking far too relaxed.

"They've taken Jeyne," Morganna turned to her. "What happened?"

"I went to see the queen," Her cousin smiled tremulously. "Morganna, it's all going to be fine. Her Grace got me to write letters, to Mother, Robb, Aunt Lysa and Lord Tully. So long as they come to King's Landing to pledge fealty to Joffrey, all will be forgiven," Morganna stared at her.

"Forgiven?" She frowned. "Forgiven for what?"

"Oh," Sansa's face fell. "They think Father is a traitor. They said he tried to usurp Joffrey to put Lord Stannis on the throne. But I told them that I wasn't a traitor, that all I want to do is marry Joffrey, and they talked about if I was loyal or not. Writing to Mother and everyone else would ease their fears,"

"Are you simple?" Morganna burst out.

"What?" Sansa looked hurt.

"Lord Stark has been arrested for treason and his family has been commanded to come south," She said, starting to pace again. "That's a little too familiar, isn't it? That's exactly what happened with our grandfather and Uncle Brandon and the Mad King, and in this situation we're my mother!"

"Joffrey isn't mad," Sansa protested indignantly. "You shouldn't talk like that, someone will hear," She was probably right about that, but Morganna was too angry, too scared to care.

"Joffrey is a spoilt, cruel boy!" She carried on. "You saw him by the river, when he was bullying that butcher's boy, and lied about it later. You saw him hit me. My brother has known that boy for years, and has nothing good to say about him. Hells, I'm friends with his own sister, who has even less good to say. You're an idiot if you think he's going to show any mercy to your father, or to Robb when he comes south," By the end of the sentence, Morganna felt tears welling in her eyes, but furiously blinked them away.

"Stop it!" Sansa was crying openly now. "Just stop it. You're so angry and hateful! Joffrey will listen to me, he wouldn't hurt Father. Perhaps he'll only be exiled for a few years and then everything will be alright, but if Mother or Robb does something treasonous then all that will be ruined. That's why I wrote the letters. All I want to do is marry Joffrey," There was a silence after her words. For once, Morganna couldn't be bothered to argue. She merely shook her head, turning away and returning to her seat by the window, silent tears falling down her cheeks. She hadn't cried in years, and wasn't going to let Sansa of all people see her now.

The dress she was wearing made her look a little like her mother, tall, dark and thin. It was something similar to what she would wear, with its dark colours, high neck and narrow sleeves. Morganna didn't feel like her mother. She felt weak, pathetic, helpless, everything she knew her mother was not. She remembered the woman's angry words or warning before she left, and how she scorned them. You little fool. She hadn't appreciated then how quickly the world could be turned upside down. She'd have been better off staying in the North. Everyone would have been better off staying in the North.


Please review/comment on this story, constructive criticism is very helpful, and comments always inspire me to write more. Thank you so much everyone who has done so already, it's very much appreciated.