...
"the shadows in this room are not mine to hide from"
— j.r.m.
SANSA
It had been but a fortnight on the King's Road, in that time Sansa came across many perversions being committed at the inn, crinkling her nose in disgust at the sights, the sounds. The king had forfeited their comfort to go gallivanting through the woods, intoxicated by bloodlust and Dornish wine, with a spear in his grubby palms. In this time, Sansa had gotten no closer to her betrothed. Her signs of interest came in the forms of small smiles and too long of glances in her direction. He was disinterested, or so she told. Sansa belittled herself plenty for Joffrey's lack of attention, there was nothing she could have done—right or wrong—it ended in Sansa being at fault.
It consumed her thoughts throughout the day, tightly gripping to Lady's leash as they strolled through the campsite.
"Do you think father would approve." Sansa asked, curtly, "Of Joffrey and I's marriage."
Laisa strolled beside her, Viera not bound by a leash and exploring the campsite as she pleased. This only made Sansa sharply tug on Lady's leash when she felt she was straying too far from her side.
Since the raising of the pups, they had grown far beyond what their masters expected. Lady, in comparison, was quite small. Nymeria was considered the middle sibling of the three—barely reaching the height of Arya's chest, whereas Lady hardly grew past Sansa's thigh. Viera, belonging to and the eldest of her siblings, had been able to nuzzle her snout just above Laisa's hip.
Viera came to nuzzle against Sansa, smiling small, as she pressed her palm between her large ears and scratched.
"Father listens to you, perhaps you could—"
"What is this truly about, sweetling, do you wish to marry Joffrey because you're doing your duty to your House or is it something more."
Sansa pursed her lips, anxiously nibbling.
Laisa sighed. "I know you're not going to listen to a word I am about to tell you, but I am going to speak it."
"Life is not like your stories or the songs, Sansa. It is not as simple or beautiful as a wedding, a bedding ceremony, birthing little princes and princesses, then being crowned queen once King Robert passes on." Laisa said, "I understand your grail is to sit beside your king, or your prince, and live in peace but father, mother, I, want you be married to someone who is going to cherish you and is kind and will love you."
"Joffrey loves me, and he is kind and he does cherish me."
They came upon the crimson and gold carriage, that housed the queen, her children, and her handmaids during the duration of their journey. Three handmaids, unknown by name, took their leisure. Two plaited and touched up each other's hair, giggling amongst themselves. Only it became louder, condescending when they happened upon Laisa and herself.
Sansa hung her head in embarrassment, knowing they must have heard her proclamation of Joffrey's unknown and potentially unrequited feelings.
"Don't mind them.." Laisa cooed.
"They're laughing at me how can I not mind them." Sansa snapped, focusing her welling eyes onto the ground at her feet.
Laisa faced the women, not faltering to their jests and waited until their laughter ceased, looking more uncomfortable than Sansa anticipated. Her tongue clicked twice, Viera came barreling towards them snarling and yapping until the women scurried away, screaming at the tops of their lungs about a savage beast.
A monster.
"Viera, come." Laisa calmly beckoned, watching Viera trot back to her side and sit beside Lady. As thought she had not scared those girls, Viera resumed being her naturally cool, behaved self.
Sansa was aghast, "Why did you do that!"
"Would you rather I had done nothing?" Laisa retorted. "Allowed the queen's little birds to make their fun?"
Sansa averted her elder's words, sneering, "They could have been laughing at you. Gossip of a maiden caught with the Ser Jaime in her bedchambers has been buzzing around ever since we left."
"And do you believe it? The gossip?"
"Of course not—"
Laisa chuckled, "Then I suppose they were giggling at your griping, little sister."
Sansa walked forth, not paying much attention to where she was going until she smacked into a man, startling her. She took a hesitant step back, unable to tear her eyes from his.
"Pardon me, Ser—"
Laisa quietly called Viera to her side; Sansa tugged Lady back by her leash.
The man hadn't said a word. His gaze was fixed, intimidating, so much so that Sansa had dropped her chin to deter her attentions elsewhere. Sansa shrunk into Laisa's side, feeling her arm curling around her frame with Lady seated between them.
"Ser?" Laisa addressed, cautiously.
"Do I frighten you so much, girl."
Sansa whipped around at course voice that snuck up behind her. Now, wide-eyed and gripping to Lady's leash as tightly as she could while seeking Laisa's arm.
She didn't answer, neither had Laisa.
Sandor Clegane, the Hound, whichever name he was best known for had pressed past Viera who stood between them, barring teeth and warning him not to come closer.
"Or is it him there making you shake?" Sandor taunted, prodding the man's patience as though he expected a response. "He frightens me, too."
"Look at that face." He commented in disgust.
It seemed animosity and dread drove the man off. Instead of words, longswords may have been their means of conversation, Sansa thought.
Laisa tightened her arm around Sansa, leaning safely into her elder's side. "Why won't he speak for himself."
"He hasn't been very talkative." Sandor muttered, "Not since the Mad King ripped out his tongue with hot pinchers."
Sansa felt the grip on her figure constrict, glancing upward to find her elder's eyes hollowed and cold. Her lips parted as though she were to ask if she was all right.
"He speaks damn well with his sword though." Joffrey's voice sounded similar to a serenade. Sansa's spirits lifted at the mere sight of him, and she immediately ripped from Laisa's coddle to stand tall, independent in the presence of her prince.
Joffrey approached, sweetly smiling as he spoke. "Ser llyn Payne, the King's Justice."
She must have conveyed a bout of fright, unspoken alarm. Joffrey took notice in Sansa's features with a slight of worry, raising a gentle hand to tilt her chin up to better his look. Then, he looked over to Laisa, similarly examining her expressions.
"What is it, my lady? Does the Hound frighten you?"
Sansa turned her eyes downward, tugging Lady closer as though her sweet wolf would protect her as Viera did her master.
"Away with you, dog." Joffrey sneered, "You're scaring the ladies."
Sandor bowed, despite being disrespected as such and turned to take leave elsewhere. Sansa hadn't cared one bit; her head was in the clouds and her heart thumped wildly at his regard.
"Thank you, my prince. That was very noble of you." Laisa kindly thanked, curtsying in respect.
When Joffrey smiled; Sansa became blinded. "It is no trouble, my lady. I do not like to see my betrothed nor her kin in such distress."
His clear emeralds happened to fall to the ground, eyeing Viera as thought he was daunted by such an animal. She hadn't snapped nor growled, Viera seemed to be taking a liking to Joffrey until she trot forward to sniff at his hand.
Joffrey lurched backward in response. "I suppose this is the beast the handmaids were raving about."
"Forgive me, my prince, the queen's handmaids thought it humorous to mock Lady Sansa. Her enthusiasm regarding the betrothal seemed to…amuse them."
"They were not laughing at me, my prince." Sansa retorted, "They heard of Lady Laisa's interactions with Ser Jaime, as the rumor goes around."
Joffrey lifted a brow. "That's right. I overheard something of seclusive bedchambers and my uncle. How did he fare, my lady."
Laisa was void of any embarrassment whilst Sansa burned as brightly as her hair.
She smiled kindly, "He fared well, my prince. I thought it would do him well to offer my chambers for rest, for your father had him posted at my door throughout the night. I felt awful having him sacrifice his strength to guard me when it was your father he should have been protecting."
"Why should have he been guarding my father, my lady." Joffrey pressed.
Sansa glared in Laisa's direction, as though she were the one at fault for pursing this line of conversation.
Laisa, though, had not faltered. "The Kingsguard is for the king's protection, my prince. There is no use wasting their talents on a lady."
"I'll be sure to bring this up to my father. I see he extends his courtesies to the wrong people."
"That would be most kind of you, my prince."
Sansa was set aflame. Her cheeks felt hot, skin blooming a deep shade of rose. Her intentions of turning the shame unto Laisa had gone awry. Sansa had not done what she did out of malice; she did not want Joffrey to see her as some helpless pup who needed her elder sister to protect her from envious handmaids.
Joffrey returned his attention. "The sun is shining, my lady, it would be shameful to let a beautiful day go to waste."
"Would it please you to walk with me?"
Sansa nodded, further containing her excitement. "Of course, my prince."
"Laisa, would you mind taking Lady back to the kennels."
Sansa did not bother with waiting for her elder's response, for she held onto Joffrey's offered arm. She gazed shyly upon her prince, as though he decorated the sky with stars and hung the moon.
JAIME
Seven Hells, he was bored.
Tyrion's departure for the Wall and Cersei's persistent avoidance allowed Jaime too much time wasted on his thoughts. He was not interested in accompanying the king on another hunt. The spearing of animals was not enough to sate his need to kill. He preferred his challenges over shows of unnecessary violence.
Jaime sat at the river, hidden beneath a ledge amongst washed up stones, polishing his blade taking in what little silence of his surroundings. It was a good deal away from the Inn, no throes of pleasure from whore after whore; children and their little games; the bothersome banter of his own men. The quiet was never his friend, though as of late he had been enjoying what it had to offer.
A Lannister alone in the world did not have the same ring to it.
"Viera!"
The voice shouted once more, becoming clearer and within distance. "Viera! Where have you gone!"
Jaime paid no mind, submerging a bloodied piece of cloth into the creek. He caught the glint of his reflection in the shimmering steel, recalling his youth. Battle worn by the age of six and ten, a dead dragon at his feet in a pool of his own blood. He expected a Targaryen to bleed chartreuse, the shades of wildfire. Alas, he painted the marble stones of the Great Hall a deep shade of red.
He was unsure of why he was riddled with such disappointment, then. Even now, he wondered if his blood contained power; touch the blood of the dragon, you are sure to get burned.
A cold touch to the cheek brought him from the Great Hall, back to the river where the waters rippled, and hot breath panted against his face.
Jaime turned, meeting the buttonlike, amber eyes of the black mass that sat before him.
He hadn't taken but a breath, with miniscule blades for teeth and an advantage, he remained still. Yet Jaime could feel his fingers clenching the hilt.
"Viera!"
The wolf yipped, alerting her master to her location.
Jaime remained silent and still, hoping the wolf would find her way back without issue and he would be able to resume his moments of solitude. He glanced between the beady eyes and the ledge above, hearing some rustling and another panting animal. It seemed in his breath of worry, Viera inched closer, prodding his cheek with her nose and lapping at the gloss of sweat on his skin.
"Viera, come!"
A whine became of her, pulling herself far from Jaime's side and retreated.
Laisa stood not ten paces from where he sat, holding a fashioned leather strap around another wolf and looking quite disheveled from her scouring. Her cheeks hinted red from the time spent in the sun.
"I apologize if she disturbed you Ser—" Laisa's eyes widened a bit, her mouth curling into a small smile, "Ser Jaime."
Jaime never thought he would tire of hearing his own name. He thought it to be a blessing someone addressed him as such, as his proper titles, thinly veiled with discourtesies or disgust. A sweet thing Laisa Stark was, he admitted, too sweet for his liking.
"If…if you do not mind me asking Ser, how come you are not on the hunt with the king?"
He snapped. "I do not attend the king at all hours of the day, my lady. I'm sure he's quite protected, stumbling drunk in the moors with a spear and a huddle of men at his beck and call."
Jaime allowed his head to tilt in her direction, a cool gaze set upon this woman who was unmoving, her head lowered. What he was told of this Lyanna Stark, a great deal of it coming from Robert's drunken stupors and Cersei's bickering over the dead as of late, Laisa Stark lacked affinity. She was not the fiery, strong-willed she-wolf that had taken the hearts of many. Laisa Stark was much like her father, something the North seemed to lack—cool, composed, and refined. The compassion must have been a Tully trait, or perhaps she mended something new for herself. A stupid thing that did not thrive for very long.
"I apologize if I've upset you, Ser.."
Laisa tugged on the leash, as she did with the scruff of Viera's neck as she turned away, cooing the animals and making way back up the steep ridge.
"Lady Stark!"
She pivoted at his call, watching as the wolves' ears perked as well.
Jaime beckoned her, setting aside a place for her to sit on the several stones at their disposal. Without question or concern, Laisa approached him once more and sat at the farthest end to allow much space between the two. The wolves lied closest to the water on her order, nuzzling against one another and lapping up some drink to sate themselves.
"You need not ask for forgiveness, Lady Stark." He muttered, "It is I who should apologize. I should not have responded to you in such a way."
"I suppose asking of the king and your guardship is the last thing on your mind, Ser."
that it is… Jaime kept his words to himself, resuming his tending to the blade. He glanced in the way of Laisa, noticing her fascination with the weaponry between his legs.
"See something you like."
Laisa nod. "The swords of the North are not gilded with gold…nor are they so skinny."
"May I hold it."
Jaime had thought back to when her bastard brother attempted to teach her to wield his own, how she struggled to raise her arms and nearly tumbled to the snow from her inability to do it properly. He was not a man to extend his courtesies when it came to his sword, as it was a part of himself that he could not simply remove no matter who nor what tested it.
"After your atrocious performance, I don't believe I should allow you within ten paces of a blade."
She chuckled. "Aye. Perhaps ten paces is too close."
Jaime managed a grin, although it was not the least bit genuine, it seemed to please her. It became quiet between them. Laisa looked out into the distance, over the river and onward into the land as though she was expecting to see something emerge from its shadows. Jaime followed her line of sight, as though he too were expecting a person, or an animal to come leaping into the river. At least, that is what he told himself as he watched Laisa become so fixated on one rather large opening between the trees.
"Those children, the orphans in the north," Jaime said, "To what do they owe the pleasure of being accompanied by the Lady Stark of Winterfell."
"Children are the first victims of winter, Ser." she answered, flicking a stone across the river, "They have no one but each other. I gift necessities, my time and love, to the children when no one else would. Some of them have families, and I treat them no different from the ones who do not."
"And I'm sure if the price were right, someone could buy that love and devotion you bestow unto them in return for your heart on a pike."
Laisa smiled sadly. "Little birds are everywhere, even in the North…"
Jaime raised a brow. Lord Varys had his ways of gathering knowledge from the farthest corners of the world, he thought. As Jaime were to ask what she meant by her little quip, Laisa turned herself inward to face him, fixating her gaze as a look of amusement befell her.
He meant to ask for elaboration, but she voided all lines of questioning.
"I've been told by the commoners that the children seem happier, well-adjusted to their lives for I am what makes their day…bearable." she mused, managing a small smile, "And I am quite familiar with the comments…that my charity is unneeded, and they are a waste of time. To put my efforts into something much more meaningful.."
"It was those children who taught me that compassion is everlasting…growing up with no one, with nothing, and live through more than I ever would in my lifetime to remain…as they are. No qualms, no anger, no…anything, really."
Jaime could admit it was a beautiful thought. Perhaps if she had seen the world through another's eyes, gazed upon a bloody blade or the body of the dead, she would understand that kindness and compassion dies just as much, if not more, then men do.
The game did now allow for such royalties to remain.
"You must be thinking I sound childish. Naïve to the hardships that await beyond my snow-covered borders."
"Just a tad."
Laisa didn't seem offended by his insinuations. Jaime thought it strange. He may have not been the best conversationalist, the one that required words. He dipped the cloth back into the pool of water beneath his boot, squeezing out the remaining stains of blood.
She watched him, hints of elation in her eyes.
Jaime understood how alluring fine weaponry could be, he understood that well. He did not think his action could hurt, for the girl could hardly hold it up, what harm could she truly inflict.
"Here."
Jaime held out his sword, her eyes flicked to his, as though she were asking further permission. He dipped his head in her direction intending to sate her unease.
Laisa took hold of the hilt in both hands, holding it a great distance from her person. She was gentle. Carefully examining its intricacies, then adjusted the positions of her hands before jutting it forward, stabbing the space in front of her.
It was difficult to not find her amusing.
"Do you think you could teach me."
He looked upon her once more, finding that unwavering elation and allure that overcame her. Childlike excitement is how he could describe it. Jaime hadn't replied to her request, as he had many demanding responsibilities on his platter. A mere thought of another hour or however long, standing before the king's bedchambers while he went about his charges in the prices of whores, food and drink, and unpleasant disposals made him tense.
"What better mentor than the finest swordsman in all of Westeros to teach a little girl how to properly wield a sword."
What could one more hurt.
LAISA
"Laisa."
"Laisa, love, wake up."
The gentle shake of her shoulders and soft whispers had startled her, reaching for the hands that encased her shoulders to find herself staring up at Jory.
"What…what is it, what's happening?"
He sighed, "They found Arya."
Laisa shot up, disturbing Lady and Viera who slept at the foot of her bed. "Is she alright!? Where was she!"
"Hush." Jory whispered, "The king sent Lannister men to find her…they got to her first and brought her before his grace. Her wolf…she attacked the prince and they've set out to find her to—the king has requested your presence, m'lady."
"Arya, is she all right."
Jory nodded, "She's a bit shaken, m'lady, but she's fine."
She slipped out of bed, reaching for her slippers and cloak. Both Lady and Viera had followed her out of her room, down to the feast hall where Lannister men were piling out, corralled together as though their forces would frighten a her. Laisa pushed through them, Viera snarling at every man who stood in her way as Lady cowered just behind, tail between her legs and whimpering until her sister came to her aid.
Laisa presented herself before the king and queen, glancing to the supposedly wounded prince, all but clutching to his mother's side. Jory said Nymeria attacked the prince… Laisa thought, from further inspections he was not missing a limb. How bad could the wound truly be.
"Your grace."
"I apologize to drag you from your bed, Lady Stark." said Robert, "We have been told the direwolves were in your care during the attack."
She nodded. "Yes. Viera and Lady were with me, scouring the woods for rabbits. I do not see how—"
"Sansa, come here darling."
Laisa hadn't thought such an address would cause her stomach to tighten. She watched at the sea of crimson and gold parted for her, Sansa stood before them almost unwilling to face any direction. Laisa followed her line of sight to Cersei, to Joffrey.
Robert leaned forth in his seat. "Tell us what happened, girl. Tell it all and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king."
"I…I don't know." Sansa testified, her lips quivering, "I don't remember. I…I didn't see, everything happened so fast."
"Liar!" Arya shouted, throwing herself forward intending to pull on Sansa's hair until Eddard yanked her away, holding her still until she ceased her thrashing. "She's lying! She saw what really happened!"
"Arya!" Laisa snapped, "Enough!"
She knew her kin well enough to know when she fashioned lies to be truth. Sansa was never a good liar and this was proof of that. Initially, Laisa did not want to believe Sansa would dare put the welfare of her betrothed over her family, she couldn't have chosen him over Arya. She couldn't have, Laisa thought, feeling the anger begin to flourish in her stomach.
"She's just as wild as that animal of hers." Cersei hissed, remaining composed. "She needs to be punished."
Robert faced his wife, bellowing, "What will you have me do? Whip her through the streets! Children fight, it's over."
"What of the direwolf." Cersei's glare hadn't left Laisa. "What of the savage beast that ravaged our son."
"There was no trace of the wolf, your grace. We scoured the area. It seemed to have run off."
Robert waved a hand, "No more of this. It's gone."
The emeralds of the queen's eyes fell from Laisa, unto Viera and Lady. "They have others."
Her sisters became uneasy. Arya had stood before Viera in attempt to protect her from the gaze of the Queen; Sansa seemed too afraid to move in fear of angering them further.
"Leave them be!" Arya barked, "They weren't there! Nymeria ran off!"
Laisa hadn't bit her tongue hard enough. "I wasn't aware royal status allowed for lies to be fact."
"I'm not lying, my lady!" Joffrey hollered, holding his wounded limb as proof. "She nearly ripped my arm off!"
She thought his execution was exquisite. It was fitting, rather. Lions enjoyed their spectacles, surely one would not see a wolf performing as wildly as Lannisters had done in the past.
Laisa rest a hand between Lady's ears, gently scratching whilst Viera nuzzled her snout into her hip. Viera's untameable behaviors exhibited itself to those who came too close to her master. Lannister men, cowering in the sight of wolves. It was a sight to behold.
"Nymeria protected her master, as would any dog trained well enough to do so." she retorted, "Tell me, your grace, would you punish one of your own men for protecting your life from an assailant. Noblemen or otherwise. Surely you know we would not be here if your son was no one."
"Careful, girl." Robert warned.
Laisa may have lost her tongue for disrespecting more than one royal member of House Baratheon. However, her confidence was solid, her demeanor was unchanging.
If it was Lyanna the king wanted, it was the true she-wolf of the north she would gladly bestow.
"Truth is what you praise my father for having, your grace. Why does truth suddenly void you when your son still draws breath for if Nymeria was set on him as the queen claims, I can assure you there would be none of him left."
Joffrey flinched at her emphasis, gripping to the offended limb and holding it close to his chest as though it were to fall victim to another direwolf 'attack'.
"Do not punish Sansa nor myself by killing our girls. Nymeria, the supposed savage beast is gone. Your son is safe and alive, let that be enough and we shall restrain our wolves if need be. Muzzles, leashes, kennels. They will not be allowed to roam free; they will be properly restrained and with only us."
Robert looked passed her, to her father whom stood just behind her. It must have been a silent conversation that had led to a mutual agreement for he met with Laisa once more.
"See to it soon, girl. If another one of my men, my son, or otherwise becomes victim to those beasts, they will not be granted their freedom."
"Yes, your grace."
Cersei fumed. She was nearly red in the face, snarling. "Robert, my sweet—"
"Enough! It is settled. I will hear no more of this."
To Laisa's right, Sansa was beaming with gratefulness and Arya clung to her in relief.
Though, Laisa allowed her emotions to run on a tangent when she faced Sansa, gripping her nightgown in a fist and yanking her forward to cause a stir. "And you."
"You will train them yourselves; you will feed them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves." Laisa reiterated her father's instruction, seeing the horror flood in Sansa's eyes. "And if you ever lie like that again, little sister, I will see to it that you will kill her yourself. I will not put Viera's life on the line again for your insolence. Do you understand me."
Sansa was silently crying, a blur of tears streaming down her puffed cheeks.
Laisa let her go, unable to face Sansa after her performance. She thought it bordered treachery against her own family but Laisa would not let her anger judge Sansa's inaction.
"Jory, take them to their rooms." She pushed Lady to follow, watching her lick and nudge into Sansa's shaking hands as they were escorted back to the inn.
"If you ever threaten my sisters again, I will be glad to show you the true brutality of the wolf." Laisa snarled, Viera responded similarly as though the crowd was closing in on them, "She will protect me with her life and see to it she takes one, if not all of you with her if it comes to it."
A light chuckle scattered across the hall until Viera had silenced them with a gutteral sound that made the queen recoil, and her men drew their pikes in preparation to protect against her animosity.
"Sleep well, your grace."
Laisa sauntered from the hall, Viera trot freely ahead of her for what could be the last time as she took a deep breath to sate the nausea that overcame her. It truly did not take long before she heaved her supper into an empty stable. There was no explanation for what tenacity overcame her—towards the Queen, her sister, perhaps her father, too for allowing his daughter to threaten them as she pleased.
In result of her actions, wolves were truly no longer safe in the South.
"Laisa—"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she plead profusely, coming to face her father through welled eyes, "I didn't—I hadn't meant to—"
"Shh…shh sweet girl, it's all right." Eddard cooed, pulling her into his embrace.
Laisa dug her fingers into the leather of his jerkin and cried. She had brushed not once, but twice, with death. There was certainty that she would not leave that hall without missing a few fingers, her hand, or possibly her tongue if she hadn't tried to bite it off, herself. She cursed herself for not thinking, for not respecting her King and Queen, even if they had been in the wrong. A life or two may have been spared this night but she may have not been so fortune when the time came.
"What...what did I do." She sobbed.
Eddard gently pet her hair down, squeezing her to him as tightly as his body would allow. "You protected your family, sweet girl. That is what you have done."
No...no I didn't protect my family. Laisa refused to believe arrogance protected Sansa, protected Arya, protected herself. If anything be true, Laisa had given the South more power. To give them better reason as to why the wolves of the north were not longer welcomed. Or safe, for that matter.
Looking through the haze of welling tears, a saddled horse and a man that towered the height of his steed led it through the darkness. She tugged on her father's clothes, alerting him of her discovery.
Once her tears had fallen, her vision cleared. There was a body slung across the saddle, a boy.
"The butcher's boy." Eddard bellowed, "You rode him down!"
It was the Hound leading his stallion with the body of a dead little boy, being paraded through the streets as though it was a victory to be proud of. Laisa stumbled back, her knees had given out beneath her at the sight of a dead child. She could not tear her eyes from his lifeless figure, swinging freely as the stallion carried him to Gods knows where for a improper burial.
"He ran." Sandor said, carelessly. "He didn't run very fast."
Her stomach churned again, Laisa found enough strength to keep herself upright before heaving further into the stables. No supper splattered to the muddied grounds.
"Laisa, Laisa, sweet girl." Eddard called to her but she was too focused on the horror that melded itself into her memory.
An innocent boy, a butcher's son, a commoner, dead at the orders of their queen. Even needless violence did not escape the innocent, for the nobles drank their fills and ate themselves gluttonous, committed and enacted in crimes that the Gods, Old and New, would find despicable.
Where was their sacrifice. Their hurt. Their loss.
"Father, promise me." She began, turning sharply on her heel, "Promise me this will not go unpunished."
"Laisa, you know I cannot..."
She shouted, "She killed him! A boy of ten, for what!"
"You made veiled threats against the queen, Laisa." Eddard reminded in hushed whispers, "She will not forgive this, you must behave yourself."
Her mind was a mess, morale and propriety no longer of her concern. "What veil."
Laisa dismissed herself before she said something that would result in her tongue being plucked from her mouth. Her shaking hands balled up at her sides, Viera bumped the top of her head into her fist but to no avail. Her nails cut deep into her palms and Viera licked what blood seeped from her wounds.
Cersei Lannister did not frighten her. She would not beat her into submission. The Lions of Lannister will cower in the stead of wolves if that would be the last thing Laisa would do.
You cannot rule the seven kingdoms if you are not alive to do so.
And that wraps up chapter three! I feel like this took seventy years to write but I've been hitting writers block one after another and getting this out was a pain in the ass. *wink* there is new cover art if ya'll didn't notice. I've been editing and playing around with a few faces to put as Laisa and I came across Jessica Brown Findlay.
This chapter might be a little short because it's just a filler? I didn't wanna dwell too much on the ep. of the King's Road. As much as I hated Lady dying so early on, I had to bring her back and this won't be the last character I'll be resurrecting. Mostly minor presences, like Lady, it's small enough that it won't cause a discrepancy within the story itself!
The interaction between Sansa and Laisa kinda hurt my heart but I felt as thought it was necessary. And Laisa does not strike me as one to coddle her sisters if they decide to make such decisions, all while knowing what consequences could arise from it. Laisa just isn't gonna put up with Sansa's shit, to put it bluntly.
To answer, Melmela, I'm probably going to follow canon until...well I don't wanna give anything away lol...so yes I'll be following canon until a certain point then everything from then on will be drastically different from the show itself!
See you next time!
