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Chapter Thirteen: A Prisoner and a Guest

Lenora

Lenora's head was spinning. Her uncle Jaime had always taught her to think on her feet. To be quick and careful. He had told her that the most dangerous thing to be was to be caught unaware. She had been trained to always be two steps ahead of her enemies. But here she was, caught completely unaware and at loss of what she should do. She didn't even know who her enemies were.

She had been carrying the letter around since Robb had dropped it in front of her at breakfast. He hadn't said a word, and she hadn't blamed him for that. Her mother and brother had imprisoned his father. He had promised that their families' battles would not be their fight, but it was hard to stay objective when your father had been imprisoned as a traitor.

He had hurt her though, when he hadn't said a word, not even an apology for the loss of her father. Whatever was happening to his father, at least Ned Stark was still alive. Her father was dead. She would never see him again, never hear his laugh again, never sit beside him while he told her old war stories again. A girl only had one father and she had lost hers three days ago and not even known it.

Lenora tried to think about what she had been doing three days ago. Had they gone riding that day? Had she spent the afternoon sitting beside Robb while he went about his business of running Winterfell in his father's stead? Had she wasted the day doing nothing? She couldn't remember. Her father had been dying in his bed and she couldn't even remember what she had been doing.

She was rushing up the stairs toward the Maester's tower, she wanted to send a raven to her mother expressing her sorrow. She had the letter already written, it was clutched in her hand, sealed and ready. She had promised her mother that she would leave for King's Landing in the morning. She would be late for the funeral, but she needed to be with her family.

She was almost to the door when she heard voices in the tower. She paused, she shouldn't have been spying, but as she had learned in King's Landing at a young age - that was the only way to learn things.

"Send out the ravens," someone said, it took Lenora a matter of seconds to recognize the voice as Robb's. "Call all the Bannermen. By now they will know what's happened to my father. We'll march on King's Landing."

"Think about it, My Lord," Luwin argued. "Take a night, your father always did."

"And my father is now in a cell in King's Landing," Robb snapped. "I mean to get him out."

"The Queen also has your sisters, My Lord."

"Then we will get them too," Robb announced.

"There will be no talking you out of it then?" Luwin asked. "You mean to march against your betrothed's family?"

"They imprisoned mine!" Robb yelled at the maester.

"What if the Queen hurts your sisters or your father when she hears that you have called your bannermen and started your march on King's Landing?" Luwin tried, his last effort.

Lenora heard Robb pacing the tower floor above her. He sighed, "Then we'll hurt her daughter." He started to walk toward the door, pausing for just a moment to order Luwin to send the ravens out. He started down the stairs and Lenora took a step back, hugging the wall and hiding in the shadows. She didn't want him to see her.

His mind was full, he was worried. He walked right by her. He didn't see her.

She waited a minute, listening to the sound of Robb's feet on the stairs below her and the scratch of Maester Luwin's quill above her. Once she was sure that Robb would not come back up the stairs she left the shadows and climbed the remaining stairs.

She knocked on the doorframe, she didn't want to startle the Maester. "Maester Luwin," she greeted, nodding at him as she walked further into his tower.

The Maester turned to look at her, stilling his quill so that he could stand from his stool. "Princess Lenora," he greeted, bowing low to her. "Let me tell you how truly sorry I am for you, for the loss of your father."

Lenora bit her lip to keep from crying, she would do that in her bedchamber alone that night. Gods knew that Winterfell had already seen too many of her tears. "Thank you, Maester Luwin," she told him inclining her head again in gratitude. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

He nodded, "May I be of service, Princess?" Luwin asked her, one of his hands reaching behind him. Lenora didn't miss it, he was hiding the letters that he had been writing from her. He didn't want her to know that Robb had called his Bannermen. That confused her, it wasn't as though she would be blind to their arrival. And they would be there soon enough.

"You may, actually," Lenora told him with a nod and a smile. She reached out, holding the sealed scroll, her letter to her mother, out to the maester. "Could you send a raven to King's Landing?" she asked him. "To my mother?"

The maester heaved a sigh and reached out to take the scroll from her hand. "Alas, Princess," he told her, his face grim. "You have asked the one thing of me that I cannot do for you. Once again, I must tell you that I am sorry."

"You cannot send a raven for me?" she asked him, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Why not, Maester?"

She didn't miss the way that the old man's eyes darted toward the doorway behind her. He didn't need to tell her, she knew. Robb had ordered him not to send the raven for her. The old man clasped his hands together in front of him and looked down as if he were ashamed. She nodded, "I see," she told him. "I understand, of course. You are a maester of the Citadel, sent here to serve the Lord of Winterfell. I am not the Lord of Winterfell, you serve Robb - not me."

She spun on her heel and left the tower before the maester could apologize to her. She wasn't mad at the old man. She couldn't even find it in her to be mad at Robb. It was only midday and this day had already been too long. She was sad, terrified, and tired. She couldn't find the energy to be angry. It would have taken too much.

So she did not storm after Robb. She did not march after him. Or run. She walked.

She found him in the Godswood sitting in front of the Heart Tree. He might have been praying, but he heard her approach and looked up before she reached him. He didn't say anything, though his face hardened and his jaw clenched. He was preparing for a battle.

She sat down next to him, playing with the scroll of parchment in her hands. "I found out that my father died today," she told Robb, a fact that she knew he was well aware of. "You know that, of course, you read the raven before I was allowed to. You've read all of my ravens before I was allowed to." He didn't deny it, but she had already knew that he wouldn't. The man had too much honor to lie to her. "I spent the morning writing a letter to my mother, to tell how sorry I was and how much I regretted that the last time I saw my father was when he left me here. But when I went up to the Maester's turret, Maester Luwin informed me that he is not allowed to send any letters for me."

Robb shrugged his shoulders, he didn't look at her.

"I wonder how long he hasn't been allowed to send ravens for me," Lenora mused. "This is the first raven I've tried to send since I arrived at Winterfell."

She wasn't going to give it up, he could tell. He sighed, "You haven't been allowed to send ravens since my mother took your uncle prisoner," he told her. "The same time I started reading any letters sent to you."

"Thank you," Lenora told him with a nod. "For being so honest, it's refreshing, really." She bent her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. She sighed, "I'll just have to tell my mother how sorry I am when I see her in King's Landing."

"King's Landing?" Robb asked, his voice purposefully nonchalant.

Lenora nodded, "I will require a small escort," she told him. "Nothing too large, I wish to travel quickly. I plan to leave tomorrow."

Robb shook his head, he had the grace to look apologetic, but he stood firm, "I cannot give you an escort, Lenora," he told her.

"Can't spare the men? You'll need everyone you can get when your Bannermen arrive?" She arched her eyebrows and smirked when she caught the look of surprise on his face. She nodded, "Yes, I heard you tell Luwin to call your Bannermen. I heard you tell him that you would hurt me if my mother did anything to your father or sisters as well. In case you hoped that I missed that part."

Robb was quiet for a moment, "That was said in the heat of the moment," he told her, his voice soft. "You know I would never hurt you."

Lenora watched him for a moment, "No," she finally told him, shaking her head slightly, "I do not believe that I do." She never took her eyes off him so of course she did not miss the pain that flashed across his face when she told him that she couldn't trust him not to hurt her.

He bristled, and when he next spoke his voice was more proper than she had ever heard it, "You have my word, Princess, that I will never hurt you."

Lenora nodded, "And you have my word, Lord Stark, that if you will not give me an escort to King's Landing in the morning then I will go on my own."

He shook his head again, she wondered if he knew how infuriating she found him in that moment. "I'm sorry, Lenora," he told her, and he really did look sorry. "But I cannot allow you to leave, with or without an escort." He knew that she would ask him why so he answered before she could, "Your mother and brother have my father and my sisters. You are all I have of theirs."

"Your mother has my uncle."

"The wrong uncle," Robb pointed out. " You are all I have, the only thing I can use to hurt them."

"If you think keeping me will hurt Joffrey than you are mistaken," Lenora told him, shaking her head. "My brother doesn't care what happens to me."

"He might not care, but your mother does. And she controls the new King."

Lenora sat silent for a moment, still playing with the scroll in her hands, "So, am I to understand that I am not allowed to leave Winterfell until you've gotten your justice? Am I to be your prisoner, just as my uncle is your mother's? Just as your father is my brother's?"

"You're not a prisoner," Robb told her, his voice firm. "You are my guest."

"Your guest who cannot leave," Lenora agreed sarcastically. She was quiet for a moment before she started chuckling, her laughter humorless, "You have been very good, Robb!" she told him. "I should offer you my congratulations. Why, I have been your prisoner for over a month now and I didn't even know it. You fooled me. I was allowed to ride Casterly, I was able to go to the market in Winter Town. You gave me all the appearances of freedom, so much so, that I never realized that it was all an illusion."

She stood from her seat on the ground and wiped at the dirt on her skirts. "Where are you going?" Robb asked her, standing up as well.

She leveled him with a cool glare, "I learned that my father died this morning," she informed him. "I would go to mourn him. Or is that not allowed either?"

...

She was not surprised the next evening when Robb stormed into her chamber, he told her that he had been looking for her, but she hadn't believed that for a moment. He had her followed since she had left the Godswood the day before. He wouldn't have had to look for her, someone in Winterfell knew where she was at all times.

Robb had chuckled and shook his head, "I knew you were here," he told her, "I meant that I looked for you in the hall for supper."

"I wasn't hungry," Lenora told him, turning back to the book she had been reading, signaling that she was finished with the conversation.

"I did not see you this morning to your break your fast, either," Robb pointed out.

"I wasn't hungry then either."

"And supper last night?"

"Not then, either."

Robb sighed. "We're not going to do this," he told her, shaking his head. "You're not going to sulk and starve yourself. You are a princess and you are stronger than this."

Lenora scoffed, "Is that how we're going to play it?" she asked him, closing her book and standing up from her chair so that she was closer to Robb's height. "You're going to try to appeal to my sense of duty?"

"You are the daughter of Cersei Lannister," Robb tried again. "This is not how she would handle this situation. She wouldn't sulk. She wouldn't starve. She wouldn't be silent. She would stand tall, proud. She would wear this pain with dignity. She would punish me with her presence."

Lenora scoffed, "Thank you for that," she told him, her tone biting. "For reminding me of the mother that I might not ever see again. Are you going to bring up my father now? Drive that knife in my heart in a little deeper?"

Robb shook his head, "I'm done," he told her. "But so are you. If you are not in the hall tomorrow morning I will come back here and drag you down there by your hair and force feed you myself."

Lenora glared up at the man, feeling angry tears fill her eyes, "My father is dead," she told him, flinching when she heard the way her voice cracked. "My father is dead and the man I was supposed to marry, the man that promised he wouldn't hurt me, the man who swore that he wouldn't let our families' battles become our own is keeping me prisoner in what would have been my home."

"Your mother and brother have imprisoned my father. How am I to ignore that? How am I not to let that become my own fight?" Robb asked her, begging her to understand why he had done it. He paused for a moment, her words finally catching up with him. "The man you were supposed to marry?" he asked, repeating her words in a hushed echo. "What would have been your home?"

Lenora laughed, biting and cruel, "You think that my mother and brother will allow me to marry you now?" she asked him, shaking her head. "Mother was against the betrothal since the beginning. And your father has been named a traitor. The King's sister will never be allowed to marry the son of a traitor, no matter how much my brother might hate me."

Robb's eyes were cold, "Your mother and brother won't have a choice," he told her. "By the time they get word, by the time they make it North," he shook his head, the ghost of a grin settling onto his lips. "I'll have ruined you." He turned and began to leave her chamber, but stopped in the door way, turning to look at her with eyes as cold and hard as ice, "And as for my father being named a traitor I ask you this: in the time you spent here with my father, in the stories I have told you about growing up with him, have you ever heard of him being anything but honorable?"

Lenora thought about it, by all accounts Ned Stark was the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. He had treated her with kindness before he left for King's Landing. He had loved her father as a brother. He had raised Robb to be, she was still convinced, a man of honor. She shook her head. Robb watched her for a moment and nodded, "Then why would he stop that now?" he asked her before he left the room.

...

"There's the Karstarks," Bran announced. "Finally." Lord Rickard Karstark and his soldiers were the last of Robb's bannermen to arrive. But it was fast becoming obvious why, for he and his sons were attended by three hundred horsemen and two thousand soldiers on foot. Bran and Lenora were watching them arrive from atop the guard turret on the outer wall of Winterfell.

Lenora knew that Bran wanted to go down to the town below Winterfell, to ride Dancer among the soldiers. He had begged it of both her and Robb.

But she and Robb had both put their foot down and told him no. A soldier's camp was no place for a child, let alone a crippled one.

Lenora had wanted to go to the town too, but she knew better than to ask Robb. A soldier's camp was also no place for a woman, especially one with Lannister blood. Robb had threatened to ruin her, but she knew deep down that he wouldn't. There was no guarantee with his men though. Lenora knew that. And so, she never even tried to leave the walls of Winterfell.

Bran handed her Maester Luwin's far-eye, they had borrowed the glass from his turret that morning, though Lenora was sure that the maester didn't know yet. She brought the glass to her right eye and looked through it, focusing on the marching men. They flew their black banners with their bright white sunburst proudly. "I heard the Karstarks had Stark blood," she whispered as she handed the glass back to the child. "Going all the way back to the First Men."

"They don't look much like Starks," Bran argued.

"No they do not," Lenora agreed quietly.

Bran was still looking through the far-eye, but his next question had nothing to do with the Karstarks or any of Robb's other bannermen. "Lenora?" he asked, not turning to look at her, "I mean, Princess?"

Lenora chuckled and shook her head, "You can call me, Lenora, Bran," she told him."I think you've earned that right."

"Lenora?" Bran asked, a blush rising to his chubby, child's cheeks. "When are you and Robb going to be friends again?"

Lenora turned to look at the boy, "We are friends, Bran," she told him, her voice quiet.

Bran shook his head, "No you're not," he told her, his voice was hard, it left no room for argument. He was using the voice that he had learned from Robb. The Robb the Lord voice. "You're not friends at all."

"Do I not sit in the place of honor on his left at supper every night?" Lenora asked the boy. "Have I not been there every evening this past week as he feasted his bannermen? Has he not informed every man that has entered Winterfell's walls that I am under his protection? Did we not go riding in the Wolfswood yesterday?"

Bran shrugged his shoulders, "You sit at his left because you are a princess. You are at all of the feasts because you are his betrothed. He told the men not to harm you because you are a guest of Winterfell and it is his job to protect you. We all rode together because he was worried that you would run away if he didn't get you out of Winterfell for a bit." The boy sighed, "But the two of you are not friends. Not like before. When you were happy. When will you be friends again?"

Lenora sighed and reached out to gently ruffle Bran's hair, the boy was sweet. And he saw more than she gave him credit for. He was right, she and Robb were playing at being friends, but they were not as they had been before her father had died. She thought to comfort him, but this boy did not want her comforting lies, he wanted the truth. "I don't know, Bran," she told him, shaking her head and looking out over the wall toward Robb's arriving bannermen. "I don't know if we will ever be that way again."

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

Lenora had faded. That was the word for it. He had first seen her no more than three months before but she was a completely different woman now than she was then. She had been happy and untamable. There had been a wildness about her that had been intoxicating. She was a princess of swords and not just the ones that her uncle had taught her to master. She had a sword for a tongue, her words had the power to wound or defend depending on her mood. Her eyes sparkled silver and had seemed to speak their own language and her smile brightened every room she entered. She had been open and free, but there had been a darkness in her heart, the promise of mysterious, impossible, indecipherable things.

But now she was a shadow of what she had been. She was quiet and well-behaved, reserved. Her laughter never reached her eyes. Her smiles weren't as wide, or as easy. She bit her tongue and held her words, but those stormy grey eyes of hers berated him every time her gaze fell on him. Which wasn't often, the princess barely looked at him these days, even when they were left alone.

She had come to him as warm as a southern, summer day. But now she was hard and icy, like the North in the middle of a long winter.

She was seated beside him now, to his left at a table in his chambers with the rest of his Bannermen. He had left his brother in the main hall with knights and lords's sons and honored guests, Bran would need to get used to being the Lord of Winterfell, and he and his Bannermen had gone to his chambers to make their final plans for the march. They would leave Winterfell by week's end.

She was currently ignoring him, her head turned to the left as she whispered quietly with the Greatjon. Lord Umber had lost two of his fingers two days before to Grey Wind after he had stood up again Robb's decision not to let him lead the Vanguard. It had been a tense moment that could have gone either way and Robb couldn't forget the way Lenora's hand had grabbed his under the table, her fingernails digging into his skin. She had only relaxed when the lord had started laughing and made a joke of it.

After the feast Robb had admitted to her that he had been terrified that Umber was going to kill him. But her moment of weakness was over. She had watched him with hard grey eyes and said, "They don't respect you, if my uncle Jaime had called the Lannister Bannermen no one would have even dreamed of leading the Vanguard with him on the field. They'll follow you, but they'll think they know better the entire time." He had wanted to argue with her, but she had started to walk away from him. She paused just for a moment and without looking at him, said, "You'd be smart to show them that you're not as green as you look and to do it soon."

Now, two days later, the Greatjon's hand was bandaged and he and Lenora were joking about how at least Grey Wind had left him all the fingers on his sword hand. "I imagine you'd be left at the back with the Silent Sisters if you couldn't hold a sword," Lenora told him, a playful smirk resting on her lips.

"Is that where you will be, Little Princess?" the Greatjon asked.

Something crossed Lenora's grey eyes, a memory of her life before she had arrived at Winterfell. Robb thought back, remembering that her brother's guard the Hound had called her by that name. He wondered if that was what she was remembering. Whatever it was, she dealt with it quickly, "I plan to be part of the fight, Greatjon," she told him, her tone playful, but the set of her shoulders told a different story.

The man's laughter boomed across the table. "If what they say about your skills with a sword are true then maybe you should be, Little Princess." He leaned closer to her, "How was it to learn to find from the Kingslayer himself?"

Robb never heard her answer, Lord Bolton who sat to his right, quietly called for his attention. "Is it wise to have her here, my Lord?" he asked, nodding his head to the dark haired woman on Robb's right. "Is it wise to allow her to listen to our plans to march on her family?"

Robb turned to look at Bolton and nodded, "Who is she going to tell?" he asked the older man. "She's not allowed to send ravens. She's got no friends here that would send a letter for her." He glanced at her furtively, to make sure that she wasn't listening to him. "She is also incapable of permanently holding her tongue. She might let something slip, some weakness that we do not know, something that could help us defeat her uncle. That is why she is here."

Bolton raised one of his eyebrows and watched Lenora for a moment, "And you mean to bring her on the march with us?"

Robb nodded, "Easier to keep an eye on her that way," he told the lord. "Leave her here and she might get it into her head to head down to King's Landing on her own. She's hardheaded enough for that."

"If she were my responsibility I'd kill her and be done with it," Bolton muttered, shaking his head.

"And give her mother permission to murder my father or sisters?" Robb growled. He shook his head, "No, there are safer ways to hurt the queen."

"And what do you mean to do with her then?" Bolton asked, this time raising both of his eyebrows.

"Ransom her for my family," Robb answered with a shrug. "Marry her and use her as bait to draw her uncle's and grandfather's armies? Let her go into battle for one of her brother's soldiers to kill? There are many possibilities." He forced a tone of nonchalance into his voice, hoping that Bolton would believe that Lenora meant very little to him.

The older man chuckled, "You might have it in you yet, boy," he told Robb, approving.

Lenora waited a few minutes until the food had been served and Roose Bolton was not paying attention before she whispered. "You do know that I could hear you?"

He nodded, "You told me not to let them think I was green for long. Some will follow me simply because of my father. Some I will win over once I've proved myself in battle. And some, like Lord Bolton, will only respond to me proving that I am willing to do anything to get my father back, even mistreating a princess."

Lenora stared at him for a moment, her grey eyes scanning his face as if she could read his thoughts. As if she could determine what his soul was made of. After a moment she nodded, "You might survive the week yet, Robb Stark," she told him.

He smiled at her. "And so may you, Princess."

...

He saw her later that night on his way to his bedchamber. She was in hers, the door was open and she was kneeling on the ground in front of her trunk. Folding dresses. He stood in the doorway watching her silently. He was surprised, the dresses she was packing were not the dresses she had come to Winterfell with. No, the pretty princess dresses were piled atop her bed, these dresses were sturdy, wool, dark colored to hide dirt. She was packing for war.

"Where are your lovely pretty princess dresses?" he asked her, his tone light and teasing as he pushed off her doorframe though he did not move further into the room.

"I had thought that I would pack them in your trunk," Lenora fired back at him without looking up from her trunk. He couldn't see her face, but he could only imagine the smirk on her lips.

"Shall I bring you some armor to pack in your trunk then?" he asked, playing along.

Lenora chuckled and stood up from the floor. Robb watched as she crossed the room toward her bed and lifted up the pile of dresses on her bed. Underneath them lay a thick shirt, a pair of pants, and a small, surprisingly feminine breastplate. "I have some of my own, thank you."

Robb watched her as she placed these items on top of her dresses. "So you mean to fight?" he asked her, laughter in his voice.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her jaw hard, "I don't mean to sit safely in a tent and wait for you to come back or for my family to rescue me." She turned away from him to shut the trunk.

"I won't put a sword in your hand," Robb told her. "You're as likely to kill me with it than anything else."

Lenora turned to smile at him over her shoulder, "I am just as likely to kill you with my bare hands, My Lord."

-.-.-.-.-

Cersei

Ned Stark was a fool. He was an honorable man, but as she had learned at an early age from her father honorable men were often fools. He had discovered the truth about her and Jaime. He had quickly deduced that her three youngest children were bastards, born of incest. He could have gone to Robert about it as soon as he had learned the truth. He didn't have proof, but Robert would not have needed proof, not from Ned. He would have taken Ned's word for it and Cersei would have been imprisoned or beheaded by now.

But Ned Stark was an honorable man.

And a fool.

He had warned her. He had tried to make it come off like a threat, but Cersei had seen it for what it really was: a warning. He told her that when Robert returned from his hunt Ned would tell him about their children. About what Cersei had done to him. So Cersei had intended that Robert would not come back from his hunt alive.

Another lesson that Tywin had taught his children was that if you wanted something done correctly you must do it yourself. And, as always, her father had been right. Robert did come back from his hunt, still breathing though not for long. The wine and the boar had done well.

And Ned had gotten one last chance to tell his king and best friend what Cersei had done. But the honorable fool had decided not to trouble Robert with her betrayal during his last hours. It had been a mercy to Robert.

And a prison sentence to Ned Stark.

The fool.

He had thought that that piece of paper would protect him. He had thought that he was safe. What he did not realize was that a piece of paper with a dead King's words was only worth as much as the honor of the man reading it.

And Cersei Lannister had neither the honor, nor the inclination, to follow her dead husband's commands.

She had torn up his paper shield and commanded that he be imprisoned for treason. And they had listened to her because a dead man's words were worth nothing with a new King on the throne. And because they were far too busy trying to prove their loyalty to the boy King to remember that they had once been loyal to his father. And King's Landing was not a place for honorable men.

Joffrey had wanted him beheaded, but Cersei had managed to quiet her son's anger, for now. She had pointed out that the Starks of Winterfell still had his sister and that killing Ned Stark would not bring Lenora back to them.

She shuddered still, now, when she remembered the dark look in her son's eyes when he had asked her why it should matter that Robb Stark had his sister. He had another one after all, and he didn't see why it mattered, girls weren't worth much in their world. He had been so hard, so cruel about it, and the only thing that had changed his mind was when Cersei pointed out that his men wouldn't respect him if he lost his sister to some rebelling Northerner.

So Ned Stark was alive, thrown in one of the black cells to rot and his sweet daughter, Sansa, was sitting before her, begging for mercy for her father. Swearing on everything she held dear that her father would never be a traitor.

That was something that she and the girl agreed on, though Cersei would never admit it.

She leaned forward, closer to the young girl, "This betrayal would have broken the King's heart," she told Sansa, her voice held a forced tone of disappointment. "The Gods are kind that he did not live to see it." She sighed and looked away from Sansa, at Pycelle and Littlefinger and Varys that were standing behind her. Littlefinger smirked at her before he looked down at his feet to hide it. She turned back to the girl in front of her, "Sansa, sweetling, you must see what a dreadful position this has left us in. You are innocent of any wrong doing, I know that, but you are still the daughter of a traitor. How can we allow you to marry the King?"

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as Sansa wailed about how she loved the king with her whole heart and she would never betray him. The girl was quite boring, Cersei had known that since her first night in Winterfell. But she wanted to be queen and she believed that she wanted to marry Joffrey. And that was useful. "Please," the girl begged, "you have to let me marry Joffrey. I'll be a good wife to him, a good queen, just like you. I promise. I'll be good."

Cersei looked at her council again, they had rehearsed this, they had planned this. And though Sansa did not know the script she was playing her part perfectly. "My lords of the council, what do you say to her plea?"

Varys spoke to her sweetness, how she had a pure love for Joffrey, but could that be canceled out by the condemnation of her father.

Pycelle raged against the traitor's blood that ran through her veins. She was sweet now, but she would grow up to betray them just as her father had.

Littlefinger had defended her by saying that she had more of her mother in her than her father.

"That only goes so far when her mother took my younger brother hostage," Cersei bit out to Baelish. She turned back to Sansa, "If I could truly believe that you are nothing like your father then nothing would make me happier than to see you married to my son. I know how much he loves you. But I am afraid that Lord Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle have the right of it, the blood will tell. Why, it was only a matter of months ago that your sister set her wolf on him. It would seem that your father's traitorous blood runs through her."

"I am nothing like Arya," Sansa wailed to her. "I'm good. I'm good. I only want to be a good wife to Joffrey!"

Cersei pretended to study the girl for a moment, the left corner of her mouth turned up as the child fidgeted under her gaze. "I believe you," she finally told the girl. Then she addressed the men standing behind her without taking her eyes off of Sansa Stark. "My Lords, it seems to me that if the rest of her kin were to remain loyal to Joffrey that it would go a long way toward putting these fears of yours to rest." She leaned back so that she could open a drawer at the desk and she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. "You know your letters, of course?" she asked, merely a formality. Sansa was the daughter of a lord, it would have been a disgrace if she did not know how to write.

Sansa nodded quickly, eager to please. "What would you like me to do?"

"You will write two letters. One to your Lady Mother and one to your brother, the eldest, what is his name?"

"Robb -"

"You will write a letter to each of them. By now the news of your father's treason will have reached them," she looked over her shoulder at Pycelle, the Grand Maester nodded and told her that he had sent out the ravens days ago, that the news would have already reached the Wall, far North of Winterfell. She turned back to Sansa, "They won't want to believe it. But they will if it comes from you. You must tell them of your father's betrayal to the king."

"I don't know what to say."

Cersei smiled at the girl softly, soothing her worries and comforting her. "We will tell you what to write, sweet child. The important thing is to ensure that your mother and brother agree to keep peace with the King. You must tell your Lady Mother that you are well taken care of, I am sure that she fears for your well being. Tell her that you are in our care," she smiled at her self, Catelyn Stark would see that as the veiled threat that it was. "Tell her and Robb to come to King's Landing, to bend the knee to Joffrey. Tell them that we would like to have Lenora back in King's Landing with us as soon as is possible. Once that is done, you will be allowed to marry him and become his queen."

Sansa had looked as though she were about to cry in delight at that, she nodded, "I will write the letters."

Author's Note:
Hello friends! Back again and making some moves in this chapter!
I hope that you enjoyed reading it! If you did head down to that good looking box right there and write me a review! They really do make me update faster as you may have noticed.
And it really is a handsome box. Wouldn't you say?
I would.
HUGE thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter:
ZabuzasGirl: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope that you enjoyed this one too!
DannyBlack70: The last chapter was probably one of my favorites so far, except for the third chapter (I think) when Lenora was five and living with Jaime at Casterly Rock. And the fourth chapter when she and Jaime had the conversation about his nickname. BUT definitely one of my most favorite chapters recently.
I really liked how Lenora reacted after the battle. I know some soldiers and that's very much how most of them describe their first real war experience. All adrenaline during the battle and then breaking down afterward when they realize that they will have to live with whatever they did for the rest of their lives. It felt very real and grounded to have Lenora react like that and I loved it.
That's all I've got for now lovelies!
Until next time (which might be tomorrow if you show that handsome box there some love!),
Chloe Jane.