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Chapter Fifty-Eight: Taken

Sansa

Sansa was becoming accustomed to living in hell. And each time she got used to her current circumstances, each time she thought that they could not get worse, they did.

She thought King's Landing after her father had been imprisoned had been hell, but then Joffrey murdered him.

She had thought that being Joffrey's betrothed and play thing had been hell, but then he set her aside.

She thought being set aside had been hell, but then she was given to Tyrion.

She had thought being married to the Imp had been hell, but then Joffrey had told her how her family had been murdered.

She thought being the last Stark in the Seven Kingdoms was hell, but then she was forced to sit through Joffrey's wedding ceremony.

Margaery looked beautiful, and if she had been marrying any other man Sansa would have been so happy for her. But she was marrying Joffrey and Sansa could not celebrate that. She could not celebrate that her kind, sweet, dear friend was going to be forced to be with that monster for the rest of her life.

Joffrey looked handsome as well. Tall, strong, chivalrous. He was everything a king should be. And for one moment Sansa found herself thinking back to when her mother and brother were still alive, to when her father was still alive and they were traveling to King's Landing. Back when she had thought Joffrey was a kind prince, when she had delighted in his attention, back when she had begged her mother to allow her to marry him.

She swallowed the lump of jealousy that seemed to rise in her throat. She would have every reason to be jealous of Margaery if Joffrey had turned out to be the prince that Sansa had once believed him to be. But he wasn't. He wasn't brave. He was not kind. He was not strong. He did not have a chivalrous bone in his body. He was a monster who did not care for the people of his country, who enjoyed torturing and humiliating helpless girls for the sins of their family. He was cruel. He was harsh. He was terrible.

And no amount of fancy clothes or pretty words would be able to hide that for long. She hoped someone would kill him, slowly and painfully. She prayed that she would be there the day it happened.

And she glanced at the little man beside her. Tyrion Lannister, her husband. And she realized for the first time that she was grateful for him. For everything that he had done for her. For everything he continued to do for her. They were not a true husband and wife, not as they were expected to be. But he was her friend. One of the few she had left.

After Margaery and Joffrey kissed, putting a seal on their marriage, the onlookers clapped. Sansa managed three sarcastic claps of her hands. Tyrion did not clap once. He glanced up at her, his eyes full of sympathy, "I know you once thought it would be you up there," he whispered to her.

She stared at him, suddenly realizing with a flash of surprise that he thought her lack of enthusiasm was because she was jealous that it had not been she who married Joffrey. She shook her head, her gaze darting away from him toward Cersei, one row in front of them. "We have a new queen now," she murmured, knowing in her heart that at least Margaery would be a kinder queen than Cersei had been.

Tyrion's voice was soft, but full of warmth and care when he whispered, "Better her than you."

...

She had watched him through the entire beginning of the feast. He had always been kind to her, even the first time they met. He had always been gentle with her, always been warm. But his gaze had always been distant, he had always held her away from him, even when he was trying to take care of her or comfort her. There had always been walls between them.

But not today. Not now.

Whatever walls he had built around himself had come down. For the first time, looking in his green Lannister eyes, she saw real emotion in them. And it broke her heart. He was sad. She didn't know why, she couldn't imagine what could upset Tyrion Lannister this much, but she saw it. Every time his gaze landed on the ocean, every time he turned toward the harbor, there was a sadness in his eyes.

Whenever he smiled, his eyes remained sad.

He was still distant, but it was a different sort of distance. He was there with her, attending to her needs, holding her hand when it was expected, whispering comforting words to her when he thought she needed to hear them. But she could tell that he wanted to be anywhere else.

She wondered what was down at the harbor that had so much of his attention.

As the uncle and aunt of the king and his new queen they were required to sit up at the table of honor on the dais. Sansa did not like it, she would have much preferred to be anywhere else, hidden among the crowd, out of Joffrey's reach. But she was terrified of Joffrey, terrified of the queen, terrified of Lord Tywin. She could not make a fuss. She could not appear displeased. She needed to be the perfect courtier. And so, she forced a serene smile onto her face and allowed Tyrion to lead her to their seats.

As always, Tyrion thought of her first. He sat her on the outside edge, as far away from Joffrey as possible. He put himself between her and the rest of his family, a shield. Her smile was not as fake when she looked down on him now, there were times when she was convinced that he was too good to her.

Cersei had planned a large, wonderful feast. There were seventy-seven courses. There were seven singers, each of them performing their version of The Rains of Castamere, there was a trained bear, fools, jugglers, pyromancers, pipers, trained dogs, and sword swallowers. If the feast had not been in honor of such a horrible man Sansa might have delighted in it. She had always dreamed of being able to attend a feast such as this when she was a young girl.

But now, she could barely eat a bite. It was only through Tyrion's whispered encouragement that she managed to swallow enough food to seem polite.

At the end of the seventy-seven courses, before the pigeon pie was brought out, Joffrey stood before his guests, calling for silence. "There's been too much amusement here today," he announced as his guests began to quiet. "A royal wedding is not for amusement. A royal wedding is history. The time has come for us to contemplate our history." He paused. "My Lords, my Ladies," Sansa could not be sure, but she thought that he took a moment to look solely at her. It was a quick glance, she would have thought that she had imagined it if Tyrion had not tensed beside her. "I give you King Joffrey!"

Sansa felt her brows furrow, it seemed strange that he was announcing herself, but a moment later a small man came running out of the crowd, a sparring sword held high. It was a dwarf, dressed to look like Joffrey riding a horse.

"Renly Baratheon," Joffrey continued. And out came another dwarf, a brunette this time, riding not a plush horse but a plush man one with curly blonde hair. She closed her eyes, she knew there would be more. Three more to be exact. And one of them would be dressed as her brother. "Stannis Baratheon, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy." The king paused for dramatic effect, "The War of the Five Kings!"

Everyone in attendance clapped because it was expected of them. Very few looked excited at the spectacle before them.

As the five dwarves ran around each other, hopping and cheering, striking playfully at each other Sansa kept her eyes trained forward. If Joffrey looked at her it would seem as though she was watching the pretend battle, but instead she was looking over it, at the people in the audience, watching how they took the scene in.

She heard one of the dwarves yell, "I'm the King in the North!" and she tensed. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Tyrion turn toward his right, glaring down the length of the table, first at Tommen for laughing, then at his sister and father for allowing this to continue, and then finally at Joffrey for arranging it all.

She turned slightly to see how the Tyrells were handling it. Sitting beside a laughing and cheering Joffrey Margaery looked horrified, her grandmother looked disgusted, Loras looked as though he might cry.

Though she was not watching the pretend fight, she could not cover her ears. She could still hear it.

The dwarf dressed as Stannis made quick work of beating the pretend Renly. Loras Tyrell quickly stood from the table and stormed away. Sansa wished that she could do that as well.

The pretend Robb knocked the little Balon Greyjoy to the ground and claimed victory.

As the pretend Joffrey turned his attention toward the dwarf Stannis, making a mockery of the Battle of the Blackwater Tyrion signaled to Pod, silently calling the young boy to him. "Pay each of them twenty gold once this is done. I'll have to find another way to thank the king."

"Sansa!" she heard someone calling down the table. She didn't need to look to know it was Joffrey, his voice held the same joy in it that it had the day he had his men strip her chest bare and beat her in front of his court. "Sansa! Are you watching? This is the best part!"

Despite knowing better Sansa allowed her gaze to fall on the two final dwarf kings - the pretend Joffrey and the pretend Robb. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched them run at each other as if they were jousting.

Once.

Twice.

On the third run the blonde dwarf used his lance to knock the pretend wolf head off the brunette dwarf's head. Joffrey was cackling as the one pretending to be Robb stumbled and fell to the ground. Some in the crowd cheered out of true enjoyment, some cheered because they did not want to anger their king, but many remained silent and stoney faced.

Sansa looked to those faces, wondering if any of them would ever be brave enough to stand up to Joffrey. Among them were Varys, the Dornish prince Oberyn, and, most surprising of all, Jaime Lannister.

The dwarf version of Joffrey jumped out of his plush horse and spun around in a circle at the center of the floor, claiming himself the victor. Then, as one final insult to Sansa, he picked up the wolf head and spun in a circle, thrusting his hips into the opening and howling three times in each direction, pretending to fuck it.

A tear slipped down Sansa's cheek. Tyrion reached out and silently placed his hand on top of hers, giving her what little comfort he could.

For the first time since their marriage she flipped her hand over while he held hers, allowing their fingers to interlace. She was holding his hand just as tightly as he was holding onto hers.

"Well fought," Joffrey announced, standing up and almost offering the champion's purse to the dwarf version of himself. But then, as an after thought he invited Tyrion to fight the dwarves.

Sansa barely heard a word of Tyrion's mocking speech toward his king. But she felt the drops of wine hit her hand as Joffrey poured his wine goblet over Tyrion's head.

Margaery tried to call Joffrey back, calling him my love, and telling him that it was time for her father's toast. "How does he expect me to toast without wine?" Joffrey asked, mocking. He turned back to Tyrion, "Uncle, you can be my cup bearer, seeing as you are too cowardly to fight."

"Your grace does me a great honor," Tyrion told him.

"It was not meant as an honor," Joffrey snapped back.

Tyrion gave her a look as he let go of her hand and started to stand from his seat. In that moment Sansa found herself wishing that she could save him, as he had saved her many times. But there was nothing she could do except offer to be the cup bearer herself, and she would not do that. No matter how kind Tyrion had been to her.

When Joffrey handed Tyrion his goblet he purposefully dropped it and then kicked it under the table. In front of all of the guests Tyrion would have to crawl under the table to retrieve it, this was one embarrassment that Sansa could save him from. She picked up the goblet and, without looking Tyrion in the eye, she handed it to him.

Tyrion filled the goblet with wine when Joffrey ordered him to. But he would not kneel, no matter how many times Joffrey ordered. Sansa felt her muscles tense in her seat, she was sure that at any moment Joffrey would order that his uncle be beheaded. But Margaery, sweet Margaery broke the tension by standing with a wide smile on her face, "Look!" she called out, pointing, "the pie!"

There was a collective sigh of relief as Joffrey took the goblet from his uncle and allowed Tyrion to return to his seat. Then, after taking a sip he handed the goblet to Margaery so that he could pick up his sword, a beautiful Valyrian steel sword that had been gifted to him that morning, so that he could cut open the pie.

Tyrion smiled ruefully at Sansa's sigh of relief when he sat down beside her again. He reached out for her hand, this time she thought that perhaps it was he who needed comfort, not her. She let him take her hand.

After the pie had been cut she leaned closer to him, "Can we leave now?" she asked him.

He leaned closer to her, "Let's find out."

While Joffrey was distracted by his lovely bride feeding him pie Tyrion and Sansa started to move away. But it was as if, even with his back turned, he was watching for them, because without turning around Joffrey called out to Tyrion, asking him where they were going. Tyrion made some sort of excuse, but Joffrey would not hear a word of it. He ordered his uncle to come back and continue serving his wine. Tyrion whispered to Sansa, asking her to wait where she stood as he moved around the king to grab his goblet from in front of Lady Olenna and hand it to the king.

Joffrey took a sip, and then another. He started coughing. Margaery cried that he was choking. Lady Olenna ordered those in the crowd to help their king. Jaime Lannister came running forward, pushing people out of the way with his golden hand. It was chaos, everyone was yelling, women were screaming. Cersei pushed Margaery out of the way as Joffrey fell to the ground, vomiting, his face was turning purple.

Sansa listened to her husband, he had asked her to wait for him. But as she stood, watching the scene in front of her she remembered her wish from earlier in the day. She had wished that someone would kill Joffrey, and she had prayed that she would be there to see it.

She felt someone standing behind her, she did not need to turn, the moment they spoke she knew who it was. "Come with me," Ser Dontos, the knight turned fool, ordered her. "If you want to leave you must leave now."

She turned, without thinking she gave him her hand and allowed him to pull her away from the chaos surrounding the fallen king.

-.-.-.-.-

Lenora

She had been at the Dreadfort for a week now and she had seen nothing but the inside of her chambers. She had not been locked in them, Roose Bolton had been telling her the truth when he told her that she would have free reign of the castle. But every time she left her chambers Theon followed her. Her pity for the man from the first day had quickly subsided to anger. While she did not believe that any man deserved what Ramsay had done to him Theon did not deserve her pity either.

She could not stand having him follow her around like a quiet, whimpering shadow.

So she stayed in her chambers. She took her meals in her chambers. She took no visitors. Lady Walda attempted to visit her for the first few days, but by now, even the foolish Frey girl had stopped trying.

Which is why it surprised her when a knock sounded on her chamber door. She turned toward it, she could only guess who was on the other side of it. She did not tell them to enter. If they wanted to speak to her she would make them feel as intrusive as possible. Whoever was waiting for her on the other side of the door did not enter, they did not call out to her, they knocked again.

She sighed, "Enter," she called out, her voice hard and cold.

No one entered her chamber. They knocked again.

She stood from her seat by the window and moved toward the door, yanking it open. Theon was standing in front of her. She glared at him, "What do you want?" she growled, unable to keep the hatred out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. She wanted her voice to be as cold as ice, and as hard as steel. She didn't want any emotion to bleed through, because even hatred and anger meant that she felt something.

She wanted to be stone.

Theon whimpered, his gaze dropping quickly to her feet, "Master Ramsay wishes for your presence in the Godswood," he announced, gesturing out toward the corridor behind him.

Lenora stared at him for a moment, her right eyebrow arched, before she turned and walked back into her chamber. She left her door open and silently took a seat, making it quietly clear that she did not wish to join Ramsay in the Godswood.

Theon's whimpering noises got louder, "Princess," he entreated her, "please. He wishes to see you."

She scoffed, "And I do not wish to see him," she told Theon. She glanced at him, "Or you for that matter," she added disdainfully.

"He ordered me to escort you," Theon told her.

"You may allow him to order you around. But I will not have him believing that he has the same freedom with me," Lenora defended herself. "You may tell him that if he wishes to speak with me he may come to my chambers himself and speak with me. If not, I have been told that I am allowed to go anywhere in this keep, and I choose to stay here."

Theon shook his head quickly, his eyes filling with fear as he took two skittish steps into her chamber. He looked around, timid, as if he was worried that someone would jump out and attack him for entering her chamber. "Please, Princess," he begged her. "He will punish me if you do not come. I was sent to get you, I must get you. We've already taken too long."

Lenora watched him, both eyebrows raised now, "And why does the bastard want to see me?" she asked Theon.

"Don't call him that!" Theon whispered quickly, "He hates it."

"He is one," Lenora told him with a shrug of her shoulders. "Hating it won't change that." She was quiet for a moment, "Now, tell me why he wishes to see me."

"He has news, Princess," Theon whispered. "From King's Landing. He means to share it with you. You must come, please. Hurry."

Lenora leaned further back into her chair, she watched as Theon's shoulders sank, he thought she would say no. Perhaps she still should. She was quiet for a moment, "I'll come," she told him. "If," his eyes shot up toward her face briefly at the word, "you say my name."

He had barely spoken to her since she had arrived at the Dreadfort. He never said her name. He called her Princess, he had rarely called her that when they were at Winterfell together. He was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had done to her husband. Ashamed of what he had done to the boys. Ashamed by any part he had played in what had happened to Robb. By not saying her name he was hiding from his shame. She would allow it no more.

He whimpered and shook his head.

She ducked her head, trying to make eye contact with him, he would not meet her eyes. "Theon," she called out.

"Reek," he whispered, shaking his head.

"Theon," she corrected. "What is my name? Say my name and I will go with you. That's all you need to do."

"Reek," Theon whispered, more to himself than to her. He was silent for almost a minute and Lenora was sure that he was going to simply turn and run from her room when he glanced up at her face, for just a moment, "Lenora," he whispered.

His voice cracked, she could hear it even in the whisper. He was broken, that much she could see. So very broken, perhaps even more broken than she was. She saw in him an echo of what she had allowed herself to become in the first few days after Robb had died. But so much worse. Perhaps, even at her worst she had been an echo of Theon's pain, not the other way around. She wondered what sort of pain and humiliation Ramsay had put Theon through to turn him into this. She could feel the pity for the creature coming back. She swallowed it down and thanked the Gods for whatever little bit of fight she had, grateful that she was not as far gone as Theon Greyjoy.

She sighed and stood up from her seat, "Lead the way," she gestured toward the door.

Still whimpering, Theon led her out of her chamber and to the Godswood.

Winterfell had been the first Godswood that Lenora had ever seen. Perhaps stupidly she had believed that every northern Godswood would be as beautiful and wild as the Stark's. The Dreadfort's Godswood was definitely wild, though it was less beautiful and more foreboding. The plants and trees all seemed to be dying.

Lenora felt a chill run up her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself underneath her cloak in an attempt to stave off any more chills.

Ramsay had been sitting on a fallen tree, sharpening his knife, when they approached. He turned toward them and smiled, "Ah! Reek! You were able to bring her? I had thought you would fail. Good job."

Theon seemed to stand up straighter under Ramsay's praise. It made Lenora sick. She glared at Ramsay, "Why am I here, Ramsay?" she asked him. Her voice gave away no hint of emotion. "Theon said that you had news from King's Landing." She did not miss the way Ramsay's pale eyes tightened into a glare when she did not call Theon Reek.

"Come, my Lady," Ramsay invited her, forcing his eyes to relax, he gestured toward a spot on the fallen tree beside him. "I believe you'll want to sit for this news."

"Do you?" Lenora asked him. "And why do you believe that?"

"It's best to hear about the death of a beloved family member while sitting down," Ramsay told her. He shrugged his shoulders, "At least that is what I have heard."

Jaime, Lenora thought, taking a step closer to Ramsay and his dead tree. Tyrion, another step. Myrcella, another step. Tommen, a fourth step. Mother.Soon she was standing beside him. He did not say anything, simply gestured toward the empty space next to him.

Careful not to touch him she perched herself on the dead tree beside him. Then she turned to look at him, "I'm sitting," she announced. "What is your news from King's Landing?"

He smiled at her, a wicked, teasing twist of his lips. "First I must congratulate you, Princess," he told her. "You have several new family members, from what I have heard. Sansa Stark has married the Imp and became your aunt. Margaery Tyrell has married your brother and become your new sister."

"That's wonderful," Lenora told him, though she was sure that there was absolutely nothing wonderful about either of those two marriages. No matter how wonderful she thought her uncle Tyrion was, Sansa would not have gone into the marriage willingly. And Margaery, the poor girl would quickly learn what a monster her new husband was.

She was quiet for a moment before she glanced at Ramsay, "You don't need to stall, Ramsay," she told him. "I would like to hear the news from King's Landing. Who," she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Who have I lost now? Who has died now? Why am I here? Why did you send for me?"

"The wine was poisoned at your brother's wedding feast," Ramsay told her, smiling as if this could be good news. Lenora's eyes widened, she wondered how many people died\drinking the poisoned wine. Perhaps she had not only lost one family member, but several. Ramsay reached out and patted her hand, as if he was trying to comfort her. Her fist clenched but she would not allow herself to pull away. "Thankfully it was only the King's wine, it would seem. Someone wanted to, and succeeded at poisoning the king."

Lenora was quiet for a moment. Waiting for the pain to come. Whatever Joffrey had done, no matter how much she wanted him dead. There had been a time when he had been her baby brother. She thought that perhaps when he died she would at least be able to mourn the sweet baby that he had once been. But she felt no pain. She felt no sadness. She felt nothing.

Perhaps she had spent so much time in the North that her blood had turned to ice water.

Perhaps she had already lost so much that she could mourn no more.

"Who?" she finally asked.

"It seems that with his last dying breath your brother managed to point to his killer," Ramsay told her.

"Who?" she asked again. He was playing games with her. She didn't have time for it. "Who did he point at, Ramsay?"

"The Imp."

It seemed that she was very capable of still feeling pain. Because the moment Ramsay named Tyrion for Joffrey's killer she felt a tightness in her chest that she had not felt for anyone save Robb since the Twins. Her heartbeat quickened, her breath sped up, she felt tears spring to her eyes. Her mother had never loved Tyrion, she had always treated her younger brother with hatred and disdain. She would take this as a chance to be rid of him.

"They'll kill him for this," she whispered.

"Oh no doubt," Ramsay agreed with her.

She turned to glare at him, "What are you doing here?" she asked him, bitterness creeping into her tone.

He smiled at her, reaching out to pat her hand again, "I'm here to comfort you, Princess," he told her. "You have just lost your husband and your brother. And now you will soon lose your uncle."

She glared at him, she did not want him there. What was more was that she was sure that he knew that she didn't want him there. He could not torture her like he tortured Theon, she was much more valuable to his father. He could not physically hurt her, but he could emotionally hurt her. That's what he was doing now.

"Believe me," she told him. "I have no intention to grieve or mourn. And if I did, I would sooner take comfort from Theon, the man who betrayed my husband, than I would take comfort from you. Bastards do not get to comfort princesses."

Theon had warned her not to call him that. He had told her that Ramsay did not like to be reminded that he was a bastard. But she had, perhaps stupidly, believed that she was safe. That he could not harm her. Which is why she was caught by surprise a moment later when he slapped her across her right cheek.

He moved quick, like a snake. Before she knew he had slapped her he had already pulled his hand away from her face. Her cheek stung. Slowly, as if in a daze, she lifted her hand up to her cheek, she wondered if it would turn red. She stared at him for a moment in a wide-eyed daze, she could not believe that he had dared to touch her.

She stood up quickly from the tree trunk. She was afraid of him, but the last thing she wanted was for him to know that she was afraid of him. So she clenched her jaw and moved closer to him, glaring at him. She waited until she was in his face before she spoke, "I don't now who you think you are," she hissed at him. "All I know is that you are a bastard. And you will never raise your hand to me again."

He was smirking at her, as if she was amusing. The smirk did not reach his eyes though. He leaned closer to her, wrapping his hand around her wrist. "You're not in control here, Lenora," he told her, no longer politely calling her princess. "There's no one to save you, no one coming for you. If I wanted to hit you every day I could do it and no one would stop me. You understand?"

Lenora wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. She didn't want him touching her. She did not want him anywhere near her.

He was still smirking. He glanced over her shoulder and nodded, she didn't need to look to know that Theon was lurking in the trees. "The princess needs to be taken to her chamber. See to her face, would you. She's prettier without any marks."

Theon waited until they had left the Godswood before he whispered to her, "I told you not to call him that."

Lenora turned to glare at him. "And you would know, wouldn't you?" she asked him. "Coward."

Theon shook his head, "You would be afraid too," he promised her. "If you knew."

-.-.-.-.-

Cersei

She could not understand when her life had taken such a terrible turn. She had been blessed as a child, the only daughter of Casterly Rock, the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, married to the king of Westeros. And while being married to Robert Baratheon had not been everything she had hoped that it would be, she had been his queen - the wealthiest, most powerful woman in the world.

Over the years she had given the kingdom four children: two princes and two princesses. And all four had been beautiful. They were bright, intelligent, happy children. They had made her happier than she had ever been in her entire life. And perhaps she had been foolish. Even with the girls, especially with the girls. She had always known that her daughters would be married off, but despite the preparations and betrothals, a part of her had refused to accept it. A part of her had always believed that her children would never leave her.

For all of his speeches about protecting the Lannister name, about building a legacy, her father had never understood. Perhaps he never would. Winning this war was not their legacy. Her children were.

And where were they now? What had happened to them?

Dead. Lost in the North. Lost in the South.

Three of her children were gone. And she wasn't sure if she would ever see them again.

They had brought him to the Sept, so that the High Septon and the members of his family could stand vigil for the requisite three days before they buried him. Cersei was only required for a few hours each day, but she stayed, she was there waiting for him when they brought him in, dressed like the king he was and she would be there every minute until they buried him.

Perhaps she would remain in the Sept afterward as well, perhaps she would live there now so that she could always remain close to her son. Her perfect son.

She stood with Tommen beside her, staring down at her son. He wore his crown, his hands folded over the crossbar of his new Valyrian steel sword. He wore a black velvet doublet. His skin looked so pale next to the dark fabric. The Silent Sisters had painted rocks to look like eyes and placed them over her son's real eyes.

She hated those stones. They were the wrong color. They were blue. Her son had green eyes. Lannister eyes. No one in their family had blue eyes. Her fingers twitched with the impulse to take the stones off his eyes, to run her fingers one last time through his golden hair. It was improper though. Instead she clasped her hands in front of her and blinked back tears as she stared down at her son.

It would not do to have the queen crying in the Sept. She must be strong. It was expected.

Tommen fidgeted beside her, her jaw clenched. For a brief second she hated her youngest son. The boy looked sorry enough at Joffrey's death, but she knew that a part of him was happy. With Joffrey dead, Tommen would be king, something that had seemed impossible a few days ago. Her youngest son would be looking forward to his coronation.

She missed her daughters. If Lenora and Myrcella were here they would have mourned Joffrey properly. They would gain nothing from his death and so their sadness would not tainted with excitement. She wanted them there so desperately that it hurt. But they had been stolen from her. First Robert had stolen Lenora when he betrothed her and sent her off to the North. And then Tyrion had stolen Myrcella when he sent her to Dorne.

Joffrey was the second child Tyrion had stolen from her.

And this time, she would make sure that he paid for his crime.

Tommen stirred beside her and she looked up from Joffrey's face, prepared to scold her youngest son for his impatience when she saw her father walking toward them. That was good, her father had not stood vigil for Joffrey yet, it was good that he was there.

But the older man barely looked at her dead son as he came to stand on the other side of him, staring at Tommen across the body. He had not come here for Joffrey, she realized, he was here for Tommen.

"Your brother is dead," he announced, not even bothering to keep his voice quiet in respect for the dead king. "Do you know what that means?" Cersei cast Tommen a sideways glance, silently ordering her only living son to keep his mouth shut. Here and now were not the time or place for this conversation. Her father sighed, no doubt taking Tommen's silence for meekness instead of respect. "I'm not trying to trick you."

Without looking at his mother Tommen spoke now, at least he spoke quietly unlike his grandfather. "It means that I'll become King," he whispered.

"Yes," Tywin told the boy with a nod. "You will become King. What kind of King do you think you will be?"

"A good King?" Tommen asked, unsure of himself.

"Yes, I think so too," Tywin agreed with the boy. Cersei did not miss the proud smile that flashed momentarily across Tommen's face. He was pleased with his grandfather's praise. "You've got the right temperament for it. But what do you think makes a good King?"

Cersei pursed her lips and shook her head, but Tommen did not heed her silent warning. He was no longer afraid of her, he was going to be King after all, and he finally had his grandfather's attention. Cersei had never been blind to her father's blatant favoritism when it came to her children.

Even though she was a girl Tywin had adored Lenora. She was his firstborn grandchild, quick witted and bright, wild, and beautiful. Even though she would do little for the Lannister name he had delighted in her. When she lived at the Rock he had traveled there often to spend time with her, to watch her practice her sword play, to train her, as one would train a son, to lead men and plan battles. Though he never said the word love Cersei had seen it in the way his eyes glinted every time Lenora was near him. It was an unselfish love, there was no ulterior motive in his attention, she would not rule the country, she would bring him no honor but he loved her all the same.

Joffrey he had paid attention to not because he loved the boy or because he found him delightful or entertaining. He had a vested interest in Joffrey because the blonde haired boy would become King after Robert. He had not been as happy to speak to Joffrey, he had not been as willing to spend time with him. Where talking to Lenora had been a delight, talking to Joffrey had been a chore that her father had endured so that when Joffrey became king, Tywin might have his ear and his loyalty. He had not loved Joffrey, he had only loved what Joffrey could do for House Lannister.

As for Myrcella and Tommen, he had barely paid attention to them. They were not his firstborn grandchildren, they were more tame than Lenora, better behaved, less forward and enchanting. And they would not become king. He had no time for them, not interest. They could do nothing for him. In her father's cold, green eyes her two youngest children had been nothing but spares.

So of course Tommen would jump at the chance to be the only thing Tywin Lannister looked at. Of course he would be excited at his grandfather's attention and praise. Of course he would set aside the desire to please his mother in favor of the desire to please his grandfather. It still hurt though. Before Joffrey had died Tommen had still been her sweet little boy. Now her father was trying to steal him from her. That was a theft that she could blame on Tyrion as well.

Today, she realized, that she had lost all of her children.

As Tywin led Tommen out of the Sept, without even a backwards glance at her, Cersei glared at him. She would never forgive any of them for this.

A few moments later she felt him standing beside her. She didn't need to look to know who it was, she had heard him approach her. Even after all these years the sound of his footsteps was still so familiar. It was only right that he was here, Joffrey was his son after all. Perhaps the Gods had had a purpose in taking Tommen away, that it was to give Joffrey's parents time to mourn his loss together.

She reached out for his hand and to her surprise he allowed her to hold his hand. This was the first time her brother had willingly allowed her to touch him since Tommen had been born. He must have realized just how broken she was. Without looking up from her son's face she whispered, "He was our son, Jaime. Ours."

"I know," Jaime whispered.

"And he took him from us," she continued, she didn't need to say who he was, Jaime would know. "You saw how he pointed. Joff pointed straight at him."

"You can't know that's what he meant though," Jaime soothed her, trying to protect his younger brother.

That made Cersei angrier than anything else could have. For the first time since Joffrey had entered the Sept she turned from his face. She glared at Jaime, "I can know that!" she hissed at him. "Our son pointed at him with his last dying breath! He killed our son! I cannot believe that you are taking his side in this! Why do you always take the side of others over me? First it was Lenora when she was born. Now it's Tyrion after he poisoned your son!"

She lifted her hand to slap him, but instead she gently placed it on his cheek. Then she took a step forward, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. It had been so long since they were last together that she could barely remember what it felt like to have his hands on her body. She hoped that her grief might be enough to persuade him to give in to her. She needed him.

Out of instinct he lifted his right hand to push her away. The golden hand bumped clumsily against her left shoulder. A moment later he had turned away from her lips and used his left hand to successfully push her way.

"You are a hateful woman," he whispered to her, not looking at her. "One of your children is dead, two are in danger and you are trying to seduce me while standing vigil." He shook his head. "I have to go."

He started to walk away. "Jaime!" she called after him, waiting until she heard his footsteps stall before she continued. "You'll stay here, in King's Landing, until after the trial? Won't you?"

"I will," Jaime told her, his voice a whisper. "I'll stay for both of you."

And there it was, as always, he loved Tyrion more than her.

He loved Tyrion more than he loved his own son.

Finally she allowed the tears to slide down her cheeks.

Author's Note:

Hey friends! Happy GoT day! I thought I'd celebrate with an update if that's alright with you?
I must apologize again, I go on a lot of vacations during the summer and this week was no different. I headed out to Hawaii on Monday and got back home late last night. Now I like you guys, and I like this story ... but it was Hawaii. There were not going to be any updates when I was out there.
Tomorrow I head back to work so I wanted to make sure that I got this update out before then. But I do have good news! I don't have to work next Saturday and Sunday and so an update might be coming sooner than usual!
YAY!
Anyway, thank you for sticking around. Thank you for reading, for adding this story to your alerts and favorites lists, for adding it to your communities. And of course, thank you for your reviews! I live off of them!

HPuni101: Thank you dear! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one. I'm not going to lie, the Boltons give me the creeps too, but I love writing about them. It's like when I was writing Joffrey, it's fun to put my mind there, you know? There's going to be a lot of Boltons in the next block of chapters, so strap in!

writingNOOB: I don't think Roose has his eyes on the Iron Throne, he's smart enough to know that he can't get that. There's a chapter coming up where he explains himself to Lenora so I do not want to give too much away. But I would imagine that he thinks he can control his son, he thinks the people of the North will be loyal to Lenora, he probably thinks that if he marries Lenora to his son and the marriage is consummated that the Lannisters will have to honor it and in doing so they will give Winterfell to Lenora and her husband. Unfortunately for him, Lenora is not weak and she won't go along with his plans easily. The Boltons are in for some fun.

Dudtheman: Don't worry, it's not a pipe dream. I hate watching rape scenes, I hate reading about them, and I absolutely refuse to write them. So whatever Ramsay Bolton tries to do to Lenora, a rape will not be successful. It's going to be a while before Robb and Lenora meet up again, but he's in the next chapter. I wrote it this morning.

ILSAIDE: Hello! I'm glad you liked the story so far! Chapter nine is a good one. Let me know when you get to chapter fifty-eight! Thank you for your review!

Vulcran: I won't tell you how Ramsay dies, partially because I have not decided yet. I've played around with several different scenarios. But it's difficult because while it would be wonderful for him to be flayed, Lenora will be the one to kill him and she would never flay anyone. So it's got to be a satisfying death, while being true to what Lenora is capable of. Fine line there. But I promise there will be a whole chapter dedicated to it.

12D3 Gorillaz: Rip his throat out with her teeth ... that's a fun idea. Hmmm... be right back, gonna go play around with my outline.

Guest (1): I'm sorry that you feel that way. At least I got the beautifully written part. That's nice.

BrittStar1199: Unfortunately Cersei is not going to send troops to the North. She's going to be busy going insane over her brother's trial and everything happening in King's Landing. But Lenora will stay strong. And she's going to get out of there just fine. A little beaten, perhaps, a little broken. But she's strong enough to handle it.

RHatch89: Thank you! Did you enjoy this chapter as well?

darkwolf76: Thank you! I get really worried when I write character point of views like Joffrey or Ramsay. They're so far from my usual personality that I'm worried I'll make them too nice. Or I'll go overboard on making them evil and they'll turn into a cheesy parody of themselves. So it's nice to hear I write them well. As for Lenora killing him, I'm going to play with them for a bit longer before that happens. Cause it's fun (perhaps I'm more sadistic then I like to think ...)
It's no secret, I love writing Jaime. He's one of the reasons that I wrote this story, I needed a paternal Jaime in my life and no one had one. So not only am I happy that you enjoyed that section, but I'm ridiculously happy that you called Lenora his daughter. Because you're right, Jaime raised her. As for him and Bronn they will be taking a field trip north because I hate the Dorne story line and I refuse to write it. (Also because I'm pretty sure Lenora and Bronn would love each other and have a lot of fun making fun of Jaime together.)
Tyrion does deserve a break, unfortunately for him it's going to be a while before he gets it, but it will come in the form of a much awaited reunion so I don't think anyone will mind.
No Robb in this chapter unfortunately, but he'll be in the next update, I promise.

Guest (2): Thank you, I'm glad you love the story and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Guest1995: You do give good encouragement. Which is why I am always sad when I have to dash your hopes. Lenora's not going to escape from the dreadfort. She's going to go with them to Winterfell first so she's with them for a while. But when she does escape (and get her eventual revenge) it will be good.
I don't blame you about not wanting to watch Theon's journey... it's a rough one. But as evidenced by Jaime, I take the characters I like (example: Theon) and I give them redemption in this story when I feel like the show/books don't do it justice. So Theon's on his way.
As for Jaime and Lenora. Of course there's going to be a part where she forgives him. DNA, withstanding, he's practically her father. She has to. It would break my heart if she didn't.
And I'm not in the business of breaking my own heart, just all of yours.

rottingmermaid: Oh you're a love! Thank you so much for your review! I'm so glad that you've enjoyed this story to this point and I hope that you continue to enjoy it! And I'm glad that you like my characterization of everyone. They're all such loved characters that every chapter I'm worried that I'm going to mess it up somehow. It's good to know that I haven't yet.

fallondyson: I'm sorry it took me so long, but here is your update my friend! I hope you enjoy it!

Guest (3): Oh you just make me so happy! Thank you so much for your review! I'm ridiculously honored they you enjoyed this story so much that you had to leave your first review EVER! (I did a happy dance when I read that!) By all means, keep the story bookmarked because I am most definitely still updating!

Gamemaster77: Binge read is definitely a term, don't worry! I'm encountering it more and more the longer this story becomes. More new readers who all seem to catch up ridiculously quickly. I applaud you guys, really. I could not read it all in a binge session and I wrote the thing.
I'm also really happy that you like that Lenora doesn't have the power to stop cannon events. I've had a few reviews where people wanted Lenora to change something, but that's not possible. The Red Wedding, for example, a single woman (no matter how strong she is) would not have been able to stop that. I created Lenora to give redemption or happy endings to some of my favorite characters, not to completely change the story. So I'm glad that you appreciate that. (And I'm glad that you love her points of view!)
I couldn't kill Grey Wind. I don't know how the showrunners kill direwolves. I can't do it. I can write that they died, but I can't describe it. So Grey Wind had to live. And he's following Lenora right now. If you read my author's notes you know that Lenora is going to make it to the wall eventually so it's a pretty good bet that there will be a direwolf reunion in the works.

Wallflower: Another binge reader! Welcome! Thank you so much for your review! I'm so glad they you've enjoyed the story so far and I hope you enjoyed this update as well!

Alice Monita: Thank you! I'm glad that you're enjoying this story so far. Made it to chapter fifty-eight yet? And that is a huge compliment. I hope you know how much of an honor it is to be compared in any way to GRRM. Seriously. Thank you.
As to the moment you're talking about. That was a complete brain fart on my part. Sometimes my fingers get ahead of my mind and I forget what characters know and what they don't. I'm sorry for any confusion!

Guest (4): I'm glad you like the story? But what is it that disgusts you?

Guest (5): One sitting, Jesus! That's pretty solid. Thank you for reading all of that! And thank you so much for leaving a review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Saffronellen: Another binge reader! I am surprised every time I read a review from one of you! Thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I'm glad that you enjoyed it.
I'm glad you've enjoyed how I constructed this. At the beginning I'm sure there were some people who were confused about why I started by writing so in depth about her childhood, but it was both selfish and self-preservation really.
Selfish: I wanted a paternal Jaime and no one had one so I wrote one.
Self-preservation: There's so many beloved characters in this universe that if you're going to introduce an OC you have to give the reader a reason to like them and to root for them.
The fact that you say she feels canon is a huge compliment. Thank you for that.
And don't worry, you don't sound dramatic. I am thrilled that you are so passionate about her! Thank you for telling me!

Okay dudes, that's all I've got for this one this week!
Have a FANTASTIC week and I'll see you back here soon!
Until then,
Chloe Jane.