So, pretty clear already but in case anyone was confused, I don't own ASOIAF. Also, go give "Carolina" by Taylor Swift a listen while you're reading this. Or "No Body No Crime". Thanks!

Updated for minor edits


"Your father has proved to be an awful traitor, my dears," Lord Varys crooned from behind the queen's - well, now queen dowager's - desk, where the small council members gathered like vultures around the Stark sisters.

Sansa stared up, trembling before them all like a newborn lamb.

Cate shot daggers from her eyes.

Cersei's head was bowed, demure, but even that couldn't hide the hatred in her eyes as she glared at the sisters through the incense smoke hanging thickly about her chamber.

The former queen was silent as lies, nothing but vile lies poured from the Lords' mouths. Father plotted to steal the throne, Father deceived King Robert on his deathbed, Father was a thief and a liar and turncoat and a ….

Sansa gave excuse after pithy excuse, hoping the council members would see reason. It must be a misunderstanding. Father would never commit treason.

Of course they know that, Cate thought. Anyone who knew Ned Stark knew that. But they wanted the girls desperate. They wanted them trapped, like rabbits in a hole before the hunters flooded them.

The only question was - why?

Only Lord Baelish - with the sly grin - spoke in their favor. "The girls are clearly innocent, Your Grace. Give them a chance to prove their loyalty."

Cersei regarded them, eyes flicking between the two sisters before finally selecting Sansa as her prey. "Little dove." Her voice was honeyed, meant to be soothing, but Cate was immediately set on edge. "You must write to Lady Catelyn and your brother, the eldest. What's his name?"

"Robb," Cate spoke up.

If Cersei was annoyed, she didn't show it. "Word of your father's arrest will reach him soon, no doubt. Best it comes from you."

Though Sansa's face fell, Cate was stony.

"If you would help your father, urge your brother to keep the King's peace." Cersei slid a blank sheet of paper across the desk between them. "Tell him to come to King's Landing and swear his fealty to Joffrey."

Cersei dangled a quill between them. Cate watched the council members hiding smiles as their rabbits were cornered, marked Cersei's eyebrow raise as she calculated their reactions.

They were mere pawns on a board to her, pieces to be moved at whim, manipulated and bent as commanded. The more pliable, the better.

Cate shuddered to think what sort of mother a person like that would make.

Sansa started to reach for the pen. Cate's hand shot up, grabbing Sansa's wrist.

"Don't," Cate warned her. She met Cersei's eye. "I don't know what you're doing, but we're not writing your letter."

"If … if we could see Father," Sansa entreated the council members, "Talk to him about -"

A cold glare cut the younger girl in two. "You disappoint me, child," Cersei tutted. "You'd trust Cate over me? You know of your sister's jealousy of your betrothal -"

"My what?!" Cate cried. She turned to Sansa and grasped her shoulder. "You don't actually believe that, do you?!"

Sansa's gaze shifted, from the paper on the desk to Cate's eyes. And Cate felt - softly so as not to attract attention - Sansa's fingers squeezed her own.

Cate could've breathed in relief for the tiny bit of reassurance were it not for the implication that Sansa was all too aware they were dancing with fire. Acquiescing meant saving Father, and refusing …

It was a risk. It could work, though.

"Sansa, dear," Cersei interrupted. "You seem peaky. Perhaps some tea outside?"

"Yes, my queen," Sansa demurred. She didn't move, clearly waiting for the queen to rise first.

Cate already understood what was happening.

Cersei smiled apologetically. "Your sister and I will join you shortly. It seems we must discuss some things."

"I'll be fine, Sansa," Cate spoke up. "Go enjoy your tea."

That too-pleasant smile stayed on Cersei's face as the small council members escorted Sansa out of the queen's chambers.

That smile dropped once the door closed.

"You're quite the obstinate bitch, you know." Cersei snatched the paper back. "I tried to be kind -"

Cate's eyebrows shot up. "Tried?"

"Believe it or not, in my own way, I've tried." Cersei stood and crossed to the bed, leaning against one of its four posters. "You'll understand someday."

Cate rose herself, arms crossing as she faced Cersei. "I don't know what you're trying with me now, but we're not writing the letter."

Cersei clucked her tongue. "That would be a shame. Myrcella would be so upset to see you tossed in the black cells alongside your father."

Cate froze.

There was no way she could know. She couldn't know.

Head tilting, blonde hair tumbling down her side, Cersei smirked at her. "You thought I wouldn't see you traipsing through the garden the other night wailing like a madwoman? That I wouldn't put two and two together, figure out what my own daughter was up to?"

The way she leaned against the bedpost, all smug and self-satisfied, was oddly cat-like as she sized up Cate, taking in her fear.

If Cersei had been bluffing, Cate's hesitation already revealed the truth. There was nothing more she could do now than square her shoulders. "What're you going to do to me, then?"

"Luckily for you, the Faith doesn't believe it possible for women to have … proclivities, let's say, towards members of their own sex - though I've had my fair share of proclivities. But there are worse charges a highborn lady could be arrested, even executed for. You ride, don't you?"

Cate's lips pressed together.

Cersei shook her head. "Why am I asking, I know you do." She gripped the bedpost. "Did you know most highborn girls break their maidenhead while horse riding? It can lead to some shocking accusations of fornication … if a girl isn't careful."

"So that's it then?" Cate said. "You're going to force me to be examined, in the hopes that it'll what? Embarrass me? And what if my maidenhead isn't broken?"

"That's a possibility," Cersei admitted. "But is it one you'd subject yourself to?" She rose up from the bed again, drawing herself to her full height, allowing herself to tower over Cate. "Is it one you'd subject Sansa to?"

Cate's heart sunk to her stomach. She could take the humiliation if it were only herself - at least then she'd never have to marry - but Sansa, her sister, the first baby she'd ever held - and she remembered the little lost lamb look that'd painted her sister's face only moments before - Sansa was in over head, being swallowed alive and didn't even know what was coming for her -

Cersei laughed. "And I thought you couldn't get any paler. You should've been more careful not to make an enemy of me and my son."

"If I -'' Cate swallowed, the thought too disgusting to voice aloud. She forced herself to spit the words out. "If I write your letter, what would happen to us?"

The preening smile the queen gave her was sickening. "Until your father's confession, you and Sansa will remain hostages. If you're good, you may retain your positions as Myrcella's companions."

"And Sansa's betrothal?"

"Will remain. They'll be married upon her flowering."

Alarm rose all over again. "No, please -"

"Calm yourself." Annoyance flashed across Cersei's face. "It's for her protection. Their betrothal guarantees we can extend our fullest protection to her."

You mean 'surveillance', Cate thought bitterly as Cersei strode back around to the desk.

Slowly, swallowing back bile, Cate turned, sat. She picked up the quill as Cersei slid a fresh sheet across the desk.

Her hand was shaking, and Cate watched, oddly fascinated, as ink spilled from the tip of her pen, running across the razor-sharp edge, where it gathered into a droplet before it plunged.

Cate looked back up to Cersei. "What do you want me to write?"


Yes, our girl is staying in the Capitol, looks like. In case you weren't aware yet, this is a Myrcella/OC fic, so there's some ... juicy stuff ahead. Any theories?

P.S. To the lovely person who likes to copy, paste, and rewrite my story into the reviews … did you think I wouldn't notice? You must feel very clever.