A Death and Its Consequences

Rohanne I

The smell was blinding; the scented rose that she kept pinned to the neck of her gown did nothing to disguise the horrific scent. Dead bodies had that unique stench that wrenched at your stomach with brutal efficiency and threatened to send you running for the chamber pot.

She wasn't standing close to the deceased but she could see the single but steady drip of white fluid onto the polished marble floor. She knew that he had been embalmed, of course. The presence of the seven jars placed around his feet proved it, each filled with various body organs that sped up the process of rotting – so if each were removed, it slowed the process.

Something appeared to have gone wrong however, as the body had bloated quickly anyway. Someone, probably one of the Silent Sisters since few others would willingly touch a dead body, had clearly not been as careful as she should have been and his skin had ruptured. Hence the fluid.

Rohanne wondered if she should be sad.

She had known Jon Arryn all of her life. From the day she was born he had been there – quietly standing the background helping her father rule the kingdom. He had filled the kindly grandfather role in her life in a way that Tywin Lannister never could, and yet she felt nothing upon his passing besides a queer sense of vague loss.

Myrcella, on the other hand, sobbed quietly at her side, clutching Rohanne's black mourning dress. Rohanne suspected it was probably the smell, since Myrcella did not have a rose. She reached up and plucked hers off before attaching it gently to her little sister's bodice. Myrcella gave her a grateful, if watery, smile and her sobbing eventually tailed off.

She had been correct.

Rohanne began to breathe exclusively through her mouth and apart from a dimly unpleasant taste in the back of her throat, it was manageable. She sighed in relief.

Joffrey stood on the other side of their mother, a distinctively snotty pout on his face. She wasn't at all surprised at his reaction. Even death did little to sober him, since Joffrey believed he was entitled to everything his eyes touched. He looked down on Jon Arryn's corpse with a look of impatient disdain, as if it was the elder man's fault for dying and forcing Joffrey to attend. Rohanne refrained from rolling her eyes – she hadn't been particularly close to Jon but she wouldn't disrespect him as he lay in state.

Her mother's face was neutral as she stood stiff in her mourning clothes. She appeared to be entirely unbothered by the smell and Rohanne thought it was entirely possible. She had without a doubt been to more funerals than Rohanne had, so it was easy to assume that she was accustomed to it.

Rohanne thought that quite sad. She had no desire to ever become accustomed to death.

Her father had left early after muttering a few things over Jon's body and striding out of the room with scarcely a look at any of them. He was the king, however, and he could be forgiven things that they would not. Rohanne knew though that they would leave as soon as they could without being indecent. Her mother had not been fond of the Hand and they weren't family, so they wouldn't be expected to stay much longer.

She thought she knew why her father was in such a poor mood, though. Jon had been like a father figure to him and the loss must have affected him – yet she suspected it was likely the matter of Jon's widow that troubled him. It was well known that Lady Lysa was… touched, but no one had expected her to abscond from the capital with her son and make a frantic escape back to the Vale for no clear reason. Add to the fact that this was against her father's explicit wishes…

King's Landing was rarely boring.

Her mother tapped her arm gently. She looked up and began to follow as they made their way quietly from the sept, grabbing Myrcella's hand to bring her along with them.

She shrugged off the dark, cloying shroud of the sept like a wet cloak and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled rather like shit, but the wind was refreshing and the sun threatened to burst through the clouds so it was a significant improvement. She allowed Myrcella to relax for a few minutes before walking down with her to the foot of the steps. Joffrey and their mother went on ahead, setting off in their litter without a backwards glance.

There was a small crowd of people standing just past the wall of knights, all of them talking amongst themselves. Upon catching sight of the two girls walking down the steps, a few shouted 'princess!' but were soon hushed by the guards. She gave a courteous wave before stepping into the litter with as much grace and speed as she could, Myrcella following.

The litter was small but any view to the outside was covered by a lace screen, so once it was lifted she flopped back on the cushions and sighed in relief.

"Thank the gods that's over." Rohanne said, drooping an arm over her eyes.

Myrcella giggled and covered her mouth.

"Rohanne!" She said, scandalised but giggled again when her sister blew a raspberry and flicked her hand dismissively.

"I hate funerals, although that one wasn't so bad. The one I went to in Storm's End with uncle Renly was infinitely worse – the woman who died was so grossly fat, little sister, that her gut hung over the edges of the table."

Myrcella sniggered but soon remembered her manners and blushed.

"Wasn't she our cousin?" She said.

Rohanne shrugged. "A relation of some sort. I only had to go because uncle Renly did, and he only had to go because it was expected. We were dreadfully bored the whole time. In truth, it ruined the whole trip."

It hadn't ruined the whole trip, but Rohanne didn't want to make Myrcella jealous. Uncle Renly had invited all the royal children to spend a moon at Storm's End just before the harvest last year, but her mother had prevented Myrcella and Tommen from going on the grounds of being too young – while Joffrey had been extremely vocal with his thoughts about the idea.

Rohanne ended up being the only one who went and she had a grand time. Uncle Renly loved the finer things in life and he lived to enjoy them all. Her mother called him a hedonist but her time spent there had been delightful; filled with feasts, balls and hunts. It helped they were so close in age – Renly was only eleven years her elder, so he felt more like a much older brother than an uncle.

In such a small space of time she had grown accustomed to her uncle's charisma and joyful personality – returning to her strained family had been quite sobering.

She loved them with all her heart but no one could deny that very few of them were able to tolerate one another. Yet there was little to be done and Renly had offered to host her again, although she doubted her mother would allow it.

"Who will be the new Hand?" Myrcella asked after some time listening to the noises outside.

"I'm not sure; it's up to father."

"But it would it not have to be someone he trusts?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

Myrcella hesitated before speaking. "I overheard mother trying to convince father to choose uncle Jaime, but father doesn't trust uncle Jaime."

"What do you mean by that, sweetling? Of course father trusts uncle Jaime – he is a member of his Kingsguard after all. He protects him." Rohanne said.

Myrcella had no need to get dragged into the family politics, she was so young.

"No, he doesn't. I heard him shout it after mother spoke."

Rohanne frowned.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Myrcella. Father and mother are the king and queen. They discuss very important matters that no one else can hear, not even you." She chided.

Myrcella looked down. "I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. But…"

"What?"

"Who would he choose then? If not uncle Jaime, then who?"

Rohanne shook her head slowly, looking out past the thin screen to the Red Keep that was just coming into view.

"I don't know, Myrcella. I suppose it would have to be someone he does trust."

"His grace the King requests your and your sibling's presence in the throne room, princess."

Rohanne looked up with a smile, setting her unfinished needlework on the table. The Lord Commander of her father's Kingsguard stood just inside the doorway, his frame large and broad despite his advanced age. Her uncle Jaime remained her favourite of the order despite everything but if she had to choose a second favourite, it would be Ser Barristan Selmy. His wild adventures were famous and his place in various well-known battles were even more so. This combined with his strict code of morals and honour led to a reputation as sterling as any alive today.

He was also uncommonly kind to his king's children, maintaining a warm but respectful relationship with all of them but the eldest. Yet that was hardly his fault – The Bold may be the archetype for a true knight, but Joffrey was a different beast entirely.

Her older brother repudiated most forms of positive relationships. He had a good one with their mother though, and another being a one-sided desperate grasp for attention from their father. Rohanne could say with relative confidence that she was also another, although she was hesitant to call what she and Joffrey had, entirely positive. He was wildly changeable, flitting from emotion to emotion like the movement of the current; she did her best to ride his moods out, but it depended entirely on whether he felt like allowing her to. She could recall a time when everyone in the Keep referred to them as the twins because of their close age and closer relationship – that hadn't entirely changed.

In a way, he was predictable despite his tempestuous personality – she could rely on him to be emotional and angry. This gave her some measure of influence over him although she did not tend to use it often. While he wasn't prone to allowing people to control him, he was usually open to her suggestions if they were worded appropriately.

Her relationship with Joffrey was as complex as anything ever could be, yet in a strange way she loved and trusted him in spite of all he had ever done.

Well – she trusted him to act in his nature, at least.

"Of course, Ser Barristan. Please tell my father we will be there promptly." She said as she stood up and smoothed the creases out of her skirts.

"I am to wait here to escort you, princess. Your father's orders."

It was rather unusual for any of the Kingsguard to bother with her while they were in the Red Keep. Since she had passed twelve namedays, it was generally considered that she no longer needed to be regularly guarded in her own home. She was also not the crown princess; therefore she didn't qualify for a personal guard like Joffrey did. Whenever she left the keep, it was usually with her family – so she was included in the bulk protection of the family.

The last time Rohanne remembered being guarded solely by a Kingsguard, she had been thirteen. An assassin had tried his hand at her father's life but had been swiftly introduced to a blade instead and for two weeks afterwards her father had insisted all his children be protected carefully. It had also been one of the rare times when he had bothered to show affection for them publicly.

"Of course, ser. I'll fetch Myrcella and Tommen, although I am afraid I do not know where Joffrey is."

"Prince Joffrey is already in the throne room with your mother the Queen, princess." He said.

"Very well. A moment, ser."

Ser Barristan moved back outside the main door as she walked into her bedchamber proper and slipped behind her dressing screen.

Rohanne was lucky in that she had been given one of the royal bedrooms with a larger solar, better to suit her growing collection of books. The view of the city was perhaps not the best but her uncle Tyrion had a habit of gifting her with whatever books he thought might catch her fancy, along with others filled with information that he believed she should know. These were all shelved in order along the walls and the one she was currently reading was on her desk in the corner.

To the side of the desk was a door that lead out to a small alcove, barely enough for one person to stand on. It allowed in a good deal of fresh air, however. On those hot, sticky nights, Rohanne would bar open this small door and the one between her solar and bedchamber. This combined with the open door to the terrace at the side of her bedchamber caused a good circulation of air, cooling the room quickly. Of course, it had the exact opposite effect on stormy days.

Rohanne's chambers were high in one of the towers, subject to all manner of fearsome winds – if she was lax in barring any of the doors shut the temperature of the room would drop drastically.

Dalla arrived behind the curtain holding a deep red dress with yellow birds embroidered across the bodice. It was a dress far better suited to court than the mustard coloured monstrosity – as her mother called it – she currently wore. In her defence, she thought as she started to strip it off, it was very comfortable.

"Does this dress please you, princess?" Dalla asked, holding up her choice closer with one hand as she helped unlace Rohanne's dress with the other.

Her lady's maid was Dalla Hill, a bastard of House Swyft who got her position through Rohanne's great uncle Kevan's wife Dorna, who was a Swyft by birth. Dalla's father was Steffon Swyft; Dorna's younger brother who had gotten a babe on one of the seamstresses in Cornfield, but at least had the decency to acknowledge her – much to the consternation of his wife. The Swyfts were only landed knights, but it paid to be married into House Lannister – hence how one essentially lowborn bastard rose to become the lady's maid of a princess.

Dalla's birth didn't bother Rohanne overly much; the girl was only one year her senior but at ease with all her responsibilities and she was an excellent listener. Rohanne considered her a friend of sorts – at least, as much a friend as a princess can be with her servant.

"Yes, Dalla, I think it will do quite nicely." Rohanne said as she threw the worn dress over the top of the dressing screen and stepped into the crimson gown.

Rohanne occasionally liked to honour her mother's house with a spectacular show of Lannister colours. It never failed to bring a proud smile to her face and Rohanne had a distinct fondness for making her mother happy, even though she knew the red dress would likely make her father frown.

The dark red complimented her dark hair and pale skin in a way that the bright did not, so the dress that Dalla picked would be much more suitable. She had no desire to look sickly in front of the court.

Dalla quickly checked to make sure her corset was tight enough before she laced up the red gown, as it was far less forgiving than the mustard one she had just taken off. The lady's maid then quickly unhooked Rohanne's braid from where it had been pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head – maidens were to have their hair entirely or partially down, as was the current fashion in court. A fashion that she had probably started, but one she now had to follow like everyone else.

With her hair and her gown sorted, she allowed Dalla to powder her face lightly before she went to join Ser Barristan who was waiting patiently outside her chamber.

"Shall we fetch my siblings now, ser?"

"Aye, I'll follow your lead, princess."

Rohanne quickly marched on knowing that Ser Barristan was perfectly capable of keeping pace with her. Servants greeted her in the corridors and on the stairs as she made her way to the children's playroom, which was located just off from the now unused nursery.

The playroom was the size of a large bedchamber, filled with various toys and games. The toys were exquisite, small dolls and model animals fashioned from the finest materials and sourced from far off locales such as Pentos and Qarth – it was said that the black carving of a winged horse which sat on a high shelf came from as far as Asshai-by-the-Shadow, although no one could prove it. Various board games and activities were placed around the room, some suitable for all ages and others not. Her uncle Tyrion was said to be trying to source a new strategy game that began in one of the Free Cities, but it was proving elusive for him to find for them.

There were some chairs around the room as well, along with two bookshelves. The colourful painted walls curved round in a pleasant circle to the balcony doors, which led out to a modest terrace with a slightly higher barrier for the safety of the children.

Rohanne remembered playing here with Joffrey as a child, before they grew older – and then she had played with Myrcella. She had been too old by the time Tommen was grown enough, but that hadn't stopped her from coming to visit him anyway. Joffrey avoided this place with a vengeance, since he was greatly occupied with how his image was perceived – playing with toys and his younger siblings was distinctly below him. Rohanne didn't protest, since Myrcella and Tommen didn't want him here anyway.

"Rohanne!" Tommen called out as she entered the room.

He ran over and threw his arms around her waist, burying his face into her stomach. Rohanne laughed and petted his head softly.

"Hello Tommen, how have you been today?"

"I've been well, the kennelmaster's son brought up some of the puppies for us to see!"

Only then did Rohanne spot the man standing in the corner next to Myrcella. Upon seeing he caught her attention, he bowed.

"Princess, forgive me. My name's Alyn. I thought the little prince and princess might like to see the hounds. I got permission from m'lord Hand afore he died…"

Rohanne took the measure of him. He was scrawny with thin wrists and a sharp nose that was slightly too small for his face, but the wisp of facial hair placed him at around eighteen. His brown eyes were flat and unremarkable as was his short hair but he held two puppies in his arms, rubbing the floppy ear of one as it yawned. There was a kindness in him as he glanced to the other one cuddled in Myrcella's arms where she sat on the floor.

"There is nothing to forgive, however I am afraid I must cut the time short – my father the King requests my siblings and I."

Alyn bowed silently and put the two puppies into a large basket before reaching for the one in Myrcella's arms as she pouted.

"Sorry, little princess. You'd better do as your sister says." He mumbled and placed the last puppy in with the rest.

"Please come back later, Alyn! I should like to see them again!" Myrcella pleaded.

Their mother would be affronted to hear any of her children talking to the servants in such a way but Rohanne didn't have the heart to correct her. Myrcella truly was her family's joy. She had an undercurrent of innocence and pure goodness that they all treasured and Rohanne would always do her best to protect it.

Alyn glanced at Rohanne and she nodded once.

"I'd be happy to, princess. Bye."

"Goodbye Alyn!"

"Goodbye!"

The kennelmaster's son bowed once more to Rohanne and went to leave the room.

"A moment."

She reached into the basket and a smile rose to her lips as tiny tongues licked her hand. She stroked each of them slowly, enjoying the feeling of their silky fur under her fingers. One of them growled weakly in that way that puppies do and she felt as he began to chew on her little finger.

"Are these to become hunting hounds?"

Alyn blushed for a minute under the scrutiny but cleared his throat and continued valiantly.

"Aye, princess."

She looked back at the puppy chewing on her finger. He was black along his face and back, but she could see from the way he was lying that his stomach and legs were tan. His long droopy ears were black too, and his wet nose sniffled into her palm as his mouth let go of her finger.

Rohanne felt her heart lurch and had to stop herself rolling her eyes. This was ridiculous. She was a Baratheon and a Lannister, she would not grow weak willed by some pet.

She reached in and lifted out the puppy. He snuffled and sneezed as she rested him on her chest, so she stroked him again.

"Do you think perhaps your father could spare this little one, Alyn?"

He was silent for a moment in shock and spluttered when he realised he was keeping her waiting.

"Yes, princess, I'm sure he'd be honoured for you to have one of our pups. She's a good one too, fine tempered. She'll do you well."

"She?" She asked, surprised.

"… Yes, princess."

Rohanne looked back down at the little pup in her arms. It was an awful idea. She didn't have the time. She would probably be married soon. Joffrey was also a factor to consider – he was extraordinarily unpredictable. She sometimes resented that he held such influence over her life, but her mother would always take up her eldest son's position and her father could not care less for the 'unimportant' matters in his children's lives. The only one who would defend Rohanne, was Rohanne.

Normally… sometimes, she accepted Joffrey's actions to avoid conflict. Trying usually got her a split cheek and a bruise, so she tended not to if only to make her life easier. But this pup was going to be hers – so if it was a fight brewing, fight she would.

"She is lovely, Alyn. Thank you, and please extend my thanks to your father." She said as the kennelmaster's son bowed once more and left.

"Rohanne, you have a puppy now!" Myrcella said as she ran up to her, petting the puppy gently. "She is very cute, what will you call her?"

"I don't know, 'Cella." Rohanne said as she scratched the pup's ear again. "I'll have to think of one. What do you think, Tommen?"

Tommen was standing an armlength away, his arms crossed. His eyes were watery.

"Joffrey's going to hurt her." He said, a wobble in his voice.

Rohanne's face softened and she knelt in front of him, taking his hand.

"No he won't, Tommen."

"Yes, he will! He hurts everything." His voice fell to a whisper.

"No he won't Tommen, because I won't let him." She said sharply, cupping his face in her hand. "I won't let him."

"How?" He said hoarsely.

"I will talk to him, convince him not to – he'll listen to me. And if he doesn't, I'll stop him if he tries. Perhaps I'll spank him with uncle Jaime's sword." She whispered just loud enough for the two to hear.

Myrcella gasped behind her but Tommen giggled just for a second and Rohanne winked in response.

"Come on then, you two. Father has asked for us in the throne room. We'd best not keep him waiting any longer than necessary." She said as she stood up again.

"What about the puppy? Are you taking her to court?"

"Of course not. I'm sure your nursemaid wouldn't mind bringing him to Dalla? Tell her to fetch the pup some food and take care of her until I return." She asked, pointing the order to the woman who had been standing silently against the far wall.

The nursemaid curtsied. "Of course, princess."

Rohanne gave the pup's downy head a small peck before handing her over to the maid. The puppy gave a slight whine and she smiled.

"Don't worry, little darling, I'll see you soon."

She turned to Tommen and Myrcella who had straightened their clothes. They looked well enough and she placed a hand on each shoulder and guided them to the doors.

"Come on then, let's go."

Rohanne stood on the steps leading up to the Iron Throne along with her siblings, staring out over the court from her elevated position.

She could feel the scrutiny as their beady eyes pierced into her. Each of them were desperate to use the royal family in any way they could – some for position, some for wealth and the rest of power. None of them could be trusted, mother always said, only family. Rohanne was inclined to believe her as she felt the judgement in their probing glares, like a predator sizing up its juicy prey.

They needed to be reminded that her family were far from prey. Mother always said that lions did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep and while Baratheons were stags, they had their fury, didn't they?

There was at least one kind face in the room though. Lady Meliana Errol, youngest child of Shyra Errol, lady of Haystack Hall. Rohanne could see her standing next to her brother Sebastion to the left of the hall – Meliana was blessed with the blonde hair of her mother and cursed with her father's exceptional lack of height.

Rohanne can only barely see her fair head standing next to her taller brother, but Meliana still beamed happily when she caught Rohanne's eye. It was a smile Rohanne was hard-pressed not to return but she restrained herself to a twitch of the lips, knowing her mother's reaction should she be so uncontrolled in public.

Meliana was one of the only good things her father had ever done truly for her. Rohanne had been ten when her father had begun to think she was lonely while having a spontaneous fit of fatherly feelings. House Errol were extremely loyal and sworn to Storm's End; Shyra Errol had been delighted to provide her daughter, perhaps to grow some refinement in her. A week later and a blonde ten-year-old with a large nose and squint teeth was given residence in the Red Keep as a companion to Princess Rohanne. Even at that point Rohanne had already been taller than Meliana and the little lady was fiercely sensitive over her lack of height.

Within a day Rohanne had made a rude comment so Meliana had thumped her stomach hard – and a friendship was born. Meliana's teeth had straightened slightly and her nose was beginning to match the size of her face; but little else had changed.

She was Rohanne's closest and dearest friend, to the disapproval of her mother. Cersei thought Meliana to be an unmannered little beast even now she was grown and matured – but there was little she could do against Robert's command.

The arrival of Meliana had kindled some warm feelings in Rohanne towards her father but they hadn't lasted long in the face of his overwhelming disinterest. She loved him yet it was a distant kind of love – not quite obligation but something taken for granted nonetheless. He was her father, she assumed she had to love him, even when she didn't particularly feel it.

Speaking of her father.

"Quiet!" He roared after the last supplicant shuffled back to join the crowd.

Silence fell quickly.

"I have an announcement to make." Her father's voice boomed, reaching the height of the highest rafters.

"I will be travelling north to visit House Stark. The party will depart in three days." He said, seemingly unaware of the shocked mumbling that followed his statement.

Rohanne could see her mother's face sour from the corner of her eye and the pensive looks on the faces of the small council from where they stood just below the throne. Her uncle Stannis was master of ships yet he had departed immediately after Jon Arryn's death. Uncle Renly remained as master of laws, while Lord Baelish and Lord Varys were master of coin and master of whisperers respectively. Of course, there was also Maester Pycelle, Ser Barristan and lastly the Hand of the King – the position which needed filled.

It dawned on Rohanne that perhaps this journey her father was undertaking would be something to do with selecting a new Hand. Her father wasn't entirely misguided, he knew that he needed a Hand and he needed one immediately – and royal visits were not usually conducted under such haste. It had to be the reason.

"I will be joined by the queen and my children. That will be all."

Rohanne barely heard her mother's agitated snarl through her own shocked outrage. Why on earth did father want them all to come!? Rohanne had absolutely no desire to go north. Her dear ones, her learning, the politics – all the things that she enjoyed were here, in King's Landing. There was nothing for her up there, in the cold frozen wastelands ruled by the Starks. Her dismay was mirrored on Myrcella's face, but Tommen looked excited.

"But father, must I go?" Joffrey said in too quiet a voice to be heard by the court.

Rohanne didn't see anything good coming of Joffrey complaining to their father. He was rarely lenient and he had no love for his eldest son.

"Enough whimpering boy! You'll do as you're told." Her father nearly shouted, his swollen cheeks flushing red. His hand twitched where it lay on the armrest and Joffrey flinched a fraction in response.

She saw the exact moment her mother saw Joffrey's reaction.

"He speaks sense." Cersei hissed disgustedly. "It's a fool's errand going north – what is there but ice and mud waiting for us?"

Robert's face turned redder and his hand fisted.

"You'll do as you're bloody well told, woman. We're going north and that's the end of it." He looked at Myrcella, Tommen and herself individually. "Do any of you have something to say or will you keep your mouths shut and do as you are bid?"

Rohanne agreed fully with her mother and Joffrey, a remarkable event. It was terribly unfair being forced to leave. Yet she had no desire to draw his rage onto her, as a large part of her cowered at the thought of it.

Nearly everyone said that Rohanne resembled him enormously – but apart from her dark hair she could not understand it. She was certain that no one feared and hated her as they did he, especially her family. Rohanne never wanted anyone to fear her rage. It was a hard truth to consider – she was a mediocre Baratheon at best.

She had no fury.

"No, father."

"Good."

And with that Robert stumbled down off the throne and marched through the swathes of people, trailed loyally by his Kingsguard. Rohanne was left staring after him in frustration, wondering what was to come.

That evening, Rohanne was once again sitting in her small solar. The book she was reading was 'A History of Dragons' – a copy of a long lost Valyrian original transcribed by one archmaester or another a century ago. The entire thing was rumoured to be inaccurate, influenced by the archmaester's own bias and missing several key details which conflicted with the faith of the Seven. But it was the best there was, especially now her father was king. Robert had destroyed much of the Targaryen histories and relics as he ascended to the throne, unfortunately forgetting that Targaryen history was also Westerosi history.

There was little to be done now though – she had to make do with the best they had, and the best was a gift from her uncle Tyrion. He had found dragons even more fascinating than she did when he was a child and he had been delighted to loan her some of his books on the matter when she showed an interest.

However, any further reading she might have done that night was interrupted when the door to her chamber flew open, bouncing off the wall and slamming shut again.

"This is ridiculous!" A voice shouted and the sound of her bed creaking followed as her noisy visitor threw himself onto it.

Rohanne sighed quietly and placed a bookmark to keep her place before rising to meet him. She stopped and leaned on the doorway, holding her hands together in front of her.

He lay upside down on the bed, his long blond hair tousled and one arm thrown over his face. His booted feet lay on one of her pillows but she didn't complain.

"I cannot believe that father is making us go north, of all places! The last thing I wish to do is set one foot in that frozen hole." He said with a sneer, his handsome face creasing unattractively.

"I know, Joff. It's nonsense." Rohanne agreed.

She walked towards the bed and lay down on the other side with her back against the headboard. Immediately, Joffrey rearranged himself until his head was resting on her lap. She began to run a hand through his soft hair, untangling it gently.

Joffrey had always been a very tactile boy, ever since they were young. He loved to be touched, as if he could only believe his family's love if they constantly proved it to him – Rohanne didn't mind it too much. The problem was that he loved to touch in return. Often that meant simply holding her hand and throwing an arm around her, which was perfectly fine, but he would sometimes hit and injure as well. The root of it was that she didn't think he was entirely aware of why it was wrong.

His hands jerked in the air, accentuating his words as he spoke.

"I do not see why we must visit these Starks – northern savages, probably used to sleeping on hay and shitting with the dogs. I wouldn't be surprised if Winterfell is nothing more than a collection of caves, it would suit them and their backwards ways well." Joffrey spat, looking up at Rohanne expectantly.

She nodded.

"I know, Joff. I have no desire to go north. There is nothing for either of us there, except perhaps frostbite. I wonder if there are any parts of the Starks left flesh, or if they are all just walking frozen statues." There was a little venom into her voice and it got the desired reaction when Joffrey gave a mirthful snort.

"With any luck at all, the visit will be short and we will be back in King's Landing before the start of the last harvest."

Joffrey sat up, alarmed. "You do not actually think we will be there so long? That's moons away!"

Rohanne nodded once. "I think it's possible. Lord Stark is father's closest friend; it's likely that he will want to stay for at least a moon, perhaps two or three."

Joffrey snorted and hit the bed hard. Rohanne did not flinch, instead putting a calming hand on his shoulder. His face was twisted in his wrath when he turned to look at her.

"However, there's the matter of the Hand to account for."

She coaxed him gradually back down until he was lying next to her on the other pillow. She then took one of his hands and began to rub it soothingly.

"Such a long visit would be acceptable if there were a Hand in the Red Keep ruling the kingdom in father's stead, but there is not. If truth be told, I believe that this visit to the north is actually so that father can choose a new one – you no doubt concluded that yourself, brother." Rohanne spoke slowly.

"Hence, if he is going north to choose a Hand…"

"There is no one left to rule the kingdom, so the visit cannot be longer than a moon." Joffrey finished, a gleam appearing in his eye.

"Indeed. It will take at least a moon to journey to Winterfell and a moon to journey back – that means father will be away from the Red Keep for a minimum of three moons. As a king without a hand, he genuinely cannot be away any longer than that, even if the small council step in and take on some of his duties. In fact…" Rohanne trailed off for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"What?" Joffrey asked impatiently.

"I think, perhaps… father intends to ask Lord Stark to serve as his Hand."

"Surely not. What good would Stark be here? He knows nothing about ruling in the south – his experience ruling over wildings and sheep won't help him." Joffrey scoffed.

"But he is father's friend. He trusts him."

"It is still absurd that we must go too." Joffrey said, a slight pout forming on his face.

Rohanne smiled. "I know that well enough – but father's word is law. We can hunt together on the journey; mother can hardly watch me the whole time."

A bloodthirsty grin appeared on Joffrey's face. "I'll finally get to prove who the better of us is."

"We both know it will be me, Joff." She said teasingly, laughing when he punched her shoulder hard.

"Only in your dreams."

"Oh, that reminds me! I've something to ask you."

Rohanne stood up quickly and moved to the side of the bed. There was a small pile of blankets, upon which her new puppy lay sleeping. This could either go reasonably well or incredibly badly – but Rohanne had some experience in gaining Joffrey's favour, and keeping secrets was the first mistake.

She lifted the puppy into her arms and sat back on the bed again. Joffrey's face was indecipherable, but he watched her closely.

"I got this little thing today from the kennel, I was hoping that you would help me with her."

Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "I'm not helping you with some runt, Ro."

Rohanne laughed lightly and shook her head.

"It's not that kind of help I need at all, brother. I wondered if you could help me name her."

Joffrey looked up from the puppy to her and rolled his eyes.

"Why should I care what the bloody thing is called?" He asked, crossing his arms and looking away.

Rohanne knew that look. He was jealous – a reaction she had expected.

"Well, hopefully she will live a long while – long enough that I will still have her when I am sent away to marry." She said, her voice filled with revulsion at the idea. Rohanne had less than no desire to marry, but that was another matter.

"I will be sent away from all of my family – including you, brother. I would like something to help remind me of you when I am gone."

"A blasted hound is going to remind you of me?" He said disgustedly, his lips pursed.

Rohanne didn't react. "It will if you name her, brother. I will be able to look at her and remember you helping me do so – she will keep me company when I have no family near, and I can remember how it felt to have you all here with me."

Joffrey was silent for a moment before waving his hand dismissively.

"It's simple then. When I am king, I will refuse to allow you to marry."

Rohanne was struck silent, her brother's words entirely unexpected. Her chest clenched in hope, as her mouth opened slightly and her eyes grew wide. Her hold on the pup tightened.

"You… you would do that for me?"

Joffrey looked at her as if she was an idiot.

"You are my sister. Your place is here with me." He finished as if it was simple, as if he hadn't just promised to make Rohanne's biggest wish come true.

The puppy escaped as she let her go, jumping up onto her pillow and chewing on the lace. Rohanne dived across the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around her brother.

"Oh, thank you Joff!"

He tolerated it for a few moments before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her away hard.

"Ugh, get off me!" He said with distaste.

She hissed in pain at her sore head and let him go, but her grin was unmoved. He rolled his eyes again upon seeing it, but he did not seem displeased by her gratitude.

And then realisation hit her.

"But you shan't be king for years, Joff." She said, her grin dropping in dismay.

Joffrey shrugged. "Then you'll marry, and once I am king I'll dissolve it."

He spotted her frown and waved his hand in frustration.

"If that isn't good enough, sister, then go and spread your legs for a stable boy. You sure as the seven hells won't get married then."

She huffed angrily. "Joff!"

"What?" He hissed back.

She grunted again and threw herself back onto the bed, grabbing the puppy and snuggling it into her chest.

They said nothing for a moment.

"You know I can't do that. Father would be furious." She whispered.

"… I know."

Rohanne and Joffrey were two very different people. Rohanne was relatively calm, Joffrey was wild. Rohanne was usually tried to use her head, Joffrey was emotional. They were like their mother and uncle Jaime; a complimenting, not matching pair. They balanced each other out due to, not despite their differences.

Yet one thing they truly had in common was the shared fear of their father.

"So, there's nothing to be done then?" She said desperately.

In an exceptionally rare moment of tenderness, she felt him take her hand.

"I swear to you, sister, I will annul any marriage father forces on you. It doesn't matter what it takes, you will come back to us."

"And if I have children?" She asked.

"Don't."

"It isn't that easy, Joff."

"I don't care."

She sighed and he ignored her.

"Until then…" She felt his hand tighten over hers painfully and she bit her tongue to avoid crying out.

"Call it Flame."

His hand released hers and she made herself laugh.

"Someone has been reading up on his history. I'm not sure this little one is going to be able to stand up to such a name, though – if there is any Dornish blood in her, I'd be surprised."

Joffrey shrugged, uncaring. "Then call it Rain."

Rohanne looked down at her puppy, with her floppy ears and wet nose which pressed into her collarbone.

"Rain… I like it."

"Thank the Seven that's over."

Rohanne rolled her eyes. "My apologies, have I wasted so much of your valuable time?"

Joffrey nipped her inner arm roughly and she shouted in shock.

"Hey!"

She made to hit him when he did it again. He caught her hand and squeezed, his teeth bared when she squeezed back just as hard.

He leaned forward as if to bite her and she kicked out her legs, a foot colliding with his knee and knocking his balance off. He dropped fast to the bed, his head landing on her stomach hard and winding her. She pushed him off while gasping for breath and soon started laughing.

He joined her laughter for a moment before nipping her arm one last time and throwing himself off the bed. She hissed at him before waving him away.

"Go and terrorise someone else, Joff." She said, rubbing her wounds.

He gave her a wicked smirk before casually throwing a discarded book at one of her vases along the wall. It shattered upon impact, fine porcelain flying across the floor.

"By the Seven- Joffrey!"

She got up off the bed with another, larger book in her hand and chased him from the room.

By the time she reached the door, he was halfway down the corridor. She threw the book after him as hard as she could but it only glanced across his heel, causing no damage.

He chuckled and turned around, giving her a rather sinister look.

"That wasn't meant to hit me, was it sister?"

She glared at him.

"You know perfectly well it was – too bad it didn't knock the grin off your ugly face."

He shot towards her. She squealed loudly and rushed back inside her chamber, throwing the door shut and pushing against it with all her weight. She grunted in exertion as he pushed with all his strength on the other side. Her delicate slippers slid against the polished stone floor and she felt the door beginning to give.

Rohanne was of equal height to Joffrey despite the age and gender discrepancy, but he was far more prepared for a physical battle than she was in her thin dress and slippers.

"My prince?" A distant voice said, and Rohanne sighed in relief.

The pressure from the other side of the door vanished but Rohanne didn't abandon her post just yet.

"Yes?" She heard Joffrey spit out, annoyance plain in his voice.

"Your mother the Queen is requesting to see you."

"Fine."

He slammed a hand hard against the door and Rohanne jumped at the bang.

"Saved just in the nick of time, little sister." He said, his voice poisonous.

"As always, a pleasure having your company, brother. Do send mother my love." She said sweetly.

She heard footsteps as he walked away. She waited until he was far down the corridor before sticking her head out again.

"Oh, and brother?"

The large book was flung back towards her and she dodged back inside the doorway just in time as it sailed through the spot where her head had been.

They knew one another far too well.

She looked back out again and was met with him standing right in front of her.

"If you see her, do send Dalla to me."

She presented her cheek to him and he pressed a familial kiss to it through his malicious grin.

"Of course, sweet sister. Goodnight."

He took one last swipe at her hand and his sharp nails tore her skin in three long scratches. She smacked his arm away and covered the painful lines with her other hand.

"By the- goodnight, Joff." She said, frowning as her hand throbbed. His returning smile was saccharine.

Rohanne shut the door in his face and rolled her eyes as she heard him walk away. She held up the injured arm to inspect it, turning it this way and that to get the best view. They weren't at all deep, only one was enough to allow some blood to escape.

She hummed thoughtfully and looked back over to the bed where Rain was curled up on one of her pillows, thoroughly undisturbed by events. Perhaps the pup would fit in well with them after all.

As she reached up to scratch an itch behind her ear, a thin stream of blood trickled down her wrist and stained the cuff of her dress. She wiped it away absentmindedly.

There was a soft knock at the door and Dalla slipped inside.

"What can I do for you, princess?" She spoke quietly, her hands held politely in front of her.

"I think I will retire to bed early tonight. Help me into my nightclothes?"

"Of course, princess."

Dalla retrieved a long nightgown from the wardrobe and Rohanne walked behind her dressing screen. She undid as much of her laces as she could, and allowed Dalla to do the rest. The dress dropped to the floor and the red mark on the sleeve reminded her.

"Oh. Also, find me a bandage to cover this."

Rohanne held up her arm to show it and Dalla frowned. The maid took the arm gently and inspected the marks.

"You are injured, princess? Would you like me to fetch the maester?" She said, concern evident in her voice.

"No, no." Rohanne waved away the suggestion nonchalantly. "A piece of cloth will do. Perhaps the ones I use for my courses."

Dalla hesitated for a moment.

"Are you certain, princess? It looks rather painful."

"Don't concern yourself; I'm fine."

A.N. Early update! I'm changing my update day from Friday to Wednesday, since I now have work on Fridays. Why Wednesday? It's a good day.

You guys have NO IDEA how many times I edited this chapter. More than ten times, at least. Joffrey is such a tough character to write and I really wanted to do the relationship between him and Rohanne justice while keeping most of his personality. Speaking of Rohanne, what are your first impressions? Also, I'm aiming to have all the main chapters around this length - thoughts?

One last thing. Would anyone be interested in extras like pictures of my casting for OCs, of places, etc.? I'd be willing to post that over on AO3, since this story is also over there. My username is the same, sunflowersinmoscow.

Thanks again for all the support, and I would love it if you could give me some feedback on my first proper chapter - I'm hoping it turned out okay! I'll be back with an update next Wednesday :)

Next week: Preparations and Departure.