SANSA

He wouldn't send Ser Loras," Sansa told Jeyne Poole and Princes Joanna that night as they shared a cold supper by lamplight. "I think it was because of his leg."

Lord Eddard had taken his supper in his bedchamber with Alyn, Harwin, and Vayon Poole, the better to rest his broken leg, and Septa Mordane had complained of sore feet after standing in the gallery all day. Arya was supposed to join them, but she was late coming back from her dancing lesson. The King had suggested that Joanna dine with them so that the princess and Sansa would become closer if they would one day become good-sisters.

"His leg?" Jeyne said uncertainly. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl of Sansa's own age. "Did Ser Loras hurt his leg?"

"Not his leg," Sansa said, nibbling delicately at a chicken leg. "Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras."

"Well the only person to blame for the pain is himself. He should not have provoked Jaime unnecessarily." Joanna smugly stated, picking delicately at her food.

Sansa was unsure whether to defend her father and risk upsetting the princess so she just meekly nodded.

Her father's decision still bewildered her. When the Knight of Flowers had spoken up, she'd been sure she was about to see one of Old Nan's stories come to life. Ser Gregor was the monster and Ser Loras the true hero who would slay him. He even looked a true hero, so slim and beautiful, with golden roses around his slender waist and his rich brown hair tumbling down into his eyes. And then Father had refused him! It had upset her more than she could tell. She had said as much to Septa Mordane as they descended the stairs from the gallery, but the septa had only told her it was not her place to question her lord father's decisions.

That was when Lord Baelish had said, "Oh, I don't know, Septa. Some of her lord father's decisions could do with a bit of questioning. The young lady is as wise as she is lovely." He made a sweeping bow to Sansa, so deep she was not quite sure if she was being complimented or mocked.

Septa Mordane had been very upset to realize that Lord Baelish had overheard them. "The girl was just talking, my lord," she'd said. "Foolishchatter. She meant nothing by the comment."

Lord Baelish stroked his little pointed beard and said, "Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?"

Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled. "Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but . . . " He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow."

Sansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne and Joanna, who she barely knew, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it.

"Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jeyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him."

Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. He made her feel as though something dead were slithering over her naked skin. "Ser Ilyn's almost like a second monster. I'm glad Father didn't pick him."

Joanna smirked and stared Sansa right in the face, "the beast attacked Joffrey unprovoked, it was only fair that one of the monsters should be killed. It isn't as if they have emotions."

Sansa was unsure whether she liked the princess or not. She seemed very protective of Joffrey, almost unnaturally so.

"Ser Loras certainly took a liking to you, your highness, at the tourney. You are very lucky. Ser Loras is a very handsome man." Jeyne commented, smiling at the blonde girl politely."Lord Beric is as much a hero as Ser Loras. He's ever so brave and gallant."

"I suppose," Sansa said doubtfully. Beric Dondarrion was handsome enough, but he was awfully old, almost twenty-two; the Knight of Flowers would have been much better. Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject. "I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart," she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. White harts were supposed to be very rare and magical, and in her heart she knew her gallant prince was worthier than his drunken father.

"A dream? Truly? Did Prince Joffrey just go up to it and touch it with his bare hand and do it no harm?"

"No," Sansa said. "He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me." In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She knew her father was still angry about that, but it wasn't fair to blame Joff. That would be like blaming her for something that Arya had done.

Sansa noted that the princess hadn't spoken at all whilst they were discussing her twin. Instead Joanna had been glaring at her food, stabbing it brutally with her fork whilst muttering.

Jeyne smiled at the princess, "wouldn't it be wonderful when Sansa married the prince. You two will be sisters."

"How lovely." Joanna mumbled, smiling half-heartedly as she avoided looking at both girls.

"Joffrey is very handsome, I can't imagine anything better than marrying him. I hope that any daughters we will have will be as beautiful as you, Princess Joanna."

Joanna looked physically sick as Sansa discussed her future marriage. As Sansa and Jeyne laughed and joked with each other the concept that the boy she loved was going to marry this dim-witted little girl was becoming all too real. She had told herself many times before that her and Joffrey would never had a proper future as long as the King was alive and they had to marry other people. But Joanna couldn't help but hate Sansa intensly as the silly Northerner had no idea of the pain she was causing her and that she was quite literally destroying any chance of happiness she had.

"Are you alright, your highness?" Sansa asked her, placing a hand on Joanna's lap before immediately removing it following a cold glance.

The princess composed herself before standing up. "I must excuse myself, ladies."

Quickly she stormed out of room and immediately met a large force. Looking up she saw the face of her uncle Jaime. Before she could stop herself she burst into tears, the composed façade disintegrating within seconds.

Without Joanna having to explain herself Jaime drew her into a hug, whispering that there was nothing to cry about.

She buried her head of golden curls into her uncles chest, allowing the tears to stream uncontrolled. Jaime started stroking her back, holding her.

"Tell me who made you cry and I will bring you their head, little lion." Jaime reassured her, being completely truthful. Joanna was the only one of his children who truly felt like his and he would do anything to make her happy.

"Can I ask you something?" Joanna sniffed, mumbling into his chest.

"Anything, little lion."

"Have you ever loved anyone? Someone that you know you can't be with but the thought of someone else spending the rest of their life with them makes you heart break into a million pieces." Her heart poured out to the man she didn't realise was her father.

Jaime looked at his daughter and for once didn't see a girl who was free but saw a caged lioness, who was chained to a life that she didn't want. He wasn't certain about who she was talking about but he had a strong suspicion and it made his heart break knowing that Joanna and her love were even more doomed than he and Cersei were.

He didn't answer the question and silently led Joanna back to her chambers where he sat in her room, stroking her mane of gold until she fell asleep.