Desire

In only a few weeks, Lyarra and Margaery had become fast friends. Their friendship baffled Lyarra. Margaery Tyrell's every action seemed to somehow benefit herself or her family, yet Lyarra didn't understand how befriending a married woman of a disgraced house could possibly benefit the Tyrells.

"He is precious," Margaery cooed, pinching Jon's cheek as they broke their fast together. Jon giggled, smiling up at the queen-to-be. Lyarra found herself smiling too. "He was blessed with your good looks. He looks more like you, I think." Margaery glanced up at Lyarra, a cheeky grin on her lips.

Lyarra smiled back at her. "Have you seen the Lannisters? My husband is far prettier than I."

"The Lannisters are beautiful, yes. Annoyingly so," Margaery stated, "but there is softness to your beauty that all the Lannisters lack. I would prefer you to Cersei Lannister any day." Margaery whispered the last part, knowing well that speaking ill of the Lannisters at all was cause for punishment in King's Landing.

"You flatter me," Lyarra replied, looking down at her feet.

"Do I?" Margaery smirked. "I'm glad to hear it."

Not for the first time, Lyarra wondered what Margaery was playing at. Lyarra had nothing to give to her. No titles, no influence, no advantage whatsoever. Those who played the game like Margaery did were never kind for the sake of being kind. Margaery wanted something from her.

"I've been speaking with your sister," Margaery stated after a few moments of silence. Lyarra perked up at the mention of Sansa. "She is miserable here."

It broke her heart to think of Sansa. Her sister had no one. At least Lyarra had Jon, who was both her reason to live and the reason the Lannisters needed her. Sansa had no one but a sister she wasn't allowed to see. The very thought of her little sister made tears form in Lyarra's eyes and stroll down her cheek.

"Oh, Lyarra," Margaery said soothingly, coming over to sit beside Lyarra. She gathered Lyarra in her arms and embraced her, whispering kind words into her ear and rubbing circles into her back. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you."

"It's not your fault. It's the... the whole situation," she sobbed into Margaery's shoulder, wetting the thin fabric of her dress. "Is Joffrey still treating her badly?"

Margaery shook her head. "No. No, not since I took Sansa's place as his bride-to-be." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think he is trying to act civil for me and my family. He won't hurt her."

"How can you know that?" Lyarra asked. Even though she was distraught, she still had the sense to keep her voice low. "He is mad!"

She gave Lyarra a small smile. "My grandmother taught me how to read people. Joffrey is egotistical and selfish. He thinks that the world revolves around him. His madness makes him difficult to control, but his ego makes him easy to mould into shape. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I think so," Lyarra replied, still slightly confused.

"A mad man is difficult to control, but an egotistical little boy is much easier. I will make sure he does not hurt your sister. You have my word," Margaery promised.

Though she nodded, Lyarra still wasn't sure. She knew better than to trust people like Margaery. The moment it suited her, Margaery would drop Sansa like she meant nothing to her. Only family could be trusted.

"I don't expect you to trust me, Lyarra. You hardly know me!" Margaery let out a little laugh. "I am ambitious. I will admit to that. But I also hate seeing people hurt unnecessarily and if I can do something to prevent Joffrey from hurting your sister, I will do just that." She chewed on her lower lip. Lyarra watched her closely. It seemed as though Margaery was wondering whether to say something or not. "And I have an idea to ensure that Joffrey can never hurt her again."

"What is it?" Lyarra asked immediately.

"Joffrey is... volatile. He is unpredictable. I can do my best to make sure he behaves, but he is, after all, his own person. And a king at that. Kings have different minds to the rest of us." She paused, gauging Lyarra's reaction which displayed complete and utter confusion. Margaery lowered his voice again and leaned closer to Lyarra. "Sansa needs to get out of King's Landing."

Shocked, Lyarra's eyebrows furrowed. "And where would she go?"

"To the Reach," Margaery replied. "My brother Loras is the heir to Highgarden and he is unmarried. Sansa is a beautiful young woman who would make any man happy. Loras would be married to a most suitable woman and Sansa would get out of King's Landing in one simple move. Sansa would like it at Highgarden. I know she would."

"The Lannisters would never allow it," Lyarra argued, shaking her head. The thought of Sansa being safe and away from Joffrey was too good to be true.

"How could they possibly say no?" Margaery responded, a smug smile on her lips. "We feed the Seven Kingdoms with our grain. We provided them with the army they needed to defeat Stannis. Tywin Lannister is not foolish enough to bite the hand that feeds him."

Lyarra sat back in her seat. Her head was beginning to hurt. Something would go wrong. She just knew it. Nothing ever worked out well for them anymore. Nevertheless, this was Sansa's best chance of getting out of King's Landing. Isn't it worth the risk?

"I know you're doubtful. You don't trust us yet. I have talked to Sansa about this. She wants to marry Loras," Margaery explained. "Perhaps you need to hear it from her yourself."

Again, Margaery had confused her. Why did Lyarra's opinion matter if Sansa already wanted to marry Loras?

"I cannot speak with her. The Lannisters won't let us be in the room together!"

"I will arrange everything," Margaery said. "The Lannisters trust me. They have to. I am to be the queen. Do you know how to get to the dungeons?"

"I think so," Lyarra responded.

Margaery grinned. "You'll meet Sansa there tonight, near the skull of Balerion the Black Dread. Have no worry. I will arrange everything."

Without saying anything else, nor giving Lyarra a chance to say anything, Margaery stood up abruptly and pressed a kiss to Lyarra's cheek.

Despite Margaery's assurance, Lyarra did worry.

She paced up and down the dark area of the dungeons where Margaery had told her to wait for Sansa. The only company she had was the skull of the dead dragon Balerion. Had she not been so nervous, Lyarra would have admired how massive and exquisite his skull was instead of fretting over Sansa. As well as that, she kept hearing noises.

Lyarra was on the second floor below the Red Keep. On the third floor, there were the black cells, where the most dangerous of criminals were kept. Her father had been imprisoned there, even though her father had never done anything dishonourable in his life. He would want Sansa away from King's Landing, Lyarra mused. Even though she didn't trust the Tyrells just yet, she saw the sense behind their proposal. King's Landing was the worst place for Sansa to be. Anywhere else was safer than here.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Lyarra reached up her sleeve and took out the small dagger she'd brought with her. She hid behind the skull of Balerion and closed her eyes, breathing deeply to calm herself. She tried to reason with herself, it was probably Sansa after all, but her mind was telling her to panic, so her heart beat raced and her breathing became rapid.

"Lya?"

She jumped. Recognising the voice, Lyarra stepped out of the shadow Balerion's skull had formed and found her little sister standing in front of her. Lyarra's face was split by a large smile as she cupped her sister's face. In the last two years, Sansa had grown into a great beauty, surpassing that of their mother's. Her hair was a lighter shade of copper, her eyes a more startling blue. Yet when Lyarra looked at Sansa, she still saw the comforting sight of her mother.

Her grin only became wider as she wrapped Sansa in her arms, breathing in her sister's scent. When she pulled away, she started to check for bruises. "He has not hurt you lately, has he?"

"No," Sansa replied. "Since Margaery became his betrothed, he has not touched me. I am allowed more freedoms as well." She allowed a smile to come upon her lips. "I saw Jon yesterday with his nurse. I couldn't say hello because the nurse was watching me."

"She's infallibly loyal to the Lannisters," Lyarra said bitterly. She had been short with Jon's nurse on more than one occasion. Sometimes the old woman would eavesdrop on her conversations with Jon so she could have something to report back to Tywin.

"Jon looks so much like Father," Sansa went on, wearing a wistful smile. "When he looked at me, I saw Father's eyes. A lot more youthful than his had been, of course." Lyarra bowed her head and chuckled at that, trying to hide her teary eyes. "He reminds me of Jon and Arya too. He's yours. All yours. The Lannisters didn't get a look in."

She laughed again. "It delights me as well. They have taken so much from us, yet the future Lord of Casterly Rock will have brown hair, grey eyes and the Stark look. He will have the northern sense of honour as well. I will make sure of it."

Sansa beamed at that. "Let the heir of Casterly Rock be Ned Stark reborn."

"It serves them right, after all they've done," she replied, anger and bitterness laced in her tone. Noticing how Sansa's eyes widened, Lyarra pushed back her anger and forced herself to calm down. "I'm sorry. It's just that seeing you now reminds me of how long we've be separated. It would have been different if we were both happily married. But no, we are both prisoners by the same people. Just in different ways."

"I haven't seen you since the birth," Sansa stated. "They wouldn't let me see you and Jon. Joffrey said he didn't want Jon having two Starks whispering treason into his ear." She shook her head and scoffed. "He is truly mad. I can't believe I didn't see it before. I was such a stupid, stupid little girl."

"You were young and foolish and thrust into an environment you weren't ready for," Lyarra reassured her sister with a calm smile. "You've grown up now. I'm proud of you. If it wasn't for you, I don't think I would have survived the birth."

"Don't say that," Sansa chided, horrified.

"No, it's true. You comforted me. I was so confused. I wanted to give up, but you wouldn't let me. A stupid little girl would have ran away in fear. You stayed by my side." Lyarra squeezed Sansa's hand and gave her a smile.

"I was so scared," Sansa replied, her voice shaking as tears gathered in her eyes. "You kept saying things that didn't make sense. I think... at one point, you were calling for Mother and Robb. Bran, too. You said it wasn't your fault."

Lyarra knitted her brows together in confusion. "I don't remember that."

"I don't know what you were saying, but you were really distressed." Sansa wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. "I was so afraid, Lya. I thought I... that I..." She sobbed. "I thought I was going to lose you too!"

Sansa was overcome by sobs again. Lyarra wrapped her arms around her sister and rubbed her back. "Oh, Sansa. It's alright. I'm here now. Look at me." She cupped Sansa's face in her hands and looked her sister dead in the eye. "You are not going to lose me. You and I are going to go back to Winterfell someday together. Maybe not for very long time, but I swear to you, someday we will go home."

It was only after she made the promise that Lyarra realised the gravity of what she had said. How on earth were they supposed to go back to Winterfell when they were surrounded by Lannisters? When Sansa was soon going to be wed to a Tyrell and Lyarra was already wed to a Lannister?

Nonetheless, Lyarra had made a promise. And like a true Stark, Lyarra was going to keep her word.

"Do you mean that?" Sansa asked.

Lyarra nodded and affirmed her promise with certainty in her voice. "Yes. I mean it. Even if you wed Loras Tyrell, we'll find a way."

"Margaery told you," Sansa realised.

"Yes," she replied, nodding. "And I think it's a good idea, but only if you want to."

"I think I would like Highgarden," Sansa said. Lyarra wondered if they were her words or Margaery's. "And Loras Tyrell is kind. Kinder than Joffrey, that's for sure."

"You've spoken with him?"

"Yes. A few times now. I like him. He is very handsome," Sansa stated, reminding Lyarra of the girl Sansa used to be before they left Winterfell, before she went with Father to King's Landing. Seeing Lyarra's expression, Sansa continued speaking, "I know what you're thinking, but I'm smarter now, Lya. Loras is nothing like Joffrey and his family are nothing like the Lannisters, even if they are just as ambitious."

"If you're certain..."

"I am," she replied. "I need to get out of King's Landing. I don't know when Joffrey will stop behaving himself for Lady Margaery and start hurting me again. Do I have your blessing on this?"

Lyarra smiled. "Of course you do," she told her sister. She embraced Sansa again and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm happy if you're happy."

Lyarra had spent the rest of that night wondering why the Tyrells wanted Loras to marry Sansa. She realised why Margaery had been so friendly towards her, because Margaery knew that if Lyarra did not want Sansa to marry Loras, Sansa would not marry him. But what confused Lyarra was why would they go to such lengths to make sure that Sansa married Loras? Why did it matter so much?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a soft knock on her door. She glanced to Jon, checking that the knocking had not waked him. When she saw that he was still sound asleep, Lyarra opened the door to find a man dressed in green and gold waiting on the other side. Without saying anything, he handed her a note and pressed a finger to his lips. Lyarra took the note and said nothing as the man walked away. Speechless, she watched him walk down the hall without making so much as a slight sound.

She shook her head and closed the door. Bewildered, she opened the note and immediately recognised Margaery's handwriting. Come to my room. We need to talk. Burn this.

Of all the notes Margaery had sent her, inviting her to her rooms, why was this invitation so secretive? Why did this note have to be burned? Despite her confusion, Lyarra followed Margaery's orders and threw the note into the fire. She checked on Jon one last time before she threw her shawl over her shoulders and went to Margaery's room. She couldn't refuse Margaery anything after all the queen-to-be had done for her, even if that meant leaving her son on his own.

She promised herself that it would be only be a quick visit, but she knew better. Lyarra would stay in Margaery's bedroom as long as Margaery wanted her there. She had Lyarra wrapped around her finger and the future queen knew it well.

Afraid of waking anyone up, Lyarra knocked on Margaery's door quietly. She wrung her hands, anxiously waiting for Margaery to open the door before someone saw her. When Margaery opened the door, she revealed herself wearing a large smile and a very thin nightgown that did little to hide what was underneath.

"Lyarra, come in," she said, stepping aside so Lyarra could enter. "I'm delighted you came. Would you have some wine?"

She was about to say no, but then she realised that she probably needed some wine to get through whatever it was Margaery had to tell her. "Yes, please."

Margaery poured Lyarra a glass of dark red wine and handed it to her, wearing a coy smirk on her lips. Lyarra watched Margaery carefully, curious as to what she was playing at. "You spoke with Sansa," Margaery said, sitting at the end of her bed.

She crossed her legs and sat back, doing nothing to hide her curves or her pink nipples that were poking through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Lyarra had to admire Margaery's shapely body, unmarred by childbirth. Lyarra's body had undergone many changes because of pregnancy, some good, some bad.

Lyarra pushed those thoughts to the back of her head. She shook her head and tried to compose herself. Remembering that Margaery had asked her a question, she tried to answer it. "Yes, I did. She seems happy to marry Loras."

"And you? Are you happy about it?" Margaery asked.

She took a few moments to answer before deciding on telling Margaery the same thing she had told Sansa. "I'm happy if Sansa is happy. So long as Loras treats her well..."

"And he will," Margaery assured her.

"Then I have no reason to oppose," Lyarra said. Her words received a large, satisfied smile from Margaery. "I should thank you for helping me see Sansa again. It meant a lot. You put yourself in danger so that I could speak with her. Not many people would do that."

Margaery responded first with a slight smile. "We've become fast friends, Lyarra. And it delights me to say that I consider you one of my closest friends," Margaery's smile became coy again. "And friends must sometimes... perform favours for each other. Don't you think?"

"Yes," Lyarra replied uncertainly. "And I am most grateful for your help in allowing Sansa and I to meet. It is a kindness I should never forget."

"I am glad to hear that," Margaery said. She patted the area beside her on the bed. "Sit with me," she told Lyarra, who sat next to her like an obedient dog. "You know, from the very moment I first saw you on top of your horse, I knew... I just had to have you. I wanted to be your friend, but now, I see that's just not enough. You understand, don't you?"

Lyarra looked at her in confusion and shook her head. "No, I can't say that I do."

"I like you, Lyarra," Margaery told her, resting her hand on Lyarra's knee and drawing circles with the tip of her finger. "In ways that a woman should not like another woman, but yet I find myself thinking of you in the most ungodly of ways. It is like how you desperately needed to see your sister and I helped you. Now, I am the one who must ask for a favour. Will you help me, as I helped you? As I hope to continue to help you, if we are to remain friends?"

She could feel her heart beat rapidly and her mouth become dry. Suddenly, she felt rather afraid. "I don't understand..."

"You don't have to," Margaery whispered. She leaned towards Lyarra and brushed her thumb against Lyarra's lips. Lyarra felt Margaery's hot breath against her mouth. She smelt of sweet wine and rose petals. "You just have to say yes."

Just like that, Lyarra understood fully. Margaery was willing to help her. The future queen was going to keep Lyarra, Sansa and Jon safe... for a price. She was asking for Lyarra's body and her pride. In that moment, she realised how vulnerable she was, how helpless and weak. Jaime wasn't here to protect her and when he came home, he would no doubt choose Cersei over her. Her brother was leagues away, fighting a war against her husband's family. Lyarra had no one to protect her. And here Margaery was, offering her protection in return for something that was tiny to Lyarra in comparison to all that Margaery offered.

If she had to sacrifice her pride and chastity, her honour, for her family then so be it.

Lyarra leaned closer to Margaery and whispered against the future queen's lips. "Yes."

She had been passed to Jaime Lannister like a broodmare because King Robert wanted to show Tywin Lannister who was in charge.

Her worthiness as a woman, as a person, was only asserted when she had her son.

Her own brother wasn't even trying to get her back because she was now someone else's property, tainted and spoiled by marriage.

And yet, despite all that, Lyarra Stark had never felt so used.

It was necessary, she knew that, and if she had to make the same choice again, she would lie with Margaery Tyrell to ensure her son's safety. All of that didn't make her feel any better. It made her feel vulnerable and used.

She lay beside Margaery, panting and trying to control her breathing. Margaery had touched her in places only Jaime ever had, and Lyarra had touched Margaery in places, done things with her, that she had never even thought of doing with a woman. Some of the things Margaery did to her felt amazing, like when Margaery kissed the area between her legs and made her reach her peak, but it all felt so wrong. Not because Margaery was a woman, but because Lyarra knew that she didn't have a choice.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she sat up and threw her legs over Margaery's bed, as naked as her name day. She wiped her tear-stained cheeks and pushed back her tears. She was sick of crying. Crying didn't solve anything.

As Lyarra dressed herself, she was well aware of Margaery watching her. Lyarra wasn't sure what to say. She was relieved of that worry when Margaery spoke again. "When I am queen, I will make sure that Joffrey will not touch or harm you or your sister. I swear it," Margaery told her, sitting up in bed and placing a hand on Lyarra's bare back.

"Do you mean that?" Lyarra asked, turning around to face the future queen.

Margaery smiled, a far more genuine smile than any other Lyarra had ever seen her wear. "More than I have meant anything since I came to this treacherous place. I will protect you. I promise you that. Do you trust me?"

"I can try to," Lyarra replied. She was sick of all the lies, so she spoke truthfully.

"That's all I can ask," Margaery answered with a smile. "Turn around. I'll lace up your dress." Lyarra did as she was bid and let Margaery lace up her dress. "Goodnight, Lyarra," she said when she was finished tying the laces.

"Goodnight, Margaery," Lyarra said as she stood up and left Margaery's room.

She tried to be quiet as she went back to her bedroom. Afraid of waking up Jon, she closed the door behind her softly and undressed for bed. She saw that he was still asleep and climbed into bed beside him.

"Mama, where-" she heard him ask. Her heart sunk.

"Hush, my love. Go back to sleep. Mama's not going anywhere again."

Until Margaery calls for me again.

She struggled to keep her voice steady as she sung Jon back to sleep, singing the same songs her own mother used to sing for her. Once Jon was fast asleep, she allowed herself to think about what had just happened. Tears crept down her cheeks before she could stop then and, soon enough, she was bawling her eyes out again. What have I become? She asked herself, wondering how the same woman who had brought Lord Lefford to heel was now being manipulated and used like a bedslave.

Author's Note: Plot twist! In Westeros, it's not uncommon for ladies to have bed fellows, but it's looked down on for them to have sex with other women. It's not illegal though, just something that would ruin their reputation. Some of you might like this storyline, some of you might not... To be honest, I only ever introduce storylines if they help the developments of a character. Sleeping with Margaery will seriously affect Lyarra because she understands fully now how little control she has and how vulnerable she is. Lyarra's biggest flaw is her pride, which will only get worse as the story continues. This storyline, however, should only last two or three chapters because guess whose coming home in Chapter Twenty? Wink, wink.

Just a little warning for what is to come... this a story set in the world of Game of Thrones. It's not going to be happy all the time. It's a going to be a good bit happier than Game of Thrones itself because I couldn't handle writing something that depressing, but this fic will get a great deal darker near the end. Before a controversial chapter, I will have a warning at the start of the chapter stating what's going to happen. I don't write things for shock value. I write plot lines because they're important to the overarching plot.

So, now that little rant is over, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Tell me what you think... any criticisms or comments?