Viola's knees tremble as she is lead from the small cell-like room she had been kept in since her arrival at King's Landing, and paraded through the castle as though she were a prisoner, an armored guard on either side of her. Two large, oaken doors are opened, and the voices from inside stop abruptly as she is marched down the center of the room and towards the Iron Throne. She had always heard stories of the chair made of a hundred swords, but seeing it in person made her feel uneasy. She had also hear that King Robert was a handsome, muscular man that could take on any knight in combat and make him look a child. Instead, she is met with a fat, hairy man with a golden crown upon his head and a deep scowl.

Her eyes scan the room as she slowly reaches the foot of the throne before being forced down upon her knees by the two guards. Next to King Robert sits who she assumes is Queen Cersei, her yellow hair gleaming in the candle light. Next to her is Prince Joffrey, his pinched face smug and smirking as he watches Viola fall to her knees before them. There are other men present and seated around the room, none of which she knows. Standing guard next to Prince Joffrey is The Hound, followed by Ser Payne. The Hound has his helm upon his head once more, the visor down, looking every bit the fearsome, protective dog that he truly was known to be.

"Don't be a stupid cunt!" Viola recalls The Hound shouting at her the day before as he told her to play along with the story the prince had orchestrated.

"I will not lie to the king." Viola had replied as she crossed her arms against her chest.

"The king! Ha!" The Hound barked with laughter as he squinted down at her still sitting on the bed. "The king will forget all about this the moment you leave The Throne Room. The queen, the prince, Ser Payne, they won't be likely to forget this any time soon. Tell King Robert that we found you in this state, and they may allow you to leave this place with your head still attached to your body."

"Am I saving my own neck, or yours?"

"If it were my neck at stake, I would have lost it already, you dumb bitch."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"What the hell are you talking about, girl?"

"Why did you come to my home? Why did you let him do this to me?" Viola gestures to her face and watches as The Hound grimaces as he takes in the damage for the first time. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"I stopped him, didn't I?"

"Did you?" Viola counters, her eyes narrowed at the huge man before her. The man who could throw her across the room with a single hand without so much as breaking a sweat. "You stood there and watched him burn me and didn't say a word. You watched Ser Payne cut Alna's head off and you didn't lift a finger to stop either of them. Aren't you a knight?"

"I am no knight."

"So you just enjoy watching them torture and murder people?"

The Hound had become furious at this, he stoops down to Viola's side and takes her chin roughly in his large, calloused hands, snarling at her all the while. She lets out a hiss through her teeth as his calloused fingers clutch her gnarled flesh. He releases her face just as quickly as he had taken it and steps back to glare at her once more.

"Just keep your fucking mouth shut. Tell them you remember nothing, if you must, tell them Grand Maester Pycelle gave you too much milk of the poppy. But remember this, and remember it well, girl. It is not King Robert that you must convince of this, there are eyes and ears everywhere, and Queen Cersei is far more powerful than King Robert has ever been. She will not let you out of those lions claws without a fight."

"What is your name, girl?" King Robert's voice booms and causes her to flinch as it echoes throughout the room.

"Viola, Your Grace."

"Viola, what?"

"Rivers, Your Grace. My name is Viola Rivers."

"A bastard." Queen Cersei scoffs as she rolls her eyes. "I told you, this is not worth our time."

"I am no bastard, Your Grace." Viola answers truthfully.

"Rivers is a bastard name, is it not?" A man with long brown hair and a grey beard asks. Viola's eyes scan his body for a sigil to indicate who the man may be, but finds nothing but a golden pin of a hand attached to his furs. He is a Northsman, it is plain to see based upon his attire, but she knew not which Northsman he may be.

"My parents were bastards. I am not."

"Bastard parents." The queen smirks at King Robert and begins to rise from her seat. "This is surely-"

"Enough!" King robert booms at his wife and puts a hand out towards her, directing her to sit back down. "What has happened to you, girl. I will hear it true!"

"I…I do not know, Your Grace."

"You don't know?" King Robert sits forward on his throne as he steeples his hands beneath his fat, bearded chin and raises a single eyebrow at her. "What do you mean, you do not know?"

"Your Grace, if I may." Objects Grand Maester Pycelle. "We have been giving the girl milk of the poppy, as I've said. It has been known to cause loss of memory. Combined with tragedy this girl experienced, it is not beyond reason that she does not recall the events in the forrest that day."

"Are you telling it true, girl?" King Roberts commands, causing her to jump. He was the loud man she remembered hearing next to her bed the day she thought she had lost her eyes.

"Yes—yes, Your Grace. I am telling it true." Viola cradles her damaged hand against her chest and prays to the old God's and the new that her eyes do not betray her as she stares the king directly in the face and lies through her teeth.

"Very well, then." He sighs and leans back against the throne. "There was a body found near where you were. A girl many of our knights recall working as a barkeep at the Inn. Yellow hair, green eyes, fair of skin. Do you know this girl?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Viola stutters as she recalls the look in Alna's eyes as her head toppled to the ground, the sound of her body as it thumped forward in the dirt and her own blood. "Her name is Alna. She is my friend."

"My Kingsguard recalls seeing you and this…Alna, attempting to cross The Trident on horseback to enter the Inn that morning. Why were you there?"

"Alna…Alna told me she had seen Prince Joffrey the day before. She came to get me, she was excited about your being there, Your Grace. It was all she had talked about for months. She…she told me that Ser Jamie Lannister would be there, and I had never seen a knight before. She just wanted me to see. That's all. But I was turned away, and I returned home. I don't remember anything after that."

"What was your business with my brother?" The queen snaps as she narrows her eyes at Viola.

"Noth—nothing, Your Grace. I didn't have any business with him, I swear it. Alna only wanted me to see a knight in person, I wouldn't have even gone if she hadn't come to get me. My father forbade me to go near the Inn while he was away."

"Where is your father, girl?" King Robert asks, holding a hand out once more to silence the queen.

"He is—was at Riverrun."

"Well, which is it? Is he there, or isn't he?"

"I—I'm not sure. He was there the day this happened, Your Grace. I am unsure if he's returned. I'm unsure how much time has passed since then. He should have only been gone a fortnight, and it had been five days since he had departed on the day that…this happened."

"It has been nearly a moon since then, girl." The brown haired man informs her with a gentle voice.

"Then…my father, Your Grace, may a raven been sent to him? Only to tell him that I'm alive? It need not say anything else, only that I live. Please, Your Grace, I beg you, I'm all he's got."

"Why then, did he leave you alone? What was his business in Riverrun that took a fortnight?" The queen demands.

"He's a stonesmason, Your Grace. He's well respected, he was called upon to craft a likeness of Lord Tully. His name is Leonart Rivers. He's been called upon, by you, Your Grace, to do stone's work here as well. Though, it has been many years. He—he doesn't believe it safe for me to travel the roads with him, he prefers it if I stay at home."

"Lord Tully is my wife's father." The kind man with brown hair states with a smile. "I have heard tell of your father's work, and agree that he is well respected, though I have not the pleasure of making his acquaintance. I will ensure a raven is sent to inform your father that you live. You have my word."

"Thank you, My Lord. You have been very kind."

"That is all, then." King Robert's voice booms, echoing throughout the large, cavernous room. "You shall remain here, under The King's protection until such time that a party leaves King's Landing to pass over The Trident, and you will be escorted home to your father. During said time, should you recall any events from that day, I expect to be made aware of it immediately. You are dismissed. Dog, return her to her rooms."

The Hound reaches her in two large strides and jerks her roughly from the ground by the elbow before dragging her along behind him. Once outside of the doors, he lifts the visor of his helm and glares down at her before dragging her through the halls, it takes everything in her to keep up with his long, determined stride.

Once they reach the rooms she had been kept in throughout her stay, he tosses her roughly down upon the bed, as though he couldn't stand to touch her another moment. The Hound removed his helm, shakes out his long, black hair, and smirks down at her, the scarred side of his face stretching painfully, causing her to flinch and reach a hand up to her own matching face.

"You may be smarter than you look, little fox."

"May I ask you something?" Viola counters, ignoring his jest.

"What?" He snarls down at her before a pacing away and leaning against the wall opposite her bed.

"How bad is it?" Viola brushes her fingertips gently down the length of her face, feeling the scabbed flesh and deep valleys that still ached and throbbed desperately. "I haven't been allowed a looking glass. No one will tell me, they only whisper about me as though I lost my vision as well."

"I wouldn't expect to be known as any great beauty henceforth."

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"No, little fox. It does not." His grey eyes look at her with pity and sadness for a moment before he averts them towards the candle flickering on the bedside table.

"You never answered me. Did he do this to you, too?"

"Listen to me, and listen to me good. You do not speak of this within these walls. There are spiders, and those spiders report directly to the queen. If you wish to be returned home, you shut your mouth if you know what's good for you." The Hound flings the door open and makes to depart, but stops suddenly in the doorway and looks down at her pitifully. "No, mine did not come from him."