stone by stone

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/23105554.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-
Con, Underage
Category: F/M
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A
Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Main Pairings to be Determined, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister,
Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Catelyn Tully,
Baelor Hightower/Elia Martell, Ned Stark/Lysa Tully, Cassana
Baratheon/Steffon Baratheon, Sansa Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Character: Sansa Stark, Tywin Lannister, Joanna Lannister, Jaime Lannister,
Cersei Lannister, Rickard Stark, Brandon "The Wild Wolf" Stark, Ned
Stark, Lyanna Stark, Benjen Stark, Hoster Tully, Brynden "Blackfish"
Tully, Catelyn Tully Stark, Lysa Tully Arryn, Petyr Baelish, Aerys II
Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen, Elia Martell, Oberyn Martell, Robert
Baratheon, Genna Lannister, Kevan Lannister, Gerion Lannister, Tygett
Lannister, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy, Gerold Hightower, Oswell
Whent, Rhaella Targaryen, Maege Mormont, Jeor Mormont, Wyman
Manderly, Barbrey Dustin, Rodrik Ryswell, Tyrion Lannister, Jon
Connington, Jon Arryn, Olenna Tyrell
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel,
Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture,
Kinslaying, Poisoning, Assassination Plot(s), Sansa as Tywin
Lannister's Daughter, Warging, Animal Death, Implied/Referenced
Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Attempted Sexual
Assault, Assassination, Mix of Books and Series, Sansa x Rhaegar for
now, BAMF Sansa Stark
Stats: Published: 2020-03-11 Updated: 2020-07-09 Chapters: 48/? Words:
114553

stone by stone
by lmas5474

Summary

To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven.

Or,

Sansa gets reborn as Tywin Lannister's youngest daughter, a lioness of the Rock. She
gathers the necessary stones to build and maintain peace and sometimes must throw stones
to kill her enemies. But actions have consequences, for good or worse.
 Tywin/Joanna
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Tywin

Tywin watched quietly amused as the babe on the bed finally tired of their glaring contest. She
yawned wide showing her little pink tongue and stretched her chubby arms and legs, her face
scrunched like a grumpy kitten and her lids fluttering close.

He can't help but smirk at the babe's attitude. Only three moons and already she showed much
promise—certainly more than his two eldest.

When he saw she was finally sound asleep, he reached out and took the opportunity to gently take
her in his arms. With her head cradled on the crook of his left arm, he lightly caressed her head of
wispy baby hairs with the palm of his right hand, ran his pointer finger on the bridge of her button
nose and gently circled his thumb on her plump, rosy cheeks.

He felt Joanna plaster herself on his back. She then put her chin on his shoulder and embraced his
middle, “Isn’t she just lovely?”

Tywin remained quiet, just marveling at the child they made all over again.

Their little lioness.

Close to ten moons ago, Joanna visited him for two moons in Kingslanding for his name day. A
moon after she left, he received news that she was pregnant. Tied up as he was to his duties as
Hand, he hadn't been able to stay by her side during her pregnancy. He had made plans to make up
for his absence and be with her during her confinement and the childbirth but those plans were
ruined by the king. He'd been stuck faraway in the capital managing the entire realm, sorting out a
mess that cropped up with some of the Crownlander lords when the king refused their pleas for a
tax concession after very poor harvests, quelling a worsening banditry problem near the borders of
the Riverlands and the Crownlands which is a direct result of the harvest and tax issue, and trying
to keep more idiotic plans of his increasingly incompetent liege from coming to fruition and
sowing more chaos.

It was only a sennight ago that he arrived home and met for the first time his new daughter.

The first time he saw the babe sleeping soundly inside her hand-carved wooden bassinet, unwanted
doubts and thoughts crept in his heart and mind.

He hadn't quite believed at first that she was his.

Lannisters are known for gold-blonde hairs. All of his siblings carry the same traits. Most of his
Lannister relatives also have the same eye and hair colors. He and Joanna are also both blonde-
haired and green-eyed and these were passed on to their twins Jaime and Cersei.

The new child on the other hand, had wispy copper-red-gold hairs and dual-colored eyes of green
and blue-gray. Her skin was milky white instead of the golden hue common to those of his house.

Only a comment from Genna about their dead mother and Kevan's and Tygett's sounds of
agreement kept him silent.
“She has some of mother’s hair color and one of her eyes. But the rest is yours” his sister said.

His brain scrambled to recall the faded memories of his departed mother, the Lady Jeyne Lannister
nee Marbrand. His hazy memories of her deep auburn locks and blue eyes as well as accompanying
recollections of Damon Marbrand and some of his living Marbrand relatives with their deep auburn
and coppery hairs made him let go of his doubts a little. When his wife showed the birthmarks on
the babe's body, he secretly breathed a great sigh of relief and finally let all his doubts scattered in
the wind. How could he not feel relieved? The babe's marks looked and were positioned just like
his. One crescent moon-shaped on her left shoulder and another mark was a pale red leaf on her
thigh.

Those marks were clear, undeniable proof she was his.

He has not given his lady mother any thought for years now. Memories of her have grown blurred
and difficult to remember in detail over time. He hadn’t known he missed her until this new
daughter. In a way, he is glad that a part of her lives on in his child.

That he initially thought Joanna was capable of making a fool of him with another man—that's a
shameful thought he'll have to keep to himself and never share with anyone. He found great
reprieve that he had not rashly shown any sign of his suspicions of infidelity on her part and that he
avoided hurting her irreparably. He vowed never to think ill of his wife ever again.

The babe was unlike any babe he's seen or known so far and that included his experience with his
two eldest.

She's a very responsive, fascinating little thing-something he took great pride in.

At two moons, he was told she was already capable of making sounds and constantly babbled.
Now at three moons, his little lioness is already saying a few words like mama, no and stop. She
also already shows a strange willfulness of her own like her refusal to blink or look away from him
earlier. She kept her eyes fiercely on him as though trying to challenge him on who could forgo
blinking the longest time. He won the impromptu contest of course.

The babe didn't like being held or cuddled by anyone but Joanna, which is why he could only take
the opportunity of holding her when she's sleeping.

She also already has an ongoing rivalry with Cersei-one that started, he was told, when the almost
three year old Cersei became jealous of the babe. Every time his eldest demanded and attempted to
supplant the babe on their mother's arms, the little one would slap and push her elder sister away
and shout ‘no' and 'stop' repeatedly with a fierce glare in her eyes. The territorial attitude of the
babe is only getting stronger. The two girls cannot be within touching distance otherwise tantrums
would surely flare. His eldest has clearly been spoilt and is now showing nasty tempers at having
to share her mother's attention with her baby sister.

Jaime on the other hand was positively charmed of his new sister's different hair color and strange
eyes. At first, the little one also pushed him away but Jaime continued to spend time near her
bassinet even when he was playing with his own toys. He also loved tickling her and making her
laugh and spent hours just baby talking to her. Over time, his heir built a closer bond with his sister
and he can now hold her hands without any complaint from the babe.

He was told that when Cersei first saw the babe clutching Jaime's hand and she babbled and smiled
at him, his eldest threw an unholy mother of tantrums. She tried to slap the babe's little hands and
grabbed Jaime away and ever since has prevented him many times from getting closer with their
little sister. A rebuke from Joanna put a stop to her bratty behavior but she continues to whine and
beg daily in her high childish voice that the babe be returned to the gods or given away. They tried
to put a stop to her ridiculous demands but the girl just won't stop.

She's a quiet thing when left alone—his youngest. She only whimpered when hungry, when she
had dirtied her clothes or someone aside from Joanna tried to hold her. When she meets new
people, she would follow their every movement with intent eyes as though scrutinizing the stranger
in front of her.

Genna and his brothers made japes that, a red lioness though she was, the babe has clearly inherited
his dour personality. Tygett even went as far as to mockingly say he'd pray for the gods' mercy and
ask that the child grow up with a different personality of her own instead of turning out to be a
female Tywin Lannister. Tywin ignored the slight. The fool just can't get over his inferiority
complex.

He remembered quite vividly when he first tried to take her from her mother's arms. The babe
protested so loudly and even tried to slap him repeatedly in the face with her tiny hands. The scene
only made the rest of his family laugh at him. For many days, the babe's sour attitude towards him
remained. She cried so loudly at every attempt he made to touch or carry her in his arms.

It offended him a bit. If the babe was not the tiny, innocent thing she was, he'd think she's doing
her best to defy him. Joanna only kissed him and laughingly reminded him of the famous biting
episode he had with his grandfather when he was just a babe too and of his own solemn disposition
since boyhood. Many agreed they were early signs of great intelligence and it seems his new
daughter is doing a repeat of his actions.

That pleased him greatly.

If the babe indeed grew up to be intelligent, with her red hair and exotic eyes, she might prove even
greater than Shiera Seastar or Queen Naerys Targaryen. When she grew up, he can already imagine
the high lords of Westeros and their heirs scrambling to ask for her hand in marriage. Tywin
believed that if not Cersei, then his youngest will make a worthy queen.

Alysanne Lannister. A great and noble promise for the future of House Lannister. He'll make sure
of it.

***

Joanna

Joanna smiled fondly as she watched her youngest daughter squint her eyes in focus. Her small,
pink mouth pursed as she carefully moved the custom-made needle with her talented little hands to
embroider another masterful work, “That’s lovely sweetling. Such talented daughter I have” She
leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Her daughter only gave a small, pleased smile and resumed her work.

At only five years, she is already a fiercely independent child.

When she was only four moons, she referred to herself as San. At six moons, she demanded in her
high, childish voice that she is San-zah. At ten moons, she changed it to Sansa.

Joanna honestly didn't know how to feel about it at first. On one hand she was very proud her
daughter learned to speak so young. On the opposite, she felt uneasy using a name she knew was
historically used by House Stark. She was sure Tywin would feel displeasure at his child being
given another house's ancestor's name, a close nickname though it was to the child's real name.
After many tears from her babe, she decided to just let it be. She simply wrote a letter to Tywin
regarding the nick name and included a report on his daughter's progress. Her husband made no
complaints.

When she turned a full year, Sansa started walking and chose to walk around her rooms and other
communal areas as much as possible on her own, only allowing others to carry her when she tired
or when going up and down the damned long flight of stairs of the castle. She also insisted to sit on
her own chair and eat her soft foods slowly without assistance.

When she turned two, she insisted on choosing her own dress and asked to watch her mother to
learn sewing.

When she turned three she asked to be taught her letters and how to read.

Joanna didn't like it at all, feeling as though her babe was quickly slipping far away from her. She
cannot help but feel bereft at not being able to mother her properly. It made her feel as if her only
role in her life was to give birth to her and nurse her until she was old enough to eat on her own.
And the more her babe insisted on doing things by herself and on her own terms, the more Joanna
felt an unnamed fear take root for her youngest in a deep and hidden corner in her heart. It made
her very uneasy—watching her babe grow up so fast. The more she grew up, the more Joanna felt
her becoming a stranger instead of her beloved daughter.

She tried to limit her explorations to self-sufficiency, tried to deflect her attentions to things babes
normally do like playing with dolls and flowers but her babe would turn silent and unresponsive.
When she shared this to her good sister and brothers, Genna and Gerion strongly encouraged her to
support her babe's endeavors instead of clipping her wings. Kevan only agreed with them and
proceeded to tell her of Tywin's similar childhood habits.

The maester too was tickled pink at the idea of raising a genius under his charge and expressed his
full support. The man, she was certain, was already anticipating fame and recognition for his part
in tutoring her daughter. Only Tygett had the same misgivings as she, believing that his niece need
not grow up so fast and be a serious and miserable person like her father.

She wrote to Tywin about her concerns and asked for his opinions but her husband only gave a
hearty approval and even asked to have his two eldest start learning with their youngest.

“If a three year old is ready to learn her letters, surely five year olds can do better” were his words.

So off her children went to the maester's learning room despite her many negative emotions.

The lessons had very different results on each of her children.

Sansa predictably advanced the most and showed even more just how far her intelligence was in
comparison to her siblings. Only two years have passed and already the maester believed her babe
has the intelligence of one already in their early teens. Her babe now made daily visits to the
library and asked assistance from eager and doting maids to get the tomes shelved far too high for
her to reach and far too heavy for her to lift. And once she gets started on a book, she could go for
hours reading until someone intervened and made her stop.

Cersei had low to middling results. She had many complaints regarding the lessons at first-it was
tiring, the maester was boring, she kept having headaches and many more childish alibis. But
when she saw that their little sister was improving by leaps and bounds and getting praises for it,
she turned extremely competitive and took every chance to make herself better and eclipse her. All
her efforts failed and her eldest daughter just turned even more hateful of her younger sister.
Her son Jaime suffered the most. He lagged miles behind his sisters. He couldn't seem to make
sense of the maester's lessons and after moons of depressing results, the man dismissed that her son
possessed slow wits--something Joanna found difficult to accept and worried incessantly about.

To her shame, while she fretted uselessly for Sansa's strange self-dependence, Jaime's learning
difficulties and Cersei's increasingly foul attitude, it was her little babe Sansa who took the time to
pay closer attention and recognized that Jaime was having troubles with his letters because the
sounds kept getting reversed inside his head and as a result he constantly reversed the letters when
he writes.

Her youngest daughter patiently helped her brother make out the proper sounds for the words and
diligently helped correct his letters. And with Joanna finally understanding the root of the problem
and spending more time to offer further assistance, Jaime is now slowly improving. Nowhere near
his little sister's level but well enough for other children his age.

This early foray in the maester's learning room and the extremely differing results made Joanna's
fears fester even more.

Yes her youngest is a very precocious child and with far more intelligence and better manners than
her two older siblings but she also cannot help but notice and fear the little hints of calculative and
manipulative tendencies as well as a bit of a mean streak that is so similar to Tywin's and Genna's.
She's far too young yet to be having such traits but Joanna doesn't know how to put a stop to it. She
could only keep watch and ensure it doesn't harm her babe or the people around her.

Her babe employed her calculation and manipulation skills on Jaime, the servants, her aunt and
uncles, visiting lords and ladies and their children. Sometimes, she even used it on Joanna. And
she used these traits in different degrees with great effectiveness.

With Jaime, she used manipulation with a bit of intimidation and sweetness. Her son is an energetic
boy but one who does not really employ his wits effectively. With their time together increased
during lessons and Sansa patiently helping him learn to read and write, Jaime ceased following
Cersei around like a duckling and has become closer and more keen to listen to their littlest sibling
instead. He has become fiercely protective of his smart but seemingly frail baby sister and always
takes her words and her side during her fights with Cersei.

With the servants, Sansa used gentle words, charming smiles and sweet politeness. She memorized
and addressed the servants by their names and even asked for an anecdote or two regarding their
families and work. She also always smiled, gave thanks, or praised them sweetly for every small
act or favor they do for her. It's come to a point that all the servants are silently competing to be
assigned to take care of her or fulfill her requests. Not that Joanna is complaining about it. In fact,
she found it advantageous as the servants have become more efficient.

With her aunt and uncles, she used her analytical and reasoning skills and her charm.

Kevan is her favorite by far. She always insisted to hold his hand and ply him with so many
questions and refused to stop until she got answers. Kevan could do nothing but smile at her with
fondness and pat her on the head. He's also probably the one she liked best because he's always
gentle with her and always gave her flowers, gifts or tokens he never failed to buy from Lannisport.

Genna and Gerion are close seconds. Both adored Sansa fiercely for taking after their mother and
showered her with more attention than they did the twins. Genna has taken to teaching her the
histories of House Lannister, the West and the rest of the Seven kingdoms, as well as some
impolite words to add to her repertoire, Gerion does his own influencing by teaching her little
tricks, telling her tales from all over the known world and buying her books from Lannisport.
 Tygett gave her a young filly and is teaching her how to ride

The rotation of visiting lords and ladies with their heirs have also noted and given compliments to
Sansa's beauty, manners and early signs of intelligence. They especially never failed to take notice
of her strange colored eyes. Already there were over a hundred proposals sent to the Rock for her
babe.

With Cersei, Sansa only showed stony indifference or cold disdain. And on one unforgettable
occasion that included Cersei sneaking a dead bird on her bed, she had a look of extreme hatred
that Joanna found terrifying. She firmly believed that look should never grace a child's face.
Thankfully, after a soft reprimand, her daughter never did it again.

She tried many times to talk and play mediator and reconcile the two but nothing worked. Cersei
remained stubborn and Sansa was too independent.

And so the two never had a warm relationship. Or more apt to say—never had a relationship
despite the same blood running in their veins and the same name they carry.

Sansa in particular did not like being in close proximity with her sister and after Joanna's failed
intervention, tried very hard to avoid her. On the occasions they do interact, it never fails to
devolve to a fight. Joanna can't help but notice though that her youngest is the one that usually
goads her eldest into starting a fight by simply making subtle changes on her facial expressions or
throwing petty taunts. Cersei, prideful and rash, always easily falls for it. The girl thinks highly of
herself and is quick to throw insults in retaliation. Younger though she was, Sansa learned more
creative insults from Genna and knew exactly how to get the best of Cersei by wits and words
alone. And when her elder sister is reduced to tears and hysterics or an ugly shade of red in anger
or humiliation, Sansa would walk away and effectively end the fight with an air of superiority,
Jaime following behind her like a loyal guard.

It confounded and frightened her. She didn't understand—try hard as she did. She didn't know why
and how her intelligent and polite babe could be so hostile to her elder sister.

Cersei frightened her even more. The incident with the dead bird also opened her eyes to just how
far she would go to get revenge. From a sweet child, she's grown up to be haughty and crueler by
the day. It bothered her mind and made her feel uncomfortable when she sees her eldest throw such
mad rages and hysterics because of Jaime's attention for Sansa. It also horrified her how she's
becoming more prone to using physical violence in their altercations. Jaime thankfully always put
a stop to Cersei's violence by standing between them and keeping her away from little Sansa.

For moons, Joanna spent more time with Cersei, hoping that it would change her temper. It didn't.
She always regressed to uncontrollable rages and physical violence when fighting with her sister no
matter what punishment Joanna doled out. It's come to the point that the maester advised milk of
the poppy during her tantrums to keep her mildly sedated—something that Joanna did not want to
do but seemed to be the only option left.

Joanna resolved to speak to Tywin more about these worrying problems when he returned from the
capital. Meanwhile, she decided to assign her daughters rooms far from each other and guards and
personal maids to keep watch and stop them from hurting each other.

Chapter End Notes

Verse obv from Ecclesiastes 3:1

I'm no history buff. This isn't based on any historical account. This is just for fun. :)
 Sansa/Tywin

Sansa

"I'll be a knight! A great knight like Aemon the Dragonknight and Duncan the Tall! Just you see!"
Jaime declared with pride, his emerald eyes bright as he did a little show of going through the basic
stances he just learned from their Uncle Tygett using his practice sword.

"And why do you want to become a knight?" Sansa asked him, pretending to be curious but already
thinking of ways to lead the conversation to something that would temper his zeal and open his
eyes to the harsh reality and the lies behind tales of knights and chivalry.

Jaime Lannister, as she's come to discover in the past few years, is someone who has the tendency
to act before thinking. He thrives in the face of encouragement and appreciation, is fiercely loyal to
those who in turn are loyal to him, wilts under disappointment and turns arrogant and insulting
when his pride is bruised. It occurred to Sansa that these strengths and flaws were most likely what
made him so susceptible to Cersei's manipulation and control in the past (the future). And now,
knowing and taking advantage of these quirks, Sansa does everything she can to ensure he
gravitates and remains in her sphere of influence instead of wandering toward Cersei's.

When she first woke up in this new world, in this new reality, Sansa had not realized right away
that she'd been reborn as a Lannister (a fucking Lannister!). Her head, her chest, her back, her entire
body—everything had hurt so much. The light, the sounds, the smells, every little thing had been
overwhelming to her senses and she thought she'd been sent to one of the seven hells where there
was nothing for her but suffering. Not wanting to deal with anything in the afterlife, she gave in to
her body's need for sleep.

When she gained consciousness next, it was to Cersei's gently smiling face looking down at her
and she could not help but cry at the injustice of it all. Has the woman not tormented her enough?
Has she not suffered enough? Why were the gods so cruel as to torture her with the presence of the
vicious lioness even in the afterlife?

But then Cersei called her sweetling and my sweet babe and Sansa was struck dumb. Has Cersei
finally gone stark raving mad? Or has Sansa herself gone succumbed to insanity after years of
hardship? Was she in a fever dream? A strange afterlife where the woman who helped her mad son
in treating Sansa cruelly for so long has given birth to her to make up for the bad history between
them? What an utterly cruel jape from the gods.

She decided to sleep some more and hoped to wake up to a different afterlife.

She did not.

When she next woke up, it was to the same face. She almost cried once more but then the woman’s
worried face neared hers and when she looked closer, she saw that the woman had gentler features
than Cersei. Her eyes were kinder and the lines of her lips fuller and gentler than the Lannister
queen's—features Sansa has come to know so well.

So if the woman isn't Cersei, who is she?

She decided then to use her senses and observe her new world more. After a few hours of lying
down and listening, observing and thinking, she came to several conclusions:

First, she's not in one of the seven hells or the afterlife after all. The only explanation she came up
with was that she's been reborn somehow and she highly suspected that Bran did something that
ended with her in this situation. Bran was the only one of them she knew who had strange…
talents. Who could go to the past and have glimpses of the future. He's the only one who could
have done this.

She died. Of this she was sure. Someone (a white walker, most likely) shoved an ice spear from her
back and she saw almost half of it protrude through her chest. When she fell on the snow, when she
was breathing her final breaths, the last thing she saw was Bran sitting on his wheeled chair,
looking at her and uttering something she didn't hear before his eyes turned white and he too was
pierced in the chest with another blade made of ice by a white walker with little horns that looked
like a crown.

And she knew no more after that.

Another realization she came to was that she was only a helpless, little babe. She had weak little
hands and feet that she couldn't move properly. She could not properly support her head. She
couldn't sit or stand. She couldn't control her mouth. She had no control of her body at all. When
she went hungry, she almost vomited when she'd been offered a breast. She tried to resist but her
hunger was so great and she feared dying of starvation. The smell and taste of milk was better than
nothing so she closed her eyes, pushed back the bile that threatened to come out her mouth and
took the offered teat. When she next failed to control her bladder and soiled her clothes, she
couldn't help but cry again at the indignity of it all. When she meets Bran again—if she meets him
again, she'll have harsh words with him.

Next thing she learned was the woman's name—Joanna Lannister. Yes, she is Sansa's new mother.
And yes, that means Tywin Lannister is her new father. Tywin Lannister. Sansa mourned at this
discovery. (It will always be Ned and Catelyn Stark she'll think of as father and mother, this she
swears.)

She does not know Joanna Lannister. She knows that the two are mother and father to Cersei,
Jaime and Tyrion. She remembers a rumor that the Lord Lannister loved his wife very much and
thus never remarried after her death. Tywin Lannister she only knows by reputation. She knows he
ended the Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. He commanded his army to sack the city of Kingslanding
and approved the murder of a princess and her innocent children during the final days of Robert's
Rebellion to ingratiate his house to the new monarch thirsty for dragon blood. He also ordered the
sacking of the Riverlands by Gregor Clegane the Mountain during the War of the Five Kings. And
the most heinous of all (to Sansa, that is), he masterminded the breaking of Guest Rights and the
massacre at the Twins—the so-called Red Wedding. She knew right away she’ll have to be very
careful with him.

Next thing she found out in her new life is that her name is Alyssane Lannister, third child of
Joanna and Tywin Lannister. The name is beautiful but Sansa feared that using it would slowly
erase her true identity, make her lose sight of or forget her real roots. Which is why she insisted
they call her Sansa. Let them think it a silly, childish demand from a babe. Let them get used to
calling her by her real name until it becomes a common, instinctual thing to do. She was-is-always
will be Sansa (Stark), no matter how many times she lives, dies and gets reborn.

Cersei and Jaime Lannister are her older siblings.

Cersei, she knows, will always be her enemy (she must die. It's kill or be killed).

With Jaime, she realized her memories are, for the lack of a better word, faulty. She has memories
of Jaime Lannister and Lady Brienne saving her from Littlefinger in the Vale and helping her gain
support to take back Winterfell from the Boltons. But she has also memories of being sold by
Littlefinger to Ramsay Snow and Jaime never came to her rescue. She has memories of him
swearing himself to her service and another of him being loyal to Cersei to the bitter end.

She also remembers Tyrion. But again, her memories aren't very clear. In some memories, Tyrion
is a friend and a supporter. In others, he supported a woman named Daenerys Targaryen.

Daenerys Targaryen—Sansa has distorted memories of her too. In one version, she freed slaves in
the East, brought order to the cities in Slaver's Bay and united the Dothraki to help fight for her
claim on the Iron Throne. The slaves she freed all sang her praises. In another version, she freed
slaves but left the cities in ruins and the people in starvation before sailing for Westeros. Upon
arrival, she went on to battle with Cersei and the Lannister forces, burnt trains of foodstuffs from
Highgarden and refused to help fight the dead until Jon bent the knee. So many conflicting
memories but one thing she’s certain—the woman was dangerous.

There are other memories too. Or maybe they're nightmares. Mayhap they are mere dark thoughts
her mind came up with. Many of them are strange and vivid but at the same time felt like smoke—
present but without form. When she tries to reach for them, they seem to slip away like shadows in
the night.

She has memories of chasing cats in a dark and narrow corridors (why she’s done such a ridiculous
thing, she’ll never know), of watching the sun rise on a snow-covered hill where a heart tree stood
alone on top (oh the view was so beautiful, worthy of remembrance but she can’t recall the place),
of walking along a beach with muddy sand and black, jagged rocks ( it was frightening, there was
something dangerous in the chilly air), of running in the middle of a forest (that smelled of blood
and death), of swimming in a hot spring inside a cold cave (a woman’s raspy, pained voice said,
we never should have left that cave).

There are others much too disturbing. Like watching faces being peeled from corpses then seeing
them attached to head stone statues (is this what happened to those faces she found in Arya’s
possession?), a severed bloody arm cooked like meat over a fire (the Thenns, they eat man flesh,
Jon said or perhaps Skagosi? They’re known cannibals after all), a pale woman lying on a bed of
blood and wilted blue roses (she looked like Arya, like a Stark. Could she be Lyanna? She has to
be), rotting corpses of men hanging on trees and swaying in the wind (and wolves howling in the in
the dark).

Sometimes she's not even sure if they are indeed memories. Perhaps they are simply product of
nightmares. She is not certain. She tries not to think of them but they slip into her dreams and
waking thoughts. Sometimes she even thinks mayhap she's going mad and that everything—this
new life, this new family, this chance to influence past (future) events are nothing but creations of a
desperate mind that has broken after it has gone through much trauma and death. But every waking
moment she experienced felt real so she believes this new life is real. It cannot be anything else but
real. Because if it wasn't, then what is the meaning of it all happening?

What is the point of it all?

It has been exceedingly difficult for her but just as she survived through sheer will and mental
strength in the past, she adapted to her new life too. Over time, she has come to learn that the best
thing she could do is to arrange her memories into neat little boxes. She strongly holds on to those
she knows are true and hers like memories of her real family, Winterfell and the North, her time in
the wretched, cesspit that is the capital and the Vale, the Night King and his great multitude of
dead thralls marching south.

Those that are strange and hazy and didn’t make much sense were moved to the side. She gives
them little consideration from time to time, to see if she could perhaps figure them out, but she
doesn't let them rule her thoughts nor her life. If she does, she’s quite certain she'll drive herself to
madness and she’ll forever be known as Sansa Lannister the Mad Lioness of the West.

That’s not her fate. Never hers.

(It’s someone else’s)

***

Tywin

Tywin stopped himself from opening the door to his private library when he heard his youngest
child’s voice.

“…defend the king, obey the king, keep his secrets, serve at his pleasure, defend his name and
honor, protect his family and whoever he commands.”

“It sounds all good San. As expected of the Kingsguard. What’s wrong with it and why are you
making a big fuss about it?”

That’s Jaime.

What in the Seven hells?

Intrigued at the topic, Tywin refrained from entering and remained standing and listened to his heir
and his youngest's conversation.

“Well, what if the king is cruel like Maegor the Cruel, who killed many innocent people because
he could? What if he is like Baelor, who was foolish in his beliefs? What if he is like Aegon the
Unworthy, who was incompetent and so lustful he had so many women and fathered bastards that
caused the Blackfyre rebellions, ending in so much death and loss. How will you keep your oaths
as kingsguard? What about your knightly vows of protecting the innocent and defending the
weak?”

Tywin almost jerked in surprise. He wondered for a moment if he should be alarmed at his
daughter’s choice of topic but promptly dismissed the thought, eager to find out where the
interesting conversation is leading to.

A long silence followed, then Jaime spoke up, voice full of hesitance and confusion.

“Then… well…are you saying it’s not good to be a knight or kingsguard? That there’s no honor in
it? ”

“I am saying that you do not have to be a knight to prove yourself great or honorable. Knightly and
kingsguard vows seem all good and worthy of praise but Jaime, they are nothing but words in the
face of reality. And if you adhere to them and to the ideas of chivalry, in a difficult situation, you
will find yourself torn. In the face of difficult, contradicting choices, you’ll be forced to ignore one
vow for another and in the end, do you know what will be left of you?”

Tywin's felt his breath catch and his green eyes sharpened in anticipation.

“What will be left? “Jaime’s voice was small, so unlike the loud and energetic child Tywin knows
him as.
“An oathbreaker. A wretched man without honor”

Gods.

Tywin closed his eyes. He felt several things as he stood silent and listening to the conversation.
He felt pride that a child of his understood clearly what so many foolish, ambitious men failed to
recognize. A girl of merely six who can clearly see the overarching problems that come with the
blindly honored and revered titles of knighthood and chivalry. And yet he also felt worried. He
wondered,

Should children be left alone talking about such things?

“But if I can’t be a knight—Sansa what should I do? I only want to be a great warrior, to bring
honor to father and our house, be known for great deeds and remembered in history”

Tywin smiled wryly and sighed. Of course that’s what his son is dreaming of. A common
aspiration in young, ambitious boys.

“Of course you can be that too. But you have to train not just in the yard. You have to train your
mind too and you must learn from history. So you don’t make the same mistakes like other people
have done in the past”

“But it’s tiring San. It hurts my eyes” his heir complained in a petulant voice, “And besides, you’re
reading so many books for the two of us already. You can continue reading and just tell me about
it. How about that?” A boyish laughter followed.

Tywin huffed at his heir’s disinterest in reading and learning. Jaime is far too active a child and
prone to focusing on his sword lessons with Tygett and Gerion than his lessons with Maester
Volarik. He is thankful his daughter has more brains and has more influence on the boy.

Joanna has reported and he himself has observed that Sansa is turning out to be an effective rope
tying and keeping the boy from doing careless and foolish things. He’s also attained some measure
of peace and confidence that his youngest is filling the boy's brain with not just historical but
practical knowledge too. And teaching the boy some real life wits.

“I will and I’ll share with you. But you still have to read some too, you know. You will be Lord of
Casterly Rock and Warden of the West someday, how will you rule wisely and effectively if you
don’t know enough because you refuse to read now? What happens if our people go hungry or die
because you don’t know how to solve problems? ”

“Come now little sister, don’t be too hard on me”

What followed next was the strangest and most amusing haggling among children Tywin has ever
heard of.

“I’ll stop if you’ll read one book of my choosing every sennight” his daughter’s serious voice
piped up.

“But San, that’s too much. I’m not a monster reader like you” the boy whined.

“One book a fortnight”

“Nooo… I can’t do it. Please have some mercy”

“One book a moon. If you still don’t accept, I’ll tell mother what happened to that pretty blue vase
and the drapes”

“Fine. Fine. One book a moon. Now hush Sansi. Swear you won’t tell” Jaime agreed hurriedly, a
trace of panic in his young voice.

Good girl. Fine form. That should be enough to help prevent the boy from growing into a know-
nothing fool. Tywin smirked.

“I swear it” was the light reply from his clever daughter

“I somehow don’t believe you San. You looking like that… like…like a preening cat”

“Not a cat. A lioness” amusement was clear on his little girl’s voice.

Indeed.

“Tch. The things you make me do” Jaime grumbled.

“They’re for your benefit brother, for your future. Not mine”

“Yes yes, you little know it all”

“I do know a lot but not everything “his daughter quipped, then with much graver voice “Jaime
you understand what we talked about, don’t you? About knights and kingsguard and vows?”

“I won’t be a kingsguard. You’re right. Who wants to serve a cruel or unworthy king anyway? But
Sansi, I really want to be knight. That’s alright isn’t it? I mean the vows… surely I can keep
them?”

“You can be a knight. Just don’t make promises you can’t keep Jaime”

Tywin thought something good enough was already achieved by just him standing there and
listening in. He decided to walk away from the door and leave the two children alone.
 Joanna/Sansa/Tywin/Genna

Joanna/Sansa

“Mother? Father? I don’t want to go. I would like to just stay here at the Rock” her youngest
daughter’s face was as solemn as her father’s.

Joanna looked at her daughter with mild confusion. For a child so keen in learning new things, she
had expected Sansa to show enthusiasm at the chance to see and experience life in the capital.

“But sweetling, don’t you want to see the capital? Don’t you want to experience what it’s like
living in the Red Keep and the Tower of the Hand? Don’t you want to see the greatest knights in
the land?”

No, thank you. I had quite enough of that stinking shit pile of a city already. I had enough of the
Tower of the Hand, of mad kings and of kingsguards who know nothing but follow their king’s
orders. No more.

“No mother. Uncle Gerion said the city smells of…of waste and piss and unwashed people. Not
like Lannisport. So I’m not interested to see it. I’m not interested in the kingsguards either. And
from what I've read and learned, Casterly Rock is the greatest castle in the realm. Why go live in a
lesser castle surrounded by strangers and people we don’t know or trust?”

Joanna looked and raised a questioning brow at her husband who remained silent but had a faint
smirk during the entire exchange.

“The Red Keep is the greatest castle, you idiot. It’s where the King and the Queen and Prince
Rhaegar live. It’s also where the most important lords go to seek the royal family. And the
kingsguards are the best of the best warriors” Cersei sneered then rolled her eyes at Sansa.

Sansa almost wanted to laugh at how her nemesis' words reminded her of her past self. If that was
how she looked like when she was talking about Kingslanding and Joffrey, then it’s no wonder
why Arya hated and constantly opposed her so.

She however ignored the older girl in favor of looking at Tywin Lannister. She made sure to
project a sure, calm face to the lion lord.

“Please father. I want to stay here. I promise to behave. I can be the lady and keeper of the Rock
for you”

A faint amused smile appeared on his face for but a moment then it became stoic once more “Very
well. You will remain here and be castellan with your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna’s help. You
still have enough time to be presented at court in the future anyway. But Cersei and Jaime will both
go”

“My love! Castellan?” Joanna worriedly asked her husband.

“Yes. It will be her task and a challenge from me” the lord then returned intense green eyes to
Sansa.

Sansa stood up with all the grace she could summon in her young body and curtsied, “I shall strive
to honor you and House Lannister my lord”
“But father, she's just a stupid little girl! She can’t be castellan! What if she messes up? What if she
destroys our home? She’ll shame us all.” Cersei cried out, face turned ugly in her jealousy.

“Sansa is the next smart person I know to father and mother. She can do it” Jaime piped up and
smiled in support of his favorite sibling.

“She’s a girl! The youngest and not even the spare!” Cersei fairly snarled.

“Quiet Cersei” Tywin gave the older girl a sharp glare then turned to Sansa once more, “As I said,
this is a challenge. Your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna shall both oversee and provide you counsel
and will send reports to me. They will intervene should it be clear you’re going to make a mistake.
If that should happen, you will follow their advice. Understand?”

“Yes Lord Father”

Sansa maintained a calm façade to hide her pride and elation in check. The Rock in my hands! If
Robb and mother could see me now.

“Good. Your mother has told me you’ve been watching and asking questions on how she goes
about her duties as Lady of the Rock. That was a wise move. Cersei, you are the eldest. You
should have also paid the same attention” Tywin turned to the older girl, green eyes disapproving.
Cersei’s face crumpled then she turned to glare at Sansa as if to blame her.

Tywin’s voice cut it short “Cersei, cease your tantrums. It’s high time you act more appropriately.
You’re a Lannister not some commoner. You’re the eldest yet you act like the youngest. How
disappointing! The three of you will see me in the afternoons for the next sennight before we leave
for the capital. Am I clear?”

“Yes Father” Sansa and Jaime both replied. Cersei only threw another sharp look Sansa’s way.

“Did I make myself clear Cersei? Face on me and not your little sister” Tywin demanded.

Cersei cowered like a frightened doe under the man’s stare and spoke in a low voice “Y-yes… yes
father”

***
Tywin

Tywin sat with his back leaned on the headboard, an open book on his hand.

“My love, is it really wise to let our girl hold the title of castellan so early? Isn’t it too much
pressure for a child so young?” Joanna said from her place in front of her vanity, slowly putting her
chosen jewelries in boxes in preparation for their return to the capital.

“Your letters to me and everything I have heard from Kevan and Genna and what I myself
observed so far give me confidence she can do it. And besides, she won’t be alone. Kevan, Genna
and even Tygett and Gerion will be here for her every step of the way. They will intervene if her
actions become careless. And I shall be overseeing some lessons for the three before we leave”
Tywin assured his worried wife while marking the last page he read.

Joanna sighed, “I understand but oh Ty! She’s so young yet to see to matters of ruling.”

“She’s young yes but she’s got maturity to match men beyond her years” Tywin said with
confidence.
“What is it? You have that look on your face Ty”

“I’m reconsidering my plans. Sansa is clearly the better choice for a queen. Not Cersei. That child
is foolishly arrogant and much too spiteful. She doesn’t know how to hold her temper nor her
tongue. Not a calm and rational head to make wise decisions”

Tywin’s lips twisted in distaste at everything he has observed of his eldest. He’s been planning for
a great future for her and here the girl is, showing early signs of incompetence and foolishness.
Sansa is much younger in comparison to Rhaegar but she is leagues smarter and more in control of
herself unlike Cersei. The age gap may be a problem but his youngest is the better choice.

“I am more worried for Cersei too, Tywin. Perhaps we should consider fostering her to another
house to separate her and Sansa? Or perhaps have Sansa fostered so we can keep an eye on Cersei?
I have done all I can to mediate between those two and when it didn’t work, I separated them but
her attitude is not getting any better. I just hope this time away in the capital changes her
temperament, even just a bit. Perhaps seeing her possible future with a crown would make her
mature and start to take things seriously instead of dwelling in her petty jealousies and rivalry with
her little sister”

Tywin’s eyes sharpened at his wife “No, I will not have Sansa fostered. I’ll not trust that child to
anyone else who will see her worth and try to destroy or take advantage of it. If I have to choose,
Cersei will be the one to go away. Enough talk about this for now Joanna. We’ll talk about
fostering after Cersei's time in Kingslanding”

***

Genna

“So my favorite niece will be our castellan eh?” Genna said as she sauntered inside her brother’s
solar, Kevan behind her.

She grinned at the intelligent and pretty child who was sitting in front of her father’s desk while
said father sat on his lord’s chair, silently writing on a parchment.

“With yours and Uncle Kevan’s help Aunt” the girl gave her and Kevan a sweet smile.

Genna laughed in fond amusement.

Oh how she adored the little girl. What she'd give to have a daughter as adorable as her! Not only
did she possess some of their beloved departed mother’s looks, she’s also a clever little thing with
proper manners she’d love to corrupt a little.

She raked her fingers on the girl’s loose, beautiful red-gold hair and kissed her on the head “Oh
sweet girl, I am so proud of you. It's not everyday your cold, demanding and grumpy father trusts a
child to hold the Rock. And yes, you can count on me. Let’s make this the best learning experience
for you sweetling”

Genna only grinned when she saw Tywin threw her a glare for her remark on his attitude.

“Thanks Aunt” the girl grinned up at her, dual colored eyes bright.

“So little lady, are you prepared to take over?” Kevan asked as he sat down on the chair next to the
little girl.

“Father has gone over the duties I’m expected to perform and his expectations of me. With you and
Aunt Genna behind me, I feel confident Uncle Kevan”

Kevan merely chuckled and patted the child’s head.

It’s no secret to those living in the Rock that little Sansa is their favorite and the one they most dote
on amongst Tywin’s brood. Oh Jaime is a fine boy and can play rough with Tyg and Gerion in the
yard but the little girl is by far a more interesting child with her wits and endless curious questions
that sometimes stump even them. Even the grumpy Tyg is charmed by her despite his issues with
Tywin. She’s like a little Tywin but with far more charming manners like Joanna and their late
Lady Mother.

It’s not too surprising that Tywin is also already showing favor to his little girl. Genna can already
imagine that this castellan business is Tywin’s way of testing her. If the girl fails, it can easily be
covered and none would know. If somehow a story breaks out, it can be easily dismissed due to her
young age. But if she succeeds, then it's another big win Tywin could claim for House Lannister.
Another thing to be proud of and elevate their reputation among Westerosi high lords. She won’t be
surprised either if the Great Lion is already plotting to put a crown on top of his daughter’s head.
Not that she has complaints. She too can see that her precious niece deserves it.
 Sansa/Tywin
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sansa

The West—Sansa has come to learn using the confidential treasury accounts Tywin Lannister has
shown her as part of her castellan lessons—isn’t just rich compared to the North. It’s gods damned
filthy rich perhaps fifteen to twenty times over per head of population. And House Lannister itself
currently has over two hundred times gold reserves than what House Stark started with before the
War of Five Kings.

She knows this for a fact using the Stark treasury accounts she’s examined during the preparations
for the War against the Dead. They’ve all scrambled for every bit of coin to purchase food and
other necessary materials they needed to prevent their people from dying of starvation and the cold.
The Stark and Bolton treasury were both thoroughly perused to look for the badly needed coin.
With this, she also came to realize that with the Lannister’s great wealth on standby to finance wars
alone, Robb’s campaign South never had any chance to succeed.

It’s no wonder people say Lannisters shit gold. No wonder Aerys Targaryen developed a complex
and was bitterly jealous of the Lord of the Rock. No wonder House Lannister was able to finance
Robert Baratheon, Joffrey and Cersei’s vices and extremely lavish lifestyles and disastrous wars.
No wonder Lannister arrogance almost knows no bounds. No wonder almost everyone in the
Seven Kingdoms were at their pocket.

Then other thoughts came to her.

Could this vast wealth be the reason why Tywin Lannister fought so hard and did horrible things
with impunity to have his blood on the throne? So his lands are protected by the Crown and none
would dare to try take from him?

Could this be the reason also why Cersei did everything to control Jaime, the future Lord of the
Rock? So she could continue to have unlimited access to said wealth through either him or their
children?

Her studies of the territories, trade and economy gave her a better understanding of how wealth is
generated and distributed in the West.

As everyone in Westeros knows, the primary source of income by the westerners are gold and
silver. Massive deposits of these two important resources as well as some precious stones dot the
western hills—at least half a dozen from Casterly Rock, the Golden Tooth, Castamere, Nunn’s
Deep, the Pendric Hills and Silverhill. Large quantities of these are mined that the riches of the
Rock is so famous and spoken of as far away as Qarth and even Asshai.

Another key industry lies in its shores and surrounding waters. Vast shoals of fish and other marine
life can be found off the shores of Crakehall along the Ocean Road, the Kayce Peninsula, the
straights of Fair Isle, all the way to the shores of the Crag and Banefort. Pearls can also be found in
the saltwater oysters, abalones and queen conchs.

With its many forested highlands, boars and other game animals are in abundance.

There’s not much land for farming in the rocky and mountainous northern and central parts of the
West. Fertile soils for raising crops and rearing animals like horses can only be found south, near
the borders of the Reach.

Despite this lack in farm lands, the West has no cause for worry because of Lannisport. A key part
of Western economy and the third-largest city on the continent, the city undertakes trade with
Oldtown, the Arbor and even the Summer Islands to the south, Dorne, Kingslanding and the Free
Cities to the far south-east.

And now Tywin Lannister is entrusting to her the proverbial keys of Casterly Rock. It’s all so
exciting and terrifying at the same time.

***

“Brother, promise me you’ll write every sennight. I’d like to hear of your adventures in the capital”
Sansa asked Jaime. She needs to make sure she can reinforce the distance between the two even if
through ravens alone.

“Of course San! Why don’t you just join us? Mother won't be angry if you decide you want to go
with us instead. Come on! Just imagine all the fun we could have there” Jaime tried to persuade
her.

Though Sansa would like to personally keep an eye on him all the time so Cersei don’t have an
opportunity to make any dastardly move, she feels avoiding the Mad King Aerys is a far more
important thing to do.

The capital will be a danger to her. Not just because she is the youngest daughter of Tywin
Lannister but because of her features. She does not have the natural Lannister looks. She’s sure her
seemingly exotic copper-red-gold hair color and dual-colored eyes will be enough to fuel people’s
curiosity and desire to meet and see her. That she can’t allow to happen.

Notoriety in the time of King Aerys' reign who is possibly already on his downward spiral to
madness will only be a liability, not an asset or advantage. She needs to stay as far away as she can
and not get accidentally involved or reveal herself a player in the court’s cruel game of thrones “I
don’t want to go Jaime. I’ll remain here and face father’s challenge”

The boy sighed and pouted, “Now who will play with me and help me if I’m in trouble?”

“Not Cersei, certainly. You know her true attitude now brother so stay away from her for my sake.
I would be sad if I get news she led you to trouble. How about Ser Vylarr or Ser Godwyn? Those
two look quite young yet they’re both already knighted and serving father. Perhaps they can help
you hone your swordsmanship? You’ll have to ask father of course”

Jaime’s face brightened “That’s a fine idea San. Yes, I like it. I’ll ask father”

Sansa nodded, pleased he easily agreed.

The two guards Vylarr and Godwyn look to be no more than twenty but the fact they’re serving
Tywin Lannister means he already had them vetted before taking them into his service. She's also
observed them quite a bit from afar and found them disciplined enough. She’ll entrust Jaime to
their company rather than Cersei.

“There’s one more thing Jaime. Remember what we talked about oaths and kingsguards?”

The boy’s emerald eyes sharpened “They are not to be trusted, no matter how great or honorable
people call or think them. They only follow the king, good or bad”
“Yes. Take care of yourself Jaime. Always stay close to the guards and father and mother, alright?
I’ll be here waiting for your return”

“I’ll miss you Sansi” the boy suddenly hugged her tight.

Is it wrong that she finds herself feeling very fond of him nowadays? That he somehow reminds her
of Robb and Bran and doesn’t want to see him harmed the same way her brothers were?

She’s a grown up in a child’s body but Jaime is just a boy. Just an innocent boy who’s kind and
gentle to his little sister and dreams of knighthood like Bran and bringing honor to his house like
Robb.

She always did wonder before how cruel Cersei and Joffrey were and how good and kind Myrcella
and Tommen were. Now she knows. This is where those two came from. From this kind and gentle
and loving little boy. The little boy the Kingslayer, oathbreaker and sister-fucker left behind.

Sansa slowly reciprocated the hug.

Cersei is dangerous. She’ll pounce at this opportunity and make a mess of things.

I need to do something. I cannot leave things to chance.

***

Tywin

Three slow knocks on the door broke the silence in his private solar.

“Who is it?” he asked the intruder on the other side.

“It’s Sansa father, may I speak with you please?” his daughter's muffled reply.

“Get in”

Tywin lifted his head from the scroll he was reading and saw the door opened. His youngest
daughter stepped in then closed it behind her.

The little girl approached, hands clenched at her side, mouth set in a firm line. Then she stopped in
front of his desk and waited for him to talk.

“Sit down girl”

He watched as she sat primly on one of the tall, high back upholstered chairs in front of him “What
is it you want to speak with me?”

The girl’s face was grave and he knew there was a possibility he wouldn't like the reason of her
request to talk, “It’s about Jaime and Cersei father”

He dropped the scroll on the finished pile and gave his youngest his full attention, “What about
Jaime and Cersei?”

Spine straight, chin up and eyes unwavering. Like a little princess destined to be queen. “Jaime is
good father. He’s kind and innocent. Cersei… Cersei is not “

He continued looking at her.

She took a deep breath and with trepidation he’s never seen before from her, she continued “She’s
…I fear her Father. I fear what her influence could do to Jaime. I saw something. I didn’t tell
mother because I’m not certain of what I saw myself”

A cold shiver went down Tywin’s spine. What could his wickedly sharp daughter have seen of
Cersei that spooked her so? “And what did you see?”

“I don’t really know if I saw it right or if I am merely imagining bad things because of the…nasty
relationship between us. Jaime didn’t pay it any mind. Like I said, he’s innocent. Perhaps he
thought Cersei was only being…grabby or forceful. Or perhaps he thought it was a jape. But
father, it looked to me like Cersei tried to kiss and touch Jaime inappropriately…like…like she was
seducing him to get him to choose her over me and for him to do things her way.”

Tywin’s jaws clenched so hard, the sound of his gnashing teeth was heard in the suddenly quite
solar.

He looked at his youngest child once more.

Sansa is a smart little thing. Her dual-colored eyes are very sharp. And so far, everything he’s seen
from her were signs of greatness. She’s not prone to emotional outbursts and like he, preferred to
think things through rather than act carelessly. If she says she saw it the way it was, then he could
believe it.

Incest! His eldest daughter showing an inclination to incest? Abomination! He’ll wring her little
neck first with his own bare hands before she drags House Lannister through the mud. He’ll not let
anyone destroy what he worked so hard to build. His legacy.

“Keep this to yourself. Tell no one. Understand? Not your aunt and uncles. Not your mother. Not
even Jaime. No one else must know. I will see to this. I will ensure this disgusting—this
abomination does not come to fruition.”

“I understand perfectly father. I swear not to tell anyone else. You have my word”

His daughter stood up to her feet and bowed to leave.

“Come here daughter”

Wide, confused eyes of green and blue-gray look up at him. He opened his arms for an embrace.
She hesitantly walked forward and entered the cradle of his arms. “Father?”

He ran his hands on her soft, brilliant hair, “Do you know what legacy means?”

“It’s what remains of you when you’re gone” Sansa whispered, her little face tilted up at him.

“Yes. That’s right. It’s what you pass down to your children—your descendants. What remains of
you when you're gone”

He cradled her face and made her look him in the eyes, “You and Jaime are the future of our house.
The two of you will carry on my legacy when I am gone. I trust you understand your role and will
do what you can to protect it.”

“Yes father”

He patted her little shoulders, “Very good. You did well telling me what you saw. Do not let this
bother you any further. Keep going and doing as you have and continue making me proud. Make
 our house proud”

His little red lioness nodded her head, face solemn.

“Go on now my girl. I have things to see to”

He watched as she walked then paused at the door to look back at him. He gave her another nod
and she walked out and closed the door gently behind her.

Chapter End Notes

To make sure credit is given to whom credit is due:

Western Economy here is based mainly on "An Economic Map of the Seven
Kingdoms" by werthead in a song of ice and fire, economy, trade,

The Stark-Lannister wealth comparison and gold reserve difference is based on

Nathalie Caron's GAME OF THRONES RICH LIST INFOGRAPHIC SHOWS
WESTEROS' NET WORTH.

Tywin's Legacy talk scene from GoT Series

Minor tweaks here and there are mine.

 Sansa/Kevan
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sansa

The two feuding women stood on either side in front of Sansa, each one of them have friends and
family members supporting them and talking in their defense. The babe in question was in the arms
of a septa standing in the middle of the open court. The adulterous husband, a well-to-do merchant
from within the city stood on the side, red-faced and fuming.

You should’ve kept your cock in your pants or kept them in separate roofs if you don’t relish being
dragged and made a spectacle by two women. Sansa thought irately.

It has been a long five hours of hearing petitions that included missing horses that still need further
investigation, a robbery including assault that ended in flogging and hefty fines, rape that ended in
a trial by combat and subsequent death of the reported serial rapist knight (her Uncle Tygett was
most willing when she asked him to fight for the poor woman and her sickly-looking, old hedge-
knight of a brother) and two counts of murder that ended in two heads rolling and another fugitive
still at large.

And here comes this group of loud women and a disgrace of a man. Just listening to them volley
insults about their private, intimate lives back and forth and looking at their faces make Sansa feel
tired.

How do you solve this kind of problem? Wait. Faces…A game of faces! Ah Arya, how I miss you
so.

“Perhaps, we should consider a recess, my lady” Kevan proposes from beside her.

“No uncle, we’ll finish it now” she looks him in the eye.

“This is rather a complicated issue little lady, more evidence must be found”

“The evidence is here Uncle. We’ll show it to everyone”

“What evidence? Niece—”

“Trust me Uncle” she squeezes his arm.

Kevan looks at her intently then eventually nods his head slowly.

She turns to the crowd, “Silence please” she commands.

They don’t hear her.

“SILENCE YOU IDIOTS!!! YOUR LADY WANTS TO SPEAK”

Her Uncle Tygett bellows from her other side, his unsheathed sword put on top of the table as
though to threaten.

The people jolt like a wave and all go quiet.

“Thank you Uncle” she tells the irritated Tygett Lannister. Then she stands and looks at the
assembled petitioners and many spectators.

“Now, you’re both saying the babe that died a fortnight belonged to neither of you and this child
here belongs to both of you. That one of you robbed the other a child and replaced it with a dead
one in the middle of the night but none can say who’s telling the truth or lies. No credible sources
at all can present proof.”

She looks both women and their maids in the eye. They all nod and some look about to speak but
Sansa raises her hand for silence.

“So how about this? You’ll fight for the child. Like a trial by ah… tugging. Well put a mark on the
floor. You will both hold each of his arm and you’ll tug. Whoever wins, gets the child”

The people, including her uncles look at her as though she’s gone and lost her marbles. Whispers
start to buzz. Sansa remains watchful of the two women and sees progress.

“My lady! That’s…That will hurt my son, my lady” the libertine father approaches and protests.

“Oh? And you didn't think it will lead to this situation when you committed adultery, impregnated
your mistress and brought her under the same roof as your lady wife, my lord?” she asks the man
sarcastically.

The spectators titter. Tygett sniggers. Kevan maintains a calm facade. The merchant reddens and
slinks back to his original place.

“If I have to do it to get my child back, I will” the mistress haughtily declares.

The poor legal wife is clearly torn. Her eyes pleading for another solution.

“This solution is not to your liking my lady? How about this then? Uncle Tygett, please take the
babe”

Tygett raises a brow in question. She nods at him and he goes to do as she bid. When the child is
finally in his arms, Sansa turns to the two women.

“Since we cannot seem to resolve this, in the spirit of fairness, let’s have the child cut in two, you
get half of him each” she smiles at them.

“Sansa!” “Niece” Tygett and Kevan both speak out in alarm.

The father pales and looks about to faint. The crowd goes crazy. Whispers of “barbaric”, “as
expected of lions”, “female Tywin” buzz through the tense air. Their guards all move closer, hands
on the hilts of their swords.

Kevan tries to get up and speak. Sansa looks at him for but a moment and gives him a reassuring
smile. He sits back down.

The two women? Their reactions are just like she wanted.

“No please! My lady, you can’t. He’s just a boy. Just a babe. He’s innocent. Spare him, I beg you.
Please. I renounce my claim. I renounce my claim on the babe” the legal wife goes to kneel in
supplication, face now wet with tears.

The other woman smiles triumphantly. After a while, with eyes gleaming, the haughty woman
turns to Tygett “My lord, may I have my son now please? It’s time he is returned to his real
mother”

Tygett looks at the woman, then questioningly at Sansa.

Sansa shakes her head, “No uncle, give the child to the legal wife”

The crying, kneeling woman gasps and looks up with confused but hopeful eyes. Spectators twitter
noisily once more. Judging eyes look her way.

“She has renounced her claim on the child my lady! Is this how justice will be dealt now? By a
little highborn girl playing a game and making fools of us common folk? Ser Kevan? Ser Tygett?”
the mistress angrily asks.

Sansa grasps Kevan’s arms, looks at the fool in front of her and lifts her chin, “I did play a game,
but it’s you who made a fool of yourself, lady. You, as well as your servants, have sworn
repeatedly to me, in the presence of all these good people, that you were telling the truth. You lied.
To these people. To me, the appointed castellan and lady of Casterly Rock. You’re not the child’s
mother. You want him hurt. You want him dead.”

Baffled eyes of the spectators look at her. Kevan sighs, understanding now clear on his face.
Tygett too, smirks and goes to the legal wife and gives her the child. The woman cries and hugs the
child to her bosom, saying her gratitude over and over again.

“My game was a test. To see which one of you would show care or harm to the child. If you’re
indeed the caring mother you claim to be, you should have begged me to spare him from pain or
death. You did not. The real mother did. She loves the child enough that she’s willing to give him
up to save him. Whereas you willingly wanted to go through my suggestion even if you had to hurt
him and looked pleased at my suggestion to cut him in half”

The people in the hall go buzzing once more. There are relieved laughter and words of admiration
for the clever trick now. Some even claiming they knew it was a test. Judging eyes on Sansa are
now turned to the mistress and glances her way are accompanied with smiles of adoration.

“Fornication with a married man, thieving, swearing false oaths to your liege and in front of
witnesses and attempted murder. Tell me again, my good people, what the punishments are for
these crimes”

The people eagerly throw their answers. Stocks. Flogging. Hand decapitation. Walk of atonement.
Death by stoning and other brutal punishments.

The mistress goes from red anger to sickly white at hearing the people’s suggestions. Her haughty
expression gone now and replaced with that of a panicking prey caught in a death trap.

Sansa looks at the crowd, nods in gratitude and raises her hand to silence them. This time, they
follow her command and they all fall quiet.

“My lady… please. I was wrong. I didn’t mean to—” the woman kneels with shaking hands and
legs.

“But you did. You deliberately robbed a child from his mother. Claimed him as your own. You
repeatedly lied to my face and all the people here. You willingly put him in danger. How would
you like to pay for your crimes?”

The woman starts to weep, truly frightened now that she knows her situation is dire. She looks to
her friends but they look away. She looks to her lover but he only shakes his head and closes his
eyes.

Sansa loathes the woman but what would decapitating her do? How would making her go through
the humiliating walk of atonement help? How would her death be beneficial?

“I offer you the choice of joining the silent sisters. There you shall repent of all your sins and be of
service to all”

The woman closes her teary eyes and nods repeatedly.

Sansa signals for two guards to take the woman away. The hall breaks out into applause, words of
praise and wishes of seven blessings my lady fill the hall.

Sansa gives her thanks to the crowd and calls for the wife and husband to approach.

She first addresses the wife. Knowing the danger she’s in from a possible retaliation from her
unfaithful husband, she asks the woman if she wants to continue living with the man or go home to
her family. It’s an upsetting and difficult situation but that’s the fate of women. To endure or risk
fighting. Sansa would like to give her a choice, no matter how very small it is. Sadly but
understandably, in this case, the woman chose to endure. She opts to stay with her husband. All
Sansa can do is accept the decision and hope she remains safe.

She then addresses the husband.

“This ridiculous spectacle never would’ve happened had you honored your vows and remained
faithful to your wife my lord. You too are guilty crimes of adultery—the proof was just blatantly
presented to our faces. You are also guilty of putting your wife and child in harm’s way. How
would you like to pay for your actions?”

The man splutters incoherently. The crowd all make sounds of approval to have the man answer
for his role in what happened.

“How would you like to pay my lord?”Sansa asks again.

“I’ll pay a fine my lady. I… a-a hundred silver stags?”

Sansa wants to snort at the paltry offer but refrains,

“No. You will give three gold dragons to your wife as payment for everything you made her go
through. These coins she alone will have full control of. You will also give a gold dragon to the
sept at Lannisport that oversees an orphanage. Consider this your act of atonement for making me
have to adjudicate for the consequences of your wrongs. A guard shall oversee to ensure proper
turnover of these coins happen. And finally, 30 lashes.”

The man hurriedly accepts, afraid of making his situation worse than it already is.

“Know this, should anything untoward happen to your wife and the child, you shall be the first
suspect to answer. Let this be a lesson to you my lord and a warning to others.”

***

Kevan

Kevan looked on in amusement as Genna and Gerion both snigger after Tygett shared what
happened.

“That was impressively handled sweetling. Nicely done indeed. Oh how I wish I was there” Genna
said amidst laughter.

“Only because Uncle Kev and Uncle Tyg helped. Thank you for agreeing to this” the child looked
at him and Tygett and smiled in gratitude.

“You are welcome my lady. I am in your service” Kevan assured the brilliant little girl.

“This business of holding court and overseeing petitions in the city once every fortnight is a fine
idea niece. Only the first time and people already love it. They adore you and sing your praises and
express their gratitude for House Lannister. I expect there will be a bigger crowd next time to seek
your wise ruling” Tygett patted the little girl on her head.

“This should have happened decades ago. But with your grandfather so incompetent and your
father much busy at court—well, you see where we are now. Well done sweetling. It’s truly
impressive” Genna praised the child once more.

“I should join the next time. You can count on me Sansa, especially if you need someone for trials
by combat. I assure you I can do a better job at it than Tyg” Gerion winked at her. Tygett only
snorted at the arrogant claim.

“Ah, Tywin and Joanna would love to hear about this. I’m sure of it. Brothers, I claim first dibs on
writing about this and sending them a raven” Genna smiled wickedly.

Kevan only huffed and Gerion and Tygett both rolled their eyes at their sister, knowing she’ll not
hold back in sharing the events.

It has become some sort of childish competition now—reporting to Tywin and Joanna the ideas
and accomplishments their clever daughter come up with.

Kevan had to admit it really was impressive for a child of only six. Only three moons have passed
with the little lady holding the reigns of the Rock and already she’s creating waves.

The first thing she did that baffled even them was inviting a different household staff or castle
guard at the high table every night for dinner and asking about their lives and their opinions on
what issues need to be addressed and how.

At first, Kevan and Genna were cynical and reluctant of the new practice but now they see it does
have positive effects. All the workers at the Rock seem to be even more inspired to work even
harder and with greater efficiency.

The second thing Tywin's favorite (Kevan is certain of this) daughter did was to conduct a survey
of Lannisport orphans and unemployed women. She’s now collaborating with the kindly
Lannisport septon, septas and some women to open two orphanages—one on the north side of the
city and the other on the south side.

Tywin only approved of the move after having been sent a lengthy letter by his daughter detailing
the benefits (ie less crime and violence in the streets, a safe place where children and the destitute
can learn crafts to make their own living and become productive citizens of the west, ensuring
poverty does not become a malignant disease, beneficial to House Lannister's reputation).

And now this holding court in the city and handling petitions once every fortnight.
 He’s very proud of the girl. Such a gift to House Lannister. And so very young still! He can only
hope of fathering a daughter half as beautiful and clever as she is.

He is glad for it—glad that Tywin has a child he can depend on and trust with their house and lands
should his heir fall or fail. His lord brother deserves it after all the sweat and blood he has shed to
drag and rebuild their family from the mud the incompetent Tytos Lannister, their father, left it in.

Chapter End Notes

The scene of the two women fighting over a child is patterned after I Kings 3:16-28
where Solomon shows his wisdom. Of course, some things were added to fit the story
 Sansa/Tywin /Genna

Sansa

Over the years, Sansa has come to understand the quirks and dynamics of the Lannister siblings.

Tywin Lannnister, faraway though he always is due to his duties as Hand of the King in the capital,
has the longest and darkest shadow that covers all of them. Even in his absence, his presence
lingers—powerful and suffocating at times. A single raven containing a few words from him could
send the entire house into a tizzy.

Kevan, she’s come to know, has wholeheartedly accepted and resigned himself to his older
brother’s shadow and has turned himself into a creature of duty, loyalty, and obeisance. Where
Tywin goes, he will follow. If Tywin says jump, he’ll simply ask how high and do as commanded.
It’s admirable and at the same time tragic. Without Tywin, Kevan, she’s sure, could be a man
considered great all on his own. He's an intelligent, patient man and lacks the potent danger Tywin
has. In truth she prefers him best over the rest of them. In some way, he reminds her of Ned Stark.

Genna has about half of Tywin’s cunning—but all the same, a lioness—lethal on her own. She
hides it behind vulgarity and vanity. She refuses to follow established conventions and propriety (
oh, how this particular traits reminds her of her wild sister) and tends to act or say outrageous
things to shock people. But that is exactly what makes her dangerous. She’s a master at making
people feel disoriented and out of their depths. Just like Kevan though, she’s also loyal and
obedient to Tywin Lannister.

Tygett is the troubled middle child—the one with a huge chip on his shoulder. The most gifted at
sword fighting of the Lannister brothers, Tygett desires to stand and be known as his own man
(which reminds her of Jon and Theon). There’s gruff kindness and gentleness in him too, ringing so
close to that of the Hound’s. But continuously struggling and climbing out from under the
mountain of Tywin Lannister’s greatness is proving to be in vain and Tygett is on his way to
becoming a bitter man.

Gerion, she finds, is somewhat similar to Tyrion. Knowing he cannot escape Tywin’s influence,
the youngest Lannister sibling has decided to simply accept it. But unlike Kevan and Tygett, he
doesn’t take things as seriously and instead makes a jest of things whenever he can and always acts
with reckless abandon. Why cry when you can laugh? is what he’d always say. He’s also the most
adventurous of them all. He always has a humorous story to tell and Sansa found that if she wants
information and not have to go through hoops or many levels of manipulation, Gerion is the best to
question. With his easy attitude, he has many people flocking to his side and these people share
gossips freely when they’re deep in their cups—gossips Gerion shares all too willingly, if she asks
the right questions.

Growing up in Winterfell with only the statues of her dead Uncle Brandon and Lyanna and her
remaining Uncle Benjen stuck at the Wall, having so many uncles now is quite an experience she’s
enjoying and benefiting from so far.

If she wants intellectual discussions regarding Tywin Lannister and needs support in her projects,
she goes to Kevan. If she wants a deeper understanding of the Rock or the families loyal to House
Lannister and their hidden weaknesses or dirt, she goes to Genna. If she requires protection, she
goes to Tygett. If she wants information from beyond the western territories, she goes to Gerion.

It’s all quite a convenient arrangement.

***

“I want to learn archery and how to wield a blade” she declares to the three men at the dinner
table.

Three golden heads and three pairs of emerald green eyes turn to her.

“What did you just say?” Tygett asks with furrowed brows as Gerion starts laughing.

“Will you teach me archery and how to wield a dagger or a short sword Uncle Tyg?”

The men all shift uncomfortably in their chairs.

“Where is this coming from little lady? Why the sudden interest in male pursuits?” Tygett asks in
confusion.

“I want to learn how to protect my self” she tells them.

Kevan first looks at Tygett then at her, “What seems to be the problem little lady? Do you feel
unsafe? We can put more guards on you if that is what you require”

“No no. I don’t need more guards Uncle. What I want is to learn”

“But why?” he asks, baffled.

“Someday, I will have to marry. I will have to live in my husband’s castle and depend upon his
protection. What if he turns out to be a brute? What if the guards he provides me with are
incompetent or turn traitor on me? I want to be able to protect myself if necessary”

The North follows strength. And Winter is Coming.

Tygett snorts, “None would dare to hurt you. You’re a Lannister, daughter of the feared Tywin
Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and the Hand of the King”

“I’m sure that's the same promises great grandmother Rohanne heard before she disappeared
without a trace. The same assurances Lelia Lannister was given when she married only to be
mutilated and murdered by the ironborn, the same oaths Queen Helaena Targaryen was given
before she was cruelly made to choose between her two children's lives, the same words thousands
of women heard only to die horrible deaths”

No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone.

The three men all gave each other knowing looks, their eyes doing a silent conversation.

“Oh just let her learn” Gerion huffs after a while, “She’s a clever girl, she’ll know when to use
what she knows and when not too, isn't that right sweetling?” Gerion asks her.

Sansa nods to him in gratitude.

“Your lord father and mother won’t like this little lady” Kevan says, eyes understanding but clearly
wanting to avoid issues with Tywin Lannister.

“Well they aren’t here to put a stop to it” Tygett tells Kevan with a defiant tilt to his chin, then he
turns to Sansa “I’ll teach you Sansa but you must promise me this—you won’t turn into some
Dornish warrior wench hungry for fights or a wildling spear wife from beyond the wall. You will
still act with propriety. Or gods help us all from your lady mother and father’s wrath”
“Aye. I promise Uncle. I’ll only use what I learn for self-defense and only when necessary”

“Good. When do you want to start?” he asks.

“Next week Uncle? Three times a week if you would.”

“I’ll take one of those three, little lady. I’m a better archer than Tyg. I’ll help you on that one”
Gerion smirks and winks at her.

Kevan only sighs, “Do be careful. And teach her in a private room, not out in the open for all to
see. Her chambers if possible”

“Of course Uncle. I would prefer it too—to learn without prying eyes and wagging tongues” Sansa
assures the man

“I’ll hold off telling your father about this little lady but if he somehow learns of it—well, you
know we’ll have to follow his decision then”

“Aye uncle. I understand”

***

Tywin

Tywin’s sharp eyes looked at the two children in front of him.

After reaching the capital, he had been inundated with duties to the realm. He did set guards on
both his eldest and his heir but had little time to personally observe them himself.

He saw them during meals and took the little windows of opportunity to confirm what his youngest
shared with him and by the gods, she is right. Watching intently and knowing what to look for,
Cersei does have the beginnings of a sick, strange obsession with Jaime. And it is only worsening
the longer he observed them and the longer Jaime remained averse to her presence.

Joanna is currently dining with the Queen Rhaella, her ladies-in-waiting and a few Crownlander
ladies so he is left to dine with his children.

The girl won’t stop touching his son despite the boy’s irritation at her. Seated close to her brother,
she kept trailing her fingers on his arms and shoulders as though by accident, kept barging in his
personal space and bringing her face close to his and giving him barely concealed come-hither
looks entirely disgusting on a face far too young.

His daughter.

He ground his teeth and clenched his hands on his fork and knife.

“Jaime, if you are done with your dinner, leave. I would like a word with your sister”

The boy looked up at him in surprise. He only gave him a cold look and the boy hurriedly got up
and left.

He made hand gestures to wave away the servants and the guards and they obeyed him, leaving
him alone with his wayward daughter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked the girl coldly.

Wide, emerald eyes so like Joanna’s looked at him, “Father?”

“I asked you what you think you’re doing Cersei”

Fear crossed her young face at his words and her mouth quivered, “I don’t… I don’t know what
you mean father”

“Do you think me a fool? Do you think me blind to what it is you’re attempting with your
brother?”

Her mouth slacked, her face paled and her eyes darted guiltily away.

“You will stop whatever madness has taken over your senses this instant. Do you hear me? In three
moons, I shall have guards accompany you back to the West. I shall be making arrangements for
you to foster under Lady Alyssane Lefford. You will learn under her and you will take this time to
grow up and stop making a fool of yourself and our house. Do you understand, girl?”

“But father! I—” the girl dared to voice out a protest.

Tywin slammed his dinner knife on the table hard in anger and she jolted on her seat.

“Silence! I had thought bringing you here to the capital would open your eyes to your possible
future and make you take things more seriously but what do you do? Wasted this opportunity and
start acting like a degenerate wanton to your own brother. I have spilled barrels of sweat and blood
to drag our house to the heights it is now and I will not let a child of mine tarnish my legacy. You
will behave. You will not cause our house to be the subject of laughter and ridicule. You will do as
I command without a single protest or gods help you, daughter or not, I will make you regret it. Do
you understand?”

The girl bowed her head and made herself look small but it had no effect on him

“I asked you a question girl—do you understand?”

“Yes father” was her whispered reply.

***

Genna

“Well what does it say?” Genna asked with a raised brow.

“It says they’re turning here—Mother, Jaime and Cersei, that is” her young niece’s brows furrowed
in confusion as she read the letter from Tywin once more then gave it to Genna’s waiting hand.

“Something unexpected must have happened then” Genna muttered while she read the letter
herself.

“Father didn’t send you any raven Aunt? Uncle Kevan?” the little lady asked.

“No, he didn’t” Kevan also had his brows knitted together.

“Well, no use over speculations now. They’ll be here in a fortnight. Joanna can then answer us why
they’re returning six moons early” Genna shrugged.

***
“Jaime, tell me please, what happened at Kingslanding?”

Confused emerald eyes looked at Sansa, “What do you mean? I wrote about all the interesting
things that happened to you San”

“What happened to mother there? Did she and father fight? Is that why you all returned here at the
Rock six moons early? You were supposed to be there for a year with father. That’s what he told
me”

“I don’t know San. She and father looked fine when we left the capital”

“Mother always looks sad now Jaime. Something must have happened. Think brother please, did
something unexpected or unusual happen while you were there?” Sansa persisted.

Jaime ‘s brows scrunched as he struggled to remember. Sansa tried to wait patiently.

“Nothing happened except for when mother fell ill ah… around a moon ago maybe?”

“What was her ailment?”

The boy shruged, “I don’t know. Only father and Grandmaester Pycelle were allowed to see her for
about a fortnight. That’s it. That’s all I know”

“Alright. Thank you brother”

***

Sansa surreptitiously observed Joanna Lannister while plucking the strings on her custom-made
harp.

Though the woman still looks beautiful and well-put together, Sansa picked up immediately that
something’s wrong with her. Gone was the light in her eyes. Gone was the quiet contentment. The
woman has busied herself in taking over the duties Sansa was entrusted with but there were
moments when she’d just looked haunted or… went away inside herself.

After hearing from Jaime and the servants that came home with them of an unexplained ailment,
Sansa came to conclude what exactly happened.

Rape or some kind of assault.

She’s seen that look several times in the eyes of the few women who attended petitions and asked
for her help in getting justice for rape. She’s seen that in the mirror too, in her past life.

There were rumors in her past life that Mad King Aerys coveted Tywin Lannister’s beautiful wife.
And in this new life, there are also rumors floating in the Rock that Aerys tried to reintroduce the
practice of First Night during Tywin and Joanna’s wedding and that he made cruel japes about her
breasts after giving birth.

Almost everyone has heard of Tywin Lannister’s name and most fear his reputation as ender of
two great houses. None would be foolish to cross him.

Except for the king.

A mad king. A man who she’s certain thinks everything is his to take and everyone is his to
torment. He’s also the only man Tywin cannot kill outright.
Sansa’s hands clenched at the thought of another woman assaulted by a mad monarch.

And she’s sure the damned kingsguards played their role. Who else are stupid and loyal enough to
do what their king tells them to do?

Is this why you ordered the sacking of Kingslanding and the gruesome deaths of Elia Martell and
her children? Not just to put your family on the throne but to exact payment for a debt done to you
by the Mad King?
 Sansa

Sansa

Everything was beautiful. And oh so tragic.

The red and gold silk brocade gown. The elaborate necklace with its emerald pendant to match the
color of her closed eyes underneath the stone. The profusion of flowers—of lilies for innocence
and red roses for love, forget-me-nots and rosemary for remembrance and yellow chrysanthemums
and rue and crimson roses for sorrow.

The sarcophagus with its detailed sculpture of lions rampant on the sides and the seven-pointed star
of the Faith of the Seven on top.

The catacomb carved on the wall beneath the bowels of the Rock where the sarcophagus was
going to be interred was beautifully designed too.

Only the best for Joanna Lannister—wife and love of the life of Tywin Lannister.

Despite knowing this is how it ends and though she didn’t feel the same crushing grief she did
when she heard that the Freys cut Catelyn Stark’s throat to the bone and threw her in the river,
Sansa still mourned. She didn't think herself capable of mourning for a Lannister but yes, she's
found herself doing it for one.

Joanna Lannister was a beautiful and kind woman and a good mother. She was not the mother
Sansa wanted but she mothered her all the same. She fed Sansa at her own breast (disgusting
though it was), guided her with gentle hands when she was learning to walk again, talked to her in a
warm, soothing voice, showered her with praises for every little thing she achieved no matter that
Sansa’s independence hurt her at times.

And now she’s gone, taking with her many precious things that comforted and provided security in
many small ways—leaving behind all the people who loved her now forever changed.

Jaime who is still an innocent boy who dreams of great deeds and honor now has no mother and is
left with a cold, demanding father

Tyrion who is just a babe who will forever have to endure the deformity he’s born with and carry
the blame of the death of his mother. Who will grow up (not as tall, but grow he will) doing his
best to impress the man he will call father—the man who’ll never see him as his son but as the
murderer of the woman he loved and lost.

She looked surreptitiously around at the people in the small assembly.

Kevan looked solemn as she’s ever seen him. Tygett wore a grimace and clearly wanted to leave.
Gerion, for once, did not have the familiar jesting gleam in his eyes. Genna just looked tired.

Cersei was beautiful in a crimson gown but her face twisted in pain and her cheeks wet with tears.
Her eyes though showed rage.

And at the center of it all…

Tywin Lannister stood like a monolith. His hands clasped firmly behind his back. Dark and cold
and unmoving. Like a mountain in the middle of a storm.
She can’t see his face clearly but she knows it will be that of a man who’s happiness has turned to
ashes in his mouth and doing his damned best to project to the world nothing but strength.

Sansa closed her eyes when she felt Jaime’s trembling hands clutched hers tight, his sobs of misery
low and guttural.

With a sense of foreboding, she felt as though the world has suddenly shifted and everything would
no longer be the same. Time, she’s almost certain, was going to start moving fast forward now.
 Sansa/Tywin

Sansa

Sansa listened quietly as the cocky and flamboyant Prince of Dorne regaled she and Jaime of tales
of their journey from Sunspear to Starfall, to the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall and
now Casterly Rock—and the many mischiefs and jests he made of all of his sisters suitors.

“And then he farted while laughing at the dinner table”, Oberyn cheekily said of Baelor
Hightower, “and now will forever be known as Baelor Breakwind” then laughed loud at his own
jest.

Oh sweet summer prince, if you only knew what your careless jape cost you, your sister and your
house. The possible happiness your careless cruelty robbed from your beloved sister.

Sansa gave a small smile out of politeness. Jaime sniggered from beside her while the lovely and
graceful Princess Elia covered her smiling lips with a dainty hand.

“Hush Oberyn, you really mustn’t tell that tale to anyone you meet. You’ll tarnish Lord Baelor’s
reputation”

“But it was so funny! Oh if you two had been there, you’d have also laughed at how red his face
was… no, no—it wasn’t just red, it was crimson! Poor Baelor Breakwind, he almost had steam
coming out his ears of embarrassment” the young prince laughed again and almost bent over in his
mirth.

Sansa only met Prince Oberyn once in her other life—during the wedding that saw Joffrey dead
from Littlefinger’s and the Queen of Thorn’s plot. The Prince looked almost the same as he did
now. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall, slender and graceful but athletic. With the same quick tongue,
cheeky smiles and overall irreverent attitude.

Princess Elia Martell on the other hand, despite having the same hair and eye color, is lovely and
infinitely more gentle and soft-spoken than her brother.

It’s all so surreal to Sansa—meeting one of the victims who suffered the most from the
consequences of Targaryen, Stark, Lannister and Baratheon actions during the rebellion. Here in
front of her is the woman Rhaegar dishonored and threw away like unwanted trash—whose
children he bastardized. The woman Lyanna Stark, in her youthful foolishness and selfishness,
sought to usurp. The woman whose rape and murder along with her innocent children Tywin
Lannister saw as his stepping stone. The woman whose gruesome death Robert Baratheon saw as
victory and celebrated.

Getting to know her in just a few days, Sansa felt torn for Elia Martell.

On one hand, the woman does not deserve to be married again to the selfish and foolish Targaryen
Prince and possibly have the same fate. On the other, Elia Martell is the only highborn woman she
knows at present fitting and deserving to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei certainly isn’t.
Lyanna Stark, Catelyn Tully, Lysa Tully—with her knowledge of Stark and Tully families, all
three are also unfit to take a crown.

But the Martells and Dorne currently has no clear role in her plans. She didn’t have enough
knowledge of its houses and ruling families that well and most of all, she is highly wary of Doran
Martell. The then ruling Prince of Dorne of her past was said to be a very clever and cautious man
and refused to lift a finger unless it clearly benefited Dorne. Sansa is not sure he is an ally she can
fully trust and depend on.

There were other things to consider too—like geography, wealth and military strength. The
Kingdom in the Sands is too far and has the tendency to isolate itself from the rest of Westeros.
The wealth and military strength of Dorne is also something she can’t pin her plans on, considering
Targaryen strongholds like the Reach, the Crownlands and some of the Stormlands lie directly
north of Dorne. She was biased maybe, but there are clearly far more pressing concerns that needed
to be addressed and more useful allies to connect with—like the North, the Riverlands and Vale.

Cersei though… that's one move to play, a pawn to push on the board, but it’s a risk she refused to
make. And at this too early stage, she’s not confident in her influence on Tywin Lannister yet,
especially with his current terribly dark moods over Joanna’s death.

“So when can we meet the imp? Is he truly as monstrous as we were told he is?” Prince Oberyn’s
voice broke her thoughts.

“The imp is my baby brother Prince Oberyn and his name is Tyrion” she told the prince in a polite
tone but made sure he understood she didn’t appreciate his mockery.

Princess Elia gave her brother a chastising look then turned to her, “Apologies for my younger
brother Lady Sansa. We try our best to have him learn manners but as you can see, it hasn’t taken
effect yet”

“Apologies accepted Princess” she told the princess with understanding eyes, then turned to the
prince, “He is no monster my prince. He’s just a babe with a slightly bigger than normal head,
stubby limbs and dual colored eyes of black and green just like I do. He doesn’t have fangs nor
horns nor tails. Not even claws.”

She’s heard of the stories and grimaced at the utter foolishness and cruelty of it all. She’s ordered
the servants and the guards to ensure such talks do not happen in the Rock and so far her words had
been heeded. It’s a boon Cersei has been sent away to foster with the Leffords of Golden Tooth
otherwise the stupid and cruel girl would’ve made things very difficult.

The rest of the Seven Kingdoms though—well, word has already spread and everyone has taken
the opportunity to mock Tywin Lannister and make japes of his misfortune, the incompetent king
on the Iron Throne being the most vocal of all.

“Well, that’s certainly disappointing. And here I thought I’d see something exotic” the prince
pouted and Sansa had the urge to slap the expression away from his face.

“Oberyn, that’s quite enough brother. Do be more polite of our hosts. They’re still grieving from
the loss of an important person in their lives. The last thing they need is an inconsiderate guest”
Elia rebuked her brother.

Such a kind, well-mannered woman. She can’t imagine how a man could hurt or betray her. But
then again—everywhere in the world, they hurt women and girls.

***

Tywin

“Cersei? You’ve agreed to betroth Cersei to Prince Oberyn father?” his youngest daughter asked in
surprise.
“Yes. It’s the best thing to do for her and most beneficial for House Lannister. She’ll be a royal, a
princess and will tie us with House Martell but she’ll not have enough power or importance to
make a terrible mess of things. And if she continues with her…deviant inclination, then Dorne’s
reputation for licentiousness can be dismissed as the source of it, their own proclivities enough to
cover it. She’ll also be far enough away and will have less influence to drag our House with her to
the ground”

He watched as the girl nodded in understanding then looked him calmly in the eye, “And Jaime
and I? Who are we to marry in your plans father?”

He gave the girl a pleased look. It's good to know she's expecting to do her duty.

“There’s the Stark girl and Hoster Tully has two. If not, I will find someone fitting from among
daughters of our banner men. He has plenty to choose from. As for you, you will be Queen of the
Seven Kingdoms and you will bear an heir with Lannister blood who’ll sit on the Iron Throne”

The girl paled and swallowed then spoke in a calm, soft voice, “I don’t want to be queen father”

Tywin almost saw red, anger and disappointment in his chest. The only thing that stopped him
from shouting was the knowledge that the child has never once acted like a silly chit.

But his child. The one he holds most precious. The crown jewel of House Lannister and the West
—refusing to do her duty and role in his legacy! Refusing a crown!

“I had thought you wise and understanding of your duty and role in our family, but here you are
proving me wrong. You dare refuse a crown and the position of most powerful woman in the
Seven Kingdoms?” he snapped at the child, furious she would refuse what he's planned and hoped
for.

To the girl’s credit, she did not back down and turn craven. Instead, she raised her chin and looked
at him with solemn blue and green eyes, “You are Hand, father and yet people say you are more
powerful than the king. So tell me, do you really think a crown gives you power? Do you also
believe Queen Rhaella is powerful?”

He felt his anger simmered down a bit at the too rational and pointed questions. He had to give it to
her—her words were true enough.

He looked at his child intently again and saw a resolve he’s never seen in her before—a resolve
he’s seen in very few men. The child is a rational thinker. He decided to let her speak and listen.

“I know about mother. About what happened to her in the capital. You would still command me to
go along with your plans and marry the son of the man who did that to mother?”

Tywin reflexively clenched his hand and narrowed his eyes at the girl too clever for her own good,
“How did you know this?”

“I’ve handled enough petitions from women asking for justice father. Seen enough of their faces to
recognize it. You told me they were to stay with you at the capital for a year and yet you sent them
home six moons early. Something clearly didn’t go according to plan, and mother, though she tried
hard—I still noticed it. And I know enough to realize none would dare do that to her for fear of
you. None but the man who sits on the Iron Throne”

Tywin breathed deep and with a stony voice gave his command, “You will never speak of what
happened to your mother ever again, do you understand?”
The girl nodded quietly.

“Prince Rhaegar is different from his father. He is calm and known to be gentle and kind. The hope
of House Targaryen” he told the girl calmly, willing her to see things his way.

“You were friends with his father in your childhood. How long before that friendship turned sour
and his attitude changed? How long until Rhaegar also changed?” the girl quickly retorted, which
irritated him.

“By the time he does, you should already have an heir and a spare to secure the throne”

Aerys and Rhaegar can both be taken care of once an heir or two are secured. That I’d be glad to
see to.

“And you hold the future and can guarantee I will give birth to healthy Targaryen babes? Father,
Rhaegar is a product of an incestuous marriage between brother and sister. His mother is known to
be sickly and is having problems birthing more children. His grandparents were siblings too. Like
Queen Rhaella, Jahaerys II was known to be sickly, pale and frail too. What if I only give birth to
deformed and dead Targaryen babes? What if continuous failed pregnancies destroy me? My
body? Or is that a risk you want me to take?”

Imploring eyes from a too young face looked at him and his face softened a little. Joanna’s death
on the birthing bed, the imp’s deformity, poor Rhaella’s face and body and the many dead babes
she pushed out of her abused womb—images of them all came to mind. Imagining his beautiful,
bright daughter suffer the same fate—no, it is not a fate he would willingly throw his youngest to.

“If not the Prince, then who do you have in mind? Who, in your wisdom, is a better match for you,
hm?” he truly was curious what his daughter was thinking.

“A Stark of Winterfell” was the girl’s solemn reply.

A bit surprised, Tywin snorted derisively, “A poor, unwashed Northerner? From a barren land?
That’s what you came up with?”

The impudent girl dared to look at him with disappointment in her eyes, as though calling him a
fool.

“Father, the Starks were kings of old. They ruled for eight thousand years, their line unbroken.
Their banner men loyal only to them unlike other southern houses. Their territory vast, more than a
third of the Seven Kingdoms and yet to be exploited. Their wealth is not equal to those in the south
that is true, but only because they have neither the tools nor the manpower to extract their rich
resources. But even with what they have, the West stands to benefit—lumber and timber to supply
our shipyards and strengthen our navy. I heard Ned Stark has also started fostering in the Vale
under Lord Arryn, along with the Baratheon heir, as I’m sure you already know. And if Jaime
marries Lord Hoster’s eldest, then we will be on a bloc more powerful than the king’s. The king
who is taking great pleasure in making a mockery of you father. Who will most likely refuse to
marry his heir to me just to humiliate you and our house”

Tywin’s jaw clenched. Of course he thought of the possibility of Aerys denying him simply to
mock him. He’d be an utter fool not to. But to hear it given voice by his youngest child—and to
hear her say the same ideas he already thought of…the same choices he considered…

Perhaps it is time to cut his losses while he can and spare his House the humiliation and see to
other arrangements.
 Sansa/Rickard

Sansa

“San! Can you believe it?! The Blackfish San! The famous Blackfish! A hero during the War of
the Ninepenny Kings. It’s said he’s one of the best fighters in all the lands. Good enough to be
kingsguard. And I get to squire for him! Not with boring Lord Crakehall thank the gods. Oh I can’t
wait!”

Sansa watched amused as the boy paced and gesticulated his excitement. Overflowing with
enthusiasm, the boy couldn’t sit or stand still.

Yes she's known for moons now.

Tywin Lannister has been making clandestine moves since their talks about betrothals. He’s sent
Kevan and Genna as emissaries to Riverrun to negotiate a more favorable trade agreement than the
one they have with the Tyrells which was set to expire in a year. They were also tasked to take
measure of Catelyn and Lysa—a marriage proposal prepared on hand and to be offered only if one
of them proved worthy.

It had been a great gamble that had her tense for almost two moons. She hadn’t been sure if her
grandfather Rickard had already offered to betroth Brandon to Catelyn—there had been no news.
When the two returned to the Rock with a successful trade agreement and a positive evaluation of
Catelyn Tully and a betrothal underway, Sansa heaved a great sigh of relief.

She also knows Tywin had trusted riders deliver letters by hand to the Lord of Winterfell. There
were no responses received yet. She’s on tenterhooks for weeks now waiting for development on
this important venture.

Jaime was initially supposed to squire for Lord Sumner Crakehall but with his betrothal to Catelyn
in the works, it’s been agreed he’s to squire for her great uncle Brynden instead. In three moons,
they’ll be travelling to Riverrun with Kevan and Genna to finalize the agreement and so Jaime
could start with his new role. She asked to go with them so she could see Riverrun for herself and
meet the Tullys. Tywin had approved her request with a command to make her own observation of
Catelyn and take note of what else needed to be addressed to make her a more worthy lady of
Casterly Rock. Not that she has any plans of hindering the betrothal.

It had been a bitter realization—one that was built stone by stone over the years: If they are to win
the Long Night, history cannot repeat. And to ensure it does not, changes were necessary.

I might never see them again.

The North is the most important piece. It must be prepared and it must have alliances it could trust
and depend on when the crucial time comes.

She cannot change everything. She cannot do anything overt regarding King Aerys. She doesn’t
have concrete plans for him. She’s too afraid to even be near him.

Since she cannot influence the (crazy) Targaryen side, she resolved to work on the Lannister, Stark
and Tully side.

The Lannister movements so far are according to her plans. Her influence on Tywin is stronger
than before. Jaime is her loyal follower and protector. Tyrion is an innocent, worshipping babe at
her feet. Cersei is far away, her fangs and claws not as sharp as they could be.

The Starks… She can influence, manipulate or try to put them on a leash (for their own good and
survival). Careless and foolish Lyanna. Honorable and stupid and ignorant Lord Rickard and Ned
Stark. Brash Brandon and his band of idiots. And Catelyn Tully too. Along with (slimy vermin)
Littlefinger and love-thirsty (and mad) Lysa.

And her mother… Catelyn being married to House Stark won’t help.

Her father and mother’s marriage had done the North no good—this truth she’s come to realize and
swallowed hard. She loved them, she missed them but they made terrible mistakes that got them
killed—got many people killed.

For all the ridiculous number of times they said Winter is Coming, she found it truly ironic and
foolish they hadn’t prepared their children to the harsh realities of the world. They hadn’t done
anything to address the northern division (Bolton, Dustin, Ryswell vs Stark power bloc)—one that
greatly contributed to the doom of House Stark and disunity among northern houses and saw them
scrambling like headless chickens when the Long Night came. They were ignorant of Southern
affairs, blind to the dangers and traps set by other players of the game and made hasty, terrible
decisions that ended in devastating tragedies.

It wasn’t all their fault, she knows. They did what they thought best with the limited knowledge
and options they had.

But good intentions don’t simply produce good results.

And Winter Truly Is Coming.

***

Rickard

Rickard read the letter once more before dropping it on the table. He stood up and went to the
window overlooking the yard where Brandon was fighting with Ser Rodrik, Lyanna watching and
hollering on the side like a wildling. He watched as Brandon skillfully twisted his blade to disarm
the knight and felt pleased once more of his heir’s skills.

If only the boy would devote equal enthusiasm to learning his lordly duties. That would make him
even more pleased.

He thought once more of the letter burning on his table.

How very curious. Very curious indeed. The great and feared Tywin Lannister seeking my son for
his precious daughter.

He wondered if the volatile relationship between the Hand and the King he served has gone so
terrible that the Great Lion is now seeking alliances. He'd have to consult with Arryn.

He, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully have been corresponding for a few years now, covertly coming up
with several proposals to strengthen their alliance. Ned’s fostering in the Vale is a result of these
talks. There were marriage proposals put on the table: Brandon and Lady Catelyn, Elbert and Lady
Lysa, Robert Baratheon and Lyanna and many others—but none had made a final decision yet, all
of them playing a waiting game. Holding out for better options, greater opportunities, more
beneficial outcomes.
But now the lion has made his move and the ambitious trout swallowed the bait.

A lioness for House Stark. A pretty thing and a clever one at that (if the few rumors that trickled
North are to be believed, that is).

It’s not a bad proposal. In fact it’s a beneficial one. More beneficial than Hoster Tully's in truth.
The solid might of the West. The mountains of gold shat by House Lannister. A favorable trade for
Northern timber and lumber. Tywin Lannister.

His banner men though will surely see different. But his banner men are far too comfortable in
their seats and paying ignorance to the southern threat—the Targaryen threat.

Every generation fighting wars and suffering losses because of the cruel or weak or incompetent
leadership of dragons. Weak and indecisive Aenys. Cruel Maegor. Aegon II the Usurper and
Rhaenyra who plunged the realm in the devastating Dance of Dragons. Addlebrained zealot
Baelor. Aegon the Unworthy whose lust and stupidity spawned Five Blackfyre rebellions spread
across sixty years. Warmonger Daeron the Young Dragon. And now Aerys II. The rest are of
mediocre accomplishments and few worthy of being called good. Jahaerys the Conciliator the only
one truly great.

How many more bad and worse and truly terrible until enough is enough?

There’s still Ned and Benjen to soften the blow.

It’s a good choice and Winter is Coming.

 Sansa/Jaime

Sansa

Sansa panted as she leaned on the wall, her trembling hand let the short sword fall on the floor.

“Come on girl, one more round” Tygett urged.

“Just a moment uncle” she groaned, “I just

need to catch my breath”

“Your enemy isn’t going to give you a break. Come now”

“I’m not talking to an enemy right now. I’m talking to you, one of my favorite uncles”

“Ha! Not going to work on me girl. You promised you won’t complain. Come on. Pick up your
sword. Let’s try that technique once more.”

Sansa took deep breaths and picked up the sword.

“There’s a girl. Good. Now, remember, the trick is in the momentum of your opponent. Capitalize
the odd angle after he thrusts and your counterattack will have greater success.”

She again took up the stance Tygett showed her two weeks ago and on they went. Thrust. Parry.
Twist. Counterattack.

She’s been training with Tygett, Gerion and sometimes Kevan, for more than a year now.

She’ll never be half the warriors Robb, Jon and Arya were. Even compared to the budding genius
of the young Jaime, her skill with the sword is barely half decent. Her blocks are good but her
offensive moves were terrible. Piss poor Tygett called it with a sneer six moons ago. But she’s
getting better, Tygett said. Slow, but she’s learning, improving. And the man refused to stop until
she’s decent and capable of effectively defending herself and able to kill an enemy or two. She’s
thankful for his patience and determination to see her succeed.

Her archery though—she’s proud to say she’s excellent at it. Even with moving targets. A fact that
Gerion takes pride in and always used to boast and make japes about Tygett’s teaching style.

When Tywin came to know about the lessons just a few days after Joanna’s death, she’d feared
he’d put a stop to them. Upon catching her having sword practice with Tygett though, he merely
nodded for them to continue while he stood and watched in silence then eventually left them after
around an hour. She suspected Joanna’s rape and assault played a huge role in him not putting a
stop to her lessons.

“Alright, that’s better. We’ll work on it more next session. Come on, cool down” Tygett took her
sword and she tiredly went through the stretches and breathing exercises he taught her too.

“I talked to your father about getting a Braavosi water dancer for you”

Sansa turned her head so fast she almost had a whiplash. Braavosi Water Dancing. That had been
Arya’s style!

“I’ve talked about it with Gerion. He’s seen a few water dancers before so he knows better than I.
He agrees it will be a lot more effective for your build and body type. We will continue your
lessons with me while your father searches for one though”

“If that’s what you think is better uncle, then it’s fine for me” she nodded in acceptance.

My sister. It’ll be a reminder of my sister. Something I'll share with her. Hopefully it works for me
too.

***

“Here they are my lady” Myra, one of the women who oversaw the orphanage located on the
northern part of Lannisport gave a bow and presented the five youths behind her. Three boys and
two girls. They all had forgettable faces and looked to be aged between ten and two and ten. Good.

“Thank you Myra, you may return to your work now”

The woman bowed again and left.

Sansa looked at Genna first who only nodded then turned her attention to each of the five youths
who were all looking back at her in amazement.

“Please have a seat” she pointed to the vacant chairs around the small table laden with food that she
and Genna occupied. They followed her command in a hurry, almost tripping on their own feet.
Once they were all seated, they all turned their heads to her.

“I have heard from Myra and the other caretakers that the five of you are the ones most excelling
in your lessons? I have a proposal—a task. One that will see you paid with coin. But first, let’s eat
and talk. I’d like to get to know you all first. How about it?” she looked each of them in the eye
and smiled.

The youths all smile back at her, eyes admiring and excited at the prospect of working for her and
House Lannister.

***

Jaime

Jaime rolled his neck and groaned in relief then sat on the bed to take off his boots. They just
arrived not a few hours ago in Riverrun. They’ve met with the Tullys and have just finished
partaking of the bread and salt for Guest Right. They’re currently in their assigned
accommodations taking a rest after the long and tiring journey.

“So, what do you think?” his little sister looked at him from her seat on the window overlooking
the slow-moving waters of the Trident, a teasing glint in her dual-colored eyes.

Jaime rolled his eyes and huffed. He knows what she’s truly asking about but pretended not to
“The castle’s pretty enough, but it won’t beat the Rock. I like the river and the vast green fields
too. I can swim anytime I want and ride for miles on end without worrying for my horse stepping
on sharp, pointy rocks or falling on cliffs”

Sansa scrunched her nose then smiled, “Hm. Not effective deflection. It’s not the castle I'm asking
about brother but the lady—your lady. What do you think about her?”

Jaime felt his cheeks and ears flush then whispered, “She’s uh… she’s pretty enough, I think. I like
her hair and eyes. Almost like yours” then grimaced, “But San, she looked so prim and proper. I
don’t…I don’t know how to talk to her. What if I say something stupid? Help me.”
“Calm down. You’ll definitely say the stupidest things if you keep worrying about it. Start with
simple things brother. Like her family. Her favorites things to do. Her favorite places and if she can
show them to you. The Riverlands and its people. And always listen carefully to what she tells you.
From her answers, you can ask more questions to keep the conversation going. If you find the topic
boring, then don’t pretend to like it. It will just get more difficult to continue talking if you’re not
interested. Ask something different. And always give her a compliment, girls like that.”

“Compliment? Like what?”

“Her beauty and her dress when you meet her in the morning—but don’t overdo it. Compliment the
stitches or design or color and how it matches with her hair or eyes. Compliment her mind when
she tells you something important or something new and you haven’t heard about before. Her wits
if she tells you something funny”

Jaime groaned and fell on the bed, “Why can’t I just squire with the Blackfish far from here? We
could tour the lands, fight bandits and catch outlaws. Sleep under the stars or stay at inns and not
have to deal with… with silly girls!”

His sister only gave an unladylike snort “Jaime, squiring for the Blackfish isn’t just about you
learning from him. It’s also about the Tullys getting to know you. Especially Lady Catelyn. So
exert effort in interacting with their family. And be polite about it. Don’t be cocky or insulting, you
hear me? Think before you open your mouth. Ask yourself this, is what I’m about to say going to
cause offense? If the answer is yes or probably then don’t say it at all”

Jaime groaned once more, “I really wish you'd been born first. And as a male. You’d make a far
better heir than I. Father would’ve liked it very much. I’m sure. And I would’ve been happy being
a second son serving as your guard or leading your army. I won’t have to marry like the Blackfish”

“Hm… that is true” she smiled teasingly at him, an adorable smug smirk on her face before she
turned serious once more “but nothing good ever comes from hopeless wishing. We have to work
and do our best with what we have”

“You really should stop sounding like father San. And don’t teach Tyrion to talk like that. It’s
weird. And annoying. Very annoying.”

“You just don’t like being reminded of father. Well, enjoy it brother. You’ll miss my words of
wisdom when we leave you here and I’m faraway, at the Rock”

Jaime laughed at the cheeky response and reached for a stuffed pillow to throw at her.

***

“So it IS true. You really have two colored eyes. Green and blue. Like Shiera Seastar!” Lysa
gasped, fascinated blue eyes staring at Sansa.

“I didn’t believe the rumors too Lady Sansa. It sounded impossible. But now that I see it—it looks
strange, yes, but beautiful too” Catelyn smiled at her.

“Thank you my lady” Sansa smiled politely back, trying very hard not to gawk at her mother’s
young face so close to hers. The two Tullys have asked permission to look at her strange eyes up
close.

“And red hair! Like us. I thought Lannisters are all blonde. It's strange. Why do you have red
hair?” Lysa spoke up again, voice full of curiosity.
Oh if only you knew.

“My grandmother—my father’s mother that is—she was a Marbrand. And Marbrands usually have
copper and auburn hairs.”

“Hm…Your brother is all Lannister. How about the Imp? I heard he’s got two-colored eyes too!”

“Lysa! Manners.” Catelyn hissed and gave her sister a sharp look, “Behave yourself.”

It was all strange and terribly poignant and Sansa had struggled the first few times she spoke with
them.

She had hated Lysa when she met her in the Eyrie. That Lysa had been negligent and mad and
murderous. She had fooled herself and enabled Littlefinger so much and contributed to so many of
his crimes.

The Lysa in front of her looks very innocent. The girl is pretty, with bright blue eyes, quick to
smile and is less prim than her older sister.

Here is another living proof of just how toxic and destructive Littlefinger was. Another reason why
he must be removed.

Her mother Catelyn, on the other hand looked like her past younger self. Red hair, blue eyes. All
prim and proper and lady-like. (Sansa is thankful she has different colored eyes, gold in her hair
and retained her pale northern skin. Otherwise, with her old self’s features put side by side with
Catelyn’s, many tongues would’ve gone wagging and creating problems left and right.) She's quick
to chastise her younger sister too like Sansa had been to Arya. No wonder Lysa became very bitter
at her. Even without Littlefinger, Sansa is certain the two sisters' relationship is bound to sour if
Catelyn continues with her strict adherence to manners.

She had thought that seeing her mother again, decades young though she was, would open the box
where she stored all her grief and heartache and leave her a blubbering mess. She was wrong. All
she feels now is some sort of…numbness, a distance—as though she’s seeing her through a hazy
glass. A cut once deep and fatal but has scarred and grown old and no longer painful. It’s
disconcerting but at the same time, it gave her a measure of relief.

With her mother’s younger face and Lysa’s enthusiasm, the scene reminded her of Arya and she
when they were still young and she wasted her time arguing with her sister over propriety instead
of making peace with her and working on their relationship.

“It’s alright my lady” she assured Catelyn then turned to Lysa, “Tyrion, that’s my little brother’s
name my lady. I would appreciate it if you'd use it. And yes, he has one green and the other black
eye. And before you ask, he looks similar to other babes, only with a little larger head and shorter
limbs. No additional limbs like tails or horns”

Catelyn and Lysa both blushed then smiled awkwardly at her.

“Rumors really cannot be believed all the time. The lies and unbelievable things people come up
with. Ridiculous! My apologies for your brother. He doesn’t deserve such harsh words” Catelyn
offered her sympathy.

“Thank you my lady. Tell me, does your father or uncle have other squires or fosterlings?”

She hasn’t noticed Littlefinger’s smarmy face inside the castle yet.
Lysa just shrugged but Catelyn looked thoughtful.

“Father said something about fostering a war friend’s son. He’s from the Vale I think” Catelyn said
after a short while.

“And when is this fosterling going to arrive?”

“Within moons. I am not entirely sure Lady Sansa”

“I see. You’ll both look after my brother when we leave him in your uncle’s care, won’t you? Jaime
—he's a bit careless and sometimes cocky for his own good. But he is kind and loyal. I don’t want
him hurt or put in danger. Promise me you two will be his friend and watch out for him?”

“Of course we will” the two chorused.

***

The dinner meal was coming to a close when conversation picked up once more.

“How are your accommodations so far Lady Alysanne? It's not Casterly Rock but I hope Riverrun
and the Riverlands are providing enough entertainment and has not bore you?” Hoster Tully’s
calculating blue eyes were focused on her.

Sansa cannot remember meeting her grandfather in the previous life. He had been a sickly, old man
bound to his bed then. And had died in the middle of the War of Five Kings.

The Lord Hoster Tully she's facing now though—everything about the man made Sansa feel as
though she’s facing a less bloodthirsty variant of Tywin Lannister. Like Tywin, Hoster Tully is
broad and tall and has a very commanding presence. The same fiercely proud stance, the same
calculating looks and without a doubt the same ambitious heart.

Looking at the man, Sansa had a sudden terrible thought that this might be where Littlefinger
learned his calculating ways from—at her grandfather’s feet. And time has made of them a full
circle. A terrible one. From her grandfather to Littlefinger then her. Justice and vengeance the cruel
gods has seen fit to serve.

“Lady Sansa if you would my lord, thank you. It’s the name I’m used to. And your home is
beautiful Lord Tully. I find the calm very soothing. And your daughters too my lord. They’re both
lovely companions. I am glad to meet them”

“Hm. That is good to hear. When I heard Tywin Lannister’s youngest daughter who I heard some
rumors about is to be my guest, I admit, I had been curious. I first met your Father during the war
and again met him several times along with your Lady Mother in the capital when he became
Hand. You are a great beauty that I can see, but you take little from them my lady”

Genna laughed from her side, “That is because she takes much from her grandmother, our mother,
the late Lady Jeyne, in appearance. But she is Tywin's Lord Tully, of that you can be sure of”

“Indeed. How true are the rumors I’ve heard that she has tasted holding the helm of the Rock
already?”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to hers while Lysa remained ignorant and kept on eating. Jaime too, kept
on stuffing his mouth.

The Blackfish and his Lord Brother though remained looking at her.
“Only in part my lord, I had my Uncles and Aunt Genna guiding me all the while. So in truth I
didn’t take the helm all on my own and it was only for a very short while anyway” Sansa
downplayed the rumor.

“Still, to not flinch in the face of leadership and duty at a very young age—a commendable act of
courage my lady”

Sansa tried not to squirm on her seat at the discomfort the appraising cunning eyes of the Lord of
Riverrun is giving her, “Thank you my lord”
 Kevan/Jaime/Rickard

Kevan

“Prince Viserys of House Targaryen, reportedly a hale and hearty babe. Finally, a spare for the
house of dragons” his young niece muttered, breaking the monotonous silence in the solar.

Kevan looked up, pausing in his reading of the batch of reports from both the capital and patrols
along the Gold Road. “A good thing for the crown. The line of succession is stronger than with just
one heir”

“Hm, not necessarily. They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and the world holds
its breath asking will it be madness or greatness? I say whoever said that is a fool. Just how many
Targaryens were truly great?Jahaerys I? Viserys II? Daeron II? There is no coin—there's blood.
And the Iron Throne. Incestuous relations recycling the undesirable traits across generations and
the temptation of the absolute power of the Iron Throne corrupting it even more. This babe may yet
still grow with a corrupt heart and mind filled with desire for that damned ugly chair and foment
wars to usurp his brother. And leave the Seven Kingdoms mourning deaths and losses once more”

Kevan smiled in amusement, “Such a pessimist little lady”

The girl only scrunched her face at him, “I’d like to think I am a realist Uncle. The reality is almost
always harsh and cruel and ugly. Better to accept that fact and prepare how to counter or change it
than to live in ignorance or naiveté and fall a victim or worse dead once you get a taste of it.”

Kevan could only shake his head, feeling fond and bittersweet for the girl in front of him.

“Father says there’s to be a tourney at Highgarden in six moons. The Tyrells grabbed the honor of
leading the celebration for the birth of the new prince. No doubt a move to ingratiate themselves to
the throne”

“The Tyrells have always been eager to prove themselves worthy of their station—always hungry
for recognition” Kevan remarked.

“Hm. Better them wasting their gold than us” the girl grinned, dual colored eyes bright.

“Indeed” he laughed and looked down at the scrolls containing the reports once more.

“What are the reports saying uncle?”

“These cases of banditry occurring between the borders of the Crownlands and the Riverlands
seem to be escalating”

“Any word from father about securing our borders to make sure these don’t spill over to western
territories?”

“He only commanded I have two battalions prepared for command at any time” Kevan put down
the scrolls and looked at her.

“Houses Lydden and Serrett then? It’s easier to deploy from their seats”

“No. Your father wants it to be men from the Rock and House Crakehall. I’ll take care of the
arrangements little lady, no need for you to step in”
Sansa nodded, “It’s the increase on tariffs on smaller ports, isn’t it? That's the cause. I imagine
smaller ports are suffering and trade in those areas are dwindling”

“You don’t agree with your father on the new tariffs?”

“It is indeed beneficial to large ports like Kingslanding, Oldtown and Lannisport, but I believe it’s
only short term. With smaller ports suffering, many trades and industries will also cease in port
towns leading to more complications like increased crimes such as banditry, cities swelling with
more poor people flocking in from affected areas and worsening living and health conditions. The
situation of Flea Bottom and surrounding towns in Kingslanding is already bad enough as it is. It’s
also possible small rebellions will break out and might even escalate to something bigger”

“Well, the decree has already been implemented. Let us hope it doesn’t come to that”

“Let’s increase patrol guards in Lannisport Uncle—just to ensure there'll be no problems breaking
out if new people come in”

“Yes. I believe that would be best”

***

Jaime

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him—an ambitious little rat daring to touch a
pretty silly trout.

Baelish arrived to foster under Lord Hoster six moons after him. At first, he had wanted to befriend
the boy—the two of them being both wards of House Tully.

But then his little sister told him to act with caution and reminded him of the lessons she gave. She
told him to be careful of people he’ll allow in his inner circle as he will be future Lord of the Rock
—the land with access to most gold that many are salivating over, always looking for opportunities
to grasp Lannister wealth with their grubby hands.

Little Sansi told him to use his sharp eyes to judge the boy’s character. To take note if the boy is
genuine in his interactions with people or not. Whether his eyes are cold or warm when his mouth
is smiling or not. Whether he tells complete information or just half and unclear ones. How he
looks at the two pretty Tully girls. And she made him promise to report to Lord Tully if the boy
tries to take advantage of the girls. Of course he promised. He wants to be a knight to protect
women and the innocent and the weak!

He’s thankful his little sister wisely gave him pointers because after almost two years, he’s now
certain: Baelish is a rat.

The boy is an irritant. He has a way of turning things in his favor with few casual and sometimes
untrue remarks. His eyes are cold when he laughs. He says insults as if they are compliments. And
he won’t stop staring at Jaime’s betrothed. But here he is kissing silly Lysa. Why can’t the chit be
like his little sister or Cat?

He walked closer to the two, his two Lannister guards several paces behind him, “What in hells are
you doing, little prick?”

Silly Lysa made a sound of protest but he ignored her.

“Just a game Jaime. Nothing for you to concern yourself with. You want to join?” the little rat
smiled at him.

Jaime snapped a hand and took hold of the other boy’s weak little arm and almost dragged him,
“You will follow me you little prick”

“Jaime! What are you doing?! Stop!” Lysa shrieked and tried to release the rat from his hold.

“Don’t interfere Lysa” he snapped at her. She’s silly more often than not but she’s almost like a
sister to him—she’ll be a sister by law when he and Cat gets married. He has to protect her.

“It was just a game. We were just playing. Let Petyr go!” the girl started to cry.

He looked at one of his guards, Ser Lester and gestured to help him get hold of the boy. When Ser
Lester had the Baelish boy secured, he faced Lysa and captured her hands swatting at him, “Stop it
Lysa. I said stop it. You’re the daughter of the Lord of Riverrun, act more like it”

“We were only playing. Let him go” the girl begged.

“No! I had enough of him always being a smug prick and an irritant. I’m also done with him
making eyes at Cat and now trying to kiss you. He wants Cat. He’s only pretending to like you, you
silly girl! He’s an ambitious little rat wanting to use you. Now come with me. We’ll talk to your
father and have him get rid of the vermin” Jaime then turned around with the girl’s hand clutched
in his.

The girl followed meekly behind him, her little hiccups wracking her body and tears streaming
down her face.

***

Rickard

“A tourney! Are we going father? We should. Oh please, say we will go!” Brandon’s loud and
excited voice filled the solar.

“Bran’s right father. We should go! Oh to see knights and kingsguards duel! Please. We never saw
a tourney yet!”

Lyanna’s eyes were begging at him but it’s his heir he’s more focused on “We will go”

“Oh yes!” the two exclaimed, hands pumped in victory in the air.

He raised a hand to stop them from celebrating and to get them to listen to him. He looked Brandon
in the eye, “Remember this, our main reason for going is not the tourney but to meet the Lannisters
—especially Lord Tywin and your betrothed Brandon. We will ride for Seaguard and take a ship
there to Casterly Rock. We will join them on the way to Highgarden. You two will join me but you
will behave. You will comport yourselves with dignity every step of the way. You are Starks of
Winterfell, not wildlings from beyond the wall. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes father!” Lyanna shouted in joy while Brandon nodded his head, eyes gleaming like a
wolf’s.
 Jaime/Rickard/Sansa/Brandon

Jaime

“Jaime, lad, thank you for watching over Lysa and making sure that odious boy was taken care of.
I have told Hoster I didn’t like him myself, but well, the stubborn fool wanted to honor his vow to
the boy’s father who was his wartime friend”

The Blackfish patted his shoulder, an act that never failed to make Jaime stand a little taller every
time the famous knight gave him words of praise. How could he not be happy? The Blackfish is a
childhood hero of his and a great mentor!

“Lysa is Cat’s little sister Ser. She’ll someday be my sister by law—it was only right I protected
her from that little prick. And besides, I made a promise to mine own little sister to watch over the
girls. So I did.”

“Did she now? You are very close with that little sister of yours eh? There’s always a raven for you
every week” the Blackfish smiled in amusement.

“Sansa is my closest sibling and my favorite. She’s smart—very smart. She helped me read and
write a lot better when even the maester gave up. And she’s always teaching me important things!”
Jaime boasted of his sibling.

“A rarity indeed. A male who knows how to listen to female counsel” the Blackfish teased.

Jaime awkwardly shifted on his feet from uncertainty and embarrassment.

“Oh relax lad, it’s a good thing—knowing how to listen to the female sex. Females can be just as
wise, if not wiser than men. I myself believe that if more men listened to women, we’d have less
wars. They are creatures more prudent and cautious than us males”

Jaime felt more at ease once more, “How is Lysa Ser?”

“The silly girl will live. It’s just a childish and shallow fancy. Someday, she’ll realize the weight
of the act you did for her today and she’ll be thankful”

“That’s good. He didn’t deserve her. An ambitious little man from a few acres of rocks, thinking he
can use a silly girl. What a fool!” Jaime sneered.

“Aye, that he was. But he’s gone and faraway now. Let’s not waste any more of our breath on him.
I’ve got a raven from your father Jaime. There’s a tourney for the new prince Viserys to be had at
Highgarden. We’ll ride for Seagard and stop at the Rock and travel with your uncles, sister and the
Starks”

Jaime brightened at the news of going home then attending a tourney, “That’s great news Ser. How
about Cat? Is she joining us?”

“Aye, she is. Lysa will remain here though. We’re leaving in a sennight lad. Best do your packing
early”

“Aye Ser Brynden” Jaime replied with enthusiasm.

He can’t wait to reunite with Sansa and Tyrion.

***

Rickard

The carrack containing large cargos they managed to get passage from with the help of Lord Jason
Mallister of Seaguard was just about to enter the walled city and they were all standing on the
upper deck to catch sight of Westeros’ third largest city of Lannisport and the famous Casterly
Rock.

“Is that it? The famed Casterly Rock? So high! Even from this far” Brandon commented, eyes on
the colossal rock House Lannister calls home.

“It IS high. I heard it’s higher than the Wall and the Hightower. By three times! No wonder
Lannisters also think high of themselves. Pray to the old gods the girl you’ll marry is less
conceited” Lyanna laughed.

“Lyanna! Watch your mouth. The Lannisters are our hosts. Take care how you speak” Rickard
rebuked his daughter with a sharp glance.

Rickard sighed and not for the first time in their journey, he felt he made the wrong decision to
take her with them. He has half a mind to leave her as a guest at the Rock instead of taking her to
Highgarden. Tis becoming clear the girl is not prepared yet to meet other high lords and ladies of
the realm.

Nor his heir it seems. Both their attitudes have gotten tiresome by the day all throughout the
journey. Having both her and Brandon in close proximity inside a cramped ship has shown him
firsthand just how wild the two are and how bad they feed each other’s foolishness and
recklessness.

Brandon’s fostering with the Lord of the Barrowlands has not done him any favors. Instead, it
seems his heir has gotten more cocky and careless. Dangerous traits for a future Lord of Winterfell
and Warden of the North.

I’ll put an end to his useless warding with the old lord Dustin. Cursed be the wild wolf’s blood.
Why did it have to appear in my heir and my daughter? It would’ve been better if it had gone to
Ned and Benjen instead. The gods truly are cunts. Even the old ones.

“Yes father” the girl blithely said, eyes already moving on to watch the busy port ahead,
“Lannisport. It looks like it’s thrice larger than White Harbor”

Wyman Manderly, the new lord of White Harbor, laughed from beside Rickard, “It’s population
is not merely thrice but five times that of White Harbor my lady”

“Really? That’s a huge difference!”

“It is. Kingslanding has about half a million. Oldtown around four hundred thousand. Lannisport
around two hundred fifty thousand. Gulltown around sixty to seventy thousand. White Harbor
barely reaches fifty thousand”

Brandon whistled, impressed at the figures given. Lyanna kept on observing her new surroundings.

Rickard on the other hand felt bitterness and dissatisfaction once more at the reminder of the
reality—of just how disparate conditions are between the North and the rest of the kingdoms.

The difference in population and manpower alone is already staggering. How much more in terms
of wealth? And yet, northern houses still look down upon the south when in truth, the North is in
much worse condition as things stand. And they’ll truly be left behind in the snow if nothing is
done.

He turned his eyes to one of his few attending banner men a few paces from where he stood.

Rodrik Ryswell. Lord of the Rills and Head of House Ryswell. A highly ambitious man with low
cunning. A dangerous one. And his pretty and equally ambitious chit of a daughter.

The Lord of the Rills has just recently announced the betrothal of his eldest daughter Bethany to
the Bolton heir. He knows the man is also aspiring to see his younger daughter Barbrey as
Brandon’s wife and Lady of Winterfell. Rickard’s jaws tightened at the thought.

What needs would I have of a house of a few hundred horses and men? What fool would choose it
over mountains of gold and men and trade and protection of the North should war come? Such
short-sighted fools, only thinking of your own petty interests and not the entire North’s. You call
me ambitious behind my back as though mine ambition will only serve me and mine. As though
your ambition is more noble and beneficial to the many who’ll starve in the face of a long winter.
Your narrow-mindedness and selfish desires hidden under your façade of loyalty to the North!

The Lord of White Harbor though—he looked at Wyman Manderly. There’s a more intelligent
man. One who understands exactly how dire things are for the north. Whose eyes are open to the
reality of the situation. The support of such man is truly of great importance, one he is thankful and
felt great relief for.

And finally he looked to the Lord of Bear Island, his friend Jeor Mormont. The Mormonts may be
a small house and not as well-off as others but what they lack in riches, they make up for in
strength and loyalty to Winterfell.

***

Sansa

Sansa felt her hands sweat as she stood front and center of the welcoming party as the regent of the
Rock. She was bracketed on both sides by Kevan and Genna. Tygett and Gerion behind her. The
rest of the important household staff behind them too.

An outrider had alerted them of the Stark party’s ascent through the enormous cavern of the Lion’s
Mouth reaching two hundred feet high. So here they are waiting to welcome their guests.

Oh but he looks very much like father! And she looks like Arya!

Those were the first two thoughts that came to mind when Sansa finally saw the Stark party come
through the Lion’s Mouth.

Then her eyes were caught by a young man of Stark coloring and features.

Brandon Stark. No wonder people called father plain. He truly is handsome. But that smirk and
arrogant air! Reminds me of Harry Hardyng.

And…seven hells! Is that Lord Manderly?! So handsome and young! And so fit! Why ever did he
let himself get so fat???

And—that pinched face. Barbrey Ryswell! The horrid woman who bitterly loved the Wild Wolf they
said. Who thought it wise to bring her here? Her father? Is this a move meant to intimidate me?
Too bad for you then Lord and little lady Ryswell, I have faced greater foes than you.

She furtively wiped her hands on the skirt of her gown, forced all her emotions down and schooled
her expression to a mask of gentility.

Once everyone were dismounted, her grandfather (who looked so much like her father Ned Stark)
walked closer to their group, his children on both his sides, his retinue at his back.

She curtseyed when he finally stood in front of her, “Welcome to Casterly Rock, Lord Stark. My
lords, my ladies.”

***

Brandon

“What do you think Bran?” Lya raised her brows teasingly.

“Beautiful. Exotic eyes and glorious hair. But looked too prim and polite. Didn't look capable of
breaking glass or killing a cockroach. Boring”

Lya threw her head back in laughter, unladylike chortles coming out his wild sister’s mouth.

“Did you see her face when I asked about the Imp?” Lya broke into giggles again, tears at the
corner of her eyes, “oh she looked so surprised then turned rigid. I’m afraid you’re marrying a
young and cold Tywin Lannister with tits brother”

“Hush Lya, you should heed father's words a little. This isn’t Winterfell. Who knows if anyone can
hear you through the walls”

Brandon gave his sister a sharp glance to which the girl only huffed, “Well, it’s not like they’ll do
something about it. They want their little lady Lannister to be the future Lady Stark”

“Perhaps they won’t do anything obvious. But don’t forget: Lannisters always pay their debts.”
 Sansa/Rickard

Sansa

Rickard Stark is very much like Ned Stark with more…ambition and political intellect. However,
the man, like most northerners, have stringent notions when it comes to the concept of honor.

Brandon Stark is, like she initially thought, a Harry Hardyng version or pre-Ramsay Theon version
who’ll grow up to be the idiot and wastrel King Robert Baratheon if he’s not taught some
discipline—handsome and charming and good with a sword but entitled, cocky, brash and lustful.
Less than a sennight and already she’s had two reports of him flirting and trying to tumble two
pretty maids. He’ll take a lot of work, of that she is sure. But she’s experienced dealing with more
cruel and dangerous men. She’s not afraid to face him.

Lyanna… Lyanna is an infuriating mix of Arya and her younger self. The girl is naïve and a
dreamer like Sansa was before but possessed even worse than Arya’s careless, reckless disregard
for rules and propriety. The girl, she fears is far too stubborn and has the dangerous desire of
wanting to live in her own terms and make her own rules and damn all the consequences and the
rest.

Barbrey Ryswell is a proud, jealous little witch who thinks highly of herself. She forgets she’s a
horse in a lioness' den.

Lord Rodrik Ryswell is an ambitious, cunning man or so he believes. Poor man. He hasn’t seen
anything of the cunning, vicious beasts of the court yet. She hasn’t forgotten how his house, and
the Dustin’s through Lady Barbrey, supported the Boltons.

Lord Jeor Mormont is like a northern version of dear Lord Yohn Royce. Honorable and dutiful but
not afraid to speak his mind. And a loyal banner man and good friend to her grandfather it seems.

Lord Wyman Manderly is his charming, cunning self (well, less cunning right now but she can
already see he’ll certainly grow into it). She can’t get over how fit and handsome he is yet. When
she looks at him, it feels like a fever dream.

All seven and some of their household knights (she’s seen a younger, handsomer version of old Ser
Rodrik Cassel! With his dark curls and less ridiculous beard!) and servants were hosted at the
Rock.

She made sure they were provided impressive accommodations, of course. Nothing less from the
previous Lady of Winterfell and now the Lady Regent of the Rock.

She provided them with rooms with the view of Lannisport in the distance and the beautiful Sunset
sea. The sun sets most beautifully in the West. The moon over the sea at night is a pretty sight too.
She also assigned them her chosen, efficient servants to see to their every need. Servants who
served as her eyes and ears. Servants who reported to her the thoughtless, careless things stupid
boys do and insults silly girls say about their hosts when they think no one can hear them.

It seems no matter how much kindness and respect you give, there are just people who are too
selfish and stupid for their own good.

***

The long table was full and many have decided to partner up or grouped to make conversations.
Her grandfather Rickard and Lord Mormont with her Uncle Kevan conversing about the tariffs,
Lord Manderly and Lord Ryswell with Gerion and Genna talked about ports and trade, Tygett and
Brandon about knights and wars.

She was sat close to Lyanna and Barbrey. As she planned.

Like a wolf hunting it’s prey. A lioness prepared to pounce. That’s what Sansa felt.

“I am very curious Lady Lyanna, Lady Barbrey, how do young girls spend their time in the North?
What favorite activities do northern girls engage in?” she asked the two young women.

“The same activities southern girls do, I suppose” Barbery raised her chin proudly, tone a bit
condescending, “like dancing and music. But us northern girls must be of harder breed than
southerners, so some also learn riding, archery and hunting. To be helpful and useful to our
families and people in other ways and not just to sing and sew and breed heirs. I myself excel in
breaking horses”

“Oh I love horses! I’m great at horse riding, people in Winterfell say so. And archery too. I don’t
understand why so many girls enjoy useless lessons in sewing and embroidery” Lyanna scrunched
her face in distaste.

“I would think a northern girl who lives in a land of heavy snows and cold would know the
importance of sewing. It keeps you clothed and warm. And in times of fights, especially war, it is
crucial in treating the wounded and saving lives” Sansa remarked evenly.

Lyanna’s jaw slackens for a while then she stubbornly clenched it, “Well it’s not for me” she said
in a raised, surly voice.

Some heads turned to them at her loudness. She saw Lord Rickard’s mouth tightened. Sansa bit
back a smile.

“I suppose different people have different interests” Sansa nodded, all calm, “How about other
lessons? What are ladies of the North taught in their lessons?”

“Some girls are taught household accounting and management and others who don’t have male
siblings and are set to inherit after their fathers are even taught in handling petitions and collecting
taxes and rents from farmers and servants” Barbrey was first to answer again, clearly eager to show
off.

Sansa nodded in approval, “That is very good to know. One can never know what the future holds.
Sometimes unexpected deaths and wars happen. It is important for girls to learn how to manage
households and rule effectively and efficiently in the event they have to step up and fill their
fathers' or brothers' places.”

“And what about you Lady Lannister? What lessons are western girls like you are taught?” Lyanna
asked with a glint of challenge in her eyes.

Sansa smiled at the other girl, pleased at the direction the conversation is going.

“Many things my lady. Household management and accounting just like Lady Barbrey shared of
northern ladies. But my personal favorite of all is reading and learning history”

“Reading? That’s boring. To have to sit still for hours just reading old dusty texts—” Lyanna‘s face
twisted in a grimace, clearly unimpressed.
The expression was so like Arya’s it almost made Sansa smile in fond amusement. But she
reminded herself the girl isn’t her sister and must be taught a lesson. Perhaps what happens next
will help the girl grow up a little more and learn to be more cautious.

“A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone and a smart person knows one should not
sneer at learning history my lady. People who do not remember and learn from history are bound to
repeat the mistakes and tragedies of the past.”

“So Lady Lannister who loves reading, what examples can you give of history repeating because of
ignorance of the past?” Lyanna jutted her chin out, face one of defiance.

Other conversations petered out. Most of the attention was now on their side of the table.

“Why, the, not one, not two but five Blackfyre Rebellions my lady. The rebellion of the Reynes
and the Tarbecks. The North’s history too is ripe with examples. For instance, the Greystarks'
alliance with the Boltons and their rebellion against your Stark ancestors. If they had heeded
history, they’d have known their bid for northern dominance would end in the decimation of their
house. Was it not what Starks of old did to Houses Towers, Ambers, Greenwood and Frost? The
Marsh king and the Warg king?”

Lyanna’s eyes widened and her mouth slackened, clearly not expecting her to know northern
history. Brandon and Barbrey looked flabbergasted. Lords Ryswell and Mormont too looked
surprised. Lord Rickard looked pleased and impressed—then he deliberately turned his head and
looked at Lord Ryswell with his dark gray eyes. The Lord of the Rills squirmed a bit on his seat.

Yes good Lord Ryswell. Remember this lesson well. This is for you too. Remember what happened
to the Greystarks. And all the rest of them.

Lord Wyman laughed, face looking impressed and approving, “Ah! Someone with great
knowledge of northern history! Quite a rarity you are my lady. Most southerners normally dismiss
the North as nothing but a barren land with savages and barbarians”

She looked him in the eye and smiled gently, “I am not most southerners my lord. I would love to
travel and see the world but I am bound to my duties. And so I turned my passion to reading and
learning—about many places, cultures, people, trade and war. I came to realize that most of us live
and die in our safe, cozy little corners of the world not having knowledge or understanding of
others. Most of us look at others with eyes that saw little and judge with minds that know less and
foolishly think ourselves better and greater. I don’t want to be like most of us”

The Lord of White Harbor laughed again, “An impressive view my lady. It is true, most people
know so little and yet boast and judge so much. The world would be a better, less chaotic place if
many more think like you. Tis a relief, to know the future Lady Stark is one who values wisdom”

“Thank you my lord” Sansa bowed her head a little in thanks.

Her Uncle Kevan had a proud smile while her Aunt Genna wore a haughty smirk.

“And what else have you read and learned about the North my lady?” her grandfather, Lord Stark
asked, an assessing glint in his eyes.

“I mostly read about the years of conquests and wars with the Andals, the Faith, the Ironborn and
the Vale of Arryn as well as history of the northern houses. I also learned some about northern
trade and economy”

“Trade is it? A strange interest for a young lady” Brandon commented with a frown.
“Well, you can say our niece is quite the exception. She’s been reading all sorts of books since she
was only three” Genna shared with pride.

“Impressive” Lord Wyman praised then looked at her with curious green eyes, “And what ideas
have you thought to improve northern trade my lady?”

Sansa straightened her spine to look more in command and show confidence, “The lack of a major
port on the west coast is severely damaging to northern economic development. Torrhen’s Square
is a very ideal spot, I'm sure you agree. Its location puts it near the center, surrounded by the Neck,
the Barrowlands, the Rills, Deepwood Motte, Castle Cerwyn and very close to Winterfell. I
believe, if one such port exists and is linked with a major road to the White Knife then it will be
easier to connect with White Harbor and will open up trade with Seaguard, Lordsport, Lannisport
and even Oldtown. The distance and time necessary to transport goods from east to west and vice
versa would catch the interest of merchants and traders.”

“You forget why such a thing is impossible little lady. The Ironborn infest the western coast” Lord
Ryswell snorted. Barbrey who stood silent with a furrowed brow the entire time nodded in
agreement with her father.

“Lord Ryswell is right. Ironborn reavers have been enemies of the North for centuries” Brandon
agreed with a frown on his face. Barbrey smiled prettily, pleased that the heir to Winterfell
supported her father.

“I have not forgotten them Lord Ryswell, Lord Brandon. Lannisport has also suffered their
unwanted presence many times in the past, in case you’ve forgotten”

Sansa looked first at Barbrey then Brandon before locking eyes with the Lord of Rillseat to show
she’s not intimidated and tried hard not to glare at the lord.

Then she continued, “As for the issue of the Ironborn reavers, it can be addressed by an alliance
between the North, the Riverlands and the West—naval patrols or escorts for trader ships. With
three regions and possibly the Reach joining the trade link and having vested interests and keeping
an eye for any attacks, the Ironborn will not easily attack. Having the Botleys of Lordsport linked
to the chain would also help. As the ruling house of the main port of Pyke, surely they will exert
effort and influence to stop other Iron Islanders from destroying their source of wealth and trade
credibility throughout the Seven Kingdoms? Surely they will fear having to face retaliation and
other dire consequences passed to them from the Iron Throne?”

Lord Rickard and Lord Jeor gave little nods, both looking thoughtful.

“The idea does have merit” Lord Wyman agreed, stroking his chin.

“Once trade is opened, then northern timber and lumber would be easily exported both west and
east. More goods from the western coast will pass through central North to the eastern coast and
possibly across the Narrow sea and vice versa. And with increased trade at the center, more people
will be attracted to join the trade and even develop other industries as time goes on” Sansa finished
her explanation.

“Tis a very good idea indeed. Well-thought, I must say” Lord Jeor nodded his head, gray eyes
showing more respect for her now.

“Have you seen the mining tracks when you climbed the Lion’s Mouth my lords?” Sansa asked,
looking them each in the face. They all nodded.
“We have my lady. What about them?” Lord Rickard who'd been silent and looked thoughtful for a
while looked at her with interest in his intent gray eyes.

“The tracks were made to make the transport of goods like ore, coal and overburden out of the
mine easier. If those tracks could be recreated at a larger scale on lands between Torrhen’s Square
and White Knife—”

“Then it will be a lot more easier to transport goods from east to west coast and reverse” Lord
Rickard interrupted.

“It will take a lot of time and men and gold” Lord Ryswell pointed out, a cynical look in his face.

“Nothing truly great is built in a day my lord. The greatest of achievements that last through the
ages take time, patience and work. The port may be completed and operational within five to ten
years. As for the tracks—it may take decades but if it does get completed, the North shall reap the
rewards for centuries” Sansa countered the Lord of the Rills.

Lord Stark, Lord Jeor and Kevan all smiled. Lord Wyman chortled, “By the gods! The rumors that
trickled North are true I see. The little Lady Lannister does have a sharp mind and claws”

***

Rickard

Rickard watched as his daughter squirmed in front of him.

“Lyanna, your manners at the table were atrocious. And you showed clearly how ignorant you are
by not thinking your answers through and just saying whatever you want. Have I not taught you
anything girl?”

“But father! She provoked me. She’s out to make me look bad—

“Quiet. The Lady Lannister has been a most exemplary host. She provided us with
accommodations worthy of royalty. She’s made sure to see to our every comfort and need. I
noticed no provocation. Everything I heard from her mouth was that of a girl who is cautious and
think things through. The conversation we had at the table was proof of that. She wasn’t out to
make you bad. You made a spectacle of yourself. Starting from when we arrived when you asked
about her brother.”

Lyanna’s face darkened, her hands clenched at her side.

Rickard sighed heavily and massaged his temples, “This is a mistake”

“Father?”

“Taking you south is a mistake. Since we traveled south you have been nothing but a wild thing
incapable of following instructions. You constantly find ways to defy me. Clearly you are not
ready to face the company of southern lords and ladies. You couldn’t even manage to make a
decent conversation with the polite and affable young Lady Lannister, how much more will you
blunder your way in the presence of vicious and insulting lords and ladies of the south?”

Lyanna remained quiet but her small figure was that of familiar defiance.

“I cannot take you to Highgarden. I will not. You’re simply not ready to face southern vipers”
His daughter gasped, eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.

“Father! No! I'm already here. You can’t send me home. You can’t be this cruel” Lyanna loudly
protested, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“No I am not sending you home. You will remain here with guards. I shall request the Lady
Lannister and her aunt and uncle to have someone host you while Brandon and I are in Highgarden.
You will stay here and await us to go home North.”

“No!!!” the girl wailed.

“Cease this appalling behavior child. Or I will surely have you returned to Winterfell tomorrow”
Rickard snapped, patience finally over.
 Lyanna

Lyanna

The forest was a bit dark and the only sounds that could be heard were the buzzing of insects and
croaking of frogs. She thought she also heard an owl hoot in the distance. Everything was spooky
but she refused to be deterred.

She’s Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. A descendant of the Kings of Winter. She’s a wolf not an easily
frightened rabbit.

Her father and brother left for Highgarden by ship three days ago, along with the rest of their
retinue, the Lannisters and the Tullys. She was left with two guards on the dock, watched with
tears in her eyes as their ship grew smaller and smaller then disappeared on the horizon.

Her father thought her too wild to meet the lords and ladies of the realm and left her to rot in the
den of stupid and shitty golden lions while they enjoyed the bounty of Highgarden and the sight of
great knights and famous kingsguards dueling and fighting with swords. She should have been
there. She's the one who likes swords not the little Lady Sansa Lannister or the trout Catelyn Tully.
It should have been her going to the tourney, not those pathetic snowflakes.

It’s all so unfair! Why must she be punished like this? All because she was being honest and spoke
her mind? Because she refused to act like a pretty, polite but empty-headed wimp? It’s unfair. It
truly is.

But her father did not place other restrictions on where she could go and what she could do so here
she is, giving her guards the slip.

An adventure all on her own!

She heard about the fortune-teller from the servants. They said she's also a witch that dealt with
cures and love potions and that her prophecies are good. That they really do come true. Well, why
not give it a try?

Maggy the Frog.

Ha! A funny name. An ugly one too. Who calls themselves Frog? Why not Maggy the Mage?
Maggy the Magician? Maggy of the Higher Mysteries? Those sounded better.

Doesn’t matter. She’s not here to ask that. She’s here to know her future! What will it be, she
wondered. Great fortune she hoped. She can’t wait!

A small creek. Hop on the stones.

So many trees. Where could it be? Walk more.

Is that light through wooden slats she sees in the distance? Walk more.

It is! A dark green tent with a peaked roof. This is it. This is what she’s looking for. There’s no
other possibility.

***

When Lyanna entered the tent, she saw that the space was cramped with hanging pots and pans
with rotting plants and what looked like herbs.

The smell inside was a bit nauseating. There was a table full of little vials and more little pots and
pans. There’s rats under the table. She can’t see them but she can hear their squeaking.

In a darkened corner on the side of the table, that’s where she saw her.

The witch.

She’s possibly one of the ugliest people Lyanna has ever seen.

The old woman before her was squat and warty, with crusty yellow eyes, no teeth and pale green
jowls. And a terribly bent back.

Ah, so that’s why she’s called a frog. It’s frighteningly appropriate.

“Girl” the ugly witch spoke in a croaking, accented voice.

“You are Maggy? Maggy the Frog? The fortune-teller?”

“Oh aye. But you shouldn’t be here girl. Get out. Get out!”

Lyanna stood up straighter and lifted her chin, “I’ll be where I want to be. I’m not going to leave. I
came to seek you. I want to hear your prophecy for me.”

“The girl is a foolish girl” the woman croaked once more.

“They say you are good. That your prophecies come true. I want it. Tell me my future” Lyanna
insisted.

“Everyone wants to know their future until they know their future” the woman’s yellow eyes
looked back at her.

“Well I’m not going anywhere until you tell me mine. I’ll stay here for however long until I get
what I came here for”

The witch chuckled then suddenly held out a hand with a wickedly sharp knife it made Lyanna
step back.

“Your blood, give me a taste” the witch demanded.

Lyanna took the knife and without hesitation, cut her thumb with it. Blood immediately poured out
but she wasn’t bothered.

She held out her arm with the wounded thumb expecting the witch to catch a drop but she instead
clutched her wrist, pulled her forward with unexpected strength and put her thumb in her mouth.
Then she felt the old woman’s tongue lick her blood.

Gross!

“Three questions. You might not like the answers” she croaked.

Only three? Why can't it be more? What to ask? What to ask?

“What’s to become of me? I don’t ever want to marry. Will I marry?”

“A queen you could have been. A queen you’ll never be. Half a wife. Cursed for life”
“What?! That doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t answer my question”

“An answer you were given little girl. Take it or go”

Lyanna clenched her teeth in irritation. One question wasted. Is this witch really a fortune-teller?
She sounds like a lunatic.

“Who will I marry?”

“The gods. No one. Only the gods know”

Lyanna stomped her feet in anger, “You’re not making any sense! How can I marry the gods? Then
no one. That’s stupid! You’re stupid.”

The woman only laughed. Her disgusting jowls jiggling, spit flying out of her toothless mouth “A
question was asked. An answer was given. Take it or leave little girl”

Lyanna inhaled and exhaled deep. Two questions wasted now. “How will I die?”

“Beware of the red wolf. She is watching you. The lady, the bastard, the queen. Porcelain, to ivory,
to steel. Beware wild little she-wolf. Winter, she is here.”

It didn’t make any sense but a shiver ran down her spine. There was something terrifying in the
air.

All her three questions wasted and given useless answers, Lyanna decided to leave the little tent
and the ugly, mad woman in it.

When she turned away, the witch laughed, high, long and eerie.

She ran.
 Sansa

Sansa

Built atop a hill overlooking the River Mander, Highgarden is surrounded by three rings of white
stone walls in increasing heights. Between the outer and middle walls lie the castle's famous briar
labyrinth which serve both serve as entertainment and to confuse and slow invaders. Inside the
castle’s walls are groves, fountains and courtyards. The sept is comparable to the Great Sept of
Baelor and the Starry Sept at Oldtown. The palatial keep is decorated with grand statues and
colonnades, its structures covered in ivy, climbing grapes and roses.

Wherever she turned her head, she saw the beauty the Rose of Highgarden described and promised
her a lifetime ago. But all the beauty dear Margaery’s home has to offer is ostentatious and empty
to her now. She knows at the heart of it lie dangerously high ambitions, cruel manipulation and
thorny webs of deceit.

They arrived at Highgarden two nights ago. Thankfully, Tywin Lannister saw fit to arrive earlier
than they and had seen to arranging the best accommodations for their party.

In the two days since, Sansa has met more ghosts of her past.

The first she met was Ned Stark who arrived with the Arryn party a day before they did and
eagerly awaited Lord Rickard and Brandon. And oh how he looked like Jon! Sansa almost cried
when she met him.

How could she not? The last she saw him alive was when he was forced on his knees on that
platform. She saw Ilyn Payne cut off his head using his own sword Ice. Saw it roll and heard it
made a terrible thumping sound. She saw the blood spurt from his neck and saw how his legs made
their last jolts. Then Joffrey had his head covered in tar and mounted on a pike and forcibly
brought Sansa to the Traitor’s Walk several times to make her watch as it slowly decayed and she
could no longer see the recognizable features that made him her father. It had been too much.
Thankfully, she had the perfect excuse of exhaustion due to the long journey and none took a
second look.

With Ned Stark came Robert Baratheon. The wastrel king of her other life had winked at her
flirtatiously and looked her up and down with indecent eyes and made veiled remarks about red
drapes. Sansa had wanted to drag the lecher and drown him down the River Mander. His death
would be greatly beneficial not just to the Stormlands but the entire realm.

Then she met Lord Royce. The tall, strong, kind and loyal man who stood by her side since they
took back Winterfell. Who provided her good counsel during the time they were preparing for the
War for the Dawn.

She also met Lady Olenna. The blasted woman looked younger and beautiful still but her cunning
eyes and sharp tongue was the same. The infuriating woman had looked at her and called her
looking more like a trout than a lion with her red hair. That blind aim had hit the truth too
accurately for her comfort and she decided to keep distance.

***

They were currently occupying a Lannister pavilion erected at a prime area where they had a view
of the gardens, fields, as well as the tourney grounds at a distance. They were surrounded by ten
red cloaks and her Uncle Tygett so they didn’t have to fear any danger.

Her father firmly ordered they be guarded at all times. They were quite the group after all. Jaime
the heir to the Westerlands, Brandon who is heir to the North, Catelyn who is eldest daughter to
the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, Ned Stark, Barbrey Dustin and Sansa herself.

“It is so beautiful! The gardens and the palatial castle. The grounds where they set up the tiltyard.
The Mander with the pleasure barges. Everything!” Cat said with an impressed voice for perhaps
the hundredth time.

Barbrey huffed in annoyance, irritated at the other girl’s repetition of her admiration for
Highgarden. Sansa ignored the arrogant witch.

“It really is” Sansa agreed with a smile then turned her head to look at the vast field in the distance
where large tents were mounted with banners of participating houses on top. She continued to take
note of all the houses participating in the tourney.

From the Vale: the moon and falcon of Arryn (I must meet Lord Arryn, I must make his
acquaintance), black iron studs and runes of House Royce (dear Lord Royce, I hope we can be
friends and allies until death once more), three black ravens clutching red hearts each of Corbray
(Lyn Corbray may you rot in all seven hells with Littlefinger), nine stars on gold saltire and black
field of Templeton (hmm useful, probably), broken black wheel of Waynwood (definitely a useful
ally) and six silver bells of Belmore (another useful ally).

From the Stormlands: the stag of Baratheon (Robert Baratheon, may you get the pox and your
cock rot and fall off), three brass buckles of Buckler (ignore for now), two white crossed quills of
Penrose (ignore for now) three stalks of yellow wheat of Selmy (Targaryen loyalist), purple
lightning bolt and stars of Dondarrion (Lord Beric, useful, maybe), two griffins of Connington
(Targaryen loyalist), two swans of Swann (ignore for now), two suns and two moons of Tarth
(Brienne! How I miss you! I’ll take you back, I promise. You’re my kni—)”

“It’s all coming along nicely. All the great houses and their greatest knights assembled in one
place” Jaime commented from her side, making her turn her attention to him.

“And the kingsguards! I saw one from afar earlier today. I saw the long white cloak. It could have
been Barristan the Bold. Oh this will be the greatest spectacle of all. The greatest and most
honorable knights of all fighting it out!” Brandon grinned rakishly, clearly excited at the thought of
fierce battles and possibly bloodshed.

“Greatest and most honorable? Greatest fighters yes. But honorable? That’s questionable” Sansa
muttered.

They all looked at her with differing expressions. Jaime looked on with a fond smile. Barbrey
looked at her with raised brows as though she’s stupid. Ned and Cat looked confused.

Brandon’s head snapped to her, “What? You don’t believe Ser Barristan and the Sword of the
Morning honorable? How about the Lord Commander?”

“Many throw around the word honor and praise it and put it on a pedestal but what exactly is honor,
my lord? How do you define it?” Sansa asked the Stark heir.

“Honor is doing what is right” Ned answered right away. Sansa held back a fond smile from
forming on her face. Of course he’d be the first to talk. The honorable Eddark Stark.

“And what is right? Who determines what is right?” Sansa followed up.
“Well, that’s common sense isn’t it? The laws passed down by the king and implemented across
the lands tell us what is wrong and what is right, as well as our conscience” Barbrey joined the
conversation with a furrowed brow, voice a bit patronizing.

“So what you are saying is, honor is following a set of rules of right and wrong? Is that it?”

“Yes, exactly” Barbrey said.

Ned and Brandon nodded their heads in support. Catelyn just looked at them, a bit uncomfortable
with the situation while Jaime just sighed.

“Let me ask you then, suppose you are a kingsguard, the king tells you to kill a man who was
accused of treason that has not been proven true, would you do as the king said?”

“Well…it’s an order from the king” Brandon answered with slight hesitation.

“But the treason has not been proven” she retorted.

Brandon’s forehead knitted while Ned looked thoughtful.

“The laws say an accused man deserves a trial. And without proof of treason, is judged innocent
and deserves to be set free. The kingsguard rule says follow everything your king commands.
Which will you follow? The law or your king?”

When no one answered, she continued.

“Kill the man and you chose to do what is wrong over what is right in the eyes of the law. Do not
kill him and you disobey the King. You break your kingsguard oaths. You break the rules of the
established institution you’ve sworn yourself to. Between the two, where is honor?”

“Your example is unfair. It’s far too complicated” Barbrey complained.

“But my lady, that is what life is all about—complications”

After what seemed like minutes, Brandon’s face cleared and his look was that of determination. “I
would follow the king. The laws say the king’s justice takes precedence. And besides, why would
a man be accused of treason if he is indeed innocent? Just because there’s no evidence doesn’t
mean he is free of guilt” he declared.

“And what if the king asks you to kill your own father because he thinks he is committing treason?
What if he orders you to kill children and women and innocents as punishment for their parents’ or
husbands’ or brothers’ rebellion? What if he commands you to burn a city to the ground simply
because a few traitors hide among the people? Would you do it? Would you keep your oath still?
And what if the king is Maegor the Cruel or Aegon II who both usurped the throne from the
rightful rulers? Would you say their justice were right when their rule were not?”

All except Jaime moved uneasily in their seats, looking awkward.

“Then what is honor for you my lady? How would you define it?” Ned asked, grey eyes so like his
father’s full of curiosity.

“What makes you think I believe in it’s existence?”

Ned drew back looking shocked while Cat gasped, scandalized. (She's not surprised. Family. Duty.
Honor. are the Tully words afterall). Brandon blinked confusedly several times while Barbrey’s
jaw hung open.

“You don’t believe in honor, my lady?” Poor Ned Stark looked disturbed, like he’s seeing a naked
woman dancing in front of him.

“I believe it is an ideal. An impossible one. A pretty dream everyone believes to be true and try to
live by but easily throw away or forget about in the face of harsh realities and conflicting interests.”

***

The Three Singers, that’s what the three weirwood trees in front of her was called. She
remembered it from one of Margaery’s rambling talks when she asked the girl what Highgarden
looked like.

Like several southern houses, Highgarden has a godswood too. It’s hidden like a gem in one of the
castle’s many gardens. The three weirwood trees are large, ancient and graceful and have twisted
and grown entangled across the centuries that they now looked like one single tree. Like the
heartree in Winterfell, there was a pool located beneath the Three Singers.

She looked for the godswood in the guise of curiosity and exploration. Her Uncle Tygett and
another Lannister guard accompanied her. (When she next meets Ned Stark, she'll share this piece
of information with him. She's certain hell be overjoyed with it. Her father did love spending time
with the old gods.)

Looking at the trees made her feel closer to home. She wanted very much to kneel and pray but
Tygett was there and he would think it strange. It might cause complications. So she just remained
standing and looked at the trees.

“My lady?” A smooth new voice snapped her from her thoughts.

Sansa immediately turned around to see who entered the godswood and stepped back upon seeing
them.

Two men.

Both with silver hairs. Both had purple eyes. And both handsome.

One young. The other a few years older.

One wearing a black doublet with the three headed dragon. The other wearing a white cloak, a
sword with a sun on its pommel at his side.

Rhaegar fucking Targaryen and Arthur Dayne.

In the flesh.
 Rhaegar/Sansa
Chapter Notes

Just a note:

I made adjustments and added 2yrs to their original ages.

Year is 276 AC for birth of Viserys

Sansa 9-10
Jaime/Cersei 11-12
Tyrion 3
Brandon 15-16
Ned 14-15
Lyanna 11-12
Cat 13-14
Lysa 10-11
Bobby B 15-16
Rhaegar 18-19

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Rhaegar

He had been interested in seeing one of the last few weirwoods left in the south so he’d gone in
search for it. He desired privacy and hadn’t wanted lickspittles and bumbling fools following him
and only took Ser Arthur with him for protection.

Imagine his surprise when upon entering the godswood, he saw there was already a person
standing in front of the heart tree.

A young woman wearing a gown of gold. Tall and slender. Coppery-red-gold hair. He couldn’t see
her face as her back was to him so he’d called out to her.
The young woman immediately turned around and that’s when he saw her in full and learned her
identity.

He immediately saw the two eyes colored differently—one frost blue and the other emerald green.

Alysanne Lannister. The one also called Sansa. Younger daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister.

He’s heard of her. The Lord Hand’s youngest daughter who’s rumored to have inherited her
father’s sharpness but with a beauty compared to Shiera Seastar's.

He changed his assessment. Not yet a woman. She’s not more than ten yet. Still a girl but she is
indeed a beauty. And he suspected, she’ll grow even more beautiful when she blossomed in full.

Several emotions ran through the girl’s face. The first was shock then a frown, look of scrutiny,
next a look of wariness, until it finally settled on a serene look The girl curtseyed to him in a very
graceful way that would beat any of the women at court. “Your Royal Highness” she greeted.

“You are Lady Alysanne of House Lannister, Lord Tywin Lannister’s daughter” he confirmed
though he was certain he got her identity right.

“Yes I am Your Highness”

He looked around and saw a Lannister guard in the distance looking at them. He returned his
attention to the girl, “This is a strange place to be meeting you my lady. From my recollection,
House Lannister worshipped the Faith of the Seven, not the old gods”

“I am merely here to look at the heart tree Your Highness. I was curious to see one of the few
remaining trees south of the Neck”

“Ah, then we are of the same mind. I had also thought to explore the godswood. How do you find
it my lady?” Rhaegar turned his attention to the Three Singers.

“Peaceful, soothing in a strange way, Your Highness” was the girl’s calm reply, she too was
looking at the heart tree now.

“A very simple faith it is—the faith of the old gods. No septs, no septons, no ornaments, no hymns,
no laws, no books. All you have to do is kneel in front of the tree and pray. To whom do you pray
Lady Alysanne? Which of the Seven do you worship? The Maiden? It’s quite the popular goddess
for young women”

“Someone important to me told me a long time ago and their words convinced me over the years,
there is only one god and his name is death. And there is only one thing we say to death” the girl’s
voice was grave.

He turned to face her once more, surprised and not expecting such an answer.

“And what do you say to the god of death my lady?”

“Not today.”

A sudden breeze sent the leaves of the heart tree rustling and the sound was that of someone
laughing faintly in the wind.

“Oh? And what convinced you of this truth? Of there only having the god of death?”

The girl tilted her head a bit, the look in her eyes thoughtful and introspective for a moment before
it turned calm and cool and she looked at the heart tree once more.

“Valar morghulis. All men must die. Beggars and kings. Good or evil.”

Dual colored eyes looked back at him, and the strange gaze made the back of his neck prickle. The
Valyrian tongue also surprised him.

“Walk long enough, climb high enough, hunt long enough and you will find that at the end of every
road, only one stands waiting” the girl continued, the cadence of her voice even, “In the Faith of
the Seven, he is the Stranger who guides men from this life to the next. Few seek his favor, or at
least, few realize that they do. In the North, he is one of the nameless old gods staring out from the
weirwood trees and the snow. In the Iron Islands, he is the Drowned God calling men down to his
watery hall. What is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger. In the Far East, he is
the Lion of Night, whose wrath nearly ended the world. In Volantis, he is the Lord of Light, whose
followers feed men to the flames to beg his favor. In Lys he is the Weeping Lady who sheds her
tears for the living soon to die. In Qohor he is the Black Goat who feeds on blood offerings every
day. On holy days, he is offered condemned criminals and in times of great crises, he is offered the
nobles' children to beg his protection. Does he accept their gifts? Well, the city still stands. For the
poor, he is the Hooded Wayfarer. For the soldiers he is Bakkalon the Pale Child. For sailors, he is
the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merlin King. He has many faces but wherever men turn, there he
is. Men from every corner of the world beg him and seek his favor. For themselves if their lives
have grown too hard or for others who are making it so. Men worship as they will but at the end of
every road it is all to the same god they pray.”

Rhaegar shifted on his feet, a bit uncomfortable at how the conversation turned out, “You know a
lot about foreign religions my lady”

“Reading is a favorite activity of mine, Your Highness”

Books. Ah, a lover of learning. That's a better subject for conversation Could she perhaps…

“Indeed. Tell me my lady, have you read or heard the story of the Prince That Was Promised?”

The girl’s brow furrowed, “It sounds familiar Your Highness.”

“It is about an ancient prophecy, of a promised prince whose song is ice and fire, one who will
save the world from darkness” Rhaegar looked at the girl’s face closely.

The girl’s face paled then turned stony then calm once more, “A prophecy? I have no interest in
prophecies Your Highness. In fact, I would rather not hear anything remotely close to any
prophecy”

Rhaegar felt disappointed at the answer. He had thought that with her showing some signs of
intellect during their earlier conversation and her admitted love of reading, he’d find someone who
might share the same interests as he.

He also had a faint hope that the girl might have read or heard about the prophecy. He’d met very
few people who admitted to loving reading and learning and the most that did were boring, dried
up, old maesters who cannot see beyond their noses. He thought the girl would be different. He
was wrong. The foolish girl seemed to be dismissive of prophecies instead.

“And what do you find displeasing in prophecies my lady?”

The girl looked him in the eye before speaking, “Prophecies are dangerous things Your Highness.
They are nothing but trouble. They can be very misleading and damaging in the hands of fools who
think they know better or people who find meaning over nothing or use them to cover the truth or
reality. Thousands of lives can be destroyed by the response of someone to a careless word”

Rhaegar withheld a sigh. The conversation has gotten stale. The girl may have had impressive
intelligence but was too cynical of prophecies and higher mysteries like the rest of the rabble. She
may as well admit herself to the Faith and grow up to become a boring septa.

What a letdown too. He had been hoping to build a connection with the girl and… be an influence
to her. The mines of the West and their gold did run deep.

No matter. She’s not her father’s heir. Perhaps the less intelligent heir to the Rock would make a
better pawn. He might be able to convince Ser Arthur to take the boy under his wing. Young boys
everywhere would jump at the chance of learning under the Sword of the Morning.

***

Sansa
 It all started with a fucking prophecy! Of the fucking Prince that was Promised.

It took Sansa all of the control she learned at Joffrey’s court and from her time with the Bastard not
to show too much violent reactions to the foolish prince when she made the connections and
realized the role the prophecy played. It’s the only explanation she could come up with for
Rhaegar’s foolish and possibly mad actions.

She heard bits of this prophecy from Jon and Ser Davos. At the time it didn’t matter much but now
it does. Davos told stories of how Melisandre led Stannis to believe he was the Prince that was
promised and influenced him to commit vile acts in the process—the kinslaying of his brother
Renly by blood magic which was apparently witnessed by Brienne and her mother, the burning of
little Shireen Baratheon and the sacrificial burning of many other people. Jon also told her how
after Stannis fell, Melisandre then believed he was the promised prince who would save them from
the Long Night.

And the connection to the song of ice and fire…how Rhaegar left his wife Princess Elia and his
two young children and absconded with Lyanna.

The idiot must have thought that with the fire of the Targaryen dragons and the ice of the North
and House Stark—he must’ve believed the two of them would fulfill the prophecy!

She wondered if Lyanna knew of the prophecy and was seduced by Rhaegar’s forked tongue.

But she knew Rhaegar was married and had children with Princess Elia. Even eight year old
educated highborn children know you don’t just run away with a married man!

Sansa took deep breaths to calm herself but the realization continued to make her blood boil.

Well they can shove the prince that was promised drivel up both their arse! Thousands died. All
people of Westeros probably died. The prophecy is a horseshit. There’s no fucking prince that was
promised.

Chapter End Notes

Yeah... House of Black and White discussion by Jaqen was used.

 Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin

Tywin watched as his daughter took a sip of her lemon water daintily.

“Tygett says you accidentally met up with the prince and had a short talk?”

“Yes I did. We talked about gods and prophecies” his daughter responded, rolling her eyes after.

“Gods and prophecies,” Tywin said flatly.

His daughter nodded, “Indeed father. Of an ancient prophecy talking about a promised prince who
will save the world from destruction.”

Tywin snorts derisively, “Of all things to talk about. Ridiculous!”

“Indeed. He looked quite interested with the prophecy. And you know what happened to those
who believed themselves gifted with prophecies father so watch out”

“Hn. And what of Brandon Stark?”

Sansa put down her cup, “A brash and foolish boy. But nothing I can’t handle”

“And Jaime’s betrothed?”

“Catelyn is a beautiful and dutiful girl. She has flights of fancy at times but with direction, it can be
curbed.”

“I might not be Hand for long”

The girl’s eyes widened then sharpened, “Oh? Has there been… unwanted developments as of
late?”

Tywin’s jaw clenched, “The King saw fit to call Steffon Baratheon to court. They are cousins and
were close friends during the war”

“And the King has been quite active in making japes of you since mother died. It is an expected
turn of events Father.”

“He forgets it was I who served him well and good all these years. He disregards the fact it was I
who was the reason his coffers are overflowing” he said in a low voice with bitterness and rage.

“Father, is the position of Hand really that important you would allow yourself to swallow the
insults and degradation when you could be at the Rock ruling like a king over a people more loyal
to you and House Lannister? And besides, Targaryens cannot be trusted. Who can say King Aerys
won’t be like the more murderous of his kin and plan your death simply to get rid of you? I say let
him choose another Hand and see how well that Hand performs.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened then relaxed, “Hn. Enough of this talk. You and Jaime will not leave my
side tonight at the opening feast. And when the tourney starts tomorrow, you and he will at all
times have four red guards each. Gerion will be with Jaime if he’s not fighting. And Tygett with
you.”
“Yes father”

***

Sansa

The opening feast, simply put, was ostentatious. It was possibly the most vulgar display of wealth
to impress all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms she has ever seen in both her old and new lives. It
beat even Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding feast.

Then again she should not be surprised. She she should have expected it. They weren’t in times of
war and a long winter wasn’t coming yet so resources need not be carefully allocated. And these
were the Tyrells afterall.

The Great Hall was massive—tall, green-colored marble columns elaborately designed with golden
roses and twisting thorned vines high arches and a ceiling embellished with crystal chandeliers.
Long tables that could seat up to thirty people each covered with flower-embroidered runners and
laden with the fruits of the most fertile region. Silverwares, glass carafes of Arbor Gold and
Dornish Red and glass goblets. Every luxury the ambitious Tyrells can offer.

With almost all the great lords and many of southern banner lords attending and participating in
the tourney the following day, the hall was full to overflowing.

The Stark party was seated close to the Baratheon party and that was when Sansa had a clear view
of the current Lord of the Stormlands Lord Steffon Baratheon with his wife.

The Lord Baratheon looked similar to Renly but with massive shoulders. He was tall, dark of hair
and had kinder blue eyes than Robert Baratheon. His wife, the Lady Cassana was a beauty of dark
brown hair, green eyes and a face with faint laugh lines. The pair were very good-looking indeed.

And it seemed they were good friends with Lord Rickard. She wondered when exactly that
friendship started and if it was the main reason Lyanna was betrothed to Robert, not just Ned’s and
Robert’s friendship.

The Tullys sat near the Arryn party. She saw her Uncle Brynden talking with Lord Royce and Lord
Jon Arryn who looked like an older Harry Hardying—tall, broad, blue eyes and an aquiline nose
but more gentle and calm-looking. With them sat who she now knew to be Elbert Arryn who was
Lord Arryn’s heir and Denys Arryn, the Darling of the Vale. Both men had Lord Arryn's looks
with Elbert more rugged-looking and Ser Denys more calm like the Arryn lord.

House Lannister and their vassals were seated close with the Dornish party and Sansa experienced
once more Oberyn’s flamboyance and equally ridiculous and amusing tales. It seemed no matter
the place, the prince loved to entertain and be the center of attention. He had been disappointed
that Cersei wasn’t with them, boasting that he was going to win the tourney and wanted to crown
his betrothed the Queen of Love and Beauty. Sansa inwardly laughed, thinking how the prince
should be thankful he actually dodged an arrow. Princess Elia was her own gentle and pretty self,
acting as Oberyn’s leash when he got too rowdy and bordered on offensive.

All these faded away however when King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar along with their kingsguards
joined them.

All the people stood up and cheered for the King of course, but it was only half as loudly as they
cheered Prince Rhaegar.

Sansa secretly observed the King with critical eyes. With his silver hair and purple eyes that
resembled more with Daenerys Targaryen’s than Rhaegar’s, she could see that he had once been
good-looking in his youth but time spent on the Iron Throne has taken its toll. He looked a bit thin
in his rich robes with bags under his suspicious-looking eyes and a cruel line to his mouth. He
wasn’t the much talked-about Scab king though. Not yet anyway.

The King took the time to look around the hall with suspicious eyes but with his face tilted
haughtily before he gave them all leave to sit down.

***

Rickard

Rickard watched the King seated on the high table. Aerys Targaryen. Second of his name.

He has received ravens from Jon Arryn over the years how the relationship between the King and
the Hand has gone worse with the King becoming jealous, more suspicious and cruel, prone to
furious outbursts both in private and public. It would seem he’s going down the road of cruelty and
incompetence some of his ancestors have treaded. There were also coded reports of abuses to his
Queen. And now a rumor from Jon Arryn of a possible new Hand before the year ended.

The Prince Rhaegar looked more dignified than his father. Tall and strong and handsome. Reputed
to be a better man than his father. Rumored to make a better king. Rickard refused to be convinced
so easily by reputation alone though. Many Targaryens started decent only to turn out failures in
the end.

He looked at Steffon Baratheon. The man had asked to meet with him privately.

Tywin Lannister betrothing his heir to Tully’s eldest girl, his eldest girl betrothed to the younger
Prince of Dorne and his youngest daughter to his son Brandon.

Hoster Tully looking for a husband for his younger daughter from a noble house from the Vale or
the North, especially a younger son of his.

And now Steffon Baratheon, the possible next Hand, asking to meet with him.

Such a tangled web of plots and planning and possible treason being formed in the dark. When will
it all snap and break, he wondered.
 Sansa/Rickard

Sansa

Rhaegar was good. He was very, very good. At jousting anyway.

After the weak ones were weeded out and the competition between really serious contenders began,
it became apparent just how talented the Crown Prince was.

The crowd cheered loudly and wildly as he trounced his opponents one after another. He already
defeated her Uncle Gerion yesterday after breaking seven lances and now she watched as he
finished her Uncle Tygett's good run after breaking nine lances.

A pity that. Gerion and Tygett both had promised to crown her if they'd won.

Three other competitors were steadily working their way through the lists though. Ser Barristan the
Bold, The Blackfish and The Sword of the Morning. Already people were making heavy bets the
final battle would be between two of those four.

Jaime had hollered himself to hoarseness in support of The Blackfish while Cat had gouged her
palms with her fingernails in suspense every time her Uncle Brynden fought.

Looking at the Stark party, she saw Lord Rickard, Ned and Lord Jeor sat dignified. Lord Wyman
was up on his feet shouting while Brandon almost fell off the railing several times in his ardor to
cheer the jousters. The Heir to Winterfell had wanted to join the tourney himself desperately but
her grandfather put his foot down and firmly denied the brash heir.

Of the archery competition, a winner already emerged at the final distance from House Tarly. Not
surprising really, considering their sigil was that of a huntsman.

Of the melee, she saw Lord Jeor, Lord Wyman, Lord Arryn, Lord Yohn, Lord Selwyn of Tarth,
Robert Baratheon and even her Uncle Kevan joined but the winner had been Lord Steffon
Baratheon. The man had attacked his opponents like the great stag of his sigil. She saw then where
exactly the lecher King Robert got his fighting prowess from.

***

Rickard

Rickard listened attentively as Steffon Baratheon began to speak, his gray eyes taking note of the
exhaustion and discomfort hidden well under the man’s calm façade.

“Lord Rickard, Jon Arryn has communicated with me, told me you know of the most important
goings-on at court.”

Rickard nodded gravely, “That he did”

Steffon finally broke the calm façade with a deep sigh, “I fear it has come to this. Things have
indeed become worse, my lord. Aerys grows jealous, suspicious and crueler by the day and no
longer wants to listen to Tywin. He may declare anytime that he will have a new Hand. With my
summons to court, our family relations and childhood friendship, you can see how this most likely
will end.”
“Yes, there’s quite an extensive background of Lord Baratheons as Hands of Kings. Aegon I chose
Orys Baratheon as his first Hand, Jaehaerys I chose Lord Rogar Baratheon as his first Hand,
Jaehaerys II chose Lord Ormund Baratheon as his first Hand.”

“You know your history well. I honestly do not desire to be Hand and step on Tywin’s toes, my
lord. The man has served well and loyally enough over the years and does not deserve this
humiliation. But we all are bound to serve the King and must do our duties.”

Rickard’s lips twisted, “That is true. We all must do our duty. Great or small we must do our duty”

Steffon only smiled but his stormy blue eyes were unamused, “Tywin’s heir is betrothed to Tully’s
daughter and his youngest daughter to your heir. It seems to me an alliance is the most logical step
during these times fraught with danger. I have a son and you have a daughter. What say you, my
lord?”

***

Sansa

Sansa’s skin prickled and she felt the small hairs on her arms and nape stood up at the very potent
danger they were facing in their current situation.

Their red guards were all required to remain outside of the room while they were surrounded by
tall and no doubt strong guards in all their heavy armors and long white cloaks. Their hands
weren’t on the hilts of their swords but Sansa knew that in a blink of an eye, the white cloaks could
have their blades unsheathed and have anyone they see a threat cut to pieces and down on the
marbled floor.

Her father stood tall like an immovable mountain but she caught him clench his jaws for a moment
before his face became impassive.

Jaime stood beside her, his nerves showing through the shifting of his feet once in a while. She
couldn’t blame him, not when they were both under the scrutiny of the purple eyes of the future
Mad King and the possibly mad prince and the kingsguards.

“So this is your heir and your youngest daughter eh, Tywin?” the dragon said with a sneer.

Sansa tried very hard not to clench her fists in terror.

“The boy looks just like you when we were young. The girl though… Come to me girl” the king
gestured with his forefinger for Sansa to go near him.

Afraid, she looked to her father for direction but Tywin only nodded his head. She took a deep
breath and steeled her spine then tried to look calm. With slow, careful steps, she went to the king.

“Closer girl” Aerys commanded.

She took more steps. The moment she stood a hand’s reach from him, the man’s hand snapped up
and took her chin in a bruising hold making her arch awkwardly. His fingernails dugged painfully
on her skin and only her experiences with Joffrey and the Bolton Bastard prevented her from crying
out.

“There’s a good girl. Show me those eyes little girl” the king ordered and forcefully lifted her chin,
his bad breath on her face nauseating. She slowly lifted her lids and looked him in the eye.
“Fascinating, truly fascinating. Eyes like Shiera Seastar’s. How very strange and rare. Like the
animals that live in the menageries of Essosi nobilities. Red hair too. What is it they say about red
hair? Fire. Ah kissed by fire!”

The king suddenly let go making Sansa scramble for balance. She took a few steps back when she
got her bearing and remained standing, her eyes lowered but alert.

“She has very little of Joanna’s in her but she will no doubt grow up to be a greater beauty than her
mother. You have wanted for so long to see a daughter of yours betrothed to my son. Your eldest
was unacceptable—an unruly, arrogant child. But this one seems obedient enough. She will be
kissed by the fire of House Targaryen. She will marry Rhaegar when she starts bleeding and breed
heirs for the throne. Bow to me in gratitude Tywin, it is not everyday a King marries his heir to a
servant”

Sansa felt her breath suddenly leave her and dark spots filled her vision.

Nonono. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

 Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin

Tywin sighed heavily and stood up from his seat.

He had let his daughter be on her own enough. It’s time he did something.

The girl was out of her wits with terror. She looked like a green boy fresh from his first bloody
battle—the pupils of her eyes blown wide and the rest of her unresponsive.

He has known for a while now that all the reading and learning she’s done over the years seemed
to have pushed her to form extremely negative views of the royal family. What he didn’t know and
failed to understand was how deep the girl despised and was terrified of the Targaryens.

No. He should’ve known and understood years ago. The girl has discovered what happened to her
mother in the hands of the King. He himself has witnessed Rhaella's hellish life with Aerys. Has
witnessed the cruelty the man is capable of.

Approaching the girl blankly staring out at the garden that was slowly being wrapped in darkness,
Tywin wished Joanna was still alive. She would’ve known how to provide comfort to their child.
Her gentle arms and words would’ve served a better place of solace in this extremely trying time.
He’s too much of a cold lord and a military man to coddle frightened young girls.

He called her name several times but got no response so he shook her small shoulders simply to
snap her out of her stupor.

“Get a hold of yourself” he growled lowly, leaning down a bit and cradling her pale face.

He watched as her eyes lost the haze and slowly focused on him.

“I don’t want to be queen father. I don’t want to marry a Targaryen. I wanted…I wanted to go to
Winterfell not live in the Red Keep” the girl looked at him, her voice cracked when she hiccupped
and her strange colored eyes begging.

Tywin gritted his teeth first before forcing his face to gentle,“It is done Sansa. Aerys is doing this
to bring me to heel. And he will do everything to get what he wants, daughter, you can be sure of
that. Fire and Blood. That is the Targaryen way. There are two choices: You accept it now or we
go to war”

She choked on a sob and tears started to stream down her wan cheeks. He can’t ever remember her
crying since she started talking and was able to communicate her wants and needs. Not even during
Joanna’s death. Jaime and Cersei both wailed like wild little things but Sansa did exactly as he’s
done. She remained aloof, quiet and went on doing the duties her deceased mother left behind.

"No! I don't want to be the cause of a war! I won't be the reason thousands die!" she vehemently
denied.

Tywin felt his chest tightened. He wiped away the tears on her small face with his thumbs and
talked lowly, “Listen to me, my girl. Listen. You are a Lannister. A lioness of the Rock. And you
are my daughter. Aerys is naught but a jealous fool. An incompetent king on his way to an early
grave if his attitude and actions continue. But you my daughter—I am confident you can win this.
You are wiser than most people I know. I will do everything in my power to shield you and keep
you safe, this I swear. But if you don't want a war, you must do your part. You must accept it now,
no matter how difficult it is to swallow. Adapt quickly to this new reality. Endure. Keep moving
forward as you have. When the right time comes, birth heirs for the throne. Rhaegar may yet prove
a better man and husband than his sire. If not, then we’ll take everything they have as payment for
their debts. Do you understand?”

Tearful blue and green eyes continued looking at him. He cradled the back of her head and pressed
his forehead to hers “Let this be the last you shed your tears over this my girl. Stand tall. Be strong.
Be the person you were always meant to be. Not next year. Not tomorrow. Now. It has to be now
Sansa.”

The girl closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply and when she opened them again, the green
was wildfire and the blue was ice. He knew and was certain she’s found a new purpose. Very
good.

“We still have years to prepare. I am sure Aerys will want to keep you close. Tygett and Gerion
will both be at your side at all times.”

“The Mormonts,” the girl interrupted, voice cold, and Tywin raised his brow in question.

“Uncle Tyg and Uncle Gerion won’t always be with me. I must have female companions who can
stay in my rooms at all times and are also capable of defending me. The Mormont women are
trained to fight. Lord Jeor is here. If we ask for their help, it will also serve as a sign of good faith
to House Stark that I will have their vassal’s kin at my side.”

Tywin nodded at the idea, glad she's back to her sharp, logical self. The Mormont women were
savages but it can’t be denied they’re fighters equal to their men during battle. Their famous
northern honor will also ensure their loyalty. He would just have to require them to take regular
baths and have them brush their hairs and provide them better clothing and a few jewelries so
they’d look like proper nobles and not complete savages and paupers at his daughter’s side. He
won’t have them causing embarrassment to Sansa. Perhaps he’d ask the Martells too. For women
who knew how to handle knives in the dark and knowledgeable of poisons.

“The Starks father” his daughter's voice broke his musing, “What will happen now?”

“Aerys has effectively and forcibly put on my shoulders the burden of breaking your betrothal to
the Stark heir. I will speak with Lord Stark myself and explain the situation before it gets out of
hand. It is not ideal but the man so far has proven calm and rational. There will certainly be
negative consequences but it is what it is” Tywin clenched his jaw again at the thought of another
complication.

“Let me speak with Lord Stark in private father, please.”

His eyes narrowed, “What do you plan to do?”

“I mean to convince him to throw his support behind me. He won’t have my dowry weighed in
gold now that Aerys has done this. But I want to assure him I will keep Northern interests close to
my heart. I also would like you to honor the trade agreement even if I am no longer betrothed to
Brandon. We must pay our debt to them father, no matter that it wasn’t our fault this happened in
the first place. The support of the entire North is at stake and possibly the Vale's”

“Done.”

***
Sansa

She’s been very foolish.

She’s kept herself inside the safe and opulent Lannister comfort zone and made grand plans of
being a Stark once more and going home to Winterfell but did not think of life’s cruel twists and
turns. She should have. She should have.

The North has gotten further away, her Stark roots denied to her once more.

Like Harrenhal, the tower of dreams she’s been building for years was burned by a cruel dragon in
front of her eyes and fallen to rubble beneath her feet.

But she’s a master at picking up the pieces. She'll pick them all up stone by stone, make an even
greater tower and build catapults to hurl the rest to those who tried to destroy it again. She’ll quarry
the stones from under Casterly Rock and the mountains of the West too, if need be.

And she is not alone. Not like as a lifetime ago. At her side is Tywin Lannister and at her back is
the gold, the fleet and the army of the West. The Riverlands too with Cat’s betrothal to Jaime. And
she’ll get more allies. She'll make the North an ally before they separate ways.

Past or future, the Iron Throne owes her and House Stark much and House Lannister for Joanna.

Winter is coming. Debts must be paid. And when it’s over, she means to have not just the North,
but the entire Seven Kingdoms.

***

Rickard

Rickard could only stare at Lord Tywin Lannister, his mind still stuck at the grave news the man
just gave.

They had both been planning to declare their children’s betrothal and make it public knowledge.
But the dragon has seen fit to breathe fire without so much as a by your leave and now the web
connecting House Lannister and House Stark has snapped.

They could protest all they want but it will only end in blood and needless deaths. They were
currently deep within a Targaryen stronghold and majority of the attending southern lords and
knights were from the Reach, the Crownlands and the Stormlands. Most would no doubt follow the
commands of the King. Capture or slaughter—the odds were clearly not in their favor.

He is only thankful the Great Lion saw fit to inform him personally in advance instead of keeping
him in the dark and making him endure the humiliation in front of a multitude when the King
finally made his decision known.

“House Lannister will honor the trade agreement for lumber and timber Lord Stark. I am also open
to negotiations for financial assistance in your ventures should the North decide to build a harbor in
its western coast—an idea my brother Kevan mentioned was discussed during your stay at the
Rock”

Rickard sighed in relief and nodded. He is thankful all will not end in vain. If the agreement with
the Lannisters ended prematurely, it would’ve been a huge loss for northern economy.

“I also wanted to ask something—proof that House Lannister intended to keep in good faith with
House Stark and the North”

“What is it Lord Tywin?”

“The Mormonts. My daughter asked for them. Their women are capable fighters, are they not? I
would ask for three or four of them to serve as my daughter’s maids and personal guards. She needs
women who can remain at her side at all times and go with her to places men are not allowed to”

Rickard looked the Great Lion closely and saw for perhaps the first time, the man’s worry. It’s
carefully hidden but for a man used to also maintaining a face, he was able to spot it. The lines in
the corner of the other man’s eyes, his tense posture, the stiffness of his mouth and the clench of
his jaw were all proof. Rickard’s building cold ire for the situation lessened when he realized this
move by Aerys has not been received well by the Lannister lord too.

He also thought of the lord’s request. Northern women in the circle of Tywin Lannister’s rumored
favored child who will possibly be queen someday will also only benefit the North and would
serve to remind her of the North’s interests.

“I shall speak about this matter with Lord Jeor Mormont my lord. His sister, the Lady Maege is
known to be an able warrior”

“Good. You have my thanks my lord. My daughter would like to speak with you also, if you would
allow it”

Rickard wondered at the reason for the request but decided it would be foolishness on his part to
deny the future wife of the Crown Prince. “I would, Lord Lannister”

The Lion lord nodded and without much ado, got up and left. A few moments later, the little
lioness arrived.

“Lord Stark” the girl curtsied gracefully. Such a shame she’s not to be the next Lady of Winterfell
now.

“Lady Sansa” he stood up and bowed to her, “have a seat my lady”

The girl sat down solemnly on the seat in front of him, “Lord Stark, my father explained everything
I hope”

“That he did my lady”

His face softened when he saw a small, sad smile appeared on the child’s face, “I wanted to see
Winterfell, the castle said to be built by the same legendary man who built the Wall, Storm’s End
and the Hightower. I wanted to see its famed godswood and the crypt of the Kings of Winter”

“You may still get to visit in the future my lady. Who knows, you might have a progress North
when the time comes. I would be glad to host you if that happens” he told her gently.

“I hope so, thank you my lord.”

The girl took a deep breath. She was clearly struggling to say something so Rickard just let her take
her time. When she finally calmed, the girl locked her strange eyes with him,

“Houses Lannister and Stark may not unite through marriage my lord but there is another choice. I
hope you would not judge me presumptuous by telling you this but remember Lady Catelyn is
betrothed to my brother Jaime. She will become my sister by law one day. She has a younger sister,
the Lady Lysa, who is yet to be betrothed as far as I know. It is ultimately your decision my lord
but no matter the choice you make, I swear to you now, when the time comes, I will not forget the
North. Know that I will consider what happened here a debt to be paid, one I intend to pay to the
best of my abilities”

Rickard felt a jolt on his spine at the certainty and heavy promise he found in the child’s eyes.
Those eyes seemed far too old than they should be.

Time has proven again and again that Targaryens cannot be trusted. The situation they are
currently facing just another proof of it. Tywin Lannister is harsh bordering cruel. But between
Aerys and Tywin Lannister, he trusted the Western Lord to do things better.

And now, between an unknown as of yet fate for the grown-up Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (who’s
doing nothing to improve the worsening situation but read books, win tourneys and play his harp
and whose coin is still spinning in the air as far as he is concerned) and Tywin’s intelligent, polite
and hard-working little girl (who the people of Lannisport swore has done much for the destitute of
the city, handled petitions and gave out punishments wisely and justly and acted as regent of the
Rock efficiently for a few years now), he would rather choose the girl.

“Your nickname, I have been curious how you came to have one such. Do you know its origin my
lady?”

“Yes. I was told I insisted for others to use it when I was just a babe starting to talk. I learned from
reading later on that it was a northern name of Old Tongue origins” there was an oddness to her
tone Rickard cannot put his fingers on and decided to ignore.

“It is. Do you know what it means my lady?”

“Yes my lord. A charm, a praise. An invocation”

Rickard nodded, pleased at the girl once again, “Very good. I will consider what you said about the
Tully girl. But I also want to assure you now, House Stark and the North will support you my lady,
when the right time comes”
 Rickard/Rhaegar/Sansa

Rickard

“Father! You can’t let this happen! It’s an insult to our house! They can’t just do whatever they
like!” Brandon raged.

Rickard grabbed his son by the shoulders, leaned closer to him and growled, “Do you want us
captured or murdered Brandon? No? Then shut your mouth boy or I’ll do it for you”

“How can you just let this happen? The girl is my betrothed! Not Prince Rhaegar's.”

“I said lower your voice you foolish boy. You don’t even call her by name, much less tried to get
close to her. Are you protesting because you genuinely cared for the girl or because your pride is
hurting?”

Brandon fell silent but his face was still one of fury and Rickard felt angered at the boy’s lack of
self-control and understanding, “The betrothal was forced by the King on the Lannisters. Lord
Tywin did what was necessary—agreed to prevent a needless war. I have spoken to Lord Tywin.
Our trade agreement with the West still stand and he gave word he is open to further negotiations.
The North still stand to gain. But if you continue your stupidity Brandon, we will lose everything.
Use your brain and not your pride. Remember we are not in the North. The Reachers and
Crownlanders are Targaryen loyalists. Half of the Stormlanders too. Open your big mouth and talk
as if we have power over here and we’ll either be imprisoned or slaughtered.”

“So it is ending just like this? As if no betrothal happened? We are Starks not some commoners. I
am the Heir to Winterfell and you’re the Warden of the North in case you’ve forgotten”

“It’s time you realize Brandon, the world does not revolve around you nor your desires. Even the
Stark name has its boundaries and limits. Remember this lesson well: you are nothing but a small,
green boy in a fighting pit of experienced apex predators. And House Stark not wealthy nor
powerful enough to stand against the Crown on its own”

“What will happen now?”

“I will tell you once a decision is made for a new betrothal. Now gather your act. Start behaving
like a proper heir and talk no more of the failed one, do you hear me?”

The boy’s jaws hardened before replying, “Yes father”

Why couldn't it have been Ned who was born first?

***

Rhaegar

“Stop smiling Arthur. It’s not very funny right now. Nor is it appreciated” Rhaegar threw a dark
glare at the knight.

“Such a foul mood, your highness” the knight quipped.

“Who wouldn’t be in a foul mood in my situation? I am a grown man betrothed to a child. It feels
like snatching a babe from the cradle”
“You exaggerate my prince. She’s almost ten. Young, yes, but judging by her wits, more mature
than other ten and five year olds. In just a few years, she will be a grown woman and the difference
in age won’t matter so much. Other marriages have greater age differences. Take the Lord Frey for
example”

“Really Arthur, that’s the best you can come up with? If that is what you think then I wish we
could change places instead and you marry her”

“You think the Lord Lannister will allow that? A knight instead of a crown prince?” the knight
asked mockingly.

Rhaegar bit back a swear at the mention of the Hand. Stuck between his Father the King and the
Great Lion Lord—it’s not a place many would like but one he has to endure.

The King might sit the throne and wear a crown but he was eclipsed by the man he called Hand
who is also responsible for the annihilation of the Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Lord of the
West is a strong ally but a wrong move and he’ll be a formidable enemy.

“Look, the Lady Sansa” Arthur tilted his head to the girl’s direction.

Rhaegar turned his head and saw from from a distance the girl walking with her older brother, her
Uncles Ser Gerion and Ser Tygett, the Tully girl and some red guards following them—their
direction the Highgarden maze.

Unlike the day before when the girl looked terrified and almost fainted in front of the King, today
she looked like a pretty porcelain doll smiling up at Ser Gerion.

“A beautiful and proper girl no doubt but very strange and curious” Arthur’s voice interrupted his
scrutiny.

Rhaegar returned his attention to the knight and raised a brow.

“Did you not observe her? Yesterday, when they entered the room—most girls would be amazed
and wide-eyed, impressed in the presence of royalty and kingsguard knights. She was not. Her eyes
sharply swept the entire room as though assessing danger and looking for escape routes. Then
when King Aerys reached out and forcibly grasped her chin—most young girls would resist or cry
out or altogether step back. She didn’t do any of those. Like one who has endured long years of
torture, she steeled herself and braced for the pain. And when the betrothal was announced by the
King—well, is going pale of fright and almost fainting a normal reaction of girls informed they’ll
marry the Crown Prince?”

“What are you saying Arthur?”

“I’m saying she’s no ordinary girl.”

Rhaegar held back a snort, “You’re reading into the girl’s actions too much”

“I serve as your guard my prince. It is my duty to observe the people around you and assess them
for any potential threats”

“Yet here you are telling me that a child not even ten is experienced at what? Handling torture?
Assessing danger? She’s Lord Tywin’s daughter. She’s no doubt pampered and highly protected
with guards always at her beck and call. How would she even develop the skills you’re talking
about?”
“I do not know my prince. Which is why I said strange and curious”

“This talk is nonsense. You should prepare yourself instead Arthur. I don’t want to win simply
because you’re busy imagining things and wondering about strange girls”

***

Sansa

It was as many people expected. After everyone else were eliminated, the four contenders people
heavily betted on remained.

But there can only be one champion.

The Sword of the Morning defeated the Blackfish after six broken lances.

Rhaegar Targaryen defeated Barristan the Bold after seven broken lances.

The Sword of the Morning defeated the Silver Prince after an exhausting nine broken lances.

Princess Elia Martell of Dorne was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty.

Then the King Aerys stood up from his high seat on the dais and made the announcements.

Lord Steffon Baratheon as the new Hand of the King.

Lord Tywin Lannister as the new Master of Coin

The betrothal of Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen to Lady Alysanne of House Lannister.

The Crownlanders and Westerners were wild and deafening in their cheering.

The Starks of Winterfell formal and solemn in their clapping.

The Arryns and Tullys surprised. Some hiding it well. Others failing.

The Martells looking disappointed for a missed opportunity.

The Tyrells faking smiles left and right and center.

Sansa waved her hand, a gentle smile pasted on her lips as the crowd continued to cheer loudly her
betrothal with Rhaegar. The Silver Prince stood beside her, waving his hand too.

The King Aerys looked on smugly from his high seat.

The new Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon stoic by his side.

Her father, Tywin Lannister, also standing, face a replica of a marble statue.

Many high lords and ladies looking around, smiling like snakes, eyes sharp like hawks—watching
each other closely for threat or opportunity.

Same game. Same players.

A new (old) contender.

 Sansa/Rhaegar
Chapter Notes

Whew crazy week. Lol. Thanks to those who left kudos! They really inspire. And
sorry for not updating sooner. I'm not so idle anymore-not with two energetic little
kids joining me in my covid 19 quarantine.

Sansa

The nightmares were back and they’re back with a vengeance, always making her wake up in tears
and cold sweat or fright and the small hairs on the back of her neck and arms prickling.

She blamed the damned city and the cruel king that served as harsh reminders of the tragedies that
happened to her (and if/when things go to shit as they normally do, tragedies still to come).

Kingslanding was approximately half a million people less than her previous lifetime but the same
odious smell of piss and shit and unwashed bodies still greeted her nose a few miles before they
entered the city. It stank less but not by much.

The people were almost the same too—not the faces, of course, but the empty, fake smiles,
pretentious words, houses, sigils, ambitions and methods of acquiring power.

Crownlanders, Westerners, Stormlanders, Reachers, Riverlanders, Valemen and Dornish—the

same spokes on the wheel and a dragon sitting on top of its chair.

In her dreams and nightmares—or mayhap imagined or broken memories? She sometimes hears
Daenerys Targaryen of many titles speaking of freedom from chains and breaking wheels. She
wondered if the Dragon Queen who declared herself a liberator realized that the Iron Throne she
loudly and passionately proclaimed her birthright and wanted to occupy was in fact the wheel. You
can break the spokes but so long as the throne exists, the wheel spins on and on and on one way or
another, directly or indirectly moved by the person sitting on it as it had been for centuries—the
people underneath crushed on the ground depending on the (in)competency and (weak/strong) will
of the ruler on top.

She tried with all her might and provided many reasons to Tywin that got him to agree to convince
the king to allow her to return to Casterly Rock and let her live the remaining few years of her
childhood far away from the court of rats and vipers and its king of cruelty and prince of delusions.

Tywin had tried to negotiate with the king to let her stay at the Rock until she bled, a move that
was strongly supported by the Lord Steffon Baratheon. But Aerys' will prevailed.

As her father had initially predicted, Aerys demanded that she stay in the capital to start learning
and preparing for her future role and responsibilities under Queen Rhaella. His words were, “What
kind of queen would your daughter make my heir if she received her lessons from lowly servants
meant only to sit and eat scraps under their King's table? She will be a Targaryen queen, she will
learn from a Targaryen queen. That is the end of it.”

So here Sansa was, living once more in the city she abhorred and swore a lifetime ago never to
return to.

Her only consolation was that she was in a position of strength. Her father, Tywin Lannister, was
the richest man and the great lord people feared to cross more than the king. She’s surrounded by
sharp-eyed guards who she knew were hardened men who knew how to fight and kill—not a
defenseless, old septa whose head was filled with nothing but useless drivel of the faith, propriety,
feminine accomplishments and aspirations and most likely the chance to tell the world she had a
hand in raising the future queen. (Whatever foolish notions did Ned Stark have that made him
judge a septa enough protection for her then in this pit of liars and murderers? Arya at least had
Syrio Forel who knew how to fight but Sansa who was betrothed to the ‘Crown Prince' at the time?
Utter stupidity).

Her uncles Tygett and Gerion always made sure they escorted her along with four of the most
feared red guards and with the arrival of the formidable Lady Maege Mormont and her fellow Bear
Islanders Larra and Raya, she now could breathe easier being surrounded by fierce and strong
women. Tywin also hired a Lyseni woman named Lysarra, one whose dark brown hair, blue eyes
and good grasp of the Common Tongue made it easy to disguise her as Sansa’s servant. She has
some skill with blades and very knowledgeable of the poison arts.

And a damned kingsguard.

Aerys commanded a kingsguard dog her steps wherever she went. Oswell Whent or sometimes,
Lewyn Martell. (Oswell Whent, she already knew, stood by and watched when his prince fucked
things up and sparked the kindling that saw the Seven Kingdoms’ descent into war. Lewyn she
knew fought for the king because Princess Elia was kept in the Red Keep. She concluded it was to
make her a hostage to ensure Dorne’s support. She wondered if they’d been among the people who
stood by and watched too when Joanna Lannister was raped.)

She treated them with utmost grace and politeness of course and engaged them in conversations
once in a while instead of just ignoring them (no need to show she despised their positions). In
return both knights were equally polite and assured her their protection but she knew that could
change with a word from the king. Their long white cloaks, polished-to-shine armors and footsteps
never failed to make her feel constantly on the edge. They even made it frequently into her
disturbed sleep at nights, their faces shifting over and over again with those of Joffrey’s
kingsguards, swords raised to strike her.

Her father, her uncles, Lady Maege and the other women have begun to notice her nightly
afflictions and were starting to ask questions but what exactly can she say? Nothing but excuses:
she can’t remember them, much heat causing fever dreams, unfamiliar place causing fears, future
role and responsibilities ahead raising worries.

They don’t really believe her of course. Tywin gave her calculating stares and pointed questions.
Tygett and Gerion threw worried glances and always asked whether she was alright. The women
offered her comfort and their ears and Maege has even started sleeping on her bed.

But she cannot tell them. A few careless words and when it reached the wrong ears, it would be the
end of her. Many will think her spiraling to madness and demand she be committed to a
motherhouse or locked in a cellar or sent away to wherever mad people go. Thankfully, their honor
and newly forged friendships and budding loyalty with her made them keep their mouths shut and
instead did their best to shield her. They too have come to realize the dangers of the Red Keep.

***

Queen Rhaella may still be a beautiful woman but a single look made Sansa realize she looked
tired and older than she was because of a great, deep-seated misery (her marriage, without
question).

The Queen was gentle and soft-spoken with sad purple eyes. She welcomed Sansa to Kingslanding
with a squeeze from her soft hands but told their lessons would have to be scheduled at a later date
as she was still recovering from the birth of Prince Viserys. Sansa accepted, expressing to the
queen her eagerness to learn and assuring her she will spend the time to acquaint herself with the
Red Keep.

Unlike in Casterly Rock and Lannisport, Sansa had few movement options in the capital. She
decided to emulate some of the things Margaery Tyrell did. The Rose of Highgarden had been
quite effective in getting the common people to admire her.

She also decided to, as much as possible, not show her face at court and gatherings Aerys attended
and instead devoted herself to other pursuits. That way it won’t raise eyebrows and questions if she
stayed away when even more cruelty and madness started.

The first act consisted of forcing herself to regularly attend masses and prayers at the cursed Sept
of Baelor and giving alms to beggars. The Faith, no matter that she no longer believed in it, was a
strong and influential institution to the common people’s daily lives, beliefs and opinions. She
always made sure to smile and greet her fellow worshippers and ensured there were people
watching when she knelt and said her prayers. She needed their gossiping tongues to spread her
piety and make the common people look at her with favor. She had become a regular fixture of the
sept that the High Septon and a few septas have begun taking notice of her presence and in rare
times, even approached her to make small talk. Septa Mordane’s teachings and Catelyn Stark’s
piety were good enough to make the man of faith look at her with approval in his eyes.

With Tywin’s approval and gold and the knowledge and support of Lord Baratheon of course, her
next act was to ask the septon’s and the septas' help in visiting the city's orphanages and
investigating their needs that were not given solutions. They’d been ecstatic to do so, most likely
celebrating the thought they now have access to the Lannister gold.

After that, she began a campaign with those that seemed to always seek her father’s favor and gold
by making their acquaintance and requesting for their throwaways such as old clothes, linens and
furs to be donated to charity. House Lannister’s vassals gave their support in full in deference to
Tywin but she also got donations from some houses like Baratheon, Tyrell, Stokeworth, Rosby,
Massey, Mooton, Piper and Rowan.

She made no promises, but hints that their names and good deeds won’t be forgotten were enough
to move them to support her endeavor—eager to make connections and gain her favor for
themselves for no doubt future ambitions. Some even went as far as to give gold and food. Even
Ser Oswell and Prince Lewyn gave coin to her charities later on.

She made sure to keep in line of course, always making sure to mention the Targaryen name and
the royal family when people expressed their gratitude lest someone accuse her of undermining the
king.

Her third act was to walk the streets one or twice every sennight and talking to traders especially
those in the textile and food trade. She supported local trade by purchasing bolts of cloths from
stalls and making orders of hot pies and bread off baker carts to be distributed in orphanages she
gave charity to and places where most beggars congregated. She also encouraged the Lannister
servants to join her city walks and to buy food like fresh produce from the markets for their
kitchens.
Not even three moons and people started calling her good Lady Alysanne and made comparisons
of her with the Good Queen Alysanne. Tywin, she knew, hired some bards to make songs of her
across the kingdoms.

All was going according to plans for now but soon, she knew, things will change and the noose was
going to tighten even more.

***

Rhaegar

Still uncomfortable with his betrothal with Lord Lannister’s child, Rhaegar stayed away and tried
to ignore any mention of the Lady Sansa. He had devoted his time to reading and learning statecraft
and war strategies, training in the yard, playing the harp and riding whenever he could. He’s even
gone to the ruins of Summerhall for a few days to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the city.

But time in the training yard with Ser Oswell or Ser Lewyn who alternated in guarding the girl
always somehow led to her name cropping up in conversations like a weed again and again.

The two knights made a habit of reporting to him what the girl has been up to and he could see they
clearly formed some sort of admiration for her.

Only three moons of the girl living in the city and now he’s hearing songs about her—the good
Lady Alysanne, people called and sang her praises. Their ardor were only getting stronger it
seemed. And now the common folk kept on attaching their names to each other’s and comparing
them to Jaehaerys I and Good Queen Alysanne. It was…pleasing and disconcerting at the same
time.

“A fast worker that one. As efficient as her lord father” Arthur commented from his side.

He had just finished distributing the coins he earned from playing his harp to the beggars on the
street and now they're walking to the orphanage to pay a visit. He heard gossips of the little Lady
Lannister and her retinue attending one of the orphanages and decided to join and see for himself
what she’s been up to.

When they reached the place, he stood at the threshold for a while in hesitation, looking at the
many little children all sprawled in different positions on the floor of the large hall and listening
avidly to a story clearly being shared by the girl in their midst. Her maids and guards were near the
walls and none has noticed his presence until the girl looked up. He saw her eyes widen then she
stood up with practiced grace, curtsied and greeted him, “Your Highness, what a pleasant surprise
to see you here”

The result was instant: chaos.

Is he really the Prince? He’s got silver hair and purple eyes you idiot of course it’s him! The
Prince! Prince Rhaegar! The future king. Oh what an honor! He’s come to visit with Lady Sansa!

All the people in the room were now eyeing him and the children were quite loud with bright stars
in their eyes and looked about ready to jump him it made him take a few steps back.

“Everyone please quiet. Remember what I taught you about manners?” the little Lady Lannister’s
voice broke through the noise.

The children turned to her and the noise level went gradually down.
“A curtsy!” a little gap-toothed girl and another with freckles on her face both exclaimed.

“Yes, very good Alyssa, Jeyne. Now why don’t we show his highness what you all learned?”

The children all straightened up like little poles—the little girls gave him butchered versions of a
curtsey and the boys awkwardly bowing deep, some even almost stumbled. It was amusing, even
Arthur chuckled from behind him.

The next few hours were spent observing and talking with the septas who fairly fell over
themselves in his presence and praised his young betrothed for her kindness and generosity.

The children also begged for him to sing and play his harp which he gladly did until they asked the
Lady Sansa to sing too. They looked at each other awkwardly until the girl decided on singing the
song of Jenny of Oldstones, his favorite.

Well, he thought while he played the harp and listened to her sing, at least, if nothing else, we
share the gift of storytelling, music and care for the small folk.
 Rickard/Sansa/Rhaegar

Rickard

His chest felt tight and all he could see was red. With the burning rage coursing through his veins,
he raised a hand and delivered a loud slap to the girl’s wet cheeks. And another. And another. Until
loud voices broke through the haze and a small body slammed on him.

“Father! Stop! Father please” Little Benjen’s voice was shrill, his face was wet with tears and his
eyes looked at him with fear but his little arms were wrapped around his legs tight as though trying
to restrain him with what little strength he had.

“My Lord!” Ser Rodrik’s face was one of sorrow and apprehension, the other guards also looked
warily at him.

Rickard dropped his hand and patted Benjen’s head, then slowly extricated himself from the boy’s
arms. With clenched fists at his sides, he looked down at the girl holding her red and bruised face,
cowering in front of him, “Go to your rooms Lyanna and do not get out until I say so. Defy me
again you foolish girl and I’ll bind, gag and drag you to the Silent Sisters where you’ll forever
attend to the dead. Perhaps there, your recklessness and stupidity will be put to an end”

He watched with cold eyes as the girl hurriedly did as he commanded, almost tripping on her feet
as she did so.

He looked at the downcast faces in front of him—a few looked afraid, one had wide tearful eyes
mixed with guilt that could not look directly at him. He took note of those faces. Mark Ryswell.
Barbrey Ryswell.

“Where are your horses?” he asked them.

“The-the st-stables my lord” the Ryswell heir spoke, voice high and panicked and the look on his
face morphed from guilty to terrified.

“I will see those beasts dead, do you hear me boy? Get them out of my stables and have them out
through the Hunter’s gate. I’ll butcher them myself”

When the boy looked to be stuck in place, Rickard raised his voice, “Now! You will go and do as I
commanded now or gods help you, boy, it’ll be you who’ll pay”

The Ryswell heir ran to the direction of the stables without looking back.

“You girl” He looked at the tearful little chit Barbrey Ryswell. Her eyes were puffy and she looked
wan but Rickard could not find it in himself to show an ounce of sympathy nor care. “Cease your
infernal crying. Go back to your guest rooms and don’t show your face again in the halls of
Winterfell. You’ll get out only when I say so” He looked away when the girl nodded jerkily.

“Where is he?” he asked no one in particular, knowing he will receive an answer from any one of
them.

Martyn and Ser Rodrik hurriedly moved, “This way my lord”

The brothers led him to a cart where a body laid covered with a cloak. His hands trembling badly,
he slowly peeled off the cloak and felt the breath get knocked off him again, his knees almost gave
out.

Oh Brandon you foolish boy, he thought with fury and grief.

The boy’s neck and right arm were both twisted at an odd angle. There were trails of blood that
crusted under his nose and his chin. The color of his skin has started to turn bluish. His body cold.
His no doubt empty eyes thankfully were closed.

First Lyarra. And now Brandon. Foolish Brandon. Selfish Brandon. Reckless Brandon, he thought
most bitterly, My son. My first son. You were supposed to be the future of our house but you’ve
thrown it all away. And for what? A stupid race in the wolfswood with your stupid, wild, little
sister and the ambitious fucking Ryswells to prove who’s best! Why could you not act with more
caution like Ned? Ned. I must send for Ned. He must return home at once. He is heir to Winterfell
now. This wasn’t what I wished for, you cunts. I wished him to be more like Ned or for Ned to have
been born first. Not for you to take my son away from me. Not like this.

Rickard’s hands almost turned white clutching the cloak as he blinked away tears and tried to take
deep breaths through the tightness in his chest. He is the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the
North. He needed to comport himself with more dignity in front of his people.

***

Sansa

Sansa lit a candle at the foot of the Stranger and closed her eyes.

I was right. Things really could go shit at the drop of a coin.

“Brandon Stark is dead” was the news that her father greeted her with when she sat in front of him
for breakfast that morning.

Brandon Stark the Wild Wolf—once more dead because of his and his little sister’s reckless
actions.

What a waste, she thought hiding a grimace, but perhaps no matter how other events diverged from
their original paths, some things were just meant to be? Perhaps you were always meant to die and
Ned Stark to step up as Lord of Winterfell? Perhaps it is better this way. Father—Ned would have
years of training and won’t have to carry the burden of lordship unprepared. He certainly won’t
rush without thinking to confront a mad king if—she shook her head, No that cannot happen. That
must not happen.

“My lady?” Maege's voice broke through her contemplation. Sansa opened her eyes to look at her,
“You’ve been standing for quite a while in front of the Stranger now. Longer than before”

“Oh forgive me, I was… I was praying for Brandon Stark. His faith was of the Old Gods like
yours, I know, but there’s no weirwood tree here in the capital, only an empty godswood”

Sansa had been the one to share the news with the Mormont lady earlier and saw how the terrible
news caused the woman's face to fall, just another proof of their house’s loyalty to the Starks.

Maege's face turned grave at her words, “No need to apologize my lady, I understand. It was a
tragedy—what happened to Lord Stark’s heir. One resulting from recklessness but still, a tragedy.
He died too young”

“Yes, he died too young” Sansa echoed.

“Forgive me my lady but I can’t help but wonder. You pray to all the Seven but spend more time
with the Warrior, the Crone and the Stranger. I had thought southern maidens devote themselves
more to the Mother and the Maiden” Her face showed she was trying to move on with another
topic to lighten the atmosphere. And though her tone had a teasing quality to it, she did look
genuinely curious. A few moons guarding her have brought an ease between them now.

“I once prayed to the Mother for my own mother. But she died anyway. And afterwards…Well
what can innocence and purity do in the face of life’s harsh trials? I decided then to pray to the
Warrior for strength to face each day, to the Crone for wisdom to light my way and to the Stranger
I ask, Not today”

The gods do not exist, she thought deep inside, but Robb, Jon, Brienne and even Sandor did and it
is to them I look for strength. To Bran I look for wisdom and Arya—Not today were the last words
she told me. A prayer to the god of death—my only prayer now.

“The first two I understand but the last?” the warrior lady from Bear Island shrugged and frowned,
“Does it not bother you my lady? The darkness of the Stranger?”

“Why should it? I believe we all are born and take our first breaths up to our last with the Stranger
at our side. Friend or foe, he walks with us every step of our life journeys. Sometimes he gives us
his kindness and offers help by reaching out and striking those who wish to harm us. Or, when life
has grown too hard and no hope is left, he embraces us and gives us rest”

Maege looked at her with solemn dark eyes before her lips slowly curled up to a feral smile, “Well,
as a Mormont and a warrior prepared to die fighting stupid squids, I won’t refute that. You have
steel in you, my lady. Something like the steel of the women of the North”

Sansa only smiled. She could not tell Maege—but to hear those words from another Northern
woman, words that recognized her strength and secretly validated her northern spirit—it brought
her solace.

***

Rhaegar

The Lord Steffon Baratheon invited the Royal family and the Lannisters to a private dinner in the
Tower of the Hand to celebrate his name day. Rhaegar thought it only wise to accept and keep a
cordial relationship with the Storm lord.

The dinner was an intimate affair. Only nine people in total. He and his lady mother the Queen, the
Lord Baratheon and Lady Cassana who decided to visit her husband in the capital for a few moons,
the Lord Lannister and Lady Sansa, the dour-faced Stannis who he's caught sneaking restrained
admiring looks at his young betrothed, and Sers Eldon and Lomas Estermont, brothers of the Lady
Baratheon.

The Lord Hand’s servants set a tasty table, the food served sumptuous and filling—a creamy
chestnut soup, crusty hot bread, greens dressed with apples and pine nuts, salads of sweetgrass and
spinach and plums sprinkled with crushed nuts, fresh trout baked in clay, trout wrapped in bacon, a
suckling pig in plum sauce and stuffed with chestnuts and white truffles, grilled tenderloin with
fresh herbs, honeyed chicken, and blueberry tarts, lemon cakes and Concord grape pies for dessert.
And drinks of course. Arbor gold, Dornish red and hippocras.

A feast for a King—the King who was in one of his moods and decided not to attend an hour or
two before the appointed time, slighting his host. Though in Rhaegar’s mind, it was no slight at all
but a blessing. The King's presence and attitude were tiresome things after all and would’ve
destroyed such a fine meal.

Many topics had been discussed over the course of the dinner, the conversations turning to more
serious matters the longer they stayed at the table.

“I can only imagine how painful it must be for Lord Stark, to lose his heir to a horse race. And it's
said it involved the younger sister” Lord Baratheon sighed heavily, taking a sip of from goblet.

The man, Rhaegar was certain, is doing everything he can to keep his the King pleased but it
looked to be taking its toll on him. Not even half a year and already the Stag Lord has lost a few
stones, his face showing clear hints of exhaustion.

“My son has written that Lord Stark had asked Lord Arryn to send Eddard Stark home. Robert is
betrothed to the Stark girl, the Lady Lyanna. I believe you’ve had the opportunity to make her
acquaintance, Lady Sansa? Anything you can say about the girl? How was she?”

That’s right, Rhaegar remembered with a jolt, I did hear rumors of my betrothed being courted by
the Starks of Winterfell. A move that was effectively rendered useless by father.

He looked at the Lady Sansa. Her face was calm but her head tilted a bit as though in consideration
of the words she was about to speak.

“In truth, I only knew her for a few short days my lord. I do not believe those days were enough to
take a full measure of the Lady Lyanna” the little Lady Lannister spoke carefully.

Lord Baratheon laughed, “If not her full measure, a half measure then. Anything you can say to
help prepare my wife and I to make the proper intervention if needs be?”

The girl put down her cutlery and adjusted her posture until she was sat like a queen, “She’s a
pretty one my lord, with some strength in her that, if guided accordingly could be a boon, but if left
unchecked it could be a liability. I… I believe educating her more on the duties and the appropriate
comportment of a paramount lady of the Stormlands necessary”

“Oh? A she-wolf then. I was considering asking Lord Stark to have her fostered at Storm’s End to
learn under my lady wife but now” the Lord Hand shook his head at his own thoughts.

“It’s understandable my lord. Lord Rickard will no doubt want to keep his children close after the
death of his firstborn. Perhaps the next year” Lady Cassana squeezed her husband’s arm close to
hers as she spoke.

“Aye. I guess it’s for the better she does not start fostering yet. Things are rather taking a turn for
the worse. This matter with the Darklyn’s and the increase of banditry has become truly vexing,”
Lord Baratheon’s face showed irritation and his big hand clenched the stem of the goblet which
miraculously didn’t break, “First they refused to pay their taxes and now Lord Denys is demanding
for a new charter for Duskendale. A charter! As if it were that easy. We give them an inch and the
rest of the realm will come swarming the capital with leagues and leagues of demands of their
own”

“How disgraceful of a house which for centuries boasted loyalty to the Crown! Seven Darklyn sons
who were risen to kingsguard and one of them was even a founding member during Aegon the
Conqueror’s reign. That’s more than any house can boast of. Tis a shame. A real dishonor” Ser
Eldon declared passionately, distaste clear on his face.

“They refuse the summons to come to the capital and instead insist for the King or I to go to
Duskendale and settle the matter there. It’s a preposterous demand” Lord Baratheon lamented then
took another sip.

“A highly dangerous one” the soft but clear voice of the young Lady Sansa followed next.

They all turned their heads to her as one. Silence reigned for a while before amused smiles showed
up in the faces of the men except for Rhaegar and Lord Lannister.

Rhaegar has been around the girl many times now to know that despite their strange first encounter
and her young age, she did have a sharp mind to her.

It all began that day in the orphanage. Watching and scrutinizing the girl’s actions made him agree
with Arthur—there’s more to her than meets the eye.

The girl was a curious study in contrasts—from her physical appearance, speech, actions and
behavior. She’s like a puzzle with pieces that just won’t fit. It’s become an interesting and
challenging game trying to figure her out.

A Lannister not of gold but red hair. Dual-colored eyes instead of just the expected emerald green.
Skin not tanned or golden but milky white. Not even more than ten but with the bearing of, dare he
say, someone born to royalty. She could be absolutely proper and sometimes blank to other
nobilities then warm and gentle and kind to common children. She could be terse to some during
conversations in the Red Keep then passionate in talking about matters she found interesting with
others—like baking lemon cakes with push-cart bakers, discussing textile and their make and
origins with traders and different embroidery techniques with old dressmakers, in the filthy streets
of the city, while wearing an expensive gown and surrounded with guards. Naturally graceful but a
wrong or strange noise and she looked poised for fight or flight just as Arthur pointed out moons
ago. Eyes sharp like a hawk. A mind like a maester’s library. And so many more idiosyncrasies he
is discovering the more time he spent with her.

Yes, Rhaegar has decided to spend time with her not just to figure her out but also because her
method in garnering the people’s love and admiration seem to be quite effective. He has decided to
work with her in her charities. She may have her father’s gold and influence but he has more power,
more pull to his title as Crown Prince that attracted even more people to become supportive of
what they’re doing for the weak and destitute in the city. Their charity work also gave him
justifiable reasons to interact with more influential nobles than before without causing too much ire
to the king.

Just a month of working with the Lady Sansa and his star has risen even higher, the people’s cheers
even louder, the number of nobles expressing support even greater.

She’s a useful ally, he finally admitted, one who will help further my goals when I finally sit the
Iron Throne.

Like before, he decided to sit and watch the conversation play out first. There’s no need to join yet.

“You think the destitute Darklyns dangerous, little lady?” Lord Steffon asked with a laugh.

Lord Eldon followed suit. Lady Cassana and Ser Lomas gave the girl gentle smiles. His Lady
Mother gave the girl a quiet, assessing stare while Stannis just looked stunned as if unbelieving the
girl has spoken.

Rhaegar silently approved when the girl did not even twitch or blink her eyes in the face of barely
restrained mockery. “Not the Darklyns my lord, but the situation. Should their demand that the
King or you Lord Hand go to Duskendale be granted, it could be a potentially dangerous move. ”

“They’re not so foolish nor dishonorable as to harm the King or his Hand. And should King Aerys
or the Lord Baratheon go, they will be under the laws of Guest Rights” Ser Eldon interrupted
rudely with which led to Lady Cassana giving him a glare.

Rhaegar moved his eyes and observed the girl’s father. The Lord Lannister remained silent, his
face neutral. It was interesting to note the Great Lion did not put a stop to his daughter’s speech nor
did he do anything to rescue her from the heating discussion.

With surprise, he came to realize the Lion lord was that confident with his daughter. He had faith
and believed her capable enough to let her fight her own battles. A battle of words at least in this
case.

Rhaegar watched the girl again. The Lady Sansa's face remained calm but he thought her blue eye
looked like a blue chip of ice.

She looked at Ser Eldon first then turned to Lord Baratheon, “The Darklyns refuse to come to the
capital because they fear an attack from the Crown, this is obvious enough. Fear, starvation, a
future of nothing but penury and death and utter ruin—my lords should know by now these are
enough to make men lose sight of reason. When reason is thrown out of the window, stupidity will
set in. And stupidity knows no bounds—decisions become suspect, mistakes will happen one after
another and situations will worsen, possibly leading to desperate choices like having to choose
between life or death. In a struggle for survival, not even laws will matter, Guest Rights included.”

“What do you suggest then my lady? They refuse to come, but you advise the King or I must not
go. How would you resolve this? By sending an army?” the Lord Hand challenged.

“Invite them for a dialogue and negotiations under a peace banner in a place of neutrality, my lord.
Not here in the Red Keep where they’ll feel threatened nor at Duskendale where all manner of
dangers lurk and things could potentially get worse. Look for someone who will play a neutral
arbitrator. Agree on a number of guards each party can bring.”

“And what is a dialogue worth when the charter they’re demanding is not possible?” Ser Eldon
scoffed, “As you have heard little lady, what they ask for is impossible”

“Thus the need for negotiation as I mentioned my lord. Surely you’re not saying to give up on
finding a solution without even trying? A dialogue would give the Darklyns a chance to air out
their grievances and feel they’re being listened to instead of ignored. It will also be an opportunity
for the Crown to propose terms they can choose from. Terms like…like tax relief until such time
they switch to other trades and fully recover from their losses or a low-interest loan grant from the
Crown for them to use and invest in other businesses for example.”

Ser Eldon chuckled and looked at the Lady Sansa patronizingly, “Those are indeed pretty
suggestions little lady but what you fail to understand is that what House Darklyn is doing is
simply unlawful. Refusing to pay your taxes is an offense and thus must be punished accordingly”

Lady Sansa raised her chin and looked the knight directly in the eyes with her own strange,
intense-looking ones, “The actions of House Darklyn are indeed unlawful, their demands
seemingly ridiculous. But if you stop for a while from judging which is lawful and not and instead
look deeper, you’ll see their actions come from a place of reason. No sane men would sit by and
watch as their innocent children and wives live in abject poverty when something could be done
about it. No honorable and dutiful lord worth their title would give up trying to save their house
and people from certain ruin. Because that’s what this is all about my lords—these are not just
ambitious men acting merely for gain but men who want to save the lives and future of their loved
ones. If this fate had befallen you, your house and your lands, would you not do the same as they
have done?”

An awkward silence followed after Lady Sansa’s question until the Queen spoke up, voice soft and
gentle but regal just the same, “I would like to say I agree with the Lady Sansa. There are still
many things that can be done to prevent this situation from going worse or ending in tragedy my
Lord Hand. Why not try to resolve the issue first instead of giving up and resorting to violence?”

“I too agree,” Rhaegar decided to finally speak up, his voice strong, “A neutral place for dialogue
and arbitration does sound the best solution. Think of the women and little children my lords, the
many innocent and poor souls who are suffering and will continue to suffer even more should this
dilemma be left unaddressed. This banditry problem that keeps worsening is a result of this, I
believe. Many poor people resorting to criminal activities due to having nothing else to do for a
living. If the problem is resolved through negotiations, then we also pave the way to reducing the
crime rates between the Riverlands and the Crownlands.”

The Lord Hand’s face lit up,“Why don't you join the council Your Highness? You could present
this idea then”

Rhaegar tamped down the urge to frown, “I’m afraid that won’t be a wise move my lord”

With father jealous and suspicious of me, it’s not a good idea at all.
 Lyanna/Sansa/Tywin
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Lyanna

Brandon’s dead but at least he’s free. She, on the other hand, has become even more of a prisoner
than before.

It’s all wrong. Everything’s gone wrong since Casterly Rock. It’s like a curse was placed on them
in that shitty place full of shitty Lannisters.

First she met the perfect little lady Lannister who deceived everyone with her perfect manners but
she was in truth just another manipulative witch like her ancestor Lann the Clever.

Because of the little witch, her father deprived her of attending the Tourney at Highgarden after
having travelled all that way south.

Then, next Lyanna learned, the girl’s betrothal with Bran was called off. Don’t get her wrong,
she’s happy it failed and she wouldn't have to call and endure seeing a lioness Lady Stark in the
future.

What she’s not happy about is the manner the Lannisters handled it. First they pursued her brother
then when a better opportunity came, they simply discarded him. They weren’t satisfied with Lady
of Winterfell. They wanted the witch to be The Queen. What a greedy lot. Lyanna's already fearing
the time when she becomes Queen. Targaryens and Lannisters, what a frightening thought!

And now—now her Father is blaming and punishing her for Bran’s death.

It wasn’t her fault! She just raced with Bran, she didn’t plan for him to die.

She wished the awful, pinched-faced septa her father asked the Manderly’s to send from White
Harbor would just keel over and die. She can only take so much lessons in etiquette like how to
walk and talk and eat and stupid lady activities like embroidering and sewing. It's slowly driving
her crazy.

And a betrothal! As if she’s nothing but cattle to be traded. As if she has no feelings and wishes of
her own.

A marriage to the Lord Hand’s son he says. An honor and a huge help to the North he says.

Well she doesn’t care! Ned may be fine with being betrothed to a stupid trout he doesn't even know
but not her. She doesn’t want to marry someone she doesn’t love. It doesn’t matter what Ned says
about his friend. She hasn’t even met Robert Baratheon!

Perhaps she should just run away. She can go to Essos and join the Roses. There she can do
whatever she wants and not have to follow commands of men like sheep to the slaughter.

She can do it. She knows and she's confident she can. All she has to do is pilfer enough gold and
prepare provisions to travel to White Harbor and get passage to Braavos. There she can begin a
new life free of constraints and people always telling her what to do.
***

Sansa

The sounds she heard from outside were terrible. Soldiers shouting. Swords clanging. Loud
wailing.

Run. That had been Septa Mordane’s last word to her.

Sansa ran like she never did before. Her hands clutched the cumbersome skirts of her gown up for
easier movement while her eyes darted left and right for an escape or a place where she could hide
and never be found. She was almost to the end of the long corridor when suddenly, a black cat
followed by a familiar little girl ran across her.

“Arya!” she called out but the girl just ignored her in favor running after the cat.

“Arya come back!” she shouted again, anger laced her voice now. Something wrong has happened
and they needed to run, to escape, and Arya was acting deaf and blind to her.

The sounds were getting closer. She panicked. She cannot just leave Arya behind and she didn’t
want to be alone either. Not seeing any other choice, she ran after her sister calling out, “Arya wait
for me!”

When she was ignored once more, Sansa got furious. When I get my hands on you Arya, she
thought angrily, I’m going to spank you so hard with my slippers you won’t be able to sit for a
moon.

She hurriedly followed her wild sister and the cat and they led her to a narrow hallway. Sansa
paused at the entryway. It was dark and it looked terrifying but Arya was there somewhere. She
can’t give up, turn craven and simply leave.

Steeling herself, she walked forward. A few steps and she saw a little light at the end. She ran
forward but before she reached the end, she heard the sound of metals clanging. Fearing she was in
danger, she stopped. Still as a statue and hidden in the dark she listened to determine what was
going on.

There were more than one footsteps but she doesn't know exactly how many.

The gods alone know, the first speaker, a familiar voice said, The fools tried to kill his son. What’s
worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other’s throats. We will be at war soon
my friend.

Sansa frowned in confusion, What talk is this? Why are these men talking about a wolf and a lion
trying to kill each other? What war? There’s been peace under King Robert for many years now.
How could there be a war?

People passed by her hiding place, their footsteps soft. Sansa took small quiet breaths to avoid
getting their attention.

The second person spoke, What good is war now? We’re not ready. If one hand can die, why not a
second?

This hand is not the other, the first person replied.

Hand? Sansa’s mind raced, Are they talking about father?

We need time, the unfamiliar one spoke once more, Khal Drogo will not make his move until his
son is born. You know how these savages are.

Khal Drogo who? Sansa asked herself and tried to search the name in her memories but failed. She
couldn’t remember any great house with that name. But it sure felt like she should know the
person.

The men conversing were moving far away from her place of hiding now, their voices going faint.
She continued breathing normally.

The familiar voice she still couldn’t put a name or face to spoke again, Delay you say. Move fast I
reply. This is no longer a game for two players.

It never was, was the last soft reply she heard from the second man and then they were gone.

With a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, Sansa took several deep breaths, mind spinning.
Hand. Wolf. Lion. War. What did all those mean? Did the conversation have anything to do with
the terrible sounds from outside earlier? Has the Red Keep been attacked?

After taking a peek and ensuring there weren’t dangers lurking, she stepped out of her hiding place.
She needed to find Arya then she needed to find and talk to her father and tell him what she heard.
She had to—because it sounded ominous. It sounded very dangerous. War is terrible and
dangerous.

“Arya?” she called out softly, “Arya are you here? Are you hiding? Come out. Come out now. We
have to go to father.”

After several minutes of worriedly searching and not finding her sister, Sansa decided she must
have gone to a different area. She had to retrace her steps. She looked back at the darkened hallway
and shivered in fear.

No, she shook her head, I can be brave. I must be brave. Like father, like Robb, like Jon. I am a
Stark of Winterfell. These halls got nothing compared to the crypts of the dead Starks underneath
Winterfell.

Her confidence improved, she went back through the dark hallway, her hands trailing the walls.
She walked until she saw some light up ahead but stopped abruptly, fearing she made another
wrong turn when she heard the familiar voice from before.

Prince Oberyn, the voice said.

Lord Varys, a new accented voice replied.

Sansa almost gasped. Lord Varys! Master of Whisperers from the King’s Small Council. It was
him! And…Prince Oberyn? Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne? What is he doing here?

With silent steps, she went closer to the end of the dark hallway and tried to get a glimpse of the
people talking. Indeed the first person was Lord Varys but the other man’s back was to her. She
only took note he had dark hair and was dressed richly.

Only Varys, I’m not actually a nobleman no one is under any obligation to call me lord.

And yet everyone does, the Martell Prince replied.

There was a small pause before Lord Varys spoke again, You seemed quite knowledgeable about
the Unsullied, did you spend much time in Essos?

Five years, Prince Oberyn replied.

May I ask why? Was Lord Varys' follow-up question.

Tis a big and beautiful world, the prince said, most of us live and die in the same corner where we
were born and, never get to see any of it. I don’t want to be most of us.

Most of us aren’t princes, Lord Varys replied.

Hm, you… are from Essos. Where? Lys. I have an ear for accents. Prince Oberyn’s tone sounded
confrontational.

I’ve lost my accent entirely, was Lord Varys’ softer reply.

I have an ear for that as well, was Prince Oberyn’s swift response.

The conversation may seem normal to some but to Sansa, it felt as though the two were barely
keeping themselves from being hostile to each other. She decided then it wasn’t safe to just
suddenly appear.

How did you get here? Prince Oberyn asked, a hint of intrigue in his voice.

It’s a long story, Lord Varys’ voice was soft once more. His tone made Sansa think he didn’t want
to provide more details to the Prince of Dorne.

One you don’t like telling people, Prince Oberyn declared.

People I trust, another short response from Lord Varys.

My paramour Ellaria should find you very interesting. You should come to the brothel and meet
her, Prince Oberyn invited, We’ve brought our own wine, not the swill they serve here. We have
some lovely boys to entertain her but… you did like boys, before.

There was no response from Lord Varys this time.

Paramours. Brothels. Boys for entertainment. The words all made Sansa squirm uncomfortably.
The conversation has gone to indecent and scandalous topics and she wanted to flee and continue
her search for Arya but fear of being found out and being outed as an eavesdropper by two men of
such high positions—that’s a reputation she never wanted to have.

Really? The prince asked and made an undecipherable sound of disbelief, I hope you would not be
offended if I say I never would have guessed.

Not at all. But I was never interested in girls either, Lord Varys responded.

What then? Prince Oberyn asked.

Nothing. Was the short response from the other man. He always gave short answers, she noticed,
and never provided explanation.

Everybody is interested in something. Prince Oberyn sounded disbelieving once more.

Not me. When I see what desire does to people, what it’s done to this country, I am very glad I had
no part in it. Besides, the absence of desire leaves one to pursue other things. Lord Varys’ tone had
a mysterious sound to it.

Such as? Prince Oberyn asked.

Sansa didn’t hear the response. She felt something slam her from behind and she fell. She screamed
in fright and tried to use her hands to break her fall on the floor. But there was no floor—she just
continued falling and falling in the dark.

Then she felt hands clutch and shake her shoulders and somebody called her name.

Sansa jolted with a gasp and opened the eyes she hadn’t thought she closed. She saw two worried
faces looming over her from both sides—Maege and Lysarra.

“Lady Sansa? Are you conscious now? Can you hear me?” Lysarra asked as she picked up Sansa’s
hand then gently squeezed it.

Sansa blinked several times. A dream. Another dream.

“I’m awake now. Thank you” she croaked. She swallowed then winced when she felt the dryness
of her throat.

Maege went to the side table and poured water on a goblet then returned to her side and gave it to
her. Sansa nodded in thanks and drank thirstily.

“My lady, are you alright? That was quite the nightmare this time” The warrior woman looked at
her with concern.

“I am fine now Maege, thank you. It was just a dream. Just another dream”

“Your night terrors seem to be worsening my lady, would you like me to make you something to
help you sleep better?” Lysarra offered while looking at her intently, “Perhaps a sleeping draught
or milk with a pinch of sweetsleep or dreamwine?”

“No. No sleeping draughts or anything please” Sansa immediately refused, knowing that
dependence on any form of medicine will not help her in anyway and could only be another
weakness for others to exploit when discovered, “I will learn to handle it. I’ll just take short naps
during the day if it becomes absolutely necessary”

She sighed when she received more worried and doubtful looks, “I am fine. If… if I feel I can no
longer handle it, then I’ll ask for your help Arra. I swear it”

“Very well, as you say my lady” the Lyseni woman nodded then smiled gently.

Sansa sighed in relief and got up from bed to go through her morning preparations, mind recalling
the dream all the while.

Lord Varys, she thought, I haven’t thought of him that much. I haven’t even seen hide nor shadow
of him. Does that mean he’s not employed by the King yet? But he was already serving Aerys by
the time the Tourney of Harrenhal and war happened, so that means he’s going to be in the capital
soon enough.

Varys the Spider they called him. The Master of Whisperers whose trade was secrets and lies. The
man even Littlefinger feared. A man Sansa knew she should be very wary of.

The eunuch can use his wide vocabulary and say the prettiest words to anyone who would listen
that his goal was serving the realm and the common people but Sansa will never trust him. She’s
seen and known enough not to realize he’s just another player playing the game for his own
interests.

Varys had served the Mad King Aerys, had whispered who knew what terrible secrets in his ears
that caused the Mad King to be even crueler and perhaps pushed him to commit many more acts
with impunity.

Varys had served the wastrel King Robert for almost two decades. As Master of Whisperers, she
wouldn’t believe him if he told he had no knowledge about Cersei and Jaime and their bastards.
For years Varys had probably kept what he knew and sat on it to wait for a more favorable time
and better outcome for himself or his allies. And if the dream was to go by, it seemed he did have a
hand in the war or had planned for another war before everything happened.

And the rest of the dream…

Lord Varys' and Prince Oberyn’s voice. The mention of Ellaria Sand who she’s recognized from
her past life was the beautiful paramour of the Dornish Prince. (She saw them at Joffrey and
Margaery’s wedding, had been quietly scandalized by their amorous acts in the midst of so many
guests.)

And the subjects of both conversations she overheard—the mention of bastards, of unearthing
truths, the talk about Hands, the lion and the wolf going against each other, the war, Khal Drogo,
savages, the Unsullied.

She recognized all of them now.

It was no mere dream, she decided. How can it be when all the people in it were real? When
everything that was mentioned in it were all real? But the more important question is why. Why am
I dreaming these things?

***

The Red Keep’s atmosphere was tense. The King, the Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and Ser
Gwayne Gaunt of the kingsguard along with ten more men chosen from the Royal army for
additional protection and retinue of servants have just departed the capital for Duskendale.

Against his Small Council’s recommendations and pleas for caution, King Aerys decided and was
very confident that he can handle the Darklyns and their demands. He repeatedly shot down any
suggestions from the Lord Hand to go in his stead. He only agreed to bring two of his kingsguards
and ten more men for protection.

Sansa already feared the outcome. Yes there has been a very small change with another kingsguard
and additional guards but it wasn’t enough.

They were in one of the private harbors of the castle facing the Blackwater, having a small picnic,
drinking wine, singing songs and lazily watching the passing merchant ships to escape the stifling
air of the Red Keep. Sansa was positive this would be one of the last moments of peace and sanity
they’ll have for a long while.

The ladies of Bear Island have decided to set up a target range and conducted an archery
competition which many of the men have decided to join. Sansa took Lysarra’s hands and invited
her for walk by the shore. Ser Oswell immediately tried to follow and keep guard.

“Please Ser, we won’t be far. There’s none here but us. We’ll stay within sight so you can still keep
guard. I wish to speak with my maid regarding a concern of the female kind”

The knight looked uncomfortable upon hearing her and simply nodded his head.

“Men! They’re ridiculous. They‘re always thinking and lusting after women but talk about a
female’s concern and they turn craven” Lysarra snorted then giggled.

Sansa laughed with her. She’s sure Lysarra’s speech isn’t the right kind for servants nor
appropriate for her age but Sansa decided not to ask her to change. It comforted her not being
treated like a child all the time. And her bluntness reminded her of Shae—one of the few who’d
been kind in a way and spoke plainly with her instead of playing with words and making her guess
her real intentions all the time.

“You wished to speak with me my lady? Is this about the sleeping problems?” the Lyseni woman
asked.

“No, not that. There are some things I’d like to ask you Arra. But not yet. Let’s walk some more
where none can hear or read our lips”

The Lyseni looked puzzled but agreed, “Alright”

Lysarra, she’s come to learn, is no new Lannister worker. She has worked for Tywin for around
seven years now thus her good grasp of the Common Tongue. She’s served him since she was only
ten and seven. She’s in her mid-twenties now but still young-looking. Moons of observing while
the woman acted as her servant and protection has given her confidence of the woman’s character
and loyalty.

When they reached a distance Sansa was sure would not allow anyone to overhear and with their
backs to their companions, she began to speak.

“You came from Lys, did you not? Were you born there also Arra?”

“Yes, Lys born and bred my lady” the woman smiled wryly.

“Do you know any man by the name of Varys?”

Sansa felt the woman tense through their linked arms before she asked a question of her own.

“Where did you hear that name my lady?

“Somewhere. Did you know him from Lys?”

“Know him, I do not. But know OF him, I do. There were unconfirmed rumors he was born in Lys,
some say Myr, but what is certain is he now resides in Pentos. But he does continue to have
dealings with most free cities in Essos, last I heard, Lys included. He's got a terrible reputation in a
few circles. He’s a dangerous person my lady, someone you should stay far away from.”

“And how did you come to know of him? What have you heard?”

The woman sighed deep before answering, “My mother, when she was still alive—she worked for
whores and pleasure houses and even the poorer whorehouses outside of the city you see. She
provided various remedies and such to prevent unwanted pregnancies and other diseases. Those of
us who work with poisons cannot help but dabble in medicines and other remedies, it’s practically
part of the trade. In the poorer whorehouses, there were few rumors of orphaned and unwanted
children being taken in by that man. Few rumors has it, he trained and used them as little birds to
collect and write songs for him. People say the children can do anything like climb walls and roofs
and chimneys but they do not speak so that means only one thing”

“Their tongues were cut off to prevent them from talking to others, making them work for him and
only him. None would think children with such incapacity able to read and write and pass
information”

“Aye, that is so” the woman nodded.

“So you never met him face to face? Never interacted with him?”

“Never. Not a single instance I can think of. Why worry for that man my lady? He’s in Pentos,
faraway from here”

“Information brokers and those dealing with espionage and sabotage go to the highest bidders who
can afford to pay their price. Who would you consider the highest bidders here in Westeros?”

“You think he’s working for some people here?”

“That is a possibility we cannot dismiss” Sansa replied while thinking, If not yet, it will be.

“Well, if it comes to that, your lord father has the gold”

“But not the only person with gold” she looked the woman in the eye.

“Ah, yes, you do have a point.”

Sansa stopped walking and looked at the woman from head to foot, “Have you ever changed your
appearance or is this how you’ve always looked?”

The woman looked at her with amusement, “I’ve never seen the need to care for my appearance or
change it my lady.”

“I ask you now Arra, please, change the color of your hair, change its style too, change how you
dress. None must get any hint you are from Lys or what profession you truly work in”

Lysarra looked at her with a grave expression, “You think me compromised? Lord Lannister had
me in his employ for years now my lady”

“I do not know. But let us take precautions while early still. I want you to be safe.”

Arra patted her arm gently, “Alright. I will do as you asked my lady”

“There are two more things I would ask of you”

“Name them”

“Would you know how to make something that would upset the stomach and cause the person to
keep going to the privy chamber for a while? Or cause terrible headaches mayhap?”

“Yes. Do you require it? What for? My lady, I didn’t think you have it in you to be so cruel! Tell
me you aren’t going to kill someone by making them shit til they die in the privy. What a terrible,
ignoble death that would be!” the woman threw her head back in laughter.

“No. No killing. Just a bit of revenge and a way of reminding someone of their human frailty, I
assure you. I don’t need it yet but would you make some for me and keep them ready for when the
right time comes?"

“Ah, Lannisters always pay their debts, is it? Alright. I will make you some. And your second
request?”

“Sleep with me the next moon and tell me about your poisons—the truly dangerous ones.”

The woman’s blue eyes sharpened at her, “You want to learn to make poisons?”

“No, not learn to make but how to identify and avoid them and if taken, how to counter them
quickly. I’m in a very dangerous position Arra, wouldn’t you agree? I just want to be prepared for
anything”

Lysarra took on a thoughtful look for a while then spoke, “Hm… There is this method we call
Mithridatism. It’s the practice of protecting oneself from poisons by gradually taking in small
dosages thereby building immunity. It’s effective on some but not against all kinds of poisons. It’s
not without its own dangers, of course”

Sansa instantly shot the idea down, “No! I don’t want to accidentally kill or incapacitate myself by
willingly taking in poison, small dosages or otherwise. Never. Banish that thought please Arra”

“Alright. But where is this coming from my lady? Are you afraid someone will try?”

“I’ve read enough of history, the House Targaryen and the Throne to remain naïve and ignorant of
my position. Valar morghulis. Isn’t that what they say in some places in Essos? All men must die. I
am no man. I am a woman but I, too, am vulnerable to death like all men. And because all men and
women die, it only follows, anyone Can be killed. But I don’t want to die young Arra. That would
be very boring and a waste. There’s so much more to experience in this life, more people to meet,
places to go and things to see of the world. I want to prolong mine as much as I can and do all the
things I could possibly do. So I’m asking your help now, I want to learn how to keep myself safe”

“You are a very interesting creature my lady. Would that I could read minds, it would be a great
prize to read yours indeed. You have one of the most interesting brains I think, along with your
father. Alright. You can be my sort-of-protégé. The first and last, for I will never bear children of
my own nor do I have plans taking in followers”

“You have my gratitude Arra”

***

Tywin

Tywin walked calmly to the Small Council chamber, surrounded by his four chosen red guards.

All around him the Red Keep was in a state of fear and uproar. Word has spread like wildfire that
the incompetent Aerys' negotiation with the Darklyns has gone sideways. Duskendale was now
considered in rebellion against the Crown. One kingsguard was dead along with the ten men who
went with them.

And the fool king? Lounging inside the Dun Fort as a hostage along with the Lord Commander of
his kingsguard. The King of the Seven Kingdoms reduced to the impoverished Darklyns' prison
cells like a common criminal. Ha! What a king he is.

Steffon has called for an emergency Small Council meeting with Crown Prince Rhaegar in
attendance to discuss how the situation would be handled no doubt and talk about securing the line
of succession .

Tywin was not concerned however. Aerys could rot in his cell or die for all he cared. His death
would only be a boon for the Seven Kingdoms.

Oh how hard he had tried to keep a smile from forming on his face when he got word of what
befell Aerys.

It’s a good thing that he was no longer Hand. Now Steffon would have to deal with Aerys' stupidity
and make the difficult decisions. Tywin can afford to calmly sit back and enjoy the entertainment.

“What are their terms Lord Hand?” Prince Rhaegar asked calmly. He appeared to be unruffled by
what happened to his father and Tywin secretly approved of his demeanor.

“The Darklyn’s terms are the same as before Your Highness, my lords. A charter similar to
Dorne’s for the entirety of Duskendale and a full unconditional pardon for the events when all this
is over” Steffon reported, blue eyes stormy and his impressive Baratheon jaws furiously clenching
and unclenching.“

“How dare they still make such demands! A full unconditional pardon?! Their entire house should
be put to the sword, their fields burned and salted for their treason and disloyalty against the king”
Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, raged. His face was red and his mouth almost frothing. The
man’s reaction was no surprise to Tywin. He was always Aerys' number one lickspittle in the
council.

“I concur! Such preposterous terms. And such vile acts! Why, theirs is a sin not just to the King but
to the gods whose holy oils were poured upon the anointed King’s head” Grandmaester Pycelle
reacted with such indignation. A mummer’s act, but not one that will ever convince him. The
quietly ambitious man is in Tywin’s pocket, willing to grovel at his feet.

“There is nothing else to be done while the King is kept hostage but to face the Darklyns, I’m
afraid. Who shall go Lord Hand?” the Master of Laws Lord Symond Staunton, another of Aerys'
loyal lapdogs, asked with deep furrows on his forehead.

“I have called the banners and shall lead the host myself. A fortnight to a moon should be enough
to gather the men and necessary provisions. Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor will both go with me.
Ser Lewyn will guard the Queen and Prince Viserys, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell will ensure the
safety of the Crown Prince Rhaegar”

Steffon then turned to the prince, “My Prince, please, your safety is paramount at this point. I
beseech you to always remain on your guard and stay within castle walls. We do not know if they
have people within. It’s best to stay on the side of caution”

Rhaegar nodded, “I understand Lord Hand, I will do as you asked”

“Thank you your Highness. Lord Velaryon” Steffon turned to the Master of Ships, “I trust you
would send word to have the fleet docked at Dragonstone mobilized and set up a blockade so they
won’t have an opportunity to escape by sea?”

“Yes Lord Hand. I assure you not even a dinghy boat will escape the Blackwater Bay and the
Narrow Sea” Velaryon boasted.

More discussions followed. Of preparing another host on standby to march when necessary.
Increasing the guards for both Prince Rhaegar and Prince Viserys, increasing city patrols for any
surprise attacks. By the time they ended, it was close to midnight.
 “Good. While I am gone I am appointing Lord Lannister as Acting Hand” Steffon looked him in
the eye after having declared so, his expression implacable.

Tywin narrowed his eyes at the man but nodded his head once.

***

“Go ahead and laugh at my misfortune, you sly bastard” Steffon muttered, nursing a goblet of
wine.

Tywin did not even raise his brow at the slur. He just sat silent and watched the man drown his
misery in his cups.

He’s known Steffon since childhood. He knows that as much as the man acted a proper lord in
public, he turns into a blunt, sometimes uncouth man in private, especially when drunk.

“Fucking Aerys the Fool. What does it say when a ten year old girl and his son half his age shows
more wisdom? This will have consequences, I know it. The Darklyns won’t live. He’ll have them
all killed and turn even more suspicious and cruel.”

Stormy blue and pale green eyes flecked with gold met one moment then broke connection the
next.

Chapter End Notes

Scenes from GOT: S01E05 and S04E06

 Sansa/Arthur/Cersei

Sansa

Lys or Myr. Pentos or Volantis. Or anywhere in the world. Spices or silks. Wheat or wine. Or
anything in the world.

Will they reach their destination? Or will they get caught in an unexpected storm and get blown off
course? Will they survive if they’re attacked by pirates or will they sink to the bottom of the sea,
never to be seen and heard of again?

Aerys or Rhaegar?

Let Aerys live and madness will reign. Lives will be lost and many more at risk. She herself have
much that will be endangered—Tywin, Tygett, Gerion and so many Lannister people and servants
in the city, the gold and support of the West. And the longer Aerys reigns, the more the Seven
Kingdoms will be divided and could possibly go to war. Wildfire caches will be stored beneath the
city with half a million people ignorant of the danger. Only this time, Jaime Lannister won’t be
standing beside the Mad King to plunge his sword on the king’s back and wear the title of
Kingslayer.

Let Aerys die and Rhaegar becomes king and the future will become even more uncertain. He
might get impatient waiting and set her aside for another or he might not. He might rule better than
his father ever has or he might do the same crazy shit he’s done in the past and throw Westeros into
another war.

Targaryens. Why is it the rest of the world always have to deal with their shit every time they
decide to take a crap?

Sansa sighed heavily as she watched the two ships sailing in the distance, her hand playing with the
lion pendant of her necklace, an expensive gift from her father.

If only her problems and the repercussions of her choices were just as small and negligible as the
two ships about to vanish on the horizon.

***

Observing was easy. Planning was easy. But executing plans? That’s an entirely different beast to
conquer. One she needed her dear father for.

“By my estimation, in a fortnight, the royal armies would be prepared enough to march to
Duskendale. Any plans you’d maybe like to share father?”

Green-gold eyes simply flicked to her across the table then returned to the scroll they’d been
perusing for a few minutes now.

“No to plans or no to sharing?” Sansa wheedled.

When Tywin remained taciturn, Sansa knew he won't give her answers and decided to get down to
business, “With a blade on the King’s neck, Lord Baratheon won’t be able to storm the castle. The
most logical thing to do would be to send out a very small party of the deadliest warriors to attempt
a rescue. Who would be daring enough to do such a thing?”
Tywin put down the scroll he was reading and finally focused on her, “I assume you’re going to
get to your point soon enough”

Sansa continued her prepared speech, “Jonothor Darry is more of a follower despite his kingsguard
status. Compared to the others, he’s quite mediocre really. But Barristan the Bold, the painter who
only used red—talented, dutiful and hungry for fame and glory and a place in history —that man
will surely be the first to volunteer to go alone or lead a group to launch an attack. And his
reputation would only bolster the morale of others to be daring enough. He must be removed.”

It had been very difficult but in the end, she’s decided. Between certain madness, cruelty and death
on one hand and uncertain future on the other, she’d rather deal with the latter.

Rhaegar, she’s sure, will want to keep the Sword of the Morning with him. She’s seen how the two
interacted. They’re friends, some sort of…equals.

The man who wields Dawn is far too important to let go. The replacement could only be either
Oswell Whent or Lewyn Martell. Both were good but nowhere close to Barristan Selmy's level. It
doesn’t matter who gets chosen between the two really. What matters is the removal of the man
who had been Aerys' savior the first time around.

She’s not queen yet. She can’t do anything overt that would jeopardize House Lannister and the
future. She can only do small acts to change the events and leave the rest to chance. This—
removing Barristan Selmy—if the king dies, none will connect and think the two events related.

“His untimely death right now will only cause suspicions”

“I am not talking about killing him father, simply removing him from the game board. You do
have discreet, loyal people running around don’t you? And with Pycelle in your pocket…”

***

Sansa watched the Queen Rhaella as she gently transferred the baby Viserys to the arms of his
nurse. The babe looked peaceful asleep, his cherubic face not showing the reportedly cruel and just
as mad prince he grew up to be.

Queen Rhaella looked radiant and serene in the face of King Aerys' captivity. Her eyes are brighter
and the pallor of her skin healthier. It’s a good look on her.

She’d be even more beautiful if Aerys would just die and make himself useful to maggots, she
thought.

“Come child, walk with me in the gardens. I know the atmosphere inside the Red Keep could be
stifling, especially at this time. Let’s go somewhere we could relax and just be.”

The Queen extended an arm to her so Sansa stood up from her seat and gently linked hers with it.

“Your mother and I, we spent quite some time together when she was my lady-in-waiting” Queen
Rhaella shared with a wistful quality to her tone while they passed the rows of blooming red roses,
“Despite what you may have heard, Joanna was a good friend to me. A very good friend. I grieved
when I heard of her death. It must have been terrible for you child, to lose your beloved mother so
young—you have my sympathies”

“Thank you Your Grace” Sansa replied quietly, feeling a little awkward at the subject.

The Queen slowly stopped and looked at her with appraising eyes from head to foot “Your beauty
don’t come from her, I think. But you do have her grace and ease in interacting with people. The
rest, I believe, are from your father”

“Is that a good thing or not, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, genuinely wondering what the woman’s
views are.

Dutiful, graceful and kind Queen Rhaella may be but Sansa won’t simply dismiss her. She will not
underestimate this woman who has survived and remained sane in her years of being married to
Aerys.

Men tend to think just because women are of the fairer, physically weaker sex, they’re not capable
of thinking better than them. A foolish thought. Olenna Tyrell, Cersei Lannister, Daenerys
Targaryen—those women had been better than most men, for good, ill or worse.

“If you continue as you are in applying it to doing good service to others I don’t see any problems”
the Queen patted her hand gently.

Use it for ill or against House Targaryen and it’ll be a problem, were the words left unsaid but
Sansa understood completely.

“It seems to me, your father already gave you the necessary tutors to teach you the ways of court. I
personally believe I have little left to teach you"

"I am still very young Your Grace" Sansa demurred, "I still have much to learn, especially dealing
with the important ladies of court. Learned theories afterall are vastly different from practice"

"As I said, you have your mother's grace. I am confident you will be able to adapt soon enough.
And besides, I heard from Ser Lewyn of the charitable works you and my son are working on. It's a
great foundation to build upon. You can use it to reach out and interact more with the ladies while
at the same time contributing to the good of the Crown and the people. Keep it up"

"Thank you Your Grace"

"I am also glad that you and my son have found a common ground. I can only imagine how hard it
must be to you both, what with the disparity in your ages”

“Thank you for saying so Your Grace. Yes, I am thankful there is something in common between
his highness and I”

Your son is an arse, Sansa thought with irritation, but no mother would feel happy hearing that and
you don’t deserve to be hurt more than you already have.

After that first visit in the orphanage, Rhaegar has seen fit to invite himself and join in her
charitable works. He's also started joining her in her walks through the city markets, making small
talks with people along the way, showing even more acts of benevolence and generosity.

She’s not against his help—they’re both working on the betterment of innocent children and those
in need of help while building a good image to the people.

What makes her blood boil is that he’s acting as if everything they’re doing were his ideas and
plans all along, the arse.

“Tell me more about what it is you’re doing and what plans you have for the future. Perhaps I can
do more to help”
The Queen’s voice was soft but it still held an authority to it. Sansa went on to share stories about
the orphanage, even going as far as to share small funny anecdotes about the children that made the
woman smile and laugh gently.

Rhaella is no Cersei. She doesn’t see Sansa as an enemy, that at least she knows and is thankful of.
It won’t harm to be in the Queen’s good side. Who knows, it might prove beneficial someday.

***

Arthur

Arthur watched as Prince Rhaegar, Lord Baratheon, Lord Lannister, Ser Jonothor and Ser Lewyn
talked.

The two kingsguards and the Lord Hand, along with the gathered host, were finally marching to
Duskendale to rescue the King and put down the rebelling House Darklyn.

Ser Barristan was supposed to go instead of Ser Lewyn but the famed bold knight suffered a case of
bad stomach for several days. There had been fears he contracted the bloody flux and was
immediately placed in isolation by Grand Maester Pycelle to prevent spreading the deadly disease.
Strange though, the sickness only attacked sporadically. After that, they worried he was suffering
with a damaged gut and would continue to get worse but it seems his sickness has abated and he’s
on the way to healing now. Still, his time spent visiting the privy chamber caused the knight to
weaken and lose much weight that he was deemed unfit to join and lead the armies.

“Whoever thought it would come to this?” Ser Oswell spoke from beside him, voice grave and also
watching the proceedings.

Arthur’s eyes immediately located the red-haired girl standing stoically at a distance, surrounded
by her own set of guards.

The Lady Sansa did, he thought, and most likely, the Lord Lannister as well. Those two are
frighteningly sharp. Like father, like daughter.

Such a puzzle that one.

From that first conversation she had with Prince Rhaegar in Highgarden’s godswood, Arthur
thought her interesting. Not in a romantic light or anything disgusting but because of her person.

She’s unlike any little girl he’s met north of the Dornish Marches.

Most girls only think of acting like a lady, pretty gowns, handsome knights and princes, music and
dances, a good marriage prospect. But not the little Lady Sansa.

The first thing that really caught his attention was how the girl talked and acted.

She's a very intelligent, well-read girl. It was a real surprise to hear her talk about many things
normally not something young girls know or talk about. Who other Westerosi ten year old girls
know Bakkalon the Pale Child, the favored deity of Essosi soldiers?

She's also kind and generous, a surprising trait for a Lannister. The projects she's started doing in
the city orphanages and how she interacted and treated the people around her were proofs of that.

And there's the hidden fighting capability.

Arthur is Dornish. All his life, he’s trained to be worthy of Dawn so he knows exactly what to look
for to determine an opponent’s worth or threat.

He’s also been blessed to be born in the one region of the Seven Kingdoms where both sexes enjoy
almost equal rights and privileges. Some Dornish women are trained to fight. He’s even fought
some of them. So it is easy for him to see that Lord Lannister’s youngest daughter is trained to
fight in some way or form.

Like many things since he’s donned the white cloak, he can’t decide if it’s good or bad.

On one hand, he approves. The world is full of dishonorable men. Women and girls should know
how to wield a weapon and protect themselves from harm—especially the more beautiful ones as
they attract more danger.

On the other, he’s wary. She is a Lannister, the daughter of Tywin Lannister. And her knowledge
of wielding a blade makes her even more dangerous. He prays the time when they stand on
opposite sides never come because he's genuinely come to like her.

He sees great potential in her. A wise and good Queen to a strong, just and honorable King—she
and Prince Rhaegar could be equal if not greater than King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne.
They’d be rulers Arthur would be proud to serve and sacrifice his life for. Unlike the king he’s
serving now.

Lady Sansa's words during the Lord Hand’s name day dinner celebration have proven chillingly
accurate. If he hadn’t heard the Lady Sansa herself speak of her loathing for prophecies, he’d think
her a seer. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised—she’s the daughter of the same man
who ended two great houses before he even reached twenty.

He had personally thought her idea of conducting the negotiations in a different location a great
one but he never really believed that the Darklyns would be capable of such treachery. Violation of
Guest Rights? Taking the King hostage? Making themselves enemy of the Seven Kingdoms? He
thought those were nothing but acts of madness and stupidity.

Something happened that soured the negotiations, but what exactly, they might never know the
truth. But he’s certain, knowing the king, Aerys likely caused the supposedly diplomatic talks to
fall apart.

The situation has indeed gotten much worse. Gwayne is dead. Ten knights belonging to the Royal
Army are dead. Their King and the Lord Commander Hightower are both prisoner and hostages.
And the Darklyns are still stubbornly fighting for the same cause.

“Well, they’ve sealed their fates. This will lead to nothing but the destruction if not complete
annihilation of their house” Oswell's face was dark and his tone hard.

Arthur did not answer but he silently agreed.

It’s an utter waste of lives, he personally thought, If only more logical and cooler minds had
prevailed. If only the king had not let his pride and stubbornness rule and listened to the advices of
his council. If only the king possessed even half of Prince Rhaegar’s and Lady Sansa’s
intelligence, goodness and honor.

But it’s all moot now. He knew the king would not forgive and would pay this debt in full with fire
and blood.

***
Cersei

Alysanne. Alysanne. That cursed name. When she becomes Queen, she’ll have it outlawed.

First she had to endure it with the little mongrel for years. Next she had to endure it with another
woman.

Four years. That’s how long she’s been abandoned by her father in the hands of the sour Lord
Lefford and his stupid, boring wife Alysanne.

But not anymore, Cersei smirked, secretly pleased and feeling accomplished as she watched the
entire house Lefford grieve for their dear Lady Lefford who went to a sleep that will never end.

It had been so easy. So very easy. Just three doses of sweetsleep pilfered from the Maester’s rooms
and the blasted woman is now forever gone. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She
could have been free of them and returned to Casterly Rock sooner.

It doesn’t matter. This nightmare will be over and I’ll soon be home—back to the place I was
always meant to be.

She’ll have them both she swears. In time, she’ll have them both and she’ll exact her vengeance in
full. Lannisters pay their debts. She’ll gladly pay hers. She’ll watch and laugh as they both die
slowly and feed their bones to dogs afterwards.

The Imp for killing her mother, the parent who tried to reach out and was good to her.

The dirty mongrel for taking away everything that was supposed to be hers—Father, Jaime,
Casterly Rock, Prince Rhaegar, a future on the Iron Throne.

When the mongrel dies, Father will realize that she, Cersei, is the only hope of their house. He
won’t have a choice but betroth her to Prince Rhaegar instead. She knows he will. The pride,
position and legacy of House Lannister is at stake after all.

What is a useless second Prince of Dorne to the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms? What is a
Martell Princess to The Queen?
 Tywin/Sansa/Rickard

Tywin

Tywin looked up from the letter he was writing as his daughter sat herself on the chair in front of
his desk. He decided to let go of the quill when he observed that unlike previous times, the girl
didn’t have her usual calm. Her mouth was set on a hard line and both her eyes looked like cold,
hard sapphire and emerald stones. A look he’s only seen her wear for either of two reasons: Cersei
and the Targaryens.

She’s already done all she could about the second, he’s quite certain she’s come to him about her
stupid elder sister this time.

“I’ve come to talk about Cersei”

Tywin inwardly smirked, Hah! I was right. A clever thing you may be but there are some things
still predictable about you, daughter.

“What about Cersei?”

“What do you plan to do with her father?”

Tywin frowned at the amount of concern she’s showing for his wayward daughter. She shouldn’t
have to worry about the stupid, selfish girl, “Cersei is my concern, my girl, not yours. Stop wasting
your time on her. You have more important things to do and think about”

“What will happen to her? Will she remain with the Leffords?” the girl persisted, the tilt of her chin
an indication she’ll be stubborn and won’t drop the matter.

“No. I have already sent instructions. She’ll go back to Casterly Rock and continue to learn under
Genna”

A dark look passed momentarily on his daughter’s face before she leaned forward and locked her
eyes with his, “Don’t send her back to the Rock father. It’s best to send her to Dorne, that way,
she’ll be able learn early how to integrate with the Martells and get herself used to living in the
Kingdom in the Sands.”

Tywin's lips curled up in amusement, his eyebrow raised, “Hn. And this has nothing to do with
your dislike for her?”

He was aware that the relationship between the two has always been fraught with hostility.

He blamed it on Cersei. The girl was a spiteful, jealous creature who could not accept that her
younger sister was better than her. As the elder child, she should have taken the high road, acted
with more maturity and worked harder to better herself instead of engaging in a rivalry she’ll never
win and acting stupidly like trying to seduce her own brother to turn him to her side.

“What does it matter whether I dislike her or not? She’s fourteen now. In a few years, she’ll marry
Prince Oberyn. Better she start learning where she belongs now than later”

“Very well. Your words make sense” Tywin watched as her hard look slowly melted away, “I will
send word to the Martells and make the necessary arrangements for Cersei to be brought here then
she’ll sail for Dorne”
“Good. That’s good news father” she said, now with a pleased expression, “Any news from
Duskendale?”

“Still no progress. Steffon has the town surrounded but the Darklyns refused to surrender and went
as far as to threaten the king’s life”

“No rescue attempts or any plans whatsoever?”

“None as far as I am concerned”

“Strange that there are still no peace talks. Do you and Lord Baratheon have an understanding
father?”

Tywin gave her a forbidding look and the girl’s lips curled up then nodded her head in
understanding.

He’s known for a long time how of all his children, she’s the one most like him in terms of mental
acuity. He also knew she could be ruthless whenever necessary. Her time as castellan of the Rock
has proven that. The reports he received from Kevan and Genna about her seemingly foolish or
childish mind games that hid traps for her targets to trip and fall into, her unflinching resolve in
doling out punishments for crimes and her insistence in watching them get carried out, her
determination to learn how to defend herself and surround herself with people capable of spilling
blood—these all proved to him how she won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done when the
situation called for it.

He approved of course, and was proud of her resolve. It is exactly what she will need when she
becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms—the wisdom to know when to be a kind, benevolent
queen and when to be a shrewd and harsh one.

The Iron Throne, the Red Keep, Kingslanding, politics—these are no flower gardens nor beautiful,
pristine beaches where one can simply bask under the sun and think one’s position of strength and
power will endure forever without lifting a finger. These are fighting arenas of hungry beasts
wearing beautiful satin and silk clothing and treacherous smiles while waiting to pounce and
devour foolish, weak and unsuspecting prey.

He is especially proud with how she comported herself in the most recent events—her assessment
of the Duskendale situation, her dire predictions and recommendations that could have saved them
from the mess they’re in had the king had an ounce of intelligence and listened to his council—not
even he in her age could have thought or deduced things with such precision.

And the plot against Aerys—her conclusion of the need for a small rescue party, her deduction of
Selmy’s role in it, how she utilized Lysarra’s mastery in poison, her knowledge of Pycelle being
his man—he supported it wholeheartedly. It is not guaranteed of course. So many things could
happen with so many people at Duskendale involved but if it succeeded…

House Lannister could never and would never be connected to any crime. Such a small, bizarre and
seemingly unrelated event. He would have to admit even he was mighty impressed at how intricate
her plan was. Had he himself not known and not played a part in it, he never would have linked it
to an assassination plot.

***

Sansa

Six moons—almost six moons without any training and she feared her learned fighting skills have
gone to waste.

Not wanting to get rusty even more and lose her advantage if it comes to a dangerous situation,
Sansa decided to share her secrets with Lysarra and the women from Bear Island.

All of them had sworn to keep her secret safe and expressed approval and encouragement that she
continue her training.

Maege only grinned and patted her on the back, “Well, you wont hear any objections from us Bear
Islanders and your secret is safe with us. We believe in strong women. If all girls were allowed to
learn how to fight, there’d be less brutes and abusive men and less suffering for innocent children
and women”

“We can even help you with your training my lady” Larra offered.

Maege preferred a spiked mace so she wasn’t much help and instead acted as her lookout along
with her uncles and the red cloaks. Larra and Raya though—oh they gave Sansa more than enough
challenge.

Even with her previous training and knowledge of water dancing, the two women proved better
what with them older and having more years of training than she. Tygett also joined them
sometimes—her uncle and the two women often demonstrating techniques she could use if faced
with more than one opponent.

A fortnight of training an hour in the morning and another hour in the evening were enough to
make her feel good and confident about her capabilities again. It was only necessary as she’s soon
going to reunite with Cersei once more.

As soon as she received word from a trusted servant in Golden Tooth of Lady Lefford’s untimely
death, Sansa knew. She just knew Cersei has started making her stupid, crazy bitch moves.

She immediately sent word to her Aunt Genna and Uncle Kevan to assign two guards to Tyrion
and to have his food tested all the time. Who knew if Cersei was able to convince someone stupid
enough with a few gold and promises to do her dirty work for her?

She’s also pleased to learn from her father that the mad lioness will be sent to Dorne. There she can
try her tricks surrounded by vipers who know their poison better than she.

Sansa is looking forward to meet the other girl and anticipating the opportunity to make her get it
through her thick head she doesn’t hold any power.

***

Rickard

Maege Mormont as a personal guard to Lady Sansa Lannister was truly a huge benefit. Not only did
it ensure the North has someone near the future princess, it also meant having someone inside the
Red Keep who could keep him abreast with firsthand information of the goings-on in the capital.

Where before he had to wait for news from Jon Arryn, now he gets it directly from a sister of one
of his most loyal and trusted banner men.

They maintain anonymity to protect themselves both. The Lady Maege never mentions both their
name nor titles in her letters and assured him her correspondences are written and the raven set free
by her own hand with the Lady Sansa’s help.
The most important news for three moons now is the ongoing siege at Duskendale led by the Lord
Hand Baratheon where the king remains a hostage of the rebellious House Darklyn.

There’s also stories of the Lady Lannister’s projects in the city and though Mormonts tend to be
short and blunt with their words, there is no doubt in Lady Maege’s letters that the she-bear has
taken a liking to the little lioness.

Jeor’s sister also frankly reported of her observations and dislike of the prince, finding him
“pretentious…a bit of an exploiter…handsome and strong but with no real substance of his own…a
Crown Prince and yet he doesn’t seem to be doing anything remarkable nor useful. He doesn’t join
Small Council meetings and does not engage in many activities except to train in the yard with the
Sword of the Morning and other knights, take rides in the kingswood and surrounding areas of the
capital, play his harp and now has taken charge of the charity works the Lady Lannister has started
on her own”

Her words certainly don’t paint an admirable portrait of the man many people believe will become
a great king. The deafening cheer he witnessed during the Tourney at Highgarden seems to be
nothing but raucous noise of bleating sheep now. How disappointing.

A knock on his solar door followed by Ned calling him caught his attention.

“Come in Ned” he said as he rolled the scroll from Lady Maege and dropped it on a box in a secret
locked compartment in his desk.

Ned entered and then pushed the bar to lock the door of his solar, an uncomfortable look on his
face.

“What is it?” Rickard asked, puzzled at his son’s actions.

Ned shifted on his feet before visibly steeling himself to continue talking, “It’s about Lyanna
father… Please don’t tell her it was I who reported to you. She’ll get mad and might never forgive
me. I just want her to be safe".

Rickard straightened up on his seat and with a grave voice addressed his heir, “What foolishness
has your sister done this time Ned?”

“I know she doesn’t like the idea of marriage. Especially with Robert. She has spoken out loud her
sentiments many times now. I’ve been observing her and I… I think she might be planning to run
away father”

“What?!” Rickard hissed, disbelieving of the new heights of his daughter’s stupidity.

“It’s best you see what she’s been hiding in the crypt. It’s behind the statue of Artos the
Implacable”

Rickard stood up at once, wanting to see for himself what Lyanna has been planning and intending
to put a stop to it.
 Rickard/Sansa

Rickard

Rickard opened the old and heavy ironwood door and entered the crypts with the light of his torch
guiding him. He went down the narrow and winding spiral stone steps and walked the cavernous
vaults with ease and confidence. He’s entered the crypts many times as part of his childhood
adventures, he knew exactly where to go.

Artos was the younger brother of his Grandfather Willam, the uncle of his father Edwyle. In death,
the statues of the three men stood close to each other.

It was his father’s statue he saw first and Rickard took the time to look at his face. The first time he
saw it, he remembered he thought the stonemason didn’t do a proper job. But now that years have
gone by and his memory of him has slowly slipped away, he cannot even tell anymore which part
of the statue didn’t resemble his father. He feared there will come a time when he’ll try to recall
memories of Edwyle Stark, his mind would only conjure an image of the cold, lifeless statue and
none of the man who lived.

He wondered what his father thought of him now. Rickard was an only child and thus was
educated from an early age just how important his role was and how heavy his future duties would
be.

Brandon’s foolishness and recklessness that led to his death—was it my fault? Rickard wondered,
Did I not impress enough in his mind the weight of the mantle of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of
the North? A land of people always fighting with nature to survive?

And Lyanna’s wildness and willfulness—was my desire to let her grow a happy child wrong? Was
it an unkindness on my part to have let her act so freely when she was young and now have her do
her duty to House Stark and the North?

He shook his head, No, they should be grateful I gave them freedom while I could. They should be
thankful I let them be children when many fathers put heavy burdens on their children’s young
shoulders. They live lives better than most. They want for nothing. It’s time for them to grow up
and do their part. Freedom? No one in this world is truly free. The living are chained to their
duties and responsibilities. Freedom is only found in death.

Brandon is gone, there's no use thinking what ifs and what could have beens with him. Ned is my
heir now. Dutiful and strong. He'll make a better Lord of Winterfell. I only need to train him to be
more politically savvy and wean him of his blind, unbending honor. He is a Stark not an Arryn.
Blind honor won't help him live long, nor will it give him food and warmth in a long winter.

And Benjen, he'll grow up like Ned. Not like Brandon and Lyanna. He will be a dutiful banner man
to Ned. Together, they'll carry on my hopes for House Stark.

He continued walking until he saw the statue he entered the crypts for.

Artos the Implacable, Rickard huffed, Intransigent. Relentless. Determined. How very fitting for
Lyanna. Of course she’ll chose this statue as another form of defiance.

He moved his torch down and saw a dark bundle hidden behind the stone dire wolf. He reached
for the bundle and carefully opened it to see its contents. Two breeches, two doublets, two jerkins,
and three tunics which all seemed to be Bran’s size. A pair of gloves, a cloak and a baldric he knew
once belonged to Bran too. And a heavy pouch of coins. At least five gold dragons. At least thirty
silver stags. And stars and groats and pennies.

By the fucking gods, Rickard cursed silently, you foolish girl, where did you get these monies?
You’re this determined to defy me? You’re not going to learn are you? Very well Lyanna, do as you
wish. You think you can outsmart me? You still have much to learn little girl. You refuse the easy
way? Then let’s do it the hard way. Let’s see how far your stubbornness can carry you.

He closed the bundle and returned it to its hiding place.

***

Sansa

Cersei and her retinue of Lannister red guards and a few Lefford men arrived last night in the
capital. Sansa went out of her way to avoid the other girl the entire day but now must face her as
they’re to have a family dinner with their father, Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion.

Nearly fourteen, Cersei looked older and even more beautiful in the candlelight with her childish
features almost gone. Her pretty crimson gown, her height and glorious blonde hair only
emphasized how her body is now slowly being replaced with that of a young woman’s.

In her own gown of pale gold, Sansa was certain she’d look a poor, scrawny and awkward creature
if they stood side by side. And Cersei knew it too, based on the haughty smirk on her face.

“Sansa, how very good to see you again. Though I must say, the years have not been generous to
you as they have been to me. What must the Prince Rhaegar think every time he sees you and is
reminded he’s betrothed to a child closer to the cradle instead of a young woman close to him in
age hm?”

“Cersei, big sister, it’s good to see you too. Do remember I am only ten. My time to bloom will
come. I am glad to see that the years have been good to you. A pity though, it failed to include your
brain and your mouth. Truly a waste” Sansa looked at the other girl, a look of mock sadness in her
eyes.

Gerion burst out laughing, his hand slapping the table while Tygett only sniggered then winked at
her.

“Enough you two. Sit down and behave and let us have a decent meal. It’s only the first day and
already you are sniping and throwing insults at each other. Lannisters don’t act like fools” Tywin’s
hard voice admonished them.

Sansa simply nodded, “Yes father, my apologies, though in my defense, I was only paying a debt”

She sat down and served herself some food from the table. Most of the conversation happened
between Tywin and Cersei—about her time warding with the Leffords.

If Sansa wasn’t sure before, seeing the familiar triumphant look in Cersei’s eyes when she relayed
the story of Lady Alysanne Lefford’s death only convinced her of the other girl’s crime.

“I have made the proper arrangements with House Martell. You will only stay for a sennight here
at the capital then you will sail for Dorne. It is time you go and meet the family of your betrothed,
learn their ways and adjust to living life there”

“No!” Cersei shouted, her eyes widened in shock then turned angry, “Father you can’t. Please don’t
make me go.”

Sansa, Tygett and Gerion let go of their silverwares and stopped eating and watched the two in
silence.

Tywin’s face turned stony, his eyes flashed a dangerous green and his voice lowered but became
threatening, “Did you not listen girl? I have already made the arrangements. The Martells will be
expecting you”

Cersei’s face twisted in rage, her voice shrill, “I refuse! You can’t make me! I’m not some chattel
you can easily cast off to do your bidding!”

“You’re my daughter and you will do as I say! You will do your duty to our house. Don’t forget
your place girl”

“I do know my place. I am the eldest and yet you consign me to a life of humiliation where I would
have to bend and curtsy and call that little bitch Your Grace! If I am to do my duty, then I deserve
better than to be a forgotten princess to a useless Dornish Prince in a poor kingdom with nothing
but sand. Have the ugly little mongrel marry Oberyn Martell and betroth me to Prince Rhaegar and
I shall gladly do my duty to House Lannister!”

Cersei stood up from her chair and slammed her hands on the table, as though trying to physically
dominate the Great Lion. It didn’t work of course. Their father only calmly stood up to his full
height and slapped her hard. Cersei looked up in shock clearly not anticipating the action, her hand
going up to cradle her reddened cheek.

“Sit down Cersei” Tywin commanded.

Cersei looked ready to defy but Tywin spoke in an even colder voice, “I said sit down you insolent
girl or I’ll make you myself and you will regret it”

Cersei immediately sat down, a look of hatred and fear warring on her face.

“Now, what made you have an inflated head? What made you think you deserve better than your
sister hm? As far as I know, you have not shown anything worthy of note nor have you
accomplished anything that has benefited House Lannister or made you deserving of a crown”

“You always favored that little bitch. Because she looks like your dead mother. You gave her all
the chances to prove herself—made her castellan and let her stay at the Rock while you banished
me to Golden Tooth with the stupid Leffords”

“And have you forgotten how that came about you stupid girl?” Tywin fairly growled like the lion
of their sigil, “Do you no longer remember why I sent you away? You should be thanking me I let
you live. Anyone else who tried to besmirch the Lannister name and I wouldn’t have hesitated to
let them rot in one of the dungeons of the Rock! I would do it still if you continue to try my
patience”

Tygett and Gerion looked confused then turned their heads to her, both their brows raised in
question. Sansa only gave them a nod once then returned her attention to her father and Cersei.

Cersei’s eyes showed fear at the threat, her lips quivered as though she was holding back a cry or a
snarl.

“This talk is finished. We will speak no more on this matter. You will go to Dorne. You will learn
to live with the Martells and when you turn sixteen, you will wed Oberyn Martell”
“Nonono” Cersei shook her head in denial.

Sansa, feeling vengeful, decided to push the knife and twist it even further, “I am sure you will find
Dorne agreeable sister. I hear the Water Gardens are lovely and the blood oranges and lemons to
die for. Though try not to murder your hosts by poisoning them like you did the Lady Lefford.
Martells are known to be very proficient in the poison arts. I’d be very sad indeed if I hear
something tragic happened to you”

All the men in their family whipped their heads to her, faces all showing different degrees of shock
while Cersei’s face paled.

“What do you mean by that Sansa?” their father’s voice was raised.

Sansa turned to Tywin, face set to look grave, “Exactly what you heard father. Cersei here
poisoned the Lady Alysanne. I have a trusted spy in Golden Tooth. The Lady Lefford was healthy
as an ox, my bird said. And suddenly she just died in her sleep.”

She then turned to Cersei, “What did you use sister? Three pinches or more of sweetsleep? That’s
the easiest poison to acquire through a maester, isn’t it?”

“Is this true? Is this true you foolish child? Why?” Tywin demanded angrily.

Cersei didn’t answer but the look she gave Sansa was one of pure hatred.

“I imagine she murdered the Lady Alysanne hoping to be returned to the Rock. I wouldn’t be
surprised if she’s plotted to murder me too, hoping to take my place as Prince Rhaegar’s betrothed.
She’s always hated me and saw me as a rival to defeat” Sansa answered calmly.

Gerion exclaimed in disbelief, “By the gods! I can’t believe this. Alysanne Lefford! You murdered
Alysanne Lefford, a loyal vassal, for no reason other than because you wanted to?”

“Stupid. So so stupid. Tywin what if she was discovered? What if she does more foolish things?
What of your precious legacy?” Tygett’s face was dark with anger too.

Tywin’s face twisted in such a rage that Sansa decided not to contribute more wood to the fire and
shut her mouth.

“You will not be allowed to leave your rooms Cersei. You will have guards and maids to watch
and stop you from acting the fool. In a sennight like I said, you’ll leave for Dorne. Do your best to
behave there, you foolish girl. I will have spies watching you. If I hear even one word that you did
to others what you’ve done to Alysanne Lefford, if you do anything that jeopardizes House
Lannister, I’ll put you down like a rabid animal myself. If you want to live, you will heed this
warning child”
 Ned/Sansa

Ned

Mounted on top of their horses, they finally stopped at the top of the hill overlooking the vast land.
They were high up enough that everything looked small from their vantage point.

After some time simply taking in the view in silence, his father spoke for the first time since they
left Winterfell, “Tell me Eddard, what do you see?”

Ned first looked at his father’s solemn face then looked around him and frowned, Was that a real
question? Or another tricky one? Father is always asking a lot of deep and difficult questions these
days. Could this be another one of his lessons?

With hesitation in his voice, he answered, “I see…mountains, moors, Winterfell from afar, the
wolfswood”

His father’s face didn’t change, nor did his voice, “Look again and tell me what you see”

“I don’t see anything but land father”

“The North, Eddard. What you see isn’t just anything. Nor is it just land. What you see is the
North. From the Wall all the way to the Neck. From the Shivering Sea to the east to the Sunset Sea
to the west. A third of the lands of the entire Seven Kingdoms under our rule. Under Stark rule.
And do you know how we came to rule the North?”

This Ned knows the answer to,“By conquest, father”

“Yes. Although there were a few houses who willingly bent their knees and accepted House Stark
as their ruler, our ancestors fought the ancestors of most of the other houses and subdued them.
Thousands upon thousands of men from other houses fallen at the feet of the ancient Kings of
Winter. Many of their children and even helpless babes taken as hostages and killed without any
remorse when their fathers decided to rise again in rebellion. Their women and young girls taken as
wives or simply prizes for the victors to claim and ravage. Do you think it was honorable Eddard?”

“N-no father” Ned answered in a low voice, uncomfortable and not fully understanding why his
father was bringing forward dishonorable acts of past Starks and speaking in such a grave manner.

“You are right. It wasn’t all honorable. And that is why our house words are not As High As
Honor. Honor had no place in the path of conquest our ancestors took. Remember you are a Stark
and not an Arryn, Eddard. Winter is Coming. These are our words. They serve not only to remind
us of our beginnings in the wake of the Long Night but also as a grim portent of the reality and
things to come—a reminder that life in the North and our rule as kings and now as wardens will
always have challenges, will always have difficult and dark times ahead. This you must never
forget and must teach your children, Eddard, and tell them to pass on to their descendants as well.”

Ned cleared his throat before speaking, “I…I understand father. I will do as you say”

His father turned to face him, his gray eyes sharp and it felt as though they were trying to read his
soul, “Do you? Do you really understand Eddard? If so, tell me what you understand of the current
situation here in the North.”

Ned opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing where to start and how to start. It felt
like he was standing in one of the black bogs of the Neck. He can’t seem to find solid ground.

After several moments of him keeping silent his Lord Father spoke once more, his hands moved to
point directions, “Northeast of Winterfell lies the Dreadfort ruled by the Boltons. The Red Kings.
Our enemies for thousands of years. Southwest is the Rills controlled by the Ryswells. Bethany
Ryswell is now betrothed to Roose Bolton. Do you understand what that means Eddard?”

Ned felt dread start to form in the pit of his stomach, “That… Winterfell is flanked left and right?”

“Exactly. And the ambitious Rodrik Ryswell attempted to betroth his daughter Barbrey to the
Dustin heir. He would have succeeded had I not personally talked the old Lord Dustin out of it. Do
you understand what would’ve happened had Ryswell succeeded Eddard?”

A shiver of fear went down Ned’s spine when he realized the dire implications of what his father
was telling him, “They would’ve gained control of the Barrowlands and Barrowton, father, and
surrounded Winterfell even more”

“Hn. Indeed. They would’ve gotten Barrowton and its population of around eight to ten thousand.
I'll not stand for the Ryswells gaining more influence. I’ll not have it! Willam Dustin will marry a
Manderly and not that little Ryswell cunt. Keep your eye on them Eddard—the Ryswells and the
Boltons. They are not to be trusted.”

Ned’s mind spun, The Boltons to the East, the Ryswells to the West. Who else? Who else would I
have to watch out for? The Manderlys? They are the richest house in the North after all, with
White Harbor having almost fifty thousand in population and the strongest area in trade. The
Karstarks? They’re kin. But that does not guarantee loyalty, does it? The Greystarks were kin too,
weren’t they? Still they allied with the Boltons and rebelled against House Stark. Also, weren’t kin
normally the ones first to fight for control when the ruling main house falls? That’s how it is in
history. The Umbers? They’re also a strong house that can field a few thousand men and are more
ferocious than the rest for their constant skirmishes with the wildlings.

He took a shuddering breath, finally realizing with horror the dangers surrounding House Stark. He
never knew things were this difficult, never thought that a few betrothals could change the shape of
the political landscape and possibly the outcome of a war should one happen.

Political schemes and possibly secret and underhanded future plans of betrayals being discussed
behind cups, behind closed doors and in the dark—here in the North where people pride
themselves to be honorable. It is sickening but it simply proves the Lady Sansa Lannister’s words
from moons ago right. The more he is learning about governing and politics, the more honor is
proving to be nothing but an impossible goal in the face of harsh realities and conflicting interests.

Everything is staggering and overwhelming. Now the heir to Winterfell, when his father dies, he
would have to face and endure the shitpile of ruling and politics his entire life. He vowed to make
sure his children do not grow up blind nor unprepared like he is to face the reality of it all.

“Do you understand now why I tried to betroth Brandon to Lord Tywin’s daughter? Why I sent you
to the Vale and had to betroth you to Tully’s girl and Lyanna to the Lord Hand’s son?”

Ned closed his eyes and thought more carefully before answering this time, “For political
influence, more trade, gold and men”

“That’s right. It isn’t just about influence in the south like many believe Ned. With more Northern
Houses like the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Hornwoods, the Tallharts, the Glovers and the
Manderlys benefitting and earning more gold than before from the trade agreements I made with
the West, the Riverlands and the Vale, we can at least be assured they will remain loyal to
Winterfell. At the same time, those thinking of scheming against us will know we have stronger,
wealthier allies to ask for help should it come to putting down rebellious houses. This is why you
must help me make sure Lyanna does not make a mess of everything, Ned. I have already
explained to her the importance of her betrothal but the stupid girl refuses to see reason, only
thinking of her own selfish desires. You understand what will happen if she runs away don’t you?
You know how her actions will impact the future of your own children, your daughters?”

If Lyanna succeeds in her foolish plans, my innocent daughters and their daughters and all Stark
women down the line will be forced to carry the dark mark of her actions and will have to endure
undeserved ridicule and abuse and possibly face difficulties in finding good marriage prospects.
Their husbands might even treat them with heavy, cruel hands to ensure they don’t follow their
wild Aunt’s footsteps.

Ned clenched his hands on the reins of his horse and his face darkened at the thought. He loves
Lyanna but he won’t tolerate her rash actions and certainly won’t let her destroy his children’s
bright futures, their happiness and lives. He locked eyes with his father to show his understanding
and resolve, “Yes father”

His father guided his horse closer to him and reached out his hand to cup Ned’s face, “Jon Arryn
has taught you well in many things my son, but not that well when it comes to honor it seems.
Honor is all well and good Ned, but just because you hold it precious does not mean others do too.
I am telling you these things so your eyes may be opened and you can be prepared to face the
reality of things here in the North. Northerners love to speak loud and boast about being honorable
and think themselves better than southerners but that does not mean it’s the truth. The truth Eddard
is this: People will work together when it suits them, stay loyal when it suits them, betray others
when it suits them and kill others when it suits them. That has been the way of the world since time
immemorial. When I die and you become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, you will
have many thousands of lives depending on you and your actions. Act with honor when suitable
but don’t let notions of honor blind you. Don‘t let it be the cause of your downfall. Don’t let it be
the cause of House Stark’s ruin. Don’t let it be the cause of Northern suffering”

***

Sansa

History is written by the victors and the Defiance of Duskendale will be remembered this way:

Duskendale was once a port of great importance on Blackwater Bay. With the growth and swelling
of the port in the capital of Kingslanding, the Darklyns, who were Lords of Duskendale, started to
experience hard times due to shrinking wealth and dwindling trade.

In an effort to stop the decline, Lord Denys Darklyn requested for an independent charter similar to
that of Dorne’s. The proposal was rejected several times by both Lord Hand Tywin Lannister and
his successor Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon.

In 277 AC, after several failed attempts at winning a charter, Lord Denys Darklyn decided to stop
paying taxes to the Crown and invited the King or the Lord Hand to go to the Dun Fort to hear his
petition and conduct negotiations.

Against his Small Council’s advices, the King, in his magnanimity, decided to accept the offer.
Upon reaching the castle however, House Darklyn showed their true, evil intentions.

Some would say the events have been planned by Lord Denys Darklyn but many believed he had
been driven by the influence of his foreign wife, the Lady Serala of Myr. Whichever the truth,
many crimes were committed. Guest Rights have been violated. Symon Hollard slew Ser Gwayne
Gaunt of the kingsguard while ten more knights from the Royal Armies were murdered by Darklyn
men-at-arms. Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and the King Aerys were made hostages with
the king having been made to suffer indignities such as being struck and shoved roughly, having
been stripped of his royal raiment and even had his beard pulled by a squire named Robin Hollard.

The Lord Hand Steffon Baratheon besieged Duskendale for six moons until finally, Ser Jonothor
Darry and Ser Lewyn Martell of the kingsguard performed a dangerous rescue mission. The two
kingsguards were able to get their King and Lord Commander from their prison cells and Lord
Commander Hightower avenged Ser Gwayne by killing Symon Hollard. They were able to procure
two horses for their escape but before reaching the castle gates, the Darklyns rained arrows upon
them. Ser Jonothor Darry fell and died with an arrow through his neck leaving King Aerys alone
atop their horse with his back unprotected, resulting to two arrows being lodged to his spine,
thereafter leaving the king crippled.

With no hostage left, Lord Darklyn surrendered and begged for mercy but the barely conscious and
delirious King Aerys ordered for the deaths of all Darklyns and all their distant kinsmen living in
Duskendale and the House Hollard was attainted and executed with no one spared.

Lord Denys was tied to a post and was shot full of arrows while his wife the Lady Serala had her
tongue and womanly parts torn out, after which she was burned alive.

The lands and incomes of Duskendale were granted to House Rykker while the lands of House
Hollard had been taken away, their villages burned, their fields salted and their castle torn down.

In the aftermath, both Lord Commander Gerold Hightower and Ser Lewyn Martell were stripped of
their position as kingsguards and sent to the Wall for grossly failing their king.
 Jaime/Sansa/Cersei/Lyanna

Jaime

Four years. That’s how long he’s stayed with the Tullys and squired for the Blackfish. Not all of
the days were happy ones, he’ll admit, but overall he liked and enjoyed the experience.

Lord Hoster was very intimidating at first, like his father. But time has made the man more genial
and though they rarely interacted because of his busy schedule as Lord of the Riverlands, Jaime
could now act and communicate easily with him.

Cat has become very important to him—beautiful and fair and with such lovely red hair and sweet
smile and eyes so blue he’s starting to dream of with shame at night. She has become a close
friend, a confidant and to his surprise, someone he can now easily imagine having a family and a
future with at the Rock.

Lysa is a little sister. Soft and timid, sometimes still childish and prone to fits of giggles, totally
different from his own little sister but someone he’s become wryly fond of.

Edmure is like a little brother. A stubborn little shit and hotheaded but kindhearted. The boy loved
shadowing him and Ser Brynden and with Jaime's influence, together they found ways to perform
tricks and make fun of annoying and proud little lordlings who visited Riverrun. They’re a match.

And the Blackfish. The man truly is someone worthy of admiration. Though blunt and stubborn
and doesn’t care what others think, Ser Brynden is kind with the patience to listen. Jaime found it
easier to talk to him of his problems and doubts than his own father.

The dust of the Defiance of Duskendale has settled and only three of seven kingsguards were left.
Two died as heroes and two were judged incompetent and were almost executed but instead got
banished to the cold edge of the Seven Kingdoms thanks to the Small Council’s interference and
pleading with the Cripple King.

It was only logical not to kill them, Sansa said. The two—a Hightower and a Martell Prince—were
from great and influential families after all, with Dorne capable of raising thousands of men and
Oldtown being the second largest city.

Jaime wondered how their stories would be written down the Book of the Brothers. Then he
thought, with the Cripple King, it won’t be written as a good story at all.

And now the King has seen fit to summon the famous Blackfish, a war veteran and a hero during
the War of Ninepenny Kings, to serve as his kingsguard.

Jaime was proud his mentor was being recognized for his strength and valor but he could not stop
feeling disappointed that he now has to give up being his squire without being knighted yet.

You will cease being a squire to the Blackfish, his Lord Father commanded. His place will now be
at the King’s side and yours Casterly Rock. You will continue squiring and learn how to rule the
West under your Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna.

Steer clear of Kingslanding, the Red Keep, the Royal family and all the kingsguards, brother, his
little sister said, Obey father. Learn how to rule the West and how to command its armies. I beg
you, do this for me brother, please. You promised you would protect me.
Jaime didn't fully understand but it sounded ominous and if his father and little sister agreed it’s
dangerous for him to go and squire for the Blackfish in Kingslanding, then it truly must be
dangerous.

“Well, lad, the King summons me to serve and I must obey. I would gladly knight you now Jaime,
you’re worthy of it and good enough to be one you know. I honestly have not seen anyone your age
so talented”

Jaime grinned halfheartedly at the tall knight he’s now come to consider family, “The right time
will come for me. When it does, I hope you’d still be willing to knight me”

The Blackfish chuckled and reached out to ruffle Jaime’s hair, “Of course! Why ever would I
refuse? It’ll be my honor as well. To be the one to knight the future Lord Lannister and my favorite
niece’s husband at that. So what will you be doing when you return to the Rock?”

Jaime's grin turned wry, “Father commanded I learn under Uncle Kevan and Aunt Genna. It’s not
going to be fun but, well, I swore to help Sansa and she said I need to learn how to rule the West
well if I want to be of any help to her in the future. I have to keep my promise. She said I also need
to learn to be good at delegating tasks I don’t personally like doing myself.”

Brynden chuckled once more, “Well you seem to have your path set before you. And your sister is
right lad. The Westerlands has the third largest city. Many people—thousands of them will be
depending on you in the future. Cat I’m sure would help but as the future lord and warden, you
must learn to do your duty and do it well.”

Jaime nodded then turned solemn, “You’ll be at the capital soon enough”

“Aye. Do you have anything you want me to give your father or sister? Letters or trinkets
perhaps?”

“Yes Ser. I’ve got something for my little sister but I want to talk about something important…”
Jaime trailed off awkwardly and clenched and unclenched his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Brynden clearly saw his struggle and frowned, “What is it? We’ve known each other for a while
now and will soon become family, you can tell me what’s bothering you Jaime.”

Jaime steeled himself before talking in a low voice, “I heard stories about the King. I also know
what happens when someone becomes a kingsguard. You would have to obey all the King‘s
commands, no matter if they’re unjust or dishonorable. Kingsguard vows do not have room for
honor, only duty and loyalty.”

Ser Brynden's mouth tightened into a line before nodding, his bushy eyebrows furrowed and his
laughing blue eyes were cold like ice.

“I just… It’s my sister Ser. She fears the King I think. And she doesn’t trust the kingsguards. But I
trust you and…” Jaime trailed off again not knowing how to proceed without sounding too
demanding.

The Blackfish sighed deeply then spoke with his hoarse and smoky voice low, “Say no more lad. I
understand perfectly well your fears and what you’re trying to say. I will not promise you anything
only to turn out an oath breaker in the end Jaime. But you know the words of House Tully. Family.
Duty. Honor. Soon you will marry Cat and we will be family. We Tullys always watch out for
family. I will do my best to protect your sister just as you’ve watched over and protected the girls
and Edmure these past years”
Jaime felt his tense muscles relax in relief and he bowed in gratitude, “Thank you Ser, truly”

***

Sansa

Sansa wondered if perhaps she’d miscalculated and overreached.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have stopped Barristan Selmy from saving the King. Perhaps she shouldn’t
have interfered and just let things be. Because now so many things have changed and she feels
neither a wolf nor a lioness hunting prey but a floppy fish in the middle of a raging river Trident.

Aerys is alive. Crippled yes, but mad. The rumored bloodbath in the hands of the Darklyns
followed by the moons of being kept almost starved and abused as a hostage, the close breath of
death he experienced atop that horse with the arrows lodged at his spine and now the incurable
injury he would have to endure and would constantly remind him of that terrible chapter of his life
—all these drove him mayhap even madder this time.

He vacillates between terrible rage and abject fear followed by suspicions and the desire to get rid
of anything he thinks is a threat to him and his crown.

The only relief all of them have is that the Mad Cripple spent half his time barricaded in his rooms
in Maegor’s Holdfast with his most trusted kingsguards.

Oh but when the king does leave the safety of his rooms, the rest of them hold their breath and stay
alert to steer clear of his path.

After gaining enough strength, he’d tried to have Gerold Hightower and Lewyn Martell executed.
It’s an extremely foolish move and a gross sign of ingratitude to the two men who no doubt tried
their best to save him and would see the Martells and the Hightowers insulted but there was no
reasoning with a madman. That the Small Council was able to convince him to banish them to the
Wall instead was a great miracle indeed.

How this would impact future events exactly, there’s no way to determine yet. On one hand it
drives a wedge between the Crown and Dorne and Oldtown. Aerys could potentially lose the
support of the two families. She could also see it benefitting the Watch. Gerold Hightower is too
old but with a Martell Prince with many years still on him serving in the Watch, Dorne may be
more sympathetic and inclined to send help North in the future. On the other, if not addressed
properly, both houses might pose future problems.

The loss of four kingsguards also changed things with the results mixed. Willem Darry, a man she
knows remained loyal even when House Targaryen fell, replaced his fallen brother Jonothor Darry.
Monford Velaryon, brother of Lord Lucerys Velaryon who was known to be Aerys' ardent
supporter, was also given a white cloak. Lomas Estermont was also raised to the kingsguard
position. And lastly, Brynden Tully was summoned to serve as kingsguard too—a move she
learned later on was supported by Barristan Selmy and Oswell Whent.

Another result of the Duskendale fiasco was the souring of the relationship between the King and
the Lord Hand.

For several moons now, the King has been throwing scathing insults to the Lord Hand for being
slow in resolving the crisis. There were rumors flying that Aerys thought Tywin Lannister
would’ve handled the hostage situation more efficiently than Lord Steffon.

When the Lord Hand offered to resign from his position and return it to Tywin, the King refused
then turned around blaming Tywin and his entire Small Council for being incompetent in handling
the Darklyn’s demands for a separate charter.

Even Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella were blamed and in his paranoia, he thought them to have
conspired against him. The King has the babe Viserys close to him and guarded closely at all times
while spurning Rhaegar’s presence, leaving many to gossip that Aerys might just make the
innocent babe his heir. The poor Queen was confined like a prisoner to a set of rooms in the
Maidenvault. It was infuriating but at least the woman was kept separate and safe from her
husband’s abuse.

The lords and ladies at court, the soldiers and the servants—none were safe from the king’s moods.
In the five moons since the end of the Defiance, more than a dozen tongues were ripped out using
hot pincers for talking wrong or smiling or laughing at the King’s crippled state. Three minor lords
were also executed after having been heard calling him names.

It’s an unending game of finger-pointing and blaming, with everyone at fault and thinking himself
the innocent, wronged victim.

And now the Spider is in the city, no doubt ready to spin tales of half-truths and lies and add to the
chaos.

***

Cersei

Cersei shrieked and threw a pillow at the closed door the moment the pathetic princess and her
lady’s maids left her rooms, not caring of the eyes of the guards and servants her father sent with
her.

She despised everything about Dorne. The sun glaring down from the blue sky day after day after
day. The daily heat she was certain was coming from the seven hells. The dryness and the sand that
gets everywhere—her legs, her armpits, even her smallclothes.

She hated its people with their dark, scrutinizing eyes and their nauseating smells. The men were
barbarians and the women lewd harlots. The foods were disgusting, they burn her tongue and
throat.

She hated the Martells. She doesn’t understand what her father sees in them. The rest of Westeros
don’t even like or trust them. They are nothing but poor snakes slithering in the sands ambitious
and shameless enough to still call themselves Princes and Princesses when they’re worth less than
most of the other great houses. Cersei would bet all her gold and emerald jewelries that all their
wealth and possessions don’t even come close to a tenth of her family’s.

She doesn’t like Doran and his judging dark eyes with his long silences and careful words. He
makes her nervous and feeling like a caged animal.

Oberyn, her betrothed, is a brute. A monstrous fellow she heard from gossips with her maids was
half-mad at times. Though tall and slender and athletic, he has nothing at all on the beauty and
perfection that was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Not even close to the beauty she’s sure Jaime is
now. No, he’s not the right one for her. He’d fit more with the little mongrel. The two of them
should be the ones betrothed then married and have ugly little beasts for children.

And Elia Martell! The nerve of that twat pitying her and acting as if she’s better. She does not even
deserve to be called Princess, nor does she deserve a drop of Cersei’s respect. It’s demeaning and
absolutely infuriating she has to curtsy and be all proper in front of the plain and puny-looking
woman. She should be sent to the Silent Sisters or made a septa, she’d have more uses then.

Her situation was worse than she thought. Worse than she ever imagined all these years. The bitch
has all the men in their family wrapped around her dirty little fingers. She dared to have spies
watching Cersei! And now she’s revealed the murder of the insignificant Alysanne Lefford and put
her under their father’s scrutiny and surrounded with people she doesn’t like and who knows how
many more spies.

Powerless, that is what she is. That is how she feels. She never thought she’d be reduced to
something like this. That she'd be made to feel so low. She’s a lioness of the Rock. The eldest
child. The first daughter. In a kinder world where women were treated equal to men and not as
livestock to be sold or bartered for more power, more influence, more men and more gold, she’d be
her father’s heir. The Rock would be hers. And she’d be able to do as she pleased. But here she is.
In a strange land. Among strange people. Powerless.

But it won’t be forever. She’ll endure and be patient. She’ll root out all the spies and eliminate or
turn them into her creatures. Faraway here in Dorne, her father and the little bitch won’t be able to
know every little thing she does. She’ll play the good little pawn for now. But even if it takes her
all her life, she’ll eventually get all she deserves but was denied. Everything and more.

***

Lyanna

This is her chance. The one she’s been waiting for.

There’s very little time left. Two years at the very least. But she knows the men in her family are
all stubborn. They’ll never let her go. She’s not about to wait and find out what’s in store for the
next two years. She’s not that stupid.

She can feel the noose slowly tightening around her throat. She sees it in everyone’s careful,
watchful eyes and hears it in the long, tiring and repetitive sermons of duty and honor and Northern
good. From father, Ned, the damned Septa, the letters she got from Robert Baratheon and the Lord
Hand, Winterfell’s guards. Even little Ben is watching her now too.

Others take them all! Why can’t it be someone else? There are other stupid highborn girls in the
North who’d jump at the chance to marry a southern lordling, why must it be her who has to play
the sacrifice?

A trip to White Harbor with father and Ned. A place with ships that no doubt comes and goes to
different parts of the world. A city with thousands of people and lots of places to hide in. It can’t
get better than this.

Her mind is already made up. Her resolve strong. She’s prepared. Clothes and gold and silver, she
has them.

She has to grab this opportunity. She has to take charge of her life and her future. Otherwise she’ll
be caged and regret it forever.
 Lyanna/Sansa/Rickard
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Lyanna

She woke up with a cold chill and numb pain on her wrists, arms and back and panicked when she
realized her situation.

She was sitting on what felt like a wooden floor but she could feel slight swaying movements. Her
eyes were covered and her mouth was gagged. Her hands were twisted at her back and bound tight
to a post. Her feet too were tied securely together, with the ropes digging in her skin. She can’t
even bend her knees and reach for the small knife hidden in her boots. And she was so very hungry
and thirsty.

She doesn’t know where she is nor does she know why she’s in her current situation. Frightened,
she tried to move her hands to see if she could get free but stopped when every movement just
made the ropes dig further into her skin.

They arrived at White Harbor five days ago. The first two days, she and Ned asked their father for
permission to tour the city. Ned had been content to just explore but she made sure to take note of
the alleys and some of the inns near the harbor. She also asked about the ships and where some of
them were destined to go. There were many but she took note specifically of those going to
Braavos.

Braavos was the best starting place. It’s a free city so she wouldn’t have to worry about slave
traders unlike other places in Essos. And she’s sure she won’t have difficulties with speaking to
anyone. With its proximity to the Seven Kingdoms, it’s bound to have many people speaking the
Common Tongue.

On the third day, she made her plans and readied her things. On the fourth day, when the sun went
down, she escaped with her precious belongings and went to a small, nondescript inn at the harbor.
With the hood of her cloak up and hiding most of her face, she was sure none recognized her when
she paid for a room. None had followed her either when she got inside her room, she made sure of
that.

What happened? Why am I in this situation? Who dared to do this to me?

Lyanna immediately stopped moving and pretended to be asleep when she heard people talking
from a distance followed by footsteps. Two…no, three people.

“Jikagon gaomagon urnēbagon”1 a heavily accented male voice spoke.

Lyanna stiffened upon hearing the foreign tongue. What? What was that? What did he say?

The other person, a man she realized, sighed then answered, "Sȳz. Ȳdra daor gaomagon mirros
doru-borto”2

She heard one of the three walking away. The two left behind, she heard continued walking until
they stopped almost in front of her.

“A stupid girl is pretending she’s asleep. But I know she’s awake” an amused, another accented
female voice said.

Lyanna continued with her pretense. Not wanting to give up so easily. The woman laughed and
Lyanna heard light footsteps move away. Next she heard liquid being poured then the person
returned. And suddenly she felt cold liquid splash on her face and chest. She shrieked through her
gag in shock. She thrashed against her bindings futilely and tried to shout through the gag, “Mhm
mm mho. Mhm mm mho”

“Nādīnagon zirȳla relgos ruaragon”3 the man spoke once more in the foreign tongue.

“You want to hear the stupid girl speak?” the woman asked.

“Kessa. Ivestragī zirȳla ȳdragon” 4

Lyanna felt one of them get closer to her then a hand moved to her face. She desperately tried to
turn away, not knowing what the person would do to her in such a vulnerable position. But another
hand took hold of her braided hair in a harsh grip, “If you don’t want to get hurt and if you want to
be able to talk stupid girl, you’ll have to be a good little pet”

The woman’s cruel and mocking voice stopped her and within moments she felt her gag being
removed.

As soon as it was gone she started asking questions.

“Who are you people? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? Let me go this
instant! Let me go!”

“So demanding. Should I gag you once more little wildling? Is that how you want to be treated?
Like an animal?” the woman asked, her hand cruelly tugging at Lyanna’s hair.

Lyanna clamped her mouth shut then spoke through gritted teeth in anger, “I don’t know you. I
haven’t done you anything wrong. What do you think you’re doing?”

The woman laughed then Lyanna felt a cold object laid flat on her cheek. Is that... A knife?!

“Of course you don’t know us. As for what we are doing, well, you’re a rich little runaway noble,
aren’t you girly? We got all your coins. But we want more. How much do you think your father
will pay us for your life?”

Kidnappers for ransom! But how?! How did they—

“Oh don’t be surprised girl. We do this for a living. It’s easy to see if you know what you’re
looking for”

“I’m no runaway noble!” Lyanna shouted, desperate to salvage the situation. She can’t let these
people know who she is. If they do, they’ll ask her father for gold and once they’re paid, they’ll
return her home and she’ll never be free. “I’m no noble. I’m an orphan. The coins you got from
me, I stole them. So you see, no one will ransom me. Just let me go”

“Liar. Your fine skin, your looks, your proud posture, your speech. You’re a lying little noble girl”

Lyanna was quick to provide the story she invented many times in her head, “My mother worked
as a lady’s maid in the Dreadfort and I grew up in the servant's quarters inside the castle. That’s
why I know a little. She taught me to be proper. But she’s dead and there’s no place for me in that
cruel place so I stole coin anywhere I could and go someplace nicer. Please. I’m just trying to find
a better life, I’m worth nothing to you”
“Hmm… well, if none will pay ransom, we’ll have to find another way to earn coin out of you”

The woman’s accented voice was thick and sounded wrong. Lyanna felt afraid then. There’s only a
few ways how money could be earned from a girl or woman who has nothing and most of them
were vile. With a shaky voice she asked, “What…what do you mean by that? What are you
planning?”

The woman ignored her question and the knife on her cheek was removed. Then she heard her
stand up and talk to the man, “Se riña vestras zirȳla muñar issi morghe. Daorys kessa addemmagon
syt zirȳla.”5

“Hmm…Konir sagon sȳz. Pār īlon'll lioragon zirȳla isse Lys. Īlon'll jiōragon āeksion iēdrosa“6

Lyanna stiffened when she heard a familiar word. Did she hear it right? Did they mention Lys? She
knows what Lys is famous for.

She jerked against her binding violently once more, “Where are you taking me? I told you to let me
go”

The woman laughed lowly again, “Set you free? After all the trouble we went through? No no no
little girl. Are you stupid? That’s not how it works. We will get gold from you one way or another.
Don’t worry. You said you wanted a better life? We’ll make sure to sell you to a more expensive
pleasure house in Lys. Who knows, you might get a rich patron who’ll make you their paramour
and you'll get to live the rest of your life in an opulent villa somewhere”

She panicked at the mention of being sold to a whorehouse, “You can’t! You can’t! I’m no whore!
Please! Let me go! Someone help me! Help!! Ned! Ned! Father!” she begged, shouting loud as she
could.

The woman laughed while the man chuckled, “Father? Hah! That was easy. I was right. You’re a
filthy little liar”

Realizing her mistake, Lyanna stopped shouting and clamped her mouth shut.

“We’re in a ship in the middle of the sea, little girl, none shall hear your cries for help. If you want
to go home, you’ll have to cooperate with us. If not, then it's off to whoredom with you”

“No! Never! I won’t let you!”

“Alright. If you want to be difficult then fine. I’m sure a few days with no food and water will help
you make a smarter decision. Or perhaps you’d like a taste of what’s in store if you force our hand
to sell you in Lys, hmmm?”

“Henujagon zirȳla sagon syt sir” the man spoke, “Ziry'll lurugon aderī. Nyke gīmigon ziry.
Ruaragon zirȳla relgos arlī”7

The woman approached her once more and returned the gag on her mouth. Lyanna tried to bite her
hand but reeled back when she got slapped. Then they left, ignoring her muffled shouts and pleas
and thrashing movements on the floor.

***

Sansa

I want you to serve the realm! Those were the words Varys shouted to Ned Stark while her father
was imprisoned in the black cells.

I did what I did for the good of the realm. That’s what he spoke to Littlefinger.

In her dreams.

Hubris or lies. Or complete utter horseshit.

How did his whispers to the ears of the Mad King Aerys serve the realm? How did his keeping the
secret of Cersei’s bastards serve the realm? Did he seriously consider standing by and doing
nothing while Robert Baratheon indulged all his vices and beggared the Seven Kingdoms and
Cersei and House Lannister became more influential helpful in anyway? Did he really think doing
nothing while Littlefinger played his games and the fault lines between houses and kingdoms
deepened a wise course of action? Did he really believe prolonging an inevitable war a kindness?

Tywin’s commanding voice broke through her musings.

“We must tighten security. Ser Ilyn, add more men in the rotation. I want every hallway and every
door with at least two guards. Make sure to also do a sweep in every room before a family of mine
enters. Have all gifts opened in the barracks. Discard if it’s food or anything perishable. If fabric,
have it checked then sent to the orphanage. If jewelry, have them tested for poison.”

“And the walls, the rooftops and the chimneys too. Make sure to have someone check those areas
once every two to four hours” Sansa immediately added.

Her father’s captain of the guards turned to look at her and she hid a grimace.

Younger though he was, Ilyn Payne didn’t look that much different. He was still a grim man, thin
and with a beardless, pockmarked face. He also still has the same frightening deep set of pale,
colorless eyes and hollow cheeks that made him look like a ghoul from a child’s nightmare. How a
calm and gentle person like Podrick is related to him is still a mystery.

If she had a choice, she’d rather not be in the same room as he but in this life, the man was a loyal
Lannister soldier who performed his duties well. So loyal he even lost his tongue for it.

“Ser, command your guards to watch out for children also. We cannot let spying little rats invade
the privacy of our rooms. If your men see one, make sure to catch them. Don’t mistreat them in
anyway. Simply subdue and put them in a cell then report to us”

She turned her attention to her father who was looking at her with sharp pale green-gold eyes then
nodded.

“Yes. Do as my daughter said. Have two guards climb the roofs at night. They don’t have to wear
heavy armor, chainmail would do. What is necessary is they guard all entrances big or small”

The tongueless knight perfunctorily nodded his head at Tywin in understanding.

***

Is it possible to trap a spider in its own web? Sansa wondered then shook her head. She’s never
seen such a thing before so perhaps not. Mayhap the insect has some special intelligence or skill to
navigate its home so easily. But what if another spider put another layer? Will it survive or will it
fall victim like all other small insects that get trapped in its web?

Then she wondered why Tywin never got rid of him before. Did the Spider work for him too? No
no. He's too much of a liability.
“You know about the eunuch and his methods. How?” Tywin asked in a flat voice.

“Here and there. Mostly from Lysarra”

“He’s not to be trifled with. I command you, stay out of his way”

Sansa nodded her head in agreement,“Yes father”

“All these are nothing but precautionary measures to prevent the spider from sniffing near us. They
don’t actually resolve the problem. Surely, Tywin, you can do better?” Tygett complained surly.

Tywin threw her uncle a glare, “Aerys is paranoid, now more than ever. We must not act with
haste or it’ll be off with all our heads.”

“There’s an idea I’d like to discuss with you father. I’d like to hear your opinion and see if we
could come to an agreement”

“What idea?” Tywin raised a brow in question.

“How to crush a spider in its web”

Tywin scowled fiercely at her, “Did you not listen to me girl? This is not the time to be making
foolish attempts to assassinate the eunuch”

“No, no we're not going to kill him father" Sansa hurriedly placated the irritated lion, "We’ll make
the king kill him”

***

Rickard

Unlike his amiable, loud self and emerging reputation for being a prodigious eater, Wyman
Manderly looked at him with calculating eyes and ignored the vast array of food on the table in
front of them, “My lord, this is quite… hmm… unconventional, I must say”

Rickard looked the new Lord of White Harbor in the eye, gray eyes solemn, “Do you love your
children Wyman?”

“Of course my lord. Why wouldn’t I? They’re mine. My joy, my pride and the future of my house”

“I love my children too Wyman. But I am not just a father. I am also Lord of Winterfell and
Warden of the North. And that means looking out not just for mine own children but thousands
more other children under my rule. Lyanna… that child—deny her anything and it will become her
heart’s greatest desire. And she’ll throw away sense simply to attain it and prove to everyone that
she’s capable of getting what she wants. And that is why this must be done. I would rather she face
the consequences of her actions and learn harsh lessons now than see her die or watch thousands
more innocents die because of her foolishness.”

Wyman nodded his head once then laughed amused and incredulous at the same time, “It’s been a
full day. No food and no water and still she hasn’t given up. She's got quite the spirit in her”

“It’s to be expected. That girl is as wild as the dire wolf on our sigil but stubborn as a mule. I’ll
give her three days”

“And if she doesn’t my lord?”

 “Then we’ll proceed with plan number two”

"Does young lord Ned know?"

"Of course. Ned has been my spy these past moons. He also took note of the places Lyanna was
most interested in when they visited the docks"

Wyman chuckled, “You really planned this all out. I never would have thought you capable of such
my lord”

“For my children and for the North, I would do anything Wyman. Even burn alive if needs be”

Chapter End Notes

Translation:
1. Go keep watch
2. Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.
3. Remove her mouth cover.
4. Yes. Let her speak.
5. The girl says her parents are dead. No one will pay for her.
6. That’s fine. Then we’ll sell her in Lys. We’ll get gold still.
7. Leave her be for now. She’ll fold soon. I know it.
 Tywin/Lyanna/Rickard

Tywin

Tywin got up from his seat and went to a side table to pour himself some watered wine while
considering his daughter’s words.

A plot to manipulate the king to kill his own spymaster. That sounded interesting. The eunuch may
have his uses and could be a future asset but what is important is the present and right now, while
he spins his web and whispers his tales to the mad cripple’s ears, he is a danger to House
Lannister. If the plan succeeds, his loss will not be that significant.

But Tywin had to make sure the plan was good first, “Explain this scheme you’re thinking of.”

Intense blue and green eyes looked at him, “You know that there are rumors saying Varys was
born in Lys or Myr”

“Yes. What of it?”

“The Lady Serala was from Myr, was she not?”

Tywin frowned while Tygett and Gerion both leaned forward with furrowed brows at the mention
of the infamous former lady of House Darklyn, “What does that woman have to do with anything?”

“I mean to accuse Varys of conspiring to dethrone House Targaryen. At this point, Aerys paranoia
should be enough to push him to have the spider captured and executed.”

“And how will this happen?”

“Barristan Selmy will play an important part. He’s the best fit for what I have in mind”

“You seem to have something against Barristan the Bold, niece. Whatever did he do to you?”
Gerion grinned and winked at her roguishly.

The girl only shook her head saying, “Nothing. He did nothing”

Tywin wanted to snort at the glib response. His daughter has some sort of personal vendetta against
the kingsguards. Particularly the more senior ones. He’s certain it all boils down to what happened
to Joanna. He won’t be surprised if she plotted more against them. Not that he particularly cared.

“Explain in full what this plan would actually entail” Tywin commanded.

The girl went on to explain a story of a conspiracy that, had Tywin not known was merely a
pretense and a product of her mind, would make him think a very real one given Varys' reputation.

“Seven hells, how long have you thought of this story niece?” Tygett asked with amazement in his
green eyes.

Tywin could not fault him for being impressed. The Duskendale Defiance, bastards and sorcery
and Blackfyre rebellions—it was indeed a believable story straight out of the Targaryens'
unpleasant history complete with conveniently coinciding events that would support its
believability.

His daughter only waved her hand dismissively, ”A week or two now uncle. So, what do you
think?”

Tywin smirked faintly. If Aerys wasn’t mad already, this story would be sure to drive him crazy,
“It sounds credible enough. Aerys would no doubt believe it and act rashly like the fool he is.”

“That he’ll do, no doubt. Now I understand why it has to be Selmy” Tygett grinned savagely.

“The Feast Day of Our Father Above is in two moons, that sounds like the perfect time to enact
this plan” Gerion suggested.

Sansa nodded, “I agree. With so many people coming and going in the capital, it’s perfect for
rumors to get traction swiftly. Also, there will be more merchants and traders than usual so it’s
going to be a lot more convenient and believable to think the whistle-blower could be among them”

Tywin finally sat down again and looked his daughter in the eye, ascertaining her resolve to go
through with such a plot, “You are aware this isn’t the same as the one you did with Selmy before,
that this could potentially drag other people to their deaths, aren’t you? Especially those foolish
enough to engage in the gossips”

Sansa’s jaw clenched then relaxed, her eyes hard, “Yes I am aware father. But what other choices
do we have? Varys is far too dangerous to be left spinning his webs. He needs to be taken care of
as early as possible. If we simply stand by and do nothing, Varys will grow more powerful and the
damage he’d be capable of would be bigger, the lives he could destroy with his words alone would
be far greater number. What is a dozen to thousands?”

***

Lyanna

She didn’t think it possible to shed tears still after not having enough water to drink for a long
while.

It was terrible…so so so terrible. The most terrible thing she has ever experienced.

It must have been two or three days already—she’s not sure because they kept her eyes covered.
What was certain was that her situation hasn’t changed.

She was still a captive.

She thought she could make it but her stomach—she never knew hunger like she felt now. She
always had something to eat back home in Winterfell. If ever she felt famished, all she had to do
was go to the kitchens and ask the cook or the bakers and they’d feed her with smiles. But now…

They gave her a glass of water at least but no food—they won’t unless she told them who she was.

The water wasn’t enough. Her mouth feels dry and she’s feeling light headed. There’s also a
gnawing, painful feeling in her stomach, in the upper left side of her abdomen. It felt like her
intestines were churning and her brain isn’t helping at all. It does nothing but provide her with
thoughts of food she could be eating right now. She’s very tired. She hasn’t slept well. She wants to
go home. Back to Winterfell. She shouldn’t have ran away.

She heard the door open and ceased crying. Footsteps approached her and once more her gag was
removed.

The cruel bitch of a woman from before spoke, “Have you come to your senses little girl? Ready to
tell us now who your noble father is so we can get our gold?”

If she goes home, she’s certain her father will never let her be free. She’s going to be sold like
cattle for alliances and—

“Still refusing to speak eh? Very well, my friend Tregar here may be able to convince you”

What?

Lyanna heard footsteps approach her and suddenly—

“What are you doing?! Stop! Stop!” She tried to twist away from the hands opening her shirt to no
avail.

“Stop please!!!” she pleaded.

“We’ve tired of your shit little girl. If you want him to stop, you’ll have to give us what we want. A
name. Your father’s name”

“Stark! I am Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Lord Rickard Stark. Please stop! Stop this!”
Lyanna cried out, knowing her name was the only thing that could save her now.

The hands immediately stopped and the woman chuckled, “Now, was that so hard? A Stark eh?
What is the daughter of the Warden of the North doing so faraway from home?”

Lyanna ignored her and finally gave up pretending and broke into sobs from fear, desperation,
hunger, thirst and exhaustion. She wants it all to end. She just wants to go back home.

***

Rickard

Rickard looked at the two in front of him, a man named Torrhen who was also a knight and his
sister, a woman named Wilma.

Both of them were Wyman’s fourth cousins and heavily involved with trade in Essos, particularly
in Lys and Myr. They were both capable of speaking Valyrian with the right accent and rarely
engaged with northern nobilities—perfect reasons why Wyman presented them for the scheme he
came up with for Lyanna.

“She finally gave up?” he confirmed.

“Yes, Lord Stark, just like you said” Wilma, replied then added, “I must say my lord, I didn’t
understand your plan at first and thought it madness but now I strongly support it. Lady Lyanna
seems to me an exceptionally stubborn child. Three days of only a glass of water each day. She
refused to speak for three days. Only giving up when she was threatened with rape”

“She’s always been a strong-willed child. I needed to do this to teach her a lesson. One I hope she
never forgets in her lifetime”

“I hope so too, my lord, for her sake and House Stark’s” Torrhen agreed then with hard blue eyes,
added in a grave voice, “There are far many monstrous men and women out there who could and
would do unspeakable harm to innocent and naïve girls like her. I have seen far many hollow-eyed
young women serving as prostitutes and slaves in the free cities—people who still breathe but are
already dead inside. Lady Lyanna is lucky to have you going so far as to teach her harsh lessons to
ensure she doesn’t fall victim to the same cruel fates”
The man’s words made Rickard feel relieved. It was good to hear that someone understood why he
resorted to such an act, “Thank you ser. You made sure she didn’t notice it was a woman who tried
to do it to her my lady?”

“Exhausted, hungry and weakened as she was, no, she didn’t notice anything my lord” Wilma
responded.

“Good. Keep her tied and unable to see but feed her. Ensure she gets no fork or knife or any sharp
implements please. Let her sleep on a bed. Continue with the threats so she doesn’t get complacent
but feed her small bits of information as to where the ship is going. Have the boat travel up the
White Knife and past White Harbor, we’ll do the pretend attack and rescue. I assume Wyman
already told you what to do?”

Torrhen was the one who replied this time, “Yes my lord. The pig’s blood will be ready. The boat
will look a site of an attack when you come get her”

“Good. And I trust none of this event will ever come to light?”

Torrhen looked him in the eye, blue eyes solemn, “The only other ones involved are three trusted
cousins of ours Lord Stark. You have our word none of this will ever be spoken of. On House
Manderly’s honor”

“You have my gratitude Ser, my lady. If there is a boon you would like granted and within my
capability, tell me so”

Wilma only smiled, “No need for payments Lord Stark. Everything House Manderly has now, we
owe it to House Stark. It’s our pleasure to serve and help you in this matter my lord”

“My sister is right my lord. No debt is owed in this” Torrhen agreed with Wilma.

Rickard nodded in acceptance and chuckled “In that case, I look forward to saving my foolish
daughter from your dastardly hands in a sennight”
 Lyanna/Rickard/Rhaegar/Sansa

Lyanna

Distant noises jolted Lyanna awake from her light sleep. When she focused more, she heard loud
shouts, swords clanging, heavy footsteps and sounds of bodies and other unrecognizable things
thumping on wood.

The ship was being attacked! By who? She didn’t know. But she fervently hoped it’s northerners,
not more pirates or slavers who might take her for their own prize and be sold as a slave in the Free
Cities.

The noise got louder and louder until suddenly, she heard the door to her prison room being kicked
open then someone shouted.

“My lord! Lord Stark she’s here. The Lady Lyanna is here!”

She bit back a sob of immense relief upon hearing the name Stark. Her father has come to save
her! Thank the gods.

Not a moment longer she heard more footsteps approaching the room then she heard her father’s
voice call her, “Lyanna”

She heard people approach her then hands hurriedly removed her gag and the ropes around her
hands and feet. When her eyes were finally uncovered, she immediately closed them when she felt
acute pain upon looking at a torchlight.

“Keep your eyes closed for now my lady. I imagine not being able to open them for days will make
them sensitive to light” a man advised her and Lyanna followed.

"Can you stand Lyanna? Can you walk?” her father’s grave voice sounded close.

Someone helped her stand and it took her sometime to get her balance. Her legs had been kept
bound for too long and she felt weakened.

“I will carry you” her father said and she felt him bend close then his hands were on the back of her
knees and around her to lift her in his arms. Overwhelmed, she kept quiet and simply buried her
face on his chest and breathed in his familiar, comforting smell.

“Torrhen, have the men gather the remaining slavers and execute them and set the ship on fire with
their corpses”

“Aye Lord Stark, it shall be done”

“I want to watch! I want to see them get executed. I want to see them suffer for what they’ve done
to me” Lyanna blurted out. I want to see the bastards and bitches who made me suffer. I want to see
them as they die. It’ll be my vengeance.

There was awkward silence for a while then her father spoke coldly, “How many men did we lose
Torrhen?”

The other man cleared his throat before speaking low, “Seven my lord”

“And how many of those seven have children left behind?”

“Five of them my lord, some very young children and two babes, that I know of”

“Did you hear that Lyanna? Did you hear the cost of your stupidity? Seven men died to help me
rescue you and left their innocent young children behind. And now you have the nerve to act as
though you’re the wronged party? How many more tragedies have to happen before you stop
acting so selfishly? Don’t think I haven’t realized how you came to be in this situation. Your
captors were happy enough to tell me how they got to you”

A coldness came over Lyanna at the words. She hadn’t realized—her father knows her attempt to
run away! And the men who died, she didn’t mean to be the cause of so much deaths. She slowly
opened her eyes and flinched when she saw his blurry but angry face looking down at her, “I…
father I’m sorry I never meant for—”

“Shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear your voice. You will only speak when you’re spoken to”

Lyanna clamped her mouth shut and lowered her head in shame. Her father continued walking and
through sensitive eyes still, she saw the horrific scene of the small ship’s deck.

Under the faint light of the moon and the dancing flames of the torches, she saw a few bodies
strewn across the floor. There was so much blood and the smell almost made her gag.

“See the mess your running away has caused? Some of those are Lord Wyman’s loyal men.”

Forcefully swallowing the stone of blame in her throat, Lyanna tearfully and tiredly closed her
eyes.

***

Rickard

Rickard watched stonily as Lyanna squirmed in front of him. Her reaction during the ‘rescue' had
been very unsatisfying and made him feel as though all his scheming had been for naught.

“Father I…I know I did wrong. I am sorry. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I didn’t mean for
people to die. I…I would like to meet the families of the men who died saving me, father”

“To do what?”

“To thank them. I… the children, I want to—”

Rickard decided to cut her off, “To tell them empty platitudes? To tell them their fathers died
trying to save your skin? How will that help them? Will that feed them when their bellies are
empty? Will that keep them warm when winter comes and they’re huddling somewhere cold
because they lost their protectors and providers?”

Lyanna’s lips trembled and she looked to be near tears, “It’s…it’s not enough, I know. But I only
mean to show them at least my gratitude. Their fathers did their duty and—”

“Duty! Hah!” Rickard barked, “Duty you say. Don’t you find it ironic, Lyanna, that men had to die
doing their duty to our House because you refused to do your duty? You think your position as a
noble and your Stark name gives you the right to demand others to do their duty but refuse to do
your part?”

He watched without remorse as she took a step back and lowered her head.
“You want to show your gratitude? Stop being such a selfish cunt and do your damned duty!”

***

Rhaegar

There was an even more acute sense of danger in the air in the capital this past sennight. It seems
to be one problem after another. First the Defiance of Duskendale, then his father’s madness and
now these rumors circling like dark crows.

Another Blackfyre. Rhaegar frowned at the thought. Over sixty years. When will that accursed line
finally end? How many more Targaryen kings will have to suffer for Aegon the Unworthy’s
mistake of fathering bastards? Will I have to suffer a Blackfyre Rebellion during my reign too?

The disturbing rumors came through traders and seafarers. None can say how and where exactly it
started but tales from the Free Cities say it started at either the docks or taverns of Pentos.

The rumor has spread so quickly that in a moon, it has reached Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, Braavos and now
Kingslanding. And with the feast for the Father happening in mere days, with so many people
flocking to the capital for a chance to enter the Great Sept of Baelor and to trade their goods and
wares in bazaars all around the city, the spread of it has become even swifter and difficult to
mitigate.

His father the king frothed in anger and fear upon learning of such rumor. Already three people
from Flea Bottom were beheaded and a few others placed in the dungeons for having been caught
discussing the rumor so openly in the streets.

“It’s unthinkable. That another Blackfyre still lives and there could be another war looming on the
horizon. Like unwanted weed, that line seems to always find a way of surviving and making a mess
of things” Rhaegar heard Arthur speak in a low voice while walking beside him.

Suddenly they heard commotion and he saw his squire Jon Connington, recently returned to the
capital from Griffin’s Roost, running to his direction with excitement on his face.

As soon as the young Lord of Griffin stopped in front of him, he bowed respectfully then
exclaimed with wide eyes, “My Prince! Quick! You must come quickly to the Great Hall! They
have just discovered the Blackfyre!”

Rhaegar stilled in surprise at the highly unexpected news, “How? How was he found so quickly?”

“It was Ser Barristan, My Prince! Someone sent him a letter in secret to let him know of the
Blackfyre’s true identity. You won’t believe who it is. I’m telling you. It’s all so…so bizarre”

“Who is it?” Rhaegar demanded, voice a bit louder than his usual tone.

“It’s the Spider! Varys!”

***

Sansa

Sansa stood below one of the shadowed arches surrounding the Great Hall of the Red Keep.
Behind her stood her Uncle Tygett, Larra and Raya and at her opposite sides were her Uncle
Gerion, Maege and Lysarra.
She didn’t join the great assembly out of curiosity. No, she knows exactly what’s happened just as
her uncles and father did. She merely attended to see the end of their plot.

Just as they discussed, her father had used his spies to secretly spread rumors of a Blackfyre in the
docks of Pentos. She had decided it was better to have the rumors start someplace else to ensure
less people got caught and killed unjustly. With the rumor starting in Pentos, Varys would’ve
found it almost impossible to link to anyone in Westeros and the Mad Cripple won't be able to
order to just capture or kill anyone from there. With Pentos so close to the other Free Cities, the
rumors also easily spread from port to port.

It had gone all according to plan and last night, a trusted servant of Tywin’s slipped a letter in
Barristan Selmy’s cell in the White Tower while he was taking his scheduled rest for that week.

Just as expected of the man who slew Maelys the Monstrous, the bold kingsguard had been quick
to act to claim another victory and honor to his name. Only a few hours after dawn, they got word
that the new Commander of the Kingsguard has arrested the spymaster and brought him before
Aerys.

And here they are now.

The Great Hall was filled by many curious lords and ladies who are in the capital for the feast. At
the center of the gathering and in front of the King seated on the ugly Iron Throne was Varys,
bound by heavy chains and kneeling in front of the man he’d been whispering secrets to the other
day.

“You Blackfyre scum!!!” the King shouted, eerie violet eyes mad and his spittle flying
everywhere. “How dare you pretended to serve while you schemed behind my back to take my
throne and destroy my house! How dare you!!!”

Varys' clothes of rich silks and velvets looked very unkempt. He also had bruises, his face looked
sickly pale and his voice trembled when he spoke. Whether out of real fear or mummery, it was
hard to tell.

“You’re Grace, whatever vile rumor was spread against my person, I assure you they are nothing
but lies. Lies Your Grace. I only live to serve you and the realm you rule”

“Lies! All lies! Barristan has received a letter containing information about you. And some of them
sounded real enough! And I believe them to be true! Pycelle, I command you, read the letter for all
to witness this traitor scum’s crime against I, your King and House Targaryen!”

The maester hurried to do as he was commanded and read the letter.

To His Grace King Aerys II of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First
Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

Your Grace, I write the truth and nothing but the truth. I am a nobleman from Pentos, with a wife
and many children who are all ignorant and innocent of my crimes thus I cannot step out from the
shadows and introduce myself for fear of terrible retribution being done unto them.

I am guilty of many crimes Your Grace. Of murder and robbery and adultery. Of slander and
espionage. Of betraying many people for my own gain—for power, lands, wealth, positions,
prestige.

My soul is doomed to the seven hells, this I am certain and yet I write to confess the terrible crime I
have knowledge of because the thought of the consequences of such a conspiracy—of a terrible
vengeance reaped from the blood and bones of thousands upon thousands of lives of men and
women and innocent children—such a sin even my soul cannot bear.

I urge you, Your Grace, arrest Varys the Eunuch and execute him before the sun sets lest he slip
away in the darkness of the night through vile sorcery.

Why am I urging you this, Your Grace would no doubt ask. My answer is this:

Because he is a traitor Your Grace. A traitor to your crown, the House Targaryen and the Seven
Kingdoms.

He is no Spider. He is a Black Dragon—a Blackfyre biding his time to exact revenge and destroy
House Targaryen and render it nothing but ashes, innocents of the Seven Kingdoms be damned in
the process.

I know him very well for we have worked and plotted and committed crimes together for many
years.

His mother was an exceptionally beautiful whore, greatly favored by Daemon Blackfyre and
coveted by Maelys. And they fought over her the same way Bloodraven and Bittersteel bitterly
fought over Shaera Seastar. Aside from leadership and control of the Golden Company, she was
the reason why Maelys the Monstrous resorted to kinslaying and twisted and tore off Daemon’s
head from his shoulders so cruelly. When Daemon died, the whore became Maelys bedslave.

She was pregnant when she got news of Maelys’ defeat at the hands of Barristan the Bold. Fearing
for her life and her unborn child’s, she escaped to Lys knowing that should the child be born with
Valyrian features, none would think differently there. She secretly gave birth to a son, the last of
the Blackfyres. Varys.

When his whore mother died, he was apprenticed as an orphan to a troupe of mummers who
provided entertainment in the Free Cities and occasionally Kingslanding. When he saw the
splendor of House Targaryen that was denied to him because of his bastard blood, he started
having ambitions.

While in Myr, a sorcerer bought him, cut off his manhood at the stem and used it for a blood magic
ritual. The sorcerer used him because of the little amount of accursed king’s blood that runs
through his veins.

After this event Varys swore to get revenge for all the tragedies he has endured. He learned from
the mistakes of his Blackfyre predecessors and knew starting a war while the Seven Kingdoms is
united under the King's peace will give him nothing but defeat. So he bided his time. He went to
Pentos and there created a reputation for espionage and sabotage, knowing excellence in such
trades will put him near the Iron Throne one way or another.

What happened in Duskendale was no mere scheme of the Darklyns, Your Grace. It was a
deliberate plot created by Varys the Eunuch with the Lady Serala. They had been acquaintances in
Myr, you see, and Varys used the Lady Serala to get closer to you. He had induced her to use vile
sorcery upon the Lord Denys Darklyn to demand for your presence in Duskendale and make you a
hostage.

And he has succeeded. He is now in your employ, a man you trust to stand beside you and paid
generously to give you information but does nothing but whisper half-truths and lies.

Varys is excellent at both subterfuge and sabotage and thrives in chaos. To him, chaos is a ladder.
And right now in your service, he is creating chaos so he could climb high.

He means to destroy you and House Targaryen by making you see enemies where there are none,
alienating you from your people and loyal allies both, inducing bad blood and infighting among
great noble houses. He means to foment rebellions that will throw the Seven Kingdoms in
unspeakable chaos to seat himself or another Blackfyre pretender on the Iron Throne.

Execute him before sunset Your Grace and put an end to his cursed blood and house. Sleep with
the knowledge that you are the King to finally put down the last of Blackfyres and rise the next day
with the assurance that your throne is secure and House Targaryen’s reign is without rival.

Glory to King Aerys of House Targaryen! Glory to the true dragons! Long may they reign!
 Sansa/Rhaegar/Ned

Sansa

Seated on his ugly throne of half-melted, broken, twisted swords wrenched from the hands of dead
men or yielded up by defeated foes of Aegon the Conqueror, Aerys clearly looked the image of a
man barely clinging to his sanity.

After paying deaf ears to Varys' pleads for innocence and mercy, he shouted for a man named
Rossart. The name sounded familiar to Sansa but she couldn’t remember from where.

Then, a man with a disturbing appearance followed by several more men rolling a covered cart
joined the assembly. He was pale and thin with a manic look to his eyes and a sinister curl to his
mouth similar to the Bastard of Bolton's. He was wearing what looked to be heavy brown robes
and was carefully, almost reverently, holding a small jar with murky green liquid inside. Seeing
that thing made her realize who exactly he was and what was about to happen.

Rossart. Wisdom Rossart. She heard about him in passing in one of her lessons with Maester
Luwin. She hadn’t paid him that much attention because of the tragedy his name came with. This
was the last Hand of King Aerys in that other life. This was one of the men who watched as
Rickard Stark was slowly cooked alive in his steel armor while he was suspended in the rafters and
Brandon Stark strangled himself to death in his struggle to reach for a sword to save himself and
his father. And it seems he wasn’t just the Hand, he’s the Mad King’s head pyromancer as well.

The Alchemist Guild! How could have I ignored them? Perhaps I should follow Arya’s footsteps
and make a comprehensive list of people I should take care of? I must leave no stone unturned.
Many tragedies have happened because of many small things having been overlooked.

In the other life, she had heard many stories told of how the Mad King had loved burning people
alive with wildfire after his unfortunate time spent as a prisoner in Duskendale. She didn’t think
today would be the start.

“A black dragon are you?! Then let us see how true it is. Let us see how well you handle fire! Burn
him! Burn him!” the mad king raged.

The men who were with Rossart uncovered the cart and out came a small wooden stand then a tall
pole and some ropes. They mounted the pole on the stand then they forcefully dragged Varys and
tied him securely to it until he almost couldn’t move.

The man Rossart stepped close to Varys and opened the lid of the jar. His minions also moved
forward and dipped the tip of their brushes in the substance. Then, like painters, they started to
methodically lather the squirming Varys’ clothes with it.

Murmurs of ‘wildfire’ rose up in the crowd and the many courtiers close to the Iron Throne and
Varys took many panicked and hurried steps back, forcing those behind them to also move until a
large circle with only Varys and the man Rossart along with his minions was left.

“What in seven hells is that?” Maege asked quietly in confusion.

Sansa answered her. “Wildfire”

“Wildfire! But that’s—” Larra gasped horrified.

“Yes. Yes. We all know what it does. Hush” Sansa immediately tried to stop her.

“Perhaps we should leave now. This isn’t a sight for you niece” Gerion muttered low at her side.

“No. No we can’t leave now. There are many of us. Doing so may cause us to gather unwanted
attention, especially from the King. I don’t want to find out what he’ll do if that happens, do you?”
Sansa hissed.

“She’s right. No unnecessary moves, idiots, else we face the wrong end of the King’s wrath.
Especially when he’s not feeling particularly merciful. Now, all of you be quiet and eyes forward.
No more talking nor squirming,” Tygett ordered through gritted teeth.

Sansa did her best to school her expression as she watched the proceedings. She had expected
execution but she didn’t think it’ll be a death through wildfire. And the first one at that.

The first through wildfire but not the first nor the last who’s going to die for her schemes. How
many exactly died already? Three others? More? If her real father could see her now. Honorable
Ned Stark would disapprove no doubt. And her mother? Robb? What would they think? Would
they compare her to Cersei? Call her Littlefinger’s protégé? Call her the dishonorable wolf?

They’d certainly judge my actions. Perhaps harshly. And mayhap they’ll think me unworthy of
being a Stark, she thought bitterly then shook her head. It doesn’t matter what they think. They
died! They died because they were too blinded by their ideals and emotions and refused to make
the difficult choices—refused to do what was necessary. They died and left the rest of us to grow up
early under dangerous situations and to suffer and deal with the consequences of their actions.
They have no right to judge me.

Varys is far too dangerous to be left spinning his webs. He needed to be taken care of. If she didn’t
do it, Varys will grow more powerful and the damage he’d be capable of would be bigger, the
number of lives he could destroy with his words alone would be far greater.

To stand alone with none the wiser of her future knowledge and nightmares and fears behind the
mask she’s grown. To play other men and women like pawns and pit some of them in fights with
none of them having a clear idea of what is the truth and what are the lies. To watch some of them
become unwitting victims of circumstances not of their own making and get maimed or die—This
is the cost of the power she’s trying to have control of. The price of the peace she’s trying to
protect. The necessary sacrifices for the future she’s trying to save. Thoughts of justice and honor
have no place in it—certainly not the famous Stark honor (if such a thing even existed, which she
doubts).

***

Rhaegar

The letter clearly targeted his father’s madness, fears and ego. It sounded absurd to think that the
Spider was a Blackfyre. Plump, bald, effeminate, wears rich silks and velvets and soft slippers
Varys? Then again, he’s not just all that, is he? He’s also obsequious and mysterious and excels at
what he does. So who can pick the needle of truth from the haystack of lies?

The events, the reasons behind them—they all sounded quite half-mad and yet, in some light,
plausible enough. But with all the people mentioned already dead and rotting in the ground, there’s
no way to either confirm or disprove all the contents of the letter. That’s the reality of it.

And that is why his father the Mad King won’t spare Varys. His fear would want to get rid of a
threat and at the same time his pride will have it recorded in history that he was the Targaryen
King who ended the Blackfyre line.

He wondered who did it. He looked first at the Lord Hand and immediately dismissed the idea.
The man was too… blunt. Too straightforward.

He looked at the Lannisters. If there’s someone capable of the current entertainment occurring, the
Great Lion was certainly highly capable of it. But there was no look of satisfaction on the Lord of
the West's visage. He looked grim as ever.

He turned to look the other gathered lords when he accidentally caught sight of the face of his
young betrothed under one of the arches surrounded by her ladies and guards. He frowned. Why
was she in the hall? She shouldn’t be here. The next scene wasn’t going to be kind to the eyes of a
child. I’ll need to have words with her and her uncles to stay away from court after this.

He turned his head to observe other people some more.

Lord Velaryon, the Master of Ships, looked pleased and eager to see the Spider dead. Lord
Staunton too, for that matter. Could it be one of them who plotted this? For influence over the
king? But many of the attending lords in the audience looked pleased too. So who? I should like to
give them my thanks for removing such a hindrance. It would also be an advantage to have them
on my side and to keep them under my thumb, be they friend or foe.

He returned his attention to the front when he heard his father bellowed once more to have the
Spider burned.

The alchemists were doing the last strokes to lather the pale and violently squirming Varys with the
dangerous substance. After they were done, they all stepped back and moved out of sight. An
archer stood at the foot of the hulking Iron Throne near one of the braziers.

The many courtiers took many more steps back, pressing those behind to move further away.

“Burn him! Burn the Blackfyre scum! Do it!”

The archer lit the arrow and in another moment, the flaming tip was buried in Varys' shoulder.

And he erupted into green flames. His screams loud and horrifying but short. Some of his skin
peeling off and the smell of his charred meat nauseatingly disgusting.

While the King laughed madly and clapped like a child, the noble men of the court could only
watch in quiet horror while some of the women closed their eyes and covered their ears. A few
even lost control of their stomach and vomited while others fainted.

That’s it, Rhaegar thought with satisfaction, look and see and be disgusted of the madness and
cruelty of your king. Come to my side. Give me your support. And when the time is right, help me
rid of this blight and bring the Seven Kingdoms to new heights.

***

Ned

Ned carefully watched his father’s long and tired face.

“It’s been almost two moons Ned and things have not changed. I fear what happened was all in
vain. I have thought long and hard and… I think it is for the best that I break Lyanna’s betrothal
with Robert Baratheon. She’s a political liability and so far away in the south, so near the capital,
who knows what damage she’ll cause House Stark with her actions? I need her close and contained
so she doesn’t hurt us more. Just imagine how difficult it would be to arrange advantageous
marriages for your children with powerful southron houses in the future if Lyanna destroys our
reputation? We do not need such mark on name”

Ned felt disappointed at the news, at the missed chance of becoming good brothers with Robert.
No. My desires are unimportant. I know better now. I must focus on what needs to be done for the
good of House Stark and the North. “And… and what will happen now?”

“I will look for another betrothal for her with one of the Umbers or Karstarks or the Mountain
clans. Or perhaps Jeor’s heir.”

“But what will you tell the Lord Baratheon father?” Ned asked, wondering how his father will get
out of the unwanted situation.

“When I have found a new match for Lyanna, I shall send a messenger to hand a letter in person. I
will have to make excuses, I might use the situation with the Boltons and the Ryswells or simply
lie about Lyanna having fallen in love and following her wishes. It’s a mess but better a mess we
can deal with than one that will see us suffer untold long-term losses. You understand don’t you?”

Ned nodded in understanding.

Ever since his family journeyed south, nothing had gone right. First, father had been disappointed
enough with Lyanna that he left her stewing in anger at Casterly Rock. Then Brandon’s betrothal
with the Lady Sansa was broken. Then Brandon died making him the new heir. And now Lyanna.

Despite their mother’s death, Winterfell did not lack in love and laughter. With wild and funny
Brandon and Lyanna, everyday had been light and full of childhood adventures. Games of hide-the-
treasure throughout the castle, monsters-and-maidens in the crypts, riding and hunting in the
wolfswood, swordfights in the yard—Brandon, Lyanna and he had all done it together.

But now, wild and funny Brandon is dead and wild and funny Lyanna has become tiring and
dangerous. She doesn’t see a problem in her own beliefs and her attitude and actions, no matter
what they do.

He never knew—he never imagined his sister would be capable of such defiance, of such utter
selfishness and disregard for their father’s authority and her station and duties to their house and
their people. It’s a jarring realization he’s found difficult to swallow at first but now… there’s
nothing else to do now but look the truth in the face: some people are just meant to be left behind
so they learn to carry their own weight or cut off so their rot does not infect others.

He'll have to stop wasting his time on her and ensure Benjen grows up a better person who
understands his role and responsibilities. He can’t act the caring and supportive brother anymore to
Lyanna. Not when what he and his father are trying to build and protect, she is foolishly trying with
all her might to tear apart.
 Tywin/Sansa/Lyanna

Tywin

“Was it you?” Steffon bluntly asked.

Tywin only made a slow blink but did not answer. If the fool thought he’d confess to what
technically amounted to a murder and implicate himself, then he really was just that—a fool.

“Tsk. Still an arse, I see. It’s not like I’m mourning for Varys. Seven hells, I would even have a
feast prepared to celebrate the occasion if I could. He certainly was no friend to me. Now I can go
on doing my duties peacefully for a madman without him sticking on my back.”

Steffon raised his goblet, “A toast for Varys the Spider. Or was it Blackfyre? Whatever. May his
soul find peace in the seven hells. Good riddance” then he took a long pull on his wine like a
commoner in a tavern.

Feeling he had had enough of the man’s presence, Tywin chose the blunt approach “Is this all you
came here for Steffon? My wine and to toast a dead insect?”

“No actually," Steffon put down his drink and his face became grim. "That thing, those mad
burners—they’re very dangerous, especially in this city with half a million people. The thought that
barrels of that substance are being made somewhere without us, the Small Council, getting proper
knowledge of where exactly they are being stored and who exactly are included in their guild of
madness—it’s inexcusable and a sign of gross neglect. Velaryon and Staunton are both useless.
They’re nothing but dogs eager to lick their master’s arse. They won’t help get this dilemma taken
care of. I came because I need your help Tywin. You have more people, I know it. You clearly see
what’s happening. With a lunatic who’s thinking he’s a dragon, who’s to say we all won’t wake up
burning in our homes or in our beds one day if we just let this issue slide?”

“And what is it exactly you want me to do?”

“Whatever you can do. I’m tied up Tywin. I need your help. I don’t have many trusted men here in
the capital and what few I have aren’t exactly subtle. And you know some of the Stormlander
houses hold more loyalty to the throne than my house. Take Connington and Lonmouth for
instance.”

“Hn. Very well. I will do my part. But don't think to ask me for any information on how I deal with
them”

“I won’t. Just your word you’ll do something about it is enough”

***

“Father, that wildfire the King used to execute Varys, those people from the Alchemist Guild—”

“Will be mine to take care of.” Tywin cut his daughter off, “My people have already started
investigating weeks ago and have some of the members under watch. Do not concern yourself with
this.”

She looked him intently in the eye before she nodded.

“And how are your interactions with Rhaegar?” Tywin asked to shift the subject.
He knows the projects the two are working on. He’s not asking about those. What he’s curious of
is his daughter’s views and opinions of the Crown Prince as well as her observations of the goings-
on and the people in the capital. He’s found her insight a lot more helpful and useful than many
men combined.

“Jon Connington has started joining us. So has others. His squires Mooton and Lonmouth. I don’t
like Connington. His attitude leaves much to be desired. Prideful and condescending. Please have
some of your people look into his affairs”

Tywin’s brow raised at the request, “What for?”

The girl talked at a lower tone, “Information. Just in case a time comes when I have need for it.
Look into his personal relationships in particular. I suspect he’s got… deviant inclinations”

“Deviant inclinations”

“Ones the Faith would no doubt condemn if brought out in the open and proven true. I suspect he’s
a sword-swallower” was his daughter’s serious response.

Tywin straightened in his chair and took a sip of his watered wine before confirming what she just
said,

“That sort of inclination. How ever did you discover that?”

“I’ve got eyes father. Others may see it as friendship and loyalty but his eyes and tone say
something else to me. He looks more infatuated with the Prince than I am. He looks at Prince
Rhaegar as though the sun rises and sets and the moon and stars shine by his command”

Well, that is indeed enough reason to look into the young man’s life. Who knows what he’ll do to
his daughter if he is indeed harboring disgusting feelings for the Prince? People in love or lust are
prone to throwing good sense out of the window to get what they want. “Hn. Very well”

Then a sudden thought struck Tywin and caused him momentary worry, “And Rhaegar? Does he
share the same…predilection?”

He saw a gleam of amusement in her eyes and he scowled when she smiled, no doubt at him, “No.
Rhaegar is full of himself and in truth shows little care for everyone else not named Rhaegar
Targaryen”

Tywin couldn’t help but raise his brow again, “Indeed? And how are you handling that?”

“ I am not offended, if that is what you’re asking Father. I am no naïve child who needs his words
of love and devotion or other such drivel. I do not need him to validate myself. I know my worth
and I know my goals. I go with the current but I’ll do what I must whenever necessary”

Tywin’s lip twitched at the answer before he gave a firm nod of approval, “Good”

Once more he felt relieved for fathering this child. If this had been Cersei, he’ll no doubt be in a
very unpleasant situation, forced to deal with either a long list of demands or idiotic tantrums.
Worse, he may never have this chance of putting Lannister blood on the throne.

Thank the gods Joanna gave him two children he could count on to carry on his hopes for House
Lannister. He didn’t want to know what would’ve become of Jaime had Cersei been his only sister.
Probably grown up stupid and reckless and die young like Brandon Stark did.
Or, without his younger sister to catch and tell him of Cersei’s disgusting actions, he’d probably
grown up a sister-fucker.

The thought was nauseating and horrifying.

***

Sansa

She had a dream. And it was strange and felt familiar at the same time.

She dreamt she was floating in the air.

She knew she was in the air because she felt the cold wind and she could see the ground far below.
She panicked thinking she was going to fall and die or worse, live a cripple. She scrambled and
tried to reach for anything but when she looked at her hands, she saw no hands. She saw dark
wings. She moved them and ended up going higher and higher to where the wind got colder instead
of landing her feet on comfortable, safe and solid ground.

Then she realized she was flying. Good gods she was flying.

She kept moving her arms until she felt it become natural as breathing. When she looked down
again, she realized that what she was looking at were roofs of houses. She looked around and that’s
when she saw it in the distance.

The Red Keep! She was looking at it from above!

She moved her arms some more until she neared the structure. She looked down and saw the
familiar massive curtain walls surrounding the castle with its nests and crenellations for archers.
The stone parapets, the thick bronze gates and portcullises, the immense barbican with massive
cobbled square in front of it. She also saw the small inner yards and the vaulted halls and the
serpentine steps that connected one building to another. When she looked further, she saw the
beautiful colors created by sun about to rise on the horizon.

She was up there in the air for several minutes. Or perhaps hours? She did nothing but simply
looked down and around her in wonder. Then she felt some kind of a shock and when next she
opened her eyes, she was in bed, looking up at the canopy.

She knew the answer to what she experienced right away.

A warg.

Bran was a warg. Arya and Jon too. Perhaps Robb as well based on the reputation he created
during the war.

She’s seen Bran do it and heard him explain a bit what it was like. He did it with ravens and
Summer. Arya and Jon also shared something similar, like looking through Ghost’s and Nymeria’s
eyes. They suspected it’s a Stark thing. A gift of the Old Gods. One she’d been denied of.

She had secretly been very jealous then. Another mark against her. Another proof of being more
Tully than Stark, more trout than wolf. Another point for the proud and loyal (traitorous) northern
lords to use and secretly deride and judge her for being more southron than northern. Of having
been forgotten and forsaken by the gods of not just her mother but of her father too.

She hadn’t been able to do it in the past. So she hadn’t expected to be able to do it this time. Lady
was killed what felt like several lifetimes ago. She didn’t think she’ll be capable of the same as her
magical, brave and strong sister and brothers.

But then again, she also hadn’t expected to see dragons and dead people marching, had she? And
this thing of being reborn as a Lannister, being Tywin’s daughter and Jaime’s and Cersei’s sister of
all people, she hadn’t expected this too. Just as she hadn’t expected to meet all the ghosts whose
choices and actions haunted her past life. What is another strangeness added to it all?

Oh but a warg! She almost giggled like a loon. The many possibilities!

Bran had used his abilities to spy on the movement of the dead. Could she do the same with hers
and use it to spy on her enemies? Could she mayhap use it to assassinate them? Could she even do
it again?

But she’ll have to be careful. Wargs are not seen positively, especially in the south. Here they are
creatures of evil.

If anyone discovers she’s a warg, it might spell her doom. They’ll probably drag her in the streets
for all to see, naked and being pelted with rotten fruits and vegetables and shit.

Or Aerys might have her skinned alive to see if she really could skinchange. Or probably cook her
in a pot of wildfire. Yes, she can imagine Aerys punishing her like that.

And her family will certainly suffer too. They’d probably get executed alongside her. It’s a very
convenient excuse for Aerys to get rid of Tywin Lannister once and for all and take all the gold of
Casterly Rock for his own.

But it’s too useful a skill to let go of. She'll just have to be really careful. She has to learn to control
it and control when she can do it. But first, how did she do it again?

***

Lyanna

Lyanna stood silently fuming as her father spoke coldly to her of his new plan for her future.

“Jorah Mormont, that is who your new betrothed is. You refuse to do your duty and marry Robert
Baratheon. You don’t want to be confined to the roles of a lady. But you will marry. As is your
duty to our house and the North. With the Mormonts, you won’t have to wear dresses and act like a
proper highborn girl. You can wear breeches. You can swing your sword. You can even fight and
kill reaving ironborn scum. You can fulfill your dreams of being a warrior. But not here in
Winterfell and not in places where your wildness will be an embarrassment to our House. This is
not a choice. It is a command. One you will follow”

For almost five moons now, she has received nothing but cold and silent treatment from him. Even
Ned now looked differently at her. Or more appropriately, he looked more indifferent to her.

And Ben! Little Ben. Her father had ordered her to keep quiet and act proper around Ben saying he
doesn’t need another stupid, wild wolf.

Her father has ostracized her in her own home. He just refused to understand, refused to recognize
her right to a choice. Even with all the things she could do in Bear Island, from an arranged
marriage to another—what is the difference?

But there’s no escaping it now, she thought bitterly. He’s got me guarded night and day and I am
sure he wouldn’t hesitate to drag me to the heart tree on my wedding day.

She’ll have to start learning to accept it. At least she’ll still be in the north. And everything he said
of the things she could do there were at least true.

Better Bear Island. The women there are not expected to act like stiff-necked chits who know
nothing but sing and dance and sew and be pretty.

Aye. Better Jorah Mormont than Robert Baratheon. Better Bear Island than the stupid and stuffy
south.
 Sansa/Tywin
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sansa

Sansa searched the entire Red Keep library surreptitiously for information or any tip available
about warging but found nothing but garbage saying it was a vile practice frowned upon by the
Faith.

She was forced to learn warging all on her own. It wasn’t easy as Bran made it appear in the past.
It was extremely difficult. At least for her. Or perhaps it’s just another lesson she’s slow to learn.

At first, she could only warg when her body was asleep at night until dawn. After around another
moon, she was able to extend it to until mid-morning.

For a moon, the easiest to warg into were birds, especially doves and ravens. She discovered that if
she’s warging a bird flying with its flock, she can easily jump from one bird to another or one bird
to another small animal down on the ground.

She has done it using a stray puppy then a cat. The puppy was easy enough to warg. There had
been very little resistance. What was difficult was afterwards. Oh how nauseating it was to have an
even more sensitive nose in the middle of the shitpile of the city called Kingslanding.

And the cat! Gods but what a truly disgusting experience that was. Thoughts of that one always
turned her stomach.

The cat was very hungry and its first instinct had been to pounce and devour when it saw a rat. She
failed to get out of the wretched creature fast enough. One moment she was still, the next she was
looking at a bloody, half-eaten rat caught in her paws. She bolted out of the beast and ran to the
privy so fast and retched until her stomach hurt.

There were harsh lessons learned there. She decided to get pets—three kittens and three puppies of
her own. She made sure they were well-fed every night so she could warg them and not have to
suffer all their disgusting meal practices.

She also decided to learn and engage in falconry. It was a perfect excuse to be near birds and to
purchase some raptors with long range vision for espionage. It was also a cover for purchasing
others that can best see at night, like owls and bat hawks for instance.

Thankfully, her Uncle Tygett and Uncle Gerion were eager to teach her something new. Even her
warrior ladies from Bear Island asked to be taught as well.

Just a sennight after she expressed her interest, Gerion made her a proud owner of three beautiful
golden eaglets and two eyasses of the majestic silver gyrfalcon breed. He even gifted the other
ladies peregrine falcons of their own. The perks of being a Lannister with mountains of gold and
being a favorite niece.

She couldn’t just warg larger animals. She learned this when she tried to warg a horse. It had been
horrible. Just horrible. The animal had a very strong will of its own and pushed her out with a force
that felt like a kick to the head with one of its hooves. She had a headache for at least two hours.
She dared not try it again and kept to smaller ones.
During one of her more ambitious forays into warging, she used one of her new kittens to enter the
White Sword Tower at dawn. And got an eyeful of Arthur Dayne in all his Dornish warrior glory
—still dripping with water, clearly fresh from the bath. The Sword of the Morning possessed an
impressive sword indeed.

Feeling as though all the fur on her kitten form’s face were about to burn, she left the tower in a
hurry, ears down and tail probably tucked between her legs. She can’t remember really, because
the previous sight fried some parts of her brain.

During her many experimental explorations of the Red Keep, she was struck with the realization
that the dark corridors she ran through in her strange dreams many years ago were passages under
the Red Keep. She then spent some days discovering other passages that led to the dungeons and
the black cells and others that turned out to be really important ones.

She found a secret passage that connected the bedchamber of the Tower of the Hand to the dragon
mosaic down the lower levels. She also found a secret way to get out of the Red Keep onto the
cliffs facing the sea. She found another that leads to a sewer that empties into the river.

Realizing the importance of the escape routes, she resolved to make a secret map of the tunnels for
future use.

***

Tywin

Tywin stared as the thin, stooped man, another pale, thin man and his equally pallid son stood in
front of him. All three warily looked at him then at the guards surrounding them.

He wondered if all the members of the Alchemist Guild looked the same. Like sickly creatures.

Mayhap they do. Mixing and inhaling and staring at that green monstrosity for moons and years
surely must affect their health. What a tragic existence. And they call themselves wisdom after
enough training. Tywin held back a snort at the thought. Wisdoms. Hah! More like idiots.

“You are blood brothers. Wisdom Pollitor, Wisdom Alyn. And this is acolyte Hallyne, Alyn’s son”

Wisdom Alyn jerked at his voice then nodded swiftly, “Yes my lord”

“You know who I am, I assume”

Pollitor looked at him with careful eyes before answering, “Of course my lord. Who wouldn’t
know Tywin Lannister?”

“That’s right. Who wouldn’t? I have served King Aerys faithfully for many years—twenty long
years in fact. I did what I could to ensure peace and prosperity in the realm. I made policies that
dragged this city from obscurity making it now the most thriving city in all of Westeros. And have
you heard the news that my daughter is to marry the Crown Prince and will become the Queen one
day?”

The man nodded again, “Yes my lord. Lady Alysanne, I heard her name is. But the people in Flea
Bottom call her Lady Sansa and sing her praises. Even prickly merchants love her. She is credit to
you my lord”

“Yes, she believes it is her duty to help the poor and downtrodden souls in the city. That’s my
kindhearted daughter” Tywin sighed deliberately then turned cold once more, “But now I hear
disturbing rumors that the city I worked so hard to make wealthy and the place my daughter is
helping and someday will call home is being threatened by your guild using the substance you
create.”

Both wisdoms fidgeted and looked, if possible, paler. “We merely follow the King’s commands my
lord, just doing our duty” Alyn answered in a submissive tone.

“And putting my daughter, my family and the lives of thousands of innocents at risk—do you
consider that part of your duty to a king I’m sure you know barely has a grasp of his sanity?”

The two brothers and the acolyte son kept silent.

“Good men, have you heard what I did to those who threatened my family? What I will do to
others who are a danger to my child's life and future? Ever heard the song The Rains of
Castamere?”

Pollitor shook like a leaf. Alyn looked at him with wide, fearful eyes while his son Hallyne took
three steps back but stood frozen when Tywin shifted his attention to him.

“I had my people bring you to me because I believe it doesn’t have to end in another tragic song. I
believe that, together, we can build an amicable relationship and achieve our goals. Your family, I
came to learn, has served the guild for generations. And yet it is dangerous men from no-name
families with questionable goals like Rossart and his minions who run the order. What say you to
an alliance?”

Both brothers and Hallyne’s eyes widened and a look of interest showed on their faces. “An
alliance my lord?”Alyn the elder, asked in a careful tone.

“Yes. You will have leadership of the guild. You will have the support of House Lannister and its
gold and vast resources and at the same, you will serve the realm better. And when my daughter
becomes queen, I will ensure you will receive your proper due for your years of unappreciated
quiet service. Titles and lordships and mayhap lands and their corresponding incomes”

The three men gasped in surprise and the father looked at him with hopeful eyes, “Leadership and
your support my lord? And support from the crown? Truly?”

Easily manipulated ambitious, greedy men. Good. Tywin thought. “Yes, you have my word.
Lannisters pay their debts, I’m sure you have heard. In exchange, you will help me get rid of
Rossart and his ilk and ensure your inventions are kept in a safe place far from many people and its
distribution shall be transferred to my careful control. You will also give me your word as your
bond that you will serve House Lannister and I loyally.”

“Then my son and I accept your offer Lord Lannister” Alyn eagerly answered while Hallyne
nodded his head quickly, looking comfortable for the first time since they entered the room.

Pollitor looked close to breaking to a song and dance, “It will be an honor to serve you Lord
Lannister. But how do we get rid of Rossart and his men? They have guards from the king my
lord”

“Tell me, where have your people stored the caches secretly?”

Hallyne looked confused, a clear sign he was unaware. The wisdom brothers looked at each other
and nodded before Alyn answered, “There are fifty caches to my last count in the dragonpit my
lord. And the rest, over a hundred, are in the vaults in the Guildhall for safekeeping”
 “If those fifty in the dragonpit were set to explode, how much will the damage be?”

The two older men gasped with horrified looks clear on their faces. Pollitor was the first to
vocalize his protest, “My lord! It’s highly dangerous with fifty! It could burn even the Red Keep!”

“I agree. Too dangerous” Alyn seconded.

“Then how many must be used to ensure the fire is contained in that pit?”

“Five to ten are good and safe numbers my lord” Pollitor answered with Alyn nodding his head in
support. “They are newly made and so they can be easily tamed. But I don’t understand why
you’re asking all these questions.”

“Can you replace those caches in the dragonpit with empty ones and deliver to my chosen people
the actual ones? They must be taken outside of the city carefully”

Alyn nodded slowly, face set in concentration and obviously going through calculations inside his
head, “We can my lord but we’ll need time. Maximum of three moons. We cannot do it all at once
else they’ll get suspicious of us”

Tywin nodded, “Very well. What is important is they’re moved to a safer place”

Hallyne earned enough courage to talk for the first time, “And what about Wisdom Rossart and his
people my lord?”

“The dragonpit. If it were burnt with Rossart and his people there, then it will simply be dismissed
as an accident, won’t it? And when the king looks for replacement pyromancers, you will both step
forward and serve him. But you won’t forget to whom your lives and allegiances are pledged to,
will you?”

Alyn’s face lit up, “Oh certainly my lord. My house and I are at your service”

Good. And you will serve me and mine loyally or it’s death and destruction to you and yours,
Tywin thought, pleased at the result.

Chapter End Notes

@ Tommyginger - there goes the sword of the morning for you

 Sansa/Lyanna/Jaime/Tywin
Chapter Notes

⚠ This chapter isn't Bobby B friendly.

Sansa

Warging is indeed a very useful gift.

Three moons since she discovered she has the capability, she completed her map of the underbelly
of the Red Keep and is now in the process of committing it to memory.

She has also discovered some more juicy information she could possibly use in the future.

The kingsguard Willem Darry for example has a secret paramour who has a house near the Street
of Silk. Monford Velaryon, like his brother Lord Lucerys, has a thing for busty whores. Master of
Laws Lord Staunton has a taste for young whores. The High Septon of the Faith is a fraud and a
joke—corrupt and gluttonous and lustful. He loves to play-act ‘Fuck the Seven' with whores.

So many men with a weakness for whores. It’s no wonder Littlefinger made a business out of
pimping and built his own kingdom on the back of poor whores. So many ‘nobles' and ‘knights' in
the capital find their wants and desires fulfilled in whorehouses and their vast selection of goods.

She thought of Tyrion.

Tyrion would make a good master of whores in the future. With the Lannister gold, they could set
him up to secretly own establishments all across the Seven Kingdoms and build an espionage
empire similar to Littlefinger’s.

It’ll also be a way of helping innocent children and hopeless women. She’s aware prostitution is a
rampant problem but she’s also realistic enough to realize it is not something that can be fully
eradicated, especially for those who have no other means to survive.

But with Tyrion in control, they can set up measures so women working in the pleasure houses
would be afforded some level of protection and get a larger share of their income. They also
wouldn’t simply be abused by their patrons and they could be given some help when it comes to
getting the service of a maester or healers whenever necessary.

Tyrion can also help screen underage children so they won’t get forced to engage in prostitution.
With her connection to orphanages in Kingslanding and especially in Lannisport where children
were taught numbers and letters and offered some training in crafts to prepare them to make a
decent living of their own once they reach the age of ten and four, parents struggling to feed their
children can be given more options and far better solutions rather than sending their children off to
whorehouses and selling their young bodies to possibly depraved and dangerous people.

It’s a questionable line of work but it’s one she’s sure Tyrion will personally enjoy a lot.
Intelligence gathering will make him feel important in playing his role to keep their family safe
from enemies hiding in the dark while also helping people less fortunate like him.
It would also ensure he’d stay far away from her father and prevent their already fraught
relationship from becoming even more toxic and avoid pushing him to commit patricide. She’ll
need them both by her side. She’ll just have to convince Tywin of giving Tyrion permission. She’s
not worried, she’s sure he’ll approve when he hears her reasoning.

While warging brought her many benefits, she also came to recognize it is very, very dangerous.
And this is true especially when she’s warging a bird.

The ability to fly, the weightlessness of it, the freedom it makes one feel—it’s exhilarating and
very addicting. And the more she did it, the more it made her want to simply forget, fly off and
leave everything behind. Something she absolutely cannot and will not do.

In one of her adventures, she warged a raven and flew for hours until she realized the place she
reached to be close to the borders of the Riverlands. When she tried to remove herself from the
bird, the allure of flying some more was so strong that she found some difficulty in extracting
herself.

It frightened her and forced her hand to set limits for her recently discovered ability. She cannot do
it all the time and she cannot do it for hours lest she experience negative consequences she cannot
fix.

Warg only when necessary and with a purpose, this has become her mantra.

***

Though both her uncles were knowledgeable enough with falconry, her father decided to hire a
professional falconer to teach her, much to her Uncle Tygett’s annoyance.

“If you will devote your time learning something, then you will learn properly from a qualified
teacher. You will have a qualified master falconer and not rely on your uncles’ no doubt rusty,
secondhand knowledge” her father said with Uncle Gerion rolling his eyes and Uncle Tyg’s
irritated face in the background.

They were currently on one of the vast fields overlooking Blackwater Bay. The weather was great.
It was not too hot and her uncles deemed it a fine day to get out of the city and train her young
birds.

She didn’t know that falconry was such a complicated learning process that could last years. She
thought it was a simple, easy and fun activity—just get a bird, build a relationship with it, teach it
some tricks and it will learn how to hunt.

Her teacher, a master falconer named Garon, disabused her of her assumption. The equipment, the
diet required for the birds, the care and training necessary for them to become efficient hunters—
Garon delivered a very long lecture that made her close her eyes and massage her aching temple at
the end of it. Talk about biting more than one could chew.

While she suffered a headache in silence, her companions clearly enjoyed the long lecture—Maege
and the young Stannis whom she invited most of all.

With none close to his age living at the Tower of the Hand, she learned that Stannis has taken to
only two activities: sparring in the yard with his father’s men and spending hours at a time in the
Red Keep’s library. When she accidentally met him there during one of her research about
warging, she spent some time talking with him.

Unlike his lewd and loud idiot of a brother, Stannis was proper, stoic and clearly intelligent himself
but so very awkward around people. He was especially nervous with her. He always looked
uncomfortable and could barely look her in the eye every time they spoke. She ignored talking
about it to avoid hurting his ego or spook him even more and simply conversed with him like
everything was normal, and hoped that with time, he’ll get used to her presence and become
comfortable on his own.

She can just imagine how much the introverted boy suffered living almost his entire life in the
shadows of Robert Baratheon.

With her father and uncles, despite wounded prides, at least there is respect, even if begrudgingly
given at times. Tywin wasn’t a drunk, whoremonger, wastrel of a man who ran Casterly Rock to
the ground. He treated his brothers with as much dignity and fairness as he could even if he’s hard
and demanding most of the time.

Robert Baratheon on the other hand was not a man that deserved any respect. After leaving his
brothers trapped and starving inside Storm’s End surrounded by feasting enemies while he fought
in the rebellion that wasn’t even his by right (everyone called it Robert’s Rebellion, conveniently
forgetting it was the Starks who first went against Aerys and Jon Arryn who first raised his armies
against the Iron Throne), he went on and punished Stannis for not killing the child Viserys and
baby Daenerys by denying him Storm’s End. And gave it to the fool Renly who, in the end,
thought that just because he could charm better, dress better, and looked better, he’d make a better
king.

Oh she knows Stannis was no innocent in that life. She’s known about his vile acts and he
probably committed many more mistakes she never even knew or heard of but she’s not here to
judge him for those. Right now, he was just a dour but genuinely innocent boy and she’s here to
influence him and ensure a better future for all of them, not make an enemy.

“I had a bird once. A goshawk. I found it injured and nursed it back to health” Stannis spoke with a
very solemn face, “But it never flew higher than the tree tops. Would you know what could be the
reason for that?”

“My lord, the bones of a bird’s wings are extremely delicate. It may be that on the outside it was
healed but inside it was not. It could be it was not aligned properly which hindered the bird’s flight.
Another reason could be trauma. Despite the use of the word bird-brain to insult someone as
stupid, birds are actually very intelligent creatures, more so than others. You know ravens are used
to send letters. Parrots, cockatoos, magpies and even crows can be taught to speak. And birds of
prey are also quite smart creatures. It could be that your goshawk was severely traumatized with its
injury and simply needed time to be confident enough to soar once more” was Garon’s long
response.

Sansa took note of how Stannis’ face fell at the words. There’s a story of heartbreak there, one
she’d like to discover more about. When it came time for them to take a rest from, she approached
him and asked about the bird.

“What happened to your goshawk my lord?”

Stannis looked surprised at her unexpected question then he grinded his teeth and looked away
before answering, “When the bird won’t fly higher, my great-uncle convinced me to abandon it.
Which I did”

The boy was clearly guilty for abandoning a bird which might have been suffering from trauma.

“Take heart my lord. Who knows? Mayhap your goshawk has finally recovered and is now soaring
in the skies. Did you name it?” she asked gently.

Stannis flushed a little and looked discomfited and yet gave an honest answer still, “Yes.
Proudwing was the name I gave it but my brother Robert called it Weakwing instead”

An opportunity, she realized. Strike.

“I met him in Highgarden, your brother Robert that is. He didn’t strike me as a proper, intelligent
person like you though. Strong maybe, but loud and lewd and disrespectful. I’m sorry but I must
say I quite disliked him. It’s a cruel act the gods made him heir my lord, for I think you’d make a
far better Lord of the Stormlands”

Stannis’ dark blue eyes widened and he flushed and opened and closed his mouth over and over
again.
Deeming her work done for the day, she gave him a small, friendly smile and left him alone, still
speechless.

I must give him a gift, she thought and made a note in her head, A goshawk or two would be a fine
gift for follow up and reinforcement of my goodwill.

***

Lyanna

“Maege has written of the current situation in the capital. It seemed after the public burning of the
alleged Blackfyre, the king has retreated to Maegor’s Holdfast and has rarely been seen since. The
injury must really be that severe” her father shared to Lord Jeor.

“Aye, my lord. I heard from her too. She said it’s blessed relief to many in the Red Keep. And
now it seems they’re indulging in some relaxation. The Lady Lannister is learning falconry and
Maege, Larra and Raya are taking advantage and joining the lessons. Gerion Lannister even gifted
them each with peregrine falcons. Very generous gifts, I must say” Lord Jeor responded with an
amused smile

Why can’t we have this meal in peace? Lyanna huffed quietly when she heard mention of the
Lannister twat and her family. She’s known Lord Jeor’s sister and other female warriors from Bear
Island were now serving the little Lannister chit in the capital. She just can’t believe other northern
women could be foolishly influenced by the other girl.

“It seems your sister is really enjoying her time in the capital with the Lannisters. A wonder, that.
It’s strange to be reading words of praise for Lannisters from a northerners letters”

Both men laughed before the Lord of Bear Island continued, “All three are particularly fond of the
Lady Sansa—said she’s a fierce and clever little thing with a steel in her that could easily pass for a
northerners’. And now they got somewhat friendly relations with the brothers Gerion and Tygett
but I imagine they’re still wary and angry of Lord Tywin for their initial talk. Maege was quite
offended that he gave them instructions regarding grooming and manners and gifted them with
trinkets just so they’d not look like paupers next to the little lady”

“No doubt that talk offended our northern ladies but…for a moment, just imagine the unsmiling
Great Lion giving a speech about how to dress and wear jewelries to a woman. Isn’t that a most
hilarious scene?”

The two men chuckled once more with Ned and her new betrothed Jorah Mormont also smiling in
amusement.
Her betrothed. Swarthy and hairy and black-bearded. He looked strong but not very tall nor is he
particularly handsome.

He’s good with a sword at least, she grudgingly thought.

The Lord of Bear Island and his heir were visiting Winterfell to finalize the betrothal agreement.
Her father has decided that she will go to Bear Island and foster with the Mormonts while learning
their ways in preparation for her becoming the future Lady of Bear Island.

You just want me out of your way. You want to get rid of me. All because I refused to bend to your
will before. I know it. I’m not a stupid little girl, she thought bitterly while ferociously chewing the
roasted pork inside her mouth. The talk about the Ryswells and the Boltons—they were lies. I know
it. The Boltons haven’t rebelled in centuries. Why would they think to rebel now when the North is
clearly under Stark control? You just used them as alibi because you wanted to manipulate me.
We’ll, once I’m married, you can’t make me do anything you want ever again.

***

Jaime

Jaime is home but he’s missing so many things.

He missed everything about Riverrun. Beautiful Cat, giggly Lysa and mischievous Edmure.
Training with the Blackfish and his gruff but understanding disposition. He writes them letters but
it’s just not enough .

He missed Sansa very much too. Casterly Rock just isn’t the same without her.

All he has aside from riding and swimming in the sea and training in the yard were Uncle Kevan’s
long lectures about the Rock and the West and his Aunt Genna’s reprimands when she feels he’s
not giving his best effort to learn more.

And Tyrion. At least he’s got Tyrion. Who’s a fast learner and smart like their sister. And can now
read books better than he.

“Little brother what’s that you got there?” Jaime asked when he saw Tyrion standing on his chair
and staring at a box, running his small, stubby fingers reverently at it from time to time.

Tyrion looked up at him with amazed, mismatched eyes and smiled wide, “A gift from big sister,
straight from the capital!”

Intrigued, Jaime sat on the chair beside him, “When did it arrive?”

“Last night. Sister had it sent through a captain of a merchant ship and Uncle Kevan just gave it to
me”

“Well aren’t you going to open it?”

“Oh but I want to look at it some more. What do you think is inside Jaime? A dragon egg?” the boy
wondered.

Jaime laughed at the funny guess, “Ty, where would Sansa even get a dragon egg? We’re no
dragon lords”

Tyrion pouted at him, “But she’s to marry the Dragon Prince. Surely she can ask for an egg? Just
one is enough”

Jaime smiled fondly and reached out and patted his brother on his small back, “I don’t think that’s
how it works little brother. And besides, I heard Targaryens are very selfish and protective of their
dragon eggs. Just open it and end your agony in guessing already”

Tyrion sighed and moved to twist the locks carefully then opened the box and gasped, “Books!”

He hurriedly took out the books and Jaime helped him when he almost dropped them in his haste.

Books titled Wonders and Wonders Made by Man both written by Lomas Longstrider, the Jade
Compendium by Colloquo Votar and The Nine Voyages by a Maester Mathis all came out of the
box.

When Jaime looked at his little brother, he felt perplexed when he saw him get teary-eyed.

“What are you crying for? Are you disappointed it’s not a dragon egg? I did tell you it wasn’t
possible”

“No! No! That’s not it” Tyrion waved his short arms in protest, “It’s just, these books look really,
really good. Sister is a very good gift-giver, isn’t she? Her name day is coming soon. What gift do
you think should I give her in return?”

***

Tywin

“All except the five caches we will use to blow up the dragonpit has been removed?” Tywin asked
in confirmation.

Pollitor and Alyn both nodded their heads.

“And we also have the ropes saturated in wildfire ready. As discussed, my brother and I will tie
them to the caches secretly and we’ll roll and hide them with grass. We’ll leave the ends at the
designated points for your men to light” Pollitor added.

“And you are certain the ropes will not accidentally die out?”

Alyn hurriedly assured him, “Oh very certain my lord. My brother and I had it tested secretly.
They’re quite thick and with them being soaked with wildfire, it’ll just be like lighting a very long
kindling. The spread of the wildfire in the ropes will be swift and once those inside the pit
exploded and spread out, those ropes will be easily dismissed”

“Very good. And how about the caches in the Guildhall vaults?”

“All but twenty were moved out my lord” Alyn answered once more.

Tywin nodded, very pleased, “Good. Very good. We’ll go through with the plan in a sennight. Be
prepared”
 Sansa/Arthur/Rhaegar

Sansa

“I take it you’re visiting the orphanage tomorrow with the prince?” Tywin asked in a low voice.

“Yes? What of it?” Sansa tilted her head in question.

“The pyromancers will be dealt with tomorrow. When you hear an explosion while in the
orphanage, stay calm. Keep inside. Gerion and Tygett already know what to do.”

“What?!” Sansa asked in alarm, “Father! Say this plan isn’t going to harm other people”

“Of course not. Do you think I’m a fool I would organize to burn the city you and your children
will reign one day? Only Rossart and his mad dogs along with others of their ilk will be dealt with.
They will burn in the dragonpit”

Worry took hold of her, “I understand you took necessary measures but what if the fire spreads?
Wildfire is volatile as I’m sure you know”

“My pyromancers have assured me it’ll be easy to put out in case of spreading. Which it most
likely won’t as it’s only going to be confined in the dragonpit and will involve only five caches. But
just in case, if it goes awry, follow your uncles.”

Still troubled, Sansa reluctantly nodded her head, “And where are the rest of the wildfire? What do
you hope to accomplish with Rossart and his men gone?”

Tywin snorted, “The rest of the wildfire are outside of the city, under my control. Those
monstrosities don’t have a place here. As for the guild, one family will take leadership and they
have already pledged their loyalty to me. Production and distribution of the wildfire will be under
our control.”

Hearing that the rest of the wildfire caches have been removed from the city made Sansa breathe
easier. The knowledge of wildfire being stored underneath the city had been a looming threat for a
while now. She didn’t like it that the pyromancers will continue making them but knowing that
they’ll be regulated and under Lannister control was enough good news for her. It’s not ideal but
she had to admit it could be greatly beneficial in the future.

“And what about the king?”

“What about the king?” Tywin asked flatly, “The explosion will be dismissed as an accident. What
can he do?”

“What if this pushes him to do something even more erratic? Like accuse someone of…of getting
rid of his toys?”

“If he acts even more the lunatic he already is, then everyone will see he’s no longer fit to be king
and hasten to crown Rhaegar”

“But Rhaegar isn’t exactly trustworthy either father. He may be acting sane right now but—I
honestly wouldn’t put it past him to do something reckless and foolish”

“He won’t, if he knows what’s good for him. We have Dorne through Cersei and the Riverlands
through Jaime and a connection with the North through Catelyn’s sister. Ned Stark was a ward of
Jon Arryn’s. We also have Steffon in our corner. The only houses the Targaryens could count on
fully for support are those of the Reach and the Crownlands. Crownlander lords are nothing but
puppets that could be easily controlled and the Tyrells, for all their ambitions of power, are nothing
but cowards”

“Father, the alliances you speak of are tenuous. The North and Dorne are notorious for keeping to
themselves. The Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands have houses extremely loyal to the
Targaryens. And if it is Rhaegar who wears the crown, do you think those currently against Aerys
would go against him?”

Tywin merely huffed, “With your head and mine and the banners and gold of the Rock, will
anyone be able to defeat us?”

No, Sansa thought in silence, none shall defeat us, I'll make sure of that if push comes to shove. But
winning a war is not my goal. Keeping the peace is.

***

Arthur

For a few years now, Arthur has viewed Prince Rhaegar in a positive light.

Compared to his father the King Aerys Second of His Name, the prince was intelligent, strong,
calm, collected and was charming to people. He thought he’d make a good king—a great king like
Jaehaerys the Conciliator or perhaps Daeron the Good.

But now…

Seeing him work side by side with the Lady Sansa Lannister and having been given the chance to
compare him to another person who’s clearly born with the talent for leadership as well, it has
become clearer that his initial views were incorrect.

He is still strong. Still calm and collected but the charm and what he thought was genuine concern
for people—playing his harp in the streets of Flea Bottom and giving away his coin as alms to the
poor—they’re slowly being unveiled as nothing but attempts to build a good image and curry favor
with the common folk.

It’s…disappointing to say the least.

Arthur’s thoughts and hopes of the prince becoming a great king is crumbling by the day. His eyes
are also slowly being opened to Rhaegar’s faults. The prince, it’s obvious to see now, possessed…
unwanted Targaryen traits.

Moon after moon of working with the Lady Lannister has seen the Prince first taking control and
making himself front and center of the charities the little lady started herself, then slowly losing his
enthusiasm and genuine care and now becoming apathetic and sometimes, even impatient.

The coin hasn’t landed yet, he realized.

Rhaegar is just another prince content to wait until the end of his mad father’s reign. He’s not
going to act to put a stop to his cruelty for fear of losing his inheritance, especially with baby
Viserys now existing. He might even play it safe, remain neutral and not interfere even if the realm
was plunged into a war due to Aerys’ cruelty and incompetence.
When Rhaegar finally sits on the Iron Throne, if the Seven Kingdoms are lucky, they’ll get another
Aerys I or Maekar or Aegon III. With the way things are, one of those three is most likely the kind
of king Prince Rhaegar would turn out to be.

If not…It’s a terrible thing to think about.

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar sighed upon hearing the noisy children demand for more.

“A story. Tell us a story please Lady Sansa!” the girls' begging voices rang, hurting his ears and
making his headache worse.

“No more tales of princesses. We want a scary story this time” the little boys demanded.

He almost interfered when the little Lady Lannister nodded her head in agreement.

“I’ll tell you another. It’s not a happy story though. Do you still want to hear it?” she asked the
little children.

“Yes!” the little voices cried in celebration.

She glanced up and looked at him. Rhaegar sighed once more before nodding back.

A thoughtful look came upon her face before she started her tale, the cadence of her voice calm and
soothing.

“Once there was a beloved rich lord of a great land who was married to a kind and beautiful
woman from another rich family. They had two children, a pretty little girl and a baby boy. The
wife loved the husband but the man did not return it. Theirs was an arranged marriage you see. He
cared for her in some way maybe, but not love. One day, a witch told him this: You are destined
for so much more my lord. Everything that you have now, they are nothing compared to what the
future holds.”

“Strange. I don’t think I've heard this one before” Rhaegar commented, intrigued with the story
upon hearing it involved a prophecy.

There’s not much story he encountered involving oracles and as far as he’s aware, the young lady
did not like prophecies. She said so herself during their first accidental meeting in the godswood of
Highgarden. He’s surprised to hear her telling a story involving it now.

“Neither have I” Arthur, who was seated a little ways behind him seconded.

“I, too have not heard of this one my lady” Oswell piped up from his place near the wall.

“I expect not. I made it myself Your Highness, sers” she answered.

“Interesting. Do go on my lady” Rhaegar said, intrigued and eager to hear more.

She nodded before turning her attention to the wide-eyed children and continued her tale, “The
lord asked the witch, What must I do? You must be prepared to sacrifice what you already have in
the present for a more glorious future, the witch said, and you will know the right time has come
when you see the woman meant for you all along.”
Lady Maege, the female warrior from Bear Island laughed loudly, “A witch! Really? Who would
believe in such an idiotic prophecy?”

Ser Oswell laughed with her, “You wouldn’t believe how gullible many people are in the face of
prophecies and witchcraft. I should know my lady, House Whent after all holds Harrenhal and I
grew up with its many tales of witches and such things”

Rhaegar clenched his hands on his pants at the words then shifted to look behind him when he
heard Arthur chuckled in amusement. The knight only quirked a brow at him in question. He shook
his head before returning his attention to the story teller.

“A few years passed but the words of the witch remained with the rich lord. He kept it close to his
heart. Then one day, they attended a tourney. The lord was a warrior and participated in the
jousting. In one of his fights, he saw a beautiful maiden in the stands and knew right away she was
the one, just like the witch said years past. He knew it in his heart and soul. The lord was a very
good jouster you see, and he did his best, trounced all his competitors and claimed victory. When
he received the crown of roses, the people thought he’d give it to his wife who loved him and bore
his children. He did not. He rode his horse past her and gave it to the beautiful maiden. People will
remember it for centuries as the day all the smiles disappeared.”

“Well, that sounds like something only either a truly dishonorable lout or a madman would do”
Arthur commented, “To humiliate one’s own lady wife in front of a crowd…that’s just…I don’t
know how to even describe it”

Little Bryn, an obnoxious and very opinionated boy of six huffed and declared for all to hear,
“Well it’s called being stupid. He was stupid. Who believes in witches and their words anyway?
They’re creatures of evil. The septas say so. They‘re probably only telling lies to hurt other people
all the time”

“I’m very interested now in how this story ends. I hope the lord’s co—ehem, precious bits get cut
off,” Lady Maege stated with a savage grin to her face that Rhaegar found disturbing.

Jon, who joined Rhaegar on one of the benches, scoffed “Such uncouth manners. The story may be
fresh and interesting. But is it really appropriate for young children? Isn’t this going to ruin their
innocence, my lady?”

Septa Prunella, the primary caretaker of the orphanage expressed her agreement but clearly did not
want to offend the young lady responsible for the generous amounts of gold the Lannisters
funneled to the institution’s treasury.

Lady Lannister raised her chin and with serious blue and green eyes, answered Jon and the septa, “I
am not taking away their innocence brave ser, dear septa. I am stripping them of their ignorance
and gullibility. These children are orphans. They have no parents to guide them and soon, when
they reach ten and four, they’ll have to go out there and survive on their own. But how can they
make the right choices if from the start they are only told and made to believe pretty lies instead of
harsh truths?”

“I agree,” Lady Maege said, “stories of knights and their chivalry are overrated and tales of ladies
being damsels in distress are boring. Let the children hear something tragic but realistic at least”

An awkward silence reigned before Arthur spoke gently, “I would have to agree with Lady Sansa
and Lady Maege. Hard truths are indeed much better than sweet lies”

Jon scowled but kept quiet.

“What happened next Lady Sansa? What happened?” the children who remained silent during the
exchange now urged.

“The maiden was betrothed to another lord. The rich lord didn’t care though. He only thought of
what he felt and of the glorious future the witch promised was waiting for him. He left his wife and
little children and convinced the beautiful maiden to marry him instead. They ran away with the
help of some loyal friends of the lord. Some of them also friends of his first wife”

“Some friends they are” Lady Maege quipped mockingly.

Lady Sansa shrugged, “That’s why one should be careful when selecting their friends.”

“And what happened next?” Rhaegar asked, impatient to move on.

Boom!

A sudden, loud explosion was heard and it lightly rocked the foundation of the building.

For a moment there was silence and then, mayhem.

Lady Sansa, surprisingly, was fast enough to stand at the same time with Rhaegar and Arthur, then
the rest all stood up as well and unsheathed their swords.

“My prince, stay here. Stay inside the building” Arthur urgently advised upon standing by his side
then he ordered, “Someone go outside and see what’s happening!”

“What in the seven hells was that?! Is there an attack?!” Lady Maege shouted.

“Secure all entrances!” Ser Tygett and Ser Oswell shouted at the same time.

The children all began to panic and make terrible and pitiful noises in fear while the rest of Lady
Sansa’s red guards hurried to secure all entrances including the windows.

The other two Bear Islander women Larra and Raya flanked the Lady Sansa who was looking
shaken yet struggled to be calm.

“Children please remain on your seats. We’re here to help you all so don’t worry. Someone please
see what’s happening! Uncle Tyg! Uncle Gerion!” Lady Sansa’s pale face and wide eyes turned to
her uncles.

From outside, they heard distant screams and shouts and not too long they heard the bells of the
city ringing.

Ser Tygett had a dark, fierce look on his face, “My Prince, niece, stay inside where it’s safe. I’ll go
out with other guards to have a look at what’s going on. Ser Arthur, Maege, Gerion, bar the doors
behind me to ensure all your safety. Don’t open it to anyone else but me”

Rhaegar nodded calmly then turned to the other kingsguard, “Oswell please go with Ser Tygett to
see what’s going on and report back to us”

Oswell nodded with a grim face then he and Ser Tygett, along with three other Lannister guards
walked out the door. Arthur and Lady Maege barred it after their exit and remained standing there.

“Children, calm down! Calm down please! We’re all here. The Prince Rhaegar, Ser Arthur, Ser Jon
and my Uncle Gerion and our guards are here. We’ll help keep you safe. Sit down and let’s be
quiet. Why don’t we sing while we wait for Ser Oswell and my uncle to come back hm?” Lady
Sansa spoke in a loud voice, trying to calm the frightened young ones.

“Yes. Yes. Why don’t we sing the Song of the Mother?” Septa Prunella asked, though her face laid
bare her fright too.

Two other septas, Mirabelle and Eleana, who also assisted in managing the orphanage, joined the
Bear Islander women in calming the distraught children, taking some of them in their arms.

Even Lady Sansa bent down and picked up a small crying girl not more than three and patted her
on the back, “Yes the Septa is right. Let us sing. Gentle Mother, font of mercy…”

The children mercifully calmed down and started singing despite their faces still showing fear.

Rhaegar went to one of the windows and stood opposite an alert Lannister guard, trying to listen
and make sense of the noises from outside but it was in vain. The orphanage was built in a minor
alley and most of the chaos seem to be in the major streets.

“What do you think it was my prince?” Jon, who followed him, asked.

“I don’t know. It could be anything…“ Rhaegar trailed off.

It’s not true. An explosion like that could only be caused by a few things. And he’s sure his mad
father’s recently discovered favorite toy is high on the list.

Rhaegar clenched his jaws in fury. If the mad fool indeed used it and burnt the Red Keep to the
ground—if he laid to waste my inheritance, then he better be dead or I will kill him myself with my
own bare hands!

After several minutes more of tense waiting, successive hard knocks on the door jolted all of them.

“My Prince! Arthur! It’s us” Oswell’s voice rang on the other side and Lady Maege and another
Lannister guard quickly opened it.

“Wildfire!” was Oswell’s first words upon seeing him and it made Rhaegar see red. The mad
cripple has really done it now! The fucking fool.

“It doesn’t seem to be that bad your highness,” Ser Tygett hurriedly assured, “It looked to only be
near the dragonpit”

“Yes. Yes, Ser Tygett tells it true. The column of smoke is only on that part of the city. There
doesn’t seem to be any other location damaged” Oswell added.

“Then we must go back to the Red Keep” Rhaegar decided.

Ser Tygett shook his head, “I wouldn’t recommend it right now your highness. It’s madness out
there. The streets are filled with people and we don’t know yet the gravity of the situation. I sent
the red guards with us to find out more of what’s exactly happening and to return to tell us when
it’s safe to go back to the keep. I also ordered them to get more men to serve as our guards.”

“I agree with Ser Tygett my prince” Oswell added his own agreement. “The streets aren’t safe right
now and we don’t know for sure the fire won’t spread. Let’s wait for word of safety for now”

“Yes. Let’s wait for word my prince” Arthur said in a grave voice, “Your safety is paramount.
Who knows if this is really an accident or merely a diversion or a ploy to hurt the royal family or
other important people in the capital?”
Rhaegar finally nodded in acquiescence then went to sit down on a bench not occupied by the
children who were crowded around Septa Prunella and Lady Sansa.

This wildfire incident, he thought with slowly increasing pleasure, now that I think more, it can
only be beneficial for me. There’s no doubt people will attach it to Aerys' madness. If there are
many casualties, the better. It‘ll make the mad king more hated and dangerous in the eyes of the
nobles and the lowborn people. Yes, this can only be good. Let father dig his own grave and make
the people see that I will make a better king than he then perhaps I'll soon be seated on the Iron
Throne.
 Sansa/Rickard/Oberyn

Sansa

The pyromancers who worked with her father have underestimated the effects of the five caches
being ignited.

Yes they were successful in meeting all the objectives of the explosion: Rossart and his people
were dead, the family of Wisdoms Pollitor and Alyn now have control over the guild and House
Lannister now secretly holds the strings of the Guildhall.

They also had been right in their calculations of the wildfire being easy to contain within the
dragonpit. But they had not anticipated one thing: the huge chunks of stones that were hurled in the
air after the initial blast.

Although none except for the pyromancers have died through wildfire, quite a few did lose their
lives because of the rocks that rained down from the sky.

And what terrible, grisly deaths they were.

Nine died with different parts of their bodies crushed by the stones. Some had parts of their skulls
cracked open like eggs and others with gaping holes in their chests. Eleven were suffering with
different limbs torn off—mostly arms and legs. Many more have suffered minor injuries. She
didn’t see any of them but she heard the horrible reports well enough.

It seems there’s always a blowback to every plan or scheme. How many more lives needed to be
sacrificed for the sake of peace? Wasn’t this time travel horseshit or being reborn crap supposed to
make things easier? Why is there always a negative result? Could it be a Stark curse or a Lannister
curse? Perhaps a combination of the two? Those people. Even if she didn’t kill them herself—she
was aware the explosion was going to happen and now she’ll have to carry some of their blood in
her hands.

***

“I heard a rumor saying Aerys has refused to get out of Maegor’s Holdfast, believing someone is
out to eliminate him” her uncle Gerion reported with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Tygett huffed and spoke sarcastically, “Well…he’s not exactly wrong in that assumption. A dragon
forced to stay in a cage because of a lion. Hah! You must be very proud of yourself right now
brother”

Tywin's face remained impassive throughout the exchange, “If he had been less of a jealous fool
and not a lunatic, I’d have been content to play the loyal servant. But he insisted we play this
game. Fool him, I have no intentions of losing”

Gerion grinned, “Indeed. I suppose this requires a toast?”

“King Aerys may have been pushed into a cage but let’s not go celebrating yet Uncle. I read
somewhere that the end of a hunt with a predator forced to a corner is the most dangerous. A beast
with nothing left to lose will do everything, even kill itself in the process, for a chance to survive”
Sansa cautioned.

The wildfire caches may be gone but so long as Aerys wears the crown and holds the title of King,
he has power still. And power is dangerous, it will always attract the worst—all those who are
hungry and willing to do anything for it. And the power of the Iron Throne, she knows very well, is
the most attractive of all.

“That is true” Tywin agreed then looked at Gerion then Tygett, “A good hunter knows the hunt
isn’t over until the prey lies dead on the ground. You two would do well to remember this”

***

Rickard

“Troubling news from the South” Rickard spoke gravely, “Maege reported there was a wildfire
explosion in the dragonpit that killed several pyromancers and others unfortunate enough to have
been rained down upon by rocks that got blasted”

“My man has written to me as well. King Aerys really has descended to the deepest pits of
madness. To allow wildfire in the capital” Wyman shook his head, a concerned look on his face,
“Is young Lord Benjen still to foster with House Baratheon?”

“No. I have decided against the idea of sending him south. He’ll foster with the Umbers instead.”

Wyman smirked, “And I suppose he’ll be arranged with a Karstark?”

Rickard’s lips quirked up and he nodded once in answer.

Wyman’s smirk widened and turned into a snigger, “The flayed man and the northern Dothraki
horde sought to surround Winterfell but now they find themselves surrounded instead. Crafty my
lord. Well done. Well done”

“It is indeed a good move my lord. Best to consolidate Stark rule first. Southern matches can later
be made with Lord Ned’s daughters if necessary. With a father as future Warden of the North and a
lady mother who’s a daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Trident, many high lords will be
scrambling for their hands in marriage. It’s a better plan than marrying your current heirs south”
old Lord Willem Dustin spoke up in agreement, an approving look on his face.

“Aye. That’s exactly what I thought of and decided to do. But we must speak about the concerns
south” Rickard said with a voice that made the two men sit up straight on their chairs.

Lord Willem frowned, “You think there might be war?”

“With the Targaryens, anything is possible. Consider this time as the calm before the storm. House
Manderly and House Dustin are the ones closest to the Neck and with the largest forces that can be
mustered in the shortest amount of time. Don’t do anything overt but I advise you now Wyman,
Lord Willem, we must at least make some preparation”

Wyman’s eyes glinted and he leaned closer, “Might I suggest something my lord?”

“Aye. What is it?”

“A fleet. Now is the time to slowly build the North’s naval forces, wouldn’t you agree? They
would be very helpful not just in engaging in sea warfare but also in transporting the northern
armies at a faster rate. In times of peace, they can also be used in transporting goods and
merchandise, especially now that trade with the West is increasing”

Rickard considered the proposal and sighed heavily, “It’s a good proposal. But a fleet…a fleet
would be very costly for the North”

Wyman flashed him a cunning smile, “No more costly than you think Lord Stark. We have most of
the necessary materials already and White Harbor has enough manpower, this I know. I only ask
for help in terms of wages and some of the other materials”

“How many ships are we talking about my lord? And exactly how much gold?” Rickard probed,
wanting to know more first before agreeing to anything.

“Ten new dromons and two barges would be a good start. With your permission, we can get half
the timber needed from the wolfswood and the other half, House Manderly shall cover. With that
said, we only really need gold for the wages and other materials such as bronze for the rams. A
good estimate is thirty thousand gold dragons”

Rickard balked at the amount. Thirty thousand gold dragons! And for wages and miscellaneous
materials alone!

Perhaps sensing his reluctance, the old Lord Willem of the Barrowlands spoke up, “I propose an
alliance in this naval endeavor—a three-way partnership between Winterfell, White Harbor and
Barrowton, if you will. I offer to split the cost into three”

Rickard drummed his fingers on the surface of his solar desk then made a decision, “My lords, this
is a great idea and your offers are greatly appreciated indeed. But this is concerning a fleet for the
entire North and as such, must be brought before the northern lords first—the next harvest feast
would be the best time. I do not want the construction of this fleet to be the cause of unnecessary
suspicions and spark conflicts. That is the last thing we want and need at this time. And as you said
Lord Wyman, ten war galleys are but a start. Mayhap we can find more support from others so
more can be built before we fully engage in this project. If none will give us gold or any kind of
support, then we’ll proceed with your proposal Wyman.”

***

Oberyn

“Breakwind? Really Mother, you can’t find anyone else better for Elia so you’re consigning her to
a marriage with Breakwind?” Oberyn asked, still feeling incredulous at the news he’s just heard.

“Oberyn! When will you stop that ridiculous name-calling? You’re a Prince of Dorne and yet you
act like a spoiled little beast. For Seven’s sakes, act with more dignity!” his Mother snapped at
him.

“But… surely there are other, far better matches?”

“Give me a name of a better match then! It better be someone wealthier than a Hightower and owns
a city greater than Oldtown” Her black eyes were like hard beads and they bored through him,
making his tongue feel clumsy.

“Can’t think of anyone hm? This is the problem with you Oberyn, you don’t use your head.
Instead, you always open your mouth and speak with your sharp tongue and act rashly like a
heathen, causing offense to everyone around you. Baelor Hightower will someday be Lord of the
Hightower and will preside over Oldtown, the second largest city where the Citadel is also located.
The Hightowers have the Bank of Oldtown too, the only bank in Westeros. And by all accounts,
Baelor is a good and decent man. What exactly is it you’re objecting? Because he farted at the
dinner table? Is that really what you consider a great offense? Greater than you fucking anyone you
want?”

“I just want what is best for Elia mother” he answered, realizing too late he used a belligerent tone.

“And you think I don’t? Between the two of us—I who use my brain and you who rarely does—
can you really, honestly say to my face you’re only thinking of and looking after Elia’s best
interests?”

Chastised by the truth in his Mother’s words, Oberyn kept quiet.

“I’m sure you’ve also heard about what’s happened in the capital? How King Aerys has gotten
even more mad and now involving the use of wildfire? The Hightowers will be powerful allies in
case of future trouble Obie. And this way we can also ensure your sister’s safety. It will actually
make it easier for us to visit her or for her to come home to Dorne anytime she wants, what with
the short distance between Oldtown and Sunspear. You understand why this match is important
don’t you?”

“Yes Mother”

“Good. Now stop this ridiculous fussing over nothing. Elia will be fine. She’s approved of the
match and knows she’ll be in good hands. You on the other hand—you should pay more attention
to your betrothed. I received reports lately you haven’t been paying attention to Cersei, almost
ignoring her. What is the problem hm?”

Oberyn took a deep breath then started his long list of complaints, “That girl is the problem. Gods!
She’s an insufferable, obnoxious chit. She looks down upon us all as though we're nothing but
barbarians, no respect at all for our titles and our rich history. She thinks being a Lannister makes
her better than everyone else. Why didn’t you betroth me instead to the younger sister? Lady Sansa
had wits and was very charming and polite. Even the brother would’ve been better. This girl we
have in our home—eating our food, breathing our air—is nothing but a spiteful, little bitch”

“Oberyn!” She exclaimed again, though he saw a smile threatening to appear on her lips

“But it’s true mother!”

“First off Obie, Jaime Lannister is off limits. Do you want Tywin Lannister to bury you alive in one
of his mining pits somewhere in that behemoth of a Rock? Or perhaps feed you to his rumored pet
lions? Don’t be an idiot. Second, the Lady Sansa is now betrothed to Prince Rhaegar, that ship has
sailed. Lastly, Cersei Lannister is a stranger here in our lands. Of course she’ll need some period of
adjustment and she’ll never adjust if you don’t exercise patience and tolerance with her. Give it
time. Show her that her beliefs of our land are nothing but misconceptions. Grant her more
understanding. Don’t be a jerk. Try to court her. Walk her in the gardens or invite her to visit the
orchards. Show her the beautiful parts of Dorne. Don’t leave her alone to just stand by her window
and stare at the miles and miles of sand for hours on end while drinking wine. That girl is far too
young to be a drunk”

Oberyn sighed heavily and unhappily, “Fine. Fine. I’ll try again. But if she continues to be the way
she is, you can marry us for alliance but don’t expect me to stay here and spend all of my time
catering to her whims. I’m far too young and handsome to be tied to someone miserable. And the
world is far too beautiful a place. I want to explore it. I’ll go even if I have to leave her behind.
Then she can continue watching the sands and drink some more wine in peace”
 Sansa/Rickard/Rhaegar

Sansa

“I demanded the idiot to go back to Storm’s End and start learning how to manage the Stormlands
under Cassana and what does he do? Fuck two Florents, that’s what! And not just any Florent but
the youngest daughter and the cousin of that ambitious prick Alester Florent! It’s most likely true
that Stark broke the betrothal after he sniffed Robert’s stinky mess in the Eyrie. Ned Stark
probably got words of warning from some friends in the Vale. And now, he couldn’t marry a she
wolf so he went and fucked foxes instead. All future Baratheons will probably inherit those ugly,
big ass ears” Lord Steffon seethed while vigorously cutting his meat as though attacking an enemy.
He was probably imagining cutting his idiot son’s cock.

Not six moons ago, the Lord Hand was severely disappointed and even angry at Lord Rickard for
breaking the betrothal between Robert and Lyanna but only two moons after that, news that his
heir had fathered several bastards in the Vale broke out.

For weeks, Robert and his wild indiscretions had been the talk amongst several circles and people
who new about the broken Stark betrothal made speculations that Robert's conquests were
probably the reason for Lord Stark’s sudden turnabout.

Sansa was sure it wasn’t the case. Tywin’s spy in the North had reported Lord Stark inviting the
Mormonts to Winterfell before the betrothal was even broken. She speculated the reason probably
had something to do with Lyanna’s refusal to submit to an arranged marriage with Robert.

And now here comes this news of Robert Baratheon being stupid once more and taking the
maidenheads of not just one but two highborn women. Any other peasant girl and he could’ve
gotten away scot-free. But not from the Florents.

House Florent is a very proud noble house tracing their lineage from Garth Greenhand by his
daughter Florys the Fox. Even now 278 years after the conquest, they still boast and gripe to
anyone who would listen how they have a superior claim than the Tyrells to Highgarden and
consequently, rule over the Reach, by their close blood ties to House Gardener. And Robert has
gone and messed with two of them.

In the other life, it was known Robert had disrespected Stannis' wedding bed by deflowering Lady
Delena, Lord Alester’s niece. Here, now, Robert bedded Lord Florent’s distant cousin and was also
found in bed with his youngest daughter while attending the wedding of Lord Randyll Tarly and
Lady Melessa Florent, the elder daughter.

It’s funny how some things echoed previous events but Sansa knew laughing would’ve offended
the raging Storm Lord so she bit her lips to restrain herself. Rhaegar, who sat opposite her, saw
though and she saw his lips curled up before becoming impassive once more. She looked away
barely hiding a grimace. That didn’t just happen.

“The Florents will surely threaten harsh reprisal if your son is not made to take responsibility for
his actions. And now that his eldest daughter is married to Randyll Tarly… “ Gerion spoke then
trailed off.

The implication was clear to everyone. The Florents and the Tarlys were among the prominent
houses of the Reach. Together they’re strong enough to put a little pressure on the Baratheons.
“Aye. There’s no escaping it. That fox Alester shall hound me to my grave if nothing is done about
it. Robert will wed Rhea Florent” the Lord Baratheon grouched.

“And when will cousin Robert wed, Lord Hand?” Rhaegar asked.

“In three moons. If the girl is already with child, her stomach should be fairly small still by then.
There will be a small tourney in Storm’s End. All of you are invited by the way, if you could find
it an honor still to attend this scandal-ridden, travesty of a wedding.”

Sansa expressed her interest to accept the invitation, “I haven’t been to the Stormlands yet and I
would like to see Storm’s End. I read that Bran the Builder who built the Wall also helped in the
construction of that legendary castle of yours, my lord. I should like to visit it, if at least once in my
lifetime”

Lord Steffon’s ire melted away and he gave her a friendly smile, “We’d be very pleased to host
you my lady. I’ll tell my lady wife to ensure you get the best tour of the castle”

***

They were lying in her large canopied bed, Lysarra and Maege on opposite sides of her. Larra and
Raya slept in two separate smaller but comfortable beds that also served as chaise lounges during
daytime.

“Arra, Maege, have you two laid with men already?”

There was silence for a while then Lysarra broke into giggles while Maege laughed aloud.

“Now, what’s entered your pretty little head that you’re asking us such an intimate question?”
Maege asked in a teasing tone.

“The talk earlier—it made me realize I actually have a very short time left. I’m one and ten now
and soon, two and ten. The agreement the King set is for Prince Rhaegar and I to marry when I
start bleeding. I might only have two years left. Mayhap one, if the gods chose to be cruel like they
normally do.”

She knows it’s going to happen and likely within two years. Already there were small changes
occurring in her body. Her height has shot up and it seems with the Lannister blood, she’ll even be
taller than she was before. Her head now reaches her father’s chest. She’s also feeling a small
bump forming in her teats. Soon, the rest will follow.

“Are you asking for lessons how to seduce the Prince, my lady?” Lysarra asked with some
amusement.

Sansa scrunched her nose at the thought of seducing Rhaegar in bed but knew it was necessary,
“Yes but not only to seduce him, I also want to know how to make the experience better for me. I
honestly don’t think the Prince is the kind of man who’ll care about my pleasure, so I must look
after it on my own. I’ll be working hard and suffering enough as it is bearing him children. I might
even lose my life delivering his heirs into the world! I think I deserve to get myself some pleasure
out of it”

“That is true, clever girl. Just because he’s a handsome, gallant prince, it doesn’t guarantee he’ll be
a generous lover” Lysarra agreed with a giggle.

Maege laughed once more, “Oh I totally agree with you. Most men are shit for lovers. Most of
them just focus in their own enjoyment then sit back and let the women suffer while carrying their
babes. Some are even shameless enough to bed whores while their wives are heavy with child. If
something goes wrong they blame us women. If we cannot give them children, they can discard us.
I say hell yes to getting pleasure out of it for yourself!”

“So will you teach me? I heard septas say it's the women’s duty to serve and obey their husband—
to let them do what they want in the marriage bed. But that sounds terribly unfair. It only benefits
the men, not the women”

Lysarra huffed, her disdain clear in her voice when she spoke next, “Why anyone would take a
shriveled up, old septa’s bedding advice as sufficient lesson, I will never understand. Most of those
old bats probably joined the faith because they were either too afraid of having their skin touched
by men or were too ugly and couldn’t attract men to bed them”

“Hear, hear. Noble girls should not be taught by those old prunes. Their teachings are based on a
warped view of the world where women are nothing but dutiful broodmare for their husbands.
They only serve to worsen women's suffering. In Bear Island, we have no septas. Women can
pursue their own desires even when it comes to bedding men. Some even freely use the excuse of
bedding with bears when they get pregnant with bastard children and none would bat their eyes”
Maege added with a grin.

“I’ll teach you. I’ll even include some of the lessons I learned in Lyseni pillow houses when I still
helped my mother make concoctions and remedies for the pleasure workers,” Lysarra said with a
wicked smile.

Maege sat up and looked at Lysarra with interested and appreciative eyes, “Lyseni tricks eh? Ohhh
this should be good. I’ll be happy to contribute the strong, independent women of Bear Island’s
techniques if you’ll teach me too”

The two women then went on to laugh like a pair wicked witches and Sansa shivered, feeling as
though she’s just gone and unleashed something terrifying.

***

Rickard

Rickard watched with great satisfaction as the first two war galleys built were moved down the
slipway.

Lords Wyman Manderly, Willem Dustin, Rickard Karstark and Greatjon Umber as well as Masters
Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover stood in line on the docks with him, observing the same
scene.

Looking back, he is thankful he had not been rash in making a decision when Wyman made the
proposal.
Presenting the idea of rebuilding the northern fleet to his lords had been one of the best ideas so
far. Not only did the lords express satisfaction at his dedication to northern security and economy,
most of them had also thrown their support making it possible to raise enough gold to build fifteen
war galleys and five barges.

“They are beautiful things, and they look strong too” Galbart gave his praise.

“That they are” Wyman proudly agreed, “The accurate term for these war galleys, my lords, is
dromon. They’re similar to the ships in the Volantene fleet. They’re swift runners in the sea.
Thirty-two meters with twenty-five oars each side, three to five men each oar. The more men
sitting on the bench, the faster it’ll be, of course. And the design of the sail is something new from
the pirate ships between the Ar Noy and the Sorrows. It’s a combination of a square rig and one
called lateen. The square rig is good for catching a following wind well but hard to set when it is
heading into it. That is when the lateen steps in. It can be better controlled and makes navigation
easier as it allows the ship to tack and beat into the wind far better than square rigs do. ”

“What else can they do?” Lord Karstark asked.

Wyman quickly extolled the virtues of the ship. “The ram is a thick bronze casting with horizontal
blades and weigh a ton. It’s a good tool to ram and destroy the enemy’s ship. The wooden castles
on either sides of the mast will serve as elevated platforms from where archers can shoot.”

“Won’t that ram jeopardize the entire ship if it got stuck?” Greatjon Umber asked with a frown.

Wyman only grinned, “It won’t. We considered that problem and solved it already. The ram is not
attached directly to the hull, only to a structure extending from it. It can be twisted off if it got
stuck without damaging any part of the ship. It can even be replaced.”

“How would it fare against an Ironborn ship?” Master Tallhart asked. It was a legitimate question
considering Torrhen’s Square lies in the western coast and some areas near it have been raided by
Ironborn in centuries.

“I’d say the Ironborn are still slightly superior in speed. Our ships, after all, are bigger and intended
for not just sea warfare but transportation of men and goods. But outfitted properly and captained
by someone with clever wits, in a fight, there’s a chance it will win. And will have higher chances
still when faced against other Westerosi ships of similar size.”

“That is good to know” Lord Willem said looking pleased, “And the rest, how long will it take for
them to all be built?”

“In a year, all fifteen galleys and five barges would be ready for sailing” Wyman declared proudly.

All the lords nodded and looked on approvingly.

When the ships were finally in the water, Wyman stepped forward and turned to them, “My lords,
tis a fine day to sail. How would you like to test the galleys yourselves?”

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar looked and silently scrutinized the people around him and felt irritated to find out that it
was only he who seemed to be feeling miserable. Even the ladies looked to be content despite the
exhaustion clear on their faces.

They’ve been traveling for eight and ten days now and the conditions had been truly exasperating.
They’d had to stop for two days in the Kingswood due to a sudden downpour. Then they had to
travel for more than a sennight along a muddy kingsroad. Thank the gods his betrothed did not
insist on bringing a wheelhouse. That would’ve no doubt caused them hellish delays. Just another
day and their damned journey will finally end.

Looking around some more, he shook his head when he saw the three ladies from Bear Island and
Lady Sansa looking enthusiastic while watching the vague outline of the Baratheon castle in the
distance.
“Storm’s End. One of the strongest castles in the realm. It’s never fallen to a siege or a storm. It’s
true what they said. It does look like a fist raised in defiance against the gods”

Ser Gerion laughed, “That’s the polite way of saying it niece. Knowing the Durrandons and now,
the Baratheons, I’d say it’s more like a middle finger pointing up saying fuck you to everyone else”

The men around the early afternoon campfire laughed at the Lannister knight's words.

Lady Sansa only looked at her uncle with a reprimanding stare and sighed then returned her
attention to the castle “I read somewhere that it was warded by magic of the children of the forest
during its construction. That a young Bran the Builder advised Durran Godsgrief in raising it.”

“Well, if it’s indeed built with the help of Bran the Builder, it’s no wonder it’s still standing. The
northern Wall still stands after all” Lady Maege grinned, proud of her family’s association with the
Stark King no doubt.

“I wonder how big their library is and what books they have there. With the castle reputedly built
during the Dawn Age, surely they’d have an impressive collection.”

“Surely you didn’t come all this way to read some more my lady” Lady Maege teased.

There was laughter around him once more but Rhaegar’s attention was no longer with them. He
had stilled upon hearing the young lady's words.

Why didn’t I think of that before?

His exchanges with his Great-uncle Aemon had been frustrating as they had yielded nothing as of
late. The two of them could not find other supporting texts that could help them better understand
the prophecy.

The Lady Sansa was right. Castles built during or shortly after the Age of Heroes may be able to
help, especially ones with libraries.

Surely the Baratheons inherited from the Durrandons a vast collection of tomes and other written
accounts from centuries and millennia past. Perhaps I’d even find some books there about
prophecies, something that could help me better understand the prophecy of The Prince That Was
Promised and about dragons. I’ll have to visit and explore that library myself.

If not, there are others he could visit and explore. The Hightower. Casterly Rock. Winterfell.
 Sansa/Rhaegar/Cersei
Chapter Notes

Year 278 AC
Tyrion 5-6
Sansa 11-12
Lysa 12-13
Jaime 13-14
Cersei 13-14
Lyanna 13-14
Cat 15-16
Ashara 15-16
Ned 16-17
Stannis 16-17
Bobby B 17-18
Rhaegar 20-21

Sansa

Storm’s End was indeed an impressive castle but it’s clear it followed necessity over style
approach. Other than its defensive capabilities, there’s nothing much else to say.

Compared to Casterly Rock, Winterfell, Highgarden, Riverrun, the Eyrie and the Red Keep, it was
boring to say the least. The granary, the barracks, the armory, the great hall for feasting, the
sleeping chambers, the maester’s rooms and the rookery—all of them were inside the colossal
drum tower.

They arrived more than a sennight early so there weren’t that many guests present yet. Most who
have already arrived were Stormlanders and men from Brightwater Keep who did nothing but train
in the yard or pander to the Crown Prince and Hand of the King by day and drink or sample the
taverns and sighing houses in the nearby town at night. There was nothing much to do yet.

The only interesting things she found were the small, quiet, godswood where there stood a heart
tree with a solemn face (she didn’t know Storm’s End had a heart tree), the library with its huge,
old and dusty tomes and the walls. The walls that, when she pressed her hands to, felt similar to the
walls of Winterfell—faintly warm and humming and alive like there’s blood flowing through it. It
was…surprisingly strange to say the least.

She wondered if it had something to do with the protection spells rumored to have been placed by
the children of the forest. Then she wondered if the warging powers, a renowned gift from the old
gods, made it possible for her to feel the wards placed.

When she asked for access to the library, Lord Steffon gladly gave her permission with a laugh,
“Hells, few have given those books proper attention—only the old maesters and now Stannis,
who’s as boring as a maester himself. You can certainly have a look at them my lady, you may
even take those that you find interesting, just let me know. Baratheons are no bookworms. Better
they find their place with someone who’ll pay them mind instead of wasting away in that dusty old
room”
So off she went to explore, to see if there were books about the Long Night and White Walkers that
could provide more clues how to fight them aside from using fire, dragon glass and Valyrian Steel.

The library was alright. It was not as big as the one in Casterly Rock nor what she could recall of
Winterfell’s, but it was not too small either. The walls were lined with shelves and there were also
freestanding bookshelves filled to the brim with aging tomes. There were even written accounts on
wood blocks! Though they didn’t have much worth anymore as the ink used have already either
discolored or faded with time.

The scrolls too were clearly several centuries old already. When she tried to unroll a few of the
really ancient-looking ones, the surface of the parchments were severely desiccated and flaked and
some parts have even fallen off. She became more careful after that, fearing she’d make more
damage.

***

“Hmm… True History. What is this? Watchers on the Wall? Hardhome? Very… unique topics to
be reading about. Are you planning a vacation or mayhap a secret incursion to the lands of always
winter niece? ” Gerion asked with a teasing look in his face.

“Of course not uncle. I’d rather not be carried off by some wildling to lands cold and unknown or
be captured and strung up and made their meal. I just find them really interesting. So many tales
about events in the castles at the Wall and intriguing stories from the people beyond it.”

Maege laughed, “I really don’t understand you sometimes my lady. You’re probably the only
southern lady I'll ever meet who’s interested in reading about the boring watchers on the wall and
the savage wildlings from beyond”

Sansa shrugged, “It’s the history that I find fascinating”

Ser Arthur picked up Hardhome: An Account of Three Years Beyond-the-Wall Among Savages,
Raiders and Wood-Witches. It was a book written by a Maester named Wyllis. He carefully flipped
open its aging pages and read for a while before looking up. “I didn’t know there’s a wildling town
beyond the wall” he said in surprise.

“That was six hundred years ago. But something terrible happened. It’s nothing but ruins now”
Sansa replied.

“Oh? Was it because of a war with the North and House Stark?”

Sansa shook her head, “No it wasn’t due to a war with the North. It’s not really properly explained
how. It was abrupt, from what I know. Something terrible happened one night. From accounts by
the watchers on the wall, it looked like a great fire occurred, so great they thought the sun was
rising from the North. According to traders who ventured up there, all that remained was a
landscape of charred trees and burned bones, waters choked with swollen corpses, and shrieks
echoing from the cave mouths.”

“That’s…really disturbing.”

“Doesn’t it sound similar to the Doom?” Maege asked.

“It does. Some say it was due to some magic gone wrong. Some say the children of the forest did
something to stop the wildlings from starting a settlement and spreading their territory beyond the
wall. Some say the Valyrians were looking for the escaped slaves who founded Braavos and
destroyed Hardhome thinking it was Braavos”
Gerion leaned forward, face one of intrigue, “I read this story long ago too. I personally believe the
Valyrian story more. They say the wildlings living there were carried off to slavery across the
Narrow Sea”

“That’s not really certain though” Maege argued, “I heard a different story. I heard they were
slaughtered for meat by cannibals from Skagos. None can really tell what truly happened but what
everyone can agree on beyond the wall is that it’s now a haunted place. Whatever happened to
those fuckers, it’s a benefit for us northerners. Just imagine what could’ve happened if they had
been successful in creating that town. There’d be unending wars up north”

“That’s true my lady. Unfortunate for them but a fortunate event for us” Gerion agreed.

Sansa kept quiet, knowing it wasn’t the right time to speak up for the free folk yet.

“There are so many grim tales and haunted places up North it seems” Arthur said, “Lewyn wrote in
his letters about stories he heard from older Black Brothers, especially about one Night castle.
They’re pretty dark and disturbing”

“Nightfort” Sansa and Maege said at the same time.

“Yes, that’s the castle” Ser Arthur nodded, “Lewyn said people up there believe it’s cursed too”

It was that moment when Rhaegar arrived from his lengthy perusal of the shelves with some old
books he placed on the table before taking a seat, “What’s this about castles and curses?”

“Oh were talking about the Nightfort your highness, one castle at the Wall notorious for its grisly
tales” Gerion answered.

“I’ve may have heard and read a few things about that castle but nothing about curses. Why is it
cursed?”

“It’s believed it is cursed because of the many crimes committed in that castle” Sansa answered.

An intrigued look appeared on Rhaegar’s face, “And those are?”

“There was a young girl named Danny Flint who was raped and murdered there. A man known as
Mad Axe butchered his Black Brothers in the dark. There’s the story of the Rat Cook who broke
Guest Rights and served an Andal King believed to be a Lannister or an Arryn his murdered son
baked in a bacon pie. Seventy-nine deserters were buried alive in holes cut into the Wall as
punishment and for them to keep their vows for eternity. There are many more grim tales but the
most horrendous was that of the 13th Lord Commander of the Watch who laid with an Other
woman and became the Night's King. He made the Nightfort his castle and committed all sorts of
evil practices such as sacrificing people to the Others.”

Maege smiled at Sansa, an impressed look in her eyes, “You know many northern stories well.”

Prince Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne both smiled, but theirs was more of amusement.

“Were there tales of grumpkins and snarks and giant spiders too? Stories about Others and their
thralls?” Arthur asked with his lips quirked up.

The reaction was irritating but Sansa expected it. After all, did she not also think them to be
nothing but figures in made up tales once? She did her best to keep a neutral face. “You don’t
believe them Ser Arthur?”
“Do you my lady? Because I find it hard to. Thousands of years and none can really prove their
existence”

“The Northern Wall and the Watch exists. You wield Dawn, a legendary sword said to have been
forged from a fallen star, the same star on your house’s sigil. Not too long ago, dragons lived and
were used to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. The Valyrian Freehold and their mages and magics
existed. The story of the Bloodstone Emperor of the Great Empire of the Dawn, from the Further
East, and how his vile actions may have caused the Long Night is known. Why can’t stories of the
Others and the Long Night be true?”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak then closed it again while Rhaegar looked at her with his brows
raised, “I thought you said you didn’t believe in magic my lady?”

Sansa tilted her head in confusion, “Did I? When? I can’t remember saying that your highness”

“You said you didn’t believe in prophecies. Prophecies are linked with magic, with the mysteries”

“I do believe in magic your highness, it is prophecies I have no interest in.”

A baffled look appeared on his face, “Isn’t that contradictory? The gifts to see or dream future
events are tied with magic”

“I have no interest in prophecies because as I said before, they are dangerous like a double-edged
sword or a...a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in
it, it kicks you in the head. Your highness should know better than anyone. How many Targaryens
aside from Daenys the Dreamer had prophetic dreams they interpreted incorrectly and was fulfilled
a different way? How many died tragically trying to force their visions to become a reality? I say
let the dreamers dream and the prophets tell their prophecies but don’t contort your life and the
reality trying to make them come true otherwise you might just be blindly marching yourself down
the road of ruin and death. Worse, you might be dragging innocent people with you”

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar stared at the waves that rolled and crashed on the cliff but his troubled mind was faraway.

How many Targaryens aside from Daenys the Dreamer had prophetic dreams they interpreted
incorrectly and was fulfilled a different way? How many died tragically trying to force their visions
to become a reality?

Lady Sansa’s question haunted him last night and made sleep difficult for him.

How many? Countless.

Aerys I. Daemon II Blackfyre. Daeron the Drunk. Some might even include Aerion Brightflame
whose belief in his dragon dreams pushed him to madness and made him drink wildfire. Aegon V
and the Tragedy at Summerhall and the many lives it took.

But Daenys the Dreamer’s prophecy of the Fall of Valyria came true and House Targaryen was
saved because of it. And even if some of the dreams of the latter Targaryens were interpreted
wrong, they did come true, one way or another. There was more than a kernel of truth in them.

And the woods witch was very specific—that the prince that was promised would be born from the
line of his mother and father. And the prophecy of those of the faith of R’hllor too was specific:
Azor Ahai shall be reborn amidst smoke and salt.

Surely it can only be me. I was born with the smoke from the fire that made a ruin of Summerhall
and the salt from the tears of those who grieved and wept after. It cannot be Viserys, whose day of
birth was inconsequential. No, Viserys as the promised prince is just too ridiculous. I am the elder.
I am the prince who was promised. There’s no one else who could be.

But Aemon's recent ravens disturbed him. The maester said there had to be a bleeding star. There’s
no mention of a bleeding star during his birth.

Does that mean I am making a mistake as Aegon V and the others before me? Am I interpreting the
prophecy wrong too?

Rhaegar shook his head. No. No. I must not let another person’s opinions sway me. She is
intelligent, the Lady Sansa, but I am of the blood of the dragon. A dragon must not pay attention to
the opinion of sheep.

“My prince? Something the matter“ Arthur asked from behind him.

“No Arthur. Just some thoughts. Shall we go to the training yards? There’s some serious
competition in this tourney.”

***

Despite the prior scandal, the number of noble guests for Robert’s wedding and knights
participating in the tourney was almost the same as the tourney at Highgarden.

Most of the guests were from the Stormlands, some from the Reach and the Crownlands and a
smattering from the rest of the other kingdoms.

Of course Jon Arryn, his heir Ser Elbert and Ser Denys and several knights of the Vale who were
friends of Robert’s attended.

From the North, Ned Stark arrived with Lord Manderly, Willam Dustin, the brothers Martyn and
Rodrik Cassel and a few knights from White Harbor.

From the Westerlands, the representatives were her uncles Gerion and Tygett as well as a few
knights from other noble houses such as Crakehall and Marbrand. Jaime, had not been given
permission to attend by their father.

From Dorne were Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia, Ashara Dayne and some knights mostly from the
Dornish Marches. And…Cersei. Who was looking at her as though trying to eviscerate her through
her gaze.

Sansa ignored her and curtsied to the two Dornish royals, “Princess Elia, Prince Oberyn, it is a
pleasure to meet you here. Princess, I heard the news. Best wishes on your betrothal”

Elia Martell smiled, all gentle grace in her movements and kindness in her face, “Thank you Lady
Sansa. It is good to see you again too. May I introduce my good friend, Ashara Dayne of Starfall”

Ashara Dayne. The woman rumored to have been Ned Stark’s lady love before he married Catelyn
Tully for duty. She couldn’t blame him if he did. At only just five and ten, Ashara was already a
beauty. Tall and fair with perfectly shaped pink lips and haunting violet eyes.

Sansa gave the Dornish beauty a friendly smile, “My lady, it is an honor to meet you”
Ashara Dayne smiled and her pretty eyes smiled with her, “It’s an honor to meet you too my lady.
My brother, Arthur, spoke highly of you in his letters”

Welllll…that’s good to know, Sansa thought privately. “I hope Ser Arthur spoke not too highly my
lady, for I fear to fall short of your expectations” she jested.

“I know for a fact my brother isn’t blind and have faith he possessed enough wits to know what
he’s talking about” the Dornish beauty giggled and Princess Elia also laughed lowly.

Sansa then turned to the last person who gave her an ugly glare and she gave a sweeter smile,
“Sweet sister, I missed you. Dorne has made you even more beautiful ”

Cersei gave her a saccharine smile in return, “Little dove” Then she stepped forward with opened
arms and pulled Sansa in a tight, almost bruising hug and hissed, “Don’t look so smug little
mongrel bitch. You may have won some battles but I shall win the war” then stepped back and
smiled once more.

Elia frowned with a puzzled look on her face while Oberyn’s eyes sharpened at Cersei then he
looked at Sansa with assessing eyes before giving her a knowing grin.

***

“I have heard of the charities you’ve started Lady Sansa and how you started the project of offering
apprenticeship trainings for orphans at Lannisport. I hear it’s a success there. I would like to ask for
your advice as I plan to do the same at Oldtown. Would it be alright if I correspond with you
through ravens sometimes?” Princess Elia asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course!” Sansa eagerly accepted, “Of course. Why not? I’d be honored to help princess.
Perhaps we can even make connections among the orphanages so if the trade the children would
like to engage in is at Oldtown or Lannisport, then we can coordinate and help with the relocation”

Elia’s smile widened, “Yes, yes, that’s a good idea indeed. We can even include Sunspear”

Sansa engaged in a lively talk with the princess and Ashara Dayne about the kinds of trainings
offered at Lannisport when Oberyn suddenly spoke in a challenging voice, “You don’t approve of
their efforts?”

Both Sansa and Princess Elia looked up to see Oberyn looking at Cersei with an irritated look on
his face.

Cersei merely scrunched up her nose as though smelling something foul, “It’s a waste of time and
gold. In fact, if commoners see that they are being so generous, some will take it as tacit approval
to birth more filthy bastards into the world and dump them in those orphanages. They’d be better
off ignoring those scums.”

Princess Elia’s lips pursed, Lady Ashara looked on uncomfortably and Ser Arthur just looked
surprised.

“Now that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say” Oberyn said, his irritation worse than
before.

“And what would a hungry lion do if there are no more sheep or if they somehow grew horns?”
Sansa asked Cersei with a cold smile, tired of hearing her thinly veiled insults throughout the
private meal with the two Martells and the Dayne siblings,
Cersei raised her chin haughtily, “There will always be sheep. That’s how the world works. There
are those at the top and the ones at the bottom. Lift those at the bottom up and they will aspire for
more and try to take our place. They’ll become a threat to us. Like the Reynes and the Tarbecks,
they'll raise their armies to try and usurp our place. I had thought you were smart enough to know
that before you went wasting father’s gold”

“Has the Dornish sun perhaps dried up some parts of your brain sister? I am not lifting them to
lordships of vast lands, am I? And why are you even talking about them gaining armies? The
apprenticeships will merely give them a chance to become crofters, fishers, miners, carpenters,
boat-builders. Common occupations among the common folk. And in any case, they are no sheep
Cersei. They are people who deserve a chance at a better future so that in turn, they can give their
own children better lives. And this will not only be for their benefit. It is for ours too. Poverty is a
disease that breed violence and desperation to those who are starving. Ignore this problem and the
rate of crime will increase. More crimes mean more disturbances that may escalate into something
more, perhaps even rebellions. And you know who they’ll rebel at. You know whose lives they’ll
threaten and whose lands or castles they’ll try to destroy”

“What? You're so much of a craven you fear the smallfolk?” Cersei sneered.

“Ever heard the story of Blood and Cheese? The storming of the dragon pit during the Dance that
saw five dragons dead? The past Faith Militant with its thousands of Poor Fellows and their
uprisings? Or have you not learned anything from the Defiance of Duskendale?”

Cersei’s beautiful face twisted into an ugly scowl, “I will not sit here and listen as you insult me. I
am not—”

“You are so right" Sansa cut her off, "You do not have to stay. You may leave anytime you wish.
No one will hold you back”

“I quite agree” Oberyn drawled.

Cersei glared then stood up and pushed her chair backwards hard, making it topple to the ground.
With her head held high, she walked away, her guards following behind her.

Princess Elia and Lady Ashara both visibly relaxed after.

“Seven hells. Good riddance” Oberyn muttered then turned to Sansa “Apologies my lady, but I
must say your sister makes for the most miserable company I have ever come to know of”

“No need for apologies my prince.” Sansa turned to address everyone at their table, “It’s I who
should apologize for our terrible table manners. I hope you all won’t take this unsightly scene as a
representation of House Lannister”

“Oh no offense was taken nor do we judge your entire house for one person’s actions. Frankly, it’s
a relief she’s gone” Lady Ashara assured her with a smile

“Your sister…” Oberyn spoke up, “There is bad blood between you two. I felt it earlier. Let me
guess, this has something to do with her going to the deserts of Dorne to marry me while you are to
marry the Crown Prince”

“Oberyn! This is not appropriate topic to be talking about” Elia spoke low to her brother but rebuke
was clear in her tone

Oberyn only waved her concerns away flippantly, “We’re among trusted friends and we’re to be
family with Lady Sansa soon Elia. Surely talking about relationships and differences is acceptable
between family and friends”

Sansa was forced to respond when Oberyn turned and continued to look at her expectantly, “What
makes you say that Prince Oberyn?”

The Dornish Prince shrugged, “I may not always use my brains before doing something but that
doesn’t mean I don’t have one. I’m a third child. I know what it’s like to live in the shadows of
siblings far greater than I could ever be. I know what it is like to feel as though I was deprived of
something. Your sister is foolishly proud. She thinks the world owes her many things and I am
sure it hurts her ego to see you have the best of things. Your father’s and brother’s regard, the
Crown Prince, the Red Keep, a crown and the title of The Queen in the future. It must eat at her,
the thoughts of being the elder daughter but having to bow to you and call you Your Grace.”

Princess Elia shifted in her seat and looked at Sansa with apologetic eyes. Sansa gave her a polite
smile in understanding then turned her gaze to the prince.

She studied Oberyn's face, trying to determine if he was harboring ill feelings because of the
situation he’s found himself—being considered a lesser prize by the jealous Cersei, mayhap even
seen worthless in comparison to Rhaegar. Neither confirming or denying his words, she simply told
him “I hope Cersei lets go of her notions of grandeur and open her eyes to the many wonderful
things she could possibly have in marrying you”

“So polite,” Oberyn grinned rakishly then winked at her, “One could only hope so. If she doesn’t,
well, it’s her loss, not mine. I may not be the Crown Prince nor the future ruling Prince of Dorne
but I am confident in my abilities. I know how to make a woman feel like a queen”

“By the gods, brother, do tone down the arrogance a little bit” Princess Elia said with exasperation
before rolling her eyes up.

“I am glad to see you haven’t changed Oberyn” Ser Arthur said with a smile.

“Oh I’ve changed Arthur that I can assure you. I’ve become a better fighter and jouster now.
You’ll see it when I make you eat dirt during the tourney” the Dornish Prince boasted.

Princess Elia sighed, Ashara giggled behind her hands and Sansa bit her lip to keep from laughing
at the charming but sheer arrogance of the man.

***

When Maege decided to greet her future liege lord, Sansa was finally given a chance to interact
with her once father.

She wasn’t really sure he’d attend the wedding of his best friend. The North was too far and she
thought relations between him and Robert would be strained due to the broken betrothal. It’s a
relief to have his presence, it could only mean he and Robert are still friends.

He looked good. No, he looked better. He didn't appear so dour anymore. There was a confidence
in his stance and a sharpness in his eyes she hasn’t ever seen before. She hoped those were positive
results of now being appropriately trained by Lord Rickard as heir to Winterfell.

Sansa gave a small curtsy in greeting, “Lord Eddard, it’s good to see you again”

“It’s good to see you as well, Lady Alysanne” he greeted with a small but gentle smile.

“Just Lady Sansa please, my lord. I wrote a letter to Lord Stark but allow me to also express my
condolences in person for what happened to Lord Brandon. It was a tragedy, he died too young”

Sorrow briefly showed on his face then it flitted away, “Aye, he did. Thank you my lady”

“And Lord Rickard? The Lady Lyanna and your little brother Lord Benjen? I hope they’re all hale
and hearty”

“Father is well. Benjen too. Lyanna…” at this his face twisted as though pained. He has not quite
perfected his calm mask then but soon he will. “Lyanna is fostering with the Mormonts of Bear
Island”

“Yes, I heard from Lady Maege about Lady Lyanna’s fostering. She must be enjoying her time
there. She struck me as one who liked adventure”

“Aye, she is indeed an adventurer” was Ned’s simple reply. He said it with a strange tone she tried
to decipher but couldn't exactly put a finger on. She concluded it was another Lyanna issue.

Ned Stark. More confident and lordly but still so taciturn, Sansa thought fondly.

She then turned to greet his two loyal guards.

“Good morrow Ser Rodrik, Martyn” Sansa greeted the men.

“Oh, you know us” Ser Rodrik said with his eyes widened in surprise.

Sansa gave a light laugh, “Ser, I met you both two years ago at Casterly Rock and we traveled by
ship to Highgarden together. Of course I remember”

Martyn chuckled and Ser Rodrik’s mouth formed into a grin, “Not all southern highborn ladies
would bother to remember northern knights' names my lady. We have a reputation for being
ignorant savages”

“Well I have a long memory and I try to be as open-minded as I could be,. And ignorant? That is a
highly subjective word. Savages? We all possess savagery in our own small and big ways.”

The knight chuckled, “As you say my lady”

“Are you all joining any of the competitions?”

“I’ll just spectate my lady, but Ser Rodrik and Martyn will both join the jousting and the melee”
Ned answered.

“Then I wish you both good fortune in the battles to come” Sansa said with a genuine smile.

Both men laughed at her play with words and thanked her with bows.

***

Cersei

That little bitch and that savage, Cersei seethed, how dare they both humiliate me in front of
others!

All her plans have failed so far.

She had been unsuccessful in weeding out the spies for her father and the mongrel among her
retinue. None of her guards would crack under her tempers and provocations. They must really be
well-paid by her father.

She couldn’t find access nor purchase poisons. The eyes on her made it impossible to do anything.
The Martell people were even more untrustworthy than her father's people. She's sure the damned
snakes have spies on her too.

She cannot launch an attack on her own. The mongrel was always so fiercely guarded by the
northern savages and their mollycoddling uncles. They always surrounded her anywhere she went.

The fool Gerion looked at her with tolerant and amused pity and the bastard Tygett treated her with
either apathy or scorn. As if they have the right to. Third and fourth sons—useless, the both of
them.

She has to do something. She cannot waste this opportunity. She must needs have a moment with
Prince Rhaegar and convince him to break his betrothal with the mongrel.

But how?
 Lyanna/Sansa/Cersei

Lyanna

It was all so exciting. At first.

A new place. New people. Men who didn’t give a care if she’s wearing breeches and carrying a
sword. Women who didn’t have pinched looks or disapproval in their faces when she went riding
for hours or sailed along the coast or joined the hunts. People who weren’t afraid of crossing
swords with her in the training yard. But that’s all.

Old gnarled oaks, tall pines, flowering thorn bushes, moss-covered grey stones, and steep hills with
streams. And fish and bears—so many bears. And one Valyrian steel sword. That’s all the wealth
Bear Island has and all it’ll ever have.

She now understood why even though they’re renowned and respected for their honor and prowess
in battle, none really paid Bear Island and its people much attention.

The truth is it’s nothing but a cold, distant and poor land in the middle of the freezing Bay of Ice.
The Mormonts only have a wood-walled castle with a smoky keep and a hall built of huge logs and
is surrounded by an earthen palisade. Too cold and too damp.

There’s nothing to eat but roasts and stews of meat and fish and hard bread and very little of the
fruits and vegetables that graced Winterfell’s tables. Seldom they’ll have pies but no cakes at all.

The way of life is hard. Too hard. The men are always hunting or out at sea fishing. The women
and children are left behind to defend their homes.

They may be warriors good with spears and axes and swords but aside from training, there’s
nothing to do but hard chores. Like skinning games, chopping wood, mending furs.

Their only source of entertainment was singing and listening to stories of bygone days of their
ancestors’ wars and glories over reaving and raping krakens or wildling invaders.

Sometimes, they'll talk about stories from the capital through letters from Lady Maege and the two
other women with her. Gossips about the Mad Cripple King Aerys, the Prince Rhaegar and the
ridiculous southern nobles at court.

When she’s unlucky, she’ll be subjected to irritating stories of the little lady of Lannister. This is
her seven hells and even here, she’s being haunted by that Lannister bitch.

It’s all so tiring now and she’s had enough of it.

“I want to go home” Lyanna whispered.

Jorah looked at her in confusion, “My lady?”

Lyanna cleared her throat and settled for a pleading look, “I said I want to go home. Back to
Winterfell. Just for a visit. Please? It’s been too long. I want to see my brothers, my father. I miss
them”

“I...I'll speak with father about it, my lady” Jorah promised.

Jorah is a decent man but she can’t live the rest of her life in this place. Just the thought of it is
enough to drive her crazy. She’ll talk to her father. She’ll ask for his forgiveness and grovel at his
feet then perhaps he’ll show mercy. It’s not too late yet. There's still time.

***

Sansa

When she learned that Cersei was attending the tourney, she knew the girl was going to do
something drastic and stupid. She’ll want to take this rare opportunity to seek revenge one way or
another.

The Cersei Sansa knew never forgot any slight, real or imagined. With all the years she’s had to
live in Dorne, a land she hated, and surrounded with people she despised, the girl must be truly
thirsty for blood by now.

Years of living in fear and pain under the older version, quietly watching and committing to
memory all her quirks and expressions has made it easy for Sansa to read her. She’s even confident
enough to say she knows Cersei better than the girl knows herself. And Sansa has seen enough to
confirm what she already knew.

It was in the satisfied curl of her lips and the gleam in her hateful emerald eyes—eyes that showed
pleasure as though her victory was already assured and she was already feasting on the spoils.

Still, she cannot help but sigh at Cersei’s scheme. She cannot help but shake her head at its
shortsightedness, its utter stupidity.

Does she not realize how precarious their situations are with Aerys on the throne? Has she not
heard rumors of his madness? Whatever scheme she came up with, whether she planned to seduce
Prince Rhaegar, convince him to marry her instead or simply make him break the betrothal, there
will be serious consequences not just for the two of them but for House Lannister.

And Rhaegar. Sansa won't put her faith in Rhaegar not to act foolish as well. He might just bite
Cersei's bait.

It was time to get rid of her. Whatever the repercussions of her death, they’ll be less dangerous
than letting Cersei live on.

No one must know. She’ll have to do it on her own. She cannot involve others. Kinslaying is the
worst taboo in all of the Seven Kingdoms and most people believe no man is so accursed as the
kinslayer. She could have someone do it for her, yes, but that’ll require too much work. A single
word thrown carelessly in the wind and she’ll be shunned for all her days and more. She‘d have to
plan to kill that person too. Money buys a man’s silence for a time. A bolt in the heart buys it
forever.

No, she’ll have to bloody her own hands this time. Or more appropriately, bloody a horse and a
girl.

Did she actually fear being cursed by the gods as a kinslayer? If they truly weren't the cruel cunts
she knew them as and if they have a shred of mercy and justice in them, they will not begrudge and
punish her for killing someone who’s already a murderer—who will no doubt kill more at her
whim and for her own selfish ambitions. And besides, Sansa has never seen Cersei as family.
Never felt anything but cold loathing and distance. She was always her enemy. From the start.

***
Gerion first looked worriedly at her before placing his hands on her forehead then her shoulders,
“Are you sure you’ll be fine? We've made all the plans for this falconry for more than two moons,
I'm sure we can reschedule it for another day”

“No! Uncle, please, don’t stop it simply on my account. Prince Rhaegar, Prince Oberyn and the
rest are no doubt already prepared. It would be a shame to waste everyone’s time and spoil the
mood because of me”

Gerion sighed, “Alright. Such a waste. And we even brought your eagles.”

Sansa gave him a smile and patted his arms gently in assurance, “Stop worrying about me, Uncle
Ger. This is nothing. It might just be the weeks of travel and change in environment. I’m sure I’ll
be fine after some rest. Now, Uncle, if you please, I have a request”

Gerion’s brow rose, “What is it?”

“Cersei,” Sansa sighed, “I’m sure you know why she suddenly found hawking interesting. Please
make sure to watch her. Don’t let her near Prince Rhaegar”

A look of disbelief and a little amusement came over his face, “Really? You think she’s stupid
enough to try something now?”

“Uncle, this is Cersei we’re talking about. The one who murdered Alysanne Lefford for no reason
other than she wanted her fostering with them be put to an end. She obviously hates Dorne, the
Martells and her betrothal. She has very limited options to change her situation. She’s been eyeing
Prince Rhaegar. She’ll no doubt grab this opportunity to try something”

Gerion’s mouth tightened to a thin line at the reminder of Lady Lefford’s death, “Very well, I’ll do
as you ask. I will watch her like a hawk”

***

Cersei

Cersei looked at the Prince with a seductive smile.

Oh he’s so glorious. So handsome and strong. Perfection. And he’ll be mine. All mine.

She cannot let this chance pass her by. She thought she’d have to wait long for an opportunity to
arrive but the gods are finally looking down upon her with favor. The bitch is down with sickness!
Oh, if only the gods would extend their kindness further and take the mongrel away.

Prince Rhaegar is now a man of twenty, nearing one and twenty. And the little bitch is only just
one and ten. The prince must be very upset with his situation—his needs as a man not being met
and having to wait years for an ugly child to grow up before he could secure his own line of
succession.

But he need not wait. Cersei is the eldest child and by far, more beautiful. All the riches of the
Rock and the might of the West would still be behind her back if he chose her instead. Once
married to the Crown Prince, her father won’t have a choice but to support her. He’ll have to, if he
wants to continue being the Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West.

A woman’s greatest weapon is the one between her legs. This she knows and she’ll use it to the
best of her abilities. All she needed to do is make the prince see her. Make him see her beauty.
Rhaegar is known for his intelligence and will surely realize she’s a far better match seeing as
she’s actually ready to do her duty and give him princes and princesses to preserve the legacy of
Hose Targaryen.

Cersei smirked at the thought of snatching it all away, On second thought, death is far too easy.
The little bitch must live a little longer. Let her watch as I take away everything from her. Keep her
around until I am crowned and she’ll have to curtsey deep and call me Your Grace. Then marry
her off and take her children as hostages. Perhaps even make the mongrel kiss my feet and grovel
for her life.

***

As soon as she saw the horses of the falconers move, she soared and glided several hundred feet in
the air.

Almost two years and now wearing the skin of a bird has become as easy as changing smallclothes.

A cat's eyes are incredible for spying at night and a dog’s nose is good for hunting on the ground
but birds—birds of prey are still her favorite animals to warg—no matter the restrictions she’s been
forced to apply on herself for fear of losing control.

Being an eagle or a falcon on flight made her feel more powerful, more safe. There were very few
predators and dangers lurking while she’s several hundreds, sometimes thousands of feet in the air.

And the eyes of an eagle are simply marvelous. It’s perfect for keeping watch of her intended prey.
She could see things from more than a mile!

She looked down and saw the party dispersing in several groups. Most of the men entered the
dense forest to hunt while a few and most of the ladies went to a higher ground giving them a
perfect view of the lay of the land, including the forest where the birds will hunt for prey.

When she saw them all reach the place, she breathed deep and braced herself for a fight and some
terrible pain. She’ll need just several seconds. Just a few precious seconds and it’ll be done.

She let go of the eagle and plunged herself to the horse. And through the haze of pain of the
struggle with the animal, she forced to move her leaden legs and ran, her eyes focused on the
downward slope before her.

She ignored the screams and shouts all around her. She ignored the smell of terror from the
shrieking girl above her. She ran and ran and ran. And jumped high.

Closed her eyes. Reached for the eagle once more. And soared.

Watched from hundreds of feet up in the air as her prey flew. And fell.
 Sansa/Arthur/Oberyn/Rhaegar

Sansa

Feeling like her head was going to split into two, Sansa let go of the connection and opened her
tired eyes to the darkness of her canopied bed with its heavy curtains drawn close.

There was something sticky wet near her nose down to her chin and when she raised her hand to
touch it, she knew it was blood.

“Arra… Arra… please” she called out in a croaking voice and breathed a sigh of relief when she
heard the light steps of someone approaching. She closed her eyes when the curtains were opened
and struggled to open them again when she heard a horrified gasp.

“My lady!” Lysarra fairly shrieked and soon Sansa’s ears suffered the sound of more hurried,
heavy steps.

“What is the matter?” Tygett asked loudly from the threshold.

“Ser, please send for the maester, hurry!” Lysarra said, voice on the verge of panic as she hurriedly
went to the dresser where there was a small locked trunk. Inside the trunk, Sansa knew, was
Lysarra's locked box of wonders containing poisons, antidotes, medicines and all sorts of things
someone of her profession kept close at hand.

After barking orders to get the maester, Tygett moved closer to her bed and pushed the curtains all
the way to the side and his green eyes looked stricken when he finally caught sight of her, “What?!
What in the seven hells happened? Why’s your nose bleeding?”

Sansa groaned, closed her eyes again and covered her ears, “Uncle, I beg of you, lower your voice
and don’t let too much light in. My brain feels like its going to spill out of my ears”

She heard Arra move to her side again and soon she felt a damp cloth being pressed to her nose.

“My lady, tell me, what else do you feel?” Lysarra’s voice was soft as she gently wiped Sansa’s
bloodied nose, “Is there pain in your stomach? Your throat? Do your limbs feel tired?”

“Just my head, Arra. Just a splitting headache”

“Good. That’s good. Let me have a look at your eyes and mouth please”

Lysarra’s right hand took hers, the tips of her index and middle finger placed on Sansa’s wrist to
get her pulse while using the thumb of her other hand to lower her eyelids. After checking her eyes,
Arra then made her open her mouth and looked at her ears before looking calm once more,

“Everything looks normal. Your pulse feels a little faster than normal but not at an alarming rate.
Here, drink this just in case” she handed Sansa a goblet.

Sansa stared at it. She’s not poisoned, she didn’t need it, “What is that? I don’t want to drink it. It’s
just a headache, I’m sure”

“It’s just water with bezoar stone ground into powder. Please drink it my lady, just for precaution.
It will not cause you any harm as you already know. It will merely neutralize any poison in your
system, if there are any”
“Drink it Sansa. Don’t be stubborn now. It’s better to be safe than sorry” Tygett's face was laced
with worry as he took the goblet and moved to help her drink the liquid content.

Not wanting anymore argument while her skull felt like cracking, Sansa sighed and drank the
offered liquid.

Not for long, the Maester, whose name was Cressen, arrived escorted by a red guard. He checked
on her using the same actions Arra did.

“I don’t see any sign of poison or anything foul in your system, my lady, but yes, you do look
exhausted and in dire need of rest."

“My headache, do you think I can have milk of the poppy please?”

I don’t want to have to deal with what happened so soon in my weakened condition. I want to be far
away and dead to the world when they return. Cersei has been a pain in the arse from my first life
and this next. I deserve some rest before I have to face a new set of problems.

The maester gave her what she requested and promised to check on her after a few hours before
leaving. Within a few moments of drinking the poppy, she laid her head on the feather pillow and
closed her tired eyes.

***

Arthur

Blood. There was so much blood. Arthur has killed before and blood was nothing knew but the
sight and the smell was overwhelming.

It was splayed liberally all over the grass and the rocks with some unidentified bits added to the
mix. Whether the blood and the pulpy bits were from the dead girl or the breathing but broken
horse, none could tell anymore.

It was a disaster. One moment everything was fine and another it was not. The horse got spooked
by something and simply got out of control, ran then jumped down the rocky slope as though
wishing to commit suicide, taking its rider with it.

And the girl—the Lady Cersei. Whatever beauty the first daughter of Lord Lannister had in life,
the horrific sight of her head cracked open like an egg and her limbs twisted in unnatural ways will
now forever eclipse it in many people’s memories.

Not wanting to see anymore of the gruesome sight of Lady Cersei Lannister’s broken corpse and
wanting to spare the other horror-stricken ladies with them, Arthur unclasped his white cloak and
offered it to Ser Gerion who still looked shocked and sickly green.

When the knight’s hand trembled and almost dropped it, Arthur proceeded to kneel and cover the
dead girl himself.

“Gods… gods… Tywin is going to kill me. He’s going to murder me in my sleep or push me over a
cliff or…gods, he might have me trampled by horses” Ser Gerion kept muttering.

Arthur frowned at the words and tried to provide assurance to the obviously troubled knight, “Ser,
we’ve all seen it was an accident. You did your best to catch up and rescue your niece. You were
even ahead of us by meters. But that horse ran like the seven hells was running after it. It wasn’t
your fault at all. I shall testify to Lord Lannister if need be to clear your name of any blame”
Prince Rhaegar also stepped forward, “I, too, have seen it was an accident, Ser, and am willing to
be your witness. It’s just a horse that went out of control and led to this tragedy. It’s known to
happen”

Ser Gerion only ignored them and knelt to cover his niece better, “Perhaps I should run away while
I have the chance. But that would be a craven thing to do. And Sansa… gods I don’t think this is
what she meant when she asked me to watch over Cersei”

Arthur was saddened for the knight but felt more worried for the Lady Sansa.

Through that meal with the Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia, he has played witness to the discord
between the two Lannister sisters, something he has realized was mostly due to Lady Cersei’s
jealousy and discontent with the lot given to her. But he knows the Lady Sansa—knows her to be
kind and compassionate.

Whatever issues she may have had with the Lady Cersei, they were sisters. This death will no
doubt cause her sorrow, especially now that any chance of reconciliation with her sister is gone. He
hopes that she doesn’t feel guilty for what happened to her older sister and for her mourning and
grief to be short.

***

Oberyn

They haven’t been far into the forest for the hunt when several riders caught up to them—their
horses' hooves thumped the forest floor and their shouting out loud like bloody wild aurochs being
butchered no doubt drove away whatever game was there to hunt in the vicinity.

His first reaction had been irritation. Dorne has not been gifted with forests teeming with game and
he’d been excited to join the hunt—eager to show the arrogant Stormlanders and Reachers a
Dornishman’s superiority with the spear.

But then the men told them of what happened and Oberyn could only shake his head then stare
stupidly at the bearer of the shocking news.

“What did you say? I don’t believe I heard you right” he told the unknown man who was flushed
and sweating, looking positively like a pink pig from his mad rush in the woods.

“The Lady Cersei, Prince Oberyn. She had an accident with her horse. She was thrown and her
head was bashed and… well, now she’s dead my prince. Prince Rhaegar commanded us to find you
and ask you to return.”

Cersei dead? That blasted girl full of arrogance who probably thought she’ll live forever?

It sounded like a jape but when he looked again, the sweating man did not appear about to laugh
and tell him it was a jape.

“Cersei? Cersei Lannister?” Oberyn could not help but confirm once more.

“Er… yes, Prince Oberyn. The one and only” the man answered nervously.

So it could only be true. The vicious lioness is dead. Why else would this man go through all the
trouble and make himself look even more ugly?

Oberyn slowly nodded his head and decided to return to the castle, his guards following him. Let
not the Lannisters say he was stone-hearted and insensitive that he would ignore the death of his
betrothed.

Though in all honesty, he felt relief wash over him. Did he hate Cersei enough to want her to die?
Of course not. The stupid girl was a pain in the arse and his future with her did not look promising
but he didn’t wish her dead. But the thought of not having to suffer the rest if his life with a bitter
woman brought him some comfort.

He thought of his mother’s desire for a Lannister match and grimaced. That obviously wasn’t going
to happen now with his betrothed no longer with the living.

Then he thought of the other Lannister girl. The Lady Sansa who is betrothed to the Crown Prince.
There’s a great opportunity there.

The Lady Sansa has now become friends with Elia and they share a common cause in their desire
to help the destitute, especially impoverished children.

In contrast with her older sister, the younger Lannister girl also spoke kindly and showed proper
respect for Oberyn’s kind but frail sister. He even caught her looking at Elia with gentle smiles.

He can no longer be a goodbrother to the Lady Sansa but he could become a good friend instead.
Who knows, perhaps one day, like his mother and Lady Joanna before them, he and Elia could
achieve and enjoy a close friendship with Lady Sansa.

They could be good friends enough and hopefully come to an agreement to have their own children
wed. A future child of Elia’s who will have Martell and Hightower blood looks especially
promising for a Targaryen prince or princess.

Yes, that’s what he’ll do. Remain good friends with the younger sister of his late betrothed.

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar has sent men in two directions. Some to the forest to recall the Prince of Dorne who was
betrothed to the Lady Cersei and some ahead to Storm’s End to make the Lord Steffon aware of the
tragic incident.

He wasn’t surprised to see the Lord Hand and Ser Tygett standing at the gates when they at last
returned to the castle.

“My prince. I got word from your men that there has been an accident. What the hell...what
happened?” Lord Steffon asked as soon as Rhaegar swung down from his destrier.

“Indeed there’s been a terrible accident my lord.” Rhaegar reported gravely. He first looked at the
Lord Hand before facing Ser Tygett, “Ser, I regret to inform you of what’s befallen your niece. The
Lady Cersei’s horse bolted and threw her down the rocky slope”

Ser Tygett suddenly looked ill, “Tywin’s girl. Gods. Is she...?”

“The lady did not survive the fall. She’d been thrown high and when she fell, her head… it wasn’t a
pretty sight”

Ser Gerion and his men soon arrived with the wagon carrying the corpse and Ser Tygett took
hurried steps toward them. The two youngest Lannister brothers were soon engaged in a heated
conversation then Ser Tygett made an abrupt turn and returned to where Rhaegar and the Lord
Baratheon remained standing, his jaws looked sharp enough to cut steel and his face dark.

“We’re leaving. As soon as the silent sisters are done preparing Cersei… the corpse for travel.
Pardon Lord Baratheon, this is not meant to slight you nor your family but we must go. Back to the
capital. Else Tywin might think this an attack to House Lannister and do something drastic”

The Lord Hand nodded solemnly, “The day after tomorrow. Let us leave the day after tomorrow.
You just informed me the Lady Sansa is still unwell and was told by Maester Cressen to rest. Let
her have her rest Ser, for I fear what Tywin will think if we returned to him one daughter dead and
another sick or gods forbid, dying. Let us also give our men ample time to make the necessary
preparations. I’ll have my people prepare for our travel now.”

“But what about your son’s wedding Lord Hand?” Ser Tygett asked.

“I will have Robert wed tomorrow night. We leave the day after and the rest of them can continue
with the damned tourney and the celebrations” the Lord Hand answered right away. His decisions
were clearly made on the spot by the deep frown apparent on his face.

“The Lady Sansa is still unwell?” Rhaegar asked, interrupting the conversation.

“Yes your highness. She complained of a splitting headache earlier and the maester had to give her
milk of the poppy so she can sleep more comfortably.” Ser Tygett answered him then he turned to
the Lord of Storm's End, “Lord Baratheon, I accept your proposal. Thank you for being willing to
move things around for our sake. And I agree, traveling by ship would be more convenient. If you
please, I must go make the necessary arrangements with our men”

Rhaegar nodded along with the Lord Hand and they watched as the most gifted warrior of the
Lannister brothers turned to go to his youngest brother who was looking pale and lost as he stood
guard over their dead niece's corpse.

“I like this not. This…I feel this portends darker things ahead. Old fishwives here in the Stormlands
believe misfortunes never come singly. They believe bad things come in threes. Like death.” Lord
Baratheon said with a look of unease on his face.

Rhaegar wanted to dismiss it as just that, an old fishwives' tale. But as though the heavens were in
agreement with the Storm Lord, lightning suddenly struck on the horizon. Streaks of pure white
light crackled against the distant dark gray clouds followed by the sound of loud thunder.

It felt ominous.
 Sansa/The Dragon

Sansa

It was to a world without Cersei when she next woke up late in the afternoon. The milk of the
poppy fortunately gave her time and none had wanted to wake her up in her condition.

When news of Cersei's death was broken to Sansa, she had to dig up the memories of all her losses
in the past to appear the shocked then grieving sister—but not too much.

Tygett and Gerion have both watched her grow up and knew the distance and strife she had with
the deceased girl. She refrained from hysterics and overly dramatic display of tears. The remains of
her headache and her pallid face thankfully helped in presenting a more believable mummer’s act.

“This…It cannot be true. What you’re saying must be a jape. Come now uncle” Sansa shook her
head in denial.

Gerion sighed tiredly, running his hands through his disheveled, long blonde locks, “It is. It is true
San. I’m not japing. I wouldn’t jape about this”

“But Cersei?! I-I… I don’t understand Uncle. How could she be dead? Just earlier this morning,
she was alive and looking at me with disdain… and now you’re telling me—I…” Sansa trailed off
in a weak voice and looked at her uncle with wide, confused and disbelieving eyes.

Gerion nodded and stepped forward to embrace her, “I know… I know. Come sit down, you still
look unwell” he guided her to a seat.

“Oh please, I’m not what we should all be focusing right now Uncle. Tell me, what exactly
happened?” she grasped his forearms tightly and turned pleading eyes at him.

“It was all so sudden. I can’t believe it myself Sansi. One moment she was there and the next her
horse ran like the wind and flew down the slope”

Sansa shook her head again, closed her eyes and finally sat down. Then she lifted her two hands to
massage her truly aching head, “We have to go back. Father will not…We have to go back to the
capital. Tomorrow we—”

“We leave for the capital the day after tomorrow. By ship. Don’t worry yourself anymore about the
preparations. It’s all being taken care of already. Lord Baratheon and the Prince Rhaegar and his
retinue are leaving with us” Tygett interrupted calmly.

“But what about Lord Robert’s wedding and the tourney?”

“Lord Baratheon already made changes for our sake. The wedding will be tomorrow night and the
tourney will continue without us”

Sansa breathed deep shakily in relief then fixed her gaze on her lap, “I still can’t believe it. This all
feel strange and surreal. My head still aches. Mayhap this is merely a fever dream?”

“No. No you are not dreaming” Gerion patted her gently in the back.

Sansa bit her lip and played with the sleeves of her gown while looking down, “I hated Cersei. You
both know that. I never liked her when we were children. She was always mean to me. And I
gladly paid her back. Did you know? Her last words to me were little bitch and my last act to her
was to roll my eyes in disdain. But now… it all seems so foolish now. We… we will never have
the chance to patch things up between us. Never. And Father, Jaime and Tyrion… They’ll never
see her again”

She looked up at Gerion and blinked several times, willing tears to fall from her eyes.

Gerion gently ran his hand on her hair before sitting on the chair opposite her, “I know. I
understand Sansi. I, too, had been dismissive of your sister. I don’t think you have to feel so guilty
though. She was quite persistent in making herself unlikable”

“What will happen now?”

“What happens next? Your father holding me responsible for her death” Gerion muttered with
clenched jaws.

“But it was an accident!” Sansa protested, “There are witnesses—you said so”

“Aye. But I know your father. I’m telling you, I’ve lived three and twenty years now in this world
and almost all of those were spent under his rule. He’s going to blame me for this. Cersei wasn’t
just his eldest child, she was also his pawn to secure an alliance with Dorne. Now, that alliance is
most likely going to be severed”

“No. There are other ways of keeping that alliance working. I have more friendly relations with
Princess Elia. I’ll talk to father. He can’t punish you for something you didn’t have control of.”

Gerion’s lips twitched up, “You can try. But what you need to understand is he’s different with you
niece—because you’re his beloved child. That doesn’t mean he’ll extend that treatment to me”

Sansa shook her head and reached for his hands, “No. I’ll make him listen. I swear I will Uncle.
He’ll listen.”

***

Starting from the breaking of fast the following morning, she’d been inundated with visits from
people all wanting to share words of sympathies and condolences.

Of the many that spoke to her, she could count only a few truly genuine ones. Most of them, she
knew, were only for propriety's sake. The rest were mummery.

The first of those truly genuine were, of course, her northern warrior maidens and Lysarra. Maege
and Lysarra both fretted for her condition and were hawk-eyed in watching her and ensuring she
got short breaks when she tired.

They were followed by the Baratheons. Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana both expressed unfeigned
regret at what happened to Cersei. The Lord Hand himself looked particularly stressed. Stannis
stiffly and awkwardly gave his words of consolation while Robert had the nerve to jape that Cersei
could’ve waited to die after the wedding and the tourney—a rude jest that earned him his father
and mother’s ire.

Next were the Princess Elia and Lady Ashara who gave her a hug and a gentle squeeze each. The
Princess even expressed disappointment that they would no longer be extended family. Sansa
swore she would think of them as her friends and promised to keep in touch through ravens.

Prince Oberyn, for once, did not act his arrogant, carefree self. He even decided to join them in
their return to Kingslanding.

“It’s only right,” he said, face unusually somber. “She was my betrothed. She was sent to Dorne
alive and well. It’s my duty to at least be there when she is returned in a box. To face your Lord
Father bravely when I offer my condolence. It’s the least I can do”

Next were Rhaegar, Arthur Dayne and the prince’s posse of noble lordlings. Rhaegar sounded dull
and trite as ever, the look in his purple eyes flat and lacking genuine emotion. Jon Connington
sounded as if he was merely talking about the weather. Arthur Dayne at least sounded and looked
sincere like his sister.

Their vassals from the West predictably approached her and her uncles. Some even offered to
accompany them to the capital.

The Riverlords and those from the Vale spoke with formality and politeness. As she expected.

The Florents also expressed sympathies but in their eyes she saw disdain. Her lady warriors and
Lysarra shared rumors of poorly guarded complaints from Lord Florent and his lady wife. They
were upset that Cersei’s death was taking away some of the attention from their daughter’s
wedding. They were also rumored to be displeased with Lord Steffon’s decision to move up the
date of the wedding and leaving for the capital instead of staying for the tourney. All predictable
reactions.

Ned Stark and his northern companions also sought her out. They were among the few who looked
truly sympathetic.

“I didn’t imagine it’d be like this, my lady. That I should be the one to tell you my condolences
now. I am sorry that you had to experience the loss of a sibling too” he said with grave face.

“Thank you, my lord” Sansa smiled sadly at him, “Both of our mothers and eldest siblings dead.
What an unfortunate thing to have in common, Lord Eddard.”

“Tis true. Quite the misfortune” he agreed then spoke gently, “I hope you find comfort in the fact
they lived, rather than spend years agonizing over their deaths”

Sansa’s lips twitched. Oh, if only you knew all the things she did, you won’t be saying that.

***

“Alysanne. No, it‘s Sansa isn’t it? And Prince Oberyn. On behalf of House Tyrell, I offer you two
and Houses Lannister and Martell our condolences. Such a tragedy it had to happen to a beautiful
young girl” Lady Olenna said as soon as she sat down on the chair to join their group.

The Queen of Thorn’s pitying gaze and overly sympathetic tone were both so reminiscent of
Margaery's that Sansa knew not to misconstrue them as real—they were anything but. Sansa was
now far from that helpless little girl she was when she first met this woman. She’ll not fall for the
honey sweetness of the Roses, she knows they hide poisoned thorns.

Cersei’s death, she knew, would be secretly celebrated not just by the people the dead girl has
offended in the entire time she was still alive but also by ambitious people (like the Tyrells) who
envied her father and their house.

House Lannister is the wealthiest at present, its banner men all under its thumb. And although
Tywin is still known as hard and harsh, with the charities Lannister gold has been funding in recent
years, its reputation with the common folk is improving by the day. She’s certain that her betrothal
with Rhaegar, Jaime's with Catelyn and Cersei’s with Oberyn must have been huge bones very
difficult to swallow for other lords and ladies hoping to further their own ambitions.

Of the rest of the great houses, she’s very much aware of the Tyrells’ potential to become a
hindrance in what she’s trying to achieve.

Where in the previous life Olenna saw Sansa Stark as a stepping stone to achieve more power and
influence for her great house, now she sees Sansa Lannister as a huge ugly thorn in her path. A
competition, a strongly positioned pawn she needed to knock off the game before she gets to
become a queen.

Case in point: the useless presence of her youngest buxom daughter Janna Tyrell, dressed in a very
tight, sleeveless gown with it’s back half-open, exposing more skin than was necessary. The girl
was blushing and giving Rhaegar surreptitious, doe-eyed looks and shy, beguiling smiles.

“Thank you Lady Olenna. For your kind words” Sansa bowed her head a little to the older woman.

“I can only imagine how difficult it must be for your family, especially to Tywin. Watching his
great legacy fail bit by bit. Suffering losses one after another. First his beloved wife, then there's
the matter with your dwarf youngest brother. And now his eldest daughter who was supposed to be
a Princess of Dorne. It only goes to show that no matter how great or wealthy you are, death
doesn’t care one bit”

The nonchalant tone, the careless words, the sardonic smile, the amused look in her eyes—
everything about the Queen of Thorns right that moment just made Sansa bristle with irritation
inside.

“So very true, my lady. What’s the saying from East? Valar Morghulis—All men must die. I heard
your husband, the late Lord Luthor died almost the same way. That he rode off a cliff to his death
while hawking too. Quite the similarity for our houses to share isn’t it?”

The Lady Olenna startled a little then scoffed, “Oh yes, that he did. The fool wasn’t watching
where he was going”

Sansa nodded sagely, then with a serious maester-like voice said, “Ah. There's many very
important lessons we should all learn from both their deaths so such tragedies don't repeat, wouldn't
you agree? Like watch where you’re going. And remember all beasts, even those trained and
seemingly sweet and docile are capable of going out of control and cause suffering. Also be careful
when climbing high places—the higher you get, the deeper the fall."

Oberyn snorted from beside her. “Indeed. Very good lessons to keep if one wants to live a longer
life” he said with a hint of a feral smile.

***

After a very long day, the wedding ceremony was finally out of the way. Despite the sudden,
unexpected change in the schedule, it still went on smoothly, do doubt due to Lady Cassana and her
staff’s best efforts.

The many prayers, the vows, the singing—all of it went by like a whirlwind. Robert was now a
married man and Rhea Florent was now Rhea Baratheon, happily and proudly wearing a dark
cloak with a stag rather than a fox. Sansa bet all her savings from the allowance her father granted
her over the years (seventeen hundred gold dragons by her last count), that the new bride won't be
for long—happy and proud, that is.
All around her the feast was in full swing, the food and drinks were in abundance. Conversations
were loud and full of enthusiasm. Many bards had come and gone, singing familiar songs the male
guests already on their way to drunken stupor raucously sang along with.

Rhaegar was also persuaded to play his harp and sang two songs—Jenny of Oldstones and Florian
and Jonquil. It made the maidens cry then sigh and look at him adoringly, a few almost salivating
at his good looks. It made Sansa’s fatigue and headache grow worse.

“Are you alright my lady? Would you like to retire to your quarters now and rest? We'll have a
long journey ahead of us starting tomorrow” Lysarra asked worriedly.

“No Arra. Let’s wait, until the bedding at least. We’ve already caused the Baratheons enough
inconvenience as it is. Let’s not offend them further”

“You’ve barely eaten anything. You should eat some more. Want me to get you anything in
particular?” Maege offered.

“Ah no, no, thank you Maege. I find myself lacking appetite. I’m afraid eating or drinking more
would only make me feel more sick”

“Then you won’t mind if I take this?” Raya grinned while reaching out for Sansa’s goblet she
hasn’t touched for a while now, “I’m thirsty. It’s been a long time I danced with a real man of the
North. Rodrik Cassel tired me out”

Sansa smiled and nodded then returned her attention to the Arryn table, thinking of excuses she
could make to go there. She hasn't made any substantial headway with House Arryn nor with any
of the Vale houses. And for the life of her, she cannot think of anything to change that undesirable
state of things.

“Raya are you alright?” Maege’s alarmed voice made her turn her head and her eyes widened when
she saw blood coming out of Raya’s nose.

“I feel… I…” Raya whispered before gurgling and vomiting blood then falling forward.

Everything happened all at once.

Maege shouted Raya’s name while standing in a hurry to catch her. Larra was not far behind her.

“Poison” Lysarra gasped with a hard voice, grabbing the small vial on the necklace she wore and
moving forward to shove its contents down Raya’s throat.

Some of the ladies near their table screamed in panic, catching the attention of the other guests.

Tygett and Gerion both ran to them, their faces both horrified and frightening in their anger.

For a moment, all that Sansa could dumbly think of was Joffrey and his damned wedding. Then she
jolted up from her seat, standing on her feet as she roved her eyes swiftly around the great hall.

Someone tried to poison her and Raya is at death’s door for it. She has a very strong feeling in her
gut that she knows the main perpetrator.

***

The Dragon

Enemies. Enemies. Enemies.

From the North to Dorne. From the East to the West. Filthy, lowly beasts thinking themselves
better than the Dragon.

The Dragon! Of the blood of Old Valyria. Whose ancestors helped create the mighty empire of the
Freehold. Whose ancestor the Great Aegon the Conqueror defeated their puny, idiot ancestors in
just a short few years and forged the Sunset Kingdoms under the rule of the Iron Throne and the
House of the Dragons. With fire and blood. Fire and Blood!

Wolves in the barren, snowy lands. Thinking they’re still Kings of Winter. Absurd. The North
Forgets. But They Should Remember. Torrhen Stark. The King Who Knelt. They should remember
him. Remember the coward who knelt before the Dragon and gave up his crown and people to
keep his life and lands and ugly castle. The North belongs to the Dragon! Not the cowardly wolves.

A fleet. Ships. Battleships. To battle who? Dare they try to wage war with their King? I’ll show
them. I will. Winter is Coming. Hah! They forget snow melts under fire. They should remember.
Or the Dragon will MAKE them.

Falcons high up in their rocky mountains. Looking down their King with judging eyes. As High as
Honor! Idiots. A falcon can fly high but what is it compared to a Dragon? Nothing! Nothing but a
miserly meal.

The Vale of Arryn they say. The Vale Belongs to the Targaryens! My house! They live by the
mercy of the Dragon. Making friends with wolves. They better keep to their lofty castles or the
Dragon will see their Wings Ripped Apart and Burned to Ashes.

Ambitious trouts. Selling the teats and cunts of their fish-smelling daughters to the wolves and
lions. Thinking the Dragon is stupid and blind to their plots. Forgetting they’re now paramount
lords of the Trident by the grace of Aegon I and House Targaryen. Forgetting that what was given
can be taken away.

Aegon should’ve burnt them all like he did Harren and his castle and his people. Weaklings!
Thinking they can rule the lands when all they’re good for is to swim with other stinking fishes.
Let them try to rebel and the Dragon will see the Trident run red with bloody trouts.

Stormlands. Seed of the Bastard Orys. Bastard Baratheons. No better than Blackfyres. Steffon.
Steffon. To think that I trusted You. The Defiance of Duskendale. The gods damned House
Darklyn. It’s all your fault. All Your Fault. You have failed me. And now you throw your lot with
those who seek to take away my Crown. You can try cousin. You Can Try. But you will Fail.

Roses. Not a beast but equally ambitious. They better keep being loyal else they get trampled on
the ground and become compost to the fields.

Martells and Hightowers. How dare they presume they can fool Me? Me! Their King! Conspiring
against the Crown for what? For that feeble Gerold and that limp-dicked Lewyn who were
unworthy, good-for-nothing Kingsguards?

Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken. Slithering vipers in the barren sands thinking they’re better than
everyone else and arrogant enough to still call themselves princes and princesses. No more. No
more.

Tywin FUCKING Lannister. The true king they said in the past behind my back. And now the
ungrateful Rhaegar. My own son. Born of my own seed. Scheming with stags and vipers and lions.
Consorting with everyone of them traitors to take away MY CROWN and MY THRONE.
I AM THE KING! ME! Not Tywin Lannister. Not my traitor son Rhaegar. ME! The IRON
THRONE is mine and NO ONE shall take it from ME. The Seven Kingdoms are mine. ALL
MINE! By Blood. By Right.

Traitors. Traitors. All of them. They dare try to surround and push the Dragon to a corner. I will
KILL THEM ALL. Every last one of them. With Fire and Blood.
 Arthur/Sansa/Rhaegar/Tywin

Arthur

“We’ll have to call off the search for now. It’s been hours and the darkness of night works against
the men, some of whom have gotten drunk during the feast. Dark and drunk equals danger. And
we have to face it, from the looks of it, the missing serving maid could very well be dead already.
If I have to make a guess, we’ll probably see her dead body floating in the sea tomorrow. If we are
lucky that is” Lord Baratheon declared, his face an image of frustration and exhaustion.

“No!" Ser Gerion said in a raised voice. The normally good-looking and genial knight looked like a
feral lion ready to lunge at anyone as he stalked the available limited space of Lord Steffon’s solar,
"That is unacceptable. I don’t care who you are Baratheon! Here in your territory, one of my nieces
died. Yesterday that might have looked like an accident. But now? Now we have this! My
youngest niece could have died. Raya is dead. Within your castle! Within your great hall! I’m
starting to think Cersei’s death and this were both deliberate, premeditated attacks against House
Lannister. That maid must be found. At all cost!”

“Or, could it be she cannot be found because you or your people are hiding her hm?” Ser Tygett
accused in a dangerously, challenging tone. He stood behind his seated niece, green eyes all
alertness and his dominant hand clenching and unclenching on the pommel of the sword sheathed
at his side.

The Lord Hand bolted up his chair and loudly smacked both his hands on his working table’s
surface, the fury in the Baratheon words clear in his eyes. For a moment, Arthur feared a fight
would break out and he put his hand on Dawn’s grip. Fortunately Lady Sansa immediately stood
up from her seat and turned around to her uncles.

“Uncle Tyg! Uncle Gerion! Please, stop it. Let's all be calm. Bad tempers and baseless accusations
will not help in anyway. And I doubt the Lord Hand has anything to do with this. It doesn’t make
sense for him and his family to commit such crimes under the laws of Guest Rights knowing their
house’s integrity and reputation are at stake”

She next gave the offended Lord Baratheon an apologizing look, “My lord, my apologies. It’s been
a very difficult two days for our family, as I’m sure you’re aware of.”

Lord Steffon visibly tried to calm himself, “I’ll let it pass this time for you, my lady, and only
because I know how much you’ve all gone through in such a short time. But I’ll not suffer further
insults nor will I tolerate accusations of murder and obstruction of justice. Your uncles would do
well to remember that”

“Thank you my lord” She nodded then turned back to speaking calmly with her fuming uncles once
more, “I agree with the Lord Hand. It is dark. The men can search all evening all we want but let
us be realistic—the sea is just on the other side of the castle. Anyone can simply get rid of a corpse
by tossing it there.”

From her sickness the previous day, to her sister’s accident and death and now the death of one of
her ladies and the threat on her life—it is a miracle and very admirable she can still think and
function efficiently and also play the leash and mediator for her enraged uncles despite the
paleness of her face and the hint of dark smudges beginning to appear under her eyes. Arthur
believed that if it were any other girl, they’d have chosen to hide away surrounded with guards in a
locked room or succumbed to maidenly tears or simply fainted from exhaustion.
It had been a long day and night and it did not end in the way it was supposed to. When it became
known that the poison was placed in Prince Rhaegar’s young betrothed’s goblet, Lord Baratheon
promptly stopped the feast and the disappointed, grumbling revelers were dismissed and ordered to
their tents and various quarters. He next rounded up all those who served food and wine for
interrogation.

Despite knowing she was the target of the botched assassination, Lady Sansa had shown a spine of
steel and insisted to be part of the investigation.

Thankfully, and to their surprise, she still recalled the faces of all those who served at the Lannister
table. There were only four people she said. Three were there and she immediately identified that
one maid, the last she remembered to have approached their table, was missing. The three present
were sent to the dungeons for further questioning but Lady Sansa insisted for torture not to be
implemented while the last missing maid was not found. Her request not to torture had been a point
of contention with her uncles and even Lord Baratheon disagreed with her but she reasoned out that
the fact they did not disappear could mean innocence and ignorance of the crime.

The Western lords, Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Ned Stark, Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Martells and a few
Riverlords readily offered their men to help form several search parties. The search has been going
on for almost five hours now but so far, none had returned to tell them the missing suspect was
found. To make matters worse, the Bear Islander warrior woman Raya died just two hours ago
despite the neutralizing antidote Lady Sansa’s other maid administered.

The wedding has decidedly become a total disaster. Everyone was at an edge. Lord Baratheon
looked ready to take out his sword from its scabbard and stab anyone who’d enter his gloomy solar
to give him another disappointing report. Lord Arryn looked weary and worried as well. Lord Ned
Stark looked even more dour. Lady Mormont looked ready to commit murder. And the two
Lannister brothers were just downright extremely difficult to deal with. Only their niece was
effectively keeping them from becoming too troublesome or violent. It was frustrating to deal with
them but everyone understood. The knights were in charge of their nieces' safety and under their
watch, one has died and the other almost got murdered.

The worrying thing was, both girls were daughters of Lord Tywin Lannister—the man most feared
in the realm and was known for his decimation of two noble houses because of their refusal to pay
their debts, disrespect and rebellion. He was certain the extent of the Great Lion’s response to such
attacks on his children weighed heavily in everyone’s minds. So heavily in fact that already, many
lords and their knights have decided not to stay for the tourney.

Most of the Riverlords and their knights were leaving within the sennight. The young Lord Eddard
Stark and his small retinue have also decided to leave. It was agreed between the Lannisters, the
Lady Mormont and Lord Eddard that the bones of the dead Bear Islander will return North with the
Stark party. Lord Arryn and his men too will depart after a few days. Most of the Reachers and
Dornish were already packing up their things in preparation to leave Storm’s End. Lord Robert and
the Florents were undoubtedly frothing with anger at how things have gone down the latrine.

“I too agree. It has been a very long day for all of us. Two very long and tiring days for the
Baratheon and Lannister families. I doubt we’ll see further development this night. I suggest we all
take a rest before more tempers flare and we devolve into unnecessary fights. Let us continue this
when the morning comes” Lord Arryn calmly suggested.

“Yes, we should call it a night. We are all exhausted and not equipped to deal with the issues
calmly and rationally. Some rest must be had, my lords” Prince Rhaegar said in support of the Lord
of the Vale.
With most of the lords and the Prince himself pushing for respite, their group broke up and
emptied Lord Baratheon’s solar, each one of them carrying heavy thoughts for the present and
some measure of apprehension for the future.

***

Sansa

As soon as the door to their assigned rooms were closed, her Uncle Tygett rounded on her with
disappointment painted on his face.

“How could you just let this go? This is a serious matter San—an assassination planned out against
you with Raya as the victim instead. If we let this pass, we’ll look weak in the eyes of the other
houses” he said in a low angry voice.

Sansa reached out for his hands and spoke quietly, “Uncle, I am letting it go because I have an idea
on who machinated against us. But without evidence, we cannot go after the schemer. Don’t hold
your breaths. That maid is dead, I am sure.”

“What?!” Tygett started in surprise at the revelation, “Who the fuck is it? I’ll go and put my sword
through their brain. Is it Baratheon? Arryn? The Florents? Martells?”

“No. Not any one of them.”

“Who was it then? My lady, Raya was of Bear Island and therefore under my family’s rule and
responsibility. Justice must be served accordingly” Maege stated in a hard voice.

“And you shall have it, I swear to you Maege. You'll have to wait though. We must stay our hands
for now. If we insist to pursue the matter, it will only get ugly and bloody. Many houses will take
sides, most likely against us for throwing accusations without substantial proof. They’ll think we
are using it as an excuse to malign another house. If or when heated words turn to acts of violence,
many people will be dragged into this and more innocents like Raya will die. What kind of justice
would that be then?”

Isn’t that how things devolved before? Sansa closed her eyes and easily remembered through her
exhaustion. A Hand’s murder. A letter containing made-up accusations from Lysa. Bran’s fall.
More lies from Littlefinger. Catelyn acting out on those lies without regard for the consequences of
her actions. Tywin destroying the Riverlands for vengeance and to prove House Lannnister’s
power and might. And many more actions and consequences followed that ultimately left the entire
Seven Kingdoms utterly fucked when winter came.

Maege looked displeased at first but eventually nodded her head, “I understand. Can you at least
tell us who it is?”

Sansa gave both Tygett and Gerion looks before turning to Maege. She let go of Tygett and
reached for the warrior woman’s hands next and squeezed them, “No, not yet Maege. Not here.
We must first get to father. You’ll know it then. I promise, by the old gods and the new” she swore
while looking her in the eyes.

The Mormont woman thankfully squeezed her hands in return and lost her harsh look before giving
another nod.

Sansa then addressed the other issue that weighed heavily in her mind, “Raya’s family… I know
it’s cold comfort and not enough to pay for their daughter’s life but I promise to make it up to them
somehow. Will you help me explain to them what happened?”
Maege patted her shoulders gently, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. We all knew
what the stakes were when we agreed to come south and act as your guards. I’ll write a letter and
give it to Lord Ned to pass to Raya’s family. For now, let us get you comfortable and rested for the
night. The gods only know what new problems we’ll face tomorrow”

Sansa let the older woman guide her to her rooms to dress down and get some needed rest.

***

Rhaegar

Rhaegar watched from the window of his rooms as the castle of Storm’s End grew smaller while
their ship sailed farther away. It was with mixed feelings he’s leaving the Baratheon lands. On the
one hand he was relieved, on the other he felt trepidation.

The Lord Hand’s words came true. Death came in threes—Lady Cersei, the woman from Bear
Island and the serving maid whose corpse was found floating facedown and bouncing with the
waves against the castle walls facing the sea the morning after that disastrous feast. And now, it
felt like there’s a terrible storm forming in the distance.

An assassination attempt against his betrothed—it angered him some.

She’s just a girl, no matter how mature she always acted. She’s too proper and boring sometimes
and her age honestly grated on him but she’s proven to be capable and sufficiently prepared enough
to perform well in her role that it’s becoming easier to think of her as his future queen.

Moreover, she’s the only girl capable of getting him the support of Lord Tywin, the strength of the
armies of the West and most important of all, the key to the vaults of the gold of House Lannister
—very important advantages should it come down to a struggle between he and his mad father one
day.

And someone tried to take her and all of it away. It unsettled him.

Could it be an enemy of the Great Lion who wanted to prevent House Lannister from becoming
even more influential?

It was the strongest possibility he thought of. It would make sense if other lords felt threatened and
tried to intervene. The West, the Riverlands, Dorne, the Iron Throne—that’s a southern power bloc
anyone would fear. The Tyrells in particular would feel cornered. To make matters worse for them,
the Florents are now allied by marriage with the Stormlands and the Hightower heir is marrying
Princess Elia of Dorne.

Or is it someone secretly harboring ambitions of marrying their daughters or female relatives to

him to gain more power and move ever closer to the Iron Throne? If that was the case, who could
it be?

There were no Arryn and Baratheon daughters. The Stark, Tully and Martell daughters were
already betrothed.

Velaryon then? Hightower? Or Tyrell?

It caused Rhaegar a headache thinking the different angles and possibilities

To top it all, he didn’t know what his father’s position and response would be to these events.
Would he celebrate Lord Lannister’s loss or feel threatened and show some anger that his chosen
betrothed for his son was almost assassinated? It's hard to guess what was inside a madman's
mind.

“The Lannisters seem more calm. It is strange they simply accepted the death of that servant—too
easily. I must admit I expected Ser Gerion and Ser Tygett to raise more fuss, to cause more trouble
for the rest of us. Lannisters are certainly fond of dominating a situation and making themselves
heard. What do you think happened My Prince?” Jon asked.

There’s that too. There was something decidedly different with the Lannister party. They looked
far too calm and subdued when everyone else expected them to be more…troublesome. It was
indeed strange.

“Could it be they already have an idea of who planned it?” Arthur shared his guess.

Jon frowned, “But who could it be? There’s far too many people present in that feast. And it
doesn’t make sense they’d keep quiet, Ser Arthur. If they do know who it is, why not pursue
them?”

“Like I said, perhaps they have an idea. That does not mean certainty. And as for why they can’t
confront or give chase? The lack of evidence will work against them, for one. Second, it could be
that the enemy is strong thus the need to retreat for now. Lastly, they might be planning to let Lord
Lannister handle it. If it were I, I would do the same. He’ll definitely be more thorough in dealing
with the matter.”

“You believe so Arthur? That they have a suspect, I mean” Rhaegar asked as he sat down on the
chair in front of the wielder of Dawn.

Arthur shrugged, “That’s the only answer I could come up with. I think…”

“The Lady Sansa?” Rhaegar finished the line of thought.

"She did play a huge role in the investigation not to mention of her efforts in keeping her uncles
leashed"

“Her? Isn’t that a bit preposterous?” Jon looked skeptical.

“You’ve witnessed her last night. Sick and exhausted, she was able to still narrow the investigation
down within minutes. She identified the four servants who served their table and even remembered
the features and color of the missing maid’s dress. Tell me that didn’t surprise or impress you”

Rhaegar nodded, “That was indeed surprising. If you were to make a guess, who do you think is
the culprit?”

“I dare not, My Prince” Arthur answered right away.

“It’s only us three here, Ser. There’s no harm to speak your mind” Jon needled.

“Even still, I dare not hurl accusations against anyone” Arthur replied in a firm voice.

“Alright Ser” Jon put up his hand in a placating gesture before continuing more seriously, “It’s not
so surprising though, is it? Many out there would love to knock the Great Lion down a peg or two.
The Lannisters are much too powerful for their own good.”

“But to plan the murder an innocent young girl to make it happen? It’s far too dishonorable. And
now, it may likely lead to bigger and lasting problems”
Rhaegar sighed heavily at the thought of possible consequences of what happened, “I agree. It was
a vile act indeed and with things as they are…worse things could happen in the near future”

“What, do you think it will escalate My Prince?”

“I believe anything could happen at this point, Jon, especially with Lord Lannister” Rhaegar
answered, “And with my father King Aerys at the helm…” he trailed off, knowing the two knights
were smart enough to understand what he did not say.

Rhaegar dearly hoped things didn’t worsen. He has no desire to rule a warring or broken Seven
Kingdoms.

***

Tywin

Brother,

I am sorry I must be the one to break such grievous news to you. There has been a tragic accident.
It happened during the falconry we all planned for while we were still in the Capital.

Cersei joined the group. It was decided that Sansa forgo the activity as she suffered from lack of
sleep due to headaches she experienced the night before and continued the day of the event—the
same kind she experienced once in the past, if you’d recall.

For reasons we still cannot comprehend, Cersei’s horse just suddenly went out of control and
jumped down a rocky slope. Cersei fell and has unfortunately suffered fatal injuries.

Brother, I am so sorry but she died…

His eyes flew back to the previous lines to ensure he didn’t read it wrong.

Horse went out of control. Cersei fell. Fatal injuries. Died. Dead.

With a slight tremor on his hands, Tywin put down the scroll informing him he has just lost his
eldest daughter.

Accident. Cersei. Dead. His mind repeated the words several times. It was slow to understand and
sink the new reality in.

It was difficult to believe. It was very hard to accept. Children aren’t supposed to die before their
parents—they’re supposed to outlive and bury them. Children are supposed to grow up, live better
lives, contribute to and pass the legacy of their house to their own children. They're supposed to
grow old. They’re not supposed to die young.

Oh Joanna. Our eldest child. Gone. Gone.

He swallowed through the tight feeling in his throat and closed his eyes in grief for the daughter he
lost. His eldest child with the woman he loved and lost too.

Do you hate me for not thinking of her that much, wife? For pushing her away and ignoring her
wants and desires? For remembering her just now when news of her death reached me?

He shook his head. No. His wife would understand. She had to. She saw how he, with the help of
his siblings, had to pick up the pieces of House Lannister from the muck their incompetent father
left it in. She knew everything he had to do to ensure the survival and legacy of their house.
He did not want Cersei dead. No. She was his child. She was his blood. He had loved her and had
wanted and did what was best for her. He could have done better by his eldest, he’ll admit it, but
Cersei was a difficult child who tried to engage her brother in vile acts and was not afraid of killing
another noble lady—a loyal vassal of their house.

So he did what was necessary for the good of both her and House Lannister. He dealt with the
cards he was given and played them to the best of his abilities. He even honored Joanna’s
agreement with her friend, the ruling Princess of Dorne. Had granted her wish to betroth at least
one of their children with one of the Martell offsprings.

And Cersei’s complaints of being denied her proper due as his eldest and her bitter accusations of
being made to feel less than her sister?

She wasn’t Aerys' choice for Rhaegar, that the Mad Cripple was clear about. And she did not have
the qualities necessary of a Queen, that much became clear in the last few years. She would’ve
become a disappointment. She would’ve grown unhappy and bitter or worse, destroyed herself and
their house in the process if he’d given in to her selfish wants and desires.

Even so, despite not having the chance to become queen one day, she was still going to be a
princess—a title and a position of great worth but without the heavy burdens her younger sister
would have to carry in the future. It was the next best thing, the most logical to do.

And sending her away to Dorne? She was always meant to leave the Rock and live with her
husband. Sending her away was as much for her own good as it was for their house. She needed to
see and acclimatize herself with the Dornish way of life.

She was meant to live. She was meant to grow older than he was right now. She wasn’t meant to
die this young.

I only did what was good for her, Joanna. What was best. I swear I did. But it’s all for naught now.
She’s gone. I cannot reach her anymore. She loved you most. I hope she finds her way to you. That
she finds peace and contentment in the afterlife.

Tywin took deep breaths and resolutely pushed down the pain he felt in his chest. He clasped his
hands together, tight and almost bruising, and bowed his head. And prayed. Not to the gods he no
longer believed in but to the one he loved most. For their daughter he lost.
 Olenna/Sansa/Tywin/Blackfish
Chapter Notes

Thank you very much to the readers of this story, especially those who left kudos. :)

Apologies this one took long. I've finished writing this chapter 3-4 days ago and had it
flushed down the toilet coz I wasn't happy with how it turned out. I've been writing
and rewriting this chapter for days hoping to make it better. Lol. Hope you all like it.

Olenna

“Well, your plan’s an epic failure mother. Are you truly certain this won’t be traced back to us?”
Mace asked after swallowing the food in his mouth.

Olenna scrunched up her nose when she saw her son quickly cut then shove another chunk of
roasted boar meat in his mouth and swallowed again after barely chewing.

The Oaf. If he didn’t stop eating so much, he’ll soon be named the Fat Oaf of Highgarden. Worse,
some might even call him Lord Piggy behind his back. What an ugly moniker that would be.

Olenna snapped her silk fan shut in irritation and arched a brow, “Mace, are you seriously
questioning my intelligence? You?” she asked with a challenging voice.

Her oaf of a son lowered his knife and fork before answering in a careful voice, “Of course not. I
only meant to make sure our house will not be put in danger in the future. You have to admit, that
was quite the daring move against House Lannister. What about Lord Tywin?”

Olenna scoffed and waved her fan dismissively, “Oh with his eldest daughter dead and his precious
second almost murdered, the Great Lion will surely rage. Hear me Roar and all that. But against
whom? Against the Martells? Against Steffon? No, that would be a great folly. The Martells are
now in a near sealed marriage alliance with the Hightowers. The Baratheons are friends with the
Arryns and the Starks. He has no evidence. He’s no fool to alienate other houses. And, his precious
daughter is still so young and could still be discarded by Aerys. No matter how much he’ll want to
pay the debts owed to him, his hands are tied”

“Be that as it may, our situation hasn’t changed. Well, there is indeed the gift of a broken
Lannister-Martell alliance the girl Cersei graciously granted us by dying. But that’s not much.
What do you plan to do next? What about Janna? Are we still not going to betroth her? Prince
Oberyn is without a betrothed now”

“As if I will pounce on a second son with an empty title and give a daughter of mine to one of those
horrid vipers” Olenna sneered and rolled her eyes before continuing, “And what would be the point
hm? When Elia Martell marries and have spawns with Baelor Hightower, their half-Dornish
children would be cousins to your children. Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, I am just saying… There‘s not enough heirs of wardens and lord paramounts close to Janna
in age left”

“Don’t you worry your little head, Mace. There‘s still plenty of time, plenty of opportunities. The
Lannister girl is still a child. She’s what? Eleven? Twelve? She’s to marry Rhaegar when she
bleeds. Girls who get pregnant very early are more likely to die. And history has shown Lannister
women don’t have the best of luck in the birthing bed. Joanna died giving birth to the Imp.
Tywin’s mother died within a month after giving birth to Gerion. She could still die. Or we can
help hasten it. But that is for another time. What you need to be concerned about is getting another
babe in your wife’s womb. Produce more spawn”

“Mother, Alerie has already given me two healthy sons. She just gave birth to Garlan last year. I’d
say we’re being productive enough” Mace answered with a measure of bluster.

Olenna raised a brow, “And? It’s been more than a year. Get her with another child. You see now
how having many sons and daughters is important to creating alliances for a great house? Do your
part in bedding your wife and I shall take care of the rest”

Mace sighed, “As you wish mother”

***

Sansa

Sansa knew since that fateful Tourney at Highgarden that the Tyrells would most likely be
problem. They’re a house driven to prove to everyone they’re worthy of the Reach and were highly
ambitious to achieve even more and climb greater heights. With all the marriage alliances of other
great houses happening all around them, they were bound to feel threatened. Especially by House
Lannister.

To somehow address the issue, she had thought of possible marriage offers they could make but
ultimately failed to come up with any.

With Jaime promised to Cat, Cersei to Oberyn and herself to Rhaegar, there were no further
favorable marriage alliances that could be made. No great house will accept Tyrion for their
daughters, that much she already knew.

And though her father was very much available, Tywin marrying Olenna was simply a horrifying
thought. That… won't end well for all of them. Tywin would probably hate her for proposing such
a match.

She had considered her uncles Tygett and Gerion but as third and fourth sons respectively, any
marriage they have wouldn’t be as influential. She was also reluctant to see them leave her side.
She trusted no one more than the two when it comes to her protection.

But now… Well, it all doesn’t matter anymore. This attempt on her life has drawn the line between
her family and the Tyrells.

She knows it’s Lady Olenna. She didn’t have concrete evidence but history has already proven to
her just how far the woman and her son would go to elevate House Tyrell. To Sansa, Olenna is
neither a rose nor a thorn—she’s a damned grasping harpy.

Her involvement just made sense. With the West and the Riverlands about to enter a marriage
alliance, the prospect of seeing her married to Prince Rhaegar and tying House Lannister with
House Targaryen must’ve caused the Tyrells some sleepless nights.

“A silver for your thoughts?” Prince Oberyn’s friendly voice snapped her from her musings.

She looked up and saw him with another Dornishman, Lord Quentyn Qorgyle who was heir to
Sandstone and Prince Oberyn’s foster brother.

“Silver? We Lannisters only accept gold, Prince Oberyn” Sansa quickly answered.

Lord Qorgyle chuckled while Oberyn laughed, “Of course! How foolish of me. How many gold
coins then my lady?”

“All that you possess and more”

“My, I haven’t pegged you to be a greedy lioness. I was wrong then hm?” Oberyn grinned before
sitting on the chair in front of her. “How are you little lady? Truly?” he asked with more
seriousness this time.

Sansa set aside the ancient Watchers on the Wall book she was reading earlier and gave the
Dornish Prince a wan smile, “As well as I can be, all things considered”

He looked at her intently with his dark eyes, “Hm… you still look pale. Perhaps some time on the
deck outside would do you some good? Some direct sunlight and fresh air… well probably salty
air, but you know what I mean”

He said with a shrug before turning to Maege and Larra who ceased sharpening their blades and
were now watching their interaction like hawks. The two women have become even more vigilant
in their protection of her. Even Arra has turned slightly paranoid and insisted on tasting everything
she put in her mouth.

“Ah the beautiful warrior ladies of Bear Island, good morrow! It’s always a pleasure to be in the
presence of fierce women such as yourselves” Oberyn grinned then winked at Maege.

“Good morrow Prince Oberyn” Maege returned the greeting with a smirk and a look in her eyes
that made Sansa perk up in her seat.

Are they…? Are the two flirting with each other?

Oberyn reached for the book she put down. When he saw the title, a dark look passed over his face
before he put it back down and wore a friendly look once more, “The Night’s Watch and the Wall
eh? Mine Uncle Lewyn says in his letters it is the most distasteful place a Dornish man could live
in. He constantly writes us asking for wine and foodstuffs, especially fruits. Said the food they eat
up there are practically for pigs. He's also always asking for nicer clothes, cloaks, boots and
weaponry and perhaps some men.”

“And how is Ser Lewyn coping with his Night’s Watch duties?” Sansa asked gently.

Oberyn shrugged, “He’s become a master-at-arms for Castle Black last he wrote and seems to be
enjoying the training lessons he gives the black brothers. But the rest of the time, he’s just
miserable. I’m actually planning on giving my poor uncle a visit. I’m sure seeing his most
handsome nephew would do him some good”

“Oh! Do let me know when you decided to go visit. Perhaps we can arrange for more men from
the prisons in the capital to join. I might also be able to convince father to send some useful
supplies”

“Of course, I’d be glad to little lady” the Dornish Prince agreed with a smile, “You know, it’s
funny how in the past the Wall was just a distant and strange place but now… Well, our beloved
uncle is up there now so House Martell is quite dedicated to provide as much help as we’re able”
“It’s a good thing your house is taking helping the Wall seriously Prince Oberyn. For many years
now, the Watch has fallen into decline and northern houses have practically been the only ones
giving support” Maege remarked seriously.

Oberyn grinned rakishly at Maege once more, “Ah, well, with Uncle Lewyn there, you can rest
assure Dorne, and perhaps even Oldtown when Elia becomes it’s lady, will not turn blind eyes to
the needs of the Watch”

***

Tywin

Tywin crushed the little scroll in his trembling fist, his mind a frenzy of thoughts.

Poison. Poison. Someone dared to poison his child. His daughter. The headache. Was it poison
too?

And Cersei! Was it truly an accident? Or was it murder?

The Strangler! They dared try to use such vile poison.

Who? WHO?!

Steffon better have prepared the best damned explanation known to man.

And Tygett and Gerion. Lysarra and Mormont. What were the idiots doing?! How could they have
let this happen? They better prepare for a tongue-lashing.

Tywin stood up from his chair but sat once more when he felt his knees buckle in his rage.

When he finds who did it—WHEN and not if, because he WILL find them—he will personally
make sure to pour a barrel of strangler down their fucking throat after making them watch their
entire family, their entire house drink strangler too.

He’ll tear down their castles, their homes, stone by stone. He’ll salt their lands. The Rains of
Castamere will be nothing but a child’s lullaby compared to the songs the bards will sing once
everything is done.

He reached for the quill and an empty parchment.

Ravens. He must write letters. He must have his spies in all the houses become more observant of
their lords and ladies. To find out more.

It’s one of them. One of the ambitious houses who thought to use the corpse of his daughters as
their ladder to gain more power.

An ambitious southern house. He’s sure of it.

He’ll find them even if it takes years.

***

The Blackfish

Brynden tried hard not to grimace when he heard the King laugh again.
The man was clearly mad. There’s very little sane thoughts inside his head anymore.

What kind of sane person would laugh and celebrated the death of an innocent child? What kind of
man would laugh after hearing that another innocent child was almost poisoned to death?

The fucking King of the Seven Kingdoms!

And the fools Velaryon and Staunton are doing their best feeding his head with rumors. Can't the
fools see they’re only fanning the flames of insanity?

These frequent secret meetings between the Mad Cripple and his two lapdogs. This sudden trip to
Dragonstone.

Brynden didn’t like them. There’s clearly something going on. His gut feeling has never failed him
before. And it’s telling him right now shit was about to fall down their heads.

Something is wrong.

Why the sudden desire for travel after all these moons of being cooped up in Maegor’s holdfast?

***

The secret spy hurriedly went to his room, locking the door behind him.

He went to his table and took out a parchment and ink and quill and wrote with a trembling hand.

Lord L,

Twenty ships. Rumors of great fishing opportunities in the Narrow Sea within the moon. Great
creatures so close to fishing net.

D. S.
 Tywin/Sansa/Ned

Tywin

Twenty warships being manned to capture a noble or nobles from a great house or houses.
Someone whose travel route is the Narrow Sea.

A huge stone fell to the pit of Tywin’s stomach after reading the scroll—a warning from an
unimportant captain whose mother was a Lantell of Lannisport, one who was also in his employ
and currently at Dragonstone.

There seems to be one problem after another these days. First Cersei. Then the attempt at Sansa's
life. Aerys just leaving for Dragonstone without a word.

Well, Aerys has always been a problem and excelled in making even more problems for others to
deal with, he thought with anger and disdain.

His mind immediately went to his daughter.

He shook his head. No, it cannot be. Aerys would not dare to hurt her in anyway. He won’t if he
knows what’s good for him and his house. He knows how I deal with my enemies and their houses.
He knows of the Reynes and the Tarbecks. Knows what I did to all of them and even got impressed
a long time ago.

The betrothal between Sansa and Rhaegar ensured the West will stand with the Crown. Aerys will
not dare jeopardize that.

Then his mind went to other houses. Stark and Arryn. They’re the only other two families who’ll
travel by ship from the Stormlands—Stark to White Harbor and Arryn to Gulltown.

The North made a surprising move when they started to rebuild their fleet. Not that they were
breaking any laws. Like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, they’re entitled to a naval force. Hells, it
was strange the largest kingdom with one of the five major cities did not have a fleet when other
smaller regions like the Stormlands possessed naval forces.

It was within Rickard Stark's rights to make that decision as Warden of the North and the man did
send word to notify the Small Council.

And it was only what? A paltry naval force of fifteen ships? And five barges that will mostly be
used for shipping goods between White Harbor and Lannisport now that trade between the two has
increased. And there are only five of them currently in existence and Northerners are not known for
fighting at sea.

The Vale, like always, kept to themselves high up in their mountains—their heads and hearts filled
with honor, looking down at everyone with judgment and sneering at all the politicking in the
capital.

Tch, as if they don't harbor any ambitions of power and not playing any filthy politics too, the
hypocrites.

But what in seven fucking hells is Aerys planning to do now? Is he trying to capture one of them? Is
he trying to plunge the Seven Kingdoms into war?
“Ser Ilyn, summon twenty of your men. I want to meet them within the hour” Tywin commanded.

He needed to make arrangements. To make preparations to fight or flight.

***

Sansa

When their ship neared the mouth of Blackwater Bay and she saw many ships of the Royal Fleet
sailing past one after another, a dark foreboding gripped her and questions crossed her mind one
after another.

What was happening? Why were those ships sailing instead of remaining anchored at Dragonstone
or Driftmark? Did something happen during the time they were in the Stormlands or during all this
time they sailed? What is Aerys doing?

She turned to Tygett and asked, “Father did not send any word about any trouble in the capital, did
he?”

“No he did not” Tygett confirmed, “Why?”

“The Royal Fleet uncle. Why are the ships sailing?”

Tygett’s brows furrowed in thought then he shook his head, “How should I know? Perhaps trouble
in the Eastern coast? Could be a squid infestation that needed to be dealt with”

Sansa looked out the small window of their rooms again and frowned, “You really believe that?”

“What is it San? What has you concerned over such a matter?”

She turned to him fully, “I don’t feel good. Something tells me there's more that's happening or
about to happen. When was the last time the Royal Fleet had any movements? During the Defiance
of Duskendale?”

“Well, nothing we can do about the lack of knowledge and information right now. There’s only
around a week left and we’ll be in the capital soon”

Sansa looked out the window once more. Am I failing? Have I already failed when I did nothing to
get rid of Aerys and let him live past the Defiance of Duskendale? No, whatever happens or is
happening, there cannot be war. Father. I must convince him to speak with Rhaegar.

***

Ned

Loud and hurried knocks made Ned drop the book he was holding.

“Lord Ned? My lord we must speak at once”

Ned got up from his seat to open his simple cabin’s door and frowned at seeing a panicking Lord
Wyman Manderly.

“Lord Manderly? What is it?”

“My lord… Ships. From the Royal Fleet. They’re… it looks like they’re trying to surround us”
Ned stood stock-still, almost afraid to breathe, “Are..” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “Are
you sure? What made you say that my lord”

“I am sure my lord. There’s two of them so far. Yesterday, the captain reported having caught sight
of the ships with the Targaryen banners using his Myrish eye. They were just moving about in the
distance as if drifting, with no clear movement or direction. But today, they’ve moved closer and
closer. They're very close. What are your commands my lord?”

Ned felt his knees weaken, his head feeling heavy as if he’d gone and went deep in his cups.

What to do? What to do? Father, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why this is
happening. I am afraid and I don’t know what to do.

He felt two hands grab his shoulders tight, “Lord Eddard! Ned!”

Ned shook his head to clear it and looked at Lord Wyman’s pale face, “I don't… what would you
recommend my lord?”

“They clearly have us within their sights my lord. I’m afraid trying to escape them now will worsen
whatever is it that’s happening”

“No. No. Trying to run away would make it appear as if we are guilty of whatever it is they’re
pursuing us for. And we can’t be sure we can escape them, can we?”

“I am afraid not my lord. I don’t know what’s ahead. There might be more of them” Lord Manderly
admitted with clenched jaws.

“Then… then let us meet them with utmost civility. If they want to…take us with them, we shall
do so peacefully"
 Ned/Tywin/Sansa

Ned

With the two royal ships fast approaching, he and Lord Wyman quickly went to writing letters
bound for White Harbor and Winterfell. Thankfully, the Lord Manderly kept ravens in his ship.

In his letter, he went on to inform his lord father of the unexpected unpleasant situation they found
themselves in and explained his decision to allow themselves to be taken to avoid further problems.

After seeing the ravens released, he went on to give commands to his men: Stand down. Act with
courtesy. No matter what happened, none must raise their sword. No speaking out of turn. Not so
much as a glare or a sneer. Do not give the men of the Crown reason to attack and make whatever
it is that has happened or is happening worse.

In truth, he was afraid. No, he was terrified. He cannot think of a reason as to why things are
happening the way they are. And knowing the King’s reputation, he’s afraid things will get worse.
And if it comes to war?

The North wasn’t as secure as he thought it was. The Ryswells and the Boltons were about to
enter in a marriage alliance.

As for the south…The trade with the Westerlands was just picking up and if things get heated
between the Crown and the North, Lord Lannister will no doubt support the Crown—his daughter
was betrothed to Prince Rhaegar after all. If the trade ceased, it will be a great blow to the North’s
economy.

The Stormlands was not reliable. Despite him and Robert being friends—something that’s now
tainted with the broken betrothal—the Baratheons were kin to the Targaryens and Lord Steffon
was Hand. Almost half of the houses in that region were also Targaryen loyalists.

The Reach was a solid Targaryen loyalist while Dorne kept to their own. The Iron Islands…
knowing the Ironborn, they’d happily side with the Crown and reave the North’s eastern coasts.

Lord Jon may be their friend and ally but—Ned wasn’t sure of the entire Vale. There were also
strong Targaryen supporters there. And Lord Jon would have to think of his people's welfare first.

The North’s alliance with the Riverlands was just as tenuous. The region shared borders with the
Westerlands, the Crownlands and the Reach and with Lady Catelyn betrothed to the Lannister
heir… Hoster Tully may change his mind and break the betrothal between he and Lady Lysa to
keep his lands and people safe.

The North could very well be alone.

Ned closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists. So few allies. Lyanna. You might have just
helped spell disaster for the North because of your disregard for your duty.

Now up close, he could see not just the Targaryen banners with the three-headed dragon but also
some with the Velaryon silver seahorse and a few with the Celtigar red crabs. On the deck stood
perhaps fifty men, some clearly archers. One of the archers broke rank and aimed for their ship

Ned heard Ser Rodrik muttered from behind him, “What in seven hells?”
“A message, I am sure of it” Lord Wyman answered.

Sure enough, after Lord Wyman had one of his men retrieve the arrow, they saw that a small scroll
was attached to it. The Lord of White Harbor gave the scroll to him and Ned hurriedly opened it.
And stood still upon reading its contents.

“What does it say my lord?” Lord Wyman asked with worried eyes.

Ned swallowed hard before answering, “They’re commanding the ship head for Dragonstone”

“Dragonstone?” Lord Wyman asked in confusion, “Why?”

Ned shook his head, “I don’t know. All it says is His Grace…the King Aerys is expecting us at
Dragonstone”

“Then…Dragonstone it is we go”

***

Sansa

Her father, the feared Tywin Lannister, stood tall and imposing like a sentinel tree at the private
docks of the Royal Family. Behind him stood ten red cloaks. He was obviously waiting for their
arrival. And impatiently, by the look in his eyes.

The Prince Rhaegar and his retinue who disembarked earlier were already gone but Lord Steffon
remained and stood beside him. There was a visible tension between the two men—no doubt
having to do with the events that occurred in Storm’s End.

As soon as Tygett helped her down from the plank that served as a bridge from the small boat
which ferried them from the ship to shore, Tywin closed the remaining distance and snatched her.
He clutched her shoulders tight and took her appearance in from head to foot while firing questions
one after another in a low voice.

“Are you alright? Has your sickness passed? Are you well enough to speak about what in seven
hells happened in Storm’s End?”

Surprised at the unexpected show of concern, Sansa jerkily nodded her head before answering, “I
—yes, I am fine. And yes, I would like to speak with you too as soon as we get to a private place

“Good”

He turned to Tygett and tersely gave instructions for the accommodations of Prince Oberyn and his
men, the transport of Cersei’s bones as well as a command for her two uncles to meet with them
after. Then he guided her to her mare and helped her mount.

***

Tywin

His blood boiling for many days now, Tywin glared at the silent Mormont woman before turning
his gaze to his daughter, “Why does this woman have to be here?”

Blue and green eyes met his resolutely, “Because I gave her my word she’ll be present when I tell
you who I think planned the poisoning. Raya was from Bear Island, father. She could have stayed
there and lived a long life. But because of her service to me and House Lannister, she’s now dead.”
Tywin gritted his teeth at the reminder, “Very well. Tell me everything”

“I wasn’t there when… when Cersei’s accident happened. You’ll have to ask Uncle Gerion about
it. But…after the accident, the following morning, the other lords and ladies approached us to give
their sympathies. I didn’t notice anything from the other nobles. The Martells were genuinely
sympathetic, this I am sure of. Lord Arryn was kind. Ned Stark and his people too. Lord Steffon, I
am sure, had nothing to do with it. What reason would he have for making an enemy of you? Why
would he want his house and family name dragged through the mud for breaking Guest Right?
And it was his son’s wedding. Please don’t…just don’t blame him. Don't alienate him and the
Stormlands for a crime they know nothing about“

Tywin clenched his jaws but upon seeing green and blue eyes looking at him determinedly, he
gave a perfunctory nod in agreement, “Who do you suspect then?”

He watched his young daughter took a deep breath before speaking, “Whatever I say must not get
out of this room. Swear it to me first, all of you”

Tywin felt his irritation flare, “Sansa—"

His daughter only raised her chin in defiance, “I said swear it. I have no proof. This is merely a
suspicion but one wrong word and it could mean lives”

“I am not a fool” Tywin growled.

“I swear it” the Mormont woman said in a strong voice.

His daughter turned to look at her quiet uncles. Gerion sighed heavily before swearing while
Tygett looked on in anger.

“Please uncle. This is very important” his daughter pleaded.

Tygett shook his head, his face one of exasperation before agreeing, “Fine. Fine. I swear it. Out
with it.”

“I suspect Lady Olenna” his little girl said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

Tywin stilled then swiftly processed the information. The Mormont woman went still while his two
younger brothers made their anger known.

“That fucking bitch!” Tygett growled.

“That damned Olenna?! This is… why did you not tell us this then, Sansa?” Gerion asked crossly.

“Because it was just a suspicion. And I feared you both would react the way you’re doing now” his
girl said calmly.

“But we could have—"

“She’s right” Tywin interrupted Gerion harshly, “She made the right choice to wait. You idiots
would’ve made an even bigger mess of things than you already have” He then turned to his
daughter, “What made you think it was her?”

“She spoke with me earlier that day. Expressed her sympathies and threw in some barbs about your
legacy failing bit by bit, mentioned the losses of House Lannister. While Raya was choking on the
floor, I looked around. While everyone else looked shocked or horrified, for a moment, she
looked…perhaps, disappointed. It is not much evidence to go by but…of the great houses right
now, who’s most competitive with House Lannister but is not playing that well?”

“Yes, Yes. I do remember that old bat talking trash” Tygett said darkly.

“Hn. On its own, House Tyrell can be dealt with easily. But with Hightower, Redwyne, Tarly—
some of the wealthiest and strongest houses in the realm—this must be dealt with carefully. None
of you are allowed to make any moves against anyone from House Tyrell until I say so,
understood?”

Tywin gave each of them a glare until they gave him nods of understanding.

It will not be today. It will be in moons. Mayhap years. But I will see to the downfall of your great
house Olenna. And you shall have that Strangler to drown your sorrows with.

“This is why you didn’t want to tell us. Because had we acted rashly based on mere suspicions…”
Mormont trailed off then sighed.

“Yes. You understand Maege, don’t you? Why we cannot just carelessly pursue justice for Raya.
If we do, by the end of it—if there's even an end to it—there’d be more injustice than we would be
able to keep count of” his daughter replied.

The Mormont woman closed her eyes and nodded, face an image of disappointment, then stood up,
“If you please, my lord, my lady, may I leave and take some time alone for now?”

“Go” Tywin commanded.

When Mormont was gone, Tywin turned angry eyes at his youngest brother, “And Cersei? What is
your excuse for your incompetence hm? How could you have let her die under your watch?”

“Let her die? You think I wanted your daughter dead? You think I simply stood by and allowed it?
I tried to save her, you fucking ass. I did. You can ask everyone else” Gerion retorted heatedly.

Tywin growled menacingly, “You dare speak to me this way after all your failures?”

“You started it by accusing me. Do you think I am some all-knowing, all-powerful god brother?
That I would be able to predict an accident and stop it with the snap of my fingers? I am certain not
even you in all your genius could do it. Just like you weren’t able to save your wife” Gerion
answered mockingly.

Tywin heard his daughter gasp through the vicious throbbing in his ears before she spoke in a
pleading voice, “Stop! Please stop it you two. Can’t you see this isn’t helping? Whether Cersei’s
death was by accident or someone else’s design, we shouldn’t be fighting amongst ourselves. We
already have enough enemies as it is. Spare your anger for them, not take it out on each other”

Silence ruled the room for a while before Tywin stood up and stared his insolent younger brother
down, “You will never speak this way again to me. You will leave the Capital and return to
Casterly Rock tomorrow. You will take Cersei’s remains with you”

Gerion’s anger turned to disbelief, “You’re not going? You will not even give her a proper burial?
She’s your daughter”

“And she’s dead!” Tywin snapped, “I can have a gold coffin made for her but it won’t change the
fact that she’s dead. I cannot leave the capital. Something crucial is happening. Aerys is making a
move. I need to stay. And you won’t just be returning to the Rock with my daughter’s bone. You
will help Kevan prepare and lead the Western army at anytime when I send word”

“What exactly is happening Tywin? What is the problem? There were ships. The Royal Fleet is
moving. We encountered several of them” Tygett asked.

“A message from my man at Dragonstone said Aerys has ordered the capture of someone. It could
be Arryn or Stark. I am leaning toward Stark”

“You think it might lead to war?” Tygett asked next.

“Knowing Aerys, it just might” Tywin answered darkly.

***

Sansa

It’s not too late. It can be fixed. Make a ladder from the chaos and help get everyone out of the pit
the Mad King made and bury him in it.

“What is it you need to speak further with me alone? Are there any more problems I need to know
about?” Tywin asked with a raised brow.

Sansa clenched her hands into tight fists on her lap, “It’s about what you said. Aerys taking Ned
Stark captive. If he does… Father, we must help him. Help ensure a war does not happen”

Her father looked at her with sharp, green eyes before answering, “I do not have control over
Aerys’ actions. And if it comes down to choosing sides, you know very well the choice I will
make. House Stark is of no importance to us anyway”

“Family first. I understand. I understand perfectly well also that House Lannister’s legacy must live
on. And I know the Starks don’t matter to you. But father, if Aerys could do this to one house, he
could do this to us. So long as he is King, none of us will ever be safe. He could change his mind at
anytime—like breaking my betrothal to Rhaegar or worse, with him having suspicions about his
heir, he may very well put Viserys ahead in the line of succession. And if war breaks out… it will
cost the Seven Kingdoms. Lives, gold, resources. And it will also fracture relationships that will
take years to properly mend—if they could even be mended when all is said and done.”

“And what do you suggest then? Have him assassinated?”

“This can be turned into an opportunity. We could avoid a war and get rid of Aerys at the same
time. If the King has indeed captured Ned Stark, if we help free him, we can have the North’s
support and perhaps even Jon Arryn's. Prince Oberyn is here, you could talk to him. With the
Riverlands and the Vale and possibly the Stormlands and Dorne, it should be enough support. Then
talk to Rhaegar. Make him beholden to you. Wed us to assure him of House Lannister’s support.
Convince him to call on a Great Council and have Aerys deposed”

“You would be willing to marry him so young?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes. If it will help dethrone Aerys and prevent a war then yes. I don’t want to be a queen of a war-
torn Seven Kingdoms father. It will even be better this way because then, you can set a condition
that I am not required to birth heirs until I am at least fifteen”

His frown disappeared and a glint in his eyes and a serious look took over. He then reached out for
a blank parchment and his ink bottle and quill and started writing before commanding softly, “Go.
Get some rest”
 Brynden/Ned/Sansa/Rickard
Chapter Notes

Thanks for all the kudos and apologies for the delay in updating. Unfortunately my
laptop overheated. The motherboard is toast and the hard drive was affected too.
(T_T). I've been so very busy securing my backup files and transferring them to the
new one.

Brynden

“Again! Flog him again! Harder!” the Mad King screamed, “I said harder!”

Brynden clenched his hand on the pommel of his sword to keep his control and grit his teeth hard
when the thong of Monford Velaryon's whip struck Eddard Stark’s back for the ninth time.

“Confess! Tell us of your traitorous father’s plan and you shall be given the choice to take the
Black instead. Confess!”

Ned Stark was clearly in pain but, to his credit, he still looked the King in the eye when he
answered, “N-no Your Grace. I know not what rebellion the letter you received is talking about.
My Lord F-father would never…Never.”

“Liar! You dare lie to me, your King?” the Mad King Aerys raged from his throne—purple eyes
wild, disgusting spit flying, a crumbled piece of parchment clutched in his dirty, taloned hand.

“You still refuse to tell us what you know of your father’s crime?! So be it! Lucerys!” the King
bellowed for his Master of Ships.

“My King” like an eager, faithful dog, the Lord of Driftmark proudly presented himself before the
raving mad cripple.

“Put their entire crew to the sword. Put their heads in boxes and have them sent to Winterfell. Tell
Stark this: Come to Dragonstone and present yourself before your King or the next box will be that
of your useless son and Manderly’s”

Brynden took deep, measured breaths to keep a hold of himself then he surreptitiously looked at the
other kingsguards to see how they reacted to the latest cruel command.

Barristan looked unfazed as ever, prepared to do his duty as the Lord Commander of the
Kingsguard. Brynden knew voicing any protest or objection to Selmy will not do him any good.
No, it will only make the man suspicious of him and perhaps even report him to Aerys.

Willem Darry looked just as determined to serve the King of Madness. And with House Darry also
showing more loyalty to House Targaryen, talking to the man might just spell House Tully’s doom.

Monford was a Velaryon and clearly looked happy and honored to perform anything to prove his
loyalty to the Crown.

The rest? All sheep.

He grit his teeth knowing he will find no help from anyone at Dragonstone. It was probably the
reason Aerys opted to leave Kingslanding—all the people in the damned island were either shoved
too far up his stinky, puny dragon ass or too craven to stick out their necks against his tyranny.

No matter how much he wanted to save the Stark heir and the Lord of White Harbor—surrounded
by men from the Houses Velaryon, Celtigar and other noble families of the Narrow Sea notorious
for being Targaryen ass-lickers—he just couldn’t see a way out.

A rebellion? It’s preposterous. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Brynden refused to believe the
allegation. He has met Rickard Stark a few times and knows of the man’s reputation for being
honorable despite his obvious ambitions. And although he sought highly desired southern
betrothals for his children, only one remained.

Based on what Brynden knew and what little Hoster shared, those betrothals were to ensure House
Stark has strong allies and at the same time, to improve the North’s economy—the trade with the
West being an example. If allies and economic development were Rickard Stark’s goals, rebelling
against the Crown would be an utterly stupid move. It would only cause the North to lose whatever
gains they’re slowly accumulating.

No, the Starks weren’t fomenting rebellion. Someone clearly wanted to put them down. But who?
And why?

***

Ned

Lying on his front on the pallet to save his back from more pain, Ned ignored his starving stomach
and succumbed once more to asking the Lord Manderly questions, “I don’t understand. I truly
don’t…Why would anyone accuse father of this?”

Only two days in the godsforsaken island and the Lord of White Harbor already looked gaunt,
especially in the flickering light emitted by the torches. His normally amiable face looked sallow
and his laughing pale blue eyes were now dim.

Ser Rodrik and Martyn didn’t look any better. Both of them looked utterly exhausted from lack of
sleep trying to guard him at all times and uselessly tending to his wounds.

“I don’t…I have been thinking and I…” Lord Wyman shook his head then looked away.

Ned slowly sat up and bit back a cry from the pain on his back as he shifted to find a better
position to face the older lord, “Lord Wyman, what is it?”

Lord Manderly looked at him once more with a disturbed look in his eyes, “I think someone is
playing with us as sacrificial pawns, my lord. Everything—the current situation is ripe for taking
down House Stark, don’t you see it? Lord Brandon’s betrothal to Lady Sansa Lannister broken by
the King. Lady Lyanna’s betrothal to the Lord Hand’s son and King Aerys' nephew broken also.
The North’s trade with the West. The start of rebuilding the Northern Fleet. Your betrothal with a
southerner. A simple letter to the King…”

The Lord of White Harbor trailed off but Ned understood what was not said.

A simple letter to a Mad King who’s known to be even more suspicious and violent after
Duskendale. Yes, a simple letter would be enough to make House Stark the focus of the King’s
wrath.
His tongue feeling heavy inside his mouth, Ned asked, “Who? Who do you think it is?”

Lord Manderly’s eyes turned dark even more, “My lord, who do you think will reap the benefits
should House Stark fall?”

Ned was the one to look away this time. His eyes then fixed on the black stone shaped like sharp
dragon claws serving as a torch-holder and attached to the wall facing their prison.

A dark and grim place, that’s what Dragonstone was. The citadel was made almost all of black
stone. To him, it looked grimmer than even Winterfell. He wondered how it would compare to the
Dreadfort.

But even through the hunger and the pain on his back, he could see why the Targaryens were so
proud of it. It’s overall architecture really cannot be compared with any in the rest of the kingdoms.

Statues of many formidable beasts dotted the place: Gargoyles, grotesques, basilisks, cockatrices,
griffins, manticores, minotaurs, wyverns and many more. But they were dominated by the
creatures which helped the Targaryens conquer Westeros.

Small dragons framed the gates. Dragon tails formed archways and staircases. Roofs were shaped
as though dragons hovered on top of towers and other buildings.

Everywhere there were dragons. Even in the dungeons. They seemed to loom at him and he
wondered if this was where he would die. Like the forty-four men he witnessed butchered like pigs
in a slaughterhouse earlier that day. His last sight that of the hateful purple eyes of the Mad King
and his last breath of salt and smoke and brimstone.

***

Sansa

Sansa immediately tensed and sat up rigidly upon seeing her father’s enraged face when he joined
them to break their fast.

“It’s confirmed. Ned Stark’s ship was blocked and ordered to head for Dragonstone. All the crew
were taken prisoner and Stark and Manderly were brought before Aerys” Tywin reported.

She heard Tygett muttered a curse but kept her eyes focused on her father’s stony face, “What
else? Did your man say why they were summoned there?”

She heard Tywin’s teeth ground before answering, “Aerys is accusing House Stark of fomenting
rebellion. He received a letter reporting such”

“You don’t believe it” Sansa said with certainty.

“My spies North have not reported any army movements. The only difference noted was the start
of them rebuilding their fleet. But that’s to be expected, what with the growing trade with the West.
The North needs to have a fleet of their own to protect their trading vessels from the Ironborn.
Northern timber and lumber are valuable. Those damned krakens are surely salivating like feral
mongrel dogs to seize them so they could add more ships to their fleet.”

“Is there any way for your people to get Ned Stark out of Dragonstone father?”

Tywin’s jaws clenched once more, “No. Too dangerous. The surrounding waters are infested with
loyalists.
Sansa closed her eyes upon hearing the answer. She knew it was going to be the case but having it
confirmed just made it even more terrible.

A letter. If Ned was betrothed to Catelyn, Sansa would think it was machinated by Littlefinger. As
it was, her spy gave her constant reports of Petyr Baelish living an unremarkable life in the Fingers
under the thumb of his tyrant of a father.

The Stark’s downfall will bring no benefit to Littlefinger. House Lannister certainly has not part in
the plot. She also doubted House Tyrell has any role in it. Jon Arryn is Ned Stark's foster father.
Hoster Tully his future goodfather. Robert Baratheon is still his friend. The Martells? Just
impossible.

No, southern houses will not reap any benefit. But it will surely benefit House Bolton. And House
Ryswell. Roose Bolton was arranged to wed Bethany Ryswell. They've already proven capable of
betrayal.

“Father, what about what we talked about last time? Any progress? Have you spoken to Lord
Baratheon?”

“I am going to have a talk with Steffon this evening. It won’t be long and this news will break out.
As for the others, I have already sent messengers to Riverrun, the Eyrie and Sunspear”

“Riverrun, the Eyrie and Sunspear—what the hell are you two talking about?” Tygett asked, brows
furrowed.

“A Great Council Tygett, keep up” Tywin answered with a slightly mocking tone.

“A Great Council?! You two—” Tygett shook his head then scoffed, “No, never mind. With you
two schemers, anything is possible”

“It’s not enough” Sansa interrupted, “The travel would take weeks. And we won’t be able to mount
a rescue for Ned Stark and Lord Manderly if King Aerys decided to stay at Dragonstone. The King
must be forced to bring them here”

“Aerys will not kill Ned Stark. He will need the boy to control Rickard. As for forcing the fool,
that’s very easy. A rumor or two of Rhaegar trying to get the lords to his side will have the idiot
cripple come crawling to defend his throne” Tywin answered with a sneer.

Sansa relaxed a bit.

Her father had it right. Aerys may have his eyes set on House Stark at present but Tywin Lannister
and Rhaegar remain his two greatest foes. And the Boltons and the Ryswells…

Roose Bolton once conspired with Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey. Perhaps he and his father
would be open to another Lannister proposal this time.

The end, of course, will be different this time around, I'll make sure of it.

***

Rickard

Blocked by ships from the Royal Fleet. Summoned by the King to Dragonstone.

Rickard crushed the small scroll with shaking hands, mind scrambling.
No. No. Blocked? Royal Fleet? A summon from the King? What does he want? Why Dragonstone?
This can’t be good. Nothing was ever good when it came to dealing with Aerys for years now.

A knock on the door caught his attention and when it opened and showed Lyanna on the other
side, his anger only worsened.

“What do you want this time Lyanna?” he asked impatiently.

Lyanna entered his solar quietly and meekly sat on the chair in front of him, making Rickard’s eyes
sharpen at the mummer’s act. The girl hesitated before speaking, her eyes and tone both pleading,
“I… I’ve come to speak with you about my betrothal. Father, please…I know I have been very
difficult but please, don’t make me spend the rest of my life in Bear Island. I won’t be able to bear
it. Surely—”

Rickard threw the crumpled scroll in front of his daughter and snapped, “Read.”

The girl read the scroll with a frown then raised confused eyes at him, “What is this? Ned
summoned by the King to Dragonstone? Why?”

“You have heard of the King’s madness have you not? Why do you think he mobilized the Royal
Fleet to intercept your brother’s ship? What do you think this means for us?”

“That...I don’t know” the girl answered shaking her head.

“This means your brother is in danger. Our house and the North are both in danger. And now, after
refusing to marry the Baratheon heir and denying the North an important alliance, you still have
the gall to make further complaints, more demands?” Rickard could not help but raise his voice the
longer he spoke, “Grow up you stupid child. And stop talking about what you want. I have no
patience left to hear them. And as you can see, I have infinitely more pressing matters to see to. Our
house, the North, your brother’s life. Now, since you clearly cannot help, get out of my solar”

After Lyanna quietly shuffled out of the room, Rickard closed his eyes tiredly for a few minutes
and tried to clear his head but Ned’s words continued to haunt him.

My son, my heir. And one of my most trusted people who’s also the lord to the only city in the
North. It’s a terrible situation.

He opened his eyes again and reached for a clean parchment when his eyes fell on the other strange
scroll he has not read yet. The seal did not belong to any house. He picked it up and opened it.

Lord Stark,

At Highgarden, you told me you would gladly host me in Winterfell should I get the opportunity to
visit the North in the future. That you would show me your thousands of years old godswood and
the crypt of the Kings of Winter.

Allow me to express my gratitude once more. Know that even though we cannot be family, I
consider House Stark a friend and an ally. And though my family’s reputation isn’t the best, know
that I take good care of my friends. My father too has expressed his willingness to help. We will
provide as much aid to your son as we can but please, do keep our participation a secret between
friends.

Also, be careful in the dark my lord. Watch your flanks. Keep it safe from a horse’s kick or a
particularly sharp blade. Do not trust oaths of fealty—not even promises of Guest Rights.
The writer may have left out their name but he knew exactly who it came from.

Lady Sansa Lannister.

The failed betrothal that put an end to her becoming the future Lady Stark and preventing them
from becoming family. The talk about seeing the godswood and the crypt.

It could only be Lord Tywin's daughter.

And if her words were true, the Great Lion would also provide help willingly. Tywin Lannister. A
far better, stronger ally than even Jon Arryn and Steffon Baratheon.

Rickard released a relieved sigh and his worry for Ned lessened. Then tensed up and became
uneasy once more when he remembered the warning about protecting his flanks from horses and
blades.
 Tywin/Rhaegar/Sansa

Tywin

“Aerys reportedly already sent summons to Stark to go to Dragonstone. He also had the forty-four
crewmen of Manderly’s ship butchered like pigs and has commanded Velaryon to have their heads
put in a box and sent North. I am certain Stark will comply to ensure his heir’s life, unknowing that
if he sets even a single foot on that island, he’s dead” Tywin shared his spy’s report.

As expected, Steffon's face darkened in anger, “Forty-four men! The fucking bastard! This is why
he went there. So he can do whatever he wanted without anyone questioning his decisions or trying
to circumvent or stop his orders.”

“Hn. Are you really surprised he’s doing this?” Tywin asked with a quirked brow.

Steffon massaged his temples and breathed deep, “This can’t go on. He’ll use this to display power.
To prove he isn’t as feeble as rumors said he was. I can already imagine the corpse of Stark, his
heir and Manderly tied and dragged behind his palanquin when he returns. He’ll probably consider
that as a triumphant return to the city.”

Tywin smirked in dark amusement, “Hn. You know your cousin well”

“I would appreciate it if you never remind me of the familial association ever again” Steffon said
with a glare before frowning once more, “I still don’t understand. I have talked with Rickard Stark
and I, for one, do not believe him so foolish as to make himself Aerys' target. You have spies
everywhere. Tell me, do you really believe Rickard Stark is planning a rebellion?”

Tywin scoffed at the absurdity of the question, “Although the man has ambitions for the North,
independence or isolation is certainly not his goal. His heir is betrothed to Tully’s younger
daughter, in case you’ve forgotten. And he and his North are reaping the benefits of the continued
trade agreement with the West—a trade agreement I could put a stop to anytime”

Steffon pinched the bridge of his nose and made a sound of frustration, “Then who is it? And more
importantly, why? My guts say this has something to do with that new fleet and Velaryon and
Staunton whispering in Aerys' ears but I cannot make a connection. Share that genius mind of
yours. Explain it to me.”

Tywin tapped his fingers lightly on the table's surface while thinking before deciding to share his
suspicions. Getting his childhood friend to agree to his proposal is the goal after all. “At least your
guts has its uses. Yes, I too suspect Velaryon and Staunton, with perhaps some participation from
the Boltons. The Tyrells too are suspect. As for the reason, I believe this is about consolidating
power for Aerys and later on, Viserys, and mayhap also an attack against me”

Steffon’s eyes widened, “What?! What made you think that? Aerys I understand. But Viserys? He's
a second son and just a babe to boot”

“You should’ve already seen enough of how the relationship between Aerys and Rhaegar has
severely deteriorated. Rhaegar is what now? One and twenty? And yet Aerys has not once trusted
Rhaegar with any meaningful position in the Small council. Nor is he taking measures to prepare
him to rule when the right time comes. Instead, he has his firstborn spied on and treats his youngest
child like the heir. Velaryon and Staunton are taking advantage of that. But with Aerys having few
allies left, they have to maneuver things to get the result they want.”
“But why go for Stark?” Steffon asked with great puzzlement.

“Because he is the weakest target whose death will be most beneficial to their cause” Tywin
bluntly answered.

To his irritation, Steffon continued to look like a clueless idiot. “Beneficial?”

“If Stark and his heir die, who will be left to lead House Stark? Stark’s daughter, a wild girl of
fifteen? His youngest son, a boy of seven?”

Steffon’s face turned grim, “No. Aerys will strip them of everything, including their lives.”

Tywin scoffed at his old friend’s lack of imagination and historical awareness, “Wrong. The
Boltons will descend upon Winterfell like the starving beasts they are and Stark's remaining
children will be flayed, filleted and served to Aerys on their best silver platter so they could be
rewarded rule over the North”

The Starks and the Boltons have one of the oldest and bloodiest rivalries in the entire Seven
Kingdoms and though the Boltons have bent the knee to the Starks, the certainty of the flayed man
waiting for an opportunity to usurp the wolves exists. This fact Tywin is highly aware of. Knowing
the weaknesses of other great houses he could exploit should the need arise is a must after all.

Steffon’s face cleared in understanding, “And with the Boltons ruling, they’ll have the North”

“Exactly. But that‘s only part of it. As I mentioned, this is also an attack against me. Remember my
son Jaime and Ned Stark are both betrothed to Tully’s girls. If the marriages are successful and
there are heirs, that would make mine and Stark’s grandchildren cousins. As for the trade, with the
North rebuilding its own fleet and coincidentally helping me strengthen the Lannister fleet through
the timber and lumber trade, I am quite certain Velaryon and Olenna are particularly unhappy.”

“This can’t go on” Steffon repeated his earlier sentiment, “We absolutely cannot let this happen.
This is madness! Utter stupidity! Tell me you have a solution up your sleeves”

Tywin looked the man in the eye and let silence reign between them for a while before speaking,
“Rhaegar. We must speak with him.”

“What exactly do you have in mind? What can Rhaegar do?”

“It’s time for him to step up and act the proper future King of the Seven Kingdoms”

***

Rhaegar

“Prince Rhaegar” the Lords Lannister and Baratheon stood in greeting upon his entrance to the
Hand’s solar.

The atmosphere was heavy and the two lords looked utterly serious and Rhaegar knew the ensuing
conversation was going to be a very critical one. And he just knew it will have something to do
with his mad father’s actions at Dragonstone.

“My lords, you have asked to see me?” Rhaegar asked once he was seated, Arthur standing guard at
his back.

“Yes Your Highness. It’s a matter of great importance” Lord Baratheon answered, his eyes grim
and body taut with tension.

“I had guessed as much” Rhaegar said with a nod, “It’s the first time, I believe, that you both asked
to meet me in private. To what do I owe this pleasure my lords?”

“When history is written, Prince Rhaegar, what kind of king do you want the scribes and maesters
to call you? What kind of legacy are you going to leave behind?” Lord Lannister suddenly spoke,
his disconcerting pale green eyes flecked with gold fixed on him.

Rhaegar tried very hard not to show his unease at the Great Lion’s line of questioning.

This is why he barely interacted with the Lord of the West. He has always found Lord Lannister's
pale green eyes intimidating since he was still a child. They always looked as if they were
assessing him—felt as if they could see through him, including things he didn’t know about
himself. The Lady Sansa, young as she was, shared the same unnerving gaze sometimes.

It irked him. He is the Crown Prince and yet he feels like a creature being inspected under their
sight. And when he marries Lady Sansa…He is already dreading the thought of increased time
spent with their gazes pinned on him.

“My Lord” Rhaegar spoke after gathering his calm, “surely you already know the answers I will
give to your questions. What is it exactly you want to speak with me?”

“The King is insane” Lord Tywin stated bluntly, “He has been for years. And now he’s gone and
committed the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his entire reign—captured the heir of the Warden
of the North and accusing them of rebellion. How do you intend to address this problem?”

“He is the King” Rhaegar answered but even he knew it was a weak one. His father is mad. All of
them know it.

But, he wears the crown and sits the Iron Throne still. And many lords still support him. Going
against him is a gamble. A gamble he refused to make.

“And as I said, insane” was Lord Tywin’s short response.

Rhaegar forced himself to meet the man’s eyes, “My Lords, this talk, to me, seems like it will lead
to treason. I hope that is not the reason you’ve asked to see me”

“Will you still call it treason if I tell you what is happening right now will lead to your enemies
gathering support not only for your Mad Father but also ensure a power bloc for Prince Viserys,
your younger brother? That inaction at this crucial point in time will give those who desire a
regency a stronger chance to take away your crown, your birthright?”

Lord Lannister’s talk of regency immediately made him think of Velaryon and Staunton
whispering in his mad father’s ears. A rage unlike any other filled Rhaegar and he gripped the
armrest of his chair tight to keep himself in place, “And what has led you to this conclusion Lord
Lannister?”

“If the Starks should fall, who do you think will your father choose as the new ruling house of the
North?” Lord Lannister asked with his sharp eyes pinned on him.

“House Bolton” he answered. A house that has no loyalties nor sympathies for House Stark of
course, this Rhaegar knows. Then quickly realized with a sinking feeling what Lord Lannister was
going to say next.
“And when your father names Viserys his heir, who will the Boltons support?” Lord Lannister
asked.

“You clearly asked me to see you two with an end goal in mind. A goal, I am sure, that will see to
ending my father’s rule and I on the throne. What is it exactly you suggest I do my lords?” Rhaegar
asked instead of answering the question.

“A Great Council, Your Highness” Lord Baratheon responded this time, “We recommend a Great
Council. Have the King Aerys' crimes brought to light. Let justice be served and let the lords see
and choose you as the worthy person to sit the Iron Throne and rule instead.”

“He is still the King. Anointed in the sight of the Seven. There is no guarantee that the lords will
flock to my side”

“You already have the support of Houses Lannister and Baratheon. House Tully will also no doubt
follow. House Arryn too, with Jon Arryn as Ned Stark’s foster father. The Martells and the
Hightowers have no love for your Father after what he’s done to Lewyn Martell and Gerold
Hightower” Lord Baratheon answered.

Rhaegar considered the Lord Hand’s words.

The West is united under House Lannister and Dorne under House Martell. The Vale, the
Stormlands and the Riverlands might pose problems but what matters is their liege lords supporting
him. House Hightower holds Oldtown. The North too will no doubt stand behind him if he saves
House Stark. It’s a reassuring thought.

Feeling more confident, Rhaegar asked, “And how do you propose we go about assembling a Great
Council my lords?”

***

Sansa

Garon, her falconer tutor, was right. Peregrine birds were excellent in flight. Less than three hours
of soaring and diving in the air and she was able to reach Dragonstone.

Making sure to fly as high as she could to avoid being spotted and shot with an arrow, she surveyed
the grim place and looked for the Sea Dragon Tower. She’s learned it’s where noble prisoners
were housed.

Finding the tower shaped like a dragon gazing serenely out across the sea, she carefully landed on a
windowsill and surveyed the room. It was empty. She flew and checked the other rooms. Most of
them were empty. Even the rooms that looked like cells inside the tower.

Getting more worried as an hour of fruitless searching passed, she proceeded to the massive Stone
Drum where more dungeons were kept.

Hoping to hear rumors or gossips of where her father in the previous life was, she started from the
top where she knew the famous Chamber of the Painted Table was located. She quietly hopped on
a ledge and looked inside.

The Mad King! And Lord Velaryon!

Their back was thankfully to hers. Deciding quickly, she flew up and made herself comfortable on
the rafters.
It was Lord Velaryon she heard talk first, “House Bolton is prepared to mount an attack the
moment Stark leaves Winterfell”

“I want every one of them dead. You hear me Lucerys? All of them. I’ll not have a Stark leading a
northern rebellion. I want the North whole and cowering under the Boltons” the Mad King growled
out.

“It shall be done My King” Lord Velaryon said with a deep bow.

Aerys laughed, sounding pleased with himself, “Good! This should teach Tywin and the trout
Tully a lesson. The damned trade stops. The Lannister fleet stops growing. And Tully’s dream of
having his daughter be the wife of a future warden is destroyed. Their houses won’t be able to
unite and be a threat to me”

“Yes, indeed Your Grace” Lord Velaryon simpered.

“And the Stark boy? Has the Maester seen to him?”

“Yes Your Grace. He is healing quite nicely” Lord Velaryon said.

“Yes. Yes. I want the father and son to meet again before their end. That should make for a truly
moving reunion wouldn’t you say?” Aerys asked with a demented laugh.

“Indeed it shall, My King”

“And when this is all done. I’ll get Tywin next. Hah! He really thinks I’d let his daughter be the
future Queen! Fool! It’s a pity the little bitch didn’t die in the Stormlands. What was the poison
used again?”

“The Strangler, Your Grace”

“And you still cannot find out who did it?”

Lord Velaryon bowed once more and spoke in a placating tone, “Apologies Your Grace, my men
have done all they could but have not been able to find out who did it”

“How disappointing. It was a daring move against Tywin. Very daring. I am certain whoever did it
would’ve been a great ally to have. It’s not every day someone tries to cross the Great fucking
Lion. Well, no matter, the little lion-bitch will die one way or another”

Sansa wanted to listen to the conversation more but her sharp sight blurred and their voices turned
muffled until she could hear no more.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes to the view of the canopy of her bed.

She didn’t see him but Ned’s alive. That’s a great relief.

But the conversation…

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