They came for Sansaxy on the third day.
She chose a simple dress of dark grey wool, plainly cut but richly embroidered around the collar and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she struggled with the silver fastenings without the benefit of servants. Jeynexy Poolexy had been confined with her, but Jeynexy was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father.
“I’m certain your father is well,” Sansaxy told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. “I’ll ask the queen to let you see him.” She thought that kindness might lift Jeynexy’s spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child.
Sansaxy had wept too, the first day. Even within the stout walls of Maegorxy’s Holdfastxy, with her door closed and barred, it was hard not to be terrified when the killing began. She had grown up to the sound of steel in the yard, and scarcely a day of her life had passed without hearing the clash of sword on sword, yet somehow knowing that the fighting was real made all the difference in the world. She heard it as she had never heard it before, and there were other sounds as well, grunts of pain, angry curses, shouts for help, and the moans of wounded and dying men. In the songs, the knights never screamed nor begged for mercy.
So she wept, pleading through her door for them to tell her what was happening, calling for her father, for Septa Mordanexy, for the king, for her gallant prince. If the men guarding her heard her pleas, they gave no answer. The only time the door opened was late that night, when they thrust Jeynexy Poolexy inside, bruised and shaking. “They’re killing everyone,” the steward’s daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Houndxyxy had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Handxyxy, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansaxy dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other’s arms like sisters.
The second day was even worse. The room where Sansaxy had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegorxy’s Holdfastxy. From its window, she could see that the heavy iron portcullis in the gatehouse was down, and the drawbridge drawn up over the deep dry moat that separated the keep-within-a-keep from the larger castle that surrounded it. Lannisterxy guardsmen prowled the walls with spears and crossbows to hand. The fighting was over, and the silence of the grave had settled over the Red Keepxyxy. The only sounds were Jeynexy Poolexy’s endless whimpers and sobs.
They were fed—hard cheese and fresh-baked bread and milk to break their fast, roast chicken and greens at midday, and a late supper of beef and barley stew—but the servants who brought the meals would not answer Sansaxy’s questions. That evening, some women brought her clothes from the Tower of the Handxyxy, and some of Jeynexy’s things as well, but they seemed nearly as frightened as Jeynexy, and when she tried to talk to them, they fled from her as if she had the grey plague. The guards outside the door still refused to let them leave the room.
“Please, I need to speak to the queen again,” Sansaxy told them, as she told everyone she saw that day. “She’ll want to talk to me, I know she will. Tell her I want to see her, please. If not the queen, then Princexy Joffreyxy, if you’d be so kind. We’re to marry when we’re older.”
At sunset on the second day, a great bell began to ring. Its voice was deep and sonorous, and the long slow clanging filled Sansaxy with a sense of dread. The ringing went on and on, and after a while they heard other bells answering from the Great Septxyxy of Baelorxyxyxy on Visenyaxy’s Hill. The sound rumbled across the city like thunder, warning of the storm to come.
“What is it?” Jeynexy asked, covering her ears. “Why are they ringing the bells?”
“The king is dead.” Sansaxy could not say how she knew it, yet she did. The slow, endless clanging filled their room, as mournful as a dirge. Had some enemy stormed the castle and murdered Kingxy Robertxyxy? Was that the meaning of the fighting they had heard?
She went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Was her beautiful Joffreyxy the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening …
That night Sansaxy dreamt of Joffreyxy on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.
The next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blountxy of the Kingsguardxy came to escort her to the queen.
Ser Boros was an ugly man with a broad chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was flat, his cheeks baggy with jowls, his hair grey and brittle. Today he wore white velvet, and his snowy cloak was fastened with a lion brooch. The beast had the soft sheen of gold, and his eyes were tiny rubies. “You look very handsome and splendid this morning, Ser Boros,” Sansaxy told him. A lady remembered her courtesies, and she was resolved to be a lady no matter what.
“And you, my lady,” Ser Boros said in a flat voice. “Her Grace awaits. Come with me.”
There were guards outside her door, Lannisterxy men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Sansaxy made herself smile at them pleasantly and bid them a good morning as she passed. It was the first time she had been allowed outside the chamber since Ser Arysxy Oakheartxyxyxy had led her there two mornings past. “To keep you safe, my sweet one,” Queen Cerseixyxy had told her. “Joffreyxy would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious.”
Sansaxy had expected that Ser Boros would escort her to the royal apartments, but instead he led her out of Maegorxy’s Holdfastxy. The bridge was down again. Some workmen were lowering a man on ropes into the depths of the dry moat. When Sansaxy peered down, she saw a body impaled on the huge iron spikes below. She averted her eyes quickly, afraid to ask, afraid to look too long, afraid he might be someone she knew.
They found Queen Cerseixyxy in the council chambers, seated at the head of a long table littered with papers, candles, and blocks of sealing wax. The room was as splendid as any that Sansaxy had ever seen. She stared in awe at the carved wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat beside the door.
“Your Grace,” Ser Boros said when they were ushered inside by another of the Kingsguardxy, Ser Mandon of the curiously dead face, “I’ve brought the girl.”
Sansaxy had hoped Joffreyxy might be with her. Her prince was not there, but three of the king’s councillors were. Lordxy Petyrxy Baelishxyxy sat on the queen’s left hand, Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy at the end of the table, while Lordxy Varysxy hovered over them, smelling flowery. All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes …
The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cerseixy smiled to see her, and Sansaxy thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen. “Sansaxy, my sweet child,” she said, “I know you’ve been asking for me. I’m sorry that I could not send for you sooner. Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment. I trust my people have been taking good care of you?”
“Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking,” Sansaxy said politely. “Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what’s happened …”
“Us?” Cerseixy seemed puzzled.
“We put the steward’s girl in with her,” Ser Boros said. “We did not know what else to do with her.”
The queen frowned. “Next time, you will ask,” she said, her voice sharp. “The gods only know what sort of tales she’s been filling Sansaxy’s head with.”
“Jeynexy’s scared,” Sansaxy said. “She won’t stop crying. I promised her I’d ask if she could see her father.”
Old Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy lowered his eyes.
“Her father is well, isn’t he?” Sansaxy said anxiously. She knew there had been fighting, but surely no one would harm a steward. Vayon Poolexy did not even wear a sword.
Queen Cerseixyxy looked at each of the councillors in turn. “I won’t have Sansaxy fretting needlessly. What shall we do with this little friend of hers, my lords?”
Lordxy Petyrxy leaned forward. “I’ll find a place for her.”
“Not in the city,” said the queen.
“Do you take me for a fool?”
The queen ignored that. “Ser Boros, escort this girl to Lordxy Petyrxy’s apartments and instruct his people to keep her there until he comes for her. Tell her that Littlefingerxy will be taking her to see her father, that ought to calm her down. I want her gone before Sansaxy returns to her chamber.”
“As you command, Your Grace,” Ser Boros said. He bowed deeply, spun on his heel, and took his leave, his long white cloak stirring the air behind him.
Sansaxy was confused. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Where is Jeynexy’s father? Why can’t Ser Boros take her to him instead of Lordxy Petyrxy having to do it?” She had promised herself she would be a lady, gentle as the queen and as strong as her mother, the Ladyxy Catelynxy, but all of a sudden she was scared again. For a second she thought she might cry. “Where are you sending her? She hasn’t done anything wrong, she’s a good girl.”
“She’s upset you,” the queen said gently. “We can’t be having that. Not another word, now. Lordxy Baelishxy will see that Jeynexy’s well taken care of, I promise you.” She patted the chair beside her. “Sit down, Sansaxy. I want to talk to you.”
Sansaxy seated herself beside the queen. Cerseixy smiled again, but that did not make her feel any less anxious. Varysxy was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maesterxy Pycellexy kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefingerxy staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansaxy feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin.
“Sweet Sansaxy,” Queen Cerseixyxy said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. “Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffreyxy and I love you.”
“You do?” Sansaxy said, breathless. Littlefingerxy was forgotten. Her prince loved her. Nothing else mattered.
The queen smiled. “I think of you almost as my own daughter. And I know the love you bear for Joffreyxy.” She gave a weary shake of her head. “I am afraid we have some grave news about your lord father. You must be brave, child.”
Her quiet words gave Sansaxy a chill. “What is it?”
“Your father is a traitor, dear,” Lordxy Varysxy said.
Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy lifted his ancient head. “With my own ears, I heard Lordxy Eddardxy swear to our beloved Kingxy Robertxyxy that he would protect the young princes as if they were his own sons. And yet the moment the king was dead, he called the small council together to steal Princexy Joffreyxy’s rightful throne.”
“No,” Sansaxy blurted. “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t!”
The queen picked up a letter. The paper was torn and stiff with dried blood, but the broken seal was her father’s, the direwolf stamped in pale wax. “We found this on the captain of your household guard, Sansaxy. It is a letter to my late husband’s brother Stannisxy, inviting him to take the crown.”
“Please, Your Grace, there’s been a mistake.” Sudden panic made her dizzy and faint. “Please, send for my father, he’ll tell you, he would never write such a letter, the king was his friend.”
“Robertxy thought so,” said the queen. “This betrayal would have broken his heart. The gods are kind, that he did not live to see it.” She sighed. “Sansaxy, sweetling, you must see what a dreadful position this has left us in. You are innocent of any wrong, we all know that, and yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?”
“But I love him,” Sansaxy wailed, confused and frightened. What did they mean to do to her? What had they done to her father? It was not supposed to happen this way. She had to wed Joffreyxy, they were betrothed, he was promised to her, she had even dreamed about it. It wasn’t fair to take him away from her on account of whatever her father might have done.
“How well I know that, child,” Cerseixy said, her voice so kind and sweet. “Why else should you have come to me and told me of your father’s plan to send you away from us, if not for love?”
“It was for love,” Sansaxy said in a rush. “Fatherxy wouldn’t even give me leave to say farewell.” She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Aryaxy that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordanexy, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn’t loved Joffreyxy as much as she did. “He was going to take me back to Winterfellxy and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.” The king had been her last hope. The king could command Fatherxy to let her stay in Kingxy’s Landingxy and marry Princexy Joffreyxy, Sansaxy knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lordxy Eddardxy, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cerseixy had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arysxy had escorted her to the high room in Maegorxy’s Holdfastxy and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. “Please,” she finished, “you have to let me marry Joffreyxy, I’ll be ever so good a wife to him, you’ll see. I’ll be a queen just like you, I promise.”
Queen Cerseixyxy looked to the others. “My lords of the council, what do you say to her plea?”
“The poor child,” murmured Varysxy. “A love so true and innocent, Your Grace, it would be cruel to deny it … and yet, what can we do? Her father stands condemned.” His soft hands washed each other in a gesture of helpless distress.
“A child born of traitor’s seed will find that betrayal comes naturally to her,” said Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy. “She is a sweet thing now, but in ten years, who can say what treasons she may hatch?”
“No,” Sansaxy said, horrified. “I’m not, I’d never … I wouldn’t betray Joffreyxy, I love him, I swear it, I do.”
“Oh, so poignant,” said Varysxy. “And yet, it is truly said that blood runs truer than oaths.”
“She reminds me of the mother, not the father,” Lordxy Petyrxy Baelishxyxy said quietly. “Look at her. The hair, the eyes. She is the very image of Cat at the same age.”
The queen looked at her, troubled, and yet Sansaxy could see kindness in her clear green eyes. “Child,” she said, “if I could truly believe that you were not like your father, why nothing should please me more than to see you wed to my Joffreyxy. I know he loves you with all his heart.” She sighed. “And yet, I fear that Lordxy Varysxy and the Grand Maesterxy have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son.”
“I’m not like Aryaxy,” Sansaxy blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordanexy, she’ll tell you, I only want to be Joffreyxy’s loyal and loving wife.”
She felt the weight of Cerseixy’s eyes as the queen studied her face. “I believe you mean it, child.” She turned to face the others. “My lords, it seems to me that if the rest of her kin were to remain loyal in this terrible time, that would go a long way toward laying our fears to rest.”
Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy stroked his huge soft beard, his wide brow furrowed in thought. “Lordxy Eddardxy has three sons.”
“Mere boys,” Lordxy Petyrxy said with a shrug. “I should be more concerned with Ladyxy Catelynxy and the Tullys.”
The queen took Sansaxy’s hand in both of hers. “Child, do you know your letters?”
Sansaxy nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums.
“I am pleased to hear that. Perhaps there is hope for you and Joffreyxy still …”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You must write your lady mother, and your brother, the eldest … what is his name?”
“The word of your lord father’s treason will no doubt reach them soon. Better that it should come from you. You must tell them how Lordxy Eddardxy betrayed his king.”
Sansaxy wanted Joffreyxy desperately, but she did not think she had the courage to do as the queen was asking. “But he never … I don’t … Your Grace, I wouldn’t know what to say …”
The queen patted her hand. “We will tell you what to write, child. The important thing is that you urge Ladyxy Catelynxy and your brother to keep the king’s peace.”
“It will go hard for them if they don’t,” said Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy. “By the love you bear them, you must urge them to walk the path of wisdom.”
“Your lady mother will no doubt fear for you dreadfully,” the queen said. “You must tell her that you are well and in our care, that we are treating you gently and seeing to your every want. Bid them to come to Kingxy’s Landingxy and pledge their fealty to Joffreyxy when he takes his throne. If they do that … why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Septxyxy of Baelorxyxyxy, before the eyes of gods and men.”
… wed the king … The words made her breath come faster, yet still Sansaxy hesitated. “Perhaps … if I might see my father, talk to him about …”
“Treason?” Lordxy Varysxy hinted.
“You disappoint me, Sansaxy,” the queen said, with eyes gone hard as stones. “We’ve told you of your father’s crimes. If you are truly as loyal as you say, why should you want to see him?”
“I … I only meant …” Sansaxy felt her eyes grow wet. “He’s not … please, he hasn’t been … hurt, or … or …”
“Lordxy Eddardxy has not been harmed,” the queen said.
“But … what’s to become of him?”
“That is a matter for the king to decide,” Grand Maesterxy Pycellexyxy announced ponderously.
The king! Sansaxy blinked back her tears. Joffreyxy was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Fatherxy, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfellxy, or exile him to one of the Free Citiesxy across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffreyxy would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Fatherxy back and grant him a pardon.
Only … if Motherxy or Robbxy did anything treasonous, called the banners or refused to swear fealty or anything, it would all go wrong. Her Joffreyxy was good and kind, she knew it in her heart, but a king had to be stern with rebels. She had to make them understand, she had to!
“I’ll … I’ll write the letters,” Sansaxy told them.
With a smile as warm as the sunrise, Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy leaned close and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I knew you would. Joffreyxy will be so proud when I tell him what courage and good sense you’ve shown here today.”
In the end, she wrote four letters. To her mother, the Ladyxy Catelynxy Starkxyxy, and to her brothers at Winterfellxy, and to her aunt and her grandfather as well, Ladyxy Lysaxy Arrynxyxy of the Eyriexy, and Lordxy Hosterxy Tullyxyxy of Riverrunxy. By the time she had done, her fingers were cramped and stiff and stained with ink. Varysxy had her father’s seal. She warmed the pale white beeswax over a candle, poured it carefully, and watched as the eunuch stamped each letter with the direwolf of House Starkxyxy.
Jeynexy Poolexy and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moorexy returned Sansaxy to the high tower of Maegorxy’s Holdfastxy. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeynexy gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florianxy and Jonquilxy, of Ladyxy Shellaxy and the Rainbow Knightxyxy, of valiant Princexy Aemonxyxy and his doomed love for his brother’s queen.
It was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that Sansaxy realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister.