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 Rains of the King's Landing [Closed], Game of Thrones
Lucyfer
 Posted: Aug 22 2015, 08:09 PM
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Alana Farman, as the household knew her, found herself finally catching a break after the long night that had been the Battle of Blackwater. Though the red-headed woman had a sword, she had not been allowed to serve among the armies under Tyrion’s command, but had been sent with many of the other Highborn women to wait the fight out.

She’d stood there in her pretty green dress, with a sword at her hip, and looked over them all—Sansa, Cersei, and every other woman and old man.

The battle ended thanks to the intervention of Tywin Lannister, and it was the one time the woman imagined she’d be happy with him.

Through the night, she had tended to the wounded, including Lord Tyrion Lannister, though he remained out of it. Most of the wounded had been brought into Maegor’s Holdfast, while Tywin straightened things out now that he’d arrived with his son, Jaime, and the Tyrell forces. ‘Things will change.’ Already a whisper was in the air about the Tyrells.

It was with that news on her lips, and some happiness finally shining in her green eyes, that the auburn-haired woman moved through the halls in her now bloody green dress towards the room she knew Sansa Stark to be in. None of the blood on the dress was her own, but those of the wounded. She was good at her job—she’d been there for Robert’s Rebellion twenty years ago, after all. The lie had it woven that she was only 15 at the time, which made her 36 now. That wasn’t quite the truth. She was a few years older than that.

Many truths had to be buried.

So it was that Lady Liona Reyne found herself before the door to Lady Sansa’s room, and knocked lightly upon it. “Lady Sansa?” She called in, “It is Alana. May I enter?” She knew Sansa did not have much privacy here, so she tried to offer all that she could to the poor girl. She understood too well what it was to be wronged by the Lannisters, and to be unable to do much about it.

She was waiting to avenge her own family, after all.

~***~

Jaime Lannister had arrived with his father’s forces and the Tyrell host to crush Stannis Baratheon. They’d found that Tyrion had been able to hold his own without them, and it had made Jaime smile. However, when the war was won, and he’d taken the steps two at a time, he learned his brother was wounded.

He found him being tended to by a red-headed woman he’d seen before, but who’s name still escaped him. He knew that she was noble, and she was now something of Sansa’s ‘lady-in-waiting’. ‘Poor girl.’ Jaime had thought.

He could not stay long by his brother’s side. Cersei also commanded his attention, his sister whom he found Essence of Nightshade on. Getting the truth out of her was not difficult, since she snapped it at him with the declaration dead was better, for even Tommen.

Lovely as she was, he considered her wrong, there. Tyrion, if no one else, had taught him the value of life in any form, and he tried to let her know that, to show her how important she still was, but she was in no mood for him. He was cast out, and he kicked stones before him before someone came to him.

“Ser Jaime, your father would have a word with you.”

“Only one?” His green eyes glinted with mischief, hoping the guard would be quick to play along. He wasn't. The guard didn’t quite know how to respond, but Jaime shook his head with a smile, “Where might I find him?”

“In the Tower of the Hand.”

“Already?” Jaime did allow his eyes to widen slightly, and he brushed a hand back through his blond hair. “He moves fast.” He wondered how many times his father would have the sheets washed, or if he’d simply burn them, considering who the previous tenant had been. “I’ll go see what he wants. Thank you,” he inclined his head to the guard, and turned immediately to head towards the Tower of the Hand where his father, apparently, had at least one word for him.

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rmwritesthings
 Posted: Aug 22 2015, 09:27 PM
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“Please, enter.” Sansa Stark called from within her room, as it was called. A prison, more like. The Stark girl sat at a desk, writing. She was writing to her family. Of course, they would never be sent, only burnt and the ashes thrown out the window when she was done. Sansa had faith, however, that the Gods were watching her as she wrote, relaying her words to her family, alive or dead.

She turned to see Alana enter, and smiled. She found solace in this woman, her so-called lady-in-waiting. They had not discussed the Lannisters at length yet, but Sansa could feel Alana's disdain that matched hers. She was trustworthy if she hated the Lannisters, was Sansa's reasoning. Then, she noticed the blood staining her dress. “Gods! Alana! Are you alright?” She jumped up and ran towards her, grasping her hands. From the woman's face, she could tell everything was fine.

Another stupid mistake. Stupid girl. Joffrey's voice.

“Forgive me, Alana. I thought you were injured.” Sansa mumbled. “I heard the Battle of Blackwater has been won. You must have been tending to the injured.”

She had seen the return of the Lannister-Tyrell army. Victorious, though not without injury. Among the injured was Tyrion. Sansa felt almost sad for him. Out of all of the Lannisters, he had been the most kind to her. He was still not to be trusted, however. Anyone that held the Lannister name or pledged allegiance to them was not to be trusted. That left Sansa with very limited options.

~***~

Tywin Lannister sat in his solar, awaiting the company of his son, Jaime. Both of them had returned from the battle unscathed, or seemingly so. Tywin had been fending off the Stark forces at Harrenhal, but moved when they threatened his homeland of Casterly Rock. For now, he was safe. For now.

He made a mental note to thank the Master of Coin. The man's scheming, manipulative nature had worked some good in this battle, arranging the Lannister-Tyrell alliance. Without the Tyrell army to help defend the city, Tywin feared he wouldn't be where he was sitting right now. Now is not the time to be dwelling on such things. The battle has been won. Concern yourself with more important things, now.

When Jaime entered his solar, Tywin motioned for him to sit. “Jaime, my son. Drink with me.” He pushed a flagon of fine wine and a goblet across the table. ‘Perhaps Jaime wasn't so fond of wine as his sister was, but what he wished to speak of would go down better over some drink,’ he thought.

The Hand took a moment to gather himself before he began to speak. “I will be frank with you, Jaime. I know how you appreciate…honesty.” he began. “I wish for you to take a wife. Marry and have children. Heirs. Continue the Lannister name.”

Before Jaime could protest, he pressed on. “The Stark girl. What do you think of her? She is pretty, isn't she? Young, a woman grown. Cersei tells me she has bled.”

Tywin Lannister was not one to feel nervous. Never in his life had he felt such a thing. Always, he was cold, calculating. But now… “I know your position in the Kingsguard disables you from taking a wife or having children. I can change that. I can allow you to remain as Lord Commander.” What Tywin was promising was something unheard of. However, his grandson was the King. He was the Hand. Something could be done.
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Lucyfer
 Posted: Aug 22 2015, 09:49 PM
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The concern that Sansa showed for her, after she’d shut the door, reminded her of why she also cared for her. The girl was sweet, the perfect lady. Any mother, any septa, would be proud of her, and she had shown Liona nothing but courtesy. Faked or forced, it might have been at first, but the Lady Reyne imagined there was sincerity to it now.

She allowed her hands to be taken, glad she had washed them of blood before arriving. Her smile was soft as Sansa gathered an understanding of the situation, and she gave a single nod, “Yes, my lady. I have been tending the wounded.

Both of her hands tightened their grip around Sansa’s hands, “I come bearing news you may not have heard yet,” she would squeeze the girl’s hands, and then release those hands. One of her hands would lift to Sansa’s face, and if she did not object, Liona would tilt the girl’s head slightly so that she could have eye contact with her. “There is a rumor in the Keep that Joffrey is to marry Margaery Tyrell, instead of you.”

Liona would not move to busy herself with activity, tempting as it was. She knew this news was bittersweet. Sansa’s fate was up in the air, still, particularly if she was not to be wed to Joffrey. She was a powerful hostage, too powerful to simply be killed. That was one small mercy. With luck, she might still end up ransomed back to Robb.

This would make that arrangement more possible.

~***~

Jaime joined his father to find things amiss, at least in his own head. ‘Oh dear, whatever do you want now?’ He saw the wine and the motion to it. Of course, he would partake—he was not his dear sister, but even he knew when wine was going to make the news better.

Or worse.

“Thank you, father,” they were never terribly informal, were they? Jaime mused over that as he took his goblet and took his seat. He lifted the cup to his lips, eyes still glittering over the rim as he eyed Tywin and tried to figure out what was on his mind.

He was never very good at that. Tyrion was better, but when Jaime heard the news, he imagined Tyrion wouldn’t have guessed it.

He coughed the wine he’d meant to swallow back into his cup, some going down his throat too fast. “I think that she’s a girl!” It was his protest, and while he knew plenty of lords married girls as young as Sansa, he found the thought distasteful for a multiplicity of reasons.

Well, one main one: Cersei.

He’d become a King’s Guard so he’d need not to worry about being unfaithful to his dear sister. “Yes, she’s pretty, and she’s quite the lovely lady from what I hear,” he told his father, “but my place is protecting my king.”

His son.

“King’s Guard are sworn to this life so that they do not have those distractions,” and he added, “I already killed one king because of such a distraction,” in that case, Tywin. The Mad King had told Jaime to kill his father, but Jaime wouldn’t. He had to pick, his king or his father. He had chosen Tywin.

As now he’d chose his son, his sister, his family, again. “Marry Tyrion to her,” he suggested, though he knew his father had to hate the thought of the Lannister line depending on him, “Or perhaps, marry her yourself,” though the thought of Tywin remarrying brought a wry grin to Jaime’s lips, “She’s pretty, isn’t she, father?” he hoped his jesting and unruly nature would get him dismissed without the order to marry. Tywin would reconsider what he was saying—he had to.
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rmwritesthings
 Posted: Aug 28 2015, 03:44 AM
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Sansa's mouth became agape as her handmaiden spoke. "I pray to the Gods that this be true. However, I fear for Margaery. She is a child of the summer." Her father used to say that often, other followed by their house words. Sansa's heart ached for her family each day, even Moreno now. She felt so, so alone, even with Alana to keep her company. She was still no less a prisoner here in King's Landing. The Stark girl was beginning to think she would die here.

"If I am not to marry Joffrey, who will I marry? I don't think I will be left unwed." Sansa spoke, moving from Alana's grip to look out the window. She could almost still smell the battle on the air. The night it happened, the smell of death and charred flesh had been throughout the castle, the acrid smoke from the fire on the bay blotting out the sun in the morning. A morose sight.

"I could be wed to Tyrion. Lord Baelish, perhaps." The latter made her shiver in disgust. The Master of Coin unnerved her. "If only it could be Loras Tyrell. He is so lovely." Sansa still remembered the tourney in which they had met in vivid detail. The rose he gave her, his handsome face, the sweet, kind conversation they had amongst the gardens. It was highly unlikely, however, and in these walls, one hardly got what they wanted without great influence or power.

~***~

"I still mourn the death of your mother, Jaime. I could not take another wife, certainly not a woman as young as the Stark girl," Tywin grumbled, taking a sip of wine. "She has bled, however. She is a woman grown, fit to bear children. As for Tyrion, I wouldn't do such an awful thing to the girl. She deserves better than him."

It was true there was no love lost between Tywin and his dwarf son. He had stolen his wife, his love, from him, and he was a wretch beside the point. Hardly worthy of the Lannister name. Tywin could not, however, fault his son on his cunning ability and intellect. He had inherited something decent, at least. Hardly enough to make up for his deformities.

"She is pure, I am told. Joffrey has not touched her, nor has any other man. I am sure she would make a most lovely wife, bear beautiful children, be a kind mother." Tywin continued, growing tired of his son's resistance. "I do not want to order you to marry, Jaime. But I will if I must."

He was a stern man, but he loved his family. As much as he was capable, anyhow. Joffrey, his eldest grandchild, was hardly a fit leader. Too rash and cruel. Now that Tywin was Hand, however, he intended to turn things around. He knew that Joffrey listened to his mother, and Cersei listened to her father. If not, she would listen to Jaime.
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Lucyfer
 Posted: Aug 28 2015, 06:37 AM
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The expression that crossed Sansa’s face was expected, and her kind concern for Margaery pleasing. Liona let her hand leave the girl’s cheek, and as she questioned her own future, she motioned for Sansa to sit. Her dress might be dirty, but her hands were not, and they sought and found the hair brush among Sansa’s things. The act itself of brushing another’s hair was queerly relaxing. No doubt, it was why so many mothers insisted on doing it for so long with their daughters.

Liona had no daughters of her own, though. No children. “I would not worry overmuch for Margaery. I hear talk she is clever.” The Farmans did trade with those of the Gardens, and her assumed father always suggested the Tyrells were as sweet and deadly as wine. “I imagine you will be married to a Lannister. Tyrion is more likely than Littlefinger,” and Liona was not sure if that was better or worse.

Liona did not like Baelish, though there were whispers among the smallfolk that he was kin. ‘Baelish a Reyne.’ She had laughed good and hard at that rumor the first time it reached her. “Perhaps it will be a son of Kevan.” That was likely the best bet. Though Tyrion was tolerable, he was too clever. Liona was always careful around the imp of Casterly Rock, and if she was to remain Sansa’s attendant, she’d rather Sansa not marry someone so clever.

~***~

If Jaime were cruel, he could have insisted his father do what he wouldn’t do first, but he was not cruel. He also was not daft. His father did not take demands from cubs, and his father would have a ready argument for him. He took another swig of the wine as he threatened to order Jaime.

He’d threatened as much in the past, but the King’s Guard had always protected Jaime. He would not see that taken from him. Sansa was all that his father said, and he did not want any harm to befall her. “She’s a traitor, father. Or daughter of one,” he waved the semantics away, “I do not see how that means she deserves better than Tyrion.”

His brother would be kind. His brother would not even lay with her if Sansa did not wish it. He might even play at loyalty, for he’d known so much pain in his life.

He did not understand the manipulations his father was looking at, in marrying Sansa into the family at all. He did not understand the importance, so he set his half-full wine goblet on the table before him with a clatter. He rose, and despite standing taller now, he never felt like he looked down at his father when their eyes met. “The King orders me,” he reminded. Tywin would have to convince Joffrey, which really meant he would have to convince Cersei. On this, Jaime was certain, she wouldn’t budge. “Good day, father.” He’d had all he could take of this conversation, and he knew where the power lied.

He’d see to it that he got to Cersei first, even if she had thrown him out for his disagreement about the use of nightshade.
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rmwritesthings
 Posted: Sep 27 2015, 05:41 AM
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Sansa shut her eyes as the brush ran through her long auburn tresses. To her, it seemed her hair was less vibrant since she arrived at King's Landing, as if the city was sucking the brightness out of her. Despite the sunshine that seemed to lack back at Winterfell, everything felt so... dull. The act of having her hair brushed reminded her of home, of her mother who always used to braid it perfectly, and of Arya who always fought against it.

"I have met Margaery. She is quite... yes, clever. A better match for Joffrey than I." The Stark girl said softly. She felt as though she paled in comparison to Margaery, a woman who seemed so bold and forthright, while Sansa hid in the corner and fled at the smallest conflict. Little bird, little dove. "Anyone would be better than Joffrey. I don't think I should mind marrying Tyrion." she added. Out of all the men, she liked Tyrion the most. She felt some sort of bond with him, despite his being a Lannister. His dwarfism, her blood. Plus, he seemed to care about her genuinely. Or, at least, with some degree.

The thought of being married to Littlefinger churned her stomach. His mother's admirer, to put it kindly. "Kevan. He is... the brother of Tywin, no?" Sansa had heard of the man, though never seen him. She had, however, heard of his son Lancel. The boy reminded her far too much of Joffrey, despite his seemingly kind attitude. After all, that was how Joffrey began. "Alana," she began. "Must I marry? Can I refuse a marriage? Is that allowed?" Sansa pulled away from the brush and turned to look at the woman, concern in her eyes. "I don't think I want to marry anymore."

~***~

"Jaime, please." Tywin said, exasperated. "Tyrion has his whores. The Stark girl has no-one but that handmaiden." He glanced up at his son, wine in hand. "You will stay here. I will deal with the... King later." Tywin thought that Joffrey was no more than a sniveling brat, hardly worthy of the throne, but it was really none of his business. His son, however, was. "I will not ask you again. Sit down."

"She may be the daughter of a traitor, but she cannot choose her blood. Have you ever seen her do anything wrong?" he questioned, taking a sip of wine. He was giving his son the full force of his gaze, willing him to sit. He knew he would eventually. Jaime had yet to betray his father, at least to his knowledge.

Tywin's own marriage was a happy one. His wife Joanna, also his cousin, loved him, and he loved her. Her death during the birth of his deformed son Tyrion made sure he would never love again. To marry the Stark girl, an old man such as himself... it would simply be cruel for both of them. Of course, he resented Tyrion from stealing his love away. Joanna was everything to him.

"Jaime. Tell me. Would you rather me order you marry the kennel girl? I have that power." Tywin did not like to make empty threats. Of course, he would never do that to his son, but it was a scare tactic. "I would much rather you wed the Stark girl. I am sure you would too. The Gods know what awful diseases the kennel girl carries." Tywin spat, giving Jaime his infamous look again.
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Lucyfer
 Posted: Sep 27 2015, 07:15 PM
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The pair of them were in agreement about Margaery, and for that Liona was relieved. Sansa was learning, slowly but surely, the ways of things around here. Her eyes and ears were becoming more accustomed to lies, and to how to read people. “I daresay you are right about Margaery,” it was more a comment to herself.

Joffrey would need to tread carefully around Margaery. Margaery’s only problem was that she was too obviously clever. Liona would have taught her a thing or two about hiding her daggers better, but then, she was in no position to talk. She had yet to sink one into Tywin’s heart, after all.

A smile graced her lips at Sansa’s assessment. Yes, Tyrion was not so bad as a person. It would be considered an insult, though, if Sansa married him. Did Sansa know or acknowledge that? Liona kept her lips tightly shut. “Yes, Kevan is Tywin’s brother. The only one that remains to him.” The two others Tywin once had, were likely dead. “He is kinder.” Though his children were questionable. Liona didn’t know them well.

Sansa then moved, and Liona let the hand with the brush fall to her side. She met Sansa’s blue eyes, and answered her honestly, “Yes.”

Sansa had no father to defend her, and she was in no family that could protect her, either. She was a hostage, and she would be used however her captors saw fit. “You cannot refuse, Sansa,” Liona lifted her hand to touch her head, near the forehead, and to brush at a few stray strands of red, “Your lot in life is unfair. You must make the best of it, but,” Liona cast a glance towards the door, seeking sound or sight or shadow.

She saw none, “If any they marry you to mistreat you, tell me.”

She would see their next glass of wine ended them.

~***~

Jaime couldn’t even get to the door before his sense of duty had him stopping. He heard Tywin speaking, as if Jaime wouldn’t leave. As if he would turn right back around and sit in the damn chair. He didn’t even get up to chase him—he knew Jaime too well, and Jaime, ever bound to his father, found himself stopping.

He let his green eyes glare at the door.

He clenched his fists.

He turned around and stalked back to the chair, pulling it out once more and making it squeak upon the ground before he sat down roughly and met his father’s gaze.

He couldn’t hold it, of course. Not in any fashion that suggested he would remain defiant.

“I would rather you not order me to marry at all. I would rather you let me keep my vows just this once,” he had already betrayed his vows to save his father—to save King’s Landing, once.

Of course, he wasn’t truly thinking about that. He was thinking of Cersei, and how she would hate him marrying the sweet, little dove. “If you know that I cannot refuse your orders, why do you care if I consent?” Jaime finally looked up, weary and frustrated. He hated fighting Tywin on anything. He did tend to give in, and Tywin knew this. His one victory had been the King’s Guard, and it was a small victory at that. “Just have it done. Tie us to the traitor’s family, secure the North, and have your legacy of ruling the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it, and to the seven hells with what I may want!”

He’d started to get the gist of what Tywin was plotting here, or what he imagined Tywin was plotting.
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rmwritesthings
 Posted: Oct 12 2015, 03:15 AM
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Sansa closed her eyes as Alana continued to brush her hair. Life in King's Landing was so different to life in the North. It was no wonder her sister and father didn't like it here. Sansa did at first, but now she was realising the harsh reality of the city, having seen past the glamorous facade. People were begging and dying in the streets, begging and dying in the castle too, under Joffrey. The boy had not had much to do with her since acquiring Margaery. That girl wasn't stupid, no. She was smart, smarter than Joffrey.

Again, the topic of marriage. "Ser Jaime seems kind, Alana. He is of the Kingsguard, however. I hear they cannot take wives, nor would he want me if he was smart enough." Sansa's self-confidence and self-worth had not yet recovered and she doubt they ever would fully. Joffrey's words and the actions of his guards, the very men Ser Jaime commanded, had made sure of that. However, Sansa had grown stronger from it. Her skin had thickened.

"Perhaps I will marry one of Margaery's brothers." The Stark mused. She thought of Loras, the beautiful Knight of Flowers. She would adore to be his wife, but she felt like that wouldn't happen. "Perhaps Joffrey's younger brother." Then she would be Joffrey's sister-in-law. Bound to him by marriage. What she had seen of Tommen had been nice, but the boy was hardly a man yet. Sansa wanted a man to protect her from life's cruelties.

She smiled at the touch of her handmaiden. She loved Alana, likely the only woman, or man, she could trust in the entirety of this city. "I will. I will." she reassured her, tucking hair behind the older woman's ear. "Why are you so kind to me, Alana? I don't understand it."

There were a lot of things in this world Sansa Stark was yet to understand.

~***~

Tywin gazed calmly at his son. There was no hint of disturbance in his eyes. He was used to this.

"Jaime. You know as well as I do that girl is not a traitor. Her father, yes, but the girl had no part in it. She could not control the actions of him. She is innocent." he replied, hands laced in his lap.

"Cersei will not have any more children. Tyrion will not have any children. You can. You're a healthy man, and she is young." Children would cement Tywin's place. There was strength in numbers, after all.

He was well aware of his son's aversion to break his vows, but damn it, he was his son. He would do what his father willed. "Have you ever even spoken to her? She is as sweet as the summer, kind, caring. And not even the monstrous behaviour of my pathetic excuse for a grandson could break her spirit." Tywin admired the girl's strength. Joffrey's actions and attitude towards her weren't right at all, but given his temperament, speaking out could land your head beside that of Eddard Stark's.

"You will marry her, and you will love her. She will give you sons and continue the Lannister name. Is that understood?" His voice was low now, serious. "She can't stay locked in that tower for all time. She might as well be put to use."
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Lucyfer
 Posted: Oct 18 2015, 03:40 PM
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Ser Jaime was brought up, and Liona wondered at it. Jaime was not someone she gave much thought to. He was not half as clever as his brother Tyrion, and so he did not worry her. The rumors that Stannis spread were interesting, but Liona was not sure if they were true. She’d almost like them to be, just for the shame it would bring onto Tywin, but she found she had no ill will towards Myrcella and Tommen.

Joffrey, certainly.

“You need not worry about Jaime. As you say, he is a Kingsguard.” At the thought of Margaery’s brothers, Liona did smile. “Perhaps,” she offered the hope but knew it a lie. Tywin wasn’t that stupid to let someone like Sansa fall into someone else’s hold. She was still a figurehead for the North, someone they could rally behind. “Tommen seems more likely,” though he was so young, it was also just as unlikely.

Sansa then reassured her that she would tell if any she was married to, hurt her. For that, Liona smiled. A gesture was returned, and Sansa asked after her kindness. “There are things, my sweet summer child, that you should not know. That is one of them.” For if it was ever revealed that Sansa knew why—the whole why—then she would be killed, “A half-truth is that I care for you, and that is reason enough to want to help you, in spite of the fact the Lannisters are my liege lords.”

There was a smile on her lips that hinted she cared not for their position relative to her. “You do not deserve this simply for who your father was. Let us say I can relate to that.” For her father, too, had been a traitor. Farman had nearly been one, only quieted when Tywin sent a minstrel with “Rains of Castamere” on his lips. She understood what it was to be irked at one’s liege lords, as a Reyne and as a Farman.

~***~

“Yes, I’ve spoken to her, father. She’s a sweet little bird,” parroting back all the niceties she’d been taught. It was the popular opinion about Sansa, though the Hound was the only one willing to say it to her face. Everyone knew she was not good at lying, yet they let her sing her little songs.

He laughed outright at his father’s declaration that he would love her. Again, he rose, and his green eyes danced with mischief as he looked to his father, “I will marry her,” he wasn’t getting out of it, he knew it. He could never win with his father. Not in the long run. “But you cannot make me love her.” He would be kind. He had no reason to be cruel to her. They were both put into this situation by a man who could not be reasoned with. “We’ll have the sons you want. Beautiful ones, with strawberry blonde hair.” He figured that would be the result.

Perhaps they would be as golden as the rest. They wouldn’t have his green eyes, though. He imagined they’d have the blue eyes of Sansa. Beautiful, yes, but not children he would love. Not a wife he would love.

He loved only Cersei. “Does that appease you, father?” Some of the mischief faded. “When is this wedding to be, and does Sansa know yet?” That poor girl would likely be in tears to know she still had to marry a Lannister, take the Lannister name, and bear Lannister children.

He pitied the little bird.
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rmwritesthings
 Posted: Oct 28 2015, 03:40 AM
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Sansa too had heard the rumours being spread, that Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei had committed incest, that Joffrey was not the true heir to the throne. A bastard. She felt conflicted about it. On one hand, she wanted it to be true for the sake of Joffrey, but on the other hand, she didn't want it to be. She bore no bad feelings towards his siblings. They had been kind to her, after all.

"I feel so grateful to have you, Alana. I can trust you, I know it." Sansa smiled at her handmaiden, pulling away from the hairbrush to face her. "When I leave here, I want to take you with me. I want you to get away from this awful city."

Sansa sometimes wished she had never come to King's Landing. It had shattered her illusions of the world, but perhaps that was a good thing. She was no longer living in a world full of gallant knights and generous kings. She lived in a harsh, cruel world where death and danger were never far away.

~***~

Tywin took a hold of his goblet and drank. "Simply do your duty to her. Perhaps you will not have to lay with her after your wedding night, if the Gods are good." The Lannister thought that would be best for both of them. "The Stark girl aside, you will love the children she gives you. They will be your blood, Jaime."

"Lady Stark does not know of these plans, no. I should organise something. Perhaps you could tell her." He meant it as a joke, but thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea. He figured Sansa would like it better if the news came directly from the man to be her husband. "I will give you leave to go speak with her."

Tywin could already hear Jaime's protests, but knew he wouldn't defy his father in the end. No-one ever did. "You should change your clothes before you go," he intoned, glancing at his son, sword by his side, armor plating him. "You don't want to scare the poor girl, do you?"
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Lucyfer
 Posted: Jan 22 2017, 09:57 PM
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Liona wanted to tell Sansa that it was not true – she could not trust her. However, the auburn haired woman did not say as much. The little wolf needed someone to depend on, and though Liona would never say she was trustworthy, she could offer comfort in these hard times, while Sansa waited for her brothers to save her, or to find some escape from the hell that she resided in. So, she only smiled.

‘If only you knew.’


No doubt, it would make Sansa trust her more. Which was why, she could not know that Alana Farman was not who she said she was.

“I belong here, Sansa,” she said softly, not to crush the girl’s spirit, but to remind her, “Here, or back home on the Fair Isles. Were my brother younger, and single, perhaps you could have gone with me there. It’s always beautiful there,” and away from Tywin’s gaze, more often than not. “We could take vacations out to Essos together. You could see much of the world,” as she had done, once, before finally finding a place here.

It had been her decision to come here, though. To finally try to get close to Tywin and put an end to her old grudge once and for all. “Perhaps one day, you still may,” she offered. “If you could marry a Martell, or perhaps Willas, I am sure they would allow me to steal you away, now and then, or accompany you on long voyages,” she could at least fill the girl’s head with dreams. With hope.

Hope could help people survive the long, dark nights.

~***~

‘I do not love my children as it is.’
Jaime thought, but dared not speak it before his father. Tywin Lannister turned a blind eye to the sins of his children, best not state they were true. Besides, Jaime reckoned he did not love his children because he was not allowed to know them. Never, allowed to know them, or act as a father to them, lest he give credence to the rumors.

That was how it was from the start. If he could have despised Cersei, he would have despised her for that. Alas, the Kingslayer could not.

“You don’t love Tyrion.”

Before he could allow a response to it, though, he laughed, as if it were a joke. He stepped back, as if to avoid his father’s rage at that. “I’ll go tell her – though I thought she’d like me in armor. All gallant like one of her knights.” He’d change. He had plenty of white tunics with gold threading. He could throw on one of those. It wasn’t like he’d get to wear white for much longer. He’d look as gallant and handsome as a dream for the little bird as he broke her heart.

It was the very least he could do. “I’m sure you’ll tell us both when it is to be,” he imagined soon. His father wasn’t a patient man.

With that, Jaime quickly turned to exit from his father’s chambers, to go prepare himself to see his future wife-to-be. A sigh parted his lips once he was out of the room. The gloom stole over his expression, and he kept walking.

How was he going to tell Cersei?

Why wasn’t Tyrion awake to tell him?

He did not want to face this alone…and yet he knew he had no choice. Cersei might find a way to intervene when she heard, but…her intervention might be Sansa’s death. Jaime did not want that for the little bird. He would have to stay mute, for now.
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