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Sansa StarkTanya von DegurechaffNed StarkArya StarkTyrion LannisterRobert BaratheonJon SnowLady | Sansa Stark's DirewolfJaime Lannister

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Political Sansa StarkPolitical AlliancesBetrayal

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Published:2026-04-12Updated:2026-05-29Words:86,854Chapters:18/?Comments:345Kudos:690Bookmarks:188Hits:20,432

A Young Warg's Game of Thrones

Failninjaninja

Chapter 13

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Tyrion was rather shocked at the king's treatment of his former friend.

"He's requiring both girls to stay here and his youngest to be fostered elsewhere?" Tyrion said in rather stark disbelief. "Did our sweet sister listen to my advice after all?"

Jaime snorted.

"Hardly. It seems we had an unexpected ally in this."

Tyrion quirked a blond eyebrow, waiting for more.

Jaime shrugged. "The details bore me, but it seems that Renly openly supported the idea of Sansa and Arya staying in the city. Even Varys thought it wise."

"He still wants to use Sansa as a way to open Robert's door to Margaery. You and Cersei do understand that, right?" Tyrion wasn't sure with his brother, who barely paid attention to court intrigues, or his sister, who only possessed a modicum of cunning.

Jaime just gave another shrug. "Cersei says she has everything well in hand. It is amusing that the only one who tried to defend Lord Stark ended up being the greatest champion for taking his children as hostages. Apparently, he made it sound like some sort of fostering that the two girls would appreciate. As if it was some sort of favor. In truth, it might have been. Can you imagine how boring it must be to live in a place like Winterfell? Sansa and Arya ought to be thanking us for keeping them away from that frozen tedium. When the girls, especially Sansa, said she enjoyed her time here and relished accompanying Myrcella, that sealed it. The great oaf would have most like let them return to Winterfell if they had indicated otherwise and just insisted on Rickon when he turned five. Now the Starks have been muzzled and all is well."

Tyrion detected a note of disappointment.

"Yet you are displeased? Do you think Cersei erred?"

Jaime looked surprised. "No, it is that she hasn't erred. I was looking forward to crossing blades with the Starks, but now it seems that it won't be happening."

Seven hells, Jaime.

His brother had always been eager to prove himself. He had quite enjoyed Balon's little rebellion and despaired at ever being able to fight in a proper war and show off his talents in more than just a tourney. Tyrion wanted Jaime to be happy but not at the cost of so many thousands dead and an uncertain future.

"I daresay Sansa appreciates still having her father alive and not dead by your blade. I think she's suffered enough for one lifetime."

Jaime waved away the thought and Tyrion wondered if he should attempt to visit Sansa. Would she be distraught over her father leaving? Perhaps Arya was not knowledgeable enough to understand the drastic change in their situation, but Sansa was far too clever to not understand the undercurrents. Would she despise him along with the rest of his kin? He hoped not, but disappointment was something he had his fill of, and so hesitated to call upon her.

Tyrion wondered if any lord had ever made such a ruin of his position as Eddard Stark.

That isn't strictly fair. We did have a parade of Hands under the Mad King who lost more.

Still, to throw away so much power over the whelps of the man who had slain his father and brother was some sort of queer madness. He had come to King's Landing as the friend of the king and the second most powerful man in the realm, only to leave with multiple children seen as hostages and the king's ire. And the Targaryen girl was still to be killed, regardless.

He'd never understand the Starks, but he supposed his own family also might seem incomprehensible to an outsider. Tyrion wondered what sort of splash the Tyrells were making. Word had reached the city that thirty knights, two hundred men-at-arms, and a similar number of grooms, stable hands, servants, maids, and other smallfolk would be arriving soon. Half a thousand people was quite excessive, but the Tyrells had pointed to the untimely death of the prince. The flower of Highgarden herself was coming, and would have quite the entourage.

The Tyrells are not like the Starks. Cersei and Jaime may be pleased for the moment, but I fear our family remains in a precarious position.

***

Robert felt uncertain before his meeting with Sansa. He detested that. A king was to be strong and decisive. A wise king listened to counsel, but in the end he must act. When he learned that his oldest friend was conspiring to slander the Lannisters on such flimsy grounds, it had hurt. Bad enough that the stubborn fool felt sympathy for dragonspawn, but entertaining the notion that Jon Arryn had been murdered and hiding it from him was close to treason. So the Grand Maester, the master of coin, his master of whisperers, and his bloody damn wife had said.

It was done now. Ned's stubbornness and hatred toward the Lannisters while also caring for the Targaryens had destroyed their friendship. Their brotherhood. He would not go so far as his frigid wife wanted, but others had said something had to be done as penalty. Since he was already resigning as Hand, that could not be it.

Gods, if he would have just seen reason!

Robert had refused to take the fool's children at first, but his younger brother had given him rare wise counsel. The girls liked King's Landing. Renly had proposed a simple test – questioning the girls without their father present and see if that was true. If it was, then keep them there. The realm would know they were hostages, even if it went unsaid, but they would grow closer to his own children. The wound of the prior generation would be mended by friendships between Myrcella, Sansa, and Arya. Tommen would also interact with them as a younger sibling at times, and though the boy was utterly useless in the yard, both Sansa and Arya had said they found him agreeable enough.

The only thing left was to decide on who the damn Hand would be. None of the options appealed to him in the slightest. Cersei wanted Jaime of all people. Pycelle claimed Tywin Lannister had the experience and would serve the realm faithfully. Renly suggested himself. If Stannis were here he would do so likewise. It would be neither of his brothers, he was certain of that. When pushed, Renly had suggested Ser Barristan Selmy. That had happened a few times, where the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had acted as the Hand, but it tended not to go well. And Barristan had also opposed doing what was necessary about the looming Targaryen threat.

He needed someone who didn't have a stick up their arse, but would also take ruling the realm seriously. The person would also have to be someone he could trust. No one had yet come to mind, but after his attendance at another meeting of the small council, Robert was resolved to name someone soon.

"Lady Sansa of House Stark," Ser Barristan announced.

"See her in," Robert called back, and Sansa arrived with her regular grace and a soft smile on her face.

"Sansa, I hope your new rooms are to your liking?"

"They are, Your Grace, and it is pleasant to be so near your family. I've been sharing some old Essosi tales with Tommen, he's quite fond of a few."

Robert sat back, more at ease. He had made the right choice. And yet, doubt still gnawed at him.

"Sansa, I know you must miss your father. What… well, what I mean to say is, did you and your father speak about why he was being sent away? And why you had to stay?"

"Yes, I do miss him. As to what he has said, I… Your pardon, Your Grace, but must I?"

Robert frowned. "I will bear you no ill will for repeating someone else's words. But I must know."

"Father explained that you quarreled. That you were acting without honor and that he could not remain as your Hand. That keeping us here and demanding Rickon be fostered was your way of punishing him for objecting to your actions." Sansa looked down, her eyes shining slightly with unshed tears. "I'm being strong for Arya, who is very confused. She misses several of the guards that she knew well. I know some people won't always get along. Jeyne and Arya sometimes quarrel. I just hope you and Father can be friends again. He used to tell us stories about how you saved the realm."

Robert's face twisted. He didn't like Ned speaking ill of him, but he did like the fact that Ned used to tell his children stories about what he had done in the war.

Gods be good, if only I did not care for him so.

It made him want to drink, but he didn't like being drunk around Sansa. It felt wrong.

"I'll not say all my actions were honorable. Sometimes as a king, you must do what is necessary."

Sansa nodded.

"My father had little love for the city. I fear the heat clouded his temper at times. He has always been firm, but he was never harsh with us in Winterfell. Sometimes… sometimes here in King's Landing… well, he was ill-tempered. His words were on occasion absent the kindness we were accustomed to. It frightened Arya at times, but I understood. He was under great pressure and the heat; it truly robbed him of his senses at times."

Robert found himself nodding. Yes, that made sense to him. Ned had grown accustomed to the cold of Winterfell and the heat had even made him speak poorly to the daughters he so clearly doted upon. Why should he think that Ned would spare the man he was at odds with a harsh word or two?

"I had not realized it affected him so. Is it bothering you as well?"

"'Tis good of you to ask, but I have my mother's blood in me as well. I find the heat quite tolerable."

"Do you want for anything within the Red Keep? I mean to put you and your sister fully at ease."

He could do that much at least.

Sansa looked down. "Well, I hesitate to ask, 'tis a silly thing."

"Go on, tell me!"

"I find all the pretty jewels your wife adorns herself with so beautiful. I sometimes wonder what I might look like if I had my own. I have a few pieces, but Mother said that it could wait until I was older and that our realm was nowhere near as prosperous as the south. Father left a small bit of coin with Jory, but not enough for me to squander on such things. Would it be possible to borrow some of the jewelry, not the queen's own of course, but others that might not be in use?"

Robert laughed. "Sansa, I am standing in for your father and you are under my care. You will not want for anything. You'll not borrow jewels. I'll give you coin to buy your own."

It lifted his spirits to see Sansa's grateful surprise so openly on her face. She was normally quite poised and composed, and some cheer was good.

"That aside, I promised your father before we argued that I would help find someone for you to wed. Tell me, what would you want? Somewhere near Winterfell? Down here in King's Landing, or elsewhere in my realm?"

Her smile ran from her face and she looked down.

"Your Grace, it would not be fair to any future lord husband of mine to arrange a betrothal or marriage so soon. I have been in the presence of the sun, a prince worthy of song, and other men cannot compare. My mother used to say that time was a great healer. I know finding a match for me will be difficult, but I beg of you, do not seek someone out now. Let some years pass first."

Joffrey was… not always so princely. To hear how much of an impression he had made on his betrothed, well, it may be that his feelings towards his eldest had been premature.

"I can heed your wishes. I had thought you would be eager to ensure your future."

"In time, Your Grace. Meanwhile, I would adore seeing who will be matched with Myrcella. She has some years yet, but I can tell she will have her mother's great beauty already." She leaned in. "Your Grace, this may be presumptuous, and I know that affairs of marriage are not like the songs. Marriage strengthens the land. But… I could find out what your dutiful daughter might truly desire and perhaps play some part in arranging a future she will enjoy."

Robert smiled broadly. The girl before him may not look like Lyanna, but she acted like her. That confidence and open, welcoming heart. She was apt in her assessment. According to Jon, a royal marriage had to be carefully considered and help unify the realm. But there could be many strong options, so why not choose one that would make his daughter happy? Gods knew he wasn't close with her, but if he could do something fatherly and right after his failures with Joffrey and Tommen, he should do so.

"When the time comes, I will be sure to discuss it with you. You are a sweet child, but I will need to return to my duties soon. I must find a new Hand."

"I wish you good fortune in your search, Your Grace."

Robert paused. He wasn't sure why, but he had almost thought she might offer a suggestion as to who should be Hand. It would be something Cersei would have tried or a hundred other flatterers. Not once had she even suggested bringing her father back or returning to Winterfell. She did not press him, unlike everyone else.

"Thank you, Sansa. I enjoy our meetings, brief as they are. Should we continue them?"

She hesitated. "I would like that, Your Grace. Perhaps… perhaps you could tell me more about my father when he was young? He seldom tells tales from back then. Oh, but you are quarreling with him. I fear that is a cruel request. Please, we can discuss something else if you prefer."

Robert shook his head.

"Ah, think nothing of it. I could tell you quite the tale about your father! You know he wasn't always such a stone-faced killjoy… ah no, I shan't lie to his daughter. He was always like that, but that didn't mean he was boring, why he…"

***

Illyrio Mopatis was once again impressed with how well Varys could disguise himself. Today the eunuch had transformed into a stout, balding merchant from Myr, complete with a dyed beard streaked with gray, heavy robes of wool, and a thick chain of medallions resting on his chest. The scent of cheap perfume and lamp oil clung to him, masking his usual fragrance of lavender and powder. With so much still uncertain since their last meeting, Illyrio had delayed his departure back to Pentos.

"Ah, there he is. You have worked your magic yet again, my friend."

Varys shook his head slightly.

"Not my doing, in truth. Fortune favors us still, despite everything. Yet still I counsel for haste. The board is still set, but the Tyrells could still upend it if it is not managed carefully. Better to have the Dothraki here before events spiral out of my control."

"Why do you doubt yourself? You were certain the wolf would uncover the truth of the children. And now he is gone, and his daughters can be slain at our leisure when we are ready to have the Seven Kingdoms weaken themselves with war."

"It may not be so simple," Varys said, his voice weary. "Stark was a puzzling creature, but he seems to have learned some subtlety. The guards he left behind are acting strangely. That he misled everyone about how he was returning home was quite intriguing, and sellswords hired by someone received coin for nothing."

Illyrio stroked his beard. "Why would the queen move after Stark was already defeated?"

"It wasn't the queen, or she would have proven a more cunning figure than I think is credible. No, another hand moves. Or perhaps just a finger."

"Littlefinger?"

Varys shrugged at his question. "I suspect, but even my little birds cannot be everywhere. I know Baelish is aware of them as well. The man is too crafty by half, but simply because I have not unearthed who hired those sellswords does not mean it was Littlefinger. And let me remind you again, Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Tully are both out of my reach now. All efforts to learn more of what occurs on Dragonstone have failed, and my agents are only now attempting to find purchase within the Eyrie. I am in the dark, and no candle comes to hand."

As much as the eunuch wished for haste, the khal would not stir until his son was born.

It needs to be a son.

"I listened, and you will have your little birds and more gold besides. Keep the flower from the stag a little while longer. If the timing is right, it might even be for the best. If you manage things perfectly, the Lannisters will be set aside, the old lion at the Rock will be full of wrath, and the wolf's daughters will be slain while in the care of the king. The realm will be riven at the exact moment it most needs to be united against the coming of the Dothraki. Just a little longer."

Varys nodded hesitantly.

"What I can do, I will."

Years of planning had almost been upended, but now the course had been righted. Whether by good fortune or through manipulation, it mattered not. They were close now. So very close.

***

Jory Cassel had been captain of the guard at Winterfell for several years. He had been trusted by his liege lord, and serving him had been his greatest honor. He had always been skilled with a blade, and that skill, combined with his family ties to Ser Rodrik, had made him the natural choice to lead the Stark household guard. He had helped his uncle train the Stark boys in the yard and out in the forests near Winterfell, ensuring their education was complete in all things physical.

As well as Jon and Theon. I hope they are not still at odds.

It was not the first time he had gone south, but it may well be his last. To see Lord Stark and all the North shamed by the king was a heavy weight. Eddard Stark was the most honorable lord in all the Seven Kingdoms and now his own daughters and his youngest son were to be held as hostage to his good behavior? The very idea was absurd.

But then, it was a time for absurdities. Bran crippled by a fall. The prince slain. Sansa savaged. It was like some fell curse had come with the king's arrival. It had been surprising to Jory that he was to remain behind and not accompany his lord back home. Given what had happened to Sansa, he was mollified by the reason, but it still felt odd to go from commanding fifty men to just five. Odder still were Lord Stark's words.

"Jory, while you are in the city, you will obey my daughter Sansa as you would me."

"My lord?"

Sansa had a brilliant mind, but she was still a child.

"I do not understand."

"Whatever she asks, Jory. And pick your best outside of Tomard to remain here with you."

Then the orders from Sansa had come. Jory was given very specific tasks to do. He had thought looking for brothels the prior Hand might have visited was out of the ordinary, but now? Jory half thought this was some child's lark, but Sansa's demands were so specific and seriously given, down to the very hour when he should complete a task.

Once it had been to walk to the Lion Gate. Another time it was to visit Eel Alley. Another time still, to discuss costs of transport with ship captains near the docks. When he had asked Sansa to explain the purpose of this, she had simply said that she was looking to collect information.

It was more than passing strange, and growing stranger by the day. He had also learned his other guards had at times been given orders as well. Alyn had been tasked to go to the Street of Silver and lose coin that Sansa had provided gambling. He had been further instructed to accept drinks and friendship from others if they requested information about the Starks. That sort of skulk work was not something Jory or Lord Stark would normally approve of, but when he had asked Sansa about it, she had simply smiled and explained that it was an experiment.

Beyond carrying out Sansa's varied tasks, they were responsible for ensuring the girls' safety. Sansa went into the city proper and Jory escorted her as she and Jeyne spoke with the merchants. Jory had been given a small chest full of silver to cover the pay of the guards and their needs for the next year, but it seemed his lord had also provided Sansa with her own coin for such things.

Perhaps it is meant to lighten Sansa's heart after everything.

"This is a lovely piece. Your work is so intricate. I am looking for some things for myself, but in truth, I was hoping to find some pieces for the daughters of some of my leal servants. This is much too fine for them."

"Forgive me, my lady, I misunderstood. You are correct. I have other pieces here that are more suitable for those of a lower station."

Jory was confused, but held his tongue. Sansa had always been the strangest of the Stark children, and his job was to protect her, not understand her.

***

Margaery Tyrell laughed as Megga Tyrell finished her story. Her younger cousin had a penchant for mischief indeed! The journey had been quicker than what any of them were routinely used to, but it had been pleasant. Alla, Megga, and Elinor were excited to see King's Landing.

"Do you think the princess will like us?" Alla asked. "I've heard it said that she's kind, but that she doesn't have many companions and spends most of her time with her mother in the royal apartments."

Margaery patted her hand. "I'm told Myrcella is dutiful, beautiful, and quite kind. Renly wrote that she only spends time with some Lannisport girl and Sansa Stark, so she'll welcome more company."

"'Tis odd that the queen allows Sansa to be around her daughter. Isn't she…" Elinor's voice dropped to a whisper, "despoiled?"

Margaery tutted in imitation of her grandmother. "None of that now. It isn't as if being accosted by some monstrous fellow is catching! Poor Sansa was going to marry the prince. No doubt she spent time with the royal family and befriended Myrcella. You must give the Lannisters no excuse to find your behavior wanting."

The three nodded. Margaery knew they would not shame her. Elinor knew what Margaery was truly here for, but neither Alla nor Megga did. She wondered if she would manage to catch the king's eye. Her father had spoken about how wonderful it would be for her to be queen and she did greatly desire it. To be in the center of power and be able to help steer the realm like her grandmother steered the politics of the Reach was exciting.

A woman's duty is not always pleasant, but I've been told the act itself is not overlong.

The real challenge would be to entice the king enough to make him want her, but not enough that he tried to make use of her in a carnal way before setting aside his current wife. The balance required would be delicate, and like to prove the great challenge of her life.

As their wheelhouse came to a stop the door opened and Olenna, her grandmother, and the 'Queen of Thorns' curtly told the other girls. "Out."

None of her cousins were foolish so they moved swiftly.

Olenna was helped into the wheelhouse and then one of her massive guards shut the door.

"We'll be in King's Landing soon. I can already imagine the stench. We must speak; things have changed."

"Say on, Grandmother."

"Lord Stark has offended the king. Some say he resigned his position, others say he was stripped of it. Either way, his two daughters are now hostage upon his good behavior."

"But why?" Margaery asked.

"He accused the queen of murdering the old Hand."

Margaery's hand rose to her chest.

"Is it true?"

She sniffed. "How should I know? Jon Arryn championed putting Cersei beside Robert. Much can change in fifteen years, but Arryn was always a cautious man. The Starks mislike the Lannisters, but I won't know more until we reach the city. Lord Renly's report, delivered verbally by one of his trusted knights, was woefully incomplete. He's a pretty fool, and I mislike everything about this."

Margaery well knew her grandmother's thoughts on trying to oust Cersei Lannister. She had not been able to sway her son, Margaery's father.

"The 'honorable' Lord Stark was amenable to having his daughter aid you in this poetry nonsense. I told my oaf of a son that Robert Baratheon is not a man to be wooed in such a manner. Just show your ripening bosom would be more useful. But now I wonder if the girl will be as willing. Renly says she has some wit about her, but what would a fool know of that? Tread carefully, I suspect the queen may already have the no doubt frightened girl her under her thumb."

"I will. I am sure we will become fast friends, regardless. I had a thought about her. She's been ravaged by brutes and will have very little fortune in finding someone to wed her. We all know my brother Loras is a sword-swallower. What if we were to match them? It would bring the Starks to our side and be seen as a very generous gesture to them."

Her grandmother gave her a disappointed look.

"And make us a laughing stock? If you are successful, we will have no need of the Starks. If you are not, then you will not be queen and we will still have no need of the Starks. They rarely stir themselves and with Eddard returned to Winterfell they are unimportant. Keep your wits about you. If Cersei is replaced, what do you think the Old Lion will do? I can think of much, and none of it good, but oath or no, the Kingslayer will not stand meekly by. He will either do something stupid or he will return to Casterly Rock without his white cloak. Our Loras as a member of the Kingsguard resolves everything neatly."

Margaery frowned. She had thought it a grand idea. It would have also been a way to kindle a friendship under the guise that they would one day be sisters by marriage. Her grandmother was wise and she would heed her lessons. Most of them at least.

Notes:

This is mostly for people on a different forum, but I figured I'd add the same thing I wrote there, here for those who might be mixing up fanon Robert with canon Robert. Comments here on AO3 and QQ have mostly be very positive!

I've responded to some of the feedback from the last chapter, but I'm not going to rehash everything each time someone leaves a comment. I'm also aware a lot of people just read the story and then drop a comment without having read the thread - which is fine! So I'll post this here.

In general, many people thought this was out of character for Robert. This chapter plays into some of the reasoning behind how the decision came to pass, but some people have rightly stated that this was a very stupid decision for the crown to make. But people forget... Robert is stupid! And generally an awful human. I fear that fanon has treated Robert far too kindly.

To sum up a few things 'Bobby B' has done in the OTL

- Rewarded the murder of children

- Tried to murder more children

- Ordered the death of the Stark family pet (and later tells Ned he knew Joffrey was lying)

- Had sex with very young women (ie girls well under 16) - now I do think we should judge people by the moral standards of their day, and not necessarily our day, but Ned himself internally commented that he 'dared not ask the girl her age' when investigating why Jon/Stannis visited a brothel.

- Refused Ned to seek justice for the murder of Jory, his guards, and the near-death wound Ned himself took

- Defiled his brother's wedding bed, after spending a lifetime just being an ass of a sibling (Weakwing, blaming Stannis for Targ escapes, no Strom's End, no Handship, and while the Handship is understandable, the rest is just him being a jerk face.)

- Forbade Ned to leave the city, and then forced him to remain as Hand or he would give it to the man who ordered the murder of Jory and the guards

- Ordering his wife's brother to guard his door while he fucked whores, just for funsies

- When he was with his wife, it was clear example of spousal abuse:

She was always sore afterward, raw between the legs, her breasts painful from the mauling he would give them.

For Robert, those nights never happened. Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have had her believe.

Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. "You hurt me," she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. "It was not me, my lady," he said in a sulky sullen tone... "It was the wine.

A drunken chronic spouse abuser. On the stupidity side we get - antagonizing the bodyguard who already killed one king is just a different level of dumb.

For the Stark being used as hostages - all his advisors were telling him the same thing, because they all benefited in some way. Cersei got him out of the city. Varys got to keep the lid on the boiling over cauldron, he believes Stark loves his daughters unnecessarily and wouldn't risk them if things sparked. Renly got to keep Sansa around to work his angle with Margaery. Littlefinger wants Sansa in the city because... well we know why. Pycelle doing what Cersei asks. No one is giving him good counsel and everyone was acting in a self-serving manner. Robert was drunk, enraged at Ned's 'betrayal' and primed emotionally to do something dumb. Even so, it required the unanimity of the small council and Renly being a bit clever.

Ok rant over. 😅

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Sansa StarkTanya von DegurechaffNed StarkArya StarkTyrion LannisterRobert BaratheonJon SnowLady | Sansa Stark's DirewolfJaime Lannister

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Published:2026-04-12Updated:2026-05-29Words:86,854Chapters:18/?Comments:345Kudos:690Bookmarks:188Hits:20,432

A Young Warg's Game of Thrones

Failninjaninja

Chapter 14

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Catelyn Stark could already feel the warmth of the baths that awaited her within Winterfell, steam rising in her mind's eye as though she stood before them. Yet even that comfort paled beside the thought of her children. The castle loomed ahead, and it felt even more like home than Riverrun.

Robb and a dozen others rode out to meet her before she arrived at the gates with Ser Rodrik; their horses were lathered, proof they had ridden out in haste. Her heart warmed as her eldest son swung down from the saddle almost before the beast had stilled.

"Mother," he said, voice thick with emotion as he embraced her.

Two direwolves, now grown to the size of normal adult wolves, ran around in the snow with excitement. Grey Wind bayed happily while Ghost panted beside him.

"Oh, Robb," Catelyn said as she embraced her son. "How is Bran?"

Robb's face fell. "He struggles, but your return will hearten him. Mother… have you heard what has befallen Father?"

Gods… no, please.

"No… tell me, what happened?"

Robb's jaw clenched. "He's no longer Hand, and he's returning to Winterfell. But Sansa and Arya are to remain in King's Landing to ensure he does not do something… disloyal."

Catelyn shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. She figured that the queen had somehow poisoned Robert's thoughts toward Ned. All knew her husband, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, to be among the noblest lords in the realm. The thought of Sansa and Arya there in King's Landing without their father was frightening.

"What are we to do, Mother?" Robb asked.

"Little and less, for the moment. Your father will determine our next course, but with them hostage in King's Landing we have no good options. I can… I can write to my father; I still have friends in the south." She brushed her hand across her son's cheek; the fuzz of manhood was upon his face. "You are right to be worried, but I also have friends in King's Landing. Petyr Baelish sits on the small council. He will see them protected."

Jon stepped forward and bowed his head. "Lady Stark. We have other disappointing news. In less than two years, Rickon is to be fostered. Most like at Storm's End."

Another hostage? Just what has happened?

Catelyn closed her eyes. The Stark words rang in her head. Winter had come to House Stark, but at least her Ned was alive. Now, she needed to be strong. For Bran, who would need her more than ever. For Rickon, while she still had him.

***

The third creature I bonded with was a raven I had named Eyes. As I never intended to be directly associated with it in my human body, it fit based on his function. Entering a raven's mind was like being doused in cold water. Strangely enough, they didn't seem to mind the intrusion, but effectively 'bonding' to one took longer than with Visha or Anna.

I was left with wondering if this was a unique feature of ravens, or if it had to do with the gender of the raven I selected, or if it mattered that this was the third creature I had bonded with. With Arya disliking slipping into the skin that wasn't Nymeria's, it made testing frustrating. I was rather eager for my father to get back to Winterfell and see what experimentation with Robb and Jon could glean.

I must not get impatient. The physical distance will make it harder to ensure nothing goes wrong.

Eyes had turned out to be quite useful and I was able to figure out who was following Jory and his men. Or actually several different people. I had backtracked some to a brothel and others back to the Red Keep. I was still deciding if I wanted Jory to capture their shadows and have them put to the question. There were risks in doing that, but I was getting annoyed about being in the dark about all the little games that were going on in King's Landing.

Margaery would be arriving very soon and I had no real inkling as to whether the Renly and Tyrell alliance would be successful in seducing the king and setting aside Cersei. It seemed absurdly risky to me for the new dynasty to do such a thing, but I would continue to be helpful to whoever called upon me. Did Cersei want to know what I spoke with Margaery about? I would tell. Did Margaery want help with my structured poetry from the culture of my first life? I would teach.

My forays to obtain jewelry netted me some understated but still accepted bits of silver and gemstones of lesser value. I saved far more of Robert's generous purse than I spent. Money was one of those universal resources that was never bad to have. I didn't know if I would truly need it for something, but I'd rather have it and not need it than not have it when it could be of use.

Perhaps there will be more jousts and I can increase my fortunes that way.

For the realm's treasury, hopefully no more tourneys would be held, but when the king wanted some sort of entertainment, the small council danced to his tune, debt be damned.

Despite my status as a partial social pariah thanks to the rape story I had concocted, I had some demands on my time. I did needlework with Myrcella, read to Tommen, met with the king, met with the queen, attended the feasts, and at times I was called upon by others. I have been invited to dine with Tanda Stokeworth and her daughter Lollys. House Stokeworth had a manse in the city. Jory accompanied me with a trio of other guards, leaving two to remain behind.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, my dear," Tanda said in a brittle voice, with a slightly uneasy glance at Visha. "Lollys does so enjoy company."

"It was my honor, Lady Tanda. I was surprised by the invitation, but it was a welcome one."

Jory and the others were allowed to wait in the foyer, while I was escorted to a rather large dining table laden with a vast assortment of food. From roast sucking pig, fatted calf, and lamprey pie, she had gone a bit extravagant. There was far more food than a few people could possibly eat.

Hopefully she gives it to her servants and guards when we are done. Lollys may have a large appetite, but this is quite excessive.

One of the other doors opened and out walked Petyr Baelish. As always, he was attired in finely tailored clothing.

"Lady Sansa, a pleasure. Have you ever been Lady Stokeworth's guest before? If you have not, you are in for a treat."

"This is my first time, my lord, but all of this," I gestured toward the food, "seems just as grand as the king's own table. Are we expecting other guests?"

Tanda shook her head. "Just Lollys, who should be here soon. Come, eat and tell me of Winterfell. I have never been."

I did so, while I helped myself to small portions. Petyr asked questions as I regaled the two with tales of glass gardens and the old gods. I spoke of the crypts below Winterfell and my uncle who served in the Night's Watch. When Lollys still had not arrived, Tanda excused herself and I was left alone with Petyr.

"Sansa, your mother has taught you well. You mind all your courtesies and I can tell you have inherited her wit. You have been a great balm to Princess Myrcella."

"Thank you, Lord Baelish."

"The delicate matter of your hand after the unfortunate events at the Trident is one I can help with. You are too great a beauty to remain in the north, but alas, with your father at odds with the king, and your condition, there will be difficulties in finding a match that a proper lady like yourself deserves. I do have friends in the Vale who will be quite pleased with you and can overlook the… difficulties."

"Thank you, truly, but I do not even wish to think of marriage after…"

He gave me a smile that bordered on a smirk.

"Ah, so that is why. Even without the memory, you still bore the wounds. Sansa, you should know that time spent with a man is not always so rough. It can be as gentle and wonderful as either party desires. Your mother would say the same if she were here, she would comfort you and explain there is nothing to fear."

The topic of discussion was wildly inappropriate, but I didn't want to burn any useful bridges. And I was honestly curious as to why he wanted me to be a bride to someone in the Vale. He didn't strike me as an altruistic sort, but perhaps he owed a social debt to my mother that he wanted to pay off. Either way, marriage didn't interest me, nor really did this topic.

"Perhaps she would, but enjoyable or no, my mother always taught that when I did marry, I would have a duty as a woman. In truth, I view the matter as something I would rather not think of until the time comes for it. If Septa Mordane were here, she would be rather shocked at the conversation."

He tilted his head a bit. "I was curious about that, why did she return to Winterfell along with your father? Is she not responsible for your education?"

She had tried to do her duty, but she irritated Arya and I didn't need her. Many of the meetings really should have a chaperone, but given that I was already despoiled, it wasn't a necessary expectation. I didn't want unnecessary friction in the household, so beyond Jeyne, two serving maids, a servant who handled the horses, there were just the six guards from Winterfell.

"I have never held to the Seven, much to my mother's disappointment. Arya dislikes her and I am trusted to teach her the proper ways of court when the time comes. For now, I've told the king that Arya is somewhat homesick and misses our father and would prefer to only interact with the prince and the princess away from grand feasts and public spectacles."

"You Starks, quite unnatural in many ways. Pardon, Lady Sansa, I mean no offense. Did Cat allow you wine during feasts?"

"A cup, yes, but I find the taste poor. I much prefer milk or tea."

Petyr rose from his seat and picked up a bottle.

"You have simply not had the right wine, then. Come let me pour you a cup of Arbor gold."

As a rational person, I always limited my alcoholic intake in my first life. Even taken in moderation, it was a poison to the body.

He came to my side of the table and slowly poured it for me and then watched as I took a small sip.

"If it is not to your liking, I am sure Lady Tanda has others."

"This will do, Lord Baelish, thank you."

A half-smile formed on his face as he stood over me. "So dutiful, I believe there is more Tully in you than Stark." He reached out and gently took my chin as he examined me. "Like your mother's hair, and her features. No sign of that long face of your father's."

I met his gaze evenly as he studied me. I knew the history. I knew how he dueled against my deceased uncle, Brandon Stark. Which had been absurd. He had been soundly defeated, but even had he won, he would never have been allowed to marry my mother. He was little more than a boy at the time, but now I wondered with his careful study of me what he was up to.

"As you say, my sister favors my father more." I took up my cup again, which created a necessity for him to release his light grip on my jaw so I could drink from it. His eyes twinkled a bit in amusement as he released me and then took a chair nearer than his original.

"Your sister may still one day be queen, despite the king's anger toward your father. How would you feel about that?"

"Arya is still young. It is hard to imagine her in place of Queen Cersei, but like my own potential marriage, it is far too soon to worry about such things. I'd wager that as master of coin you must always be thinking well into the future, more so than most."

He blinked. "Yes, at times. But I was more curious if you would resent having to curtsy and bow before your little sister."

"It would not bother me at all. If my sister were to be queen, then my house will have power and influence and be more secure. My sister would not mistreat me, and I would never undermine her. I am curious, you seem to be an important man in this city. Who do you think will be our new Hand?"

"How very much like Cat. As I was her friend in childhood, I would like to be your friend now. You know better than most, that these are dangerous times and without your father around to protect you and your sister I worry."

"I don't know what you mean, Lord Baelish. I can always use more friends, but you make it sound as if there is some danger here. Both the king and queen are fond of me and the Red Keep is well guarded. Jory keeps me safe when I visit the city."

He let out a small chuckle.

"And less than a fortnight ago, your father was Hand. Things can change quickly. I must ask again, will you accept my hand in friendship?"

"You are a man of finance and so I fear you may think of things in favors owed, and ledgers that must be balanced. If I accept, what is it you expect of me, Lord Baelish?"

That elicited another smile.

"It means you must allow me to protect you. That if I found a suitable match who can ensure your future sooner than later, that you speak to the king in one of your chats about how fond of that person you would be. It means if danger is near and I request you to accompany somewhere without your minders, you would trust me, as a friend."

Now I really want to know what he is looking to do.

"But my father said that I must take Jory with me anywhere in the city," I said with a frown as I leaned into my persona.

"If your father told you to stay put in your room, but then a fire spreads, do you obey your father or do you leave and seek help?" The master of coin shrugged, "I speak of mere possibilities."

I took another sip of wine, careful to limit my intake.

"Forgive me, Lord Baelish, but I'm not sure what to say. In that example, I suppose I must flee my room, but I mislike the idea of disobeying my father. And as you say this is all just a game of might-be. Would it be acceptable to ask the queen for advice? Without my mother or father here I think I have need of other guidance before I agree to do anything."

"You are careful and intelligent, Sansa. Quite unlike other girls your age, and I could only applaud your wisdom. Yes, I have no desire to pressure you into friendship with me. I only want what is best for you. So please, ask the queen for advice on the matter."

Got you.

Pieces were beginning to click into place now. Petyr Baelish and the Lannisters must be tightly aligned for him to be as comfortable with me sharing the rather inappropriate conversation that just took place with her. I'd have to confirm what Cersei would say, but I was beginning to suspect that every move my father took in investigating Jon Arryn's death was pre-arranged. Perhaps they had even left deliberate breadcrumbs just so my father could be led to making an accusation against the queen in order to remove him as Hand.

The more I pondered it as I continued to fence with Petyr during dinner, the more I doubted whatever trusted person had told my father that Jon Arryn had been murdered. The Grand Maester was the representative of the Citadel, he should be politically neutral. Like all institutions, corruption could exist, but by all accounts he was just a man in his dotage doing his best. If he doubted there was poison used, then it was likely true. Which meant that everything had all been a convoluted ploy, but one that had ultimately not even been necessary thanks to my father's moral stand against the murder of pregnant teens.

But then what was going on with Bran? Why try to murder him? Perhaps it was a plot to get my father to return to Winterfell? Or maybe he had been deliberately made to fall in order to get him to remain in the first place and the assault with the hired assassin was simply a means to silence his testimony about who made him fall. They would have no means of knowing Bran would have no recollection upon waking up.

It was so very frustrating that Father had not given me all the details. While keeping people's confidences was admirable, it made it very difficult for me to properly navigate things. Not that he would want me to navigate or investigate any of this, but games were being played and they had resulted in shame for House Stark as well as Rickon, Arya, and myself being made hostages.

With Robert being so accommodating while I reaped the emotional advantages of being his dead son's betrothed, I was confident I could likely end that predicament in a year or two. Perhaps even in time to ensure Rickon stayed in Winterfell.

Eventually the Stokeworths rejoined the meal and apologized for Lollys having a temporary illness, but she was all better now. What Petyr had done here was a powerplay. He had the ability to make a middling house of the crownlands dance to his tune. It seemed he also wanted me wed to someone in the Vale and wanted to arrange my departure with him to places unknown at a moment's notice without my guard.

But what I couldn't understand was the reason behind it. It could be something as simple as a lustful desire for a facsimile of his childhood lust for my mother. That would be rather creepy for me as I would soon only just be turning twelve. In two out of two encounters he had made a point of touching me, so there seemed to be some evidence of that being a potential motivation. It still seemed an awfully risky move, so I had to assume there was some deeper plan beyond mere disgusting lust.

I'll know more after speaking with the queen. Best to do it soon before Margaery arrives.

***

Quick as a snake.

Arya struck fast with her practice sword and Syrio stepped away from the blow. He wasn't even bothering to parry, he was just dancing across the stone, allowing Arya's sword to miss by a finger's breadth.

Swift as a deer.

She changed tactics. One of her conversations with Sansa had come to mind. When you want to figure out what someone is trying to accomplish, put yourself in their shoes. What was Syrio looking to do by this lesson? Improve her speed and skill, yes, but he could have dodged even further. Arya concluded he perhaps wanted to give her hope to fuel her efforts. Or, perhaps he wanted to frustrate her. Either way, there was a pattern, and patterns could be exploited.

Arya slowly began to shift her lunges and slashes. She wasn't fully extending. Her arm was not as far outstretched. She still struck swiftly, but her range of motion was deliberately more limited. She waited for another minute as her breath began to flag and then launched a regular combination she had done thrice before, only this time she fully extended on the final lunge.

Clack.

Syrio parried.

"A man has eyes, but not all men use them. A girl learns. Good."

Arya grinned. It had worked. She had made him parry.

After the exhausting session she was escorted back to her rooms by Alyn. Not that she needed an escort. Nymeria was always at her side and she knew her way around the Red Keep. It was really nice not having Septa Mordane around, she had so much more time to play with her wolf, help Sansa with her warg experiments, and do the training exercises Syrio taught.

Jon will be so jealous of everything I've learned when I next see him!

She hoped everyone was keeping safe in Winterfell. Sansa had helped her write a letter, but she really didn't know what to say. Arya missed everyone, but also really enjoyed learning how to slip into Nymeria's skin. Her dreams were always so interesting too. It was hard to remember them sometimes, but for some reason she felt that they were important.

Sansa says they were probably more vivid because they were a blend of Nymeria's dreams and her own. Plus with all the major events that had occurred like Joffrey's death, Bran's fall, and their father leaving without them, Sansa had said of course she would have different dreams.

When Arya returned, Sansa was already waiting for her.

"Good, you are on time, I appreciate that. Are you sure you don't want to try bonding a second animal to you? You've gotten so good at catching cats, why not obtain a second companion like Nymeria?"

"Because I don't want to. It feels wrong. Nymeria is all I need."

Sansa was nodding with her meaningless 'polite' nod. Arya hated that.

"Yes, Nymeria is all you need, but maybe sometimes you want to explore a bit and Nymeria is too big."

Arya scowled and Sansa gave a little sigh.

"I won't try to force you, but I do think this is important. I'll be in something else's skin for the next two hours. You know the drill, let no one find me like this, and then afterward we can discuss what you learned from the text. Start reading from page one hundred thirty-four."

Learning by reading was different than what Septa Mordane and Maester Luwin had done, but she could practice balancing while she read. Her enjoyable days would sadly give way to other things she'd need to do. Sansa had said she would need to interact more with the royal family, but Myrcella was boring and Tommen a crybaby.

She picked up the book and then began to balance on her toes as she read as Sansa went utterly still.

***

"Stylistically, it creates a cadence that we appreciate. Just like we enjoy symmetry and artistic designs that adhere to a pattern. Not everyone will be aware of the syllable count, but to some, and perhaps the king, it will have a nice ring to it," Sansa Stark explained helpfully.

Margaery understood the expectation, but was rather surprised that in far-off Winterfell there had been such care given to poetry. The stories she had heard about what went on in the north painted a rather savage picture, but stories did tend to exaggerate.

"How clever! And so each line has the same number of syllables? No, that isn't right, your example was different."

"It isn't uniform, because our thoughts don't appreciate completely uniform patterns that are too simple. It is five, then seven, then five again, then disrupted again with the final two lines also having seven. You can also 'cheat' by elongating words to create an extra syllable where one isn't needed. That deals with the structure, the next aspect is to find a subject matter that would appeal to someone like our king."

Margaery let out a conspiratorial giggle. "Oh, do tell, our brave king has done so much and I've only just arrived in King's Landing. What does our strong hero who defeated the Targaryens like?"

Sansa did not join in with the laughter, which was rather rare. When Margaery did something like that all her cousins and handmaidens were quick to take part.

"His Grace is fond of the stories of his youthful victories. He views slaying Rhaegar Targaryen as his greatest achievement, however that is ground I've trodden before. Defeating the Greyjoys is of lesser importance, but still has potential. He enjoys hunting, feasting, and jests. He was very fond of Lord Arryn and was fostered in the Vale."

Margaery took Sansa's hand in hers. "You have been a great help, Sansa., I shan't forget it. We are both daughters of powerful lords, and I would very much like for us to be friends."

"I'm always happy to make more friends, Lady Margaery."

Margaery very lightly gave a push on Sansa's arm.

"None of that, Sansa! Friends do not stand on titles. Leave that for court," she said with a cheerful smile.

"Very well, Margaery. As a gesture of friendship, I should let you know a couple of things. Within the court there are already whispers of you being barren for consuming too much moon tea. Secondly, my father asked me to help you learn this form of poetry. The queen has met with me a few times and asked me about your pending arrival and I shared as much, eager to teach others about it. Arya never really cared for it. The queen seemed a bit upset, but I wasn't sure as to why. She's very beautiful, but at times she can be fierce, and I would not want you caught off guard."

Surely you can guess, Sansa. But perhaps not, you are still young and that famed directness of the folk in the north has certainly been embodied in you!

"I'm sure the queen and I will get along just fine. But… well, I hesitate to recite poetry with so many people around, but I do want the king to hear my attempt. Perhaps next time you go to visit him, I could attend as well?" She gave a soft laugh, "You must think me foolish, but I can get embarrassed when trying something new."

Sansa again did not join her in mirth. It was rather disconcerting for Margaery. She wasn't cold, but there was no playfulness about her at all. She wondered if this was something unique to Sansa or if this was just how everyone behaved in a place like Winterfell, where even the summers had snow.

"What I can do is ask the king if he would mind if you joined us for one of our chats. I don't think it would be wise to bring you uninvited."

"That will do, thank you again, Sansa. I truly appreciate it. I would also love to meet your sister! One of my companions is Alysanne, of House Bulwer. She's a bit younger than Arya, but they can play games like come-into-my-castle or monsters-and-maidens."

"I will pass along the request. I have been teaching Arya what it is to be a lady, and she still lacks some refinement."

This could work.

"Oh, well would she like to join my handmaidens in their lessons with Septa Nysterica?"

Sansa shook her head. "No, I think she's had enough of septa-led training. Arya had some difficulty with focus. She wouldn't enjoy a group learning, that is why Septa Mordane went home with my father. However, I will ask Jeyne, she has been my companion since childhood, and could use the company."

What an odd way to phrase that.

After she spoke some more with Sansa and bandied about a few initial starts to the short poems she returned to the quarters that Lord Renly had provided for her and her grandmother.

"Grandmother, I learned what I needed to."

"And the Stark girl? What did you make of her?"

"She's odd." Her brow furrowed. "She seems older than her age, and over-serious. Polite, helpful, but I fear there was no joy or companionship. She only has one companion, and seemed content with foisting her off. In truth, I found her quite strange."

Olenna made a small contemplative sound as Margaery told her the rest. About how Cersei would almost certainly know what was intended by their visit. And the fact that someone was spreading calumnies about her.

"She is probably on her guard and that would explain her standoffishness. As far as the rumors," Olenna waved her hand dismissively, "they probably won't even reach the king's ear. Court gossip of the worst sort."

"Perhaps," Margaery said. She couldn't quite figure out Sansa Stark yet, but she didn't seem wary. Just… precise. Like a merchant's scales.

"And that wolf of hers? The great beasts that the Starks are said to ride to battle, if we are paying attention to ridiculous talk."

"Sansa let me pet her, she was sweet. It was alarming at first given her size, but I felt secure. After the initial greeting, I barely even remembered she was there. I intend to invite her hawking. If she is close with her wolf, she might enjoy other animals as well."

Olenna pursed her lips. "I will ask Renly, first. Remember, the girl is still a hostage. Attempting to take her out of the city gates may prompt some embarrassment if the guard has orders."

Margaery should have thought of that, but she didn't think it was going to be an issue. Sansa had said she visited the city a few times with just her household guard. As far as 'hostages' were concerned it was enforced not with direct oversight, but with expectation it seemed.

"Please do so. And now, I must make ready for the feast. I'll be sitting beside my brother who will be next to Renly. The king will have a good view, so I believe I'll wear the samite gown."

Her grandmother frowned. "Yes, I think the king will like that. But remember what I told you. Do not be wanton in your displays. If your eyes should meet, look away demurely. Position yourself so he catches only a partial glimpse. You'll soon be five-and-ten, so we'll have your seamstress add a bit extra to make your bosom swell."

The expectations that had been laid on her shoulders were heavy, but Margaery was looking forward to the challenge.

Notes:

For those unfamiliar with canon, note - Tanya is not always correct in her assumptions.

Jon Arryn WAS poisoned, but by the Littlefinger/Lysa, not the Lannisters.

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Chapter 1025 - 13-15