𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒚 𝑶𝒖𝒕

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝑽

❄❄❄

And through it all, the young girl from the minor House Poole sworn to Stark, is stitching something together with needle and thread under the table.

"What are you doing?"

Sansa questions over the noisy mixture of music and voice as Jeyne continues with her needlework, a smile and blush creeping onto her face as she glances at her best friend.

"Do you not remember? I told you about this for the past week or more! They are for your brother."

"What?"

Sansa half gawks at Jeyne as she holds up the unfinished leather gloves meant for Benget as a gift in excitement.

"I'm making them for your brother."

"You mean Purple Eyes? Why would you want to give anything to him?"

"Oh, your brother is an absolute dream!"

Jeyne mutters as if in a different world for a moment, more than likely imagining the Violet Wolf in her mind as Sansa scoffs a little, taking the smallest of sips from the one cup of wine that her father allows her and her siblings to drink at feasts.

"He's going to be my husband one day.."

"Jeyne!"

"What? Can't a girl dream a little?"

"But he isn't even of the North, not truly. Ben is no better than a Southerner- a Dayne of Dorne."

"I hear that men are built a bit differently from Dorne and are certainly blessed down south.."

"Jeyne!"

The young girl from the minor House laughs at Sansa's embarrsed and cringed face as a servant soon approaches Sansa, quietly and respectfully telling her that her mother wants her attention. Sansa glances at the high table, seeing her mother motion her over to then with her eyes.

Cersei watches as Sansa approaches, the practiced courtesy of the bow before the Queen playing out as Cersei smiles the most fake yet believable happy smile there ever was.

"Hello little dove."

Her words could almost be thought of as a sneer as she grits her teeth slightly through her smile.

"But you are a beauty. How old are you?"

"Thirteen, Your Grace."

"You're tall. Still growing?"

"I think so, Your Grace."

"And have you bled yet?"

Sansa loses her excited smile as it drops down onto the floor at the Queen's forwardness. Cersei just smirks as Sansa shakes her head.

"N-No, Your Grace."

"Mm... And your dress, did you make it?"

Cersei asks through feigned interest and joy as the Stark girl with that Tully red hair nods happily, eager in any way to please the Queen.