We court our own Captivity / Than Thrones more great and innocent; SANSAERY

Body's sweet like sugar venom

The girl and her family, while perfectly genteel to the rest of the court, had been notably warm to Sansa. But rather than providing comfort, Margaery's sweet disposition only increased Sansa's anxiety: she wouldn't wish her former betrothed on anyone, especially not a girl who seemed so kind.

She'd even risked everything and told Margaery and her grandmother the violent, horrible truth about Joffrey-but Margaery and her family were still going forward with the wedding. Sansa couldn't understand it.

"Little dove, your appetite is that of a bird this evening. Does my table not agree with you?"

Cersei's voice startled Sansa out of her thoughts. "I-It does, your Grace." Sansa swallowed. "I'm only feeling a bit... indisposed. I will gladly partake, if it please you." She forced herself to look at the Queen.

The Queen's sharp green eyes regarded Sansa for a moment. "No. We have dined long enough, I think. Let us retire to the balcony."

Margaery Tyrell leaned in warmly. "An excellent idea, your Grace." Cersei eyed her sharply and then rose to her feet, scarlet skirts falling gracefully to the floor. The girls trailed her into the next room, which was softly illuminated by dozens of candlelit sconces.

Cersei Lannister's bedchamber, Sansa thought, was as exquisite as that of any storybook queen. A beautiful four-poster bed dominated the center of the room on a dais, its embroidered cloth-of-gold bedding complementing the tapestry of Lannister colors that covered the wall behind. The lush Myrish rug carpeting the floor ran right up to the short stone balcony, where doors opened high over the castle gardens to display the inky sky night alight with thousands of stars.

King's Landing felt beautiful tonight, the summer night air was balmy, and the pretty scene was almost enough to allay the nerves that jangled in Sansa's chest. Almost.

Cersei motioned for them to sit, nodding at the low carved stools just inside the room. She moved to the sideboard to unstop a decanter of wine, then surprised Sansa by turning to press a filled glass into Sansa's hands.

"Here, little dove. Perhaps this will cure what ails you." Her tone was pointed, but much softer than what Sansa had become accustomed to, from her. The Queen's eyes were probing as she pulled away.

"Th-thank you, your Grace." Gods, there had been a time when Sansa had prided herself on being well-spoken. She flushed.

Margaery turned to the Queen, still smiling. "The smell of the flowers is so divine, Your Grace. It reminds me of Highgarden."

"King's Landing is a city of many charms, Margaery." Cersei continued to occupy herself at the sideboard. "What do you think, little dove?" she said abruptly to Sansa, who'd just been thinking she'd be hard pressed to name a single one of the city's charms. She blinked and the Queen said sharply, "The wine."

Oh. She took a sip. "It's very good, Your Grace." Sansa was being truthful. The wine was indeed very good; perhaps that was why the Queen was always in her cups.

Cersei laughed, looking genuinely amused for the first time that evening. "So you prefer drink to food. A girl after my own heart."

Margaery followed this little exchange with a courtier's smile. "King's Landing is truly beautiful," she remarked, folding her hands in her lap and steering the conversation back to the earlier topic. "When you were wed, Your Grace, how long was it before you felt at home here?"

"It was very little time at all. I grew comfortable in King's Landing very quickly. Of course, I had my brother Jaime here with me, serving in the Kingsguard, and that made me feel quite... comfortable." Cersei paused briefly, biting her full lower lip almost wryly. "But let us speak of your wedding, Margaery. If it please you, you may choose Joffrey's bridal flower from the castle gardens."