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

Chapter Two

The room lurched.

Sansa thought the situation had changed, that she'd become a mere witness to this exchange between two would-be Queens, yet clearly she was wrong.

Why this, she thought wildly,

what does Cersei want from me?

It had to be some kind of test—but why? To test Sansa's loyalty to the crown? To prove, as she did every day with her oaths and shows of obedience, that she was not the blood traitor her Stark name automatically implied? Or was this merely the natural progression of her responsibilities as Cersei's ward?

Her heart pulsing hot and hard in her chest, she looked to Margaery and the Tyrell girl, whose mouth had fallen into a perfect O at the Queen's order, seemed to read the fear written on Sansa's face. "Your Grace," Margaery interjected swiftly, her voice very smooth, "I don't see what that has to do with making heirs."

Cersei wore an expression of amusement laced with exasperation. "Kiss her, Margaery. A Queen should take what she wants, when she wants it." Her tone changed abruptly, growing icy as she leaned closer. "And you do want her, don't you, Margaery? I've heard the young flowers are lovely in Highgarden... and surely this northern bloom is just as fair. So go on."

Sansa had never before seen Margaery lose her composure, but the Queen's words had that effect. Margaery turned her face quickly away from Cersei's gaze, mouth tightening sharply, as a high blush rose in her cheeks and a strange hesitancy washed over her face. She turned to Sansa.

As Margaery looked slowly at her, it startled Sansa to see the subtle change that unfurled over the older girl's face, eyes tracing Sansa's figure in its ice blue gown almost hungrily.

The Queen is right, she realized with a tiny, hot shock: Margaery did want her.

When Margaery's eyes finally met her own, though, their look was questioning. Margaery was asking, Sansa saw suddenly, for her consent. She wanted to make sure this was all right.

But Sansa didn't even know if her consent was hers to give. She turned to the Queen and saw the hard, lustful look in Cersei's eyes—yet exactly what the Queen was lusting for was impossible to tell.

She turned away quickly, heart pounding. If this was a test, and Sansa had no doubt that it was, she had no idea what was expected of her. She had only ever kissed Joffrey, and chastely. What did the Queen want here?—was she to pleasure Margaery, or Margaery her?—was this a punishment or a reward? And again, what this all had to do with heir-making was beyond her.

It struck her then that, just like everything Cersei Lannister had ever bidden her to do, this task was completely beyond her comprehension. It was thoroughly beyond Sansa to understand what went on in that blonde Lannister head. Unbidden, a laugh bubbled up in her chest, and she let out a tiny, hysterical hiccup of air before she could help it, pressing a hand over her smile half a second too late.

Relief washed over Margaery's face like a wave. She reached for Sansa's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and Sansa thought, between deep draws of breath, Everything will be fine. Just as Margaery had been kind to her before, so she would be now. Margaery pressed Sansa's fingers to her lips, leaving a kiss there.

"What a gentlemanly queen you are, Margaery." Cersei's acid voice caused Sansa to jerk in surprise, stomach instantly knotting with nerves, and she saw Margaery's mouth tighten again. Sansa couldn't help but reflexively turn to look at the Queen, but Margaery put a hand under Sansa's chin and gently made Sansa look at her, blue eyes very firm. "Just look at me," she whispered, so softly that Sansa was barely sure she'd heard it. But she obeyed. Wordlessly then, Margaery turned Sansa's hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm. Her eyes stayed trained on Sansa's as she left a kiss on her wrist, and another farther up Sansa's arm.