The Demon of Winterfell

Chapter Twenty-One: Hidden

It was time. Stannis Baratheon's troops would be landing on King's Landing at any moment. Everyone in the Red Keep was frantic with fear, and those of Flea Bottom were as well. Outside, lightening a rain raged on. Emmelyne sat in her room with R'hllor, her arms curled tightly around his neck. She'd be bringing him with her to hide with the queen and other ladies, but she knew he would grow restless without the ability to run around. No one had brought him on his morning walk, for fear of a surprise early morning attack. Emmelyne was afraid. She didn't want to admit it and she didn't want to accept it, but she was. R'hllor sensed this, and he let his head rest on her shoulder. As she sat there, her face buried in her loyal pet's fur, she began to pray. "Please, R'hllor, I beg of you to let us win this battle. And if Joffrey may fall in the battle and if others do as well, I will not be angry. If I should die tonight, I will not be angry. But allow Sansa to live. Allow Sansa to finally be able to go home."

A quiet knock sounded on the door, and Emmelyne sat up. "Come in," she said.

The door opened, and Sansa stepped inside. "Are you alright?" the younger girl questioned.

"Yes. I'm just worried," Emmelyne replied.

Sansa nodded, sitting down on the bed with her elder sister. "We'll be safe with the queen. Hidden and underground," she offered.

"I suppose your right," Emmelyne agreed.

She wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders. "And we'll have R'hllor to protect us."

Sansa looked at the direwolf with a small smile. "Yes. R'hllor will protect us."

Outside, the bells started ringing. Stannis had arrived.

Sansa, Emmelyne, Shae, and R'hllor made their way through the castle. Sansa had been called upon by Joffrey to see him off into battle. After that they needed to get to the queen, who was hiding out with some other ladies in the holdfast. As they walked, Tyrion made his way toward the group of women. "Lady Sansa, Lady Emmelyne, and, uh, Sheila," he greeted.

"Shae," she corrected, annoyance clear on her face.

"Shae, yes. Surely my sister has asked you to join the other highborn ladies in Maegor's holdfast," Tyrion noted.

"She has, my lord, but King Joffrey sent for me to see him off," Sansa explained.

As if on cue, Joffrey stepped into the room, Sandor at his side and knights at his back. "Sansa, Emmelyne," he said, almost the way a person calls an animal.

"He's always been a great romantic, my nephew," Tyrion muttered.

"Sansa, Emmelyne, come here," Joffrey urged.

"I will pray for your safe return, my lord," Sansa told Tyrion.

"As will I," Emmelyne nodded.

"Will you?" Tyrion asked, though the question seemed directed toward Sansa.

"Just as I pray for the king's," the red-haired girl replied.

The two girls turned away from Tyrion, stepping up to Joffrey. "Your king rides forth to battle," Joffrey said to them. "You should see him off with a kiss."

Emmelyne scrunched her nose with sheer disgust. Joffrey drew his sword, smiling. "My new blade. Hearteater, I've named it. Kiss it," he stated.

Sansa slowly leaned forward, pressing her lips to the steel. "And you," Joffrey said to Emmelyne once Sansa rose.

Emmelyne did as told. "You'll kiss it again when I return, and taste my uncle's blood," Joffrey smirked.

"Will you slay him yourself?" Sansa questioned.

"If Stannis is fool enough to come near me."

"So you'll be outside the gates fighting in the vanguard?"

"A king doesn't discuss battle plans with stupid girls."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. You're right, I'm stupid. Of course you'll be in the vanguard. They say Emmelyne and I's brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest. And he is only a pretender."

Joffrey nodded. "Your brother's turn will come. Then you both can lick his blood off Hearteater, too."

He stepped around the girls, walking away. Emmelyne noticed Sandor looking back at her. Sansa and Emmelyne quickly returned to Shae. "Some of those boys will never come back," Shae said softly.

"Joffrey will. The worst ones always live," Emmelyne answered stiffly.

"Shh. Come, girls," Shae urged.

Shae took Emmelyne's wrist, and Emmelyne took Sansa by the hand. R'hllor followed closely as they hurried in the direction of the holdfast.

Among the women and screaming babies, Emmelyne was restless. She sat in a corner, R'hllor resting next to her, his head in her lap. Nearby, she saw Shae and Sansa whispering. The two got along well, and Emmelyne supposed it was good Sansa had someone she could trust. At least they both trusted the same person. Cersei stepped into the room, Tommen following her closely. They sat at the front of room, Cersei on a chair and Tommen on a pile of cushions. Immediately, a young woman poured Cersei a cup of wine. "Sansa," the queen said.

Sansa stood, and Emmelyne watched her closely as she walked up to Cersei. "I was wondering where our little dove had flown," Cersei said. "You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?"

"Yes," Sansa answered.

"Fitting, isn't it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed in here. Pour Lady Sansa some wine," Cersei instructed the girl by her side.

"I'm not thirsty, Your Grace," Sansa said.

"So? I didn't offer you water."

Sansa took a cup, looking around the room. Her eyes landed on Ilyn Payne. "What's he doing here?" she questioned Cersei.

"Ser Ilyn? He's here to defend us. When the axes smash down those doors, you may be glad to have him," Cersei shrugged.

"But we have guards to defend us. My sister brought her direwolf, and he can defend us."

"Guards we have paid. And a beast that once attacked my son, or have you forgotten? Should the city fall the guards will be the first ones out of the doors. We don't know how well your sister has trained that wolf. It could turn on us all."

The door opened suddenly, and a man stepped inside. He bowed to Cersei before speaking. "The lads caught a groom and two maids trying to sneak away with a stolen horse and some gold cups."

"The battle's first traitors. Have Ser Ilyn see to them. Put their heads on spikes outside the stables as a warning," Cersei commanded.

The man nodded, and he and Ilyn left the room. "The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. Remember that if you ever hope to become a queen," Cersei told Sansa.

Emmelyne tried to ignore the conversation, running her fingers through R'hllor's thick fur. She needed something to do with her hands. Trying to keep her mind away from what was happening outside, she began to think of the holdfast itself. It was named after Maegor the Cruel, the son of Aegon of the Conqueror. The Targaryens, at least those who had gone mad, were cruel in their own rights. But to be a Targaryen and be called 'the Cruel,' then Maegor truly must have been a terrible man. Emmelyne tried to remember the lessons Maester Luwin had given her about the Targaryen kings. Maegor had had a long lasting feud with the Faith Militant, and he'd gone about this feud by burning down the sept with the fire of his father's dragon, Balerion the Black Dread. Balerion's fire forged the Iron Throne, which Maegor died on. Emmelyne leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. This was going to be a long night.