I'm entering the Great Sept of Baelor. This building, more than a hundred years old, was built, as its name suggests, by Baelor the Blessed. He was the most pious king Westeros ever knew. Putting religion before everything else, he even forgot his obligations to his people.
And here we are, the descendants of the lords who kissed his feet. We serve a Lannister king, and all the Targaryen are dead. The world has changed.
Lord Varys, a few steps behind me, surprises me in ecstasy at this masterpiece of architecture. He shows his presence only by a small laugh in which I perceive nothing mocking. I imagine him on the contrary rather inclined to get lost in front of works of art.
"Are you ready, Majesty?" he asks.
"It's not my marriage" I answer by turning to him. "I'm not the one who needs to be ready."
"Don't play with me..."
His little smile is enough to make me lower my guard. Like two great confidants, we begin to walk the room with one step.
"Do you know..." I start. "I sometimes wonder what my father would have done in this situation."
"And what would he have done?"
"Absolutely nothing."
We stop above the stairs leading to the altar. From here, we have a bird's eye view of all the guests.
"When Cersei asked to kill Sansa's wolf, he killed it himself. He said that the beast deserved a fair death because it came from the North. However, it is now rotting under the earth."
"Your father was unfailingly loyal."
"But, you see, every time I ask myself this question, I am very quickly caught up by an undeniable truth: my father is dead. I am not. My choices are mine."
"I urge you not to attempt any rebellion today, ma'am. You may lose it."
I'm not stupid enough to start a fight in the middle of a Sept. I may not believe in the Faith of the Seven, but I prefer to avoid the anger of the people who love it so much.
As I prepare to change the subject, my husband's blond head appears down the stairs. With his golden crown, he is very elegant. If he stopped wearing that smirk, maybe he would be attractive.
"Ma'am" he says in the tone of the reprimand. "You can't be there."
"Lord Varys."
The Spider lowers his head slightly before leaving. I join Joffrey and take his arm.
"Don't get mad" I whisper before I kiss his cheek. "It's a joyous day, right?"
"You're right, it's a big day for your sister."
"I wanted to ask you something about that."
"I'm listening."
"Well..." I start, suddenly panicking. "I would like to drive my sister to her future husband."
"No way. Your father is dead, Sansa belongs to the Crown. It's up to me to drive her."
Little surprised by his reaction, I do my best not to get upset. If I raise the tone, it's not only my day that will go wrong but that of all the guests. That of Sansa perhaps more than all the others because Joffrey will not hesitate to take revenge on her, he has already done so.
So, for all the residents of the Red Keep, I decide to play the comedy a little more.
"That's natural, Majesty. No one will dare contradict you. Except, you see, Sansa and I have been away from home for a very long time. I just want her to feel safe."
"Are you suggesting she's not with me?"
Yes. Yes, I do.
"Don't make me say what I didn't say. Sansa is young, easily impressionable. I just want to reassure her."
Except that nothing can ever ensure the king's good mood. Since Margaery Tyrell arrived in the capital, my hold on him has completely disappeared. He should have married her. I personally throw in the towel.
"You and your sister will do as I say, as always. Do you understand?"
"She no longer belongs to you" I answer defensively.
"Everything belongs to me."
I turn my head to look for anything that can serve as an escape when the doors of the Sept open. The small silhouette of Tyrion appears above the stairs. With the same movement, the guests come to form a mass in front of the altar, making sure to create a corridor in the middle. Then, carried by the blood that had just rushed to my brain, I turned to Joffrey and said, smiling:
"Continue like this and nothing will ever belong to you again."
I escape before he can answer me. I go to settle next to Cersei and Tywin on the first steps. Joffrey will join us after taking Sansa to the altar.
The Queen Mother has a satisfied air worthy of the Lannisters. We cannot deny that she won a decisive battle. She knocked us out. Except that the war is not over. I have been training for several months to use my famous powers. Some are more difficult to master but I'm starting to manage.
"Happy?" I ask Cersei.
"Delighted."
"Don't play kids" Tywin stops us.
"Aren't you happy?" I repeat, as if I had heard nothing. "You unite the North and the Westerlands. A master stroke that, as you know, I did not see coming."
"Unfortunately, I'm getting to know you. What do you want?"
"To tell you this: the game resumes."
Puzzled, Tywin doesn't have an answer for me. I guess he understood my point. If he doesn't, he'll find out when I get drunk with Bronn tonight.
The big doors open again, and Sansa appears. She is beautiful, she looks so much like our mother with her red hair. Joffrey takes her arm to join Tyrion on the other side of the room. When she reaches my height, Sansa gives me a little imploring look that breaks my heart. Alone against all, I'm not worth much so I can't help her.
After dropping my sister, Joffrey decides to push the vice to the end by taking the footstool intended for Tyrion. Marriages under the Faith of the Seven imply that the groom must lay his cape on the shoulders of his new wife, thereby promising her protection. You can imagine the humiliation for Tyrion and Sansa if she had to lower herself to perform the ritual.
Unable to even imagine the scene, I take the footstool from Joffrey's hands and put it back in front of Tyrion.
"Thanks" he whispers.
"Diana..." moans my sister next to me.
I turn to her and gently take her hand in mine.
"The lone wolf dies. The pack survives. You are not alone."
I only join my husband when he spits my name. Rage distorts his face. I have somewhat decided to ignore the part «ensuring a peaceful day for the inhabitants of the capital». So I sit next to him without giving any importance to his threats.
♐︎
I have no recollection of the rest of the wedding. When I took back full possession of my body, we were all in the reception room. Unlike all the other times this has happened to me, my powers have not manifested.
I do not know if I have finally managed to control them or if I have simply been disconnected from reality. My brain and my body, as on the battlefield, have joined together to protect me. This time in a less violent way.
I would have liked to tell you that the party was in full swing except that it is not the case. A light music reaches me except that it is so weak that I have no idea where the musicians are.
At the head table, Tyrion and Sansa do not speak a word. Surely because Tyrion is already drunk. He warned me, but I didn't think he would be that fast. Although I have no idea what time it might be.
Most of the guests don't even talk. I understand that this is not a happy marriage, but still.