"He's dead!" Came the sound of my mother screeching. "King Robert is dead!"
I rushed down the stairs. If the King was dead, that meant Joffrey would precede him. Joffrey was in no way ready to be king. He was immature, impulsive, demanding, and most of all an entitled brat. I felt sorry for poor Sansa Stark, as she would have to marry him. Not that I wouldn't like to be queen, but who knows how long Joffrey's queen would live. One false move and "the weak heart of a woman" as Joffrey so eloquently said, would beat no more.
"Isabel," my mother's voice shook. "Ned Stark is dead. He was labeled as a traitor. Joffrey ordered his head to be cut off. Arya has fled the castle and Sansa is no longer allowed to marry Joffrey. That means House Tyrell is next in line..."
"Mother," I said slowly. "What are you implying?"
She sighed. "Every one in the Seven Kingdoms knows of your sister's...preference.. and she's far too old to marry Joffrey. Isabel you are a tough girl. I've seen you in the training grounds practicing archery, swords, and what have you. You're also clever and beautiful and I have full faith in you. Pack your things quickly now, wouldn't want to keep your king waiting."
Mother moved to walk away. "Wait! Why are we leaving?" I called. I wanted to hear her say something, anything except-
"You're marrying Joffrey!" My head spun. Joffrey Baratheon was going to be my husband, my partner for life no matter how short that may be. I would have to look upon his face every day knowing it was he who killed Lord Stark. He may not have swung the sword, but he gave the order. I would have to share his bed. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I hurried to the window and heaved my breakfast over the side. This marriage was a death sentence.
One of the maids rushed to my aid. "My lady, you must get packed! I'll fetch you some mint if you're feeling unwell."
"Yes please," I groaned. After she left, I muttered, "and a knife to stab myself with." I slowly trudged to my room to grab trunks. In my wardrobe hung the dress Mother had made for my wedding one day. I'm sure she never dreamed I'd be marrying Joffrey. Ever since I was a girl I'd had my eye on Jon Snow. When Jon joined the Night Watch it had crushed me. Only the gods know how many targets I destroyed that week at practice.
Practice reminded me of my weapons. I'd had one of the knights make me a sheath to strap to my thigh for a dagger in return for a kiss. I grabbed that then, strapping it to my thigh and placing the dagger in the sheath. I didn't know how kindly the southern court would take me having weapons, so I placed my swords, bow, and arrow in the bottom of the largest trunk after wrapping them in old dresses.
"I hope you'll never have to use those," I startled at the sound of a foreign voice. I whipped around with my sword in hand to come face to face with Sansa Stark.
"Sansa! What are you doing here?" She gave a sad laugh.
"You think I didn't know which House was next in line for the crown? I loved Joffrey, until he ordered my own father's head severed in front of me!" Her voice reached a hysterical note. I placed the sword down and moved to console her.
"Sansa I'm so sorry. Your father meant a lot to me. He's the one who taught me how to use those things," I gestured to the weapons.
"Thank you, but I'm not here for sympathy. I'm here to help. Joffrey is cruel and dangerous, but he has a soft spot I've seen it. Even the darkest of hearts can change, my father taught me. Isabel, you're very beautiful. Make Joffrey love you. If he loves you you may get out alive."
I didn't understand. "Sansa, he's a monster. He loved you, but he still killed your father. I won't put any of my family in danger."
Sansa sighed. "You think I don't know that? You must be the center of his attention. You must be his weakness. Make him do anything for you. Nothing rules a king but his queen."
"Thank you, Sansa." I hugged her tight.
"Good luck," she whispered. Sansa departed my room quietly and I felt a sense of complete hopelessness overcome me.
