"A girl thinks she can fight a man's war? I don't think so. I think we ought to teach her her place, aye men?" A group of unwashed soldiers sneered at me from the tree on which I hung by my arms. I had to come up with a way out. My fight or flight instinct was screaming at me. I doubted I could take down 13 weathered soldiers.
The man in charge laughed as he placed a sword in the fire. These men were not nobles, which meant they were most likely superstitious. I could use that to my advantage. He drew the sword from the fire and hit me in the back with the flat side. The pain raced through my body but I refused to scream.
"Why ain't she screaming?" A skinny one asked.
"Shut up you," the leader said, confused. "We're just gonna have to try harder," he smiled a crooked smile. I started chanting in Valyrian, a language I knew the soldiers wouldn't recognize.
"Wha-What's she doing?" The skinny one piped up again. "Did we capture a witch?" The group stirred uncomfortably.
"She ain't no witch, witches don't fight with swords," my abuser raised a hand and slapped me hard across the face. My head spun at the impact, but I spat the blood onto his face. He growled and picked up a branch from the forest floor.
"Stupid bitch ain't learned her lesson yet," he began beating my back with the branch. Every impact drew blood and imbedded a splinter in my skin. After beating me for what felt like an hour, he cut me down and everything went black.
"Isabel, wake up! You're dreaming again. Isabel!" I was being shaken awake. Standing over me was Margaery with a concerned look on her face. "You cried out and I came to see if you were okay. You were dreaming about the capture again, weren't you?" I nodded weakly. That incident had haunted me for almost a year now. "It's okay, it's over now." My sister held me and stroked my hair. "We're almost to King's Landing, just a few more leagues. Get up, now. Wash your face, put on a nice dress, you're okay." Margaery left my tent, leaving me alone.
Dreams of that night are not uncommon for me. The scars on my back are a constant reminder that I don't belong in the battlefield, that my place in the world is only as a mother and a wife. I hate that. No matter how highborn a woman is, she will never truly be free. My impending marriage to Joffrey is like manacles on my heart. I will never know what it's like to love and be loved. A beast like Joffrey loves nothing but killing. I wonder how much blood will be on my hands as queen.
"Isabel, would you hurry?" My mother interrupted my thoughts. She escorted me out of the makeshift tent where my horse was waiting. "We don't have much time and we don't want to keep the king waiting." I mounted my horse and rode off toward the front of the caravan.
Loras and his squires were there laughing when I reached them. One of the squires smiled at me and said, "You look lovely, my lady." Loras glared at him.
"Thank you, um.."
"Thom, my lady," he corrected.
"Thank you, Thom." Loras rode his horse between Thom and me.
We rode like that in silence for some time. Occasionally we would pass someone on the King's Road, but no one gave us any trouble.
When we reached King's Landing we had to ride through the common city before reaching the Red Keep. I passed out fruit and roses to the women and children, hoping to earn their love. These people have lived in poverty and fear for most of their lives. Robert didn't care for the common people, and everyone knows Joffrey doesn't. My mother scowled at me from her position near the store cart.
Cersei and Joffrey were waiting for us just inside the Keep. I put on my biggest, Tyrell smile and looked at Joffrey. He didn't look like a monster. He was actually quite fair, as are most Lannisters. He had the blonde hair, blue eyes, and untarnished skin that is so evident in that House. He smiled back at me.
The caravan halted and Loras helped me dismount. "Your Grace," I bowed to Joffrey. "It brings me great honor to be here." He nodded at me.
"Myself and my family are grateful for your presence, aren't we, Mother?"
Cersei glared at him. "We are," she said coldly.
"Come, I'll show you to your room," Joffrey politely took my hand. I looked back at my brother and he must have noticed how scared I looked, for he got up to follow close behind.
I entered the castle holding the hand of King Joffrey, a cold-blooded killer.
