✓ Trueblood || Jon Snow

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊 ~ 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘

HOURS PASSED BEFORE YELENA HEARD HER DOOR KICKED OPEN. She'd told Sansa to stay back, nocking an arrow. The study door thudded with repeated impact until it finally fell open. She'd drawn quickly, taking aim only for two Lannister guards to step aside to reveal a man she hadn't been sure if she wanted to shoot or not: Tywin Lannister. She'd decided on not. "Grandfather," she'd breathed, relaxing the bowstring, the arrowtip pointing to the ground.

He'd only chuckled. "Still fierce, little lion." he'd smiled. "Good. you'll need it."

Now she sat beside her brother as he clopped into the throne room atop his horse, to receive the King's Hand badge.

Her brother spoke as their grandfather approached. "I, Joffrey of House Baratheon, first of my name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the savior of the city and the Hand of the King."

Tywin took the badge from the servant offering it, seeming slightly amused. "Thank you, Your Grace." with no further word, he turned his horse and left.

"Lord Petyr Baelish," Joffrey called. "Step forward." the lord obeyed with a bow.

"For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the houses of Lannister and Tyrell, I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhall, with all its attendant lands and incomes, to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time."

"You honour me beyond words, Your Grace." Baelish told him. "I shall have to acquire some sons, and grandsons."

Yelena snickered quietly, earning a disapproving look from her mother, who was already displeased that Tywin was letting her daughter revert back to her old and un-ladylike ways.

"Ser Lorace Tyrell." the king beckoned. The knight took the place Lord Baelish had just stood, bowing. "Your house has come to our aid. The whole realm is in your debt, none more so than I. If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours."

"Your Grace," Lorace spoke. "My sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before..." he paused a moment, trying to find the words. "She remains innocent. I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honour of joining our houses."

Yelena sucked in a breath, her eyes going immediately to where Sansa stood with the other ladies of the court. Could it be possible that her torment might end, right here, right now?

Joffrey looked to the young woman. "Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?"

She stepped forward with a sweet smile. "With all my heart, Your Grace. I have come to ove you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. And those tales have taken root deep inside of me."

He smirked a bit. "I too, have heard tales of your beauty and grace, but the tales do not do you justice, my lady." Yelena studied her. It was true that she was gorgeous, but something in her eyes told her the Lady was clever too. "It would be an honor to return your love," the king continued. "But I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."

Cersei smiled, though not kindly. "Your Grace," she began. "In the judgement of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl who's brother is in open rebellion against the throne as we speak." Yelena looked down, fidgeting with her hands. She'd sent another coded letter to Robb last night, warning him of the arrival of her grandfather, and how quickly Stannis had been defeated. "For the good of the realm, your councillors beg you to set Sansa Stark aside."

Murmurs and gasps rang out, several calling for Margaery, but Joffrey stood, silencing them. "I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people, but I took a holy vow."