𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭; j. snow

-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢

KING'S LANDING, 298 AC

It was warm and sunny when the carriage pulled through the gates of the Red Keep. "This is magnificent!" Sansa exclaimed, clasping her hands.

Jocasta smiled at the girl, finding her reaction very wholesome. Arya was looking at it very eagerly, the tunnels and passageways enticing her. Jo was so happy to be home, her stinky, dirty home. The hallways were grimy and the city filthy, but home nonetheless.

"Can we go in?" Sansa asked, her voice high with excitement. Even Cersei was smiling. Everyone mostly reconciled in the cramped carriage, so tensions were less. The carriage came to a halt and Sansa threw the door open, reveling in the sights around her.

"I'd love to get them settled in, Lord Stark," Jocasta requested sweetly.

"Of course, Princess," he said.

"You two will want to change into something more appropriate. The northern dresses are no match to the southern climate," Jocasta said, walking them through the inner bailey to the Tower of the Hand. It was a tall structure close to Maegor's Holdfast.

"Can I wear pants?" Arya asked.

"Of course you can wear pants. I'll have some ones made of a breezy material sent to your room," Jocasta said.

The girls were silent as they looked around. "What are we to do all day?" Arya asked.

"Well, I assume you want to explore, so feel free. And Sansa, do as you please. You can come to my chambers when you're all settled in," Jo answered. Stark men opened the heavy wooden door to the Tower of the Hand. People were streaming in and out with trunks and such.

Jo knew her way, sort of, around the tower. She hardly went there anymore, but when she was younger, she was always in and out. She enjoyed playing in there with Joffrey when she was little, when they actually got along.

She got the girls to their rooms and made sure they had everything they needed. "Where is father?" the younger one asked.

"A small council meeting," she answered. "Horrible timing."

Arya wanted to see her dad, but scurried off soon enough to cause trouble. "Sansa, please excuse me. My mother has given me the duty of tending to my dear brother's wound after the scene I caused at the inn," she sighed.

"Of course, Jo," Sansa responded. The red haired girl sat on her bed and stared out the window, taking in the sights of the city.

Jocasta marched through Maegor's Holdfast to her brother's quarters. She wasn't in a horrid mood, so maybe she could stomach him today. The Hound stood with his fierce, emotionless expression. "Can you open the door, please?" Jocasta asked.

He looked at her and opened the heavy door to her brother's room. Joffrey was inspecting a crossbow, his new fixation. "Sit," she commanded.

"Don't tell me what to do," he retorted, not looking up from his work.

"Listen. Neither of us want to do this, so let's get it over with," she sighed. It was a sunny day and a gentle breeze floated gently in the air. The sun danced off of the balcony and gleamed on the leaves of the plants that creeped up the side of red stone.

He sat in his chair and rolled up the fabric of his doublet. Jocasta grabbed a pale ceramic jar of ointment, it was herby and smelled sharp. She sat stiffly next to him and started smearing it on the puncture wounds where the wolf dug its teeth into his flesh.

"Ow!" he yelped as it sunk into the skin.

"Oh, shut up. It's practically healed," she said, annoyed.