'When you play the Game of Thrones,
You win.
Or you die.
There is no middle ground.'
In which the Princess of the Storm is spun into a whirlwind of chaotic events, all beginning with a single choice to choose Lord Eddard Stark as the new Hang to the...
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THE TIME HAD COME FOR THE DEAD HANDS FEAST. A year had passed since the execution of Lord Eddard Stark. And to celebrate, the boy King Joffrey thought it would be a brilliant idea to throw a feast despite the hungry crowds beneath his high walls. Dahlia was less than happy with the arrangements, but she was less happy when she recalled the night a few weeks ago, in which she willingly got drunk and memorably commented on Sandor Clegane's arse.
She hadn't touched wine since.
Dahlia was beyond embarrassed of the situation, but never once did she or Sandor bring it up; thankfully.
Dahlia had been in Kings Landing for over a three weeks now, and she was not allowed to exit the Keep without a guard, which Joffrey had ordered Sandor Clegane to do. Dahlia enjoyed his company and his silence, but she suspected that he didn't enjoy having to follow her around all day. She had barely spoken to him, although she wishes she did, she just didn't know what to say, especially after last weeks drinking party.
Annoyingly, every time he had come to her, his helm would be on. Which frustrated her more than anything else, and each time he had it own, she immediately asked him to remove it. She would never let up that she was terrified of the helm, at least not to him.
The feast was to be tonight, and already, Dahlia could hear the crowds beneath the Keep grow restless. It was not high-born, but the low-born, groaning and starving, and yet Joffrey saw it fit to hold a feast. Many Lord's and Lady's who were all loyal to the Boy King had arrived days earlier, wanting to win the grace of Joffrey before others could, congratulating him on his efforts during the war.
Dahlia became sick upon smelling the smugness that radiated off Joffrey.
Dahlia was not allowed to see Sansa Stark, at times she often wondered why, but that was a question she answered herself. They wanted young Sansa Stark to be all alone and isolated, as the late Queen Rhaella Targaryen once was. She had gotten a quick view of the auburn haired girl before Sansa was rushed off by a handmaiden or a guard.
Dahlia hated Kings Landing, the heat, the smell, the people. All of them are liars,' she constantly heard in her head, Valencia's voice echoing around her. 'Remember that, and don't let them fool you.'
Dahlia did not forget what her sister had told her, nor of her very reason on being in Kings Landing. Get close to the King, find out all you can know, she reminded herself.
Dahlia felt proud however, since she had arrived in Kings Landing, Joffrey had taken a strong liking to her already. More than once he had surprised her with lavish gifts, had dinner and sometimes he would break his fast with her. Other times he would walk her around the Red Keep and the gardens, showing her off to the others. But every time he laid a hand on her, she wanted to slap him straight in the face. But she preserved. She listened to his complimenting words, she endured his touches, and she bit her tongue when he'd say something horrid about Valencia.
