Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Sorry, I thought it was just a common cold, but it's gotten worse these past two days. I can't write much. Please bear with me. I'll make up for it as soon as possible in the next few days. Thank you.

"Ouch!" Princess Myrcella cried, stumbling out of the box and running towards her little brother.

Sansa found herself filled with a strange and reckless courage. "You should go with her," she told the king. "Your brother might be hurt."

Joffrey shrugged. "So what?"

"You should help him up and tell him he rode well," Sansa couldn't help herself.

"He was knocked off his horse and fell on the ground," the king pointed out. "How is that riding well?"

"Look," the Hound interrupted them, "the boy's brave enough. He's ready to try again."

Servants were helping Tommen back onto his pony. If Tommen were the older brother and Joffrey the younger, Sansa thought, I wouldn't mind marrying Tommen.

Just then, a sudden noise from the gatehouse startled everyone. The chains rattled, the portcullis rose, and the gates slowly opened with a creak of hinges. "Who told them to open the gates?" Joffrey demanded. The gates of the Red Keep had been locked for days due to the constant unrest in the city.

With a clatter of metal and the sound of hooves, a troop of men rode through the gate. Clegane stepped to the king's side, his hand on the hilt of his longsword. Though travel-worn and weary, they carried the Lannister banner of a golden lion on a red field high. Only a few were Lannister soldiers in red cloaks and armor; more were free riders and wandering knights in mismatched armor, swords in hand… and then there were the fearsome barbarians who looked like they'd stepped out of Old Nan's stories—Bran used to love those stories—clad in ragged furs and hardened leather, with long hair and beards, some with bloodstained bandages on their heads and hands, and others missing eyes, ears, or even fingers.

Among them, riding a tall red stallion and held in place by strange, high-backed saddle padding, was the queen's dwarf brother, Tyrion Lannister, known as the "Imp." His newly grown, yellow-black beard covered his flat, uneven face, the hairs tangled and wiry. A black and white striped shadowcat pelt flew from his shoulders. He held the reins with his left hand, his right arm in a white silk sling. Otherwise, Sansa thought, he was as deformed as he had been when he visited Winterfell: a jutting forehead, eyes of different sizes, still the ugliest man she had ever seen.

Despite this, Tommen kicked his pony and trotted across the yard, shouting excitedly. A tall, sturdy barbarian with a beard that almost hid his face lifted the boy, armor and all, from the saddle and set him down beside his uncle. Tyrion patted his breastplate, and Tommen's breathless laughter echoed between the walls. Sansa was surprised to find that they were about the same height.

Myrcella ran after her brother, and the dwarf swept her up in a circle, making her squeal with delight.

Then the dwarf released her, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and limped across the yard towards Joffrey. Two men followed him: a black-haired, black-eyed mercenary who moved like a cat stalking prey, and a gaunt young man with an empty eye socket. Tommen and Myrcella trailed behind them.

The dwarf knelt before the king. "Your Grace."

"It's you," Joffrey said.

"It is," the Imp replied, "though one might expect a little more courtesy when addressing one's uncle and elder."

"I heard you were dead," the Hound said.

The little man glanced at the big one. One of his eyes was green, the other black, both cold. "I am speaking to the king and have no time for his dog."

"I'm glad you're not dead!" Princess Myrcella said.

"A sentiment we share, good child." Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am deeply sorry for your misfortunes. The gods are cruel indeed."

Sansa didn't know what to say. Was he truly sorry for her? Or was he mocking her? It wasn't the gods who were cruel, but Joffrey.

"Joffrey, I am sorry for your misfortunes as well," the dwarf said.

"Misfortunes? What misfortunes?"

"Have you forgotten your father? Big man, black beard, Twymer, think hard, you should remember. He was king before you."

"Oh, him? Yes, it was very sad. He was killed by a boar."

"Is that the 'official' version, Your Grace?"

Joffrey frowned. Sansa felt she ought to say something. What had Septa Mordane taught her? Courtesy is a lady's armor. Yes, that was it. So she donned her armor and said, "My lord, I am very sorry about my mother arresting you."

"I fear many will be sorry for that," Tyrion replied. "Before this is done, some will wish they had acted differently… but thank you for your concern. Joffrey, where is your mother?"

"She is in council with my advisors," the king replied. "My brother Jaime keeps losing battles." He glared at Sansa as if it were all her fault. "Now he's been captured by the Starks, we've lost Riverrun, and her stupid brother has declared himself king."

The dwarf chuckled. "Anyone can be a king these days."

Joffrey didn't know how to respond, but he looked suspicious and annoyed. "Yes, well, Uncle, I'm glad you're not dead either. Did you bring me a name-day gift?"

"I did. My wit."

"I'd rather have Robb Stark's head." Joffrey glanced at Sansa with malice. "Tommen, Myrcella, let's go."

Sandor Clegane lingered for a moment. "Little man, I advise you to watch your tongue." Having delivered his warning, he strode after the king.

Now only Sansa and the dwarf remained, along with his monsters. She tried to think of something to say. "Your hand is injured," she finally managed.

"I was fighting at the Green Fork when a Northern morningstar smashed it. I fell off my horse, which is why I wasn't killed." He studied her face, his smile softening. "You mourn your father, don't you? You are so sad."

"My father was a traitor," Sansa said quickly. "My brother and mother are traitors too." It had become a conditioned response. "I am utterly loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

"No doubt, as loyal as a deer surrounded by wolves."

"Lions," she murmured without thinking, then glanced around nervously, relieved that no one was near.

Lannister took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Child, I am only a little lion, and I promise you, I will never hurt you." With that, he bowed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent business to report to the queen and her council."

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