Northern at Heart [ GoT ]

T W E N T Y F O U R

MARLA would rather be dead more than anything right now. But, in an odd way, Littlefinger was right. Sansa needed her. But Marla knew the real reason why Littlefinger was "rescuing" her. It wasn't so Sansa could have a familiar companion again, it was so he could earn Sansa's favor and trust. Sansa would think Lord Baelish was brave and kind for saving Marla, and therefore he could dig his claws into her even deeper.

The journey back to Kings Landing would be a long one, but it's one that Marla has done before. Littlefinger arranged a carriage for their travels, so that Marla's identity would remain hidden from the outside world. The Frey's let her collect her belongings from the chambers her and Robb had stayed in. She was under heavy guard the entire time. When shuffling through her items, she found the pendant necklace Lord Stark had given her all those years ago before he left for Kings Landing. She felt tears welling up and she blinked hard as to flush them away. She tucked it under her sleeve and finished packing away the rest of her clothing.

Littlefinger stepped inside the room, shooing the guards away. They nodded curtly and stepped out.

"Are you ready, my lady?" He asks and Marla throws the bag over her shoulder.

Without a word, she walked past him, through the door and down the hall.

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The entire ride in the carriage was bumpy, and Marla felt uneasy as Littlefinger was sitting across from her, staring intensely. She'd rather have ridden horseback than in close quarters with the most dangerous man in the seven kingdoms.

"Do you have something you want to ask me?" She mutters, finally having enough of the awkward tension.

"I just want to say that I know you believe I have ill intentions, but I promise you this: Sansa's safety and survival is of utmost importance to me," he says in his usual raspy, low voice.

"I will never trust you. Your intentions have never and will never be good," Marla says, glancing out the window of the carriage. They were nearing Kings Landing and the air was becoming hot and humid.

"What else can I do to help you believe me? I know I've had my fair share of mistakes, but I just saved you from a massacre. You would be dead if not for me."

She chuckles, "And what makes you think I wouldn't rather be dead?

"Because once you get over the pain and suffering that Robb's death brought you, you will be met with an intense feeling of vengeance. You will soon thank me for saving your life," says Littlefinger.

"And why would I do that?" Marla asks; focusing her gaze back on Baelish.

"Because we are going to kill King Joffrey."

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After their days long travel, Marla and Lord Baelish were back in Kings Landing. It was almost nostalgic to be back there, but not in a good way. She wanted to get her hopes up about Littlefinger's plan, but she knew it was a double edged sword. She might be falling right into one of his traps.

The instant they entered the Red Keep both Marla and Littlefinger were brought before the king for an audience.

They entered the throne room together, guards following closely behind. Marla looked up to see a smug, satisfied look on Joffrey's face as he was seated upon the Iron Throne.

"Well, look at the surprise you have brought me this time, Lord Baelish," Joffrey says, his voice echoing through the room. "Sansa's very own reminder that her entire family and everyone she loves and cares about is dead!"

Marla's eyes scanned the room for Sansa, but seconds later saw a member of the Kingsguard shoving her to the floor in front Joffrey. Sansa's eyes were wide and glossed over as they met Marla's own. Marla wanted to break down into tears but she didn't want to give Joffrey the satisfaction.

"Look Sansa, this whore gets to live so every single day you will know she is the reason your family is dead," Joffrey says.

"You're the reason her family's dead, you stupid twat," Marla seethes through gritted teeth. If all eyes weren't on her before, they definitely were now.

"What did you just say to me?!" Joffrey shouted as he stood up from the throne, grasping his sword in one hand, ready to be unsheathed. "I'll cut your head off you ungrateful bitch!"

Marla spotted Margaery standing to the side of the throne, who gave her a look that said 'Don't argue back, just shut your mouth.'

Marla stayed quiet. She couldn't bare to let anything she said or did affect Sansa.

"Finally, a woman who knows when to shut her mouth," Joffrey snickers, staring down a Marla with his usual smug grin. "Guards, get her out of my face."

Two members of the Kingsguard gripped both of her arms and walked her out of the throne room. Right before she exited an arm extended out and touched her: it was Tyrion. "I'll find you later," he mouthed. She nodded, forcing a thin lipped smile that only made her look more sad.

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Surprisingly enough, Marla was gifted chambers right next to Sansa's and her new husband, Tyrion. They were wed recently, but it's not like Marla was sent a wedding invitation while she was in the Riverlands with Robb. Sansa still hadn't come to see Marla, but she knew Sansa needed time. And she respected that.

This time, Marla knew she'd be under heavy guard and her every move would be watched due to her infamous escape from the Red Keep. And Marla still hadn't seen Cersei either, and that wasn't a reunion she was looking forward to.

A soft, familiar knock on her door ended her train of thought and she walked briskly to open it.

It was Tyrion, as she expected. There were two guards stationed behind him, but she cracked the door open and he slipped inside.

They walked over to the couch placed by her window, and sat down together. It was an old reminder of their time they spent together all those many months ago, planning the defense of the city, having dinner and wine, getting to know each other. Surprisingly enough, it brought back fond memories.

Tyrion reached out and grabbed Marla's hand from her lap and squeezed it comfortingly. "I'm so, so sorry, Marla," he says, his voice calm and quiet.

She nodded, fighting back the tears. "This, all of this, is my fault," her voice cracked.

"Why would you ever think that?" Tyrion inquired.

"If I had just stayed here with Sansa, to protect her..." she trailed off and glanced out the window at the setting sun. "Robb married me instead of the Frey girl and he, Catelyn, and all the others paid for my mistakes with their lives."

Tyrion sighed, because when she put it that way, it was easy for Marla to blame herself.

"Nothing you did caused this, Marla. You did what you thought was best. My father and Joffrey would have found a way to force things in their favor regardless of anything you did."

Marla rested her face on her hands and let out a few muffled sobs. "I can't live like this," she admitted.

"You have to keep living, Marla. Keep fighting. Don't let them win. Don't let them see you blaming yourself," he said, pushing the hair away from her face and she dried her tears with the sleeve of her dress.

In that moment, Marla felt a kick in her stomach. She placed her palms on her belly and waited for another to make sure she wasn't imagining things. Thump, went another one. She bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

"What is it?" Tyrion asked, noticing her change of attitude.

"Nothing," she paused. "You're right, Tyrion. I have to keep going."