Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPTER 2 - Bran !

               Night has fallen on Winterfell. Inside the Great Hall, the feast is in full swing. Sitting between Theon and Robb, I'm doing my best to avoid Joffrey's insistent gaze. I suppose this is what my life will be like from now on.

"My lady," he says as I take another bite.

               I swallow as quickly as possible. My movements are abrupt and uncontrolled. I am aware that I am being scrutinised down to the last detail. But it is high time I pulled myself together. At this rate, I won't last long in the capital. I then turn to the prince with a beaming smile.

               Under the table, Theon's hand tightens around my thigh. Until now, the iron-born had never shown any sign of jealousy; I am discovering a new side to his personality which, for the moment, amuses me more than anything else.

"I was wondering if you would agree to dance with me," Joffrey continues.

"Gladly, my prince."

               Gently, I remove Theon's hand from my leg. Both he and I will have to get used to being apart. And the first lesson begins now. Joffrey offers me his arm. His smug little smile makes me want to slap him, but I remain utterly charming.

               The prince leads me to the dance floor, which is still empty.

"Are you familiar with the dances of the North, Your Majesty?" I ask, stepping to face him.

"Unfortunately, not."

"I understand that in the capital, court dances are very formal."

"I have learnt countless different choreographies. Which you will also have to learn to become my wife."

"Yes, I suppose so..."

               I have to control myself not to vomit my entire meal onto his shoes.

"For now," I continue. "We're still in the North."

               I place the prince's hand on my hip.

"Just follow my steps. 1, 2, 3..."

"It's just a waltz," he points out.

"Spin me round!"

               The prince obeys me and, after seeing me laugh, begins to understand what I'm getting at. He steps away then comes back towards me in a few quick, steady steps, spins in turn, and bursts out laughing. There is no such thing as a 'Northern dance'. Here, no one has time to learn choreography.

               Soon, the dance floor is packed. I act as if nothing is amiss, then take advantage of the fact that Joffrey has found a new partner, in the form of Sansa, to slip away. Ever since this little performance began, I've felt a gaze upon me, different from all the others. I spin round to try and find out who on earth might be spying on me. That's when my feet get tangled up, leaving me to my own devices. I stumble.

               I barely have time to steady myself before a hand appears in front of me. A small hand. A small arm. A small man. The gnome! I grab his hand to pull myself up and bow as deeply as I can.

"Thank you, Lord Lannister."

"Lord Lannister?" he repeats, laughing.

"Lord... Lord Tyrion..."

               I cannot say why, but this man impresses me. He is so small and yet so grand at the same time. He has a presence that eludes me.

"Diana Stark, is that correct?" he asks me.