The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 2

Aida Stark

I pace around my room which really is just a cell that's designed to make me feel like I'm safe though I'm not, that much is clear my mind has been spiraling ever since I woke up in this horrid place and it's been worse ever since those guards threw me in front of Tywin and Cersei Lannister.

(Flashback)

Cersei and Tywin Lannister sit before me stern faced. I wish I were kidding.

"Aida Song," Tywin Lannister says, his tone laced with a hint of mockery. "Or is it Aida Stark now? Sorry we missed the wedding."

My face turns cold, but I maintain a composed demeanor. "No worries, my lord. I heard you planned another one as your apology," I quip, referring to the infamous Red Wedding.

Cersei's laughter rings out, sharp and cutting. "Oh, the North remembers, doesn't it?" she says with a smirk, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and malice.

I meet her gaze evenly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "The North remembers," I confirm, my voice steady despite the bitterness that claws at my insides.

Tywin's expression darkens slightly, his gaze piercing. "We find ourselves in interesting times," he remarks, his words laden with implications that hang heavy in the air.

"Yes, indeed," I reply, my tone neutral but tinged with underlying tension.

"We've learned something interesting about you, Lady Stark. It's quite purposeful," Tywin says. "The plan at first was to have you hanged or executed for all to see for the traitorous paths your husband decided to go down, but then we found out that you're with child."

The color drains from my face at this, bringing a small twitch to Tywin's lips. "Please," I whisper.

"But as you can probably tell, we've decided on something bigger and better. The heir to not only Winterfell but the demolished Coveyland is in your belly, and it would be a waste to get rid of it."

With a grimace, I say, "If you think I'd ever let you touch a hair on my child's-"

"You'd what?" Tywin Lannister interrupts. "It's not all bad really, your child won't die in our hands; you see, that's not what we want. What we do want is to tweak the child's thoughts a bit, raise them here, and make sure they follow what the King wants, of course."

I almost throw up at the thought of Joffrey Baratheon playing my child like a puppet. "You, though—we won't have much use for you once you give birth. You'll be discarded, of course. It will be a grave accident: death by childbirth, the oldest trick in the book."

Tywin's words hang in the air, a cruel promise of my fate. My heart races, but I force myself to remain composed. "And you expect me to cooperate?" I ask, my voice laced with defiance.

Cersei leans forward, her smirk widening. "Oh, we don't expect you to cooperate willingly, Aida. But we know you will for the sake of your child. You see, a mother's love is a powerful thing, isn't it?" She says, "My father was intent on killing you even though he knew there was a child in you, but I protested. You probably haven't heard, but my dear boy Joffrey was murdered by Sansa Stark and my vile brother Tyrion." Her face turns grim, but my heart lifts at the thought of Sansa killing Joffrey Baratheon. "This led me to grow a soft heart for you and your child."

"How kind of you," I reply sarcastically.

Cersei's eyes flash with anger at my sarcasm, but she quickly masks it with a cold smile. "Kindness, Aida, is something you'll come to appreciate in due time. Your child will be raised here, in the capital, surrounded by the best tutors and the finest life has to offer."