Queen Cersei sits, studying the girl on her left. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair.
At a wave of Cersei's porcelain hand, servants hurry forward baring trays laden with a selection of food items; exotic fruit from highgarden and dorne, bread studded with candied orange peel and currents, slices of soft, creamy cheese, thick cuts of cold ham and jugs of sweetened milk and thinned wine.
The servants exit, leaving Cersei and her guest alone to break their fast. 'How are you finding King's Landing, Sansa?'
'It is ... different, your Grace,' she answers, even now remembering her manners, 'There are more people and more noise than in Winterfell.'
'But you like it?'
'Yes, it's so warm here, your Grace.'
As they eat, children's laughter floats in through the open windows.
'What is it, little dove?' Cersei inquires, noting Sansa worrying her lip with her teeth.
'It's nothing, your Grace,' Is the only answer she gets. Instead of inquiring farther, Cersei simple lets it lie and resigns herself to getting an answer from her lover at a later date.
Later that day, in the evening, when their lying in Cersei's crimson bed, warm in the afterglow of sated desire, Cersei asks again. 'little dove, what was bothering you this morning when we broke our fast?'After a pause, Sansa finally replies.
'Tommen and Myrcella, they reminded me of my sister, Arya.'
'I don't know where she is,Sansa.' Cersei sighed, 'I've had people searching for her for weeks. She is probably on her way back to Winterfell as we speak.'
Sansa nods and snuggles back into her Queens tender embrace.
