Her Name Isn't Snow

Chapter 9

The Queen's words shook me to my core. She knew, even if I didn't know for sure what it was she knew, I had to assume she knew everything. 

"So tell me because I'm actually quite curious, is the child Robb Starks or the bastards?" she asks languidly, taking a sip from her goblet of wine. I couldn't speak, I had suddenly become stupid with fear. I was caught, I was trapped. The lioness had me backed into a corner and was ready to strike. I needed to think quickly, if I waited too long she would sink her claws into me and rip me apart. Gods where were my words?!

"The child is Robb Starks, there has been no one else. He is my Lord and husband, and the love of my life. There will never be anyone else" I tell her, passion radiating off of my voice and I thanked the gods for it. It seemed to pacify the queen at least, if only for a moment. 

"Of course, forgive me, but just reading those scrolls, I couldn't help but wonder. You and the bastard seem close after all. Especially given the nature of the first raven scroll you wrote to him" she continues, taking another sip from her goblet as the crowd continues to cheer on the jousters. 

"We shared a last name, nothing more" I reply, trying to sound emotionless, trying to be ruthless and cunning as she told me. 

"Really? Prove it, write back to this Jon Snow, tell him that you're in love with Robb and having his child and never to speak to you again" she hisses at me, an evil glimmer in her eyes.

"Bring me a quill and it's done" I answer, not even thinking about what I was saying. Not thinking about anything other than myself and my child. She gives me a satisfied smirk and redirects her attention to the joust. 

"You can compose your scroll and give it to maester Pycell, he'll make sure it gets delivered in a timely fashion. You have until the end of the night" she mumbles and slowly takes another drink.

I try to focus on the joust, but I watch with empty eyes as Loras Tyrell hands Sansa a favor before he gets ready for his turn. Knight of flowers they called him. He was so young, my age really, but so pale and blonde. Nothing like Jon. Oh, gods how could I do this? To break his heart would be to break my own. How could I do this? How could I write that scroll? How could I live a life of Jon hating me? How could I just push him away and toss him aside? 

But then I remembered why. I subconsciously placed a hand on my abdomen, trying to hold and protect the baby within me. Jon's baby. Even if it would kill him, I would have to do it for her. From now and until the day I died, she was all that mattered. I remained at the tourney and when it was over I quickly walked off and away from the stands, to where Winter was waiting for me by the bushes.

"Hey girl," I tell her with a sad smile, kneeling down to run my hands through her fur, fighting off the tears that threatened to fall down my cheeks. 

"My lady, are you unwell?" I heard Varys ask me from behind. I take a deep breath and stand back up, turning to face him with a smile plastered across my face. 

"No Varys, I'm quite well" I answer, laying my right hand on top of my left as I stand there to face him. He looks at me skeptically. 

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, it's no offense to you my Lady, but it does take practice to perfect the art of the lie," he tells me with a sympathetic smile, making the breath catch in my throat. Ruthlessness, the Queen was right, if I wanted to survive I'd have to become ruthless, I'd have to let go of my emotions, I have to let go of Jon. 

"Is there something you wanted?" I ask, trying to cut the emotion out of my voice, but it remained. I had to clear my throat to stop the crack in my voice.