A WINTER ROSE ⊳ g. of thrones [1]

CHAPTER EIGHT | A Crown of Winter Roses

IT WAS THE MORN of the Hand's Tourney and it seemed as if every noble man, woman and child from King's Landing had come to see the festivities. Ellena found Arya to be bored at first, but soon once the first kill occurred, Arya was more than entertained. The two sisters quietly discussed Arya's "dancing" lessons, and what the erhm, "dancers" were doing wrong.

"What dancers?" Sansa would ask, looking about like a poor dove. "Where?"

"Oh, just some dancers we had seen earlier in the market." Ellena lied smoothly, and Sansa went about rolling her eyes.

"You shouldn't be going to the market, you send servants to the market, you don't go yourselves." Her younger, fiery sister scolded.

"And why shouldn't I? The lower are no different from the highest, Sansa. If you want to survive here and be queen, you must appeal to the commoners as well as the high horns. You won't get anywhere if the people hate you."

Septa Mordane began to retort before a man stood like a song bird staring at them. "Sisters quarrel?"

They all turned to look at him. Greying, dark hair with a whispy beard and small beady eyes. Ellena did not like the looks of this man, nor his strange smile.

"I'm sorry but, do I know you?" Sansa asked politely, albeit rather annoyed.

"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish, also know as —"

"An old friend of the family's." Lord Baelish interrupted. He slid into the open spot next to Sansa that had been left vacant for their father, and grinned slyly. "I've known your mother for a long, long time."

This must have been the little boy mother always spoke of that followed her around and whom was ward to their grandfather. Petyr, was his name, if she recalled it correctly.

"Why do they call you 'Littlefinger'?" Arya blurted. "Arya!" "Don't be rude!" Septa Mordane scolded, before Lord Baelish waved his hand. "No, it's quite alright.

"When I was a child, I was very small, and I come from a spit of land called the Fingers, so you see, it's a very clever nickname." Ellena held onto his words, cautious as ever. This man claimed to be a friend, but his words didn't feel quite... there, as if he were gathering information of them though none of them were speaking, rather listening to him instead.

She didn't know if she could trust him. Yet, her mother was wise, her mother must trust this man, especially considering he was the one who gave her father the information of the dagger and whom possessed it previously — Tyrion Lannister.

Her father was wary, and so she would be as well, she thought to herself. I must be careful.

Then, came a small boy with a small roll of parchment.

"Lady Ellena, a raven from Winterfell." She took the small scroll from his hand, before the child scurried away from the sight of the nobles.

"What is it, Ellena? Is it from mother? Oh, please tell me what is going on." Sansa begged exasperatedly. "It's from Robb, which means older sibling business. If you'll excuse me.. Lord Baelish," she inclined her head slightly and then left to walk the small path behind the tourney grounds.

Her heart ached for Robb and she clung to every word he wrote. It wasn't much, nothing much but more news about Bran, and how he was doing much better. Tyrion Lannister had fashioned him a special saddle.... This must have been before the revelation of the dagger.. She thought.

She however was impressed by her twin. He had truly become a leader overnight, taking every precaution and helping lord over the North, becoming much like their Warden father. He even seemed quite taken with the girl the king left behind, his daughter, Myrcella. The two took walks often at night, and he found solace in her. She only felt a slight pang of jealousy. The two sounded as if they'd fallen in love, and Myrcella would have a bond with Robb she never had. Of course, Robb and she had always been close, but not in the way she wanted to be. Not in the way she was with Jon.

She couldn't tell Robb things that she could tell Jon, because he just didn't understand. She couldn't run to Robb and ask him to help her handle a sword, because she didn't think he'd want to help her. Robb wasn't Jon, and of course, Myrcella was in no such relation with Robb as Ellena was with Jon, but still.... she would have a piece of her brother she'd never get to hold. They shared a womb together, and yet still.... something about the two twins wasn't in place.

As she pondered these words, chewing on her lip, it seemed she became distracted, and Ser Jaime happened upon her.

"Pondering on the greater things in King's Landing than our fine Hands Tourney?"

He smiled cockily at her, leaning against one of the planks holding up the royal guests. His glittering golden armor shone brightly in the sun like the bright honey wheat they passed on the Kings Road. Not even a scratch on the glittering breastplate, nor tear in cloak.

"And why is the good Ser Jaime concerned with my thoughts? Don't you have a tourney to joust in?"

"Joust? My dear girl, I don't joust.." He leaned in close, the breastplate of his armor grazing the fabric of her dress, the prickly scruff of his face scratching her cheek as he whispered. "I fight and I kill. Didn't you know my name is 'Kingslayer'?" He took a small step back, though he was still so awfully close to her.

"I would have expected your father would have told you that, you seem such a learned girl."

She peered at him closely, her soft, wintery eyes calculating him. The 'Kingslayer'.. His cruel smile seems broken.

"And why do you fight them, Ser Jaime?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"'Ser Jaime'."

"You didn't answer my question."

He smirked at that, and for a moment she thought she saw him truly smile.

"Because when I fight a man I want every man to know what I can do. That way he'll shit himself more when I kill him."

Ellena Stark scoffed, rolling her eyes as she began to walk back to where her family sat waiting. "You didn't answer mine, little wolf!" He cries at her turned back. She stopped for a moment before, inclining her head back to him.

"I don't call men by names that don't hold truth. And didn't you tell me to call you just 'Jaime'?"

She picked up her blue skirts and returned to her sisters and Septa Mordane.

And Jaime Lannister smiled.

~

The King held a great tournament in King's Landing. Everyone was there. The False King. Your father. Robert Baratheon. And Ellena.. she was already supposed to be promised to another.

The last two riders were Loras Tyrell and Jaime Lannister. When Jaime won, I remember the people cheer for their victor. I remember the girls laughing when he took off his helmet and they saw that golden hair, how handsome he was. Until he rode right past his sister, Cersei Lannister, and all the smiles died. I'd never seen so many people so quiet.

He rode right past his sister, and he lay a crown of winter roses in Ellena's lap, blue as frost.

This has only happened once before, and that started a war, a war that should have never been. But this was all at the start of the War of the Five King's, just as the crown of winter roses laid in the lap of Lyanna.

Lyanna had a touch of the wolf blood in her. Ellena a touch more. It both gave them early graves.