[23] Winter is Coming, My Lady

Chapter 23: Winter is Coming, My Lady

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Seventeen years. That was how long it’d been.

For the first few minutes, I still couldn’t believe I was walking through its halls again. Back then, I wasn’t heir. It was Rhaegar, my older brother, who was the crown prince. No matter how much I bragged about it, I was never fated to inherit any of this. But now, I was working toward it.

“A few more, and I’ll have it all back…” I muttered to myself. I observed the area well, recalling the changes compared to when all of this belonged to my family. The winding and labyrinthine corridors seemed to swallow all warmth, shadows stretching out as if eager to consume those who dared to enter.

The early morning light did little to penetrate the walls of red-painted stone, and the few torches flickering along the corridor were nothing more than trembling flames. The air was chill, the atmosphere charged. This was a place where whispers thrived and death came in silence.

I walked slowly through these hallways, reaching out a hand to pluck an occasional flower or two from the garden that reached to this floor through the large windows. There was no rush. Just a man stretching his legs, exploring the corners of a place that held far more secrets than most could fathom.

The Red Keep was a maze. A place built on old, twisted bones, each corridor leading to more doors and secrets. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but that was the fun. I was just wandering, searching for fate to hand me a situation on a platter.

I moved lightly, avoiding the guards and their suspicious stares. My hood pulled low over my face, and the thick carpets beneath my feet muffled my steps.

Turning another corner, I paused. My long walk finally came to an end. There, standing before one of the tall windows, her gaze fixed on the city below was a lone figure. Her auburn hair caught the early light filtering through the dusty glass, glowing like fire.

So many girls around me are red-heads, I counted as I watched her. She was dressed in rich silks, deep greens and somber blues, the fabric hanging heavily, almost swallowing her tall frame. It took me a moment to recognize her. Sansa Stark, Queen to be of Joffrey.

I stepped closer, my steps slow. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes distant as they traced the skyline of King’s Landing. I could almost see the turmoil in her—a thousand worries pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down, even in her stillness. I closed the distance, my lips quirking as I watched her.

“Very dangerous to stand so close to the window,” I said, my voice cutting softly through the silence.

She startled, her head snapping around, her eyes widening in surprise. Fear flickered across her features for a moment—a flash of vulnerability that was easy to read. The daughter of Eddard Stark, alone in the lion’s den. She blinked at me, her gaze trying to make sense of my sudden appearance.

I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “You might fall, my lady,” I added, keeping my tone light.

“I…” Her voice came out in a soft breath, her words caught off guard. She straightened, stepping back from the window’s ledge, her hands nervously smoothing the front of her dress. “Who… who are you? I haven’t seen you in the castle before.”

“Just a visitor,” I said, giving her a small nod. “Vis is my name,” I added after a pause. No titles, no introductions. Let her wonder who I was. “And you… you must be Lady Sansa.”

She blinked, the wariness not entirely leaving her expression. “How do you know my name?” she asked, her voice soft, almost timid. That was a stupid question, but I just guessed she was startled.

I smiled, stepping closer, my gaze flicking briefly to the window before returning to her. “Everyone knows your name, my lady. You’re quite famous—a Stark of Winterfell, here in King’s Landing.” I kept my voice smooth, my words gentle, as if I were offering her some small comfort.

Her lips pressed together, her gaze dropping briefly to her hands. She was nervous, unsure of me. The girl was far from who she’d become one day, merely a step down a brat, but she was getting there. Also, she looked older. How could that be? In the show, the only reason her marriage with Joffrey was postponed was because she hadn’t started to bleed yet. But here, she was definitely an adult already. Why was the marriage not held yet, then?

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice gaining a little strength. “It’s dangerous to talk to me. If what you’d come to the palace for is dealt with… leave.”

“Dangerous?” I echoed, my smile widening. “For whom, me?” I laughed.

She hesitated, her brow furrowing. “For you, yes. If J- the King finds you here—”

I waved a hand, dismissing her concern, my eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll be fine, Lady Sansa. Besides, I rather enjoy the thrill of it. This place…” I glanced around the dim corridor, the heavy stone walls, the tapestries lining the halls. “It feels familiar, although I can’t pinpoint why.”

“Huh?”

“If Eddard Stark was here, he’d have been able to answer that, I’m sure,” I said, smirking at her as she frowned in confusion. I was just playing with her, but her eyes searched mine, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she held back.

I could see the questions in her—the curiosity, the uncertainty. She was wary of me, and yet, she was drawn in by what I was implying. That her father would recognize me if he was here. It wasn’t often that someone approached her like this—with no clear agenda, no demands, just curiosity.

“You’re not from… here, are you?” she finally said, her voice quiet.

I smiled. “Interesting question. Let’s just say I’m… passing through.” I let my gaze drift back to her, my smile softening. “And you, my lady? Do you enjoy being here? In the heart of it all? You, who were so very excited to be Queen when the prospect was first proposed. You, who begged your mother to convince your father to accept King Robert’s deal.”

“...” She hesitated, her eyes flicking away. “I… it’s not what I expected,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a sadness in her eyes, immense sadness. “I am curious about who you are. Are you not going to answer?”

“Today is not the day, my lady. As for your failed expectations, the Red Keep has that effect on people,” I said, my tone shifting as if I were sharing a secret. “It’s not quite as grand as the stories make it out to be, is it? It’s like a prison.’

She looked up at me, her eyes widening slightly, a flicker of something like agreement passing through them. For a moment, just a moment, she seemed to let her guard down, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “...Yes. It’s a prison, indeed. A rotten one.”

I laughed and blinked. My eyes glanced down the corridor. Footsteps—the heavy, deliberate tread of guards. I saw Kinvara walking with them, smiling calmly. Her talk with Cersie seemed to have gone without any issue, meaning my time here was up.

I turned back to the older Sansa, giving her a small, charming smile, my gaze meeting hers. “Take care, my lady,” I said, my voice soft. “Stay away from dangerous windows. Even if you don’t fall, you might catch a cold. After all,” I smiled, “Winter is coming.”

Her eyes widened, confusion turning to hope, but before she could say anything, I turned, my hood pulled low as I slipped into the shadows.

The guards came into view, their eyes sweeping the corridor, but I was already gone from Sansa. Just another ghost in the labyrinth of Red Keep, who soon joined with Kinvara.

“Where were you?”

“Plucking flowers.”

So, we left the Keep. Pity I didn’t stumble upon Joffery today.

Then again, perhaps this wasn't the best time for me to kill him. As a king, he's more of a troublemaker, not useful. If I were to kill him, it's not as if I could just sit down on the throne right there and take it. No, I'd be hunted by the entire country, first, and secondly, the Lannister would just crown Tommen instead.

After all, this wasn't a "kill the king and take the world" type of power fantasy.

Tyrion Lannister was in King's Landing, serving as the Hand. Tommen would listen to the man, which would immediately make him a more competent King than Joffrey ever was. I didn't want that.

In a scenario like this, the best course of action is to wait for the best opportunity to kill Joffrey. Not only when it was safe for me, but when killing him would do the most damage.

For example, maybe when the fleets of Stannis Baratheon would attack?

That'd throw the entire battlefield into chaos, after all. And I could just kill Stannis, unworried about a Tommen situation there.

If not that, then some other perfect time to kill the twat that was Joffrey. Sadly, today was not that day.

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