Chapter 1

The Lannister Spy

...

Vyolet Lannister was the fifteen years old daughter of lady Meralith Lannister and the late Rendal Lannister, nephew of Tywin Lannister, who had died ten years ago. Currently, she was on her way to Kings Landing, summoned by her aunt, Queen Cersei.

She didn't really understand why. According the queen she was anxious to see her niece after so many time apart from each other which was odd to say the least. From all her father's cousin, she had always had the feeling Cersei didn't care for her at all. Jamie was nice enough, Tyrion was funny and kind, but Cersei, she had never looked at her twice. Nevertheless, the queen had given a command and she had to obey.

The girl rested her face on her opened palm as she stared outside the carriage's window, watching the countryside.

"My lady, you should close the window or you'll catch a cold," Vyolet's handmaid warned her.

Vyolet turned to her pouting.

"The carriage is too stuffy, and my head was aching," she replied looking again outside the window.

Vyolet took of her ring and placing it on her palm. The girl stared at it, and the ring slowly, almost impreceptible, started to move from side to side until it stood moving above her hand, rocking from side to side.

"My lady, your mother warn you about doing that," her handmaid told Vyolet who sighed. The ring fell onto her hand, and she clutched it, looking outside again.

After an hour or so, she saw the walls of Kings Landing and smiled. It was about time.

The carriage didn't stop until it reached the Red Keep. And as soon the door was open a hand was offered to help her down and a royal steward bowed at her.

"Lady Vyolet, your grace is expecting you," he told her with a smile.

Vyolet nodded. She asked her handmaiden to see their stuff to their room as she followed the steward to her aunt's quarters.

"Your grace, Lady Vyolet Lannister," the steward announced before letting the girl entered.

Cersei had been sitting at a table drinking wine, and turned to her, forcing a bright smile.

"Vyolet darling," Cersei greeted her, raising from her chair, and opening her arms.

"Your grace," Vyolet replied, making a deep and perfect bow.

Cersei forced a sweet smile for her niece, and gave her a hug. It was awkward because the girl wasn't expecting it. The queen had never been too affectionate towards her.

"My, look at you. You are a true beauty," said Cersei, placing her hands on Vyolet shoulders and surveying her niece's appearance. "You're a woman now."

Vyolet smiled brightly.

"Thank you, your grace."

"You must have suitors right and left," said the queen slyly, her tone implying what she was really thinking, but Vyolet just shook her head.

"I-I wouldn't know," she replied properly.

Cersei scrunched up her nose lightly derisively. Her niece was just as plain and moron than Sansa Stark apparently. But Vyolet was indeed aware of her aunt's barely concealed dislike.

"Was your trip pleasant?" Cersei asked her, taking her by the arm and taking her to the chair next to the window, where she had been sitting with her son hours before.

"Very much, your grace," Vyolet replied politely.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted," Cersei nodded, in an understanding way. "But I wanted to talk to you before you'll retire."

"Of course, your grace."

Vyolet nodded. Cersei took her cup and sipped the wine before turning to her.

"I don't know if you have heard yet, but we have some special guests at Kings Landing," Cersei replied, her disdain growing deeper. "Ned Stark and his daughters."

"I didn't know, your grace," Vyolet replied earnestly.

"Ned Stark has been named the Hand of the King. My husband, the king is very fond of him," Cersei shook the wine in her cup before giving it another sip. So she didn't like at all the new hand, Vyolet noticed, but just nodded.

"He's a great warrior just like the king," she commented, wanting to see her aunt's reaction. She couldn't deny it without offending the king so Cersei just nodded, pursing her lips, displeased.

"Yes, he is. And his older daughter Sansa, is to be your cousin Joffrey's wife," Cersei continued. She didn't sound pleased by this either. "Sansa and her sister had never been to the capital before, and they must feel a bit lonely. I think it would be good if they had someone to show them around and talk to, and who better than the most beautiful and brilliant girl in Casterly Rock."

Vyolet heard the subtle sarcasm in her voice but was careful to keep her smile in place.

"I'll be honored, your grace."

"Good. I'm sure you'll be great friends. Just like you and your cousins."

Vyolet nodded. She loved Myrcella and Tommen, but Joffrey was a different story.

"I'm sure, your grace. We are bound to be family after all," Vyolet smiled, delivering the blow carefully, watching her aunt's reaction. She almost flinched.

"Yes, we are bound to," she replied upset. Then looked up and forced her sweet smile again. "Well, I won't keep you from your beauty sleep."

Vyolet nodded and stood up, bowing to her.

"Your grace."

As she turned to leave, Vyolet's smile faded. She knew now why she had been summoned here, and she didn't like it one bit.

That night, after her old handmaid took off her hairpins and her corset off, Vyolet sat on her nightgown on a chair as the old woman combed her hair.

"Juline, did you know what the queen told my mother? Why she wanted me here?" The girl asked. She wanted to know if her trusted handmaiden had known since the beginning.

"I don't know, my lady," the woman replied.

"Are you sure? You know you have her absolutely trust."

"I'm sure," the old woman replied earnestly. "Her grace just said she wanted to spend time with her and your cousins. Why are you asking, my lady?"

Vyolet turned to the woman, pursing her lips.

"The queen wants me to spy the Stark girls for her."

"Did she said that?" The woman asked alarmed.

"No. But she did everything but spat it out," Vyolet replied bitterly. It never ended this absurd intrigue within the Lannister family.

"Her grace will have her reasons and your duty is with your queen and your family," said the old woman, a concealed warning on her voice.

Vyolet nodded.

"I know."

Vyolet got dressed and broke fast on her room. Then she was ready to befriend the Stark girls, as best as she could. She didn't understand really what Cersei could get from this. She didn't like Ned Stark, that was pretty obvious, but Vyolet couldn't see how knowing the whereabouts of two girls would be useful. Ned Stark wouldn certainly not be discussing his every thought with them.

As shedescended a staircase she saw a man walking through the corridor. He had a King's... armor and long shiny blond hair.

It was Jaime Lannister. Vyolet smiled, feeling her cheeks starting to blush and her heart starting to race. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help to have a crush on Jaime. How could she not? He was handsome. He was brave. He was kind.

"Uncle Jaime," the girl called him and the man turned a smile appearing on his lips.

"My, my, who do we have here?" He asked with a kind teasing smile.

"It's me, Vyolet," the girl replied in a playful manner.

"It can't be," said Jaime, faking surprise. "Why, my niece it's a scrawny little girl. Certainly not this beautiful lady I have in front of me."

Vyolet grinned brightly, her cheeks turning redder.

"I've always been beautiful," Vyolet replied, shrugging with a cheeky expression.

Jaime laughed.

"Oh, yes. There's the vain girl I know," Jaime smiled.

"I've missed you," Vyolet told him fondly.

"I've missed you too, child. How is your mother?"

Vyolet smile's faltered at the word child, but kept it in place.

"She's good. Wanted to come, says things in casterly Rock are duller than ever."

Jaimed chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, I imagined Meralith bores with too much tranquility."

Vyoletrolled her eyes and nodded.

"I was thinking," said the girl with her prettiest smile. She had received three marriage proposals using it. "Maybe we could go out and ride together for a while. I took your advice and change my riding instructor. I can easily leave you in the dust now."

Jamie smiled but quickly turned bitter.

"I can't, sweetheart," he replied upset. "I've been summounded by the king. Maybe another day?"

Vyolet was dissapointed, but she didn't let it show. Besides, by the looks of it, he didn't have a choice. The girl nodded.

"Sure."

Jaime smiled at her, thought bitterly and waving, he walked away. Vyolet didn't feel that bad. Jaime certainly looked upset. In her mind, he had really wanted to go riding with her. He had even called her sweetheart. And despite his teasing, he had noticed she was a woman now. And with that little flame of hope in her chest, the girl left two find the Stark girls. Cersei made think her niece was a moron, but she had gift for befriend even the most unlikely of allies.

Vyolet found Sansa, walking around the gardens with her handmaid. She knew she was Sansa because of her dress and because she looked around like it was a palace made of glass and gold.

"Lady Sansa?" Vyolet said, approaching the girl. Sansa turned around surprised.

"I am Lady Vyolet Lannister. Prince's Joffrey cousin."

Sansa made a small prim bow.

"Nice to meet you, my lady."

"I heard you have arrived and I just had to meet you," Vyolet told her with a kind smile. "After all, we're going to be cousins soon."

"Yes, I guess we will," Sansa replied with a tiny pleased smile.

So she did want to marry Joffrey. Vyolet guessed she hadn't had the oportunity to meet him yet.

"You haven't been to Kings Landing before, have you?" Vyolet asked her.

"No, I haven't. It's that too obvious?" Sansa said a bit embarrased.

"A bit. But you'll get used to it," Vyolet reassured her. "I remember the first time I got here. You feel like out of place. Like you just do silly strange things all the time, but everyone has been in that position, I assure you."

"Really?" Sansa asked her, her insecurities, starting to show.

Vyolet nodded, smiling sweetly.

"Don't worry," the brunette said, taking Sansa by the arm. "In a week or two, you'll feel like you were raised here."

"I wouldn't know how to do that," Sansa replied, looking down.

"I'll help you if you want," Vyolet shrugged. "I know everything about the Kings Landing fashion, the gossip..."

"Gossip?"

"Oh, yes," Vyolet gave her a sly smile. "That's the most important currency in the Red Keep, haven't you heard?"

"What kind of gossip?" Sansa asked curious.

Vyolet smiled at her and then turned nodding discretedly at a middle age lady passing by.

"That's Lady Hoyhigh, she huh, modified her nose," Vyolet told her in a whisper.

"Modified?" Sansa frowned confused.

"Had like a procedure of some kind to make it smaller. I heard it's really painful and it looks worse than before. Now it looks like a mushroom."

Sansa couldn't help but smile, and held back a chuckle.

"And that woman, Lady Garrett," Vyolet continued with a smile. "Her husband has a mistress in Dorn and bastard children. They say he actually loves them more than his own."

Sansa raised her eyebrows.

"I know," Vyolet nodded. "So you see, you shouldn't be embarrassed because you feel out of place. Just smiled at them. They tried to make me feel small, as well when I first came here. Then I learned all those charming little anecdotes and well, after reminding them once or twice now and them, they treat me very nice, indeed."

Sansa laughed.

"You're terrible."

"Thank you," said Vyolet cheekly. "Would you like to have tea with me and some of the girls? We'll be discussing Lady Ulla new lover. The girls said he's ten years younger than her."

"I'd love too," Sansa replied happily. She looked at Vyolet as if she were the queen herself.

Vyolet smiled and guided the girl to one of the tables in the garden. One down, she thought.

With Sansa eagerly wanting to be her best friend, Vyolet then looked for Arya. There weren't too many little girls in Kings Landing and Sansa had mentioned she was a wild type of girl. Vyolet figure she wouldn't too difficult to find.

And, indeed, as Vyolet turned around in a corridor, she saw a little girl in breeches, standing a top of a staircase with her arms extended, a leg up and a determined look on her face.

Vyolet couldn't help but smile.

"I thinks that's not very safe," she commented with a smile.

The girl a bit startled, tumbled back a few steps.

"I'm learning balance," Arya replied, lifting her chin.

Vyolet smiled wider, nodding.

"Balance for what?"

"For fighting," said Arya, as if darying Vyolet to say something against it.

"Did your father let you receive training?" Vyolet asked.

Arya nodded.

"That's very unusual."

Arya made a face.

"What would you like me to do instead? Learning how to sing and mop? How to dance?" She replied sarcastically.

Vyolet couldn't help but chuckled and crossed her arms.

"Well, fighting is a type of dance, isn't it? That's why they call them dancing masters."

"How do you know that?" Arya asked genuely surprised. This girl looked just as prim and proper as Sansa.

"My master taught me that," Vyolet shrugged.

"You know how to fight?" Arya frowned even more confused.

"Don't let the dress fool you. That's men's first mistake," Vyolet told her with a sly smirk and climbed the steps to where she was. She placed herself in the same position as Arya was, but she was standign straighter and more gracious.

"Balance... You must be swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water."

"My master told me that too," Arya replied excitedly.

"Is he from Braavos?" Vyolet guessed.

"He's the first sword of Braavos," Arya repeated proudly.

Vyolet smiled at her, putting her arms and leg down.

"Good, then you'll be one of the best, if you applied yourself."

"I will."

Vyolet couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's your name?"

"Arya. Arya Stark."

Her agressive and suspicious tone had dissapear, but not for long.

"I'm Vyolet Lannister, Arya."

Arya's smile faded, an angry look replacing it.

"You don't like the Lannisters," Vyolet guessed, amused.

"They're liars and cowards," Arya declared upset, waiting for Vyolet to be offended and threaten her.

Vyolet smirked.

"Yes. Not cowards, though," she replied amused by Arya's surprised. "There's not a lot of us you can coward so you must be talking about Joffrey. What did he do to you?"

Arya's surprise grew, but also her suspicion.

"How did you know Joffrey did something to me?" She asked her.

"He might be the prince, but he's a spoiled brat. And a cruel one."

Arya wholeheartedly agreed.

"He got killed my friend, Mycah, because my wolf attacked him," Arya replied between sad and angry, sitting down on the stairs. Vyolet sat next to her and listen to the whole story about the fight, resulting in Arya losing her wolf and Sansa's been killed.

Vyolet nodded when Arya finished telling her the story.

"That sounds like Joffrey. Last year, when he went to my home in Casterly Rock, he wanted to play a fun game with us," she told Arya, with a bitter sarcastic tone. "We had to stand on a blank of wood while he knock things out of our heads. It was just humilliating until he grabbed his bow. He got my brother in the arm with an arrow, and I know he did it unpurpose because he can actually aim."

"I'll get him," Arya assured her grimly and Vyolet smiled soflty.

"You remind me of my little sister, Hatlyn," she told Arya. "She said the same thing... but it's not wise."

Arya frowned indignantly.

"Joffrey..."

"I know he started it," Vyolet interrupted her. "I know is his fault, but Arya, if you start threatening the prince, what do you think will happen?"

Arya shrugged her arms.

"You could get yourself and your father into trouble," said Vyolet soflty.

"My father is the hand of the king," Arya shrugged.

"And Cersei is Joffrey's mother," replied Vyolet. "Believe me, you don't want her as an enemy. Even her own family knows that."

"You don't like your family," Arya observed, noticing Vyolet's bitter tone.

Vyolet sighed.

"I love my siblings, and my mother. But it's hard to love someone who's always plotting and betting against you, don't you think?"

Arya shrugged.

"My family supports each other."

"Than you are luckier than me," Vyolet assured her with a smile. "Come on. I'll let you keep with your training. Your master will know if you have not practiced."

She told Arya as she stood up and the little girl imitated her.

"Maybe we could train together," Arya suggested.

Vyolet smiled but shook her head slowly.

"I can't. It wouldn't be... proper. My mother stayed on Casterly Rock and here, I'm under the... protection of the queen. I don't think she'll aprove of me fighting," Vyolet made sure to purse her lips at the mention of the queen.

"I won't tell anyone," Arya assured her.

Vyolet chuckled and shook her head.

"Maybe for a while," she said after a pause. "Tomorrow?"

Arya nodded excitedly, and resumed her position.

"Remember chin up, back straight, arms high in the air," Vyolet said and Arya adjusted her position, smiling at Vyolet. She was like the older sister she always wanted, Arya thought.

As Vyolet left the girl alone, she knew she had just won her trust. She had accomplished what Cersei had wanted of her even before dawn, but Vyolet didn't feel proud of herself.

There was a joust the next day and everyone would be there. As a member of the Lannister and the cousin of the Prince, Vyolet place was with them on the secluded are above the rest, but she wouldn't get closer to the Stark girls that way.

She sat between Sansa an Arya. Their handmaid was on the other side of Arya, and Petyr Baelish, was on Sansa's right.

The girl kept turning her head to Joffrey but the boy was pissed and glared at her.

"Don't mind him," Vyolet told him, noticing her cousin's face.

"He hates me," Sansa replied sadly.

"He doesn't," Vyolet lied. "He's a guy. Just act like you're not aware of his presence. It works every time."

The king was drunk already. Nothing surprising there, Vyolet thought as he yelled: "I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"

As the joust started a giant in an armour and a on top of a horse, ride into the field.

"Gods, who's that?" Sansa asked.

"Ser Gregor Clegane," lord Baelish told her. Both Sansa and Vyolet turned to him, and he smiled enjoying their attention. "They call him the Mountain. The Hound's older brother."

"And his opponent?" Sansa said.

"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come," Baelish said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice that Vyolet detected.

"Yes, yes, enough of the bloody pomp. Have at him!" The King yelled, annoyed.

Both knights rode to the end of the fields, and their respective squires armed them with a lance and their shields. Then their charged at each other but missed. They reached the end of the field and turned slowly, ready to go ahead once again. But this time, Ser Hugh wasn't so lucky. With a hard laungh, the Mountain's spear hit him, going through his throat and knocking him to the ground.

The crowd gasp in shock and horror. Vyolet even heard Sansa yel.l. Vyolet just watched the night died, choking on his blood.

"Not what you were expecting?" Baelish told Sansa as two men carried the body away. "Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound?" Baelish whispered to the girls. "Lovely little tale of brotherly love."

They turned to watch the Hound, or Sandor Clegane, guarding loyaly the king.

"The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe," Baelish started the tale. "Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence. One evening Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire, Gregor's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted."

Vyolet frowned. She had heard rumors about the Hound and the mountain, but never knew the real story. And for all his lies, Littlefinger was being honest this time.

"There aren't very many people who know that story," he added.

"We won't tell anyone," Sansa replied anguished. "I promise."

"No, please don't. If the Hound so much as heard you mention it," Baelish looked up to Vyolet. "I'm afraid all the knights in King's Landing would not be able to save you."

That night, Cersei called on Vyolet. According to her aunt, she just wanted to chat with her niece, but Vyolet knew she wanted a report.

"Do you like the Stark girls?" Cersei asked her as she poured Vyolet a glass of wine. She had tried to refuse, but her autn had insisted not very subtle.

"They're very nice, your grace," Vyolet replied with a smile.

"The little one, she's a bit wild," Cersei said, sitting in front of the girl. There was a very clear disdain in her voice.

"I'm sure it's just the age," Vyolet smootly replied. "But she can be sweet."

"Really?" Cersei forced a smile but just looked murderous. "Did she tell you about the incident with her wolf?"

Vyolet knew she couldn't lie.

"Yes, your grace."

"She called Joffrey and myself liars. What do you think about that?" Cersei raised her glass and watched her niece as she sipped her wine.

"You're not a liar, your grace, but small children often are," Vyolet replied.

Cersei pursed her lips. And Vyolet smiled to herself. That question had been a trap by Cersei and she had just avoided it.

"Her father dared to challenge me in front of my husband," Cersei continued, waiting for Vyolet's answer.

"Your grace is very protective of her children, rightfully so," Vyolet replied taking a very small sip of wine. "Perhaps Lord Stark was doing the same. Even if he was in the wrong."

Cersei looked at her niece now. She looked and acted like a perfect lady, but she had dodged all of Cersei's trick questions. Once may be luck, but she had managed to turn the conversation around. She was defending Ned Stark without giving him the reason. Cersei had been wrong about her. She may act like a moron, but certainly, her moves were calculated. Vyolet had more Lannister in her than appeared. This posed a problem because now it would be harder to manipulate her and extract information out of her. Her niece would tell her what she wanted to hear, whether it was useful or not.

The next day, Vyolet woke up at the same hour than yesterday, hoping to catch her uncle and convince him to ride with her, but intead, she found his cousin. She had tried to dodge Joffrey but he wasn't having it. He was with Myrcella and tommen as well and neither looked like they wanted to follow Joffrey.

He took them to the kitchen, carrying his crossbow and told them he wanted to play a game.

"What sort of game cousin?" Vyolett asked reluctantly. She didn't want to be shot in the arm.

"A very fun one, cousin," Joffrey drawled. "You'll be very amused."

Vyolet hightly doubted that.

He placed his brother against a wall and placed a large bowl on his head. Both Myrcella and Vyolet watched with horror as Joffrey raised his crossbow to Tommen's head.

"Don't move if you don't want to die," he cruelly threaten his little brother. And then shot.

Vyolett breathed a sigh of relief as the arrow hit the bowl breaking it and hit the wall behind Tommen.

"You have wonderful aim, cousin," Vyolet forcefully congratulated Joffrey even if she actually wanted to slap him.

"Now you," Joffrey told her with a sardonic smile.

"I preferred to watch," Vyolet replied with a sweet smile. "You are so wonderful with that bow."

"I said, now you!" Joffrey yelled angrily.

Vyolet didn't want to give him more reasons to shoot her so she grabbed a bowl, placed it on her head and faced Joffrey. The brat raised the bow.

Calm as still water, Vyolet though not wanting to show Joffrey fear.

Joffrey smirked and then shot. He didn't hit the bowl, but a barrel on a high shelve above the girl. Vyolet moved startled and the bowl fell crashing just as ale escaped from the barrel and fell onto her head.

The girl yelped and moved away.

"Don't, grab another bowl!" Joffrey ordered her.

Vyolet clenched her teeth, grabbing another and standing in the same position, as the ale fell onto her head again, filling the bowl. Joffrey put another arrow in his crossbow and lifted it. He shot again.

The arrow again, didn't hit the bowl but a sack of flour. Vyolet again dropped the bowl, startled and this time flour fell onto her adhering to her head and face beacuse of the ale.

Joffrey laughed looking at his siblings which looked terrified.

...

Vyolet walked to her room, feeling enraged and humiliated She had changed her mind. She didn't dislike Joffrey, she hated him, and the worst part was she could do absolutely nothing about it. She knew Cersei. She was vindictive and wouldn't accept a bad word against her children, even if he deserved it. Vyolet sneezed again, a product of the disgusting things Joffrey had poured on her and kept walking faster.

Just then, she crossed paths with Ned Stark. She blushed, embarrassed by her state, but he looked shocked. Genuinely shocked. Vyolet blushed. She didn't think she looked that bad. Then, his hand grabbed her wrist and she turned to him surprised.

Then the man was looking at the girl as she were a ghost. Vyolet didn't understand, but she couldn't see what he was seeing. She didn't see that her hair covered in that substance and flour made her hair looked white and that she resembled a man Ned had known. A madman. But how...?

Ned came out of his revery to notice Vyolet's startled and almost scared face. The man released her and bowed, a bit ashamed.

"Excuse me, my lady," he apologized quickly before walking away.

Vyolet watched the man until he was gone, confused. He had looked just as scared and confused as she was. Why? The girl shook her head and walked away.

The girl didn't notice someone else watching. Cersei looked from the balcony at the girl with a frown and a more tame expression than Ned but surprised nonetheless. She had seen too the resemblance. Cersei though her niece was a moron but she was very glad the girl was on Kings Landing, and under her thumb.