As the sun began to creep along the stone window, the birds started their soft, morning songs. I could almost hear their stories, maybe even sing along. I was always told I had a smooth voice, capable of beautiful melodies; I humbly accepted the compliments and curtsied away, as a lady should. But now, more than ever In my sixteen years of life, I didn't just want to sing with the birds; I wanted to soar with them, shed the old ways Septa Mordane taught me for so many of my younger years. Why should I even try and remember them? They were utterly pointless; pointless this morning, and the next. As I lifted my head off of the velvety pillow, I still knew I must continue my old ways. That is what is expected of me, every day, until the day I am to wed my beloved betrothed, my blonde-haired prince, and the boy of the countless dreams of my youth. Yet, after the beatings and the humiliations, his face became an icon of the ugliness inside each of these men at Kings Landing. And as I raised my head off the pillow this morning, waiting for the handmaidens to come dress me, I knew I had to see these faces once more.

This morning I had to wear an intricate, blue dress, with small pearly beads that reflected my auburn hair. My long hair was fastened into a matching pearl clip, with braids holding unto the longest lengths. My mother, wherever she was, would have been proud; despite the South's style, my Tully roots shown through. My father also would have been proud …

Once the handmaidens were done, I stood waiting to be escorted to my beloved; a smile crept along my face, hiding my horror. My ribs still ached from the last beating Ser Meryn gave me. Usually I would hold fast, stare straight into my Kings eyes as the blows came. But this morning, all I wanted to was lay my head down unto my pillow and sing. A knock interrupted my door. I expected Sandor Clegane, the King's guard. He was not a true knight, yet he had shown me the most kindness during my years at Kings Landing. He usually escorted me; I even wished it would be him this morning, since I would have appreciated some words of encouragement. But it was not Sandor. It was not even a handmaiden. Nor was it another Knight to escort me.

It was my King.

Joffrey would never come to my own bedchamber. This morning had to be of some special torture. The broad smirk already warned me of what was to come. I waited patiently as he surveyed my dress.

"Well, you are looking quite ravishing this morning. Good. I want you looking pretty", as he walked into my chamber.

"Yes, your Grace, anything to please your will", I retorted, as defiantly as possible. He gazed at me with utter disappointment; I knew he did not come just to see my face.

"Hmph. Listen to me. Today, the war council will be joining in the Grand hall and I must satisfy these old bastards". I looked at him questionably. What did this have to do with me? "Which means I want you there the entire meeting; I want them to realize I am not a boy, I have my whores. Ahem. I meant, my ladies." Another pitifully smirk. My hand slowly curled itself into a fist; I had to hold it steadily down until my anger past. I agreed as politely as I could muster.

"This dress will not do. You understand? I want you bathed and looking as fuckable as possible. And quickly, traitor, yes?", he spat as he walked toward the heavy wooden door.

"Yes, your Grace."

As Joffrey exited the door, the few handmaidens crept back into my room. Another wardrobe change. A sigh escaped my lips.

The bathhouse was a distinct bathing corridor just for the queen and her maidens; but today was different. Today I had to look like the queen I will be. And that called for this special bathhouse. The handmaidens guided me down the sunbaked corridor of the castle. It was a while till we finally reached the room; its beauty knew no bounds. The walls housed wonderfully bright stain glass windows, adorned with ivy-covered columns. In the center was the pure marble tub, filled to the top with warm water smelling of chamomile and lilies. The first handmaiden, the tall, stern brunette, helped me out of my dress and under sheets. The second handmaiden, an older woman of about thirty, poured a sweet perfume into the tub. I then stepped into the warm water; I couldn't help but gasp at the unexpected comfort of the now milky liquid covering my body. The third maiden commenced the scrubbing of my back when a loud knock was heard at the door.

The second maiden, looking quite appalled at the interruption, went toward the door. Closing the door behind her, the other girls looked in confusion at each other at the amount of time she was taking. The water was absolutely perfect against my naked skin; I had not even noticed the knock. The two handmaidens, after some time, followed the other toward the door. And at the point, the bathhouse was empty, just the water and I.

As I opened my eyes, I could hear the women talking to a man. I could not tell who It was through the door, but some words were echoed.

"The girl has been assigned new maidens for her bath. You three are free off your duties. I will guard the door while the other girls come". I do not know what the girls did after those words were spoken. But a few moments later, I could hear rapid footsteps walking away from the hall. I knew they were not too happy to deal with a traitorous stupid girl, yet I was surprised at their abrupt departure.

There was silence. I thanked the Gods for this small gift of personal freedom. I sunk deeper into the water, forgetting about Joffrey, forgetting about the castle, forgetting about the Queen, and forgetting myself. I was a Stark of Winterfell, with a mix of faithful Tully in my blood. At this moment, I just wanted to be a free girl.

"Well, look at this little piece." A thud as the door closed. "I didn't startle you, did I?" Massive laughter. Ser Mateos laughed as I hurried to cover myself. He was a knight, yet I had heard of his ways, taking whores as young as they can be each night. His smile as he locked the door raised the hairs on my bare neck.

I have seen you, Stark girl. I've seen your beauty. But I was not aware of your stunning little figure!" He crept closer.

"I'll tell the Queen, I'll tell the king! Stay away from me!", I warned as courageous as possible; nevertheless, my voice cracked at the terror.

"HAAHAHAH! You think they would care, wench…? He reached for my hand, gripping my hair instead as I struggled to avoid his touch. Ser Mateos pulled my ear to his mouth; "For this while, you are mine", as his mouth kissed my neck, sending a shaking seizure down my body. I screamed as loud as I could, until his large hand covered it, pushing hard. It was going to happen like this, alone, in this room. I continued screaming inside, for someone to hear me, to save me like the knights in the stories. As this knight continued biting my neck, following my shoulder and chest, tears fell down my face.

A huge cracking noise rang through the room.

Ser Mateos was thrusted back into reality, as shocked spread through his face. Another crack. The door of the bathhouse was breaking. A sword was piercing through the ancient door.

Ser Mateos through my whole body against the tub and took out his own sword; my head fell unto the marble lining and as I could feel blood oozing from the wound.

At that second, an even louder explosion occurred, breaking down the entire door from its hinges. A man, large enough to tower Ser Mateos, charged through the dust and rubble. As I laid on the barren ground, dizzy from the ache of my wound, I could see the outline of an armored man as he sliced Ser Mateos body in half. I could feel the hot blood spraying across my face. A scream escaped my lips, as the Knights sliced body fell on the stone floor. The room slowly turned black, as I felt solid, gentle hands pick my body up into the air.