[Chapter Size: 1000 Words.]
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While the battle raged outside, Joffrey went to find Myrcella.
Ten minutes earlier...
Cersei and her family had taken shelter in the cellars of the Red Keep. As king, Joffrey's place should have been at the city walls, fighting alongside his soldiers.
But Cersei feared for his safety, and Joffrey himself had no intention of standing guard on the battlements. At the same time, Cersei could not allow her son, the king, to hide away in a den of frightened women.
So, not having seen Myrcella, she devised a plan. Under the pretense of worrying for his sister's safety, she ordered Joffrey to go and find her.
When Joffrey reached Theon's manor, as expected, three hundred fully armed knights were stationed around it.
He was about to enter with two guards when he was stopped at the main gate by Amice.
Joffrey stared at him in disbelief, his face flushing with shame and rage.
"How dare you? I am the king! What is the meaning of this? What are you trying to do?"
He spat the words quickly, trembling with humiliation and anger.
"Lord Theon has ordered that no one may approach Princess Myrcella," Amice replied coldly, still seated on his horse.
Joffrey's fury only grew.
"Get down this instant! I'll kill you myself. I'll have Theon kill you, dog! Where is the Hound?"
At Joffrey's outburst, one of the guards muttered quickly, "The Hound has gone to the front, Your Grace."
Joffrey seized the man by the collar and pointed at Amice.
"Kill him! Do it now!"
But the guard, held fast by Joffrey's grip, could neither advance nor retreat. Amice frowned, glaring at the boy-king he despised most of all.
He spurred his horse aside, making space.
"Your Grace, you may take refuge in the courtyard, but those two guards cannot enter."
Joffrey looked at his guards, then at Amice, whose face was harder than Ned Stark's. Finally, he released the guard with a scowl and stalked into the courtyard with his head lowered.
Amice signaled to two of his men to keep an eye on him. Though he knew Joffrey posed no real threat to Myrcella, caution was always wise.
This was what Amice hated most: if Joffrey were not king, if he did not wear that ridiculous crown, Amice would never have allowed him to cower in Myrcella's refuge.
He watched the boy's back with undisguised contempt. A king should lead his men in battle, not hide beside his sister.
Meanwhile, the two guards returned to Cersei with their report, exaggerating the story to mask their shame.
Cersei drained the last of her wine and handed the cup to Sansa.
"Myrcella is luckier than I am, at least for now," she muttered.
Then she turned to the girl.
"Would you like a drink?"
Sansa shook her head quickly. She had not seen Theon since his return to King's Landing. Cersei kept her closely watched, fearing Theon might spirit her away in secret.
Truthfully, Sansa had never cared much for Theon, but she could sense he had once looked on her favorably. Yet since the royal family had come to King's Landing, Theon seemed a different man altogether. She had once begged him for help, believing he would be glad to aid her, only for him to vanish in the night.
When Theon returned to the capital a second time, Sansa found herself firmly under Cersei's control. By the time the betrothal between Myrcella and Theon was proclaimed, she had abandoned any hope of seeing him alone.
And even if she had, Theon would no longer have agreed. He had no reason to, nor any lingering interest in the North.
Besides, Myrcella was sweet, gentle, and everything Theon desired, save for her youth. According to Westerosi custom, she would need at least seven more years before she was truly ready.
Cersei filled a cup and thrust it into Sansa's hands.
"Drink!" she commanded, leaving the girl no choice.
She poured herself another. Her speech was already slurred with wine. Perhaps she knew their chances of victory were slim, and so drowned her fear with every cup.
"You see," she said, "a woman's greatest weapon lies between her legs. Against another man we might hope to survive the sack of the city. But Stannis, Stannis would not be swayed. Even a bar of iron would tempt him more.
He will take my head and hang it from the walls of the Red Keep, caring nothing for what lies between my thighs!"
Sansa recoiled at the words, shocked by Cersei's brutal candor.
Noticing, Cersei gave a bitter smile.
"The happiest time in a noble girl's life is before her first moonblood. Once it comes, she is fit for marriage.
Marriage, Sansa, is the truest alliance between houses. And all we may pray for is that the man chosen for us is handsome and well-mannered, and not some boar who drinks and wallows with whores."
Of course Sansa knew who she meant. Thinking of Joffrey, the boy she was betrothed to, her heart filled with sorrow.
Cersei narrowed her eyes.
"Tyrion has found a good match for Myrcella. Though Theon is sly and detestable, I must admit, he truly cares for her."
She gave a humorless laugh.
"Three hundred knights in full armor, enough to scatter a thousand, even two thousand foot soldiers on the field."
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