Book Two: Chapter 4

As the coronation approaches, Kings Landing swells like a pig fattened for the slaughter. Nobles seems to spill from the cracks in the stone; those who arrived in time for King Thelonious’s funeral have stayed and more arrive every day, much to the utter horror of the servants and handmaidens stretched too thin looking after them, and desperately trying to find them places to stay. Sakura is glad that she had already secured such a luxurious room in the Maidenvault, if she had arrived now she may have faced the horror of having to find a room in town as many of the lower nobles are now having to do. It had been difficult enough to find a room for Yuri on such short notice, and it had taken a heavy purse to be sure that the inn keep wouldn’t sell the room off to any visiting nobles.

Despite securing her room and board, Sakura has not yet been able to see Yuri. It is far more difficult to slip away in the Red Keep, where she can always feel the eyes of one noble or another upon her and her attention is demanded at almost every hour of the day. The noble women crowd around her to hear stories of the north, and gossip frivolously, and she knows that if she has to spend another hour pretending to embroider as she listens to women around her discuss the merits of Arbour wine and Essos wine, she will scream. It is even more frustrating to see Hyewon returning from her few nights off with her purse newly filled and a hangover she won’t admit to; by all accounts Yuri has made fast friends with some regulars of the local tavern who are almost as skilled at dice as she is. Sakura’s stomach burns with jealousy just to think of it.

A grey morning gives her a moment of peace. The mist has rolled in from the sea, cooling the air and blocking out the sun, and she steps from her rooms with her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. A guard she does not know is stationed outside of her room, and she shakes him away when he falls into step behind her, dismissing him and telling him to inform Hyewon that she is in the gardens. The paths are blissfully empty; nowadays it is hard to find them empty of unmarried ladies parading themselves before the eligible lords of the kingdom. The peace and the cold are achingly familiar, and though she never thought she would long for the loneliness of Winterfell again, she can’t deny that it is a blessing to be truly alone, if only for an hour or so. Thoughts of her letter to Eunbi plague her, though she tries to forget it. She has written a hundred more letters, since she penned the first, recounting her claims and explaining herself, but each time the stories seem to spiral out of her control and look like a wild falsehood concocted only to keep her away from Winterfell.

Mist hangs about her, turning to delicate water droplets that cling to her hair and fingertips. The city and the castle become muffled and far away, so she is startled when she rounds a corner to see a figure appearing from the mists. For a moment, fear grips her heart, and she wishes she had retrieved her dagger from Lord Pike, but then the figure comes closer and she is able to make out familiar floppy hair and a boyish smile.

“Lady Sakura,” Kimm seems just as surprised to see her, his feet hesitating for a moment, though she sees his face light up with a smile.

“Your majesty,” Sakura gives a slight curtsey.

“What are you doing out here?” His brows crease, and he fumbles, “I only meant- I thought I was alone.”

“I wanted some peace, your majesty.” She gives him a slight smile, and falls into step beside him. “I expect you wanted the same.”

Kimm gives her a rueful smile, “As ever, you are too clever for your own good.”

“Just as clever as I need to be, your majesty,” She teases in return, and he laughs, the sound caught and muffled by the mist.

“Please, we don’t need such formalities,” His cheeks colour a little, “I should think we were past that a long time ago.” Sakura gives a polite smile, and a nod, and Kimm continues, “I’ve never seen Kings Landing quite like this before, but then I didn’t spend nearly enough time here as a child.”

“How could you know you would need to,” Sakura placates him.

“Still, sometimes I wish I had been here regularly, as you were,” His eyes flicker to her and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, thoughtful.

“I don’t think you’re suffering for it, you’re a hero, everyone adores you.”

“They say they adore me because I’m the new king.” Kimm corrects her, and her eyes flicker up to him, surprised, to find a wry smile upon his face. He continues, raising his eyebrows, “I’m sure you know the ins and outs of court politics far better than I. Even deciding who should come to the coronation is a task that takes days.”

“Are you looking forward to the coronation?”

“I am,” He doesn’t quite seem sure of himself, but Sakura doesn’t bring it upon herself to point it out.

“It should be a grand event, I hope the castle’s coppers can afford it,” She jokes, and it pulls another laugh from Kimm.

“I should expect so, Lord Pike has everything under control.” The words send a thrill of ice through her veins, but she is saved from answering when Kimm asks. “I hope you will save me a dance at the ball afterwards?”

Somethings tugs in her heart at the memory the words stir, but she pushes it away, fixing the new king with a dazzling smile. “How could I refuse the king?”

He laughs again, and they turn a corner onto a path where the roses climb up the trellises and form a beautiful, heavily scented tunnel. It is dim inside, and the mist clings to the petals in water droplets, gleaming. In this refuge, where they are afforded the illusion of privacy, she asks, quietly.

“Are you looking forward to being king?”

For a moment Kimm is silent at her side, and when she looks up at him, she finds his throat bobbing as he swallows. Finally, he says, his voice soft. “No one has asked me that yet.”

Sakura feels a swell of sympathy; looking at him now she is reminded of the easy going, kind boy who would spend so many summers in Highgarden. It is to this boy that she says, “You can do it, Kimm. You have a good heart, listen to it.”

The smile he gives her is tentative, but perhaps the most genuine thing she has seen since she stepped into Kings Landing.

“Thank you, Sakura. I am glad you’re here.” He hesitates, nervous for a moment, “Perhaps, after the coronation, you would like to dine together?”

“That would be wonderful,” She reassures him, and accepts the arm he offers out to her, trying not to think of the letters now turned to ash in her fireplace.

---

The Lannister soldiers posted dutifully on either side of the door to the chambers of the Hand of the King eye her with understandable surprise as she approaches. They shift in their embellished armour, lions snarling on their chests, but their hands do not fall to the hilts of their swords and that is their first mistake. Sakura offers them a soft smile, her dress flowing about her legs, the artfully designed straps leaving her back on display, and her hair piled into curls behind her head to show off the curve of her neck. There are pink roses braided into it, and without a guard she is sure that she looks about as threatening as a daisy in a summer meadow.

“Good afternoon, sers.” She addresses them, though she is sure neither are more than a simple household knight. “Seven blessings to you, is your master in?”

“Good afternoon, my lady.” The first knight, the younger one, flushes as he speaks to her. “He is-”

“But he is occupied at the moment,” The second soldier, older and more grisly than the younger, interrupts him. “You’ll have to come back another time, my lady.”

“I’m afraid this is the only time I have to spare,” She keeps her voice light and lilting, “And I only mean to collect something from Lord Pike, it will take but a moment.”

“Regardless, he’s not to be disturbed.” The second solider tells her, flatly.

The first soldier wavers, however, “Lord Pike will be done soon, my lady, if you’d like to wait.”

“Thank you.” She tells him, smiling, “But I cannot wait. This will only take a moment, I’m sure your lord can spare it.” She steps forwards, as if to knock on the door, but the second soldier raises an arm to stop her, just as the door swings open of its own accord.

From behind it stumbles a serving girl, giggling, with her hair and clothes all set askew. She freezes the moment she sees them, her wide eyes flickering from the soldiers to Sakura, and in the moment of silence that follows Lord Pike appears at the door behind her, his gold and red doublet hanging open. He gives them all a lazy, arrogant smile and nods his head in Sakura’s direction.

“Off you go,” He tells the serving girl, who scurries away gratefully. His eyes land on Sakura and there is a second too long of silence before he asks. “Lady Sakura, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She is only able to conjure up a thin smile in response. “I was hoping for a moment of your time, Lord Pike.”

“Of course,” Stepping aside, he holds his arm out wide to allow her in, and she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she puts her back to him. Inside, the chamber is orderly and neat. It is strange to see it like this, as for most of her life it had been her father’s chamber. She remembers it with rugs across the floor and golden tapestries along the walls, books and parchments on every surface and a comfortable chair before the fire for reading. Now, the room is dark and bare, and stinks of and sweat.

“May I offer you a drink?” Pike’s voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see him lingering beside a wine decanter and two goblets.

“No, thank you.”

“Very well,” He leisurely pours himself a drink. “I trust you are enjoying your time in Kings Landing?”

“Almost as much as you,” She speaks without thinking, and silently curses her slip of the tongue when he turns slowly to fix her with a curious expression.

“Indeed,” He says at last, taking his goblet into his hands. “Your mother doesn’t want you to be with her?”

“My place is here,” Sakura says, with as much finality as she can muster, and Pike nods his agreement.

“What can I help you with, Lady Sakura?” He at least has the decency to fasten his doublet as he sits into the chair behind the desk.

“I was hoping to retrieve something of mine that you have.”

“Ah,” He gives her a slight, knowing smile. “Of course,” Carefully, he takes a key from around his neck, threading it from the chain and sliding it into a lock in one of his desk drawers. There is a heavy click, and then the drawer slides open. With a flourish, he produces her dagger, laying it on the desk between them as he locks the drawer again. “I made sure it was safe my lady, stored it with the rest of my most precious possessions.”

“Thank you,” She barely manages to give him an innocent, pretty smile. “I appreciate that.”

“An interesting weapon.” He observes, picking up the dagger to turn it this way and that. “Northern in design, very interesting indeed.” His eyes dart up to meet hers, his expression hard. “You had it made in Winterfell?”

“It was a gift.”

“A gift?” His brows lift in surprise. “I am sure you caught many a young northern lord’s eye while you were there.”

She offers him a thin smile. “I couldn’t say.”

“You are too modest, Lady Sakura.” His eyes flicker over her again, more assessing than before. “Your mother would have been distraught if you had returned engaged to a northern man.”

“She would have,” Sakura agrees, lightly, her gaze fixed to the dagger on the desk between them. “But fortunately I did not.”

“A girl of your age and station, you must be looking for a husband.” His lips purse, thoughtfully. “I shall make enquiries at court for you. With the king and your father gone and your mother in the Vale, it will be difficult to find someone suitable to help you make a good match.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She bobs a small curtsey, reaching out to take the dagger into her hands. “I’d be much obliged, I’m sure.”

---

The coronation of the new king is a sickeningly lavish affair. She can barely begin to imagine how much gold Lord Pike must have conjured to pay for the hoards of servers, bedecked in brilliant gold and white silk, embroidered with the crest of the new king- a golden swan. New tapestries hang from the walls, in similar colours, and acrobats and fire breathers from the eastern lands wonder between the guests in the Great Hall, entertaining them. There is rumoured to be an elephant awaiting the king at the end of the night, though what Kimm will do with such a beast Sakura cannot begin to imagine. The boy she knew was most comfortable on horseback, on his way to a hunt, but he doesn’t seem as if he would want to be much further from the ground than that. People wind gracefully in and out of one another in the Great Hall, long skirts swinging, hair bedecked in jewels to show their status. Everyone attempts to seem graceful and contained, but at the same time they hope to never be out of the eyeline of the new king. Sakura can’t rightly judge them, her own gown is made from fine silk in blue and gold, draped prettily along the curves of her body, and jewels hang from her neck and wrists and waist. Only her hair is free of the sparkles, her handmaiden instead pulling the heavy curls back to show the arch of her chin and neck, and letting it spill down her back. The artful, carefully arranged nonchalance is set off with golden roses, cut and brought from Highgarden that morning especially, and braided into her curls.

With delicate fingers, she plucks a goblet from the passing tray of a servant, and surveys the crowd with interest. Benches and tables are laid out for a feast which will soon be underway, but for now people are permitted to wander and talk freely. Only the most honoured guests have been allowed into the Great Hall, with all lower houses forced into the overflow in the gardens, but Sakura almost envies them: the Great Hall is stuffy and warm under the midday sun. The new king sits at the high table, Lord Pike Lannister at his side, and rumoured to be named the new Hand of the King. Kimm still seems as boyish as ever, a dimple shining from his cheek as he speaks with those permitted to approach, his crown heavy upon his head. He had accepted the crown with all of the solemnity and diligence required of a sovereign in the Great Sept earlier that day, but now his façade has crumbled and he is the boy she remembers once again.

Somewhere, her uncle and cousins are making pretty small talk, twittering like little birds. She had been stood with them for the coronation, as the sun had filled the Sept with a warm glow, and Kimm had walked to his place before the towering statue of the Father, and felt their gazes burning her skin. Despite her grandmother’s insistence that family was more important than individual ambition, her cousins have always envied her the security and power that her close relationship with the Baratheons had allowed her. Now, they whisper about her connections to Kimm Swann and how she came to be in the capital, rather than mourning her father in the Eyrie. Her grandmother had retired after the coronation ceremony, her face rather white, and Sakura had only been able to endure so much more of her family without her grandmother as a buffer.

Now, she lingers to one side, smiling at the ladies of the court she has come to know over the last few weeks, and watching from the corner of her eyes as Lord Pike places a hand on Kimm’s shoulder and murmurs advice into his ear. A presence at her side startles her, and she turns to find Hyewon, her face hard and her li