Book Three: Chapter 5

Leaving Eunbi that night is one of the most difficult things Sakura has ever done. Something has passed between them now, in that time they spent in each other’s arms, something hidden and secret and too terrible to say, and now Sakura feels it lodged into her heart, beside the aching pit of pain and guilt that she carries with her. In part it warms her, a secret that she can keep and not fear for, and in part in pains her, an aching reminder of what she cannot have. There is no use lingering on it, and in the day when she is rushed from one moment to the next she does not spare it a thought, but at night between her moments of fear and fury, she treasures her secret. It is a small comfort to know that somebody she trusts is on her side. 

In the days that lead up to the wedding she does not see the northern queen, instead fully engaged in wedding preparations. There is no end to the things that need her attention and decisions, and she is run off her feet from sunup to sunset. Her mother, from whom she has not heard since she sent Roan away, sends a formal letter pleading illness to keep her away, and between the lines of these words Sakura can see Lady Tyrell’s utter fury at being disobeyed. Her mother must know all of what her father suspected, Sakura thinks, for surely nothing else could keep her away from the capital now other than her fear. Her heart aches a little for her mother, who had loved her father so dearly that his murder must have crushed her spirit, but the rest of her is childishly furious that she has been left to deal with this alone. Perhaps this is adulthood, she thinks, needing her parents and not having them.

The eve before the wedding she sits in the light and airy solar set aside for her with some of the ladies of the court who she finds the least disagreeable. They lounge on velvet chaises and benches set low to the ground, with gauzy curtains draping over the tall, open archways to the balcony. The room is decorated in the sort of western style that Sakura recognises from her homeland, presumably in an attempt to please her, but instead it only feels like a cheap replica of home. Upon the low table there is a luxurious array of food set out for them, honeyed mead and spiced wine, soft cheese and fresh bread, with juicy figs and fresh oranges, but Sakura can only pick at it. Around her ladies talk excitedly of the celebrations to come over the gentle plucking from the lyre in the corner, but as the night draws in she is reduced to nods and smiles. Hyewon is not at her side as she usually is, instead she is with Yuri, Jisung and Daehwi, rescuing Ivy and the baby. It feels strange not to have Hyewon with her, even Lady Fern asks where she is, but Sakura only shrugs and smiles. 

“Enjoying the night, I would expect.” She answers wryly and the other ladies laugh. 

“It is odd to see a female soldier,” One of her cousins, young Marie, as sweet as a freshly bloomed rose, comments cautiously. 

“Women fighting is a mostly northern tradition,” One of her other guests comments, wrinkling her delicate nose and sipping her wine. 

“No,” Princess Arianna, from the warm southern lands of Sunspear, to whom Sakura has taken a liking in the few days she has been in the capital, looks up from where she is lounging close with her friend, their fingers lingering on each other’s skin. The woman looks out at them, her beautiful eyes slanted with disdain, and says. “Plenty of women are warriors in Sunspear.”

“I have heard that,” Lady Fern, ever the peacekeeper, nods. “The traditions are different.”

Princess Arianna scoffs. “We do not impose such ridiculous restrictions on our women, they are treated just like men and we are better off for it.”

“I don’t know if I would have the courage to go into battle,” Marie smiles nervously, and Sakura meets her gaze. 

“You would,” She says, seriously. “You’re a Tyrell.” As she speaks, a new figure slipping into the shadows jarrs her attention, just as it always does nowadays. Her hand slips to the dagger hidden within her skirts, but when the figure step into a slant of light coming in low through the window, she startles when she realises it’s Hyewon, her hair and clothes disheveled. Something settles into her stomach, a low feeling of dread, and she stands so abruptly that conversation comes to a halt and surprised faces turn to stare at her. She manages a wavering smile and apologises. “I’m sorry I- I think I have a headache coming on.”

“We all had that headache before our wedding days,” Lady Fern gives her a warm smile and stands to touch at her elbow gently. “Nerves are normal, my lady.”

A smattering of murmured agreement comes from the rest of the room and Sakura smiles thinly at them. 

“Let me see you to your room, my lady.” Lady Fern smiles again and Sakura feels a flickering of suspicion run through her, pulling away from her touch. 

“No, no. Please stay and enjoy the celebrations, I will see you all tomorrow.”

Hyewon falls into step beside her as they walk back to her suite of rooms in the Maidenvault, and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t dare to ask what’s happened in the open corridors, where they could be overheard by anyone, so she is utterly unprepared to step into her room and find another figure waiting for them. The room is dim, the fireplace cold and the shutters pulled together. Only a solitary lantern placed on the writing desk gives enough light to tell that the figure in her room is holding a small bundle within their arms. Sakura’s breath catches at the sight and for a moment her heart leaps with relief, until the figure turns and she sees the slants and lines of Yuri’s anguished face, stained dark with blood. 

“ No .” The word escapes her, half strangled, and she fears that her shaking legs will not hold her. Hyewon reaches out as if to steady her, but she shrugs away the touch, repulsed suddenly. In Yuri’s arms the baby squirms and makes a soft, sad sound, and Sakura edges close enough to see his little mouth open in an O of a yawn. “What happened?”

A long silence passes, heavy and tense, and then Yuri finally speaks, her voice shaking. 

“We got caught.”

When the blacksmith doesn’t continue, Sakura eyes spin to Hyewon, wide and impeaching. 

The soldier slumps, appearing defeated and haunted in a way that Sakura has never seen her before. “There were more soldiers in the street than we thought, some of them recognised us and gave chase. Things got bloody.”

“Where’s Ivy?” Sakura stutters over a sob, fighting back her tears. 

A noise escapes Yuri that sounds close to a whimper and she turns away abruptly, still cradling the baby. Hyewon reaches out to steady herself against a sideboard, and when she speaks her voice quivers. 

“When it was clear we weren’t going to make it she-” Hyewon brushes roughly at her cheek. “She rushed in, she was ferocious, so brave.”

“And she…” 

Hyewon shakes her head, jerky movements that seem painful and forced. “She didn’t stand a chance, she told us to run and we- I-”

“Stop it,” Yuri’s voice is so harsh that the baby quails in her arms, a weak and watery cry. “She wanted us to go and there would have been no use you dying with her, no use in any of us-” She cuts herself off and holds out her hands suddenly. “Somebody- please-”

Sakura’s arm open on instinct and she gathers the baby into her grip, his body warm and heavy against hers. Carefully, she rocks him back and forth until his weak little cries fade into whimpers, and looks on as Hyewon crosses the room to place a hand on Yuri’s arm. Yuri raises her gaze to meet Hyewon’s eyes and they are still for a long moment, before Yuri rests her head against Hyewon’s shoulder, the soldier’s arms strong and steadying around her. 

Carefully, she takes a quiet step away, allowing them a moment of privacy. Benam wriggles in her arms and she settles him more gently, looking down. His big eyes are dark, staring up at her, his mouth slightly agape, with drool pooling at the corners of his lips. She has to admit, there is little of him that reminds her of Wells, but if she looks closely she sees something of Wells’ nose and puzzled frown in his wrinkled brow. Wells knows of this child, of that she is sure, and cares for his well being, but no one had truly loved him like his mother, who had put down her life for him. The memory of Ivy’s smile looking down at the baby, of the fire in her eyes and the passion in her voice is enough to bring tears to Sakura’s eyes and she brings the baby up to cradle against her body, pressing her cheek to his soft, downy head and letting her tears soak into his skin. 

“Sakura?” She looks up to find the two women looking at her, “Are you alright?” Hyewon asks, her voice rough. 

Sakura almost laughs, dark bitterness sweeping through her. “How can you ask me that? The two of you, who nearly died on my instructions tonight?”

“Sakura,” Yuri speaks more softly than Sakura has ever heard her. “We didn’t do this for you, we did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“You warned us when this began that you couldn’t protect us,” Hyewon agrees, “But you’ve tried your hardest even so. You’ve done everything you can.”

“And this baby is still without a mother,” She turns her gaze back to the child in her arms. “It feels… so hopeless.”

“He is the true heir to the throne, Sakura.” Hyewon moves closer, standing beside her to look down at the baby. “And here he is alive and safe in your arms, don’t despair.”

“We’re going to fight Pike,” Yuri agrees, her voice low in the darkness. “We’re going to figure out his plan and stop him from hurting anyone else.”

---

Like so many other young ladies in Westeros, Sakura has been dreaming of her wedding since she was old enough to walk. Unlike many of her counterparts, she had been raised to know that she is more than just a pawn to be passed from husband to husband. Perhaps the product of being a Tyrell woman or the only heir of such a powerful family, she had been taught her numbers and letters to a high standard, taught traditional politics by her father and feminine politics by her grandmother. Yet even then she had known that everything she did would lead up to her wedding day. She had dreamed of a wedding in the Highgarden orange groves, with the warm afternoon sun above her and a beautiful dress embroidered with roses. Her groom was mostly faceless, though always handsome, and her friends and family watched on as they were married, birds singing in the trees. The older she got, the more pragmatic she became, but there is still a part of her that longs for a beautiful, perfect wedding, the sort that only childhood can really provide. 

Now, on the morning of her wedding, she sits by the fire, picking at her food which turns to ash in . Her eyes are heavy from a night spent tossing and turning, and the only true friend at her side on what should be the happiest day of her life is Hyewon, posted on the other side of the door. Serving girls and seamstresses scurry around her rooms, making ready her beautiful gown, but Sakura doesn’t spare them a glance, her thoughts consumed by all that has passed and is still to come. She eats half heartedly through her toasted bread, smeared in butter, and picks at the oranges sliced delicately on her plate, when a knock comes to the door and Nako steps in. 

Sakura is grateful enough to see her that she manages a vague smile. Though the girl is only a maid, she has taken on the role of Sakura’s handmaiden to better hide her expeditions in and out of the castle. Now, she gives Sakura a look which is a little too insightful and says, her voice kind. 

“You must eat, my lady, it will be a long day.”

Sakura manages a wavering smile and obediently eats a few slices of orange, letting the juices erupt across her tongue. Nako makes her way to the seamstresses and maids gawking over her wedding gown and shoos them into order with the authority of being Sakura’s known favourite at her back. Several of the maids reluctantly peel away, offering Sakura little bobbing curtseys as they leave the room. The commotion is adding to the ache she can feel building in her head, and Sakura rubs at her temples as she waits. It feels as if she is like to explode with her fear and tension, but she knows that if she can only keep her mind on the immediate worries of Lord Pike and baby Benam, she will not have to think about all today means. Once marrying the king would have been her dream, but to marry him without her mother there, and with Eunbi watching from the Sept… 

It is too much to bear and so instead she pushes herself from her seat so abruptly that all conversation ceases as the eyes of the room turn to stare at her. She wavers for a moment, and then says, her voice scraping over sudden emotion. 

“Could everyone just-” She gestures blindly to the door. “For a moment, please.”

They must hear the desperation in her words, because they leave with exchanged glances. Nako hesitates in the door, glancing back at her and asking, quietly. 

“My lady?”

“Just a moment Nako.” 

The handmaiden nods, stepping out and letting the door swing shut behind her. The thump of it shutting releases Sakura like a marionette’s strings being cut, and she sags, moving like a ghost to the window, where the brilliant sun streams in. The roofs of Kings Landing stretch out before her, red tiled, and the sounds of the city just about reach her from here, the sea a distant sliver of silver in the far distance. She knows this city so well, has seen it suffer and prosper, has grown up here, and yet this is not her home. She feels a sudden surge of dread at the thought of her future here. Though she cares for these people as she cares for all of the realm, it is nothing  compared to how she feels for the people of Highgarden or even- the people of Winterfell. She would give everything for them, commit any crime to keep them well and safe and when she looks down at her hands she thinks of the Maester’s boy’s trembling figure beneath her and Margo’s empty eyes. She drops her hands to the windowsill, fingers curling as if she force her way out of this castle. When she shuts her eyes, it is sad, green eyes that she sees looking back at her and a sob builds in .

How can Eunbi still linger with her like this? They shared one kiss in the moonlight, Sakura has done more with handsome stable boys and young lordlings, and yet it is Eunbi who hangs around her like a yoke. Their conversation at the tavern recently has settled in her bones; before it, she had believed that any affections Eunbi may have had for her in Winterfell were imagined, or at least long gone since her betrayal and betrothal. But in the candlelight something had passed between them, with Eunbi’s warm skin beneath her touch, her chest utterly exposed, and now it is harder to dismiss their fleeting kiss as unrequited. If Eunbi did… if Eunbi could ever… Sakura knows she would allow herself to become an old maid, allow the governance of Highgarden to fall to her unruly cousins, if only for the chance to kiss Eunbi like that again. The thought is so terrifying that she pushes herself away from the window, shaking herself thoroughly. They could never marry, could never be together truly and it is a wild dream to think that Eunbi could ever forgive her for all that has passed. Regardless, her duty is to her people and not her heart, her father had always taught her that as a ruler she had to value her people above all else and she cannot forget his words now, in the time of greatest need. 

A knock comes to the door and when Nako looks cautiously in, Sakura’s back is straight again, her lips pulled into a slight, absent smile. 

“Come in, Nako. There is much to do.”

---

The choir begins to sing just as the sun hits its highest point in the sky, shining down through the glass atop the Great Sept of Baelor to send light arching in soft rainbows around the Sept. Their voices merge together like a sunset, where the sky fades from indigo to pink and dusk begins to fall, and echo through the grand space so that they can be heard from the steps outside. The Sept is bathed in golden light from the tall stained glass windows that are fitted into every wall, and the glow of the beeswax candles that burn on every surface, scenting the air with the sweet smell of honey. From great vases and hung from the columns and walls are  great cascades of beautiful flowers, lavender and honeysuckle and, of course, roses, filling the air with their floral scent and appearing lush and beautiful. The sept is filled with people, with the noblest of them all stood in the inner sanctum, while the other lords and ladies fill the onlooking balcony, the steps outside and the streets surrounding the Sept.

Eunbi stands at the front of the inner sanctum, surrounded by her Queensguard and her advisers. She has never before attended a southern wedding and the pomp and grandeur would sit strangely with her if she did not feel utterly numb from head to toe. Her dress is a soft grey, embroidered with gold, and the crown that sits within her curls is heavy with jewels. Most of the wolves have slipped away into the crowds of Kingslanding, no doubt frightening the life out of the smallfolk, but at her side sit Honour and Faith, their coats starkly contrasting and their dark eyes watching everything. When the choir begin to sing Faith’s ears prick, but Honour remains utterly unaffected. They are as different as night and day, and yet they both press their bodies close to her legs, as if aware that her soul feels like it is balancing on a knife edge.  

A hush, like a thick snowfall, falling upon the gathered onlookers draws her attention to the back of the grand sept, and her breath catches in when she sees the two figures silhouetted by the hot sun in the tall doorway of the sept. They seem to glow, illuminated as they are by the bright sunlight, and Eunbi feels her breath catch in when they step into the darkness and her eyes first fall upon Sakura’s form.

She has seen much strife and heartache in her life: has been covered in the blood of her enemies, has held the hands of her soldiers as they have died, has nearly frozen to death in the icy snows of the northern winter. Part of her expects her heart to be harder now, protected by the ice that seems to her formed within her veins, and yet somehow she feels more exposed than ever before. Sakura’s dress is a beautiful soft blue, with golden roses embroidered upon it, tiny diamonds and sapphires making up their centres so that the dress sparkles when the light hits it. Around her waist sits a golden girdle, intertwined roses with thorns that shine and stag’s antlers where the two sides meet. The silky skirt trails away into a train that becomes a cascade of roses, beginning where the fabric is artfully gathered at the back. Sakura’s beautiful golden curls, which she remembers brushing away from her smooth cheeks, are piled high at the back of her head and run down her back. Buried within it are none of the usual jewels or flowers, but instead only a small golden crown, made to represent curling roses and antlers. The sights settles deep within Eunbi and her own crown seems to weigh doubly heavy as she watches Sakura approach on the arm of her uncle. 

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