HER GOLDEN DESTINY

Sansa confides in Cersei, and the icy queen shows sympathy for the shy Stark girl. But is it a trap? Please comment nicely!

"Sansa, my dove, come sit by me." Queen Cersei smiled as the beautiful red-haired girl entered the royal chambers. "I'm struggling with the most difficult piece of delicate embroidery. You're such a clever little seamstress! Can you help me?"

"Your Grace, I'm really not that skilled. But I'll be glad to help . . . if I can." Sansa smiled back at the queen, but there were dark shadows under her beautiful blue eyes. The girl looked tired. Cersei also noticed how carefully Sansa seated herself on the waiting cushions, as though battling to hide her aches and pains.

"Such exquisite work," Queen Cersei remarked, when Sansa was finally finished mending the priceless gold-embroidered pillowcase. "You're very talented, Sansa. This will adorn your bridal bed when you are married to my handsome son, Geoffrey."

"I can hardly wait," Sansa murmured. Her eyes were cloudy.

"There, there, my dove." The queen moved a bit closer, stroking the girl's cheek. "Is something troubling you? Sometimes it helps to confide in someone with a bit more experience. Are you unhappy about the royal wedding? Are you afraid to be married?"

"I am . . . but I'm not . . . I'm afraid Geoffrey doesn't love me!" Hot tears flooded Sansa's eyes, and all at once she was sobbing helplessly in the queen's arms. Cersei was a proud royal, and very powerful. Yet Sansa felt safe in her perfumed embrace. And she was grateful to spill everything and let it all tumble out at last. "I've tried to please him, to play the rough games he likes, but . . . but I'm frightened. Geoffrey makes me do things, things that are too awful to describe. The more I go along the more he hurts me!"

"He hurt you?" Cersei's eyes were hard, full of righteousness. "How did he hurt you? Has he forced himself on you? Has Geoffrey taken you into his bed before saying his wedding vows?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that!" Sansa was almost frightened by the probing way the powerful queen questioned her. "I'm a good girl, Your Grace. I would never let him take me to bed! But Geoffrey makes me dress up and pretend I'm a servant. I have to be a filthy boy in the stables, or a kitchen girl who steals. And then when I do bad things he has me tied up and whipped!"

"A beautiful young woman is not to be whipped," Cersei said sternly. "Geoffrey must learn what it means to be a man, and a husband." The queen frowned, looking very strong and in control.

"But I don't want to get him into trouble." Sansa choked out, still sniffling. "I just want . . . I just want to be a woman, a proper woman, and have Geoffrey make love to me like a proper man!"

"Fear not, my beautiful dove," the queen said, firmly placing her hand on Sansa's shoulder. "You shall have all you desire, and more. But for right now, you must return to your chambers. Soak your cuts and bruises. Rest if you can. You look exhausted!"

"Yes, I will Your Grace." Sansa hadn't realized how tired she was. But the weight of her fatigue washed over her the moment she sank into a hot bath. She was cared for by her maids, her bruises bathed and soothed. And then she slept.

In her dreams, Geoffrey tormented her until she cried for mercy. But a knowing voice cut through the pain and gave her strength. It was Cersei's voice, telling her she was smart and talented. Praising her beauty and promising her a golden destiny.

Promising her all a woman could desire.