Chapter Text
The little girl ran through the woods and laughed, two years of age, she was.
Like a little bird she seemed to fly over the stones and sticks. Eventually her legs grew tired and she had to sit down. Her older sister ran up to her and sat down next to her. They looked at each other and smiled.
My lady.
She didn’t hear, didn’t want to hear, she was dreaming, floating beyond their reach. No one could get to her now.
“Lady Lenore!” her handmaiden called. “You must not let your mind wander too much. It keeps you from being on your watch.”
“What do you know about that?” she snapped, “what do I have to watch out for today?”
The dark blonde handmaiden looked nervous.
“M-my lady, there are bad people here.”
“I have lived in King’s landing for thirteen years, I know how to be on my watch.” The handmaiden said no more, but went to get the hairbrush.
“How would you like your hair today, my lady?”
“You choose, something simple,” Lenore mumbled while picking up a piece of bread with hard cheese on.
With a grey gown embroidered with white flowers on, her black hair in simple southern braids, Lenore left her chambers. Her bright blue eyes scanned the halls, no one special was there, just some gold cloaks. They didn’t greet her when she walked past them, nor did she greet them. She kept walking down the stairs and out to the garden where she liked to sit and think. Petyr Baelish approached her.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Petyr.”
“May I sit?” he asked, and Lenore nodded.
“How are you on this fine day, my little dragonfly?” he asked and leered at her.
“ Don’t call me that, Littlefinger,” she snapped, and he smirked. Lenore stood up but Petyr grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to his face.
“You can’t hide behind that hair forever…”
“Let go of me,” she snarled, and he did, the smirk still playing his lips. Lenore stomped away from him and he laughed at her not so ladylike walk.
She returned to her chambers with quick steps, speeding up even more when she saw Meryn Trant, a man who had raped her twice. Lenore had never laid with a man by her own will, but she wanted to. She wanted to feel what it was like to want it, and there was an ache between her legs reminding her of that every now and then. She sat down in front of her mirror and realized why Petyr had said what he did. Her usual black hair was fading to brown. The jar under her bed was calling her name. She picked it up and went to wash herself, the black fading from her hair and she smeared the dark mud-like liquid all over her head and hair. Washing it out, she looked in the mirror, raven haired again. She redid her braids and went back out.
“Good evening, Lenore”, she heard a female voice say and she turned around.
“Your grace.” She curtsied. Cersei gave her forced smile and reached for a strand of Lenore’s hair.
“Maintaining it well, I see. Good.” Lenore smiled back at the queen, just as forced. She didn’t like how they made her dye her hair to hide who she was. She kept walking, not minding where she was going and bumped into a very large frame. The Hound, probably the most feared man in King’s Landing, except for his brother, maybe. But Lenore wasn’t too scared of him, why would she be? He’d never hurt her personally, nor did he have any reason to.
“Sorry, m’lady,” he said with a wolfish grin.
“My bad, Clegane.”
Lenore spent the rest of the day talking to Tyrion Lannister or sitting in the garden by herself. She was so sick of King’s Landing. It was very, very beautiful, but Lenore hated the current rulers of it. She wouldn’t mind a bit if the rightful ruler sat on the iron throne, the Targaryens. People everywhere were gossipping about Daenerys Targaryen, whether she was alive or not. She wanted to believe. Joffrey Baratheon. Pompous, ignorant little twat, that was all he was. This kingdom had gone so far off the road that Lenore wouldn’t be surprised if someone could read her mind. But if they could, she would be dead already. Joffrey might have sent his Dog on her. She scoffed to herself, wondering if the Hound would do it or not. Had he killed women? Probably… Babes? Hopefully not. He didn’t seem like that type. Sure, he killed for fun, but what was the fun in killing little children? She came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t. Lenore had never killed a man, but she had a long list.
Darkness had fallen over King’s Landing, and Lenore decided to get back to her chamber. On her way there she passed the chambers on the first floor where Clegane stayed, and she wondered, why was she thinking about him earlier? And why were her nethers aching all of a sudden? She shook the horrid thoughts away and quickly walked back to her own chamber.
The soft, warm bed that usually made Lenore fall asleep like a babe wasn’t giving her any comfort tonight. The ache wouldn’t go away, and neither did the thoughts of Sandor Clegane.
She sighed and in a desperate attempt to get some sleep, she slid her pale hand down under her nightgown and slowly brought it up to her core. She touched herself gently but stopped once she realized that this wasn’t going to work. She stood up and slid off the nightgown. In her wardrobe, she picked out a deep red silk gown showing quite a bit of cleavage. She combed through her hair with her fingers, and she knew what she wanted now. She had decided.
