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Chapter Text

Mina

"I beg your pardon?"

"The King has offered to betrothe his son to you," said Catelyn Stark for the second time. Her eyes were bright and her smile radiant, a sharp contrast to Ned Stark’s solemn mien. "And one day, you will be queen of the Seven Kingdoms." 

After a moment of stunned silence, Mina swallowed convulsively. "...Me? Not Sansa?"

They exchanged a bemused look. "You are the eldest," Catelyn reminded her.

A lifetime ago, Mina wouldn’t have understood the apparent non sequitur, but after fourteen years in Westeros she was well versed in its strange customs.

Whereas firstborn sons inherited lordships, firstborn daughters typically received the best marriage offers. It wasn’t a right, per se, but it was generally seen as improper to give away a younger daughter before her older sister was taken care of. It was largely the reason why Mina had pushed so hard for a betrothal to one of Ned’s bannermen the moment she’d turned twelve.

Speaking of, "But what about the Umbers? Won’t they be angry?"

Before the king's visit, there had been serious talk of marrying Mina to Smalljon Umber. Nothing had been officially announced, but she’d assumed things were far enough along to take her off the market.

More fool her.

Ned shook his head, looking tired. "We haven't yet made anything official, so there will be no bad blood. In time, one of your sisters might secure a northern marriage."

Despite her sinking stomach, Mina couldn't contain a snort at the news. "Not Sansa, surely? She's been dreaming of going south since she was a little girl." Catelyn and Septa Mordane had made sure of that.

"Your sister will do her duty." Despite saying so, the look on Catelyn's face was doubtful. All three of them knew damn well the girl would throw a fit if she didn’t get her southron knight. “In any case, she's still just a girl." Unlike Mina, who had experienced menarche not two months ago. "She has a few more years before she needs to worry about marriage."

Mina scrambled desperately for another excuse. "But the prince seemed more interested in her at the feast. I really think they would be a better match, even if it means waiting a bit..." 

Much as she didn't want Sansa to go through what she had in the books, Mina wasn't quite willing to take her place. Not only would it place her in an incredibly perilous position, politically, but it would utterly derail the vast majority of her future plans. Many of which were predicated on the assumption that Mina herself would be well away from the capital when the assassinations started.

Frankly, with her decidedly Stark looks, there was no guarantee Littlefinger would go to the same lengths to save her as he would for Sansa, should something like Joffrey's poisoning take place.

The very thought made her feel faint and she barely caught Catelyn’s response.

"Your sister engaged him in conversation. It's only natural that he reciprocated." The reproach in her voice was clear. "I'm sure he'll be just as gallant when you try it."

Mina looked to Ned for support and though he grimaced sympathetically, he didn't contradict his wife. 

"Your mother is right. It's important that you make an effort to get to know the prince. If you find you absolutely cannot stand one another, then we will discuss alternatives." He must have caught her hopeful look, because he narrowed his eyes and said, quite sternly, “That is not an excuse to convince him you'd make a poor match. If I hear a word about you insulting or otherwise antagonising Prince Joffrey...”

He let the threat trail off. 

“I would never!” When neither Ned nor Catelyn looked convinced, she fisted her right hand over her heart. “I promise.” Hidden in the folds of her skirt, the fingers of her left hand were crossed. 

“Honestly, darling. This is something to celebrate!” insisted Catelyn, perhaps reading some of Mina’s deceit on her face. “You’ll make a wonderful queen, and even if you do not care for the prince now, you may well come to love one another in the future.”

In any other situation, Mina would have found the besotted look Ned and Catelyn shared following that statement endearing. In this instance, however, she was still rather stuck on the fact that she was set to marry Joffrey Baratheon.

“I thank you for the advice, mother.” The words were like ash in her mouth. “But I would like some time to myself to come to terms with this. May I be excused?”

“Go,” said Ned. “We’ll make the announcement at dinner tonight.”

A day was hardly long enough to process her marriage and possible death, but it wasn’t as though complaining would improve the situation. Ned and Catelyn had already made up their minds.

Mina bid them a rather distracted farewell and retreated to her rooms at a pace only slightly slower than a flat out sprint. 

Ned

As soon as their eldest daughter fled his solar, Cat turned to Ned with a frown. "I thought she'd be excited."

"Mina?” He shook his head. “You know how she is about change. The prospect of travelling to King’s Landing and leaving her siblings behind is a lot to take in. She just needs time to adjust.”

“Are you sure?” Cat stepped closer and leaned into him. “She looked devastated.”

Ned wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t willing to admit it. “She’s a sensible girl,” he said instead. “Of all our children, she’s the most likely to understand the implications of this betrothal and what it would mean if it fell through.”

“Just because she understands doesn’t mean she’ll go along with it,” she warned him. “She may be clever, but she’s also stubborn. Even if she doesn’t break things off herself, I wouldn’t be surprised if she convinced Prince Joffrey that Sansa would make a better wife.”

That was in line with what Ned himself had been thinking. He sighed and ran a hand down his wife’s back. “Would that be so bad?”

“Well, no,” said Cat, smiling a bit ruefully. “But I really do think she’d make a wonderful queen. Sansa seems so much younger in comparison.”

“She does.” Three years wasn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things, but their eldest daughter was something special. “If Mina were a boy, I think she’d have been a maester.”

“Probably.” Cat smiled.“Remember the firebox? She was so excited about the prospect of marriage then...”

“‘A hearth for Last Hearth,’” he quoted fondly. “Though I think her enthusiasm had more to do with her invention than with marriage itself.” 

Truthfully, it was that passion that had convinced him to indulge her. A blacksmith and a few hours of Maester Luwin’s time were a small price to pay for the light in his usually taciturn daughter’s eyes. He’d been decidedly less philosophical about the alterations she’d made to the keep’s exterior walls, but by the time he’d found out, she’d long since finished her project.

“Come to think of it, it might be a good idea to warn her to be careful with her ideas,” mused Cat, clearly thinking along similar lines. “Not everyone will be as permissive with her as you and Maester Luwin were.”

“I’ll talk to her before we head south.”

"You might as well talk to the others too. Between Bran's climbing and Arya's attitude, they're going to think we're barbarians."

Ned huffed, smiling crookedly. “Aren’t we?”

Chapter Text

Mina

Mina spent the rest of the morning hidden away in her bedroom. 

She didn’t know quite what to make of the situation. For two full years she’d lived secure in the knowledge that she’d successfully taken herself off the market, only to just now find out she’d never been safe in the first place.

It made no sense.

Why hadn’t the Umber betrothal been made official? Mina had never indicated she was in any way displeased with the match. If anything, she’d done the opposite. 

Was this some sort of punishment from the powers that be for growing too complacent? Was she not unhappy enough in this hellscape of a world?

“Milady?”

The familiar voice at her door distracted Mina from her fit of despondency. “Come in,” she called, not bothering to sit up from her graceless sprawl.

Tessa entered the room with her usual hesitance. “The wolf isn’t here, is it?”

Mina rolled her eyes. “You’re fine. She’s in the Godswood.” Not that it should matter, seeing as the wolf in question was little more than a puppy and wasn't very interested in people other than Mina herself.

“Thank the gods,” said Tessa, shoulders slumping in relief. “The beast unnerves me.”

“So you’ve said." She shoved a pillow behind her back and sat up. "Was there something you needed?"

"Lady Stark sent me. She said to tell you that you have another hour to yourself, but she expects you at lunch and afternoon lessons."

Groaning, Mina raked her hands through her hair. "...So much for having the day to come to terms," she muttered. Louder, she assured Tessa she would be up and about in time for lunch.

The maid bobbed her head and returned to her duties, leaving Mina alone with her thoughts once more.

I'm doomed, she realised. There was no getting out of this betrothal before dinner. And certainly no way out once it was announced. Short of death, either hers, Joffrey's, or her father's, this marriage alliance was unavoidable.

Mina spent a few minutes seriously considering faking her own death, but ultimately decided to save it as a last resort. Her first priority was keeping the rest of the Starks alive and well, something she couldn't easily do if she was "dead."

"Ugh!" She punched her featherbed with an unsatisfying 'whump.'

As much as it galled her, Mina was going to have to play the role she'd set aside for Sansa in her head. Not only that, but she'd still need to delay both Robert's death and the incest reveal long enough to establish an escape route. Something that would be exceedingly difficult with all the eyes that would be on the future queen.

She took a deep breath and tried to look on the bright side.

It wasn't like her plans were ruined. She could still worm her way into Ned's confidence and make overtures towards the Tyrells as the queen-to-be. She'd just need to rework some of her rhetoric to reflect her new position.

Some things, like manipulating Joffrey, would be easier.

I can do this, Mina decided, taking heart.

.

.

.

I can't do this.

At lunch, Mina's husband-to-be had been all the other girls could talk about. No matter how many times she tried to steer the conversation in other directions, the girls refused to be dissuaded. They were enamoured with the blond prince and his superficial courtesies. 

It was almost enough to make her pray for divine intervention, but knowing what she did about this world, she was too afraid to tempt fate.

Instead, she held out hope that the topic would grow stale once they reconvened in the small hall they used for music and embroidery lessons. Surely the girls would stick to something more appropriate with Septa Mordane breathing down their necks?

"He's just so handsome," Sansa sighed wistfully, yet again bringing up Joffrey-fucking-Baratheon the moment the Septa wandered out of earshot. Mina fought the urge to slam her head into the nearest hard surface, cursing her naivety. "I could scarcely look away as we danced."

Beth Cassel giggled and Jeyne Pool leaned in to whisper something that made Sansa's pale complexion turn pink.

"Jeyne!"

Is it too late to throw myself off a tower and hope the next world will be kinder? Mina wondered. She didn’t particularly like her chances, but if the alternative was listening to this —

"What are you laughing about?" asked Arya, looking up from her crooked stitches with a frown. Clearly, she hadn’t heard what Sansa had originally said, or she would have refrained from asking out of self-preservation. When no one made a move to answer the question, Arya raised her voice slightly. "Well?"

Mindful of Septa Mordane's presence on the other side of the room, Beth spoke up. "We were talking about how lovely it is to have the royal family in Winterfell." 

Arya rolled her eyes and moved closer, taking a seat on the arm of Mina's chair. In a low voice she asked, "What were you really talking about?"

"The prince," Sansa said, equally quietly. The disgustingly lovesick expression had returned to her otherwise pretty face.

Jeyne was practically quivering with excitement. "Sansa's going to marry him and be our queen one day!"

Mina winced and focused on the embroidery ring in her hands. She was grateful that no one else knew about the betrothal just yet, but she dreaded her sister's reaction to the news when it did come out.

Sansa flushed a deeper pink and shook her head. "You shouldn't say such things, Beth. The prince hasn't been promised to anyone just yet." Don't flinch. Mina kept her eyes down and her hands busy. She'd already gone a bit overboard with flowers, but surely one more couldn't hurt?

"Whichever girl does marry him will be very lucky," Jeyne declared.

Mina barely withheld her snort. If only that were true. So many problems could be avoided if only Joffrey were not such a cunt.

Sansa tilted her head curiously. "What did you think of him, little sister?"

There was a slight pause, then, "Jon says he looks like a girl." 

Mina pursed her lips so she wouldn't laugh. Some things were set in stone and Arya's idolisation of Jon Snow was one of them. It infuriated Catelyn, but Mina thought Arya’s tendency to repeat his more amusing quips was one of her best features.

Unfortunately, Sansa didn't agree. She made a comment about Jon and how his illegitimacy made him feel jealous and insecure. The argument that followed escalated quickly. Well used to her sisters’ dysfunctional relationship, Mina made no move to interfere even when Arya stormed out and the room erupted in titters.

“That girl…” Septa Mordane turned to the princess and her retinue, who were seated on the opposite side of the room from the Starks and their hangers-on. “I apologise, Princess. I don’t know what’s come over her.”

Myrcella looked like she didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so Mina interjected before the silence could grow too awkward. “I believe the excitement of the royal visit has made it difficult for my youngest sister to sleep. She’s probably just overtired.” She gave Myrcella her friendliest smile. “Please don’t pay her strange mood any mind.”

"Of course, I understand," Myrcella said quickly, clearly eager to move past the awkwardness. "I hope she feels better soon."

"Thank you, Princess. I'm sure she'll be fine once she gets some rest," said Mina decisively. "Now," she glanced around the room. “Would anyone here like to go for a ride? We’ve been at this for an hour and my hands are beginning to cramp.”

The princess and the others accepted and Arya's little outburst was soon forgotten.

Privately, Mina wished all of the coming conflicts could be resolved so easily.

Chapter Text

Mina

That evening, the engagement was announced at dinner.

Mina sat beside the crown prince and smiled woodenly as the hall erupted into raucous cheers, pretending she didn’t notice Cersei’s displeasure or her siblings’ slack-jawed surprise as King Robert loudly and drunkenly toasted the betrothal.

She wasn’t overly concerned with the queen’s reaction. A woman with such a strong inclination to 'keep things in the family' was never going to be happy with a non-Lannister match, so trying to earn her approval wasn’t something Mina needed to worry about.

Her siblings, on the other hand, would need careful handling. Bran was fine, but once they got over their initial shock, Robb, Sansa, and Arya had all reacted negatively to the announcement. The reasons why were obvious. Robb, because he was her twin and felt hurt that she hadn’t warned him ahead of time. Sansa, because she had expected to become queen herself. And Arya, because she saw Mina’s meek acquiescence to the match as a betrayal of their shared values.

Thankfully, the vast majority of the hall seemed more focused on Mina and her groom-to-be than on her siblings. Their obvious dissatisfaction might have otherwise been cause for a stir.

"Alright, that's enough cheering!" King Robert slammed his goblet down, sending wine sloshing over the rim. "I have one more toast to make before we feast."

The hall descended into absolute silence. The king cleared his throat. "Many years ago, before the Rebellion, I was betrothed to Lyanna Stark..."

Mina didn't quite manage to stifle her startled gasp. On the one hand, it was true that this engagement was only happening to mend the ties that had been broken with her aunt's abduction and subsequent death. On the other, it seemed like poor form to fawn over another woman (albeit one fourteen years dead) with your vengeful beautiful wife right beside you. 

Though maybe Mina's more modern sensabilities were colouring her perception. The other northerners in the room certainly seemed pleased with the sudden monologue on the tragedy of the late Lyanna Stark. Even Ned, who largely avoided anything more than very vague references to his dead family, was looking quite touched as his friend waxed poetic on the dead teenager's supposed virtues.

Then again, maybe her first instinct had merit. Most of the courtiers who'd traveled with the King kept their faces very still as the speech went on, while a few members of the Lannister contingent were actively frowning. Mina made a concerted effort to remember those faces. It was one thing for a king to act impolitically and quite another for such minor lords and ladies to show visible displeasure in response.

King Robert finished the speech with the usual lip service regarding marriages between Great Houses, at last coming to the toast itself. "To Lyanna!" Everyone in the room raised their cups and drank. "To the Starks!" They drank again. "And to your future king and queen!"

Mina and Prince Joffrey were forced to smile and wave as they were once more made the center of attention. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and set her heart to galloping in her chest, but there was no choice other than to grin and bear it. It would only get worse in King's Landing.

Her cheeks ached already.

Hours later, when the Starks had finally completed their hostly duties and retreated upstairs, a knock at her bedroom door heralded her first confrontation of the night.

"How could you?" cried Sansa.

"Oh Sansa..."

"It's not fair! You knew that I liked him!" Her face flushed a deep red as she started to cry. "You—you were already betrothed." Sansa clutched at the front of Mina's dress. "Why did you take him?"

"I didn't take him!" Mina tugged her sister's hands loose and pulled her inside before any servants could stumble upon them. "Mother and father insisted. I tried to argue, but they wouldn't hear it. They think you're too young."

"I'm one-and-ten!" she cried, as if that were any argument at all.

"I know, Sansa. I know." Mina sat down on the edge of her bed and dragged her sister into place beside her, throwing an arm around her bony shoulders.

"It's not fair," she said again. "You don't even think he's handsome!"

Mina could feel her expression twist. "It's not that he's bad-looking." He was an incredibly handsome boy, emphasis on boy. "He's just very young and very... proud." By 'proud' she really meant 'arrogant.' "I won't lie and say there aren't benefits to being Queen, but it's not the fairy tale you think it is either. Just look at what happened to the last one!"

Unfortunately, this was not the sort of argument that a heartbroken eleven-year-old was prepared to consider. Mina spent the next hour consoling her sister, and perhaps would have continued late into the night, but Robb arrived just as she was making peace with her fate. 

Together, they were able to stem the flow of tears long enough to usher Sansa back to her bed, freeing Mina for a slightly less fraught confrontation.

"When did you find out?"

"This morning."

Robb exhaled, losing all his tension. "Truly?"

"Truly." She nudged his shoulder with her own. "You would have laughed at the look on my face when Mother and Father told me."

He fell back on her bed with a laugh. "Gods, Mina. I can't believe you're going to be queen."

"Me neither. It hardly feels real." She joined him on the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him. "...Do you think they'll let me install a firebox in my personal rooms?"

"If you do, they'll call you Queen Metalhearth instead of Queen Minisa."

She considered it. "You know, I'm not sure I'd mind."