[King's Landing - Red Keep, Outside]

Later that day, in the gardens, a pre wedding banquet was being held of Joffrey and Margaery's wedding, which was finally able to move forward.

Morgana, Sansa, Tyrion, Joffrey, Tywin, Cersei, Tommen, and Pycelle sat at an outdoor banquet table.

Mace Tyrell stood before them.

"From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup." He placed the cup, a large golden goblet, before Joffrey. "May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."

"A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?"

"I shall be honored, Your Grace." Mace bowed and walked away. Shae brought a tray to the table and set it before Sansa.

"She's the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one." Cersei told her father as Shae walked away.

"Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding."

Tyrion appeared concerned and met the eye of his niece who looked equally worried upon overhearing this. Podrick placed a large tome before Joffrey and Tyrion walked around to the front of the table.

"A book?" Joffrey said, not even trying to hide his disappointment.

"The Lives of Four Kings." Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read."

Joffrey was at a loss for words until his grandfather encouraged him to respond.

"Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle."

Tyrion bowed before returning to his seat.

The Mountain brought forth a sword and laid it on the table before Joffrey, Morgana glaring at the disgraceful excuse of a knight.

Tywin stood. "One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honour."

Joffrey walked around the table. Exuberantly, he unsheathed the sword.

"Careful, Your Grace. Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel." Pycelle said.

"So they say." Joffrey stepped away, then spun and cleaved the book that Tyrion just gave him, repeatedly. People gasped in response as Joffrey looked very pleased with himself. "Such a great sword should have a name. What shall I call her?"

Men began shouting out suggestions.

"Stormbringer."

"Terminus."

"Widow's Wail."

"Wolfsbane."

"Widow's Wail. I like that. It's fitting, isn't it sister?"

Unfortunately for him, Morgana found herself lost in thought.

Her mind wandered far from the grand halls of King's Landing and the lavish feast spread before her, instead fixating on the distant free city of Volantis where her true love, Robb Stark, was waiting for her.

She imagined him holding their children in his strong arms, teaching them the ways of the North and the honour of being a Stark.

"Every time I use it, it will be like cutting off Ned Stark's head." Joffrey sheathed the sword and Sansa looked dejected while Shae watched on.

Joffrey returned to his seat by Margaery and her father.

"You really ought to stop provoking him," Loras whispered.

"Yet an outburst like that one would have made this banquet far more interesting."

The festivities continued with Joffrey being offered more gifts, and more courses being offered.

As she sat through the endless feasts and toasts, her grandfather, Tywin Lannister, nudged her repeatedly, urging her to pay attention to the proceedings. "Morgana," he whispered sternly, "Morgana, you are a princess of House Baratheon, and you need to start acting like one. Your brother is getting married today, and you need to be present for this momentous occasion. No more daydreaming about some Northern traitor who was nevr worthy of you."

Morgana forced a smile and turned her gaze back to the festivities, but her thoughts remained fixed on Robb. She struggled to keep her emotions in check, all while trying to maintain the illusion of a happy and obedient princess. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake off the feeling that her heart was somewhere else entirely.

[King's Landing, The Sept Of Baelor]

Margaery and Mace made their way down the aisle. Margaery's hair was in an elaborate updo of curls that cascaded down her back, her dress ivory with embroidered silver vines, reflecting her house. Mace handed her off to Joffrey before joining his family in the crowd. The pair continue up the steps to the High Septon. He placed a cape over her shoulders. They clasped hands and were bound together by the Septon.

"Let it be known that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Joffrey said before he and Margaery kissed, the crowd applauding.

"We have a new Queen," Sansa commented.

"Better her than you." Tyrion told her.

"I pity anyone married to that vindictive cunt," Morgana muttered beside them.

Tywin and Olenna talked in the garden as the wedding guests filter out, making their way to the outdoor courtyard for the wedding feast.

"Bit much, wouldn't you say?" Tywin asked.

"It feels proportionate." Olenna responded.

"Proportionate to what?"

"The expected extravagance."

"People who spend their money on this sort of nonsense tend not to have it for long."

"You ought to try enjoying something before you die. You might find it suits you." Olenna told him.

Mace approached and tried to join them.

"Not now, Mace. Lord Tywin and I are speaking."

Tywin and Olenna continued walking, while Mace reared back.

The Queen of Thorns was nothing, if not witty.

"Anyway, I don't know what you're complaining about. I'm paying my share."

"Shall we stick golden roses in half the meat pies to commemorate your generosity?"

"No, your heartfelt thank you is its own reward. I would imagine I'd be hearing it again before long. Wars are rather expensive. "The Iron Bank will have it's due." How they love to remind everyone. Almost as much as you Lannisters with your debts."

"I'm not worried about the Iron Bank."

"We both know you're smarter than that. Come, Tywin, let us celebrate young love."

[Red Keep - Outdoor Courtyard]

Jugglers and fire-breathers, some on stilts, entertained the crowd that had gathered in an outdoor courtyard. Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick walked among the tables.

"All taken care of." Bronn told him.

"You saw her board the ship?"

"Aye, she's on it."

He had sent Bronn to put Shae on a ship, sending her away to safety. A maid had apparently overheard them speaking and told his sister, who had told their father. With this, Tyrion knew she would be in danger. If they couldn't kill him, they would do whatever they could to make his life miserable.

"You saw the ship sail away?" Tyrion asked

"No one knows she's there but you, me, and Varys."

"How do you know?"

"Because if someone follows me without an invitation, I'm the last person they ever follow."

"There's someone following you?"

Bronn turned and clasped Tyrion's shoulder. "She's gone. I know you don't want to believe it, but she is. Now, go drink till it feels like you did the right thing." He walked away.

Tyrion and Podrick walked through the party, passing Oberyn and Ellaria who were enthralled by a contortionist. They began making their way to the head table. On his way up, he noticed his niece looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.

She was sat between her younger brother Tommen, which was beside his and Sansa's seats.

Joffrey watched the party and Olenna approached Sansa.

"You look exquisite, child. The wind has been at you, though. I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding, horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing? As if men need more reasons to fear marriage." She told Sansa.

"My lady. My lady." Tyrion greeted the two woman, taking his seat beside his wife.

"Lord Tyrion, you see? Not as bad as all that. Perhaps if your pauper husband were to sell his mule and his last pair of shoes, he might be able to afford to bring you to Highgarden for a visit. Now that peace has come and all is right with the world, it would do you good to see some of it. You must excuse me. It's time I ate some of this food I paid for." Olenna said, fiddling with Sansa's hair and admiring her necklace, before excusing herself.

A coat of gold

Or a coat of red

A lion still has claws

And mine, my lord...

A trio of bards were performing The Rains of Castamere, which was rumoured to have been played at the Red Wedding.

Morgana knew it had been and expected nothing less of her brother. He still found ways to torment those around them, especially Sansa.

Margaery was enjoying the performance, but Joffrey was bored. He stood and threw some coins to them.

"Very good. Very good. Off you go."

The musicians scrambled to pick up the coins, before departing quickly. Margaery moved to calm Joffrey, while Cersei watched, clearly jealous, Tommen at her side.

"My love, why don't we make the announcement?"

Joffrey stood and clanked his goblet for attention. "Everyone. The queen would like to say a few words."

The crowd applauded as Joffrey sat and Margaery stood.

"We are so fortunate to enjoy this marvelous food and drink. Not all among us are so lucky. To thank the gods for bringing the recent war to a just end, King Joffrey has decreed that the leftovers from our feast be given to the poorest in his city."

The crowd applauded again, Joffrey relishing the attention.

Cersei walked over to Margaery. "You're an example to us all." She kissed her on each cheek.

Morgana found Margaery's actions honourable yet frustrating.

It was unfortunate the smallfolk were in such a desperate position, having been mostly ignored. They would accept whatever they could. It didn't matter who gave it to them. Nor did it matter their King couldn't care less about them and their new Queen was using them as means to an end, gaining their favour, making it harder for to be cast aside as Sansa was.

Loras stood in the distance, and catches Oberyn's eye as he cuddled with Ellaria, who fed him grapes. Loras accidentally backed into Jaime.

"Ser Jaime, I'm very sorry."

"Ser Loras, it's quite alright. Your sister looks very beautiful."

"As does yours."

"So, were you looking forward to your wedding as much as your sister?"

"Yes, very much."

"Our fathers were both rather keen on the prospect."

"They certainly were."

"Perhaps they should get married. If you were to marry Cersei, she'd murder you in your sleep. If you somehow managed to put a child in her first, she'd murder him, too, long before he drew his first breath. Luckily for you, none of this will happen because you'll nevr marry her."

"And neither will you." Loras patted Jaime on the shoulder, before walking away.

Morgana had been observing their interaction with furrowed brows.

She turned, observing as a tall woman with short blonde table approached Margaery and Joffrey.

"Your Grace. My king. My queen." The woman bowed.

Margaery stood and shook her hand. "Lady Brienne. So good of you to come."

So this was Lady Brienne of Tarth. Kingsguard to her Uncle Renly until his murder.

"I'm no lady, Your Grace."

"Did you just bow?" Cersei asked.

"Apologies, Your Grace. I never did master the curtsy."

"You're the one who put a sword through Renly Baratheon." Joffrey said.

"That's not true, my love. Brienne had nothing to do with it." Margaery told him.

"A shame. I'd knight the man that put an end to that deviant's life." Joffrey remarked, causing Mor to roll her eyes.

He might not be Joffrey's uncle, but he was hers. Killed by her other uncle. All over a bloody Iron chair.

"I just wanted to congratulate you both and wish you good fortune. The country has been at war too long. I hope your reign is long and peaceful." Brienne told him.

It won't be, Morgana thought to herself. It hasn't been since he murdered Lord Stark.

"Yes, yes."

"Thank you. I hope we see more of you." Margaery said, trying to make up for her dismissive husband.

Brienne departed and Morgana watched as her mother followed after her.

"Lady Brienne." Brienne moved to object. "You're Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter. That makes you a lady whether you want to be or not."

"As you say, Your Grace."

"I owe you my gratitude. You returned my brother safely to King's Landing."

"In truth, he rescued me, Your Grace. More than once."

"Did he? Haven't heard that story before."

"Not such a fascinating story, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you have many fascinating stories. Sworn to Renly Baratheon. Sworn to Catelyn Stark. And now my brother. Must be exciting to flit from one camp to the next serving whichever lord or lady you fancy."

"I don't serve your brother, Your Grace."

"But you love him."

Brienne chose to ignore that statement.

"Your Grace." She bowed her head, walking away.

Back at the head table, Joffrey and Margaery watched a fool juggle. Once again, Joffrey was not amused.

He stood. "A gold dragon to whoever knocks my fool's hat off."

The fool was suddenly pelted with food, forcing him to run off.

Cersei and Tywin stood by one of the tables full of food.

"You're in rather a good mood." Tywin noted.

"I suppose I am."

"I won't ask why."

"Small pleasures."

Oberyn and Ellaria approached.

"Your Grace. Lord Tywin." Oberyn greeted.

"Prince Oberyn." Tywin returned.

"I don't believe you have met Ellaria. This is the Lord Hand Tywin Lannister and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. I suppose it is former Queen Regent now. Lord Hand and Lady Cersei, Ellaria Sand."

"My lord. My lady." Ellaria curtsied, with a slight smile.

"Charmed." Tywin quipped.

"Can't say I've ever met a Sand before." Cersei added.

The smile quickly dropped. "We are everywhere in Dorne. I have ten thousand brothers and sisters."

"Bastards are born of passion, aren't they? We don't despise them in Dorne." Oberyn advised them.

"No? How tolerant of you." Cersei quipped.

"I expect it is a relief, Lady Cersei, giving up your regal responsibilities. Wearing the crown for so many years must have left your neck a bit crooked."

"I suppose you'll nevr know, Prince Oberyn. It's a shame your older brother couldn't attend the wedding."

"Please give him our regards. With any luck, the gout will abate with time and he will be able to walk again." Tywin said.

"They call it the rich man's disease. A wonder you don't have it." Oberyn told him.

"Noblemen in my part of the country don't enjoy the same lifestyle as our counterparts in Dorne."

"People everywhere have their differences. In some places, the highborn frown upon those of low birth. In other places, the rape and murder of women and children is considered distasteful. What a fortunate thing for you, former Queen Regent, that your daughter Myrcella has been sent to live in the latter sort of place."

Cersei moved to speak, but was interrupted by her son Joffrey, who tapped his goblet, leading Tywin, Cersei and the two Dornish guests to return to their seats.

"Everyone, silence! Clear the floor. There's been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not an amusement. A royal wedding is history. The time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My lords... my ladies..."

A lever was pulled and the mouth of the giant lion statue opened and a red carpet rolled down.

"I give you. King Joffrey... Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy. The War of the Five Kings."

Five dwarves ran down the small ramp of the lion's mouth, each dressed as one of the five kings. They ran about, playing their roles with comedic glee as the crowd applauded.

Joffrey was noticeably pleased. Whereas, Tyrion was not.

Amidst the laughter and revelry, two women stood out among the crowd, their faces pale and tense.

The dwarves began shouting.

"I'm the rightful king." The dwarf version of Renly Baratheon shouted.

"King in the North!" Robb Stark.

"Yes!" Joffrey.

"Traitor. You're a traitor." Balon Greyjoy.

"For the Seven Kingdoms!" Joffrey's dwarf yelled.

The dwarves lined up on the stage.

"Let the war begin." Dwarf Joffrey stated.

The crowd applauded and the Renly Dwarf started to prance about the stage, before stopping in front of the Stannis dwarf, flashing his bum.

"Renly, you're no king." Stannis' dwarf muttered, swatting him with a club.

"Away, degenerate. Away. Away." Balon Greyjoy's dwarf told Renly's.

"Ooh, careful." Dwarf Renly responded.

"Go on." Dwarf Stannis told him.

"I want you to be my prince. Stannis!"

The Stannis dwarf continued to strike the exposed butt of Renly's. Loras stood up, stomping away in disgust, causing Morgana to glare at her brother who smirked in return.

As the dwarves clashed swords and shouted battle cries, some of the guests looked over, curious about the women's reaction. But Morgana and Sansa held their heads high, their faces a mask of composure. They knew that any display of emotion would only fuel the rumors and gossip that already surrounded them.

Despite their grief and anger, they had learned to keep their feelings hidden behind a veil of politeness and decorum. It was a survival mechanism, one that had served them well during their difficult journey south. For in the world of politics, weakness was a luxury they could ill afford.

The Balon and Robb dwarves were now facing off after Balon had struck Robb.

"Who's got the gold now, Stark?"

"I am the rightful king."

"Challenge me, ruffian."

"Take that." Robb's dwarf struck the Greyjoy, knocking him down.

"I'm drowning. I'm drowning."

"I am the King in the North!"

Tyrion and Sansa were not amused. Nor was Morgana. Not only was it in bad taste, it was completely inaccurate. Three of the five "kings" still live; Joffrey, Stannis and Balon. But, at least Joffrey not doing anything was correct.

Morgana couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust at the thought of her husband's "death" being reduced to such a trivial spectacle. And Sansa, who had been forced to watch the entire ordeal from the front row, was forced contain her tears.

Joffrey's Dwarf shot an arrow which hits Stannis' dwarf.

Nevrmind.

"Not wildfire!" Stannis dwarf shouted.

The crowd applauds. Stannis' Dwarf ran off the stage, "crying".

"Pay each of them twenty gold when this is done." Tyrion whispered to Podrick.

"Yes, my lord."

"We'll have to find another way to thank the king."

Joffrey was enjoying the spectacle, a little too much to see Margaery was not.

It came down to the dwarves or Robb and Joffrey, who were now in a stand off.

"Charge!" Joffrey's dwarf shouted.

They ran past one another without landing a blow.

"Ready, again."

Another round with no one hit.

"I am the King in the North!"

"Charge! Yes!" This time, Joffrey's dwarf knocks off Robb dwarf's wolf helmet. "Your head!"

Sansa was mortified, given the rumours her brother had been beheaded like their father, following his death and GreyWind, his direwolf's, head sewn in its place.

Meanwhile, Morgana could feel her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

Joffrey laughed hysterically while Margaery looked at him, appalled.

Robb's dwarf fell and the crowd applauded as Joffrey's dwarf claimed victory.

Joffrey grabbed his goblet.

The Joffrey Dwarf feigned sodomizing the wolf head. Sansa sat motionless as Joffrey spit out his wine, laughing. He was too distracted to the glare being sent to him by his sister and new wife.

"Fine gentlemen." The Joffrey dwarf said.

As the reenactment came to an end, the dwarves took their final bow, and the guests applauded politely. Morgana and Sansa joined in, their hands clapping together in a perfectly choreographed gesture of appreciation. On the surface, they seemed like two dignified ladies enjoying a lavish wedding feast. But beneath the facade, they were two women determined to reclaim their family's honor and secure their place in the new order of the Seven Kingdoms.

Joffrey stood up. "Well fought. Well fought. Here you are. Champion's purse. Though you're not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all the challengers. Surely there are others out there who still dare to challenge my reign. Uncle. How about you? I'm sure they have a spare costume."

The crowd laughed as Tyrion stood.

"One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face. I think you should fight him. This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the high table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne. Be careful, though. This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night."

Tyrion sat, leaving Joffrey angered at his insults. The crowd quieted as Joffrey walked over and poured his wine on Tyrion's head. Margaery sat motionless.

"A fine vintage. Shame that it spilled." Tyrion told him.

"It did not spill." Joffrey said, through gritted teeth.

"My love, come back to me. It's time for my father's toast." Margaery attempted to reign Joffrey in, but she was ignored.

"Well, how does he expect me to toast without wine? Uncle, you can be my cup-bearer seeing as you're too cowardly to fight."

"Your Grace does me a great honour."

"It's not meant as an honour." Joffrey spat.

Tyrion stood and walked over to Joffrey, who purposely dropped his goblet. As Tyrion tried to pick it up, he kicked it away.

"Bring me my goblet."

Tyrion knelt down to get the goblet. Sansa watched Joffrey intently before she knelt down and picked up the goblet, handing it to Tyrion, who brought it to Joffrey.

"What good is an empty cup? Fill it."

Tyrion poured wine for Joffrey in front of Cersei, and handed it to him.

"Kneel. Kneel before your king." Joffrey commanded.

Tyrion did not budge, causing Joffrey's frustration to grow.

"Kneel. I said... kneel!"

"Look, the pie." Margaery stood, the crowd applauding, and the attention turned to the giant pie carried in by four men.

"My queen." Joffrey strode forward, and sliced through the pie with his sword. To his surprise, doves were released from the pie, leaving him looking triumphant.

"Wonderful. Wonderful. My hero." Margaery clapped.

The pie was cut and served to the guests.

"Can we leave now?" Sansa asked.

"Let's find out." Tyrion said as he stood with her and they began attempting to make their exit while was distracted by Margaery feeding him a forkful of pie.

"Uncle. Where are you going? You're my cup-bearer, remember?" Joffrey said as he noticed Tyrion and Sansa slipping away.

"I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace."

"No, no, no. No, you're perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine."

Tyrion looked to Sansa apologetically.

"Well, hurry up. This pie is dry."

Tyrion was fuming as he grabbed the goblet for Joffrey, handing it to him without a look.

Joffrey drank deeply. " Mm, good. Needs washing down."

"If it please Your Grace, Lady Sansa is very tired."

"No." He coughed. "No, you'll wait here... un..." Joffrey grabbed at his throat, choking.

"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked as he neared his nephew.

"It's nothing." Joffrey replied, taking another sip, which did not help.

"He's choking!" Margaery exclaimed, causing Morgana to sit up straighter.

"Help the poor boy." Olenna said.

Joffrey turned towards the crowd, choking and staggering.

"Idiots, help your king." She continued, shouting.

Morgana stood from her seat, watching as her uncle Jaime ran to Joffrey, who was vomiting and clutching at his throat.

"Move away!" Jaime shouted as he ran to Joffrey, who vomited and collapsed. "Joffrey! Joffrey!"

Cersei ran to them. "Help him! Someone help him!" She screamed as Joffrey gagged. "Joffrey!"

While all this was happening, Ser Dontos snuck up behind Sansa. "Come with me now."

"Joffrey! Joffrey!"

Tyrion and Margaery watched, aghast as Cersei and Jaime continued to try to help Joffrey.

"If you want to live, we have to leave." Ser Dontos told her, pulling her away.

"Don't touch him!" Cersei pushed Jaime away, gathering her eldest son in her arms.

Joffrey gurgled and choked. His face began turning purple, his eyes glazed, vomit lining his cheeks as he spasmed.

"Joffrey. Please, Joffrey. Joffrey, what is it? Help him!"

Blood streamed out of Joffrey's nose. He convulsed painfully, Cersei crying as she watched him. He reached a hand out towards Tyrion, who in that moment picked up the fallen goblet in front of him.

Joffrey gasped one more time as blood continued to stream from his nose, his face a horrid shade of purple, before going completely still.

"My son." Cersei muttered.

"He's gone. Our king is gone." A man in the crowd said.

"He did this. He poisoned my son, your king."She told the crowd before turning to the guards. "Take him. Take him! Take him! Take him!" She screamed.

Two guards grab Tyrion as Cersei looked upon the lifeless body of Joffrey.

Out of the corner of her eye, Morgana noticed a flash of red, before she saw what appeared to be Sansa being whisked away by an unknown man.

In a normal occurrence, this would be a cause for concern, but she didn't appear to be resisting.

Cersei leaned over her son, weeping.

"Where is his wife? Where's Sansa?" Cersei shouted, finally looking up and noticing the young redhead missing.

"Find her. Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbor." Tywin commanded.

"Where is she?!" Cersei asked again.

"No one leaves the capital! No one!" Tywin ordered.

What they didn't know was she was on her way to the harbour where a boat was waiting for her to make her escape.

It had been carefully planned, allowing her to take advantage of the chaos surrounding Joffrey's death.

Morgana's eyes widened in shock, her lips parting in horror as she realized that her brother was dead.

Yet, as the moments passed and the reality of what had happened set in, Morgana found herself feeling... oddly unmoved. She felt no grief, no anger, no sadness. Only a faint sense of unease, as if she had just witnessed something strange and distant, rather than the death of her own flesh and blood.

She glanced around nervously, wondering if anyone had noticed her lack of reaction. But the courtiers and nobles nearby were too stunned by the sudden tragedy to notice anything else but their own shock and disbelief.

Morgana took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She knew she shouldn't feel this way. She should be devastated. She should be mourning the loss of her brother. But instead, she felt... empty.

And it was then that she realized why. Joffrey may have been her brother, but he had nevr been a kind or loving one. He had always been cruel and dismissive towards her, treating her more like a pawn in his game of power than a member of his family.

Despite how much she had wanted to love him, despite how hard she had tried to please him, Joffrey had never shown her any affection or respect. And so, perhaps, it was only natural that she did not feel the depth of emotion that others might expect her to.

Her brother had just died, and yet she appeared unaffected.

Cersei's one redeeming quality, her love for her children, took centre stage.

It had to of been Tyrion. He hated her. Hated Joffrey.

He had told her he would make her suffer.

What he didn't realize is he had finally gifted her the opportunity to have him killed. Kill him and he could not take everything she held dear before killing her.