The scent of flowers mingled together to create a strong and heady perfume. Standing in the centre of the garden, Sansa reached up to touch the tall flower that rose out of the ground before her. With petals as yellow as gold and a stalk that was taller than she was, it truly was a sight to behold. Yet it was only one of the many astounding sights that she had encountered since entering the Reach. Where Winterfell was wild and striking and King's Landing was refined and suffocating, Highgarden was free and alive.
"A sunflower," she murmured, recalling its name from the floriography book her septa had leant her as a child. Convinced that such knowledge would prove useful one day, Sansa had studied it every night before bed until she had it committed to memory.
Beside her, Robb examined the garden with a detached gaze. War had hardened him, sculpting the sweet boy he had been into a sombre king. Once, he might have marvelled over the flowers with her; now, she could see in his eyes that they were trivial to him. He was more concerned with the kingdom's safety than pretty sights. "It's lovely."
Sansa lingered, her hand still touching the soft petals, trying to remember the long-forgotten knowledge. As vital as it had seemed back then, it had served no purpose in the capital. Flowers were the language of songs, not people.
Her brother was not the only one who had changed.
"Dwarf sunflowers symbolise admiration and gratitude," she said as it finally came back to her. "Tall flowers represent pride and appreciation."
She thought of her lord husband, whom she had married during the height of the War of the Five Kings yet only met the previous day. After Robb returned the Kingslayer to the Lannisters in exchange for Sansa, she had wanted nothing more than to remain tucked away in the North for the rest of her days. Yet when the North's prospects took a turn for the worse, Robb had had little choice but to broker an alliance with the Tyrells: Sansa's hand in marriage in exchange for their aid. Their lady mother had been reluctant to send Sansa away so soon after securing her return, but they had all known that it was the only way to ensure the North's survival. So they had agreed, and Sansa had wed Willas Tyrell by proxy, him in a sept and her in a godswood with the whole of Westeros separating them. It was only now, now that the war was over and peace had been restored, that it was safe enough for her to travel down to her new home.
Was her lord husband overly prideful? Did he appreciate life in all of its small joys and wonders? What would that mean for her? Willas Tyrell seemed good-hearted, but given how little they had interacted, Sansa had no way of knowing for true. Nevertheless, Robb liked him well enough, claiming that he was a gentle and honest man, and she trusted her brother's judgement.
"Do you think you could be happy here? Tell me true."
It was rather too late for that question, in Sansa's opinion, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She thought for a moment. "It is beautiful and warm, and there is an abundance of lemons. As for the rest, only time will tell."
Robb nodded and lowered his voice. "Do not trust the Tyrells too deeply. They will not harm you - for fear of me, if for nothing else - but they play the game as well as the Lannisters. Better, some say."
Sansa hummed under her breath. Between Robb in the capital, Arya in Storm's End, and Jon back home in Winterfell, she had allies. They could not be her only protection, however. She had learned well how quickly castles could change hands.
Stepping closer to Robb and raising her arm as if to point something out to him, she whispered, "You need not worry on my behalf. I am well acquainted with Margaery and Lady Olenna; they are manipulative, but they care for one another before all else. If I can make my lord husband love me, they will extend that consideration to me as well."
Part of her still wished for the kind of marriage that inspired bards to write songs. Perhaps, if Willas Tyrell was as good-hearted as everybody claimed, she might even manage it. Like a seed caught in the wind, love could grow and blossom in the most unexpected of places.
For now, however, her goal was self-preservation. Anything more could come later.
"Nevertheless, if anything concerns you, write to me."
She laughed. "Anything? Including the heat in summer?"
He gave her a small smile. It had become a rare sight, and seeing it now gave her heart. "If they refuse to give you water or shade, yes."
"I shall write to you regardless," Sansa declared. "At least once every turn of the moon."
They had every reason to be scared for the future. Robb would be returning to a den of vipers, while Sansa would once again be thrust into an unfamiliar environment. But standing there together, she felt hope.
A/N: For OCDdegrassi for the Drabble Game Challenge with the prompts 'Robb & Sansa' and 'sunflower'.