Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and commenting! This was just a little tale to flex my rusting writing muscles, and was about the time - I did enjoy this, however demanding this challenge was... Until next time!
A Curious Case of the Queen of Love and Beauty
The Vale Gazette - The Ninth Day of the Eighth Moon
A Curious Case of the Queen of Love and Beauty emerged at the end the Great Tournament when this Great Honour was bestowed to Lady Alayne Stone, the Ward of the Lord Protector, by the Young Lord Robert on behalf of his Champions, but the said Maid declined the Honour and encouraged Lord Robert to bequeath the Crown to Lady Myranda of House Royce. Finding himself at Loss by this Most Unexpected Behaviour Lord Robert Gallantly offered this Honour the Lady Myranda who Graciously accepted it.
The Great Feast at the evening of the Last Day of the Great Tournament saw the fair Queen of Love and Beauty seated in the Place of Honour, surrounded by the young Lord Robert (who retired early in the evening due to his most calamitous Health), Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale and the Lady Alayne Stone.
The two Beauties spent much of the evening discoursing with Each Other, to the detriment of many noble Knights who wished to lead the Dance with the said Ladies, who were occupied undoubtedly in exchanging words about Feminine pursuits and enjoying the Grand Occasion.
This being the very last evening of this Grandiose Event, all Participants were honoured with rousing Applauses, and Purses for the Second-Placed in every Event were handed to the Worthy Combatants. The biggest Winner in this regard was the Riverlander Canis Lupus who collected two heavy purses for his Accomplishments from the hand of Lady Alayne Stone, as was Befitting, the Queen of Love and Beauty handing out her favours to the Lucky Eight of the new Brotherhood.
The Festivities were a roaring success and continued late in the Night, thus concluding this Glorious Affair.
Sansa knew she simply had to decline the wreath of the Queen of Love and Beauty Sweetrobin offered her. Times when she had dreamt of exactly this kind of honour – even from the hand of a sickly child – were long gone in the past and the honour meant nothing to her now. And if she did accept, he would judge her to still be the same stupid little bird she had been then. He - Sandor Clegane.
She tasted the name on her lips. San-dor. He had asked if she wanted to go home. Had he meant it all along, was that why he was here?
Sansa wasn't anymore bothered about who saw her staring at him during the feast. The storm starting to brew inside her alarmed and excited her; the faint awakening of hope growing stronger by the moment. What should she do? Go along with Petyr's carefully laid plans and mayhap end up in Winterfell as the lady wife of Harrold Hardyng, puppet in the strings manoeuvred by Littlefinger as the puppeteer. Or take her chances with the man she still hardly knew, had no notion of where he had been for the intervening years, or what were his intentions.
Of course Randa noticed, but Sansa was past caring. Randa's good-natured teasing of prim and proper Alayne finally being drawn to attraction of manly charms – no matter how dubiously she regarded the rough masked warrior as a suitable fit for her friend – first drew Sansa's defences (but why so and what was he to her anyway?). Yet Randa's assurances of keeping her confidence in a matter she regarded as every maid's right and due, and her promise to help to ensure Sansa some stolen time with her unlikely champion should that be needed, saw threads of a plan starting to stir in Sansa's head.
And so, after the raising of the third or the fourth toast she found herself on her feet a goblet in her hand and she turned towards the table at the back where he stood, similarly saluting. Their eyes met and as the toast was shouted she mouthed to him the words 'YES, I WILL" and nodded – and he raised his cup to her and cocked his head in recognition of her message.
A Disturbing Disappearance of the Lady
The Vale Gazette - The Eleventh Day of the Eighth Moon
The Most Perturbing news have reached The Gazette about the Disappearance of Lady Alayne Stone, the Warden of the Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Trident and Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale, Lord Petyr Baelish.
The said Lady, only recently seen Publicly in the Great Tournament and its aftermath, the Great Feast, is reported to have disappeared some time after the close of the said Events. Not a Trace has been seen of her for two days now, the Case being made most Curious and Worrisome by the fact that none of her Possessions are missing, which strongly suggests Foul Play or Accident.
Young Lord Robert is extremely Distressed and the Lord Protector is similarly Distraught with Grief and Worry, and has sent several searching Parties to all directions to scourge the Countryside and Roads to find the missing Lady. Parties have also been sent to explore the Lakes, Cliffs, Bogs and other Locations where Harm can fall upon a Person, and worst is feared by many.
The Gazette wishes to join in the Sincerest Wishes for the timely and safe Return of Lady Alayne, and will endeavour to keep its readers abreast of any Developments of this Matter as they arise.
She was free. Finally, she was free. No more tormenting, no more disguising confinement and control with care and affection. She was beholden to nobody – that is, nobody who would accept her gratitude and the debt she owed. Sansa didn't know where her next meal would come from, nor where she was to lay her head down come the evening – but none of that mattered. As long as she was with him, she knew she would be safe.
It had been easy, almost too easy. Randa's willingness to help – in what she thought was only a tryst – had been instrumental, as was Sansa's decision to leave all that she owned behind. Shedding her skin once again had been a relief. Nothing from her recent past would burden her, this was to be a new beginning. Scary, unknown, daunting – but a new beginning nonetheless.
And traveling with Sandor Clegane was unlike anything she had expected. That he had had his new beginning already became obvious to her soon enough on their journey. Gone was the rage – as you once prayed, a small voice inside her head reminded. Gone was the aggression, although the steel in his core remained, now only being controlled, calm and unyielding.
He refused to talk about his reasons for coming to her, but he took care of her, protected her from harm and provided her with food, shelter and protection of his body and sword. Sansa's initial uncertainty, a faint concern for her honour, fell away as days changed to weeks and he never approached her improperly in word or deed. She had feared something else remembering the way he had used to look at her in the court, having interpreted it through different lenses as she had grown older. She had…not really known what to do if that had been the case. She had trusted him. It might have been naïve of her after all she had gone through but there it was nonetheless. Trust.
The man used to be known as the Hound was taciturn and silent and kept mostly to himself – as much as was possible for two people on the road, sneaking cautiously through countryside hidden from all eyes. Yet he was never cold or cruel nor shied away from sharing with her the details of their travel. If he sometimes sat staring at fire for long periods wearing an unfathomable expression and rubbed his face wearily when he thought she was not looking, she didn't press him on that.
Yet there was no denying closeness that gradually built on the foundations of their shared journey. It was like a cocoon surrounding them from the world and as long as she had that, Sansa felt safe, she felt alive, she felt… she felt so many things she had no name for.
And so they journeyed on.
Surprising Tidings from The North
The Vale Gazette - The Third Day of the Eleventh Moon
The Most Surprising Tidings have reached The Gazette from The North, from the ancient fortress of House Stark, the commanding keep of Winterfell.
The House which has been thought Lost and Bereft after the Unfortunate demise first of Lord Eddard Stark and subsequently his Heir, King in the North Robb Stark, and the mysterious Disappearance of the rest of that ill-fated Family, seems to be alive after all. The News, now confirmed to be veritable Truth, tell that the Eldest Daughter of the House Lady Sansa Stark has returned to the North and has declared herself as the Head of her House with her Intention to unite all the Houses of the North again.
Lords Bolton, who resided in Winterfell for a time during the ruinous and short reign of King Tommen, have not been heard of lately and some Whispers talk of Unexpected and Mysterious Deaths of both Lord Roose and his Heir Ser Ramsay, but these Whispers are as yet Unproven and may be considered as Idle Gossip until the Truth of the Matter is confirmed.
Curiously, our News tell that Lady Sansa has been ably assisted in her return by one exceptional Warrior and Champion, being the person Canis Lupus from Riverlands, the very same Man who participated with Great Esteem the Great Tournament held in the Vale only a few Moon Turns ago. Some say that the true name of this Champion is not the one he presented himself with but being the name of the Well-Known and Ill-Reputed man Sandor Clegane, also known as The Hound, who served King Joffrey before turning into a Deserter and an Outlaw. Yet these rumours sound Outlandish and Exaggerated as the Man in question has been suspected to be the Infamous Outlaw scourging the Countryside as of recent times but since known to have Perished in a skirmish many moons ago, so The Gazette considers these Speculations in low regard.
Lady Sansa is of course a true-born Cousin to our young Lord Robert, so The Gazette will keep a Keen Eye on the Developments in the North insomuch as they may have impact to our Lord and the Noble House Arryn.
He was her rock, he was her succour – and yet he kept himself apart from her. It was driving Sansa mad.
'One of these days', she thought while pushing open the door to the Great Hall and being greeted with a murmur of noises, warmth of ancient walls mixed with a heat of fire from many hearths and the strong whiff of unwashed bodies. Sandor Clegane walked just a step behind her – as always – and she felt his physical presence as a sweet poison – as always – and she swore to herself that soon he would not thread behind her but by her side – and always.
Yet the matters of her house had to be settled first with the help and support of the Northern lords. Then she would talk to him. The she would tear down the wall he had built around himself, the wall the she was sure he wanted to breach as badly as she did.
The time would come. One of these days.
THE END