Sansa prickled with anticipation. She could not say how many minutes had passed since the Hound had left her chamber. Time seemed to slow and race all at once. Her eyelids flickered, fighting against their closure. The nerves under her skin sparked a wave of annoying itches, willing her to move from her guise of slumber to seek relief. Sansa could not predict what would happen. She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, grateful for her grip on solid ground yet tempted by unknown demons to fling herself over the edge. I need to move. I cannot be still. They will know I am pretending.
Another moment passed. Breathe, Sansa. Be calm, breathe deep. Sansa worked to clear her mind and steady her breathing. Breathe deep, breathe slowly. She thought of Winterfell, of little Rickon sleeping by the fire next to his wolf, their chests rising in tandem. Breathe deep, breathe slowly. She thought of Arya curled up in Robb's arms as he carried her to her bed after a long day's ride. Deep and slow. Deep and slow.
Sansa repeated the mantra, chanting in her mind to evoke the magic of sleep. Deep and slow.
The door creaked open, but Sansa did not falter in her pretence.
Deep and slow.
"Your Grace, the Lady Sansa is asleep."
"Wake her."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Sansa reacted slowly to the hard nudge from her handmaiden. She pushed her face against her pillow and stretched out her legs, pointing her toes and moaning softly. "Is it morning already? I feel I've been awake for days."
The handmaiden nudged again, harder. "My Lady, the Queen is in your chamber. Awaken!"
At this Sansa sat upright, blinking quickly and holding her hand against her temple. She swallowed once, rubbed her lips together and swallowed again.
"Your Grace, I did not know to expect you. I am not dressed to be in your presence."
Cersei stood tall in a scarlet gown, her hands folded before her. In the corridor Sansa could see servants peering into the room.
"It is early. I expected to find you asleep in your bed at such an hour. I should be concerned to instead find you awake and roaming the Keep." A look of concern appeared on the Queen's face. "Your handmaiden tells me you chose to rest early, yet for all your hours of sleep you look tired."
Lie to them. "I.. I had dark dreams, Your Grace. The treachery of my family has scarred my mind."
The Queen's mouth tightened. "Perhaps you shall feel free of such dreams after you break your fast with us."
Instinct told Sansa to move her hand towards her stomach. "Your Grace, I thank you for your invitation but I would be an unwelcome guest at your meal. My stomach is hollow yet I could not bear to eat. Perhaps the dreams have taken my appetite."
"Some water, then. Girl, fetch the Lady Sansa a cup."
The urge to pass water hit Sansa as she watched the servant pour water from the jug that had rested on her table. She did not need to act as she smoothed her hand across her stomach towards her hip. Think of stone, of soil, of dry tinder and hot fires.
The handmaiden held the cup towards her from a distance, forcing Sansa to learn forwards to take it. The pressure in her bladder increased. Breathing deep, she forced herself to drink. The Queen stared as she gulped the water down. Like the Hound drinks his wine.
Sansa stared at the empty cup, her hand trembling. You have a thirst that cannot be quenched.
"I'd like some more water." She held the cup towards the serving girl.
The Queen nodded at the handmaiden, who reached forward to take the cup. "Still thirsty, little dove? Are you unwell?" The serving girl moved off towards the water jug.
Lie to them. The urge to pass water caused Sansa to grip her bedsheets. Don't betray me, hold on. "I don't know, Your Grace. I feel.. I feel strange. It could be the heat in here. I am sure I shall feel better after I bathe and dress."
The handmaiden stepped towards the Queen, holding Sansa's empty chamber pot. "Your Grace, the Lady drank both wine and water with her meal last night yet her pot is unused."
"Are her sheets dry? Feel her skin." The Queen could not prevent a look of disgust from holding her face.
"Your Grace, I am not a child! My bed is dry. Please, Your Grace, what is this about?" Sansa willed herself to think of her Father, of Lady and her sister and poor Septa. Cry, you fool. You do it often enough when you shouldn't. Hot tears prickled at her eyes. The handmaiden reached forward and grabbed her arm, releasing it as though she'd touched a flame.
"Your Grace, her skin burns."
"You may leave us. I will talk with the Lady Sansa alone."
The handmaiden curtsied quickly before hastily exiting the chamber. Sansa wasn't sure how much longer she could maintain the act given her by the Hound. The urge to pass water grew dangerously stronger, and Sansa began to regain the sense of standing at the edge of a cliff. Just jump, jump and be done with it. You can't trust the Hound, this must be a trap. Jump. The Queen walked towards the window and looked out at the open sky.
"Sansa, you are unwell. Infected. Grand Maester Pycelle believes one of the servants to be contaminated with this illness, perhaps one who changes your linen or lights your fire. You will be uncomfortable for a week or two but it will not harm you. However it could harm my sons. You see, boys are quite susceptible to this illness. Pycelle has records that suggest it leaves young men infertile and unable to produce an heir. Even a girl as naive as you could understand how important it is that my sons are kept away from this.. this infection."
Sansa nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. I shall be happy to remain within my rooms until I am deemed well. I would want no harm to befall my beloved Prince Joffrey. I would never risk his health." Lie to them.
The Queen shook her head and spoke harshly. "No you foolish girl, you do not understand. I will not risk your presence in this city until I am sure a thousand times over that you will not contaminate my sons. You are to leave Kings Landing. I will send you to an old hunting lodge by the edge of the city. You will be safe."
"Are you to accompany me, Your Grace?" Sansa pushed down at the glimmer of hope that threatened to force her to smile, to sing, to cheer with delight at the prospect of freedom. "I am unsure of what this illness is or how it is spread, but you have been in my chambers for some time now. I hope I have not made you ill also."
"Do not fret, little dove." Cersei's mouth turned upwards in a smile but her eyes were cold.
"I have had this sickness as a young girl and will not fall ill from it again, but there are many here who have not experienced it. All who are infected will be sent away. I will send your escort within the hour. You must prepare yourself for the journey. I will not risk sending a servant to assist you. It will only spread this further."
"I thank you, Your Grace." Sansa bowed her head as the Queen left her chambers, not stopping to close the door shut. The moment she could no longer hear the soft footsteps of the Queen, Sansa rushed forward from her bed and pushed the door shut. She frantically kicked the chamber pot towards her from where the handmaiden had left it, pausing only to shimmy her underclothes off. As she sat over the pot relief of many kinds swept over her.
That was close. It would seem that Sansa owed the Hound a debt. A week, perhaps more, spent in the open air of the country away from the spies and beatings and claustrophobia of the Red Keep. Who will escort me? A serving girl most like, one who has had this illness before. Sansa hoped that whoever it was would be kind and would allow her to enjoy the small freedom she had been given.
Sansa stood, stepping out of her underclothes before carefully pushing the heavy pot under her bed. She stripped off her nightdressand moved towards her basin to wash. The water was cold but she had little choice. The sponge had never felt so soft as she cleansed the night from her skin. I will be able to walk where I wish, I will sing and smile and feel sunshine without regret.
Before dressing she misted rose water across her face and chest. Her gown was simple and plum in colour, easy enough for her to put on without assistance from a handmaiden. Sansa combed her hair through, letting it fall loose and heavy against her shoulders. I'll ask the girl who accompanies me to braid my hair in the Northern style. It won't matter at all what I look like alone in the forest.
The Northern tune that Sansa had sung earlier that morning returned to her heart, but she could not sing for fear of her good health being revealed. There are still eyes in this castle, eyes and ears. I am not free yet.
Sansa moved quickly now, collecting together the few things she would need to maintain her comfort in the forest. She folded a number of gowns into a travelling case, hiding her Northern boots at the bottom. Embroidered slippers won't serve me if I wish to explore and move freely through the woods. Lastly, with little thought and much feeling, she placed the doll her father had gifted her in the case. Sunshine without regret, but still I'll remember.
As Sansa clicked the case shut the door to her chamber opened. "I am ready to leave. I have only this case but I feel too unwell to carry it. You will have to take it yourself."
A man laughed, a deep, grumbling laugh.
"Aye, I'll carry your case for you Little Bird, as far as the gates of the city. Once we pass those walls you can bloody carry it yourself."
Sansa's heart fell.
