4 - Burnt Tarts & Indecent Proposals

The feast went on as planned after Lady Beth managed to free the kitchen of her still-screeching mother, allowing the kitchen staff a chance to extinguish the fire. Much food was lost to the fire and a good portion of the food was singed in the incident, but, after dorm deliberation, it was served just the same. This was more a worry for the cooks and servants, as the lavishly dressed attendees of the feast did not appear to notice a thing. It was a time of major political upheaval in the seven kingdoms, and the nobles were not about to let a burnt tart keep them from ingratiating themselves with the new king. Everyone, with the notable exception of one particularly meddlesome Cassel who remained indignant as the pheasant eggs were brought out, chewed happily on even the most charred food and contributed to the buzz of conversation that hung over the hall.

Jon Snow sat at the end of the head table in an ornate, throne-like chair that he clearly felt very uncomfortable in, but his closest advisors sat near him and put him at ease. Although Lady Brienne, sitting at his right hand, seemed particularly bothered by something other than the blackened food and the falseness of the lords and ladies desperately vying for status. Just as the main courses were being brought out, he turned to her. "Enjoying the feast, Lady Brienne?"

"Yes, your highness," Lady Brienne nodded, though she appeared thoroughly distracted.

"Are you going to need any further provisions for your mission into the winter town tomorrow?" She was set to depart for the winter town in the morning to investigate and check for grounds to the rebellion rumors.

"I should be fine. Pod and I are all set to depart in the morning."

"Just you and your squire?" Tormund Giantsbane, who, last they had checked, had been sitting significantly farther down the table, suddenly was standing directly between them, interjecting into their conversation. "This is a dangerous mission, my lady, more dangerous than any of us may know. You will want backup."

"Pod is my backup," the lady answered decidedly, gesturing towards Pod, who, one table over, was emphatically trying to extricate a knife that had gotten stuck in some roasted fowl.

"You will want backup for your backup."

Lady Brienne looked over at Tormund and, as much as she hated admitting it, he was right. And even if he was wrong, he was expendable. "You may accompany us, Giantsbane."

"Fantastic. I will see you in the morning, m'lady." And just as suddenly as he had arrived, Tormund disappeared into some slightly burnt puddings.

Sansa was the only one still lingering on Podrick after Tormund's point had been made. She watched him stand to leave the feast and felt a sharp jolt in her stomach. She had to talk to him before he left with Brienne. She had to know what he meant.

Sansa excused herself and went off into the adjacent hallways. Right around the first corner she turned, she found him. "Pod," he turned around at the sound of his name. He bowed and greeted her as she approached. He looked rather striking, dressed up in fine clothes almost fit for a knight, scruffy hair combed back, neatly in place.

"About earlier, I apologize if I…startled you."

Pod nervously ran his hand through his hair. "No, of course not, my princess. I should apologize. That was amazing, you are amazing. It's that…" he trailed off and his eyes met hers.

She could not quite figure out just what it was about him that transfixed her so much. Her hand in his, languid walks around the castle, stolen, less-than-chaste glances that set her insides on fire. It was completely mad that a timid boy not much older than herself could have this effect on her. She felt comfortable, at ease with him, like things were finally falling together rather than falling apart.

She couldn't let him go.

She continued walking toward him and he stepped back only to realize he was backed up against the wall behind him. Sansa noticed his reluctance. "You needn't be afraid of me, Pod."

He was now avoiding eye contact. "You are the wife of a lord I was sworn to. It's—it's dishonorable."

"A coerced, unconsummated union under seven gods that are not recognized in the north hardly qualifies as a legitimate marriage."

"Nothing would make me happier than being your consort, really, but we cannot, it isn't," he fidgeted where he stood as if someone were prying the words out of him. "...it isn't proper. It would, we would disgrace you."

Sansa faltered slightly. He was not wrong, while royal men could consort with just about whomever they pleased, the rules were wildly different for royal females. In that moment, though, Sansa could not bring herself to care about heir legitimacy or strategic marriage, she just remembered the feeling of his breath on her face, his hair tangled through her fingers, and she craved more of it. She took one step closer to him so they were almost touching and lowered her voice to a volume that eerily reminded her of Lord Baelish. "I could make things happen for you, Pod. You could be a knight. You could be kingsguard. I could give you land, money, you could start a new house under a new name."

Nonetheless, they both knew the gravity a scandal like this would carry. And there was no way anything between them could ever be legitimate. He couldn't offer the throne any advantageous alliance or land or money and they both knew her duty was first and foremost to the northern throne.

Her eyes imploringly bore into his, "We could be happy."

Pod pulled away from her and turned to continue on his way. He felt her hand slightly tugging on his arm and heard her speak in an even lower voice that was almost a whisper, "Consider it."

-.-.-

Upon returning to the feast, Sansa immediately turned to Lady Brienne.

"Lady Brienne, I wish to join you on your trip to the winter town tomorrow."

The lady narrowed her eyes in confusion and dismissed the princess. "It's much too dangerous, your highness. The revolt could be an entire religious revolution or

a loose collection of conspirators, but we don't know what to expect. And besides, you have ceremonial duties to attend to here for your brother's coronation."

Sansa's face appeared grim at the very mention of her continued duties.

"With all due respect, I have experienced enough court formalities to last me a lifetime and would rather eat a live rat than listen to another Mazin boy brag about his field dressing abilities. Please, Lady Brienne."

Brienne sighed then nodded her head. Nobody understood how oppressive and confining a lady's court life could feel better than Brienne of Tarth. Not without a healthy amount of worry, she conceded, "As her highness commands." Then quickly added, "We leave tomorrow at dawn."

Sansa smiled, "Rest well, my lady."