A/N -
I apologise for what I am about to say.
The reason I got so late with this chapter was because I had a 'crisis of story'. I initially intended this to be the last chapter, followed by a bonus chapter, which would complete the story. That was the plan, it was working out. But, then, the finale happened and I had an urge to explore the story further. I couldn't decide whether to continue or not. Finally decided... "Screw it!" and so I will be uploading 7 additional chapters, which will be themed with the 7 virtues.
Aspects of 6x10 will be used, and aspects of the books will be referenced.
Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed and favourited. Your support is amazing!
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Chapter 7 - Sloth: Because The Effort Cannot Be Made
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It has been days since she has last spoken to Jon.
She sees him in the castle, but he no longer acknowledges her. The fragile friendship they had once formed has collapsed, and Sansa feels more responsible than she could ever explain.
Petyr Baelish seems to know the discomfort between Sansa and her half-brother. He whispers words that she tries not to hear, and smiles happily when he sees Jon look at her briefly only to look away.
Supper has become a sorry affair for Sansa. Jon used to join her in her meals, along with the Onion Knight, Tormund and Petyr Baelish. The discussion was always about war and battles, but Sansa did not mind. She learned when they spoke, and she understood more and more with each passing day.
For days, Jon has had his supper in his bedchamber along with Sir Davos and Tormund Giantsbane. The Onion Knight knows something is amiss between them, as does the man from beyond the wall. She can see the gentle man look between them when Jon looks away, as well as the suspicion that colours the expression of the Wildling.
On her last day at Winterfell, she begs leave from supper, waiting for Lord Baelish to complete his meal before she enters the Great Hall to have her last spread before the journey to the Eyrie. She hopes to reach Robert Arryn before a week's end, and she hopes to do this by keeping Petyr Baelish at bay for as long as she can.
He still whispers about what he wants when he is with her, his words as familiar as it once was when she called him 'Father'. She knows that her journey to the Eyrie is nothing but a farce. If she leaves, perhaps her thoughts on Jon will be subdued. She hopes they will be. If she still knelt in prayer, she would have prayed to the Seven to will it so.
Sansa finds herself thinking of providing the food she cannot eat to the dogs, when Jon enters. She feels her breath leave her as he watches her silently. She waits, whilst he steps forward and serves himself food before he takes a seat on the other side of the table. Sansa is bereft to admit that not only does her half-brother wish to keep space between them; his wish is to keep the length of a long table between them.
He does not say a word as he begins to eat, his brows furrowed in concentration at the meal at hand.
Sansa stills, watching him and waiting. She does not know if he wants her to leave or stay. She does not understand why he has chosen to be in the same chamber as her since the day in the Godswood.
The silence between them becomes too long, too hard, and Sansa knows that she must leave for her own mind's sake. As her chair scrapes the stone, Jon looks at her.
"Are you prepared for your journey tomorrow?"
Sansa finds herself unable to speak. She watches him with confusion, her tongue unable to find the words.
"Brienne hasn't returned."
To these words, Sansa's confusion gives way to understanding. "No. She hasn't."
"Is it wise to travel without her?"
A brief smile escapes her. "Sir Davos suggested I take twenty five men with me. I argued that it was too much but—"
"It's not enough."
She looks on him with surprise. "It's too much. Five men would suffice—"
"I will send an additional fifteen men—"
"The journey will be long with more men—"
"Aye. And safer."
His eyes are hard, and Sansa knows that she cannot argue with him. "Very well. If you wish to send forty able-bodied men South—"
"I do."
Jon decides to focus on his meal once again, and Sansa watches him with the heavy silence between them. Once again, she does not know if she should beg her leave, or stay. When he says nothing more, Sansa decides to say her next words calmly.
"I will not be gone long. I will return within a fortnight, before the long winter takes its roots."
She watches him as he drinks his cup of wine quickly. He has completed his meal faster than she ever has, and he stands stiffly before his eyes meet hers. "I wish you a safe journey, my lady."
The formality of his words hurt her.
"Thank you," she says softly, her voice as cold as his, "Your Grace."
She has hurt him, she can see, from the way he draws in a breath, his eyes as hard as ice. She watches him as he turns his back to her and prepares to leave, then he pauses.
His shoulders are stiff, and his fingers that curl the back of the chair are pale white. She waits, as patiently as she can, before his head turns slightly, and he looks over his shoulder at her.
"I would rather you not go," he says softly, his eyes meeting hers only for a moment before his hand releases the chair and he takes leave of her company.
Sansa sits in silence for a while, her palm on her breast, as she curses her rapidly beating heart.
She wonders if this was how it started between the Kingslayer and his sister. She wonders if her Mother and Father are watching them from the afterlife, an unbearable sadness between them. She wonders if Jon would open the door if she goes to his bedchamber tonight.
She tells her handmaiden shortly after to inform all parties, including Lord Baelish, that she will not be accompanying him to the Vale at first light.
She thanks her sense for her decision, for when a raven brings word from her former Lannister husband two days after, Sansa knows that the news cannot be pleasing.