The Lion Queen and The Prince of The Sun
Chapter Eight
The climb up the Mountains of the Moon had taken almost an entire day and the sun was just about to set when they finally reached the Eyrie. Sansa was glad of that as she did not think she would have the strength to face that sort of climb in the middle of the night. It had been more than terrifying in the full rich light of the day. Her aunt, her two ladies, her maid and Sansa were lifted up to the castle in a large basket attached to a winch while Lord Petyr and Lord Nestor Royce of the Gates of the Moon would use the natural handholds to climb the rest of the way.
Lady Lysa was the first to be helped out of the basket, followed her two ladies, then her maid and then Sansa. For a moment she wonder why she had been helped out last when by all rights of propriety it should have been her Aunt's maid who was helped out last but then Sansa remembered. Not only was she a stranger to these people, she was also not their Lady's niece. She was simply just Lord Petyr's natural born daughter, his bastard. Entitled to nothing at all due to nothing more than being born on the wrong side of the sheets.
It was an odd sensation, something that she would never have thought would occur to her and it made her thoughts go to Jon. She hadn't thought of her bastard brother in so very long a time and the last time that she had done so they had not been thoughts that she would have liked to dwell on. She and Jon had never been close, she had been closer to her Mother as she had been growing; always seeing her as the most perfect of ladies, highborn and beautiful. But her Mother had never liked Jon, she had always been afraid that he would try and steal what was Robb and the rest of theirs by right and Sansa had maybe, if only just a little bit, had always believed her. Her lady Mother could do no wrong, not in her eyes and thus if she thought that Jon could not be trusted then the simply truth could only be that Jon could not be trusted.
But Jon was also all that she had left now, Robb had been betrayed and murdered in the Twins and so had their mother as well, she still had nightmares from what she heard had been done to them. Some nights she was almost certain that she could hear her mother calling out for her to come to her, the sound of her sorrow thick in her voice.
Other nights she had dreams about Robb instead and those were the worst of them, he would chase her in a grove of wild weirwood trees with bark as white as dead fleash and red tears running down from their eyes as they watched her run through their branches, chased by the monster that the monsters had made of her brother. He would always catch her in the end and the last thing she would see before she woke screaming would be Grey Wind's unseeing eyes looking down at her.
If she ever returned to the North then she would have to go to Jon, it would be so very sweet to see him again. Jon was their father's son, he was her brother. He would keep her safe.
But hadn't she thought that about Joffery, not so very long ago? That he was her perfect prince and that she would be so happy with him and he would be the one to keep her safe and happy and warm? And he had turned out to be a monster who had hurt her, who had murdered her Father. She thought that the Tyrells would be her refugee, would be the ones to get her away and to a safe place where she would be away from all those who would hurt her but as soon as she was married to Tyrion, she had been abanonded by all of them.
And she didn't trust Lord Petyr, he had gotten her out of King's Landing and away from the Lannisters and away from a marriage that she did not want at all but he had not done it for her, like everyone else who had been kind to her since she had left Winterfell, he wanted something from her. Her claim to her Lord Father's seat, most likely. But he couldn't marry her, he was married to Aunt Lysa now and he was the Lord Protector of the Vale now, and he was too old besides.
An old man in soft white robes with the chain of a maester around his neck appeared in the room just as Lord Petyr and Lord Nestor had finished their climb. The maester glanced over all of them for a moment before he set his attention on Sansa's aunt. "News from King's Landing, my Lady. It arrived after you had departed and I was not sure where to send the bird, we have no ravens trained to send messages to the Fingers."
Her Aunt let out a long suffering sigh and removed her long fur cloak and almost tossed it into the face of her maid and then set to removing her gloves. "It has been a long and cold climb Maester Colemon, I wish to have naught but a cup mulled wine and to have something to fill my belly and to see my son and naught more for the night, do you understand?"
The maester frowned and let out a hesitant nod. "I-Of course My Lady, fires have been built in all of the halls and your chambers, Lord Nestor sent up word of your comming the night before and so the cooks have roasted a venison and have mulled some wine but I am afraid that Lord Robert is sleeping, he had a turn when he was told that you would not be making the climb in the morning."
The news of her son had seem to turn something in Lady Lysa, she threw her gloves down to the ground and hurried out of the room, her ladies hurried after her and her maid reached down to pick up her gloves before following them out of the room as well. Sansa was about to follow them but then realised that she wasn't sure if she should, she wasn't sure what was acceptable with her new status. She was held in higher regard when she had been the hostage daughter of an excuted traitor.
Lord Petyr walked forward then and placed his hand on the shoulder of the maester, his mint green eyes shinned with sympathy and friendship and Sansa wondered if he had learned how to do that. "My new wife has a gentle heart Masester, and she loves her son well. The thought of him suffering is like a dagger to her heart, forgive her for her outburst. Tell me, what news has arrived? I am the Lord Protector of the Vale now, I should know it at any rate."
"Yes my Lord, a day after Lady Lysa left, a raven from King's Landing brought news. Foul news befitting the dark wings it was born on, King Joffery is dead. Murdered at his wedding feast by vile poison slipped into his cup by his uncle, Lord Tyrion of the House Lannister." Sansa brought her hand up to her mouth in order to cover it and then turned away, their was no greif for Joffery in her but she knew that she had to at least seem shocked or sadden, she was a maid who knew nothing of what Joffery had really been.
She did not see Petyr's face, but she knew that if she turned around to look then she would see a perfect mask of sorrow, shock and disguist on those sharp features. "Wicked, utterly wicked that such a thing could have happened! And at his wedding as well, poor Lady Margaery must be so very distraught. Only the The Imp could have been capable of something so cruel, the trial will do well to find him gulity as soon as possible."
You got the poison for some queer reason she wanted to yell, at the top of her lungs though her mouth stayed firmly shut You got the poison and Margaery's grandmother was the one who put it in his cup.
"Alas, sad as it is we must move on. We have a new king now and Mace Tyrell will still insist on the marriage, we must be sure to send our condelences and ensure Lord Tywin that he still has the complere and utter support of the Vale in ensureing that King Tommen remains on the Throne, I think we shall-"
"My Lord, I beg your pardon but I was not finished. There is more news, Prince Tommon is dead as well, he chocked on the crust of his pigon pie." At that, Sansa spun around and the shock she felt deep inside her was clearly mirrored on Lord Petyr's face, and this time it was not a mask.
Tommen was dead? How? She suddenly found herself remebering the little boy with his golden curls and his green eyes and the way he had spoken of wanting a kitten to play with and his Mother never spending time with him anymore because she was too busy being the regent and the way he had cried when his sister had left him on the docks to go to Dorne to be wed to one of the sons of Prince Doran of House Martell. Had he been older, then she would not have minded being married to Tommen.
"The Imp is dead as well my Lord, the Queen was thrown into a fit of madness at the death of both her sons and she drew a dagger and slew the imp where he stood, Queen Cersei has been confined to the Red Keep and Lord Tywin has sent word to Dorne that Princess Myrcella, I beg pardon, Queen Myrcella might return to King's Landing so she can take her place on the Iron Throne."
Tyrion was dead. Tyrion was dead. She was free to marry again, if she wished too or if she didn't which wouldn't matter to anyone who truly wanted her hand but Tyrion was dead. He had been kind to her, he had been gentle as well in his way, the ugliest of the lions has the best of hearts and he had not touched her at all, he had simply gone back to his whores. She shed a single tear for her husband and quickly brushed it away, no more tears. Never again.
Lord Petyr was silent, standing there and just listening to everything the maester told him before he nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, today has been a day for shocks it seems. Lord Nestor, I will ask one of these serving men to escort you to your rooms and to bring you some food, I will beg your pardon but I would like to be alone to do some thinking. Alyane, sweetling, come with me to my Solar. Maester, please go to the kitchens have them send bread, wine and cheese to us."
The Maester nodded and scurried out with Lord Nestor leaving shortly after, Sansa followed Lord Peter out of the winch room and through the long pale corridors of the Eyrie until they arrived at his solar. It did not seem anything like Lord Petyr would like, sky blue banners and tapestries depecting events from the ancient history of the Vale but then Sansa remebered that this had most likely been Jon Arryn's solar and it only now belonged to Lord Petyr.
A fire was burning in the heath and Lord Petyr sat down in a chair in front of it and stared at the flames for a long few moments before he decided to speak. "Well, this has certainly spat in the pudding somewhat. All our careful plans we lay out, and one little brat decides to chock on some pastry and we are left with nothing, I shall have to start all over again. All the pieces on the board have changed now."
"On the other hand, having a Queen sitting on the Iron Throne might be all for the better in the end. It would make several things easier, though who can say if will turn out that way. We shall simply have to do what we can with what we have." Sansa had no idea what to say, she got the feeling that Lord Petyr was simply speaking to himself than he was to her.
Two serving men came into the room, one with a flagon of wine another with a platter of bread and cheese as well as some red grapes. Lord Petyr dismissed them with a wave of his hand and walked over to his desk to pour himself a cup. "Help yourself sweetling, it was a very long climb to say the very least."
Sansa stood up and poured a cup of wine and sat down and took a sip of it, ginger and cinnamon burst along her tongue and a warmth filled her chest as she contemplated what she was going to say next. "My Lord, if Myrcella is the Queen now. That means that Margaery cannot be queen, does that mean the Tyrells will turn against the Lannisters?"
She hoped so, deep inside of her she hoped so. She hoped they all killed one another, expect maybe not Ser Garlan and his wife, they had both been kind to her when they did not need to be.
"Oh, Lord Tywin will be desperate to keep them as allies, I would not be surprised if Myrcella's Dornish boy suddenly came down with a case of knife in the neck, The Lannisters need the Tyrells more than the Martells. Mace wanted his daughter to be Queen, but if in the end he gets a grandson for a King then he will be more than happy enough with that."
"But who can say how these things will land at the end of the day, pieces move in ways we don't expect them too, be sure to remebere that Sansa as you go forward, as you play the Game. Or you will be caught unawares, I had not anticpated this possiblity and I was unsettled. But, going forward we shall simply have to adapt, I will need to send a raven to King's Landing as soon as possible and swear my loyalty to the Queen, I might even have to return to the City, oh that would be a problem."
He waved his hand and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, nevermind. Go to bed sweetling, I shall deal with all of this Tommorow. Plotting can be so very tiresome, even more so after climbing a mountain." Taking the unspoken dismissal, Sansa stood up and left the solar. A manservent who was waiting for her outside told her that he had been informed by Lady Lysa that he was to show her to her room.
It was a smaller room that she had ever slept in but the bed was comfortable and the room itself was warm enough, she stared up at the ceiling as she was alone in the dark with naught but her thoughts. And her memories.
They were what followed her into the darkness of her dreams.
End of Chapter Eight.
Another chapter done and dusted.
So, obviously more has happened then just what the letter says but when it arrived Lysa was travling to the fingers and then the wedding party was traviling back so they Eyrie are a little out of the loop but as we go through the story, that will become less and less true as they get involved with the main plot.
I am never sure with how I write Sansa and I don't think I have ever actually writtten Littlefinger before, so I hope they both at least sound as though I got them both in character.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please review, follow and favourite if so.
With much love,
DiscordantSymphony
