Chapter 10. The decision
"You should have left that damned arrow in! She's bleeding out more so now! Too much blood has been lost because of it" The old man's cold fingers clenched onto her leg, it felt like frost burn blistering her skin. "Hand me that cloth Jeryl!" The old man ordered. In was an intense situation, Sansa's leg cried of pain and she herself could not hold back her screams as his fingers dug into her skin. "Now you listen to me lady, there are small stones in ya leg, I need to get them out before I stitch it up, ya hear? Now stop moving" Sansa could tell that the old man was trying to be gentle, but every time he touched her skin she jittered and jumped, wriggling about in the bed from the pain and agony. "Marta, where is that bloody milk of the poppy!?" The old man hollered out to his wife, once again.
"I know it's here, there must be some left!" Sansa heard Marta, the older women cry out. She could hear her scurry around the room, moving around jars and pots, searching for the milk of the poppy.
"Boy, get me some of those healing herbs from the garden, crush em' like I taught ya, be quick. And get me that needle and mead!" The old man demanded, though Sansa wasn't complaining. She thought it was all too much of a fuss, but in the end she wanted to live long enough to see her mother again. "Now, where's that father of yours? Eh fine, the name's Toddn. Now I ain't no maester or village healer, but I have done this before. Me father had an arrow in his arm, it's about the same" Toddn's words didn't reassure her, but all the same she could let it slid and let him give it his best shot. "The fucking milk of the poppy!" Toddn hollered out once more, even more urgently this time.
"I think we used it all when my sister came over, she was having trouble sleeping" Marta told Toddn as she entered the room. Her old stringy hair was like straw, grey, and tried back with an old frayed fabric. She was distressed with a lone sweat pouring down her forehead. Her eyes were blue, but had become discoloured from age. Sansa could see that she once must have been very beautiful, judging by her flawless skin and long curled eyelashes.
"You used the milk of the poppy on your fat, hard to find sleep sister? Gods woman!" Toddn said. When he spoke like that Sansa couldn't help but think how much he reminded her of the old dead king Robert Baratheon. Sansa remembered the first time they stormed into Winterfell, their armour so beautiful. She remembered Arya arriving late, and her father bending down before the king; remembering that day made Sansa smile. Things were so much more peaceful and easier back then, and now it felt so foreign to her. She could hardly believe it was real, except without it she wouldn't have been where she is now. It was her fault that her father died. It was her fault that they set off to Kings landing. Everything was her fault.
"Shut your mouth Toddn Sligner! Or I want be married to you no more!" Marta spoke out, which is something Cersei never did to Robert Baratheon. Just then Jeryl ran in with a needle, cloth and a mug of mead; followed in by a little boy with a steaming hot bucket of water. He carried it weakly, but managed.
Toddn began to soak the cloth in the ale, and quickly placed it on Sansa's leg. Her arms stiffened, and her jaw clenched down on her tongue. "Fool!" Sansa heard a rasping voice say as a hand was forcing her mouth open. Something was being wrapped around her head with her mouth clenching down on whatever was in her mouth, which stopped her from biting her tongue. Sansa suspected it was a belt. "She'll want her tongue as much as she would her fuckin' leg!" The voice rasped again. Sansa knew it was The Hound, but she wasn't thinking clearly, all she felt was pain, and voices and people were just irrelevant to her.
"Even so" Toddn began to say "I was too busy focusing on her leg to worry about her tongue. Perhaps you do not want her tongue because of her being able to speak, but more so on what else it may have to offer..." Toddn finished with a dry, suspicious eye as he dabbed Sansa's leg with the wet cloth. The Hound took a moment to process on what Toddn meant by that notion, until the words clicked and The Hound snapped, scrunching up Toddn's shirt near his neck close to Sandor's face. Sandor was about to hit him, until Toddn quickly said "There's something about her leg!"He hollered, with a cruel hard look. Night had peaked and the family has lightened some candles. Shadows crawled up the walls like death in the dark, calling, as Sansa waited for her bane. It was much like her dreams, darkness surrounding her. She knew what would happen next, the darkness would soon consume her until there was nothing of her left. "Her leg needs to be amputated. It has passed far from infection and is spreading. If I sew it up she may not heal at all, likely the stitches will become infected also. I need to cut her leg off". The Hound's face clouded over from the dark as his head sunk underneath his hair as he lowered his head. Sansa's heart was beating so fast she could hear the sound throbbing in her ears.
"No please!" Sansa begged. She would be a cripple, like her brother. Sansa had already imagined her return into her mother's arms. She would be clean, beautiful, well-dressed and approachable. Her mother would be able to see the sorrow and hardness in her daughter's eyes, but Sansa would smile and tell her mother she was happy to be home again. Sansa automatically assumed Arya would be, no doubt she would. Arya was always wild like a real wolf; she would have found her way home by now. Bran and Rickon would be there also, no doubt her mother would take the boys everywhere by her side during a war. Sansa pictured Rickon older, with most of his baby fat gone. Bran would be in a chair, but still a cripple. But from Sansa's arrival, Brandon would stand up as strong as he ever was, and hug her. And Bran would become a knight, like he always wanted. But Sansa never learned until death and sorrow were already in front of her eyes. I'm a stupid girl who never learns, Sansa told herself. This is the price you must pay to get home, whether Brandon and Rickon were there or not. But Sansa had no doubt Arya would be there. Even if they have already left, I would be safe. "Cut it off" Sansa quickly said. If she had said it slowly, she would be afraid she would stop herself and beg for Toddn not to cut off her leg.
"There is no milk of the poppy..." Toddn said gently. Sansa could see the pitiful look in his eyes, like he had no confidence for Sansa what so ever.
"Cut it" Sansa told him firmly. There was no going back. Her dreams had told her so.
Sansa had blocked out her hearing and sight as they prepared for the cut. Many fabrics and belts were tied tightly around Sansa's upper leg, to prevent her from bleeding out. Toddn aforementioned that Sansa had lost allot of blood, but with enough prevention, she should not die; yet when the saw cut into her skin, her screams had quickly heighted heightened even more so, and she regretted her decision. The whelps and cries from before were nothing compared to what she was doing now. There was a flat ringing sound that echoed through her ears; perhaps she had become deaf from her piercing screams. Toddn told her that she may become unconscious from the pain, in which 'the gods would be watching over her' if she did. But un-expectantly she did become unconscious.
"You did not look back" The voice said illustriously. Sansa was in a small wooden boat in the ocean. A pink cloud hovered above her high in the sky, whilst the yellow sky lit up like fire. "I suggest you do that more often" The voice advised her.
"Will you show me your face?" Sansa asked, looking into the deep blue waters. There was nothing below her except the bottom of the ocean. It was uncomfortably deep. But Sansa had never felt more control of her dream until now, and so she did not fear the water, or the voice.
"I do not have a face. I do not need a face. I am but a soul, a breath of air flowing through the sky" The voice told her. It always spoke in riddles, but Sansa understood it to mean to say that its body was simply nonexistent.
"Will you tell me why you are here? And why you kept telling me not to look back?" Sansa was all curiosity. She felt safe, at peace. Perhaps this was not a dream, perhaps this was her death.
"I am the one who helped you. As you see Sansa, you are not alone. I am your guidance. Your conscious" The voice spoke gently, but for true.
"What is your name?" Sansa asked.
"I have no name" The voice responded.
"But surely you have something I can call you?" The boat began to rock.
"No" The voice said "Goodbye" The voice finished. The boat began to rock more heavily, until it rocked so high, Sansa fell into the water.
Sansa floated to the bottom of the ocean. There was nothing there but the gently sand, with soft ripples engraved on it. There was a bright hole, and when Sansa reached the bottom of the ocean, she crawled to it. Her fingers grazed across the sandy floor, her bright auburn hair floated around her face. Sansa reached out for the bright light and could feel something. She crawled closer, and finally slipped herself into the holes bright light.
Sansa woke. Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. There were pavement walls, with bricks of grey. To her left was a red curtain that flowed gently in the wind. It reminded her of the men she killed, flashes of blood pouring down on her dress. Sansa looked down. She was in a bed; a big bed. And what felt like a feather bed. Sansa felt strange. She wiggled her left legs toes, and they tickled together as she wriggled them. Only when she tried to wriggle her right leg toes, nothing happened, so felt nothing. Sansa began to panic, not only was she missing a part of herself, but she knew where she was. She was back in Kings landing; she had to be. Her heart raced faster then she could catch onto. Her skin felt like it would jump off her from fear. Sansa was about to scream until she hear a soft voice to her right side.
Sansa turned her head gently to see dark auburn hair, blue eyes with aged skin. Grey hollows outlined her eyes. She knew who it was Sansa was looking at.
"Mother?" Sansa choked. And a soft smile brightened on the woman's face. Her mothers face.
I hope you enjoyed this story, I guess I should have mentioned that I was not going to sugarcoat this journey for Sansa, and loses were bound to happen; after all, it was Westeros. I love GRRM's work, and if I had it my way Sansa would be dead. I love a dramatic twisted ending. But, this story was not for me, but for you.
If you feel like this story or the ending was not enough for you, let me know in a review. Rate it out of 10, and maybe if by popular demand, a new chapter shall arise! I would love to write more, but sadly not enough reviews from different people to keep me going (if that makes me selfish, so be it). Let's just say that I'm holding the sequel to 'A free bird out of the cage' hostage. But of course, it may or may not happen.
Once again thank you for reading, rate this story out of 10, please don't imply any spoilers!