Sansa Stark sat on bended knees in the Godswood when she heard the soft crunch of feet on fallen leaves. "I have never known a citizen of Ashemark to keep the Old Gods." She spoke to girl whose golden curls snapped and whirled in the soft night breeze, Sansa beckoned her closer, "Come, pray with me…Oriane is it? The Princess' handamaiden?"
Oriane only nodded and knelt dutifully beside the girl, but could not muster any words of prayer, something that Lady Sansa had noticed instantly, "If it helps, you can just listen to my prayer, normally I would not prefer to profess my innermost desires aloud but…." Her hand ghosted over Oriane's own, "I trust you…." Then she clasped her hands in prayer.
Her prayers, as Oriane had suspected, had been of a traditional nature, she prayed for health and justice and a blessed harvest, and all the while all that cared to enter Oriane's mind was Cersei Lannister, and her assurance of her safety. If the word of the commons was to be believed, then the word of the queen would fall heedless, for it was often that Joffrey black of heart and without a conscience, and from what little she'd seen, she was inclined to believe it. "I was truly saddened to hear that your betrothal to the King has been declared invalid." Oriane said courteously, "I imagine you must be…"
Lady Sansa intercepted her consolation with a swift, and seemingly well-rehearsed reply, "Your concern warms my heart, Lady Oriane, but it is not fitting for a King as noble and valiant as His Grace to wed the daughter of a disgraced traitor…" The moonlight revealed the tears that threatened to fall, but Sansa Stark took a deep breath and composed herself, Oriane heard the faint hooting of an Owl, nesting somewhere within the Godswood, "But Lady Margaery however, I do believe there was never anyone more captivatingly beautiful." That was true, Oriane knew, there were few women in Westeros who could rival the infamous beauty of Highgarden's prize rose, a rose far too sweet for the monstrosity that was King Joffrey.
"Alas, Lady Sansa, no good will come of lamenting what once was." Sansa didn't have to say anything for the girl to know she had agreed with her.
They squeezed their eyes shut, and Oriane's attentions longed for the queen.
Sansa's eyes darted open when she heard a dull thump, the girl who had been praying with her so intently now lay motionless on the hard stone floor, save for the frequent spasms of coughing and sweating profusely, Sansa recoiled in horror, "Guards! Come quickly!"
The coughing of blood and spasms of the limbs subsided,
And Oriane lay still.
At this point, y'all are probably thinking 'wtf?' but all will be revealed in the next chapter.
Until then,
Immortalgothgirl
xx
