To Lose A Crown
A/U: To Lose a Crown: After the marriage of her sister, Sansa is bereft of the crown that should have been hers; Demoted to the unmarried sister of the future queen, Sansa is the most sought after bride in all Westeros.
Chapter Nineteen,
Sansa sat silently by Leon's bedside, she had previously been joined by Lancel who'd been sitting with Leon day and night. Lancel was now in his own bed fighting the sickness, having not become immune during his childhood, thus never becoming immune like Sansa. Leon wasn't doing much better either, even now her son's fever burnt her hand to touch. The boy slept, but writhed in pain.
Samwell had been using the Grand dining hall as an impromptu ward for the children in the keep, and sleeping in a cot in the corner of the large room so that he could keep a watchful eye on his charges. So far it had been working, from his treatments many of the children had been getting better. Princess Cassana for instance was now in the recovery stages of the illness. Sansa herself had been helping the Maester, as had the queen.
For now though, she was taking a short break from soothing the children of others. She for the next hour would focus only upon Leon. Behind her the squeak of the broth trolley could be heard. Sansa had commanded that her handmaiden Mira help too by preparing and serving meals to the sick. Sansa turned toward the noise, preparing to greet her servant. Instead she was met with the Blue eyes of Willas Tyrell.
"Where's Mira?" Sansa asked, slightly worried for the girl.
"Who?"
"Mira my handmaiden." Sansa explained calmly.
"The man in the kitchen couldn't find her." He wheeled closer. "So he demanded I help instead, very rude man that Hot-Pie." Willas picked up a ladle from the trolley and spooned a large helping of beef broth into a bowl. He held it out to Sansa.
"Thank you." She took the bowl from Willas, gently waking Leon from his sleep so that he could eat.
"May I join you?" Asked Willas, indicating the empty stool beside Sansa.
"Certainly." He sat on the stool with ease, resting his cane upon the wall.
"Thank you, I needed a break my leg's killing me." He laughed lightly as Sansa spooned broth into Leon's mouth.
"Is the leg getting worse?" She asked concerned for his well being.
"With age yes." He answered flatly, causing the two to fall into an easy silence as Sansa spooned the liquid into Leon's mouth. Willas watched the mother and son, happy enough to just sit for a while. Eventually, Sansa ran out of broth to feed to Leon, who quickly fell asleep once again. Leon slept easier than before now, his chest rising and falling gently.
Their silence continued, while most would find the absence of words unsettling Sansa found it brought her a comforting sense of peace. She even chose not to stop Willas when he took her hand, while the gesture would be considered inappropriate if seen by other courtiers. Sansa knew it was only meant as a gesture of support and kindness from Willas, who Sansa mused thought of her only as a friend.
Sansa returned to her chambers that night incredibly tired after having spent the day on her feet caring for the sick, and visiting Lancel who seemed to be in good spirits despite being unable to keep down the food he was brought. She kicked off her plain slippers, they were now worn from such strenuous use. Tomorrow she would wear boots instead, far more practical.
Upon entering her bed chamber, Sansa collapsed face first into the soft peacock feather pillows that awaited her. She had neglected to change out of her day clothes, although they would be comfortable enough to sleep in. Less concerning to Sansa, was the whereabouts of her Handmaiden Mira. Something come morning she would deeply regret. But for now all Sansa cared about was sleep.
She was in the cursed Godswood again, this time all the trees were made of fine silver, and encrusted with sapphires. Pale moonlight illuminated the grove, casting shadows over the creepy trees. By the Weirwood tree, a grand cradle fit for the noblest of children had been left. Sansa walked towards it so that she could investigate further.
It was ornate, carved with many a horrific battle scene, the battle of the Trident's climax when Robert crushed Rhaegar's chest killing the Targaryen prince, it also had the sack of kings landing it visceral detail the brutal murders of the Targaryen children, and their mother. The final motif was that of the Mad-King, betrayed by his Kingsguard.
Sansa had not yet dared to look inside the cradle, fearing what may lay inside. Slowly, she peeked over the edge of the engraved blackwood horrified by what lay inside. A mangled corpse of an infant boy had been swaddled and laid to rest on the soft velvet bedding. Sansa wanted to vomit, but all she could do was stagger away from the grizzly scene.
Sansa woke with a start, she was back in her bedchamber once again. The dress she had slept in was now wrinkled and sweat stained from her nightmare. She took a moment to remind herself, that there was no threat, and certainly no dead babies. Sunlight was already seeping in through the windows. Sansa sat up in her bed, looking around the room she spotted Mira still asleep on her smaller bed.
"Mira!" She called loudly to wake the girl. "Mira!" She called again when the girl did not hear her, Sansa pushed herself out of her warm bed. "Seven hells Mira! wake up." She was at Mira's bedside now, attemting to shake the girl awake.
She found that Mira was cold and clammy to the touch, Sansa let go of Mira who's head lulled backwards revealing blank staring eyes and an agape mouth. To Sansa it felt like hours before she let out a loud scream. She backed away from the plague stricken corpse, letting herself hide in the corner. It was not long before two men came bursting through the door to Sansa's room. The first, was one of her guards Ser Wilfrid. The other man who despite being fast, moved with a distinct limp.
"My lady." Wilfrid drew his sword. "Where is the intruder?"
"It's Mira." Sansa whispered back at him. The Knight looked very confused at this.
"But, Mira is permitted entrance to this room?" Was his response.
"She's dead you imbecile!" Sansa returned at him, in awe at his incompetence.
"What should I do?" He asked Willas, instead of his employer.
"Move her body you fool!" Wilfrid obliged scooping up the lifeless body of Mira. Her head drooped towards Sansa once again, the unseeing eyes bore into her skull. Mira had only reached her fifteenth name day a fortnight ago, and now Wilfrid was leaving with the small blonde haired girl in his arms. Sansa noticed Ser Willas was still in the room.
"Would you help me up?" Sansa could feel herself shaking on the floor.
"Of course." He limped over to Sansa, removing his cloak as he did so. "Here, take this you're shaking." His voice was heavy with concern. Once she had wrapped the cloak around herself like a blanket. Willas pulled her up, holding her stable while she swayed.
"Could you help me down to the hall?" She asked him softly. "I would like to see Leon." Willas extended his arm to her, she held on still in too much shock to walk by herself. It was a strange feeling but she felt like she could be weak around Willas, like he would understand.
Willas began to walk Sansa out of her apartments then, as they got further away from where Mira had died Sansa felt herself becoming calmer, and stronger too. By the time she found herself outside the great hall. Sansa was walking by herself again. It was at this point Willas had to leave for the time being, as he had duties else where in the Keep.
"Good day Lady Sansa." He bowed to her, as a mark of respect despite being of a higher rank than her. While he dipped, Willas never broke eye contact with Sansa.
"See you soon Ser Willas." She smiled weakly at him as he backed away from her, for as long as he could Willas kept his eyes on Sansa, not knowing when might be the last time he saw her. After all this world was cruel, and more than willing to take away those he loved.
Once he had turned the corner Sansa walked into the Hall, she would first talk to Samwell and see what needed to be done. Then carry out those tasks, all the while she would be ever-so-slightly distracted by the memory of vibrant blue eyes and curling brown hair.
A/N: Mira's not the first i'll kill and she's not the last, To a certain reviewer I asked NICELY for people not to request deaths, It was beyond rude of you to do so anyway, I hope you can understand my frustration I only ask that you refrain from doing so again, I would hate to turn on review moderation again as I have always felt reviewers should be allowed to speak their mind anonymously. I can understand why past actions may have made Gendry a popular charterer to kill nevertheless don't do it again.
Good news and bad news, the bad news is only six chapters left. The good news, I'm planning a rewrite and expansion of the previous fic, The Name Day Dance. I would actually appreciate opinions on that one as I'm A: Not sure how to go about it and B: still considering what to expand on.
Anyway, enough of me prattling on, hope you enjoyed this chapter. -Phillipe