Refreshed from a nap and few more bouts of tears, Sansa dressed in her favorite new gown of black silks with blood-red lacing and embroidery, accepting her white fur wrap from her maid just as a knock sounded on the chamber door. Roose strode in, dressed in an all black ensemble of leather breeches, tunic and doublet, and Sansa could note quite keep the small smile from her face when his gaze swept from her loose auburn curls down to the toes of her blood red leather boots, another new favorite. When his eyes finally returned to hers they were burning with an unreadable expression that had her blushing down to the tops of her breasts, a fact he did not miss if the brief dip in his gaze was any indication. As he took several steps towards her she couldn't help but dip into a small curtsy, a teasing smile spreading wide. "Do I meet with your approval, my lord?"
His lips twitched into his version of a smirk as he raised a brow with wry amusement, offering her his arm to escort her down to the welcoming feast. "You are indeed passable this evening, my lady," he bantered back, much to her amusement, his face carefully passive while his eyes twinkled in the firelight.
"I should hope so," she teased, twining her arm more closely through his and following him to the door. "We do match, after all. What is that turn of phrase? Something about great minds and like thoughts?"
He snorted, coming very close to rolling his eyes as he looked down towards her where she peaked cheekily up at him from his shoulder. "I fear that only means the opposite stands true, as well; thus, I refuse to accept the principle."
"Very well, my lord," she murmured demurely, batting her lashes before smoothing her countenance into the Bolton mask she'd learned so well. As they made their way into the great hall she couldn't help but add, "I will defer to my lord husband and his wisdom in these matters." From the corner of her eye she watched as his jaw clenched and he fought back a smirk of amusement.
"As you should. There will be consequences if you don't."
Reaching the high table, she nodded for him to proceed her to their seats, as he was closest to the center, surprisingly seated next to the King. "Age before beauty, my lord," she said solemnly, and though she was able to reign in the smile threatening to break out over her face, she couldn't quite keep the twinkling from her eyes.
Just as they were seated and she had raised her glass of wine for a sip, his soft whisper slipped in through her hair to tease the shell of her ear. "See if I leave a council meeting again just to slip into your small clothes."
Stifling a giggle, she whispered in response before turning to her left to great the Greatjon. "I shall strive to behave, my lord. That is a punishment I doubt I could withstand," she teased, gently squeezing his hand affectionately before removing her own. After Ser Royce's warnings, they had agreed to be far more reserved towards each other in front of the watchful eyes of Robb's court.
The feast was uneventful, and Sansa was just congratulating herself on making it more than an hour without crying, when a light reproach from Queen Talisa brought her up short. "Oh, Lady Sansa, forgive me but is your wine watered down?"
Roose became still as stone as she gracefully leaned over and raised a questioning brow. "It is, Your Grace, thank you for your concern," she replied passively, a respectful smile on her face.
Queen Talisa's brow furrowed with false concern, and she motioned for her server to come closer. "My dear, trust me when I say this wine could be harmful for the babe. Please, you must share in mine. It is a family mixture designed to support the growth of your unborn child." Sansa paled at the sickly sweet words, her heart thrumming in her throat as she fought to control the alarm cracking fissures in the mask on her features.
Roose looked murderous when conversation at the table slammed to a halt in the wake of the Queen's pronouncement. Robb leaned over with a wide smile, clapping Roose on the shoulder as he offered congratulations. "Sansa, I had no idea! Congratulations, sister, Lord Bolton! Wonderful news, we must have a celebration!"
"No need, Your Grace," he replied softly, the anger radiating off him in waves. "We had not yet announced the happy news; I apologize we were unable to tell you directly, but as we only learned today, we had not had the time."
Robb was smiling wide as Talisa simpered with false apology behind him. "Oh, Lord Bolton, forgive me! I had thought it was common news!"
"It is now, Your Grace. Thank you for your concern, but as the babe is quite healthy, we've no cause to change Lady Sansa's diet."
Sansa breathed a sigh in relief, a trickle of unease sliding down her spine at the suggestion of Queen Talisa's wine, yet her brother was ignorant of any potential conflict and jovially insisted Sansa be brought a glass. "Nonsense, Lord Bolton, I won't hear of it! Sansa should be afforded all comforts my own lady receives during this special time." He turned, motioning for the server to be off at once. "You heard the Queen, bring Lady Sansa a glass of her wine this instant!"
Sansa felt her hands begin to clench and unclench, crumpling the silks of her dress as she attempted to gracefully receive the well wishes shouted in their direction from various diners at the high table. She sighed with relief when Roose's hand slipped into her lap, gently releasing the imprisoned silks and twining her fingers with his own. With a smile on his face that did not reach his eyes, he leaned over to whisper into her ear. "I see the musicians are about to strike up a tune. I have business that I must attend to, and will join you after in our chambers. Do not, under any circumstances, ingest the wine." Sansa felt the unease grow until it was a pit of snakes writhing in her belly, and she tightened her hold on his hand as she forced a smile to her face and nodded in agreement as he pulled away. She had an inkling of what he suspected, and the thought of harm coming to their unborn babe brought a bout of protectiveness so strong Roose actually let out a grunt at the strength of her hold on his fingers. Shooting her a glare lacking any real heat, he extracted himself and rose to exit the hall, followed several minutes later by the Greatjon.
An island unto herself at this moment, Sansa was pondering how to slip out when the server returned with her cup of wine. Thanking the server with a small smile, Sansa turned to meet the insipid gaze of the Queen, smiling and nodding for her to enjoy a taste. Just as she reached for the glass, no idea of how to politely refuse coming into her muddled mind, a drunk Ser Royce slumped into the chair her husband had vacated, slamming his goblet down next to her own. He was laughing uproariously, barking out a racy joke with a soldier down a few steps from the dais, and turned towards her to loudly share it with her in an exaggerated whisper. Sansa blushed pink, fighting back a smile. She heard Robb pronounce he was on the edge of his seat in anticipation, and wasn't able to get a word in edgewise before Ser Royce picked up his goblet and moved around the table, lounging between the King and Queen to retell the tale. She barely succeeded in ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when he plunked down his goblet on the table and leaned in casually between them.
She noted his positioning had shielded her momentarily from the Queen's view, and Sansa didn't waste a moment to switch her goblet with the one her husband had left behind, mentally singing Ser Royce's praises to the gods for providing her with the opportunity to avoid the potential threat. As Royce sauntered off back down the dias, swigging an obscene sip from his wine and nearly toppling down a stair in the process, she caught Queen Talisa's gaze, and raised her goblet in acknowledgement before tipping it back to take a sip. The Queen had a smile slyer than a fox in response, and mirrored Sansa's actions, raising her own goblet and swallowing deeply, before sputtering and flinging it down onto the merrymakers who had just picked up the steps of a dance below.
Sansa watched in confusion as the Queen's eyes widened comically large, a look of acute horror twisting her face into a nasty mask, before blood curling scream burst from her lips to pierce the revelry and echo ominously across the stones. With rising alarm, Sansa glanced down and saw blood began to stain the front of Talisa's gown. Her head began to swim when Ser Royce caught hold of her arm, lifting her unceremoniously to nearly drag her from the hall and back to Roose's chambers, while her brother called for the maester and swept his Queen up into his arms.
Roose walked to the edge of the courtyard covered in shadow, pacing anxiously until he heard the lumbering gate that could only indicate one man striding with purpose in his direction. He turned, meeting the affable grin of the Greatjon with a curt nod of his own, and started the discussion without preamble. "Thank you for meeting me, Lord Umber. Did I miss anything of import this afternoon?"
The large man nodded with more grace than Roose had assumed the entire line of Umber's possessed, and he responded with quiet congratulations and a brief update of the convening. "I must say, I now understand entirely why you left in such a rush, though I do question how you became aware of your wife's condition?"
Roose narrowed his eyes, cursing himself for having ever doubting the shrewd intelligence of the giant before him. "That is none of your concern," he said icily, steel in his tone.
The Greatjon smiled wide, nodding and professing that "he had only ever heard in folklore of such a connection where one was in tune with their lady's emotions." Shaking his head at the booming laughter, he walked a few steps further into the shadows, away from the keep. The Greatjon's next words nearly had him faltering in his step. "I understand we share a mutual interest, Lord Bolton," he said quietly, his loud voice now so soft that Roose had to strain to hear.
"Indeed, my lord?" he questioned, his eyes sharply searching the shadows of the Greatjon's face to read his reactions to what could now be called treason. "I wonder, is that interest in the health of my lady wife, or in the fate of the North?"
A smile twitched across the larger man's face, and the glint in his eyes had Roose's pulse racing at all the possibilities beginning to open up before him. "I had thought those were one in the same, Lord Bolton."
They were in a dangerous dance now, each one studiously searching the face of the other, before Roose took a calculated risk and made the leap forward. "Indeed, Lord Umber," he said quietly, "I do believe they are."
A scream pierced the night, halting the exchange of treasonous whispers and cautious eyes, and they both took off at a run when a woman's wails reached their ears, followed by the roars of their King. Sprinting into the great hall, Roose was met with grizzly scene that had the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as he searched the room for Sansa. His King was exiting the dais and making his way towards the steps to their rooms, his Queen cradled in his arms. A trail of blood had stained her skirts, and was flowing like a river across the dirt of the floor in their wake.
Sansa was seated in front of a roaring fire in their chamber, wrapped in furs with Grey Wind curled around her feet as Ser Royce paced restlessly across the floor, awaiting Roose's return. She was shaking so violently the chattering of her teeth made a sharp staccato in the room, punctuated by the occasional whines of concern of the direwolf below.
There was so much blood.
Tears welled when she wondered whether the drink she'd avoided would have resulted in a similar state of circumstances for her own babe, and she protectively wrapped a hand tightly over her still flat torso. She would not allow that to happen to the little creation growing inside of her. She was the heart wolf, wrapped in flayed men. She was strong.
The door burst open without a knock of warning, and Roose came through with his sword drawn and his eyes wild, taking in the scene before him. He nearly ran to her seat, and before she could process the alarming look on his face, she found herself pulled into a hug so tight the air left her lungs in a rush. She heard Ser Royce clear his throat as Roose pulled back to look down on her, and she watched as the two exchanged an unreadable look for a long moment before Ser Royce quietly left the chamber.
As soon as the door was closed, she heard Roose's sword clatter to the floor, and then he was sweeping her up in his arms before resettling them back on the chair by the fire, her wrapped up tight in his arms. She pressed in further into his chest, soaking in the warmth and comfort of him, while he held her and listened to her teeth rattle the room.
"That was supposed to be me, wasn't it?" She whispered quietly, as the warmth finally seeped in through her silks and furs and skin to her bones.
He was silent as he stared into the flames.
"I… Who would benefit from poisoning us both?"
He appeared almost bewildered when he shot her a startled gaze, before he snorted and pulled her in closer, tucking her head into his shoulder. "I can think of any number of individuals. However, I do believe you were the only intended target."
Sansa struggled to push back enough to look up into his face, and she shook her head rapidly in disagreement. "No, Roose, I received the same drink as the Queen. If it weren't for Ser Royce's distraction, I-"
She paused, her eyes growing wide as she stared at the stone beyond Roose's head, all of the pieces suddenly falling into place. "Ser Royce," she whispered suddenly, turning to meet Roose's gaze of approval.
"Yes, Ser Royce."
A knock on the door stifled Sansa's next words, and the man himself was suddenly before them with a look of alarm. "The Queen?" Roose asked softly, his tone impassive.
Ser Royce shook his head, pressing on without catching a breath. "No, Roose. A raven from Riverrun, our boy in the stables intercepted it. It appears Hoster Tully passed last eve, though foul play is not suspected."
Roose was so still and silent Sansa almost wondered if he hadn't heard, until he was rising up to stand and resettling her amongst the furs of their bed. "You may invite Grey Wind if you wish, Sansa. I won't be returning this evening. There is much to be done." After placing a chaste kiss to her lips, he turned on his heel and marched into the chaos beyond their door.