Trigger warning: depression, suicidal thoughts
Sansa looked at his face and felt numb. And for the second time since she saw her father's head on the pick, she felt it, the drenching sense of hopelessness. She felt it throughout her core like a cold filament of grief shaking her pale figure. She wanted to crush his head until his pretty face would be just a heap of bones and brains.
No Hound there to stop her this time.
Watching the horror and sorrow on his mother's face would have been a welcome sight. She didn't care if they killed her afterward, she didn't care at all. Hatred had already made its place in her soul and she felt it everyday. On her plate, when the bread and fruits become the worms and maggots that ate the eyes and cheeks of her father on that pick. In her cup of wine, when the sour and sweet liquor began to taste like blood just like the day Joffrey had cut her lips with his cruel blow.
She hated them all. And she hated herself more to have done nothing to stop it all.
Hatred and emptiness were now the only things she knew.
She sighed bitterly, the day was beautiful as it should be for a royal wedding. Margaery was dazzling in her lovely light blue gown, a rose amongst the lions.
Joffrey looked as condescending as ever. He didn't forget to smile at her, and waved his cup mockingly after the reenactment of the Red Wedding. Sansa wanted to rip his stupid face off, but she just sat and took the hit as always.
And she felt it. The hollow.
She couldn't recall when but the festivity soon moved to where she could hear the waves of the sea crashing upon the rocks of the cliff where the Red Keep was located. Sansa was gazing at the endless horizon before her. The sunset bathed her face and hair in its glorious orange and red colors. It reminded her of the red leaves of the Heart Tree at Winterfell and it broke her heart, knowing that she would never have the chance to see it again.
Winterfell and the cold of the North.
Father, mother, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Jon. She missed them. She missed them all so much and she felt like her heart would burst with sadness. Thinking of her lovely mother's body rotting away in a bush and the humiliation that her brother suffered even after death was sickening. She wanted to scream.
This was wrong, all of this. Something had to be done to stop this circle of death. Grieving was endless, and sorrow was the only truth she had known for these past few years. She was overwhelmed with regrets and weariness. Her body was young, but she felt as though her soul had endured years of hardships.
She couldn't take it anymore.
A laugh broke her train of thought. She reluctantly tore her eyes from the sky and watched the venomous eyes of Joffrey, dancing happily and content as he could ever be next to his mother. Sansa should be happy too. After all she was free from him. But no. If only life was that simple, she thought bitterly. Everything had a price, she reminded herself. Her father had painfully taught her that lesson when slitting the throat of her innocent Lady.
She made her way to the edge of the battlements. She could see how the waves crashed in a regular and soothing way at the base of the structure. But she could also see how the foam created an intricate pattern on the many shapes and forms of rocks in the sea.
Rocks which seemed particularly sharp.
Sansa was not like her sister, she couldn't fight nor hold a sword in her delicate hands. Her only way to defend herself was with her sharp tongue, but even that couldn't protect her from this pit of lions. Looking back at Joffrey and at the rocks, she could see no other way.
Could she do it?
She stepped a little further to the edge and was welcomed by a wave of sea breeze. The sky was now pink and blue. What a beautiful sight. High in the sky, Bran would have loved to see it. Her little brother now crippled for life.
She sighed in anguish. What a nightmare that their life had become. She felt anxiety claiming her body and she could suddenly feel herself suffocating in her corset. Sansa turned her attention back to the rocks.
Could she really do it?
'You have nothing to lose,' she reminded herself. She was all by herself and had no one to stop her this time. No one to care for her. She was nothing here. Sansa Stark, the disgraced daughter of the traitor Ned Stark, that's what they called her. Sansa Stark the blood traitor.
Tears were now forming at the corner of her eyes and the cold air made her shiver in her light dress. The sun was almost completely gone making the sea appeared purple and blue black.
'Nothing,' she said breathily to the sky. Another one of his laughs broke the air and Sansa frowned at his direction. What a waste of life this man was. An abomination brought up by his mother. She hated them with all her heart.
Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she slowly straightened her back and quieted her mind.
Sansa took her hair out of the meticulous braids she had worn for the wedding and let it cascade freely down upon her back.
She could do it.
It all happened in an instant.
No one saw the frail woman making her way past the musicians and what was left of the crowd. No guards paid any attention to the last of the Starks. By the time she took her long dress in her hands and started running, it was already too late.
There was no hesitating this time. She was fearless.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps and she was at him.
When her body collided with his, she made sure to lock her gaze with his hideous green one. She wanted to be the last thing he saw before crushing his skull on the rocks. She wanted him to feel the same hopelessness she felt when seeing her father's head on the pick, his lifeless gaze facing the sky.
So she clutched at his shoulders, like the claws of her late Lady would do.
Father, mother, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Jon. Gods, she missed them so much.
I'm sorry I couldn't be brave earlier, I'm sorry I couldn't see clearly earlier. I'm sorry.
Hair in her air, Sansa was falling.
As the two dark figures were rapidly going to their deaths, a third one joined them.
'Joffrey!' The panic cry of Cersei broke the air. She tried to catch the hand of her son but could only grasped a few strands of Sansa's long red hair.
'Not my boy,' she screamed in anguish.
'Not my boy!' she cried once more before joining her son in his death.
Sansa recognized the scream of agony of the mother watching hopelessly her loving child being killed.
But it was too late.
I'm falling, I'm falling, I'm falling.
She felt the impact crushing her flesh and bones and cutting the air out of her lungs. Her cry of pain died in her throat.
Pain.
Pain.
I feel pain.
Cold water on her skin and the taste of blood on her tongue. Those were the last things Sansa Stark felt before closing her eyes one last time.
She tried to picture her family but could only make a dim silhouette out of them as darkness was slowly pushed its way into her mind.
Father, mother, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Jon.
I love you.
[AN] A big thank you to Skate815freckles for betareading this chapter !