Hello everyone. I know, I haven't been updating regularly. I am very sorry about this because the story is in my head, but writing it seems hard for me. I still have so many plans on where to go with it. I understand I must've lost a lot of readers due to this and I am grateful to those of you who still care. If anyone has suggestions, tips, wants to collaborate or whatever, send me a message. But i promise i will continue to write and try to do so more frequently considering a lot of us are in isolation.
That said, enjoy this next chapter cause things are starting to move around! xoxo love you PLEASE review it helps me a lot
Sansa's POV
"Littlefinger has married Lysa," Robb said, looking up from the letter he had called them in to discuss.
Sansa was silent. As was Catelyn, whose eyes didn't leave the distant marketplace she saw through the window.
"Maybe he's not a threat. He's not necessarily up to somethi-"
"He's always up to something," Sansa replied.
Catelyn still wasn't looking. Sansa wondered what went through her head. She never understood the relationships of her mother with both Littlefinger and Lysa. She knew Catelyn wasn't going to discuss them with her children, though. She was rather private.
Robb sighed and sat down. "I could ask Varys for spies."
"Maybe Sansa could marry lord Harold. Maybe the lords of the Vale would turn on Lysa."
Sansa and Robb turned their heads towards their mother. She looked empty, in a way. Nothing but strategy occupying her head.
"The Vale is bound to us by blood. It shouldn't be necessary."
"It might be necessary. Lysa… she's not sane. And Littlefinger…" Catelyn shook her head. "He's definitely up to something."
"If I convinced a hypothetical husband to lead an army to dispose of my aunt and cousin, it would reflect badly on us." And Sansa didn't feel like spending a lifetime with that pompous man.
"It would," Robb agreed. "We're Starks after all."
"Not if they turn on us first."
Catelyn rose and forced a weak smile. She came closer and hugged Sansa, before kissing her hair. "It wouldn't hurt to keep Harold guessing, though, love. Keep him on your good side. But no promises."
It bothered Sansa to hear this from her mother. She didn't really know why. Catelyn left the room to rest, leaving her children alone.
Robb stood from his chair restlessly, looking mindlessly out the window, then sat down again. He seemed to be thinking about something, that caused him to look through Sansa rather than at her.
"Have you thought about who to marry?" Sansa asked, addressing the elephant in the room.
Robb groaned softly, pulled out of his thoughts, irritated at the question. "I haven't."
"You know, you can tell me what you think. Be honest. I'm your sister. I'm not mother, or one of your advisors."
Robb smiled warmly and sat down in a chair. Sansa sat down oppositely.
"Arianne. I think she almost tricked me." He said it barely louder than a whisper. As if he was ashamed.
"Tricked you?" Sansa asked.
"She took me to her chambers drunk." Robb shifted on his seat, seemingly uncomfortable talking about this with her. He would've preferred to talk to Jon. Or Theon.
Sansa just nodded calmly. "I know. You were seen. You must be more careful, Robb."
"I didn't dishonor her or myself," he protested. "I stopped it."
"Doesn't matter. If she wanted it to be known, to shame you into marrying you, she could. You gave her power. Even though I doubt it would be a strategy she'd consider." Arianne thought of her natural talents first. She might've planned to give Robb a night to remember, to infatuate him. Play the game she liked to play. Pressuring him wouldn't be a natural option to her. It would be one Margaery would consider, though. Margaery considered anything. But it might be a bad idea for anyone wanting to actually be liked by their husband.
Robb shook his head in tiredness. "She wanted to, though. And I almost did. And I would've announced the betrothal the next day."
Sansa nodded. Knowing him, he would've. Out of guilt or infatuation, it didn't matter. Arianne could've gotten exactly what she wanted. "Are you glad you didn't?"
He looked blankly ahead. "I don't know. I really don't. I just feel like I don't know either of them." He rubbed his temples and ran his hands through his hair. "Sometimes, they surprise me. I have a good talk with Arianne and I think, she must be as gentle as she seems. And then I see Margaery with those children and I think she must be as kind as she presents herself. And then I feel them staring and scheming in my back. And I'm so scared of picking the wrong one. I don't want to be married to someone I don't know."
She smiled softly. If Robb knew Margaery had arranged the dishonouring of Roslin, he would marry Arianne in a heartbeat. And Arianne was smart and strong. A good match. But she was impulsive. Sansa could see the marriage be passionate and maybe even loving for a year or two. But they were far too different in her eyes to be the couple to bet on. She felt her mother thought the same. Margaery was rich and loved. But her calculating nature was that which Robb despised. She was just as capable of playing dirty as Arianne. Probably even more. "Of course you are. But they're truly kind, you know. They don't scheme more than I do. They're just southern. You either scheme or drown," she said with a weak smile. "Doesn't make them evil to want the best for their families."
"What if they put their family over ours?"
Sansa shook her head. She had thought about it. But she had decided to trust. "You'll have a child with her. Whoever she is, she won't plot against you, Robb. They're not Cersei. You're not Robert. You'll be her family."
Robb nodded faintly, not nearly convinced.
"You'll grow to love your wife. And your new family. You just can't step into a marriage distrusting your wife. Try to be open. To loving her." If they loved each other, they could trust each other.
Margaery could love Robb, Sansa thought. For some reason, she could see it. And Margaery protected her loved ones fiercely. She would have his back. He'd be safe.
"Go talk to them. I don't know if Arianne had any consequence in mind taking you to her chambers. But do you think Roslin wanted you for your kind heart only?"
He looked a bit sad at this news. It reminded her he was just a man, wanting to be loved. He looked mor vulnerable than she had seen him in ages. So she tried to explain.
"We're from ancient, noble, powerful families among other people from ancient, noble, powerful families. No one will only ever marry you for you or me for me. For who we are, regardless of status. We've known this for a long time. It's not a privilege of ours to be loved solely for ourselves."
She remained silent for a while, and then rose to hug her brother. He smiled slightly. "You are a good match, Robb. It's normal for them to consider your power. You wouldn't marry a milkmaid, either, no matter how lovely. They both want to marry you, that much is clear. Try not to hold it against them."
Robb's POV
He was sitting in the best chair on the dais, looking at the first two knights preparing to knock each other of their horses. Robb had to feign an interest, but this southern tradition was one he didn't understand. So instead, he looked over to the crowd on the opposite side. Arianne was obviously sitting next to Oberyn, but he was in conversation with a man next to him. She looked a little bored, unhappy, her black eyes lacking their usual shine. After a while, she caught Robb looking. He fought the reflex to look away, and she smiled tentatively, the most insecure he'd ever seen her. If Arianne was sitting like a little mouse instead of lounging securely in her chair, his behavior must've been too harsh. Robb felt guilty. Even though he didn't trust her, he realized he treated her badly, running off that night and ignoring her for days. He knew he needed to talk to her. The time to make a decision had come.
Robb's eyes were then drawn to Margaery, strangely seating herself next to Myrcella, in one of the uncomfortable chairs at the front. Myrcella looked up at her in confusion, and so did Tommen on her other side, who had been talking with Arys. Margaery smiled at them, and took Myrcella's hand in hers while Myrcella glanced at Robb in utter confusion. The expression might've made him laugh, if Robb wasn't wondering what on earth Margaery was doing. Could it be that she actually liked Myrcella? Or did she know something Robb and her hadn't managed to hide? He shifted on his seat. It felt uncomfortable to watch the woman who could be his future wife chat with the woman he was falling in love with. It made him feel like a terrible person. One his father wouldn't be proud of.
"Here we go," he heard Sansa say, as she appeared next to him, sitting down. He nodded at Torhen, and observed his sister. She was wearing a ruby red, off-the-shoulder gown with silver embroidery. He wondered why she liked to wear the Lannister colour from time to time, the colour she said to despise. Maybe the irony of it amused her, considering the green emerald ring she always wore and the infamous silver Joffrey-speckled shawl she was draping over her shoulders. He knew his father would've disapproved. Robb suspected the ring to be Lannister-related, but didn't want to ask, and the shawl always made people stare. He knew she enjoyed it. It made her feel powerful. So he just patted her arm and said "You look beautiful".
"Who is fighting today?"
"I don't know if i'd call it fighting," he remarked with a sigh.
Sansa patted his arm in return with a chuckle. "Get over it, Robb. Here, it's entertainment."
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. It really did bother him. Most of the people here had never seen a battlefield up close. But he just had to smile courteously. "I believe Oberyn has to ride at some point, but he's still sitting there. Many knights and many other young lords who are dying for a chance to impress you, dear sister. I've even heard of a mystery knight!"
Sansa sighed and leaned back.
"You better prepare your head for that laurel, love. I've heard they're lilies," he said teasingly. Robb knew every available man wanted his sister. She was wanted for her beauty and her name, and she seemed to have made her peace with that. Robb trusted she could make any man love her. He hoped it for her, anyway. It might make them more worthy. He got itchy looking at them, whispering about here, grinning, preparing to joust or observing her from afar. There was no better way to make it known to the court that a man was vying for her hand than to crown her queen of love and beauty in case of victory. This ostentatious manner of courting bothered him. But it was the southern way. The last time a Stark woman was crowned queen of love and beauty, it had sparked a vicious war. He couldn't help but have an apprehensive feeling about it.
Sansa shook her head a bit, and chuckled. Then she leaned back. "I can't wait for this to be over."
"Who could win?" Robb asked.
"Loras could. Or Oberyn. Any man of your King's Guard. And we have so many guests right now. That Harry co-"
Robb's face twitched. "I don't like that one," he said. "Let's try to keep the Arryns on our side so you don't have to marry him."
Sansa grinned, but didn't reply. Instead, she changed the subject. "Have you made a decision?"
Robb looked over at Margaery telling Myrcella a story, and then at Arianne, talking with a lady in waiting. "I will today."
She pinched his hand in support. He wondered who she wanted him to marry. She'd never really told him. He knew she liked both candidates, and regularly went on walks or luncheons with them. So why didn't she tell him who to pick?
Arianne's POV
He is handsome, she thought, looking at Robb boringly staring at the jousting. And fearless, and kind. And he rejected me. Arianne hadn't been able to shake the thought off her for days. She knew she was practically irresistible. And somehow, he had managed to walk out of her room. It had never happened to her before. She knew what Tyene would tell her. She would nuance, comfort, rationalize. You are beautiful. But it even took Arys six months to shake off his honour. Which was true. But he had avoided her, knowing the power she could have over him, never rejected her advances.
Maybe she had been too bold. But she had heard stories. Gossip about women convincing men to marry them after spending only one night with them. If anyone could do it, Arianne could. And even if he had not been king and she had not wanted to wed him, she would've attempted to seduce him. She wanted him. Beautiful men were her weakness. Her passion.
Maybe the honourable Stark did not like bold women. Only innocent little maidens. Or maybe he knew his honour would've compelled him to marry her the next day. But she was a marvelous option for a queen, so would the consequence have been so terrible? Unless he thought otherwise?
It bothered Arianne to feel insecure. She absolutely hated it. No one had ever made her doubt herself so much. Especially not on the matter of passion. She was unquestionably good at it. Always had been. But if she was so good, then why did he avoid her? And why did he lock eyes with her upon arriving at the tourney, as if to make up for his rudeness of the past days? Men were supposed to be open books, but this one said one thing and did the opposite.
A knight fell down violently, interrupting her thoughts. People had gasped at the collusion. She only stopped to see if it was Oberyn, but she didn't recognize him. He was bleeding from the shoulder, and there were people running towards him to help. In the commotion, she noticed Robb standing up. Arianne saw him, and they locked eyes. Yet again, he didn't avoid her gaze, and he kept looking for a few seconds. He walked off, slowly, and Arianne understood. She slipped away as well.
He was on the edge of the forest, behind an empty tent. His back was towards her, and he was looking through the trees.
"My lady," he said, as she appeared to stand next to him. It felt rather distant, but she didn't know if she imagined it.
Arianne didn't reply. Robb took his eyes off the trees and placed them upon her, and this time it was her turn not to look.
"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I haven't been very courteous. Or honour-"
"Oh, please," she sighed, irritated.
"What?"
"Always that talk of bloody honour. Why don't you say what you actually think, for once?"
He looked bewildered at her tone, but she didn't apologize. He looked down at her lips, and for a moment she thought he would reach down to kiss her. She could feel tension. But he blinked, and looked away. "I wanted to. Believe me."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because it wasn't right."
She sighed. "You think too much, Robb. Why do you care what others will say? You are king. You can do what you want."
He looked down and exhaled. She couldn't read him. But all she wanted was truth.
"You wanted it. I wanted it. So why-"
"Did you really want it, though?" he snapped. "Or were you clouding my judgement and tricking me into picking you?"
Their eyes clashed, and she could tell he had been going over it in his mind for the past days as well. She wanted to act offended at the suggestion. But she couldn't pretend it hadn't crossed her mind.
He sighed, and looked down at his feet again. She felt him disconnecting. And a wave of desperation inside her.
"I've been eating myself up for days because I didn't know why on earth you'd humiliate me like that," she spat. The hurt in her voice was audible. "Because you have a courteous discussion with me, and then you ignore me, and then you kiss me, and then you reject me. I'm an easy choice to make, Robb. Obvious. But you're making it so hard."
She caught his guilty eyes and exhaled, remembering who she was. She was a proud woman. "I am better than this. I am princess Arianne Martell of Dorne, and I am better than this. I shouldn't have to beg for attention. I am the best possible choice. And you're making me feel like one of a hundred options."
Arianne had recaptured his full attention. He kept looking at her, in a way that might've made any conversation uncomfortable if they were other people, but she felt entirely in her place under his gaze. We would be beautiful together, she thought. And powerful. She didn't know if saying it would help.
"It's not that easy, though," he said, bursting her imagination. "I had decided on Roslin. And she seemingly hadn't decided on me." Arianne had heard all the gossip she needed to hear. Roslin had married Alekyne after 'forsaking her honour', and they had started the ride back to Hightower in the early morning. Good. Far away was where she belonged.
"That was a stupid decision," she replied matter-of-factly.
He looked at her, slightly baffled, and grinned weakly. "You pushed me towards that decision."
Arianne didn't know what to say. Her little seductive walk with him had turned out worse than she had imagined. "You must've misunderstood me," she said with a smile.
Robb chuckled and shifted on his feet. "Is Margaery Tyrell a stupid decision as well?"
It took her a while to respond. She unknowingly imitated his body language. They had never acknowledged the competition out loud, in a conversation. She knew Margaery had money and an army. Arianne did too. But Margaery beat her at food. The food had bought the love of a starving people. However, Margaery's family's reputation had taken multiple blows. It was just an idea she had to plant in his head. "You tell me. What if someone better comes along? With a better claim, a stronger army?" She really wanted to get through to him. "Even we have more honour than that."
"You mean the hotblooded Dornishmen?" he asked playfully.
She replied with a smile, and left her words to linger. She could tell he was thinking.
"I used to trust everyone I met," he said. "Not here. I could've trusted Roslin. She's not… southern."
"Do you really think innocence is a good quality for a queen?"
Robb's face twitched, knowing she was right.
Arianne had never tried to pretend to be sweet, innocent and virginal. No one would believe it anyway. Even Margaery had calmed the act down. After one and a half husbands, there was only so much innocence one could fake. "Roslin Frey doesn't have power. Nor strength. And, unlike you might think, the presence of power or strength in a woman does not exclude the presence of kindness and loyalty in that very same woman. "
"I know that," he said quickly.
"Do you?"
He looked at her, thoughtful. Apologetic. Arianne didn't love Robb. Yet. But she felt like she could. If he gave her a chance. If he gave her a purpose.
"I believe we could be great together, Robb," she said, her voice more timid than she'd like. "In every way."
Margaery's POV
It was midday, and the tournament was interrupted by a feast in the sun. Margaery grabbed Myrcella by the arm. "Won't you join our table, dear?"
She could tell Myrcella looked baffled at the request for her company. Margaery smiled, knowing the Starks might appreciate her kindness to the poor girl. But she quite liked her company, regardless of how it looked. Myrcella had all the demeaner of a princess, and her fall from grace had stripped her of the naiveté she used to have. It made the girl more interesting, and if Margaery was to be queen, she would see what she could do to give her some sort of purpose or sense of achievement. It would also amuse her to annoy the Martells by doing so. She knew the poor girl was furious at their rejection.
"I should check in on my brother," Myrcella said. "He ran off a while ago, and I wonder where he is." She was still intimidated and confused at Margaery's attention, she could tell.
"All right," Margaery replied, kissing the girl's cheek. She then walked off to check on her own brother, grabbing Garlan by the arm to accompany her. Loras had fought twice already, winning both duels against quite insignificant low-born lords and knights. He was in his tent, being changed by his squire.
"Well done, brother," Garlan said, and Margaery gave her brother a kiss.
"You've been hurt?" she asked.
"Not a scratch," Loras grinned.
Margaery smiled, pouring them drinks. "Do you know who you're up against next?"
"Arys, I think. Should be fun," he chuckled, staring at his squire walking off. Margaery assumed he'd slept with him, or would soon.
"I've heard Arys is going to train Tommen Waters," Garlan said.
Margaery turned towards him. "As have I. Strange, isn't it?"
"Arys likes Cersei's children," Loras said. "Says they're nothing like their parents. He always praises the girl."
"Maybe he should marry her," Garlan suggested.
Margaery assumed Arys' good nature wouldn't be strong enough to marry a disgraced girl like Myrcella, but she kept the idea in mind.
"The king himself asked Arys to take Tommen under his wing," Loras remarked.
"Their care for those bastards is peculiar. They must feel guilty. Or pitiful. In any case, I'll dote on Myrcella if the Starks appreciate it."
Garlan gave his sister's hair a kiss and offered his arm. "Let's join our grandmother in on our plans, won't we? She's been torturing father long enough."
The pair walked out of the tent and towards the feast. Margaery's new dress was a soft yellow, and she hoped it caught attention. Leonette waited for them, seated at the table. Garlan leaned down for a kiss, after which he seated himself, giving her his total attention. Margaery watched them. They were happy. They had only been married for a year or two, and their love had grown steadily. She liked her dainty sister-in-law, as she was bright and honest and played the harp marvelously. She hoped she'd teach her children some day.
"Lady Margaery," she heard a voice say from behind her. She turned to see an awkwardly smiling Robb. "May I walk with you?"
Margaery nodded and took his arm, happy to see people watch and whisper.
"You have a new dress? You look splendid," Robb said nervously.
Margaery furrowed her brows. He was acting odd. "Thank you. Are you all right, your grace?"
"What? Of course," he said with a chuckle. He looked around, and led her towards the forest. She didn't know why, but she didn't say anything.
"You see, my lady, your family has been really supportive during the lady Roslin incident. And I wanted to thank you for it."
Margaery pinched his arm. "It was my pleasure. And duty."
"Well, I am very grateful still."
They remained silent as they kept on walking. Margaery's shoes weren't fit for a forest walk, and she could feel twigs jabbing her feet.
"I wonder sometimes," he continued, "who else is out there. Who else wants to challenge me for the throne."
Margaery looked up at his suspicious face. She wondered where he was going with this. She listened patiently.
"I can't sleep very well. Thinking of my family's safety. Everything down hear seems lethal. And I only have a mother and a sister left. It feels frightening, being here, sometimes."
Margaery soothingly touched his arm. "It's only normal you worry. I do too. I pray every day for them. And bearing the crown comes with many more burdens still. And danger."
Robb nodded. "I have decided to send for my brother. I feel in constant need of one," he said with a sad smile. He looked almost ashamed to admit it.
"I understand. One can't have enough of them," she replied. "Will you relieve him of his duty as Lord Commander?"
"I thought to summon him, make them find a temporary replacement. I don't know what he'll think. What he wants." He shook his head lightly, insecure. "I haven't seen him years. I'm afraid we won't recognize each other. We were boys then."
Margaery nodded. "Change is terrifying." After a minute of silence, she stopped walking, causing him to do the same. His vulnerability gave her faith. "You know, other people can be there for you too."
Robb looked pensively down at her. He looked as if he was about to say something important, but the he chuckled, distracted at the sight of her.
"What?"
"You're shivering. Are you cold?"
Margaery decided to chuckle as well, realizing only then that she was, in fact, shivering, upon which he covered her bare shoulders with his cloak. His hands rested on her shoulders longer than necessary, and she wished he wouldn't remove them. He did. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. We should get back."
"It's all right. I spent quite a while in war camps, you know. I'm used to the biting ways of the forest."
This seemed to pique his interest, and he stopped in his tracks. "A war camp is no place for a lady."
"It's not ideal. But ladies must also do their duty," she said. "Even though it would be more enjoyable on a victor's side."
Robb chuckled at her snide dig at Renly, but then turned grave again. Respectful. "It must have been hard to lose a husband."
"Twice, almost!" she said with a grin, before letting it ware off. She didn't have the energy for it. "Still. Stabbed in his own tent. It was difficult. He was kind." She hadn't loved Renly. But she had wished him well. And he had been so important to her brother. She noticed Robb observing her, and felt vulnerable. "Thank you, Robb. I couldn't ever say anything of the sort about Renly in front of Joffrey."
He slowly shook his head. "You can always say what you think in front of me."
She smiled, and nodded. "I will."
Margaery just looked at him, and they both knew they understood each other. He offered her his arm, and they walked back to the crowd.
Sansa's POV
Sansa saw Robb dartling from one candidate to the other, and wondered what things would've been like if he had only been lord of Winterfell. As lord of Winterfell, he might've had a harder time getting the attention of women like Margaery and Arianne. The title he was born for had standing, but Sansa knew southerners found northerners strange and not many ladies used to the lavish southern lifestyle would have enjoyed burying themselves in Winterfell snow. Robb might've even had to woo them instead of the other way around, an idea which amused Sansa. Or he would've just married a northern girl.
Their mother had come from the relative south up north. The adjustment must've been hard for her as well, even though Sansa had a hard time imagining it. She had only ever known her mother as the lady Catelyn of Winterfell, as if she had been born for it. But maybe it only took a happy marriage and family to make any place feel like home. Or at least she thought so, when she was little.
Sansa was sitting at a table, enjoying her lemon cake in the sun while the musicians played during the jousting intermission. Everyone was seated at tables, chatting, appearing happy. Harry the Heir caught her eye and looked like he wanted to join her, but the man who blocked her view was Oberyn Martell.
"My princess," he said, kissing her hand. "You look exquisite today. Might I say I admire the shawl? The silver just catches the light."
Oberyn sat down, disregarding the need for an invitation, and Sansa just grinned at his remark. He was one of few who didn't feel the need to whisper disapprovingly at the piece of cloth. He found it entertaining.
A servant served him food. She observed him. Even though he looked seasoned and mature, his black eyes were lively and sharp, as if he was still 25. His entire energy radiated 25. She remembered when she idolized Jaime, at the age of 13, thinking him handsome and chivalrous, not realizing he was closer to her father in age than to herself. Only when she actually married him did she notice the difference. She didn't feel the same difference in Oberyn.
"Are you enjoying yourself, prince Oberyn?" Sansa asked.
"Very much. I quite like knocking young idiots off horses. It isn't essential, but entertaining from time to time."
"Didn't you knock Willas Tyrell off his horse one day?"
Oberyn swallowed the food and his ever naughty grin disappeared. "Regrettably."
Willas Tyrell had been crippled as a consequence. She knew he held no grudges toward Oberyn, though. And Oberyn was clearly sorry. But she liked seeing him more serious.
Sansa poured him some wine. "He wrote me a letter," she told him. "It arrived this morning."
"He did?" he asked, looking interested, glad to change the subject slightly. No one liked drowning in guilt.
"Very charming," she commented. The letter Tamsy had handed her that morning had been a surprise to her. She assumed Willas would let his family do all the talking for him. But in the letter, he had been kind. He had written that he had "heard much of her admirable character and beauty" and that he would count himself very lucky to know her "if given the chance". No direct remark regarding a possible marriage had been made, but it was implicit. "Highgarden would make a happy home for any gracious lady" and the "company is better than you might expect". She quite liked him, judging off his words. He was kind and felt trustworthy, even if she'd never met him.
"He's a very charming young man," Oberyn acknowledged. "I recognize the qualities of my competitors when due. But… the man has no working legs."
Sansa swallowed her wine and leaned back. "You're old."
Oberyn laughed loudly, watching her grin smugly. "Only in age."
Sansa just smiled, squinting her eyes because of the sun. She probably had to move soon, in order to not burn.
"I thought you northerners despised these southern games," he remarked.
"We're in the south now. The royal family must do its duty, must it not?"
"Duty to please its court?"
"Apparently. Watching men push each other off horses to win a little bit of glory is entertaining here. Playing at war. Like children."
Oberyn nodded whilst drinking, leaning back in his chair, comfortably. "Truthful, my princess. I thought you were good at pretending."
Sansa rose. "I am a terrible liar." She knew she wasn't anymore. But he looked puzzled. It was enjoyable. "Are you a sour loser, prince Oberyn?"
"Passionately."
She smiled. "In that case I wish you luck for the next round."
She walked off graciously, careful not to look back at him until she seated herself on the empty chair next to Harry the Heir. He looked startled, and coughed, trying to swallow his food.
She smiled. "Hello, my lord."
"Your grace. I did not expect you."
"You joust well," Sansa noted.
She could tell he was glad to hear her say it. "I do it for you, your grace."
Sansa smiled. He wasn't very subtle. It made her slightly uncomfortable. "You'll have to fight prince Oberyn, soon enough."
"In more ways than one, I gather."
Sansa grinned. "You don't seem to like prince Oberyn very much."
"He doesn't like me."
She nodded. "Indeed. But you are more alike than you both think."
"How is that?" he asked with a chuckle.
He was right. They weren't. Oberyn was smarter and he japed. "You both are fathers, for one." She wanted to see how he would respond.
Harry just swallowed his food more slowly, giving himself time to think of an answer. But all he came up with was "Yes, there is that."
She leaned back in her chair and observed him. "Two, am I right?"
"Almost. Cissy's Alys is only two, I think, and Saffron is still with child."
Sansa wanted to laugh, but Robb pulled her away from Harry just in time. He took her by the arm and led them away from the crowd.
"I've decided," he told her. "Where's mother?"
"You've decided what? That was rude, Robb. The poor man must think you hate him." She looked back at Harry, looking startled, as he had been ignored by Robb. It only made her want to laugh a bit more.
"I've decided who I'm marrying."
Sansa stopped in her tracks, forcing him to do the same. She faced him. Her brother looked nervous and energetic. "Who?"
She saw Robb being distracted. He looked at someone, and his expression slightly changed. She turned her head, seeing Myrcella walk with Arys and Tommen and looking over at them. Sansa turned towards Robb again, but this time he was looking into her eyes. He sighed, determined, defeated. "Margaery. I'm marrying Margaery."
okay so WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS?
