Sabrynna woke early on the day of King Robert's arrival in Winterfell, her excitement alone keeping her eyes from drooping as she followed in her aunt's wake seeing to the last minute preparations before they all proceeded into the yard to greet the King and his traveling party as was proper and right. In truth, the bustle of activity was near to overwhelming, her mind working as fast as it could to track each of her aunt's movements and commit them to memory. But whether she doubted her ability to recollect all that was necessary to prepare a great house for the royal arrival at a later date or not, Sabrynna would have been lying if she said she was not awaiting the King's arrival with an almost fervent anticipation, her blood seeming to sing through her veins as she finally freed herself of her time indoors, and ventured out to the yard to stand between Jon and Theon to await the arrival of their royal guests.
"You are looking lovely today, cousin," Jon greeted, offering Sabrynna a half-smile as she fell into place beside him, her shoulder brushing lightly against his own, "Hoping to impress the King?"
"Hoping to impress the Queen, more like," Theon countered, grinning openly at Sabrynna's skeptical glance, and endeavoring to elaborate before she could get a word in edge-wise, "A little friendly competition, perhaps? Who is the greater beauty?"
"That would be a competition I would surely lose, Theon."
"I'm not so sure. She is older than you."
"Theon!" Sabrynna hissed, failing to entirely suppress her amusement, even in spite of her attempt to persuade her uncle's ward to speak of other things, lest they be overheard by the wrong person and pay the consequences for a potential insult to the Queen, "You should not say such things."
"Even if they are true?"
"Yes. Even then."
"Well, now I know at least one thing for certain," Theon went on, watching as Sabrynna favored him with a curiously arched brow, and leaning over to brush his arm against hers before going on, "You, my dear Lady Sabrynna, are no fun."
"Better to be no fun, than punished for insulting the Queen," Sabrynna quipped, noting the very first of the guards and soldiers that had begun to make their way through the gates of the yard, and inclining her head in their direction to persuade Theon to consider silence as a more respectful means of observing the King's arrival, "They're coming."
Distracted by the evidence that the royal caravan had arrived, the people gathered in the yard watched on in rapt silence, while the sound of horses and clinking armor echoed around them. For Sabrynna's part, she found that she was utterly enthralled, the sights she took in with widened grey-green eyes seeming to hold some sort of ethereal quality, in spite of the fact that she had seen them before, as a girl in King's Landing. She could almost understand Sansa's girlish wonder at the prospect of the royal family staying in her home, now, though she herself was a woman grown. And as the first glimpses of the royal wheelhouse beginning to lumber through the gates, she found herself smiling, her excitement seeming to drown all other thoughts as she watched with her cousins, Theon, and the rest of Winterfell as the royal procession continued on.
Every single part of it seemed almost exactly as she had remembered it—the knights of the Kingsguard in their golden plate moving beside the wheelhouse, and forming a ring of sorts about the King as he entered as well. For a moment, Sabrynna found herself utterly absorbed in memorizing every last detail, her eyes tracking the movements of everyone she could as though they would be ripped away in seconds if she did not. Though she knew it was foolish, she almost found herself wishing that she might turn her head and see her father stood beside her, ready and waiting to list the names of every single soldier and sworn sword that passed them by. But before such a thought could fully take hold, and dampen her mood, Sabrynna was doing her best to force her attention to King Robert himself, as his horse lumbered into the yard, and came to a stop not far away, her eyes searching his face for any hint of the man she had once looked upon with admiration what seemed so very long ago.
In truth, she could find very little of the man she had once known—the man her father had so loved in the features of the crowned figure now climbing down from his horse and approaching Lord Stark with a stern expression firmly in place. A part of her wondered at the prospect of the hardness evident upon his face only coming about out of a desire to put forth the image of a proper King, as though anything less would render him a disappointment to those he approached. But a still larger part of Sabrynna's mind dreaded the fact that the jovial, laughing man she had met at her father's side all those years ago had been worn down, bit by bit by all the cares and worries of the realm…
She was no foolish girl to believe that being King was a laughing matter, but still, it pained her greatly to consider the idea of Robert Baratheon becoming more like his brother Stannis than he was like his former self.
Determined to avoid allowing such thoughts to show upon her own features, however, Sabrynna did her best to simply set herself to the task of observing the King's approach as he drew to a stop directly before her uncle, and everyone bowed as one to acknowledge his presence. Situated where she was between Jon and Theon, and behind the Stark children, she was allowed more freedom to peek up from beneath her lashes to watch the goings on, first-hand. And so, she was able to see when the King gestured for her uncle to stand once again, her relief almost palpable as she watched the men pull one another into a warm embrace, while their faces broke into welcoming smiles.
As though the tension had been broken by that embrace, the remainder of those gathered in the yard rose to stand themselves, not long after, while the King made his way down the line of Starks and greeted them one by one, giving Sabrynna the chance to brush the dirt from the fabric of her skirt. A glance towards Jon showed her that he was already using his time on his feet as ample opportunity to take in the sight of the Kingsguard, and the other soldiers that had ventured North with Robert on his journey, his brown eyes roaming from man to man without fail. And although she could sense the wanderlust in him just by that single glance at his face—although a small part of her even understood it—Sabrynna was powerless to do or say anything to break him from his dreams of likely heroism and glory, her attention once again distracted by the sudden realization that King Robert had ventured back towards them, and was now fixing his gaze solely upon her own person.
"Gods, but you've grown lovely," He began, reaching forward and gesturing for her to step towards him while his teeth flashed through his beard in what Sabrynna could only call a smile, "Not much of your father in you at all, is there, girl?"
"You flatter me, Your Grace. Surely there are others more worthy of your praise—" Sabrynna murmured, keeping her head bowed as she stepped between her aunt, and Rickon, and tried not to flush beneath the weight of her King's appraising gaze. Truth be told, she was more than a little startled that he even recognized her, as the last time they had met, she had been but a little girl. But before she could find any proper way of saying such a thing, without risking giving offense, she found the effort futile, her grey-green eyes drifting up to meet Robert's laughing blue ones as he spoke once more.
"Nonsense! Come closer, child. Let me get a proper look at you."
Doing as she had been told, Sabrynna averted her gaze once more, while King Robert looked her over, a small jolt running through her as she soon became aware of the gloved fingertip he lifted to fit beneath her chin. Unable to resist such a pull, Sabrynna was soon looking the king full in the face, her cheeks flushed as she pondered exactly why he was paying her such attention, at all.
She had heard him comment upon Sansa's loveliness already, of course, but in spite of his kinship with her late father, the young woman still did not fully understand his apparent desire to look upon her as though seeing her for the very first time.
"Aye, you're a pretty one, just like your cousin. And her mother," King Robert said then, dropping his hand back to his side, and nodding to indicate Sabrynna was free to step back and rejoin her kin, while he turned back to her uncle to address him, instead, "Pity you've not found a match for her yet, Ned. None of these Northern fools good enough, then?"
"Not at all, Your Grace. I simply did not wish to force my girls to part with their cousin until the necessity became unavoidable."
"Ah, well, she's yours to do with what you will. Take me to your crypts. I would pay my respects."
"We've been riding for a month, my love—" Queen Cersei intervened, her words soft, but yet still carrying the faintest hints of a warning as she looked to her husband, and waited for his reply. As soon as she had spoken, she became the sole object of Sabrynna's focus, as though the previous encounter with the King had not happened at all. And it would have been a lie for the young woman to pretend she saw anything welcoming in the Queen at all, in direct contrast to the unexpected warmth of her husband's features, her entire body going rigid as she came to the sudden realization that Cersei was now glancing at her, green eyes narrowed in apparent disdain before King Robert broke the silence once again.
"The crypts. Ned."
With the King's insistence upon departing with Sabrynna's uncle in tow, the remainder of the party was left to disperse at will, the Lady Catelyn venturing forward to show the Queen and her children to their rooms, while the rest of the party who had gathered to greet the royal caravan remained behind. Prior to their arrival, her aunt had already given permission for her to remain with Sansa, Arya, and the rest of her children while the royal party was situated to rest, and tidy up after the end of their journey. And so, Sabrynna soon allowed herself to become fully immersed in the small throng that had formed from the orderly lines of before, her arm instinctively looping around Arya's shoulders as the young girl found her way to her side.
For now, at least, she could enjoy the small respite from entertaining royalty, and spend time preparing for the feast with her family, instead.
…
"So, it is true then. Uncle intends to ride South with the King when they depart?"
"It is," The Lady Catelyn confirmed, still entirely occupied with plaiting Sansa's hair for the feast, and yet finding the time to risk a glance at her niece where she sat perched upon the edge of the bed, regardless, "King Robert has named him Hand of the King."
"And he has accepted?"
"It seems likely that he will."
"I am sorry, Aunt Catelyn. I know that you wished for him to remain here, with you," Sabrynna began, her tone soft as she watched her beloved aunt's face carefully, and saw quite clearly the obvious worry and concern that were apparent upon her features, "Perhaps when he is settled you will be permitted to venture South for a visit?"
"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, Sabrynna. Always."
Sobered by her aunt's words, Sabrynna only managed a nod in lieu of further speech, her gaze shifting to where Sansa sat upon her stool, her hands fidgeting in her lap and giving evidence to her excitement over the evening ahead. If she were to be honest, she wished she could summon her cousin's enthusiasm, if only to rid herself of the apprehension she felt over asking her aunt the question that had nibbled at the back of her mind ever since hearing of the King's intentions to take her uncle back with him to the Capital. She did not wish to leave Winterfell. Not really, despite knowing that the questions she had would only be answered if she made her request of her aunt without hesitation. And yet, despite that knowledge, Sabrynna still found herself biting her tongue as she watched the Lady Catelyn and Sansa with all that she had, a small pang of loneliness stealing over her as she wondered if she would ever share such a bond with her own mother, as well.
Distracted as she was by such a sudden and unexpected thought, Sabrynna found the momentum for her own inquiry lost in the wake of Sansa's breaking of the companionable silence that had fallen between their trio, her eyes snapping to her cousin's as she forced her attention back to the present, just in time to hear her speak.
"Do you think the Prince will like me? What if he thinks I'm ugly," Sansa inquired, her question halting her mother's progress with her hair as she turned to glance up at her with almost pleading eyes. It was clear, just from one look at her expression, that everything in her world suddenly hinged upon her mother's favorable reply. And although Sabrynna could tell that her aunt had some reservations, still, about how best to proceed, she found herself marveling at how even the Lady Catelyn's tone seemed as she answered her daughter's question with just the faintest hints of a smile.
"If he does, then he is the stupidest Prince that has ever lived."
"When will we be married? Soon? Or will we have to wait?"
"Sansa, your father hasn't even said yes, yet," Catelyn cautioned, her words clearly not having the desired effect upon her daughter, if the sudden determination that stole over Sansa's youthful features were any indication.
"Please make him say yes, Mother, please. It's the only thing I've ever wanted."
Unable to resist the pull that seemed to draw her eyes towards her aunt's in that moment, Sabrynna met the older woman's gaze with one of her own that only mirrored her concern over Sansa's willful vocalization of her desires. Though Sabrynna had seen far less of the world than the Lady Catelyn, she still knew well what might await such a sweet young girl in King's Landing, having grown up there, for a time, herself. And it was apparent in the look that they shared that each of them feared that such a place would only destroy Sansa's very nature, bit by bit, until there was nothing more than a shell of the lovely girl she had once been.
Her own feelings about the journey South seeming rather trivial in the wake of such a realization, Sabrynna soon found herself capable of summoning the courage required to give voice to the inquiry she had initially wished to put before her aunt, her posture straightening as she stood from the edge of the bed, and stepped forward to gently turn Sansa's head once more so that her mother could finish with her hair. For a moment, the Lady Catelyn's eyes searched her own, as though she sensed that Sabrynna had something that she wished to say, now, as well. But instead of heading off any such event with words of her own, Catelyn seemed content to simply turn her gaze back to her daughter's vibrant red tresses, the slight nod she gave while doing so giving Sabrynna all the permission she needed to speak.
"I know it is not yet decided, Aunt Catelyn, but if—if Uncle Ned does go South with the King, and if he takes Sansa with him—I wondered if I might go, as well."
"And why would you wish to do that?" Catelyn asked her niece, her tone gentle despite the sudden spasm of fear that seized her in response to what the young woman had requested. Truthfully, she had anticipated that Sabrynna would make such a request, but that did not mean it was any more pleasing to hear it…
She knew it likely made her one of the most selfish women alive, and yet even that was not enough to stop her from wishing that she could keep her sister's daughter close to her, even if she was not permitted to do the same with her daughters.
"I had hoped—I had hoped that I might find out the true nature of my father's death," Sabrynna confessed, then, her words bringing Catelyn's Tully-blue eyes to rest upon her youthful face, though the older woman still managed to hold her tongue for long enough that her niece might go on, "And if I went along, I would also be able to assist Sansa in growing accustomed to life in the Capital as well."
"I will have to speak to your uncle about it, Sabrynna. I cannot promise you that he will agree," Catelyn said, hoping deep in her heart that her lord husband would deny their niece this one request, as she had begun to fear that any inquiry at all as to the manner of Jon Arryn's death would only lead to pain and torment for the one doing the asking, "And I know that Robb, Bran and Rickon would be sad to see you depart, as much as I would, myself."
"I understand, Aunt Catelyn. Truly, I do. May I—may I just ask you one thing, in return?"
"Of course, dear child."
"If Uncle Ned does say yes—please do not think my departure is in any way a reflection on your hospitality, or the joy I have known since I arrived here in Winterfell."
Smiling, even in spite of her reluctance to be parted from any one of her girls in the wake of the King's arrival, the Lady Catelyn finished the last of the braids in her daughter's hair, and stepped around the stool Sansa occupied to draw her niece into a warm and genuine embrace. Pleased at how Sabrynna's arms almost immediately shifted to wind about her waist, Catelyn pressed her lips against the girl's auburn hair that was so very much like her own and her sister's, her eyes closing for a moment as she endeavored to simply savor the closeness that existed between them. In some ways, Sabrynna was every bit as much her daughter as Sansa and Arya. And the very thought of allowing her to venture to King's Landing for any reason at all, whether or not it would mean a trustworthy companion for Sansa paralyzed her with fear far more potently than she dared to admit.
No matter her promise to Lysa all those years ago when she had taken her young daughter in, Catelyn now felt responsible to the young woman she held in her arms purely for her own self, knowing that any harm that befell Sabrynna would pain her every bit as much as anything that harmed her own children.
…
Seated in the Great Hall with the rest of her cousins, Sabrynna laughed along with Robb at the jest Theon had just made, her fingertips still lingering on the glass she held as she savored this time with family more than anything she had ever known. She could not be sure that it would not be one of the last meals she shared with them. Not without knowing whether or not her uncle would agree to her joining him in King's Landing. And so, she did her best to remain entirely focused upon the feast at hand, her desire to commit every last thing about her surroundings paramount as she leaned against Robb's arm with good-natured affection, and took a sip of the glass of wine she had been permitted before she spoke.
"We should entertain the royal family more often if it means a meal like this one."
"Why cousin, I do believe you are quite drunk," Robb teased, nudging Sabrynna with his arm, and grinning openly as she only offered him a wide smile in return before replying in kind.
"And you are not?"
"Only a little."
"That, my dear Robb, is a lie for all the ages," Sabrynna remarked, aware of the modicum of truth in his assertion, and yet also knowing that she was not nearly so bad off as a good half of the other people in the hall with them, "And besides, we have only been permitted two glasses, rather than the usual one."
"I daresay that does not matter, since you have barely eaten a thing."
"How can one eat, when there is so much to see?"
"Quite easily, cousin. Watch," Robb advised, tearing off a hunk of bread from the piece that rested upon his plate, and popping it in his mouth to chew and swallow accordingly, "See? Simple enough."
"Perhaps you are right. Though I still find I am hardly hungry enough to consume over-much."
"And why is that?"
"Because, Robb—the musicians are clearly preparing to play music for dancing."
Laughing at the almost predictable nature of his cousin's reply, Robb stretched out a hand to brush a stray tendril of auburn hair away from her face, her grey-green eyes meeting his for only a moment, before they were straying farther down the hall and landing upon what he could only guess was the table Jon had been seated at for the duration of the feast. Though she had not spoken the words out loud, Robb would have been a fool to pretend he did not know that Jon's isolation did not trouble her deeply, regardless of her understanding for the reasoning behind it. And before he could fully recognize the sudden steely glint of determination in her eye as she pushed herself back from the table and stood to her full height, Robb realized that Sabrynna clearly intended to venture forth to drag his half-brother to the center of the room to partake in the impending first dance, his knowledge of the ire that may provoke from his mother prompting him to hurry after her, and reach for her hand before she made it more than a few steps away.
"Sabrynna, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" The young woman quipped, glancing down at Robb's hand that had latched upon her own, and lifting a brow before going on, "Are you going to let me go?"
"Are you mad? You risk offending the Queen."
"Is it not more offensive to separate someone we love from us? To make it seem as though he is inferior simply to please a guest?"
"Mother did so for a reason, Sabrynna. You know as well as anyone what that reason is, and yet still you love her in spite of it," Robb persisted, his eyes pleading with his cousin to remember that fact, alone, even if she remembered nothing else. He knew it had always troubled her that the Lady Catelyn seemed incapable of warmth towards her husband's bastard son, though she had always kept her feelings to herself in that regard every other time before. And although some small part of him had to admire her for her steadfast dedication to Jon, regardless of his station, Robb was very much reluctant to see his mother and his cousin at odds for the first time since Sabrynna had arrived in Winterfell, his hold only tightening upon her hand as she once again tried to tug it away.
"Robb, please—let me go."
"Sabrynna—"
"Please," The young woman repeated, this time successfully managing to free her hand from Robb's grasp, and taking a few steps back before he could reach for her again. In truth, she had not a clue where this sudden rashness was coming from, as she was well-aware that her cousin's reasoning was true. She would have been a liar to say that it was her intention to offend their guests, or bring shame to her aunt, in any way. But something about the idea of keeping Jon apart from the rest of them had rankled her, like a thorn pricking constantly at her side…
She simply could not let him feel any more like a separate entity from the rest of them than she knew he already did, and so she forced herself to manage an apologetic smile for Robb before she turned and headed towards Jon's table once more, only to find her path was blocked by a figure much taller than her own.
"Ah, the little falcon. And just where are you off to, I wonder?"
It seemed as though she had stumbled directly into the path of the Kingslayer…
…
Well hello there, my darlings! And welcome (finally) to a brand new chapter in Sabrynna's tale! As per usual, of late, I feel I must humbly beg your forgiveness for such an unbelievable delay between the last chapter, and this one. I know I allowed myself to become sidetracked by other fandoms once again, but I promise you that does not mean that I love this story any less than I always have, or that I intend to abandon it. I definitely have more plans for our Sabrynna and cannot wait to get to writing for her again!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks go out to last chapter's reviewers: M, jean d'arc, Cherryhacola, Victoria0104, SeraphineWhist and my dear guests, this means you)! I truly do appreciate the support, and I love reading your feedback more than you know! Hopefully I have not lost any of you for good with my irregular posting schedule…and of course, I cannot wait to hear what you think this time around!
Until next time, my angels…
MOMM