An hour after posting this, I noticed so many spelling mistakes, I think I got them all now.
Chapter 33: Children Of The Night
Sansa skipped up to her room, as fast as her dress and shoes would allow. There was laughter in her heart, and music in her ears. On the way she encountered many other courting couples; maids and squires, and minor lords and ladies, either smooching in alcoves and stairwells, or sharing window seats enjoying the night sky. People had lost themselves in the drink, and she could only assume that's how Harry and Jeyne ended up in that compromising position earlier. She wondered if the horrific incident in the godswood as a child, hadn't happened, and no warnings were served her, would she have turned out exactly like Jeyne? In the cubicle next door...being taken roughly by Theon? She contorted her face out of the spectacle she had envisioned. For some reason Theon's head was slowly morphing into someone else's, someone bulkier but lean, complexion clearer and paler, but their hair- She shouldn't have witnessed that naughtiness, she had been pure and ignorant before on what the ritual entailed. Now she had a glimpse of her destiny, preferably one that wasn't in a horse cubicle.
Get your head out of the gutter, you! She instead thought of the countless women that had come before her, that had to endure marriages to frivolous husbands, that dipped their wicks into other wanton women, and still expected to be taken care of by their hapless wives at home, physically and carnally. The cross-contamination of personal bodily fluids, and germs. She heard of women driven mad by a pox, caught from the men folk, whom had taken a fancy to an unlicensed back-alley Sally...or back-alley Jimmy. The great ill-repute pox scare was an ongoing issue. You don't need another anxiety.
She forgetfully sought her missing necklace again at her neck, and huffed upon the touch of bare skin. Sansa had a sweat rendering inkling where her necklace had fallen...and she prayed it wasn't found there. She imagined Jon and Gendry teaming up and looking for it together, those selfless fools. Those selfless...wonderful fools. But hopefully, they would have no notion of looking there. Those chiseled lean wonderful bastards.
She reached the penultimate step to her landing, and nearly fell back at the presence of Roslin, dithering by her door. It was becoming a habit for people to hide from her. "Lady Frey...I forgot you were turning in with me tonight, forgive me...I've been in my own head all night." She bequeathed her an awkward smile, but it wavered upon her friend's serious facial expression. "Good grief, what's happened?" Roslin was playing with her fingers, something was weighing on her lady's mind. A feeling she knew very well, and often.
"News..." Lady Frey uttered, and gave her no notion of what. "But let's go inside first, and get ready for bed, my lady."
No, news first! "Certainly." She offered cordially against her will, and pushed her chamber door open for her friend to enter first, and followed her in with apprehension. They helped each other out of their clothes, folding them neatly onto opposing chairs. Gods, she remembered in a book, a wedded couple did this, and she wondered if she would have the fortune of having someone decent to strip and dress for bed with, though Roslin was decent...she needed a man desperately. A man with a pleasant face...and body. Yes, body...like it had been sculpted in an unyielding material, with a sheen of sweat from exertion. Roslin's finger caught her nipple as she pulled her nightdress into place, making her earlier image a lot more...noteworthy. After she had assisted Lady Frey with her nightie, she left her to fasten it herself, like she did with her own. "Erm...so, what is it?"
Roslin sighed, clearly gathering her wits. "Well...I have a new suitor, my lady."
Sansa looked up from her buttons. Good gods, it wasn't Harry was it? "Oh...?"
"You're uncle Edmure." She released rapidly as if her confidence might leave her.
Relief was her ladyship's being, she smiled and bobbed her head in approval. "That's great, he is good, a nice age, and decent, he will treat you well."
Her friend took a breath. "You don't think your mother will think ill of me?...From moving on so quickly from your brother?"
"Nooo." She sung. "She berated my brother, this just reinforces his error of judgement...and his loss." She flitted over to her dresser, to retrieve her brush, and upon her instruction, Roslin turned around so she could neaten her hair before bed.
After a moment, for what she believed was her friend gathering her wits again. "I kissed your uncle on the mouth."
"Oh gods no, you might be carrying his bastard?!" A jest that was well received and her friend shivered with delight and confidence. "Calm down, I won't tell..." She swept the brush through her medium brown locks. "Besides, if he is a confirmed suitor...and from your dance record, I think I'm not at a stretch to saying you are certainly courting."
"We might marry, I must warn you."
Sansa chortled. "Might?..I will be your niece." She enunciated gleefully.
Her lady-in-waiting laughed, a little embarrassed. "That had crossed my mind, that's why I must warn you, my lady." She idly played with her skirt, swishing it like it was a grand gown. "But what a conclusion to a festival, I was nearly your sister."
"Nevermind, an aunt poo-poos a sister-in-law. Now, to bed with you." She patted her playfully on the bottom, and her friend scurried to her canvas bed. Sansa removed her pins, and began unraveling her own northern braids, the brush swept through with some effort. "Robb will be your nephew." She ventured. "And your children will be our cousins." She wandered over to her own bed and sat facing her future relation.
Roslin shifted on all fours atop her bed, so she could lie on her front and gaze affectionately at her."I will raise them to be quiet and respectful."
"No parent can guarantee that, Roslin, I'm sure my parents tried." Sansa flicked her freshly brushed hair over her shoulder, upon her friend's burst of laughter. She chose to mirror her friend's position on her own bed. "You must marry here..." She said while getting comfortable.
"Careful, we haven't even been betrothed yet."
Sansa sighed wistfully, playing with the hair that had fallen forward. "I want to be married here, in the godswood, at night."
"You will." Roslin looked normal for about a moment, but became fleetingly sombre, her eyes casting away.
Her ladyship spotted it. "I'm sure you will marry first, before I." She reasoned, feeling that was her true anxiety.
"No, that isn't it." She blinked while shaking her head. "No...it's your...choice in partner, my lady." She was gathering some serious wits, Sansa felt the air become hot and cold. There was nothing she could uneasily possibly part with that she didn't already know. "I need to tell you something...something grave-"
"-Harry and Jeyne are shagging." Not missing a beat or breath, and she didn't even pose it as a question, for she didn't care if her other lady-in-waiting knew. Oh heck, you used the word shagging so brazenly!
"..." Her friend's mouth was a capitol 'O', something that Sansa actually liked on a girl that barely spoke. So adorable. "You knew?" She let out a pant of laughter, and placed a hand upon her chest. "I've been sweating and fretting over how to tell you before the day was out."
Sansa grimaced and dropped her shoulder. "Well I'm...intuitive...and highly suspicious. When did...you find out? Was it when Jeyne staggered in with Harry, without her shoe?"
Roslin screwed up her eyes, clearly amused by the image, but shook her head nevertheless. "No. The first session was after the first round of jousting..." Sansa stared hard enough to blast a hole through her companion. WHAAAAT?! It was if she had caught them all over again. FIRST SESSION?I There were more?! "I'm assuming you found out later?" The brunette scratched her head at the whole ordeal. "Sorry, my dear friend...you have also been a victim of a gamer." She winced, and Sansa felt for her. "Jeyne was...servicing him in his tent, they hadn't closed the flap properly, I rectified that for the sake of...her modesty."
Gods she was quick, she had only just left Jeyne at the bleachers, though had she actually saw her just before she had left?..Probably not, but it was still quick to both introduce herself and go in for intercourse. Sansa was still agape, looking around the room as if it had been devastated by a storm. "Dear lords, he came to the tent flap all sweaty in the face to greet my father and I, he...I wonder if he took my favour off before he...?" She let out a growl of discontent. "I shouldn't ask...but..." She closed her eyes tight. "Were they naked in bed?" Her voice dropped an octave as if she were ashamed.
"No. No they were not, well not at the time." She mimicked the volume.
"Dear gods, is nothing sacred?!"
Her friend mused at this, their voices normalizing. "You did hear me, right?"
"If they were clothed it meant it was a quick loveless romp."
"Ah, I see." Roslin still looked vexed. "Were you hoping for passion?...I'm sure people who are in love often express it with their clothes on, perhaps he was sparing Jeyne from the cold?"
"Ha! He should have closed the curtain...No, he shouldn't have-" She dropped an octave. "-Dipped his wick!"
Her friend hugged her pillow and crashed her chin upon it. "If that means what I think it means...he didn't, what I saw...No, I can't understand it...and neither will you, but for the sake of Jeyne's-"
"-To hell with Jeyne's modesty, my lady...Harry was my suitor, what did he get up to with my friend?"
Roslin didn't twitch on her pillow, or shy away from Sansa's request. "Jeyne had his secret parts in her mouth, my lady."
"..." She was stunned, she understood what she had said, but the logic of those actions were a mystery, but she had heard about this 'phenomena,' it featured once in 'that' book, it was the part she used to skip over, because she always believed it was an error on the author's part, or a complete fabrication concocted by the author's fantasies. 'She took his shaft into her mouth, drawing back and forth as she suckled, to draw out...' "Jeyne must have read a contraband book, or got improper instruction from someone at a Tavern...No human...let alone a woman should do that, it's not sanitary-"
"-It's bizarre, not even animals do that, well... dogs and wolves lick their own, humans don't..." She came to a stop and looked across at her friend stunned at her own observation, and they both started cackling at the imagery they had simultaneously produced.
Sansa rolled to the end of her bed, gasping for air, and wiping her eyes. "Hehe...We are too pure for this world, my lady, hehe...This is why some books were banned in Winterfell...and Jeyne, poor silly Jeyne, I must give her room to repent. Something has gone awry there." Her voice had returned to normal by the end, almost sombre.
"I think, Lady Jeyne uses sex to impress people, it's her introduction. Perhaps 'that' was her attempt at being with him without betraying you, since it wasn't...intercourse. But she seemed to throw that consideration to the wind later, but improved her caution." Her friend reasoned, however her ladyship didn't agree, and she blinked at the use of the word 'sex' in context with the word 'intercourse' used brazenly and without dropping an octave.
"Well she is crafty to think that doesn't count, his secret parts are for his wife only." And when I'm married, I will try to keep my husband happy, and I might, just might... She grew wary of the daunting task that may lie ahead. "Do wives suckle on their husbands?" And she clamped her hand over her mouth, she wasn't going to ask out-loud.
Roslin shrugged, seemingly undeterred. "My step-mother does, supposedly, it's the only time she is quiet during their copulation, while he, bleats and groans." She shuddered, and Sansa understood, everyone would understand. Not just because she was discussing her father, but Lord Frey wasn't a handsome man, it was known, he was withered and dirty, and his new wife, young and submissive. What an awful life.
"I won't mention my parents nocturnal activities, I can only assume that there non-existent." She assumed her parents were fairly sexless now they are very matured, and only used bed for sleep. "But my father and mother adore each other no less."
"Another words...they do, they're just very quiet, my lady." Her friend chortled, and continued to do so over Sansa's very slack face. "They are swans, my lady, demure, graceful on the surface, but under the water their little feet are paddling away, sloshing about excitedly, hearts hammering."
That analogy had her ladyship rolling on her bed again. "Stop it, I'm relieving myself!" Their laughter petered down, and lady Stark managed to compose herself on a more sombre note. "I think my mother will be disappointed with my lack of..." Brains, wits, Motivation? Libido? "Betrothal." Sansa couldn't believe she had admitted it, her pride had already taken a beating. "My mother and father have always worried about me in that respect, which is basically the purpose of my entire existence, being someone's wife. With a husband of stable affluence, and of good breeding."
Roslin shirked a little. "But you are a catch." Oh, she had heard that before. "You wouldn't have any problems finding anybody. Send in the next suitor, I say. There are plenty to choose from, they're all drawn to your affluent family." She rocked her hips to get comfortable. "Why do you think my family were delighted I had been asked here to live with you? And my father was over the moon when I told him your brother was chaperoning me." There was a slither of regret there, and she rose above it. "Your family name holds such respect and infamy. And no doubt my family will be crushed to know I won't be marrying into it."
"Sorry."
"I can imagine my family will be disappointed when they find out I'm destined for Lord Tully, no offense."
"None taken." It was the Frey family that would have grievances against the lower ranked lord. "You will be a Lady Tully, and you won't care." She clarified. "You'll be happy." After a moment, sadness crept into her being, and knotted in her throat, rising from her chest. "I...don't want to be pursued because of my name really, lady Frey." Her friend furrowed her brows at her in sympathy. "I want them to know I'm decent and worthy on my own merit, I want them to love me first." She started to thread her fingers through her hair, shakily. "They will learn to love Edmure, the Tully household is a grand traditional family, there isn't a bad bone among them."
"I fear they'll find them too soft."
"Have they not met the blackfish? And the overbearing Lysa Arryn?...From Tully stock."
Roslin tittered quietly. "But I'm not marrying any of them."
"When you marry Edmure, you'll get the entire brood's allegiance." Sansa reminded her.
This seemed to cheer up her petite friend. "Will I have the Starks in my back pocket?"
"You most certainly will." She shared in her merriment.
"I wish we were both in the same boat."
Sansa frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I wish we were both marrying into close households, we would see each other all the time." A prospect that delighted her and her friend.
"Edmure I'm sure would visit his sister in Winterfell, and my mother and I could visit you in Riverun." It was perfect.
"I hope so, and I hope your future husband's family allows it..."
The darkness consumed her. She could be shipped away, and in a household of a stranger's family, outnumbered, and overruled. But her family would certainly make sure to part with her to a family where she would be running the household while her husband was away. "At the end of the day, it's my choice, they'll have to put up with it. Besides I wouldn't choose a man who was going to be grouchy every time I left the castle."
Roslin stared at her like she was in a trance. "I heard... Roose Bolton locks his wife away in a tower, I can only imagine his son will do the same when he rises."
"I think that's just a vicious rumour, people have seen Lady Bolton out and about, heavily with child, they say she is warm curious lady with an infectious laugh." Sansa believed in her father's faith in the Bolton's loyalty to their household, besides a lord that can secure such a good natured wife can't be all bad.
"I heard he confined her to her room to ensure his seed took root. I also heard his son flays people, he feeds their skin to his hounds."
Her stomach lurched. "Oh Roslin, this discussion is turning my stomach, the details feel like they were fabricated for overawe." Sansa adjusted her breasts beneath her, she was crushing her nipples. "You're not marrying into the Bolton's, so don't worry...did you see him at the ball?...No, his father was present, only stayed long enough for the second course."
"It's frightening though, my father deals with his family quite often, I was always worried Roose would make my father an offer, or vice versa, luckily my father kept me hidden away for...well bigger fish."
"Well, you might have a fish." Sansa concluded with a wry smile, which was received with a little skepticism.
"My family hold grudges." Roslin's voice was airy and from the soul. "They will reluctantly part with me for Edmure. But they are ruthless, they'd probably make me live nearby to the twins. Your uncle would not fare well there, they are ruthless...they will remind him every day that he wasn't their first choice in son-in-law." She could feel her friend slowly withdraw. "If Edmure will have me on those terms, but I hope he takes me away."
Lady Stark attempted a laugh which came out sounding nervous. "Your family shouldn't have any say where you live if an offer is made...it's such a good offer." The atmosphere had fallen into despair.
"Let's hope your family part with you on good terms." A warning from a depressed woman was heart rending.
Sansa swallowed. "Too bad Edmure doesn't have another brother of similar age..." She heard her friend gasp. "I meant for me..." The gasp was repeated in the same context. "I know that's weird, they'd be my uncle too. But...Starks have done that before..."
Roslin raised slightly at this revelation. "Oh?..."
"My namesake 'Sansa Stark I' married her uncle JONnel." Jon. She seemed to stare off. Jon. Jon. Jon. She sucked in her lips to quell a gasp. That was a coinci- no it's not, you're not married or betrothed to Jon!
"A little too close for my tastes-" Roslin rocked her head as if weighing the options. "A little too Targaryen for me-"
"-What?" Had she heard her?..Well she wouldn't be a Targaryen, she'd be a Snow...unless-
"-But if I had to marry, maybe, but...have you met any of my uncles?" Lady Frey shuddered to indicate how unfavourable they were.
Oh, she was talking about uncles and family ties, Roslin certainly hadn't knotted the two strings together. "Yeah...Noo." The Stark's mind was elsewhere.
"I can't even stretch out for a cousin. Eck!"
They too were supposedly unfavourable, were all cousins just...weird? Sansa began idly braiding her hair over her shoulder. "Do you have...any form of relationship with your cousins?" This will be informative.
Roslin's head lolled to the side, so she was resting on her pillow, she breathed in, haggardly. "Well...we see each other at gatherings, most the time, I had some unwanted attention from nearly all of them." This did not bode well. "Since I didn't look like my other siblings..."
Oh? "Didn't they believe you were legitimate?" She ventured, half-way down her plait.
She saw her friend's brows knit. "No, they just aren't great friends, the girls resent me because of my looks, and the boys...are also cruel, but at times they say I'm blessed and radiant, and would... like to put a handsome child...inside me."
An uncomfortable silence consumed them. Lady Stark released her braid. "I doubt they would say that outright sober, or even attempt that."
"They have, my lady, my family are very coarse." There was a sadness there, and Sansa imagined Roslin was tearing up, but she couldn't see her face. "My brother intervened once..." Her voice was becoming hoarse. "Two of my cousin's had cornered me...to take their turns, when my brother had subdued them, he slapped me for wandering off, so once again I was being punished for being...pretty."
Everything was standing still, and Sansa felt the ugly world had reached her borders. Her friend, her sweet friend had endured a life of jaded, crude comments from her own family, and her very virtue was threatened because of them. And here am I moping and fretting over a woeful life and existence when she had simply a charmed life. Sansa's threats to her virtue were self-maintained...or self inflicted, and the real danger was over the border, she was truly protected, Roslin however didn't have that privilege, growing up, or now. "That's why you didn't want to go home." It wasn't a question, and she saw her friend tremor as if about to sob. Roslin could have been her in another universe.
After five minutes of emotional silence and sniffling, her friend piped up. "Hopefully a marriage is on the cards for me, soon." Sansa felt herself nod at this, tears prickling her eyes. "...I would...gladly take Edmure into my mouth to make that happen."
She could have snapped, she could have scolded her, but instead she half-pleaded. "Roslin, my uncle clearly is enamoured of you, and no other woman has ever showed interest in him, marriage is certain. Anything you do afterwards is up to you and him, and don't feel the need to reward him for his kindness, you are supposed to be in love. If you trust him, and you know you will enjoy it, then do it. And make sure he offers rewards."
Sansa saw her lady's hand come up, and heard her wipe her nose. "The festival has another day, I hope to spend more time with him to guarantee that, he will be a chaperone of sorts."
"I bet he can't wait, he's probably lying in his bed-"
"-Careful."
"-I was going to say, talking to his squire about you! Seriously?" She knew all was well when she heard Lady Frey laughing again, a pretty sound. "This festival will result in several marriage pacts...but we're still in the middle of the shenanigans, I can't wait for the fiasco to be all over and done with, so much anxiety."
"Agreed, I can escape my family, and you could escape your anxiety...and your annoying cousin."
It hung in the air, but allowing this to go unchallenged would seem like she was agreeing. But she did not know if Roslin was giving her own opinion of Jon, or-. "Sorry Roslin, do you have an issue with Lord Snow?"
Roslin finally turned towards her, her face still puffy from her previous despair. Her face was a picture of earnest, and she wiped her nose. "No, no...I just thought...you didn't like him."
She was the first person, well second, after Arya, to assume indifference towards her cousin. But others between the cracks hadn't expressed an opinion at all. It was a matter on whether to dispute this, since she had to dispute it when the opposite was said- "Jon is very trying...at times." Her friend wasn't frowning, she was not judging her...in fact she looked more concerned she had insulted her family. "But as long as he hasn't caused you any trouble...has he?"
She shook her head. So he hadn't been pursuing Roslin.
"Good, I was beginning to think he was a serial pesterer." Sansa lied, and this time Roslin frowned. "I mean that in the gentlest sense, he is by no means awful, nor is he bothering me, I in fact enjoy his input and value his opinion. I'd say he has the same maturity as I." The conversation was a ramble, but Roslin had folded her arms under her chin, her face slowly returning to its normal colour. "My cousin is-"
"More favourable than one of mine?"
Sansa smiled, testing her response. "I wasn't going to say...but yes. I have a cousin... that has shown no inclination of... unusual relations with me." Her hand sought her neck to scratch, the urge had caught her off guard, and her reasoning was- she must have been lying. You are.
Her friend actually sighed. "Shame."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
There was a sudden knock at the door, that shook them to the core. Their eyes moved to it as if it had caught fire. Not only was it a late hour, they had just finished a serious and possibly life altering discussion that no other person should hear, and yet someone had been in the vicinity of their room, probably ease-dropping.
Someone had sought her door, no one else knew Roslin was here, other than her mother, and that sent a shiver up her spine. It was the silence that followed Roslin and herself, that made sweat bead their foreheads, and they merely just stared at one another in relative horror. If it was Jon she would die. She didn't want to speak now, so Sansa gestured at her friend. 'You, you, you, say something.' She mouthed harshly. The door knocked again, same pattern but a little harder as if they were trying to stir the occupants. It certainly wasn't urgent however since they hadn't yelled. So no fire, or any other emergency.
"Who...who is it?" Roslin grimaced as she said it, obviously self-conscious of how it sounded.
"Oh..." There was hesitation, but the retort wasn't enough to identify the knocker. "Who's in there?" That certainly was however.
Sansa looked sharply at her friend, who stared straight back at her. 'Is that Harry?' She mouthed, and Roslin just returned a stunned expression. It was disappointing, no less, they were rudely interrupted, and by a non-entity that was Harry 'humping' Harding, who had swanked his way up there, to try and take her virginity too. She imagined Roslin was praying for Edmure, not that she would have let him in, Sansa would have forbade the copulation with her friend.
"Lord Harding?" Lady Frey broached. "Is there...something wrong?" Sansa sighed quietly with relief, she thought she was going the ask 'is there something I can do for you?' Do not give him the opportunity to make a list.
"Sorry...I thought this was Lady Sansa's quarters, forgive me, my lady." It was not heartfelt, nor did he excuse himself. "Are you...comfortable in there?"
Sansa gaped at her friend, and it was returned with equal ferocity. So he didn't care to find her quarters then, didn't want directions? "Why of course, my lord. Lady Sansa is... speaking with ...her Lord father and mother... in their quarters." She was glad her friend felt the need to rectify what should have been asked, and she thanked her greatly that her excuse was a perfect reason for him to give up pursuing her that evening.
"So these are her chambers then?"
They were vexed, well Lady Frey was worried if anything, the girl didn't know what to say, until she intervened by shaking her head 'no' and swatting her hands. "She has given up her chambers... for me, she is..." Sansa was searching her brain for a location that was decent, but her friend had to improvise"...Elsewhere." Damn, too late.
"Oh well, no harm no foul." The gent was cordial, and they were hoping this was the end of it. "Perhaps...you would like... my company?" Well he was cordial. Sansa didn't have to shake her head.
"My lord, I think that highly inappropriate."
Sansa silently clapped her.
The hesitation wasn't of shock, but more him thinking of a polite retort they believed. "Understood, it looks like... I will have to spend the night alone..."
Was he waiting for sympathy, for the door to burst open and a willing wanton woman to throw herself into his arms?
"Isn't every unmarried person doing that anyway?"
Sansa gave her the thumbs up. Yes yes yes.
"I'm a warm and passionate man."
Sansa gave a single bark and regretted it, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her friend tried to mimic the sound, before- "No doubt, my lord." She looked sheepish, and Sansa could almost read she was about to say something controversial. "Perhaps Jeyne will attend to you?"
Lady Stark face planted into her bedding, she was about to get hysterical, being shocked, embarrassed and delighted all at once.
After a stunned silence- "Lady Westerling?"
"Oh." Roslin caught Sansa's keen eye, it hopefully goaded her. "So you knew who I meant, perhaps you have had past dealings with her?" She nodded along, giving her approval of the conversation.
"No, not at all!" He had the nerve to feign surprise.
Sansa picked up her nightie and rushed over to her friend to whisper in her ear, and it was relayed. "But I've heard... you've acquainted yourself with her...more than once?..Very intimately... Or has Catelyn Stark misinformed me?"
"Errrrr, Lady Stark doesn't- she, what does she know exactly- well- what does she think she knows?" Harry was all over the place now. This was fun.
Sansa tickled her friend's ear again. "Enough to know... you are not suitable... for her daughter, my lord." She could tell her friend was trying to sell her words.
"Well, she has been misinformed...it seems I may have to clear my name, my lady."
Her friend looked to her for more suggestions when nothing was fed through her ear, she merely shrugged back. She had nothing. After another stony silence, he sighed at his predicament.
"Does Sansa have any inclinations...of-"
"Well if she is in conference with her mother, then most likely." She squeezed Lady Frey's shoulder proudly. "But Sansa is very polite, she would never berate you publicly." She found herself massaging her friend's back. "But she remembers."
She winced. Her memory was poor, she couldn't even remember Jon sticking his tongue down her throat, but if the gods were wil-
"-Very well, goodnight, my lady."
"Goodnight." They both mirrored a comical shrug. "Good luck at the tourney tomorrow?"
He was already walking off in a strop, and both girls collapsed on the same tiny bed. Their ordeal was over, for now, but funnily enough she hoped the problem isn't resolved straight away, because of dear Jeyne...Jeyne 'genital kisser' Westerling.
"Thank you, that was surreal." She adjusted her back so it was against the wall. "But I fear his persistence of wooing me after the business with Jeyne, means he might never make Jeyne an honest woman. The cheek of him...then he was after you!"
"I know! Perhaps he will go and apologize to your mother at once." Their shoulders were rubbing when Roslin joined her against the wall.
She spat laughed. "She won't know what it's for...unless he tells her by accident, then she will know." She sighed happily against the wall. "I wish I was there now, a fly on the wall." She began to rub her arms together like an insect, and the girl tittered with her. "The fortune teller said he was a non-entity."
"Really?"
"Uh hm, she also told me to be happy and consider myself lucky."
Roslin brushed her hand over her arm. "You are, and somewhere out there is a man that will-"
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"-He's back." Roslin was sardonic, an unusual thing for her friend to be. They both rolled their eyes and pushed off the wall. "Lord Harding I'm trying to sleep!" She was about to chortle with her, when-
"-Is that little shit in there?!" That was a rather ferocious rumble, that created butterflies in her stomach. Jon. Roslin clamped a hand over her own mouth, staring at her in utter revelation. The door was tried, and it clunked because the bolt was secure.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Sansa was standing to attention as if the very King himself had walked in. She whipped back around to pull up her friend off the bed. 'Say something!'
'Me again? Why?' Roslin mouthed, and her ladyship nudged her. "Err...Lord Snow...what an unexpected surprise?" Sansa nodded along. That's good. "You're our second gentleman caller this evening." Her ladyship shook her head, waving her hands in disapproval. 'NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!'
"Is he in there? Are you alright?!" Gods his voice was genuine, and she couldn't even see his face.
"No, he knocked on the door for a serenade...we're fine!" Sansa smacked her gently. "No, we're... not fine?" She tried, and was smacked again. "Yes, I'm fine." And she knew she had got it right. "I'm alone and I'm fine."
"Sansa's in there."
Lady Frey glanced at her as if to confer. "Afraid not."
"That wasn't a question, my lady." Jon's voice was at its rumbliest, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he dropped the 'my lady' as well. "Look I just popped by to talk, I won't be able to sleep until I do, my lady."
Roslin gave her an appealing look with an overturned mouth, all Sansa could do was awkwardly scratch her neck, keeping perfectly silent in defiance. She was not ready. Her friend sighed. "She's not here."
"You were talking before I knocked, now unless you've got an unauthorized person in there, I suggest you come clean!" Jon sounded like he was threatening to break down the door, a dramatically romantic notion, but reckless. Roslin smacked her arm this time.
Ow! She relinquished, and marched towards the door to unbolt it. CLICK CLUNK. She swung the door open, turned away from him before acknowledging his appearance, and retreated further into the room, very annoyed and a little warm. "I'm sorry, I forgot about the routine bed inspection!" She folded her arms and pivoted. Oh Come on! She composed her features and tried to look upon his very sincere face with...disinterest. "Aren't you cold, my lord?" Her voice still edged with insolence. He was shirtless, but fortunately wore breeches.
"I'm the opposite, my lady, hence why I removed it." The tension had left his face, and was replaced with calm. But the longer she remained silent, it somehow grew to mirth. She tore her eyes away to look at her friend who was slowly backing into the ablution chamber. She's leaving me?...Probably the semi-nude man was making her uncomfortable?
When her friend had escaped, she started with him with a little more patience, so it didn't escalate. "You're a bit dramatic." Sansa waltzed by him so she could fiddle with the stuff on her dresser to soothe herself, and she sensed him turn with her.
"You were cruel trying to fob me off." She heard, and had the audacity to feel guilty.
"I said goodnight, that is normally a precursor to sleep." She opened and closed her powder jar. "You better have a good excuse for dragging yourself up here." She dabbed into some of the spilled powder, and played with it between her thumb and index finger, when she glanced up she saw he was watching her very juvenile action with equal fascination. She remembered she didn't want to know the reason of his visit, but the conversation was unavoidable, but she could procrastinate, and keep a distance as long as possible. "You seemed eager to check I wasn't with Harry, well I'm not, he departed wistfully. Harry has though lost my mother's favour." She lied. It was her favour that was lost.
"Good." He shrugged. "Another Stark has followed their instincts." He did a curling motion with his arm to point, then dropped it. "It's bred in yer'."
And not a single bit of him jiggled, he was so toned, not an ounce of fat on him. Anywaaaaaay. "Women's intuition, but Harry is still a part of this festival, still a guest here." She rolled the talc between all her fingers, was it odd she wanted to powder his pectorals? Possibly even streak it across his torso, to spoil the...perfection. "She would have been a good mother-in-law to Lord Harding." She then flicked her fingers, and some powder cast off towards him, he wasn't offended by the gesture, but his burning gaze followed her as she seemingly circled him, painfully slowly. She tore her eyes away when she noted his abs clench. It was almost as if he was preparing himself to be painted for war.
"I was going to ask about yer' whereabouts after the ball."
She was out of view of his face, but could tell it probably appeared stormy, from his voice alone, this was an interrogation. "You know where I was...you saw." She refolded her arms, and raked her eyes over him, he was still devotedly turning with her. Oh gods. It seemed that circling gave her no strength whatsoever; he might as well be circling her.
"What, so you were on the boards for half an hour between the turrets?" He cocked his head.
"Yeah."
"Well if you had been, you'd probably seen Harry getting his jollies off...twice." He folded his arms then, a look that added definition to his superb collection of -
"-Oh...oh...really?" Sansa was stunned and she was hiding it pretty well she thought. "I'm...shocked by this revelation." She pointed, and it was random. He knew he was down in the hay?! Wait, this is a trick...he didn't know that, he never pointed it out...he would have loved to have pointed that out! "I wasn't there the whole time, I probably missed that...if...if...that really was... what was going on...down in the cubicle."
"-So you knew it was the cubicle, then?"
"No! I didn't...it was...a figure of speech." She was getting shaky, because she was losing...her pride. "But you!- Certainly didn't miss it! Were you loitering behind the door at the bottom of the stairs getting your jollies off?!" She threw her face in an act of passive aggression, and Jon cawed at the accusation, slapping his thigh.
"Oah ha ha ha, oh really!...Getting off to Lord Baratheon jr and the back-alley flea? Says the girl who was up there surveying for half an hour?"
"I said I wasn't up there the whole time! I was...elsewhere." Her voice dipped towards the end, eyes ferreting to the floor.
"Where?" Jon didn't seem truly angry if he was leading her to the answer she thought she was being led to. "Where'd yer go Sansa?" Gods, must he say her name.
She scratched the arm of her nightie, feeling conscious of Roslin pretending not to listen in the other room. She wished for a simpler time, before suitors...and...suitors...and jealous suitors...and suitors finding out things. And cousins with secrets. "I wasn't with anyone if that's what you were thinking? I was alone!" She gestured, staring wide eyed towards his feet.
"I'm not accusing you of going off for a tryst, Sansa." His gentleness was bewitching, you could not continue being angry at someone when they spoke to you with such fairness. "I need information."
She swallowed. "I wasn't in the castle." She finally admitted quietly.
"Alright." He nodded as if he was finalizing the interrogation. "Where were you?"
Her eyes flicked up to him. "In the...godswood."
"Thank you...'ere." He retrieved something from his pocket, and flung it at her to catch, she caught the dragonfly pendant between her hand and her breast, and looked down at it as if it were alive. Oh hells no. His heartfelt voice cut through the humming in her ears. "I want to be your chaperone tomorrow." Oh? She was dumbstruck, and felt like sinking into the floor. Is this forgiveness or entrapment?
"I...I." You idiot, he didn't ask a question. "But Alay-"
"-Err you in there?" Her cousin glanced over into the other room. "Goodnight, Lady Frey." She felt herself relax slightly, but then he neared her, and the air seemed to whoosh at her and shift her hair. Those eyes were soft and hard in their search for her compliance, and he got it. His hands reached up and gently took her coppery head, and he kissed her forehead sweetly. Her eyes had closed momentary at the contact, and the meaning of the gesture. He is shirtless, and he kissed you. He is shirtless and you're in your nightie. As he drew back she blinked open her eyes and met his again, before she could even comment, or possibly swoon, he suddenly clapped his hand on her back as if she were a comrade in arms, and made his way past her. "We'll talk tomorrow." It was a disguised command.
She hiccuped. "Alright?" She was in trouble.
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