Chapter 40: The deal
His smile was coaxing and sweet in its uncertainty. "Are we in accord?" His voice was so gentle and appeasing, and he seemed to slowly shake her hand, as if to strike a deal with her. He looked to be searching through her stare, chasing confirmation. The air had reached down her throat, for she was agape. "Gooood?"
"Erm...That lavender was fresh, as...you are." She tried to laugh it off and gently dislodge her hand. "A side effect, that Sam must be warned of."
"Sweet, yer' know this has been going on since the moment I arrived?" He drawled. "I haven't been supping off the stuff all the time. Yer' can't bottle affection and-" His tantalizing smile grew upon her face tingeing. "Bless, you're a little sunburnt." He bopped her cheeks then nose, she blinked but did not recoil, an involuntary shiver and giggle then erupted from her. "My lady is lost for words..." Sansa found their hands had entangled again, both of them, it was as if they were about to dance under the tree. "What do you put on yer' hands to make them so soft, my lady?"
"Nothing." She actually swung herself around to merrily break free, and they ended up just circling. She laughed. "You're not going to release, are you?"
He frowned. "I will, but you will fall over, or fly off...I have to make sure those smiles and flutters aren't fear, my lady." He released one of her hands, and their circle broke and she slipped to the side of him, his other hand that was still in hold, arose and opened palm up, as if to set her free, but her hand stayed put. "Gevives." He uttered with a smile, and she could feel her skin prickling. The gesture, or...
"Where...Where shall we go?" It was ridiculously airy, and she had an ache in her face, and relaxed it, had she been smiling all that time? "...My lord."
"If yer' thinking of somewhere... private-." He rumbled, and she gaped again. "-Then I must ask you to be gentle with me."He teased, playing with her fingers, and she tittered a second later. "I'd need a decent witness...and the gods won't suffice."
"Stop! I'm not a lewd woman." Her eyes rolled along with her head. "Perhaps we should return to civilisation, they'll wonder where I am?" Sansa rounded the tree to look upon the castle gates, and found they were about to have company. "Jon, it appears others seek the solace of the godswood."
He grunted. "Oh...If I show myself, they might back off."
Sansa shot him a look of warning. "No, it's our friends." And he retired back to his spot amongst the lavender, and her hand slipped from his. Or was it the other way around?
Roslin and Gilly's arms were linked, and they were scurrying over, with Sam and Edmure not far behind having their own discussion. She frowned at their very deliberate determined approach towards her. Well if they were looking, they've found me. "Were you looking for me, ladies?" She suddenly felt self-conscious that she looked different, for she felt different; a little sweaty in the dress, and burdened with sweet knowledge.
Lady Frey appeared smarmy, a look she had never seen on the sweet natured girl. "News of the utmost importance." She began breathless. "So much has happened in the past hour, my lady." An hour, already? Frey did a little hop. "Oh, I don't know how the castle will cope?!"Jon looked around the tree quite grumpily, and everybody else spotted and acknowledged him, skittishly. "Oh good, you're here too." And Gilly suddenly grabbed her arm to stop her.
"I'm sorry...it can wait...we'll go."
"No it can't." Roslin pleaded, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, composing herself. "A series of engagements..." She clapped her hand once as if to stir them. "Which will certainly alter the atmosphere."
"Yeah, we know about my brother and Jeyne's plans." Sansa ousted.
"How can you? It's just been announced..." She shared a look with Gilly, and the others, baiting for encouragement. "Well...Lady Stark is... furious! And Lord Stark just overruled her and gave his blessing." She winced after she delivered that. "Did you know about that?"
"I unfortunately figured...that would indeed happen." And she wilted against the tree. "What of the other engagements?" She then realised, and dipped her voice. "Has Edmure...?"
Her friend leant. "Not yet, ssshhh." She then cleared her throat. "Gendry was spurned into action, and asked for your sister's hand from your father also...and your sister was present."
Asshhjjiikkllmmno. A twig snapped, and she felt Jon at her side. "What?"
But she was mightier. "What?!" She wobbled on the terrain. "That's...stupid!"
Jon's hand ghosted around hers at her side. "She's 12?! And he's not even a lord...Is Uncle Ned drunk?" He stepped in front of her as if to take over her disapproval.
Sansa raised a brow at the remark. "Could be...but, why would you concern yourself with him not being a lord? I didn't take you of all people, to be a snob." She swore she heard Sam and Gilly gasp.
Jon swivelled, not at all appearing angry. "Lord Stark, Sansa, wouldn't part with his daughter with anyone less than a lord, despite how skilled he is. How can such a match be allowed...when...when...their eldest is yet to be wed?"
She felt scandalized, and she felt like pointing in the opposite direction to get him to look away from her. She didn't want talk like that coming from his lips...she was getting very broody. She placed her face in her hands. "Gods! Arya once complained to me that she'd never get married unless I was, I suppose she was wrong. Well at least she can no longer hold that against me, but she will still be unbearable nevertheless." She scooped up her skirts so she could rush back to the castle. Her friends were in tow, rustling and gasping, trying to keep up with their ladyship.
They all rammed into each other when Sansa halted unexpectedly at the gates. She found her father up on the outside landing, shaking hands with Gendry, and Arya being fussed over by her mother. "They've accepted?" She whispered, and she heard her uncle behind her curse and utter a name, which became apparent when another figure joined her parents. Robert Baratheon looked pleased as punch.
"I bloody knew it, Gendry's a Baratheon bastard!"
She turned to look at her uncle, then Jon. That brood. "Well...he's definitely a lord, Jon." Her smile was a straight line, and she caught sight of her friend smiling.
"Your mother is happy."
Sansa had to check. Indeed she was. "Well, she has always been worried about Arya's future."
She felt Roslin get to her ear. "Theon's engaged to Lady Poole."
Sansa closed her eyes, she never thought she would hear that name again, she felt sad. "Jeyne Poole's sister?...That's nice." Was it though? Her eyes popped open when she counted the total number of proposals. "I wouldn't trust him though, and he's on the rebuff from Lady Westerling." She shook her head manically. "This can't be real."
She managed to isolate Jon's quiet raspy voice in the discussion behind her. "Well from spending the night with him...err...in separate beds, I gave him the squire bed...beats being holed up in a tavern." She smirked. "Gendry seems like a decent bloke, skilled, strong, kind...humble, just where are they gonna live?...Unless Robert makes him his official heir and gives him the Baratheon hold, then he will be looking at moving into my cabin in the woods."
She turned to the conversation. "That would be sweet of you, but I doubt my mother and father will allow their daughter to live and bring up their grandchildren in a cabin."
"Yeah, Jon. " Sam piped up, and a short stare down commenced between the two fellows. "Trying to populate your little forest and hill community?"
"It was a thought...Arya wouldn't be isolated."
Sansa frowned at this strange tension between the gents she thought were friends. "Yes of course, you would be there."
"And you..." Her cousin uttered, and she raised her brow. Is everybody moving to the woods?..Well she did joke she was going to live as a hermit. She noted Sam gape and grab Gilly's arm. What the? "You would... visit your own sister, right?"
She waved off the suggestion in concurrence. "Of course." And her other friends sighed in what sounded like disappointment. Did they not like Arya? "I'm sorry I didn't visit you when you were younger, I don't know why father didn't suggest a pilgrimage to the infamous cabin."
"She was in hiding for a reason." He skirted around Roslin, and laid a hand on Sansa's shoulder, as if to speak to her in confidence. "Other than escaping from Lord Baratheon's unwanted attentions."
Edmure appeared at her other side, leering at Jon peculiarly. "You know...I always thought you were one of Robert's Bastards?"
"Impossible, she found him repugnant."
Sansa spat laughed then. "Careful, he might be my sister's father-in-law."
The wildling woman was all frivolity. "Isn't anyone else delighted by all these engagements, isn't it all romantic...and just...spurn you on?!"Nobody looked at anybody else but Gilly, rather stoically. "It's not great...but certainly not terrible, what's wrong with you people?!"
Sansa gazed up at the landing and saw her father glance down at the cluttered gateway, he beckoned them up. She picked up her skirts and trudged up the stairs, with her devoted suitor in tow. When she glanced down again, her friends had dispersed. "Father...news?" She did not look at Arya.
Lady Catelyn was apple cheeked. "We have a new ward, and Arya has a potential match."
Sansa clapped her hand once after a slight delay of deliberating. "Excellent, I'd say this festival has been far more productive than any other occasion." She was prepared, and from the corner of her eye she spotted Jon looking at her rather sheepishly. "Have you err...spoken to Robb?"
Her mother's face fell. "Yes, and my heart goes out to him, where ever he is now." She said grudgingly, and she scowled at her father. Oh no.
Lord Stark stepped in. "Yes well...he is assertive and gave an impassioned plea, and we will all have to do some damage control." He seemed to look at his daughter's hair. What now? "Isn't that a little heavy? I'm surprised you haven't got a crick in your neck."
Somewhere behind her Jon was chortling, she sighed, circumnavigating. "How can all of us do damage control? If everything is known...all we can do is go around lying to everyone."
Arya appeared somewhat very excited by the task. "We could do that, or...assassinate Lord Harding? It will look like a spectacular accident."
People silently cussed, and Lord Baratheon guffawed. "Oh this one, she's adorable, and hilarious!" He clapped Gendry on the back. "You are going to be a lucky man, she will grow into someone as lovely and as feisty as Lyanna. Whom was very nearly mine." Sansa sensed the dip in the atmosphere, she noted mother soften towards her father in sympathy, since his features had become sombre, and he cagily looked at his nephew. Does Robert have any idea about Jon? Whom was very quiet and broody, not to mention shaking his head at the notion. Lord Baratheon was undeterred by the awkwardness- "Thank the old gods and the new for festivals such as these, bringing people together..." His eyes subtly settled on Sansa, and she grew weary and tore her eyes away. Well we certainly won't be brought together. He thumbed his messy beard, that gave her the impression he had in mind something dastardly. "On this joyous day we shall break bread and drink wine, to celebrate the union of our two households, finally." His arm shrouded her father and squeezed. "My old friend...there is another matter I wish to discuss with you, in private." Lord Stark humoured him with a smile, it looked eerily similar to her cousin's, sad. "But let's take a moment." He bequeathed another pally squeeze. "I wish to pay respects to the dearly departed."
"Yes...yes, of course." She heard her father say, along with her mother rumbling something to her sister, and no sooner had she addressed Arya, she had turned to her.
"-Oh, and Sansa?..." Her mother hummed, and she inclined to confer. "I need to speak with you."
She had been more curious with her father's upcoming discussion, but it looks as if she wouldn't get a piece until it's too late. "That sounds very ominous, but I suppose...I need to speak with you as well." Sansa did a respectful dip.
Her little sister appeared between them both. "I think I know what about." Her brows were always furrowed which gave the impression she was annoyed, but her face, particularly her mouth was calm and content, she turned shrewdly to her shadow. "Jon, I need to confer with you!"
"Alright, but first...I need to speak with-." Her cousin turned to her father. "I need to speak with you, my lord."
"Good, because I need to speak with you also."
Lord Baratheon frowned at the quick exchange. "Well whose first?"
Ned shifted his gaze to the seemingly disgruntled friend. "Perhaps I could extend the invitation in the crypts...to my nephew, as well." Ned said bravely, and looked upon her cousin with such love and devotion, again she had to step back at the similar features.
Robert turned to the boy with a little interest, and tapped upon the side of his nose with his sausage like finger. "Sure...your nephew...we could have a party down there..." He jostled her poor father and laughed as if they were sharing some kind of joke. It was very much one sided, but for everybody else; there were sheepish glances all around, and the look of; 'what the hell was that?' It was a teensy bit funny; the idea of a ruckus boozy party in the quietest and somberest place on earth, outside of old Valyria.
The men folk turned away to head downwards to the crypt, and she caught Jon give her a flicker of a smile as he was about to pass by. "To be continued, my lady. Wait for me." He uttered with a wink, and Sansa snapped her blushing head away, slightly mortified, and caught sight of Arya scowling at her. Shiiiit. Her mother luckily was busy watching her father reaching the bottom steps.
When everybody was out of earshot, except for mother and Arya, her sister snapped. "Do...not...fall in love with him! You'll ruin him!"
"Arya!" Sansa was abashed and hissed at her, since her mother's ear was suddenly wagging at the exchange.
"Girls, support one another, don't get catty." Catelyn shifted closer to her brood. "Arya, you have a match that you are actually in accord with, and that doesn't stop your sister from planning her own...nuptials."
Sansa's eyes were dry from staring at her mother's casualness of the whole affair. "I...I have no plans as of yet to fall in love, sister, but it is of no concern to you. It won't affect your life."
Arya rolled her eyes. "Yes it will, if it's Jon. You'll turn him into a pansy."
Her mother shot a glare of warning at her youngest daughter. "Arya! A man that loves, is not a pansy. Your father is not a pansy, and he loves us all. You're very demonizing of love, dear girl, besides if you are entirely against the idea of that match, you should be warding off your cousin's affections, then telling off your sister...if you do not wish him to become a pansy...as you call it. But at the end of the day, it's not up to you what others do, Sansa isn't yours to bend to your will."
Sansa was grumbling at the direction of this conversation. "There isn't a match."
Her sister rolled her eyes. "Well he clearly thinks there's something. You and your damn girliness."
Sansa flapped her skirts, and stamped her foot. "Arya will you stop blaming me for everything! I'm not in love, and I didn't cast a spell on him...Besides, Jon is the least likely to become a pansy if he did give affections. Am I to call out Gendry on his fall from grace because he likes you?!"
"You leave him out-" Arya was about to lunge, but was caught by her tall mother.
"-Enough!... I would like to get to the actual matter at hand, if I may?" She gave a fiery stare at both her girls to both scare and calm them.
The ladies shrugged. "Of course."
Their mother was still stony faced. "Thank you, now as you're aware, there has been evidence of a sabotage, your brother is not well."Oh...is she going to blame the proposal on that issue? "Brienne is dismayed, Podrick was panicked and over worked...Harry appears to be unscathed, apart from his...reputation."
Arya straightened, her hand seeking her hilt. "I see...it's him then, well I did say I wanted him dead, didn't I? I can try him and give justice."
Sansa rolled her eyes. "You just want to kill everybody...Besides, let's not forget the knight won his round, so he was reasonably unscathed." What are you doing? Are you insinuating he could be the culprit? "Oh...I'm not saying he's a suspect, he seems decent...and...strong."
Her sister scoffed. "Oh so you're in love with him, so you've ruled him out?"
"No." Sansa caught sight of Lady Catelyn's reasoning face. "It's...just, he's...not out of the question, he could be...behind it? His mysterious identity puts him at a disadvantage...he could be anybody." Her mother nodded, and motioned for her to continue. "I don't know, but...it could be..." She dropped her voice. "-An emissary of the king?...Or actually the-"
Her mother gasped. "Dear me..."
Sansa located Gilly and Sam, strangely in the greenhouse, she tapped upon the glass door gingerly. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"
They always looked very inviting, in the darkest of times. "No, just an investigative discussion."
"Here?" Then thought immediately after; why not?
"The adulterated cask thing, we have a suspicion, and we don't want anybody overhearing."
Lady Stark clasped her hands in front of her neatly. "I see. Well I have a hunch about that, mother and I were discussing it."
Sam clapped his hands, startling both girls. "Excellent, let's reveal on the count of 3; 1...2..."
"-Harry." "-Bolton." "-King Rhaegar?"
They all looked at one another stunned. Sam glanced up at the heavens. "Shit, I was hoping it would be unanimous."
Gilly rounded on Sam. "I know we wanted it to be Harry, but clearly...he was another target. There was a cask in his tent. Bridey saw it."
Her fiancé shook his head. "It was probably a spare!" He sounded exasperated. "And perhaps he knew he would be under suspicion, so he made sure he had one on display." The former watchman gifted Sansa a look of astonishment. "Why'd you say the King?"
She shrugged. "Why not? He wasn't invited, and took it personal when he found out about the grandeur of the event, and plotted his revenge."
"But...Death?"
"He's a Targaryen."
"He imparted actual...nice gifts though?" Now he sounded crazy.
Sansa was exasperated this time. "To take the suspicions off him! But I also suspect him to be the knight of the laughing tree."
Sam stared horrified. "You think he would both sabotage and take part?...That's...a bit much, my lady...Besides, the knight could be an innocent party...a wonderful...and perhaps...humble shy man." He was side-eyeing his companion. It was odd. Did he know?...Was it Sam?
Gilly was nodding along. "-I think the King saboteur thing is possible, but I could also lean towards my new theory; the king could be the knight, and the saboteur's target was the king."
Sam smacked his head. "I didn't think of that...then again...I've only just heard about it. But I really don't think Rhaegar is in that armour...Rhaegar I hear is...6ft 3?...The knight is like..." He raised his hand up then lowered it, his eyes squinting. "Shorter than me...and." His hand hovered close to Sansa's head then. "Kind of your height."
Everyone became still and quiet. Did they think I was the knight? "Yes well...no matter his height, he can still be...up to no good, or an emissary of the king. I don't want him to be, may I add?! I'd rather him be an impartial party."
Sam's bias was obvious. "I think he is, my lady, he was a victim...he wobbled, but overcame his disadvantage."
"You're probably right." She hummed, and found both of them grinning like fools at her. Alright?
TAP TAP TAP. Everybody jumped and shot their heads towards the door. Harry Harding rounded the glass, head bowed in respect. "Lady Stark, may I take a turn with you around the outskirts of the keep?"
"I don't think tha-"
"-My lady, I wish to speak with you prior to my final, in case I'm concussed." He actually gave her mournful eyes in order to appeal, and it worked.
She turned to her friends regrettably. "Excuse me. Send a search party if I don't return within 15 minutes." They all chortled, including Lord Harding, which took away from the moment with her friends.
"Didn't you wish to talk, my lord?" His silence was scaring her. Where were they going?
"Yes, only to you...I don't want inferior ears listening..." Stay public, stay public. Lady Stark gulped as they passed the threshold of the gate, and onto a barren verge, towards the sacred tree. Harry walked with her in relative silence, stroking her hand that he had as prisoner, as he effectively marched her to the godswood. It loomed and she knew. When he was there, she rolled her eyes when he did the most predictable and unwelcome thing; he flicked his cape and dropped down on one knee while still holding her hand possessively, his eyes ardent and wild. "Lady Stark, Marry me and I will make you the happiest and fulfilled wife on this earth."
Her eyes wandered disinterested, inside she was mortified, and hoped no one could see this. "My lord." Her tone was obvious and prepared, and he tugged on her hand as he stroked it again.
"My lady wishes to let me down gently, I know this...because you are charming and eager to please."
"I'm civil, and eager to not offend, my lord, and I cannot marry you."
"Why not?! I'm-" He almost snapped, he quelled his torrent of anger and possibly abuse, and he jammed his other fist against his mouth. "My lady is a tease, you're a genius when it comes to getting a man rattled, and hungry."
"Your words are inadvertently offensive, my lord."
"I apologize, but I shouldn't be rebuffed because of past dallying, people change." He pled, and Sansa sighed and gently removed her hand from his.
"I'm sorry my lord, but you don't have much to offer me...when it comes to reassurance...and trust that is." She made to turn away and leave.
She heard him struggle to his feet behind her. "I know that I'll be the only one to understand...to forgive your own slips..."
Sansa placed a hand upon her chest as if about to choke on the bad air, she turned back to him. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"
Lord Harding gave her a patronizing smile, and approached, touching upon her cheek, she blanched. "I have a forgiving nature, and I know I can make you safe and content, blissful...because I am a passionate man, and my household is warm and grand back in the vale, and it would be a shame for you not to be there."
Sansa shook her head as if she was going mad. "That's...that's very presumptive, my lord. And I have not personally wronged you, so why do you assume I'd do wrong in the first place? Withdrawing my affections is probably the wisest thing I have ever done, but I'm still willing to be your friend and ally with your house, let's just leave it at that."
"To withhold your affections is punishment enough, and to refuse my offer of marriage could have disastrous consequences through no fault of my own."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I don't see how...but even so, you have made that sound like a threat? Whether it be, no fault of your own?"
Harry did a humourless giggle, his hand coming up to caress her face again, and yet again she moved. "No, my sweet, I warn. My benefactor is an influential man in the vale..."
"Robin?"
He chuckled. "No, my sweet."
Stop calling me 'your sweet.' She closed her eyes as if she had the power to make him disappear. "I don't understand..."
"He speaks rather highly of you at best, but questionably at his worst...But he is a trusted and believed man, and knows you well."
"Me personally? Why should he? I don't know him, so he does not know me, and has not met me."
"But he does...and has, and not from just talking to his wife; your Aunt Lysa."
Sansa took a step back, obviously surprised. "Aunt Lysa is married?...My family haven't been told. To whom?"
"Why... your former lover...Lord Baelish?"
A name she never thought she would hear again, a name she had thought was buried. The earth had opened up beneath her, and swallowed her, there were thorns and jagged rocks on the way down, that ripped her clothes and at her skin, and she was bleeding profusely. At least that's how she imagined she had looked, her face was both hot and cold. Tears prickled her eyes, she felt small, she was 10 again. But the voice that suddenly came from her was of a woman scorned, she was livid...because what he had said was not true. "How dare you?! How dare you mention that name to me!"
"Ah, so you know him, so your reputation precedes you? I'm impressed...and slightly hot under the collar."
"He was not my lover." Sansa hissed. "I don't have lovers, this man has lied to you, he seriously said he had taken a child as a lover...and you believed him?!" She tried to laugh, but this was her worst nightmare. "Is this your way of winning me over? By claiming to know a horrid little man?"
"No, you should be won over by the fact I know this, and don't care about the past...just you, my sweet."
His smile was vile, how did she ever find that attractive? "I'm not your sweet." She uttered callously.
"You will be, it's destiny, and aren't you moved by the fact that everything is moving against you, and yet here I stand enamoured by you, offering to give you everything despite you being a naughty little wench." He bopped her nose, and she was sure her head was about to drop off or explode.
"I'm innocent!"
He bounced to put his weight on the opposite foot. "Then...I love you no less. I like both versions of you. But I can imagine others being a little less lenient if they did...believe anything I said...I mean-" His smile waned. "-Anything Baelish said."
"You're making me an offer I shouldn't refuse?! This is...blackmail!"
"The girl is smart, as she is charming, but why would you refuse?" He took a breath and paced, his eyes drifting away then back, she was being sized up, and she hated it, for they weren't kind nor beautiful eyes. "Like I said, I will be the only one to make you content...and secure."
"By being your wife..." She did not pose it like a question, because it was too firm. "Next door to the man that tried to have his way with me?"
Lord Harding blinked with a frank smile, as if to mock her. "Tried?"
She mimicked his manner. "Yes, tried. A failed attempt thanks to my brother and mother intervening."
"In other words..." And he seemed to stroke an imaginary goatee. That looks familiar. "If you hadn't been caught, you would have given yourself to him? For he is as charming and inviting as you."
He was sickening, and she sharpened her jaw line. "No. I was 10, you fool, too young to be wooed, and I had been brought up better!"
"How would anybody know if he hadn't already succeeded, and this was just the second occasion that you were chanced upon?"
"How dare you?!" She snapped, livid, her civil manner finally leaving her. "I was too shy for him to have succeeded!"
"Shyness can be a bridge, my lady." He offered frankly, not at all afraid of her anger. "I'm not the one who judges, I'm a worldly gentleman, I shall look upon you with the same admiration as I did before...spoiled or not."
She placed her hands upon her hips. "I've exhausted my use of 'how dare you! As you have exhausted your charm."
His lordship winced. "Sorry, spoiled is a harsh word, I hate that word. It should be experienced, skilled...passionate. Yes, that is more fitting, and beautiful, as are you..."
She rolled her eyes. "Why weren't these words applicable with Jeyne, hm?"
He thumbed his rather greasy looking chin. "...She's rotten to the core."
She mimicked a codfish again. "Jeyne is worldly, like you surely? Or are you implying you are one in the same, that you're rotten to the core?"
Harry clutched at his chest in mock surprise, and he had never looked so ugly. "My lady gests, I don't put private parts in my mouth and guzzle seed like ale."
She smacked him hard, and he stumbled, clutching at his cheek. He stood, his ego bruised and eyes alight with anger. "I was referring to your friend, my lady!"
"That's why I slapped you!" A strand of her hair had come loose, and she tucked it back. "I don't like filthy talk, regardless, even if you were to speak like that against my greatest enemy, I would disapprove."
"You are a flower, my lady, of the rarest forms. Only hearsay could possibly tarnish you...Hence my offer."
"Did I knock more sense out of you?...Perhaps I could return it?!" She threatened to strike him again, by raising her hand, and she yelped when he unexpectedly grabbed it, and squeezed cruelly.
"If I return empty handed, my benefactor will talk about his exploits with you." His hand slipped to her wrist, as if to shackle her.
"There were none!" She tried to claw his hand off her wrist, the kafuffle continued, she was dragging her feet, trying to use her body weight to break free from him. "He did not touch me!"
Harry gave her a sharp tug to scare and subdue her into submission, it barely worked. "But if you come with me, but still put up a fuss, the benefactor will talk, and I will share with the whole kingdom my exploits with Jeyne!" She had been gilded with shock and horror. "The house Stark will become nothing more than whoremongers." He took hold of her other hand, his were plump and soft, and he gazed into her eyes with possibly false love and affection. She met it with a loathsome look. The pat that followed on the top of her hand was patronizing as hell. "Make a wise decision, my lady." And he released her, and she jolted back in revulsion. "I will strive to make you happy when you are mine. Just think of it...your own household, no ill words, security, and a clean future for you and the rest of your family." She could feel the tears building behind her eyes, she could not blink, she did not want them to fall. "Your sister-in-law will be free of scandal."
Is this what her father meant by 'damage control?' There was a stony silence, she heard no people in the distance. Perhaps the world had ended? She felt hers had. She took a breath. "When you win the tourney..." She said as sadly and as simply as any woman would under duress. His smile broadened, and she felt like beating him. She had always dreamt of a romantic proposal, gazing at the lovelorn face of her intended. This might have had promise if he hadn't have threatened her...and hadn't shagged her future sister-in-law.
"Not just...when I win the tourney." He slipped in almost guiltily, and she looked upon him mortified. "If I lose...I will be of still sound body and mind to take a wife. You shall still insist upon me. Like I said...my lord doesn't want me to return empty handed."
She opened her mouth to respond and nothing came out, she gestured profusely, turning to suddenly pace, and halted when she found some words. "How is that viable?...I'm to turn away the champion whom might ask of me, how would the north and first of all; my family see reason in that?!"
"Love, my lady, but deep down...a sense of duty."
She gave a single bark of a laugh. "But no honour...on your part that is."
"I will honour my promise." Harry said with a raised finger, one she wished to snap off.
She couldn't look at him, and she placed her hands on her hips so she could think. "Then if that is the case, you will have to win so I don't seem like an idiot...So win the damn tourney! Take your empty glory! Then make your loathsome announcement!" There was bile in her throat. "You will have my hate and not my love. My body, but not my mind or soul-"
"-My lady has made me the happiest man in the kingdom!" He did a little hop, which took a little bit of his manhood away.
He could have been a little less careless with his words there...if he had been listening. "We shall see, but you clearly didn't hear. That doesn't bode well for you." She said threateningly, and he still had the fortitude to grab her hand and bring it to his lips, while staring at her ardently. His wet kiss extended into peppering kisses, that went up her wrist, then her arm, which she then shrewdly yanked back.
"That's enough, my lord, you can try to have a little of me some time after the wedding, but not a moment before."
He was exasperated, but a chortle erupted from him. "Would a simple kiss to seal the deal, be out of the question?" He leant in before she had given an answer, and she rebuffed him sharply.
"I will only kiss my husband. You aren't my husband yet, my lord." She then flounced off, carrying her skirts, tearing across the verge and the courtyard. Sansa began to struggle quelling her crying as she made her way into the keep, she brought up her arm to shield herself from unforgiving eyes. The stairs nearly took her out, and as she passed the door to the crypt, her emotions took her over the edge and she coughed out a sob. She spotted Sam entering the hall through an adjacent door, snacking on something and froze at the sight of her. Not now.
"My lady, what's the matter?"
"No! Not now, my lord...I...I need to be left alone!" She waved him off and scampered up stairs to the sanctuary of her chambers.
Sam watched the figure shoot up the passage to the tower and he sighed, scratching his head. "Gilly had to answer the call of nature, now!"
Lord Tarly suddenly heard the click clunk of a colossus bolt and door, and looked over to a darkened area under the great gate of the keep. His friend's alabaster face came from the gloom, joined by two others, slightly higher up, and a little more tanned.
Lord Stark looked very stern, a contrast to his nephew's very calm and collect features. Which again...was an usual look for Jon. Lord Baratheon, an apple cheeked man whom usually was boisterous, loud and lewd, appeared to have a cloud over his head, and marched off rather defeated in the opposite direction. The two 'Starks' separated under different terms, almost hopeful. Though, he was reading a lot into it.
Jon crossed the hall to him then, rubbing his hands together. "Sorted."
"Err how were the crypts? Everything in order?" He piped up, still conscious of the damsel in distress in the tower.
Jon looked vexed. "Odd, if you must know, and damp, at least Lord Baratheon and I had something we could agree on; my mother belongs in a hill with the sky and clouds above her...not a castle."
"You disagreed on something?" Sam was game to hear, mind you, he had already figured out what had gone on down there. "A bad match vs a good-"
"-Where's Sansa?" Jon said pointedly.
Definitely yes. "I should warn you, she's in quite a state, she was crying and very snippy." Harry better not have done something.
Lord Snow's face was a picture, and always a handsome one at that. "What?...Did she think her father would bend to his friend's will?"
Sam quirked a brow. "Hmm...go on." Need more.
His friend rounded on him with a determined face, and he thought Lord Snow was going to grab his scruff or collar. "Never mind that, what happened up 'ere?...Was she hurt?...Where'd she go?"
Sam held up his hands to calm. "She said; she wanted to be alone...so, she's probably in her chambers." Jon seemed to rebound off him, and tore up the stairs with passion. "I know about as much as you, Jon! Even I know that when a lady wants to be alone, it's- you're not listening! You're...already gone." Sam cleared his throat for an empty hall. "I'll just wait here then."
She knew going to her room wasn't the best bet, for people would find her if she wasn't out there hostessing. And if they never looked, they'd assume she was up to mischief, Jeyne's level of mischief. She muffled some pitiful boo-hoos into her pillow, until her face was red raw and clammy. When she caught sight of her horrid face in the mirror, she threw her embroidered throw cushion at it, to knock it askew.
She could not blame Jeyne...she couldn't blame anyone for her predicament, other than herself, and that...lord.
Her lip quivered and she fell back into her pillow sobbing. No doubt this lord would come over to visit her in her gilded cage, and she could only imagine her new husband and him taking turns with her, and she would have to allow it...for their silence.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
She quietly hiccupped, and tried to remain still within the threatening silence that followed. Leave me be. Did his torture never end?
KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK?
There was uncertainty in the request for acknowledgement. She heard a hushed sigh and strangely recognized it. Of course, his whole demeanour was a sigh. But she had the unfortunate task of pretending she wasn't there. Whatever this was...whatever it was...whatever it could have been, was over. Her lip trembled as she mourned the relationship, and she lay back down flat on the bed. Her nose unfortunately whistled since her sinuses were blocked.
"Sansa...You're upset, have I done something? Has anybody else done something?"
He was concerned, sweet, and tentative, gods how she hated how hard he was making this. "I want to be alone, I can't talk to you." She said, muffled by her pillow. Ever again.
"I can't let you not talk to me when you're upset." Jon said gently, gods, she was crazy, his voice alone could woo the door off its hinges.
"If you must know...my future has been set for me." She wiped her nose, and took a shaky breath. Was she going to sell it, or squash it?...She couldn't get help...no one could be involved.
"Well your father has shot Lord Baratheon down, if you must know?"
She felt a pathetic little snigger come upon her. "I feared as much, but I have another proposal that has to be taken into consideration."
He was quiet, she could hear her heart labouring. "Oh?" Why did he sound scared?
She looked about her desperately. "I've...decided to give Lord Harding another chance..." She sensed the onslaught, and winced, but also the bile in her throat at the very mention of his name made her girn.
"What?!...You can't! Sansa...let me in!" He pleaded, and she easily could have. "You can't be seriou- That's- yer' pulling my leg, aren't yer?" His panicked and annoyed tone had diminished, and was replaced with hope. "You tease me."
"Please don't call me a tease." She half sung, and she heard him fall against the door.
"No, Sansa, a jester...at least I hope...Please don't be the fool."
That hurt. "Then I'm the fool." She uttered in defeat, and mourned the loss of her simple life.
"What's happened, really?..You were upset!"
She scowled...at the door. "I'm always upset, my lord."
"Oh, so we're back to the 'my lord,' are we?" He said with a huff of a laugh at the end. "I've been demoted to a bystander."
"And I'm nothing more than a girl-ish hussy, a lurer of men, apparently." She argued, and she literally heard him turn his lean body against the door. He was a lurer of women.
"Sansa, Sansa...Who said this?...Was this Arya again?" The puzzle solver outside was sounding more anguished than ever. Making her feel like a piece of work. How could he endure this madness; this shrill shrewdness?...This unrelenting chase?!
"Just let things be, my lord, I don't need counselling on this any further, my decision is final." Her voice had normalized, and breath caught. "Allow me to be the main character in this story, the hero- no, heroine to my family."
A stunned quietness fell in the hall outside her door, any moment longer she would have assumed he'd left out of boredom. His voice however suddenly spoke again, brimmed with heartache. "What are you saving them from exactly?... Because it can't be extinction, your family are virile and...Aplenty." He seemed to make himself chuckle, and it was contagious. "You're confusing me, my lady, aren't I entitled to an explanation for this sudden change of heart, which is very out of character, considering your selfish former suitor?"
She shook her head, at nothing. He couldn't see her. "I must sound crazy, perhaps I should elaborate, but all I can tell you is, I've decided... marrying Harry is my best bet." She didn't know why she was yearning for a protest from another party...She needed less hassle.
"Oh for f's sake, Lord Stark didn't mean this for... 'damage control.' And if your parents found out about this brash decision, they would no doubt intervene."
Oh they would, bless them they would. "Then I must fight them, tooth and nail for Lord Harding...my...one true love." Sickening, thank heavens she was lying down, and behind a thick door.
Jon groaned heavily, and Sansa wished she was at the door, so she could feel it. But how could one feel a groan? Her cousin persisted. "Has there been a threat from him, directly?"
Dig dig dig. Lady Stark sat up, with a bit of a struggle, since her bodice was stiff and luxurious. "He has influential friends."
"So...yes?"
She swallowed. "Maybe I'm making a selfish decision in order to climb socially?" She stood from her bed, facing the door. "You know how I like luxury and people in...high society?"
"No, it's the other thing." He said immediately with faith.
"Oh...you...insufferable man!" It burst from her, and it was ridiculous. Because all she could think about was how wonderful it was he knew she wasn't stupid. A tear spilled from her eye. "I want to marry Harry, and that's it! Leave me alone!" She flounced back and sprawled onto the bed. Jon tried the door, and it clunked. "How dare you?!" But she was impressed he hadn't tried it before, despite his insistence of being invited in.
"Sorry, it was worth a shot." It was genuine. "You truly wish to wallow in this bad decision, one that is clearly making you upset and snippy? One that will most likely ruin your life?...Then...I shall leave you." It hurts, it hurts so bad.
Her face scrunched up, she was about to cry again. "Goodbye." It sounded croaky and pitiful, and he clearly heard it and tried the door again, and it made her hiccup in surprise.
"Lord Harding's time here is drawing to a close, the final is in an hour, and he may -No- he will lose!" He spat, and she shuddered.
She had thought of that, she felt the shaking continue, her whole family will think she is mad. "Doesn't matter if he loses...he'll...he'll still be taking me h-home!" It was obvious she was crying by this point, and since the final was in a hour, she'd better clean herself up, she was starting to look like a tomato.
"Ey?! How'd you figure that?"
His voice was ludicrous, and a small cry chuckle escaped her. "Oh...I don't know...He's still able bodied, and I'm not a trophy for the tournament's champion, I can marry whom ever." She found a handkerchief and began dabbing her eyes with it, as her shaking sobs subsided. "I don't need a hero, like I said...I'm the hero."
"By the way, I nodded just then." He said, and it made her smile through the horrendousness. "You know, I know you're not a trophy...but you could easily use that as an excuse to get out of this..."
She blew her nose, and sniffed to check it was clear. "Yes, of course...the enigmatic Knight...but that doesn't solve the problem."
"I wish you'd tell me what it was...And if Lord Harding falls to his death...are you going to go home with his coffin?"
"Charming." Gods, she was cruel even for a second to wish that. "I'm sure they have some contingencies." She said carelessly.
"I knew it, he has threatened you!" His rasp was...addictive.
Oh damn...you shouldn't have mentioned contingencies. She was wringing her hanky nervously now. "Please... don't confront him, you could mess up everything!"
There was a gentle hiss from someone caressing grooves in a door. Sansa could feel it in her spine. "He needs to be compromised through legal means, no one would think little of yer' or...seek revenge on yer'" The noise continued, and Sansa by this point was sitting up again, staring at the barrier between them. "There's nothing we can't deal with...if a man can come along and say something to frighten you into a brash decision, then it seems the man himself needs to be... frightened."
"I don't like plotting and scheming, my lord." She felt her face, it was hot.
"Neither do I, but he has brought this upon himself."
"I've brought it upon myself...for being a stupid little girl." She could feel the wrath of the old gods and the new, that bore witness to her naivety. She glanced over to her dresser and saw the dragonfly pendant, she meandered over to it, and cagily picked it up to thumb over its beauty. "Will you...visit me, when I'm sent off?"
She hated those pesky pauses. "You know I will..." There was some thought put into it, she could tell. "Wherever, you go, I wouldn't let you get far...and if the gods ever compel everyone to send you to the wrong household, then I must implore you to...take a lover."
Was he...? She covered her mouth. "I'm trying to bury unsavoury reputations, not dig a deeper hole." She sighed and waltzed over to the door, then knelt and slid her pendant under the door to the other side. "Keep it, either that, or...win favour with the Knight of the laughing tree." She felt him receive it at the other end, and she arose. His fingers returned to the floor and came under to her side slightly to wiggle invitingly at her. Stop it.
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