Chella escorted her to the edge of the godswood, but then allowed her to enter alone. Sansa was grateful as these times alone were some of the only she was allowed in the Red Keep. She also felt infinitely safer with the fierce woman guarding the entrance.
She made her way to the heart tree, dodging errant branches and keeping to the rough dirt path. She knew the way to the center almost by heart now and despite the darkness was able to make it without scratching herself on the trees. As she knelt before the tree she felt a sharp pain from her thighs and allowed a hand to gently run over the bandages then up to her abdomen. She hissed in pain as she pressed on the skin and knew that there would be massive bruises in the morning. Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined the scars that would form and marr her perfect skin. She went to brush her tears away, but before she knew it she was sobbing. Waves and waves of helplessness and fear crashed over her. It was as if the flood gates had opened and all of the grief she had kept hidden away for weeks came bubbling to the surface.
She cried for the loss of her father who she had betrayed. If she had never run to the queen and begged her to stop him from taking her away then he might still be alive. She had been so caught up in the facade that Joffrey had created, so determined to be queen that she had signed her father's death warrant. She remembered one of the last conversations that she had had with him. How he had gone through the trouble of seeking out the royal toy maker and having a doll commissioned for her. He had brought it to her with an apology in his eyes. She had blamed him for Lady's death and he was trying so hard to make it up to her. And she had responded to his tenderness with scorn. Thinking about how ungrateful and childish she had been had Sansa biting her lip hard enough to break the skin. Now the doll she had discarded was one of her most treasured possessions-hiding in one of the chests in her room.
She remembered how she had foolishly gone to court and pleaded mercy for her father. How she had looked up and been dazzled by Joffrey-crowned and on the throne. She had looked up at him and had known that he would not do anything to hurt her. How stupid she had been. The last time she had seen her father, he was being led up the steps of Baelor in chains. He had looked to her sadly and she had sent him an encouraging smile, sure that soon they would be together again. Then it had all gone wrong.
Sansa had been walking a fine line at court ever since. The one time she had allowed herself to speak her mind she had been slapped across the face. So she simpered around, dodging courtiers as often as she could and smiling and using her pretty words whenever it couldn't be avoided.
Today had shown her that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to please Joffrey, that the odds were stacked against her. Joffrey didn't care anymore if she said the right things. He wanted to see her bleed and she was within his power. She was helpless against him and that knowledge made her tears come heavier.
Today it had come to its culmination as she had been beaten, stripped, and she had no doubt it would have only gotten worse if it had not been brought to an end. But it had. And help had come from such an unexpected source. She held up her hand in front of her and pictured the moment he had reached out to her. He had been so cautious and gentle. His fingers had wrapped around hers so warmly and despite his size, he had been strong as he had helped her off the floor.
She didn't want to trust him. She had been beaten down by those she had placed her hopes and dreams with and she was terrified of making another mistake. Terrified of having more taken away from her. But if she didn't allow herself any hope, what was there left for her? Just being lost in this cage with no one? Keeping her head down and hoping that no one would notice her for the rest of her days? She had already seen the attention she was receiving as she grew older and her body developed more. It wouldn't be long before dreams of skating under the radar would disappear. She needed someone who she could trust. Someone who could protect her. And only one person had done so successfully.
She struggled to her feet, knowing she would feel the pain for at least a week, and brushed the leaves from her skirts. She took a moment and calmed her breathing, having exerted herself with her release of all her built up grief, and smoothed her hair. When she was satisfied that any looking at her would not see any sign of distress, she made her way back through the pathways. As she got closer to the entrance, she heard some muffled voices. Fearfully, she quickened her pace, hoping that Chella was still waiting for her.
As she neared the entrance, she realized that Chella's voice was the one she had heard, mixed with one that was unfamiliar. At last, the large woman came into view. Chella was facing away from her, her hands on her hips and her full height drawn. In front of her was a smaller, rotund man in a disheveled, yellowed tunic. The man looked unshaven, unkempt, and Sansa could smell the wine from even her distance. The man seemed to be trying to pass Chella and enter the godswood and Chella was not allowing him.
"I'll tell you one last time, fool, the godswood is occupied. Scamper along back to the keep. You can return later." Chella demanded angrily.
The man muttered incoherently before he caught sight of Sansa, his eyes widening and a lopsided smile coming to his face. "My lady!" he slurred, moving to pass her guardswoman and come towards her. Chella grabbed the scruff of his collar and yanked him back. The man lost his footing and fell to his backside, looking dazed. Sansa fearfully moved so that Chella was standing slightly in front of her, shielding her from the drunk stranger.
As she and the hill tribe woman moved back towards the red keep, Sansa glanced a look back at the man, recognizing him finally. Sir Dontos Hollard, now the king's fool, was struggling to his feet. She felt a stab of pity for leaving him like that, but she knew what dangers a young maiden could face alone with an intoxicated man. She looked up at the determined face of her guardian and made a mental note to thank Lord Tyrion for sending Chella to her.
A/N: So clearly I felt more inspired after the first chapter and I think it will develop into a longer story. Ever since the second season, I've loved Sansa (I doubt anyone loved the spoiled brat she was in season 1) and I think she's the most realistic character in the show. And I loved what the show did between her and Tyrion, though I wish she had been more receptive to his kindness. In this fic I'm going to explore what would happen if she had realized that he wasn't awful and looked past his deformities. I hope you guys enjoy! Please review as it definitely helps fuel my inspiration!