"Our condolences for your father's death." Lady Margaery patted Sansa's hand as they strolled leisurely through the garden. "If you need anyone to talk to, you know you have a friend in me."
Sansa nodded gratefully. After her father's sudden death, she'd received much support – the majority from the Tyrells. She was glad Margaery was to wed Renly. It would be a delight to have Margaery in the family. She almost wrinkled her nose as she thought of her own siblings. Sweetrobin was six yet he still acted like a baby…and their mother did nothing to stop that. Sansa felt humiliated to be the elder sister of a spoiled little boy. As for Alyssa, she only just left the nursery and was no fun at all.
At court, Sansa often found herself in Aunt Catelyn's circle of ladies or in the company of Princess Lyanna and Margaery. When she visited Riverrun from time to time – usually at the behest of Aunt Catelyn – she would have an enjoyable week with her cousins Melia and Rosaline. Rosaline was two years younger than Melia and herself but was also quite enthralled with the songs and stories of love, chivalry, honourable knights and handsome princess that Melia and Sansa both loved. More amusingly, knights and lords would frequently mistaken the three of them to be sisters with their cascading auburn hair and blue eyes.
"…after all, we will be family," Margaery was saying. "It is a pity Willas refused to come to court. It would be delightful for you to meet him before you wed him do you not think?"
Sansa nodded again, her mood brightening considerably. She felt her tummy flutter at the mention of Willas's name. "Tell me more about him," she begged. "I want to know about my…my betrothed."
Margaery smiled indulgently and obliged. "Willas is very handsome and very kind. He is a little old for you but he will be a good husband and love you." She paused. "Regrettably Willas does have a bad leg," she admitted. "He was crippled in a tourney against Prince Oberyn Martell, but he is very studious and educated with a love for breeding the finest hawks, hounds and horses in the realm. Many women would've loved to wed him…even if he is a cripple."
"I'll love him with all my heart," said Sansa confidently. Willas Tyrell already sounded like the perfect husband. It was a pity he was not a knight, but he's the heir of Highgarden. "I've not flowered yet," she said, blushing. "Aunt Catelyn said that I'm still a girl and not ready for marriage."
The worldly Margaery laughed. "Willas can wait a few more years. Besides, I don't think your betrothal had been announced to the court yet."
Sansa shook her head. "It had not. I suspect my father wanted to announce it once the king returned."
Margaery patted her hand. "The king will not refuse your betrothal with my brother. It's a magnificent match for the daughter of the late Hand of the King. I cannot wait for you to see Highgarden! You will love it there! You can eat lemon cakes all day, watch mock tourneys, walk through fields of golden roses…I cannot wait to call you my sister."
"You have three brothers do you not?"
"Yes. Willas, Garlan and Loras. Garlan and Loras are both knights and Garlan is already married to Lady Leonette Fossoway. You will meet her soon enough. She will surely come to King's Landing when you and Willas wed."
"That will be years."
"Be patient Sansa. You have plenty of good years ahead of you." Her charming smile widened. "I am five years older than you and am still unmarried! As much as I am looking forward to bearing little stags, I am enjoying my life here at court and at Highgarden. You are more fortunate than I though. You can visit the Eyrie and Riverrun whenever you wish."
"Neither of us were allowed to visit Winterfell though." She sniffed sadly. Even Melia was permitted to go to Winterfell with Lyanna.
"Why would you want to go to the cold North?" challenged Margaery, pushing a curl of brown hair behind her shoulder. "I heard there is still snow there. It is much warmer here in the south; much better for our complexions."
Sansa nodded slowly. Margaery was always right. "Aunt Catelyn wishes me to go to Riverrun again," Sansa confessed, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. It is most unladylike to roll your eyes. "She says Grandfather Hoster has had a turn for the worse and wants me to visit to represent my mother. I don't understand why my mother would not go to visit her own father!"
"Mayhaps Lady Arryn is grieving?" suggested Margaery. "You are grieving too, but her grief is much worse as she was married to Lord Arryn. As the eldest child of Lord and Lady Arryn, it's your duty to help your family in times of need. I most certainly would do anything to aid my own family! If you wish, I can accompany you to Riverrun. In a way your uncle Edmure and aunt Leyla are also mine uncle Edmure and aunt Leyla."
Sansa clasped her hands together joyously. "Oh that would be lovely! Can you really come with me to Riverrun?"
"I don't see why not. One day you must come with me to Highgarden – before your wedding of course – and meet my grandmother. She will be eager to see her future good-granddaughter."
The Queen of Thorns? My goodness. Margaery flashed another easy smile as she caught sight of Sansa's horrified expression. "She'll love you," Margaery assured her. "You are beautiful, accomplished and kind. What more is needed for the next Lady of Highgarden?"
Sansa glanced at Margaery's locks of wavy brown hair, unblemished skin and large brown eyes. "You are more beautiful."
Margaery laughed again. "Nonsense Sansa! Look at you! Ten years old and so pretty already! I wish I have your auburn hair." She sighed enviously. "I suspect if you weren't about to be betrothed to Willas, there will be numerous knights and lords lining up to court you. Imagine the jousts! So many chivalrous knights will compete for your favour."
"They will for you too." She couldn't wait to attend an upcoming tourney. The last time Uncle Robert held a tourney in King's Landing to celebrate Prince Orys's eleventh name day, she had been confined in her rooms due to a chill she caught from a few days' earlier. The only tourney in King's Landing Sansa had went to was the one to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Uncle Robert's crowning. She had been only five years old.
"Do you often sew your own gowns?" asked Margaery, stopping and admiring Sansa's black dress. She took a closer look at the embroidery on her long flowing sleeves. "Are those…falcons?"
Sansa nodded, embarrassed Margaery should see her in an old gown. Alas, it was the only black gown she possessed. She glanced at Margaery who was in a Reach-styled silk gown of black with swirls of dark green. Around her waist was a dark green sash, a golden brooch fashioned in the shape of a rose resting in the centre of it. I wish I can wear a gown like Margaery's. She dared not; Aunt Catelyn already hated Margaery's dress sense.
"Aunt Catelyn is expecting me in her chambers," said Sansa apologetically. "I'd hate to be late."
"I do too," agreed Margaery. "Always better to be early than late. Why don't I walk with you to the queen's chambers?"
Sansa smiled and the two of them slowly walked out of the gardens, into the courtyard and finally inside the Red Keep. When she was a child, she had gotten lost in the huge castle a few times, but gradually grew used to it. She was proud to be the sole child of the King's Hand to be born and raised in the Red Keep. She enjoyed her brief visits to the Eyrie and Riverrun but loved King's Landing too. It was her home after all.
"Pardon me my ladies." Sansa and Margaery stopped in their tracks as a short man with a pointed beard and grey-green eyes stepped from the shadows. His lips curved into a smile as he stared at Sansa. "You must be a Tully, my lady," he said, nodding at her.
Sansa shook her head. "No my lord. I'm Sansa. Sansa Arryn."
The man's smile broadened – his eyes did not match his beam. "Ah…the late Hand of the King's daughter. My mistake my lady." He nodded at Margaery. "You must be Lady Margaery Tyrell."
Margaery smiled back. "Indeed my lord. And you are?"
"Lord Petyr Baelish, my ladies. The late Lord Hand recommended me to be the new Master of Coin in the king's small council."
Sansa nodded. She had never heard of him before. Her father never mentioned him and her mother…well, she spent most of her time with Sweetrobin. "May we be of any assistance Lord Baelish?" inquired Sansa in the most grown up voice she could muster.
As if receiving a jape, Lord Baelish smiled. "I'm seeking guidance to the council room my lady. I'm afraid this is my first time in King's Landing and the castle is, well, it's just magnificent!"
"It is," agreed Margaery with a knowing smile.
"I can show you the council room my lord," offered Sansa. Bidding farewell to Margaery, she led Lord Baelish towards the Tower of the Hand. It still upset her when she climbed up the many stairs, knowing her father was no longer there to receive her anymore. A lump formed in her throat. Her father did not shower her or Alyssa or Sweetrobin with gifts like Grandfather Hoster did, but he did spend some of his precious time with them. "Over there," she said, pointing to the great oak doors, one slightly ajar.
"My thanks, Lady Sansa." Lord Baelish dipped his head. "My condolences on the late Lord Arryn's death," he then added.
Sansa nodded. "Thank you Lord Baelish." She waited a second before leaving for Aunt Catelyn's chambers. I hope Aunt Catelyn will not reprimand me if I am slightly late. She hurried down the corridors and into Maegor's Holdfast, turning this way and that through the maze of corridors and rooms before reaching Aunt Catelyn's rooms. Spotting her at once, Great Uncle Brynden opened the door and commented, "It is not like you to be late Sansa," as she passed. Sansa blushed as red as a raspberry. She'd inwardly sighed with relief as she saw that there was only Aunt Leyla present in Aunt Catelyn's company.
"Sansa," said Aunt Catelyn warmly yet with a touch of sternness. "It is not like you to be late. Were you with Lady Margaery again?"
Her face burning, Sansa nodded.
Aunt Catelyn shook her head and sighed. "A pity Renly refuses to wed her now. The sooner Margaery leaves King's Landing the better."
"No!" Sansa accidently blurted out. Her two aunts looked at her. "I mean, it is unfair, Your Grace," she said hurriedly. "Lady Margaery is my friend."
"I'm sorry Sansa," said Aunt Catelyn gently. "You're still a young girl and quite impressionable. Lady Margaery may not leave King's Landing today or tomorrow, but when she married Renly, she will be obliged to leave for her new home like you will do when you marry. Do you understand?"
Sansa nodded. I will surely see her again even after she becomes Lady Margaery Baratheon. The thought of inviting her over for tea thrilled her. "Will I be allowed to attend her wedding?" she ventured.
Aunt Catelyn shrugged. "Why not? Margaery is wedding the king's brother and there will certainly be grand celebrations." Sansa gasped in delight. Even though she would be sad for Margaery to leave court, she was excited at the prospect of revelling in the wedding festivities. A thought struck her. As Margaery's brother, Willas would surely be there. Margaery did mention he had a bad leg, but maybe he could still dance with her. Who knows? Perhaps his bad leg was not as bad as how Margaery described.
"When will Lord Renly and Margaery wed?" said Sansa excitedly.
"This year I hope," answered Aunt Catelyn. "She is a woman and he had waited long enough for his bride."
"There will be tourneys, feasts, dancing, singing…"
Aunt Catelyn nodded indulgently. "You remind me of your mother," she said almost reminiscently, "when she was younger of course. When Lysa was a little older than you, all she could think about were the songs and the day she would marry a handsome prince or a chivalrous knight. She used to always sneak to the kitchens for lemon cakes."
"My mother still eats lemon cakes now," said Sansa helpfully.
Her aunt laughed. "She will be leaving for the Eyrie soon," she said sadly. "I'd hoped she would stay at King's Landing a little longer but she insisted on leaving in a few days. Your mother grew more attached to the Eyrie…especially now that your brother is in Lord Stannis's care."
"Lord Stannis frightens me. He never smiles. Lord Renly is much kinder; there is always a smile on his face."
"Lord Stannis is a good man, Sansa. He may not smile or laugh as Renly does, but he had done so much for the realm as your father did."
"Lord Renly looks more a proper knight than Lord Stannis."
"Sansa, you cannot judge a man by his appearance. Stannis had killed men; his brother had not. In any case, I did not ask you to come here to speak about Lords Stannis and Renly Baratheon."
Sansa nodded. "Of course, Your Grace." She quietened.
"Your father left quite a detailed will before he died," Aunt Catelyn mentioned, putting her sewing aside and looking at her. "In it he wrote Sweetrobin will be fostered at Storm's End as will Alyssa who is betrothed to Steffon Baratheon. He also stated that your mother be treated with the utmost…"
Sansa's thoughts began to wander. She liked being chosen to be in her royal aunt's company, but at times, she wished she was elsewhere. She could be in the gardens again, basking in a pool of sunlight; choosing from a wide range of silks or selecting dresses with Margaery was another. Margaery always had the nicest and prettiest of silk gowns.
As Aunt Catelyn started talking about the significance of families, Sansa began to imagine herself in Tyrell colours. Green silk matched her locks of auburn hair extraordinarily well. Roses were far more easier to sew on cloth than falcons in any case. When Aunt Catelyn chatted on about her childhood in Riverrun before Robert's war, Sansa envisioned herself garbed in a wedding gown of sky blue and white standing at the altar between the Father and the Mother in the Great Sept of Baelor. Beside her would be her betrothed, Willas Tyrell. She visualised him to look like Margaery: brown haired, brown eyed and always smiling.
"…your father also wants you betrothed."
Sansa nodded automatically. Aunt Catelyn looked surprised. "You are already aware of your betrothal?"
"He arranged for me to marry Lord Willas Tyrell before his death," said Sansa with a dreamy smile.
A frown appeared on Aunt Catelyn's face only to be quickly replaced by a look of pity. "Oh, my dear niece," she embraced her suddenly. "You do not know…your father…before he died, he…he…"
"What?" said Sansa fearfully. "What is it?"
"Your father was worried Sweetrobin would die before he could have sons of his own so he wrote in his will that all formal and informal betrothals he made for you are to be terminated and you are to be immediately betrothed to the next male heir of the Vale…who is your cousin, Harrold Hardyng."
Sansa's eyes widened. "No."
"I know it is not a grand match befitting the eldest daughter of the late Hand of the King, but your father was thinking of the Vale. He also requested that as you are the current heir to Sweetrobin, you are to leave to continue your education in the Eyrie under the supervision of your mother and Lord Nestor Royce who he'd appointed co-regent of the Vale."
"I am to be the next Lady of Highgarden…"
"If Sweetrobin catches a chill in the coming winter and dies, you will succeed him as the next Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East. It is more prestigious and powerful than Lady of Highgarden. Your ancestors were the Kings of the Mountain and the Vale and of the oldest and purest line of Andal nobility. Besides, if you marry Harrold, you don't have to go to an unfamiliar land or castle." She patted Sansa's hand. "Thank the Seven you haven't met Willas yet! If you did and fell in love with him, it would be far more difficult for you to leave for the Vale and be betrothed to Harrold."
I am already in love with Willas Tyrell. Sansa could not believe how cruel her father was. He betrothed her to Willas, the heir of Highgarden…only to break it a few hours later and affiance her to a nobody from the Vale! Sansa wanted naught more than to shout and scream, but she was a highborn lady of the Houses Arryn and Tully; ladies do not shout and scream when they do not get their way.
"It was a shock," added Aunt Leyla. "No one expected it."
Sansa nodded tearfully. Do not cry. You are not a baby. Do not cry.
"I wish you do not have leave," said Aunt Catelyn sadly. "However you must respect your father's last wishes."
Sansa nodded again, her tummy whirling with mixed emotions. "When will I leave?" she said softly.
"In three days. You'll leave with your lady mother."
"Let me stay," Sansa begged. "Please, Aunt Catelyn. Let me stay here! You are the queen! You can order my lady mother to permit me to stay at King's Landing! She'll never allow me to return once we are at the Eyrie! My mother hates King's Landing and I will never see you again!"
"You will Sansa! You'll come back for Margaery's wedding, remember? You'll see me then. When you grow up and marry Harrold, you will always be welcome back here as one of my ladies. You know that! Sansa, think about the time you'll spend with your mother in the Eyrie." Aunt Catelyn caressed her hair. "When she was young, she always wanted a daughter like you. You will now have a chance to bond with your mother."
Sansa bit her lip. How could she tell Aunt Catelyn that talking to her mother would result in hysterics? It would break her heart…
"What is it?" asked Aunt Catelyn, concerned.
Sansa shrugged. "I'll miss you," she said honestly.
"I'll miss you too," Aunt Catelyn said and pulled her into another hug. "You are such a sweet girl Sansa. I will miss hearing you sing. You know so many songs I had forgotten, especially some of my childhood songs from the Riverlands. Write to me when you arrive safely at the Eyrie. Uncle Robert will miss you too. We all will." Aunt Leyla nodded in agreement.
"Why can't Alyssa or Sweetrobin come with me?"
"It will offend Stannis. You will find friends in the Vale, I'm sure of it. Bronze Yohn has a daughter six years older than you. Perhaps you will befriend her. She is a nice girl." Aunt Catelyn thought for a moment. "Lady Waynwood has a ward of eight. Oh what was her name…I think it is Cynthea. Cynthea Frey. She is half-Waynwood through her mother Carolei. Maybe you and Cynthea can journey to the Riverlands together one day."
"Can I at least visit Grandfather Hoster first?" said Sansa timidly. Mayhaps she could still go to Riverrun with Margaery. Aunt Catelyn sighed and squeezed her hand. "No," she said, crushing Sansa's hopes. "We must respect your father's last wishes," she said again. "I'm sorry."
Hehe enter Petyr Baelish! He'll certainly be up to his old sly behaviour now that he is in King's Landing. Should Ned ever tell Jon and Daenerys of their true heritage at one point? I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.
