A/N: Thanks for all of the support you've given this story. It means a lot to me.

Our Blades Are Sharp

By Spectre4hire

4: Sansa

"He's so plain looking." Beth Cassel pointed out

"He looks better the further away you are." Jeyne mocked.

This had the two girls giggling but Sansa remained quiet.

She, and her friends Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel were watching Winterfell's newest ward, Domeric Bolton practice his jousting from the covered bridge between the Great Keep and the Armory. He was riding a beautiful destrier, lance in hand as he went through a simple riding routine with Master-at-arms, Rodrik Cassel shouting instructions.

Sansa had barely spoken to the Bolton heir since he arrived to Winterfell little more than a week ago. Looking down onto the yard, she spotted she wasn't the only one watching. She spotted her little sister Arya with their half-brother Jon who was standing over by Ser Rodrik, watching the Bolton heir atop his horse smoothly trotting through the course while landing nice hits onto the practice dummies.

"Who would want a Bolton?" Jeyne scrunched her nose in disgust. "That family is so dark and cruel."

In Sansa's limited interactions with Domeric, he had been nothing but kind and polite to her. Seeing him now, riding atop his horse he more resembled the knights in her songs and tales than the supposed monster her friends were trying to make him to be.

"Who wants to be protected under the cloak of a flayed man?" Beth added, referring to the Bolton's sigil, the infamous flayed man. A testament of the dark practice the family once proudly took part of, and some whispered they still do behind the closed doors of the Dreadfort.

"I doubt my Father would allow such a man within his home," Sansa silenced both of her friends. The two had the decency to look abashed at the criticism.

"Of course, Sansa," Jeyne quickly agreed.

"We meant no insult to your father," Beth added hastily.

"But you did mean to insult, Lord Bolton's son?" Sansa pointed out.

"It was nothing serious," Jeyne tried to defend. "We were just having fun."

"Perhaps," Sansa wasn't quite done with them. "However, I'd advise you to be careful with where you say such things. My father would not take kindly to having his guest insulted in his or their presence."

The two girls traded looks of horror at the thought of facing an angry Lord of Winterfell.

"We will," Jeyne swore while Beth bobbed her head up and down in agreement.

Sansa took her words and frightened appearance with a nod. "Good."

Sansa had finished her lessons with Septa Mordane and was heading back to her room before dinner. She was walking by herself as Jeyne and Beth had gone off together after the lesson. They told her they'd meet her at dinner. Sansa was certain they were still sore with her for chastising them over their treatment of Domeric. That didn't bother Sansa. She knew she had done the right thing in speaking up for the Bolton heir.

She may not have known or liked Domeric Bolton, but he was a guest of her family's. To her that meant he needed to be treated with respect and all of the proper courtesies. One should never regret being kind. One should never feel ashamed for being polite.

A warm, soothing sound broke through her musings. Perking her head up at the music she heard the tune that lazily traveled through the corridor. She recognized the sound to be coming from a harp. Curious, she followed the trail of music wondering where the source was coming from.

Turning the corner, she noticed an opened door, an orange glow stretching out of the room and lighting up the surrounding corridor. Moving closer, she realized that this was the guest chambers of Domeric Bolton.

She remained rooted where she stood. Just outside of the light that shone from his room. She wanted to dismiss the notion that it couldn't be him playing such music, but she chastised herself for such a thing. If she thought that then was she any different then Jeyne and Beth? They only saw him as a Bolton, heir to a dark house and history.

Mustering her courage, she stepped into the light to peer into the room to confirm her suspicion. She found it. Sitting on the windowsill looking out the window, Domeric Bolton plucked the strings of his harp. So lost in either thought or tune or maybe both, he didn't even notice her presence. He continued to play the entrancing sound, skillfully picking the right strings to create a harmonious sound that filled Sansa with warmth.

Standing awkwardly in the doorway, she wasn't sure if she should slink away before he noticed. Uncertainty gripped her for a moment before making up her mind. She cleared her throat announcing her presence.

He reacted instantly. Startled, his fingers roughly plucked the strings making a noise that made Sansa cringe. Shaking his head as if to snap him out of whatever self inducing daze he was in. He turned to her. Surprise covered his face, looking at her with wide eyes and open mouth.

Sansa found the sight comical and couldn't help but giggle.

That seemed to snap him out of it. He instantly schooled his expression into a more serious look, closing his mouth in the process. "Lady Sansa," He greeted her, standing up from his seat to bow his head in her direction. "Forgive me, your arrival was unexpected."

Sansa took his words with a kind smile. She offered him a curtsey and her own apology. "Forgive me, Lord Bolton, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You may call me Domeric, Lady Sansa," he told her.

She liked that. "Very well," she agreed, "but only if you call me Sansa." She didn't think it would be improper. After all he would be a guest in their home for some time, and sometimes the best courtesy one can give to another is to drop the more formal ones in the spirit of friendship.

"Sansa," he inclined his head towards her.

She found that she liked how his warm, rich voice said her name.

"Please come in, Sansa." He gestured to the chair by the roaring fire in the hearth.

"Thank you," she hesitated only for a moment, knowing that some would find it improper for her to be in his room without a proper chaperone. She didn't think it would be a bad thing if she only stayed for a few minutes. It would've been rude to refuse.

He didn't join her by the fireplace instead he sat back down on the stone windowsill.

"I didn't know you played," Sansa gestured to the harp.

He smiled. In that smile, Sansa couldn't help but notice how it gave him a rather handsome look. She then blushed at that realization. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice. His attention was on his harp which he had just picked back up.

"Aye," he answered, "Been playing it for years."

"Did you learn it in the Vale?" Sansa had a hard time believing he would learn it while in the Dreadfort under the imposing presence of his father, Roose Bolton.

"No," he shook his head, "I started it before I left."

"Oh," Sansa couldn't quite hide her surprise.

That got a chuckle out of Domeric. "You don't think my strict father would allow me to play such an instrument?"

Embarrassment seized Sansa at the fear that she had been rude to him for insulting his father. "I'm sorry," she hastily apologized, "I meant no offense."

"Its fine, Sansa," he soothed her. "None was given." He sent her a reassuring look before turning back to the harp in his lap. "Your reaction was expected. My father was not keen on the idea, but my Maester convinced him." He turned to her, a smile on his lips, "Something that I'm grateful for."

She returned his smile. "You're quite good." She complimented despite his attempt to throw off her kind words. "It's the reason I came," she admitted. "I heard this beautiful sound and I just had to follow it." Sansa noticed his disbelieving look.

"Thank you, Sansa," he said sincerely. "You honor me."

"Can you sing?"

He laughed, "Oh no, I'm afraid I'm dreadful." He playfully plucked a few strings eliciting sweet, soft vibrations to echo within the room.

Watching his fingers play the strings, Sansa noticed the harp had fine engravings on it. The head of the harp had a beautifully carved horse in mid gallop.

"A gift from my Aunt," Domeric noticed where her eyes were. "She always gets a few songs out of me whenever she visits."

"It's a fine gift," she praised.

He looked at the harp with a look of satisfaction, "It is," he agreed, "She spoils me." He admitted, hesitance pulled at his features. "She says it's because she sees so much of her sister in me."

Sansa knew about Domeric's mother. Septa Mordane had made sure to tell them before Domeric's arrived to avoid any embarrassment.

"She must have been a great person then," Sansa complimented.

"She was." He confirmed, his eyes on his harp, his fingers tracing the strings with the barest of touches leaving soft but sweet music lingering behind.

"Would you play me something?" She had found his music so moving. She didn't want it to stop. She had chided herself for letting him know she was there because that had stopped him from playing. Even the few strings he pulled now were warm and melodic.

He seemed taken aback by the request. Looking up from the harp towards her, he looked to be mulling it over, before his brown eyes gave off a slight gleam. "Can you sing?"

"I can." Septa Mordane had always said she had a nice voice. However, she never sung to anyone outside the septa, or her family. It was something intimate.

"I'll play a song," He began, "but only if you sing along."

"How do you know I can sing well?" She found herself asking.

"Your brother told me," he answered honestly.

"Oh," she would have to thank Robb for that later.

"Do we have a deal?"

She found her hands fidgeting in her lap. She tried to stop them by moving them to smooth invisible wrinkles in her dress. She looked up to see he was looking at her, his eyes brown and friendly, a smile tugging at his lips. Seeing him smile for her caused a sudden flutter in her stomach.

"Yes."

"Wonderful," he truly sounded pleased that she agreed to his request. After giving a few suggestions, they finally decided on a song that they both knew.

Sansa closed her eyes to prepare herself to sing. She found it more comforting, seeing as she could pretend she was alone. She took a breath to calm her quivering stomach and to soothe her nerves. Soon, she could hear the harp being plucked. The warmth of the tune swept aside her anxiety while the rich, pleasant tone had her humming along.

She then sang. Reciting the words while keeping her voice in tune with the rhythm, careful to make sure she didn't miss a beat. The words and music weaved together effortlessly to only enhance the song's beauty. She found herself disappointed when the last line was sung. She hadn't wanted the song to end. Those few minutes were indescribable to her.

"You have a lovely voice, Sansa."

She opened her eyes, "Thank you, Domeric." She felt her face heating up. She ducked her head to keep him from seeing the creeping blush that was sure coming to her cheeks.

"There you are." The stern voice of Septa Mordane snapped Sansa's attention towards the doorway. Hands on her hips, her thin mouth pressed in a firm line while her sharp eyes turned from Sansa to Domeric. An unreadable expression covered her face.

"Septa Mordane," Domeric stood to his feet to greet her.

She sent him a hard, piercing look that struck him silent. She then turned to Sansa. "Dinner is nearly ready."

"I'll come at once," Sansa found herself disappointed that her time with Domeric had not only been interrupted but was now over.

"I'll see to that, myself," Septa Mordane didn't trust her.

Sansa turned back to Domeric. "Thank you for the song, Domeric." She curtseyed to him.

Domeric smiled before bowing his head. "Hopefully, it won't be the last."

Septa Mordane made a noise from the back of her throat.

"With proper supervision," Domeric amended with a sheepish look.

Sansa smiled at that before following the Septa out of the room but not before looking over her shoulder towards Domeric to see him smiling at her. She felt the softest of flutters in her chest and in that moment, she remembered what Beth and Jeyne had said about him.

Realizing just how wrong they had been about Domeric Bolton.

A/N: So for those wondering, I decided to age up Beth Cassel slightly so that she would be closer in age with Sansa.

I decided to be vague on the song played by Sansa and Domeric. Looking up the plethora of songs that Martin has put into this saga, I kept going back and forth on a few and didn't want this chapter to be held up by that. Since it wasn't the song itself that I thought was important in that moment. I will at some point go back and probably add/mention a particular song. Any suggestions by you guys would be appreciated.

Domeric did play the harp. I can't make this stuff up. So I had some fun in exploring that skill and how it could bridge a friendship between him and Sansa, and perhaps something more. I hope you liked it.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire