Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?
Warnings: It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)
Pairings: (Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.
Her Song of Fire and Ice
Chapter Three: Cobblestones of Broken Dreams
They were gathered in the archery range, taking turns aiming arrows at the targets and with the Stark direwolves laying by the side and watching them keenly. The Stark siblings and Theon were just being idle and spending time together. Even so, a lot of things were weighing heavily on Sansa's mind.
Arya yanked on her sleeve. "Hey, hey! Shoot with us!"
Sansa reluctantly glanced at the targets. "I don't know…"
"Please," Arya whispered. "We both know the boys think they're all the best at this, but we know you're much better!"
"Only because you decided you prefer the sword," Sansa answered wryly.
Arya gave her a cheeky smile and Rickon forcefully pulled away from her, cheering her on with Arya.
"Oh? Red's joining in?" Theon grinned rakishly.
Sansa huffed but accepted the bow and quiver full of arrows. Pulling on her archery gloves, she set herself up and aimed at the target. At the loud thud her arrow made, she smiled and remembered how she learned how to use a bow as she glanced at a proud Arya.
"Jon's teaching us how to use a sword and I know it'll never be…you," Arya said casually, too casually.
"I'm fair at it, but I doubt I'll ever be as good as you," Sansa mused.
"Okay, but…maybe I can teach you how to use a bow? I think you'll be better at it."
Sansa turned to her to refuse, but stopped short at her sister's hidden hopeful look.
Oh. Well, if they couldn't bond over and spend time together over embroidery, she could concede to this…
Arya had wanted to and insisted she teach Sansa how to use the bow. Had especially insisted she was the one to teach her and no one else. So Sansa had agreed and it became something of a known thing around there about first her practices and then Sansa's unexpected skill of it (unlike their sword practices, which were still amazingly secret).
"At least she's not got a quarterstaff to beat you upside the head with!" Robb teased Theon, who grimaced.
Sansa had reached their sides and had grabbed the hidden quarterstaff, before she (and without blinking) swatted Theon and Robb's backsides with it. They yelped. Jon actually had a smug smirk.
"I am still inordinately pleased to have introduced Sansa to the quarterstaff. She's taken to it quite well."
"Too well," Robb grumbled.
Sansa blushed. She did, actually, liked the quarterstaff. It was lighter than the sword, even if it could be handled like one. She fit better with a quarterstaff than any sword handed to her. Jon had idly thought she'd pair better with it than the sword, mostly because of when she complained that a sword was too heavy and too clunky for her. A sword was cumbersome, while it was easy for her to lift and move around a quarterstaff, and she admitted she had fun just twirling it around. She'd gotten very good at maneuvering it, and was so well practiced that she could do it with her eyes closed. She even enjoyed and was better with a quarterstaff than with a bow.
The only downside was that everyone had found out because Jon had to ask Ser Rodrik about it so they could acquire one. It hadn't taken long to spread through the castle. Sansa's mother had been furious —the archery she could blame on Arya, who had always wanted to be more like the boys…But her Sansa? No, not her.
Sansa admitted she loved acting a lady, but she also admitted that she'd come to learn to enjoy these kind of things.
"Father's told me the King and his family is coming," Robb announced.
Sansa flinched.
"Really?" Theon asked in interest. "Wonder why?"
Before Robb could answer, Sansa found herself speaking first. "The Hand of the King is dead. He means to ask Father to be his new Hand."
"No way!" Arya shouted.
"Is he going to accept?" Jon asked worriedly.
"Who knows?" Robb said, eying Sansa speculatively, probably surprised she'd known.
"I don't think so," Arya said skeptically before remembering what the Stark children have always been taught, growing up. "Starks don't always do well South and he knows that. That and this has always been his place."
"His home," Jon agreed.
"The King has hinted that his oldest son and I would be betrothed, to persuade Father," Sansa suddenly revealed, shocking everyone.
"But —" Alarmed at Robb's interruption, she shot him a look, causing his upset face to become mulish and a terrible scowl to form on him.
Arya scrunched up her nose. "I heard he was pretty. You sure you want to be married to someone like him?"
She opened her mouth, but found she had nothing to say. The truth was that she wasn't sure. The fact that she had Soulmates made her want no one else, and while she might have once upon a time loved the idea of marrying the Prince and thought him handsome…Now she felt like she didn't want to, and couldn't drum up any desire to think of his looks.
He might not even be considered handsome in her eyes anymore.
"It's best," she found herself saying, just like she'd been repeating to herself ever since her father told her about the King's visit and probable betrothal.
"'It's best', she says," Theon snorted. "Come on, Red. We all know you love your pretty little fairytales and now you get to have a sweet prince to sweep you off your feet now," he ended, having a rather stiff smile.
Sansa forced on her own smile. "Yes, I suppose so."
But then…now that she had her Soulmates, she didn't want a prince. She wanted her Soulmates.
She didn't even know what they looked like.
It made Sansa uneasy, that already the Soul Bond was so influential like this. They wouldn't even be affected the way she was —she'd been born long after they had been, so they hadn't received their Soul Marks when at the age they were supposed to. Markless for all they knew, though her Southron Soulmates might not even know or care about these things.
No, unless they physically touched, her name would never brand them and they would never know about her.
"I feel faint," she said as an excuse to leave, though after her thoughts, she did start to feel a little faint. "I think I'll leave to my room for some rest."
She turned and left them without looking at them, practically rushing away. Her arm was grabbed nearer to her room however, and she saw Robb standing there, breathing a little hard from his run after her.
"You're…for someone 'faint', you seemed rather spry," he accused.
She averted her eyes. "I wasn't feeling well," she insisted.
Robb pressed his lips together angrily and opened her door, pushing her through it and then closing the door after him.
"You're not serious, right? There's no way you can marry the Prince."
Sansa frowned at him. "Why not?"
"You have Soulmates!" Robb stared at her. "Three of them!"
"You don't refuse the King," she reminded him, knowing that would not end well. She didn't know how fond the King was of their father, but she wasn't sure that refusing him was a good idea. "You know Father wouldn't and I have to do my duty regardless."
"That's shit," Robb eyed her, still angry. "He has to —King or not. Father won't allow it either, if he knew you've received your Soul Marks."
"But would they really want me?" she said suddenly, making him balk and stare at her.
Sansa gave him a grim smile. "Look how young I am compared to them? They had already lived their lives, Robb. They have their heirs, their family, have had wives —they have no need of a young wife, one that would probably annoy them. I would not burden them with me."
Robb grit his teeth. "Burden. Mother is always spouting things like that whenever the two of you get into this. Why would you believe her now?"
"Maybe a part of me has always been listening to her," she said honestly. "Maybe it's made more real now that I have my Soul Marks and know who they are, that I have three of them and just exactly who those three are. Did it not occur to you that things become less ideal when you're faced with the truth of it? Come, Robb. I was a silly girl with dreams and now I've been shown that those dreams were just that. Fairytales aren't made to become reality, Robb."
He made a face. "When did you become so cynical like this, Sansa? You don't know how things could be."
"Mother is bonded to Father," she pointed out tiredly. "Maybe there is a bit of truth."
"She's just still angry about Jon!"
And Sansa knew she was. Even if she and Jon had figured out the probable truth of his parentage, it didn't erase the hurt Catelyn felt or the subtle underlying pain Ned Stark felt by Catelyn's unwitting and just as subtle rejection.
Rejection that also made Sansa wary.
"She's still hurt and Father is the cause," Sansa murmured. "And she doesn't know she hurts Father in return."
"But," Robb continued, though she interrupted quickly.
"Who says they would even want me, Robb?" Sansa finally admitted wearily. "With all that I've said on them, do you really think they want to have their lives interrupted and dictated by this? No, they wouldn't and I wouldn't want to push myself on them."
"You're their Soulmate though," he insisted.
"And they haven't yet acknowledged me as theirs," she said, voice cracking. "And they might not ever will. They probably won't. Just thinking they won't puts me into this miserable mess, and if I actually came to them and they did reject me? Robb, I think I wouldn't want to be alive."
If her mother was so sure Soulmates could hurt each other and seeing what she did to Sansa's father all these years, Sansa couldn't bear the rejection —especially from all three of them.
"And it's not just being rejected, Robb," Sansa felt like she was starting to work herself up. "You know them! My Soulmates have reputations as these hardened, ruthless men —could they hurt me too?"
It made her anxious. If she upset them in anyway, would they hurt her in punishment? Suddenly, the rules of Soulmates were nowhere steadfast and available and she felt like she was floundering.
But Robb grabbed her hand and gave her a tender smile, making her sniffle and embrace her brother tightly.
"Maybe it's naive, but I really think you shouldn't be rash. And to think maybe they won't be unhappy bonded to you," he said firmly. "Just think on it. At the very least, Lord Bolton would acknowledge you. He's of the North —he knows our ways."
Sansa pulled back a little to give an unsure look. "You've always said he scares you. And we both know his reputation."
"I've said it and I'll say it again —that man scares me," he grinned at her, making her roll her eyes and lightening up the situation a bit. "But we both also know he's a Northman and strictly follows our customs and the Old Gods and ways. He'll at least be the one who acknowledges and accepts you for sure," Robb told her, sounding confident in that.
She wasn't as confident, but she was glad Robb was making an effort to convince her.
Robb cleared his throat, lifting up his own left wrist and letting the sleeve fall. Written on his wrist was Talisa Maegyr.
"You have a Soul Mark! You never said, Robb!" Sansa gasped.
He gave her a sheepish look. "You know us Northman. We're silent, broody and private."
Sansa found herself giggling. But she grabbed Robb's wrist and held it gently.
"I hope you become happy and well-loved, Robb," she told him warmly.
Robb kissed her temple. "You too, Sansa."
If nothing else, even if all she could have was Lord Stannis and Lord Lannister's presence near her in court, then she could be content. And the knowledge that her Northern Soulmate might accept her was all she could ask for.
What a messy business, this Soulmate mess.
Sansa kept the smile on her face as the King and his party arrived to the courtyard. Aside from her still constant anxiety of her Soulmates and the impending betrothal, she…wasn't much impressed by the King.
From all the stories her father used to speak about King Robert, she'd expected someone a little more impressive.
Loud, raucous, and bawdy, the King wasn't the man she'd pictured. She was glad to see there was still a strong camaraderie between he and her father, but King Robert was still…
"Ah, your children! Come, let me take a look, Ned!"
Sansa stiffened up as King Robert looked over the Stark children, starting from the youngest to then her and Robb. To her surprise, he looked over Robb first before he looked upon her.
"And now your eldest daughter," he hummed, eying her closely. "A true beauty, Ned! An image of Lady Stark —I say, they are right to call her the Jewel of the North!"
Sansa flushed red in embarrassment and surprised pleasure at the King's compliments.
"My son will be lucky to have her."
And then her mood immediately dropped.
King Robert called his oldest son over and Sansa came face to face with Prince Joffrey. Joffrey was…handsome, she supposed. All golden, just like his siblings and mother and uncle. Maybe, yes, like Arya said. A bit pretty.
But…but he was apparently really going to be her betrothed and his looks mattered little. He was good-looking enough and maybe he'll even grow into his looks and become just as charmingly handsome as his uncle, Ser Jaime.
Joffrey took her hand and lightly kissed it. "My Lady."
She strengthened her smile. "Your Grace."
They were betrothed, she had to keep reminding herself.
His pale green eyes, a sickly green almost, flicked up and down her body, making her smile tighten while she refused the urge to slap him.
They were betrothed.
"Theon, can I have a moment?" Sansa asked him furtively, trying to not look around and be suspicious.
"What do you need, Sansa?" he asked, probably conscious of all the strangers about and not using the name he'd nicknamed her with, though at least he was still familiar enough to leave off her title.
"Not here," she muttered, leading away to emptier corridors. She continued quietly. "Lord Tyrion is known for…his taste in women. I've already arranged lighting in his room, so he may read well and as long as he'd like into the night. But I thought I'd ask you for help in this and any women you'd recommend."
Theon's eyebrows shot up. "I'm surprised you didn't ask Robb or Jon."
"Robb and Jon are overprotective idiots who wouldn't hear me out in the first place, and would start ranting about 'my sensibilities' and that this kind of talk wasn't for ladies of my stature," she snarked, causing him to snicker. "And we both know Jon couldn't go through with being with one of them." Though she knew why and was sympathetic about it, it didn't change the point that Jon had never slept with that whore.
Theon actually blushed. "Wait, you know about that? How did you —"
"Well?" she asked impatiently.
"Oh Gods, Robb and Jon'll kill me," Theon moaned, rubbing his face with his hands roughly. "Alright, alright! Come on —make sure you cover up well, so no one recognizes you."
She hadn't thought it'd be this easy to convince Theon.
Still, as she covered her hair up with a hood and tucked the red strands in, closing in the cloak around her, Sansa thought about what she was arranging. She wanted to be a good host to their guests, but she especially wanted to make sure her Soulmate's family enjoyed their time there and remembered it fondly.
That even if Lord Tyrion didn't know about this, he'd bring good tidings to his father about Winterfell and the North —of Sansa's home. If she didn't move, maybe he'd come to visit. Or if she did leave Winterfell, hopefully he would think on it charitably and share her care of it.
She did not know Lord Tywin Lannister, but a part of her was wistful that one day she could.
"Here," Theon whispered to her, dragging her hurriedly into the whorehouse.
She waited patiently as Theon met with the owner, arranged things with him and then led her to a woman that came in during the discussion.
"Ros," Theon addressed the pretty woman. "This is your client and she'll task you with what she wants you to do."
Ros smirked flirtatiously. "Oh? A woman? I like that. Who is she?"
Being in a private setting finally, Sansa let her hood down, causing Ros to step back in shock.
"Hello," Sansa greeted shyly. "There's a Lord that became a guest of my family's —I would like it if you knew a few of you who wouldn't mind pleasuring him."
"O-of course, milady," Ros said hurriedly. "I wouldn't mind accepting myself, if you'd like."
"She's my favorite, Red," Theon winked at Sansa.
"Theon!" Ros hissed at him, swatting at his arm. "Don't speak to the Lady like that!"
Sansa just smiled widely. "Thank you very much! You'll be well compensated."
Ros smiled herself, blushing lightly. "For you, Lady Sansa, I would be honored. Although, I would be more than pleased if the Lady would like some time in the future for some pointers herself," she added on teasingly, unable to help herself.
This time it was Sansa who was blushing horridly, with Theon laughing in the background.
Sansa moaned, biting down on her lip and hunching over. This was horrible. When there was talk of moonblood, they never mentioned the pain you went through!
Glancing at her bed, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in it. The maids would find the sheets bloody and she couldn't risk hiding them or trying to dispose of them again. She looked at the floor and sighed, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the floor by her bed. She placed a few more pillows so she could cushion her back at least, but laying on the floor felt cold to her legs. And her stomach was still hurting. When did it stop?
Mumbling to herself, she turned and accidentally landed on the cold floor with a jolt of pain. After she stopped focusing on the pain though, she noticed that the cold and flatness of the floor felt blessedly nice against her stomach. It was enough for her to relax into and focus on the feeling, eventually falling asleep, just barely registering her direwolf Lady settling beside her in comfort.
When she woke up, despite a little soreness and stiffness, she felt much better and rose up for the new day. Cleaning herself up first before the handmaids came, she got ready for the day and then left to find her family, Lady following beside her.
At the table, she sat between Rob and Arya and looked around for Jon. Frowning when she saw him seated farther away from the high table, she glanced at her mother with a frown. Knowing they had an audience though, she kept quiet and her unhappy looks to herself.
It was then that Jory came hurriedly to her father's side and she saw him frown at the news.
"Ned, do you need to attend to something?" King Robert asked before he guzzled down the wine in his mug.
Wasn't it too early in the morn for spirits? Sansa inwardly cringed.
"I must deal with a deserter from the Night's Watch, Your Grace," her father told the King solemnly. "Please continue to break your fast while I deal with this matter."
"Nonsense! I shall accompany you. A deserter, eh? It's off to the block for him, I bet!"
Ned looked hesitant but he nodded to answer his King. He looked over to his children. "Robb, as always you must accompany me. As will Jon and Theon, so fetch them. Bran, it's time you come."
And as they got up, Ned paused before searching out Sansa's gaze.
"Sansa, I believe you should come this time."
Her eyes widened and stared at her father, who continued to look at her. Her mother made a pinch look, but she knew Catelyn wouldn't dare speak up in front of King Robert and the royal family, all who were watching closely.
"Getting all your eldest brood ready for the grimmest aspects of life, huh Ned! Good idea —Joffrey, you're coming as well."
"Of course, Father!"
But all the while, Sansa and her father never looked away from each other, giving one long look at the other before sharing a grim glance as Sansa slowly nodded and Ned finally looked away to move to the King's side.
Her father wanted her prepared for something and she would do well to try to figure it out soon.
So it was a long walk for the group, with Robb hovering to her right and Jon to her left (even Theon was behind her, hovering just as well and glancing with a scowl at Joffrey). Jon reached out to grab her hand and squeeze it quickly, before letting go as if he hadn't done so. She looked over at Bran by their father's side, looking small and unsure, but trying his best to look like he was ready for this. By their sides, all of their direwolves trotted protectively.
When she looked over to King Robert and Prince Joffrey, she frowned as she saw the Prince striding beside his father and looking arrogant and unfazed.
It was an execution, did he not understand? This was no laughing matter.
It wasn't long until the deserter was brought in. His last words spoke of this terror beyond the Wall, making her chills run up her spine and goosebumps to rise on her flesh, and then her father was utterly grave as he readied his sword. He raised it and she heard Robb tell Bran not to look away, and so she didn't either.
The sword was brought down and the deserter's head rolled.
She inhaled sharply, the image stuck in her mind. But then she accidentally looked over to the King and Prince, King Robert surprisingly but appropriately silent and as solemn as her father.
Joffrey, however, had a wicked gleam in his eyes and a strange, excited lift to his lips that made her stomach roil in apprehension.
There was something wrong with the Prince.
Started 1/29/20 (?) – Completed 2/2/20
A/n: Yooo! Crazy times, crazy times. I'm still, to this day, not a very nice person to my protagonists. I'm sorry? XD
Quick Points:
1. Current GoT Fics: Her Song of Fire and Ice (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), A Red King Bowed (Roose/Sansa), and March to My Heartbeat (Stannis/Sansa). Also Deck the Halls, to get started on that 'verse~
2. Oh? Is the timeline fucked up? My bad. (cackling loudly) I do like meshing book and TV/Movie canons often, so same will probably happen here~
3. Quarterstaff: I like it for Sansa. I know bow and arrow is the usual alternative for her, but I'm feeling like a quarterstaff could be too. We still have bow and arrows as backup, courtesy of Arya and her own way of trying to bond with Sansa, but honestly Sansa's probably a quarterstaffer~ (Hahaha, see what I did there?...Probably not…)
4. Fuck moonblood. Seriously.