Chapter 8: Someone Brave and Gentle and Strong
Sansa Stark lay in the still darkness of her room. The castle was silent. The candles that dotted the walls had gone out in the night. She listened to the sound of her own breath in the darkness, and strained to hear the soft padding of footsteps through the halls. She felt as if she weren't sure what was real. She was disoriented. She was not sure if it was night or morning. Her mind kept going back to the dream, and the tree that had her father's face. She missed her father. He always knew what was right. Her Lord Father had told her that one day he would make her a match with someone worthy of her, someone brave, and gentle and strong.
She was too stupid to see the truth of Joffrey, but her father had seen it. If she had only listened to her father, and left Kings Landing that day, maybe-just maybe- her father might still be alive. She pictured him looking down at her with his quiet grey eyes, and his hair pulled back in that way of his. She saw in her mind how he grew smaller, more tired and worried the longer that they stayed in King's Landing. She thought back to the day when he sat her down and told her "I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong." Sansa didn't know if she wanted to cry or laugh thinking about her ill fated betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon. Joffrey took great pleasure in causing her pain. But he had been the prince, the golden haired prince that she had always dreamed of since she was a girl, "a Lannister Lion." Sansa began to feel a chill, she was becoming more aware of her need for the covers that she had kicked and thrashed to the ground. Her eyes searched the darkness. The coverlets lay bunched up at the bottom of her featherbed. They had not fallen to the floor. She saw small streams of light beginning to creep underneath the door, and heard more footsteps begin to fill the silence.
Maybe it is morning, she thought. She slipped her feet into two warm fur slippers. She slipped into a heavy grey robe lined with white fur. She walked towards her doorway, as she opened the door, she saw the shadow of someone familiar pass through the corridor.
"Lord Tyrion," she said.
He stopped where he stood and turned to face her. "My lady. Good morning." He seemed surprised to see her, and he looked as if he had not slept well. She sympathized.
"Would you like me to send for some food? You might break your fast with me. Who can say no to lemon cakes and tea?" She smiled.
"My lady..." He looked down as if there was suddenly something very interesting at his feet.
Sansa stepped aside, and he followed her into her chambers.
"All of your lamps seemed to have burned out."
"Yes. It's the strangest thing. I woke up in complete darkness." Sansa plopped down on her feather bed. She watched as Lord Tyrion pulled over one of the chairs that sat by her writing desk, and positioned it so that he could sit to face her.
"It's good that we've met this morning, I had been meaning to speak with you," he began. "Our queen would like me to assure her of the strength of our alliance. Your brother is going to the south to meet the Lannister army in battle. You will be the Wardeness of the North in his stead, can we be assured of your allegiance?"
"You can. I'm not so sure about your queen." Sansa sighed. "I want nothing more than to watch your wicked sister die a horrible death. It's what she deserves. I don't care who gives it to her."
Tyrion nodded, but Sansa couldn't help but see something else in his eyes. She thought it might be concern, for his sister.
"She wants you dead, you know that." she continued.
"Yes. Since my infancy in fact." Tyrion leaned against the right arm of the plump velvet chair. Sansa reached out her hand to him but did not touch him.
"Lord Tyrion," she began
"Just call me Tyrion, Sansa. We are beyond formalities," he smiled weakly at her.
"Tyrion. Do you believe that the Dragon queen will be a good ruler. You know more of it than I do. What was she like in Mereen? In Astapor? Is she fair? Is she just?"
"Our Queen, tries to be fair-Tries to be just. Some of her attempts are better than others. I believe she has a good heart. I believe that she needs good and fair counsel."
"That didn't help Joffrey." Sansa thought back to Tyrion's attempts to rein in the worst parts of Joffrey's nature.
"This is true," he said leaning back against the plump chair.
"How long do you intend to serve our queen?" Sansa studied his eyes.
"Hand of the Queen is a lifetime job. Such as it is, Hands don't tend to live very long," he said with a slight smile.
"There are some things that it takes more than cleverness to get out of...what will you do if our queen decides that she no longer values your council?"
"If history serves me correctly...," he smiled wistfully, "I will probably become a pile of ashes, so there won't be much time for me to contemplate it."
"I thought that you said that you wanted to assure my allegiance. You're not doing a very good job of it."
"Sometimes the truth is not comforting. A wise woman once told me that sometimes the bravest thing that we can do is to look the truth in the face. I wish I could remember who that was."
"You mock me. Be serious. You are a good man. You have always been kind to me. Be kind to yourself. Be careful of your queen."
"I'm doing my best," Tyrion sighed. "I think I might need that tea. I wouldn't say no to a lemon cake either."
Sansa rang a bell that sat on her bedside table. The servant that slept in the room across from hers peeked out her head.
"Yes m'lady"
" Lord Tyrion and I would like tea and lemon cakes. Also, can someone come by and light candles in my chamber. Many of them seem to have gone out in the night."
"Yes m'lady," she hurried off to do her bidding.
They were alone now. They sat in the darkness, Sansa listened to the sound of him breathing in the darkness. It seemed neither of them knew what else to say.
"I'm sorry to have troubled you, I know that you are doing your best to provide wise counsel to our queen."
Tyrion's eyes met hers.
"You are assured of an alliance with the North," she sighed heavily. "We can discuss the future of the North, once the war is won. Is this a fair compromise?"
"Yes my lady. Very fair. I will keep that second part to myself however, until the war is won."
"I trust your wisdom," Sansa smiled. "And now we shall have tea, and cakes and every good thing, like a proper Lord and Lady." Her eyes studied the face of the man before her. He was worried. She knew this. But she wished he would not be.
"You're going off to war," she began, "I shall give you a favor, to bring you luck."
He looked up at her. "If it please you, my lady."
"It pleases me. It pleases me very well." She rose from the feather bed and searched her room. She found a silk scarf lying on the table near the far wall. It was white, and covered in her needlework. She had finely embroidered it with a silvery thread to form the head of a direwolf. She stretched it out before him. "This is all my own work. It will bring you luck."
She brought the scarf to her lips, and kissed it, before handing it to him. "And now nothing ill should befall you as you go South."
He smiled. She watched him run his fingers along the needlework, his fingertips following the stitches. "This is very sweet my lady. Thank you."
The servant girl appeared with a tray of tea, and lemon cakes. She asked if they needed anything else. Sansa could think of nothing.
The morning light began to shine through the castle window, casting shadows across her chambers.
"Thank you for your kindness Lady Sansa."
"Call me Sansa, Tyrion," she smiled. "When are you to leave for Dragonstone, in earnest?"
"Within the week my lady." Sansa felt dull pain in her chest. Within the week. She would never see him again. She would never again hear his voice, or look into his eyes.
She hoped the he sensed no sadness in either her words or her countenance. "So soon."
He sighed. "The Dragons do not like the North my lady. Our queen is anxious to reclaim her ancestral home, and take King's Landing."
"Have you thought about leaving her service, after the war is won? Surely she will have her choice of wise counselors willing to give her advice, and teach her the ways of our land?"
"What would you have me do Sansa?"
"You seem quite at home here. You could be my counsel. You would be far from the political machinations and backbiting of the nest of vipers in King's Landing. Surely you cannot want to spend the rest of your life there?" She felt the color rising on her cheeks. She turned to look out the castle window.
"Sansa..," he sighed. "I don't know what to say."
"I've told you that I once thought you the cleverest man I have ever met. I would value your counsel."
He looked bemused, but he said no more.
There it was. She had given him an offer. He had not outright refused. She had not offered him all that she wanted to offer him-but she knew, deep in her heart, that it was enough. She thought back to the words that her father had spoken to her, when she was too young and stupid to listen. I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.
She felt like her Lord Father would approve of the man who sat before her. He was not beautiful, but he was brave. He was gentle, and he was strong. He could be good to her.