Chapter 12: The Pack Survives
Sansa walked through the great hall at Winterfell. It had been three days since she visited Lord Tyrion in his chambers. This evening, she was about to have supper in the hall with her sister, Arya, and Ser Brienne. Arya was exuberantly enjoying her supper. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and the back hung loose much the way that their Lord Father used to style his hair. The noise of the great hall gave Sansa comfort. It was a symphony of clash and murmur. The clang of pewter plates and cups was accented by the murmur of a hundred or more private conversations tucked away in darkened corners. Every now and then someone would let out a large peal of laughter, breaking through the murmurs. The hall smelled of freshly baked bread and rich simmering stews, and the fire in the hearth gave off a soothing orange glow. In the center of the hall, near the hearth, she saw her sister, Arya, and Ser Brienne sitting, and enjoying bowls of stew. She walked over to their table and seated herself near them. Arya was hungrily devouring the rich, brown stew and sopping up the liquid with a hunk of fresh bread. She took her attention away from the bread long enough to smile at Sansa.
"Very ladylike," Sansa said smiling.
"It's been a long day training. I'm starving," Arya said, putting down the metal bowl of stew with a hard clang.
"Why are you still training?"
"I've got unfinished business." Arya didn't say more.
Ser Brienne raised her eyebrows, "My lady, I'm sworn to protect you and your sister…"
Arya interrupted "...and you are. You're training me…so that I can protect myself." She smiled mischievously before attempting to pick a shiny piece of gristle from her teeth.
"Are you riding South," Sansa was surprised at the idea of this. She had thought her sister was glad to be home.
"I have unfinished business in King's Landing." Arya smirked.
"Well, I've been wanting to talk to you," Sansa hesitated, "...about my wedding."
Arya's eyes went wide. "Bloody hell."
"You look as if you've swallowed a sheep," Sansa laughed.
"What's this about a wedding?"
"Arya..." Sansa lowered her head. Her face felt hot.
Arya turned her full attention towards Sansa now, "Who are you marrying? Haven't you had enough of marriage?"
"Someone has got to think of the future of our house," she began, "you've already told me that you are not going to be a great lady of a great house...and Bran..."
Ser Brienne was also now paying attention to their conversation. "My lady," she began, "do you mean to leave the North?"
"No. The North is my home. I mean to stay here."
Arya touched her sister on the shoulder, "Tell me about your handsome prince then, is he as dreamy as Joffrey?"
"Arya. Be serious," Sansa said.
"The last time you got married, you fed your husband to dogs."
Sansa looked down at her fingers. "Arya." She smiled. "Please."
"Should I be worried about this one?"
"Do you want to know who I aim to marry or not?"
"Get on with it then. You're the one making a mummers farce of it. Tell or don't." Arya said finally.
Sansa felt the blood rising in her face, as she said "Tyrion Lannister…"
Ser Brienne stared at them both. Arya's mouth hung slightly open for a moment before she exclaimed "The imp!"
"Arya please. That's not very nice." Sansa blushed. She felt embarrassed hearing her sister speak of Tyrion this way.
"You're marrying the imp?" she said again, incredulously.
"May the Gods bless your union, Lady Sansa," Brienne said, though her eyes were still as wide as dinner plates, she smiled earnestly.
"We would like to have the ceremony in the Godswood," Sansa finished.
Arya looked at her then, "You're serious."
Sansa was starving now. She got the attention of a servant girl, and asked for a bowl of the rich brown stewed boar that Arya had just consumed so greedily. Arya was still staring at her.
"It will be just you, myself, Tyrion, Jon, and Ser Brienne, and possibly Jaime Lannister."
"What about the dragon queen? Will you be expected to move to King's Landing?"
"I would rather die than ever go back there for any long period of time," Sansa looked into her sister's eyes, "I mean to stay here, in Winterfell."
"I see. Well, where is your Lord Imp tonight?" Arya said, arching her eyebrows.
Sansa's eyes narrowed into slits as she said, "If you must know, he is with his Queen. They are preparing to leave for Dragonstone."
"So...she doesn't know." Arya laughed then, a full bellied laugh, her head thrown back. A few heads turned to look at her. She then said quietly so that only her sister could hear, "Maybe I'm going to kill the wrong queen."