Chapter 14: The Ice Princess

The snow was beginning to melt, and an angry sky loomed overhead. Grey clouds seemed to be making the crested shapes of direwolves heralding the looming storm that was creeping across the horizon. In the courtyard, the clamor of metal on metal rang out as the soldiers practiced their swordplay and Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, stood on the balcony overlooking them with a wary eye. Soon, many of these soldiers would be leaving to march South and meet the Lannister armies in battle. Some of these men might never return home. Her father and brother had both gone South, never to return home. The South was not kind to her family. It had not been kind to her. At one time, she had wanted nothing more than to be a part of courtly life, and the glamourous world of knights, tournaments, and chivalry. She was a stupid little girl, who never learned. But finally she had learned. Yes. The world had taught her hard lessons. The world was not a song. Life was not a story. Sansa looked out across the courtyard, in the distance, the stonemasons continued to work on repairing the outer castle wall. Soon, they too would return to their holdfasts. Sansa began to descend the wooden stairs, that took her into the courtyard. She had put herself on the line, and for the past few days, Lord Tyrion had been avoiding her. She supposed that she could have sought him out, but she didn't dare risk further mortification.

Sansa was dressed in the armor of a lady. She had on a black leather bodice, and long, black skirts. She was bundled up in a long, black coat trimmed with rabbit fur. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back into two braids that met at the center of her head and the back of her hair flowed loosely about her shoulders. Her cheeks felt red and raw from the chill in the air as she made her way inside the heavy ironwood doors and through the corridors of Winterfell. The castle was still a hub of activity, but many of the Northern Lords and their soldiers had returned home, especially those that did not intend to ride South with Daenerys Targaryen. There was a lot of grumbling among the Northern lords about fighting the dragon queen's war, and many felt like she had somehow bewitched Jon. Sansa sometimes wondered the same. There was something about his queen that she did not like. Maybe she was prejudiced against Targaryens, for what they had done to her family? Or maybe it was the way that Jon seemed to lose himself and follow her like a little puppy.

Sansa walked the halls lost in thought, and she wasn't really paying attention to where she was walking. She was letting her feet carry her forward, and her mind carry her elsewhere. As she turned a corner, and approached her bedchambers, she heard a familiar voice.

"Lady Sansa!" As she turned to look behind her, she saw Tyrion Lannister walking towards her. He didn't exactly look happy. He had been avoiding her for several days, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to speak with him, at this exact moment. She felt as if, quite possibly, she had shown him more affection than she should have, and that she had possibly made a grave mistake. He was probably coming to tell her that he was going to Dragonstone, and that they would always remain the best of friends.

She looked down at him, "Yes, my lord?"

"May I have a word with you?"

His eyes looked tired. She wondered if he had been sleeping. "Yes," she said, "of course."

Sansa walked into her bedchamber. Tyrion followed close behind her. He seemed to be walking so close to her that she could feel his presence behind her. She motioned for him to sit.

"Lady Sansa," he began, "I have spoken with our Queen. She has given us permission to marry."

Sansa could feel him about to say something else less promising.

"But…" he began, "she has not given me permission to leave her service. I thought that she might come around, but she is unmoved. I know that you don't want to return to King's Landing."

"I do not," she sighed. "I suppose I could stay here in Winterfell and you could go to King's Landing, alone. My Lady mother and my Lord father had attempted this arrangement. As you know, that did not turn out well."

"My lady, I have enjoyed my time here, but you do not have to be tied to...someone like me. There are eligible Lords who would be exceedingly lucky to have you."

"So...this is what you think of me? You would like to pawn me off on some Lord or other? Your queen has won. Is that all?"

"Sansa…"

"Is that all? I am tired. I would like to retire now. Would you permit me to take my leave of this conversation. Choose to do what you wish." This is what I get for letting down my guard, she thought.

"Sansa, please…"

"What? Please what? What is it that you want me to say or do? You are leaving. You are going to Dragonstone. You are going to King's Landing. You have chosen your Queen."

"Sansa...I…," his voice seemed to falter. "I care about you a great deal. What do you want me to do?"

"Do you want to be here? Or do you want to go to war? I foolishly thought that you might have feelings for me."

"You are not foolish. Sansa…" He was leaning forward now, with both palms against his face.

Sansa sat down now, on her featherbed. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do. She had been brave, and now she had disgraced herself.

"Please keep anything that has happened between us, between us. I understand that you have commitments. Your allegiances, have become a problem, much as I have feared. Is there anything else that you need to say to me? I'm quite tired."

Tyrion rose from the chair, and took his leave. He glanced behind him, as he closed the door, but Sansa avoided his eyes. Once she was alone, she began to strip off her armor. First, she discarded her gloves. Then she discarded her cloak. She removed her leather bodice, and her overskirts. She put on a linen sleeping tunic and climbed into bed. As she lay alone in the darkness, finally, she let herself cry softly into her pillow.