Sansa and her handmaiden stood before an open wardrobe, the large bed behind them already spread with several gowns, capes and surcoats; displaying an array of textures and colours the redhead knew her young son would have been delighted to get his small hands on.
The maid, so gold of hair and green of eye that Sansa had long assumed she was a by blow of one of Jaime's uncles turned to her mistress and and and asked innocently:
"The lilac and silver, m'lady?"
"Yes Megga and be sure to pack the matching shall."
Observing the girl's ill concealed smirk Sansa fought the urge to roll her eyes, the handmaiden had suggested several gowns, all of which her lady had worn soon after the birth of Ty and in the earlier stages of her pregnancy. The northerner doubted Megga had any personal interest in her mistress' fertility, and could only assume that someone at the Rock sought to determine when her next child would be born. Sansa suppressed a smirk of her own; let them speculate, she had even gone so far as to hint in her last letter to Margaery that she may be expecting. Knowing Rickon was alive it gave her a savage satisfaction to imagine Tywin Lannister envisaging the birth of a lion cub to inherit the North. At the same time, she also wondered if a belief she was carrying a precious cargo would afford her some extra protection against any in King's Landing who may wish her ill.
Sansa glanced once again at her wardrobe; a particular garment catching her eye. It had been a wedding gift from Alerie Tyrell and she remembered the woman's clucking over the bright silk dresses she had provided. Margery's mother had spoken at length about the ridiculousness of women only being provided with garments in the colour's of their spouse's house. Olenna had cut in commenting that may be very well but did Alerie really think that Tywin Lannister would suffer his good daughter parading around in Tully colours. Clearly taking a grim pleasure in her good daughter's consternation the Queen of Thorns had wryly remarked that it would likely be alright: given the Old Lion's generally low view of women, Sansa could simply plead ignorance; saying she thought the colours complimented her red hair.
The memory caused her to once again ponder the reason for making this journey and cast her thoughts back to her few interactions with Littlefinger in King's Landing. The man had always made her feel uneasy; she acknowledged now this had been a large part of why she had so readily accepted Margery's proposal that she wed Loras; it had offered a way of out of Joffrey's clutches that did not involve Baelish. With the perspective of a happily married woman she could now be very clear what it had been about her good uncle's looks and smiles that had made her wary, she wondered if she resembled her Aunt Lysa very greatly. She chased the thought from her mind; as well as causing a mild revulsion, it was no help in discerning what plans Littlefinger may have for her brother. It seemed as is he was set on destroying House Lannister so perhaps he envisaged a future conflict against Sansa's own children for the North. The young redhead's lips twisted into a smile, she would never oppose Rickon's claim to the North and she knew Jaime would not either. However she was also painfully aware that matters were rarely that simple; for most of her time as a captive in King's Landing Sansa had not feared for her life. Of course there had been occasions when she'd wondered if Joffrey would loose all control and put an end to her, but for the most part she had been convinced that she was worth more alive than dead. This did not mean she had not suffered greatly and given her ambiguous views on Lord Baelish and her aunt, Sansa did not feel satisfied with allowing Rickon to remain in their care indefinitely. She looked at the blue and burgundy dress once more, perhaps she would have to strengthen her stomach
But I am not Cersei….
"Megga please also pack this gown. I think that will be sufficient, I will leave you to finish the preparations."
The girl bobbed a curtesy as Sansa exited the room. The redhead made her way purposefully through the Castle. There was a considerable hubbub in the upper chambers as a number of the household, including Jaime's cousins, were also making the trip to King's Landing. Sansa had experienced bittersweet emotions observing Mirelle and Cerenna's anticipation of the trip; remembering her own departure from home for the capital and the excitement with which she had left Winterfell which had seemed to cruelly mock her so often in the subsequent years. At the same time she was glad the girls would be there to accompany her; she had seen the use Margaery had made of her own retinue of companions from the Reach and although Sansa had interacted with such ladies of the Westerlands who had been at court following her marriage, she had never been sure whether those women were more strongly allied to herself or Cersei. Sansa knew the two young Lannisters well and was confident she knew when she could rely on either of them in situations which may require assistance.
The young woman made her way firstly to the nursery, only to find her young son already had company. Leaning against the door she felt warmth fill her belly as she observed her husband, on all fours in front of the seated babe, enacting some form of mummery with several stuffed animals. Ty pointed and babbled contentedly, until he happened to look up and catch sight of his mother, at which point he began to protest and hold up his arms. Jaime turned as Sansa moved towards the babe, a mock frown on his handsome features
"I see how it is. I put all my efforts into amusing this little fellow and am simply humoured until a prettier companion arrives."
"He takes after his namesake, my lord"
Sansa rested the babe on her hip and breathed in the scent from his small head, now sporting tufts of golden blonde. Jaime beamed at the pair of them.
"Are you almost ready to depart?"
"Aye and this little one's nursemaids should have his trunks prepared, he seems to require more than the rest of us put together!"
Sansa had deliberated for considerable time whether to bring her son to the capital or not. In the end she had decided keeping the pack together was the best option. Jaime gave her lopsided smile.
"I suppose it is useless me saying you do not have to accompany me?"
"Quite useless, and completely untrue."
Sansa knew Jaime sought to protect her and she valued the lack of conviction in his tone as he sought to dissuade her from the trip yet again; in truth, he understood how important it was to her to make this journey with him. Prehaps she was being selfish but having spent so much of her life as a bird in gilded cage, Sansa was painfully aware she would find it impossible to bear sitting at home in Catserly Rock while her husband returned to the capital and Cersei. She had been honest with her husband in regards to this, and eventually he had understood and respected the decision. What she had not explained was that this was not the full reason for her wanting to make the trip.
Now she returned her son to his cushioned play area and placed her arms around Jaime's neck.
"You would miss young Tyrion and I far too much if we remained here."
"That it very true, my beautiful wife."
He grinned and met her lips with his, Sansa shivered into the kiss, enjoying the feel of his muscular chest against her bosom and of his hands pressing into the small of her back. As he pulled away a small sign escaped her lips and she saw his green eyes twinkle in response.
"Besides I am sure Margaery would never forgive me if I turned up without you."
Sansa returned his smile. She was eager to see her good sister again. Tyrion had been a good friend to her but he was too protective of her and too loyal to Jaime for Sansa to confide in him freely. Margaery understood the way the world sometimes made women act. She would be able to offer guidance. Margaery has laid her share of schemes, that does not make her Cersei, any more than I…
Sansa was roused from her thoughts by a slight pinch and looked up into Jaime's mischievous gaze.
"I can tell my wife's mind is elsewhere."
"I am just thinking about the reunions to come."
Jaime's smile remained but his eyes became serious.
"I collected Tommen's sword from the forge."
"I am sure he will love it, husband."
Sansa smiled tenderly at her spouse's rare hesitance. Tyrion had written to them of Tommen's growing skill with a blade and Jaime had determined the gift would give him the chance to interact with his secret offspring by way of sparring. The Lannister knight lifted a hand to his golden hair.
"The pommel is all Baratheon antlers so father cannot complain. Gods to think I could have spent year's practicing with him."
"Cersei would not have allowed it. Besides, we cannot change the past, so dwelling in it has no profit."
"Very well, my wise wife, now I believe our son seems fit for a nap, will you lay him down or shall I?"
"You do it, I have some preparations to complete."
She kissed her husband and son soundly then exited them room.
Sansa continued her progress to the castle courtyard and on to the stables. As she had expected Brienne of Tarth was there, peering critically over the master of horses' shoulder as he tended to the steeds Sansa and her husband had chosen for the following day's journey. Sansa smiled crookedly.
"You need not concern yourself with the conditions of the beasts, Brienne, they were a wedding gift to Ser Jaime and myself from my good sister and the late king Joffrey. They are sturdy and temperate steeds."
Brienne nodded grimly, Sansa knew perfectly well the blonde woman would not view the horses' having come from Margery or Joffrey as any guarantee of their quality. She sighed and spoke once more:
"Brienne, I ask that you accompany me to the godswood, I wish to pay my respects before my departure tomorrow."
The younger woman watched as her sworn shield nodded again and waked towards her, matching her steps to Sansa's as the pair silently made their way to the small stone garden. Relations between Sansa and her sworn shield had been strained for weeks. The day after Brienne revealed the whereabouts of her brother, the redhead had sought her out to discuss things further. The maid of Tarth's evident dismay that Sansa had shared the news of Rickon with her husband, bordered on patronising and Sansa had felt her temper flare as she recounted the way Lord Baelish had behaved towards her in King's Landing. Brienne had not met the man during her time in the Vale, and Sansa wondered where her Aunt's husband had been. When she questioned her sworn shield regarding why Lysa had revealed so much to her regarding the supposed connivances of the Lannisters, it became clear that there had been a hope Sansa would be in a position to spy on her husband's house and communicate any notable information to her Aunt. At this Sansa had stared at the blonde woman aghast:
"You truly thought that was a possibility? Do you understand what Tywin Lannister would do to me if I betrayed his son? You seem to believe my husband embodies all that is wicked, yet you felt it would be appropriate to expect to take these risks?"
Brienne had been sullen.
"You mother was a courageous women, Lady Sansa."
"My mother was fighting to avenge her husband! To save her children! What did you see me gaining from this that would make me so courageous? Or perhaps you did not care, you simply want me to allow you to vindicate your failures by participating in the downfall of the Lannisters? What on earth makes you think being the pawn of Petyr Baelish is more desirable than being the pawn of Tywin Lannister?"
Sansa had turned and left at that, not wanting the older woman to see the tears in her eyes. They were tears of rage. Rage at Brienne herself for failing to protect her mother, for failing to bring Arya to her and for endangering Rickon. But also a deeper, more bewildered anger at her own parents; her father had believed the Lannisters had murdered Jon Arryn yet he had delivered Sansa and her younger sister straight into their den. Her mother had then imprisoned Tywin Lannister's son. Sansa had frequently railed against Robb in her mind; beseeching her dead brother to help her understand why he had not been willing to exchange Jaime for his sisters, now she began to feel she had similar questions for her parents. It was a difficult thought and Sansa felt like a traitor for even considering it. At the time she had sought her husband out and blurted a tearful confession. Jaime had comforted her with assurances that her parents had loved her and had simply trusted the wrong people. This interpretation had given her considerable solace on and in the weeks that followed the young redhead had become more and more convinced that Littlefinger was the source of her family's ruin. Lysa Tully's part in it all Sansa discounted; she was certainly aware that few wives had great power over their husbands; moreover, although she had never met her aunt, Lady Catelyn had frequently spoken warmly of her relationship with her sister, often stating she wished Sansa and Arya could have a similar relationship one day. Sansa was sure the woman must either have been hoodwinked by her husband's lies or have been coerced into compliance with him.
Sansa brought herself back to the present as she and her sworn shield entered the godswood. It was deserted as Sansa had known it would be. Without preamble she turned to Brienne of Tarth.
"You are ready to depart this evening?"
"I am. Lady Sansa are you quite sure-"
" As I have told you repeatedly. If I want your council I will ask for it."
Sansa watched the taller woman bow her head in resignation and felt a small stab of regret. It was against her nature to hold things over others. Aside from childish sulks, she had generally always been concerned with being pleasing and well liked and actively avoided conflict. As angry as she felt in regards to Brienne, it still felt unnatural to behave in this fashion No doubt my kin would say I was becoming a Lannister. The thought unsettled her more than she would have cared to admit. Sansa softened her expression and placed a hand on the older woman's.
"Brienne, I know you feel you should be in the capital to protect me, but I have learnt the hard way that the protection I need there is not the kind you can supply. Return to my Aunt and Uncle. Tell them I am watched closely here and provide them with details of Ser Jaime and I's travels. If you have an opportunity to speak to Lord Baelish alone, tell him I do not believe the child they have is truly my brother and that you feel if i had some proof of this I would be keener to act."
Sansa paused, trying to steady herself and tightening her grip on Brienne's hand.
"One more thing. I do not know if such a chance will arise and I must beg you to take no risks, but if by some blessing of the gods you can get Rickon away from there, take him to Tarth, I beseech you."
Brienne met the younger women's gaze staunchly and nodded fiercely. Sansa managed a tight smile.
"Thank you. Now I would appreciate some privacy for my devotions."
Only the honourable Maid of Tarth would have accepted the statement without sceptism. She bowed and exited leaving Sansa to seek out the Stark memorial housed in the stone garden.
She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her flesh.
I am not that kind of Lannister. I am not Cersei.
In truth, now the dye was cast, Sansa felt in more of a quandary than ever. Aside from a feeling in her bones that she had to be the one to draw out Baelish, she had no specific plan of action. She thought of how secrecy and lies had almost broken she and Jaime in the past, but she knew she could not share any of this with him. Jaime would try to prevent her risking herself by taking foolhardy action of his own and although Sansa respected her husband as much as she loved him, she knew he was not equipped to play this particular game. However more than that, she felt compelled to actively help Rickon. Sansa may be more than happy in her current situation and she may at times feel let down by members of her family but that did not change the fact that she also felt more of Stark than ever. So often since her marriage she had been unable to strike a blow against those who had hurt her pack and now there was deep vindication in trying to do something for all she suspected her kin would not have approved of the ambiguous methods employed. Sansa had a precipice to walk, but she felt deep down it was the only route she wanted to take.