The morning sunlight leaked through the shutters waking Sansa from her light troubled sleep. She was curled up in a bed, covered in a rough blanket.
Where am I, thought Sansa groggily her mind still struggling to emerge from the depths of sleep. She spotted the desk and Enjolras's red cloak draped over the back of the chair. She got up and padded over to the desk looking for clues. She found a slate scribbled over with notes in a hasty hand, and a sheet of parchment, with lines nearly covering it. This must be his room. He let me sleep in his bed for the night, and slept in the chair so as not to disturb me.
The room was empty; Enjolras must have risen earlier than she did and left without a word. She wanted to thank him for his kindness and gentleness last night when he came to find her but now she had no idea where he was.
She had to get this filthy dress off, the smell was horrendous. She must look like some unwashed wilding bride, but she didn't have anything else. Disgusted by the grime she could almost feel coating her, she slipped off the dress leaving her only in her chemise and small-clothes.
It's hardly decent, but it's only until I can find something new... she told herself.
Why had he changed his mind? Sansa knew she should be grateful as if truth be told she hadn't fancied her chances on the streets of King's Landing, not after her encounter with those men down that alleyway. He'd just made her so angry after their argument. She thought she had better control over her fiery temper but she'd lost it around him and his scornful tone and looks. Why had I let him get to me so badly?
He despises all high-born men and women, why should I have expected that he would make an exception for me? All the same she had to admit to herself even if she would never willingly admit it out loud that she cared what he'd thought of her. To see him look down at her, to sneer at her as if she just some stupid girl who knew nothing stung her deep.
You want him to like you, don't you? You silly girl, haven't you learnt a thing from your experience? He's a complete stranger, how do you even know that you can trust him? As beautiful as he is...
Sansa was jolted out of her reverie by his return. He opened the door, stopping dead in the doorway and staring at her. His gaze ran over her body as tactile as a caress, taking all of her in.
She'd hadn't been so embarassed yet oddly excited for some time. She felt her cheeks grow pink with mortification.
What had she been thinking to let him see her in this state of undress, legs bare, hair down in rumpled disorder, fine linen chemise slipping off her shoulder? Be honest, Sansa, you wanted him to see you! She reproached herself for acting like a silly lass with a crush, exactly like she had once been with Jeyne when they saw Lord Beric, or Ser Loras Tyrell in his dazzling silver armour at the Tourney of the Hand, where he had ridden up and given her a rose red as blood. As red as the doublet that Enjolras wore, highlight the breadth of his shoulders, the lithe length of his body.
His breath hitched slightly in his throat looking at her. For a long moment he seemed to have lost the use of his tongue.
Sansa hastened to alleviate the situation, blushing furiously. "I'm so sorry. I just couldn't bear to be in that dress a moment longer. It was filthy."
"Er..I got you some second-hand clothes, milady. So you'd be a bit more comfortable. And there's food available if you want it. I've no doubt you must be hungry."
"You don't have to call me 'Milady' all the time, you know. It's Sansa-" she told him softly.
"You call me 'ser' all the time." he pointed out, trying unsucessfully to avert his gaze from her bare pale limbs.
Sansa wanted to point out that she was trying to be polite, but she held her tongue. He seemed a bit awkward around her, as if interacting with a female one on one was a bit out of his comfort zone. It was a bit different from yesterday, when he was freely arguing with her.
"There must be a way to repay for this kindness-"
He blushed a little, the colour glazing his high cheekbones. "We can talk about it later, um..." she could see him visibly attempt not to call her 'Milady' once more. "Sansa. They were right, you know." he said more softly
"Right about what?" She asked, puzzled by his tangent.
"It is a pretty name." the colour deepened on his cheeks, as if embarassed by his unguarded statement. "Er...would you like."
"Thank you, ser-" she said hastily, brushing against him to get the clothes. He dropped a few items on the floor starlted by their close proximity.
"Sorry...sorry I didn't mean-" Sansa bent down to pick up the shoes and stockings he'd managed to get for her.
"I'll let you get dressed. Call me when you're done and we'll talk-" he stammered, hurrying out of the door and closing it firmly behind him.
What was the matter with him? Why was he acting so strangely?, thought Sansa as she inspected the items Enjolras had obtained for her.
He'd not done too badly, all considering. There was a bodice and a skirt which would likely come up to mid calf, some rough worsted stockings which looked as if they were going to be itchy especially in the heat of King's Landing and rough shoes which were a size too big but she could stuff them. He'd managed to get a roughly patched cloak which was once a dark navy colour with some embroidery she couldn't make out, and some breeches.
I must thank him for his thoughtfulness, she told herself.
Seven Hells. Seven bloody buggering Hells!
Enjolras leaned against the closed door of his room and tilting his head back, closed his eyes in something close to despair. I really hope none of the lads come out and see acting like a fool over this girl.
What in the name of everything holy was he meant to do?
He had expected to find her still sleeping like the dead, or disappeared to explore the rest of the tavern by daylight. Not sprawled out half-naked on his bed, long pale legs on display. He found it physically impossible to tear his eyes away from their sleek pale length, she must think him so rude and crass.
He bungled his way through the conversation, cringing inside at how foolish he though he sounded. He practically shoved the bundle of clothing at her in his eagerness to get away from the awkward situation, dropping some of the items on the floor in his panic.
She murmured an apology even though she wasn't the one at fault really; I was acting a fool simply because she brushed up against me and I couldn't handle the contact. Then she bent to pick them up. Oh Gods, he was lost!
He was going straight to the hell reserved for lecherous bastards. No doubt old King Robert would be there to welcome him to his domain, a bare-breasted wench on each arm.
There was no rational excuse for staring appreciatively at her bottom, barely clad by her flimsy small-clothes and trimmed with some frippery bit of lace. No matter how sweetly rounded and peach-like it was, that was plain rude. Even if he had a strong sudden urge to come up behind her and bend her over his hands on her waist as slender as a young birch tree. That wonderful hair slipping over her shoulders like silken fire...
No, I will not think of such things! She's a young maiden of high birth, who is now under our protection. How am I any different from any of those men leching after her in that alleyway? To think I rebuked Combeferre and Marius for their hearty appreciation of her looks? I'm the one treating her like a piece of meat now!
I've got to exert some self-control. This Sansa is a distraction I really cannot have right now, not when the city is at last teeming with revolutionary fervour!
He jumped a little as he heard her voice from the other side of the door. "You can come in now, Enjolras, I'm decent now."
Thank the Gods, he told himself as he went back into the room, detemined to make a new effort to behave appropriately in front of their new guest- no matter how attractive he found her!
"I wanted to thank you for the clothing." Sansa said promptly as soon as he entered. She was braiding her hair with swift nimble fingers using some of the pins to re-secure her hair into a tight coil at the back of her head.
"It was the least I could do. Shall we make our way downstairs? I wanted to talk to you for a bit." Enjolras looked distinctly more at ease now that she was clothed decently.
Sansa could not get over just how generous and kind these people were. Eponine had saved her from those dreadful men. She'd led her here to find help and even though Sansa had argued with Enjolras, mostly due to her stupid pride; he'd apologised and had gone out early to get her clothes; offered her food and friendship.
Perhaps...perhaps my luck is about to turn. If he and his friends could help me leave King's Landing...travel to the Riverlands and be reunited with Robb and Mother.
Dare I trust? Dare I hope my luck has changed and I might go home at last?She wanted itsuddenly with a surge of longing that almost made her sob. Home and the North...
"Do you have any family we can find for you?" Enjolras was asking as they made their way downstairs. "There must be people worried about your welfare. I would not have them fret about your safety."
The only people that would be concerned would be the Lannisters, but not for the reason you would think.
"No, Enjolras. I have nowhere to go. I can't return-"
He gave her a curious glance, his fingers straying towards her face and running down one soft cheek. "Are you running away from someone?" he asked her gently though his gaze was shrewd.
If only I could tell the truth...reveal what is truly going on, if he knew who I truly am, if he knew exactly who he was dealing with, he would despise me. They all would, and I can't bear that. I have no choice but to lie.
"There's people who would hurt me ...if I went back. I was lost during the riot and I took my chance. I ran for it." she admitted, her eyes cast down.
He lifted her chin to face him, his fingers gentle on her skin. She was surprised to find sympathy in his bright blue eyes. "There's no shame in that, Sansa-"
She had a mad urge to lean into his touch, to beg him to touch her more.
Stop it, she told herself. It's just that you've been starved of sympathy and kindness for so long and he's so lovely when he's being kind. It doesn't mean anything, why would he take the slightest notice of a girl like you? He's just being chivalrous as knights should be. As I foolishly dreamed they would be, before I realised there were no true knights any more and all the tales were lies.
"I've been talking to the Landlord. He's a good sort. He has some shifts available if you're not afraid of hard work. Serving behind the counter, wipng surfaces taking payment that sort of thing-"
Sansa had never worked for a living, she'd never had to but if it meant she could stay and not rely on the charity and kindness of strangers, she would take it gladly.
"Yes, I'll try. Honestly I will. Thank you so much!"
"Come and meet the rest of the group. They're all curious about you."
They were all a blur of names as Enjolras introduced her properly to the group; Grantaire with mocking green eyes and cynical smile supping on Arbor red despite the earliness of the hour- he was a painter when he could be bothered to complete his commissions; Courfeyrac who still had links of his Maester's chain to complete, he argued about the existence of Dragons and the links with the Doom of Valryia with Combeferre who smiled at her giving her a friendly wink; Marius with the soft aristocratic voice and those green eyes of his - she could see why Eponine adored him even if he didn't seem to return her dear friend's affection. Joly the healer, Feuilly, Jehan with his striking long red hair and a wilted flower tucked behind his ear who thrilled her by bending respectfully over her hand and kissing it, calling her 'a Northern Rose'. Even Bahorel who'd had to be prodded awake from a drunken stupor had been
They were all polite and friendly to her, kind to her for their friend's sake and her vulnerable position but if any of them wondered why Enjolras's hand was linked with hers as they entered the room, they had the grace not to mention it.