Hey guys, this chapter is short, I apologise. And the tourney isn't included but this chapter was so emotional to write and I think I left off at a resonable point. In response to a guest review (thank you by the way) I pronounce Tarynn as Karen with a T :) But its up to the reader really how they pronounce it. Anyway thanks for the support that this is getting, and also thank you to those who have been here since the beginning and also to those who have just joined my little crazy story.
Stay safe.
Slightlynerdy.
Wolves and Hounds.
Chapter 20.
The feast was about to start, they were admitting in groups of people, proclaiming their houses and status' to their fellows who were already in the hall., All traces of her weeping erased. She stood tall and emotionless at the entrance of the great hall, voices could be heard inside. Her father was also there standing near Sansa and Arya. When he saw her he gently squeezed her arm in what he must have thought was a thoughtful gesture, he addressed her but he spoke nothing of what had happened earlier.
"Tarynn stand with your sister, Arya come, take my hand." Tarynn clasped Sansa's hand, forcing herself to smile at her pretty younger sister. "When the man gestures us to move to the top of the stairs do so, but don't walk down them until he has said your full name and titles."
Tarynn nodded, and Sansa responded with a quiet "Yes father," Sansa's eyes were sparkling with joy, "I do hope Joff will love me in this dress."
Tarynn smoothed her sister's hair down, "He would be a fool not to."
The man who was heralding their entrance was a older man, with short grey hair and a kindly wrinkled face, "Ah Lord Stark, do you wish Warden of the North to be included in your announcement?"
"Whatever is the proper etiquette Ronald," The man bowed his head.
The Starks were the last family to be admitted into the hall, Tarynn had just watched as King Robert and his immediate family; the Baratheons, were announced just before them. The Starks were after all the guests of honour. The man called Ronald cleared his throat, his voice booming across the hall as Ned Stark led his three daughters to the top of the stairs. Below them were long tables, many were already seated. Up on the dais was another table with 4 spare chairs. Tarynn spied a spare one beside Renly and she almost turned heel and ran. But her father was torturing himself also by going through with this ordeal, he had never wanted a tourney in his honour claiming that it was an unnescessary waste of expenses. She would take part in this farce for him.
"Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Hand to King Robert Baratheon first of his name, accompanied by his three daughters. Lady Tarynn Stark, Lady Sansa Stark and Lady Arya Stark."
Applause exploded across the large hall, as they descended down the steps Tarynn caught sight of Sandor, wedged between a man whose coat of arms she did not recognise and a young woman who practically sat on the edge of her seat in order to put as much space as possible between them. He caught her eye as she swept past, nodding. She ignored him, it pained her to do so, but impulsion would take over her and she would do something that she would no doubt regret in the years to come.
When the Starks reached the dais, Renly stood, as did the King and Joffrey, Littlefinger was there also, so was Lord Varys and others who were part of the King's council. Tarynn was to sit between Petyr Baelish and Renly. The latter had a sorrowful expression whilst Petyr Baelish was all smiles and kind words.
"Dare I say you look beautiful tonight Lady Tarynn."
"Thank you, you are very kind to say so."
Renly held her seat out for her, as he did almost every time they feasted together, Sansa was sat between Joffrey and Myrcella, Arya was at the end beside Tommen. Tarynn sat, and Renly held out a napkin to her which she laid on her lap as was proper etiquette. As she did so Renly leant towards her, whispering in her ear.
"About earlier… I hope I did not upset you with my… Question."
Tarynn gulped, motioning for a servant to fill her glass with the thick dornish red that she had spied on the corner of the table, the moment was nigh. She had to do what was right. She forced herself not to look at Sandor, if she did then she would break, and she would not be able to go through with it.
"Renly my tears… were not of sorrow… but…" She glanced up as King Robert began to make a toast and to allow the feast to commence. However still Renly leant near her, his green eyes eager but with a trace of perceptible resignation, he did not want this marriage that was obvious. However she knew that he was asking her out of respect for her father but also because he was Lord of Storm End, he needed to procure an heir no matter what his sexual preferences were.
"Tears of joy." She had said it, dooming her future.
"Does that mean you will accept?"
Is he trying to make me change my mind? To make me second guess myself?
She whispered it, praying that no one would hear, "Yes, Renly I accept."
He smiled, and for once it actually seemed genuine, perhaps Renly was in a strange way happy that she had accepted him. "Excellent," He kissed her on the cheek, his skin was smooth, different to Sandor's stubble, "We will announce our engagement tonight, during the dance."
The change wasn't too dramatic, every time Renly fussed over her, offering her sweet treats and morsels of food, she accepted but she felt dead inside. Numb. She was engaged. The man whose bed and children she was to share and bear sat beside her. Would their marriage be happy and loving? Would she grow to love him? Or would he treat her as a sister, bed her as a duty, would there be any passion or romance? Or perhaps one day in the distant future she would walk into their chambers and see him with another man. She shuddered and Renly asked her if she was okay.
"Yes, yes I'm fine. The quail eggs are delicious," She smiled but felt like throwing up.
"We have quail in the grounds of Storm End, you'll love it there. It's the perfect place to raise a family. Speaking of family, how many children would you like to have."
He was so forward, she was taken slightly aback by his question and scrambled for an answer. "Two, a boy and a girl. I've grown up in a large family, so I wish for a small one myself. I've seen my mother being run ragged by having to look after six children."
"Two is a reasonable amount."
Yes, well if your seed is strong it means that you need only bed me twice.
"How many would you like?"
He grinned, gesturing for more wine for the two of them, "Well I never really pictured myself as a father, but I was hoping for three maybe four."
The number shocked her, or perhaps it was just a way of covering up his preferences.
"I'm sure when the time comes we will be able to negotiate." The look he gave her was surprisingly flirtatious. He confused her; it was as if he swung both ways.
"Until that time comes then," He raised his goblet, "To you, Tarynn, my future Lady Baratheon of Storm's End."
She gulped down the wine, praying to the heavens above that it would allow her to get drunk so that she could be taken back to her rooms earlier.
As the feast progressed Renly began to be more open with his affections the more he drunk, occasionally he would take her hand, sometimes he would brush a couple of tendrils of hair from her face and kiss her cheek. She could feel eyes on her, and her face grew heated when she saw Sandor practically glaring at them from his position at one of the tables, every so often he would raise his goblet, drinking deeply. She looked away, ashamed.
The hall was filled with loud, joyous talking and laughter, she could see her father from her position, slicing off cheese or holding a conversation with the King or the others who clawed at his attention. Tarynn however was struggling to hold a conversation which included both Renly and Littlefinger, it was clear to say that Renly did not trust Littlefinger and that Littlefinger was not impressed by Renly at all. And here she was smack bang in the middle of it.
Renly sliced off some of the smoked salmon that had been laid out before them, serving Tarynn and then himself before taking a swig from his wine glass, he turned to her, "Will our children inherit your ability to learn foreign tongues?"
She had never really considered how she would raise her children, would she encourage them to aim for the skies or turn into her mother and run a tight ship? She knew that she would at least teach whatever children she had how to speak the language of the Free Cities.
"I will make sure that our children will know at least one language, its safer, if they ever happen to have reason to visit the Free Cities then I want them to be prepared."
She turned away from him, stabbing at a piece of salmon, bringing it to her lips and raising her eyes. Sandor's stare was intense, like he was trying to decipher her soul. She felt like crying. She had known that this was going to happen, but it was so soon. She bit down hard on the metal fork and dragged herself away from looking at him, he was making her chest hurt.
The tables were cleard after what must have been the 24th course. She stood, brushing down her dress, she teetered a little, her head spinning. The wine must have started its magic. As the tables were moved back in order to make room for the dance, Renly grabbed her arm, "I hope you'll grace me with a dance?"
He was looking over her head, and she turned to see Lord Baelish move away with a slight scowl. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He led her to an empty section of the hall, Sansa was with Joffrey, the Queen was in her brother's arms. Even King Robert had managed to waddle to the dance floor in order to dance with his daughter. Her own father had hidden himself away, pretending to be too busy to join in the dance.
As they waited for the musicians to begin to play, Renly leant down to whisper in her ear "I hope you're happy with this Tarynn."
She was about to respond when the music started, a welcomed distraction from the question that could have caused her to change her mind. Renly was a surprisingly good dancer, and as they whirled around the dance floor she sort of forgot about her predicament and lost herself in the musicians talents.
The tempo was strong and fast, and as the song began to speed up Renly gripped her closer. She was then spun off to another dance partner, Ser Jaime.
The kingslayer sneered down at her, "My for a northerner you can actually dance pretty well." He gripped her shoulder tightly, " You shouldn't be running off like that Lady Tarynn, you gave my sweet sister such a fright."
She looked at Jaime, looked at his knighthood that stank of hypocrisy. This man killed a king, a king that he had sworn to protect; he did not deserve to have that Ser in front of his name.
"Your sister is the least of my concerns, Ser Jaime."
"Indeed, I suppose then that Toby is at the top of that list? Tell me, how is the young chap in bed? Whenever we return home to Casterly Rock all the girls swoon over him." He grinned, sly and obnoxious.
She withdrew from him, prising his hand from her waist, "I no not what rumors you have heard of Kingslayer, but I have never allowed Toby to touch me."
"You should curb you tongue, I was simply jesting, that was all." His eyes were quietly threating, but he looked away when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"If you would be so kind as to allow me to dance with the pretty Lady Stark," His voice sent a shiver through Tarynn's heart.
The kingslayer stepped back, "Ha, and what do you think Lord Stark will think when he sees his daughter dancing with a Hound?"
"No more then what he thought when he saw her dancing with a kingslayer."
Jaime scowled, biting his tongue and stalking away, Sandor took her in his arms, placing his hands on her waist whilst she looped her arms around her neck. "Do you think it's wise for us to be dancing like this? In front of all these people?"
His voice was gruff, "To hell with these people, I have been waiting all night to hold you in my arms. I've had to watch Renly kiss you on the cheek and feed you bits of food from his fork. I've never felt so angry before in my life."
She looked down at the floor, the guilt brewing inside her like an unbridled storm.
Well if you're angry now, you're going to be furious later.
"Sandor… I… There is something you need to know."
He laughed, "Now why does that sound so ominous?" He span her around, for such a huge man he was surprisingly light on his feet. "My brother's here, daring to show his ugly self in this hall," her eyes swept over the scene behind Sandor's shoulder.
"That's your brother?" Her eyes settled on a hulking man surrounded by his associates.
"Yes, seven feet of hard muscle, I'm planning on challenging him to a tilt."
She looked up, "No, you'll get yourself killed. I couldn't bear it if you…"
"Died?" He smiled, gently for once, "While you still live, I'm not going anywhere."
His words pricked at her heart, she was going to break both of their hearts. "Sandor… please… listen to me…"
She had wanted to tell him, but Renly's voice rang loud and clear over the hall, she shuddered and pulled herself away from Sandor's warm arms.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I, well we, have an announcement to make. Lady Tarynn would you join me?" He was standing on the dais, his hand outstretched towards her, a smile on his lips. She looked around the hall, at the smiling faces, at Sansa who was holding her hands over her face in surprise. At her father who looked strangely smug and proud. At Queen Cersei's glare.
She moved as if she was in a dream, she felt Sandor grip her arm, and she turned back briefly. There was the betrayal in his eyes. She shook off his hand, "Please, I implore you to let me go." Her voice was formal and unemotional, she did not sound like herself at all.
When she reached the dais, Renly pulled her closer, casually looping an arm around her waist, "Lady Tarynn and I are engaged to be married." There were murmurs and excited voices as people began to understand that a wedding was to take place; Renly kissed her on the cheek. And then the applause started, "I hope you have no objections to this impending engagement Lord Stark?"
She didn't hear her father's response, her gaze was instead fixed on Sandor's back as he weaved his way out of the hall. She looked at Renly, "Would you excuse me for just one minute?" She didn't wait to hear his response, she stumbled off the dais and tried to walk as patiently as she could to the slightly ajar door that she had just watched Sandor disappear through. When she reached it and was out of the hall she broke into a run. Her skirts making it hard to do more then a few bursts of running.
She couldn't see him anywhere, the front courtyard was void of all souls. And then it clicked. She moved to the gate that led to the Godswood, praying that he would be there.
When she burst through the foliage, her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness and for a split second her heart sank as she thought it was empty. But then a voice came floating out of nowhere, a voice that made her head swim and her heart race.
"So the wolf bitch has come to mock the Hound?" His laugh was raspy and threatening, "Shouldn't you be in there, drinking to your future? After all it will only be a matter of months before you are living in the lap of luxury with a Baratheon runt in your belly."
She looked away, "You don't get it do you? Do you honestly think that I willingly accepted this? I did it for my family. My father needs Renly's support. What would you have given my father in response to my hand? You have no lands, no titles, no money or influence."
He glared at her, his eyes alight with fury, "Love. I had love to offer you. But apparently that's not enough."
She was ashamed with herself, she stepped back. "I love you too."
"Then where's the problem?! Why do you have to marry him, that bastard?"
"Because I have a duty…"
"Fuck duty…" He walked towards her, gripping her arms, "Run away with me. We'll go to the Free Cities, we'll raise our children away from the hypocrisy that is Westeros." He leant down and kissed her hungrily, his fingers straying to the laces that kept her dress together. Gently he began to tug at them. She pushed him away.
"No."
Anger flashed through his eyes. "That's your decision is it? To remain here and become the quiet little wife of a man who won't treat you as well as I would."
She didn't respond, instead she gave him one last lingering look and a chaste kiss on the cheek, "I'm sorry Sandor."
She left the clearing.