Sansa
Sansa Stark had called a halt to her meeting with Lord Tyrion after signing the scroll annulling their nuptials. She had to check on Arya before meeting with some local traders who wanted a dedicated watch on the Kings Road.
Her sister had looked tiny in her large bed, the wolf Nymeria lay across Arya's small frame, heating her mistress. The two had been inseparable since the alpha came storming back into Winterfell the day after Arya's return, nobody killed a Direwolf now that Sansa Stark sat on the throne, the beasts fell under the queen's protection and could only be killed in self-defence. Nymeria stalked through the large keep until she came to the main courtyard where she crouched her back legs, tilted her head and howled… and howled. Wolves across the land joined her plea and Arya had responded, she had pelted through the great keep knocking people over as she went, Rickon and Shaggydog were close behind her, gleefully howling a response 'she's back!'. Sansa had wept as she watched her sister and the beast roll in the mud, Nymeria licked Arya's face in between howls and Arya for her part had howled back.
The Wolf girl… the mother of wolves? Sansa thought as she looked at her little sister and the alpha in the large bed, both in deep sleep.
"Arya?" she asked softly.
"Mmm?" came a response from somewhere under wolf and blanket.
"How are you feeling?"
"Bloody… awful" she responded through a hoarse coughing fit, the door swung open and the massive frame of Maester Tarly entered.
"your Grace, you shouldn't be in here it may be catching, my Grace." He finished nervously.
"I'll be fine, unlike this little Braavosi I haven't lost my Northern constitution." Sansa laughed and left the Maester to argue with Arya who was now claiming to be fine and not in need of 'any more stinking balmy rub'.
After meeting with the traders and offering to dedicate a part of the now growing Crows to protecting the main trade routes, Sansa had supped with Tyrion and his party of banner-men before heading to bathe and then hopefully sleep. As she sat in the tin basin filled with sweet perfumed water she pondered on Tyrion's words "a noble lad", Agatha her handmaid was scrubbing her back and nattering on, the way she did, about the goings on 'downstairs' in the castle. Sansa usually enjoyed these chats, they gave her perspective and on occasion a little entertainment.
"Agatha…" the girl didn't hear her and continued to prattle.
"Agatha!" her tone was sharper now and the girl stopped "I'm clean enough, help me out." She had softened her tone again and the girl acquiesced in silence, wrapping her in warm dry linens and patting her hair down gently "Would you like it braided milady?" Agatha asked softly.
"yes please Agatha." Sansa responded as she sat in front of the small and rare glass mirror and frowned
Podrick, Pod… she sighed and Agatha looked at her but sensed that her mistress was puzzling out a problem and so remained quiet. Sansa was not averse to Podrick Payne, she'd twice in the past even been a little unbridled with him. Once during the long night, they'd been at Castle Black and she'd had no idea if they'd survive or not and she was so cold and she'd well… she'd clung to him. There had been no preamble, he'd been standing by her side as he always did, he'd asked her If she were comfortable enough and the next thing she knew her arms were flung round his shoulders her face was buried in his neck, tears streaming from her eyes and she'd sobbed and he'd wrapped her up in his strong arms and his thick cloak… he'd held her for a long time. Too long. And then there had been the sacking of Kings Landing… that had been slightly… Sansa furrowed her brow further as she tried to categorize her feelings on that very 'emotional day' Agatha patted her shoulder. "All done your Grace, will that be all?"
"Thank you Agatha." She nodded and the girl left, Sansa caught a glimpse of Podrick as the door swung shut. He was always there when she fell asleep and always there when she woke. When did he sleep? Sansa blushed slightly as her mind wandered to what Podrick might look like when he sleeps. That time in Kings Landing, she'd been in the Red Keep and she and Daenerys stood encircled by wolves and knights, Podrick among them. The last of the Lannister's men and gold cloaks were making an attempt to retake the city. They were awaiting word from Jon. They wanted to keep the city intact and so Dragons were the last resort, it was men who stormed Kings Landing, men who took it piece by piece and it was men who held it. Jon had entered the room a triumphant smile on his face 'it's done.' He'd said simply. It was so Jon. The room relaxed, the queens had embraced briefly before everyone scattered to the task of running a realm. Sansa who had remained as still as a statue in the centre of the room eventually fell to her knees and clutched her chest. It was over, it was finally over and she'd lost almost everyone. "Give her the room." Jon said quietly and the remaining soldiers obliged. All except Pod who stood in the corner, unobtrusively. He would not be moved if the gods themselves told him to, he was sworn to protect her and he was apparently sticking with that. She looked up, he was the only one there and he looked exhausted. His back hunched over like he hadn't relaxed his spine in years "It's done Pod." She said breathily and reached for him to help her to her feet, tears still rolling down her porcelain face. when he reached her he pulled her up with one arm his other holding his helmet. "It's over" she almost asked.
"It's over my Grace" he'd responded softly; she didn't let go of his hand instead she had launched forward, flush from success and exuberant from relief, her lips met his and he'd wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, his helmet still in his hand his other squashed in hers between his breastplate and her stomach. The kiss was clumsy and full of the exhilaration of knowing they wouldn't die that day and perhaps not the next. And then Podrick had dropped his helmet and the spell was broken, he stepped back all a fluster and full of apologies. She had looked around in a daze before saying something about finding Jon, they mutually and silently agreed never to talk of it again but he in all honesty had been the only man she'd kissed and hadn't really regretted it.
She sat on her bed and wondered, he was just outside her door, she could call him in. and what? Ask him for his hand? "Gah!" she threw the slipper she'd been toying with across the room as she let out the frustrated bark, knocking over the mirror she had just been gazing into.
"My Grace!" Podrick burst through at the commotion and stopped when he saw Sansa his Queen wrapped only in linens, her wet hair in a simple braid. All of her 'particulars' were covered but it was still improper. Podrick averted his gaze and scanned the room his sword drawn.
"Podrick, it's fine I knocked my mirror over when I was reaching for something" she lied. He moved to retrieve it "I'll get it Ser Podrick, it's my mess."
"If it's broken you might cut yourself." He said in an even tone careful not to look at her.
He retrieved the mirror and couldn't help but smile up at her "it's intact my Grace" he said before quickly looking away again.
"Thank you ser Podrick" her tone was so gentle when she'd said it he couldn't help but look at her again and then back at his hand as he placed the unbroken mirror glass carefully and deliberately back onto the small dresser. The Queen's little personal items lay around and she watched as he quickly glanced them over, he hadn't been in her rooms there had been no call, she took this moment of distraction to step behind the screen and pull her night dress and house cloak on. When he looked back to her he was shocked that she was gone but then saw her fingers over the oak screen.
"Are you quite sure everything is alright my Grace?" he kept his hand on his sword she stepped back out covered from neck to toe.
"I'm in a predicament Podrick." She stated plainly. Perhaps a straight on approach would be the best option
"If there is but anything I could do your Grace I would?" he was prepared to lay his sword down at her feet again as If to reinforce his pledge.
"I need to marry."
"You are already married"
"That bond has been nullified" she explained, she hoped this would spur him into action but knew he was too much the honourable gentleman. "I have no parents to find me a suitor, no mother to tell me what to do, no father to make sure my husband is a good and decent match. I am not sure how to approach this Pod"
"Are you asking me to help you pick a suitor my Grace?" Podrick's voice sounded slightly strained.
"No Ser, not unless you think…" She didn't know what she was saying, a sudden self-doubt had swept the legs from under her and she almost felt like she couldn't breathe. The soft fur lined cloak she wore in her chambers every night abruptly felt constricting and she struggled to untie it, it fell to her feet and she inhaled sharply.
"My lady are you unwell? Should I call Maester Sam?" Pod flustered at the sight of his Queen in distress.
She clutched her hands together and tried to regain some composure "I am sorry Ser Podrick, I am tired and I tied my cloak too tight in a haste to dress." She lied, but at least her voice wasn't shaking anymore.
"My Grace…" he bowed but didn't move.
"Podrick could you take off your helmet please." Sansa said feigning calm 'think like a queen' she told herself as she imagined what Margaery would do in this situation. The knight obliged removing the iron mask she'd come to associate so closely with his face, his dark hair was flattened by the helmet and damp with sweat. His eyes remained on the rush covered stone bellow his feet. Sansa stepped towards him and placed a hand in his hair ruffling it gently so it no longer stuck flat to his pate, he glanced up at her in shock and seemed surprised to see her face looking back at him, evaluating him.
She prodded her lower lip as she scanned his eyes for any sort of attraction, anything beyond fear of his Queen. He was handsome in a boyish way, but his body was that of a man's, he was taller than Sansa and broader by double. But it was his strong chin she liked best and his eyes… his sweet eyes that crinkled when he smiled, she continued to stare but she didn't know what to do… he just looked petrified.
"Podrick… I want to ask you something but I need you to swear what we speak of will never go beyond these walls." She tried to sound authoritative.
"of course your Grace." He said solemnly staring at his feet again.
'What would Margaery do?' she asked herself again and again. She took a steadying breath, stepped forward so that she was only one more step from being toe to toe with him. She raised her arm, placed her finger under his chin and nudged his head up forcing him to look her in the eye.
"do you think I'm pretty?" she had tried to sound sultry, she feared she sounded too weak, too much like a girl.
"My Grace you are the fairest snow queen the land has ever see…" he started quoting the bards his voice trembling as though she'd shouted at him and she sighed in frustration.
"Podrick, I am not asking you for some singer's interpretation of my 'beauty' I want to know what you think of me" she pointed between the two, tapping his breast plate gently.
"I… My Grace." He squirmed uncomfortably and she sighed again only this time she was defeated, her arms dropped to her sides, she made to turn away. To pick up her cloak and hide beneath it perhaps.
"My Grace." His voice was calmer now and she felt his strong fingers grasp her arm gently.
She turned back to him slowly, wishing the tears that were welling in her eyes away, why was she so weak? He was looking at her seriously, his brow furrowed in determination. They stood like that, for what felt like an eternity until the tears that had welled finally spilled and he moved, his armour clanked as he lifted his free hand to wipe the drop away grazing her cheek with his thumb. She turned her cheek into his palm, like Lady had once done, so that he was now cupping her face.
"Podrick, if you have any affection for me as a Lord has for a Lady…" she paused, she hadn't realised until now how utterly unprepared for this she was. Her brothers were taught to woo by armourers and knights, to snare a mate with charm and wiles. She had been taught nothing… but how to sew! She cursed the dead Septa… how would a delicate cross stitch help her now?
"If you want me… what I'm trying to say my Lord is…" she stumbled over her words and she blushed but she needn't have worried. Realisation had finally dawned on Pod's boyish features
"My Lady… My Grace… might I kiss you?" he had to ask, on the off chance this was all a misunderstanding, he had to ask and she understood that.
"as long as you don't drop your helmet this time" she laughed breathily but it soon turned to a gasp when her knight placed his helmet gently on her bed and lowered his head to hers. Both his hands now free he rested them on her shoulders and moved them slowly down her arms to find her hands which he gently clasped in his. He breathed heavily and steadily, each second felt deliberate as if every inch of her needed memorising and he may be tested on it later. Her skin prickled and her breath caught again, only this time she wasn't panicking. Suddenly a memory popped in her head, Lady Margaery… she told her a rumour about Pod, all the girls had giggled... and as quickly as the memory had popped in her head it had flown as it was replaced with the feel of a man's lips on her cheek his stubble tickling her jaw, and then he kissed the corner of her mouth ever so lightly. She murmured, or did she moan? She couldn't tell. And then his mouth was flush on hers, there was none of the clumsiness of Kings Landing. None of the haste. This kiss seemed to slow down time itself. His hands pulled hers to his shoulders where he left them, his own hands sought to memorise more of Sansa, they found her hips. He tugged her gently forward so her body was flush against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, Sansa hadn't kissed like this before, the feelings in her stomach were completely alien, his mouth opened slightly and she took the opportunity to nibble his lip, something she'd seen wenches at feasts do. He moaned.
"My Lady… I mean My Grace." He said against her lips, not pulling away but halting nonetheless
"Sansa" she panted resting her forehead against his once again, his fists were balled in her nightdress and he breathed heavily his eyes closed.
"my Queen" he couldn't stop the inbuilt etiquette no matter how hard he tried "are we betrothed?" he wasn't sure how one went about asking for the hand of a queen. He needn't ask his own fathers permission; he'd been disowned from the house Payne when he took up the cause of the North.
"Do you want to be?" she asked gently
"I am at your command my Grace." His fists balled tighter in her soft night dress.
"But my Lord, if I was Just Sansa Stark and if we were in Kings Landing and my father had asked… would you want me? If I wasn't your queen and you didn't obey my every whim." She smiled at him a little "Could you love me?" her voice quivered, she was scared. She'd barely mended her heart and the idea it could be smashed again by another man sworn to protect her was terrifying.
"My Grace, My Lady… any hesitation on my part is not due to lack of affection it's merely a lack of worth." It had clearly dawned on Pod why his lady love was so vexed, she worried he would not love her. "I have loved you, do love you and will love you my Grace, I… I thought you knew…" he seemed shocked that she hadn't.
"How?" she smiled as she gently petted his rounded cheeks his coarse stubble tickled her finger tips enjoying just conversing with him, suddenly at ease now she knew he was hers.
"Lord Jon has passed comment and my Lord Tyrion always knew, he would jest about it, he called me your shadow and he'd say things like 'Pod stop mooning over my Lady wife, you're not rich enough nor pretty enough for her'" he chuckled a little at the memory and his own impression leaning into her caress
"He was wrong." She reached up for another kiss but stopped when a thought struck her "Would you take the title King of the North? Our children with my name. A stark must always sit in Winterfell." she spoke quickly.
"As I told my former master, Aye, Aye to it all. If you want, I will Be Podrick Stark if you wish it. The Payne's have no love for me, the Starks have been my family and my cause these past years. I will have No name if it may make her Grace happy" he placed a sweet kiss on her mouth.
"You will be loyal and true." It was a statement; Sansa knew it to be right in her heart, an organ which up until now she had not particularly trusted of late. Podrick was a good man, he was an honourable man… he was the type of man her father would have liked, because he was just like him. "You're going to be a king Pod" she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she watched her future love piece together everything that had just passed, a strange smile playing on his face. "does that please you my Grace?" she asked nudging his cheek with her nose.
"I'm going to be married to you… that pleases me Your Grace."
