A/N: Hey...happy finals week if it is for you too and good luck. I'm not excited. Did my Chinese one this morning at 8 so one down three to go. No notes for this chapter, really, so just go ahead and read on if you so desire. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.
I did post this Monday, but an email never went out, so I'm trying again, just in case you didn't assume it was up. Hopefully it works soon.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin.
Rating: M for references to murder, both attempted and achieved, as well as both physical and emotional abuse and rape.
After her attempt with the Black Sacrament, Sansa's life was saved by the Butcher. Carefully crafting a lie, Arya and Wuunferth told Ulfric that the poor young woman had been placed under some sort of dark magick by the murderer, intending her as his next victim. In her trance, she had been unaware of everything she had done, and Arry Snow had found her wandering out by the Hall of the Dead where his last victim's body had been found. The young soldier carried her to the Court Wizard, and when he had disrupted the spell over her, she remembered nothing.
Though Sansa wasn't sure that Ulfric fully believed the tale, he played the part of the concerned husband, and it was only when they were alone that she saw his occasional suspicious glances. Nonetheless, she was fortunate, for he could have easily had her executed for her attempt on his life, whether it had been intentional or not. She had not anticipated him waking before the poison had run its course, and it had nearly cost her very dearly.
Arya and Wuunferth too, were in danger, but Ulfric had no reason to suspect disloyalty from them, and although the old wizard cursed her for her foolishness she had no need to defend her decision. They knew that Ulfric was a cruel and abusive man, and that she had acted only in the way she had deemed necessary to save herself, and her child.
It had been nearly a week since she had tried to kill her husband, and she had obeyed her sister's command to stay quiet for a while and avoid drawing attention to herself. With the war turning quickly in the Stormcloaks' favor, Ulfric would soon be distracted and would forget the scandal in light of his continued victories.
She was roaming absently through the palace one day as she so often did when she heard the sound of footsteps down the hall, and a moment later, a young guard on patrol stuck his head into the room in which she had wandered and then, after catching her eye, he began to retreat.
Jerkily, Sansa moved to the door, and she called out after him.
"Guard!"
Hesitantly, the young Nord returned, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Sansa knew his face well. She had been forced to meet those eyes as he had held her down and allowed her to be raped on the night of her wedding.
"At least have the decency to look at me," she said, her voice dangerously quiet.
With obvious difficulty, the guard met her eyes, and in them she saw guilt and shame.
"Don't ever try to forget what you've done," she hissed, her eyes blazing. "Denying my existence won't erase the choice that you made."
The young man opened his mouth, and when he spoke, his voice cracked. "It wasn't a choice, my lady. If we hadn't obeyed then Lord Ulfric would have—"
"Killed you?" Sansa finished icily. "Then you would've chosen to die."
The guard looked helplessly at the fierce young woman before him. "I'm so sorry, Lady Stormcloak," he whimpered. "I'll never forgive myself."
"Good," she snapped coldly. "I won't forgive you either." As his eyes began to fill with tears, she added, "And don't call me Lady Stormcloak. My name is Sansa Stark."
She too had been forced to make a choice, and no matter what it took, she had chosen to live.
Sansa was seated at Ulfric's side, ever the dutiful wife, as he reclined in his throne and listened to the complaints brought forth to him by his subjects.
The first was Viola Giordano, once again claiming the presence of the Thieves' Guild within Windhelm and blaming them for the disappearance of her favorite ring. Ulfric all but waved her away.
The next was Adelaisa Vendicci of the East Empire Company with news of a group of pirates known as the Blood Horkers that were raiding and marauding their way across the coast. He dispatched a few of the city guard to accompany her on a mission to kill their leader, but could do no more.
A few other minor disputes were cleared up or dismissed, and when the final person stepped forward, Ulfric was far from willing to hear what he had to say.
It was Ambarys Rendar, the proprietor of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, and though Sansa gave him a small smile, he did not return the gesture. After a moment, he spoke.
"My tavern has flooded again, Jarl Stormcloak," he said wearily. "With all of the recent snow, the refuse from the upper quarter has flowed down to the Gray Quarter as it's melted and..." His expression was one of disgust and exasperation. "We're knee deep in shit, my lord. We can't continue to live like this."
"Perhaps you shouldn't then," Ulfric replied with a sneer. "Either return to the ash covered hole your kind calls home, or die here, rotting in your own filth. I couldn't care less which you chose."
As Sansa gasped, Ambarys' expression hardened. "This is our home, Lord Ulfric. I was born in Skyrim just as you were, not in the land of my ancestors."
"You're all outsiders," Ulfric snarled, leaning forward on his throne. "Trespassers. This is the land of the Nords, and by Talos we're going to take it back from you. When I sit upon the High King's throne, I will rid my homeland of your kind, and if you refuse to go, then you will be killed."
The Dunmer looked ready to strike the Jarl for his words, but he merely shook his head, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I won't forget that, Jarl."
"Good," Ulfric said coldly, his dark eyes narrowed. "Neither will I."
"You need to get out, m'lady," Gilly urged, frowning at Sansa as she stared vacantly out the window. Nearly a week before, Ulfric had requested that she spend the evening in his chambers, and when they had woken, he had summoned Arry Snow to the room, offering him a rise in command and ordering him away to capture one of the southern forts. Sansa had tried to ignore her sister's presence in the room, but it had been difficult, and she had worried every moment of her sister's absence. Now, she was in the Temple of Talos, lingering on the edge of death, for Ulfric's command had nearly gotten her killed.
"You must find something to do to keep your mind off of things," the maid continued, shuffling about the room and straightening things as she went. "I won't have you wallowing. It isn't good for the baby."
Sansa's hand slipped absently to the ever-so-slight swell of her belly and she nodded in agreement before finally turning from the window. "I suppose you're right. I'm just worried."
"Of course you are," Gilly soothed. "She's your sister, and many men and women die in the course of war. But she's strong, like all of you Starks, and she'll be alright."
Sansa nodded and smiled gently. She was glad to have Gilly as a friend and confidante, for there were times she was sure that having someone she trusted was the only thing that kept her from trying to end her own life. That and her baby.
"Go on into the city then, m'lady," her friend urged with a smile. "I'll have Sam to keep me company, and when you get back I'll have supper warm and ready for you."
Nodding, Sansa did as she was bid, pulling a thick woolen cloak on over her gown and making her way from the palace. She was planning to go to the market and look through the merchants' wares to distract herself, but as she stepped outside, she saw Ambarys Rendar struggling to carry a bundle of dirty rags and several buckets and she remembered his desperate supplication at Ulfric's feet a fortnight before.
Hurrying to his side, she helped him with the load and he gave her a weary but gracious smile. "Thank you, my lady."
She nodded in acceptance of his thanks and continued to walk with him towards the cornerclub. When Rendar opened the door, a wave of filth flowed out into the streets, and Sansa had to cover her nose to keep from gagging at the smell.
"How can you live like this?" she asked as she stepped through to the bar, appalled.
"We don't so much live as survive, my lady," the Dunmer replied grimly, dumping the rags atop the bar and sighing heavily. His employee, Malthyr Elenil gave Sansa a nod of greeting and set to placing the rags along the floorboards in a sorry attempt at keeping the sewage and melted snow from continuing its deluge into the bar.
"I want to help you," Sansa said, and truly, she meant it. Their living conditions were deplorable, and she felt somewhat at fault, if only by the virtue of her married name.
"I'm not sure that you can, my lady," Ambarys responded, propping open the door and retrieving a bucket to try and remove the standing water that had already seeped into the wooden floors and left them stained and warped.
Sansa watched him for a moment and then began to move towards the door. "Give me just a moment." The two men watched her go in confusion and then returned to their work as she disappeared into the streets once more.
It didn't take long for her to find a guard patrolling the upper quarter and she approached him, her head held high. "Ser, I command you to go to the Gray Quarter and remove the filth that covers their streets."
The guard cocked an eyebrow and looked at her in confusion. "Pardon, my lady?"
"You heard me," she replied sharply. "I command you, as your future High Queen, to do as I ask."
The man looked stunned, and he stammered for a moment before nodding. "Of—of course, my lady." He hurried away, and Sansa nodded in satisfaction as he called another couple of guards to his aid. Though she was a Stark at heart and would never truly be Lady Stormcloak, she was determined to use her own terrible circumstances to better the lives of the others that Ulfric had oppressed. She felt that it was the least she could do.
Ambarys and Malthyr looked at her in awe and disbelief when she returned, and the latter jerked his head toward the guards outside, hastily shoveling sewage from the streets into buckets. "How did you manage that?"
She shrugged slightly and joined them in their task. "Better to obey the orders of Lady Stormcloak than to risk the Jarl's wrath I suppose."
Between the three of them, they managed to clean and clear the floor of the cornerclub and block its walls to the best of their ability, and by the time they had finished, a crowd of Dunmer had gathered in the streets to watch the guards finish their own work.
More than two dozen wooden buckets had been filled by the time the streets were clear, and the guards looked nervously to Sansa for further orders, wiping the sweat from their brows.
"Take these buckets to the palace," she said calmly, though a hint of fear rose in her chest as she thought of the possible repercussions of her actions. "And place them beneath the Jarl's throne."
The guards exchanged a worried glance, as did the Dark Elves behind her, but when Ambarys opened his mouth to warn her, she raised a hand to silence him. "Do as I ask, and if anyone questions your actions, you may tell them that I ordered you to take them, my husband included."
Hesitantly, they obeyed, and as three of them began hefting the buckets of dirty water and excrement, she stopped the last.
"I want you to take up a position here at night from now on," she said quietly. "There have been attacks against the people living here, and I cannot condone such violence against the people of my city—any of them."
The young guard nodded in understanding and stood at attention in the corner between the tavern and Sadri's Used Wares. "Yes, my lady."
When she turned back to those gathered around her, Ambarys shook his head. "I'm not sure how we can ever begin to thank you, Lady Sansa. You're a godssend, that's for sure, and we are in your debt. If there's ever anything that you need, don't hesitate to ask, please."
Sansa nodded and smiled gently. "You owe me nothing, but if you insist, I simply ask that you allow me to visit your cornerclub and play for all of you when I'm able. It will help to lift my spirits and keep my mind off of the war."
"Of course, my lady," the barkeep replied, and then, after shooing away the crowd that was eyeing Sansa with awe, he returned to his tavern, calling Malthyr in after him.
Now alone, Sansa's gut swirled nervously and she walked slowly as she made her way back to the palace. She had no chance to regret her actions, however, for she was met with Ulfric's wrath the moment she reentered the palace.
"What in the name of the gods is this?!"
He was pacing along the length of the hall, watching the guards as they carried bucket after bucket below his throne, the stench filling the room and making it difficult to breathe. When his eyes found her across the room, they narrowed and he stalked toward her.
"What is this, Sansa?" he demanded, his voice quiet. "These men are saying that they're working under your orders, so tell me, what the bloody hell is this?!"
Sansa flinched as he raised his voice, but tried to stand tall. When she spoke, however, her voice trembled. "You refused to see the conditions of the Gray Quarter, so I brought them to you. You may let the people of your city live in this filth, but I will not."
"I let them because they're just as much filth as this shit is," Ulfric snarled, viciously kicking over one of the buckets and sending its contents across the floor. The guards halted at his outburst and he yelled to the nearest one. "Clean this up! Now!"
"I like you better when you just lie still and don't fight back," he growled, turning back to Sansa. "I will not stand for your insolence."
Before she could think to move, he lashed out, striking her cheek with the back of his hand. She fell back and cried out as it flared with pain, but he strode forward to meet her again, gripping her arms tightly in his hands and shaking her. "You thoughtless bitch. I did you a favor by marrying you, and this is how you repay me?"
He hit her again and she began to cry, trying desperately to escape from the savage blows. Behind them, the guards and palace servants stood still, wanting to intervene, but too afraid for their own lives.
Noticing their stares, Ulfric pulled her away from the hall and dragged her up the stairs to his chambers, slamming the door shut and throwing her onto the bed. When she tried weakly to crawl away he gripped her by her hair and pulled her back, leaving bruises everywhere his fists fell. As his fingers tore at the lacing of her dress, she rolled away onto her back and tried to escape once more.
"Stop," she begged. "Please...stop!"
As he drew his fist back once more, she curled into herself and with tears rolling down her cheeks, she cried out a final time, bloodied, bruised, and defeated. "You'll hurt the baby!"