Author's Note: Can you feel that? Soon the end will be upon us, and we will have to bid farewell to this fic. But for now…I hope you have a hanky ready.
Chapter 8: In which there is a confrontation.
Another week had gone by in High Garden, and Sansa felt that her plans for Osha and Willas were progressing nicely. They couldn't stand each other and would often ignore everyone else in their vicinity so that they could focus on insulting the other party. Sansa could practically smell the sexual tension between them, and while it made her envious, she was also happy.
Nobody should ever be as alone as she felt, as she was. She had firmly squash the thought telling her that she had put Tywin in a similar predicament without a second thought. There had been second thoughts, and third thoughts, but in the end, she valued the future of her child over whatever momentary happiness she would experience if she stayed with Tywin. Sansa knew that no good would come of a future with him, she told herself that several times a day. If she were lucky, at some point her traitorous heart would believe it too.
A knock on the door interrupted her impromptu pity party. "Yes?"
The door opened to reveal one of the Tyrells' servants, "Pardon, Miss Stark, but Miss Margaery stepped out to do some shopping and Mister Willas is…taking a walk."
Sansa smiled inwardly at the euphemism. The poor man was too well-trained to say that Willas had probably stormed out of the house after another sparring match with Osha. "It's okay. What's wrong?"
"Mr. Tywin Lannister has arrived and is asking to see you."
Oh gods, now? She'd thought—hoped, that she would have a bit more time, that Margaery would be next to her, providing support…
She'd hoped that she could have avoided this forever.
She felt weak and cold at the prospect of lying to his face, lying to him about their child, but she could not deny that she was also desperate to see him. He burned in her memory like a star, almost too bright to recall, but to stand in front of him again, just once, would be like tilting into the warm glow of the Summer sun. Gods, this was dangerous. What if she took one look at him and told him everything, begging him to forgive her and take her back?
No, Sansa shook herself, absolutely not. She would face him, cold and resolute. She, Sansa Stark, would do battle with the lion of Casterly Rock and win. Their child deserved no less.
Her resolve found, Sansa stood and motioned for the man to lead the way. They walked quietly down hushed corridors until they came to the door of the main drawing room. She murmured her thanks and asked him, "Will you find Osha and tell her what's going on? I think I might need back up."
Sansa closed the door behind her and spent a moment taking him in. His anger was obvious, writ in the lines on his face, in the set of his mouth, and in the hardness of his eyes. But, beneath all that was something, something that she would have never seen if she hadn't made him the object of intense study (and worship) for the last two years: hurt. She knew that she would never forgive herself for that, no matter how many years went by, but she would, here and now, do her best to make sure that he hated her enough to forget about that hurt.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lannister. You should have called ahead and let us know that you were coming." Even if she had been blind, Sansa would have felt the way he seethed at her use of 'us,' but as her eyes were in perfect working order, she saw how his jaw clenched, how his hands balled into fists. She sent a brief prayer to the gods, asking that he break soon, that he give up and leave before she broke.
"The Tyrells, Willas especially, are excellent hosts. I'm afraid that I am somewhat lacking in that regard, but my fiancé assures me that I will improve." Sansa made a mental apology to Willas; he did not deserve the wrath of Tywin Lannister, she did.
Her mention of a 'fiancé' finally made him speak, and her heart nearly stopped to hear such a dear voice become so menacing. "So, it's true, then? You fucked that Tyrell boy? You're…pregnant…with his spawn?"
She couldn't speak, could barely breathe, so she just nodded.
"Then it would appear that I owe him a great debt for revealing to me your true nature. Well done, Miss Stark, you made Tywin Lannister a fool for a whore. However, Lannisters always pay their debts and I will discharge mine now: should your future husband ever go against Casterly in any way, I'll rake you through the mud. I will destroy you and ruin the future of your child as well. You would do well to let him know, Miss Stark. Now, I have more pressing business elsewhere, so you will have to excuse me."
He moved past her and she, what little bit of her that was still aware, noticed that he took care not to let any part of his body come into contact with hers. She managed to stay standing until she heard the door close, but a moment later, her legs had crumpled beneath her and she lay prostrate on the floor.
She wanted to cry, wanted to rail at the world and the gods, but most of all, she wanted to run after him and tell him that it was all a lie. So, she thanked her legs for their weakness, and tried to tell herself that the world had not yet come to an end.
When Osha found her, she had finally picked herself up and was making her way back to her room.
"Little Stark, I heard he was here. Are you all right?"
Sansa managed a weak smile, "I'm fine, Osha. I did what I had to do, and that's what matters. My child will grow up to be a Stark, not a Lannister, and he-he'll never kno-oh!" The tears came without her permission, and she let them sweep her away. You deserve the pain, she told herself, after what you did to him, you deserve it.
Gods, if only there had been a way…
If she hadn't been born a Stark, if he hadn't been a Lannister, the Lannister…
But that was all words and air.
Osha pulled her, still sobbing, into her arms, and Sansa let the blackness take her under.