Sansa stood proudly in the room normally reserved for the war council meetings. Sam was sitting at the table looking as anxious as ever, rapping his fingers on the great map of Westeros. The main door opened, and they turned into the wind that came bellowing through it. Podrick closed the door behind him and moved to the centre of the hall, in a grave fashion. "Your grace?- I was told you needed me urgently."
She stared at him fiercely, Podrick wondered what he had done wrong? Then the Queen turned her head to Sam to give him an ominous nod.
"Right...err...Pod, is it?"
"Yes, my lord."
"No need for that." Sam gestured unfavourably at the formality. "We want to invite you to play a game of hide and seek."
Both the gents were sure they heard a cuss chunter out of her grace's mouth- they must have been mistaken. Podrick gave a hesitant nod, clearly taken aback. "Right, I see." He couldn't really protest, but his mouth twitched as if he was wording something incomprehensible. "Erm... right...err...Is this some kind of exercise, if you pardon me asking?"
Sansa rolled her eyes, and composed herself. "If you like?" Studying his demeanour to see if it still bothered him. "Trust me, Podrick, the humiliation is mutual. You can decline this-"
"-No, I don't mind, your grace, it would be an honour."
And she huffed, she shouldn't have, they were taking up his valuable time. Maybe it was an honour. The Queen composed herself- yet again. "I suppose it would be." Sansa circled him, very much like a predator. "But the King mustn't know." She halted to gauge his reaction, he was flummoxed.
"That'll be difficult."
"Why?" Her voice lilting towards her inner child. "Are you his little informant?"
Podrick shook his head adamantly. "No, because it's a game that requires a vast area, and movement. And if he asks me to do something, or asks me what I'm doing, am I to lie, your grace?" His voice lacked earnest. It was a humoured tone.
And she clucked her tongue. "Do as they do in King's Landing, Pod."
A subtle smile adorned his usually gormless face. "Your grace." He bobbed his head courteously.
The game was afoot. Sansa looked over at the crypt doors. Too easy. She walked at a fast pace towards the main doors of the castle, she was tempted to run. The best hiding places can be found after you've run, since you're giving yourself extra time. But a Queen couldn't gallivant around the castle, she made sure Podrick and Samwell knew that. Hence why they both had to count slowly to a hundred, to give her time to find a hiding place at a steady stroll. It was only when she got into the safety and privacy of the narrow corridors did she take off, picking up her skirts and clomping in her boots to a wing of the castle that had a labyrinth of halls. This was her domain, her kingdom, and she knew this place better than any of them- THE QUEEN OF THE NORTH!
She opened the first door and dashed in, and surveyed the furnishings and all the opportunities. Sansa could stand in a fireplace, sit in a wardrobe, sit in the window seat and draw the curtain shut. No. She ventured out of the chamber, and back into the hall, proceeding down it with intent. She was nearing a hallway she didn't like, horrible memories resided down there. But her feet proceeded to carry her down the forbidden area, she saw the door and her breath hitched. She imagined the horror, then strangely she remembered her playmates were probably halfway through counting. Her eagerness to play the game well, made the nasty memory dissolve.
"Why am I doing this?" She said crossly, and she found her hand touching the door of horrors. She blew a whistley breath through her lips. "Right, in we go." The door creaked the same as it use to. She surveyed the room with disgust, before crossing the threshold. She had done it.
The smell that reached her nose was the same; wax, death, damp, early stages of spoiling meat, and a smell that a woman should never talk about, a smell she could only imagine was potent in brothels. That's in your head, that smell doesn't linger. The door thudded against the wall, and she jarred. She was alone, it was only a draft.
It was seemingly undisturbed, and dusty. This surprised her. Surely the servants came in to normalize it? The bed looked made, but not freshly. The dank darkness of the atmosphere represented her feelings now, and then. This room used to be an ordinary room, but now it was a gateway to the seven hells.
You are supposed to be hiding. Sansa did a quick sweep, and clomped quickly over to the wardrobe to throw it open. My gods. She felt sick, her Bolton wedding dress was still in there, she snared it- about to claw it to shreds. But instead she released it, and slammed the wardrobe shut. She would deal with that another time, with scissors or fire. Got to hide. Sansa dipped so she could scramble under the bed, and she pulled her petticoats under with her. Her breath caught the dust on the floor, and it lifted it into the air, she covered her mouth and nose, and coughed and spluttered, praying for silence to consume her. Damn. The Queen managed to quell her irritation as she heard a distant door creak open, by the tone of the thud- she knew it were the double doors that led to her wing. She was laid on her front, her chin caressing the dirt on the boards, quiet as death, as precise footsteps were heard. This person wasn't in a hurry, further more they were heavy, but a heaviness she believed was supposed to be antagonistic. So she believed.
She heard a door open, but it wasn't hers. Probably the first room Sansa had gone in and abandoned, and they weren't in there long. Were they even trying to look? Another door opened, again still not hers. They wandered into that room and then wandered back out again. This isn't fair. She felt the floorboards underneath her tremor since they aligned with the boards in the hall. Clomp.. Clomp.. Clomp...Clomp. They were too close, frighteningly close- why was this fun again?
Clomp...Clomp...Clomp...Clomp. They came to a halt outside the door.
"..."
Her heart was racing, and she was sure it would rumble the boards beneath her. Her body trembled in anticipation, and they weren't even in the room yet. The door creaked open, Sansa saw a slither of it from her position, the door, and the boots. She wanted to put a hand to her mouth, either to cover or bite, to stifle her urge to whimper, but she couldn't move now. They dithered, before they stepped fully into the room.
Now this was fear, but not the kind that had her in tears. Though her bosom heaved, there was a surge of excitement. Oh gods. It had been a while since she had gotten this excited. They were steady steps the gent took, their heaviness had gone, they were light, and sort of at a stroll. She didn't believe this individual was part of their game; this wasn't Sam, and she was sure Podrick didn't meander like that. So she did have a reason to be nervous, no one else was playing, and Sansa didn't want anybody else knowing they were playing.
Child bride of the King- they would say if anybody found out. She heard the wardrobe being opened rapidly, an unnecessary speed, this suggested they were antagonistic. Her mind crept back to Ramsay, he liked to dominate through prolonged agony and fear. She had chosen to hide in the very room he would do this to her. She must be crazy. But there had been a couple of minutes where she had just been thinking about the game she was playing, and not dwelling on it being Ramsay's room.
The seeker must have been studying her wedding dress, she didn't hear the wardrobe door close. The tension was killing her. Either look around or leave. She restrained the urge to rap her fingers. She couldn't even move her head fully to the side to study the shoes, or sigh at her predicament. Go go go...go. They swivelled, and she sensed their feet were pointing at her. They were still for an unprecedented amount of time, which told her immediately they were listening.
She didn't breathe. Terror of discovery made her chest ache; excitement played a huge role in this game- she could see that, now. In fact she recalled as a child it had been a great game. Despite the lack of fire in the room, she was starting to sweat all over, and the moist skin was picking up the dirt off the floor.
The person then walked towards the door promptly, as they did, she heard the clang of a scabbard and valyrian steel. Her breath hitched, and he stopped in the doorway and turned. Her hand was over her mouth at this point, to amend her error. He was good at being still, it was beautiful, but right now it set her teeth on edge. His leather creaked as he squatted, his scabbard made contact with floor. Oh gods. His bare hands made contact with the floor and she knew she was doomed, if she had not been saved by a bang of a door down the hall. Someone had dashed into the neighbouring room- and the King shot up and left. There was a load of clattering next door, and she knew that was a seeker on the roam. She strained to hear her husband confront the man doing the ruckus, luckily the door was still ajar so she heard mumblings of a short conversation.
The footsteps came down the hall, and she saw the black boots walk past the doorway and carry on into the depths of the castle. Her relief was short-lived when Podrick came in, she heard him talk to himself- motivating himself. Stay hidden. Well he was in on the game, but the whole point was- not to be found. He went to the wardrobe and just as he opened it, someone made themselves known in the doorway, all she saw was a lady's skirt. "Podrick." That voice, she hadn't heard it in awhile...Agnes? Can't be...why would she use that old disguise? She couldn't crawl out to take a peak. "Have you seen the Queen?" Yes, that's definitely her, oh hell, why has she gone back to this?
"Agnes, where did you get to?- You've been gone for days."
She could detect a warm tone in Podrick's voice, she remembered Podrick didn't know the red witch and Agnes were the same person. Sansa stayed still and listened, and thought of nothing else, in case Melisandre picked up anything from her.
"Miss me, did you?" Her voice had a peculiar lilt.
Sansa watched the skirt sashay to the brown boot's of Podrick. "You abandoned your post, I was just curious." He said with mock disinterest, it was strange how she could tell.
"I bet you're still curious." The lilt still not leaving her voice.
If only Sansa could see facial expressions, she couldn't tell if this was mock flirting or the real thing. She stared hopelessly at the feet.
"Kind of...Where did you go?"
Agnes did a little circuit of the front part of the room. "I had to visit my mother... she was very sick...it has been a dark few days for her...and me." She did a little sniffle. Oh please. Sansa rolled her eyes, she was sure she could be more convincing than that.
"Oh I am sorry."
Seriously, he was buying into that?!
"She is fine now." That was short and sweet.
"Thank the gods."
"Yes..." She clearly didn't like that. Not her gods, ey? "But it was a fright, I need a perk up."
"I bet it was...What?..." Podrick fizzled out as the lady stepped closer, so close she was almost standing on his toes. Dear lords, what was she trying to do? Sansa heard the slop and smack of kissing. Oh gods no. Luckily Podrick jarred back. "What- no- we can't."
"But you can, you're curious what's under this gown, let me show you." She stepped forward and he jarred again.
"Not here...in this room." He began desperately. "...And the door!"
"Close the door, my sweet Pod."
"But..."
"Don't you like me...?" She fained sadness, Sansa envisioned a pout on Agnes's face.
Podrick made a move to the door. That's right Podrick, get out while you still can! Sansa prayed, and to her dismay, he shut himself inside with her, the Queen heard the bolt slide across the door. Oh dear oh dear. She was trapped in a room with a canoodling couple. Podrick returned to the woman where it all started again. What will she hear or see?- What if they found her under here, the humiliation. She felt even warmer, as the sound of kissing and heavy breathing began. Suddenly the bed jolted above her, the springs protested, and so did she- mentally- Gods no, not that, not that! She heard the rustle and pop of clothing and fasteners. Yes, it will be that- typical.
"I should warn you...women tend to get quite noisy with me." He warned, eagerness rife in his voice.
"And you shall be too-"
"-We're in a castle." Sansa hoped this comment would terminate the frenzy.
"Stifle it." The witch was so demanding. Damn it.
"Right."
"Me on top, or not at all...Give me some control." Agnes said brazenly. That's peculiar.
She covered her ears when there was sudden pause after a little kafuffle, she knew what was coming. The bed started to creak and squeak, as it jolted above her. Think about breakfast, think about horse riding... "Aaaaeee o aaa o aaa." Tiny bits of hay and feathers were starting to fall out of the mattress and onto the floor, some settled in her hair. Piff. Sansa grimly imagined this was probably what happened to this bed when she was raped, though she wasn't under it at the time. Don't dwell on such things. The noises that were reaching her eardrums through her hand mufflers were very different to what she normally associated with the act. No screaming, or sobbing- no strange horrid remarks, just heavy breathing and the occasional sigh. They were probably being careful so they weren't heard in the castle...well they were certainly being heard here. She pressed her ear to the floor, to try and see if she could hear someone else downstairs, to distract her from the-
"Gods Aggie..."
Oh shut up. The Queen couldn't sing mother's mercy, it would stop them for sure, but the fact she hadn't revealed herself sooner was unusual- they would think she was some pervert spying on them. Can you be a spy, if you could not see?
Agnes was sounding a bit more pained as they went along, bouncing. Sansa felt the pain too, every thrust, every creak- as she lay on her front under the bed. Just like on her wedding night and most of the nights that followed. Don't dwell, replace that memory with...this. A game of hide and seek that had gone sour, she really wished her husband had found her under the bed earlier, to save her from this assault to the ears...and mind.
There was a terrific couple of sighs, which told her they were finished. They got up quickly, their feet firmly planting on the floor, Sansa panicked slightly as they retrieved their clothes from the floor, she inched across as a hand skirted close to the edge of the bed. Eeeek. A second of hell, followed by relief she had escaped discovery. Sansa lay her head on the boards. The two individuals didn't seem to speak, she saw the skirt sashay to the door, she believed Agnes had managed to dress first, she unbolted and opened the door.
"Gods Agnes...wait until I've dressed, close it I'm naked!" He whispered harshly.
"I'm sure her grace will do it on the way out."
Sansa was already frozen, she heard and felt the deafening silence. Did she just...? No, of course not. She stared at the feet, both were still, until a hand lifted a wolf pelt at the edge of the bed.
"Don't be shy, your grace, come out."Oh my gods. She remained still, going as red as a radish. Still in denial. It's a trick, they don't know you're here. She saw hair, as Agnes leant, Sansa recoiled as a upside down smug face leered at her. "Little dove."
She heard Podrick cuss. And with that horrible face watching her, she crawled out slowly, defeated and humiliated, snagging some threads of her dress and lightly bumping her head on the frame of the bed. Ouch. The humiliation, probably not as humiliated and hurt as Podrick right now, he was very naked- but he was trying to rectify that. She didn't look at him, as he fumbled. "Your grace...oh gods...I didn't mean to...I didn't know you-where the hell are my trousers?!"
The Queen kept her deathly stare on Agnes, whom smiled sweetly and left without further comment. She'd left a warzone, surely Podrick would know by now Agnes could not be trusted. "I'm sorry, Podrick." She eased, while he dithered by the bed, clutching at his clothes, she did a quick glance and turned away- still red as hell. "Oh my."
"Your grace...Oh hell, I'm sorry for not checking, we were in the middle of a game- and I...f'd up." His tone was almost suicidal, he hurriedly pulled his tunic over his head. "This won't happen again, I swear it, don't send me away...please your grace."
"-Enough." She heard him still, he was petrified. "Don't be scared, I saw nothing, it won't happen again-"
"-I promise-" From the corner of her eye he bobbed courteously.
The Queen could hear movement in the hall, and she knew that was Agnes coming back to gloat. "Get lost!" She turned to Podrick. "We shan't speak of this, and...for heaven's sake put your trousers on!" She turned to make her way to the door, and probably thump the witch in the hall. Just as she reached the door, her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat, she was looking at the King who had just appeared in the doorway. "Jon..."
The King looked from one to the other, gormlessly, his face slack- devoid of any emotion, until it tensed into an angered brood, he channelled it into the space between as if bracing himself for a kill. What- why? That was pure rage and betrayal she could see. Oh gods, he didn't think..? She glanced at herself, she was ravaged looking, dirty, and Podrick was pulling up his trousers. Oh seven hells. She couldn't form a sentence, his face was paralyzing. "Jon...innocent, no...this isn't-" She heard a deep growl and he circumnavigated around her. She half expected a slap, but he made a bee-line for the squire, who put a shaky hand up in defence.
"No...Your grace!"
Jon grabbed him violently by the scruff, and dragged him out of the room with his trousers still half-way up his legs. Sansa pleaded desperately. "-Jon...he didn't...it's not what it looks like!" Poor Podrick was being fumbled down the hallway by the battle commander, he fell and Jon yanked him back up.
"Get up you little shit!" The King rumbled.
Sansa followed the kafuffle into the hall. "JON!...Listen!"
"-Your grace, I didn't do anything!" The squire tried, trying to pull up his trousers.
"-Shut the fuck up!"
Sansa caught up, and was pulling at Jon's shoulders, clawing at the leather and studding to get him to stop. "JON! Listen to me, listen to him!" He wasn't having any of it, he was shrugging her off, set in his ways. Perhaps he would get around to her? "Husband listen, for the love of the gods!"
A servant materialized from a stairwell, and froze at the theatrics. The King blazed at them. "Fetch me a block!"
He was going to what?! "Ignore that, he didn't mean it!" Sansa fired at the frightened servant. The servant remained frozen to the floor. They passed them and the three of them were bustling down the stairwell "JON!" Her grace continued, Podrick was trying to turn himself against the chest of the King, to reach for the Queen's aid. "He didn't do it- you bloody fool, you're being Stupid!" Just as they set foot through the door to the great hall, Sansa decided to use better tactics, she grabbed Jon by the hair harshly, and he started to slow, finally.
"Sansa, let go now, woman, I'm sorting this out now, I'll deal with you later." He breathed dangerously.
"Release him now!" She tugged at his mane, it was as effective as putting a knife to his throat, for he pushed Pod to the ground, and stood firm. Another servant came into her line of sight, appalled at what they were seeing. "Get out!" And they scarpered, passing Davos as they left. The advisor looked at them wide eyed. For a second it looked as if the Queen had taken The King prisoner, it was short-lived, the King swung around in close proximity snaring her, clutching her around the shoulders, she expected to be put into a headlock, but it was more like a violent embrace, she nearly ended up under him, with the force of it- but she stumbled to gain her footing, and succeeded.
"For fuck's sake what is going on?!" Davos spat, surging towards them. He passed the squire who was scrambling to his feet.
"It's a civil matter, good ser!" Sansa began, still tussling with her husband. They both looked like reluctant huggers at this point in the mayhem. "It can be del-"
"-Ser Davos there has been serious misunderstanding!" Podrick began, clutching at the side of the advisor's robes, when he returned his attention back to his King and Queen, he saw Jon had fought for dominance, and he was manhandling his wife back up the stairs from where they came. Sansa was reluctant to go back up there, so she grabbed the stones- and clung tight for dear life, as if she was hanging off a building. Her husband was carrying her around the middle, and pulled hard at the sudden resistance, he inclined to see what she was doing.
"Let go of the wall...let go, let go...LET GO!" He roared, pulling hard.
"Jon!" She exclaimed desperately. "I can explain everything in their presence- it's harmless! You're being stupid!" Something told her something awful would happen when they got out of Davos's sight. So she clung to the wall, until Davos caught up and was close enough so she could grab him. "Please Ser Davos!"
"Your graces, enough!" He didn't know whose side to be on, he needed to hear what they had to say.
"Stay out of this you! Like she said- this is a civil matter!" The King fumbled with her hands, to get her to release. "Let him go!" Jon's strong hands won, but she grabbed at the wall again- so his hand descended down her arm. Sansa made a whimper, not sure what he was doing, and his fingers suddenly dug into her armpit- he was tickling her. She cried out, but it was hardly a laugh, since she was panicked, but she certainly let go of the wall- and he was able to drag her up the stairs.