They were ruthless people. Ruthless and devoted to things that could not save their souls for anything in this world. Gold, power, love, none of that made sense to Arya. Only honor and duty. Only her family made sense. After being welcomed at Winterfell, they took a few weeks to regain their belongings, or what was left of those.
Yet, even between those familiar warm walls, tugged under a hot sheet and between layers of wool covers, she could not sleep. She stared at her bed ceiling, wondering about the 'if's', those which drove her insane. Then, she heard steps stopping at her door, she pushed herself up, her right hand under a soft pillow, grasping for a knife, like some were grasping for some air.
A knock broke the silence. " Who's there ?" She managed to say. "It is... Milandrei, your servant My Lady. The Sir Gendry asked me to bring you some herbs to sleep."
She was not even surprised at this point. The all shared her secret night walks at least once, even Bran with Hodor walked along with her, not saying a word, but admiring the dark clouded sky; Gendry was the one she walked with more often than the others. He never said a thing, just listening to her, rambling about constellations and education, or not saying anything at all. He would just smile, so she would not have to fake it. He knew, and that is what made him part of her pack all those years ago.
He knew the yearning of a place you can never come back to.
" You can enter. Leave the trail on the table and go back to sleep, you need it much more than I do."
The girl - around 14 or 16 at most - did as she asked. She was frail, a skin color of the sand, and dark reddish hair tied in a braid. Her hands were shaking. Arya was already up waiting by the table, her bed open for everyone to see. She was not fond of cleaning up after all. " No need to fear me Milandrei. I will not hurt you. Unless you hurt me first, but I have a good impression it is not going to happen." Arya tried a little comforting smile, which quickly faded into a sad smile, her eyes on the steaming tea in her hands. Surprisingly, the maid pushed it to put a hand on her shoulder, and say "Never, M'Lady", and walk away, swiftly passing the door and going back to her rooms. This girl had guts. She just did not knew it yet. Just like Sansa did.
Just like all of us did. On that thought, Arya downed her glass in one move, and went back to bed, sleeping a dreamless sleep.
Sun was rising when she opened her eyes. It was today. The girl with auburn hair, still in her head, wondered, after all they have been through, how did this still happened ?
She wondered if someone would be here to help with the gown. She wondered if Arya would be here. She wanted her sister to be here. To be by her side. Like always. Like before.
She washed herself and undid the tight braid the maid had made out of her hair. The curves of the locks reflected the sunlight so brightly it was unsettling. In her sweet nightgown, with her three hours worth of sleep, and her fake smile, she had never been so nervous in years.
Then, Arya entered her room with Milandrei carrying the gown. The tissue was not the snow white she always wished for, but it was white enough. The scars on her arms would be covered by a fine silk, the colour of a pearl. In the same shade, her torso would be tangled up in a corset and a clivage stopping the eyes on the necklace Willas gave her. It was close to her throat, a white rose embedded in a silver chain. How poetic. Her skirts were heavy, the weather not quite giving up on the summer they all wished for.
She bore the cape her mother received all those years ago.
The wolf sigil seemed a little rusted, and if it was for her, those little wholes in the tissue were only here to remember her of the blood shed she had to suffer.
As she was almost ready, her heart was beating stronger, almost suppressing air from entering her lungs at all.
"I...Milandrei, could you leave us alone for a minute." The girl, as usual, did as she was asked.
Arya, in a grey dress, her hair tied up in a bun, her frowning only slightly hidden by a beautiful chain of small red rubies on her forehead, looked straight at her.
"Why did you bother ?
- Family business, sister.
- Stop it. You know it doesn't suit you as well as you wish..."
Sansa stopped combing her hair and looked at Arya, sited on the bed. The sun, now settling high in the sky, reflected on the rubies and made her sister's eye look like pools of muddied blood. It was as astonishing as it was gruesome.
"I have a gift for you."
The elder raised a brow. Arya raised her eyes to the ceiling.
"Well, Gendry AND Bran suggested it would be a good idea."
When their eyes met again, a box was on Arya's lap, sorted like a rabbit out of a magician box.
She opened it carefully, took what was inside with the precaution of a mother to her newborn. The box aside, she walked towards Sansa, and that is when she could finally see it: A small craved crown. A mixed colored base, perfectly silver and gold, in the shape of a growing plant with small thorns. In the downsides roses where raised as amber stones, when on the front the biggest of them all, was a snowy white fully blown flower, with in its petals silver lines drawing the shapes of each of them differently.
It was not bigger than her thumb.
"How...?
- Gendry is very skilled with metals. And, well, fine jewelry is not the hardest to find with a name like ours." They both smiled. "May I My Lady ?
- Stop making fun of me, would you ?" Sansa had a small laugh. Then her sister brought the crown to her auburn hair and so, so pale forehead. Her hair loose, she was stunning. No, more than that, she seemed powerful, beautiful and regardless of her blushed cheeks and watery eyes, she carried their name with pride, through the murmurs when she entered the woods with her sister at her side, so different and yet so much alike, through the speech, and the words they repeated. Through the old rug gently took off of her shoulders, replaced by a brand new golden sigil which would be her name now. Through the small kiss, she and Willas shared. She had felt his hands shaking as they were on her face. She saw his eyes on her when she entered the room.
And she felt that, this time, her husband would care for her as much as she wanted it to be. The reminiscence of her old dreams made her melancholy at the buffet. She was going to wake up. This was not possibly real. Her sister dancing with a small smile on her face, Bran clapping and laughing. Her, married, for the oddest reason possible, and still, somewhat, looking with fondness at all those smiles and laughs, she had not heard for so long she could have burst into tears on the spot. Willas' voice interrupted her state.
" My Lady ? Are you alright ?" The corner of her mouth raised a little.
" Yes, yes, of course. I... just lost the habit of living among happy people. That is all."
He frowned, took her hand and brought it to his lips gently. Some locks of his hair tickled her hand, making her shiver. When he released it, she rapidly put it in her lap, rubbing her hands together to erase the burn. He said nothting. After a few moments of silence, her husband declared something she would not forget so soon.
" I hope this habit will be one of ours from now on."
"Ours". He had said it so lightly, she thought she had misheard what he said. "Ours". That was one thing Sansa, had not really thought about. A couple. That is what they were now, tied by a name, tied by one breath under one tree. She looked at his profile, turned to the crowd, biting down his too loud smile. He brought a cup of wine to his lips, always smiling. She turned her eyes to the maddening crowd, to the sound and the fury, the life and the livings in front of her. It was so dramatic. When you know traumas like she did, everything else seem like a dull repetition of old memories. Yet, she looked and observed, drinking her beverage slowly like it was made for the Gods and that she would never taste anything like it ever again.
A drunk lord, out of his mind, yelled "THE BEDDING !". All the other drinkers were prompt on there feet to oblige the demand. Sansa did not move. She knew what it was to have sex by now, and she had no will to hide herself from the prying eyes of the highborn ladies, already giggling like mad maids, helping her out of her dress on her way to their chambers. Stinging little words. The torches were blinding her, and she stumbled, having a fake laugh about it. Arya was behind, and stopped the feeding before they got to rip her out of her underdress. She had promise her sister to never let anyone see her scars, but her. And, now, she could not protect her. Failure was never a thing Stark acclimated to very well. Sansa smiled to Arya above her shoulder, the crown almost hurting her clenched hand, and open the door in a frightfully enlightened room, and closed it on the reddening, giggling, nostalgic faces of high bred ladies.
The small wooden door kept the sounds between its gates. When she walked pass a small corridor with its stoned path, the chimney was full of burning wood. To her left a bed was against the wall, facing a closed window, with its curtains wide open on the clouded sky. A small alcove was filled with cushions and books. A mohagany table was wide between the window, the alcove and the cheminey. Her parents room seemed so small to her now. On her right, were the rest of the furnitures, carved in with delicacy, above the knob, all of them embedded with a Stark sigil.
Next to the window, a mirror was set on a small table, with a brush and something resembling perfume. She put down the crown near it, before settling down near the fire, breathing in the flames. Willas was nowhere to be seen, maybe the drunken arrived to his skin and peeled him off accidentally. The thought merely made her shiver. Her robe was thin and the bear skinned on the floor was not of any help to heat her up. Suddenly, a vest was silently put on her shoulders, and Willas moved a chair to sit beside her, in front of the hypnotizing fire. She dare not make a sound.
Her eyes closed, her head against the chimney, she let out a "Thank you", she doubted she even said.
After a few moments, a movement was heard. Tissue against skin, someone being changed.
When Sansa heard the door at the opposite side of the room finally closing, she asked ironically
"How did you manage ?
-Managed what ?
-To escape the drunken vultures ?"
He laughed a bit, un-at-ease with her eyes on his body. She did not move her look from his eyes though.
"I did not escape. I ran."
Surprised was the least Sansa could be right now. He sat on the bed, his right thigh and leg hurting, just a bit.
"I can see your surprise as an accomplishment itself. You've never showed me that face before, I'm glad to see it.
Never thought I would have to run and hide in a closet before returning here, to see it, but that will do." Willas smiled frankly at her. She turned her head a little light headed, and before he could speak again, she took her turn.
"Never thought I would have to see my wedding gown almost torn apart by remarkably strong ladies, to see you smile like that, but that will do." They shared a laugh, and then the uneasy atmosphere settled down for good.
The Queen in the North broke it.
"I'll be honest with you. At this point, I hope you do not expect me to believe you've never slept with anyone. I also hope that you will not react badly when I say that it would be bold to expect you to believe that at my age, I have never be known by a man in my life. Particularly, when you know that I just arrived from Dorne. You know, morals and all that are not the same there. Moreover...
- I know. And I don't care. For now at least. If it happens that we actually sharesomething in the future then I'll be driven mad if I don't ask about those other men you've...known, but for now, it's alright. It's your past, not mine.
-...Good. If we're done talking, I'd like to go to bed. Then maybe I'll talk to you about the time I slept with a women."
His eyes were as blue as ever in his surprise, but even more when she walked toward him.
He was as scared by her as he was admirative of her. Which was a strange balance.
Sansa took his left hand and placed it carefully on her hip. She placed her right hand on his right cheek, and murmured something he could not really recall afterwards
" I want to be touched. It does not mean I see you more as a partner than a husband. I am just longing the touch of someone who is not here, and you are the only one allowed to fulfill that need. No matter what, I respect my vows. I'll be loyal to you, but don't ask me to be in love with you. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
He felt her skin beneath his fingers, tracing through the layer of clothe the patterns of her scars. So many of them, so many to heal and kiss, and... When he got hold of himself again, Willas had already bare her legs until her hips, the tissue pooling between her thighs. His breath shortened.
"Good for me." The robe vanished, and after a few seconds, both bare in front of another, to the only light of the fire, their lips were colliding, harshly, when their hands traced the older and the younger marks on their bodies. No one heard the beating of their hearts, the thundering of their breaths, neither the wounds being kissed away or the luxury and pleasure leaving their lungs until the night was dark and tired.
Hello there ! Not really satisfied with this chapter. I'll try to do better next time. Less talking more action.
By the way, there is no romance at all in here, when you want to have sex because you want to have sex, it is only a natural need, no romance necessary.
Nothing is settled yet ;). The story (and me) are at a point were it is more baby steps than a marathon. Thanks for the patience.
'Hiraeth' (Name of this Chapter) means the longing of a place, a home to wich you cannot return, a yearning of a place which no longer exists.
See ya !