This chapter has a lot of songfic elements, if this would be actually part of a TV series it would be the musical episode. This chapter is also a love letter to a certain kind of music I greatly enjoy.
Saengerkrieg
The sun had barely risen when Sansa woke up, her heart racing with excitement. She quickly dressed in her favourite gown, a deep blue one that matched her eyes. She made sure her hair was perfectly braided and adorned with a silver hairnet.
The morning of the Tourney of the singers, bards, and minstrels was a flurry of activity for Queen Sansa. She had planned the whole day meticulously and wanted everything to be perfect for the event. After a small and quick morning meal, she made a quick affair of the council meeting, eager to oversee the final arrangements for the event.
As soon as the meeting ended, Sansa rushed to the great hall to oversee the arrangement of tables and benches. She gave orders to the servants and made sure every detail was perfect. She couldn't wait for the minstrels to perform and the bards to sing their ballads.
The great hall was bustling with activity as tables and benches were arranged to accommodate the guests. Sansa supervised the process, making sure everything was in order, from the placement of the flowers to the alignment of the chairs.
The day had been long and busy for Sansa as she made sure everything was planned meticulously for the Tourney of singers, bards, and minstrels. After a light midday meal, the tournament of singers began.
The performances were exquisite, with each singer bringing their own unique style and charm to the stage. The audience was enraptured by the beautiful melodies and poetic lyrics. Sansa sat at the head table, listening with a smile on her face and a warmth in her heart.
As the day drew to a close, the Tourney had come down to the final four performers. The audience was buzzing with excitement as the final four singers took their places on the dais. The first performer, "The Last Unicorn," stood tall and confident, strumming his bouzouki with ease. His voice was strong and clear as he began to sing an engaging song about a pair of bards visiting a grim castle.
Once upon a time, a king
With lands and wealth untold
Sat upon his throne
Grim and cold
What he thinks is terror
What he sees is rage
What he says is scourge
What he writes is blood on the page
To this castle came one day
A pair of noble minstrels bold
One with raven locks
The other's hair was grey and old
The grey one said to the young:
"Be ready, my son
Play the finest melodies
Sing with your fullest voice, everyone
The two singers then did play
In the great hall of the land
On the throne sat the king and queen
The king with proud demand
The queen so sweet and fair
Like sunshine in the sky
They sang of love and spring
Of all things that make the heart fly
"You've bewitched my people,
Do you now want my wife?"
The king cried out with fury,
Rage in his eyes like a knife
The king's sword flashed bright
The young minstrel fell to the ground
Instead of golden tunes and light
Now blood poured out all around
The young man breathed his last
In the old man's arms he died
The old one then let out a howl so vast
That the castle shook and cried
"You accursed murderer,
The minstrel's curse is yours to bear!
All your glory now is smeared with blood,
All your deeds forgotten in despair!"
No songs or books shall tell
The king's name, his deeds erased
Forgotten and forever fell
Under the minstrel's curse, disgraced
It rains, it rains blood!
The minstrel's curse, a terrible flood!
It rains, it rains blood!
The minstrel's curse, a terrible flood!
Next up was "Alea the Humble," a small and unassuming figure with a shock of bright crimson dyed hair. His fingers flew over his lute strings as he sang a lively tune about a the live and adventures of a minstrel.
We're like the wind,
Can't be caged or tamed,
Wild and free,
Ooh-ooh,
No prison can hold us,
So let's raise a glass,
We were born to be wandering minstrels.
The rope that would bind us,
Has not yet been woven,
The guard who would kill us,
Has not yet awoken,
The woman who'd keep us,
Has yet to be born,
That's the vow of all wandering minstrels.
The dagger that strikes us,
Has not yet been forged,
The chains on our necks,
Have not yet been gorged,
The wine that we shun,
Has not yet been poured,
That's the vow of all wandering minstrels.
Whoever joins us,
Shares in our way of life,
Whoever joins us,
Will never face strife,
Whoever joins us,
Stands up for our rights,
Whoever joins us,
Is never alone.
A square's no place for us,
That's the vow of all wandering minstrels.
We're like the wind,
Can't be caged or tamed,
Wild and free,
This is our aim,
No prison can hold us,
So let's raise a glass,
No woman can ensnare us,
The world's too small,
Just like the wind,
We can't be caged or tamed,
We were born,
To be wandering minstrels.
Wild and free...
Eric Fish, the grizzled veteran of the group, took to the stage next. He looked weathered and worn, but his voice was still rich and melodic as he sang a mournful lament about lost love and missed opportunities while playing a harp.
You're rich, you're beautiful
Saw you yesterday, that was wonderful
And now I yearn for your sweet lips
Eyes soft as moonlight beams
I'd scatter rose petals for you, it seems
Write you verses from my heart's deepest tips
But you're forever out of reach, so far away
A pious wish is all I'll ever say
That pierced my heart, and every hour I curse the day
I'm poor, you're rich and grand
My hands are rough, they cannot stand
For the world is nothing like a garden fair
Where colorful flowers bloom
Roses, violets, jasmine too
So I must wait till the end of time, I swear
Tears burn hot, they sting my eyes
Oh, what has happened to me, I surmise
Since I saw you, every hour's a curse, no surprise.
Last but not least was "Shamemouth," the bard from the Vale. He stood tall and regal, dressed in a flowing robe of blue and gold. His fingers danced over the strings of his lute as he sang a hauntingly beautiful song about.
If I had a brush to paint your face
The gleam of your eyes, your lovely lips
I'd draw the lashes, the brows, your smile
As I saw it in that moment's glimpse
If I had a flute to play the melody
That speaks of your beauty and grace
I'd play the dance of the celestial realm
As in my thoughts that torment and chase
But neither pictures nor sounds nor words
Can describe what happened on that night
When I saw you, and the light you brought
The sun and stars spoke of your might
Every breeze carries your name far and wide
Every step, every breath;
Tells me of you and your enchanting pride
If I had a quill to write the words
That surround you like silver light
I'd write of love, closeness and hope
And of my longing through the night
But neither pictures nor sounds nor words
Can describe what happened on that night
When I saw you, and the light you brought
And set my heart and soul alight.
The sun and stars spoke of your might
Every breeze carries your name far and wide
Every step, every breath
Tells me of you and your enchanting pride
As the final notes of Shamemouth's song faded away, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause once again. It was clear that the competition was incredibly close, and no one could say for sure who would come out on top.
Sansa watched anxiously as the crowd cast their votes, cheering loudly for their favourite performers. It was a nail-biting finish, with Alea the Humble and Shamemouth neck-and-neck until the very end. But in the end, it was Shamemouth who emerged victorious, the crowd roaring their approval.
As Shamemouth is announced the winner, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Sansa stands up from her seat and claps her hands with joy, a huge smile on her face. She feels a sense of satisfaction knowing that she has successfully hosted a tourney that has been enjoyed by all.
Shamemouth looks overwhelmed by the response, his eyes shining with tears of joy. He bows graciously to the audience and thanks them for their support. He then approaches Sansa and kneels before her, presenting her with a small bouquet of wildflowers he has picked from the gardens earlier in the day.
"Your Grace," he says, "I am truly honoured to have been a part of this wonderful event. It has been an unforgettable experience, and I owe it all to you and your gracious hospitality."
Sansa smiles warmly at him and places her hand on his shoulder. "You deserve all the credit, Shamemouth," she says. "Your performance was truly remarkable, and it was obvious that the crowd loved you. Congratulations on your well-deserved victory."
Sansa couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and pride at the success of the tourney. It had been a day filled with beauty, music, and celebration, and she was glad to have been a part of it. As the feast began and the performers mingled with the guests, she knew that this was a day that would be remembered for a long time to come.
Sigorn Thenn, the wildling leader, stood up abruptly, his chair falling back with a loud thud. All eyes in the hall turned towards him as he slammed his fist on the table, making the plates and goblets clatter. The sudden noise caused Sansa to jump in her seat, her heart racing with surprise.
"Your Grace, Queen Sansa Stark, we are forever in your debt. Your kindness and generosity towards my people will never be forgotten. You have given us a home south of the Wall, treated us as equals, and for that, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You have shown us what true leadership is all about."
The crowd murmured in agreement, nodding their heads in approval. Sigorn continued, his voice growing stronger with every word
"This is a gift from our tribe, Queen Sansa," he said, his voice reverent. "It is a piece of dragonglass, said to be as old as the Wall itself. We hope that it will bring you luck and protection in the years to come."
Sansa took the box from Sigorn Thenn's outstretched hand, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings on its surface. She was touched by the wildling's gift, and by his words of gratitude and respect. As the music continued to play, she leaned over to Lord Massey and whispered, "I never thought I would see the day when wildlings would be playing in the halls of Winterfell. But I am glad they are here, and I am glad to have their friendship."
"But that's not all, Your Grace. We have come here today to present you with a gift, a token of our gratitude for all that you have done for us. The finest musicians of my tribe, talented bards coming from the place where the rivers run dry, ready to perform for you at your request."
The guests in the hall broke out in applause, cheering and shouting their approval. Sigorn motioned to the back of the hall, and the musicians stepped forward. They were a motley crew of men and women, dressed in traditional wildling garb, with furs and leather adornments.
"Let us show you what we can do," Sigorn said with a smile, and the musicians began to play.
All eyes were on the young, beautiful woman with pitch-black hair and piercing blue eyes who stepped forward to sing.
At first, there was a moment of uncertainty as the woman's companion, a grizzled-looking man, produced a crude-looking lute-like instrument and began to tune it. Then, with a nod from the woman, he began to play a soft, haunting melody.
As the music swelled, the young woman's voice rose above it, clear and pure. Though the words were in the tongue of the old folk and few in the hall could understand them, the emotion in her voice spoke to everyone.
She sang of love and loss, of the joys and sorrows of life, and of the deep yearning that lies at the heart of all human experience. Her voice was rich and full of feeling, and the audience was rapt, held spellbound by the beauty of her song.
Tha sinn uile air cuan
Stiùireadh cuairt troimh ar beatha
A' seòladh geòla dhorch
Air chall an grèim na mara
Tha a' ghaoth air ar cùl
Tha a' gheòl a' cumail roimhe
'S cha dèan uair no an cuan
Toinisg dhuinn no rian
A' mhuir tha i ciùin
Tha i fiadhaich tha i farsainn
Tha i àlainn tha i dìomhair
Tha i gamhlasach is domhainn
Ò ach sin, tha sinn dall
'S chan eil againn ach beatha
Tog an seòl, tog an ràmh
Gus an fhaigh sinn astar ann
Ach tha mi 'n dùil, tha mi 'n dùil
Nuair a bhios a' ghrian dol fodha
Chì iad mi a' stiùireadh 'n iar
Null a dh'Uibhist air a' chearcall
Cearcall a' chuain
Gu bràth bidh i a' tionndadh
Leam gu machair geal an iar
Far an do thoisich an là
As the ballad drew to a close, there was a moment of silence, as if the whole hall was waiting to see what would happen next. Then, slowly, the crowd began to applaud, their cheers and shouts echoing through the hall.
Queen Sansa herself was visibly moved, her eyes shining with tears. She rose from her seat and stepped forward to thank the Thenns, her voice filled with emotion.
"Thank you," she said, her words barely more than a whisper. "That was truly beautiful. I am honoured to receive such a gift from the free folk, and I will treasure it always."
As the young woman with the piercing blue eyes stepped off the stage, a man almost as large as Gregor Clegane lumbered onto the stage. Strapped to his front was the largest drum Sansa had ever seen, easily twice the size of a normal drum. The crowd fell silent as the man began to beat the drum in a slow, steady rhythm.
Then, from behind the man, a group of others emerged, their voices raised in song. It was a song in the old tongue, a language that few in the hall understood. But the rhythm of the drum drove the song forward, and soon the crowd was swept up in its energy.
The man with the drum led the group, his voice deep and rich, full of power and emotion. The others sang in harmony, their voices blending together in a haunting melody that echoed through the hall.
Sansa felt herself drawn in by the music, her heart beating in time with the drum. She didn't understand the words, but the emotion in the song was clear, and she felt it deep in her bones.
As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, and Sansa stood up from her seat, clapping along with the rest.
As the drums reached a frenzied pace and the singers' voices grew louder and more impassioned, the energy in the great hall became palpable. Sansa couldn't help but tap her foot along with the rhythm, feeling the music pulse through her body.
As the performance reached its climax, Lord Massey stepped forward and approached her, bowing low. "My lady, may I have the honour of this dance?" he asked, offering his hand.
Sansa smiled warmly, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. "Of course, my lord," she replied, placing her hand in his.
As they made their way to the centre of the hall, the drumming continued to pound in her ears. Sansa had always enjoyed dancing, but she had never danced to such wild and exotic music before. The beat was primal and exhilarating, and she found herself losing herself in the moment, twirling and spinning with Lord Massey as the music reached a crescendo.
As the song ended, they both came to a halt, panting slightly from the exertion. Lord Massey's eyes were bright with excitement, and Sansa couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "That was quite a dance," he said, grinning broadly.
"It was," Sansa agreed, feeling a sense of elation she hadn't experienced in quite some time. "Thank you for asking me."
Lord Massey bowed again, taking her hand and pressing it gently to his lips. "The pleasure was all mine, my lady," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Perhaps we can have another dance?"
Sansa felt a thrill run through her at the suggestion, and she nodded eagerly. "I would like that very much," she replied.
The music continued to flow and Sansa felt alive with each beat of the drum. Lord Massey spun her around and she laughed, enjoying the lively music and the energy in the room. As the song came to a close, another began, and Gwayne asked Sansa for another dance.
The music continued, and Sansa and Gwayne danced tirelessly. They spun around the hall, lost in the rhythm of the drum, and Sansa felt as though she were floating on air. The energy in the room was electric, and everyone was swept up in the feverish excitement of the music. The drumming seemed to get louder and faster with each passing moment, driving the dancers to move faster and faster.
As they danced, Sansa and Gwayne's bodies pressed closer and closer together, their breaths mingling in the air. Sansa felt herself getting lost in the moment, her heart beating faster with each beat of the drum. She laughed as Gwayne twirled her around, her skirts swirling around her ankles.
"You're a wonderful dancer, my lady," Gwayne said, his eyes sparkling with joy.
"And you're an excellent partner, my lord," Sansa replied, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers.
They danced until their feet hurt, and then they danced some more. They moved to a slow song, and Sansa felt herself being pulled closer to Gwayne's chest.
As the dance drew to a close and their faces drew closer, Sansa Stark's heart raced with excitement and anticipation. She felt a fierce desire to kiss the young lord, to taste his lips and to explore the deepening connection that had been growing between them.
But as she leaned in, her mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of the burden of her throne and crown, of the constant power struggles and political intrigues that defined her role as queen in the north. She knew that any misstep or distraction could be used against her by her enemies, and that she had to be vigilant at all times.
With a heavy heart, Sansa pulled away from Gwayne, her expression clouded with a mixture of desire and regret. She knew that duty must come first, even if it meant sacrificing her own personal desires for the good of her kingdom.
"Forgive me," she said softly, her voice filled with regret. "I cannot allow myself to be distracted by my feelings, no matter how strong they may be."
Gwayne looked at her with a mix of understanding and disappointment, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored her own. He knew that as queen, Sansa had certain responsibilities to uphold, but he could not help feeling a deep sense of regret that they could not explore their budding romance further.
I understand," he said. "Your grace, I hope that someday, we may have the chance to pick up where we left off."
Sansa smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes. "I hope so too," she replied, her heart heavy with unspoken emotion.
Feeling a rush of emotions, Sansa gave his hands a squeeze, the tightest she could give, pouring all of her emotions into the simple gesture. "Thank you, Gwayne," she said softly. "That was the most wonderful dance I've ever had."
As Gwayne walked away, Sansa watched him go, her heart full of longing and hope for the future. She knew that they had a long road ahead of them, full of challenges and obstacles, but she felt confident that they could face them together, united in their love and devotion to each other and their people.
With a deep sigh, Sansa turned to face her duties once more, ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead with renewed vigor and determination. She knew that her heart would always belong to Gwayne, but for now, she had a kingdom to rule, and she was determined to do it with all the strength and grace at her disposal.
The great hall began to clear out as the night wore on, the festivities finally winding down in the late hour of the wolf. The musicians packed up their instruments, and the remaining guests made their way to their chambers or back to their own homes.
Sansa retired to her own chamber, the events of the evening still swirling through her mind. The excitement of the tournament, the intensity of the music, and the heat of her desire for Gwayne Massey all coalesced into a dizzying whirlwind.
As she changed into her nightgown, she thought back to their dance, their bodies moving in time to the pounding rhythm of the drum. She remembered the way he had looked at her, the intensity in his eyes, and the heat she had felt rising within her.
Sansa lay down on her bed, still feeling the ache of desire in her body. When she closed her eyes, she tried to push the thoughts of Gwayne from her mind, but they lingered there, taunting her.
Furthermore, she knew that she could never act on her feelings for Gwayne, that it would be scandalous and could cause trouble for both of them. But still, the desire remained, a burning ache in her heart.
As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if they had kissed.
As in the previous chapter those who realized what I did with the songs in this chapter fell free to comment, the first one who gets it right will receive a little surprise.
Also, in the next chapters the slow burn romance will actually progress.