Part III: maimed

When Podrick woke two days later, he found House Bayne's cavalry preparing to leave Winterfell. He nearly jogged down the stairs to reach the yard and found Lord Bayne commanding his troops.

"My Lord?" he shouted questioningly.

"Ser Payne," smiled Alton. "Here to say goodbye?"

"I was not aware that you were leaving."

"I debated for the last two days," he replied, stroking his chin. "I've come to the decision that I've overstayed my time here."

"But, the Queen?" questioned the knight. "What about the courtship?"

Alton sighed, running a hand through his horse's mane. "I know that your heart is in the right place, ser, but I don't think the Queen would be very happy marrying me."

"She's the Queen," he insisted.

"It does not matter. Queen or not, I may have come to love her with time. But I doubt the feeling would ever be reciprocated."

"You are a good man," he retorted stubbornly. "I would not vouch for you otherwise, my Lord."

The lord looked at him, his eyes surveying the knight's determined face. "There is someone else you could vouch for, someone she clearly loves."

Podrick raised a surprised brow, his mouth opening to speak, and then frowned in wonder, looking at Alton questionably. "And who is that?"

Alton merely smiled, wanting desperately to roll his eyes at his obliviousness. Ser Payne may have been a good, brave, and honourable knight, but he was blinded by his love for the queen he swore to protect. "I've heard whispers around the castle."

"Whispers?"

He nodded, releasing his grip on his horse's soft mane. "About the Queen's nightly affairs."

Podrick huffed, his eyes evading Alton's. "If her maidenhead worries you, do I need to remind you of her Grace's unfortunate marriage to the Bolton?"

"I do not worry about those matters," he laughed. "I'm no saint, you've seen me enter many whorehouses with Lord Bronn. I would never subject anyone to scrutiny for behaviours I've exhibited, least of all a queen."

"If you do not wish to wed the queen," interjected the knight, "then who is the man you think would?"

Alton carefully studied him, noting the sudden vulnerability in the knight's gaze, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gently digging his thumb into Podrick's jerkin. "I am looking at him, Ser Payne."

His eyes widened, and he blushed a deep shade of red, his mouth hanging open. "M-me?"

"Yes, you," reaffirmed the lord, smiling. "You love her. You would make her happy, and she would make you happy as well."

"I'm just her knight," he countered, nonetheless failing to refute his claims.

"You say that I am a good man, but let me vouch for you now," he replied. "I may not know you as much as I know Lord Bronn, but the man only speaks well of you. In the years I've known you, I have never seen you raise your voice or spend a penny on a whore."

"I've been with a lot of women," he spoke again, his voice feeble.

"There is a certain wretchedness in paying for carnal pleasures, and I know for a fact that you've never done that," he spoke again, ignoring him. "You're the least wretched of them all. I've seen you around them, you never seek it out, they always come to you. You have a kind face, and it beckons them. These women wanted to be with you, and I think that even the Queen could not resist."

Alton thought that Podrick's face could not get any redder, but he watched as his skin turned crimson. The knight looked down at his feet shamefully. "She does not love me."

He sighed, aggravated by the knight's meekness when it came to the Stark sovereign. "You're good, but you've been cursed with blindness."

Podrick wanted to argue, but Alton turned away before he could, leaving the knight standing there in his cluelessness. The lord did not get far, for he only commanded some of his men, coming back a few moments later.

"I've already spoken to her about my decision," he said, watching as the knight's face conveyed something akin to pity. "Don't feel sorry for me, Podrick. I would have felt much more pity for myself had I wed the Queen, and watched you openly pine after each other for the rest of my life."

"Are you certain you don't want to go through with this?" asked Podrick, hopeful.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life," he smiled back at him.

Podrick watched him as he left Winterfell, thinking to himself that he had chosen well, for the man was honourable. He would have treated Sansa the way she deserved to be treated. A part of him, the part that selfishly longed for Sansa, was happy. He has succeeded in his task; he doubted that he could be able to find someone better suited for his Queen.

Except you, whispered Alton's voice in his head.

"I'm nothing," he whispered to himself, missing the way a passer-by incredulously stared at the knight speaking ill of himself.

He had to find her.

"My Lady?" he whispered, peeking into her open chambers.

She was seated on her bed, staring aimlessly at the wall with a contemplative look on her face.

"Sansa," he said again, his voice just as low. He was afraid of startling her.

She tore her gaze away from the wall and looked at the intruder, smiling softly when she saw that it was her knight. "Podrick. Come in please."

He tentatively walked in, and she patted the bed next to her. He slowly sat down at arm's length, and she sat nearer, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"My Lady?" he asked, his body thrumming at the contact. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she hummed, placing a hand on his chest.

"Lord Bayne-"

"It's a shame, really," she sighed, interrupting him. "You did well. Even Arya had to admit that Lord Bayne was a good choice."

She thought for a moment, before she broke into laughter, the motion of her body reverberating against his frame, and Podrick looked at her incredulously. He must think I've gone mad, she mused.

"Bayne, Payne," she said. "Have you noticed that your families have oddly similar names? No wonder both of you are so…good."

You're good, but you've also been cursed with blindness.

"Sansa, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are," she retorted looking up at him. "You're so good that it infuriates me sometimes."

"My Lady," he objected. "If I've offended you in any way, then I apologize."

"You haven't offended me Podrick," she sighed, wrapping her arms around him, and he gently brought a hand to rub her back. Lord Bayne's departure must have really saddened her.

"I'm sorry he left, he truly was a good choice," he muttered.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" she replied, sighing against his chest. "A good choice, perhaps not the right choice for me. There's no choice to be made, really. I think I've known from the start."

Podrick sucked in a deep breath and looked away. "There was someone else, My Lady?"

She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. He wasn't sure if he imagined it, but there was a hint of apprehension in her eyes as they met his. It was fleeting, and Podrick wondered what scared his Queen so much.

Sansa straightened up, and leaned over him, softly kissing him. He closed his eyes and eagerly returned the embrace, his heart thrumming wildly. It had been a while since they had last indulged in each other. Podrick had used an absurd amount of self-restraint every time he was around her. He feared that Lord Bayne would hear about their improper relations -or worse, be privy to their indecence.

He had missed this, he realised. He had missed her touch, the softness of her lips against his dry ones -he was a southern man after all, and the cold did not help.

"Sansa," he muttered, reality slowly catching up with him, and he detached his mouth from hers. He observed her for a moment, and his brows furrowed in confusion. She saw the hurt in his eyes, and swallowed audibly, her heart clenching. "I-you can't do this, not while your heart aches for someone else."

She looked at him for a moment. "I heard you."

"What do you mean?" he wondered, bewildered by her odd behaviour.

"That first night we laid together. I heard you. I was not yet asleep."

Podrick froze, his eyes widening at the realization of what she was speaking of. I love you, Sansa, he recalled, the words carved into his mind, screaming at him to be released every time he looked at her. It was the only time it had slipped out of his lips, the first and only time he had bared his feelings to the world. It was apparently also the one time his openness had betrayed him and revealed him to his Queen, who looked at him with something akin to pity.

So he presumed.

"You knew?" he whispered, leaning away from her on the bed.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, and Podrick felt the guilt sweeping over him like a tidal wave. The wave was crashing down, and he swallowed audibly, his throat closing. He felt nauseous, the bile climbing the walls of his throat and threatening to burst out of him. He felt the urge to flee and disappear -and never look back at Winterfell. Perhaps it would be easier for him than facing Sansa while he bore his love for her on his sleeve, a love so intense he was willing to let her use his body at the detriment of his fragile heart, while she looked at him with nothing more than curiosity.

"My Lady, I-" he started, feeling confused, his mind hazy and fuddled.

Then, everything cleared up, and he abruptly stood up.

His lady, the Queen he nearly venerated, had used him. She had taken advantage of his willingness to please her and used it against him. She even demanded that he found her a betrothed to secure her line of succession for the sovereignty of the north. He felt disgusted by the knowledge, knowing that he would do anything for her lest his deepest desires were locked safely inside of him, away from her prying eyes.

"You knew?"

Her eyes widened, taken aback by the harsh tone he used to speak to her. He did not raise his voice, Podrick was not that kind of man. But she had never heard him speak to her so coldly. His voice was venomous, and she felt like it may poison her if he kept looking at her with such ire in his eyes.

"I did," she spoke, her trembling hand reaching out to him. "Podrick, I-"

"Please, save it, your Grace," he retorted, and the anger in his eyes disappeared, leaving place for deep anguish. "I-I don't think I can bear to hear it."

Before she could say anything, he turned around, and swiftly left her chambers, leaving her dejected form slumped on her bed.

There will be no consequences, mocked her the voice in her head, and she cursed herself for being such a coward.