authorsnote: a chapter a lot of people have been waiting for...
enjoy
songrecs: let her go - passenger
She was here.
And she couldn't quite believe it.
As they arrived at the Great Keep of White Harbour, of House Manderly, she knew she was shaking in her boots, hands trembling by her sides. Thankfully, as Willas was acting as Lord of House Tyrell here, and as Heir he would enter first, she by his side, Olenna, Margaery and Loras would follow.
She would enter first and see her family for the first time in two years, for the first time since they'd left home.
Nerves threatened to choke her throat; would they blame her for her Fathers death? Would she blame Robb for not trading her for Jaime Lannister? Would they be strangers to one another? Had she been lost from the North for too long?
She scolded herself for that; they were her family, Starks, the pack; they could never be strangers, never. They were her family.
She was returning home to them at last, that could only be a good thing.
And yet, she did feel a pang of sadness, as the doors opened, and her name was announced, 'Lady Sansa Tyrell of Houses Tyrell and Stark' – she was a Tyrell now, not a Stark, even as she felt happiness her maiden House name had been added (and she smiled at Willas next to her, knowing that was his doing), it was still second now, second to her married House.
Yes, she loved Willas, truly, and she blushed to think of the night before, the love they'd exchanged, the kisses, the joy, and yet she had been forced into being a Tyrell, with no other option to her (bar being a Lannister, and she'd rather be dead than that), and though in a way they had saved her, and the Tyrell's she owed everything, she so wished she could have remained a Stark.
It was like a war inside of her, Stark or Tyrell? Her family or her husband?
And yet, what had she said to Willas? 'Women don't have many choices', it was true; the war was only in her head, she had no choice in actually becoming a Stark again, a Tyrell forever now.
The confusion stirring in her was hard to understand, the swirling mess of emotions, and yet all of that seemed swept away, pulled away from her like a great gale, as the doors opened, they were announced, and she saw them.
The tears came immediately.
They were here.
How many times had she dreamed of this moment? How many times had she played the idea of it? Oh, how it would be sweet to see them again…
It was real.
Part of her had thought this day would never come, that she would never be reunited with her family again, that any hope of seeing them again was a useless one. Even after she had been betrothed to Willas, she had done so to escape the Lannister's; she'd had no idea if he would ever take her home, if he would be so good to her, and yet in that moment she couldn't have loved him more, to reunite her with her family.
And yet there were here, it was real, and as she looked across, at the formal procession (just as they were formal, lined up, in their best formal wear, Sansa in Tully blue, the Tyrell's in green, her family stood as always in grey), she near wailed, near let her relief, the years of pain and agony, of not knowing, of not being sure if she would ever see them again overwhelm her.
Robb and her Mother, stood, side by side, Robb with a Crown of Winter on his head, her Mother with tears in her eyes.
Her courtesies, so learned and hammered into her, threatened to temper her, to hold her back, and yet, as Robb took a step forward, as her Mother abandoned all pretence and ran towards her, her courtesies in that moment dissolved.
The wall of ice in her, so present for so long, crumbling, like it was nothing, and then she was running too, the relief in her heart threatening to crush her, and a joy rising up her throat threatening to choke her, all the hopes she'd suppressed, all of the reunions she hadn't dared imagine rushing to her, overwhelming, and yet she is happy to be overwhelmed in this instance.
And then, like no time had passed, she was in her brothers' arms, her Mothers wrapping around them both, and she wept.
Wept, as did her Mother, and even Robb let his tears trickle down his cheeks and into her hair.
Three Starks reunited.
And they wept for those who should be with them but weren't, as much as they did to be reunited.
It near threatened to consume her, the relief, the joy in being with them again, and for the first time since her Father had been executed she allowed herself to let out the breath she had been holding since Ser Illyn had taken her Fathers head, let it out, and fell into her families arms, where they caught her.
As she had always known they would.
She was home.
Formalities were forgotten for just a few minutes.
His sister was home.
He was a King, he should have stood stately and greeted such important guests, and yet at the sight of Sansa, his little sister, healthy and well (at least externally) he couldn't have stood stoic, not for all the gold in the Kingdoms, not for a second.
And now, as he holds her in his arms, he curses the Lannister's, and all the damn Southerners for taking her away from him, from here, where she belonged, his sister, Sansa Stark, as she should be, a Stark of Winterfell, by his side.
"I'm so sorry" He whispered into her red hair, redder than his but connecting them both, the most Tully of the Starks, connected, through their shared duty, of looking over their younger siblings, through their blue eyes, through their love for each other and family.
As they had been; Rob remembers when Sansa was born, remembers his Father introducing them, the little quiet bundle in his Mother's arms, Sansa ladylike even then, remembers the awe, the wide eyes as he looked down at her, as she'd opened them, Tully blue like his, remembers his Fathers words,
'This is your sister Sansa, you must always protect her, must always keep her safe'
'I will Father, always, I promise'
'Good, now what do we say?'
'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'
'Aye, and Winter is Coming'
He had failed in his promise.
"I'm so sorry" He repeats, for the broken vow, for failing to storm the Red Keep and liberate her, and yet he feels her shaking her head, and somehow, she is the first to compose herself, his sweet little sister manages to find herself before even his Mother can, and his heart breaks for why she is able to summon such courtesies, why she has had to learn to.
"There is no reason to apologise" She whispers, leaning into him, leaning their foreheads together as they did sometimes as children, when needing strength, like the week Bran and Rickon had caught a fever and they'd worried sick, or the time Arya had broken her arm and wept on Jon's shoulder; now. He drew strength from it, as he had then, and did now.
"I should have rescued you" He said, tears thick in his voice, he is just glad they are huddled together and the Hall is large, though he doesn't care who hears, he needs Sansa to hear this, his little sister, who he should have protected better, but he only wants her to hear it, not the strangers at the door.
"Life is not a song" His Mother wept at that, to see Sansa, the little Lady of Winterfell hardened so, he supposes he has too, a lot, but it is harder to see in Sansa, his little sister who had once believed in songs.
What had the South done to her?
She pulls back then, and Robb forces himself to as well, watches as Sansa and their Mother embrace, his Mother weeping, Sansa the strong one then, and he takes a second to look at her.
She looks good, strong, and he smiles at that, he hates that she's had to become that but is proud of her for doing so. She looks different, older of course, more beautiful, but there is something in her way too, something guarded, not untrusting toward them, but a general sense of evaluating everyone and everything he can see flicker in her gaze.
Sansa has started to play the game, the one he is so resisting playing, he can see it as she takes in the situation, evaluates it, in a way he'll never feel comfortable playing the politics. What they've done to her makes him want to weep.
"We should greet our guests" He says with a nod, for he knows formalities are important with strange guests, as much as he wishes to whisk Sansa away, to talk to her, to apologise a million more times, they have parts to play, he knows that, as much as he despises it.
And so, he then takes her arm, steering her to his side, where she belongs, as a Princess of the North, Sansa Stark, by his side.
And where he'll have her back to, if he has his way.
This is not good.
Willas is no fool, he is no fighter, never going to be a dueller or entering the tourney lists or even at the head of men charging into battle. They have Garlan to rally the men at the front, Loras to spread the Tyrell name at tourneys, to win prizes, he has his own talents.
His mind, ever sharp, more so since his injury, he'd always been clever but realised quite quickly after becoming a cripple he had to be more than clever, he had to be not just smart, but patient, wise, scheming, cleverer than any other player on the board. He knows the importance of observation and knows when to use it; like now.
And what he sees worries him.
He had fought his Grandmother to ensure Sansa got to see his family, had promised he'd take the burden of responsibility if it went wrong, had worried a touch that it might and yet had been reassured by Sansa's declaration of love, and yet now as he watches the family reunion (and feels happiness for Sansa but forces himself to be objective, as he must be, always, he can't let emotions rule his decisions or judgement, not unless he wishes to make silly mistakes and to make foolish choices), he realises his Grandmother had reason to be worried.
He may have to anticipate an 'I told you so'.
Of course, he'd known Sansa would be happy to see her family, and yet it is not her he is watching. He knew her reaction already, could guess it easily, no he doesn't observe or watch her.
It is her brother he does.
Her Mother weeps of course, sobs and clutches her Eldest Daughter close, kisses her forehead and pulls her into her arms, he can see from here their colouring is the same, Tully Mother and Daughter, of course a parent weeps for her lost child, and yet he remembers the Tully words;
Family, Duty, Honour.
Lady Catelyn he is not worried about, she probably wanted a good Southern match for her beautiful daughter anyway, and knows her duty, knows Sansa's place as Sansa Tyrell is now by her husband's side. She will likely visit once a year, and will demand he treat her right, will gossip with his Mother when she visits but he can handle all of that.
Robb Stark is a different story.
The King stands at the front of his men, wears a crown and yet simple clothes. He pulls his sister close, but ensures his words are muffled, and yet there is one moment he can't hide, as Lady Catelyn steps back to wipe her eyes, Willas watches as Sansa's big brother pulls her close, resting his forehead to hers in a tender sibling sense he has often seen between Margaery and Loras.
He is going to be a problem, especially as he turns to greet them, as a King should, mask firmly back in place (he is good at that, Willas acknowledges, his stoicism slipping back into place like it never left, the King in the North may be hard to read, an annoyance he'll have to adapt to), and yet turns Sansa to stand with him, not opposite as courtesy dictates.
He is quite clearly staking his sister by his side, on the side of the Starks, all dressed in grey, Direwolf sigil strong and firm. He is putting Sansa with the Stark's, not the Tyrell's, and he notes Sansa wears blue, slipping back into her family colours, Tyrell colours forgotten.
Robb Stark is keeping Sansa as a Stark, not a Tyrell.
And that is going to be a problem.
Still, as the three walk towards them, Willas forces a smile, he does not flinch here, will never betray his true emotions, even as he knows this isn't a simple family reunion. He feels just a slither of fear as he meets Robb Starks gaze, not for what the man can to do to him, no, no.
But that this is a man who could take Sansa Stark away from him, his wife, his love, and clearly intends to.
"Your Grace" He says with a dip of his head, he knows how to play the game perhaps better than anyone in this room, and if he has to do so to ensure Sansa returns to Highgarden with him, then so be it, he will do so.
He won't lose her, he had ensured he wouldn't to the Lannister's or the Crown, he will ensure so even with the North too.
three perspectives each with different thoughts, feelings and motives, oof this gunna be messy
we will get more of sansa's internal monologue next chapter, I just really wanted the three perspectives!
we will be seeing more of willas's ruthless side as well... be warned, bby boy can be hella ruthless in pursuit of what he wants for family, and now that includes sansa
do review!
speak soon