A Holiday by Decree

~~ Day 9 ~~

In the darkness of the grand bedroom, time had stopped for several hours for Sansa.

When the sun fell behind the horizon line, the oceanic night had cast her surroundings in hues of blue and grey. The only things that seemed to have any life or motion to them were the curtains lifting on the breeze and the push-pull of the unseen waves out beyond her open veranda in the night. The rumble of thunder eventually joined them, the sign of a coming storm, though it was of little consequence to Sansa just then.

Sansa herself felt barely alive. After all her tears fell, a veritable torrent of which she did not know she was capable (even compared with the crying she had done at the start of her trip) she felt as though her body itself had hardened, statue-like beneath the covers. Even her breath felt like no more than a thin line upon her lips. In her motionlessness, she did nothing to stop herself from falling in and out of the welcome unconsciousness of sleep.

Sansa was in fact awake though when the knock came at the door. She had no idea what time it was and was certain she must have missed dinner. However, being that she blessedly finally felt nothing - or as close to nothing as she hoped to get - after hours of wretchedness, she was not hungry and realized it would be easy enough to feign sleep. The servants would let themselves in to close the veranda and check the brazier. She expected it with the way that the coming thunder seemed to roll around with increasing frequency, a departure from the unfeeling, endless crash of the tide below…

And so she closed her raw eyelids, which were still swollen from her angry tears, and waited for the knocking to end and for the door to open.

But the knocking continued.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

And continued.

Sansa's brow furrowed. Who in the world -? She thought with irritation.

Did they not realize that she could actually be asleep? She seriously doubted this was Jesa or Hirat, but ever the dignified queen she was, Sansa cleared her throat and kept her tone polite. "Come in," she called.

The knocking stopped, though Sansa did not move from her place. Where she laid on her back on the pillows, she hazarded a glance toward the door. They clearly carried a lamp; she glimpsed the movement of faint light and shadow under the double doors.

The door handle lowered, and Sansa closed her eyes quickly, again pretending to sleep. Being awake might mean conversation, and she had no energy -

"Sansa – Sansa," a low, familiar male voice said into the dark. It rumbled her name slightly louder the second time, much like the thunder approaching outside her window.

In a flash like lightning, Sansa's eyes snapped open, and she sat up.

Cast in shadow by the glowing lantern that preceded him, she now saw: Tyrion Lannister was in her room.