Author's Notes: Hello, as before I own nothing and here is the action I promised.
Sansa walked through the halls of the Red Keep, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid being noticed. The feast had been terrible; the king had bestowed on Lord Tywin the title of House Breaker and Roose Bolton the title Wolf Slayer. He had received a second messesage from the Twins giving a full account of the Red Wedding and had read it aloud at the feast. Some people had clearly been uncomfortable but all had applauded at the king's prompts.
All through the feast Sansa had wanted to either cry or be sick; it seemed it would never end, especially when they had all drunk a toast to Walder Frey and Roose Bolten. But one good thing had come of it all. She had her first target. Looking about the hall her eyes settled on Grand Maester Pycelle. While she was not sure how important he was, he was on the Small Council. More to the point; it was he who had coordinated the Freys and Lannisters as they planed the destruction of her family.
He had even smiled and nodded modestly when Joffery had praised his efforts in service to the Crown. If she were to be honest with herself there was another reason for choosing him. She had never done anything like this before and she needed to start with an easy target; Pycelle was perfect, he was old, feeble and, after tonight, very drunk; as was her husband and nearly everyone else in the Keep it seemed.
At last she reached Pycelle's quarters. She tried the door and found he had not locked it when he had returned. Slowly, as to avoid any squeaking, she pushed the door open. It was very dark inside, not even a candle burned; the only light came from the window. Just as silently as she had opened it she pushed the door shut and then stood there, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the darkness.
As she stood waiting in the darkness, listening to him snore, she found that her breath was coming faster and faster making it hard to catch her breath and her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised it did not wake Pycell. She took a deep breath and forced her breathing back to normal. Finally, her eyes had adjusted enough so that she could make out the bed and its occupant. She slowly began creeping toward it.
With each step her nervous excitement grew. She felt cold tingling in her hands even though she knew they were sweating. Her stomach felt queasy and empty at the same time and she was having trouble focusing her thoughts. She felt like she was standing on a rock over empty space getting ready to jump, anticipating the feelings of both falling and the feeling of weightlessness. She felt terrified and exhilarated in equal measures.
Finally she reached Pycell's bedside. Looking down on him the full impact of what she was going to do struck her again. This flew in the face of everything her parents had taught her. Enough, she told herself; that girl is dead, and so are they.
Doing her best to push aside her fears and stay calm she reached up and pulled out one of her hairpins. While the top had gild work decoration on it the rest was eight inches of solid bronze. She knew for a fact how sharp it was; Arrya had used similar ones against her on more than one occasion. She took the pin in both hands, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and thrust down.
Immediately she saw that she had made a mistake. With her eyes closed she had not seen were she was aiming and had hit only his should. Additionally, she had hesitated when she struck and so the blow had not been at full strength.
His eyes flew open and he gave a hoarse cry of pain. Panic seized her and she thrust down again and again and again. It seemed that it would never end; him thrashing about, she thrusting and both of them screaming as loud as they could. Finally she realized he had ceased to do both.
She stood over him for a time, unable to move or even think straight. At last she gathered herself and, seeing a candle, lit it with a twig from the embers in the fireplace. What she saw when she looked closely at Pycell made her drop the candle in horror, plunging the room back into darkness.
The Grand Maester was a bloody ruin. His face and hands were gouged in multiple places. His left cheek had a gash so deep teeth could be seen. The worst sight of all, however, was his right eye. The needle had gone right through it, bursting it like a grape trod underfoot.
Sansa fell to her hands and knees and vomited. When she had finished she curled up into a ball. She could scarcely believe what she had done, she had killed.
Yes, she had killed. She had killed a man who had helped murder her family. She thought about that, as if she had somehow forgotten that fact and was just now remembering it. Slowly her fear and horror faded to be replaced by something else. Euphoria; she had, at least in part, avenged her family's murders! She was no longer a little bird singing whatever song she was told to sing, she was a blooded wolf! Arrya had always called her silly, but which of them was the killer?
Sansa became aware of a new sound, laughter, she was laughing. The old Sansa would have been horrified, but the new Sansa was not. She looked at the body and now felt only delight at what she had done. After all the abuse, fear and humiliation that she had endured, she had struck back. Her only regret now was that it wasn't an actual Lannister lying before her.
She had never felt this way before, never felt so alive. Her thoughts whirled about in her head; she felt drunk, she felt like she was dancing on air, like she could run, or sing, or dance forever. She felt sensations that she had never felt before and could not describe. For a moment she felt like waking her husband and demanding he take her.
Is this what men feel like when they fight? She said to herself. No wonder they love going to war so much!
The distant shout of a sentry made her realize just how late it was. It also helped her to bring herself somewhat under control. She needed to be back in her rooms before the servants started moving about. She had just begun and could not allow herself to be stopped now.
As she left the room she took one last look at the bed and smiled a smile that would have frightened the Queen if she had seen it. Left and headed back to her rooms. As she walked she began to sing, softly so that only she could hear.
"And who are you? The proud lord said…"
Author's Notes: Well what did you think? I hope you found it worth the wait. Do you think I strayed too far from her character? Please let me know in the reviews. Bye for now, please pray for Shawn and all who need it and may Jesus bless you all.