A Holiday by Decree
~~ Day 9 ~~
The servant had immediately changed direction and loped away to find the requested people. Skirts and aprons billowing, Jesa and Hirat hurried down the steps and across the flagstone lanai sooner than Tyrion could have predicted, making him wonder if his shouts had already drawn them. The male servant who had heard Tyrion's call brought up the rear.
Tyrion had just barely gotten Sansa up the pool steps and up onto the lanai. Where they had paused at the servants' approach, Sansa had let him continue to steady her with an arm around her waist. From where one of her hands rested on his shoulder, Tyrion could tell that at least her shaking had subsided; yet, Sansa's face remained pale. It troubled him that she had yet to look up from the lanai.
"My Lord," Jesa said, and she and Hirat bowed and dipped their heads but only briefly at coming to Tyrion and Sansa's side.
"Hirat, please bring Lady Sansa's bathing cloth to wrap her," Jesa instructed, and Tyrion saw that the effective housekeeper would waste no time in caring for Sansa and would be more likely to ask questions later. At Hirat's quiet "My Lord," Tyrion released his hold on Sansa's waist, though hesitantly. Frankly still scared, and with his head only just beginning to whir with all the negative possibilities that may have caused Sansa's reaction, he found himself tongue-tied. Instead, he watched weakly as Sansa's maid tended her; it alarmed him how small and despondent the Queen in the North could look.
A few long moments passed, and Jesa momentarily moved in front of Tyrion toward Sansa in order to speak to her. The housekeeper started softly, "My Lady, the royal doctor -"
"The doctor isn't needed - I'll be fine," Sansa said suddenly, her rough, firm voice surprising those crowded around her. She continued with her eyes fixed on the flagstone. "I've just had a… fright. It was my own fault -"
"Sansa-" Tyrion tried to interject, finding words again at the perturbing thought that she would try to blame herself. This is my fault, this is surely my fault, he thought, knowing he deserved to be punished for what he now saw as taking liberties. He looked at his hands as if they were hot pokers. Growing more bereft by the moment, he suddenly choked back tears and thought, Tyrion Lannister, you ruin everything and everyone you love by your lack of control.
Sansa's voice jarred him back to reality. Queen that she was, Sansa was regaining herself. Her voice was steadily clearer in spite of her still shaken appearance. "You'll have to excuse me, Tyrion. I simply…need a rest in my room. Hirat, please take me back," Sansa stated, with her eyes still pointed to the ground.
"Of course," Tyrion breathed more to himself than Sansa, who turned away.
Though it did not seem to matter, Tyrion was still fighting tears - even after Sansa refused to look at him, and she and her maid had left.