A/N: Well I'm back and I hope everyone had a great time last chapter with Stafford's POV. We will transition to Sansa's POV now, and we will continue with the arc of preparation before the Hand's tournament. Stafford will be fighting in this chapter, but it will be told through Stafford's POV. I was doing midterm exams, so I was unable to upload for the past week. Everything will be on schedule with posts on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday this week, because my editor have enough time, because we are both on break now. This will be the first chapter Sansa will begin to feel an attraction towards Stafford, but it won't be instantaneous "I like him instead of Joffrey" level, yet. As you all know this will happen when her father is beheaded by Joffrey, but her crush on Stafford will be on the level of what she had with Loras Tyrell, except Stafford isn't going after his own uncle instead of Sansa or Arya. I'm sorry to upset the people who wanted a Renly/Stafford pairing, but that's just wrong, because they are both related, and it would go against Stafford AND Renly's character. I had that suggested in a message to me, so yeah, we're going to put this to bed. Please continue the support and thank you for all of the support of the story so far.
R.E.W. 4: Thank you for the kind words, and I hope that the rest of the story will be great to you. Thank you for the review.
Vulcran: Sure, I might implement the suggestion. You'll just have to see what happens during the tournament, as I won't give spoilers in my review responses. Also, I recieved the message you sent me, and will answer it soon, I haven't checked fanfiction since March 5, so be aware I'm not ignoring you. Thank you for the review and your support. Good luck on your fanfictions and I hope everyone, who is reading this can go check out some of your stories.
Sansa
Sansa had been in King's Landing for a barely a month, and she never thought she would miss Winterfell at all. She liked King's Landing, but it was much different than she had imagined it to be. There was little to do than wander the Red Keep, and go about one's daily routine. There were no more knights, the old King's glory days were well past, and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was sit around at the tower of the hand, waiting for the prince that hardly came for her. And when he was with her, his mood would be as stable as a tower built with sand. His happiness was followed by torrents of rage, and his brutal words snapped into gentle caresses and whispered declarations of his love. She didn't really think much of it, though, and she still adored him. He was still her prince in every sense of the word. No one could convince her out of it.
But, with each passing moment she spent with him, she started a doubting her resolve about the prince. Especially when compared to his own brother, Stafford, brash as a young stag who thought more with his heart than his head. However, Stafford was easygoing, and he only had two reactions to whatever happened to him, a joy that radiated from him like a sun's rays or a black rage that poured from him like molten stone. There was no middle ground to his mood, and it didn't do him any favors for a public reputation. He stuck to his ideas like burning wildfire. But Prince Joffrey was like a stone temple made on pillars of sand, ready to fall apart at the worst of times. Though she tried her hardest, good prince left her heart aching and her mind racing to explain why he was.
So now, her feet echoed in the grand halls of the Red Keep, and only her shadow walked beside her. Sometimes, she would see the queen and talk about her sons. She grew fonder of her betrothed Joffrey, but she grew to like Stafford as a good friend. In fact, when Stafford wasn't busy training, which he seemed to do all day, he would sometimes walk with her. She spent more time with Joffrey's mother and brother than Joffrey himself, who seemed to be off doing other things, and his absence gnawed at the void in her heart. She wanted the prince she had rode out with at the crossing before they had got into an altercation with Stafford, Arya, and that butcher's boy. Stafford seemed to have forgotten about what happened, but Sansa could not.
The king's justice. Lady. I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise. When her wolf's cries filled her mind, it took the Warrior's might to stop the tears in her eyes from drowning her and the fire in her chest from burning her up. Arya had been behind it all. If she hadn't been there everything would be different. Joffrey wouldn't have gotten bit by Nymeria, and Lady would still be alive. Instead, she had left Stafford and her to get Joffrey help. This was probably why Joffrey had resented her so much, but she couldn't understand why it had to be her she had to hate for it. She had done nothing but love him.
She just sighed as she continued walking, staring up at the sky and pretending it all made sense. She wondered what it was like in Winterfell. She wondered how Bran was. The fall would most likely change his life forever. It seemed like since the Baratheons and the Lannisters had visited Winterfell, the entire family's lives have changed. Both Arya and Sansa had gotten betrothed to a Baratheon prince, Arya being betrothed to the younger Stafford Baratheon, and Sansa being betrothed eldest by a year crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. Bran had fell off a tower, and her father had become the Hand of the King. Robb was left in charge of Winterfell in their father's stead, and even their bastard brother Jon had become a member of the night's watch. The Starks of Winterfell had their lives changed. Sansa wondered what would have happened if Robert Baratheon had not went to Winterfell and asked a different Lord to become hand of the king. She wondered what would have happened another girl had gotten betrothed to the crown prince. Arya didn't care about whether or not she would get married to a royal prince, but she did. Even if she didn't want to marry Stafford, Arya would be lying if she said she wouldn't care if she had never even met Stafford. The two seemed to be running off with one another in the Landing. They spent much more time with one another than Joffrey and Sansa did, and it made her envy Arya a little. But, it wasn't her fault, Arya had ruined it all for her what she had done in the Trident. If Sansa had angered Stafford so much that he wouldn't even talk to Arya, she wouldn't like it either. She didn't want to think of what happened in the Trident anymore, but it still plagued her mind like some disease that had no cure. It would always be there no matter how hard she had tried to resist it.
She wondered what had become of Odyn Sand. Though she knew, on the orders of her father on behalf of all the court to never speak of him nor visit him, she never stopped thinking of that Dornish madman who laughed and roared and japed as she and Stafford dragged him to the Grand Maester, the one she stripped bare as Stafford and the Maester's assistants laid him in a bed. His slim, broad-chested body was lean and sinewy, his muscles rippled and mighty, and though he suffered great pain, he had the gall to jape while cradling his guts and bleeding hard. His smile upon his muddied, comely face as he looked into her eyes had never left her. The sight of him surrounded by Maesters, in a white bed engulfed in the red of his blood had never left her either, and Barristan Selmy could never drag the fear she felt for him out of the room.What will become of that Odyn Sand?
"How the hell would they not recognize me?" She heard a familiar voice ask very loudly. It felt like she could hear and recognize the voice from a league away.
"That's what the damn armor is for, you'll be so covered in this plate, they would not recognize what your body looked like. You'll just look a like a tall bulky knight," another voice responded to him. She turned to where she heard the talking and soon enough Stafford and Renly Baratheon were standing in the middle of the courtyard. Renly was dressed in a green doublet embroidered with golden scrollwork and Stafford decked in plain mail, like he was just taking a little rest before he would continue to practice. What were they talking about?
Sansa strode towards them, and Renly had turned to spot her. He made Stafford quiet down a little bit, but the conversation had been heard enough to arouse her curiosity.
"Ah, Lady Sansa,-er we weren't exactly expecting you to be here," Renly began saying before Stafford cut him off.
"Did you hear anything?" Stafford asked probably trying find out exactly what she had heard.
"Actually, that was why I came over. What are you and Lord Renly talking about?"
"We were talking about er-training…" Stafford replied shrugging. Renly Baratheon seemed nervous and now that Sansa noticed it so was Stafford.
"Is that so? Why do you need to be covered in plate then? And why would be worried about people recognizing you in the armor?" Sansa quickly asked.
"It's special training you see. Ser Barristan had informed me that he needed a suit of armor to practice. Stafford wanted to participate in skirmishes once he becomes Lord of Storm's End when he's ready. He can't just wander out on the battlefield with everyone recognizing him, so he needs to conceal his identity, lest he would be targeted by the enemy. So, he is going to be training in full jousting plate with a hidden identity from now on," Renly quietly explained. It seemed like something Stafford would do, but even then it wouldn't make sense. Why would Stafford train in jousting armor? Though she had never watched a joust or melee before in her life, the lore she had read on the armor of knights had described jousting armor as heavier built than the relatively lighter-weight and more maneuverable plate armor she had seen other knights wear. The logic behind practicing in heavier armor Stafford never wore escaped her.
But then again, Sansa didn't really get combat or combat training in any way, so she trusted the two enough to believe them for now. She would still keep an ear out for any of their conversations about the special training to find out more about whatever they had been talking about. She might even ask Ser Barristan about it, but he always seemed busy with the king, the small council or training Stafford, so she lacked the appropriate times for such questions.
"Stafford really seems to be dedicated to training," Sansa observed. Stafford and Renly nodded almost with a certain relief in their faces. They did not seem to be pleased if they had carried on the conversation in the direction they had been going.
"Anyway, I have pressing matters to take care of Stafford, we will continue this later," Lord Renly stated as he excused himself from the courtyard. Sansa and Stafford were left alone now.
"Well, I better get back to the training yard, Ser Barristan had only allowed me an hour to rest, he will be expecting me back for more training soon," Stafford turned as he began to walk away.
"Stafford, wait," Sansa called out to him. She didn't want to be left alone in the courtyard wandering around. If only she could convince him to stay, he wasn't Joffrey by any means, but she hated being alone so she had no other choices right now.
"Yes?" Stafford asked a little impatiently by the tone of his voice, and he stopped and turned back to her.
"Don't you think you could use a little break from training?" she told him trying her hardest to make him stay to walk with her.
"Sorry, if I don't train hard I won't do good in the mel-" he paused for a moment, and continued, "in the long term." She didn't know what he was about to say, but it seemed weird how he abruptly cut himself off before he could say it.
"Isn't too much training bad?"
"Not if it's the good type of training. Look, if you want you can come to the training yard and watch. You can even watch the mock melees the squires and I do at this time. It won't be the same level of competition as the tournaments, but it'll be fun to watch," Stafford offered her. It seemed better and more exciting than wandering around an empty courtyard.
"That sounds nice," She told Stafford, "Sure, I'll watch." And with that the two left for the training yard, which was a long walk from the courtyard.
The training yard seemed like it was twice or thrice the size of the one in Winterfell. The training yard had enough dummies to create an army out of them in Sansa's mind. There were plenty of knights, squires, and even some Lords practicing in the yard. Ser Barristan met Stafford right after Stafford had entered the practice yard. Sansa watched as the men hacked away at the dummies, practiced their archery and some even axe throwing, and even men boxing one another with their bare knuckles and grappling upon the floors. Everyone was hard at work improving themselves, and she attributed some of it to the tournament coming up.
"Stafford, what are you doing bringing Lady Sansa to the training yards? Don't tell me she's like Arya and wants to learn how to use the sword too?" Ser Barristan chuckled to Stafford.
"I'm not, I just came to watch," she told Ser Barristan, "And who allowed Arya to practice in the training yard?"
"Your father did, we didn't really agree with it much, but they needed somewhere to 'practice' her skill with after she got a new fencing coach," Ser Barristan told her. Stafford grabbed one of the practice poleaxes off of one of the weapon racks and quickly entered one of the pens with other people, who looked his age entered. Ser Barristan watched over them.
"What's he doing?" Sansa asked Ser Barristan. Ser Barristan looked at her and gave out a light laugh.
"He's going to be training with squires. It's standard melee rules, whoever yields is eliminated and must sit out the round. The winner of the round must stay in for the next round, and whoever stays in the circle at the end of the entire session, gets some extra time for a longer break," Ser Barristan explained to her. Sansa looked at the rest of Stafford's opponents. There was one of the boys, who had golden hair and green eyes, who kind of looked like Joffrey and Stafford, but a lot more like Joffrey. He had a practice sword and standard mail on. There was a tall boy, who carried a two handed practice sword. He seemed like he was a lot taller than Stafford, which meant he was pretty tall. He is the only boy in the little ring that had a weapon, which required the person using it to use two of their hands. The weapon had to be used like Ice she imagined, but she hadn't seen much combat other than seeing her father behead people.
Stafford examined his weapons before the round began. Besides the golden head, and the tall boy the other seven boys all had a variety of weapons, and were all different, but unremarkable. The other squires looked like they were no match for Stafford and his axe.
"Alright, squires begin the fight!" Ser Barristan yelled and everyone sprang into action. Stafford quickly went for the boy right next to him. The boy right next to him, had a sword and tried to get into him with a quick slash to his side. Stafford seemed like he was expecting it and he used the wooden haft to meet the boy right at the point where he struck. Sansa had never seen anyone move like that, she had never really been in a training yard, especially in a full one. She had only seen Robb and Jon spar once, but she didn't really pay attention much to the action unlike this once.
The boy was knocked off balance and he was left vulnerable. Stafford clearly saw this as an opportunity, and he raised his axe above his head and delivered a swift downwards stroke down to the head of his opponent. The hit connected and the boy was knocked out and seemed like he was unconscious. Stafford grinned a little bit and smiled to the boy, and quickly stepped to meet another foe.
"Alright, someone help the boy out of the pit," Ser Barristan ordered a few aides to help out in getting the boy out of the pit.
She focused her attention to the tall boy, who was working on a much smaller boy. The smaller boy aimed to try to meet the much taller boy like Stafford had met the now unconscious boy. However, the sword was quickly knocked out of his hands as he met the tourney greatsword face first knocking him on the floor unconscious as well.
"Brandon, that's the second time in the moon that Desandreas has knocked you out like that. If you can hear me, because you seemed to be out, you gotta do better than that!" Ser Barristan declared at the top of his lungs. Sansa could tell the old man seemed dedicated in training other people, even the one's he wasn't in charge. From what Stafford had told her, Ser Barristan only took two hours with one more out of his day of guarding his father to train him. Still that took dedication, spending most of your time with the king and then training his son, as per his instruction. Sansa wondered if Ser Barristan had slept with the amount of responsibilities he had to use. Training a King's son and guarding him at the same time seemed hard and a very easily neglected duty.
Various boys yielded the fight in the pit as Sansa watched intently, and wondered how exciting the tournament would actually be. She enjoyed watching the melee in the pit, and became excited about what she would see at the Hand's tourney. If she could enjoy watching a bunch of squires and the son of the King in a melee, experienced knights should put on quite the show. Sansa didn't really like the fighting and thought it was barbaric, but she enjoyed the excitement of watching it and finding out, who will come out victorious.
The only boys, who were left were the green eyed blond haired boy, the tall giant boy with the greatsword, and two other boys skinny boys with pikes.
Without hesitation, they turned to one another and the green eyed boy pointed at Stafford and, they nodded. Ser Barristan smiled.
"This should get interesting, wonder how Stafford will do," Ser Barristan stated.
"Wait, isn't this not fair. My father told me there is no honor in grouping up against a man," Sansa replied.
"There is no honor in war, only victory," Ser Barristan remarked, "I'm training, Stafford for that. And if he can't handle this he will not able to handle battle." Sansa could only watch as Stafford had to face the four boys by himself. Stafford hefted his axe up high ready to strike. One of the smaller boys went after him first hoping to catch Stafford off guard. Stafford expected this, however and managed to deflect the strike with his haft at where he swung. Sansa could tell Stafford had been practicing or fighting with this axe for a long time. His technique with the axe seemed hard to describe in words, especially for someone, who had not seen combat. She didn't know how someone so young could use a weapon like that. Not even her brother could use a sword as well as Stafford.
The boy was knocked off balanced and sent to the ground. Stafford hit him in the abdomen with one good swing as he was grounded. To Sansa, the boy looked like he desperately grasped for air. The boy had lost his sword.
"Yield,yield,I yield," The boy managed to gasp as he rolled away. Stafford then turned his attention to the other boys, but not until the greatsword-wielding boy landed a solid blow to Stafford's side. Stafford stumbled back and received a few more flurries from the three remaining boys, even the green eyed boy. Sansa couldn't watch him get clobbered like this, but her eyes were pinned in place.
Stafford was hit in the head twice, and it looked there was a cut near his right eye, but Stafford wouldn't yield and stood up. As soon as a the green eyed boy raised his sword, Sansa saw Stafford's eyes light up. Stafford stood tall and blocked it. He then winded up his axe un fazed by some more hits, and somehow managed to knock down all of the opponents, who had teamed up on him. The amazing feat of strength stunned Sansa, she half expected Stafford to fall with all the hits he had taken from the boys. Stafford focused on the large boy, who managed to get to his feet first and he shoved him forward with his axe. Stafford spun a bit and gave him a hard blow to the legs, knocking the boy back to the ground. The boy then grasped at his legs, and the he put his arms up. The only two, who had not yielded was the green eyed boy and the other skinny boy. The two began went up to their feet simultaneously, and knew they still had to work together to even stand a chance against Stafford. The other participants were now out of the pen, or helping the giant out of it.
Stafford went up and attacked the other boy, while the green eyed boy tried to help, by hitting Stafford in the back of the head. Stafford impressively shrugged it off and managed to use the beard of his axe to sweep the kid off his feet. Stafford then hit the young man in the crotch, and the young man screamed.
"Enough! I yield!" the young man stated. The green eyed boy now alone without any backup turned to face Stafford. With some pride in him, the boy and Stafford exchanged a flurry of blows. The boy showcased a somewhat impressive arsenal, but Sansa could tell it didn't faze Stafford. Although bruised, Stafford smiled. After one more strike, Stafford had the boy on his belly and was about to finish him with his axe with a downward chop until the boy turned and put his hands across his face.
"This isn't worth it, I yield," He declared. Stafford lowered his axe and turned to face Ser Barristan.
"Impressive work, Stafford. Just try not to get bloodied up next time. Go clean yourself up. Your mother wouldn't want to see you like that, she would have my head," Stafford nodded with his hands proudly raised, and then fell to the ground. Sansa gasped at the sight of him fainting, she didn't really know why he did that.
"Don't worry, this has been Stafford's seventh time in the pit, he usually faints due to exhaustion at this time. I'll have to get people to drag Stafford out. He'll wake up in a few minutes, and try to get back into the ring," Ser Barristan told her.
"Doesn't he push himself a little too hard?" Sansa asked Ser Barristan.
"He does, but whenever you try to stop him from trying hard, he tries harder. He was like his father when he was younger. Whenever he wanted something, he did everything in his power to get it. It would be shame if he acted like his father when he doesn't get what he wants,"
"What do you mean?"
"The king is a good man, but every now and then he snaps whenever he doesn't get what he wants," He said with that please let me be right look on his face. And with that Sansa remembered to ask about the training for Stafford now that Ser Barristan had asked a full plate armor for.
Before that however, someone strode into the room, almost enraged. She recognized, who it was it was her betrothed, Joffrey, no doubt here to practice. She went to him, as Ser Barristan managed to lean Stafford up against a fence post. Stafford was now regaining his consciousness.
"I did good didn't I?" Stafford asked Ser Barristan.
"If you hadn't fainted, it would have been a perfect way to handle what you were given in battle. Then again, it was result of your stubbornness of not taking much rests to begin with. It's your seventh time in the pit today."
"I went through fifteen once, and I'm still alive today,"
"You spent two days in the sickroom for that, and your mother almost didn't allow me to bring you back here,"
"Like I said I'm still alive," He jested. She went to Joffrey and his face seemed like a look of disdain. She didn't expect this.
"What is she doing here, Ser Barristan?" Joffrey asked with some venom in his voice. She didn't really like the hostility she sensed.
"She came to watch, your brother fight in the pit," Ser Barristan stated.
"Huh? Is that you Joffrey? Want to go a round?" Stafford managed to laugh dazed while he hobbled up. Ser Barristan had to guide him up.
"You're hardly in a position to spar right now, Stafford,"
"So what, brother? I can probably still knock you on your arse,"
"Anyway, Sansa, what are you doing chatting off with my little brother here?"
"I only came to wa-" she tried to respond to him, but she was quickly cut off from what she wanted to say as Joffrey furiously hissed.
"Hold your tongue, did I ask for your opinion? So, how long have you been fraternizing with my little brother here. I can't believe this, with my own brother too. I trusted you, but YOU GAVE ME THIS."
"What? No, it would have be-" again she was cut off by him.
"Enough, I've had enough out of your mouth today. You're lucky I have the patience to deal with such disloyal people like yourself," And as those words tore at her like Nymeria's jaws on Joffrey's wrist, and she began to feel the tears coming. What had she done to deserve this?
She ran out and didn't look behind her, covering her face. The tears were now flowing from her eyes. She felt like Arya right now, she hadn't really done this in a while.
She had sat there crying in an empty crying for what seemed like an eternity. No one had come, not Stafford, Ser Barristan, or even her prince, who had used such harsh words on her. He had suggested something that she couldn't even bring herself to do. If Joffrey had spent as much time with her as Arya did with Stafford, she wouldn't be around Stafford nearly as much.
Suddenly she heard foot steps, with one running and the other seemingly lacking rhythm. She looked up her eyes still a little red from her crying. It was Arya and Stafford, who seemed to be talking about something.
"He really did that to her. Are you sure I can't stab him again?" Arya offered coldy to Stafford.
"That's how I saw it, Of course I could have dreamed the entire damn thing. I apparently did so much and took so much hits to the head I could have imagined. So that's how my training went today, how did yours go?"
"He taught me how to dance better today."
"Dance? How in the seven hells will that help you?"
"No, not that type of dancing, a sword dance. Techniques that can help the swordsmanship flow like a dance. Anyway hurry up, are we going to the explore the passageways or what?"
"Fine, there's plenty of time, I'm not allowed back in the damn training room today anyway," Stafford stated. Arya suddenly paused to look at her, and she whispered something to Stafford.
"Okay, you go on ahead, I'll just meet you there, I'll take care of it," Arya left and Stafford went to her.
"What do you want?" Sansa asked Stafford a little coldly, sniffling and wiping the tears from her face and reddened eyes.
"Honestly, Arya told to check up on you, you seem a little-um how should I put it, forlorn," Stafford stated.
"It's because of you, with all the time I spent with Joffrey apparently thinks we're-we're-" Sansa couldn't hold herself back and started crying again. Stafford sighed a little, as she buried her face in her hands.
"I understand you need space, but I can't just leave you like this. I don't give a damn what Joffrey thinks. Joffrey assumes a lot of things, and they aren't true. He once spread a rumor I was having er-inappropriate relations with my uncle Renly, because I was spending too much time with him and I still talk to Renly a lot to this day. Ended up having to give him the brief history of pain with the back of my hand for assuming such vile things about me," Stafford recalled, letting out a heated grunt at the memory. "Anyway, don't let him get to you. I'm sure he still likes you."
"How do you- you do-don't even talk to him," She managed to say. Stafford looked at her.
"I've always been one of them boys. I've got a rough side, a wild side at least a mile wide, and a fighting side," Stafford stated, "But none of those sides allow me to get affected by any other person." She looked up at Stafford. She continued crying and couldn't even help it anymore. Stafford to her surprise gave her a hug. She didn't even try to push him away. He hugged me better than Joffrey ever did. Like I was his betrothed. The warmth she found in his arms, holding her close and tight, had warmed her aches and filled her sorrows with joy. In his arms, she found a paradise she never knew.
"Well, Just hang in there, Joffrey will come around eventually. But, I'll always be here as a friend, not just because Arya told me to, but because I really mean it," So she cried in his arms for a while and before long she stopped crying. Stafford left to meet Arya in whatever they were doing after a short while and she went back to the tower of the hand, wondering why her good prince had been so cruel to her.