837A/N: Hey guys, sorry for taking so long to update. I was really unsure about this chapter and I am still a little wary of it. After obsessing over it, I decided to just put it up and see. If it's that awful then I can change it again. So please let me know what you think, I was really unsure! That said, I hope that you do enjoy it :)
Sansa stood before the ornate mirror as the Riverland maids fluttered around her, fixing any imperfections in her attire. The Stark daughter looked around her welcoming and comfortable chambers with heavy eyes. The sky was a dull grey that reflected the sombre and drained atmosphere of Riverrun castle. The boisterous celebrations of the night before had long died down and the day had become dreary and quiet. Their Lord was dead.
The eldest Stark daughter felt like an imposter. She did not belong here. She did not have a place in mourning the grandfather she had never known. Yet here she was, staring at her reflection adorned in a raven coloured gown with not a hair nor thread out of place.
A figure stepped into her room. Sansa turned to see her mother enter, also adorned in her own mourning gown and staring at her with red rimmed eyes. Though so similar in appearance, her mother had the dishevelled and broken appearance of someone truly grieving, compared to her murmurs farce.
Lady Stark approached her with eyes drowning in pain and placed two cool hands of either side of her daughters face, "You look beautiful Sansa. Your grandfather would be proud of you" She spoke quietly.
Sansa fought to dip her head in shame. Would he really? It seemed like she was the opposite that Hoster Tully looked for in his female kin. She was not an obedient and dutiful member of their family, was she? Most definitely not so after the incident the night before. Gossip had spread very quickly about the attack the night before. Sansa did not know for certain the exact tales and whispers being spoken as she had been trapped inside her chambers all throughout the night. She did not need to know what they were saying. The Lord of the Riverlands had died and the castle was more interested in a piece of gossip? Disgraceful.
Bile churned in her stomach and she gave her mother a tight lipped smile in response to the compliment. Lady Catelyn dropped her hands and turned to the maids in the room.
"You may leave. I will be escorting my daughter" She declared in her Lady Stark voice though her tone was a little weak. The maids curtaised in acknowledgement, casting fearful looks to the large wolf sleeping peacefully in the corner of the room. Yes, no one would be forgetting that Lady was a direwolf anytime soon after last nights slaughter.
It had been a hard night on her mother, she knew. Lady Catelyn looked like she had not slept a wink though neither had Sansa much. The elegant Lady Stark perched herself on her daughters bed but slouched in an unladylike manner, eyes fixated on her daughter. Her attack, right after the death of her grandfather had shaken her mother like nothing else. Especially when she had been under the impression that Jaime Lannister had been the attacker. That foolish guard.
Sansa sighed heavily and wandered over to her high windows. She watched men drudging around listlessly in preparation of the funeral. Stark and Tully men patrolled the castle dutifully while servants scrambled around, everyone looking exhausted as she felt herself. Yet they still cast curious and eager eyes in the direction of her chambers and muttered amongst themselves.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the quiet Stark ladies. They both turned to see Lady Brienne poke her head in, "Lady Stark, Lady Sansa, the funeral will be beginning soon" She said quietly. Brienne did not sleep the night before. Her short and usually messy straw hair was an exclamation point atop her head. Her armour was dishevelled and her clear blue gaze surrounded by a sea of red.
Sansa felt an overwhelming amount of guilt as she observed her sworn shield. Brienne took her attack as a personal failing.
Catelyn Tully stood up immediately and fixed the creases in her gown, visibly collected herself and walked forward with grace. Sansa nodded her head to Brienne and followed her mother dutifully, saying not a word to her protector. It would be distasteful to mention the sniffles she heard from outside her chamber door deep into the night.
As they wandered through the halls of Riverrun, people stared. They bowed their head in respect for their mourning but eyes also lingered on Sansa for signs of injury after her attack. This made more anger and shame well up inside of her. By the gods, why could everyone not let this go? Her grandfather had just died and the minds of his people were on her scandal. Lady Stark clutched her daughters arm firmly. Her sworn shield lingered behind her, much closer than usual as they walked.
Edmure Tully met them in the Great Hall. The Tully siblings embraced and chatted together in low tones. Her uncle set her a long unreadable look. Sansa stood beside her mother but respectfully kept out of the conversation.
The numerous eyes on her felt like someone was breathing down her neck. It made her anxious. Sansa was no fool. She had been wondering who had sent those men to attack her all night. Then the shame would hit her that she was thinking selfishly and should give the grandfather the respect he is due and mourn him before devising any plots. The Stark kept her face impassive and unyielding even as emotions warred inside of her.
Ser Piper and several other of Edmure's friends surrounded them to offer their condolences before the service would begin outside. Brienne stood so near her the woman's arm brushed against hers. Several of the lords and knights looked towards her for a moment before respectfully averting their eyes and not speaking. Smart men.
Try as she might, she was not deaf to the whisperings around her. They gossiped of the Hand of the Kings rage. They spoke of the crippled Kingslayer. The mauled pieces of the attackers. Of a savage monstrous wolf. Some sent pity looks that told a story of the Kingsguard member attempting to take advantage of a sweet young maiden. The more difficult of the two looks were the romanticised and sympathetic smiles of the ladies. The tragic love of Jaime Lannister and Sansa Stark. Families at ends. A brave knight, bound by his oaths. The courageous act of sacrificing his sword hand in exchange for her life.
Sansa swallowed and felt a cold sweat gathering behind her neck at the ridiculous thought. Ser Jaime certainly would not think of it that way. It would seem that she had finally been granted her wish from another life and such a long time ago.
... Her life was now a song.
Sansa hated it.
A lull rippled across the fairly busy hall and Sansa turned to see the cause. It was with relief and irritation that she saw her father striding over to their group with his usual cool and collect facade of the Protector of the North. However, a simmering rage lurked behind his usually impassive grey eyes. As they met her blues, they told her that her father was extremely displeased with her.
Nevertheless, Lord Stark placed a protective hand on his daughters shoulder in a show of support. An attack had been made directly against his family. They would need to show public unity.
When the time came for the service to begin, Sansa drifted gracefully from the Riverrun Great Hall. Her mother stood tall and proud on her left. Her father was stationed protectively on her right. Brienne of Tarth hovered directly behind her. Ser Brynden Tully shadowed his niece. Jory Cassel flanked her fathers side. Edmure Tully and his allies from the Riverlands followed the group. All were adorned with armour and carrying steel.
As they were about to exit the castle a large grey figure dashed through the corridor, the yelps and alarmed noises of men halting their group.
Lady bound directly towards the group. Everyone but the two Starks flinched at the large wolfs arrival. Her mother, grand-uncle and Brienne accepted the wolf though the rest of the group looked uneasy and fearful. The whispers had raised to alarmed and harsh mutterings at the appearance of her dear friend.
Lord Stark silently made space for the wolf beside it's mistress. The large canine made eye contact with her father before nodding her head in respect and standing by her side.
The group made their way from the castle to the funeral.
Ned Stark stood beside his daughter and wife by the river as they watched people arrive to pay their respects. It was not sudden, the death of Hoster Tully, though he was a well loved and respected man in his time. The small field was quickly over crowded as many lords and ladies arrived though some with no affiliation with the Riverlands or Hoster Tully himself.
It was disrespectful.
The Lord of Winterfell's eyes watched Ser Loras Tyrell approach beside Renly Baratheon. They were both adorned in the finest looking midnight silks, hair styled to perfection and their Houses coat of arms sown on their breast pocket. He frowned as he watched the pair chatter amongst themselves, looking amused and falsely sympathetic. Renly even laughed with a smirk.
Ned then saw Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell sending questioning looks towards his daughter and muttering.
A brief bout of icy rage ran through him before he collected himself. They were gossiping of the attempt made on his daughters life.
Time had passed very quickly since the attack on Sansa. His head had not touched his pillow though he was accustomed to this after many busy nights working as the Hand of the King. Cat had spent the night with Sansa besides. When he saw Sansa the night before, soaked with blood and staring emptily around, he felt like a broken man. It was by the old gods grace that she was not harmed. Her direwolf had torn her attackers to shreds. Several guards and knights later objected and proclaimed the wolf a 'savage' 'beast' 'monstrosity that should be put to death'. He had turned to the cravens and replied coldly, 'She is a direwolf. Nothing more, nothing less'. That had quietened the men.
Uncaring of the bloodied mess, he had scooped his daughter up in his arms and carried her safely back to the castle. Frustration and anger drove him forward to get to the bottom of this mess, the Direwolf padding softly at his side. Unfortunately, the maester was preoccupied with the Kingslayer and his severed hand. The knights hand had been severed by a blade and not torn off by the wolf. It was only this small detail that halted him enough from running the Lannister with Ice. The wound was by blade. It was by a man. It meant that Lannister had fought the attackers. The wolf did not attack the Kingslayer in protection of Sansa so he was not behind or part of the attack.
This did not make the Kingslayer innocent. No he was found yet again in the presence of his daughter, unescorted. At least it certainly appeared that way. What could have been identified from the pieces of corpses was that they were all currently unknown. None of his men or a Riverland men. Which meant his daughter was out unescorted. Again.
The Lord watched his wife and Ser Brynden accept the condolences of Lord Tully's passing. His grey eyes studied every man and woman present for suspicious behaviour.
Ned Stark was very angry beneath his calm exterior. He was angry that men had dared to attack his daughter in her mother's ancestral home, under the protection of the North, Riverlands and Crown. He was angry that she was found with not one escort of guard including her sworn shield. The only known individual present was the Kingslayer. Jaime Lannister yet again.
By all accounts, it appeared as if the Kingslayer had protected his daughter from the attackers, crippling himself in the process. The deadly Kingslayer had lost his sword hand, now useless in battle. Though Ned could feel no satisfaction at this act by the old gods. No, the man had protected his daughter. It was madness.
Yet, the culprit behind the attack was blindingly obvious. Justice would be served.
Lord Stark noticed his wife become restless with strain and worry filling her Tully blue eyes. He observed to see if any individual was concerning her but then he saw her gaze flickering up at the castle repeatedly.
A short lull of people approaching had him stepping forward to speak quietly to his wife.
"What troubles you?" He said under his breath.
Catelyn looked towards him for a moment before linking her arm with his and leaning against his side gently.
"Lysa should be here"
Ned's lips thinned at the mention of the woman. It was not appropriate for the woman to be present. She had a loose tongue and spouting dangerous words that would help none, "She is not in the right state of mind" He said back simply, hiding his displeasure.
Cat nodded her head, still looking displeased, "I agree. I wish she would at least say goodbye. Despite her recent behaviour, she deserves to say goodbye to our father"
Ned did not reply.
The funeral traditions of the Riverlands were to watch the Lord float down the river and be set alight by a flaming arrow. Edmure Tully fumbled with the arrow and Brynden dutifully stepped up to complete the task. His wife leant into his side but did not allow tears to fall as she watched her fathers pyre float away.
It was not as respectful as it should have been. Too many individuals were present and not enough held Hoster Tully in high enough regard. Due to the Tourney, too many people felt the need to attend. Smallfolk had fled immediately after though lower lords and hedge knights remained. Several higher Lords and Ladies did not attend though some did in an attempt to curry favour.
The King had of course been present. Ned had given his friend a nod in acknowledgement, pleased to see the Queen not by his side. Robert did not look pleased to see him and had sent him a look to tell him that they would need to discuss things after the funeral.
For the first time in the many years he had spent at court, Robert stood with his children. Joffrey positively glowed and looked arrogant while Tommen and Mrycella seemed to grasp the mourning atmosphere and behaved accordingly. Princess Mrycella looked nervous and uncertain, seemingly the only child to notice the obvious absence of their mother.
Part of Ned felt pity for the children while the larger part felt nothing but a thirst for justice on behalf of his daughter.
Yes, it was very clear who had attempted to kill his daughter. And Cersei Lannister would pay.
Sansa was physically exhausted by the end of the funeral. There was so much to be done. Letters to write, plans to make, discussions to be had yet she felt like doing none of those. Her bed called to her and she spent the funeral debating whether of not it would be prudent to get some rest before doing anything productive.
Immediately after it was over, Sansa turned to mother, "I do not feel well, may I go back to my chambers?" She requested quietly. Lady Stark nodded her head and sent her a weak smile with worried eyes.
"Of course Sansa. Uncle would you mind escorting Sansa?" She turned to her great-uncle. Brynden Tully agreed with a stiff nod. Her mother was well and truly paranoid of her safety with the attempt on her life so fresh in her mind. Sansa did not blame her.
Thankfully, the crowd parted as Sansa Stark made her way through flanked on either side by the elderly knight and her sworn shield. Though the wide berth of people hastily moving away was likely from the presence of the large and now confirmed to be deadly wolf by her side. It was as if her obedient behaviour had made everyone forget that she was indeed a dangerous animal, capable of ripping men to shreds. They certainly knew now.
Their footsteps echoed throughout the mostly empty castle as the trio walked.
The Stark peered at Brynden Tully with a curious face. Though sluggish with fatigue and feeling physically drained, Sansa would not let an opportunity slip by, "Where will you be going after everyone departs, Uncle?" She inquired casually as they mounted some stairs.
Ser Brynden frowned a little, "I am uncertain. Perhaps I will stay at Riverrun and aid Edmure"
Sansa bit her lip and wondered how to begin this conversation. Her plans surrounding her grand-uncle becoming Acting Master of Ships she had made with the King was a wonderful idea but she did not know how to implement it. Manipulating her kin... seemed wrong.
They were approaching her chambers quickly so she had to act fast, "I see... would a suggestion be completely inappropriate uncle?" She eyed him warily.
Ser Brynden's frown deepened and turned to look at her, "It depends what you have been plotting, Sansa. I am no fool and see the plans floating around your eyes" His voice was disproving and it made her feel guilty for her role of playing the game. Though it wasn't as if she had much choice, did she? Sansa Stark was not power hungry nor sadistic. She did what had to be done to protect those she loved. She would not be ashamed for doing what must be done.
Her voice now spoke with the conviction she'd been lacking before, "I recommended you for an Acting Master of Ships position in the small council as Stannis Baratheon continues to be absent"
They had reached her chambers and now all three had paused outside her door.
Brynden looked confused and suspicious as he regarded her, "I see. Why did you do that?" He asked slowly, studying her carefully as if her face would reveal her motive. The knight reached up to scratch his chin.
Sansa stared into his blue eyes, so similar to her own, and replied as honestly as she dared, "My father is working himself into an early grave. He needs assistance in the South. Robert Baratheon does not run his own Kingdom and the weight of it lies on my fathers shoulders. He does not trust any members of the small council enough to delegate any duties. It is my hope that your presence will ease some of his burdens" She explained strongly.
Brynden Tully appeared thoughtful. He raised his eyebrows, "I see and the other reasons?" He inquired dryly.
A faint blush spread across her face at how obvious it was she had other motives. Her conflicting feelings on misleading her kin was making her slip. This would not good.
The Tully knight sighed for a moment looking weary. Sansa felt uncomfortable as she realised it was not appropriate to be discussing this after his brothers funeral.
"I will think on your offer, Sansa. I pray you know what you are doing. I assume you will be joining your father down south?" He asked.
The Stark daughter nodded her head.
Brynden Tully's thoughtful face turned softer, "I would get some rest if I were you. You will be needed shortly, no doubt for testimony. Your father has been on the warpath since the attack. I will be standing outside your door as guard with Lady Brienne"
Sansa felt a headache coming on as she entered her chambers.
Though all she had been desiring at the funeral was her bed now she was in her chambers it was the last thing on her mind. Her Uncle's statement drew the attack to the forefront of her mind.
Who had attacked her?
Or rather, who had sent the men to kill her. The men were filthy, untrained assassins and the Hounds were taught to kill. They were savage beasts. Nothing about the bodies were likely recognisable or would trace back to anyone.
The Stark girl sat at her desk and pulled out parchment and quill and began writing. So many thoughts were swirling around her head and she felt it was now time to write her letter to Dany. The future Queen will want to know of the events concerning the Tournament and now may be the only time alone she will be able to write it.
Dear Daenerys,
So much has happened since I last wrote you, my friend. All in this dreadful tourney and I dare say too much for me to report though I shall try my best.
It was with a full heart I was finally reunited with my father. He seems to have aged ten years and not three. I have since discovered that Robert Baratheon is not involved with running 'his' kingdom in any manner and is more preoccupied with wine and whores. It is obvious my father has been running Westeros single-handedly as the Usurper has filled his small council with untrustworthy ambitious snakes. Therefore, I have decided, I will be travelling south to aid my father in any way possible in Kings Landing. I will keep an eye out for any potential allies for you, your grace.
I met Robert Baratheon for the first time. Though I wish I could write you and tell you how much I despise him, I cannot. As your friend, I will always be honest with you and give you my truthful council. Whether or not you decide to head my advice is your choice, my queen, though I will always be plain with you.
I can see why my father befriended Robert Baratheon for when the man is sober he is not entirely unpleasant. Though, increasingly my father has relayed his dismay that Robert is not the boy he thought of as a brother. Robert Baratheon is not a cruel man. Nor is he sadistic, ambitious, aggressive or even superior. He is, however, not fit to be a King. The man was never meant to rule and it shows. He has utterly given up on running Westeros while he whores and drinks himself into an early death. Selfish, lustful, crude, irresponsible, incompetent he most certainly is.
That being said, I pray you know my loyalties lie with you and only you. I will do what is right for my family, my people and my Queen.
Regarding the Tourney, it was truly a disaster. I am uncertain if you have heard for it may have reached your ears that I was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty. Which would normally be fortunate if it had not been by Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Again, I am reluctant to write of people you only know as betrayers of your family but I will continue.
It has become quite the scandal, your grace. My family is utterly furious and horrified at this. I have stumbled upon Jaime Lannister a few times with only Lady by my side and immediately rumours awoke of our romance. You may be confused why my family would object very strongly. I shall explain as simply as I can.
My family value honour highly and have a different view of it from the Lannisters. My father argued very strongly with Robert Baratheon when the man decided to pardon the Kingslayer for the death of your father. My father viewed it as ultimate dishonour and wished for Jaime Lannister to be severely punished. Additionally, my father rules the North in a fashion with mutual respect and understanding with his Lords and Ladies. Tywin Lannister rules the West through fear and punishments. My father disagrees with most of what the Lannisters stand for. I can understand why and it is useful for you to be aware of this when you take the throne. I would not be surprised if war broke out between the Starks and Lannisters. I am doing my best to prevent this for occuring.
This situation of being crowned has caused tensions between myself and my kin. Half of those in attendance see Jaime Lannister and myself as star crossed lovers and the other as the disgraced knight taking advantage of a young innocent lady. It is neither.
I find it prudent to tell you of whom I have met and their allegiances. First of all, your biggest threat to the throne will be Cersei Lannister. The current Queen. She is sharp, cunning and extremely power hungry. Fortunately, the woman despises Robert Baratheon more than yourself though she thirsts for his throne and is determined to put her son on the Iron Throne and rule in his stead.
The false Queen is irrational, jealous, petty and uses her womanly charm to seduce men into her service. Though as a former Lannister, she holds much power as Tywin Lannister is a brutal and politically keen man. He will defend his daughter with the might of Casterly Rock behind him.
Joffrey, her eldest son, is a foolish boy with a disgusting sadistic streak. He is weak though his political position may cause problems. Mark my words, your grace, if that boy sits on the throne the blood of the smallfolk will drown the cities.
The other two false heirs are no concern, I believe. Tommen is a young boy and not interested in ruling. He is much too sweet and innocent, to tell it true. Mycerella is intelligent and beautiful though not cruel and irrational as her mother. However, they are children yet and I cannot speak for the future.
Renly Baratheon, the Kings youngest brother, his loyalties lie more with High Garden than Storms End and his brother. This is because Loras Tyrell and Renly are in a rather, intimate relationship from what I gathered. Again, his danger lies with the political power and men willing to fight for him than the man himself. He is more concerned with his hair and appearance than smallfolk or his duties as Lord. I believe if you secure the loyalties of High Garden then Renly Baratheon will follow despite his brother's allegiances.
On a personal note, my grandfather Hoster Tully died recently. I did not know the man and I feel shame for not being more aggrieved from his passing. I did, however, discover that the former Hand of the King – Jon Arryn was murdered by poison. It was by my Aunt Lysa Arryn, current lady of the Vale. My Aunt suffers from madness and paranoia. She coddles her son to the point where he is sickly and spoiled. I have arranged for my cousin to be bethrothed with Shireen Baratheon – daughter of Stannis – another of Roberts brothers in an attempt to tie my kin with as many allies as possible.
The final and most important piece of information I will bestow to you is that there has been an attempt on my life. The night before several man attacked with the intention to kill. Fortunately my beloved Lady was faithfully by my side and protected me. The attackers were ripped to shreds. However, Jaime Lannister also appeared and defended myself as best he could. The kingslayer lost his sword hand in the process. He is now crippled.
I am frustrated, your grace. I am not certain who sent the men to end my life. I do not like the rumours of a romance between myself and the Kingslayer, it is all so ridiculous. I wanted to assure you, if word reaches you that there is nothing and never will be anything between myself and Jaime Lannister. I understand this is a sensitive for you as the man slew your father. I have been polite and tried to prevent any animosity between our families as I do not want war to come between our families. The dislike between the Starks and Lannisters may become as issue for you when you have taken the throne and I certainly do not want my family to go to war unless it is necessary.
I pray this letter finds you will and I will try my best to continue writing and keep you informed of the events in Kings Landing.
May the old gods be with you,
Lady Sansa Stark.
The lady set her quill down and flexed her wrist. The letter was extremely long but there was so much to be reported. Their letters, though extremely infrequent were usually long as they could not correspond too regularly. This was likely the most factual one she has provided to date. The rest were getting to know one another and telling each other tales. Sansa told her friend about the home that awaited her. Daenerys has placed a great amount of trust in her and she does not intend to squander it. The long night was coming. Winter was coming.
Sansa read the letter over as the ink dried and pondered her situation. Who would want her dead? Why now? It was all very unusual. Sansa then set out more parchment and began writing of possible people behind the attack and speculating possible plots. It always helped her to have a visual on speculations. This amused Tyrion to no end.
She worked on this task for several hours when she was interrupted her a knocking on the door.
The Stark girl turned her head and called out, "You may enter"
Immediately the large wooden doors opened smoothly and Brienne poked her head in, "My lady, Ser Jory is here. He says your father wishes to see you" The heiress to Tarth sounded grave. It was as obvious as the sun what it would be regarding. Her attack.
Sansa Stark rose gracefully from her chair, ignoring the impulse to stretch this way and that to release the cricks from her muscles. A wistful twinge ran through her as she thought of Tyrion and his many stretches and aches from his bowed legs. She would be with him again, she prayed soon.
"Very well. Tell Jory I will be out in a moment" She relayed to her sworn shield. The large doors shut behind her and Sansa turned back to her list with a thoughtful expression. The long letter to her friend lay innocently beside it.
After a moment of contemplation, Sansa picked up the parchment with the list and held it over a candle at her desk. She watched impassively as flames raced down the parchment and the ash broke off delicately, leaving black marks upon her neat desk. Sansa then carefully folded the letter and tucked it into her bosom for safekeeping. No one could see the letter. It would mean death.
The young lady took a quick look in the mirror and steeled herself for the coming questions. Sansa walked carefully to her chamber door and whistled for her wolf to approach. Lady lifted her great head and padded over softly, letting out a large yawn that displayed her deadly incisors which tore through flesh like silk.
Sansa Stark walked quietly through the halls with her sworn shield on one side and her great uncle on the other. She felt a little ashamed that Brynden Tully was forced to attend to her when he should be mourning his brother but pushed it aside. She would need to be confident for the upcoming discussion about her attack.
Lady Sansa was brought to the large chamber where she had disrupted the meeting between her father and the King a few days previous. It felt like a lifetime has passed since that carefree day riding through the woods with her father. Everything has gone wrong. But as Tyrion always told her – you cannot predict the actions of everyone, only manipulate the outcome in your best interests. Plans rarely follow through. Your worth as a ruler is not in your ability to plan, it is in your ability to adapt.
Sansa stood tall as two Kingsguard members opened the doors and she is announced. Ser Brynden Tully squeezed her shoulder in support as she entered the room.
No one was seated is the first thing she noticed. Aside from one individual, that is. One broken figure of a man seated in the centre of the room. A man that makes her conscious feel like a blizzard in the dead of Winter... Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer was not glittering with gold, but rather, slumped on a chair in the centre of the room. His clothes were woollen, broken and dull; his entire aura seems to have dimmed. Even his usually molten gold hair, hung limp and appeared a few shades darker. She swallowed at the bitter picture he showed. Jaime Lannister slouched in the chair, face down and right arm cradled against his chest protectively. The pure white bandages covering his stump the brightest thing about him and almost appeared innocent.
Sansa then took in her father who was standing stiff and ready closest to the doors and nearest to herself. His face was calm and composed but there was an alertness to his body language that spoke of a readiness to strike at any moment. Ned Stark was prepared for battle. She had never seen her father appear so... dangerous before.
Robert Baratheon stood almost beside his crippled Kingsguard member. The large man in both height and girth looked annoyed, impatient and... angry. A wave of true fear took her then. Robert Baratheon's temper was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. She prayed to the old gods she would not be at the end of it.
"I presume you know why you've been summoned Sansa?" Her father asked, his voice colder than usual as he addressed her.
The young girl reminded herself she was a woman wed thrice. She was not a child and did not need to cower like a guilty child before her father.
"Yes father" She replied calmly, making eye contact to show she would not be begging for his forgiveness anytime soon.
His grey eyes were impassive as he looked back, "Very well. Would you like to tell us exactly what occurred the night previous? From the beginning" He said the last part strongly. What it implied was why you left your chambers unescorted.
The Stark girl took one deep breath before speaking with a calm but steely and unwavering voice, "Of course Father. I had just left mother, Uncle Edmure and Grand-Uncle Brynden with Grandfather. I had said my goodbyes and did not want to intrude upon the private moment as it was obvious he was on his last breathes" She began.
All eyes in the room were settled on her.
Jaime Lannister had even lifted his head to stare at her carefully. It was the calculated look of a predator. His gaze was wary and patient. It was as if he was waiting to see if she would attack. Robert Baratheon frowned but listened with beefy arms across his chest. Ser Brynden stood closely beside her in support while Brienne had moved back towards the chamber door to guard respectfully.
Sansa continued, "It was late and I needed to take Lady out to do her business before I retired for the night. But no one was around. Everyone was either still celebrating or preoccupied with Grandfather-"
Her father looked increasingly frustrated until he interrupted her, "-And you thought you would ignore my direct order and wander around unescorted?" He finished.
The silence in the room was a little uncomfortable. Sansa kept a tight rein on her own temper. She stared impassively at her father, "Not intentionally no, I was with Lady. I believed she could protect me suitably"
Sansa stared at her father and he stared back. She was aware that she was in the wrong but would not beg or plead. Yes she had disobeyed a direct order but it was not intentional and the order was given as her father refused to trust her. That alone stung her.
The staring match between the Starks was interrupted by Robert Baratheon's inelegant snort. Irritation flickered across Ned's face and he turned around to frown at his friend.
The current King raised his eyebrows, "Well she is right about that, Ned. That Wolf certainly did protect her alright" He mumbled the last part and shot wary eyes towards the Direwolf at her side. Sometimes Sansa forgets Lady's presence as it is a constant at her side. Without her, she feels bare. Lady is a part of herself.
Knowing that the Stark Stubbornness that Dany and Tyrion used to speak of with fondness and irritation with regards to herself and Jon in her previous life, Sansa knew she would have to yield slightly. She was not arrogant enough to think she was entirely faultless. The Stark would balance a line between holding her ground and yielding to her father.
Sansa bit her lip and swallowed her pride, "Father... I did not intentionally set out to disobey you" She admitted quietly and cast her eyes downwards. All of her teachings from Littlefinger and advice from Tyrion told her to not display honest weakness. Never bow down even when you are wrong... But this was her father...
Ned Stark watched his eldest daughter impassively.
"...I was frustrated and upset last night. I felt trapped, alone and did not have anyone to speak to. I did not want to burden mother any more as she was with grandfather and you were busy yourself" She sighed and looked up again.
Sympathy was showing on Robert Baratheon's face. A quiet understanding on Brynden Tully's. A frowned thoughtful expression of puzzlement and suspicion from Ser Jaime. Her father simply watched her.
Sansa swallowed again, "I wanted to be alone. I did not wander far at all, I simply wanted a little fresh air and to clear my mind while out with Lady. I understand why you did not want me unescorted and it is not entirely to do with my safety"
The room was silent.
Sansa continued, "I am sorry, father" She said quietly but voice ringing with honesty. She truly was.
Ned Stark observed her for less than a moment before nodding. It was all she could hope for in that moment. Sansa continued her story.
"Ser Jaime called out to me" She explained. Sansa could see from the expression on Ser Jaime's face that he fully expected her to place full blame upon his shoulders. She did not blame him, "I was... irate with him" She sniffed delicately, "I... suppose I took my bad temper out on him" She looked down. Although the knight was fully deserving of her attitude and much more for foolishly crowning her, knowing that moments later he defended her and crippled himself in the process made her ashamed.
"I had turned to walk away but then Lady growled and looked alert. It was then that the Hounds attacked. A sword came at me from behind and I ducked" Sansa frowned as she attempted to recall as much details as possible, "...The attacker had a powerful stench. I have never smelled anything so foul. He was adorned in rags, rotted teeth and slimy hair. As I turned to face the first attacker another man approached and put a blade to my throat from behind. The disgusting man began to swing his sword when Lady attacked him. I was only aware of five men but there could have been more"
Sansa closed her eyes as she tried to remember every detail, "One of the men did call out the name... Skinner perhaps?" She opened them again to see everyone staring at her, "Ser Jaime fought two of the men at once but another crept up behind him. He... tried to move out of the way but did not manage to completely avoid the blow. Lady then joined the fray and finished the men off" She finished.
Her father nodded looking troubled, "Did the men not say anything about a revenge or do you think there is anything about them that would be recognisable?" He added.
Sansa considered this. It had all happened to quickly she is uncertain, "The men all appeared lowborn. They swung their blades like butchers. Aside from the unearthly stench of one of the men, they are quite unrecognisable" She said.
Her father sighed.
Robert Baratheon looked angry and ready to deliver retribution. Jaime Lannister's green gaze was fixed on her. His face appeared almost blank but there was a certain openness to it that was not there previously. Sansa could have blamed the interaction on the Kingsguard knight. Said that he approached her and grabbed her. That he was even a part of the attack. But she did not. Sansa could have spun a tale in which she was the innocent victim and placed all of the blame on his shoulders. She could have sworn he lured her out and tricked her into disobedience. She did not. Instead she stood tall, admitted her wrongs and apologised. The Lannister looked almost confused. She had the power in this situation and did not use it to strengthen herself.
Robert Baratheon grumbled, "And just to be clear, Ser Jaime did not attack you in any way or even distract you enough for the men to get nearer you" He asked.
Sansa blinked and said firmly with Stark Steel, "No your grace, I had begun walking away when the hounds attacked. Ser Jaime was already some distance away by this point. He did not have to intervene and nothing the men said suggested otherwise. Ser Jaime was unarmed"
Robert Baratheon nodded and accepted her story. For some curious reason the false King almost appeared fond of the kingsguard member. Though... Robert Baratheon would probably like the man who slew any Targaryen regardless.
"And how did the Kingslayer fight back if he was unarmed?" Her father queried.
Sansa frowned and felt almost offended at his lack of faith in her. She gave her father a pointed look, "He must have taken a sword from one of the fallen men. It was an old, curved and rusted blade he fought with. I highly doubt a Lannister would even hold such a sword voluntarily" She commented dryly.
A chuckle emerged from the Kingslayers lips, "She is not wrong" He smirked.
Her father glowered at Ser Jaime. Robert Baratheon then sighed as if all this conversation was boring to him. Well, he was a man of action certainly. Conversing as civilised beings was possibly too much for the man.
"Lady Sansa, after you were crowned, were you approached by anyone or notice anyone giving you... unfriendly looks?" Robert Baratheon asked vaguely and waved his hand.
Sansa frowned. Did they believe the perpetrator to be someone present at the Tourney? It seems unlikely though entirely possible. At the moment, Sansa believed the most likely person behind the attack is Joffrey. This attack may be similar to the one against Bran years ago. Though if it was carefully planned then it certainly would not be anyone at the Tourney. However, Sansa has been tucked away in Winterfell this entire time. She has not been exposed to the game yet and is unlikely to have picked up any enemies. At least one that would plot to kill her. Unless Dany has told someone of their correspondence or discovered it. Nothing is certain.
"No, your grace. I immediately left with my grand-uncle and was with him until I left my grandfather's chambers that night before the attack" She replied.
For the first time Ser Brynden spoke up, "Aye she's right, your grace"
Ned and Robert exchanged looks. One which Sansa was very curious of. It was her father that spoke, picking his words carefully, "You have said that the Queen doesn't appear very fond of you... did she attempt to approach you after the Tourney?" His voice was deep and unhappy.
Time froze in that moment. Cersei Lannister. Was that wretched Whore Queen truly the mind behind her attack? Sansa had considered who might be responsible. Cersei Lannister was the obvious culprit. It would not surprise her one bit if the Queen had ordered an attack in a jealous rage. Though it was too obvious, wasn't it? The Lannister woman was not as shrewd as she would like to believe but neither was she an incompetent fool. The Queen would not order an attack upon her so soon from men she did not trust implicitly. Perhaps she would have sent Ser Jaime to do her dirty work but those men.
Sansa held in an expression of disgust as she recalled the stench from one of the men the night before.
The stench... that was the stink of smallfolk. Their blades were crude, not to mention the hounds. They were not animals from the Riverrun stables. They were trained to attack and kill more than animals. They would need to be raised to be brutalised animals as such. By all accounts this attack was planned and it did not seem much like Cersei Lannister. Sansa knew the woman. Unfortunately too well. Though it was possible, the attack seems quite unlikely to be orchestrated by her. In fact, Sansa hadn't even entertained the thought of the woman in her list. This was not the whore queens type of plots. Hers were more vicious and well thought out. She struck in cruel and unusual ways. No, she was almost certain it was someone else.
But that left her at a dilemma. Sansa swept her eyes across the room. Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon looked grave and angry respectively. They looked certain of their conviction of whom was responsible. There was only one option to them. Sansa's eyes crept to Ser Jaime. His gaze was impassive, almost resigned. Did he believe his sister was behind this? It appeared entirely possible. The Knight even appeared abject though angry and conflicted over the guilt of his lover and twin.
Everyone in the room did not need convincing.
Thus, gave Sansa a brilliant opportunity, did it not?
The dilemma she faced was whether to give the impression that it could have been the queen. It seemed everyone else would ensure Justice would be served. Sansa would be neutralising an enemy. A reckless, powerful and irrational one that despised her. The issue of Cersei Lannister was difficult. Alongside Littlefinger, the woman was one of her biggest opponents that she did not intend to take on until Daenerys arrived in Westeros. With the ruthless woman gone, Sansa's plots will become much easier. This was an incredible opportunity.
Sansa opened her mouth to reply when a thunderous banging startled everyone in the quiet room. The door opened to reveal Jory and three other Northern guards. The Kingsguard members shuffle in quickly behind them with arms on their pommels.
Jory looked distressed, "I am very sorry to disrupt you, your grace" He first says to the King. Jory then turns to her father, "Lord Stark, I am afraid a very urgent message has come from the Wall. It claims to know whom is behind Lady Sansa's attack"
Suspicion and doubt filled her before surprise. Who exactly would be writing from the Wall? Jon and Samwell will have no knowledge and neither should any other Black Brothers. It seems rather far-fetched. A distraction to deter the actual culprit. An interesting development that may lead to the true perpetrator.
Her father immediately strides over to Jory. Hesitation flickers throughout the loyal man's eyes. Sansa turns fully to observe the situation.
"Lord Stark... I am afraid the letter is addressed to his Grace" Jory speaks slowly and carefully. The northern guard's eyes look to the King, "A note was written specifically detailing that the letter be read by only the King" He relays blankly. It was abundantly clear what Jory thought of this stipulation.
For the first time in Sansa's life she thought her father might be disrespectful to one of his men. His jaw is clenched and his deep breathes are loud.
Robert Baratheon huffs, "Just bloody take the letter Ned"
The Stark girl lets out a small smile. Millions of faults the usurper king has and yet his loyalty to her father is not one of them.
The Hand of the King takes the letter and reads it swiftly, the entire room watching him carefully. Sansa wishes she could read it over his shoulder as she often did with Tyrion. It made her husband amused and often commented that his height was good for something.
Sansa is certain the Raven holds dangerous words as her father appears much more irate than before. His features appear carved from stone and his grey eyes bite as cold as ice. The letter is perhaps insulting. Ned Stark crumpled the parchment in his hand.
"Utter nonsense. I must deal with this immediately" The Protector of the North bites out. Her father moves to stride out the room.
"-Ned!" Robert shouts. Her father pauses and turns around with forced patience on his face, "At least tell me who it claims to be" He speaks. The large King walks over and places a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "You're not in this alone, you know. At least let me read the letter"
Her father looks as high strung as a bow about to release an arrow. His lips are thin as he replies, "The letter is a farce of pathetic lies"
The King, for once, actually looked patient as he held his hand out, "Let me decide that then" He answers back.
Respect for his position and duty to obey clearly warred with telling his friend to mind his own business. Duty and honour were always first for her father. The only instance when it was not being when it involved the safety of his family.
Her father handed the King the note.
Sansa looked back and made eye contact with Ser Jaime. The Knight, still downtrodden managed to send her a weak eye roll in gesture to the two men in front of her. She fought a smile as a wave of relief crashed over her. Jaime does not hate her. Thank the old gods and new.
The King took a longer time reading the letter than her father. Whether it was a reflection on his intelligence or not was uncertain.
"Snow... snow... isn't that your bastard?" The King asked with a confused frown.
Sansa's body sprung to attention. Someone is attempting to blame Jon for her attack? Someone must know his identity. It seems her letters to Dany may have been intercepted. How else would anyone know? The Dragon Queen would not reveal her nephew's identity to anyone lest someone is spying on their letters. This was a shit storm. Sansa would need to take action immediately.
Her fathers grey eyes looked to her before nodding to the King, "Yes, your grace. Though it is impossible for him to have done this. It is not like him"
Something flickered across Robert Baratheon's face, pity? Sympathy? Whatever it was made her bite her lip in restraint.
"...Ned" He said almost gently.
Sansa's mind was running through problems and possibilities. The impending argument between the King and the Hand of the King, she had no patience for. Both men were stubborn and they did not have the time for this.
She interrupted her father mid-speech, "Father" She called out in a gentle but warning voice. Grey eyes shot to hers and looked betrayed.
"Father" She repeated much more softly and forced herself to look contrite, "Please calm yourself, do not be angry with the King for his hesitation. He does not know Jon like you or I and might think your duty and love for Jon is overriding your common sense"
Her father looked only mildly appeased. Sansa stepped forward and spoke in a practical and matter of fact tone of voice, "We can investigate if Jon may be responsible though it is highly unlikely. We were attacked by hounds. Hounds trained to kill others. There is no possible way Jon had the contacts or time to train these dogs from birth to brutalise them in such a way. Even if Jon had the motive, he does not have the contacts or ability to carry this out. What we should consider is whom sent the letter if if that individual may have motive to want me dead" She explained.
Clearly, she had hit the nail on the head as the two men exchanged looks. The King eventually shook his head, "Maybe against the Starks but a direct attack against you, Lady Sansa seems unlikely. If he was going to kill someone, why not you Ned or your eldest son?"
Sansa took in this tiny piece of information greedily. Her suspicions against the writer of this letter only grew. An individual with a grudge against the Starks, in particular her father or Robb. It felt like the answer was obvious and yet so far away. It itched her brain like a twisted braid at the back of her head.
Sansa spoke up, "Perhaps it was not about killing me or revenge in general, rather, the response my death would cause. Would it benefit the writer in some way or another?" She suggested.
The King and her father stared at each other. Her father spoke the words quietly but dangerously, "Full restoration of his position and reward of honour. He is using my children as tools in a bid to weasel himself out of justice"
The King looked grave, "Go on then, deal with it" he waved his hand.
Sansa was very frustrated that her father left the room swiftly, northern guards trailing behind him. She wanted, no, needed to know the writer of the letter. They were attempting to blame Jon.
Sansa turned to her grand-uncle, silent this entire time, "Uncle Brynden?" She asked. His blue eyes sought hers and his eyebrows raised expectantly, "Do you mind finding out whom wrote the letter and I can perhaps try to help this situation?" She requested politely.
The elderly knight looked at her carefully, "Do you truly believe you should be getting involved Sansa?" He challenged.
Sansa met his challenge calmly, "It is always useful to have an outside perspective. My father is angry and rightfully so, my mother is grieving at the moment. It is always useful to have a woman's perspective, uncle" She smiled.
Her uncle let out a chuckle, "I agree on some occasions. You are very much like Cat, you know. Just as annoyingly right like her too" He shook his head fondly, "I will see what I can do" he winked to her as he moved confidently from the room.
With one of her protectors gone, Brienne moved silently to her side again. The King had retreat to a quiet corner of the room and poured himself a deep goblet of wine and regarded her carefully.
A small pea of caution appeared in her stomach. She waited quietly until he spoke. Once again, her eyes drifted towards Ser Jaime. The Knight had appeared to have lost all interest in what was going on. His demeanour was noticeably slumped again and he stared at the ground. The Stark felt a little uncomfortable as his blatant position in the centre of the room. It was almost as if he was on show. The man had saved her life. He deserved a little dignity.
"Tell me, Lady Sansa" The King finally spoke up as he walked over. She kept a friendly impassive mask firmly on her face, "Speak to me true, not as your king but as your father's best friend, do you truly think my Queen had nothing to do with this?" He said quietly observing her with a deep frown.
The dilemma was present again. Should she condemn the whore queen? Jon was in a troubling situation and she did not know all the players nor plots. But Sansa had allies and contacts in the North. No true harm would ever befall her brother. He would survive this attack against him. It was much more important to ensure Cersei Lannister be neutralised before she became a true threat. Robert Baratheon could easily dispose of her. This was a golden goose of an opportunity. One that comes once in a lifetime.
She spoke carefully, "No, your grace. It seems she holds little love for me but I do not think she was behind this attack. There is no evidence to suggest so and from what little I know of her it seems unlike something she would be a part of" Sansa almost whispered.
The voice of Littlefinger inside of her mind was supremely disappointed. Weak, it sneered. Yet, this was Jon. Her family. Even if he was proven innocent after this, it was uncertain. Yes Sansa could have claimed it was Queen Cersei and Jon could be proven innocent in that manner. But the man who plotted against her brother would have another opportunity. Protecting Jon was her priority even if it almost physically pained her to make such a foolish move in the game.
Robert Baratheon still frowned. He downed his goblet in one, "Right" He sighed. The man then looked between herself and Ser Jaime, his gaze softened, "I think I give you two a moment alone" He said and then looked towards Ser Barristen, "Stay here and guard Ser Jaime now, would you? I'll get Preston and Blout outside" He remarked.
The King then walked slowly towards the large doors. She frowned as she watched him in a confused manner. At last moment he turned and sent her a wink.
By the old gods and the new. Robert Baratheon believed there was some forbidden love affair going on between herself and Ser Jaime. Or at the very least, some sort of attraction.
The doors shut behind them with a loud bang, echoing throughout the room. A slightly uncomfortable silence was now present. Only herself, Ser Barristen, Lady Brienne, Lady and of course, Ser Jaime was left. She stared at the doors.
"Not very discrete, is he, little pup?" Ser Jaime's teasing voice called out, weaker than usual. Sansa turned to regard the man. He made a pitiful sight indeed. Still slouched with a thin mask of bitter amusement that fooled no one.
Sansa walked over to the decanter of wine slowly and poured a cup, "No he is not" She agreed evenly. The Stark girl then approached the disgraced knight and held out the cup for him. A smirk firmly in place he took it and swallowed a long gulp greedily.
As he pulled the cup away from his lips he asked, "What was that for exactly?"
Sansa shrugged delicately, "You looked as if you needed one" She replied.
A bitter snort escaped Jaime's lips, much like Tyrion as he agreed. Sansa felt guilty, uncomfortable and vaguely annoyed she was put into this position.
"I wanted to thank you for saving my life last night, Ser Jaime. You did not need to" She chirped kindly, still at a respectful distance.
Ser Jaime's green eyes were empty, "No, I did not" He agreed.
There was only silence for a split moment, "Then why did you?" She asked, genuinely curious.
The knight responded with a lewd glance, "Maybe I hoped you would let me under your skirts"
A shift from behind told her that Ser Barristen was not amused at the crude comment. Neither, it seemed was Brienne. Her friend and sworn shield stepped forward.
"Watch how you speak, Kingslayer" She commanded high-handedly with her hand resting threateningly against her pommel.
Ser Jaime laughed, "Pardon me, it seems like the wine has loosened my tongue. My apologises Lady Sansa" He spoke almost graciously, "Wench" He smirked again at Brienne. Her friends face coloured unattractively red. This only amused the Lannister more.
Sansa felt a headache come on for her lack of sleep and the situation in general. She rubbed her temples.
"Unwell, Lady Sansa?" Jaime asked.
She sighed and pursed her lips together, "No, Ser, I simply did not sleep well last night"
Ser Jaime leant back on his chair and took an arrogant pose. It was almost a welcome relief from the empty shell of a man he was before. It seemed bantering with Brienne lifted his spirits. How odd.
"If you ever need help getting to sleep, I would be remiss if I did not generously offer my services" He again let his gaze drift up her form.
Brienne this time moved hastily forward to block her from view, "How dare you speak to Lady Sansa that way, Kingslayer. You should have lost your tongue as well as your sword hand" She reprimanded harshly.
Her patience had left her by this point. She placed a hand on her friend's large shoulder and smiled comfortingly, "Thank you Brienne but I can handle his inappropriate comments. You are here if I have need you"
The heir of Tarth looked uncertain but unwilling to go against the implied command of her mistress.
Jaime looked entertained by the gesture, "Have nightmares been troubling you, my lady?" He picked up the conversation.
"No, my dreams were fine, Ser, though did not last as long as I would like" She replied irately. This conversation was pointless, she had much better things to be doing.
"Would you like me to make your dreams come true, my lady?" He spoke earnestly though his green eyes danced with dark amusement.
Sansa rubbed her temples again, "No thank you Ser, though dreams most certainly do not come true"
"Are you sure?" He asked, voice dripping with condescension.
She looked him dead in the eye, "Well you are still here"
Ser Jaime let out a bellow of laughter. It was almost sweet if it was not so mocking in sound. His sunshine was returning to him. It unsettled her how happy that made her.
"Now that I have relayed my gratitude Ser, I really must be going" Sansa begged off, impatient to discover the identity of the man who wrote the letter.
Ser Jaime looked almost disappointed, "I see" He replied. Sansa straightened herself and smoothed her skirts as she prepared to leave.
He smirked, "Indeed. Still, I thank you for "Before you go, I must also relay my gratitude for not condemning me for the chopping block for my crimes when it was in your power to do so"
Sansa turned to frown at the man, "You were innocent. I was only relayed the truth"
Ser Jaime looked irritated and amused at the same time, "How very Stark of you"
Sansa looked at him wryly, "How very Lannister to point out that I could have condemned you anyway" She remarked.
He smirked, "Indeed. Still, I thank you for not contriving a crime to keep your honour and reputation intact despite how enraged you were when I crowned you Queen of Love and Beauty" This comment made her pause. It seemed Jaime Lannister was well aware of the position she was in.
Sansa, in a Lannister fashion, shrugged her shoulders with a teasing smirk, "Stupidity is not a crime Sunshine..." she said pointedly.
As Sansa left the room with Brienne on one side and lady on the other, she could hear the kingslayers laughter floating down the corridor.
The Stark prowled the corridors of the castle trying to hunt her father down. She intended to find out who exactly is plotting against her brother.
Arya was bored. She lay on her back on the barracks near the training area. Robb was holding some sort of meeting that she was not allowed to attend. She was apparently a distraction. They were boring anyway. Sansa would just let her know what was happening and filter out all the bullshit.
Arya sighed and glared at the tips of the tree's in the surrounding forest. The youngest Stark girl didn't think she'd miss Sansa but she had quickly come to realise how easy the red headed girl made life for her. Robb was stupid and such a boy. He thought he knew everything and wouldn't listen. He also didn't think it was important to keep her informed of the running of the castle or North in general. Arya had tried to explain to him that they were wolves and were a pack that needed to stick together. He rolled his eyes at her.
Idiot.
Arya sighed and sat up only to glower at the smithery barely visible from where she sat. She could hear the clangs of Gendry working. Another idiot. He was 'too busy' to spend time with her. He said that a lot. She didn't know what was up with her friend but the last few months he's been pulling away from her and acting differently. He made up some excuse about it being 'improper' and how 'she was growing up' and other shite. If the idiot didn't want to hang about her he could just say so and not act all annoying.
Maybe she should write Sansa and see what she said about the blacksmiths behaviour. Again, Arya sighed and kicked the dust harshly. There it was again, missing stupid Sansa. Sansa who kept Arya included. Sansa who kept their family together and made sure they all spent time together. Sansa who would tell her how to act with other people and explain why people acted so falsely and stupidly. She was a people person.
But for all of her people smarts, she was no tactician. That was where Arya excelled. That and fighting. Her sister was people smart but too kind. The she-wolf saw how men stared at her big sister. With lust and greed. Even that creepy Theon Greyjoy. Sansa wasn't tough like her, she was carer, not a fighter. Since her father rode south, Sansa had become pack. Meera was her best friend, they were just alike and she spent the most amount of time together. But Sansa was pack. Although she was older, it was Arya's job to protect Sansa. Arya's job was to protect everyone. Other than Rickon – who was growing to be quite the vicious little fighter himself – and Bran at times without Summer, Sansa was the only one who really needed protection. She didn't have that killer instinct.
Arya liked Brienne. She was great but too... innocent. The woman would hesitate to deliver a killing blow. Not Arya. Sansa needed someone with careful intent and would priorities the protection of her sister.
Arya was a killer. Her primary duties since Sansa left was patrolling the lands surrounding Winterfell and hunting down any Wildings. It's gotten really bad lately with groups found every two days sometimes. The wolves were great and would hunt them down. Nymeria was ruthless and would bring back the severed heads. Shaggy dog would kill them but leave their bodies. Grey Wind would injure and then alert someone. Summer was sort of the Alpha. He was in charge of the wolves and kept control of them. Nymeria missed hunting with her sister. At night, she would prowl around Winterfell sniffing for her packmate.
Footsteps approached and the Stark girl turned around with disinterest to see Maester Luwin approach. The old man walked overly slowly, breath creating smoke in the air in front of him. His arms were clasped together and hidden under his long sleeves. The Maester pulled out a letter from his robes.
"I have an urgent message from your sister" He explained as he handed her the parchment. Arya frowned at the wording, 'urgent' as it did not bode well. That was proper talk for shit going down.
The Stark snatched the parchment and read it hastily.
Dearest Arya,
I wish I was bringing good tidings, sister, alas I am not. There is much I wish to tell and yet I do not have the time. I pray Autumn winds do not delay this message as it cannot arrive fast enough. I need your help. There has been an attack on my life. Fortunately, with the protection of Lady – and surprisingly – Jaime Lannister I am unharmed. Yet a letter arrived claiming the mastermind behind the attack is Jon.
Arya swore foully at the ridiculousness. Jon? Try to kill Sansa? Whoever made up these lies would meet the wrong end of Needle. She continued reading-
I have only just discovered it is written by Roose Bolton – perhaps you will recall him. He was stripped of his position as Lord of the Dreadfort and sent to the Wall in punishment. His son was Ramsey Snow. It seems that Lord Commander Mormont passed away recently and many wish to elect Jon for the position. Roose Bolton has gathered allies and imprisoned Jon, claiming that others heard of him muttering of his plans to be acknowledged as a Stark and given a position. He claims Jon wanted out of his vows and if I was dead then father may grant him his wishes. It is a flimsy and not well thought out plot. The ideas of a desperate man at the edge of the world.
Additionally, you may remember for several months Jon was gone behind the Wall acting undercover to discover the plans of Mance Ryder? Roose is claiming Jon was a deserter and needs to be punished.
Thankfully, father does not believe this nonsense. However, mother is uncertain. You know how she has never liked Jon and is blinded by this. Father is angry and mother is distraught and acting irrationally. Grandfather passed away nought but a few days ago and she has not been sleeping well either. This is all added to the strain of the situation.
The reason I write to you is because I need you to make sure Jon is safe. I need you to ride to the Wall and be present in the event they decide to give 'justice' without waiting for father or Robb to arrive. Father will most likely be writing to Robb sooner or later and will probably ride North himself. Roose will execute Jon before anyone arrives, of that I am certain. Even if we seek revenge, Jon will still be dead.
Please, travel to the Wall and do not tell anyone you are going. Take Meera, Gendry and anyone you think will be useful. When you arrive claim you are acting as an expert witness to Jon's innocence. But in reality, if anything goes wrong, take Jon and run. Send him on a ship to Bravos and I will make arrangements for him.
I know this is much to ask but only you I can trust with this task. Only you are unobtrusive, strong and skilled enough to pull this off. No one will suspect a Lady.
Please think rationally and be as shrewd as I know you can be. If you come on too strong against Roose then he will know we are on to him. I will pray for you as well as Jon.
Please be safe my sister, I love you,
Sansa.
Arya crumbled up the note with a determined expression. Ice burned in her eyes as she whistled Nymeria and stalked away.