Thread: let no man steal your thyme || for xlilxmissx

Sansa Stark moved as if in a trance, her gestures mechanical as she followed the kings gentle urging. The ache from borne of being in a cramped space for hours barely registered in the young womans mind. So distracted was she by the sudden hammering of her heart and the fear that made her hand tremble as it settled in the crook of Stannis bent arm. She did not know where he was taking her, nor did it matter to her at this moment. He was likely displeased at her outburst and, perhaps, would discipline her away from the sight of his men. She would take it, whatever punishment she deserved for having slighted the rigid, scowling warrior beside her, as long as she was not forced to go back there. Not the Red Keep. She would throw herself into the Trident, cast herself into the Narrow Sea, before she risked such proximity to the Lannister Court. Cersei would surely kill her this time, mount her head on a pike where her fathers had been, but not before extracting every drop of pain and suffering from her body. The grieving Lioness would make sure Sansa begged for the executioners ax before the end. She walked, stiff and terrified, beside her future husband, awaiting the pause in his sure stride and the inevitable strike that, to her bewilderment, never came. Instead, he spoke to her, quietly and with a conviction that made her feel both like a confidant and a child the seasoned soldier was indulging with the details of his plans. Her fingers slid from their perch, thick gloves tracing the worn buckles of his leather gauntlet as he turned to face her. He stood close enough that she had to tilt her head a little to keep his gaze and, for a moment, rendered weak by her sudden vulnerability, she found herself lost in the storm of the solemn kings eyes. So accustomed was she to the multi-faceted lies of the Lannister court that she instinctively sought hidden meanings behind his blunt words. But she saw now what the whole of the Seven Kingdoms had mocked and whispered of Stannis Baratheon from the start. The man was terrifying, and just, and stubborn to the end, but he was no liar. He told her the truth, or as much of the truth as he believed would calm her fears enough that she would not go bolting in the night for fear of the long shadow cast by the golden-haired monsters of Casterly Rock. She was still trembling, she realized, as he revealed what he knew of the fates she had abandoned when Dontos beckoned her onto Petyr Baelishs boat. Tywin.. she tried to interrupt at the mention of the only other person she feared more than Cersei. Her voice was a little steadier now, void of the undue panic that she knew laced it in the carriage. He is dead? How? Of all the many things he had revealed, this was the one thing she doubted. Tommen, she knew, was king now. She did not need to be reminded of Joffreys grisly death. She still thanked the Seven and the Old Gods daily for that justice. She herself had abandoned Baelish soon after witnessing his cold murder of her Aunt. From Jon, she knew of the North and the Necks battles against the Greyjoys. This was the subject that she should be interested in, for, save for the quickly dropping temperature and the threats at the Wall, this was the only struggle that currently touched what was left of her people, but it also reminded her most of the betrayals the Freys and the Boltons and, Stranger take him, Theons that killed her family. So, instead, she fixated on the rest of the information Stannis had willingly shared with her. Cersei was captured, he said, but that did not change much for Sansa. The Queen will corrupt and seduce her way out of her cage sooner or later. But Tywin Lannister dead? Now that was a mercy Sansa would not dare hope for. The knowledge almost made her weak with incomprehensible relief. The rest of his revelations became easier to swallow, and by the time he had explained the rest of his intentions, only a small hint of apprehension remained. The mention of their betrothal made her suddenly aware of the proximity between them and the familiarity with which she was touching his forearm. She took a step back, a shaky breath she did not realize she was holding slipping in a cloud that warmed the small space between them. Send your Hand, my Lord. Even she was not sure if she said the bold words to cover up her discomfort or out of lingering fear. She cleared her throat before daring to advise a general old enough to be her father. If what you say is true and our enemies are weakened, then send Lord Davos to retrieve the coin while you and I and the Princess gather the North to our cause before the tide turns against us again.