Chapter 15 - A Young Warg's Game of Thrones (Patreon)

BTW - I majorly goofed in copy and pasting Chapter 1. There are some new POVs, almost doubling the size of Chapter 1 that I had copied from my snippet thread instead of my word doc. It helps a lot with understanding how Sansa was fitting in with her family... really can't believe I missed that.

Chapter 15

Both my meetings with the queen and then later with Margaery had been interesting. The queen had assured me that Petyr Baelish had honorable intentions and that if I continued to be dutiful and told her of all my little discussions with Margaery and others in court, she would use her own influence on her husband to allow me to wed some generous family of the Vale willing to overlook my condition.

Knowledge that Cersei and Petyr were allies was useful. I even thought it was risky, given that Father was not yet at Winterfell, I slipped my skin and entered Anna and got his attention. Through some trial and error I figured out a way to communicate and explained that Petyr was trying to push me to convince the king to allow a Vale match, and that the queen was very much on Petyr’s side and how I suspected they had been working together to get him to believe that Jon was poisoned.

“No, Sansa. I understand why you think that, but it isn’t true. Baelish tries to be everyone’s friend, but he directed me against the queen and the Lannisters. If anything, he is trying to work toward removing you as a hostage.”

I debated about telling him about his lingering touches, but figured that would do little but worry him. And while I was acutely aware of my inability to fight all that well in a serious fight, Baelish would not be able to fend off Visha. Instead I pushed on the notion that whoever told them of the supposed poisoning of Jon Arryn might not be trustworthy or had been genuinely mistaken. If he trusted me, and I truthfully reveal information that I genuinely believed, I could still be wrong and therefore he would be wrong as well.

“Sansa, I told you to let the matter rest. I cannot risk you. If you begin asking too many questions, I fear for your safety.”

I again, slowly, given our less than optimal communication method, pressed that it would be good to know who the enemy was. That I was also naturally curious, but if I actually knew all the details my curiosity may well be sated…

“Enough. This is beneath you, daughter. We taught you better than that. You cannot threaten your own safety through reckless questioning in order to get me to share information I must hold in confidence. Information that if it were known would lead to more death of innocents. No more of this. As for a Vale match, much will depend on who it is with. I do not believe Robert is so far gone as to wed you without consulting your mother and me.”

Damn it! Just tell me, augh!

For the interim, I agreed and then returned to my own body. It really was fascinating how even distance did not seem to dim the bond. The thought of Father returning to Winterfell was exciting. Two fresh new test subjects in the form of Robb and Jon loomed, and perhaps even Bran too.

Perhaps, especially Bran. He cannot walk, but I hope he is not like Arya and only comfortable with just slipping into his direwolf. The sensation of flight is almost beyond my ability to articulate.

Margaery had made a splash with her arrival and the queen was more strained when she joined the feast hall. My next meeting with the king was coming soon and I would need to ask about bringing Margaery. It put me in an awkward position, as I was trying to remain on the good side of both the Lannisters and the Tyrells. Margaery herself was quite the social butterfly, and with her fifteenth birthday fast approaching, I suspected she wanted to use her ‘name day’ as a means to attract the king’s attention.

I had persuaded Arya to make nice with her handmaidens, but Arya was very much not into their giggles and talk of boys. She had endured one session and then insisted she wouldn’t do that again unless I was there. And… well, I didn’t want to be there for that either. It was much more effective just to speak with Margaery and use my time elsewhere.

I had not heard from Tyrion lately, and today I had remedied that. I had sent Jory and he agreed to meet with me and update me on my idea of bringing glasses or spectacles to fruition. It really was odd that they didn’t have those devices given that they had the Myrish lenses, but technology did not always have a linear growth process across all societies.

“Lady Sansa, I wasn’t sure you still wished to converse with me, and did not call upon you sooner,” Tyrion said as he ushered me and Visha in.

“Why wouldn’t I, Lord Tyrion? You have been most kind and I’m very curious to see what you’ll come up with regarding my idea of using glass to read more easily.”

Tyrion made a slight motion with his head.

“Well, I was not sure with the treatment of your father being influenced by my sister…” He took a drink from his cup, wine most likely.

“My lord, whatever do you mean? The queen herself told me that she begged the king to stay his wrath and to do what he could to make amends with my father.”

He coughed and some wine splattered, and I laughed.

“I’m sorry, that was wicked of me. No, obviously the queen would not lie to me so.”

Tyrion looked at me disbelieving, either because I had made the joke in the first place, or because he was attempting to tell if I was joking again about the queen not lying.

Ok, this was actually funny. But purposeful, as well. I want him off his guard. He needs to be aware that I’m not completely ignorant.

“Politics is politics, my lord, my father and the queen were at odds, but I would not wish you to be upset with me over something my father did. So why would I be upset with you for something your sister has done?”

“Wisely spoken, but then, not everyone is wise,” Tyrion finally replied after his coughing fit.

He poured more wine for himself and then gestured toward two cups.

“I have iced milk or well-watered wine if you prefer.”

“Iced milk is fine, thank you. Wine’s never sat overly well for me, even the Arbor gold Lord Baelish gave, was just not to my liking.”

Tyrion stilled for a second. “Baelish? I did not know you were that well acquainted.”

“We aren’t, but I was at the Stokeworth manse and Lollys had grown dreadfully sick and he was left to entertain me while Lady Tanda saw her daughter. He’s promised to help find me a match in the Vale, but I still feel it is too soon.”

He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Sansa… I don’t wish to intrude, but Lord Baelish is not a trustworthy sort. You should not accompany him anywhere, and you should not drink wine around him. One of your guards should be with you at all times, or at the very least your friend, Jeyne, or even one of Margaery’s ladies.”

“But, my lord, my father trusts Lord Baelish. He told me so himself.”

“Then he’s a fool,” Tyrion snapped, and immediately apologized. “No, I… I shouldn’t have said that. Sansa, Lord Baelish is not a good person. Your father was made Hand, so of course the weasel would toady up to him. The man has few virtues and girls disappear when they displease him from his establishments. Rumors they may be, but I would feel much better if you put some distance between the two of you.” 

It was nice of him to worry over me, which made me feel a little bit bad about using him to give me information about his family. 

“It is all just so confusing. I wish people were like the letters on a page. Direct, and honest. You tell me to beware Lord Baelish. My own father says he is a friend of the family. Your sister says that I should eagerly go along with whatever match he can find for me. As if any of it is even my choice!”

Tyrion was scowling at his cup.

“My sister told you to trust Littlefinger? And you know the queen is at odds with your father. What does that tell you?” He paused. “I know you are a bright girl; you must think these things through.”

I sighed. “This is my dilemma. I don’t know what I don’t know. It could be that Petyr Baelish is my father’s enemy and worked with the queen to undermine his Handship. Or, perhaps the queen wronged him in some way and Lord Baelish has harbored anger toward her and was truly helping my father. It may be that the queen truly wishes for me to be away from King’s Landing and not a potential temptation for our king when I grow older. While he wouldn’t ever marry me, I’m already spoiled goods, am I not? For all I know you lost a big bet against Lord Baelish and carry a grudge!”

I stood up and paced, adding to the idea that my normally composed self was frantic and anxious.

“No one just says what they mean! Lady Margaery has been so kind, but is that also a potential act? The queen is kind, Petyr is kind, he calls me as beautiful as my mother, and you’ve been kind too. But you are all at odds with each other.”

I collapsed back into the chair and wiped away some tears I had formed by poking myself in the eye when I was turned away.

Tyrion had a look of sympathy on his face and he tentatively took my hand.

“Sansa, I know this is difficult. You know that not everyone is honest, but you still want to believe that they are because you came from a family where honesty is prized. Your heart wars with your head, but it is better not to trust out of hand and to be cautious. Stay around people you know are safe, like your guard.”

I nodded shakily. “Tyrion, I’ve always wanted to know everything. That’s why I read. Can you… can you tell me about what is really going on? If you think Lord Baelish has ulterior motives, then, what are they? If I am armed with information, then maybe I can understand what is going on around me.”

Tyrion took a big breath. “I can make guesses, but I do not truly know, nor do I wish to alarm you if I am wrong.”

“Then tell me more about what you do know about him. I’ve been told some, that he was a childhood friend of my mother’s in Riverrun, but I know so little about him. Or even about your sister and other figures in court. I hear a jest about Lord Varys and it is awkward for me to just ask what they mean, because I sound like someone hopelessly ignorant. Can you teach me what you know of the people here?” 

Tyrion took his seat and another sip of wine.

“I can. I’ll tell you what I’ve seen with my own eyes, and what I’ve heard others say. I’ll tell you about my sister, about all of the small council, and more. If it will make you feel safe and if you will take proper precautions when you are around Littlefinger. I will be glad to do so.”

Excellent. I can’t trust everything he says, but every fact he presents helps unravel more of the motivations of the players and helps me. He and his sister don’t see eye-to-eye and that’s helpful too. Someone tried to murder my brother. I care more about that than whatever stupid plotting they had over my father’s Handship. Whoever it was, their days are numbered.

***

Renly was pleased with Margaery. She was vibrant and enchanting, sweet and friendly, and a ripening fruit just his brother’s type. Loras had been incensed by the foul rumors of his sister being barren, but it was a baseless rumor and of no consequence. The Stark girl was biddable and had helped Margaery with Robert.

She also tells Cersei everything, but no matter. Sansa confessed that much to Margaery from the beginning. Sansa is Eddard Stark writ miniature. Too honest and straightforward for her own good.

Renly bore the Starks no ill will at all – he just found them boring. Sansa was clever and courteous, and their ability to tame direwolves of all things did add a certain bit of spice, but no, they really did do better off in their frozen wasteland they called home.

Today, he hoped to see how things were going with his brother. Around noon he made his presence known and Robert was having a morning drink. No Cersei or others around save for Ser Barristan.

“I’m not going to a small council meeting, and I haven’t chosen the Hand yet. And it won’t be you, so don’t ask again!”  Robert said sourly.

“I’m content being your master of laws, brother.” Renly picked up one of the summer apples from the table and bit into it. “You recall Loras being my squire, yes? You may have seen his sister at the recent feast.” 

Renly knew Robert had actually not only seen her but also met with Sansa and Margaery on the prior day.

His brother began to smile. “Oh, yes, Mace Tyrell is a fortunate man, three sons and a daughter that makes the dawn seem plain. Sansa could use another friend at court after all that business with her father, and the two seem close already.”

Renly kept eating the apple as he let his brother talk. Robert never did like silences and so he would fill the gap if someone didn’t speak right after he did.

“She is beautiful, and whoever marries her will be a lucky man.” 

Renly hid his smile with another bite of the ripe fruit.

“Lord Tyrell has not secured any betrothal for her yet.”

Robert looked at him. “Oh, ah, hah, is she the one for you then? I suppose you’re in negotiations with that crone that came with her. Olenna Tyrell, right?”

Renly faltered. “No, I’ve not discussed the matter. She didn’t come to King’s Landing for a betrothal to me.” 

Robert leaned forward in his seat. “You’ve been given Storm’s End. You should have an heir, what the hells are we to do if the next time you fall off your horse in a joust you break your fool neck? Tommen could have taken Storm’s End if you died without an heir, but now that he’s to be king after me, you need to see about starting your own bunch. One never knows when tragedy can strike.”

The death of Joffrey has struck him harder than I would have thought.

Robert had been acting differently. Trying to take a hand in teaching Tommen how to fight was one thing, but now he was trying to teach him about being a responsible lord? What a joke. Renly was not quite sure if he wanted to go through the trouble of marriage anytime soon. He was quite content with Loras, and had no desire for complications. It could be put off until a more convenient time. Should he die young, the matter would trouble the living more than him.

The Baratheon line had grown a bit thin. Stannis only had a daughter, and one nearly as difficult to find a good match for as Sansa given her affliction. And while Margaery might resolve the complexities of his nights with her brother, it wasn’t part of the plan. Renly wanted to be rid of the Lannisters and Margaery was there to seduce Robert into setting aside Cersei.

“In time, I’m not old like you and Stannis.”

“Old? Hah, I could still knock you on your arse if you keep at it.” 

Renly laughed. “I’ll not take that wager. But you are right about no longer having Tommen as an option. Is Cersei no longer able to bear you more potential heirs?”

“How the hell should I know? The woman guards her cunt like the Iron Bank guards their debts. Gods be good, my wife and my best friend should be those who I can go to for counsel. Instead they squabble and slander each other and then no doubt blame me for it!”

Renly finished his apple.

“It must be tempting,” Renly said carefully, “to just start over fresh. New Hand, new wife, new everything. Find yourself a new horse while you are at it.” 

His brother squinted at him for a moment.

“Replace Cersei? And have the whole of the Westerlands in arms?”

“Just idle talk, brother. I understand Tywin Lannister and the power of Casterly Rock is intimidating, but he has few friends.”

Robert stood up. “Your tongue runs free today, brother. I’m the king and I fear no man.” 

Renly put up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I meant no offense. You were the one who seemed worried about the Westerlands.” Renly looked down, then his face came up with a calculated wistful smile. “I was too young to fight in the Greyjoy Rebellion. I almost yearn for an excuse to test myself in a proper battle and not the frolic that is the joust.”

His brother grunted. “Ah, that’s your Baratheon blood running in you. Ours is the fury. But other than being a shrew of the highest order, Cersei has done nothing to warrant such an action.” 

Renly knew he was being overbold here, but he was so close, he could taste it.

“Brother, hasn’t she? Myrcella turned out well enough, but Joffrey… well, I’ll not speak ill of those in the Stranger’s embrace, but you know better than most. Tommen has been coddled and your attempts to make a man out of him have only led to weeping. She’s a poor mother, antagonized your friend, and regularly radiates disapproval of what you do as king at feasts and in court.” Renly took on an exasperated tone, “Seven Hells, you even complain she’s not doing her wifely duties with the eagerness that a king deserves.”

Robert was silent for a time. As it progressed, he remembered he needed to clear something with his brother, as well as put Margaery in his mind again.

“Ser Loras has asked for permission to escort Lady Sansa to go hawking with his sister. She’s your… guest, I wanted to ensure nothing would be seen amiss with her leaving the gates.” 

Robert waved it aside. “She’s a Stark, and understands the world. Sansa would not attempt to flee. I don’t think I ever recall ever giving Janos any instructions about either of the girls leaving the gates.” Robert stared at his drink for a moment and then laughed.

“Hawking, eh? I miss Thunderclap. Best gyrfalcon in the Seven Kingdoms. Do you recall Weakwing? Our fool brother nursed it like it was some babe, the creature never managed a proper strike.”

Renly only vaguely recalled. “I think it was named Proudwing.” 

“Weakwing was a better word for the useless creature. Speaking of our damnable brother, is he still sulking in Dragonstone? I’m surprised he didn’t immediately sail back here and ask to be made Hand again.” 

Renly shrugged. “I have no way of knowing, nor do I enjoy speaking with him, even over raven. You are the king, just summon him. Or don’t, and save us all his relentless looks of judgment.”

Robert just grunted at that.

“Off with you, let me drink in peace.”

Renly thought that had gone well indeed. He couldn’t wait to share with Loras. Within a few moons, the Tyrells would be ascendant and all would be right with the world.

***

“You’ll absolutely love it, Sansa, I’m sure,” Margaery said with a broad smile as they walked the streets of King’s Landing with a heavy guard.

“I’m sure, but I’d prefer to just watch for now. No need to buy an expensive bird if I find it an unappealing pastime.”

Margaery gave Sansa a side hug, “Coin? We are friends, are we not? Father sent more than enough for harmless little indulgences. I shall purchase something for you to use. The markets here should have a falconer. We can start you off with a trained peregrine, or if you prefer, we can speak with a breeder and find one with the coloring and temperament you desire.”

Sansa smiled at her gratefully. “You are too kind, Margaery, but truly, I would simply prefer to watch and see how it is done at first. I know your brother is taking us, but Jory is also insisting on bringing my guard as well.”

Is it genuine reluctance to commit, or avoiding a favor being owed? She’s quite different than the ladies of Highgarden.

“Let us wear matching riding outfits, come, my grandmother suggested a seamstress here that will see us to rights on the quick.” 

“I’m never opposed to gifts, but are you truly certain that your father would not mind you spending coin like this?” 

“Of course! You fret over nothing. Highgarden may not have the wealth of the Lannisters, but we are the most fertile region of all the Seven Kingdoms and boast more holdfasts and towns than any of the kingdoms.”

Sansa acceded and Margaery was happy that she was going along with this much. In the short time she had spent with the king, it was clear that Robert doted on Sansa. Fortunately, it was more like a kindly uncle or an elder cousin than something else. Keeping Sansa’s good opinion of her would go a long way to ensuring she could one day warm the king’s bed.

“Your sister Arya was missed. Alysanne really loves petting Nymeria and was saddened by her absence.”

Sansa gave a shrug.

“Arya is not fond of sitting still and just talking. I’ve told her that so long as she behaves at the limited court functions I make her attend, her time is her own. Alysanne is more than welcome to join us. Visha enjoys her pets.”

As if to prove that, the large wolf rubbed her head on Margaery’s cloak and leg. The Tyrell guards around her had grown used to the massive beast, but they still gave it side glances. It was not yet fully grown, and Margaery wondered just how large it could eventually grow. She indulged a bit and stroked her soft fur. It was fascinating what one could grow used to.

After they were measured and outfits of green and gray were commissioned, they returned to the Red Keep.

“Sansa, my name day is coming up and I would enjoy your presence, and that of your sister. I would like to keep the gathering fairly small, but would love to have the honor of the king’s presence as well. Could you perhaps ask that of him?”

“I can pass along the request, when I next see him,” she agreed.

“It will mean a lot to me. I hope you can convince him. We only turn that age once and I have the most gorgeous gown selected.”

Sansa looked at her carefully. “Your brother and Renly are close. Renly could also offer the invitation.”

“You have the king’s favor. I saw it, don’t deny it,” Margaery said as she noticed Sansa’s slight frown.

“Happenstance, I believe. I suspect he still feels guilt over what happened at the Trident.” 

No, it is more than that.

Sansa had true influence over the king and seemed to know how to flatter him without making it plain she was flattering him. Her father or someone else must have taught her something of Robert’s Rebellion, for whenever she asked after this battle or that siege, somehow the questions always led back to the king’s own victories. Then Robert would swell with pride and begin recounting old exploits in that booming voice of his.

Most ladies’ eyes glazed over at talk of battles and sieges, but not Sansa Stark’s. She listened closely, asked clever questions, and gave every appearance of understanding all the king told her. Each answer only seemed to draw more from him.

It was brilliantly done. Margaery found herself wishing Garlan were here. Her brother would have known enough of war to tell whether Sansa truly understood half of what Robert was saying, or whether she merely knew how to make a king feel young again.

“You are quite brave, Sansa. After what happened… it breaks my heart. My father is not without influence; I can perhaps help you find a noble house who would consent to the marriage. Favors traded for a second son’s marriage, from even a notable house, may not be beyond his ability. I care about my friends and wish for their well-being in all ways.”

They hadn’t known each other long, but she suspected Sansa could read between the lines of what she was saying. However, the girl demurred.

“My father will likely have plans, and after this harrowing situation, when I am free of King’s Landing I will most likely have a match close to Winterfell. You are very kind to try, but it is also not something I wish to think of before I even have flowered!”

“Oh, but Sansa,” Margaery said with some feeling in her voice, “you will be wasted up north. Do you really wish to sit in some old keep covered in frost while nothing of note occurs?”

Sansa gave her a tentative smile.

“You mean a cozy hearth without danger and a good book? I’ve had enough excitement for three lifetimes! I won’t forget your kindness in making the offer, but it truly is unnecessary.” 

Margaery leaned in, “Perhaps you’ll change your mind once you have flowered. Menfolk will be far more enticing, trust me in this,” she said with a conspiratorial giggle.

Sansa merely shrugged.

Once I’m wed to Robert, you won’t be needed. When that day comes you can enjoy your life of reading and frozen silence, but until things are resolved with the king I will not cease to be your kindest friend.