thesphererp | Memory Share: Sansa Stark (7)

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Memory Share: Sansa Stark (7)

CW: Some uncomfortable kissing.

The last time she had seen the snow, she had been leaving Winterfell for King’s Landing. She’d been a maiden, with dreams of balls and love and life as the wife of King Joffrey Baratheon. She had wondered if it had been the last time she would ever see snow, and at the time she had been glad to see it go. But now, when Sansa steps into the small courtyard to see thick flakes falling, she cannot help but to smile.

As she had as a child, she found a flat spot, the temperature just right that the snow maintained a sticky consistency, perfect for building. Instead of the snow dragons she and Arya had made with their father and Jory Cassel, she began to construct thick walls, large, rounded turrets. She knew immediately what she was building.

Time went quickly, the cold hardly bothering her, as she began to work on the finer details of Winterfell, starting with the gates, using whatever tools are at her disposal to create flat walls, and carve her home there in the courtyard of the Eyrie. It’s then that she hears noises behind her, muffled by the snow. Turning, she sees her cousin, young Robert Arryn, son of the late Jon Arryn and her Aunt Lysa Tully. Robin, as they called him, to distinguish from all the other Rob-somethings in Westeros. He couldn’t have been older than ten, a sweet boy, but a selfish one who was still at his mother’s breast. Sickly though he was, Robin was her third betrothed in as many years.

“Hello, Robin.”

The boy creeps forward a few more steps, the snow crunching underfoot as he looks at her work.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“I’m building my home, Winterfell.” She knows to be patient with him. He is a boy and he was so coddled she doubts he will ever grow into a man. But she was the eldest girl of a large family, and though a lady, she had done much to help her mother and nursemaids out with the younger children. This boy was barely younger than Bran. “At least, I think I am. I haven’t been back there in a very long time.”

He sits down beside her, looking at the castle in awe ”Why did you leave?”

The million gold dragon question. So instead she settles for, “It’s a long story,” with an awkward laugh. She doesn’t want to get into it with him, explain more than she should. She doesn’t trust Robin any more than she trusts anyone.

“I stay here, in the Eyrie,” he explains needlessly. “There’s lots of dangerous things on the roads, and I have to keep myself safe. Because I’m the Lord of the Vale. and Lord of the Vale is a Very Important Person.” She knows this. She also knows exactly who has told him this.

“Yes, you certainly are.” Sansa is an incredibly savvy woman. She treads carefully around any man or boy that holds power.

“When will you go back?”

She takes a moment before she responds. “Probably never. My family doesn’t live there anymore, and someone burned it down.” And took her brothers with it.

“Oh.” This is boring, and Robin leans forward, “Does Winterfell have a moon-door?”

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s not high up in the mountains, it’s down on the ground.”

“That sounds dangerous!” He gushes, and she chuckles. “How’d you make people fly?”

“We don’t.” Her father was the King’s Justice. He dealt with the problem swiftly.

“What do you do with all the bad people? And the scary people? Or the people you don’t like?” She wishes she were young like him again, so ignorant of the real world out there beyond the castle walls. Lost in stories.

“I never did anything with them at all,” she explains. “Girls didn’t take part in that where I came from.”

“Well,” he looks at his fingers, “I’m Lord of the Vale. When I grow up, I’ll be able to fly anybody who bothers me! Or you!” His enthusiasm is adorable, she thinks. “When we get married, you can tell me if you don’t like somebody, and then we can bring them back here and WOOSH! Right through the moon-door!” Already imagining how wonderful it would be to see Cersei Lannister falling head over heels to the valley floor below, her bones joining the thousands of sun-bleached bones from those who’d flown before.

“I like the sound of that.”

Perhaps he wasn’t so bad, and it was that reason when he suggested putting a moon-door in Winterfell that she agreed. “It can go…” He looked over the castle, before picking the biggest tower, and pointing to it. “In here in this big tower-!”

“Be careful!” She’d screamed, but it was too late. It had to have been an accident. He pushed too hard, and the tower crumbled, falling into the courtyard just like she was sure it was now back at home. Frustrated, she moves to stand, remove herself from the situation. “You’ve ruined it. now I’m going to have to rebuild the whole thing.” She had no patience for small children ruining things she’d worked hard on. Arya had cut out stitches in her embroidery before, and she would not stand for it.

“I didn’t ruin it!”

“you did.”

“It was already ruined! It didn’t have a moon-door! I was fixing it!”

It’s so selfish, so awful so ignorant. He’d just destroyed her home, the home she’d spent hours creating there in the snow, working to make it look like the one she had in her memory, and he’d ruined it. “Knocking things down isn’t fixing them, it’s ruining them.” It’s a policy she would take with her to her reign in the North.

“I didn’t ruin it!” He tries again.

“You’re being stupid!”

“I DIDN’T RUIN IT!” The boy screams, and proceeds to do what he said he did not do: he begins to stomp down on the castle, kicking and knocking it down. The very same castle she told him had been burned. The one that was clearly important to her. If he had just said he was sorry and hadn’t acted like such an idiot and that gods-damned smirk! It was too much. When he looked at her, smugly, she did the first thing she could think of. She pulled her hand back and slapped him across the face as hard as she could, the sound of leather against skin echoing around the courtyard. Robin stops, and looks up at her, the first person to dare strike him, the Lord of the Vale.

Her hand stings and he cries out and begins to run, likely to tell his mother what the mean nasty girl had done. He’s a child, and while stupid, he hadn’t acted, originally, in malice. He wasn’t Joffrey. She knew that. “Robin- I’m sorry-“ she called out as eh disappeared. Behind her, a twig snapped.

“Children,” the familiar voice of Petyr Baelish, Aunt Lysa’s husband, came from across the courtyard. Sansa turns to see him walking down the snow-covered steps, no cloak and no gloves. He was not made for the North.

“I hit him,” she confesses.

“Yes,” he says almost proudly, “I saw.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Her palm still stings under dark green gloves.

“No, his mother should have. A long time ago.” He leaves the steps as he speaks, coming toward her. “Consider it a… Step in the right direction.” He smirks.

“If he tells Aunt Lysa—“

Lord Baelish was already ahead of her, “Let me worry about Lysa.” He looks down at the remnants of her castle.

“I was trying to remember what everything looked like,” she tells him, “I’ll never see it again.” She’d had that hope, once. But Robin dashing her castle had killed those last few dreams.

“A lot can happen between now and never,” he says in that knowing way of his. He gestures to the ruins, “If you want to build a better home, first you must demolish the old one.”

He’s only about a foot in front of her now, and glancing down, Sansa asks a question that’s been bothering her for some time. “Why did you really kill Joffrey?” For a time, he’s silent, looking at her face as she looks at his. He looks almost surprised, behind those blue eyes. She implores him: “Tell me why.”

It takes him almost too long to speak. “I loved your mother more than you could ever know,” he says by way of not answering the question, “Given the opportunity, what do we do to those who’ve hurt the ones we love?”

She smiles, just the tiniest bit at the thought that she was the reason, she, her mother, her family, their pain, was the reason Baelish had helped to kill the boy he worked for. But it didn’t make sense. He hated her father- Catelyn had married Ned when Brandon was killed. Petyr had dueled Brandon for Cat’s hand and had nearly lost his life in the process. Why would he want to avenge Ned Stark? Wouldn’t he have wanted her mother a widow, like Lysa? He may have helped, but that was not the reason. No matter how he returned the smile. “In a better world, one where love can overcome strength and duty-“ he speaks of his love for her mother, the strength of Brandon, and her father’s belief in duty, “-you might have been my child.” He’s so close to her now, and she doesn’t dare move, even as he looks at her, looks at her eyes, her lips, and she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. “But we don’t live in that world…” He peels his eyes away from her like it is painful when he reaches out to gently play with the edges of her long red hair. The same hair she shared with her mother. She does not move.

“You’re more beautiful than she ever was,” he says, his voice husky.

“L-Lord Baelish…?” He was supposed to be her protector. But he was proving to her she could not trust him no more than anyone else. He wanted something. He wanted her and the very thought terrified her.

“Call me Petyr,” he urges, before cupping her face and drawing her close, kissing her as long as he dared. .

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This is why I have not gone looking. As you cautioned. Oh gods, Sansa.

[ He sounds like exactly what he is: a devastated, righteously furious father watching helplessly from the beyond. ]

I do not take pleasure in King's justice. But, to have been the hand to take his...

Gods forgive me, it would be grim pleasure.

Edited 2021-02-04 03:13 (UTC)

This? This is nothing.

[She sounds bitter, and perhaps it's because she is. Petyr Baelish was supposed to be her protector. But he'd hurt her the same as every other she was supposed to be able to rely on. But like Cersei, had taught her so many lessons.]

You'll be pleased to know that Arya was the one to deliver Queen's Justice. [She hadn't technically been the Queen at the time, but that was in the details.] The three of us, Arya, Bran, and I, all did.

That was shown here, as well. I'll send it to you, if you'd like.

[She doesn't wait, sending over a link to the memory.]

[ His reply comes a few minutes later, after watching what she sends him. His voice is gruff with emotion, the pride winning out over the tears. ]

I - I am pleased. I have never been so glad for these memories as I was to see that one. I could not have asked for a more fitting trial or execution of justice. You and Arya and Bran - you make me so proud. You carry on our House's honor, long after I am gone.

[ Ned exhales. ]

Ah, Sansa, I could never have foreseen how you have embraced the mantle of the head of House Stark. It...it sets my heart at ease. Thank you for showing me.

Like Cersei, he taught me quite a lot. But he thought he was the most clever man in the world. But he underestimated me. [They all did, and she'd known it. She'd taken her courtesy and used it as armor. She shielded herself by playing stupid. And when she attacked, she was quick and deadly, poison on her tongue. Petyr wanted a little dove he could manipulate. And that day was one of the first she truly saw it.

She smiles, but he can't exactly hear it.]

Thank you, father. You have no idea how much it gladdens me to hear you say these things. I've always worried, always wondered what you and mother would think. I wanted to do right by you two, to survive and come home.

I will remember this, when I visit you at home. [Down in the crypts.] And it will guide me as the North and Six Kingdoms work to rebuild.

[ He hears the satisfaction in her voice, the quiet pleasure in the praise.

He closes his eyes, clasped knuckles pressed to his lips. ] No one will ever underestimate you again. Not without regretting it.

[ He does not like the image of Sansa alone, standing in the face of the howling enemies around her. But at least she is not alone, with Bran and Arya and Jon, flanking her, and in the end, she said, they had won. He knows the ending to this story, and so does she.

When she visits him. Ned buries his face in his palm. Presses his hand against his browbone to stop the tears. His murmur is low and gruff. ]

I will be with you, always. You have only to visit the godswood to know that I am with you.

[ He smiles, and it is in his voice. ]

Your mother may be in our sept. She always loved it there. You are so like her, I see so much of her in you, even now.

[On her side, there are tears in her eyes, shining bright, her nose prickling the way it always did before she was going to cry. She wiggles her nose, and Duchess parades over, coming to sit on her mom's lap and provide comfort.]

I know. Thank you. [She loves him so much.] I keep a pair of your gloves in King's Landing. I don't know what happened to them after I left, but I hid them so I could keep part of you close.

[She swallows, then clears her throat.] Of course, then that is where she will be. Robb has requested his heart be buried there, along with Jeyne's body. [Theon has asked not to be in the crypts, and not to get a statue, but he is dead and does not get a say in how he is remembered.] If there's any way you wish particularly, please tell me and I'll do my best to uphold it.

[ He smiles. ] I am glad they brought you some comfort. And the silly doll I got you, long after you had put away your last doll. [ Ned's learned a lot about parenting girls since then. Ironically, Sansa and Arya have taught him a lot here. He will never have the opportunity to put that into practice back in Westeros, or on any future daughters, but he continues to try to be a better father in the here and now. ]

She loved that Sept, simple though it was. It seems the right place. [ Ned is quiet a moment, considering. What they did with his bones now mattered little. His spirit was returned to the old gods. ] No, I trust you to see to our Stark customs. I have no other wishes except...every now and then, come to the godswood, the heart tree, and if I can see you, can come to you, even on the wind...I will.

[ He clears his throat. Even this line of conversation was better than the outrages of Baelish and the others upon his little girl. ] What happened to Robin? Did he ever outgrow his curse of a mother?

[That damned doll. He'd tried so hard to make up for breaking her heart with Lady, and she'd been so furious. It was this that only drove her further into Joffrey's arms.] I was so awful about that doll... Gods, I was awful. I'd take it back if I could. [Instead, she'd make up for it here and now.]

Oh- oh, father, I already do.

[She raises an eyebrow] Robin? He sent his bannermen to Winterfell and were instrumental in taking it back from the Boltons. Being under the tutelage of Lords Royce and Hardyng suited him much better than his late mother's influence. He's grown into quite a handsome man, actually. His wife will be a very lucky woman.

[ He chuckles, shaking his head. ] And I was oblivious. In denial about how much you'd grown. You wanted babes of your own, not dolls. Even though you were still far too young for babes then. I knew your heart was tender, but I did not want to see you become a woman just yet.

[ Ned softly exhales. ] And here you are. A woman grown, and I could not be happier to have the chance to know that woman. [ He knows he does not have to ask her to visit the godswood for him. Yet...it is the one connection they will share when they are both returned to Westeros. He has to be sure. ]

Aye, I did not think Jon Arryn could have a son who was past redemption. Robin should have spent some time in Winterfell running with Bran and Rickon, but Lysa would never hear of it.

[ A light laugh. ] Are you sure you will not be that lucky woman? The Lord of the Vale could do much worse. [ Ned has actually never discussed current marriage prospects with Sansa. He wonders. ]

And I so badly wanted to be a woman so soon.

[She's smiling on her end, her heart aching.]

Oh gods- no. If I marry again, it will be for love, not power and politic. I am not so eager to become someone's wife again. [And she was still too close to Theon's death to so quickly move to someone else.]

But if pressed... [She's not so sure, but the first name that comes to mind is Tyrion. More out of comfort than love and children.] Well. We're not home, so there's no use in wondering. I am happier than I can imagine with Theon here as long as I have him.

Good.

[ It is uttered like an oath. Earnest and true. He wants her to marry for love, because she esteems and holds dear the man she takes for her husband, and for no other reason. ]

You have had enough husbands for power and politic. It is within your own choosing now, as it should always have been. Let no man press you.

[ Ned Stark, burgeoning feminist. ]

It surprised me to no end, how much he has made you happy. But I have no doubt of it. Seeing you together, hearing you talk of him. He has become a good man, a better man than I could have imagined. You know that if he ever is otherwise, you have only to say so, and we will...have a talk.

Most of them would only be marrying me for my crown, anyway. And even fewer would be alright accepting the title of Prince when their wife is Queen. [MEN. God.]

I wish I could marry him, father. I do. But he won't have it, though I haven't dared ask. He is so good to me- I can tell you with certainty he would rather die than harm me.

He is a good man. I wish he could see it.

There would be plenty of men who'd think they'd want the title of Prince. And then would hunger later for King. You are wise to be wary of them.

[ Softly, he sighs. Of course, he had never imagined Theon marrying Sansa, especially not as Theon had grown into a womanizing rascal. That was not the husband his precious daughter deserved. But Theon had changed, somehow. He was good to Sansa, faithful, devoted. Ned knew in the way Sansa spoke of him that she truly wished to wed him. And after what his own father had done to marry them off well, advantageously...he wished most of all for his own children to marry as they loved. ]

I wish he could too. You must see far more clearly than he does. He avoids me whenever he can, here. I have scarce gotten the chance to know him as you do. But he always had the makings of a good man. You have surely helped him become so.

Littlefinger, for instance. He says he wanted me on the Iron Throne, but I was to be his puppet.

[She sighs heavily. It's good to know where her father stands on the Theon Issue. More or less. She still was unsure how much he knew.]

He does not consider himself much of a man at all. He has been so terrorized, brutalized. He does not believe himself worthy of anything. It breaks my heart. He doesn't even want me to give him a statue in the crypts. I will not have his body have been burned to leave no trace of him at all.

He had no idea you were clever enough to see through him, much less outwit him. It was plain to see from this memory, and the trial. You used his expectations to perfect advantage.

[ Ned glows with pride over his daughter out-maneuvering the man who had conned and played a thousand men, who held so much responsibility for his own death. ]

I am sorry about Theon, love. I know there must be more that I do not know. He is a different man than I remember. But a better man, I think.

No, of course you want to remember him at home. And to have a man who loves you and makes you happy here. He continues to live in the past too much.

You saw that? [She can't help but smile. It was awful to have someone killed, but the vindication she had felt at the end? The surprise on his face? It was extremely satisfying in a way she couldn't articulate. But add on the fact that her father was proud of her? She beams.]

Thank you. Like everyone else he thought I was stupid. But he didn't know me at all. Or any of us- the moment I knew what I had to do was when he tried to lead me to believe Arya was out to kill me so she could be Lady of Winterfell. [Yeah. Cute, Petyr. Super cute. She rolls her eyes.]

I am in no rush at home. I will take a husband when I must, and I pray it is for love. I have a queendom to rebuild, first. Then, I will look to myself.

Every moment. It was brilliantly done, Sansa. Better than I could have done. I have never been more proud. Or more happy that the Sphere lets us see each other's memories. That one was priceless.

He didn't know you. No one did, but Baelish most of all. He thought he could simply use you and you were never know. The fool. [ A fitting ending for such a man. ]

It is wise to take your time. Although it may be a lonely path for a while. Better to stand on your own until there is someone who will stand with you for the North too.

And at least here, we may have our fill of companionship for love. I confess, it is a relief to put the heart above duty for once.

Thank you, father. Your opinion has always meant the entire world to me.

[She wishes he'd been beside her so many times. But to know that she walked now with his love still, his approval and pride behind her, it was almost as good. Almost. But never quite.]

It is. It's incredibly freeing. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself here.

...You know, there's another word, people use in this world, to call their fathers. It's a bit shorter, more casual: Dad. What do you think of it?

[ He hopes they can keep their memories when they go home. That he can have these precious months to think about when he is in his cell. That Sansa can remember him as he is now, as they are now, as much friends as father and daughter. But even they do not remember, he hopes she will feel his love standing with her on that lonely path. ]

As free as the North itself.

[ He smiles, then considers the new name. It has a warm sound, personal, less distant than the formality of Father. He thinks of Rickard Stark, strong and stern, noble but immovable. Ned did not need to follow in all of those footsteps. ]

Ah. It has a good ring to it. I like it, if you do.

Good. I like it, too, [She smiles at him warmly, a little girl looking up at her father.] Dad.

[ Oh no. His heart. Ned gazes back at her, as wholly lost as that first day he'd held his babe, his firstborn daughter, in his arms.

He presses knuckles to his eyes. Then smiles. ]

I think it suits. Dad it is, then.

Lunch today, as usual?

Of course. I look forward to it every day.

[A small bark is heard off-screen.] And so does Ducha.

[He doesn't even know what to say to this.]

So he was worse than I thought.

[That's to be expected. It's an awful, weird memory. A reminder that she was not safe anywhere until she was back in Winterfell, flying the Stark banners once more.]

He only ever kissed me.

And he's dead.

I know he is, but he still was a bit out of line there, wasn't he?

Absolutely.

I saw who he really was, then. A few hours later he murdered Aunt Lysa, pushing her through the moondoor. That only made it clearer.

What was it he was hoping to get out of bringing his men to get Winterfell back from the Boltons?

He said he imagined me on the Iron Throne. And him next to me. [She rolls her eyes.] If he helped save our home, then perhaps I'd ignore what he'd set into motion, what he'd done. He wanted my thanks, and my adoration.

But what he really wanted was to use me as a puppet so that it was really him on the throne.

Why is it that everyone making a claim to it would be a terrible choice?

[For what the perspective of someone with an undeniable claim to it but no desire to have it is worth.]

Because most who want the throne are not fit to have it. They are attracted to the power and do not understand what it truly means to wear a crown.

[Honestly, she would give Daenerys credit for that. She cared more for her people than most monarchs she had met. But she was blood thirsty and a threat to the Starks and the North as a whole, and Sansa did not stand for it.]

For all three of us, you, Robb, me... We were chosen by the people. Same with Bran. There was this line I read here, some time ago. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. It makes me think of that, somehow.

Then they don't know what it is to lead.

[He's aware enough to realize that he might not have wanted those leadership roles, but others had given them to him because they believed he would be good at it, and trusted him to do it. He supposes that was all he had ever wanted -- for his bastard status not to be a factor in something for once.]

That seems appropriate. All I can do is hope that I didn't let anyone down, except that I know that I did.

Precisely. [She hadn't set out to be Queen in the North. She'd wanted to be a princess, and then queen. A figurehead, more than a political figure. And now she was the savviest player in the game.]

We've all let people down. I can only hope when you go back, you remember what I've told you. [Don't fuck it up, Jon.] Rest assured, you make the right decision, in the end.

Is there really any way to know that? What the right decision is?

[If he had claimed his birthright, he would have worn in heavily. Part of the reason he never wanted it.]

I apologize Sansa. I am a bit confused.

You were to marry the young boy but this man who loved your mother and speaks about you as if you were his daughter wants you? [She wonders how many suitable men truly live in Westeros but she doesn't say that thought allowed. As much as she dislikes Sansa's past, she loves Jon and it is his world too.]

Absolutely.

This was after I had married Tyrion, who I was legally still married to at the time. [There had been a lot of wordless annulments. Neither of them had wanted to be married in the first place.]

And Petyr was married to my aunt.

Don't ask how the Stark side of the family fits into all of this. This is just the Tullys.

[It's a mess.]

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Memory Share: Sansa Stark (7)

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