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Chapter Text

He sat there, brooding. Some would argue he looked angry, pissed, perhaps a little resigned, but his face did not give enough away to determine fully. In truth he felt all three, like a weight pressed down on his shoulders, the first signs of a headache making themselves known on his skull. His teeth gritted, grinding, and the tension was clear across his spine as he sat up, resisting the urge to let his head fall into his hands. His hands were occupied anyway, holding the letter he had received a few hours earlier. He wanted to crumple it, throw it into the fire, but instead he held onto it, in a clenched fist.

He loved his Grandmother, the infamous Queen of Thorns. She had been his mentor growing up, had taught him more than any other. She had practically raised him, grooming him for Lordship. She scoffed the importance of jousting and tourneys and focused on teaching him politics, scheming, planning, the important things. He knew it was she who had taught him to rule, and to be damn good at it to. He was ambitious, smart, ruthless thanks to her, but with enough compassion to temper everything. She had melded him well to one day rule Highgarden.

Still, sometimes she could be a pain. She often acted alone, without consulting others, so hard-headed she didn't feel the need to consider other plans. It was well known Olenna Tyrell was the head of the family, the Matriarch, the reason they had leapt from strength to strength. And so, she didn't ask people what they thought, didn't consult them, she went with her plan, and to her credit it often worked. She was the reason their family was the second most powerful in Westeros, and ready in the wings to take first.

'It will require sacrifice on all parts'

Her words, and he had scoffed at that part; of course, there would be sacrifice. Margaery was set to marry the mad boy King, Loras had joined the Kingsguard to keep her safe. Garlan was stuck in King's Landing with Leonette his pregnant wife who longed for home and loathed the Capitol. His Mother was far from her children, his Father sat in the small council meetings ridiculed weekly. Everyone was making sacrifices, and evidently it was his turn too.

He looked down at the letter again and smiled a little at the first line; 'My dearest Willas'. He knew his Grandmother loved him. Margaery and he had always been her favourites. Loras and Garlan she loved too, but whilst they were off jousting with Father or learning sword technique from the Master at Arms, it was Willas and Margery their Grandmother doted on. As soon as he had been old enough to learn she had bounced him on her knee, telling him stories, teaching him, rearing him to be a good Lord. When Margaery had been born, she had taken his place on her knee, with Willas sat in front of them, legs crossed, listening. They had both been taught the same lesson over and over; do what needs to be done. She was grooming them to help the Tyrell name, as they would be the ones to do.

And now was clearly the time.

A sigh left his lips and he rose from his seat, one hand clutching the table, shaking a little as his other hand reached for his cane. He slowly moved from his chair and around the table, his limp as always slowing him down. He smiled a little to himself then, right now his limp was the least of his worries! Over the years he had gotten used to it and he barely noticed anymore. Sure, some mornings he woke up in pain, but that he was used to too. Sometimes it was a blessing or had been as a boy. It meant he avoided the fights, jousting and tourneys and focused on what was important. After all what was more important? Hitting one another with sticks? Or bringing a house to kneel through clever planning and words? He knew which he preferred.

He looked down at the letter again and grimaced to himself, he should have thrown it in the fire, and yet he knew he could not, now was the time for him to step up, his Grandmother had made it clear, and as he had read over her words again and again he could see the merit in her plan. It was a good plan, and he could not simply dismiss it because it required sacrifice on his part. He would do it, he would do as she asked (or rather told).

He would marry Sansa Stark.

Willas knew it was a risky move, daring even to attempt to steal the key to the North out from under the Lannister's, especially before Margaery was married and the Queen, but it was the only way. They could not let the Lannister's have the North, it would consolidate too much of their power, they would be unstoppable with another kingdom secured, no. They had to act first, they had to steal the North first, to move another rung up the ladder. If this worked then the Tyrell's would control the Reach and the North, and Tyrell children would one day sit on the Iron Throne. Hell, Lady Sansa may also be a way to secure the Riverland's too. It was the way forward, it had to be.

And as he read the letter for the 100th time he knew this was what had to be done. It was another rung on the ladder for their family. For a moment he drifted away, his mind going back to his lessons as a child, his Grandmother bouncing him on her knee as Margaery sat on the other. He remembered the smell of the flowers, the gentle breeze on his skin, Margaery's smile, and his Grandmothers words, over and over.

'You just do what needs to be done'

And so, he would.

Her smile was positively radiant as her handmaidens readied and dressed her for the day. She had a bounce in her step that had been absent for the past year, and her grin spoke to a happiness that had been absent for longer. She could barely keep her excitement at bay, and her handmaids were grinning too, happy to see their Lady happy for once. She was glowing, clearly overjoyed about something. The walls of ice she had built around herself were down, unable to contain her happiness. Her usual courtesies were still in place, but not as firmly as before, and that was clear as she looked in the mirror and her smile could not be contained.

"You look beautiful my Lady" One of her maids spoke and Sansa smiled at them as she looked across at herself. Her gown was a deep green, buttons of gold across the front, and myrish lace at the waist. It had been a gift from the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Tyrell and she had been asked to wear it today. It was hardly subtle but beautiful, and soon they would be her colours, the colours of Highgarden.

She was going to be Lady Sansa Tyrell; she was going to marry Lord Willas.

'Willas' 'Willas' 'Willas' She had tried it several times and ways on her tongue since she had found out, since Margaery had suggested it on a walk in the rose gardens. She had cried the night she had been told, sobbed into her pillow. The idea of escaping here … it was sustaining her and had been too overwhelming at first, and so she had sobbed, before excitement had taken over. She would soon leave this horrible place, and she would marry Lord Willas … 'Willas' 'Willas' 'Willas'.

The final steps of her morning routine were wrapping up. Her hair was brushed down her back, in a thick sheet of red. A few plaits were pinned back in the traditional Southern style, though less ostentatious than the Queen's, more simple, suitable for a young woman. She looked to the world like a noble Southern Lady, and that made her smile as she made her way to the door.

She did take a moment to compose herself, after all nothing had been announced yet, nothing set. She could not get too excited and give the game away. Margaery had made it very clear as they had walked together, Sansa holding back tears, Margaery all smiles until she had turned serious.

'Sansa, you must tell no one do you understand me?'

'I do, I promise'

'Sansa I am serious, if you tell a soul this union could be stopped and you'll be stuck here, do you understand'

A nod – 'I do'

'Then let us talk of your wedding, for it will need to happen fast … sister!'

And so, she knew she must keep quiet, and she took a deep breath before opening the doors. She must hold onto her stiff courtesies a little longer before she left this dreaded place. She banished the smile from her face, and kept her head down, eyes on the floor … honestly, part of it was not to give things away and another that this was her way of keeping herself safe. Once she left Kings Landing, she never wanted to return, she hated this place, hated feeling scared all of the time, she never wanted to come back.

She made her way to the Throne room, for the court session of the day. Her head was down, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide, her mouth a straight line. She said nothing with her face. This was how she had to act, and also still how she felt. She may be excited, but the years of abuse were not washed away with this one piece of good news. Still, she wanted to be happy, wanted to hold onto the good, and yet she still had to keep her smile away … for now.

Once she made her way into the court, she kept her eyes down. She ignored Joffrey sat on the Throne, an evil smirk playing on his lips. She did not look at Cersei, sat by his side, her own smirk somehow worse. She let her eyes slide past Tywin, his rigidness worse than hers but those eyes … always so cold and calculating, they made her shiver. She did however offer Tyrion a small but timid smile, the only Lannister who had ever been kind to her. She then made a beeline for the Tyrell family, intending to seek solace in their group. Once she had been forced to stand by Joffrey, or by herself, but now she stood among the Tyrell's, her soon to be family.

And they treated her like family. Margaery embraced her with a smile, throwing a sly wink her way that none saw but Olenna who rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. The cousins grinned at her and said good morning, Leonette gave her a kiss on the cheek and Garlan a big smile. They were kind to her, and that was what she needed after years of abuse. Sure, part of her knew that a large part of their interest in her was political, but she was sure that Margaery, Leonette and the other Tyrell's did care for her … it could surely be both. It as then she took a deep breath before Margaery took her hand in hers. They clutched each other tightly and Sansa kept her gaze down … now was the time.

Joffrey began the session of court. Lucky, he seemed bored rather than vicious today and soon recused himself. Tywin was immediately in his chair, the Throne that was as much his as it was Joffrey's if not more. After all Tywin had put him there, Tywin was the puppet master.

He sat rigid as lesser Lords and Knights came to him with dull problems and platitudes he cut through quickly. Almost an hour went by and Sansa felt tense, her hand now sticky but still clutching Margaery's hard. Her heart was thudding against her chest, she just wanted it confirmed, she didn't want anything to ruin it and as the minutes passed, she was convinced something would.

The idea of escaping Kings Landing, of leaving the hell she had been forced to reside in for years … of going to Highgarden, it was the only thing keeping her alive. She knew if the Lannister's found a way to stop this then she would lose all hope, all happiness, everything. Her eyes flickered to Cersei and Tywin then, and she thought of Joffrey for a moment … she could not stay here, she would not. She would rather fling herself from the tallest window in the Red Keep than be stuck here. The hope of leaving, of Willas, it was like a light inside of her, if snuffed out then that was it.

Another fifteen minutes went by and she was still as rigid as a board. Her hand hurt from gripping Margaery's, but her friend stood steadfast in holding her. She felt a little sick as time continued to tick on, and just as Mace stepped forward into the middle of the room, to stand in front of Tywin and the great Iron Throne, Sansa had to work hard not to lose her breakfast. Her heart skipped, hammering like a hummingbird as she waited, not even breathing, not a once.

"My Lord Hand" Mace spoke respectfully before pushing on, "A great union will soon be forged between our two houses, and I seek to strengthen it" His words were not his own but Olenna's, Sansa knew that. She glanced at the Queen of Thorns then, who's eyes were focused firmly on her son, a steely glint in her eye.

"I propose that we marry your ward Lady Sansa Stark to my eldest son and heir to Highgarden Lord Willas Tyrell" He said, with no pomp or circumstance, just facts, as Olenna had written them. A ripple of gossip ran across the room and Sansa felt all eyes on her. She was shaking a little now and Margaery's grip grew tighter. She also felt her other hand filled as Leonette stood next to her, another pillar of solidarity. Sansa felt tears well up in her eyes and smiled at Garlan's bride before turning back to proceedings.

Mace cleared his throat, "My son is in need of a wife, and Sansa is in need of a husband. This match will show more unity between our two houses and cement our alliance" A pause then, another whisper across the room, "This will ensure the North is safe and secured"

For a moment silence fell as Mace finished and moved to stand back with the Tyrell flock. Mace's words sunk in as the silence continued, oppressive. Tywin's face was unreadable, but Cersei's was not, she looked murderous but did not dare speak, knowing her Father would respond first. Sansa risked a quick glance up but dropped her gaze immediately when she met Cersei's furious glare. At least Tyrion was smiling, though he was failing to hide his far too pleased smirk.

Tywin opened his mouth to speak, before Cersei interjected, clearly unable to hold back. Her eyes were filled with fury, her spine ramrod straight as she spoke up, "I do not see how this is beneficial to you or your family Lord Tyrell" Cersei paused then, her tone malicious as she continued, "The known daughter of a traitor and the sister of someone who is in open rebellion against us betrothed to the heir of Highgarden?" Cersei raised an eyebrow then as mutters swept across the court, "It does not seem wise, putting your prized heir with a traitor"

Sansa felt her shoulders droop then as mutters across the room seemed louder. Tears pooled in her eyes, before she felt them replaced with something else, something cold, something strong. She felt anger. She wasn't sure if it was because of this one chance being almost snatched from her, or perhaps it was due to her time with the Tyrell's, but either way Sansa's gaze snapped up.

Sansa was a noble Lady! A Stark of Winterfell, a Princess of the North! How dare Cersei Lannister say she was not good enough. The Stark's were descended from the First Men, had inhabited Westeros long before the Andal's the Lannister's descended from had even stepped foot on these lands. She was a Stark, a wolf! She would not let Cersei demean her, not when her once chance was about to be taken away from her.

Her gaze flickered to Cersei, a cold sapphire blue and she opened her mouth to speak, before she felt a hard yank on her arm, and a crush to her fingers that almost had her squeal in pain. She felt Margaery tug her back, and Leonette step hard on her foot, both with false smiles plastered on their face. Olenna stepped in front of them then, shuffling forward, acting more frail than usual as Margaery spoke through her teeth, her false smile never faltering.

"Do not say a word Sansa, not a word" Her voice was barely a whisper, but Sansa understood quickly and felt panic surge up her throat. She had almost forgotten herself and felt tears pool in her eyes again, a cold shiver sweeping over her. She had almost broken, would have defended her family. That is exactly what Cersei would have wanted! For her to defend the Starks, to rile her up and speak treason. As a result, it would have been easy for Tywin to refuse the Tyrell's on the basis of Sansa being too dangerous to leave King's Landing.

She had almost lost everything, and she felt sick again. For months she had been a scared little girl, crying into her pillow, shaking in the corridors and praying for hours to leave this place, and she had almost ruined it by standing up for herself, could have ruined everything. She turned to Margaery then, smiled at her and gave her hand a light squeeze, thank goodness for her friend … for she had saved her. Sansa knew the colour had drained from her face, and she felt ill at what had almost helped, but Margaery nudged her to look forward as Olenna spoke.

"Yes, her father and brother may be traitors, but she is not" Olenna said with a shrug, "If I remember correctly, she wrote to her brother and urged him to bend the knee, did she not?" Olenna said, her eyes focused on Tywin Lannister, for he would make the call here. "She will be good for my grandson, and he her, and as my son said, she will strengthen our alliance, and we know this alliance is of paramount importance" There it was, the last word, not quite a threat but enough, and so Tywin's face changed, it was almost unnoticeable but it was there, a tightening of the jaw, a flash in the eyes. It had been decided.

"It seems I cannot refuse" Sansa felt her heart leap into her throat as the head of the Lannister family spoke. Her relief almost had her collapse to her knees, and only Margaery and Leonettes grip kept her standing.

Tywin continued, holding a hand up to silence his daughter as Cersei went to speak. "The two will marry a week before Joffrey and Margaery, Lord Willas can then stay for the royal wedding" Tywin nodded, "It is decided then"

Lady Olenna nodded, "It is" And with a smile she turned back to her flock, and smiled at Sansa, as Sansa felt her smile would burst. Olenna had played it perfectly, Tywin would not have been able to refuse without damaging the alliance. For the Tyrell's this was a political win, and for Sansa it was simply her freedom, she felt giddy with relief.

"Good" Tywin said, tone clipped as he rose from the throne, "Court is finished for the day, any other matters will be resolved tomorrow" A nod and he left the room, not sparing the Tyrell's a glance. Cersei soon followed, though stopped to shoot a hateful glare in their direction. As soon as they left Sansa turned to Margaery, a smile of utter delight on her face and reflected in the brunette.

She could not stop her joy, as excitement, joy and pure relief hit her hard. Tears slid down her cheeks like rain on a window and she felt herself shaking, clutching Margaery tightly as Leonette kissed her cheek and made to leave with Garlan. Sansa felt she should go lie down for she felt so excited and yet exhausted with relief now, but Margaery had other ideas.

"Thank you" Sansa spoke softly, to Margaery in thanks for many things, stopping her from ruining it all, comforting her, being her friend. She was free! She would leave this dreadful Capitol, she would leave and never come back. She would marry Lord Willas, and though Margaery had only told her bits of what he was like, but she had promised he was a good man. She would marry Lord Willas, have children with red and brown hair, and she would never return to Kings Landing again. She would be free! She did try to calm herself not to be naïve, after all she had never even met Willas! And yet she could not contain her excitement, her joy and relief. All that mattered was that she would be free!

Margaery only laughed at her thank you and then pulled both of Sansa's hands into her own. "No need, we will be sisters now, just as I had hoped" She pulled Sansa into a hug and Sansa squeezed the girl with a smile, as Margaery placed a gentle kiss to her cheek, before swiping away at her tears.

"Now, my dear sister, no more tears, lets go the market, we have cause to celebrate after all, and I think a new dress or five will do just the trick, don't you agree?"

She did and with a grin she followed the brunette, out to the market, out of the throne room and onto a new chapter.

Chapter Text

They spent several hours at the markets, moving from one stall to another. The merchants were very accommodating to them, hoping to earn the custom of two noble ladies, and a bit of favour with the future Queen, and the future Lady of Highgarden now … news travelled fast it seemed. The guards that followed them did little to dull the atmosphere as they were Tyrell guards, not Lannister as Sansa had been used to, not anymore.

Margaery was pleased to see Sansa coming out of her shell a little, talking with the vendors, purchasing a few things, smiling as common folk spoke to them. She was also happy to see Sansa embracing the Tyrell colours, and the style a little. That would show Cersei, her little dove blossoming into a beautiful winter rose.

She smiled at her friend as they made their way back to the Red Keep. They stopped along the way to talk to the common people, handing out coin and fussing over the children. Margaery was adept at this point in dealing with commoners, making them love her, kissing the cheeks of orphans, smoothing the hair of street children, they always loved her. Sansa, however, was still learning but took her friends lead. Sansa was also naturally kind, and Margaery knew her motives in giving a little girl her handkerchief was a little different to Sansa's. Sure, Margaery liked to think she was kind, but also calculating, Sansa was not, whereas Margaery gave her attention to the poor for the reputation it gave her, Sansa did so to be kind. Still, the little girls lit up the same as they were given handkerchiefs from noble ladies, and the parents gushed and thanked them as they handed over some silver stags. They both smiled then before heading off.

Margaery could see as they approached the red keep that Sansa was shutting back down, her walls coming back into place, the smile falling from her face. The brunette knew Sansa needed time to heal, needed time to get used to her upcoming marriage and her new future. And so, she only smiled at her friend as they walked into the Red Keep.

Sansa may still need to heal but Margaery was sure she would blossom in Highgarden. Yes, the marriage with Willas was for political reasons, it would ensure the Tyrell's snatched the North right from under the Lannister's and guaranteed their control of 2 of the 7 kingdoms, possibly a 3rd. And yet, Margaery did genuinely care for Sansa, and wanted her to be happy. It may be that Sansa was a political pawn but that did not mean Margaery didn't care for her nor want her to be happy, because she did. Margaery knew she could be happy with Willas, and that made it all the easier to justify, Sansa may be a something to help them climb up the ladder, but she would also be happy.

She only wished she could say the same for herself.

Yes, Margaery wanted to be Queen, had always wanted to be, dreamed of it. She had begged her Grandmother to betroth her to the royal Prince, had cried when she heard Sansa was betrothed to the boy. She had been so sure her dream had come to an end, but her Grandmother had simply winked at her and reassured her, it would only be a matter of time, and here she was. It had been her ambition for as long as she could remember, and she was close, so close she could almost taste it. Just one month until the wedding, and she would be Queen.

She bade a goodbye to Sansa before making her way to her own rooms. She left two of her Tyrell guards with Sansa, waving away the girls' thanks. Margaery had already replaced the girl's handmaids with two of her own, after all they could not have a future member of their house spied on by Lannister's. She knew Willas would make more changes when he arrived, and she felt a flurry of excitement at that. It had been a while since she had seen her Eldest brother, she missed him and was pleased he would make her wedding … sham as it may be.

She moved across the corridor's then to her room in the Maidenvault, she had already placed Sansa nearby, to her wing. Margaery kept a smile on her face, it would never do to look anxious or upset whilst in the Red Keep. Even with the roses creeping up the walls, lions still watched from the shadows and spiders scuttled over the brick. It was always important to be careful.

And so, as she entered her room she was smiling, but stopped a little startled as she opened her door and found Joffrey in her rooms. She did a quick mental inventory, she knew there was nothing incriminating in her rooms, and her smile never faltered as she bounced forwards, grinning happily, her eyes wide, as she played the game, she was always playing the game. Her skirts swirled as she moved forward, and she took a quick almost non-existent glance at the guards. Ser Meryn and her brother stood firm and she felt some relief, she knew she was safe with Loras present.

"Your grace" She dipped into a curtsey, low enough to show a small dip of her dress, before straightening with a smile, her hand reaching for an taking his, "I am delighted to see you, to what do I owe the pleasure of a personal visit to my rooms?" She asked.

"My Lady" Joffrey said, placing a kiss to her knuckles. He looked so kind, handsome and sweet, but she knew it was an act. He was behaving himself purely on his Grandfathers instructions. She knew the old lion had instructed Joffrey to act gallant, to ensure this marriage. The Tyrells were keeping Joffrey on the throne after all, and so he had been told firmly to act well. Motive aside Margaery was happy for it, pleased he was being courteous for the moment.

But she knew it would not last.

She had done her best to tame him, to bring him to heel. With compliments, kisses on the cheek, feigned interest in his sadistic hobbies, giving him just enough to keep him interested and wanting. However, she was worried, there would come a time when he wanted more, wanted her to participate in the cruelty with him, or worse turned it on her. She knew he would get bored and could turn on her, but she was prepared for that, she could hurt a little …

Still, she was in a better position than most would be. Loras was a permanent member of the Kingsguard, watching over her, and she knew her Grandmother was in negotiations to add a Tyrell cousin to the permanent guard around the King. She had her own guards, and a wealth of people with her to watch over her. That had been Sansa's downfall; being all alone had allowed Joffrey and Cersei to do as they pleased towards her, Margaery shivered to think of Sansa's misfortune if she had remained betrothed to Joffrey. Margaery had people to watch out for her, she was lucky, but she had to do her part too, she had to do her part. She had worked hard to tame Joffrey; she could not stop now.

She smiled at the King again, her hand now encased in his as he continued on, "I am to escort you to dinner in my Grandfathers chambers, he has invited everyone" He paused then his brow furrowing, "Even Lady Sansa for some reason, though why a traitor has been invited is beyond me" For a second his eyebrows knitted together and a flicker of fury passed over his face before he composed himself and held his arm out for her, "May I have the honour of escorting you then my Lady".

"Of course, my King" She said with a grin, though her mind was far away now. She kept up the act, nodding and making the right sounds to some story he was telling, but she was barely listening. His confusion at Sansa's invitation meant only one thing, it meant he did not know about the betrothal. For a moment she felt a flicker of fear, but then she felt Loras fall into step behind her and she was reassured. Sure, this would be ugly, but Tywin had no doubt invited everyone to dinner to tell Joffrey in front of a large audience, hoping to lessen his reaction. Nothing would happen to Sansa or her, Loras was here to protect them and there would be other Tyrell guards present. They would be safe … but that wasn't what she was worried about.

She quickly cooed at something Joffrey said, before her mind went back to her anxieties. She wasn't worried about Joffrey harming her or Sansa, Tywin would never allow that, nor their guards, no, she was worried about what he would do. Could he break the betrothal? Put a stop to their plans? Strand Sansa here and ruin their move up the ladder? Of course, he could, he was the King, but Margaery reassured herself that Tywin would never allow his grandson to fracture relations like that. She took a deep breath then and allowed herself to calm down, it would be okay. And so, she turned back to Joffrey smiling wide as he finished his story, even if she wasn't listening. He seemed not to notice though and was smiling as they climbed the steps to the Tower of the Hand, though she knew his smile would not last much longer.

Sansa had anticipated a night alone, something she often enjoyed. She would read some, eat a light dinner and spend some time sewing. It was one of, if not her favourite hobby; to sew roses, direwolfs and other little things onto her gowns, making them prettier by her own hand. She may be a captive in Kings Landing but she was a noble captive, and her wardrobe had always been lavish, though gifted to her from Cersei, hence the abundance of red and gold. Still, she had adjusted things and made do.

However, the Tyrell's had recently sent her a large chest filled with gold and green dressed, as well as a few grey. They were a little more revealing than she would have liked but that was easy to fix, adding lace to backless dresses, stitching fabric to cover up slashes across the hips. It wasn't that Sansa had anything against that style it just wasn't her. Still, she added little embellishments as well, let out the hem on a few, altering bits to her liking. It was peaceful and a good distraction. It kept her busy and she relished these nights alone, to have her mind far away as she sewed and though of other times.

She thought of Winterfell, of her brothers Robb, Jon, Rickon and Bran. She thought of Arya, of her Mother and Father. She thought of the summer snows, of lemon cakes in the kitchen at night. She thought of snowball fights in the yard, of lessons with Maester Luwin and sewing with Jeyne. She thought of home, and how she longed to go back there, wished for it more than anything. She also thought of Willas, of Highgarden, or at least she tried to imagine it, but none compared to home. Winterfell would always be the primary place in her dreams.

A knock to the door jolted her out of her thoughts, everything around here made her jumpy. She wondered idly if she would still be this anxious and prone to jumping once she left the Capitol. Unfortunately, she felt it might be a trait of hers that stuck around for a little while. She quickly composed herself then and opened the door. A messenger stood waiting for her, and she felt herself relax a little, before nodding for him to speak. She felt more relaxed in the presence of Lannister's and their spies now she had two guards stood at her door, dressed in their beautiful green and gold armour. They had only spoken to her briefly, to promise they would protect her until death, and that was certainly reassuring, if not a little worrying.

"Yes?" She said with a small and polite smile.

"My Lady" He nodded then, deferential towards a noble Lady, though no doubt he was freer around here than she was. Class meant little when freedom was taken away, though no doubt many of the poor in Flea Bottom would happily take her place, as she would just as happily take there's. She'd rather scrape and starve on the streets than be a prisoner here.

"Your presence has been requested in the Tower of the Hand for a family dinner to celebrate your betrothal" He nodded and left. Sansa smiled wider to herself then, the word 'betrothal' causing a happy little flip in her stomach. She could not wait to be married, to be free. She had dreams of marrying Willas, moving to Highgarden and then eventually reuniting with Robb and her Mother, showing Willas Winterfell with their children running at their feet …

She snapped herself out of her thoughts then, nodded to her guards and made her way back into her room. She was quick in getting ready, pinning her hair back, putting her feet into her silver slippers. She remained in the dress she had changed into this afternoon, a dress of light and dark purple, with long billowing sleeves and skirts, it was the closest to Northern grey she had. After all she may be due to come a Tyrell, but she would always be a Stark, she had to remember that, she was a Stark.

"Let's go" Sansa said as she stepped outside, and the guards followed without a word. She noticed the entrance to the Maidenvault was unguarded and so Margaery must be making her way to the tower too. She felt relieved at that, that it wouldn't just be a dinner with the Lannister's. She wondered who else was coming, and also why was this dinner taking place? A celebration of her betrothal was surely not something Tywin Lannister wanted to host, considering her betrothed. Perhaps this was the Tyrells doing? Rubbing it in the face of the Lannister's? Though that seemed unlikely, it made Sansa smile a little, it was petty yes, but that family deserved far worse.

She walked through the castle then, and she noticed her own body language for the first time. Her back was a little straighter, her eyes no longer fixed on the ground. She didn't quite have full confidence, still a little nervous, but with her guards she felt safer. She nodded at people as she walked past, smiled at a person or two and walked with dignity. It felt good to not be cowered, even if she still felt scared. She knew it would take time, and she would never be fully at ease in the Capitol, too much had happened her to allow that.

The steps to the tower took a while to climb but they were quick, and Sansa's legs only burned a little. Still, they were the last one's to enter and Sansa's gaze immediately dropped. She didn't have any of that renewed confidence around Joffrey or Cersei, both of whom were present tonight. No, that confidence evaporated as she walked into the room, and her eyes flickered to find a seat.

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the table, Cersei to his left, Jaime his right. Joffrey sat next to Cersei followed by Mace and the seat next to him was empty. Tyrion took the opposite head. The seat next to Jaime was free, then Margaery, then Olenna. Sansa chewed on her lip, which was worse? A seat down from Joffrey or opposite him? Her eyes flickered to Margaery then and a tilt of the brunette's head made her decision. She was sure Joffrey would not try to harm her in the Tyrell's presence and she wanted to sit next to her friend. And so, with a nod she made her way over to her seat.

She smiled at Tyrion as she passed him and settled herself down next to Jaime. She turned to look at her friend and smiled at Olenna, but she had no smiles for the Lannister's outside Tyrion. Instead she kept her eyes on her plate as the first dish was served. She declined any wine and stuck to water. She had never been a huge fan of wine and regardless, she wanted to keep a clear head tonight. The room felt tense, and her heart was hammering.

The table was quiet, and she was pleased for that. Her walls were firmly in place, her usual courtesies ready on her lips, but she did not wish to use them. She hoped to pass through this dinner in silence, but of course that would not be the case.

"So, Sansa" Joffrey spoke up, a spiteful sneer on his features as he eyed her with lust in his eyes, "When are we going to marry you off? And to who I wonder?" He laughed then, reaching for his wine, his tone malicious, eyes alight with hate, "Perhaps one of the jesters? Or my Uncle Imp? Which would be more agreeable to you? I'll even let you chose!" He laughed again, cruel, and swatted his Mother's hand away as she tried to calm him.

Sansa barely heard anything past the first sentence. She felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped overhead, and her skin was starkly pale, her hands shaking, and she felt sick. He didn't know, he didn't know, oh gods. That was the reason for the dinner, to tell Joffrey the news of her betrothal. She wanted to run, to bolt from her seat and run far far away. Often, she regretted not running when she could have, there had been few chances but there had been some. She regretted not risking the Kings Road, not risking anything to get away from here. She thought of Arya then, running instead of being stuck here, she envied her, but then her little sister was likely dead … Sansa would never admit she felt a little envy for that too.

Would Joffrey stop her betrothal? Anxiety rushed through her veins and she felt like she might faint from worry. Could he stop her betrothal? She felt like every bit of hope, relief and happiness was about to be ripped away from her. She struggled to keep tears at bay and would have let them fall if not for Margaery slipping her hand into hers.

"Your grace…" Sansa began, knowing not answering would make things worse. However, before she could speak Tywin held a hand to stop her and Sansa felt dizzy with relief before snapping her mouth shut and falling quiet.

It was Tywin who spoke next, "Your grace, Sansa has already been betrothed" He cleared his throat but spoke with authority as the oppressive silence in the room was only cut by his voice, "It was decided this morning in your absence, Lady Sansa has been betrothed to Lord Willas Tyrell" Tywin nodded then, before continuing on, "This will strengthen the alliance between our houses" His voice was hard at the end, he clearly did not want his betrothal anymore than Joffrey would, but he knew there was little choice in the matter if he wished to keep the Tyrell's on side.

For a moment, the silence felt almost suffocating. Joffrey did not speak for a moment as his cheek grew redder, his hands shook … and then he erupted.

"No" He spoke quietly at first and Sansa felt her heart jump, fear rushing through her veins, making her feel woozy, "No, she is mine, she will not leave, she is mine, MINE!" His voice rose to a shout and he jumped to his feet, his goblet of wine spilling to the floor, a nearby serving girl falling back with a squeak as she dashed out of his way. "She will not leave Kings Landing, she will not leave me, I AM THE KING, I WILL DECIDE!"

He then turned his rage on his Grandfather, "SHE IS MINE, HOW DARE YOU DO THIS WITHOUT ASKING ME? SHE IS MINE, SHE WILL NOT MARRY THE TYRELL CRIPPLE, I WILL NOT ALLOW IT"

A gasp of indignation rose throughout the table then, and she could just see Tywins jaw tense. Mace looked outrage at Joffrey's comments, Margaery's eyes were wide, and Sansa could tell she only just managed to keep her look of fury at bay. Cersei looked utterly terrified, Tyrion amused, Olenna looked ready to boil. Sansa felt like she was going to cry but she managed to hold back the tears, just. Her eyes, as were everyone's on the table were on Tywin. They all knew he would make the next move.

Tywin reached for a bell he had under the table and rang it twice, not a word from his lips, his face set in stone. The Grand Maester soon shuffled in, his hands fiddling in his robes as they always did.

"Grand Maester" Tywin spoke then, his tone so cold it sent a shiver up Sansa's spine, "The King is tired, exhausted even, he is not making sense" He glanced around the table then, daring anyone to challenge such an excuse. "He needs sleep, take him to his chambers and administer essence of nightshade" For a moment it was quiet, "Now".

The Maester nodded, after all he was bought by Tywin in all things. Joffrey though did not wish to leave, and he looked almost purple as he spoke again, "NO, I WILL NOT GO, SHE IS MINE, I AM KING, I AM KING" He screamed, his eyes manic with hatred, "I WILL MARRY MARGAERY BUT SANSA IS MINE" He was screaming still, and everyone seemed to wait to see what would happen next.

Tywin rose from his chair and it was then Joffrey seemed to wilt, as Tywin fixed him with that icy stare, took only two steps forward and spoke one word, "Now" Joffrey looked scared then, fool he may be but he had twigged on, he was not to speak to his Grandfather in such a way. Cersei eyes filled with fear immediately jumped to her feet, quickly grabbing Joffrey's hand and tugging him back. She nodded in deference to her Father before speaking to her son.

"I will go with you my love" She said, tugging Joffrey again, "Come, we will talk, we have much to do" At that she managed to get him to leave, though it had been Tywin's doing. Soon he they left with the Maester shuffling behind them.

Only after they were gone did Olenna open her mouth to speak, however as Sansa had been Tywin cut her off. "I have lost my appetite, dinner will continue in the main hall if you wish to attend for food but I would ask you to leave" He stood to his feet then, "The betrothal of course will go ahead as planned" That was all and he swept away, with no room for arguments or questions and he was gone.

Sansa stood to her feet immediately. She felt extremely anxious and wanted nothing more than to flee to her rooms. Yes, it seemed her betrothal would go ahead, and she felt a little flip in her stomach of joy, but she was rattled from this confrontation and wanted the comfort of her own room.

She had a lot to process and made a dash for her rooms, she knew it was unladylike and uncourteous, but this was what she needed right now, to hide for a little while as she thought everything through. And so, she made for the stairs, her guards one in front, one behind in case they ran into anyone. Thankfully, they did not but she almost ran to her rooms all the same. She thanked both her guards and took a moment to ask their names; Jonathan and Brydan. She thanked them both again before dipping into her room to hide.

Part of her felt like crying, part like smiling. Instead she simply got undressed and tucked herself into bed. Sure, she managed a smile as she thought of Willas, but it didn't stop the tears that came at night, as they did every night as she thought of her family and thought of home.

'Things have been arranged, come to the Capitol as soon as possible. Stay safe my dear boy'

The note sat on his bedside table. He had glanced at it half a dozen times; it was short and to the point and clearly in his Grandmothers hand. So, it had worked, it was happening, he was to marry the Stark girl. In truth he did not know how he felt about it. All he knew about her was that she was apparently a great beauty, but young, far too young for him. She was just 15, whilst he sat at 25, a ten-year age gap! Not so strange, but it unsettled him a little. Aside from that he just did not know her, not at all.

Regardless, he would do his duty, and more than that. He would try to be a good husband to her. He knew his limp was likely to be off putting, no doubt Lady Stark would prefer Loras (though not truly if she knew that Loras would never prefer her). Didn't young girls dream of handsome, gallant knights that could sweep them up and galivant around with them? Probably, but that was not the deal Sansa was getting. The fact she'd agreed to marry him was a little encouraging, though when faced with the alternative it had clearly been no choice at all. Still, he hoped to bring her some level of joy.

When this plot had first been arranged Margaery had sent a letter regarding Lady Stark and it had made him feel heavy, unreasonably angry and a little protective in a way he shouldn't be over a girl he didn't even know.

Abused, beaten, ridiculed and tormented … he didn't even know her and yet he felt angry at the way she had been treated. She did not deserve such torment, and as future Lord of Highgarden he was in a position to ensure she never felt such torment again. He may not be the man of her dreams, but he could be a man who would protect her. He would keep her safe. He already felt protective of her even though he did not know her; that did not matter, she was to be his wife, he would keep her safe. It would be his duty, his promise.

He would try to make her happy, though he wasn't sure any happiness would come from this marriage, it was arranged after all. He would never hurt her, would make sure he took her away from Kings Landing and got her with child. He would do as he was bid and try to make their marriage pleasant; he knew it was unlikely, but he would try all the same.

He was intrigued as well, the Starks were a well-known house, legendary for their sense of honour, duty and purpose. Would Sansa Stark embody these qualities? Was she the beauty everyone made her out to be? He didn't know, he knew little about her. He wanted to know her. Yes, this marriage was political but perhaps it could be more? It was foolish to speculate on that, and Willas was no fool, pragmatic to a point it was pointless to try and speculate before he met her.

Which he would soon. He was setting out for Kings Landing tomorrow and would arrive in less than a fortnight, to meet her … his future wife.

He hoped he could make her happy but failing that he could vow to keep her safe.

Chapter Text

It had been just about a week and a half since her betrothal had been confirmed. A week and a half since that awful dinner with Joffrey. A week and a half since her dreams of freedom had come true.

She wasn't so naïve to have her head in the clouds when it came to Willas. Once she would have been, but not now. She had been with a handsome prince before, blind to his faults and that had turned sour fast. Her main dream was that she would be leaving this awful place, escaping Kings Landing, and perhaps in the future when she had proven her loyalty to the Tyrell's they would take her to Winterfell. Or perhaps Robb would win the war and come to her in Highgarden and take her home. She would be safer in Highgarden, freer, that was the most important thing.

Though she was focused primarily on escaping this place there was a creeping feeling at the back of her brain that she could not stop. Not only was she thinking his name now, but she had started to whisper it to herself at night more than before; 'Willas' 'Willas' 'Willas'. She had started imagining him fully, spending hours in bed dreaming of him, trying to put a face to name. She had heard good things of him from the Tyrell household, but they told her little, wanting her to make her own impression. She thought of him constantly.

For her this marriage was the ticket to her freedom, but part of her hoped for more.

She would be in a loveless marriage if it meant leaving Kings Landing, but part of her hurt to think that. Part of her burned for a good marriage, a happy marriage, like her parents. She wanted to be held, loved, protected. She wanted children that they both adored. She just wanted to be happy. Was that too much to ask for? Happiness?

Apparently, it was, as it had been before, and she knew she could not be naïve. She had to be cautious, no matter what hopes, and desires burned in her heart.

With a little sigh to herself she snapped back to reality; she had a full day ahead of her. She was getting ready, her handmaids lacing her up and readying her for the day. She was due to take lunch with Margaery and her Grandmother, and then to take a walk of the rose garden with Leonette (though the blonde had jokingly called it a 'waddle' as she was six months pregnant after all), and then tonight she would dine in the main hall, as ordered by the Lannister's. A full day, and she needed to look the part.

She had already bathed, her hair had been styled, brushed down her back with some plaits pinned back. She wore a dress of a fine grey design, with diamonds as the bodice, and a Stark direwolf she had stitched into the skirt herself. Silver slippers adorned her feet and two bracelets of cold silver sat on her wrists, almost like shackles … though these were gifts from the Tyrell's, and they were offering her freedom.

Or were they? Sansa didn't like to consider that she might be trading one prison for another … she shook her head at that. Any prison was better than this one.

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts and she arranged a smile on her face, a nod to her maid indicating the door could be opened.

She smiled politely as Tyrion Lannister stepped through. She preferred Tyrion to the other Lannister's, he had been kind to her after all, but she did not trust him. She would never trust a Lannister again, no matter how nice they had been to her. Queen Cersei had been nice to her once. She would never make that mistake again. Still, Tyrion was the kindest of the bunch and had given her some interesting books on Winterfell as a gift for her betrothal. Once or twice she had discussed the books with him in the hall at dinner. She may never trust him, nor even like him but he was good company and he was kind.

"My Lord" She smiled and curtsied to him before looking at him. She no longer flinched at his look, beauty was only skin deep after all, there were more important things. Look at the Queen; the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms and yet vile to the core. Beauty was unimportant now. He bowed to her in response and she smiled, wondering who he would eventually marry. Ser Jaime could never inherit so one day Tyrion would be the Lord of Casterly Rock and be forced to marry a highborn Lady. Sansa couldn't help but wonder who and couldn't help but hope he would be happy.

"My Lady, I was walking by and thought I would inform you, Willas Tyrell is here. He will arrive with his retinue in the throne room shortly" He smiled at her then, and she gave him a shy smile back. He dismissed himself then and Sansa turned back into her room. She let her grin expand, until she was smiling in utter delight.

Quickly she called for her handmaid who was efficient and made quick work of putting her together. She pinned her hair back, brushed through the long locks before securing her in her dress, a beautiful grey number, white slashed across the skirts and diamonds at the collar. She had diamonds in her ears and little silver flower clips holding back her hair. She looked like a Lady of the North, and for a little while longer she was just that, and she wanted to honour it. This was who she was, this was her family name, her heritage, her home, she would never turn her back on that again.

"Let us go" She spoke to the guards and they made their way to the throne room. The corridors seemed emptier than usual and she knew that the entirety of court would be present to greet the heir to Highgarden. She felt nervous, and she noticed she was twisting her fingers together as she walked. Would he be handsome? Courtly? She internally scolded herself then for being silly, those things did not matter. What mattered was whether he would take her away from here. What mattered was whether marrying him would truly be freedom.

She felt very nervous, for she knew so little about him. She had asked her guards, her handmaids and the Tyrell's but they had offered very little. They had all explained they wanted her to make her mind up about him, but she just wished she knew more. Part of her worried they were keeping quiet as he was not the kind man everyone claimed … but no, she didn't think that was true, the other Tyrell's were kind, good people, surely Willas would be the same?

She felt sick to her stomach as she reached the throne room and her hands would not stop shaking. She placed them in front of her, clasping them to stop them trembling. She moved quickly once inside to stand next to Margaery. Her friend embraced her, squeezing her tightly and grinning from ear to ear, it was clear Margaery was looking forward to seeing her brother.

Everyone was soon in place and Sansa tried to keep calm. She knew she was paler than usual and nervous, but she tried to stay relaxed as she waited. She glanced around the room for distraction and saw Joffrey sat on the throne, Tywin by his side, Cersei too. Tyrion stood off to one side with Lord Varys, and the entire Tyrell flock stood together, waiting for Willas. Everything was ready, everyone was excited or pretending to be, except for Sansa, who felt like running back to her rooms and hiding under the bed.

The doors to the throne room opened and Sansa remained frozen in place. She wanted to run and yet her feet would not more. She felt so scared and she was not sure why, what was she worried about? She was sure Willas would be lovely … but then it struck here, and the realisation that came to mind made her almost faint. It didn't matter what he was like, anything was better than here, but what … what if he didn't like her?

Would he think she was beautiful? Would he find her interesting? Would he want to marry her? She was shaking worse now, almost her entire body trembling. She hadn't even considered this! So, relieved she'd be leaving here and so worried at the same time as to what Willas would be like, she hadn't even thought what he might think of her! Oh god she was an idiot not to have considered this.

A stupid girl, a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns …. Would she ever learn?

She clasped her hands together again, straightened her back and took a deep breath. She was scared yes but she could not show it and she forced her usual courtesies back in to place. She was sure Willas wouldn't call off this marriage no matter what he thought of her. She knew for the Tyrell's this was purely political, he would not set her aside, of that she was sure. She could deal with a loveless marriage, as long as she left this prison.

Again, she thought of her freedom, of leaving this place, of going to Highgarden and maybe oneday back to Winterfell. That made her feel better and she managed to calm down as the retinue made their way inside.

Margaery had noticed her anxiety though as the brunette turned to her with a concerned look and mouthed, 'Are you alright?' Sansa only nodded in return before reaching for her friends' hand and giving it a squeeze. That seemed to reassure Margaery who turned back around to face the incoming group of people.

Sansa took deep breaths to remain calm and her gaze focused on the green and gold banners coming through the door. She felt a spike of worry again and she chided herself, she must stay calm, she was strong, brave, she would stay calm.

'My skin has turned from porcelain, to ivory, to steel'

'I am a Stark; I can be brave'

And she could, she would. And with that she took a step forward, ready to meet Willas Tyrell, her future husband, and her ticket out of this awful place.

It had taken just about a week to travel from Highgarden to Kings Landing after he had taken a few days to prepare. They had made good time along the Roseroad and now here they were. Willas didn't mind travel, he kept to his usual routine; writing out orders and instructions, going through the finances and running of Highgarden, visiting a couple of minor Lords of the Reach as they stopped. It was the same as his day-to-day activities though he did miss his bed and more importantly his desk, but he got along fine.

When they reached the Capitol, he had held his breath, the smell was grotesque, and he closed the shutter on his carriage as they made their way to the gates. He felt a little nervous as they approached, how ridiculous. He couldn't help it though, he was nervous, nervous to meet his bride, nervous for what the future held. He knew Lady Sansa would likely be feeling the same way he was, nervous and apprehensive. He hoped she would be okay with him, he knew he wasn't a typical lord or knight, his limp prevented him from fighting and he knew he wasn't the most social or charming aperson, he just hoped she would accept that.

And if she didn't? Well he would do his duty all the same, and no doubt she would too.

He knew for the Tyrell family this match was political and for Lady Sansa she had likely accepted to escape the Lannister's. For that he couldn't blame her. Both sides had motives but was it naïve to hope aside from those they could find some common ground? At least grow to like each other? He didn't expect love, Willas was too cynical for that, but he hoped his new bride wouldn't despise him at least or was that too much to ask?

They soon reached the gates and made their way to the Red Keep. As soon as they approached, and crowds surrounded them he set his men to work. They quickly handed out food, water, and coin to the poor. Soon the Tyrell name was called across the crowd, people yelling out for their family, screaming the name in jubilation as he had intended. He did not wave from the window as Margaery would have done, but he smiled to himself as the name 'Tyrell' continued to be chanted through the streets. He did not do this out of the goodness of his own heart, he did this to further the profile and agenda of House Tyrell, that was always his goal.

The guards made their way through the streets handing out bits here and there, and soon they were upon the Red Keep. He felt his heart jump into his throat, and he felt nervous again, but he quickly forced that down. He was the future Lord of Highgarden; he already pretty much ran the Reach. He was a scholar, powerful and smart, he was not some green boy who got scared at the prospect of a girl. He had to keep his composure and it was easy for him, none read anything on his face if he did not wish them to.

As the carriage rolled forward he made a quick to-do list in his head, both to keep him distracted from this upcoming meeting and to remind himself of the important things he had to achieve whilst he was here.

He had already set up new handmaids and guards for Sansa that Margaery had sent on for him. He had installed some more new staff for her as well and added to the Tyrell guard here in Kings Landing. He had some important matters to discuss with his grandmother, and the letters he had written on the road and the instructions he had left behind ensured Highgarden and the Reach would be fine without him for the moment. Everything was taken care of.

Now it was time to meet his bride.

And so, as he stepped out the carriage the smallfolk continued to scream his family name. Again, he did not wave but he smiled as he made his way inside, his hand clutching his cane as the doors opened and he entered the throne room.

It was time. He swallowed down a lump in his throat, took a deep breath, nodded to his guards, and made his way forwards, his eyes already searching for his future bride.

God, she felt like she might faint, and her eyes frantically searched as the doors opened and Lord Willas was announced. She felt her heart thumping hard against her chest, and again she resisted the urge to make a dash for the door. She felt so nervous and as the Tyrell family surged forward to embrace their relative, she hung back alone, after all she had not met him yet, and she did not want to intrude on a family reunion. She hadn't even seen him yet and her nerves continued to spike.

What if he had come here to say no to the betrothal? No, she was sure he would do his duty. But what if he didn't like her? She could handle a loveless marriage yes, but it was not what she wanted. She chided herself for being naïve, this was not about love, not for either of them, she needed to remember that.

In the moment she was so caught up in her own worries and anxieties she didn't even notice as Joffrey made his way over to her. She only realised as he came to a stop next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and turned to look at him, quickly dipping into a curtsey. "Your grace" She said respectfully, she did not want to anger Joffrey now, nor entertain him, and so she would be polite, nothing more, it was the best way to deal with him. She did see her guards shuffle a little closer and she felt reassured.

"Lady Sansa" Joffrey said, that evil smirk playing across his lips, "Here is your husband, too bad you'll be marrying a cripple" He sneered then, "You could have been Queen" At that Sansa held back a shudder, how thankful she was she wouldn't be Queen, what an arrow she had managed to dodge.

"You'll still live in Kings Landing though" He prattled on, but she tried to ignore him, "Your husband isn't going to want some traitorous girl between his sheets, and so I'll warm your bed" He laughed then, "I'll fill you up with Lannister bastards, don't worry" Another laugh, and Sansa couldn't resist. Turning her head, she caught his gaze for a moment, her deep blue Tully eyes unflinching. That seemed to unsettle him, and he glared at her before he walked away, though not without another sneer.

For a moment she felt strong, that she had unsettled Joffrey but then she felt a flicker of fear. She shouldn't have reacted, that had been stupid, and she just hoped she did not pay for it later.

Her fear however intensified when she thought of Joffrey's words … would Willas not want her? Did he consider her to be a traitor? She was shaking again then and she tried to calm herself. Joffrey just wanted to upset her; she shouldn't pay any attention to it. It was hard though and as she lifted her head; she saw Margaery approaching with a man following behind her. Oh god, this was it, and she was still shaking.

"Sansa" Her voice was soothing to her and Sansa's eyes flickered up in response. She tried to compose herself, but she knew tears still pooled in her eyes, she was pale as a dove and she continued to tremble. One deep breath, two deep breaths, three … and it was a little better.

"Please allow me to introduce my brother, it is my honour to introduce the Lord Willas Tyrell of Highgarden" She paused, "Willas dear, this is Lady Sansa of Winterfell"

She straightened her back then at Margaery's words and her eyes flickered for a moment before she finally lifted them, to meet her husbands, and instantly her gaze was locked in his. She felt her heart stutter for a moment and a small smile made its way onto her expression. Her hands still shook but the fear in the pit of her belly seemed to disappear. Her tears evaporated and her smile only grew.

He was so handsome, and he was smiling kindly at her, his gaze never faltering from hers. She didn't even notice his cane or his limp as he stepped forward. She just continued to gaze at his face, her own expression a little awe struck as she took a step forward to. "My Lord" She paused then, her smile a little wider, "It is an honour to meet you" She resisted the urge to bite her lip before she continued, "I hope we get to know each other over these coming days before we are married" There she had managed a response, a response her Mother would be proud of! She felt a pang then as she thought of her Mother … oh how she missed her.

"My Lady" His voice was deep, but it had a kindness too it that she could tell he did not often use. "The honour is all mine" Again her heart stuttered, and she felt a little flutter in her stomach, butterflies maybe? "You are quite a vision, a true Lady of the North" He laughed lightly then, and the sound was beautiful. "I should thank the seven immediately, for luck has clearly come my way"

"Oh Willas" Margaery interjected then, rolling her eyes at her brother, "Don't tease poor Sansa here, she is not accustomed to our humour, though I am trying" She grinned at Sansa then before leaving them alone, clearly giving them some privacy to talk.

"I…" Sansa stuttered then, though she still smiled she wasn't sure what to say. A deep blush had made its way across her cheeks and neck, "It is very nice to meet you my Lord" She paused then, bit down on her lip before leaning forward a little and letting her voice drop to a whisper, "So very nice" Her emotions took over for a moment but once she didn't care. How could she be cautious whilst looking into those eyes?

His hand reached for hers then and he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles before holding onto her hand. His hand was a little rough (from riding she presumed), but it felt nice in her grasp, and she was smiling as he looked down at her. He was everything she could have hoped for and more. She tried to calm herself down, to not get ahead of herself for they had just met, but she could not help it.

"I agree my Lady" He smiled then, "It is very nice to meet you indeed" He laughed a little and again Sansa delighted in the sound. She didn't laugh much anymore, she hoped that would change now. She did giggle a little then and he smiled at her. He seemed so kind, so happy, of course she had no idea he was a little struck as well and he didn't smile this much normally in a week let alone a few minutes.

They were interrupted then by his Grandmother, moving over to them, a devilish smile on her features as she spoke, "So, how are you two getting along?" She paused for a second, "Not that it matters, this marriage will go ahead even if you hate each other, I ask purely out of curiosity" Margaery laughed then as she joined them, as did Willas and Sansa continued to smile. She missed the look Margaery and Olenna shot one another, a look that was pure satisfaction, after all this match was necessary but they too wanted Willas to be happy.

Sansa glanced at Willas again and she continued to smile, from ear to ear now, and he smiled at her, though his was a little more muted. She felt this could not have gone better, and again she tried to counsel herself to calm down, but she could not. Already part of her was running away with the idea this could be more than a political match. Her time in Kings Landing may have cut through her previous illusions, 'life is not a song', but a deep buried part of her still yearned for that song, still yearned for true love.

All her worries seemed to be alleviated, all through one conversation. She knew they would need to get to know one another, to learn everything about one another. She knew he was still a stranger, and yet she basked in this feeling. It felt good not to be worried or anxious or scared and for a few moments more she simply wanted to revel in that feeling instead of always being sensible.

"Things seem well grandmother" Willas said with a roll of his eyes, to which his grandmother smacked him on the shoulder. Margaery laughed in response and Willas smiled before he turned to his squire and conveyed a few words. Immediately a small group of people came over, curtsied, and bowed before turning to face Sansa.

"My Lady" Willas spoke, and Sansa felt her blush deepen a little as his gaze locked to hers again before he dragged it away, "I have another two guards to add to your compliment, as well as a seamstress for your use and two pages" At that Sansa felt a little shocked, she had never had this many servants! "If you need anything please come to me, I am to be your husband, anything you need, do not hesitate to ask"

Sansa felt a warmth spread through her belly, not at the extra guards or servants (though that did make her happy), but at how kind he was being to her. She had told herself not to run away with dreams or songs again and yet that seemed to be out the window already. She was gazing at him like a girl ready to fall in love and no internal chiding on her part could stop it.

Before she could respond to his generosity she heard his grandmother tut in a good natured fashion before she spoke, "Dear lord Willas, the girls already got you wrapped around her finger" She laughed at that, as did Margaery and Garlan and Leonette who had drifted over to join them. "A year into marriage and he'll conquer Essos if you ask him too" Olenna said with another laugh, and at that the rest of the group dispersed, leaving Sansa and Willas alone again.

Her smile did not waiver as she turned to look at him again. She felt happy, properly happy for the first time in a while and though she knew she should be cautious she didn't want that feeling to go away and so when he offered her his arm and an escort to lunch she could only grin and nod her head at him.

And her smile never dimmed.

His eyes looked past the trees, past the fields, past the smallfolk tilling and the markets bustling. He looked past the lakes and the winding rivers, past the castles and the keeps. He wondered if he looked for long enough and hard enough, he would be able to see all the way to Kings Landing. He knew it was impossible, but he humoured himself for just a moment. Riverrun was too far away, but for a moment he imagined he could see.

He was so far away now, so far from his sisters. Sansa and Arya were trapped in the Capitol and now he was miles from them. He wanted to charge there, bash down their gates and rescue them before taking the head off of every Lannister left. He had been too late to save his father, too late to save his brothers but he would not be too late to save his sisters.

But how?

His mother had gone behind his back and managed to release the Kingslayer so now they had nothing to bargain with, no leverage. If he had thought for a second that trading Jaime Lannister would have got his sisters back, he would have, even if his bannermen would have disagreed, but he had known it would never work. The Lannister's would have found a way to cross them, a way to turn things. He never could have risked it, and he had told his mother so the night after the Kingslayer had escaped before barring her from future war council meetings.

Then he had sent for Jon. He was thin on family and needed people he could trust by his side. He had little hope his brother would answer but he had to try, and so a raven had flown to the wall.

He would have to find another way to save his sisters now, he just didn't know how, and so for now he had to continue onward, he couldn't march on the Capitol, not now, no matter how much he wanted to.

He turned away from the window then and went to sit at the desk of his late grandfather. It was covered in maps, notes, papers, and plans, and yet he was abandoning all plans in the South to return North, to return home. It didn't feel right to abandon his campaign when thus far he had won every battle, and yet he had no choice. He had to retake Winterfell, to defeat the Iron Born and to sure up their defences. He had to let the men collect their harvest, recuperate, and recall the banners. He needed to secure Winterfell.

They would return South again, he knew his men would follow, but first they had to march home.

He was due to leave Riverrun tomorrow. He would stop off at the Frey's, marry his Frey bride and then take back Winterfell. Only then would he make the plan to come back South. It wasn't a retreat but rather a tactical fallback, to ensure they wouldn't just win every battle but the war too.

And so, he would return home and for now he would have to leave his sisters behind. He would come back for them though, he would.

Chapter Text

Willas made his way over to the gardens, having walked Lady Sansa to her rooms. He was smiling to himself as the scent of roses hit the air and he walked towards his grandmothers' canopy.

He was intrigued by Sansa, truly, even after such a small time. She had made him forget his ruthless ambitions and his endless quest for power. For a moment or two she had made him forget about the continuous Tyrell agenda and had simply made him smile. Her gaze had trapped him, and he was fully intrigued by her. They had chatted small talk on their way back to her rooms, nothing serious, but he was looking forward to getting to know her. He felt Sansa Stark would be worth getting to know.

But for now, he needed to get back to the important matter at hand. He needed to meet with his grandmother for a sensitive discussion that he had not wanted to communicate in writing. It was a plot of course, the Tyrell ambition knew no end, and Willas's primary role was to ensure they constantly moved forward with those ambitions. Constantly moving up the ladder. And so, as much as he was distracted by Sansa Stark's captivating eyes and pretty smile, he could not let himself get distracted.

He soon arrived to where his grandmother sat, Margaery at her side. He greeted them both with a smile, and a kiss on the cheek for his sister. He sat down then at his grandmothers right, Margaery always at her left, as it had been since they were trio. Gods he had missed them, the Tyrell trio as Garlan had once affectionately named them. The three were always together before the war, scheming, and planning for hours whilst his father, Garlan and Loras worked at combat.

He paused before he began, "How has the garden been here grandmother?" He glanced around then, carelessly before he continued, "Any spiders?"

"We've had a good season indeed" His grandmother replied, "We managed to cull them, ensuring the roses are insect free" He smiled then, and nodded. They were free to talk here which was a relief. He was impressed as well, that they had managed to carve out a little section of the Capitol just for them, though he should hardly be surprised. They still had to be a little careful, for one never could be too much, but it meant they could discuss the upcoming plan.

The idea had taken root months ago when his father had first betrothed Margaery to the boy King. He and his grandmother had been against it initially before they had managed to put together a plan. Now they were weeks away from executing it and simply needed to discuss the finer points.

"Is everything in place then?" He asked quietly as a servant set down some food before hurrying away at his grandmother's glare.

Olenna nodded before reaching for a fig, Margaery reached for a strawberry rolled in sugar, and Willas (who detested anything sweet) picked up a lemon slice, sucking out the inside before throwing the rind to the bushes. His grandmother shook her head at that and he couldn't help but laugh, she had always hated that habit.

"Margaery you understand your role?" His grandmother spoke then, her eyebrow raised as she looked at the youngest of the three. Initially they hadn't planned to include Margaery but in the end they had deemed it important she be included and know what they had planned, they couldn't have her putting herself at risk, and so they had included her, and she had smacked him when she had found out they had almost left her out of it.

"Which is to do nothing" Willas cut in, a glare shot at his little sister who rolled her eyes. He had made it clear from the start, Margaery would have no part in this besides keeping herself safe, they couldn't afford any suspicion. Margaery did not like being given nothing to do but she nodded, for she knew he would not budge.

"I know" She said, "Just don't drink from the chalice" He nodded then as did his grandmother. He laughed a little as she continued, "Maybe cry a little" His grandmother was the one to roll her eyes then.

Initially Margaery had volunteered to wear the murder weapon to the wedding but Willas had refused, it was too suspicious. Instead one of Margaery's handmaids would wear it (after all his grandmother had offered the second-best necklace to the girl). His grandmother would adjust it and drop the poison in the chalice. Willas and Margaery would do nothing, except Willas had procured the poison and had the necklace made. He had sent it to Kings Landing weeks ago. Everything was in place now.

In two weeks, he would marry Sansa and two weeks later Margaery would marry Joffrey … though if everything went according to plan only one marriage would last.

He took another lemon slice as his sister began to chat about the wedding. His mind quickly tuned her out (for he had no desire to debate what kind of ribbon she should wear in her hair). He adored his little sister, but his mind was better spent elsewhere. However, though he tried to focus on possible gaps in the plan instead his mind drifted to Sansa, the little Stark who had already piqued his interest.

She was too innocent for him really, far too naïve still. She was beautiful yes, there was no denying that and she hadn't even blossomed into her beauty yet. She was a little young for him. He was also concerned how bad her experiences had been here. He had seen the rosy tint in her eyes as she looked at him. How bad had things been here that she was happy to marry a stranger? She had seemed so downtrodden, so sad when he had first caught a glance at her. And so, as she had brightened around him it had been infectious.

He hoped he could continue to make her feel that way, and part of him knew he was already lost. He shouldn't be concerned about this. He simply needed to wed her, bed her, and get a child in her. And yet he was already captivated by her smile, wished to gaze into her blue eyes again and he found himself wanting to protect her, to ensure she was never so sad again.

Fuck, he was a like a starry-eyed teenager.

She had been delightful though. So sweet and kind, and she had made him smile. Willas wasn't one to smile often, unless with his family and yet she had him positively beaming. The deep blush on her cheeks and neck had been alluring, and he had enjoyed teasing her a little. He could see things would be easy between them, happy even, and though that shouldn't be his priority it had already become one.

Days passed and the Red Keep was bustling with activity. It was under two weeks until her wedding day and the servants were hard at work. Flowers had been shipped in, all of the important Lords and Ladies who could make it here were on their way, the cooks were working day and night and the cleaners were dusting every corner. It was all coming together and Sansa had taken an active role in planning things … even if she hadn't been able to do everything she wanted.

She was in two moods about this wedding. One side of her was excited, couldn't wait to be 'Sansa Tyrell', couldn't wait for the relief that would come with confirming it. She was having fun discussing plans with the Tyrell cousins, she was giggling as she tried hairstyles with Margaery, had grinned as Leonette sat with her at dress fittings. It was wonderful but it was so different to what she had once imagined.

She had always thought she would marry in Winterfell, in the summer snows. Her father would give her away, her mother would have helped plan everything with Rickon on her hip. Bran and Arya would have run around like heathens but would have grinned like mad on the day. Robb and Jon would have helped prepare the alter. She would have been married before the Old Gods, beneath the great Weirwood tree, which was her custom as a Stark. Before she had come South Sansa had focused on the seven, but since her father had died her prayers had only been for his gods. Yes, back in Winterfell she had dreamed for a fancy southern husband, but she had never imagined marrying anywhere but Winterfell.

On top of that she hadn't seen much of Willas since his arrival. She understood he was busy, very busy as he was effectively running the Reach from his solar here, but she had hoped they would have time to get to know one another. They were to be wed soon after all.

She knew she couldn't complain, her life had improved drastically since her betrothal announcement. She spent most of her time in the Maidenvault with Margaery and her cousins. They went riding together, took lunch in the gardens and dinner in the main rooms. Willas had taken her for two walks, his grandmother invited her daily for tea with Margaery. It was nice, to feel part of a family again, especially with hers so far away. But she still couldn't help but miss her family, she missed her mother dearly. Her situation was much improved yes, but she felt more homesick than before.

But she had to focus on the positives! Life had improved so much and one day she would be back in Winterfell, of that she was certain. And so, she felt better as the days went on, as she tried to remember how much her circumstances had lifted.

That was what she continued to tell herself as she readied herself the next morning, the eighth morning since Willas had arrived. She smiled at herself in the morning and it came more naturally than before. Sansa wasn't completely whole again, and she wouldn't be for a long while, but things were better, and she just had to hope they would keep getting better.

She soon got ready for the day, and she went for a dress in her favourite colour, purple. It was a deep purple gown with light purple accents, diamonds sparkled at her ears and her hair was pinned back again with little silver flower clips. She smiled as she looked across at herself. She hadn't been wearing Tyrell colours yet, but she would when she married. For now, she wanted to remind herself of the North, of home, and so grey and purple by extension she preferred.

God, she missed home with an ache and once again she pined for Winterfell. She only allowed herself to think of home for a minute more before she cleared her throat and lifted her chin. She was due in court and it would do no good to be late. With a deep breath she made her way out of the room and through the corridors.

As she walked, she tried to keep her head up and her back straight, to smile at those she passed by, to greet a few of the more harmless members of Joffrey's court. She had been walking with Willas the other day, eyes on her toes as always and he had gently placed a finger under her chin before he had told her she was 'far too beautiful to deprive the world of seeing her'. Her face had gone as red as a tomato, but she had tried to take his words to heart and her confidence was growing a little every day. Even here in Kings Landing Sansa Stark was starting to come out of her shell.

She hurried through the corridors even though she had no desire to attend Joffrey's court, though she knew it was expected of her. She just hoped Willas would be there, she felt safer in his presence, and she knew Joffrey was less likely to be horrible to her when her betrothed was present. Still, even if he were busy then she would have the rest of the Tyrell's. They were the people she spent all of her time with now, especially Margaery who she had soon come to see as a sister … though she missed her real sister, Arya. Oh, how she hoped she was alive…

Soon she arrived at court and hastened towards the Tyrell's. Her heart leapt as she saw Willas stood at the front, his head bowed as he was in deep conversation with his grandmother. Sansa wished to go to him but she did not want to interrupt and so she made her way towards Margaery, only to feel a hand pull on her waist and pull her gently back. She stumbled a little and turned around, a little worried but mostly confused, until she heard a chuckle and saw Willas was the culprit of pulling her back to him, before holding her tight with his arm to keep her from falling.

"My Lady" He bowed his head then though a smirk played on his lips, "I apologise for such a way of getting your attention but I could not stand for you to walk past me without gracing me with your beauty" He winked then and Sansa felt her face flame to match her hair. He was so charming, and he liked to tease her, to make her laugh. He especially liked it when she didn't understand his jokes and laughed when he explained it to her to her shock. She had leaned Willas was very intelligent with a sharp and subtle wit that she was learning to get used to.

"My Lord" She curtsied to him then and he tucked her arm through his, she was happy to take her place by his side. It made her feel safer, protected, and in truth it made her heart thump faster as she tucked herself next to him. "It's quite alright" She said with a little nod to his apology, "Though next time feel free to simply call my name, that runs less of a risk of he falling on my face, which would be most unladylike" She giggled a little then and Willas chuckled along with her. She knew her jokes weren't as funny as his, but he laughed all the same.

"No, we couldn't have that, though I promise if you fall, I'll take full responsibility" He laughed a little again before turning his head as Joffrey made his way to the throne. Court fell quiet as the King took his seat.

Joffrey didn't dare look to her and had left her alone ever since her betrothal. She wasn't sure if that was on his grandfather's orders or whether he was that scared of Willas and the Tyrell family, but she was pleased for it all the same. She watched as he handed proceedings over to Tywin before ignoring everyone else, including his mother who was vying for his attention and failing. He only paid mind to Margaery as she stepped towards the throne and he beckoned her towards him. His grandfather dealt with minor problems on the court floor as Margaery chatted away to her betrothed, seemingly happy.

But Sansa was sure Margaery wasn't happy, how could she be? Sansa hated to see her friend with him, it made her worried, and she couldn't help but speak in a whisper to Willas, a fearful edge clear in her tone.

"I hope he isn't frightening her" She couldn't stop the worry that crept into her tone. She was trying hard not to sound so scared all the time, but it was difficult. Losing the fear, she had been living with for a while now was harder than it seemed. She turned to look at Willas and thought she saw a brief flash of anger dance across his face before it was gone as soon as it had come. His eyes were cold now, neutral, and he spoke in a hushed voice as he replied.

"Margaery can handle herself" He spoke gently, but she could hear a cold edge to his voice that made her shiver a little, "You do not need to worry for her, and you do not need to fear the King" His voice had a hard undertone but he was clearly trying to be gentle. She could tell he always tried to be gentle to her, never raised his voice or treated her coldly. In truth she already trusted him, even though she knew that was foolish, she could not help it.

"I know" She paused then, biting down on her lips, "I'm just worried about Margaery" She said with a little shake of her head as she focused her eyes on Willas.

"You don't need to" He said simply, and he smiled at her then, patting her hand on his arm before he turned around with her. Court had ended quickly, thankfully it had been a short session and they would move on. Sansa had a walk with Leonette planned and she knew Willas was engaged with his grandmother for the afternoon. And so, they exited the throne room together. Willas walked with authority, even with his limp, he had a self-assuredness that few possessed and to Sansa that was extremely comforting. How could she be frightened around a man who looked as though he ruled the world?

He dropped her off for her walk with his good sister, before making his way to the rose gardens. He spent a lot of time with his grandmother but spoke little of it, she wondered if they were scheming, plotting. Sansa had never been much of a schemer, that wasn't the way in the North. Sure, Sansa had certainly got better at lying since she had come South but schemes and plots? That was something she was sure she'd never be comfortable with.

She enjoyed her walk with Leonette, they spoke about her upcoming wedding and Leonette's upcoming labour. They discussed Highgarden and the harvest ball; it was wonderful. Leonette had a fantastic sense of humour and though sweet seemed very no nonsense. It was lovely and after that she took lunch in the gardens with Margaery. Willas found some time for her in the late afternoon for a walk around the rose gardens and for dinner she was in the Maidenvault with the entire Tyrell flock. She settled into bed with a smile on her face and sleep found her easily. This was her life, and she imagined this was what her life could be like going forward.

It was almost perfect … almost.

Chapter Text

She stood still, quiet, with a smile on her features as her handmaid readied her for the day in her traditional Tyrell garb. Flowers adorned her dress, her skirts flowed like water and she wore more flowers at her throat and wrists. She looked like a beautiful southern rose, as always, and as her handmaid departed, she thanked her before falling into thought.

Beauty … that was what was on her thoughts. Margaery knew she was beautiful, and she always used it to her advantage. An easy smile to get an extra slice of pie from the kitchens, a flutter of her eyelashes to get out of trouble with the guards, a sultry wink at the blacksmith to steal a kiss or two. She'd always used it, knowing her charm and beauty were enough to always get her what she wanted. Beauty had been enough for a while and then she had learned to manipulate, to scheme, to be cunning, and those were her true weapons now. Beauty was important yes, but only if you knew how to use it, and she did of course.

She cocked her head to the side then and smiled. She knew that being cunning and understanding the subtle art of politics were essential for her new position, but her beauty was her own advantage, and so she had to ensure she always looked her best. There was a reason her dress was cut to show some skin, that the neckline plunged dangerously low, and that her hips swayed as she walked. All to entice, to beguile, to charm.

And Margaery knew, men could contribute to the family by being great warriors or great leaders, but women? Women were more restricted, and Margaery had no intention of being held back. She would not be a compliant, quiet wife doing as she was told, no, no. She had been raised by Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, she would follow in her footsteps, she would manipulate and take power for herself. She may not be able to seem in charge, but she could run things behind the scenes, as her grandmother did, and that was how she had been raised.

A knock on the door then jolted her from her thoughts. She took ten seconds to adjust her hair, smooth down her skirts and plaster a smile to her face. If it were Joffrey she would need to be simpering, stupid, smiling, all the things he liked that had him do as she wished. It was important to always play the part … at least for a little while longer. And so, as the door swung open she took her place, her eyes wide, that little smile on her features, the picture of innocence and beauty … until she saw who it actually was and with a roll of her eyes she dropped the façade and walked back to her dressing table.

Her brother laughed at that as he shut the door behind him, and Margaery couldn't help but join in. "Big brother" She said with a smile, only this time it was a real smile, filled with warmth and love, the smile reserved for her loved ones.

"Little sister" He said with a small smirk, as he walked over to her bed, and took a seat. The tap of his cane as he placed it down caught her attention, but his limp was barely noticeable anymore. Willas never allowed it to hold him back or make him look less so. Still she saw him wince a touch as he sat himself down, and she wandered over and took a seat next to him with a smile.

"Expecting someone else then little sister?" He said with a small smirk, "Someone you need to beguile with your innocence?" He attempted to mimic her earlier fake expression then (poorly she might add), and Margaery gave him a small shove to which he laughed and soon she joined in, Willas had always known how to make her laugh.

She adored her brother, always had and always will, it was nice to have him around, if only for a short time. She would miss him when he returned to Highgarden but she knew it was necessary, he needed to return to run the Reach and he needed to get Sansa out of this awful place … a part of Margaery wished she was going to, but no, she wouldn't be Queen if she ran back home.

"Well it is how Joffrey likes me" Margaery rolled her eyes, "Though he might prefer me with a string of dead sparrows around my neck" She said motioning to her throat, her tone one of disdain as she mocked.

Willas however did not laugh and his smile immediately dropped. He placed a finger to his lips before he walked to the door, his hand gripping his cane a little too tightly. He opened the door, took a quick look outside and exchanged a few low words with the guards who shook their head in response. Willas seemed satisfied at that and his grip relented, and he seemed to calm, but when he came back in, he still looked serious as he sat back down next to her. He glanced about just once more before he spoke to her in a low voice, his tone deadly serious.

"Margaery" His expression remained hard and she felt a little bit of worry, "Even here, even with me you cannot talk like that. We may have roses creeping up the walls but for now lions still rule the roost" Margaery nodded then, her own eyes growing hard. She felt guilty then and worried for a moment, how could she have messed up so? Imagine if Joffrey had heard of Cersei! Such a thought sent a shiver down her spine, she had to be more careful! They were so close; she could not mess this up now.

"I'm sorry" She said, regret clear in her tone and sincere for her brother. Willas's expression changed immediately and he smiled at her, placing his hand over hers, which turned up the corners of her mouth.

"Don't apologise" He said simply, for Willas always had a way of making her feel better, "Just be careful" At that she nodded and the issue was forgotten, though she wouldn't forget it, not now, not again, not when they were so close.

Margaery knew she was good at the game, but not as good as Willas, or her grandmother who was above them all. Margaery adored Willas yes, but she knew he was ruthless, more so than her, not afraid to do anything to advance the Tyrell name. She was a little worried what Sansa might think if she heard some of the things Willas had done or had been willing to do for power … Sansa was an innocent, honest, and put a great deal of emphasis on honour. Margaery chewed her lip a little at that, but she knew it wasn't her place to get involved, that would be for Willas to work out.

The little mishap was forgotten as they walked to the gardens, for they were due to break their fast with her grandmother and Sansa would be joining them too. Willas looped his arm through hers as they walked, speaking of small things, mostly of home. They would take their morning meal in the rose garden which was always her preferred place. That was Tyrell territory.

When Margaery had come to Kings Landing to beguile Joffrey, she had been wise about it. Sansa had been terrorised by Joffrey due to a lack of protection; no family, no guards, no servants, nothing. It wasn't her fault of course but it had certainly contributed to her miserable circumstances, and Margaery had done the opposite. She had brought a full retinue, family, servants, guards, pages, everything. Her own brother had joined the Kingsguard, and the Tyrell sigil was common across the Red Keep now. They were her defence, the armour around her. She would be sad when Willas left, and she knew he'd take some family with her.

She was pleased though, that Sansa now had family around her. Her own guards and servants and the Tyrell's, who had taken her in as their own. Margaery knew her friend still missed her own family, of course she did, but she did seem to be perking up around them. It was in part Margaery was sure to having a family around her, as well as her improved circumstances. Her and Willas seemed to get on (in fact Margaery was sure they'd be in love soon), she had the Tyrell's and the Lannister's were leaving her be. To see Sansa walking around the Red Keep with her head held high … it made Margaery feel proud.

Soon they reached the gardens and the scent of roses on the air made her smile. She could see the first decorations for the wedding already going up; arches of flowers, beautiful silk tablecloths and candles peppered about the place. It was going to look beautiful for the wedding. Margaery knew Sansa had, had a hand in planning things, had taken control even and already Margaery could see it would be a lovely ceremony. Margaery felt a pang of regret then, even though her marriage wouldn't last (wouldn't even be consummated), but she had wished to have more of a hand in things. Cersei had taken care of the planning and from the decorations she had seen thus far Margaery could tell it would be a display of opulence and Lannister glory. Not that it mattered, Margaery would marry again.

When her grandmother had first let her into the plan, she had been shocked but quickly onboard. Joffrey was too cruel and mad to ever control truly, and Margaery knew she had no chance of keeping a hold on him. Tommen would be much easier to manipulate, and for that to happen Joffrey has to go.

She was glad she had been included, and she was committed to the plan. Not only did it further the Tyrell's chances (as her grandmother and Willas intended), but it also gave her some vindictive pleasure. After all the misery Joffrey had given Sansa, he would meet his end in a very poetic fashion, it was justice. They just had a little longer to wait.

And then soon, soon, they would all be rid of Joffrey.

A few days later and Sansa stepped into the main gardens, where the dinner after the ceremony would take place. She was overjoyed with how everything looked so far. The gardens were stunning and with sunlight streaming over her it was truly wonderous. The servants had outdone themselves and Sansa had gone out of her way to thank each of them personally. It felt good, having something to occupy her time, even if it was just to overlook preparations. It was a nice distraction, a good way to spend her time until she left Kings Landing.

Before the end of her betrothal to Joffrey her days had been dreadful, consumed with activities and people she couldn't stand. She had been forced to go to every session of court, sit at dinners with Cersei as she drank herself half to death, walk around the City with Joffrey, where once or twice he would be cruel to the common people. She still had nightmares about some of the stuff. She remembered one time, a poor woman had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving son and Joffrey had ordered the Kingsguard to cut off her hands. Sansa had screamed for nights after that unable to sleep, waking up sobbing for weeks afterward. She remembered the time he'd hung a man simply for having relations with another man. Sansa had for once spoken up, begged him not to, and then he had hung the man's sister as well in retaliation. From then on, she had learned to keep her mouth shut and had lived with the nightmares.

After her betrothal had been dissolved, she had been left alone a lot more yes, but that had been a blessing in her eyes. It was exhausting keeping her courtesies in place for days on end and to have some respite from that was a relief. She spent her days alone, lock bolted across the door, sewing her dresses, reading some books, hours spent in the godswood preying and then fitfully sleeping at night. She had been bored a fair amount but then she had remembered how bad things had been before and relished in the boredom. It was better to be bored than constantly traumatised. During that period, she barely left her room unless ordered, always terrified she'd run into Joffrey or Cersei.

Now however things were better, much better. She spent her days with the girls from Highgarden, cousins of the Tyrell family and the daughters of bannermen from the Reach. She spent hours planning her wedding, from the dress to the flowers to the plates and cups. She planned everything and Willas was more than happy for her to do so, there had only been one embarrassing problem.

Whenever an event was held in the Red Keep the Lannister's always covered the cost but Sansa hadn't wanted to ask that family for money and Willas had told her to do everything, and so she had presumed that meant paying for it. And so, at the start she had done her best on a very tight budget. She had initially planned a much smaller reception, much more muted and subtle. She had still thought it was nice, not quite the wedding she had dreamed, but still beautiful. Besides, life was not a song, she had to remember that.

Cersei had sneered at the small ceremony, but she had ensured it was pretty albeit small. Still, she heard people whisper that they expected 'something more' and she tried to ignore them, as much as it hurt her. She had done the best she could!

It was only a few days later did Olenna call her into the gardens to discuss the wedding, had she realised the situation and had been mortified upon understanding.

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Flashback

'Her presence had been requested in the garden by her betrothed' That was the way the page had said it and she had quickly gotten ready. The way the page had framed it made it seem serious and that made her nervous. Willas was a serious person she knew that, but more often with her he teased her, laughed with her, grinned at her. Of course, the page's message made her nervous, and as she made her way down to the gardens her face was pale and her hands twisting in knots. She couldn't help it, after months in Kings Landing she still presumed any message or calling was bad news. It was ingrained in her and so she arrived at the Tyrell canopy looking something of a wreck.

"Good god girl, sit down" The Queen of Thorns spoke first, "Stop looking so worried, we're not going to bite" She snapped and Sansa hastened to take a seat, though her nervousness got worse if anything. She noted Willas shoot a glare at his grandmother before he spoke.

"Grandmother don't be rude" He said simply and Olenna shot him a glare back, to which Margaery rolled her eyes. Sansa was distracted for a moment then; she always found the interactions between the three Tyrell's very interesting. It seemed Willas and Margaery were the only two people who dared to speak back to their grandmother, and the three made decisions often together. Sure, Olenna was undoubtedly in charge but she could see the three were the core of the Tyrell family ambitions. They were the ones pushing the Tyrell name forward. Olenna was the head, Willas the Lord and Margaery the Queen, they made a powerful team. No one else was invited in and Sansa knew she wouldn't be either, not that she minded, she had never been one for scheming.

"Sansa" Willas jolted her from her thoughts then and she smiled at him, but her skin was still pale with worry and she clasped her hands tightly on her lap to stop them shaking. "We called you here to ask about the wedding preparations" Sansa's brows knitted together then; this was not what she had been expecting. "You've done a splendid job so far, but we wanted to ask why you've kept it so small? So…subtle?" He asked. Evidently, he was trying to be delicate.

Sansa felt a wave of relief wash over her though it was quickly followed by embarrassment. This was good news though, this wasn't to do with the betrothal, and yet now she had to mortify herself by explaining why the wedding wasn't the extravagant affair it should be. How was she supposed to explain this? That she had no money? That everything she owned was a gift from them or the Lannister's? That though her family were wealthy all of that wealth was with Robb and her Mother and all of her Father's wealth present in the Capitol had been seized upon his arrest. How was she supposed to explain she was penniless?

"I erm..." She paused, chewing on her lip. She knew her cheeks were flaming red and she was looking down at her lap. She felt ashamed, she had tried, tried to do her best for this wedding but she had ran out of the meagre amount of money she had to herself very quickly. She glanced up and Margaery offered her a reassuring smile, though her friend certainly looked confused, but she dropped her gaze again, god this was embarrassing.

"I just …" She paused again, before finally she took a deep breath and pressed on no matter how awful this was making her feel, "I just … couldn't afford to do anything more" She shook her head a little then and then lifted her gaze, to look at them all before her eyes found Willas. His expression was one of concern and that gave her the courage to continue, "I used up all of my money, and I … I didn't know how to pay for it"

For a moment there was silence and things felt tense before that shattered. First Olenna let out a barking laugh, Margaery smothered a giggle behind her hand and even Willas smiled at her, indulgently but he was smirking a little all the same. He moved his chair towards her then and took both of her hands in his. She was sure he didn't mean to look at her in such a patronising fashion, but he did a little, if anything that made her feel worse. He seemed to realise that though as she flushed and looked at him, her expression one of sadness, he seemed to notice she was upset as he neutralised his expression and spoke.

"Sansa, how much have you spent so far?" He asked, his voice calm. She could tell he was still amused but he was tempering his amusement for her. She hated this, she wished she hadn't come to the summons here. How could she feel so small around people she cared for?

"Well" She paused then as tears pooled in her eyes. She knew she was overreacting a little, but she couldn't help but feel ashamed. The Tyrell's were the second wealthiest family in the seven kingdoms and here she was having to admit she had next to nothing! "I used two pouches of silver stags for most of it, and a few gold dragons for the rest" She shook her head a little then, "That was all I had"

"I mean … when my Father was arrested, they took everything, even my jewellery" She bit down hard on her bottom lip then to keep the tears that so wished to fall at bay. "I didn't want the bill to go to the Lannister's and so I paid for everything, directly" A tear slipped down her cheek then and she took a calming breath, though it calmed her little. "I…everything I own belongs to them, that's why I used to have to wear a lot of red" She said, her gaze dropping to her lap again then. She wanted to leave, she wanted to go back to her rooms and have a good cry.

"Sansa" Willas spoke then, gently again and as she looked up, she could see all amusement was gone from his expression, if anything he looked a little angry. "There is no need to be embarrassed" He said with a shake of his head, "If anything you should feel proud, for enduring all of this" He said with a nod now, and Sansa felt her spirits lift a little.

"Good god girl" Olenna cut in then and she waved away a servant who approached with a glare, "You're going to be a Tyrell!" She said then, "The next Lady of Highgarden at that!" Olenna nodded fiercely, "You're richer now than you ever were, and if you needed money you should have sent the bill to us. This wedding needs to be opulent, not quite royal but still" It was then Olenna turned her glare to her grandson, "Why didn't you know about this?" She asked Willas, who smiled at her gently and spoke directly to her.

"I did not realise you wouldn't know to send the bills to me" Again he spoke gently and that reassured Sansa, made her feel better, and she managed a little smile then, "Sansa" His thumb rubbed circles over her hand then, and she felt a little flutter in her stomach, "What did I say to you when we first met hmm?" He looked at her then, deep into her eyes and Sansa felt she might swoon, "If you need anything, just ask"

Sansa felt an odd sensation then, a sensation she had not felt in a very long time … the sensation of being loved. It was strange, and she didn't know what to do with it, and so she quickly pushed it away. Willas wasn't in love with her, she shouldn't be so stupid to think so. Still, he had made up for his earlier amusement and had clearly not intentionally left her scraping to pay for this wedding. She should have come to him, and she quickly pushed down those feelings of being loved and wanting to love in return … they were still present but ignored…for now.

She smiled then at the three Tyrell's, and tears overflowed a little, but this time in happiness. Willas's kindness was beyond anything she could have hoped for going into an arranged match. She looked across at him as a tear or two dropped down her cheeks, like diamonds on snow, and Willas immediately lifted his hands to wipe them away. She missed Olenna and Margaery giving one another a knowing smile as she and Willas simply gazed at one another for a moment or two. Again, she felt that curious feeling and she didn't try so hard to push it away.

"Right" It was Olenna's voice that broke their little moment, and she smiled sheepishly as Margaery beckoned a servant forward to serve snacks. "Let's discuss the planning, then shall we?" Margaery grinned then and immediately began talking about flower arrangements. Willas didn't seem to pay much attention and instead kept his gaze fixed on her. She had a hard time not doing the same for him.

And so, in the days that followed she went about sprucing up the wedding. She didn't go overboard (she had no plans for 77 courses or diamond encrusted goblets, she knew even Margaery felt her wedding was getting ridiculous), but she planned a beautiful ceremony all the same. She had plates stamped with roses made and crystal glasses stamped with direwolfs. She ordered wreaths of flowers and upgraded the menu to include some of her favourite treats and some traditional meals from Highgarden. It was all coming together now, and Sansa was smiling as she flitted about the place, organising everything, much more confident now.

In fact, planning this wedding and all the things that came with it had reinstated some of her previously lost self-esteem. The servants adored her, she was kind to them, and they loved her in return. She wasn't bossy or difficult, she was appreciative, if a little idealistic. The cooks loved how much she trusted them to take control of designing the menu and the domestic servants were happy to have someone who didn't scream at them day and night. She enjoyed the creative freedom of planning and liked to think she would do this when she was Lady of Highgarden; take control of the events and plan them to her liking. Even Cersei couldn't sneer at her wedding anymore, it was coming along beautifully, members of the court who'd giggled at her small affair were now seething in jealousy. Not that Sansa cared for that, she was just happy her wedding was going to be everything she'd dreamed of.

Even though it was in the wrong place … it made her smile.

The next morning was the pre-wedding breakfast, held a few days before the actual ceremony. Sansa had arranged to have it in the main floral courtyard, just outside Tyrell territory, but not in the main rose gardens as the reception would be. She had decorated it from head to toe in her own style, and though it was a little more subtle than the reception it was beautiful all the same. Flowers wrapped around delicate archways, little tea lights studded the tables, and the fine china included running direwolfs amongst green roses. The tablecloths were grey silk whereas the chair ribbons were a fine gold. It was a lovely affair, and as Sansa was announced and saw everyone else present, she grinned at her fine work.

She was the last to arrive as was tradition, and she took her seat at the top table, the place of the bride-to-be. Willas had switched their place cards when he had seen them before. She would sit next to the Tyrell's whilst he endured the Lannister's. Unfortunately, Margaery had been obliged to sit next to Joffrey, but she had happily accepted the sacrifice so not to cause a fuss and Sansa had thanked her for her kindness. Still as she sat down and saw Margaery sandwiched in between Joffrey and Cersei she shot her an apologetic glance, she felt awful leaving her friend to the lions.

"My love" Willas placed a kiss on her hand as she curtsied before him and sat herself down. A blush chased across her cheeks, as it always did when Willas was sweet with her. He was too sweet to her and several times at night Sansa was convinced she would wake, and this would all have been a dream. It seemed too good to be true, that her way out of Kings Landing might also be someone she could love. Perhaps the gods had finally listened to her prayers? Or perhaps karma was throwing her a bone? Either way she was thankful.

"My Lord" Sansa said with a smile. Willas looked dashing in a gold and green slashed doublet and she matched him in a green and gold gown. They made a great pair and soon the first course of their wedding breakfast was served to them. They ate through five courses, chatting away to one another happily. Sansa had learned Willas was a wonderful person to converse with. He was so smart, so quick, and actually listened to her when she spoke, and in turn Sansa was opening up to him. They talked about the Reach, of Highgarden. Willas was always teaching her about the people, the food, the lands. They discussed the most recent harvest as they snacked on berries, fresh bread, and honey, and she smiled as he spoke. She loved learning of the place he would one day rule and it filled her with prize. The way he spoke of it … Sansa felt Highgarden may be one of the best places in the world…second to Winterfell at least. Oh, how her views on that had changed. Once she had been desperate to leave home, and now she was due to marry a handsome southern Lord and move to the southern castle, and yet she'd give it all up to go back to the North.

Still, she didn't want to be sad today and focused on Willas discussing the next harvest. As much as she missed home and missed her family today was supposed to be a happy day and she had put in too much work to be upset. And so, she focused back on her discussion with Willas and her smile soon returned.

As the meal ended Sansa found herself chatting away to Leonette, whilst Willas conversed with Garlan. Sansa soon spoke to Olenna, and they discussed the upcoming royal wedding, with Olenna inquiring about what she would wear. Sansa happily discussed the dress she was having made, and Olenna seemed happy as she described it. It would be in traditional Tyrell colours, as much as Sansa loved her Northern styles, she knew she was to be a Lady of the Reach soon, she needed to dress like one. Appearances were important after all.

Once the meal came to a close it was time for the customary pre-wedding presents. Sansa had almost rolled her eyes when Margaery had given her a list of southern customs for weddings, of course she had already memorised these as a child, but now as a woman grown, and a woman missing home she couldn't help but find them ridiculous! In the North such opulence would be frowned upon. As a child Sansa had found the many gifts and feasts wonderful, now she simply saw them as a waste … oh how times could change.

Still, she was expected to go along with them, and the old Sansa still delighted in the wonderful gifts she received.

First the minor Lords came to them, presenting books and small trinkets. Sansa had plenty of small things, like silk shawls, slippers, and pretty hair pins, whilst Willas had plenty of books. They were things of value, and Sansa in a way appreciated them more. Minor Lords and Ladies didn't have the money of the rich families and so these presents were appreciated. Sansa made sure to thank everyone earnestly.

Then came the presents from the top table and Sansa had to admit they were fantastic and sent a little thrill through her stomach. She was being spoilt!

Loras stepped forward and gave the both of them matching rose-gold pins of impeccable craftmanship. Garlan and Leonette gave Sansa a stunning jewelled hairnet and Willas a large tome on Northern traditions (which got a giggle). Mace and Alerie gave her a large jewel encrusted trunk for her fabrics, and Willas a beautiful bookcase to hold his new books. Olenna gave them both large books, one on the history of the Reach for Sansa, and another on the history of the North for Willas. Margaery gave them both matching silver rose broches that glinted in the light. Cersei gave them both capes, one of red for Sansa (which she took politely but vowed to burn) and one of gold for Willas. Jaime gave Willas a fantastic dagger of top-quality steel and Sansa a new set of fine knitting needles. Tywin gave them both beautiful matching wedding cups, made of gold and ringed with diamonds. Joffrey finished the gift giving with a gold cane for Willas and a dress of red and gold for Sansa (which would join the cape on the fire).

Sansa felt utterly spoilt as her handmaids hurried her things off to her rooms and Willas's servants took off with his. She was pink with pleasure, having been swept up in it all even though she disapproved of the opulence of it all. She knew in the North the gifts would be of food, steel and clothes, practical things. All of these trinkets were beautiful yes, but would be scoffed at in the North, for they had little practical value. Sansa had always longed for these kinds of presents but now they tasted a little sour in her mouth. She felt like the longer she stayed in the South the more of the North she left behind, and she didn't want to lose the North from her.

She was distracted then as next she and Willas would exchange gifts and Sansa felt a lump in her throat as she ushered her handmaid forward with the gift. She had worked hard on this gift, and this was the bit of the ceremony that truly meant something to her. She wanted Willas to like her gift, and she hoped he understood what she had tried to do.

Her hands were shaking a little as she took the gift from her handmaid and then passed it over to Willas. She had spent the last of her money on materials for this and had sewed for almost two days solid to make it work. She hoped he could see how much effort she had put into it and how she had tried to personalise it to him.

It was a blanket she had made him, from soft wool of emerald green. It was a blanket intended for the back of the horse and she had sewn small diamonds and emeralds into a pattern around the border. She knew Willas loved to ride and had hoped to give him something he could use for such a passion. She had also managed to sew in a gentle line of ice blue winter roses that had been pressed and preserved (they had been difficult to get a hold of).

"I made it so the roses are preserved" She bit down on her lip, "They should last a long time" Her cheeks were a little pink then as she looked up at Willas, smiling hopefully up at him, oh how she hoped he liked it. Anyone who looked at her now could see how much she valued Willas's opinion, and how crushed she would be if he dismissed it. She was proud of this.

Willas took the blanket from her, ran his thumbs over the wool, looked at the pattern of jewels and spent longer examining the flowers. He smiled then, smiled wide and Sansa felt her worries ease. He pulled her into a hug then, and she ignored the simpering sounds of the crowd as he pulled her close. He whispered gently in her ear then, "I love it" She squealed a little in delight and he laughed before continuing, "It is perfect Sansa, so thoughtful. I will treasure it always" Sansa was grinning now as he pulled back and she seemed beyond happy. Willas smiled back at her, his eyes alight with happiness that reflected hers. "And it is very apt, considering my gift to you"

He motioned for his page to come over then and the boy quickly called to another who emerged and walked forward, holding the reigns of a beautiful white horse. Willas had told her of his own chestnut mare, that he had raised from birth. Willas's horse was named Glory, and he sounded delightful, but this … this was amazing. Her eyes lit up in delight, as she stepped around the table and Willas followed. The horse was beautiful, with a silver saddle clasped on it's back, a blanket with a running direwolf tucked on. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks then and she took a step forward to stroke the beautiful creature. She looked back at Willas then, her eyes filled with tears and her cheeks stained with them, and she hugged him as he had her, wrapping her arms around his middle, whispering to just him. "Oh Willas, it's perfect"

"I've raised her from birth, she is obedient, loyal and can both race, trot and walk, you'll just need to get used to her" He smiled then, from ear to ear, he was clearly pleased at her reaction to his gift. "She has a calm temperament, gentle even, I felt you would suit. You will be her first rider, so you should name her"

Sansa smiled in utter happiness, stroking the beautiful horse again, she seemed to have a lovely temperament as Willas had said, it reminded her of someone. "Lady" She spoke quietly, and Willas smiled down at her with a nod of his head.

"Lady it is, that sounds perfect"

He was riding home and riding hard. He was close to the Twins now, and ready for his wedding. He felt a mixture of nervous and resigned. He had spoken to his squire Olyvar about his bride-to-be and that had reassured him a little. Apparently Roslin his intended was a beautiful girl, quiet, calm, and nice. Robb was a little sceptical as Olyvar was Roslin's brother, but he would reserve judgement until he met her, and even if she weren't what he wanted it wouldn't matter, he would do his duty. He had been tempted once, by Jeyne Westerling, but he knew better than that. He had a duty to do and he would do it.

He did have something to deal with first though.

A raven had been intercepted, one intended for Lord Bolton from an unsigned messenger who spoke of 'plans' and 'formal decrees. It wasn't proof but to Robb it was suspicious, especially off the back of intercepting a raven from Lord Walder that spoke of 'plans' to Lord Bolton as well. Robb could do little yet, but he could be prepared. He had passed over Roose and left Wendel Manderley in charge of Harrenhal, the Manderley's were amongst his most loyal bannermen and he trusted Wendel to hold the keep. Robb didn't trust the Bolton's, but he could do little yet except keep an eye out.

He did refuse Roose's request for his bastard son to take back Winterfell from the Iron Born. Robb would take the seat himself and would do so gladly when the time came.

And so, Robb rode for the Twins, filled with caution, his mind working fast to come up with plans and tactics. Roose had no idea Robb knew something was going on and Robb intended to keep it that way. He kept guards close by, wore armour under his plain clothes (and would be doing so during his time at the Twins). He had made plans to have 50 men in the courtyard and Greywind would be at his mothers' side throughout. He had also kept these plans a secret. He was preparing for an ambush, he just wasn't sure when or how it would happen, but he was prepared. Thankfully Old Walder had not seemed suspicious nor Lord Bolton, and Robb knew they still meant to act. He would stop them.

He would remain vigilant that was all he could do; constant vigilance was necessary now. Robb had never asked for this, to be King, to be always looking over his shoulder, and he needed more people he trusted. He embraced the role, but it would go easier with people he trusted around him. He hadn't yet received word from Jon, but he was hopeful. He had also sent a copy of his will to Lord Howland Reed at Greywater Watch, for his father had trusted the man completely. He was preparing, he had to. He needed to overcome whatever was planned at the Twins before riding home. From there he would retake Winterfell and then march back South and save his sisters.

Chapter Text

It was here.

Today was the day, the day she had been dreaming about since she was a child. It wasn't what she had expected, and not quite what she had dreamed nor how she had imagined it, but it was here, and she was smiling as she woke up. She was nervous, flutters in her stomach would not go aware. She knew it was natural pre-marital nerves, and yet they would not budge. For so long she had imagined her wedding, how she would marry a Lord with hundreds of guests, with beautiful decorations and vows to all that could hear and here it was. It was truly happening.

Part of her was sad, there was no denying that. It was here yes, and she had been caught up in the excitement of it all but so much was simply missing. She had no family here, not a single Stark would see her wed. Her father wouldn't give her away, her mother wouldn't give her some gentle words of wisdom. She was alone, as she had been for a while now, though she had never felt it more acutely than she did today, she was all alone. In a way it felt completely wrong. She should have been awoken by Septa Mordane, before her mother and sister would spent the morning getting ready with her whilst her father and brothers organised the godswood. She should have been dressed as a bride of the North with summer snows falling from the sky. She should have worn white fur and held her reception in the great hall of Winterfell. Sansa felt tears bite at her eyes then … it did feel wrong.

But she knew her feelings wouldn't change anything. This was the best possible option for her. She would be escaping the Lannister's, leaving Kings Landing and becoming part of a new family, a good family. Willas was kind to her, gentle, fair and she already cared for him and trusted him. This was the best she could hope for, and she knew if she were marrying Willas in the summer snows of Winterfell surrounded by family then everything would be perfect. It was the circumstances that were wrong, not the man, but there was nothing she could do about it, nothing at all.

And so, she sniffed away her tears, took a deep breath and tried to force the sad thoughts to the back of her mind. It would not do to have puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks for her wedding. This was a happy day, and Sansa would not cry, no. Tomorrow she could cry for her family but today she would smile.

Soon she was composed, and she turned to look at herself in the mirror for the first time that day. The handmaids had already laced her into her gown, and she smiled to herself as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her dress was beautiful, a golden ballgown, tight at the bodice and then flaring out to a large skirt. It was patterned with roses at the waist and collar each with a twinkling diamond at the centre. Silver tendrils of stitched silk wove through the bodice of her dress and diamonds twinkled at her neck, wrists, and ears. She was a mixture of gold and silver, and the pin Margaery had gifted her was at her breast. It was beautiful, a perfect mixture of the North and the Reach. Her hair had been brushed a hundred times and the front was pinned back gently with silver pins decorating her hair. She looked beautiful, truly.

The cloak on her back made her feel a mixture of sad and happy. The maiden cloak was a deep grey, with direwolf's stitched in white, racing across the back. It was heavy with diamonds at the hem and collar, and it dragged past her gown. It was stunning, and as her handmaids pinned it in place, she felt a happiness tinged with sadness. What she wouldn't give to have just one family member present, even if it were Arya in breeches with a dirty face! Or Rickon covered in mud! She herself would have married in a dirty field with an ugly dress if it meant her family could be present. At least they were represented in her cloak, with her family sigil. And she would honour them always, by acting like a Stark, by being strong for them. I am a Stark, I can be brave.

With a nod she dismissed her handmaids and took a seat on her bed. It was less than hour until she would marry now, and her retinue was due to leave in 15 minutes. The carriage would take her to the great Sept of Baelor to be wed. Willas would remove her Stark maiden cloak for a Tyrell one and she would have a new name, Sansa Tyrell. She would be a Lady of a different great house, and though she felt sad she did feel a hit of excitement. This was everything she had ever wanted, and here she was about to get it. She was happy, albeit not completely. She was happy, Willas would be her husband, Margaery her sister, and she would call herself a Tyrell and soon leave this awful place, she was happy, but an air of sadness hung over her, refusing to budge.

Looking in the mirror she forced a smile into place, this was what she had always wanted, but it still felt wrong.

She knew her marriage was a political match, that the Tyrell's had snuck in and snatched her away before the Lannister's could marry her off, and she was thankful for that. But then she remembered what her father had said, 'I'll make you a match with someone who is worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong'. Yes, Willas was all of those things but her father hadn't chosen him, he had never received her father's blessing. He hadn't been chosen; Sansa hadn't even chosen him. It was a political match, nothing more, and yet she yearned for someone who would love her, truly love her, without her ties to Winterfell.

She wondered if Willas would ever truly love her, or if he would always just see her as the key to the North.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts and she rose to her feet and took a deep breath. She quickly wiped under her eyes for they were a bit wet before standing tall, chin up. "Come in" She spoke, her voice gentle.

"My Lady" It was Brydan, one of her guards and he bowed to her as he entered the room. She could see someone else stood behind him, but they were blocked. Brydan then stood to one side to reveal the person and Sansa's eyes widened as her guard spoke, "This man claims to know you my Lady and requests an urgent audience"

For a moment Sansa felt a little faint, stood in the door, red in the face and out of breath was Ser Dontos. She nodded to Bryden then, "I'll see him" Was all she said before she turned to nod at Bryden as he lingered. "I'll call for you if I need assistance" That seemed to reassure him and he exited with a nod, pulling the door to a close behind him and leaving her alone with the knight she had saved.

She hadn't met with Ser Dontos in weeks, not since her betrothal announcement. Yesm he had once offered her a way home, but she had come to realise Willas offered a much higher chance of that. Dontos had been someone she had needed when she had been vulnerable, desperate, but she would soon be away from the people who had made her desperate. And so, to her guilt she had ignored his whispers in the halls, ignored his eye as he looked to her when he was at court and she avoided the godswood unless her four guards were with her, just in case he tried to accost her.

She felt guilt as she looked at him, for he looked so rumpled and sad looking. She had handled this all wrong, she should have told him she no longer needed his help and offered him some money for his trouble. Shame curled in her stomach then, and she stepped forward, her guilt spurring her on.

"Ser Dontos" She greeted politely, "I know why you are here and I'm sorry for ignoring you, I truly am" She felt better with the apology, and she had a bit of money left, she could offer that to him, perhaps she could even ask Willas after the wedding? For Ser Dontos had given her hope in a time of need, the truth was she just did not need him anymore.

"My dear Jonquil!" He exclaimed and Sansa cast a nervous glance to the door. It dawned on her then that if Willas found out about Dontos and why she had been meeting him it would not look good for her; it might look like she was trying to escape them! But no, she could explain everything to Willas after the wedding, she just had to be careful until then. It might be cynical, but she could not risk anything that might jeopardise this wedding, she could not. She chewed on her lip nervously, anxiety flaring in her stomach as Dontos continued, "No need to apologise my sweet Jonquil, but I am here on urgent business, to whisk you away immediately!"

"What?" She said in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up and her gaze snapping up to meet the disgraced knights. "No, no, Ser Dontos, I do not need your help, not anymore" Again she glanced at the door, dropped her voice to a whisper before continuing, "I don't need to escape anymore. I'm marrying Willas within the hour and then I'll be free. I don't need to run anymore!"

"No Jonquil" Ser Dontos shook his head then and took a step closer to her, to which she stepped back in alarm. She had never seen Dontos like this. He had always been so kind to her, sweet and gentle. Now he seemed almost angry, nervous, and desperate and it unsettled her greatly. "You'll never be free! Not unless you come with me! You should have told me!" He stepped forward again and she took another step back, but her back bumped into the wall, she had run out of space to move out of his way.

"No Dontos…" She began but he cut her off, shaking his head furiously.

"You need to come with me now!" He pointed to the window then, "The honeysuckle on the window will act as a ladder, from there I have a boat docked at a secret entrance. We can flee from this place like you always wanted" He said with a nod, another step forward and Sansa had to lean back, but it wasn't enough.

But then for a moment Sansa's eyes darted to the window and she did notice the creeping plant tendrils running up the side of the wall just as Dontos had said. It was only two floors up, at worst she would wind herself, it was a manageable climb. She wondered for a moment if she could make it … she wondered, was Ser Dontos, right? Was she being freed from the Lannister's to simply step into another prison with the Tyrell's? Doubt clouded her mind for a moment before she thought of Willas. He had been so kind to her, so gentle and sweet. In her mind she was already falling for him a little and she knew love would come soon.

Yes, she wanted to go home but she had to admit it would be more likely with Willas, she was sure he would take her back to Winterfell one day. Either to claim it for the Tyrell's or because he would love her and want to bring her home, she was sure of it. She had no idea how Dontos had planned to get her home and had never cared to, simply clinging to the idea he would save her in her moments of desperation.

"I can't" She shook her head, glanced at the door again, "I'm marrying Willas, I… I want to marry" A hand clamped over her mouth cutting her off then. Dontos had surged forward, placed a hand over her mouth and silenced her. Terror invaded her senses and her eyes widened. She tried to shove him, to force him off but even for a drunk he was much stronger than she, too strong for her to push away. She tried to scream but his hand muffled the noise, stopped her from crying out. She felt fear race through her veins, how could she have been so stupid to trust a drunk fool! And now her stupidity was going to cost her, as it had so many times before.

"My Jonquil" Said fool spoke then, and he pushed forward, trapping her between him and the window. He reached forward and pushed the glass out, the window swinging open. "I hoped you would come willingly, of course…" He glanced over his shoulder then, his voice still a whisper, "But if you won't come by choice then by force it will have to be. I have too much to gain, so much gold, I am sorry Jonquil"

She shook her head then and shoved her hands forward at the same time she bit into his hand. It was enough for his hand to drop and the second his hand moved she let out the loudest scream she could muster and Dontos recoiled in surprise. Quickly she darted across the room, almost throwing herself into the corner. The door swung open immediately and her guards flooded inside. Three ran to the window to detain Dontos, whilst Jonathan stood in front of her, a position to protect just in case.

For a moment she took deep breaths to try and calm herself. Her hands were shaking and again she was close to tears. She had been so stupid to trust Dontos, to trust a drunk. He had never been her saviour, had wanted to ferry her out of Kings Landing for coin and nothing more. She shuddered as she thought to where he would take her, and who had tried to smuggle her away?

She would not get an answer it seemed as she lifted her gaze and saw the fool was gone. "My Lady" She looked up through watery eyes as Jonathan gently helped her to her feet, for her knees had buckled without her realising. She took a moment or two to lean on him before he righted her, and she nodded her head for him to continue. "My Lady, the man who tried to abduct you escaped through the window, who was that man?"

She opened her mouth to respond and abruptly closed it again. She didn't want to lie, but she knew these guards would report what she said back to Willas and she could not stand the thought of him knowing for several reasons. She didn't want him to think she'd betrayed him, she didn't want to worry him nor look stupid and most importantly she could not risk the wedding, and so she paused for a moment before she spoke.

"He was a knight, he insulted the King on his name day by showing up drunk and the King wanted to execute him" She wiped at her eyes then, at least some of it was the truth, "I managed to convince Joffrey to spare him, make him a fool instead and so I saved his life" She took a step forward then and her guards parted as she made her way to the mirror to compose herself. Thankfully not much was out of place, she took a minute or two to smooth her skirts, readjust her pin and brush her hair a handful of times before she was back to perfect, and then she continued.

The lies flowed from her mouth like water, it was almost too easy, no matter how ashamed she felt, "I've hardly spoken to him since but he came in and he said… he said that I belonged to him and he planned to steal me away. He said he wouldn't let me marry Willas, that he would marry me himself whether I liked it or not"

It felt wrong to lie and she hastily gulped down tears. She felt worse at the look of fury on her guards faces but she had no choice. She couldn't risk or stand the thought of Willas knowing the truth, and so she had to lie. It felt wrong but it was necessary.

"Is my retinue here yet?" She asked, taking a deep breath to compose herself and a moment to dab under her eyes. Her voice was a little shaky but she knew it was time to move on, she would let nothing ruin or stop her wedding.

"My Lady…we would suggest waiting for Lord Tyrell to arrive" Bryden said in a delicate voice but Sansa immediately shook her head.

"No, no" She said with a step forward, and she spoke in her most serious, most authoritative voice she could muster … she remembered a conversation she had had with Willas two days earlier where he had tried to teach her to sound commanding, but he had claimed she was too kind to sound truly scary before laughing in delight at her affronted expression. He had kissed her cheek and her annoyance had melted away, and since then she had been working on a strong voice. She knew she'd never sound truly commanding but now she sounded strong and sure of herself.

"I will not disrupt my wedding, absolutely not" She shook her head, "We will leave as planned"

As her sentence ended a page appeared to confirm her retinue was in place and Sansa nodded before making her way out. Her guards did not look happy about it, but they followed her command. Jorian one of her newer guards went ahead to inform Willas, but the rest remained with her as she stepped into her carrier. It was a pretty wooden number the Tyrell's had borrowed her, and four men soon lifted it and her up to take to the Sept. She smiled as they shut the peep hole, and took her away, to her wedding.

She took a moment to compose herself once alone, she still felt scared, not of Dontos now for her guards would not let him near her, no, she feared Willas learning the truth, but she was sure he wouldn't. Willas may be able to see through her lies but otherwise she had become somewhat convincing with falsehoods, she was sure he wouldn't know. And so, she tried to quell her anxiety and settled back as the retinue took off.

It was time.

The streets of the Capitol were lined with people, the common folk screaming themselves hoarse. They screamed his family name, his name and his betrothed's name. He could barely contain an eye roll as he saw Margaery two ahead of him waving from her window, the crowd adoring to his sisters as always. The common folk were overjoyed with a wedding between two noble houses, which Willas found ridiculous, but it was a way to keep morale up in Kings Landing, when otherwise things were so bleak. It was a way to keep the smallfolk distracted and happy, and he was pleased that at least they screamed for the Tyrell's, the Lannister name quite absent from their chants. Willas as always did not open his window, he was not that kind of Lord, he did not bask in the glory, rather he created it.

They slowly made their way to the Sept and his carrier swayed as it moved. It was comfortable and he felt a little lulled by the sway, settled back against the cushions, his mind racing, never truly relaxed as always. He did feel calm, though that was soon disrupted as the march came to an abrupt stop. He opened his window at that and one of Sansa's guards stood before him, panting a little out of breath. For a moment Willas felt nerves akin to dread in his stomach, was Sansa okay? He quickly nodded for the man to speak.

"My Lord" The man spoke respectfully though he had to take a second to catch his breath for he had clearly ran to get to him. "Lady Sansa was attacked in her rooms" Willas felt worry spike back up and he almost reached for the door, to limp from his spot back to the Red Keep to see his betrothed himself, was she okay? He had to take a second to calm himself, which was odd for Willas he was usually very calm, very pragmatic. And so, he took a second before he nodded for the guard to continue. "She is unharmed" That eased his worry slightly, "Insists she is fine, and her retinue has joined the line. Unfortunately, the culprit escaped through the window before we could stop him. Lady Sansa is fine, just a little shaken"

Willas took a second then, for he felt angry, truly angry. Usually Willas was more calm and only felt a volcanic temper when his family were involved, and Sansa was family, or would be soon. Regardless, this would not be allowed to stand. Who would dare to try to hurt or abduct his soon-to-be bride the morning of the wedding? Who had the gall? Who would dare cross him? Something told him the Lannister's were for once free of blame, for they would never risk the Tyrell alliance in such a way. So, who was behind this treachery? Damn right he would find out and punish whoever had dared.

"Do we know who it was?" His voice was cold then. Willas didn't scream and yell when mad, no. Instead his voice turned to ice, which was infinitely scarier. Fire may melt ice, but enough ice would freeze the fire.

There was a side of Willas, a side few saw, the awful, ruthless, cold side to him that had allowed the ambitious Tyrell family to climb from rung to rung. It was the side of him he employed for schemes, for plots and to protect his family. It was the side that was not concerned with morals or wrongdoing, but rather focused purely on what needed to be done. It was a side he had inherited from his grandmother, but even he could be worse than her when need be. It was a side Sansa had never seen and one he would ensure she never did.

"It was the Kings fool my Lord, Ser Dontos of House Hollard" The guard at least looked apologetic and even a little angry himself, "Lady Sansa admitted him to her rooms and did not want us to be inside with her. She said she has never spoken to him since she saved him from execution at the King's nameday" He continued on, "Lady Sansa saved the man from death by suggesting he become a fool, it was all her doing. She saved his life, and she was sure he was harmless"

"Lady Sansa said he didn't want her to marry you my Lord, and wished to steal her for himself" He shook his head in anger then before continuing, "Lady Sansa screamed and we ran inside, but the fool escaped through the window, I apologise we could not detain him my Lord"

"Okay" Willas said with a nod, his tone was still of ice and his gaze was hard, he felt furious and he wanted nothing more than to have his men rip apart the Capitol before they found the fool and made him pay. "Join Lady Sansa's retinue again, take two of my guards with you" He nodded again, the feeling of doing something, of seeing to Sansa's safety, it helped calm him a little, "Do not let her out of your sight, do not let anyone near her you do not know. Do you understand?" He paused for a second before giving the final order, "Your orders come from me now, not Lady Sansa. If she sais or does something to contradict these things do not listen to her" The guard hastened to nod and Willas nodded back before dismissing him.

He felt a little bad for that last order, but he knew it was necessary. Sansa clearly did not have enough regard for her own safety! She had been foolish in admitting a man she barely knew to her rooms without guard's present. And so, he would take steps to keep her safe, even if he didn't like them. And he would find the fool, do whatever was necessary to make the man speak, to find out who was behind this.

The guard went to take his leave then, but he hesitated for a moment and Willas raised an eyebrow, "What is it?" He asked.

"Forgive me my Lord for speaking out of turn" Willas shook his head and encouraged him to continue, "Perhaps you should speak to Lady Sansa about the intruder" He paused then before carrying on, "We overheard a few words between them and it seemed they had spoken before, they seemed to know one another" He shook his head then, "I don't mean anything untoward, but I do not think Lady Sansa was giving us the whole truth. She lies well, but the snatches we overhead did not suggest a madman bent on stealing her for himself, it spoke to something they may have discussed before"

Willas nodded again and dismissed the guard who immediately took off. He closed the shutter over his window then and sat back against the seat, in deep thought now. He hated having any doubt in Sansa, she was innocent, and he knew she wouldn't ever knowingly betray him, she was too sweet for that, and yet … her guards words stuck with him. He had seen Sansa lie and though she did not fool him she was somewhat adept at it. The months of being stuck here, of having to lie to survive, of having to be convincing to be safe … she was good at it in truth, he only knew because he was excellent at reading people, and always had been. He would have to question her on her story, which was not something he relished.

As the retinue picked back up Willas let out a sigh. This was not the dark cloud he wanted hanging over his wedding, but the wedding would continue none the less. He would leave this subject for the moment though he had to take several moments to compose himself. He wasn't sure when Sansa had become family to him, or when the idea of her hurt or in pain elicited a singular and deep fury from him but it was present and not easy to dismiss.

For the moment, his anger was useless and that calmed him. Willas was a pragmatic man and anything not of use was ignored by him and so he managed to calm down. For now, he would let this go, it was not easy to do so but he would. Later he would discuss this with Sansa and he felt a little sad that she had tried to lie to him, but he was sure she had her reasons, he always had his reasons whenever he lied, which was fairly often in this awful City. For the moment he would let it go, but just for the moment.

Just moments later his retinue stopped, and he heard a tap on the window. For a moment he wondered why they had stopped and then a page opened the door and he realised, they were here. The Great Sept stood resplendent in the sun overhead and he realised, the time had come.

Chapter Text

"Honoured guests" With the words bread and salt were passed around, ensuring guest rights, an ancient custom that comforted many still today. The northern men did not trust Lord Walder, not even a little, but the assurance of hospitality and guest right was a tradition, and they partook, even though they did nothing to quell Robb's suspicions. Only a heathen would break guest rights, and Robb did not doubt Lord Walder to be capable of that. Still, they ate the bread and salt, washed it down with mead and wine, and the tension in the room did dull a little, though Robb remained stiff and alert. He felt as strung as an arrow in a bow. Still, he managed a little smile, he couldn't tip his hand, not yet.

Robb wasn't sure what was to come, he didn't know how the planned betrayal would play out, but he did know to be on his guard. Greywind stood at his side, and he wore chainmail under his clothes, it was hot and uncomfortable but necessary. Guards stood close to his mother, ready to shield her at the first sign of danger. Roose stood on his right-hand side, for he needed to keep the man close. They were ready, they were prepared, now they just had to wait.

"I offer you my protection under the light of the seven" Robb resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that, the man even worshipped the wrong gods. He managed a respectful nod before he spoke in return.

"We thank you my Lord" He said with another nod, and as he heard the back door open, he turned to look over his shoulder. Five girls entered the room and he felt an odd squeeze in his stomach, the time had come to meet his bride it seemed. In truth he had expected the betrayal to be instant but no, clearly Lord Walder was playing the long game, well Robb could too. He would marry within the hour, but to be just meeting his bride now? Even though it were a common occurrence it felt a little wrong. He knew his parents had met the same way and found love and happiness; he could perhaps hope for the same.

For a moment then his mind drifted to Sansa and he felt a pang of sadness for her. They had received word on the road that Sansa was to be married to Lord Willas Tyrell of Highgarden. When the letter had come Robb had wanted to turn around and march on the Capitol instantly. He knew little of the Tyrell's, just that they were rumoured to be ambitious and had jumped into bed with the Lannister's. That was enough for him to mistrust and dislike them and he had wanted nothing more than to rescue his little sister from their clutches.

Only his mother had calmed him enough for him to see straight. She wanted Sansa back just as much as he did, and she reassured him over and over; Sansa was a key hostage and being with the Tyrell's had to at least be better than being stuck with the Lannister's. And so, Robb had reluctantly continued on the path to the Twins, through the Riverland's, though it felt wrong, to leave his sister behind, surrounded by thorns. He had only felt worse the further away from Kings Landing.

Rumour had it she was to be married any day now and he wouldn't be there, no Stark would. His mother had sobbed nightly since hearing the news and he knew why. What mother wanted to miss their daughter's wedding? He felt sad himself, with father gone he should have been the one to give her away, to ensure her husband would treat her well, to hand her over to her new protector and remove her cloak. But no, his little sister would be married without family, all alone, he had cried himself that night too.

But now there was little he could do. He had to take back Winterfell, let his men rest for a short time and then call the banners once again. He had to fortify the North and make further alliances. He knew he didn't have enough men, and so he would need to find some. With a rest his men would be able to gather more, there were many men left behind as he had called the banners hastily when his father had been imprisoned, but he would still need more.

Stannis had refused his help, refusing northern independence. Dorne remained neutral, the Tyrell's had now joined the Lannister's. He planned once Winterfell was retaken to write to his Aunt Lysa in the Vale, perhaps send his Mother there to party with her. The knights of the Vale would be a huge boost to his campaign. And so, he had plans, but first he had to marry.

"Let me introduce my daughter Roslin Frey" Walder nodded, and the girls parted to push forward the shortest and slightest of the girls, who stumbled forward with her head down, only raising her gaze as her father glared at her. "She is to be your bride your Grace"

Robb was surprised to say the least. People had told him of Roslin's beauty, but he had been reluctant to believe them, and yet here she was. She still looked young, perhaps a year or two younger than him, and she was a little fragile but she was truly a beauty. He smiled at her as she stepped forward and she offered a tentative smile in return before running back to her sisters. They giggled under their father sent them a sharp look, at that they were silenced. Robb in truth felt a little better for meeting his bride-to-be.

Regardless of what betrayal was carried out here Robb did not plan to set aside Roslin, he would not disrespect her in such a way. He had some vague plan of taking the Twin's in her name and awarding them to someone loyal, perhaps even her brother Olyvar. He wasn't sure yet, but he would not set her aside. As well, when they did defend from the betrayal, he had no plans to harm any of the women and children, they would be spared. Robb would never be the kind of man to slaughter innocents, he would not allow that whilst he was King.

"You shall marry within the hour, if that is agreeable your Grace?" Lord Walder asked with a somewhat smarmy smile, oh yes, he definitely had something planned. Robb only smiled back and nodded, for he would defeat that plan, of that he was sure. He would not be arrogant for he did not know what was to come but he would foil it, of that he was sure.

"My son will show you to your rooms as the room is prepared" He spoke again, and Robb nodded once more.

"Of course, my Lord" Robb said and followed a younger boy who looked worried as he ushered them forward. Robb knew something was coming and he felt comforted as Greywind followed alongside him, a steady comforting presence. Robb caught just one last look at his bride before the doors to the main hall closed.

He followed the Frey boy to his rooms and once inside he took a moment to breath. They were ready, they were prepared, now all they had to do was wait.

Her eyes followed the path upward to the Great Sept and she let out a small sigh. It was beautiful, bathed in sunlight, thousands of smallfolk stood outside, the line of Tyrell soldiers holding them back. She knew Willas was inside waiting for her and for a moment she felt excitement before worry curled in her stomach.

The mornings events flashed through her mind then. It had been terrifying, and she wondered what Willas thought now. Had he believed her lie? Would he question it or her? She felt anxious, too anxious, and she knew this wasn't simple pre-marital nerves or cold feet. This was a worry that her soon-to-be husband would realise her lies, and perhaps set her aside. Part of her knew she shouldn't worry for such a thing, but she did. She also worried he wouldn't set her aside but simply think less of her now that she couldn't stand.

She hated that this was spoiling her wedding day. With a deep breath then and a level of determination she hadn't known she possessed she forced herself to calm down a little. She'd be damned if this wedding she had worked so hard on was ruined because of one little incident. It was hard though, hard to relax, as one little thought kept nagging at her.

She had lied to Willas, and it was a big lie. She trusted him, she truly did, but something had stopped her telling the truth. She knew it was mainly due to fear the wedding would be called off, something she could not afford, but there was something else too. She simply could not stand the idea of him being disappointed in her, of thinking her to be stupid and naïve. She knew she had been foolish in trusting Ser Dontos, she could see that now, but she had been desperate, so desperate when he had first come to her. And yet, she did not want Willas to know just how desperate she had been, just how stupid she had acted. And so, she had lied, lied because she felt she had to, and she felt awful for it.

What a way to start a marriage, with a basket full of lies. 'Marry on a Monday always be maudlin', 'marry in rain nothing to gain', marry on lies then you're stuffed – sure the last one wasn't quite a saying, but it felt like it should be.

The sun hit her face as she left the carrier and the screams of the smallfolk almost deafened her. She smiled as she ascended the steps with her guards, all six of them (for she had two more now), in truth the extra protection quelled some of her anxiety. She waved at the smallfolk as she made her way inside. They screamed her name then, shouted blessings to her and she smiled sweetly. She thought for a moment back to the riot in Flea Bottom then. The smallfolk hadn't loved her then that was for sure. She wondered when they had turned from despising her to loving her. She knew her new marriage had a lot to do with it, as did her new attention to the poor.

Before her betrothal she had rarely left her rooms never mind the Red Keep, but now she regularly accompanied Margaery to orphanages and poor houses. Sometimes she even went on her own (with guards of course), and she loved it. She loved helping other, meeting different people, and having them share their stories with her. She had found a true passion for something, in helping the downtrodden. She felt some concert with them, for she had been downtrodden for so long too. Perhaps that was what had changed their opinion, her sharing her coin with them, in helping them they had come to love her.

Sansa gave one last wave before she moved inside, her cloak dragging heavy on the floor behind her. She stood at the top of the steps as the doors opened, and once she stepped inside and the doors closed behind her, she looked down and saw the rows of people lined up to see her wed. She felt a little panic flutter in her stomach, it was an odd mixture of nerves, fear and excitement and she wasn't sure which was dominant, though everything did have that ever-present heavy sadness.

Oh, what she wouldn't give to have her father by her side now, her family in the front row, all watching as she married. Tears bit at her eyes and she took a second to wipe them as a few fell.

'I am a Stark, I can be brave'

She looked across the Sept then and her eyes found and focused on Willas. He looked a little troubled, and she could only tell because of her time spent with him. Willas had a masterful poker face and Sansa did not flatter herself that she could see through it often, only now she could a little. For a moment she felt a little worried, did he suspect her lies? Was he upset with her? She just hoped it wouldn't ruin their day or their marriage.

He looked up at her then and smiled at her and she felt some of her anxiety ease. Neither of them wanted an unhappy wedding day and she offered a smile back before preparing to make her way forward. Her father should have been here to give her hand but alas she would walk alone. Tears threatened again but she steeled herself, she could and would do this.

As she went to take her first step forward someone else emerged from her side and took a place next to her. Her eyebrows raised as she saw Garlan take a place beside her. "Lady Sansa" He said with a kind smile, "You're to be my sister, and as your father is present, I am happy to give you away"

A large smile broke across her face then and she linked her arm through Garlan's. He was a true gentleman and yet she suspected he was not the person behind this idea. She only had to look at Willas who had lifted his head to smile at them both to know he was behind this. It was so very thoughtful of him, and it made her warm to him even more. For a moment, the lingering sadness she had felt all day abated, she was here, she was marrying a man she cared for, who was kind to her, protected and she was sure cared for her too. And so, with a happy smile and her eyes fixed on Willas she began to descend the stairs.

The moment had arrived.

She smiled politely at everyone they passed. Bron, Varys, Podrick and Tyrion all nodded their heads respectfully and the Tyrell cousins gave her delighted smiles. Tommen grinned at her and Jaime offered her a bow. Olenna gave her a knowing smile and Margaery grinned, reaching a hand out to pat her as she passed. Mace and Alerie looked happy and proud, Leonette grinned and winked at her and Loras smiled and bowed for her. There were many others who smiled too.

She tried to ignore the Lannister's, but she could feel them, and she knew she would never be able to be near them without feeling at least a little scared. Tywin fixed her with his cold gaze, Cersei offered her a nasty smirk and Joffrey sneered at her as she passed them. Still she refused to give them any of her attention, they may make her feel uncomfortable, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that and instead ignored them all.

Soon she was climbing the stairs, and Garlan stood to one side with Leonette, she gave them both a smile before she turned to her betrothed.

Her eyes met his and they both took a moment to simply gaze at another. She smiled as she looked upon him and she saw a smile tug at his lips as well. The moment had come, and they were both smiling through it.

He looked very handsome, dressed in a green doublet slashed with gold and she felt her cheeks warm as she looked at him. His expression was what really go to her though. He was looking at her as though she were the only person in the room, like she was all that mattered, and all of his attention was fixed firmly on her. She felt adored, worshipped and her gaze never wavered from him either, not for a second.

The High Septon's voice boomed across the Sept "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection". Sansa smiled as Garlan stepped forward to remove her maiden cloak and Willas stepped forward to lift the bridal cloak and place it over her shoulders. It was a lovely garment, deep green with a pattern of gold roses, emeralds stitched into the hem and collar. Her cheeks turned pink as she felt the weight settle on her back, this was all she had ever wanted, and yet the removal of the Stark cloak left her with a little pang of sadness that could not be avoided.

She struggled to keep thoughts of her family at bay and tears spilled onto her cheeks. She caught Margaery's gaze as she looked over her shoulder and her friends smile did something to reassure her. Sansa turned back to Willas and the High Septon then, this was a happy moment and she did feel happy, it was just a lot to process and she felt a little overwhelmed.

She felt Willas's hand grasp hers then and she smiled at him. She noticed his right hand on the cane, his knuckles white from the strong grip. He had made the effort to cloak her even though it had been difficult for him and for a moment any lingering sadness was gone. To see him make such an effort brought more tears, but they were tears of happiness as she smiled across at him, and even took a second to mouth the words, 'Thank you' to which he smiled in return.

Such a gesture had deeply touched her and as the High Septon continued she could focus; she could smile and for the first time in a very long time her sadness did not come back.

The High Septon then crossed the traditional white ribbon across their hands as he spoke, "Let it be known that Willas of House Tyrell and Sansa of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul" He removed the ribbon from their hands then but they continued to hold one another's hands, and Sansa felt that flutter in her stomach.

"Cursed be he who would tear them asunder!" The final words rang true across the Sept and Sansa knew now, for all intents and purposes she was married, she was no longer Sansa Stark but Sansa Tyrell, only one thing remained for this ceremony.

Willas turned to address the guests but his eyes were only for her, as was his smile, "With this kiss I pledge my love" Sansa took a deep breath then, this would be their first kiss, something she had been anticipating with a mixture of nerves and excitement for a while now. He smiled down at her and gave her a small nod as though to ask her permission which made her feel all the more adored. With that she nodded back, she found she did want him to kiss her, not just for the purpose of completing this marriage but because she wanted the feel of his lips on hers. And so, his hand moved forward to lift her chin, and he then placed that same hand to cup her cheek. She leaned in, in response and then their lips met.

It felt … wondrous. It was like fireworks were exploding in her head, Catherine wheels and firecrackers cascading one after another, but there was also another more subtle feeling. One of a deep delicious warmth that raced through her veins, a feeling of beauty, a feeling of delight, a feeling of love.

It was a feeling of purse happiness, for a moment she didn't feel nervous, worried, sad, or scared but simply happy and nothing else. As they kissed more tears trickled like diamonds down her cheek, tears of joy. Though Willas didn't cry she felt him smile into the kiss and she knew by the way he tenderly cupped her cheek, by the way he had asked permission and by the way he smiled … perhaps he felt it too.

They broke apart then, for they could not kiss forever, no matter how much she wanted to. Applause rang across the room, and Sansa placed a hand over her mouth to smother a sob before she lifted her head and grinned in pure joy. Willas was smiling strong by her side as well, and she knew though his reaction was less emotional than hers that by the way he clutched her hand he was happy to. They were joined now, joined for life, nothing would tear them apart. Short of death they would be with one another forever.

She held tightly onto his hand as the applause continued and they descended the steps together. He moved slowly and she was glad for that then as her cloak was heavy, and she did not wish to trip.

The clapping seemed to go on forever, even as they left the Sept. They would go first to the feast and then others would follow, though they would enter last. They would ride to the Red Keep now together and have their first conversation as man and wife. It hit Sansa a little as the doors opened and the smallfolk screamed her new name, she was truly Sansa Tyrell now, a woman of the south … and with that came the sadness again, more muted than before but still present in her heart, that pang of sadness that Sansa Stark was gone.

Still she smiled, for her happiness would not be crushed by a little melancholy. She smiled and waved as the smallfolk screamed, and she followed Willas down the steps to the carriage. He helped her inside before following her and with that the doors snapped shut and the carriage began to move. Now to the reception and feast which would be held in the beautiful rose gardens. Sansa was keen to see it for she had not yet seen her finished work. The sun shined overhead; the weather perfect for them on this day.

Willas took her hand as he sat next to her and she smiled at him again. She did feel happy, truly, how could she not? This was everything she had ever wanted, ever dreamed of, ever prayed for, and Willas was far beyond what she could have hoped. And yet she knew it would have been perfect, simply perfect, if only her family could have been with her, and only if this wasn't the Capitol but the godswood of Winterfell instead.

Robb stood at the hastily erected alter and the doors behind him swung open. He turned to look over his shoulder in time to see Roslin, his bride, making her way up the aisle, her arm in her fathers. She swore a dress of pure white, with a heavy looking maiden cloak in the colours of her house, blue and grey. She smiled meekly at him as she made her way forward, and her father handed her over for marriage in a tradition as old as time. Lord Walder looked smug as he made his way to sit down, and Robb felt a twinge of worry before he reassured himself. They'd taken precautions, they were prepared, and so he smiled back at Lord Walder. He would not be afraid.

"You will now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection" The Septon spoke, and Robb nodded in response. They were being married under the seven, for it was the religion of the Frey's, they didn't even have a godswood here. He would go along with it but to him they were not truly married until they spoke the words in the Winterfell godswood, until they were married under the old gods. For a moment then he thought of Sansa, he hoped the Tyrell's offered her the same courtesy of marrying under her gods.

A moment later and Lord Walder shakily removed Roslin's maiden cloak and Robb stepped forward to drape the Stark cloak over her shoulders. He smiled down at her, it was a pretty cloak, grey and white with a direwolf across the back. Roslin suited the Stark colours with her fair colouring and dark hair, and she smiled prettily at him as the cloak settled on her shoulders. She was a Stark now, his wife.

She was very beautiful, and he felt lucky. He hoped they could be happy together. This may have been an arranged marriage, but he hoped for some happiness all the same. He tried not to get caught up in musings though, he needed to keep his focus. He was sure that soon the Frey's and Bolton's would initiate their plan and he needed to be alert.

He took Roslin's hand in his as the Septon draped the ribbon over their knuckles. "Let it be known that Robb of House Stark and Roslin of House Frey are one heart, one flesh and one soul" He smiled at his bride then and he was relieved to see her smiling back. She looked nervous and he rubbed his thumb over her hand to try and reassure her. "Cursed be he would tear them asunder!" The Septon called out before removing the ribbon. Robb kept Roslin's hand in his and offered her a kind smiled. Here they were, married, and yet he knew there was more to come of the night.

"With this kiss I pledge my love" He said confidently. He saw his mother smiling at him then and he felt a pang of sadness. He was thankful to have his mother with him, but it felt wrong without the rest of his family. Sansa was stuck in the south, Arya was missing, Bran and Rickon dead, his father long gone, Jon at the Wall. The Stark pack was scattered, and he wished more than anything that they could all be back together.

He turned to his new bride then and tried to ignore the sadness in his heart. He kissed his new bride, his hands framing her face and her hands settled on his chest. The kiss was nice, her lips were soft, and she tasted like honey. He smiled into the kiss and felt her do the same. Perhaps they could find some happiness, perhaps it wasn't foolish to hope so.

Applause rung across the hall then and he didn't release Roslin even as the kiss ended, instead he wrapped an arm around her thin waist and she smiled as he spoke, "Now we feast" Soon everyone dispersed as tables were dragged in and food laid out. Robb turned to his mother and Uncle Bryden as Roslin turned to Olyvar and some of her cousins. His mother pulled him into a tight hug, and he felt his eyes leak a little before he sniffed back any trace of tears. He felt happy yes, and a little sad but now was not the time for tears.

He was a married man now yes, but he knew the wedding was not over, not by any means, it would be stupid to drop his guard now because he had become a little emotional. He felt greywind nose at his leg then and he felt reassured. He had to stay focused, even as his little wife came back to his side. Greywind seemed to like her and that made him smile.

In a few minutes, the hall was organised, and Robb moved to the top table with his wife. His mother sat on his right and Lord Walder sat on Roslin's left. The rest of the guests were settled at the tables. He smiled then at Roslin before he caught the eye of one of his men and gave him a nod. Said man nodded back before making his way outside to ensure the men were prepared to attack if need be. They needed to be prepared for the inevitable betrayal, and Robb was not letting his guard down, not even as he smiled at his little wife as she kissed his cheek.

For the first hour though the mood was jovial and happy. Roslin smiled happily as she picked at her food and they chatted happily about the Riverland's and the North. She had a sharp wit as she spoke, and Robb found himself grinning at her. She may be a slip of a girl, but she had a good sense of humour and seemed happy. They seemed to get along well, and Robb vowed then he would not set aside his marriage vows. Unless Roslin was involved in this plot (which he found unlikely), he would not set her aside. She was beautiful, funny, kind, and he would be a fool to throw her away. He would not blame a daughter for her families crimes.

"The first dance" Lord Walder called out then as Robb finished his second course of food. He nodded and rose to his feet, holding his hand out for his bride before leading her to the dance floor. The music was slow and sweet, and he spun her before they settled in a delicate embrace to sway back and forth. He smiled down at her as he held her close, and she smiled up at him, her hands on his chest, her eyes alight with joy. The song finished then, and she tugged him to sit down but he pulled her back to him which sent the crowd laughing. He wasn't done yet, and yet Roslin clearly wanted to be, as she looked at him with a worried expression.

He raised an eyebrow then, had he somehow frightened her? And yet as he saw her mouth the words 'I'm sorry' he realised … it was time. She was even giving him a little warning which confirmed to him, she may have known about the betrayal, but she wasn't part of it. He nodded to her in understanding and she seemed relieved though still worried, and Robb felt that too, especially as the music changed.

As soon as he heard the new tune he quickly moved to his mother, his men jumped to their feet as did the Frey men.

The Rains of Castamere had begun.

The ceremony had been beautiful, and Sansa had been a true vision when she had entered the Sept, the light shining behind her, making her look like something related to an angel. His breath had been knocked from him when he had seen her, and as she had descended the stairs on his brothers' arm (his idea, as if he would have ever allowed Joffrey to escort her), he had only been able to stare at her like a fool, a smile on his face reflecting hers as she moved closer.

He had been able to forget the conflict with Ser Dontos for a moment, to focus on his bride, to revel in this. Willas was a practical man, pragmatic to a fault and not overly emotional, and yet as Sansa Stark stopped in front of him on the steps of the Sept he felt emotional, he felt happy, and his grin reflected that, slashed across his face, not muted or tempered as it usually would be. For a moment he just allowed himself to be truly happy, as he watched his wife, and only had eyes for her.

Her eyes were alight, full of happiness and throughout the wedding Willas couldn't resist stealing glances of her. As Garlan removed her cloak Willas placed the Tyrell one on her shoulders. He had, had to do without his cane for a few seconds and yes it had been a struggle, but he had gritted his teeth and got it done. He wouldn't embarrass Sansa by messing up her cloaking. He knew she wanted the perfect wedding, and though he knew it couldn't be perfect for her, not here, not without her family, he could sure as hell try.

He had known she appreciated the gesture as tears spilled over her cheeks and he resisted the urge to wipe them away, clutching her hand in comfort instead. They were bound then, in the light of the seven and his words rang true, "With this kiss I pledge my love".

She tasted sweet, and she was clearly nervous and yet it gave the kiss an air of refreshing innocence. Willas had, had few kisses himself, for galivanting about with women had never been his style. True, he was no virgin, but he wasn't a lothario either. Still, the innocence of the kiss, her hesitation and yet enthusiasm at the same time were delightful. She was a true wonder, and as they kissed, he melted into it along with her, her lips soft against his.

As they parted, he only had a smile for her. For now, he had pushed the issue of Dontos out of his mind, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't a struggle to forget about it. He was furious that someone had dared to try to steal his betrothed, but also disappointed, that Sansa had lied to him, and that would be a problem soon. He would have to confront her about it, he didn't want to ruin their wedding day and yet it was something he had to do. He couldn't have her lying to him, he was sure she had her reasons, and yet he would need to know the truth.

Soon they left the Sept, and though he did not wave for the smallfolk he smiled as Sansa did and they roared her new name in kind. He led her into the carriage and found something quite satisfying about hearing her new name, Sansa Tyrell. It suited her and he even offered the common people a wave as he followed her into the carriage. Once inside he took her hands in his. She was truly a beauty, and now his wife. It was his job to protect her now, and he would do this, damn right he would. But he would strive for more than that, he would try to make her happy.

The carriage moved along, returning them to the Red Keep for the celebrations and he turned to Sansa, his beautiful little wolf with a smile. She looked happy, but he could see the worry in the depths of her gaze. He knew they needed to talk, and he didn't see any point in waiting. If anything, he hoped to get it out of the way so they could move on to the rest of the day.

"Sansa" He said gently, before planting a kiss on her knuckles. He kept his tone gentle (with some effort, for though he wasn't angry at her, he could feel his anger at the situation coming back to him). Her cheeks flared pink at his action and he found that helped as he continued, "I don't want to spoil this day, but you and I both know we need to talk about what happened this morning" He raised an eyebrow then, and glanced to check the shutters were closed, they were, and the carriage was surrounded by guards. They wouldn't be overheard here; of that he was sure.

"Yes, I suppose we do" She said with a nod of her head, her teeth found her bottom lip and she dropped her gaze. He hated that he was the one to make her feel nervous here, but he could not leave this be.

"You were attacked, almost abducted" He felt a wave of anger again but once more he smothered it down, for the moment at least. "I want to promise you, I will have the fools head for what he did to you, I will have it before the year is out" Again he strived to remain calm. Sansa had never seen his nasty side, the ruthless side that would make hardened warriors pale, and he wanted to keep it that way. She saw him as a noble Lord, and he did not want to besmirch that image she had of him.

"However," He paused before continuing, he did not want to do this, but he knew he must. Sansa looked worried and so he was quick to ask, "I need to know how you knew Ser Dontos, and please do not give me the tale you gave the guards, we both know that was not the truth and I would have the true story from you" He fixed her with his gaze then, and waited.

He saw her pale, and he noted her hands in her lap were curled into her fists and her gaze dropped from him again. Her eyes were clouded with fear and as she spoke her voice was hesitant, nervous, and once again he hated himself for making her so worried, and yet in this case it was necessary.

For a moment she hesitated and Willas worried she wouldn't tell him, or she would lie to him again. Luckily, it only took a second and the whole tale spilled from her mouth; of how Ser Dontos had offered her a way to escape, of how they had met in the godswood, of how she had been planning to leave with him before she had been betrothed. As tears fell down her cheeks, he pulled her to him, and held her close, he was relieved when she fell into him without resistance. She sobbed as she promised him, she had abandoned those plans when she had met him, how she had seen no other way, how scared she had been. He knew she was telling the truth then and he pulled her close, let her sob into his chest, and hated himself for being the one to cause her tears.

And yet, it had, had to be done. He didn't relish in her tears but the cause of them had been something he had needed to know.

"Sansa, my love" He spoke gently again, as he tried to reassure her. He moved back from her and took a hold of her hands then, holding them tightly, "You do not need to be scared anymore" She seemed to brighten at that, some of the worry leaving her eyes, perhaps because of his endearment or his words, "I promise you, I will protect you" Again she brightened, even managed to give a small smile as he continued, "I know how bad your life was here, it is natural you fell for the fools pretty words, he played on your desperation" He said with a nod, and he leaned forward to place a kiss to her forehead which he was pleased to feel she leaned into.

"However, I am not happy you put yourself at risk" He said, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What a naïve little wife he had, and yet he did not blame her for that. Few had been raised by Olenna Tyrell and taught to be suspicious of anything, as well Sansa was a northerner, where honour was taught, not politics and scheming. Of course, she was naïve, which he liked in a way, but he would have to rectify it in the future. He enjoyed her innocence greatly, but with the plans he had for the family he would have to rectify that innocence a little.

"I will be in charge of your security from now on" He looked down at her then, almost with a hard edge to his gaze, in case she protested, which thankfully she did not, good, he hadn't wanted to argue that, and he reached forward then to wipe the tears from her eyes. "And I will find Dontos, I will kill him, and I will find out who paid him" He had no anger for Sansa, sure she had been naïve, reckless even, but he could hardly blame her. No, he had no anger for his little wife, only anger at who had dared try and take her from him.

Sansa looked a little confused at that, "What do you mean?" She asked, and Willas smiled at her indulgently. She was truly adorable, something Willas had not seen in a long time. His sister may look the part but underneath she was a rose with thorns, whereas Sansa had no thorns … not yet at least.

"Sansa it is clear Dontos was working for another" He said with a nod, giving her a kind smile and cupping her cheek, "He wouldn't have tried to abduct you with guards outside the door if someone else wasn't involved" He shook his head then, as he felt another rush of anger, "Whoever it was they must have paid him handsomely" He turned to Sansa again, and looked into her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. "I will find who paid him and I will never let him hurt you again"

At that Sansa smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him once more. Willas was surprised at her boldness and yet he felt she was being so bold because she was overwhelmed perhaps, relieved as well. And so, when she leaned forward, he smiled as their lips met a second time, and he felt the rush he had felt in the Sept. He felt her smile into the kiss, and he pulled her a little closer. He heard her gasp and he grinned even more as he pulled away.

Willas had never imagined his marriage would be anything more than political, he had never imagined there would be any affection between him and his wife, and yet as Sansa grinned at him, let out a delightful little squeal and settled in next to him he found himself thinking … could this arrangement be something more? He already cared for her, he would be a fool not to recognise that, but could it become more? He didn't want to put the horse out before the cart, and yet as he looked down at her as the carriage arrived at the Red Keep … he felt perhaps, perhaps it could.

And so, he would protect her, he would find the men who had played on her vulnerabilities. She was still too trusting, too naïve, and he would ensure she was not preyed upon again. He felt another rush of anger, he would protect Sansa, he would protect his wife, that anyone could be sure of.

'And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?'

'Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know'

'In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws'

'And mine are long and sharp, my Lord'

'As long and sharp as yours'

He heard the words, saw the men on the top floor move into position and glanced down at his wife. The betrayal had come, and yet as he glanced at Lord Walder, smirking, convinced he had them trapped, Robb had expected this, had prepared for this, and when the first arrow flew from overhead he sprung into action.

"Now!" His cry rang across the room and his men immediately dove into action. The women and children were hurried outside, quickly, and efficiently and his own soldiers poured in. Arrows flew across the room and almost heard one fly past his ear … close, too close, and he heard his mother cry out for him. He only glanced at her as his Uncle forced her outside, and he nodded in response to the Blackfish. Now his mother was gone he could focus, focus on what needed to be done.

The Frey's and his men were fighting now, but the Frey's were outnumbered almost immediately. He saw a few of his own men fall but for each of his that fell, two or three Frey's did. He turned to Roslin then, as he pulled his own sword from his belt. He pushed her back, next to the head table, "Stay down" Was all he could say before and she was trembling but gave him a nod, and then he moved on.

"Upstairs!" He called out, and his men moved, running up to the overhead balcony, to take out the men with bows. They were fast, but not fast enough, and Robb saw the arrow before it flew into his shoulder, finding a gap in his chainmail and piercing him there. He groaned at the contact, but he could see it hadn't gone in far, the wound wouldn't be life threatening. Without hesitation he snapped the end of the arrow off, leaving a small part in that the Maester could sort out later. For now, he had other things to focus on.

Though, the fighting only lasted a few minutes more, as his men neutralised each and every Frey. Greywind had ripped through the most, and soon the remaining Frey's threw their swords to the floor. They had taken their own losses, and though the Frey's surrendered, Roose Bolton and his remaining men were lashing out, refusing to throw down. Robb ran forward then, anger surging through his veins, fury in his expression as he surged forward, crossing swords with the Lord of the Dreadfort.

"Why Roose?" Was all he asked, and the Lord's expression didn't even change. He was like that, expressionless, and yet he did speak.

"My ancestors bowed to the Starks" He lashed out but Robb dodged, "I will not" At that Robb dodged another blow, before angling his sword to slash at the inside of his leg before he plunged his sword into Lord Bolton's thigh. The man groaned in pain, but did not scream, not even as his men rushed in to drag him away. He would be a good hostage if they ran into problems at the Dreadfort, and so as much as Robb simply wanted to behead him, he resisted. On seeing their Lord fall the rest of his men threw down arms, and that left just Lord Walder who Robb had last seen at the top table, looking smug before Robb had fought back, where was he now?

"Walder!" He called out, for the man didn't deserve the title of Lord. He was met with a cackle at his call and he whirled around to see the old man, a knife now held to his own daughter's throat, to Roslin's throat, his wife. Walder looked half mad as he held the dagger at her neck. Robb took a step forward then, but Walder pressed the knife closer and Robb could see the bead of blood drip down her throat at that. He stopped moving then, remained back, hands shaking a little as he saw Roslin's eyes cloud with fear and sob leave her lips.

They had stopped the betrayal of the Frey's, only losing a few men, everyone else was safe, except for Roslin. Robb felt stupid then, he had ensured the safety of everyone except for his wife! Yes, they didn't know one another and technically they hadn't bedded yet, but it didn't matter, she was an innocent, she didn't' deserve this. He had ensured the other Frey women had been taken outside and yet with Roslin he hadn't even thought … he felt like a fool, an utter fool, and now he would pay for such a blunder.

"Walder!" Robb spoke then, in a commanding voice, the voice he reserved for his enemies or for leading his men into battle. It was hard to stay so composed, as the wound in his shoulder throbbed and his wife sobbed before his eyes, her own father holding a blade to her neck. Thankfully, his adrenaline was up, and he was able to focus, though he didn't dare move as he continued.

"It is over" He said simply, and he saw by the look in old Lord Frey's eyes he knew it too, "You've lost, hand over my wife and I will grant you a quick death and allow the men of your family to join the Watch" He felt that was fair and the Wall could always use more men, "It is more than you deserve but I will stand by my word"

Walder didn't move though, he didn't lower his arm and only let out a harsh cackle, "I may have lost boy, but you'll lose something too" He was grinning then, and with a sharp slash he opened Roslin's throat, from side to side, like a great red smile across her neck. Robb let out a choked sound as he ran forward, as his little pale wife fell to the floor, a halo of blood soon spreading around her head.

Anger drove Robb in the next moments, and he ran forward, knocking the Lord Frey to the floor before his hands found his throat. Walder died fast, faster than he deserved, and once he was gone Robb shoved him aside before turning to Roslin, his sweet little wife whom he'd never got to know. She had been so young, just 16, and yet she was with the gods now, and he prayed, he prayed they would look after her. He prayed to the old gods to show mercy, to be kind to her, and placed a kiss on her forehead. He hadn't loved her, hadn't known her long or well enough, but he knew her death was his fault, and she had not deserved to die.

For just a moment he held her body close, and allowed himself just a few seconds, before he was able to compose himself and rise to his feet. He was gentle when he placed her down, but when he turned to his men his expression was anything but gentle, "Dispose of the bodies, take any remaining Frey's hostage, have my wife buried, respectfully, she was of faith, give her a ceremony in the seven" He paused then, "Bury her here, in the Frey crypts, with her family" He nodded then, "Have any northern men's remained taken to Winterfell, have Maester's treat the injured" He rolled out orders one after another, and he was relieved to see his men getting to immediate work.

He felt more relief when his mother re-entered the hall with her uncle, it seemed the only casualty close to him had been his wife, he glanced at her again and felt a twinge in his chest, she hadn't deserved this, not one bit, and yet now he had to move on.

"Work fast, I want this dealt with quickly" He glanced around at his men then, he knew what had to come next, "Then we ride for Winterfell"

Chapter Text

The carriage came to a stop and Sansa took Willa's arm as they made their way through the corridors to the rose gardens. When she had began planning the wedding, she had asked Willas if he was okay with her having the reception in the courtyard of the rose gardens, rather than the main courtyard closer to the keep, thankfully he had happily agreed, and Sansa felt better for it. Here she felt safer, more comfortable and as the scent of roses drifted through the air she smiled; she would be able to enjoy the feast here in a way she never would have been able to elsewhere.

They went into a little chamber next to the gardens, near the Maidenvault, for it was tradition they would enter the reception last. Sansa felt a little anxious not to see the state of the gardens before guests arrived, but she was sure it looked beautiful. A page entered then and reassured her everything looked beautiful and that settled her some, though not fully, for her nerves were still high.

Willas sat on a velvet couch in the middle of the room, and she moved to join him, regret, and anxiety bubbling in her stomach, she had nearly ruined everything, and she felt sick just thinking about it. Talking to Willas in the carriage had made her feel better, some, but she still felt dreadful. Why had she lied? She was better at it now, much better but she should have known Willas would see through it! She had told the truth eventually of course but that wasn't enough. How could Willas trust her now? Why had she been so foolish to lie?

She knew why of course, she had been scared, terrified the wedding would be stopped, something she couldn't afford. She wondered if looking back she would make a different choice, with hindsight yes, but otherwise no.

It had been a surprise when Willas had pulled her into his arms, kissed her head, wiped her tears, and promised her revenge. He had barely admonished her even. She had expected a severe scolding, perhaps even an annulment of their marriage, and so for Willas to comfort her instead, it had been a welcome surprise. He had looked at the situation calmly, pragmatically and she admired him for that. She was often ruled by emotion but Willas was very logical, never seemed to have that issue.

"My Lord" Her voice was soft as she spoke once she sat next to him, and she felt relief as he took her hand in his. A big part of her was worried he was holding off his anger until they had consummated the marriage, not wanting to upset her before things were finalised so to speak. She couldn't live with that fear until tomorrow, she was already shaking a little. And so, against her better judgement she decided to approach the issue again, she didn't want to, but she knew she needed to clear the air. Her tears had dried now and made a concerted effort to keep more at bay, she did not want to be weak.

He linked his fingers through hers and sent her a slightly annoyed look before he responded, "Sansa, I am your husband now, not someone to fear. Call me Willas" He said, and again his voice was gentle. Sansa dropped her head as he spoke, could he see her worry? Could he see how nervous she was? "I can see you're worried Sansa, to me you are easy to read" He smiled at her kindly then, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles, "So tell me, what troubles you?"

"I…" For a moment she felt tears threaten again before she pushed them down, now was not the time to cry. She just felt so worried that her stupidity with the situation with Ser Dontos would ruin her marriage. How could Willas trust her now? She felt like a wreck, and so she spoke, almost in a hurry, her words melting together a little in an effort to get them out, "I'm worried you're angry at me, and not showing it as it is still our wedding day. I'm worried you'll be furious tomorrow"

Willas nodded at that, seemed to mull it over for a moment before he spoke, "You are partially right" He said, she was surprised at how blunt he was, for she had expected him to dress it up, and yet she admired that. After being surrounded by liars for so long, and having to become one herself Sansa admired honesty, the North in her still spoke to that. "I am angry, very much so, but hardly at you" He shot her a slightly patronising look then before continuing, "I am furious at the fool and whoever hired him to steal you away"

He lifted her chin then with his thumb, forcing her to look at him. Her blue eyes met his brown, so warm and full of life and she felt herself melt a little as he continued, her cheeks were certainly red, "Because my love, if you had been stolen away I would have spent the rest of my life looking for you" A tear slipped down her cheek then to which he brushed it away gently, ever so gently, "I would have found you of course, but we would have wasted a lot of time by being apart" Then he smiled and Sansa felt a little flutter in her heart. He was so charming, so gentle and kind, injured leg or no, how had he not been married already?

"However," He continued then, and Sansa felt herself tense up a little. She didn't mean to, but his tone had turned serious and she couldn't help it. "I am a little disappointed you lied to me" He said, but he didn't release her hand and his eyes were still kind, "I don't want to lie to you, and I do not wish for you to lie to me. Our marriage should be built on trust, not lies" He sounded like a northerner then and Sansa wanted to fling herself at him but she only moved a little closer to him, to which he smiled, "I understand why you lied, I do, but I would hope you wouldn't lie to me in the future"

"You trusted a fool Sansa, at best he was paid by a lesser knight who had thought to sell you back to your family, at worse he was paid by an enemy of the Starks to have you killed" Sansa paled a little then, she hadn't ever considered Ser Dontos would hurt her and even as Willas spoke she couldn't help but doubt it … but then she thought of the crazed look in his eye as he had grabbed her and she shivered, perhaps he could have. "You made foolish risks with your life, and yes that makes me angry, but I am not angry at you"

Sansa nodded then and she did feel a little better. Willas didn't seem to think she had betrayed, rather he was disappointed she had lied to him and angry she had put herself at risk. In a moment of boldness, she moved a little closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. She felt then that it was best to share something honest with him, for she couldn't stand the thought of him being disappointed with her. She had to make it clear to him why she had lied to him, when she hadn't wanted to.

"I was so unhappy here" She said, and she felt his grip on her hand tighten a fraction, "Once I stood on the windowsill in my room, ready to jump. I had one foot over the edge when a handmaid came in. She screamed for a guard and he pulled me down" She felt another tear fall down her cheek, but Willas's thumb running over her knuckles soothed her, "They put bars on my window after that, and I was banned from leaving the Red Keep. I wasn't even allowed to go to the godswood for two weeks"

She took a deep breath then, "I just wanted you to know why I lied. I couldn't stand the thought you might call off the wedding, I…I couldn't risk it" She said as she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes pleading with him that he understand, "If I had to stay here I wouldn't survive, I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise" He said, and she could see a flicker of anger cross his features before he pulled her into his arms, as he had in the carriage and she went willingly. "It is not your fault" He kissed the top of her head then and Sansa allowed a few more tears to fall, it was cathartic, needed even. She smiled though as he rested his chin atop her head, and she felt warm as he did so, "I know you were desperate and scared, I know" His voice was kind, "And one day they will pay for what they did to you, how they made you feel"

Sansa smiled, "Thank you Willas" She said quietly, but she knew his words were kind and reassuring but the Lannister's wouldn't pay for what they had done to her. Willas could do nothing that risked the alliance, his words were pretty, but they were just that words, though she appreciated them all the same.

A knock on the door and they parted, for it was time. They walked arm in arm to the door until Willas stopped, taking her hand in his again, "I will never let them touch you again Sansa, I will never let them hurt you again, that is my promise to you"

At that she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, and she smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I know" She said with a little smile, her tears dry now, the weight of anxiety lifted from her chest. He understood and he didn't blame her for the lies she had told, now she felt better, much better. She pulled back then and Willas placed a gentle kiss on her lips which made her feel warm and happy once more, now she could relax, now she could enjoy the wedding.

A blush raced up her cheeks as the kiss lingered for a moment before Willas broke it, though reluctantly by his expression. For a moment they simply gazed at one another before Willas brushed a hand over her cheek, "That is a delightful colour" He said and Sansa giggled a little, her blush of course deepening at his words. Willas laughed then and the tension in the room seemed to disappear completely as the doors swung open.

It was time for their wedding feast and they both smiled, all worries, and issues forgotten for the moment as they entered the rose garden to applause.

"Casualties?" Robb asked, his gaze looking around to his war council. They were stationed in the main hall, the bodies of the men fallen having been removed an hour earlier. His men stood around him, a large map spread across the main table as a Maester tended to his shoulder. The arrow had gone cleanly through, nothing vital damaged, though he had groaned in pain as the Maester had pulled the remaining wood free. His arm would need to heal for three weeks and for now it was wrapped in healing salve, herbs, and bandages.

"A few of our men, a few injured too" Great Jon responded. His own son, Small Jon had been injured in a fight with Black Walder, though the Small Jon had come out on top and the corpse of one of the more vicious Frey bastards joined the others.

"It is a good outlook" It was Lord Forrester who spoke then, a loyal man, and a strong commander, "We should be prepared to leave for Winterfell in three days"

"Make it two" He responded, and his men nodded, they knew the urgency with which they marched North. They had to retake Winterfell, from there they could regroup, prepare, and then move forward.

For a few moments more he spoke with the council over important matters. The Iron Born still held Winterfell, they would deal with them first whilst dispatching fighters to the Dreadfort. They would need to remove the Bolton's from power after their betrayal, and it was something Robb secretly relished. The former Red King's had betrayed House Stark a time too many now, and he would wipe them from the earth. He wasn't sure who he would award the Dreadfort too, but he would ensure it was someone loyal.

Though he had not made a decision about the Dreadfort for the Twins he had. The Blackfish would take control over the castle and lands for the moment, but they would go to his squire Olyvar upon his marriage to a northern bride and the end of the war. Robb saw the importance of keeping a family line alive, if he were going to wipe out the Bolton's it would be wise for him to reinstall the Frey's, so not to appear tyrannical. Besides, he trusted Olyvar, the boy had put a sword through his own cousin's throat at the failed betrayal.

For other decisions he needed to think about getting the Karstark's on side. He considered making a match between Lady Alys Karstark and himself but no, that would be seen to be rewarding a family who had turned their back on him. No, he considered betrothing Lady Alys to Jon (if he ever responded to his raven, he had sent another the night before), but that would have to wait. For now, he would consider how to bring the Karstark's back into the fold. He needed their men.

Everything else was in order and Robb was pleased as he dismissed his men and took a seat. His shoulder throbbed but he had declined milk of the poppy, he needed to be alert, and last time he had taken the drug he had almost married a practical stranger. No, he had stuck with ale, which did help dull the pain.

The other pain he felt was one inside, for the death of Roslin. He felt guilt over how he had allowed her to be killed, and he felt responsible for her death. He had seen her remains buried in the crypt the night before and had shared a drink with her brother Olyvar, who had wept as they sealed her tomb. She had been interred with her bridal cloak, a respect he owed to her. He hadn't known her, officially she hadn't really been his wife, as they had not consummated their wedding, and yet he still owed her that respect, still felt awfully guilty for her death.

He greeted his mother then as she entered the hall. She had been upstairs he knew with the ladies and children of House Frey. For now, Robb's plan was to marry most of them off to minor northern houses and send the children off to foster. He would leave some here with Olyvar, but only those that could be trusted. Some suggested they be put to slaughter, to prove a point as Tywin Lannister once had with the Reins and Tarbecks. At that he and the northern men had balked. They would never act such a way, that was reserved for the southern heathens, without honour, not for them. He would not punish children and women for the crimes of their family. Any of the men who had surrendered, or the boy children would be sent to the wall, that had appeased the riverlords at least.

"Mother" He smiled at her as she pulled him into a hug but winced at his shoulder to which she fretted a little before they sat down together. For a moment she simply ran a hand through his hair.

"I was worried I would lose you" She said, and when her voice cracked Robb pulled her into another hug. His plan had been risky true, it would have been safer to avoid the Twins, or besiege it, but his plan had worked, and now they could move on.

"I know" He said simply, and she nodded, before giving him a look that worried him. Her eyes were filled with sadness and he realised what she wanted to discuss before she began.

"I understand this is a raw subject Robb" She said with a sad smile, "I'm sorry about Roslin, I truly am" She paused for a moment then, she clearly didn't want to push the issue but she knew he had to. "But you will need to remarry, and soon, very soon" She said, "It is important not just for any alliance it could lead to but for an heir"

"Mother" He went to stop her, but she continued with a shake of her head.

"I hate to pressure you but it is necessary" She said sadly, "You have no male heir, if you were to fall Sansa would inherit Winterfel, which means the Tyrell's would and by extension the Lannister's" She said with a shake of her head, "We cannot allow that to happen"

"Mother" He said, with a shake of his own head, "You know I have named Jon my heir"

A flash of anger passed over his mother's features, "You know I disagree with that, and even if I didn't, Jon is at the wall" She said in fury, "He's responded to none of your letters, he might not even be alive"

Robb glared at her then, he rarely lost his temper with his mother but he had never agreed with her treatment of Jon, "My word as King surpasses his vow, and he is not dead, he could be ranging or unable to respond, I have named him my heir"

"Fine" She responded, "But the men will more easily accept your own son, and you need to marry for an alliance too" She said, he was glad she had dropped the argument about Jon. When had told her of the will he had sent to Lord Howland, a man his father had trusted completely, she had been furious, but he had refused to back down. If he fell Jon would take his place.

He did see sense in her words though, Jon was a bastard and might not accept the mantle Robb would place on him, no. He would need an heir, and a wife. It felt wrong, so soon after Roslin's death and yet he knew he couldn't afford to be sentimental, not now, not until the war was won. His mother was right, "I know I need to marry" He said and she looked relieved then, "I will, but I do not know who, it will need to be to a powerful family, who can make a difference to our war effort, but few brides from powerful families remain"

In truth the list of eligible female candidates was rather low. House Arryn had no female heirs and his mother would go to her sister for support anyway. House Lannister, Baratheon, and Tully were clearly out of the question. House Martell was neutral, and he couldn't imagine Prince Doran marrying off his prized heir Arianna to a northerner. He would never marry an Iron Born and that just left House Tyrell who had already thrown their lot in with the Lannister's.

However, for House Tyrell he did wonder. Sansa would have married Lord Willas Tyrell by now and as much as he didn't like it, it could be a potential opportunity. Lady Margaery, the daughter of the house had yet to marry Joffrey … would it be possible to sway their opinion before the wedding took place? He doubted it. He had no interest in the Iron Throne, and he couldn't see the prized flower of Highgarden wanting to freeze in the North. No, it was unlikely … and yet it was surely worth a letter.

The resources, wealth and soldiers of the Reach certainly warranted a letter South, delivered by spies to the woman he knew ruled the roost of the Tyrell's. There was no harm in it after all and if they refused then he would revaluate. Perhaps he should look to a large house in the Reach? Or perhaps in the Vale? But first, a letter to the Queen of Thorns.

"Don't worry mother" He said as he stood to his feet and she followed, "I have a plan"

The courtyard was beautiful, and Margaery felt proud of Sansa then. She had done a splendid job; the ceremony had been beautiful and the feast promised to be even more so. Each plate was stamped with a rose of Highgarden and each goblet with a direwolf of Winterfell. The sigils of both houses were prominently displayed behind the main table, and roses were overflowing in the decorations. On the main table flowers wrapped around the front, in red and blue, Tully colours Margaery realised with a smile. To prominently display House Stark would be unacceptable but Sansa had found a way to honour her heritage, how clever, and it made for a beautiful effect.

As she walked into the gardens, she noticed Cersei making her way in too. At that Margaery sped up and quickly linked arms with the Queen Regent. Cersei looked annoyed at such an interruption but did not shake her off, and instead they strolled into the celebration together. They wouldn't sit together though, Cersei would sit next to Joffrey, Willas had managed to get Lord Tywin sat on Sansa's side rather than the King, thankfully.

"I shall be your daughter soon" Margaery said, her tone one of delight, knowing that her simpering attitude annoyed the Queen greatly, which only made it better for her. "How wonderful, you shall be a mother to me, truly wonderful"

"Indeed" Cersei responded, a fake smile graced her lips and Margaery matched it, to which the Queen smirked instead before speaking once more, "I have to ask my dear, how much involvement did you have in planning this celebration?"

Margaery knew Cersei was getting to something then, and though she had, had little to do with planning, with Sansa taking the lead Margaery knew she would have to lie. She would need to defend her new good sister whilst ensuring she didn't appear to step out of place. That was all this place was after all, lies and manoeuvring.

"A fair amount your Grace" Margaery said as they passed minor Lords and Ladies who bowed to Cersei but smiled at her, "It was such a delight to help plan my eldest brother's wedding"

"Hmm" Cersei said, clearly, she was displeased with the answer, and so Margaery knew she had been right to lie. In truth Margaery had barely been involved with planning, Willas had indulged everything Sansa had wanted, and Sansa had been a force to be reckoned with in pulling everything together.

"I wonder why there are so many direwolf's in the decorations" The Queen smiled again, a cutting smile, "Hardly seems appropriate, to have a symbol of traitors present at such an important event"

Ahh, so that was what she was getting at. Did the Queen truly think this match could be stopped now? If so then she was a fool, a beautiful one, but a fool all the same. Margaery responded with a kinder smile then, to challenge the Queen's nasty one before she spoke, "Well your Grace, it is tradition to have the sigil of the bride's former house present next to her new house" They had reached the top table now and yet Margaery continued, "A tradition, nothing malicious. I believe such a tradition will be present at my wedding to my dear Joffrey … though it seems the sigils of Houses Baratheon and Lannister will be present for the crown" Margaery cocked her head then, innocent expression in place as she drove the point home, "How strange"

"Not so strange" Cersei responded but Margaery could see she was angry now, the wind gone from her sails, "My son is of both houses, and House Lannister has been a constant presence since the unfortunate death of my husband"

"Of course," She responded, "Forgive me, I don't quite understand the politics of House Lannister and the crown, it is lost on me"

"And you don't need to understand it" Cersei shot back, the annoyance in her voice barely contained, "Your job will be to smile at my sons side and make him happy" She smiled that nasty smile then, "Or at least you can try, he is hard to please my son, and I would hate for you to displease him"

Margaery smiled back then, "I haven't found Joffrey hard to please, he has been wonderful with me" She said then, the simpering smile back in place.

"Lovely" Cersei responded, before she took a step closer and took Margaery's arm, her grip just a fraction too tight, "One gentle word, call me mother again and I'll have you strangled in your sleep" Her nails dug into her then before she stalked away to her spot at the high table, her voice already commanding a servant for wine. Margaery stood still for a moment then, she had expected Cersei to threaten her, but if anything it spoke to her fears that Margaery was able to control Joffrey and so she didn't feel rattled, and she smiled as she made her way to her seat.

Margaery knew she shouldn't underestimate Cersei, not one bit. With the plan they had coming Margaery had to be careful.

Soon the courtyard filled with people, and everyone took their seats. Margaery felt a little nervous about her confrontation with Cersei, not because of what she had said but because of how careful Margaery would need to be. She felt safe though, sat between her grandmother and Loras. They would protect her; they had planned a poisoning to protect her! She felt better at that thought, and as she heard the first round of her applause she jumped to her feet and joined in. Her brother and new sister had arrived.

As Willas entered the courtyard, Sansa beaming at his side he had to admit he was impressed. He wasn't one for frippery, never worried about fashion or décor, but he could see Sansa had worked hard. Everything looked beautiful, and he wanted to commend her for it. "It looks beautiful Sansa" He leaned down to whisper in her ear and her grin of delight warmed him. He was proud of the job she had done and knew she would do well in Highgarden hosting events for House Tyrell. He noted the family sigils and the colours of House Tyrell, now that was his favourite thing, how clever.

As they walked through the procession Willas's eyes were fixed on his wife. She had shown true courage earlier by bringing her concerns to him and relaying her reasons behind the events of the morning. In truth it had put Willas at ease and erased any tension between them. He could now truly understand why she had lied and what had been at stake for her. When he understood that he could dismiss her lies easily, for she had done so out of necessity. And besides, Willas should hardly criticise others for lying when he did it practically every day.

He had been angry when she had told him of her struggles in Kings Landing, of her sadness and he had felt angry at the Lannister's again, which had led to a slip of his tongue concerning them. Thankfully, Sansa didn't seem to take his words seriously, he knew she felt the Lannister's would never get their dues and there was nothing he could do to punish them. Well if only she knew, but she wouldn't, there was no way he would involve her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her but there was no place for her in the Tyrell schemes.

He kept an arm linked through hers as they reached the top table and only released her as they looped the table to take their seats. He wished Sansa didn't have the Lannister family on her side but that had been unavoidable. Thankfully, his grandmother had brow beaten Tywin into sitting next to Sansa, with Cersei next, then Joffrey, Tommen, Jaime, and Tyrion. On his side sat his grandmother, Margaery, Loras, Garlan and Leonette.

He stood next to Sansa at the centre of the table, holding her hand aloft as the herald called out, "Introducing Lord Willas of House Tyrell and his wife Lady Sansa of Houses Tyrel and Stark" It wasn't necessarily tradition for the Stark name to be acknowledged but when he had suggested it to Sansa she had thrown herself into his arms. He wouldn't have her erase her Stark heritage. The crowd applauded them again then, and then finally they took their seats and the feast began.

It seemed to go by quickly, as course after course were bought out, singers entertained them, and juggles got laughs from the crowd. He didn't eat much, neither did Sansa, though he noted she had a lemon cake or two. He picked at some lemon rinds (to which he smiled, clearly Sansa was learning about him), and drank two goblets of wine but no more, Sansa stuck with water. At first the ceremony was nice, he chatted happily to Sansa, who talked with his family, and even Tyrion as he gave his congratulations. They received many congratulations and Sansa was a gracious host. It was only as the wedding went on did, she grow quiet, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

Willas knew the bedding was coming and though they'd dispensed with the ceremony the act itself would be necessary. He had toyed with the idea of holding off on consummating for a little while, until they got to know one another better and Sansa were a little older, and yet he knew that was not possible. As much as he had come to care for his new wife (and he had to admit to himself he did care for her, deeply even), he had House Tyrell to think of. The original reason for this match had been to secure the North, an unconsummated wedding wouldn't secure it, and so he would have to.

The feat continued and Sansa was quiet, but she spoke a little to Willas, as nervous as she was.

"Lemon cake my Lady" He asked gently, and he smiled at her smile, for he knew they were her favourite treat.

"My mother never let me eat this many" She confided, and he grinned at her, before he held one up to her which she took with a grin.

"Well, it is a special day, I believe we can make an exception" At that she nodded and took a bite. Willas reached for another goblet of wine then but stopped himself, it would be wise if he were sober for what was to come. He knew it would be awkward, difficult and even painful for Sansa, he would need to keep his wits about him, to make it as … comfortable as possible for his new wife.

She blushed at him as she finished her wedding cake, and he wondered for a second whether she would blush between the sheets. He scolded himself at that; he was 10 years her senior! He shouldn't be thinking of stuff such as that, and yet said act would be happening soon. For a moment he wavered on his conviction to consummate and considered delaying but no, he would need to do this, for House Tyrell.

And soon the time came. The food was finished, the dancing done (Willas had obviously been unable to dance with Sansa, but she had promised she didn't mind before cutting a path through the dance floor with Margaery, the two giggling fiercely as onlookers looked almost scandalised to see tradition so flaunted), and so it was time for the bedding. Joffrey made a move to stand, a smirk playing at his lips, but Willas only shot Tywin a look and Lord Lannister quickly corralled his grandson before he could insult the Tyrell's by attempting to start a bedding ceremony.

Instead people continued to dance and eat and drink, merriment flowed and Willas took Sansa's hand and lead her from the gardens. People cheered and called as they left, and he tried (and failed) to ignore the deep pink colour Sansa turned at a few of the lewder suggestions shouted at them.

They made their way through the halls of the Red Keep, arm in arm, and though they remained quiet it was comfortable, though he knew Sansa was nervous. And so, he remained quiet as they reached his rooms, they were near the Maidenvault, in the Tyrell controlled part of the castle and he had, had her things brought over to make it more comfortable for her. He felt a little nervous too which he promptly shoved aside, there was no time for nerves. He had a duty to do, and yet as the doors shut behind him and Sansa turned to him, he felt just that … nervous.

As the doors swung shut, she turned to him. God, she felt nervous and it took everything in her not to tremble. She felt anxiety deep in her belly, and she walked across the room to pour herself some water. "Make it wine" Willas suggested and she nodded, before pouring him a cup too which he took with a nod. He walked over to her, and quickly poured the contents down his throat. She took a few moments longer to gulp down the fine Arbour Gold, though she didn't taste it not really, but she finished it and made her way to the bed, sitting on the edge.

She noticed her things had been brought here and that made her smile. She appreciated Willas was trying to make her comfortable, but she knew her nerves would not be quelled, not now, not until it was over.

It wasn't that she was scared of what Willas would do, she knew he would be gentle and kind, but she was nervous for a few other things. What if he didn't like the way she looked? What if she did something wrong? What if it hurt? No, she knew it would hurt and she could handle the pain, she would handle the pain. She wanted to do this, she had to do this, this would consummate their marriage, ensure she was wedded and bedded, a Tyrell forever, this was necessary.

And she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little excited. Margaery had spoken to her a little bit about what to expect, kind words that had put her a little at ease. Usually her mother would be the one to offer the words of wisdom, as she was sure Margaery's had done to her, and yet she was not here. No, Sansa shook that thought away, she did not want to think of her mother, not now, she had other things to focus on.

She did think of the feast for a moment and smiled to herself, it had been wonderful. Everyone had offered their congratulations and many people had complimented the decorations and food. The Ladies and Lord's of the Reach had told her they were excited to have a new Lady, and that they looked forward to any future events in Highgarden. She had danced happily with Margaery, Loras and Garlan. Mace had taken hert for a turn and Tommen had stepped on her toes, even Ser Jaime had gallantly swept her across the floor before Joffrey could get to her. She had eaten food with her husband and smiled as the singers regaled them with song. It had been beautiful, a wonderful wedding … and it had all led up to this.

Again, she felt that flutter of nerves and tried to reassure herself. Willas was handsome, kind, witty, so intelligent and he made her laugh. He challenged her with intelligent conversation and treated her as though he adored her. She already adored him, if anyone had to take her maiden head, she was happy it was him. She didn't love him yet, but she knew it wouldn't be long before she tumbled headfirst into love with him. And so, she scolded herself for being silly, this bedding was necessary, and she should relax, but then she couldn't help being frightened.

"Sansa" She felt the bed sink as Willas sat down next to her and she barely held onto a squeak as Willas took her hand. "I know you're nervous" He said with a nod, "And if I could hold this off until you were ready I would" That made her smile then, he was so considerate and she shuffled a little closer to him then, "But this is important" At that she nodded, he didn't have to tell her that, she knew this was important. For him it was securing her, for her it was ensuring nothing could be done to break this match. They may have grown to care for one another, but Sansa knew, on a political level this was unavoidable.

"You are so beautiful my wife" Willas said and Sansa felt her cheeks heat as he leaned in and kissed her. She felt a little excitement in her belly and felt herself relax a little. Margaery had told her she should try and enjoy it, that being tense would make it worse. Sansa tried to take those words to heart, she had married a man she would be in love with one day soon, she was luckier than most, and so with a deep breath she returned Willas's kiss with some enthusiasm.

After several minutes Willas began to work at the laces on her dress, and her heart leapt as he eased her out of her gown. She stood to let it pool at her feet as he remained sat. He pulled her closer, so she stood between his legs in nothing but her small clothes. She had abandoned the usual ankle length petticoats she wore under her gowns and had gone for a slip that reached just shy of her knees, that had been another recommendation from Margaery and though Sansa felt exposed and a little vulnerable but Willas spoke and confidence seemed to come to her.

"So beautiful" He repeated and at that she leaned forward to kiss him once more. Once she was in her small clothes, she helped Willas undress too, unbuttoning his tunic and pulling it over his head. She giggled a little at his ruffled hair as she threw the tunic to one side and he laughed a little along with her. Once he was in his small clothes, he pulled her to sit back next to him and then released her hair from its pins, so it could hang free.

"Are you ready?" He asked and at that she nodded, and she realised she did feel ready, truly. At that Willas moved on top of her, and she found she liked it. He was muscular under his clothes, for he clearly took care of himself. She stroked his strong arms as he kissed her again, and he stroked along her waist. She felt a warmth in her belly as he opened her slip, as he ran his fingers over her skin, and soon moved to stroke between her legs, under her curls.

She squealed in shock as he touched her there, but shock soon turned to pleasure, and that warmth seemed to grow. Little moans left her mouth as Willas continued to stroke, with one finger and then two. It felt like nothing she could have imagined and yet it was wonderful. He continued to touch her there, stroking now with his thumb as his other fingers found their way inside. He continued to please her there before the pleasure began to build, higher and higher … and then she felt it break.

Pleasure like no other hit her, and it hit her hard. As she moaned Willas captured her mouth in another kiss. She felt her body shake with a deep pleasure, and she lifted her hands to tangle her fingers in his hair as the waves of pleasure washed over her. She felt amazing, and as Willas moved to adjust his position and she knew what was coming next only a little spike of nerves hit her. Otherwise she nodded, her fingers playing with his hair, her gaze locked onto his, blue meeting brown. He didn't ask her again, but he waited, and she nodded, and only then did he push forward.

He swiftly snapped through her maiden head and it would be a lie to say it didn't hurt. A little squeal of pain left her lips and she squirmed under him in discomfort. He remained still for a moment or two, adjusted and then continued. At first it hurt, and Sansa realised why so many ladies spoke to distastefully of the bedding. She wondered then how much it would hurt if Willas hadn't pleasured her before.

It did hurt and yet only for a minute or two before the pain began to settle, to turn into something else, something akin to pleasure. It was an odd feeling the two together, and yet as time went on the pain disappeared, leaving only room for pleasure. With each thrust the pleasure hit her, and she knew Willas felt it too, as he kissed her, stroked at her waist… in returned she showered his face in kisses, gripped his shoulders and allowed the pleasure to take over.

After a while, the pleasure began to heighten, into something different, something like before but more powerful. And when she felt something in her snap, and she let out a cry of pleasure, she heard Willas groan as the same thing seemed to snap in him. For a few minutes they simply held one another before Willas rolled off so not to squash her.

She felt exhausted, and yet happy. It had been an odd experience but one she enjoyed, when she had thought it would be awful. It had been nice, and now she was officially married, wedded, and bedded, no turning back. Again, for a moment she felt sad, she mourned the loss of Sansa Stark, but as Willas pulled her into his arms she allowed herself a smile for Sansa Tyrell.

Chapter Text

The fortnight after her wedding was one of the best she could remember. Each morning she and Willas broke their fast together, dining on fresh fruits, pastries, and lemon cakes. They took strolls through the rose gardens together, heads bent low as they conversed about all manner of things. She spent hours sewing with the ladies of Highgarden and performing charitable work with Margaery. Most days she would take lunch with her good sister and Olenna. They would spend the time gossiping, chatting away, and Sansa told them everything she had found out about in the Capitol – being so quiet and shy had allowed Sansa to go unnoticed and so she had a wealth of information about the people in King's Landing. They would more often than not dine privately though some nights they were required in the great hall, though Willas would always stay by her side and the Lannister's left alone. At night they fell into bed together, slumbering in one another's arms.

Sansa was happy with her marriage; her circumstances had changed remarkably and not just because of Willas. The staff were more attentive to her now, clearly worried about pleasing her. People stopped her in the corridors to chat, to discuss her new position, her new marriage and her plans going forward. The Lannister's left her mostly alone, though she had sat once at dinner with Lord Tyrion. Things were by far better than she could have hoped for, and yet she was still desperate to leave King's Landing, she may feel safer and her situation had improved but she would never feel comfortable until she left the Capitol.

Sun filtered through the drapes as morning came to be and Sansa had a little smile on her face as she awoke and stretched her arms. She was rising a little later than usual for the night before she and Willas had eaten dinner together in their chambers later at night and had been in conversation about Lords of the Reach for hours. Sansa had made Willas quiz her again and again on their names and sigils, she was the future Lady of Highgarden after all, it was important she knew this. And so, they had stayed up into the early hours of the morning, until Sansa had memorised half the houses and sigils, they planned to do the other half later in the week.

"Good morning my love" Willas spoke from his desk next to the window. He was always awake before she awoke and he had told her he needed little sleep to function, whereas Sansa felt she was catching up for a year of poor sleep now … though she still didn't sleep completely at ease. How could she? She was still in the King's Landing and as happy as she was with Willas she was still apart from her family.

She tried to stay happy though, to allow herself to be happy after being sad for so long. And so, she got to her meet and smiled at Willas as she walked over to him. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and she blushed as he turned his head to give her a proper kiss. She was wearing a nightgown and couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, though Willas only grinned as he kissed her, and she felt more at ease.

She did break free after a few minutes and laughed at his false-wounded expression. Normally she would have sat around all morning in their rooms, kissing him, reading, talking, and they had a few mornings earlier. Sansa wasn't accustomed to lolling about in her nightwear but Willas had convinced her the occasional morning could be nice and he was right. However, there was no time for that today, it was the morning of the royal wedding and as the future Lady of Highgarden Sansa had to look her best. There was no time for a lazy morning trading kisses with Willas, no matter how much she wished she could.

"No more kisses for your husband?" He enquired from his desk and Sansa laughed with a shake of her head. She moved to open the trunk at the edge of their bed and felt Willas come up behind her. She smiled as his arms encircled her from behind and she leaned readily into his embrace.

She felt comfortable in his embrace now, though they had only lain with one another twice since the wedding. Sansa had been nervous at first and Willas hadn't asked, in fact once she had become frustrated enough to ask why he hadn't asked he had told her he didn't intend to, and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. The first time they had lain together since their wedding night had been at her instigation and it had been more wonderful than the first. When she had asked Willas why he didn't want to lay with her he had rolled his eyes and told her of course he wanted too but there were things to consider.

He had admitted he did not want to get her with child, not when she was so young, also not whilst they were at war. He also said that he didn't want to pressure her into feeling she needed to be with him that way, and he was content to take things at her own pace. Sansa had smiled at that; she had been ready for consummation but not ready to do it over and over, not yet, and she too didn't want children, not yet, sometimes she still felt like a child herself. And so, they shared in many kisses yes, but it didn't always progress, and Sansa was glad to take it a little slower.

That morning though Sansa felt the stirring in her belly that spoke of wanting something more. She knew she needed to do little to initiate and Willas would take over, but the initial action always made her nervous. "Willas" She said gently and then turned her head to kiss him again, stroking a hand over his beard. "Yes" Was all she needed to say, for Willas was true in taking things at her pace, and from there they tumbled into the bed together.

It was just as good as the time before, if not better, in fact it seemed to get better with each time. Willas knew how to make her moan with just a stroke of his fingers or to make her whine with a well-placed kiss. She knew things now as well. She knew just where to kiss his neck to make him shiver, and how to run a hand along his back that would make him groan. Making him groan always sent a little wave of pleasure through her, it made her feel wanted and it made her feel powerful, to make her so usually composed husband groan and want at her, it was an amazing feeling.

They may have been in a hurry but once they were in one another's arms they indulged in one another thoroughly. When things reached a fever pitch and they both snapped they followed it up with several minutes of holding one another, Sansa's head on Willas's chest as he stroked a hand over her arm.

"When people comment on how I look a fright I blame you" She said with a little grin and Willas laughed then. She was getting better at telling jokes, though her wit would never be as quick as Willas's, he seemed to be able to respond to things instantly when she didn't even understand a lot of his comments until a few hours later.

"You my love could never look a fright" He said with a smile before dropping a kiss on her forehead, "Though I suppose I should relinquish you" At that she leaned up to kiss his cheek before making her way out of bed, pulling a robe on and calling for her handmaids. They still had time before the wedding breakfast but not an abundance of it and she knew it would take Willas minutes to get ready whereas she would take at least an hour.

She took a hurried bath before her handmaids began to style her hair. She wore two pieces of hair plaited into a crown atop her head with the rest brushed down her back. She wore little make-up, only a touch of rouge at her cheeks and a little colour on her lids, Willas had told her he felt she needed no adornment and she hardly needed rouge with her tendency to blush, and though she liked a little it was nice that he felt she was beautiful no matter what. Willas always gave her the prettiest of compliments and importantly she knew he meant them; they weren't just words but affirmations of his caring for her.

For she was sure he cared for her, just as she deeply cared for him.

The handmaids then put her into her dress. It was beautiful, ordered with Margaery's input. It was a deep green, for she was a Lady of Highgarden now and wearing anything but her new houses colours to the royal wedding would not do. It had long sleeves, a large skirt and had twinkling emeralds at the collar and hem, each at the centre of a silver flower. It had a beautiful silver sash to pull around her waist, and her slippers matched in a twinkling silver. She had a silver wrap for the later celebrations. She looked like a true Lady of the South, with the silver of the North wound into her dress. It was perfect, and as Willas entered (ready himself now looking dashing in a gold tunic with green accents) she blushed a deep red at his reaction.

"I must declare my wife; you are the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms" He said with a grin and Sansa giggled a little before leaning forward as he placed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Truly how did I get so lucky?" He asked, a more serious tone to his voice and Sansa smiled at him, her gaze meeting his.

"I ask myself the same" She whispered and Willas gave her another kiss and gave her a smile so filled with genuine adoration she could have swooned. Instead she took his arm and they made their way to the gardens, where the wedding breakfast would take place. It would not to do faint the morning of the royal wedding after all.

Once they arrived and were announced she took her seat next to Willas with Garlan taking a seat next to her. She glanced down the table at the Lannister's and she smiled; they were no longer her prospective family and she didn't have to go near them now. She was a Tyrell, not a Lannister … a Tyrell and a Stark. At that she smiled, she felt so very happy as she reached for some water and Leonette turned to her to chat. She doubted there was anything that could crush her spirits.

Willas sat at the table on his sisters' side as Margaery and Joffrey entered arm in arm, regal looking and smiling for the world to see. He knew his sisters smile was false and Joffrey's had a twist of cruelty. He rose as they entered and gave Margaery a kiss to the cheek as she seated herself at the middle of the table. He sat next to his mother and Sansa, and he turned to his new bride with a smile as the food was served.

Oh, his little wife, how she had changed his opinions. He had always thought of marriage as a political means to secure an alliance nothing more, and so he was surprised but grateful and happy when things with Sansa seemed to be on track to be so much more than that. She made him laugh with her dreadful jokes, made him smile with her delightful innocence and sweet smiles, she made him hum with desire when she asked him to bed and she made the normally emotionally neutral heir to Highgarden seem emotional.

Sansa was truly a wonderful wife. Much cleverer than people thought, kind and beautiful. She often amused him with her wit, could carry intelligent conversation and he adored teasing her. Things were better than he could ever have hoped for with her. He knew he already cared for her, deeply and it wouldn't take much for it to turn to love. Willas was not one to view love as weakness, no, he would embrace Sansa's love and return it too. However, now was not the time to be thinking of such things.

Today was the day.

He had to stay focused for everything were riding on today. The future of the Tyrell's, their ambitions and hopes; it all rested on today. Willas would be lying to say he wasn't nervous. He had slept even less than he usually did, and when Sansa had been asleep for hours he had met with his grandmother and Margaery in the middle of the night to discuss and agree the plan would go ahead. There was no stopping it now, everything was in place and ready to go. Willas was confident it would work; he took risks yes but calculated risk and if this risk paid off it promised to pay back a thousand-fold.

The work here was already done, all he had to worry about was keeping Sansa close and displaying an air of innocence around everything. Other than that, he would stay focused. Now it was just a waiting game.

He ate his breakfast as Sansa chatted happily to Leonette and he remained silent, thinking always thinking. Willas envied people who could turn off their brains and simply relax for he would never be like that. He always needed to be thinking of something, planning, scheming, imagining, he was never one to have his brain idle. It was a benefit really; his mind was his weapon and he wielded it well.

As he ate fruit, ham, and thinly sliced bread he thought on what would happen later. He felt no guilt for what would happen or his part in things. If anything, they were doing the world a favour and he new his little wife would be pleased with the outcome of their planning. And he would never feel guilty for furthering the Tyrell name, Willas had always been and would be ruthless when it came to his family, in protecting them and advancing their cause and name.

Only Sansa made him question that.

He knew if she knew of things he had done in the past, things he planned to do in the future and just how far he was willing to go with things she would recoil in horror. However, he hoped she would never see that side of him, and he shoved aside any thought of guilt or normalised morality. Now was not the time to doubt himself, they were close, so close, it would not do to lose focus now.

Sansa snapped him out of his thoughts then with a brush of her own hand. She had clearly grown to understand when he was in deep thought, immersed in his head and she had become adept at snapping him out of it with a gentle touch. He smiled at her then, how they were getting to know one another so quickly in such a short amount of time. She returned his smile sweetly before they both turned to look at the royal couple, it was time for gifts.

As they had at their wedding breakfast the minor Lords presented first and he found himself bored in seconds. Many had gone out of their way to present opulent gifts he knew they couldn't afford in an effort to impress and curry favour with the King, Willas just managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes, though he was unable to stop himself when House Vyrwrel, a house swimming in debt presented golden cups to the couple. No doubt they would ask for a loan soon, which Willas would grant of course but with a hefty interest rate. Soon after the larger Houses of the Reach and Crowlands gave gifts, and Willas felt like dozing off, he would never be interested in such pageantry.

Next though came the top tables turn to present their gifts. The Lannister's had clearly made an effort to outdo everyone else.

Ser Jaime gave the King a handsome dagger with a golden pommel and Margaery a pretty gold bracelet with emeralds. Cersei gave both of them new crowns, Joffrey's was a deep gold with Baratheon antlers and sparkling rubies, Margaery's was a golden tiara with the Baratheon antlers though hers lacked rubies and instead sparkled with diamonds. Tywin gave Joffrey a valyrian steel sword, Willas had always wanted one for House Tyrell but had never been able to track down someone willing to sell him one, he pondered that then, perhaps he should double his efforts? He had no plans to put one to use but it was an important status symbol, especially now the Lannister's held one. Shaking himself from his thoughts he watched as Tywin gifted Margaery a gold necklace with rubies. Tyrion gave Joffrey the book the Lives of Four Kings and Margaery a large tome on the different Queen's of the Seven Kingdoms. His mother and father gave a large wedding chalice and Garlan and Leonette gave them smaller copies. Loras gave them both silver broaches with golden roses and Tommen gifted them both golden cloaks. It was a handsome haul and Margaery was grinning, his sister did like the finer things in life, even if she knew the marriage the gifts were based on would not last.

It was there turn next and he stood with Sansa, taking her hand, and beckoning to his page. They walked to stand in front of the couple and Willas noted Sansa immediately dropped her gaze and seemed to curl in on himself. He felt a rush of anger then, he would always despise the Lannister's for what they had done to her, to make her so scared. Around him she was regaining her confidence, but as soon as she saw Joffrey or Cersei she wilted. It was heartbreaking to see and Willas knew it would persist until he got her away from here to heal.

"Your Grace" Willas said with a nod to the mad King, "My dear sister" He smiled then at Margaery as the page walked forward, "From my Lady wife and I, your Grace we present a golden signet ring with the sigils of your house and ours" He said. It was a pretty gift but had no sentiment behind it, though Joffrey looked happy enough as he slipped it on. He brushed Sansa's hand with his own then and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. That seemed to give her some strength as she lifted her gaze, though she only glanced at Joffrey and focused on Margaery as she spoke.

"Your Grace, my good sister" Sansa said, her voice gentle as her page stepped forwards, "My Lady, from my Lord husband and I, I handmaid you this cloak of velvet" Sansa said and she managed a real smile as Margaery took the cloak and grinned in genuine delight. "I hope you like it"

"I adore it dear sister" Margaery responded in kind and it was the perfect thing to say as Sansa smiled and seemed to stand a little straighter. He knew Sansa had been sewing for a week straight to have it ready in time and it was truly a beautiful piece, just as his riding blanket was. It was a nice touch and Sansa was truly talented with her needlework.

Willas noted Sansa relaxed more as he led her back to their seats. She mouthed a 'Thank you' to him and he only nodded before leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek and give her hand a squeeze under the table. Of course, he couldn't tell her, but he felt some satisfaction that soon the boy who had scared her so would be gone.

The ceremony had been truly beautiful. Sun had blessed the Sept and Margaery's gown was like something out of a fairy tale, all ivory with flowers and silver, she had looked stunning. Sansa had imagined for a moment that Margaery stood across from a better man, perhaps someone like Robb, someone kinder who would treat her well. And yet Sansa knew; Margaery wanted to be Queen, and she was getting what she wanted. Sansa just wished the King weren't so evil.

She has expressed her concerns to Willas and he had just looked a little … well she couldn't really explain the brief expression that had crossed over his face before he had reassured her not to worry. Margaery was strong and she wanted this, wanted to be Queen, she would fine. Still, Sansa couldn't help but worry for her.

As they sat down for the fear Sansa smiled at her husband. He had ensured the seating arrangements had her far away from Joffrey and Cersei and she adored that she now got to sit on the Tyrell side, as she was one herself. Next to Margaery sat Olenna, then Mace, Alerie, Willas, her, Garlan, Leonette and then Loras. She would barely even have to speak to the King! Already she had engaged in conversation with a glum looking Loras who had cheered up when she asked him about his jousting and had spoken at length with Garlan about Highgarden. She was pleased to discover he would be returning with them for Leonette was anxious to return before she gave birth. Leonette had even joked she would make Sansa babysit for some practice and Sansa had blushed bright red whilst Willas laughed. She felt happy as she spoke to her new family members and almost forgot she was in the presence of the Lannister's.

Almost.

They eat their way through too much food and drink too much wine (though Sansa never fond of the stuff sticks to water and she notices Willas does the same), and soon the entertainment is upon them. The first dwarf comes out and Sansa feels angry on behalf of Tyrion. She turned to glance at the Lannister side for the first time that day in time to see Tyrion storming out, ignoring the King's demands to come back, instead he leaves the wedding with his sellsword and squire quickly following in tow, no doubt all to get drunk somewhere. Sansa wishes she could jump up and leave too but no she could not.

Though as the next acts came out onto the floor, she wishes she had left. Four more dwarves, but the only one she see's is Robb, a direwolf head sewn to his body. Is this what the Lannister's want to do to him? Is this what they plan to do to him? Willas had told her of the attempted betrayal of the Frey's at Robb's wedding, how they had planned to slaughter her mother and brother at the wedding table and Robb had turned the tables. She had cried that night, sobbed in Willas's arms for hours at the thought of the rest of her family being taken from her. He had stroked her hair until she had fallen into a fitful sleep. She hadn't cried since then, well, not in front of Willas at least. She wouldn't cry now either, she just felt cold.

No matter how well her marriage was going and how happy Willas was making her … she would always miss her family, always want to go back to them and always feel sad they were apart. For now, she knew if given the choice she'd return to Winterfell over Highgarden. And so, to see Robb depicted in such a way, even though she knew he was alive made her skin turn pale and blood run cold. Her hands shook as she watched the dwarves begin to joust, and she barely smothered as gasp as she watched the dwarf depicting Joffrey knock the head off of the dwarf depicting Robb. She felt as though her own head had been severed and she had to fist her skirts under the table to stop herself trembling. No tears fell, she just felt sick, was this the future? Would the Lannister's prevail over her brother? Would the Stark pack be doomed forever?

She could not cry, she could not cry for traitors, but she knew later in bed she would weep. It was difficult, she used her traditional courtesies less and less nowadays and thrusting those icy walls back up was difficult. But she felt Joffrey's eyes on her and willed herself not to cry, not to sob and instead managed a cold expression, for how she felt freezing inside.

But then she felt a touch on her hand, a warm hand that warmed her a little. Willas took her hand and squeezed it before standing to his feet. She tugged at his hand then willing him to sit down but he ignored her.

"Your Grace" Willas spoke with almost no tone to his voice, he was only neutral though the look in his eye was deadly, "My Lady wife finds images of war distressing even when done in jest, as does my good sister" Sansa glanced at Leonette then who nodded, her own expression horrified, though some of the horror was surely faked. Willas faked something himself then, making a big show of smiling to the crowd, "We know women are the more fragile sex" Part of the crowd laughed at that, part nodded in sympathy and Willas squeezed her hand tightly, "Perhaps that is enough entertainment now?" He suggested, but there was only command in his voice. Sansa felt then that she could have loved him.

No one other than Tyrion had ever stood up for her against Joffrey before, and here was Willas doing it at something so small, and yet it had affected her so. Here he was, protecting her, caring for her, and she felt that warmth from his hand spread through her body, banishing the cold a little.

She felt nervous though as she saw Joffrey go to open his mouth, his face redenning as he went to speak, but Margaery got there first, and she shared a glance with her sister before leaping to her feet and smiling in delight, "Look the pie!"

At that the crowd was distracted and everyone stood to applaud. Sansa took that moment to lean on tiptoes to give Willas a kiss to which he smiled.

"What was that for?" He asked in delight, though she was sure he knew.

"For being you" She responded, and he smiled more, before they both joined in the applause and took their plates of pie. In truth Sansa could not eat another bite, though Joffrey showed no restraint, he was clearly drunk now and as he screamed for more wine Willas rolled his eyes at her and she giggled a little. He certainly knew how to cheer her up. She took a small bite of her pie as she saw Joffrey reach for his wedding chalice, lifting the heavy thing noisily before slurping down some wine from it. Sansa hoped to leave the celebration soon, a drunk Joffrey was not someone she wanted to be near.

"Can we leave soon?" She asked gently and saw Willas smother a frown, how odd before he simply shook his head. She went to question why before she heard spluttering coming from the middle of the table. The crowd hushed as she both saw and heard the King spluttering and coughing, clutching his throat and stumbling forward.

Sansa's eyes widened in horror as he turned red and she heard Margaery scream, "He's choking!" Followed by Olenna, "Help the poor boy!" He was soon turning purple, blood dribbling down his chin before he fell. But that wasn't the strangest thing, what was, was Willas's firmer grip on his hand, clutching it hard as he hissed under his breath, "Don't move Sansa, not an inch" She looked up at him and he nodded stonily at her and she nodded back, he seemed serious and so she did as he bid, as Joffrey spluttered and coughed some more.

He was writhing on the floor now, and Sansa hadn't needed Willas to tell her to stay still as she clutched at him in horror. She might have wanted Joffrey dead from the moment he had taken her fathers head but that did not mean she wanted to watch him die, and yet she couldn't look away. She watched as Cersei and Jaime rushed to his side with Tywin following. The wedding chalice Joffrey had drank from rolled on the floor. Margaery was in her grandmother's arms weeping and the crowd seemed to be in a state of shock. All Sansa could do was clutch at her husband and watch, for even as he choked, blood spewed from his lips and his eyes slowly glassed over she could not stop, would not stop. She even caught his gaze near the end, his eyes meeting hers as he struggled, struggled, turned his gaze back to his mother … and then fell still.

Watching it had been a horror and yet Sansa had felt compelled to watch, to watch the justice for her father. She felt a perverse sort of glee then, this was justice, justice for her family, for the Stark's.

"You did this, you!" She wretched her gaze away from the dead King then to see Cersei pointing at Margaery, the Queen having ceased her wailing to accuse now it seemed. Her face was bright red, filled with rage. Jaime and Tywin stood next to her, both shocked at her accusation. Sansa felt shocked too, her eyes widening, mouth opening in a little 'o' and she made no effort to correct her expression. She was even more shocked as Cersei turned her gaze to her, pointed again and screamed at her as well. "You too!"

"The two smirking whores of Highgarden" She cried, and Sansa moved a little closer to Willas. She watched Loras move to stand near Margaery and Garlan moved a little closer to Sansa whilst gently pushing Leonette behind him. "You killed my baby boy, colluded I know you did! I'll see you both dead, I will!" Sansa's fingernails dug into Willas's arm then, as even though they were surrounded by guards and she knew Willas would never let them take her she felt fear, a deep fear, especially as she screamed, "Guards take them" And the Lannister guards though confused took a step forward.

Though the Tyrell guards responded in kind, ready to protect the house they were sworn to. Loras had a hand on his sword now too, and she saw Garlan reach for a dagger at his belt. Willas had no weapon but she could see him communicating with the Captain of the guard, for he was the one in charge here. He may have no weapon, but he had the most power of them all.

However, after a few seconds of a tense standoff there was no need for violence, as Lord Tywin stepped forwards. "Stop" His commanding voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip, "My Ladies, I apologise" He said his tone harsh as he turned to glare at his daughter, "The Queen Mother is upset at the loss of her child, we can all understand that" He motioned to the guards then who immediately fell back, they took their orders from Tywin after all, not Cersei.

"I suspect this poisoning was done by an assassin of our enemies. Robb Stark perhaps or Stannis Baratheon" He said, and the crowd seemed to nod along with him and agree, it made the most sense. Margaery too nodded and the weight of her opinion immediately had the rest of the crowd on side, especially as she let out a loud sob and turned back to her grandmother. Sansa then didn't weep for she knew it would be construed as false, but she did bury her face in Willas's shoulder. "Guards escort the Queen to her rooms to grieve and lock down the Capitol" Tywin ordered, No one leaves until we find the assassin"

'You too!' She yelled loudly, and Sansa felt Willas clutch her closer. Loras had moved to stand next to Margaery, and Garlan moved closer to Sansa. 'You both colluded to do this! The two smirking whores of Highgarden! Colluded to kill my baby boy' She was incensed with rage and almost looked insane. 'I'll see you both dead! guards take them!' The guards seemed confused and took steps towards both herself and Margaery. However, the Tyrell guards immediately moved in front of their two ladies, and for a moment everything was quiet before Tywin spoke.

Everyone hurried back to their rooms then, and Sansa clutched at Willas as they did, never letting him go as they walked the corridors of the Red Keep. She went to turn to go to their rooms, but he steered her in the opposite direction, to the Maidenvault. She understood immediately and asked no questions. With such accusations flying around the Tyrell's would need to stick together, it wasn't safe for them to split up. That made her think of her own family then, they never should have split up either. The lone wolf died, but the pack survives.

She held onto Willas they made their way into the rooms and she watched as he gave the guards short sharp commands. He told them to let no one but a Tyrell or Tyrell servant into the rooms. Servants were dispatched to get their things from their rooms and Olenna immediately sent the extended family to the next set of rooms to rest, keeping the large dining area for immediate family. Sansa went to leave, sensing she would be asked to leave before Willas pulled her back, giving her a little glare even that was clear; right now, she was not to leave his side. At that she nodded and even smiled a little which seemed to relax him, she smiled as she was considered family now, and Willas picked up on that and placed a kiss to her forehead, some of the tension bleeding out of him, though plenty remained.

"Grandmother what is going on?" Margaery spoke first as they sat down. Tears still glistened on the bride's cheeks, but Sansa suspected they were fake. Her good sister had no love for the King, had only ever wanted to be Queen. She was a good actress though, Sansa had to give her that, based on her performance no one would question her devotion to the deceased King.

"King Joffrey was apparently poisoned" Olenna said with a sharp nod, "Though it looked like he choked to me" She said as servants hurried in and placed a variety of foods on the table. Only Olenna, Margaery and Willas ate.

"More importantly the Queen has accused two of our own of murder" Olenna said with s shake of her head, "This is a dangerous time to be in the Capitol, Cersei is vicious, it wouldn't surprise me if she tried to retaliate for this perceived plot, she may send assassins" She said and Sansa's eyes widened at that, her hand flying to her mouth. Margaery seemed less phased but still nervous. The two shared a glance and squeezed hands across the table before Sansa slipped her hand into Willas's. He threaded his fingers through hers and that gave her some relief.

"Then we must return to Highgarden" Willas spoke then and his grandmother nodded.

"Yes" Olenna said, "Servants are packing your things as we speak, we will leave at first light, tonight we will sleep here" The whole family nodded then, immediately agreeing with family matriarch. Sansa understood the need to hasten, Cersei was the kind to get a notion in her head and seek swift revenge, it wasn't safe here. Sansa also felt a little thrill, they were finally leaving King's Landing! Though she didn't allow herself to be fully excited, no, she would wait until they had left for that.

"Everyone go to bed" Olenna called out, "The journey tomorrow will be hard, we'll be leaving early and riding fast" She said and at that everyone dispersed. Sansa followed Willas as he led her to one of the many bedrooms in the Maidenvault and she yawned, she was tired and she knew tomorrow would be taxing, sleep sounded wonderful. It had been a long day.

She sunk into bed with Willas minutes later and he immediately pulled her into his arms. She went willingly and was quick to fall asleep, comfortable, content, and excited, excited to finally leave this awful place.

Hours later and Willas managed to extract himself from Sansa's grip. He had gotten a little sleep, but more would have to wait. He settled Sansa back down before making his way back into the main dining rooms, his cane gently tapping on the floor as he secured a robe around himself. Once he entered, he smiled as Margaery and his grandmother entered at the same time and sat down. The three desperately needed to discuss what had happened and what to do next.

Margaery spoke first once they were seated, her hair loose around her face, she looked younger than normal, and her tears were gone. She had acted well at the wedding, playing the part of a grieving widow. Willas had struggled not to roll his eyes at her performance. He had managed to keep any scoffs at bay as the events took the turn they had and as Sansa had trembled against him. She had not enjoyed watching the boy King die, though he knew she enjoyed his death, or would in the future now his torment was gone forever.

Events certainly had taken a turn and he thought of Sansa then, sleeping soundly now. When Cersei had accused her … Willas never would have let them take her away, he would go to war before he allowed that to happen.

"Why are we leaving?" Margaery asked, "They will try and betroth me to Tommen now!" She said in outrage and Willas did wonder, the plan had been to off Joffrey so Margaery could marry Tommen, a much more pliant, easy to manipulate target. Still Willas had made the call as returning to Highgarden would where they would be safest, they couldn't forget their ambitions though, and so he waited as his grandmother spoke.

"No" She said with a shake of her head. Food remained on the table and Willas reached for a lemon slice as Margaery did a strawberry. It was like any other day in the gardens though now the conversation was vastly more important. "Cersei will not see you wed to Tommen now. Even if Tywin agrees she will poison the boy against you and push you away, even Tywin won't be able to stop things if Tommen refuses you on Cersei's suggestion" He could see the truth in that and though part of him knew Margaery marrying Tommen was important for Tyrell ambition he also knew she couldn't stay here, none of them could, not now.

"It is too dangerous" Willas said and his grandmother nodded, "We can't risk anything being uncovered and cannot risk any retaliation" He said, "Though we must decide our next move, we cannot abandon our ambitions, but we must stay safe"

"I was to be Queen!" Margaery lamented then and Willas snorted before Margaery shoved his shoulder in annoyance. He only laughed at that, and she laughed too as did his grandmother briefly before leaning forward to take both their hands. The Tyrell trio, linked, unbreakable, as always.

"What have we been working for these past months hmm?" She said with a shake of her head and a smile full of assurance, "You will be Queen my dear" She said, "A messenger from Highgarden arrived in the night, a message delivered from the Riverland's by hand" She said and Willas immediately saw where this was going and allowed himself to nod and smile, this could work.

"There is another King looking for a Queen now, and you will fill that spot perfectly"

Chapter Text

Dawn had yet to break over the Capitol as the carriages and wagons of Highgarden began to depart. Rows of guards, chests filled with fine things, barrels of wine, horse after horse and finally the Tyrell family themselves. They were met with screaming the streets, desperate smallfolk who were watching the supplier of most of their food march from the gates. They handed out food as they left, making a lasting impression and Margaery truly felt for them as she waved from her carriage before shutting the window as they left the gates. The screams continued on until the walls of Kings Landing disappeared behind them and they joined the Rose Road. As soon as the stench of the Capitol disappeared, and the fresh smell of clean air hit her Margaery felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Margaery had never liked the Capitol. She had never liked the smell, the overcrowding, the horrendous gap between rich and poor; of course, there was poverty across the kingdoms but less so in Highgarden and there was no poverty like that in Flea Bottom anywhere in the Reach. She knew then that riots might start in the Capitol soon, and she felt for the smallfolk she did, but her heart was lighter as they rode down the Rose Road. They were going home! Home!

She couldn't wait to see Highgarden again, to her it wasn't just home but the most beautiful place in Westeros. The flowers, the food, the castle, it was all wonderful, and she would be back in her element, back in her place of safety. She wouldn't have to constantly simper and smile, wouldn't have to always look for spies and worry constantly about what she could and could not say. Sure, there was still a front to put on in front of the common people but less so, she could be more herself back home, and she could hardly wait.

In hindsight as well not only was she leaving such an awful place, but her circumstances had certainly improved.

Joffrey was dead, killed by the poison from her handmaids' necklace. She hadn't performed the murder, had seen her grandmother drop the tiny little crystal into the wedding chalice and that was all. She had encouraged him to take a sip and played the part of the grieving widow. She may not have participated but she was certainly complicit. Watching him die had been a shock, she hadn't expected it to be so violent, so horrible, and so she had turned away. Still, it was better than being married to him of that she was sure. He had died clawing at his throat, reaching for his mother and yet she hadn't felt an ounce of pity, just horror at the way it looked. Did that make her a bad person? She wasn't sure.

She was thankful now to be out of the lion's den even if she had planned to stay to become Queen. Her grandmother was right though, Cersei had done irreparable damage to the alliance now and she nor Sansa would be safe in the Capitol. Cersei was vicious and well connected, they would be safe in Highgarden. Part of her had wanted to risk it, to become Queen, to have her future son become King, but no, there were other options now.

And so, she smiled to herself as she sat back. The stench was finally clear from the air and she felt happy! She was going back home; Joffrey was gone, and she was free… for the time being. She knew her grandmother and Willas had a plan to see her married again soon, but unlike her previous marriages she felt more excited about this prospective one. With Renly they had been incompatible, Joffrey had been cruel and Tommen was just a child … this new candidate, she was sure things promised to be much more interesting.

Robb Stark, that was whom her grandmother had suggested. The Young Wolf of Winterfell, King in the North. He was rumoured to have a direwolf the size of a horse beside him and had won every battle he had fought so far. He was supposed to be handsome, if not a little barbaric, he was of the north after all. He would certainly be more interesting than her previous matches.

He was brave and determined and though she couldn't exactly as ask Sansa directly about him she had asked some subtle questions. Sansa hadn't revealed much, too busy delighting in leaving the Capitol and spending her time with Willas but she had spoken a little about her eldest brother, of his kindness, bravery, and loyalty. He seemed like a good man, which Margaery felt reassured by.

There were some problems though.

Robb Stark apparently had no interest in taking the Iron Throne, he wanted to rule the North as an independent kingdom, nothing more. However, Margaery had felt a little pushing and prodding would be enough to make him take the throne, she was very persuasive after all. However, as she thought about it some more, she began to worry; Northmen were notoriously honourable, despising of plotting and schemes and did not take well to manipulation. Would she be able control him? Control him a little as she had Joffrey? Or control completely as she no doubt would have with Tommen?

She hoped Robb would see sense; Stannis was the only other viable candidate for the Throne, and he was on Dragonstone with just a handful of men. Margaery hoped she'd be able to convince the King in the North to take the throne, after all she still wanted to be Queen. There was little point in marrying Robb Stark if he didn't want that, but Margaery would make sure, she would make sure Robb Stark followed the Tyrell family plan.

With a smile to herself she reached for an apple from the basket nearby and took a bite. She couldn't wait to be back in Highgarden, in her element, free of the Lannister's. She was a little nervous for her upcoming nuptials, she'd never met Robb Stark after all and she was a little concerned he wouldn't bend to her will as so many others had. Well, she would simply have to try, she at least knew Robb Stark would never hurt her, the Stark's were honourable in that regard. Sure, she'd heard some unsettling stories about him, about the barbarism of the North but she chose to ignore them, Sansa was from the North as well, and she was a perfect Lady.

For a moment Margaery thought of the marriage. Of course, it would be a practical arrangement to further the Tyrell name and make her Queen, that was all, a political match and nothing more. But … part of her hoped for more. Sure, Margaery would always be ambitious, would always strive for more, but couldn't she have both? She wanted to be loved, to give and feel love. Was it too much to ask for both? To marry Robb Stark to become Queen and fall in love with him? Was that not possible?

She glanced over at her brother then, Willas, sat opposite with Sansa asleep on his shoulder. The two had so quickly grown to care for one another and she knew they were on their way to falling in love. She felt a twinge of envy then, but also some hope. Willas had gone into this thinking it was simply a political arrangement and yet he seemed happy, perhaps she could have the same.

And even if she couldn't she would do her duty. She would marry Robb Stark and become Queen, after all that was what she had always wanted.

'Do you want to be the Queen?'

'No'

'I want to be the Queen'

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" His voice boomed across the small council chamber and everyone in the room flinched, even Jaime who'd always been made of tougher stuff. Only Tyrion seemed to sit still but then he had never been scared of their father, another thing the old lion resented him for. Jaime was thankful as Tywin yelled that he was at least related to the man, for he wasn't at risk of being beheaded. His father was completely and utterly furious, he had rarely seen his father so angry.

The Capitol had been thrown into chaos since Joffrey's death. The Tyrell's had packed up and left, taking Sansa, now a Tyrell herself with them. It had been an utter nightmare, and even Jaime who had no interest in politics could see what a blow this was. He had been on a guard shift the night before and heard his father's early morning meeting with the Queen of Thorns, Jaime had swapped shifts to overhear and had shared it with Tyrion as soon as he had been relieved, they both agreed it didn't look good.

His father had promised betrothals between Tommen and Lady Margaery, promised to release Loras from the Kingsguard so he could marry Cersei and had promised Tyrion to any Tyrell cousin. He had tried to bribe them, had tried anything but no. Lady Olenna had declared the Tyrell's neutral and had marched out of the Capitol, the implication in the air that if Tywin tried to stop them leaving he would fail. And so, they were gone, not just with their army but their supplies. It was utter chaos, taxes had been raised immediately, food stockpiled in the Red Keep, three riots had broken out in the first hour and Cersei had been confined to her rooms, after all this was her doing.

Jaime could understand her pain even if he couldn't feel it himself. Cersei had lost her son, for Jaime he had been just his seed nothing more. He felt awful on Cersei's behalf but nothing more, and even then, he and Cersei were currently on the outs and so his attempt at consoling had been rebuffed. It had been an awful death though; sure, Jaime had seen worse on the battlefield, but it had still been dreadful, face turning purple, blood spilling from his mouth, clawing at his throat and spluttering. He could see why Cersei was so upset, not only had her son died but he had died horribly.

And yet, he could not understand her reaction. In one stupid move she had offended the Tyrell's and severed the alliance. Not only had she insulted the prized flower of Highgarden and the only daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, but she had also insulted the Stark girl, now a Tyrell and key to the North, and the heir to Highgarden's wife. It had been stupid and yet Jaime was sure it had been intentional, to try and drive a wedge in the alliance. Cersei hated the Tyrell's, even more so since they had snatched Sansa away. And so, she had wanted to blame the Tyrell's for something, and in doing so she had severed the alliance that was keeping the Lannister's in power.

"With the Tyrell's gone we have little hope of winning this war!" Tywin was quieter now, but his tone was cold and that was somehow worse. The entire table was silent. Varys, Pycelle and Oberyn said nothing, Cersei sat in black, eyes full of hate. Tyrion looked indifferent but Jaime knew he was calculating everything in his clever head. "They want nothing to do with us after your idiotic accusations and remarks" Tywin said, turning to glare at his daughter then. For once Jaime agreed with his father, what Cersei had done had been short-sighted and may have cost them the war.

"New alliances will need to be made if we have any hope of winning" Tywin said, finally sitting down. Jaime felt some worry in his stomach then, for he knew where this was going and Jaime did not want, would never want what his father wanted for him, and yet now he saw he had little choice. This wasn't just about who Lord of Casterly Rock would be, surely, he could still hand that over to Tyrion, this was about allying with powerful families to keep them afloat. He didn't like it, not one bit and yet he knew better than to argue now. Before he would have but now he saw, he didn't have a choice, not if he wanted to survive with his family.

"Jaime you will marry" Tywin shot him a hard glare then and once again Jaime knew he had no choice, for once he understood his fathers constant ranting about the importance of family. Cersei looked outraged as Jaime just nodded but he ignored her, she was the one who had gotten them into this mess, if anything he was angry with her. He didn't want to do this but what choice did he have? When it was between life and death?

"I've already sent a raven to Prince Doran" Tywin said, "Prince Oberyn believes he will accept my proposal that you marry Arianna Martell, Princess of Dorne, that will strengthen our ties with Dorne and ensure their backing" He noticed Oberyn smirking then and Jaime felt his stomach tie in knots. Arianna Martell was rumoured to be a great beauty, but also cunning and a dornish woman. He wasn't sure about that; she was as likely to be a doting wife as she was to poison him in his sleep but again what choice did he have? For the first time he realised what women felt like when they were shipped off to husbands they didn't know.

"Father this is ridiculous!" His sister stood to her feet then, shooting him a nasty glare likely because he hadn't protested, "The Tyrell's will come running back soon, we can offer Margaery to Tyrion or something" Cersei said with a satisfied nod, "I have no doubt they'll accept, always so desperate for power"

Tywin turned to his daughter then and his voice was so cold he saw Cersei flinch a little as he started speaking, "I already tried to entice the Tyrell's back" His tone was vicious, "I offered betrothals between Tommen and Margaery, Loras and you, and Tyrion to a cousin, but they refused, you're idiotic move yesterday pushed them away. They won't come back to the table now!"

"I will not have my baby boy married to that smirking wh…" Tywin cut her off then, standing to his feet, which caused his sweet sister to take a step back, ahh she thought herself Tywin Lannister with teets but she would never stand up to their father, only Tyrion had ever truly done that.

"I would have but they said no" Tywin said, "But Tommen will marry as soon as I find him a suitable bride, perhaps a girl from the crownlands or the Vale" Cersei went to speak again but Tywin held a hand up, "You're all dismissed, guards escort the Queen Regent to her rooms, Jaime remain here, Tyrion come and see me later" His little brother rolled his eyes at that and the rest of the room filed out. Jaime felt a little nervous and annoyed, he did not want to marry a Martell. Sure, his love for Cersei was diminishing with each day, but a Martell? A new bride? It had never been what he had wanted.

"I'm proud of you" His father spoke, snapping him from his thoughts as he felt his fathers' hand on his shoulder. He was surprised in truth as compliments from his father were a rarity. "You're doing right by our family, as soon as the proposal is accepted, you'll marry here in Kings Landing before going to Casterly Rock, to rule in my stead" Jaime only nodded, what other choice did he have?

He had a strange path ahead of him now which he contemplated as he took the stairs down from the Tower of the Hand. He had a new future now, and one he did not relish, but perhaps there would be some good to be found, perhaps somehow in this new future he would manage to regain some honour.

She was free!

She felt the happiest she had in years, on a high, so high she couldn't keep the smile off her face. She'd spent the first few hours in the carriage away from the stench of Kings Landing simply basking in her own happiness and thoughts. She was free! Finally, free from Kings Landing to never see the Lannister's again. She was finally free from their clutches, going to her new home and she was sure now her chances of seeing her true home again were much higher than before. She felt truly blessed and sent a quick prayer to the Old Gods upon their departure and as they travelled on the Rose Road.

She hadn't truly been able to believe they would leave at any point, even after her wedding. She had been so anxious they'd have to stay in the Capitol for one reason or another, forced to live out her days in that miserable place, but no! She was finally free, and she had almost wept when the city became a picture in the background as they rode away. She'd waved to the smallfolk as they left, and the smile had never left her face. She felt so happy. The lingering sadness that rarely left her had gone for the moment for she was so happy to be away from that hellish place.

"I have to say my love you look radiant" Willas spoke then and she let out a small giggle, her cheeks flaming as they always did at his compliments. She sat in the carriage next to them with Margaery and Leonette opposite. Garlan and Loras rode outside and Olenna, Mace and Alerie had their own carriage. She was content, Willas's arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest, leaning into him. She planned to get some sleep, Margaery and Leonette had napped already and were now talking about the inevitable welcome home ball at Highgarden. Sansa resisted the urge to join in for she was very tired, and yet she found herself unable to drop off, for she was very happy, too excited to leave Kings Landing and finally be free!

"I'm just so happy" She said in truth with a smile for her husband, and as she said it, she saw he looked happy too. He laughed a little at her words and then placed a kiss to her forehead before untangling his arm from her shoulder and pulling out a book, she could see it was a book on finance she knew she would never understand, and so with a grin she settled herself down, her head falling to rest on Willas's shoulder. Perhaps she could get some sleep, and perhaps she would sleep properly. Everything was the best she could hope for. Last, she had heard her mother and brother were marching home, she was marching from the Capitol and she had Willas by her side, things were finally going right for once, things were finally good.

And so, she fell asleep with a happy little smile on her features, she was free at last.

They were just a week and a half out from Winterfell, and the cold in the air was biting, telling them they would soon be in the North. His men were tired and cold and ready to return home, but morale was high, and they understood the importance of what they were doing. Winterfell had to be taken back, the Ironborn removed. To have the main city of the North to be held siege was unacceptable and it suggested they were weakening, and thus, they marched onward. Even Robb felt tired and ready to rest.

It felt like with every battle he won another five problems reared their head. Still, things were moving forward now. They had vanquished an attempted betrayal at the Twins, the men were still high on morale and ready to go forward. The only blip in his recent actions had been the death of Roslin, something that still made him feel guilty. He had been foolish to forget about her wellbeing, and he blamed himself for her death. He hadn't known her well enough to truly mourn her, but he did mourn what could have been, and he felt for the 16-year-old girl who had deserved more. His squire Olyvar was devastated as well but determined to honour her by fighting harder than before. Robb knew he had to do the same and he knew he needed to focus, especially as they marched on.

And so, he had rallied his troops and they were making their way for Winterfell, and they were determined. He had already split up men to send to the Dreadfort and other Iron Born occupied castles. Thankfully Moat Calin had been abandoned already before they had even reached it, apparently attacks from the Crannogmen had made it impossible to hold. So, that was one less obstacle. They would take back the rest of the castles now, regroup and then make plans to march South once more. The men knew this wasn't the end, they still had their vengeance to take after all. He'd take back Winterfell first though, that was his priority. He would then focus on fortifying the North, allowing his men to collect their harvest and then recall the banners.

It seemed they had some more support now as well.

Just yesterday a raven had reached him as they had stopped at a small settlement for the night, it had been delivered from the Twins, and had been in the Queen of Thorn's hand. The Reach forces had abandoned the Capitol and the alliance with the Lannister's had been severed, and now the Tyrell's wanted to arrange a meeting. He had grinned when he had read that, perhaps the tide of this war could turn.

Joffrey was dead, the Lannister's in utter chaos and now the Tyrell's were open to a discussion with him. Allying with the Tyrell's would ensure the war was all but won, he knew that, no one could match their resources. He had outlined his first letter to Lady Olenna the night before, that they needed to discuss, perhaps in person if that could be facilitated. The suggestion was a match between him and the Lady Margaery, for that would solidify the alliance. With Sansa already married to Lord Willas little more needed to be done. He had sent the raven the night before and had not heard back yet, but he wasn't worried, these things could take a while.

But Robb was ecstatic all the same, the Tyrell's would have never responded to his initial letter if they were interested. With supplies for his men and more soldiers the tide of the war would surely turn if they could get the Tyrell's on side. But there was much to be discussed. If he had been urgent he would have turned back South, allied with the Tyrell's and rooted the Lannister's out now, but he knew he couldn't do that. The North was his priority and it had to come first.

He was a little wary of this alliance, though he knew it needed to be done he was nervous as to what the Tyrell's wanted out of it. He couldn't see them simply wanting to root out the Lannister's to make Margaery the Queen in the North. No doubt they would want Robb to take the Iron Throne, to make Margaery Queen.

The thought was tempting, of course it was! But Robb knew it would never come to be. He was of the North; he was not to rule a seat in the South. Besides, his bannermen would never accept it. When he had first received the letter from the Tyrell's that had simply said 'State your terms, but there is much to discuss', he had thought about going for it, claiming the Iron Throne but time had settled such a notion. He was a Northerner through and through and the South was not for him.

But it was difficult for who would step in? Stannis? He was licking his wounds on Dragonstone and who else was there? Robb knew if he took the Throne, he could claim it through rule of conquest, but he had little desire to do so. Would the Tyrell's place someone on it? Willas Tyrell perhaps? He hoped not, he couldn't imagine his sister had any wish to be Queen anymore. There would certainly be some difficult decisions to make regarding the Throne in the future.

But that was yet to come, right now his focus needed to be on Winterfell. It would take just shy of a week and a half to march home, and then they would retake it. Lord Mallister had secured the Twins and remained behind for them and Robb was confident the Riverland's would hold, now they had to focus on the North. They would stop at Greywater Watch that night before marching on, Lord Howland Reed had sent men for Robb's cause but remained behind and then liberated Moat Calin, he could be trusted and had already sent men ahead to invite them, he had even asked for an audience with Robb, but he presumed it was nothing urgent.

And so, he would focus on the North and negotiate with the South. He had only told his mother about the discussions with the Tyrell's as for now his men couldn't know, what if it fell through? No, he would wait. He planned to discuss with the Tyrell's properly as soon as Winterfell was retaken and determine a way forward from there.

Chapter Text

Highgarden was everything she could have imagined and more.

They were greeted by smallfolk calling for them in the streets, smiles on their faces as they screamed for the Tyrell's. It was different than Kings Landing though, the smallfolk called here for people they loved, instead of those they feared and needed. Sure, the people here relied on the Tyrell's as any smallfolk relied on the nobles but not in such a desperate way as it had been in the Capitol. She could see as they called out for Lady Margaery, for Garlan the Gallant and the Tyrell family, she could see the smallfolk loved them.

'I will make them love me too' She vowed, and she waved with a smile before the carriage window closed, and she heard one or two shouts for her as well.

The fragrance on the air was of roses, not the stench of Kings Landing. She had seen the castle from afar when they had stopped that morning and it was truly beautiful. Surrounded by a large labyrinth the City seemed to be made of flowers. The grass was greener than she had ever seen and the trees that towered overhead shed blossoms on them as they passed. Large towers spiralled with flags atop and they passed many a beautiful fountain and water feature. It was about as far as one could get from the North and it was stunning.

And yet, Sansa couldn't find complete joy in it. Years ago, she would have squealed in the delight and vowed to never leave, but now she saw a hollowness to it all. It was pretty yes, but beauty wasn't everything. She longed for the snow of the North, of the strength of the keep of Winterfell, of the blue winter roses and hardy trees of the Wolfswood.

Sansa had hoped that perhaps when she left Kings Landing her longing for home would diminish. She had hoped her lingering sadness would evaporate when she left the Lannister's grasp, and yet even as they rode for Highgarden, even as they entered the City walls and the keep was close, even as Willas placed a kiss on her hand to pull her attention to the fact they would soon enter the keep … the sadness never left her, that longing for home was if anything more powerful than before. She knew it wouldn't go away, not until she saw home again.

She knew she would not return to live in Winterfell, her marriage prevented that, but she hoped to visit again, to see Winterfell, perhaps to marry there. It felt a little wrong to her that she had not married before the old gods yet, the gods of her father and the gods of the Starks. In the past she had shunned them for the seven but no longer. The seven had abandoned her, only the old gods offered her a comfort in faith now.

And though she prayed less than before, she still prayed to the old gods. She hoped to pray in the godswood of Highgarden, but it would never compare to Winterfell.

"Sansa" A voice shook her from her thoughts of melancholy, and she managed a smile as Willas held a handout to her. Willas, if he had not been so kind, so gentle and good to her, she'd have hated him for now she was free from the Lannister's her marriage was the reason she couldn't return to her family. And yet, if she hadn't married him, she wouldn't have been able to return to her family and still been a prisoner. It was confusing, but Willas had always been the better option.

Though she supposed she was a prisoner now, of Highgarden and the Tyrell's. Yes, it was an infinitely better prison, but it still had bars.

Sansa knew she was falling for Willas, for his caring and kindness to her, for the way he made her laugh and the way he kissed her, but above all else she still wanted to go home, that longing would never change.

And yet for now was there any point to being so homesick and sad? Perhaps one day Willas would take her home, to visit, and perhaps her family could visit here? At least the Tyrell's weren't allied with the Lannister's now. There were silver linings to consider, and so as the carriage door opened, she managed a real smile, a happy smile, and as Willas stepped out, she followed.

She could be happy here she knew, she just had to try and let herself. As hard as it was, though she may still be trapped, she could be happy.

Thus, her smile was true as she stepped out the carriage and the sight of Highgarden surprised her anew. It was truly beautiful, and Willas grinned at her as she looked up at the castle in awe. She took his arm as they walked together, to the main doors, only second behind Mace and Alerie. Sansa often forgot how important Willas was, heir to one of the most powerful seats in Westeros, and she would be Lady of that seat too.

"Do you like it?" Willas whispered and Sansa grinned at him and nodded, of course she liked it. She may long for snow, but Sansa couldn't deny the beauty of flowers.

"It is stunning" She said as they walked on, through more flowers and gardens before the doors to the keep loomed in front of them, "You'll have to give me a tour" She teased.

"Of course my Lady" Willas teased back, for he so did love to tease, "I would be honoured to tout you about my family home, I would expect you to do the same for me after all"

"Perhaps one day I will" Sansa almost cursed herself for her words, but she couldn't resist, and she regretted them less as Willas smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and said.

"Perhaps you will"

It was certainly good to be home.

He knew he had only been gone a short time but that didn't lessen his joy in being back. It wasn't just for being somewhere safe, for being surrounded by family and for much preferring Highgarden to Kings Landing, but it was good to be back for other reasons too.

The first was that this was simply his home, the place he loved most. He could work better here, he knew everyone, he knew he could talk more freely and live more comfortably. This was where he belonged. As future Lord of Highgarden and the Reach it was his duty to visit other Lords, even other parts of the Kingdom sometimes, but his seat would always be here. Highgarden would always be his place of power, and it had always felt as such.

The other was Sansa. She had smiled brilliantly as she had seen the keep, had grinned as she smelt the flowers and walked in the gardens to the doors. He had sensed some sadness to her, but he knew that sadness was one he could not cure, not for the moment. She was homesick, she wanted to return to her family. As good as things were between them Willas wasn't stupid, he knew if Sansa were offered the chance to return home she would in an instant, even if it meant leaving him behind.

He didn't doubt that she cared for him, as he had grown to care for her, but she didn't love him, not yet, and she missed her family.

He had hoped in the future he would be able to take her to see her family, though her place was now and would always be in Highgarden he had hoped she would be able to see her family again, perhaps visit Winterfell in the future. After all, their second son would inherit the seat if Robb Stark perished. Though that was looking less and less likely nowadays. He had never planned for her to visit Winterfell with her family still in power, as they had been allied with the Lannister's, thus on the opposite side to the Stark's, but now? Now everything had changed.

They looked like they were going to ally with the Stark's.

Robb Stark, the King in the North was currently marching on Winterfell to take back and liberate his homeland and they had his assurance that once he had done so they would arrange a meeting to discuss a possible alliance. The specifics of the alliance would need to be decided, particularly what the plan for the Iron Throne was but it looked like an alliance would go ahead. He knew his grandmother would insist Margaery marry Robb, perhaps even try, and secure some advantageous marriages in the North for lesser Tyrell cousins who would inherit nothing.

They were due to have a strategy meeting as soon as they returned to Highgarden and now they were here he knew it would only be a few days before they met and discussed their terms of the alliance and what to do going forward.

So, perhaps Sansa would see her family again soon … or would she?

Of course, Willas wanted to bring her along to any negotiations, so she could see her family. No doubt negotiations would take place in-between their homes, perhaps Riverrun or somewhere else in the Riverlands, and so Sansa wouldn't return to Winterfell, but he knew she would want to, and part of him wanted to bring her along to the negotiations, so she could see her family.

And yet, part of him was extremely wary.

What guarantee was there that once she saw her family, she wouldn't want to go home with them? What stopped Robb Stark taking his sister back, shunning an alliance and marching home? Willas knew it was a very real possibility, possibly even the Young Wolf's plan. If he got Sansa back, he would secure all of his family (considering Arya was long lost and probably dead – another thing to discuss at their meeting, perhaps sending search parties out for her?), and marching home would only see him giving up on his thirst for revenge. Willas knew it was a possibility.

He knew his grandmother wouldn't want Sansa attending, and Willas could see why. If Sansa left them, they would be in a worse position, and possibly mocked, which was not something they could allow. And yet, the part that cared for Sansa, and cared for her deeply wanted her to see her family.

It was a bit of war inside of him, the part that cared for Sansa, the part that was ever so slowly falling for her, the part that wanted to see her reunited with her loved ones … and then there was the pragmatic part of him, the part that spoke to the risk of bringing her along, the part that had him think keeping her behind was the smarter option both to prevent her from escaping and refusing to come back, and to prevent Robb Stark taking her and refusing to give her back.

He internally chided himself for thinking of Sansa as an object, he didn't intend to, but he knew she was in the middle of them. She would want to go back to her family if given the choice he was sure, but he simply could not let her. They had risked a lot to secure her, and they could not let her go now.

And in truth he did not want to let her go. He cared for her. She made him laugh, smile, she was smart, smarter than most thought and she was so very kind. He didn't want to lose her, and as he noticed her looking at him, clearly concerned at the brooding issue on his face he forgot the issue for a moment, turned to smile at her.

"What's wrong?" She asked, perceptive as she was, and he simply smiled, pulling her a little closer.

"Nothing" He said, "Just thinking about the past few weeks"

She seemed to accept that, nodded before patting his arm as they approached the keep. He pulled her even a little closer and she giggled a little and smiled at him, her face so beautiful, her smile so kind and filled with joy, only the hint of sadness present. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and he knew it wouldn't take much for his feelings to become love.

And so, no, he would not let her go, he couldn't, he wouldn't.

Sansa sensed there was something more to Willas's serious expression, but she let it go for the moment. Especially as a pair of servants opened the large ornate doors for everyone to come inside. She noticed other servants stood inside the hallway, and she let out a little gasp that made Willas chuckle as she saw the inside of the keep.

It was beautiful, and so ornate, and yet more subtle than she had expected. Yes, there was a lot of gold, a lot of expensive paintings, tapestries, and silks, but none so gaudy and distasteful as the ones in the Red Keep. The Tyrell sigil was displayed, but it was proud rather than ostentatious. The gold on the walls wound like vines with green flowers painted and it created a stunning effect. Pots and baskets of flowers were common, and they added a sweet smell to the air. The windows allowed in a great deal of light that made the keep seem so large as they walked through the main hall to have dinner as a family.

The main hall was beautiful too, and she was smiling as she looked up at the ceiling, painted in detail with cherubs, flowers and plants. Gold was worked through the walls again and the curtains were pulled back, allowing light to filter into the hall. The tables were long, with a head table for the Lord and Lady, and side tables connecting to the head table for family members. The tablecloths were a beautiful gold and the glasses were crystal. It was stunning, and yet again she felt a rush of homesickness.

She thought of the grand hall of Winterfell, of the Stark sigil displayed proudly on the walls, the racing direwolf that spoke of their strength. She thought of the roaring fires and torches on the walls, for in the North it was never this light. She thought of the roughly polished wooden tables, of the simple tableware that was of high quality. She thought of Ice, mounted proudly above the head table, a symbol of their family's strength. She thought of the head table that made space for the entire Stark family, regardless of rank, even Jon sat with then unless royalty was present. She thought of when the hall had been filled with laughter and talk, of Bran and Arya chasing one another, of Rickon playing with his food, of Robb and Jon laughing together, of her father and mother in quiet content discussion, even of Theon making jokes. She thought of her family and felt tears bite at her eyes as they walked further into the hall.

She had never appreciated the North when she had lived there and yet time away had truly made her heart grow fonder for it. She missed it so much it made her heart ache. She knew if she hadn't married Willas and had been able to return home she never would have stepped foot below the Neck again.

And yet, she was married to Willas. She looked at her husband then and saw him smiling at her as she took in the great hall. She cared for him deeply, she truly did, and she wondered what she would do if she were given the option to return home now.

If she were honest with herself she knew she would return home, her love for her family and desire to see Winterfell again was strong, and yet she cared for Willas deeply, and she knew as time went on leaving him would become impossible. She was already falling in love with him.

With a small sigh she tried to distract herself by looking about the hall again, it was beautiful, but she preferred the hall of Winterfell. The Tyrell sigil made her smile but it didn't make her feel proud as the Stark sigil did. Still, she didn't want to get sad and think of difficult situations, not now, she was in her new home, she had always wanted to visit Highgarden, and she wanted to focus on the happiness she felt, not the small corner of sadness occupying her heart.

At least it was only a small corner now, before the Tyrell's, before her friendship with Margaery, before Willas it had been her entire heart engulfed in sadness, now only a small corner was hurt. An improvement, and she hoped one day, perhaps when she saw her family again, perhaps when she visited Winterfell, perhaps when she and Willas fell in love, perhaps when they had children, she hoped, she hoped the sadness would go away for good.

She presumed that once they were shown the great hall they would sit down to eat, but instead the men made their way to one room and after a peck on the cheek from Willas, Sansa was whirled away by Margaery to another room just off the dining hall.

She realised as they entered it was a powder room, and the men's must be on the opposite side, it was a place to freshen up before food and she appreciated the opportunity. She didn't change her gown as some of the other girls did and instead simply brushed out her hair, adjusted her gown (of green and silver brocade), and repined her hair with the diamond pins she was so fond of, she also handed her travelling cloak to waiting servant. She readjusted the pin Margaery had given her for her wedding, washed her hands and was ready to go. Some of the other ladies took a while, changing gowns, applying makeup, and more, but soon they were ready to return.

There wasn't really such a thing as a powder room in the North. In Winterfell, any room that was in use was used for more important things. There were the large rooms like the Winterfell library, the main hall and the armoury, and then smaller rooms that held supplies, clothes, and such. There were the rooms for servants, barracks for the guards, and the rooms of the Stark family. Her room had always been next to Arya's, and as children they had often slept in one another's bed. She missed that, she missed her sister, and she regretted how they had grown apart. She prayed to the Old Gods daily to return her sister home, safe and sound, and vowed if she did return Sansa would never bother her about her attire or appearance again, she just wanted her to be safe.

"Come Sansa" Margaery said gently winding an arm through hers, "How do you find Highgarden?" She asked with a smile and Sansa smiled back, her friendship with Margaery was something she truly cherished.

"It is beautiful" She said and she saw the pride in Margaery's eyes, Sansa knew if she were showing her new good-sister around Winterfell she would have the same look, "I am glad to make this my home"

"That makes me happy to hear" She said with a grin, "And now you'll take your seat at the high table, next to Willas" Sansa nodded then, as they walked forward, the men were already seated.

Of course, Mace and Alerie took the two dominant seats in the middle of the high table, as was their right as Lord and Lady of Highgarden. Olenna sat next to her son, with Margaery making her way to the seat on her grandmothers right. Sansa spied Willas sat next to his mother and realised the empty chair next to him was for her. He was sat in one of the most prestigious positions as was his right as heir, and now she would sit with him, as his wife, and future Lady of Highgarden. It made her feel a little giddy inside and she knew she was grinning wide as she approached and took a seat, some old habits of wanting to be a noble southern Lady, well … they died hard.

She took her seat next to Willas and she saw him smiling indulgently at her as she sat down, she knew he could see the delight etched on her features, and she couldn't help but lean in and give him a kiss to the cheek, which made him mirror her grin.

"So, what can I expect from Highgarden food?" She asked with a little smile as the servants hurried to bring out the first course. She noted the lesser Tyrell cousins, knights and some bannermen sat on the regular tables, and the high table as tradition would be served first. The tables that branched off from the high table included Garlan, Leonette, Loras and Garth Tyrell, all in positions of honour. Sansa wondered why Margaery wasn't sat next to Loras, but she knew it was because her grandmother likely would have refused to sit next to Garth or any other lower member of the Tyrell household.

She thought of her father's tradition, to always sit someone new with them at every dinner, whether that be a Lord, knight, Lord's son, he would always invite someone to sit with them, it allowed them one on one time with their Lord and inspired a deep loyalty in them. Sansa knew her father had inspired loyalty, perhaps more so than any other Lord, and if reports were to be heard Robb was doing the same. Sansa would like to as well, and she wondered if it were a tradition she could suggest once Willas became the Lord of Highgarden.

"Hmm, it'll be better than the stuff in the Capitol" Willas said as soup was placed in front of them. Sansa took a sip and nodded her head, it was delicious, of high quality, and the rest of the meal continued the trend. The food here was a little different to the food she was used to, more vegetables and fruits were incorporated, but it was delicious. Nothing like hardy Northern food, for the Reach had fruit and vegetables in abundance, the North had potatoes, ground veg and rice from the marshes of the Neck.

She even allowed herself a glass of wine then, and it was delicious. Sansa wasn't much of a wine drinker and she noted Willas wasn't either, she wondered if he took anything for his leg, but she doubted it, she wouldn't want his mind clouded. Today however was a day of indulgence for them both it seemed as he tapped her cup with his own, making her laugh, as they both drank.

"Where would you like to see first Sansa?" Willas asked as the meal came to an end. It had been a lovely affair, she had spoken at length to Willas about the food, and to Loras about the tourney that would be held soon in celebration of their return. She had drunk a glass and a half of wine and was feeling a little warm, her cheeks a little flushed, which Willas of course had commented on and made her blush even more. "Our bedroom? Though it is a little plain, I give you leave to decorate it how you wish. Or perhaps your private parlour?" He asked and Sansa couldn't help but smile at him, and gaze for a moment. He was always trying to make her happy.

She knew one day soon she would love him for it.

"Neither" She said with a nod of her head, and as others rose to their feet and filtered out, she followed Willas in standing too, "I'd like to see your godswood if it please you my Lord?"

"It does Sansa, but only if you'll call me Willas" He said, chidingly but it was teasing, "I thought I'd broken you out of that dreadful habit by now"

At that Sansa's first instinct was to apologise but no, Willas would tease her for that too. It wasn't unkind, he just didn't want things to be so formal between them and Sansa understood that, she often fell back on her own courtesies without meaning to, and so she did something completely unladylike. With a grin she stuck out her tongue to his teasing. Willas was silent for a second after she did so, and she worried that he would be unhappy she'd done so, but no, of course he wouldn't.

Instead he burst into laughter and she followed with a happy little grin. "Much better" He said with an approving nod, and Sansa giggled as well as he tucked his arm through hers, "To the godswood then Sansa, it will not be as impressive as your home one I'm afraid, but I hope you like it"

"I'm sure I will Willas" She said, and she returned his smile as they made their way outdoors, perhaps she could truly be happy here was all she could think as they made their way into the flowery gardens of her new home.

Chapter Text

The godswood here was nice, but it made her think of home.

On the walk to the place of prayer, she'd managed to forget. She'd smelled the sweet air, touched the soft petals of the flowers, smiled at Willas as he leaned down to slip a pretty white rose behind her ear, it was nice, this place was beautiful.

She felt safe here, among the flowers, among the beauty, but as soon as she arrived at the godswood she felt that pang again.

This wasn't home.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, with a polite smile on her features, she didn't want to seem ungrateful. Highgarden was far and away from Kings Landing and better in every possible way, but alas it was not Winterfell, it was not the North.

She remembered when she was a girl, when she was so desperate to leave home, to come South. 'Stupid girl, with stupid dreams that never learns'. She had been stupid, and now she was paying the price for that mistake.

"What do you think?" Willas's words broke her from her thoughts, and she turned to look back over the godswood of Highgarden.

She had read about this godswood, the intertwined weirwoods they called the Three Singers. Three weirwood trees, so gnarled and twined together they now looked like one weirwood, so large and tall. She could see some statues around the godswood, cherubs and a pretty fountain or two, as well as the never-ending flowers that surrounded her.

It was beautiful, truly. For a minute she managed to forget about Winterfell, and simply basked in the beauty of this place of worship, of this truly wonderful place.

A minute or so it lasted, but then of course thoughts of Winterfell came.

She thought of the godswood there, with the weirwood tree so large it even dwarfed the Three Singers. She thought of the crunch of snow on the ground, of the small pond next to the giant weirwood, but it was more than that.

She thought of her Father, sharpening ice under the red leaves. She thought of Robb and Jon, side by side as they prayed. She thought of Bran and Arya, chasing one another under the branches, her Mother looking on fondly. She thought of little Rickon, trying to dive into the little pond, only for Theon to catch him with a laugh.

She thought of home.

It was all she thought of nowadays, and though she loved Highgarden, and cared for Willas, it didn't budge the homesickness, or the desire she had to return to the North.

She wondered if that would ever go, if she would ever stop feeling the need to go back North, to return to Winterfell, to return home. She wasn't sure, but part of her hoped to, so this incessant need to flee North left her. It was too painful, knowing she'd never be allowed to return there.

Well… she hoped to visit again one day, but she knew she'd never live there again. She was Willas's wife now, and he was to be Lord of Highgarden, her days living in the North were long gone.

She turned then, realising Willas was waiting for her, and she smiled, it was a little strained, but not fake, for this godswood was truly beautiful, "It is beautiful" It was true, it was, and as she stepped closer to the face of the weirwood her smile turned more genuine.

Before coming South she'd been devout to the Seven, now her faith was with her Father's gods, with the Old Gods. She could almost feel them here, and as she placed a hand to the weirwood she let out a small calming sigh, here she felt connected, and it felt right.

"You truly believe?" Willas asked, his tone was a mixture of surprise and something else … disbelief?

"Of course," Sansa replied, for she did. She had prayed to the Seven every day to rescue her and nothing had come, but after praying to the Old God's Willas had come to her. How could she not believe? "You don't?" She already knew the answer from his expression, but she asked all the same.

"Not quite" He said tactfully, and Sansa found herself laughing a little.

"Not devout to the Seven as the commoners are?" She asked with a teasing grin and Willas rolled his eyes, laughing a little too.

"Why of course" He mocked, and she giggled again before moving her hand away from the face, before carefully going to her knees.

She only took a few seconds to pray (in her mind, not out loud), for her usual list, for her family, for her Father's peaceful rest, her Mother's wellbeing, her brother's – Robb, Bran, Rickon, Jon', for their happiness. For Arya's safety. For the health of the servants of Winterfell. She prayed a little to Tyrion in King's Landing, that he not be wronged by his family, and she prayed for Margaery to find a good husband, for Leonette and Garlan to have a healthy baby, to Olenna to continue to enjoy old age, and then to Willas, her husband, for him to be happy.

She paused near the end of her prayer … usually she would pray to leave, to escape. Here she changed it a little bit – I pray to be happy in Highgarden, but to see the North again soon. Satisfied, she smiled to herself and stood, where Willas held out his arm to her, and she took it with a smile.

"Thank you for showing me that" She spoke as they began to walk through the flowering bushes again, her hand clutching his arm, "Truly"

Willas paused then, and turned to look down at her, "You know I would do anything to make you happy Sansa?" He phrased it as a question, and Sansa smiled.

She may miss the North, but she had been truly fortunate in marrying Willas, that she knew.

"Of course," She said with a smile, and he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to her lips, which she leaned into with a happy little sigh.

As they walked back to the Keep, chatting about Highgarden she hoped she could be happy here, truly.

He'd been expecting it since they arrived, a summons to a private meeting. It came in the form of a hurried messenger who 'requests his presence' with his Grandmother. Of course, the messenger also passed on that Lady Tianna of House Caswell and her sister Lady Jenna had requested Sansa's presence for a walk and some sewing as well. Willas would be impressed about how his Grandmother had ensured his new wife would be busy during essential Tyrell business if he didn't feel slightly guilty for excluding her.

The guilt is worsened when Sansa apologies to him that she won't be able to join them, and then hurries off with a kiss on the cheek and her sewing bag to join the Ladies of Bitterbridge. He shouldn't be feeling guilty, his Grandmother had taught him that guilt was a weakness, to hold one back from their true purpose … but then her wise words can't make the feeling of guilt go away.

Still, he joins his Grandmother, sat with Margaery and Garlan even (he was not surprised his Father was not present, he's often excluded from family strategy meetings), and he forces the guilt to the back of his mind, he needs to focus, not feel bad that Sansa isn't included in their plans. The own Lord of Highgarden isn't for goodness sake! And he knows technically Sansa cannot be trusted yet.

Yes, he trusts her, she doesn't have a bad bone in her body, she is kind and loyal but she can't be trusted at the moment. What if she does run back to her brother? Or she's kidnapped? They can't risk vital information being pried from her; thus, she is excluded…for now.

"Right" As soon as his Grandmother starts the meeting, he is able to ignore the guilt, reach for some wine, and focus on the matter at hand.

He has always been good at that, shutting out his emotions to focus and get the task at hand done. It isn't something many are good at, most are ruled by emotion, but he can. Ever since his Grandmother had impressed on him the importance of who he'd become, the positon he'd take, and what came with that, he remembered her words on the matter quite clearly.

'One day Willas you'll be a Lord, you'll rule all of Highgarden and perhaps more, you need to be focused, you need to be ruthless, and most importantly you need to be pragmatic' She reached for a fig then, and passed him an apple, bouncing him on her knee, only a boy of 10 as she continued, 'Do not be clouded nor ruled by emotion, you must put the family first, before any of that nonsense' Then they ate their fruit, and the words ran through the mind of the boy who would one day become Lord Paramount.

'Focused, ruthless, pragmatic'

She was right, to bring the family to new heights he had to be logical, he couldn't be ruled by what he wanted or felt, he had to be governed by what was best for the family. Garlen had once joked their words should be that of Sansa's Mother's house, 'Family, Duty, Honour', though perhaps their words would change slightly to 'Family, Power, Money', that was more fitting for the Tyrell's.

And so, as his Grandmother began to speak, he managed to push his guilt that Sansa was excluded away and focus on the matter at hand.

"I have received word from Robb Stark" He near rolled his eyes as Margaery grinned, he knew his sister still desperately wanted to be Queen, though they had to be wary, from what he'd heard of the Young Wolf he'd be harder to tame than the Baratheon's. He had every faith in Margaery, but they would need to realise Robb Stark was a different ally than the bastards in Kings Landing.

"He marches North to retake his home, once he has done so he has agreed to meet us at White Harbour" Olenna nodded, and reached for a fruit, oddly today Willas's appetite for food was away from him, "We will sail around so not to pass Casterly Rock and meet the King in the North there, as soon as we have word he has retaken Winterfell we will set sail to discuss a potential alliance"

Again, Margaery was smiling, and he indicated for her to ask the first question which she grinned and nodded, "Who will be going?"

His Grandmother smiled then, patted his sisters hand, "You my dear, so to ensnare this Young Wolf, I will attend, Loras too to stop the boy sulking, Garlan you'll remain here since Leonette is about to pop and then Willas" She said, "You can represent your Father"

He nodded then but paused for a moment as he processed who had been left off of that list. Remain detached he must, and yet he had to enquire, for he could feel his emotionless state shifting slightly.

He would acknowledge that Sansa had already began to change something in him. Whereas once he had cared for no one but his family, now he cared for her, he was sure in short time he would love her.

She was beautiful, charming, kind, sweet, even funny, and she had something about her, a glow that lit up a room in a way his sister couldn't even manage, nor any other Lady he had seen. She was a gem, and he intended to protect her like the biggest diamond in the country, he cared for her, deeply, and that would shift a man's way of acting.

Before he had only thought of family, what to do to advance the family cause, what to do to make Margaery Queen, to grab power for them, but now? Now he thought of Sansa, of ensuring her safety, of ensuring she was happy. It changed things a little, so far, he had just been a little distracted from his duties but still been on top of everything but now? Now was a clear case of what was best for the family differing from what was best for his wife.

So, who did he choose?

"What about Sansa?" He caught his Grandmother's glare then, ahh she'd expected he might ask but hoped he wouldn't. Once he'd have shivered under that glare, but he along with Margaery were the only two people who could give a hard look back and not get berated. Still this time she did.

"No" She said with a shake of her head, and he rolled his eyes.

"How illuminating" Ahh sarcasm, he knew that was one of his Grandmother's principle hates, the big sword were out already "Thank you so much Grandmother for explaining in detail the problem here, most enlightening, really"

"Don't use that tone with me boy" She always called him boy when annoyed with him, which was rare, but evidently still happened. "You know for well why Sansa cannot attend with us; it would be foolish beyond degree"

"I have to agree" He wasn't surprised that Margaery chimed in on the side of their Grandmother, she was usually 50/50 between them both but he knew this time she didn't want to jeopardise anything when it came to being Queen, no matter how she cared for Sansa.

"So, your little sister agrees" Olenna glared, "And yet the future Lord and acting Lord of Highgarden can't seem to grasp what his younger sibling has"

"You know I grasp it" He shot back, "I just don't agree, the Young Wolf will want to see his sister safe before he even considers an alliance, if we refuse to bring her I imagine he'll send us home packing without a word"

"He needs us" She shot back.

"No" Willas shook his head then, there was zero point appealing to the Matriarch of the Tyrell family with the emotional argument that Sansa deserved to see her family again, no, he had to go for logic. He knew if he was the one arguing against it, he'd only listen to practicalities, not emotional arguments.

It was how his Grandmother had raised him, but for now, now he was going against that. For Sansa.

He supposed in this instance he had chosen.

"He wants his sister to be safe, he wants to kill the Lannister's, he does not want the Iron Throne or need our help to take the North" He reached for a lemon rind then, his appetite coming back, "But if we want to eventually get him on the Iron Throne, bringing his beloved sister to the first meeting is a good way to start"

The table fell silent then, he could see he'd already convinced Margaery and Garlan, his Grandmother perhaps a little too, though she had her last argument to play.

"And if Robb Stark stares us down, grabs her and leaves?" She said coldly, "If Sansa runs to his side, he forces us home and keeps his sister, your wife?" Olenna shook her head, "What then?"

"That won't happen" A lie, he was in no way confident that it wouldn't happen, but he couldn't say that now, his Grandmother would never allow Sansa to come if he admitted that.

"No?" She scoffed then, "I know you've gone soft for the girl and she is clearly head over heels for you already Willas but it is plain as day the girl would rather be home" Olenna shook her head, "We'd all feel the same I'm sure, your new romance won't keep her here"

"She said vows" Garlan chipped in then, he often just sat silent in family meetings unless military matters were raised, "The northerners are loyal and honourable, she would not break her vows"

"Yes, the northerners are" His Grandmother nodded, "But Sansa Tyrell is a southerner now and has spent the last years in Kings Landing, she is less northerner than the Stark's of Winterfell now"

"She is still a Lady of honour" Willas said then, his tone a fraction colder, let no one suggest his wife was not an honourable woman, not even his own family, he wouldn't take that. "She is attending with us Grandmother; I will not hear anything else"

"You fool" She said with a shake of her head, "I love you my boy, but do not let this girl distract you from our path" She said, "I raised you better than that"

"I know you did" His tone was a touch softer then, "But my answer remains"

Silence again until the Tyrell Matriarch nodded, rarely was she defeated, but here she was. "You'll deal with the inevitable fallout" He nodded now rather than argued it and sat back quiet as Garlan began to discuss the troops following the leave from the Capitol. He felt Margaery's hand on his and she gave it a squeeze before turning to her other brother.

He had made the right choice. He had stood up for his wife. He had made the right choice.

Hadn't he?

The week following her arrival at Highgarden was one of the busiest she could remember ever having. It seemed like everyday something new was happening.

Willas was busy, running the Reach after all, and though he tried to make time for her during the day he was often in meetings, going through correspondence and doing everything else that went into running Highgarden and the Reach. She wasn't sure if he had arranged people to spend time with her or if they took it upon themselves, but she found herself very busy.

The first day after arriving (and the day of arrival had been lovely, she had slept soundly through the night for the first time in months, content and safe in her new home, in Highgarden), Leonette had insisted she sit with her for a few hours as she had been put on a strict rest policy due to her pregnancy.

They spent hours sewing, and Leonette imparted lots of wisdom on the local Ladies. Gossip mixed with important information, bits like Lady Talla of House Tarly is extremely sweet but very shy, so if you meet with her you'll need to do most of the talking at first, and, Lady Sara of House Mullendore is deathly allergic to blackberries, so don't offer her any!. Leonette was also able to offer some information on the servants of Highgarden too, Sansa realised Garlans wife was a wealth of information, and was happy to keep her company well through the morning and afternoon.

The next day Alerie offered to show her around the main level of the Castle, with the ballrooms, kitchens, dining rooms and such. Alerie was such a warm presence Sansa immediately felt at ease with her goodmother, and Alerie had plenty of wisdom about the running of Highgarden to offer. It was odd for Sansa to think at some point she would be in Alerie's position.

The day after Loras offered to show her around the main courtyard and was as charming as ever. However, the shine Sansa had considered him with had faded now she adored Willas, and it was easier to talk to him. They chatted away, and it seemed now her (tiny) crush had been squashed they found it much easier to chat to one another.

The next day Willas managed to steal a lunch with her before delivering her to the Maester for an overview of families of the Reach. Always a quick study Sansa got on well and the Maesters praise turned her cheeks pink.

The next day Olenna insisted they lunch together and spent most of the time making cutting comments about the families of the Reach she had been quizzed on the day before. They ate fruit together, and then Sansa spent the afternoon sewing with some of the minor Tyrell cousins, all of whom were sweet and kind to her, flattering and clearly trying to win favour.

It was on her 6th day in Highgarden did she wake, take breakfast with Willas (before he hurried off, busy as always), and settle down did she realise she might be in for a quiet day. She didn't mind it; she was used to them after King's Landing after all. Did she prefer people's company? Yes, but a day on her own wouldn't be so bad.

Just as she was fishing out her embroidering materials from the trunk at the end of the bed did a knock on the door and the presence of Margaery show she was not destined for a day of solitude, but rather a day with one of her closest, if not closest friend.

"Come Sansa" Margaery said with a delighted smile, holding her hand out to her goodsister now, which Sansa took with a smile, and the bubbly brunette soon swept her out of the door, out of the Castle and to the market.

On the way there Margaery chattered about all manner of things and it was clear as crystal she was happy to be back home. Sansa also noticed a shift in her behaviour, there was less of a calculation behind her eyes, less of a front put on, she seemed younger, more free, and Sansa found herself smiling just as wide as her best friend, as they hurried into the main town of Highgarden.

They stopped to talk to children, chatted away with some of the Ladies visiting the town, and stopped to buy pies from carts and drinks from front houses. Sansa picked up a bottle of lemon wine she felt Willas might like and Margaery grabbed a dark ale she thought Loras would be partial too. The sun shone down on them; it was truly delightful.

They flitted from stall to stall, Margaery keeping up a constant stream of chatter on who was who, what was what and where was where. Sansa mainly listened but her smile did not fade. Margaery was a wonderful presence to be around to forget homesickness and as they stopped at a fabric store, she had almost forgotten her melancholy.

"Please Sansa" Margaery said with a smile as she picked up a deep green silk, "Pick up some fabric for a new dress, the homecoming ball is next week and you must have a new dress" Sansa nodded then, and stepped up to the wall as Margaery began to talk to the shopkeep about the green silk.

Sansa saw pink fabrics, blue fabrics, purple tulle, yellow cotton, the same green silk Margaery was eyeing, but nothing stood out to her. She was wearing gold and green now actually, and as much as she loved the colours she missed grey a little, or perhaps blue.

One week in Highgarden would not cure her homesickness, even with Margaery's presence, she wasn't sure when that would ever go away.

She let out a sigh, ready to turn to her new sister and decline anything new, until a glimmer caught her eye.

She walked forward and a gasp left her lips as she saw a fabric tucked away behind the more obvious colours, she pulled it out, and she knew instantly she had to have it.

It was a beautiful grey silk, glimmering slightly in the light but not ostentatiously. It was of high quality and there was easily enough for an entire dress. She knew with some diamonds sewn in and perhaps a running direwolf on the skirts it would be perfect.

It had been so long since she had been able to wear a direwolf openly (bar her wedding when it had been removed), tears nearly came to her as she thought of wearing it again, her family sigil, proudly, not as traitors, but as her family sigil, proud.

"It's perfect" She heard Margaery behind her and turned to see her smile, though there was a flash of worry in her goodsisters eyes before she reached for the fabric too, "We'll take this and the green silk, please have them sent to the keep" The shopkeep nodded and gave them a deep bow, and then Margaery was insisting they must head back for lunch.

Sansa didn't get a chance to ask about the flash of worry as Margaery began talking about the ball and they were joined by all of the Tyrell cousins for lunch, and as lunch went on and they talked about dresses and the ball and the welcoming home she managed to forget, thought he next day she'd realise just why there had been worry that Sansa might be reconnecting with her Stark roots.

Chapter Text

If she had thought Highgarden was the epitome of beauty before, with no way to top its current splendour, then she had been wrong. Very wrong.

The days leading up to the ball intended to welcome the Tyrell's home saw the Castle transformed to an even more heightened state of magnificence. She had to stop herself pausing and gawking in the corridors, and even once she had and Willas had laughed and nudged her, she'd felt terribly unladylike, but the transformation was truly something to behold.

The Tyrell's stood true to their house symbol, and as the Starks had shown their house sigil, fierce direwolfs running on the Walls, the Tyrell's showed theirs.

Flowers decorated the walls, surfaces, and every possible free space. Baskets of fresh peonies decorated each table, dangling vines covered in tulips hung from the chandeliers and candelabras, and then roses, roses everywhere.

The fragrance in the air was near overpowering and the effect was stunning. Explosions of colour, yellow, pink, blue, red, green, all decorating the inside and outside of the castle. The cooks were working something fierce in the kitchen and the servants seemed to run across the castle to ensure everything was ready and in place.

She didn't see much of Willas, locked away with his Grandmother in his study, and she would have felt lonely had it not been for her own schedule suddenly being much fuller.

Evidently Alerie had decided it was time she learn some of the workings of Highgarden for when she would be the Lady of it (something that still amazed her, that she would be the Lady of such a beautiful keep), and Sansa had no objections as she followed the Lady Tyrell around the castle, as she oversaw and directed preparations.

And when she wasn't with Alerie she was with Margaery, having their gown fittings, from the fabric they'd picked at the market, hems being sewn, jewels added, beautiful shawls spun to match and fittings for dancing slippers.

Margaery's dress was coming together beautifully, a vision of green and gold silk, with roses on the bodice, emeralds and peridots shining on the collar and hem. It was in Margaery's traditional style, with an open back and her arms showing, she looked like a beautiful flower, the picture of Highgarden.

And whereas Margaery had chosen to scream her family name through her clothing, Sansa had done the opposite. She wasn't showing her new family name through her clothes, but rather her old family name, the one she still held true to her heart.

'I am a Stark'

Her dress was grey, with diamonds at the wrists and collar. It was long sleeved, with a slightly lower neckline but nothing plunging. In Kings Landing she'd adopted the more Tyrell style of dress but had never been truly comfortable with showing her arms, back or chest. Here she felt more at ease to revert back to her traditional style, still beautiful but modest and demure.

That was the way of the North, modest, humble, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her Northern routes.

The grey silk almost shone like glass as it hit the light, and the dressmaker had added a direwolf at the hem, smaller than she would have liked but her house sigil was represented, that was what she had wanted. Roses covered the bodice, as with Margaery's gown, it felt like a good blend of the two houses, even though her Stark side was clearly favoured.

It felt good to dress like a Stark again, to represent her family name, it eased her mind a little, though unfortunately her homesickness persisted.

It was easier to ignore when running around after Alerie as they looked over menus, decorations and including the smallfolk in celebrations, it was easy to push to one side as she stood with Margaery in dress fittings or lunched with the Tyrell cousins, or stole a few moments where Willas could drag himself away from the mountain of work he no doubt had.

It was easier, but it never went away.

She was always comparing. As she walked with Alerie, she missed her Mother fiercely. As she stood with Margaery she imagined Arya rolling her eyes at fancy dresses. As she sat with Loras and Garlan at dinner she thought of Robb and Jon debating and laughing. As she watched children play in the flower gardens she thought of Bran and Rickon running around chasing one another, Arya joining. She missed her family so much, the only person she didn't compare was Willas, with him it was the easiest not to pine after her family.

It was Highgarden too. As she watched them decorate every surface in roses she thought of the lack of flowers in Winterfell, but the winter rose, which she thought was more beautiful than any other kind, blue and bright. As the Tyrell sigil was hung proudly she thought of the pretty rose but found herself preferring the snarling direwolf, fiercer than the rose, even with its thorns.

She compared everything in her mind, and she couldn't stop.

She tried. She tried to focus just on Highgarden, on how beautiful it was, how safe, how welcoming. She remembered back to Kings Landing, when she'd dreamt of being anywhere else, but now? Now she was safe and free? She dreamt of being only back at Winterfell.

She supposed she should have expected it. Being free had been the most important when confined to her gilded cage in King's Landing but here? She was free, and now she had a new hope … to go home.

Home, Winterfell, summer snows and ice. Her family, her parents, brothers, sister, the wolves running at their feet. She missed it so much it ached, like a horrible pain in her chest. Home. It called to her, so far away, too far, from her.

When would she go back? She didn't know, she couldn't imagine it would be soon. However, she had a suspicion that others might be going to her homeland before she did, at least that was what she suspected, and she had felt a drive, to confirm said suspicions, which had been all too easy.

If King's Landing had taught her one thing, it was to be observant, keen eyed. She had picked up a mountain of gossip when she had lived in the Capitol. With her courtesies as her armour she had been polite, quiet, and invisible. Those around her often forgot she was there, they felt no worry about babbling their secrets and stories in front of her, and she sat, absorbed, quiet, gentle, but listening.

It was no different here, though slightly less intrigue, backstabbing and politics. In Kings Landing she'd overhear snatches about a poisoning, a plot to dethrone a rival Lord, even a sordid affair in the marriage bed of a prominent Lady, here in Highgarden? It was a shade less obvious, but subtle, much more subtle.

Still, she listened, not to eavesdrop on her new family, but she was to be the Lady of this Keep … she saw no harm in finding out bits about it, and honestly it was so ingrained to her now, to observe, to listen, she couldn't help it, finding things out.

And find out she did.

First, she managed to get a view of the place, of who ran the place, but the whispers and snatches she heard didn't really tell her anything knew. Olenna was head of the family, Willas the 2nd, Margaery involved yes but only 3rd, Mace largely ignored, Garlan in charge of the troops, Loras perhaps when he grew up.

A complete picture but not anything different to what she expected.

She did hear some interesting bits. That perhaps Garlan would be found a seat 'soon' i.e. a Lordship of the Reach. There was rumour of some Castles near the Old Oak that would need sprucing up, or even a nice Keep that needed some work near the Mander, even someone suggested the possibility of Greyshield, considering the current Lord Grimm had no Heir. That was interesting, the Tyrell's finding areas of land for their own as well as what they already had, widening their seats of power.

Loras had been mentioned once or twice, that in a few years when he settled down he'd need to be found something too, perhaps somewhere closer to Oldtown to gain more of a foothold there, with his heritage who would refuse?

Willas was to inherit of course, that she heard, she also heard some whispers about her husband she found slightly worrying. Apparently there was a side to her husband she hadn't been privy to, not that she heard much about it, just that the 'rose had thorns' not enough to make her really concerned, but enough to make her raise an eyebrow.

She heard about Margaery, about her next marriage, how the servants and even the Tyrell cousins knew nothing would be good enough for the daughter of Highgarden if not a King … but then they had turned away from Joffrey, what other King was there?

Well that had come to the most interesting thing she had heard and seen, something she was sure she wasn't meant to.

Someone from Highgarden was going North.

On her walk in the gardens (and a little off the beaten path) she had seen them building parts to be sailed down to the Mouth of the Mander, what looked like a large sail emblazoned with the Tyrell sigil, and parts for the mast, but sturdier than those of ships in the South (she had never thought her time watching ships come and go from Blackwater Bay would be of use, but apparently it had been). That of course wouldn't have been suspicious if she hadn't heard the workers gossiping about the extra work to ensure the ships were hardy for going up North.

That had piqued her curiosity and then she found herself back to the same spot the next day, just on her walk, not possibly eavesdropping (though she had stopped to tie the ribbon on her shoe), and had heard about the need to reinforce the sails against 'Harsh Northern winds' and to reinforce the oars against 'Choppy and cold waters'.

It had been after that somewhat easy to slip by the kitchens next, to request lemon cakes (and the servants had been aghast she hadn't just called someone, in Winterfell if she wanted something she tended to go and ask for it, here servants were summoned, she wasn't sure she liked the way of the South), whilst overhearing an annoyed chef at having to prepare too many freeze dried meats for a long voyage.

From there it had been all too easy to stop by the tailors, to see him preparing an order of winter cloaks, heavy and durable (too heavy for the South). After she had insisted on purchasing her own (for she had no need but had been drawn to it, remembering the feeling of on her shoulders, and again she thought of home, it hadn't possibly been to open up the conversation), he had let slip that she would be most comfortable if she found herself in snow.

It was still summer in the South, only one place had snow.

From there she had started to feel excited, excited, nervous and worried. Was someone from Highgarden going North? To Winterfell? To her brother?

One night she had sat in her room (Willas working late again, which only added to her suspicion, surely he was working so much to clear everything before going on a long trip?) and wrote down everything she could think of that confirmed her suspicions:

Ships being prepared to face Northern cold and waters

Cloaks being made to withstand snow

Food being packed for a long voyage

Willas working late to get ready for the trip

A general odd sense of silence about what was next following the Tyrell declaration of neutrality (she didn't flatter she'd be part of the conversation but she found it odd she'd heard nothing).

Margaery not being betrothed to anyone new (and she'd certainly heard from two handmaids that three proposals from respectable families from the Reach for Margaery's hand had been turned down).

Looking down at the scrap of paper, her elegant script noting everything together she couldn't think of any other explanation.

The Tyrell's (or some of them) were planning to go North, possibly to treat with her brother.

It made her feel a rushing sense of excitement, and all together sense of fear.

The excitement was easy – oh to see her brother again! Her mother! To be with her family, the very thought made her want to jump up and down on her bed, sing out loud and be giddy! Just months earlier she couldn't have imagined such hope, and here it was, a possibility, and by what she had to go on, an increasing one.

To go North again, to see her family, to feel the crunch of snow, to pull Robb close, to have her Mother stroke her hair, it made her want to weep with joy.

But there was the fear too … the fear came from the very thing lacking in her notes, from her eavesdropping, from her discoveries.

Her.

There had been no cloak ordered for her, no mention to her of the plan, Willas hadn't said one word, nor anyone else. All that had been mentioned to her was the upcoming Ball, her taking some lessons from the Maester on the Highgarden accounts and the possibility of a trip to Cider Hall in the coming months, nothing else.

Which meant one of two things.

Either she'd gotten it wrong, there was no trip North, she'd misheard or misconstrued things, and her stomach sunk at the thought.

Or worse … there was a trip North coming, and she would play no part in it, wouldn't even be invited, and that thought made her feel sick.

Would Willas leave her behind? Turn his back on her and go North without her in tow? Would he deny her seeing her family? Seeing her homeland? Did he think she'd turn from him? Run into her Mothers arms and never return? Did he not trust her?

It didn't seem so – for what else could it be? He hadn't told her, last, she'd seen the ship builders had finished a week earlier, the cloaks had been delivered and the chefs seemed at ease now done with their overtime. It the trip was happening it had to be soon, and still none had told her.

She was being left behind.

All of those thoughts swirled over and over in her head as she'd eaten dinner the day after she'd made her list, near silent as food was consumed and she ignored hers, only nodding as Alerie asked her questions, offering only platitudes when Margaery tried to strike a conversation, nothing more.

Would they leave her behind? Would her new family get to see her family before she did? Could they be so cruel?

Left behind.

Two days after she'd arrived at her conclusions, she'd been ignored everyone. Willas thankfully had been holed up in his study and his rushed apologies had been easy to just nod at, and she had always feigned sleep by the time he came to bed. She had been going out of her way to hide from Margaery, Leonette and Alerie and had even heard two servants talking about her absence by the third day.

She knew she should act normal, not betray how much she knew and try to accept it, but she just couldn't. The very idea, that if they were going and not taking her … it made her feel so sad, so cold, she couldn't' stand the thought of pretending, of smiling and hiding behind her courtesies again, she had to hide herself away to bear it.

She longed for home, Willas knew that, perhaps not how much but he knew, surely? And the idea he'd deny that of her … she could hardly stand it.

And so, by the fifth day she had practically become a hermit. She ignored when Margaery had knocked on the door, had taken to long walks so to avoid lunch, and barely ate at dinner before rushing back to her rooms. She knew she was being foolish, acting so obvious, but the hurt at the idea of it, of being left behind, had settled in her stomach like a cold hard rock and would not go away.

She didn't cry, she wasn't sure why, perhaps she had used all of her tears in King's Landing.

After dinner on the fifth day she as usual pushed around her plate, shot to her feet before Leonette could grab her and was out of the room in a whirl of her skirts before any could stop her (Willas and Olenna had been absent from dinner all week so that made it easier),. From there she practically ran to her rooms to grab her cloak before she intended a long walk and then an early bedtime … or rather a night of wallowing and feigning sleep when Willas came in, in the early hours of the morning, to which she'd squeeze her eyes shut until she actually fell asleep.

It was a little childish she knew, not to ask anyone, not to speak plainly, but she couldn't stand the answer she knew she'd get, and so she avoided instead. Easier to not know than to confirm her worst fears.

It was a bit of a regression, to her unconfident self in King's Landing, to the fearful girl she had sworn to leave behind. Twice she had stood outside of Willas's study door, ready to confront him, ready to ask him, but both times her nerves had failed, and she had fled.

She knew what answer she would get, and she couldn't stand to get it.

Her head down she hurried into her rooms, was at the wardrobe quickly and back to the door in seconds, cloak in a fan as she pulled it around her, ready to head out before any could find her for the evening and night.

"Sansa"

Apparently, it was too late for that.

She froze, like a deer in the eyes of wolf, but did not turn, her hand clutching the doorknob, her cloak wrapped loosely around her, her eyes widening, she didn't move nor speak, not for a second, not as the sinking, cold feeling in her stomach hardened.

"I think we need to talk"

It was at that she turned around, in a whirl of her long purple skirts, to face the desk opposite, where she hadn't even glanced, where her husband stood, leaning against it, his eyebrow raised as he looked across at her, dark smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep, but the eyes themselves sharp as always.

She gulped, a little fear flickering through her, though as Willas raised his eyebrow she found her shoulders rolling back, the fear draining from her then as she looked across at him, her husband, the man she thought she might love, the man keeping her from her family.

"I think we do"

Chapter Text

She hadn't wanted this, no. Perhaps at the start of her marriage with Willas she would have matched in, demanded answers, and not left until getting them. Perhaps when she had been more confident, she would have been able to assert herself, but not now.

No, now she was almost back to her old self. Sansa's life over the past year or two had been almost like a boat ride, up and down, side to side.

She had been verbally tortured, mocked, humiliated, beaten. She had been treated as far from a noble lady as one could. She'd been abused, derided, and had somehow come out the other side. She had suffered, suffered pain few others could imagine or endure.

'My skin has turned my porcelain, to ivory, to steel'

It had turned for a reason, it had, had to turn, it was not a choice.

Every day she was thankful for the Tyrell's, for saving her from such hell, for rescuing her from Kings Landing, but she was no longer so naive. She knew they had, had as much to gain as she. She knew she was one of the key political matches of Westeros, and so though she was grateful, she was not as indebted as one might believe.

And she couldn't let that hold her back. She had such a fear of rocking the boat that she was not speaking her mind. Willas insisted she did, wanted her to come out of her shell, and with him she had, but she wasn't sure if he really wanted that.

Did he want her to speak her mind? Did he want her to confront and question him?

She knew things were different down South, had always looked up to those values. But now? Now she missed home so much and missed in many ways the Northern way of doing things.

In the North the Lord was Head of the Household but always listened to his wife, considered her opinion and considered her a key part of the running of a household, they were. Whereas the Lord ran the army, the finances, the Lady would guide the servants, take care of all of the populations needs, clothing, food, wellbeing. Each part complimented the other and had equal value and say. Hell, in the North several women ruled their own roosts.

In the South it seemed the Lady's operated more behind the scenes. Sansa was okay with that, but she couldn't quite understand the Tyrell dynamic. You had Willas on one hand, clearly commanding and in charge, and then Olenna, ruling the household even though not officially in charge. You had Margaery, wrapping her vines around a man from behind, Garlan as close to a Northerner as she'd seen in the South, noble and true, and then Loras completely uninterested in ruling.

Where did she fit in?

She loved Willas, she knew that now, he was kind and loving, smart, and funny, treated her like an adult whilst wanting to protect her. But did he love her? Did he want her to be herself?

What did Willas want? A dutiful wife to give him an heir? Or a woman who spoke her mind and was involved? On one hand he had always encouraged her to speak up and be strong, but he had also kept things from her.

She was so confused, felt so confused, hence why she had taken to avoiding her husband. Though now he hadn't given her a choice.

"As you said" Willas spoke, his voice lacking its usual warmth, evidently not waiting for her to start speaking. He didn't sound angry or upset, just neutral, almost cold; it unsettled her, and she took a step back, to press herself against the door. "We need to talk"

Was she going to see the Willas she had heard whispers about during her self-imposed cold shoulder? She remembered snatches she'd caught, so limited she was sure hardly any had seen Willas outside of the Lord persona he displayed to all.

To those who didn't know him Willas was a good Lord, kind and fair, extremely intelligent - that was what he was famed for, and tough, but not ruthless or cruel. To his family he was one of the three heads of household, always working for family first, putting Highgarden first, to her he had been a kind, humorous, loyal husband, but to his enemies he was apparently something else.

'Don't want to see Lord Willas when he's angry'

'No, it's worse when he's locked away with the Queen of Thorns, scheming'

'Yes; those two could give the Lannister's a run for their money'

That last snippet had made her blood run cold. She knew of course the Tyrell's were ambitious, but we're they as ruthless as all the other players? Apparently so.

She had reflected during her alone time just how little she knew Willas. He had charmed her of course and had been extremely kind, always there with a joke and a smile, but what did she know beyond that?

Very little.

Perhaps today she would find out

The question was, did she want to?

That didn't matter; she just needed to, she needed answers, she was done being in the dark, not asking questions, head down keeping quiet. Now was the time to hold her head high and ask, no, demand answers.

Though that was certainly easier said than done as she looked across at Willas, her husband, expression one of complete neutrality, so much so it was almost cold. She screwed her hands into fists, gripping the folds of her dress so tightly they might tear, but she did so to stop her hands shaking as they seemed to want to do.

"I need to know what you want" She blurted out; it was a bit on a tangent, as she actually wanted to know why he hadn't told her about the trip North, and yet her earlier question lingered on her mind; what did Willas want from her?

A pliant wife?

A dutiful bride?

An outspoken woman?

An equal?

Only he could tell her, and she knew then she'd asked the right question; only he could tell her this, and in doing so would determine how she treated him, their marriage and even this discussion going forward.

She couldn't go into this blind, not as she had in Kings Landing. She knew she already felt deeply for Willas, so perhaps it was too late, but she had to try and set some grounds now, to know what he wanted from her, and thus what her role was here.

He'd spoken to her about being confident, about telling him what was on her mind, but was that what he truly wanted? She supposed she was about to find out.

"What I want?" He repeated back to her, raising an eyebrow as though she'd asked something ridiculous, she supposed without the context of her own thoughts, she had.

"Yes" She said, doubling down though, she needed to know after all, "What do you want from me?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific Sansa" He said, and she felt something close to annoyance build in her. He was patronising her, condescending in his tone, waiting for her reply, almost as though he were mocking her.

Now that put some fire in her belly, no not fire, ice, hard, cold, furious ice, she was a Stark after all.

"Don't mock me" She fired back, red spots appearing high on her cheekbones, "I don't appreciate it"

"Well, I don't appreciate being ignored for days" He said back, but he didn't snap, didn't rise to anger, no, instead he seemed perfectly calm, but there was ice there too she could see; a coldness that spoke to his way of being angry, cold and furious, face wiped clean of any emotion, tone harsh, but no eruption, no temper. "So I guess we're both not happy with events"

It was if anything a little scarier than out right anger, for it were much harder to read.

Sansa felt she had become good at reading people in Kings Landing. Spending so much time in the background, so much time quiet, head down, listening, observing, she'd learnt how to recognise and note behaviour, words, tones, actions, posture, all of it. She'd become adept at understanding it too, but only when there was something to understand. Willas offered her nothing and was impossible to read.

Willas was a closed book, and for Sansa, powerless for so long, but only protected by courtesies and observation, it was hard to face.

But still she must, she was not a scared little girl anymore, and she vowed right there and then, hands clasped, stood in her room, facing her husband, that she never would be again.

"I…" She began, but what could she say? She'd hoped to have her position clear before she raised the actual issue at hand, but she could see that was not going to happen.

The whispers she'd heard…

'Don't want to see Lord Willas when he's angry'

'No, it's worse when he's locked away with the Queen of Thorns, scheming'

'Yes; those two could give the Lannister's a run for their money'

She knew Willas was ruthless, completely, and utterly ruthless in both protecting and advancing his family. He'd told her he considered her family, but what happened when family clashed with his politics?

Sansa supposed she was about to find out.

"Are you planning on taking me when you go North?" She asked. She hadn't wanted to ask outright, but she could tell Willas was adept at playing this game, gaining and giving information, only he gave nothing, leaving him only gaining.

He was good, as good as they said she realised, better.

She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or terrified, perhaps a mixture of both.

Willas betrayed no emotion that she knew, not a flicker of surprise, not even a hint of it. Part of her thought she'd caught him off guard, but it was impossible to tell.

"I haven't decided" Honesty, something in her eased; she'd prefer that to lies, though she understood lies had their power, her Father had been wrong in putting honesty so high in importance, but she hoped for truth with her husband.

Hoped.

"Haven't decided?" She asked, sounding a touch incredulous. His tone acted like he was talking about whether he wanted to go for a stroll or not, not that he was deciding whether she could be reunited with the family she'd been taken away from for years. How could he be so casual?

Because he's so good, better, that's how.

"No" He said pushing himself away from the desk then, his cane tapping on the floor as he placed it down, again he gave away nothing, "My Grandmother said no, not a chance, I argued you'd be coming" Her heart lifted a touch, but her eyebrows knitted together in confusion; what was there to decide?

Was she going home? She had never dared hope, and yet the expression on Willas's face meant she didn't quite hope yet either. She couldn't have it snuffed out, not again.

Especially not by him.

"However, I'm considering the reasons she didn't want you to come, and what that would mean for our family" He said, as though again considering something menial, not something so important to Sansa. She wondered if that was his way of coming across, or if he truly cared so little about something so important to her.

"Did you consider what I wanted?" She asked, her voice raising a little bit. She could feel tears biting at her eyes, tears always came to her when frustrated, but she bit down hard on her lip to keep them at bay, she didn't want to cry, couldn't seem weak, not now.

"Of course" He said.

"You didn't ask me" She accused.

"I already knew what you wanted Sansa" He offered, "And I already knew you knew, it wasn't hard to guess"

"Then what's your decision? And why don't I get a say?" She threw back. So much for gauging the situation.

"You clearly do" Willas said, his voice raising just a touch as well, some irritation coming into his tone as he looked across at her, "Because the right thing to do, for the family, would be to leave you here" He sounded a touch frustrated, and for some reason that took some of the fight out of her, as did his next words, almost completely, "That would be by far the right thing to do, the only reason I'm even considering bringing you is because it's what you want"

"It's the right thing to do" She said, she wasn't sure why she said, perhaps to give another reason? But Willas's eye roll put paid to that.

"That has no relevance" He said, almost with a scoff, "Come on Sansa you are far too smart to think the morally correct decision has any impact on my decision making"

She paled a little at that and went to nod but stopped herself. She knew that was true, no one in the South considered what was right, what was good and righteous, they only considered their ambition, their grasp for power.

There was too much of the North in her to ever be like that. Sure, she wasn't quite as righteous as she once had been, learning the importance of lies, deception and hard decisions, but she'd never be like this, ruthless and unrepentant about it, her Father had raised her to be a Northerner, and at heart a Northerner she would always be.

"Then what does?" Her voice almost dropped to a whisper.

Willas seemed to cool at that, his mask of neutrality breaking, a sad smile coming to his face. Clearly he could see she was upset, and she was glad to know, cheered just a touch, that, that mattered to him.

"You Sansa" He said, coming over to her, one of his hands coming to cup her cheek, and she hated herself a little for leaning in, though she wasn't sure why, "You are the only reason, you and how you feel, and how much I want to make you happy, are the only reasons you're coming with us"

Her heart fluttered then, eyes widened, hope flared again – dare she hope? "Really?"

"Yes" He said, but his smile remained a touch sad, and that saddened her.

It was dawning on Sansa the two people she'd seen today; Willas her husband, the man she was sure she loved, kind now, holding her close, smile kind, and then Willas the Lord of Highgarden, ruthless, a little scary.

Could she love both? Should she? She didn't even know how to deal with his worst side, and only knew he'd come away from it for her. Was that power? Did she want it?

So many questions, she felt like she'd been dunked in water and submerged, but her ears remained filled with water, her vision blurry, her mind not as quick., Sparring with Willas was so far out of her wheelhouse.

It taught her an important lesson. Sansa had come far in Kings Landing, learning, observing, lying, but she was not anywhere near Willas's level.

And she'd do well to remember that, for more reasons than one.

"Yes" He said with a nod, "I know I could never leave you behind"

"But you said … you decide on what's best for the family" She wasn't sure why she raised that, stupid really, but it had just come out.

"You're my family too" He said, and at that she managed a smile, a small one but a smile all the same. Something still felt uneasy, to see Willas be so cold with her, so detached, it was the first time she had seen it, and she had a creeping worry it wasn't the last.

"But Sansa" He pulled away then, though he didn't put back on his mask, though his expression was seirous, "I want to make something very clear to you"

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest, hard, she could hear it in her ears almost.

"You can come, you can see your family, but make no mistake" He said, serious expression remaining, "You're coming home with me"

She nodded again, though felt something wilt a touch. As much as she cared for Willas – and she did truly, even his ruthless side, which she knew she'd need to learn to accept, hard as it would be. As much as she cared for her husband … if she could she'd go home in a heartbeat.

But that wasn't an option, not even with this trip, she knew that, though it didn't take the pain out of the blow.

"You have to understand Sansa" Willas began, and she was surprised, surprised to see him justifying his actions, he hadn't done that before – perhaps he really did care what she thought.

That lifted her a little, but it was like running down a hill and then back up it. Up and down, up and down; why could she have balance?

She'd left that behind she supposed, the second she'd climbed into that carriage to go South. She'd once thought balance, easiness, quiet, was boring; oh how she longed for it now.

And yet she knew in her bones, as much as she wished she didn't, that she likely wouldn't be getting it for a while, perhaps not ever again. So was her life now.

Yet, it was infinitely better than it had been, she had to remember that.

"We risked everything to bring you into the family" Willas continued, "And I'm glad we did, so glad, for more reasons than Tyrell ambition, but we have to consider everything" A touch vague, but it was something, "We have to consider what losing you would mean, and again, not just for the Tyrell's, but for me too"

She smiled up at him then, to hear what he was trying to say to her between the lines, between his words lay the true meaning; not only did he consider what losing her would mean for the Tyrell's plans and schemes, but he didn't want to lose her either.

"I don't want to lose you" He said then, her smile perhaps prompting him to say it plainly, and from there it only grew.

There was much to still be sorted, and she knew, she knew they still had so much to discuss, both about the trip and beyond, and yet for that moment, it was enough, Willas's words, his decision, they were enough.

And so, she went into his arms, her head against his chest, his arm wrapping around her back, holding her to him, where she belonged now, though she was thankful she'd see her family again, perhaps home oneday, she knew this was her home now, this was where she'd stay, live and die.

Would that be so bad? Homesickness curled up in her again, but then she felt Willas's lips brush against her cheek, considered his earlier words, considered his ruthlessness for his family, which he too deemed her part of, considered what that all meant.

There was much still to determine, and yet for now, in Willas's arms, with the promise of her family, even if it meant not going home … it was enough.

For now.

Chapter Text

The wind was fierce.

She'd rarely travelled by boat, normally by foot or horse. The North had no navy to speak of, and she had hardly travelled outside of it before coming South. She remembered one boat ride, up the Long Lake for a visit to the Wall, but it was nothing like this.

When they'd boarded, she'd been a touch nervous, Margaery teasing her about soft bellies on the ship, Willas promising her Northern constitution would see her right. She'd been worried she'd spend the journey ill below or would perhaps sway back and forth on the deck, unwell and clutching her stomach the whole way.

But it was the opposite.

She felt free.

The wind whipped against her face, smattering her red curls (which for once she left down, freed from her plaits for the first time in a long time), about her pale face, rippling in the air like flames. Her cheeks were stinged a pretty pink from the wind, but when any sailor expressed concern, or Margaery asked if she needed to sit down she just shook her head.

The wind, the spray of the ocean air (perhaps her Tully side helped her there), it made her feel like a bird, flying free over the narrow sea, flying across the Trident and to home, to the North. For once the idea of being a bird didn't remind her of being caged, didn't make her recoil, as though she were in Kings Landing again, wings clipped, stuffed away, no, it made her feel like she was flying, floating free on magnificent wings.

Willas seemed to enjoy her joy of the boat travel, smiling whenever he came to the deck. He spent more time below deck, working as always, as did Olenna, but Margaery was her regular companion on the deck, though she disliked the sea smell, and spent less time just revelling in the currents as Sansa did.

Willas did join her, at least twice a day, either to walk her around the ship ('So people don't think you're frozen to the mast' He japed at her, to which she giggled), or to stand with her, arms looping around her shoulders, watching the sea as it went by.

It was blue, clear as far as the eye could see. She didn't spend much time on the other side of the ship, looking back to Westeros, but rather out into the blue, again that felt freeing, away from the place she called home yes, but the place that was also home to the horrors she'd endured.

"Have you ever wished you could leave Westeros?" She wasn't sure why she asked the question, one she'd been pondering for the past week on the boat herself, turning it over in her mind.

Westeros for her felt tainted almost. She missed home fiercely of course, missed the North, Winterfell, her home, but part of her wished to fly across the sea, like a bird, wings out, floating aloft, out and away from the place that had caused her so much pain.

The North first yes, but there was a part of her, growing stronger with each second on the ship that longed for whatever lay beyond the sparkling sea before her.

'What's West of Westeros?' Arya had asked Maester Luwin once.

Sansa had scoffed, rolled her eyes, 'Who cares?' She'd said, 'Tell us more about Kings Landing'

A stupid, foolish girl, that was what she had been, eyes closed, ignorant.

But her eyes were open now.

"What makes you ask?" Willas threw back and Sansa just resisted rolling her eyes, Willas so often loved answering a question with a question, something which he'd grinned at peevishly when she'd pointed it out.

Things were good between them, better than they had been, still difficult, for Sansa knew Willas didn't want her to leave, didn't really want her to come North, was worried about her turning her back on him. Sansa was worried she'd do the same, she near loved Willas, but her family came first.

So far they'd settled in a sort of truce, hand in hand on the deck of the ship, evening falling, neither spoke of what was to come, hence Sansa's conversation topic at hand.

"I don't know" She said with a little shrug, as they stood side by side, her back to Willas's chest, her eyes fixed on the sea, as the pretty orange of the sky cast patterns over it. "Just curious"

"Once or twice" Willas said with a nod, and she knew without looking he had his contemplative face on, "I'd like to see more of the world"

"I meant permanently" She said, she shouldn't have; dangerous topic, but the sea air made her comfortable, perhaps too much so.

"Planning on stealing away to Valyria?" Willas teased, and Sansa grinned; she still had to watch what she said in Highgarden, even in front of her new family, she was no fool to be loose lipped, but she didn't need to be quite so vigilant as she had been in Kings Landing.

Still, some of her walls would never be coming down, perhaps not even if she wanted them to.

"Perhaps" Sansa said with a grin, and giggled as Willas tickled her a touch, before she rested back again, a little drowsy as night came closer, stealing away the sun.

She didn't mind though; the ocean was just as beautiful under the twinkle of stars as it was under the midday sun. She even preferred the night sometimes; she liked the quiet.

Sansa had, had so little quiet over the past years, always forced to court or a walk with someone she didn't like, or hustled along to a dinner. Sometimes it was nice now just to bask in the silence.

Though the Tyrell's didn't offer much of it, which she didn't mind.

Life with the Tyrell's was easy, they wanted for nothing, there was no real danger when locked up in Highgarden, and Willas was a good husband. It just wasn't home, wasn't her real family.

It was a dilemma messing with her head, home or Willas? Was Willas home now? What had he said to her?

'I'm your family'

He was, but was it enough?

"I can't think about leaving Westeros, I'm Lord of one of its Kingdoms" He paused then, "Or will be" A slip she noted, Willas wasn't quite Lord yet, but he and many others thought of him as much. She did manage a smile at that, Willas was getting comfortable around her as she was him, she liked that. "And you'll be the Lady, no absconding to the Free Cities for you"

She nodded and found a smile touching her lips, Willas was right of course, and as he took her hand and led her to their cabin she followed without protest, neither of them could leave, and she didn't want to, not really, though as he took her away, she did look back at the sea, at West.

'What's West of Westeros?'

Secretly she wished to find out for herself.

The next morning was different, they were awoken by the call of the sailors, 'To anchor' and that had Sansa bolting up in her seat, that meant only one thing.

They'd docked.

She tried not to seem excited, but Willas just smiled indulgently at her as she hurried up, washing with the limited facilities and dressing quickly.

"Where are we?" She asked, quickly tying the corset at her back, she'd been offered a maid on the boat but had refused, she was more than capable of sorting herself out, and knew no Southern maid would volunteer for a weeks long voyage and then being up North. She was quick in lacing up her gown, of a light blue colour, no adornments but a pretty silver broach, her hair plaited back in the traditional Northern rather than Southern style, before turning back to Willas, who himself was dressed too, and smiling at her.

"We've just docked at the Fever River"

A little gasp left Sansa's lips, almost strangled, and her eyes widened.

They were in the North.

"I thought we were travelling around Dorne?" She asked, it was the reason they'd left quickly, had even postponed the welcome home ball, for the time they'd need to make would be tight, but then she wasn't surprised she wasn't in the loop on travel plans.

She knew it should bother her, and did a little that she was completely left out of the Tyrell Inner Circle, but then part of her understood; they couldn't fully trust her yet, hence how she'd almost been left off the trip, it hurt a little, but she was a stranger to them in some ways still, a foreigner, married into their house.

Her name may be Sansa Tyrell, and she may feel at home in Highgarden, but her and Willas had been married less than 6 months, she had a long ways to go to become a Tyrell.

If she even wanted to.

Sansa Tyrell … in her head she still said Sansa Stark, and knew she would, perhaps forever.

'I am a Stark, I can be brave'

Stark, Tyrell, which was she?

"No, it would take too long" Willas said, "The Captain came back with far too long a sail plan, and so we risked sneaking past Casterly Rock, put our sigils down when passing the Crowlands and sailed fast" Willas said, as he buttoned his waistcoat, or attempted to, difficult with one hand, and Sansa quickly took over.

"Makes sense" She said, and smiled at him, her husband, as she finished his buttons.

They lingered for a second, Willas leaning down to brush his lips to hers, a little sigh of contentment leaving her lips as he did so.

She knew she loved Willas, or was close to doing so, it was just difficult to consider, to give herself completely to her husband, when home lay so close.

It was like a tug of war inside of her, which side would win?

She wouldn't leave Willas, he'd made it clear what that meant, and she knew, she knew this trip was more than just discussing holding off the Lannister's and Stannis as Margaery had claimed, it was just difficult, out of the loop as she was.

"Lets go" Willas held out his arm for her and Sansa grinned, barely able to hold off her excitement, and as they stepped out onto deck, and a little strangled squeak left her lips, she couldn't.

She was home.

The crisp Northern air, the sprinkle of snow on the deck, the ice on the water. This was the North. Winterfell was far, and her heart still felt the tug to go further North, trudging deeper into the snow and back to her old home, but this, the smell of winter in the air, it was enough.

It was more than enough.

'Winter is coming'

'Winter is here'

Winter had come to the North, not the true winter, not yet, and yet the snow had tears trickling down her cheeks, it wasn't quite cold enough to freeze them, and yet as Willas pulled on his cloak and offered her, hers she shook her head, and Willas offered no protest as she unhooked his arm from his, just for a second.

She might have looked like a fool, and not a proper Southern Lady, but for once she didn't care, for once her appearance, her courtesy was the last thing on her mind.

Sansa Stark raised her arms around her, and just walked in a circle, the snow feathering down on her, as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

She was home.

It was freezing.

They'd moved to horseback now, having travelled as far as they could by sea, and it was another two days to White Harbour at a good pace, as they intended to, especially with the cold biting at them.

And yet Sansa, cloaked now at his insistence, she didn't seem to care about it being cold. He almost laughed at Margaery shivering under two cloaks on her horse, whilst Sansa's was open as she rode through the snow, her cheeks stung a pretty pink, eyes wide with awe and joy.

He'd never seen her quite so happy, and that both thrilled and worried him in turn.

He remembered their conversation, his frank admission that he couldn't lose her, both for his feelings and for the Tyrell's, what they'd risked, their ambitions, she'd be coming home with him, for that, and he thought she wanted to, to come back with him, to be with him, just not completely.

He wasn't hurt by it, he knew he'd be the same in her position, and so his emotions weren't the things in limbo.

In fact, if he were thinking purely to make Sansa happy, as he so wanted to, he'd have let her go, would have kissed her hand, and said goodbye, sent her to Winterfell. It would kill him he knew, he cared for his little wife deeply already, it would burn and bitter him, but he'd do it, to see her smile as she was now.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of thinking with just his emotions, there was more at play, more at stake, much more.

He knew he couldn't force her to stay, technically he could, as his wife she was technically his to do with as he pleased, but that thought alone made him recoil, he couldn't force her, but he could certainly impress upon Robb Stark that the alliance of theirs was contingent on Sansa staying as Sansa Tyrell.

As said, he didn't have the luxury.

"Have you really thought this through brother?" Margaery came up next to him then, Sansa riding a little faster with Loras, clearly enjoying being out in the Northern open, though she often looked back to grin at him, which warmed his heart.

"Thought what through sister?" He asked, eyes narrowing, he never appreciated his position being questioned.

"Look at her" Margaery hissed, her nose red, as she nodded at Sansa, "Dressed in Tully blue, grinning from ear to ear, arms out in the snow" Margaery even seemed worried, Willas knew she'd become fast friends with Sansa, and didn't want to see her leave either, "How do you know she'll come home with us?"

"She will" Willas said without hesitation.

"Will she?" Margaery said incredulously.

"She knows where we stand" Was all he offered, though he paused before continuing, Margaery was one of the few people he let in on his plans.

And one of the few people he could show his ruthless side to, Sansa not included on that list. She'd seen some of it, and would likely see more, but he didn't need his wife to see just how bad he could be in the name of family and ambition.

Family, Duty, Honour.

Family, Power, Money.

"And if she doesn't" He paused then, "There are other ways to skin a cat"

Margaery nodded, "You won't hurt her?"

"Never" He shot back immediately, "And don't ask me that again sister" He hated to be serious with Margaery, and her eyes widened but she nodded.

There were no luxuries in his life at the moment it seemed.

"Willas" He smiled then, forcing his brooding away (which he knew he did far too much), as Sansa rode back to him, "Isn't it wonderful?" She asked, and he found himself truly smiling then, as did Margaery even as she snuggled under her cloak, Sansa's happiness was infectious, even his men smiled at her.

She'd be a good Lady of Highgarden, he just had to make sure she got there.

"It is" He said with a nod, he found he didn't mind the cold too much, but he preferred the sun immensely. His leg ached in the freeze, and he knew administering this kind of region would have its unique challenges in this climate, something he was glad he didn't have to deal with.

He supposed there was less backstabbing and lying, which might be a respite, were he not so good at it.

"How many days ride are we?" Margaery asked then, her voice a touch muffled from the layers, to which Willas and Garlan and Loras who'd joined all laughed, Margaery offering them each a glare in turn.

"About two" Sansa spoke up first and Willas smiled, she likely knew the land better than all of them, "The Manderley's are fantastic hosts" She said with a nod, "And White Harbour is truly beautiful"

"Are you excited to see your family Sansa?" Loras asked then and Willas resisted the urge to shoot his brother a glare; they hardly needed to remind Sansa what things lay here for her.

"Very" Sansa said with that pretty grin of hers, she truly looked happy, and it killed Willas a touch that she had never looked quite so happy with him.

Though it was eased as she looked back at him, "And I'm excited for Willas to meet them"

"When are they due to arrive?" Robb asked, hurrying between tables of the Main Hall at White Harbour, several men following him.

"Two days Your Grace" Olyvar Frey said, his squire and Robb nodded at him, dismissing him there and then.

"We must make sure we are ready" Robb said.

And ready they would be.

Winterfell had been retaken; he had sat at the front himself. It had been short and bloody, they had found the Iron Born decimated, and Roose Bolton's bastard son Ramsey in place. His army had been so thin and starving, under torture of the mad boy they had surrendered speedily, those hadn't had been cut down quickly, and he had personally lopped Ramsey Bolton's head off.

There had been no time for rest, barely time to fall to his knees and weep to have back his home, only time to fly the Stark sigil again and then head South to meet the Tyrell's.

Several Castles remained under Iron Born control, and he had sent men to deal with several, but others would be more of a challenge. The North was far from liberated, and only the Tyrell's abandoning the Lannister cause had allowed him to ease his forces out of the Riverland's, only shoring up the Tully forces with Northerners.

Right now, they remained in a stale mate with the Lannister's, peace was likely never impossible, but both sides were battered by lack of supplies, tired men, and large territories to protect.

Only the Tyrell's sat in the middle, plump and plush, well fed and 'neutral'.

He hoped not for long.

But he also knew they'd want something for their food, their grain and the support to see the Lannister's banished from their territories once and for all. Robb knew they wouldn't lend their support to see him rule the Riverlands and North, they wanted more.

Part of him wished he could just take the North and Riverlands, leave the sorry South to it.

But there was more to think of, Sansa, now Sansa Tyrell, his sister for one, and the Lannister's wouldn't sit on the Throne and allow them independence for long, Robb didn't care who got the damn seat (himself among them), but he knew the Lannister's would strike back and so needed to be eliminated.

But his men were tired, weary, and they needed help, support, food and soldiers if they wanted to root the Lannister's out for good, make them pay for his Father's death, and ensure Northern independence.

For that they needed the Tyrell's.

Robb had bid them come, and he nodded at his Mother as she hurried to his side, but he was wary as to what they would want.

"Is everything ready?" His Mother asked and Robb nodded. He still sported a nasty gash on his cheek from a blow he'd taken at Winterfell, and knew he perhaps didn't look kingly, bar the crown circling his head, hence his Mothers raised eyebrow.

"I will obviously change" He mocked, and his Mother tutted him before giving him a smile, "But showing off for the Southerners is not my priority"

"No" His Mother said with a shake of her head, "But you must look like a King"

"I am a King" Robb said confidently, "It doesn't matter to be dressed in finery, I won't play their game"

"Be careful I beg you Robb" His Mother said, "They have your sister"

"Not for long"

After all this meeting wasn't just about the Tyrell's, it wasn't just about their support, which he doubted he'd get, and if they didn't? If they left this not allies, not fighting side by side? There was no way he'd let them take Sansa with them.

"I'll make sure they're either our allies, or I'll take Sansa back Mother" Robb said, a promise that burned in him, and his Mother only pulled him into a tight hug, close and he pulled her close too, needing that comfort.

He could show no weakness when the Tyrell's arrived, he was a King, and he would need to show it.

"Your Grace!" It was only an hour later, when he was overseeing the welcome feast – though feast was putting it strongly, of course they would offer food and drink, and would show the Northern style of food and celebration, but they were at war, he wasn't about to have unnecessary expenses to try and impress people who had been in bed with the Lannister's just weeks earlier.

"What is it?" He asked, turning his head to see Olyvar hurrying towards him, parchment in hand.

"It is a letter from the Watch" He said, holding it out to him, "From your half-brother"

"Jon" Robb said, a smile lighting his face for the first time in weeks. He hurriedly took the letter and dismissed his squire, opening it within a second, cracking the seal, and near tearing it open.

'Brother,

I am sorry it took me so long to write back, I have just returned from a mission Beyond the Wall and much happened there, much I wish I could tell you of.

I will in person.

I ride quickly for White Harbour brother, not just to aid you, but to beg the air of you.

I come with the permission of the Watch, for we have much need of a King at the Wall.

I will ride hard and fast brother and will see you soon.

Jon'

Chapter Text

"Report!"

White Harbour was usually a seat of lots happening, as one of the largest Keeps in the North it was used to being busy, overseeing a great deal of trade, from the East, South and even further. It was used to sending troops out in support for skirmishes along the coasts, and was used to seeing lots of people coming through.

But not like this.

Now they were hosting the King, their King, regardless of their Gods, they were loyal to the Stark's, always, and Robb Stark in particular, the King who'd seen their independence, and was at that moment overseeing a meeting in the main hall, surrounded by his version of a Small Council (for wartime, he'd name a formal one come the end of the war, whenever that may be), whilst men bustled around him, getting ready for the Tyrell visit.

Though Robb had other matters to solve as well.

"The Iron Born have been driven from Deepwood Motte, and the rest found and cut down, all lands in the North are now free, though some raiding gangs still exist, and Balon Greyjoy keeps ships close to our shores" Lord Wyman spoke quickly, for he was the Master of Ships in the North. "Positive news but not quite over yet"

"Send out two groups of men, fifty each, those who didn't fight on the front down South, have them comb the areas the Iron Born harmed" Robb barked out quickly, well used to making decisions on the fly now, as was often necessary, "Deepwood Motte, Torrhens Square, and Moat Calin, make sure they ask for Lord Reeds assistance around the Moat" Robb emphasised and Wyman nodded, likely the raven would be flying as soon as this conversation was over.

"Of course your, Grace" Lord Wyman said and Robb nodded, though it still sounded odd to him, 'Your Grace', he was a King yes, but they would not be independent until the war was won, he'd won battles, but no war, not yet.

"The Riverlands hold your Grace but are struggling following the damage inflicted by the Lannisters" Lord Tully, his Uncle spoke and Robb nodded, the Riverlands had been hit hard in the war.

"Ensure any of the former Lord Frey's food stores are distributed to those most in need" Robb said with a nod, "And assure the men of the Riverlands they can spend time repairing now, the Lannister's won't encroach on us"

"How can you be sure your Grace?" Lord Flint asked, though he looked nervous to do so, good, some fear from his men was healthy, but only some.

He wasn't Tywin Lannister ruling with an iron fist alone, he did not rule purely by fear but respect and admiration also.

"The Lannister's lost the Tyrell's Lord Flint, they are struggling, they don't have the men to launch another assault, nor the supplies" Robb said, and the words alone caused him satisfaction. He still felt some resentment for the Tyrell's for their neutrality for only fighting when they felt they could gain something, but then he shouldn't be surprised, the Southerners had no honour, still he might need them, likely did need them.

He was no fool, he knew they were struggling with a lack of men, lack of numbers, not just for when the Lannister's inevitably assaulted again, but for tilling the fields, manning the castles, helping repair the Riverlands and the North, they needed more food, more supplies, more men, and the Tyrell's could do all of that.

He needed them, but if the price were too high … well, he'd find out soon.

"How far is my sister?" Robb asked then, he should have asked about the Tyrell contingent, but that he cared for less, he wanted his sister back, he knew his Mother (who was overseeing the preparations for their arrival with a devotion he'd hardly seen matched), felt the same. Practically the Tyrell's coming was more important but emotionally? He wanted his sisters return.

"A days ride your Grace" Olyvar piped up, "She'll arrive on tomorrow afternoon"

"We will feast on the night then" Robb said and the men nodded, "Ensure ale and food is distributed in good quantities to the men too" They had sent about a tenth of every force home, to see to the harvest, recuperate, and he intended, once he had spoken to the Tyrell's to send more, and only keep a force ready on the Northern border … all depending on the outcome with the Tyrell's of course.

"Ensure they feast well" Robb said and the men smiled, taking care of his men was just as, if not more important than entertaining, they were the backbone of his rule, his Father had once said that to him, and he was not to forget it.

"And Jon?" He asked then, and hated the crack in his voice, the thought of seeing Jon again … it made him near woop in victory, but he was nervous to, for the news he marched down South.

He couldn't fight on all fronts, the Lannister's, the Ironborn, the politics with the Tyrell's, and now Beyond the Wall too? It all near conspired to give him a headache.

But he was the King in the North, the Nights Watch was his responsibility and his alone now, he'd need to help them, and he would, where he could.

Too many fronts to fight on …

Yes, he needed the Tyrell's.

"About a weeks ride your, Grace" Olyvar piped in and Robb nodded then.

"Ensure everything is ready for tomorrow" He said, and with a nod, the men stood and bowed their heads, and he made his way outside, there was no Godswood in White Harbour but there was one in the Wolfs Den, it was good to think in, to have some quiet, and so as he stepped outside he turned to there.

He could use the quiet, there was much to do, much to think on, wars to be won.

He rode, and he rode hard.

The road and snow disappeared behind him, fast and quick. Even in the areas where the road was so degraded, he had to slow he barely did. He dug his heels in, urged his mare forward and hurried.

There was no time, they were out of time already, had needed intervention years ago, but now was all they had, and they had to do something, anything.

He'd returned back to the Wall with the knowledge that the Wildlings were coming, they were coming en'masse and they would not be stopped. He'd been allowed back into the Watch (barely), and tasked (exiled really), with getting support from the King in the North.

He wasn't sure the Watch even believed his story, of 100,000 wildlings coming for them, but he'd seen the fear in their eyes, and so he rode, and he rode hard, towards his brother, towards the King, and hopefully towards help.

The Watch didn't get involved in political squabbles, but they'd always been able to rely on the Stark's, his family … or as close as, and so Jon knew, he hoped, that Robb would help, for they needed it, they needed it desperately.

And so, he rode and rode, urging his horse forward, sword at his hip, alone on the road, for he was faster alone (though Ghost rode next to him, never far from his side now he'd been retrieved from Crasters, his last task before leaving), and fast he needed to be.

Jon trusted Robb would help, he had to trust that, for what else, who else did they have? The damn Southerners would never listen to them.

He just had to hope Robb would come for them, to help them, for they sorely needed it.

And so, he rode, harder and harder, like flying on the wing of a bird.

He rode fast.

It was cold, freezing actually, the snow light for the North but a shock to anyone not used to it.

For her it was like riding a horse, as soon as she'd returned home to the North the South had seemed oppressive in comparison, the fresh breeze surged into her lungs and allowed her the first proper lungful of air in what seemed like forever, the snow was the perfect temperature, cold but refreshing and crisp, stinging her cheeks. She'd become used to the North again in mere minutes.

This was home, this was where she belonged, where she'd always belonged.

Or had once, did again? She didn't know.

Where was home?

She knew Highgarden was her home now, or supposed to be, and infinitely better than Kings Landing, perhaps second to everywhere but the North, but home. But then Highgarden was her home, as Lady Sansa Tyrell that was where she belonged.

It just didn't feel like it.

The snow, the cold, the rolling mountains, pine trees, the sigils of the Northern homes as they rode past the keeps. This was where she'd grown up, this was the land of her Father, her Grandfather and his Father before him, her family, the Stark legacy. It was hard to let go of.

'There must always be a Stark in Winterfell'

Once she'd dreamed of the South, now she wasn't sure she wanted to go back, ever.

It was hard with the home sickness she'd experienced, with the knowing she'd never live in the North again, especially as she'd dreamed of it for so long whilst stuck in the Capitol, almost it had been her strength, the thought she'd return home one day. It was as Willas had said; he was the Lord of Highgarden, or would be, his place was there, and as his wife so was hers, there would be no living in the North again.

Part of her loved Highgarden, the fresh scent, the people, so happy and joyous, the sun, the warmth on her skin, the beautiful keep and the amazing gardens, the effort everyone made to make her feel welcome, Margaery a good friend to her, Willas, the man she thought she loved, it just wasn't the North, it wasn't home.

But then she had to remember who had got her out of Kings Landing, who had saved her; her husband, the Tyrell's, her new home.

She knew her ideal situation would be Willas moving to Winterfell with her, but she knew that wasn't possible, beyond fantasy.

Sansa knew she'd have to make her peace eventually, visit Winterfell and home when she could but live in Highgarden, that was her future to make her peace with, and for now she should just appreciate the North, appreciate and enjoy her time here … whilst she had it.

And she would, she already had, the smile practically frozen onto her face, only the niggling, the need to stay here ruined it a touch, though she tried to force it to the back of her head. Tried.

They'd set up tents for the night, to which the Tyrell's (bar Willas) had been shocked. It wasn't like the South here, an inn and keep around every corner, there were vast stretches between any settlements, and here just North of Moat Calin there was nothing but woods and fields, mountains and the occasional ruined tavern, nothing more.

And so, the tents had been set, dinner had been stew eaten around a large fire and then everyone had turned in. It was cold, the ride had been hard (again the North differed in many ways, a distinct lack of full stretches of habitable road being just one), and everyone was tired from being on horseback all day.

And yet, here now, lying next to Willas she couldn't sleep, not a wink. She hadn't even shut her eyes, knowing sleep wouldn't come, it evaded her. Though she wasn't alone in her sleeplessness, Willas was awake next to her.

Though he was working, propped up, a candle burning next to him, some letters in hand, a quill in the other, eyebrow raised. She knew he didn't sleep much, often she went to bed before him and he'd wake her when sliding in next to her, or she'd fall asleep at the window seat waiting for him and wake up to him guiding her to bed with him.

"What's on your mind" Willas spoke then, jolting her out of her thoughts, as she realised her cheeks flaming red, she'd been gawping at him. For he was busying himself with work and she was just staring off into space…or at him.

"Nothing" She said, far too quickly, and Willas turned to her with a smirk. He was truly handsome, and she managed a little grin at that.

It sometimes felt like a war inside of her; wanting to stay with her husband, and wanting to stay here, her home. Which would she choose?

Though she supposed she didn't really have a choice, it had been made for her … though she'd made it too of course, in agreeing to marry Willas, but what was the alternative? Marrying a Lannister? She was happy for her marriage though, loved Willas, but…

Ugh! She felt like screaming, every time she tried to think it through in her head it got so tangled up, she could barely think!

"Just…" She began as Willas continued to look at her, doubtful to her explanation. She'd become so good at lying in Kings Landing, a skill she didn't want to hold onto but knew was of use to her in the Capitol, and the wider South in truth, "I just … find it hard to know I'll never live here again" Why did she not want to tell Willas? Worry he'd whisk her home? Be angry? Not understand? She didn't know, but she didn't want to keep things from him.

She'd seen how that had turned out before after all.

"I understand" He said gently, and she offered him a smile then, especially as he put his papers to one side and held out an arm to her, and she happily went into his embrace.

Sansa felt safe there, in Willas's arms. It was the same feeling she'd had in Winterfell, safety, security, it felt right.

Hence the tearing in her heart, right down the middle.

"I knows its hard, and I'm sorry things worked out this way" He said gently, stroking her shoulder with his thumb as she snuggled into his chest, allowing her eyes to close as he spoke, his words soothing her. "I'm sorry you didn't have many choices"

"It's not your fault" She jumped in, but let out a sigh, "Women don't have choices" Something she'd come to learn, something Margaery had alluded to, they had it much worse, and much more to lose.

'Women must make the best of their circumstances'

There was only truth in that.

"I want you to be happy" Willas said, gentle again and she managed a smile, she was lucky here, in who she'd married, that she knew for sure.

"I am" She said but cringed as she knew Willas would be doubting her again. She felt a need then to continue, "Truly, I am happy with you, so happy, and happy in Highgarden, with Margaery and your family, and everyone is kind, and it is beautiful" She paused then, whilst she was speaking truths … "I just miss the North, miss it fiercely"

"I know" He said, tone still kind, "If I could wave my hands and make it all okay I would"

"I know you would" She said, because she did no, there was no fixing it, no bringing together her two worlds, her two loves – home (and her family with it), and Willas.

It was impossible.

"But we'll visit" Willas offered, "Which will be easier when the war is won, and your family are welcome anytime in Highgarden" He said, "And I promise I will do everything I can to make Highgarden your home"

"Can we visit once a year?" She asked, biting down on her lip, knowing it was long, with the journey and visit easily being a month out of the cycle.

"Absolutely" Willas didn't hesitate in his reply, and she found herself grinning, she knew he was trying, and she loved him for that, she truly did.

And it just came out.

"Willas I…I love you" She didn't mean to say it, didn't want to say it, perhaps it was too soon, she was nervous to say it, and yet she felt it, she knew in her heart she felt it. This wasn't some crush, nothing silly, she loved Willas, she did, and she supposed for blurting it out, she wanted him to know it.

There was a pause, not long, but it felt longer, her heart thudding in her chest and practically migrating to her ears, it was only a few seconds, but felt like an hour, until Willas was sitting her up, turning her to face him.

The candle was low, flickering shadows across the room, and yet she could see Willas's smile, not a smirk, a smile, filled with happiness, so much so it almost made her heart explode.

"I love you too Sansa" He said, and he sounded so sincere she could cry.

Her heart continued to tear, for the North, for her family, for home … but perhaps, just perhaps it began to heal a touch, if this is what she could have in the South, as hard as it would be to leave home for good, to leave her family, perhaps this was enough.

And as Willas's lips descended on hers, and she clung to him like a life raft, like the man she loved; which she did, it felt like enough, more so.

"I love you…"

And she did.

Chapter Text

She was here.

And she couldn't quite believe it.

As they arrived at the Great Keep of White Harbour, of House Manderly, she knew she was shaking in her boots, hands trembling by her sides. Thankfully, as Willas was acting as Lord of House Tyrell here, and as Heir he would enter first, she by his side, Olenna, Margaery and Loras would follow.

She would enter first and see her family for the first time in two years, for the first time since they'd left home.

Nerves threatened to choke her throat; would they blame her for her Fathers death? Would she blame Robb for not trading her for Jaime Lannister? Would they be strangers to one another? Had she been lost from the North for too long?

She scolded herself for that; they were her family, Starks, the pack; they could never be strangers, never. They were her family.

She was returning home to them at last, that could only be a good thing.

And yet, she did feel a pang of sadness, as the doors opened, and her name was announced, 'Lady Sansa Tyrell of Houses Tyrell and Stark' – she was a Tyrell now, not a Stark, even as she felt happiness her maiden House name had been added (and she smiled at Willas next to her, knowing that was his doing), it was still second now, second to her married House.

Yes, she loved Willas, truly, and she blushed to think of the night before, the love they'd exchanged, the kisses, the joy, and yet she had been forced into being a Tyrell, with no other option to her (bar being a Lannister, and she'd rather be dead than that), and though in a way they had saved her, and the Tyrell's she owed everything, she so wished she could have remained a Stark.

It was like a war inside of her, Stark or Tyrell? Her family or her husband?

And yet, what had she said to Willas? 'Women don't have many choices', it was true; the war was only in her head, she had no choice in actually becoming a Stark again, a Tyrell forever now.

The confusion stirring in her was hard to understand, the swirling mess of emotions, and yet all of that seemed swept away, pulled away from her like a great gale, as the doors opened, they were announced, and she saw them.

The tears came immediately.

They were here.

How many times had she dreamed of this moment? How many times had she played the idea of it? Oh, how it would be sweet to see them again…

It was real.

Part of her had thought this day would never come, that she would never be reunited with her family again, that any hope of seeing them again was a useless one. Even after she had been betrothed to Willas, she had done so to escape the Lannister's; she'd had no idea if he would ever take her home, if he would be so good to her, and yet in that moment she couldn't have loved him more, to reunite her with her family.

And yet there were here, it was real, and as she looked across, at the formal procession (just as they were formal, lined up, in their best formal wear, Sansa in Tully blue, the Tyrell's in green, her family stood as always in grey), she near wailed, near let her relief, the years of pain and agony, of not knowing, of not being sure if she would ever see them again overwhelm her.

Robb and her Mother, stood, side by side, Robb with a Crown of Winter on his head, her Mother with tears in her eyes.

Her courtesies, so learned and hammered into her, threatened to temper her, to hold her back, and yet, as Robb took a step forward, as her Mother abandoned all pretence and ran towards her, her courtesies in that moment dissolved.

The wall of ice in her, so present for so long, crumbling, like it was nothing, and then she was running too, the relief in her heart threatening to crush her, and a joy rising up her throat threatening to choke her, all the hopes she'd suppressed, all of the reunions she hadn't dared imagine rushing to her, overwhelming, and yet she is happy to be overwhelmed in this instance.

And then, like no time had passed, she was in her brothers' arms, her Mothers wrapping around them both, and she wept.

Wept, as did her Mother, and even Robb let his tears trickle down his cheeks and into her hair.

Three Starks reunited.

And they wept for those who should be with them but weren't, as much as they did to be reunited.

It near threatened to consume her, the relief, the joy in being with them again, and for the first time since her Father had been executed she allowed herself to let out the breath she had been holding since Ser Illyn had taken her Fathers head, let it out, and fell into her families arms, where they caught her.

As she had always known they would.

She was home.

Formalities were forgotten for just a few minutes.

His sister was home.

He was a King, he should have stood stately and greeted such important guests, and yet at the sight of Sansa, his little sister, healthy and well (at least externally) he couldn't have stood stoic, not for all the gold in the Kingdoms, not for a second.

And now, as he holds her in his arms, he curses the Lannister's, and all the damn Southerners for taking her away from him, from here, where she belonged, his sister, Sansa Stark, as she should be, a Stark of Winterfell, by his side.

"I'm so sorry" He whispered into her red hair, redder than his but connecting them both, the most Tully of the Starks, connected, through their shared duty, of looking over their younger siblings, through their blue eyes, through their love for each other and family.

As they had been; Rob remembers when Sansa was born, remembers his Father introducing them, the little quiet bundle in his Mother's arms, Sansa ladylike even then, remembers the awe, the wide eyes as he looked down at her, as she'd opened them, Tully blue like his, remembers his Fathers words,

'This is your sister Sansa, you must always protect her, must always keep her safe'

'I will Father, always, I promise'

'Good, now what do we say?'

'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'

'Aye, and Winter is Coming'

He had failed in his promise.

"I'm so sorry" He repeats, for the broken vow, for failing to storm the Red Keep and liberate her, and yet he feels her shaking her head, and somehow, she is the first to compose herself, his sweet little sister manages to find herself before even his Mother can, and his heart breaks for why she is able to summon such courtesies, why she has had to learn to.

"There is no reason to apologise" She whispers, leaning into him, leaning their foreheads together as they did sometimes as children, when needing strength, like the week Bran and Rickon had caught a fever and they'd worried sick, or the time Arya had broken her arm and wept on Jon's shoulder; now. He drew strength from it, as he had then, and did now.

"I should have rescued you" He said, tears thick in his voice, he is just glad they are huddled together and the Hall is large, though he doesn't care who hears, he needs Sansa to hear this, his little sister, who he should have protected better, but he only wants her to hear it, not the strangers at the door.

"Life is not a song" His Mother wept at that, to see Sansa, the little Lady of Winterfell hardened so, he supposes he has too, a lot, but it is harder to see in Sansa, his little sister who had once believed in songs.

What had the South done to her?

She pulls back then, and Robb forces himself to as well, watches as Sansa and their Mother embrace, his Mother weeping, Sansa the strong one then, and he takes a second to look at her.

She looks good, strong, and he smiles at that, he hates that she's had to become that but is proud of her for doing so. She looks different, older of course, more beautiful, but there is something in her way too, something guarded, not untrusting toward them, but a general sense of evaluating everyone and everything he can see flicker in her gaze.

Sansa has started to play the game, the one he is so resisting playing, he can see it as she takes in the situation, evaluates it, in a way he'll never feel comfortable playing the politics. What they've done to her makes him want to weep.

"We should greet our guests" He says with a nod, for he knows formalities are important with strange guests, as much as he wishes to whisk Sansa away, to talk to her, to apologise a million more times, they have parts to play, he knows that, as much as he despises it.

And so, he then takes her arm, steering her to his side, where she belongs, as a Princess of the North, Sansa Stark, by his side.

And where he'll have her back to, if he has his way.

This is not good.

Willas is no fool, he is no fighter, never going to be a dueller or entering the tourney lists or even at the head of men charging into battle. They have Garlan to rally the men at the front, Loras to spread the Tyrell name at tourneys, to win prizes, he has his own talents.

His mind, ever sharp, more so since his injury, he'd always been clever but realised quite quickly after becoming a cripple he had to be more than clever, he had to be not just smart, but patient, wise, scheming, cleverer than any other player on the board. He knows the importance of observation and knows when to use it; like now.

And what he sees worries him.

He had fought his Grandmother to ensure Sansa got to see his family, had promised he'd take the burden of responsibility if it went wrong, had worried a touch that it might and yet had been reassured by Sansa's declaration of love, and yet now as he watches the family reunion (and feels happiness for Sansa but forces himself to be objective, as he must be, always, he can't let emotions rule his decisions or judgement, not unless he wishes to make silly mistakes and to make foolish choices), he realises his Grandmother had reason to be worried.

He may have to anticipate an 'I told you so'.

Of course, he'd known Sansa would be happy to see her family, and yet it is not her he is watching. He knew her reaction already, could guess it easily, no he doesn't observe or watch her.

It is her brother he does.

Her Mother weeps of course, sobs and clutches her Eldest Daughter close, kisses her forehead and pulls her into her arms, he can see from here their colouring is the same, Tully Mother and Daughter, of course a parent weeps for her lost child, and yet he remembers the Tully words;

Family, Duty, Honour.

Lady Catelyn he is not worried about, she probably wanted a good Southern match for her beautiful daughter anyway, and knows her duty, knows Sansa's place as Sansa Tyrell is now by her husband's side. She will likely visit once a year, and will demand he treat her right, will gossip with his Mother when she visits but he can handle all of that.

Robb Stark is a different story.

The King stands at the front of his men, wears a crown and yet simple clothes. He pulls his sister close, but ensures his words are muffled, and yet there is one moment he can't hide, as Lady Catelyn steps back to wipe her eyes, Willas watches as Sansa's big brother pulls her close, resting his forehead to hers in a tender sibling sense he has often seen between Margaery and Loras.

He is going to be a problem, especially as he turns to greet them, as a King should, mask firmly back in place (he is good at that, Willas acknowledges, his stoicism slipping back into place like it never left, the King in the North may be hard to read, an annoyance he'll have to adapt to), and yet turns Sansa to stand with him, not opposite as courtesy dictates.

He is quite clearly staking his sister by his side, on the side of the Starks, all dressed in grey, Direwolf sigil strong and firm. He is putting Sansa with the Stark's, not the Tyrell's, and he notes Sansa wears blue, slipping back into her family colours, Tyrell colours forgotten.

Robb Stark is keeping Sansa as a Stark, not a Tyrell.

And that is going to be a problem.

Still, as the three walk towards them, Willas forces a smile, he does not flinch here, will never betray his true emotions, even as he knows this isn't a simple family reunion. He feels just a slither of fear as he meets Robb Starks gaze, not for what the man can to do to him, no, no.

But that this is a man who could take Sansa Stark away from him, his wife, his love, and clearly intends to.

"Your Grace" He says with a dip of his head, he knows how to play the game perhaps better than anyone in this room, and if he has to do so to ensure Sansa returns to Highgarden with him, then so be it, he will do so.

He won't lose her, he had ensured he wouldn't to the Lannister's or the Crown, he will ensure so even with the North too.

Chapter Text

Dinner was at least on his end, tense.

It shouldn't have been. He should have been laughing with his wife and her family, trading stories, getting into his Goodmothers good graces. It should have been happy.

Should have been.

He was at least glad for Sansa that it was. She was grinning wider than he'd ever seen. The Tyrell's had been given a place of honour at the top table with the Starks, Sansa sat closest to them, next to her Mother who was fussing over her, indulgent and so happy to have her daughter home. Robb was sat next to his Mother, determined his family should have all of Sansa's attention.

For the first time Willas worried he might have made a mistake.

Worried because Willas rarely if ever made mistakes. Mistakes were costly, mistakes limited the actions he and his family could take, mistakes had seen the downfall of many a House in the past and the ruin of others.

He did not intend for House Tyrell to follow the same fate.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel bringing Sansa here had been a mistake.

Because though a large part of him was happy to see his wife happy, truly happy, grinning from ear to ear and not liable to stop anytime soon, another part of him; the more ruthless part, the part that had seen House Tyrell succeed further under his defacto rule, the part of him that intended to see it climb to greater heights, felt he had made a mistake.

Because regardless of her smiles she was not Sansa Stark anymore.

He had said as much hadn't he, remembered the words when he'd agreed to bring Sansa's, for his better judgement, against his Grandmothers;

''You can come, you can see your family, but make no mistake, you'll be coming home with me'

He had let it be known, loud and clear she would be returning with him to Highgarden, that was her home now, with him. Even looking past the emotion of it all, the emotion that Willas felt that he likely did love his Lady Wife but couldn't confront that yet, he had to see past any emotional fripperies and look the picture plain in the face.

Sansa would be coming back to Highgarden with him, she had to, she was too valuable to give back to the North, Robb Stark was King now, Sansa a Princess of the North, and if it were up to the Tyrells, she'd be Princess of all the Kingdoms with her brother on the Iron Throne, regardless of his feelings he couldn't give her back.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

And that would mean not just pissing off the King they were throwing their lot in with and potentially souring any alliance before it began, it would also mean hurting Sansa. He glanced at her again, she was fucking beaming, and he'd be the one to break that, to ruin it.

He'd still do it, he knew he loved her, even if he hadn't yet thought on it to himself, far too invested already to admit it in full, and the consequences of it, but he did, but family came first.

Sansa was a part of that family now, true, but the Tyrells came first, their ambition. She wouldn't like it, but it was how it was for him, how he'd been raised, it was who he was at the core.

He'd have to break her heart for his family, even now she was apart of it.

"Willas did you hear that story?" She said, his wife giggling as she interrupted his musings. She took his hand, and he offered a quick smile, still his expression betrayed nothing, he was a Southerner among Northerners, they wouldn't read him. "About when Arya threw lemon curd at the cooks head, and he chased her around the dining hall?" She was pink cheeked, and his smile widened.

He did love her, but he was who he was.

It wouldn't change.

He wouldn't change.

"Well, I remember when Loras refused to eat his broccoli, stuffed it down his trousers and his maid up and quit!" Margaery replied, always better at the silly courtesies than him, he knew how to play them yes, but they tired him, and his mind was too busy to do them now, he did laugh as Margaery spoke, weaving an elaborate tale, the whole table laughing, even Robb Stark, those his eyes were as guarded as Willas'.

Not a worthy opponent when it came to spy-mastering or quick diplomacy, but Willas remembered lessons from his Grandmother; Northerners were different, honourable to a fault, honest, not trusting of outsiders but they weren't fools, they controlled the biggest Kingdom and Robb Stark was currently beating the Lannister's at war.

He could not underestimate him, if he tried, he knew it would be in peril.

"Remember when Jon hid in the crypts covered in flour?" Sansa chimed in next, "Jumped out and pretended to be a ghost? I screamed and ran but Arya jumped up and hit him in the face!" Again the table roared with laughter, though Lady Starks expression soured, Willas knew she disliked her husbands bastard, but there was something more to it there.

"She didn't quite hit my face actually" A voice he didn't recognise punctured the laughter, and as he turned to look, he heard Sansa shriek, Robb dropped his composed expression and grinned from ear-to-ear and Lady Stark somehow looked angrier even still. Before he turned it wasn't hard to guess what had happened.

Another family member come home, making things even that much more difficult.

"Jon!" A screech left Sansa's lips, and then brother and sister were barrelling towards their half-brother, not that they seemed to care about the half part, nor did Jon Snow as he swept Sansa into his arms, kissed her forehead and then threw his arms around Robb and clapped his back. He looked weary but quietly happy, and Willas was surprised to see Lord Starks bastard boy looked more like him than any of the legitimate ones.

He stole a glance at Lady Stark who had left the table but not for Jon Snow, no happy reunion there, but rather for the back of the room, yes, she likely hated how Jon Snow looked too, a constant reminder of her husbands infidelity that looked more Stark like than her own children.

It probably didn't help that a great cheer had bounced around the room, Northerners had roared as Sansa had been sent around the room to greet all of the men and women she had known as a child, but they cheered again here, for Jon Snow, he had been among them after all, blood mattered here far more than names.

Willas had never thought much on the subject, of Jon Snow and what he meant to the game, he'd studied the Stark family as much as he could in preparation for this trip, read the histories, asked Sansa questions, had exchanged information with the Highgarden Maester who had trained with and kept in touch with the Winterfell Maester Luwin, but had not thought to ask too much about Jon Snow, hidden at the Wall; foolish of him, clearly he was closer than he'd thought.

And clearly he meant more than just being a bastard underfoot that would fade into nothing at the Wall, he was here, and he looked like a warrior and was gripping Sansa and the King close.

Another wrench in his plans, prying Sansa away from the Stark pack (he knew they called one another that, sweet but difficult for him), would be harder than he thought.

He did not want to be facing down angry wolves.

And yet, as he looked up at his wife, tears shining on her cheeks again, her smile threatening to burst, and the King, laughing, their brother too, all three in a loose triangle, he knew he would be.

What did the Starks say? Hadn't Sansa said it to him once?

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives…

He grimaced, this would not be easy.

But it would be necessary.

An hour later and Sansa was alone with her two brothers. Yes two, because a hurried but sincere apology to Jon and his crushing arms around her had reconciled them; there weren't many Starks left, they had to stay together, past snobbery and brooding forgotten, in the face of being together again, the importance of it.

The pack.

Said pack was currently hiding away in Robbs temporary solar, she had said goodbye to Willas, Robb had insisted they meet just the family, and she hadn't thought to protest, Northerners were untrusting, she could talk to Willas about the meeting later, she knew inviting him along would have been impossible.

And as much as she loved Willas she wanted some time alone with her family, just the Starks.

Funny, she still saw herself that way more often than not; a Stark.

Though her Mother wasn't present, ever blinded by her hatred of Jon, Sansa would see her later, but no longer shared her Mothers views. Kin was kin, she knew that now more than ever.

"Tell me more of what you said in the letter Jon" Robb said as the three of them sat around Robbs desk, there were no Kings or Ladies of Highgarden or men of the Nightswatch here, just three siblings, delighted to be back together.

Not that it was without its clouds or its questions.

"What letter?" Sansa asked, her nose wrinkling; she hated being out of the loop, it was a dangerous thing in the South to be uninformed.

She felt a sad pang in her stomach, even here in the North she was the Southern version of herself; or perhaps that was just who she was now.

"I come from the Wall for a reason, an important one" Jon said, clasping his hands, a serious expression overtaking his face, Sansa could see the burdens he carried heavy on his shoulders, Robb carried it too. Sansa carried something too, though not burdens, just her past experiences.

"Wildlings are coming for us" He said, and Sansa's eyes widened but she didn't interrupt, Rob went to but Jon held up a hand and carried on, "Thousands of them, united by one cause, they stand at the Wall, and are coming, we can't hope to hold them off" He said, silence fell for just a second, she went to speak, and Robb, but Jon halted them again.

"There is more" He paused then, tension permeating the room, Jon looked troubled, and the burden on his shoulders seemed then the hardest to bear.

"Tell us Jon" Sansa whispered, she wasn't sure why but she did, Robb nodded, and that seemed to give Jon the strength to carry on.

"Dead men" He said with a sigh, running a hand raggedly through his hair, "The Others walk on the Wall, I know it sounds insane, but I've seen them" He held up his left hand, marred with a harsh burn scar, "I've killed one of them, a wight that reanimated at Castle Black, they are real"

Silence once more but no one tried to break it.

Sansa felt as though her blood might freeze, she immediately wanted to deny it but Jon was no liar, he was like their Father in that regard, as honest as Robb, and Robb was more honest than most. He would not make this up, not with Robb looking down a war of his own, no, and there was that look in his eye, of fear, of worry but of knowing, Sansa could see it clear as day, and it couldn't be faked or a consequence of anything but what he had seen.

"Gods" She said, breathing out her disbelief, her worry, and anxiety seemed to lick up into her veins, like flames rising to her neck. She thought of the South, of Cersei, Joffrey, of her husbands-families schemes, Dorne still seething, the Riverlands in disarray, the Vale turning their back on family, the petty squabbles of the South.

As that was it wasn't it? Petty, compared to this, compared to death at the Wall. It was nothing.

"Winter is coming" Robb said his voice grave and he sounded more like their Father than Sansa could ever remember, Jon nodded, Sansa too; their houses words, and always true.

Winter is coming.

"The wildlings, are they fleeing to escape the Others?" Robb asked and Jon sighed, ahh even the Wall had its politics, Sansa wasn't sure if that was worrying or reassuring.

She had learned politics, had taken them in and stored every lesson given to her by Cersei, Littlefinger, Olenna, Margaery, Willas, Tyrion, Shae all of them, but she was no master, learning yes and finding her place in gathering information, in knowing and being informed, but she was no expert, not yet perhaps one day.

But even then, she couldn't comprehend; how did you negotiate with wildlings?

And even she knew you couldn't negotiate with the dead.

"Aye" Jon said, "I've thought about it, get them to cross the Wall, settle in the gift, stop any more wildlings becoming wights" He shook his head again as Sansa felt a stab of panic; of course, every dead wildling would become part of the army of the dead, she gulped down her tension, she was stronger than this now, Southern attributes yes but she was Northern, she'd sit strong.

"But," Sansa asked, as she could sense there was one, which was fairly easy to guess, "The Watch won't let them pass?"

"I would if I had the power" Jon said and frowned then, she near laughed at that, the Starks had the opposite reactions when it came to power as the Southerners, they didn't hunger for it, never had, "But its not up to me and there is too much bad blood, on both sides"

"But I could make it happen?" Robb asked, eyebrow raised.

"No" Sansa interjected, she knew politics here, "It will have to be from the Lord Commander right?" She asked, eyebrow raised, "The Watch have their own, even if they are closer to the North and depend on our aid, they won't want us meddling with their internal politics" Jon nodded, "Who is it at the moment?"

"There isn't one" Jon said, "Lord Commander Mormont is dead and Ser Allister and a council rules in his place, there'll be an election soon, and Ser Allister will win, he'd never sanction this"

"Then you need to win it" Sansa interjected immediately, perhaps some of the Southern power-grabbing had rubbed off on her, or perhaps she was the only one who could see what needed to happen, what had to happen.

"Sansa I…" Jon began, looking both flattered she'd suggested it and moderately horrified at the idea.

"No" Robb said then, shaking his head, stepping in, eminating authority, "Jon, I was going to call you down from the Wall anyway" He paused then, but they listened, he seemed serious, he seemed like a King, "I need you to renounce your vows, I'll pardon you, as King I can release you from your vows"

And there the King was.

Sansa's eyes widened then; yes, Robb was right it could be done but it rarely was, like releasing a member of the Kingsguard, or somehow a Silent Sister turning her back on religion. It could be done but it wasn't.

Especially not by the Starks; when was the last time the Starks had turned their back on a vow?

She couldn't remember such a time, it was not their way.

"Robb no" Sansa said, standing then, her hands screwed into fists, needless to say she felt overwhelmed with the conversation, she was less used to this, speaking so plainly, it was different in the South, conversations like this took place over weeks of subterfuge and scheming, not in minutes of brutal honesty, it was refreshing but an adjustment. "Jon is a Stark he can't abandon his vows"

"Yes" Robb said, and he stood too, there was weight to his words, "And I mean to make him one, officially" He turned to Jon then who looked shocked, weary, horrified, scared, hopeful, everything all at once, "Jon, I plan to name you my heir, and I need you here brother, I'm winning the battles but losing this war, I need you as my second in command, I need your guidance and your loyalty, and I need an heir in case I fall"

"Robb no-" Jon began, glancing at her.

"No" Robb said, shook his head, he turned to Sansa then with a sad smile and she nodded, he wasn't asking her permission for what he had to do but her approval, which he had, without question here, "It has to be you"

What Robb was saying made immediate sense to her, he had no heir, Bran and Rickon were dead, and currently Winterfell would fall to her and thus Willas, she wasn't offended to know that could never happen, had nodded because it could never happen.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" She said, plainly, clearly, with gravitas in her voice, and the knowing; she was no longer a Stark.

The pang she felt for her maiden name, to be Sansa Stark again, had never been stronger.

Even if she loved Willas, it was hard parting from it, from this, from never being the Stark in Winterfell again.

Robb nodded, turned to Jon, held out an arm, "Accept, accept this, stand by my side, I will unite and protect the North, and then come further North, and we will negotiate a wildling crossing, you will as my Hand negotiate it, and then we will stop the dead, stop the South and be independent, once and for all. It was the dragons we bowed to, and they are gone, we won't be"

A rush of adrenaline shot through her as she moved, movedto stand between Robb and Jon, as Robb held out a hand, and agonisingly, slowly, with just a second, not hesitation, not doubt, but weight …

Jon clasped back.

And the game changed.

Or it would further, even further than before as they heard a knock on the door from the squire, it seemed ill timed then, but in hindsight it wasn't.

"Who is it?" Robb called, their hands remained clasped, and Sansa placed one of hers ontop of them, they both smiled at her; the pack survives, before the person beyond the door called out.

"Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch, your Grace"

The game exploded.

Chapter Text

The silence was deafening.

As Lord Howland Reed had sought an urgent audience, Sansa had felt it was ill timed, as Jon and Robb had clasped hands, an understanding; their must always be a Stark in Winterfell, a release of guilt and worry she hadn't even realised she'd been holding, smiles all around, even nervous as they were.

She knew, she was not offended that Robb had passed her over as Heir, if he hadn't suggested it, she would have insisted herself. As much as the idea of a little boy or girl with her colouring and Willas' eyes running around in the snow, to rule their family seat one day appealed to her, she knew that couldn't be allowed to happen.

Because any child of hers would be a Tyrell, and a Tyrell could not rule Winterfell. It was as simple as that.

Jon would rule it, with a wife at his side and children named Stark not Tyrell. Sansa would and intended to visit but she could not be the Lady, as much as it hurt, a deep hurt in her chest to know that. She couldn't.

She wasn't a Stark anymore, as much as was her deepest wish, despite her happiness with Willas, was to be.

She wondered how Willas would feel about this, not too pleased she imagined.

But there was no time to contemplate that now, as Sansa grinned and pulled her brothers into a hug, but then the news, and a shift in the air, almost in anticipation…

As then, the Lord of Greywater Watch, Howland Reed, who'd once been a close friend of their Fathers, windswept but with a determined glint in his eye had interrupted them, urgent, meaning now, meaning possibly grave, horrifying or life-shattering.

And for good reason, for it perhaps turned out to be all three.

As he'd unravelled a truth, long buried, long hidden, to her agape mouth, to Robb's widening eyes and Jon looking like he might faint. He had been there he said, had been at the Tower of Joy and then quickly explained what that meant.

Explained a secret wedding, hidden records which he held in hand, two letters which he passed to Jon with a solemn expression, and finally a recounting of what had happened at the Tower, and she had seen a tear in his eye as he remembered the truth.

A truth, that had ended with his declaration of loyalty, a bent knee, but not to Robb, his King,

But to Jon, the King of them all.

For to Sansa's shock (and she was trying to school her expression as Lord Howland left, Robb remained like a fox in the carriage path, Jon looked as though he might keel over and she shut her mouth and tried to remember her courtesies, though there was no precedence for this), Jon was not their Fathers son, not their half-brother, or brother as was most important, no, he was none of that.

He was not a Stark at all.

But rather their Fathers nephew, their cousin, Aunt Lyannas son.

Though that was not the most important part, Aunt Lyanna his Mother yes, but it was his Father, that as she and Robb shared a glance, both shocked to their core, but both rapidly realising what this meant …

What was important was Jon's Father, Prince Rhaegar.

He was a Targaryen.

"You're the Heir to the Iron Throne" Sansa whispered, foolish really in an unsecured keep, clapped a hand over her mouth, but the guards out front were Robbs and she spoke so quietly she knew her brothers … well one brother, one cousin just heard her, as Robb nodded, and Jon finally looked up, face ashen, eyes shining with tears.

"My Mother … she was in the crypts the entire time" He whispered, and at that Jon fell to his knees, his mind so focused on the Mother he'd always craved, that even as Sansa pulled him close, and Robb embraced them both, he didn't realise what this meant, what Robb had realised and Sansa too in that shared nod.

Jon was the Heir to the Iron Throne, and as he wept for a Mother he'd never known, and the shock washed over him, Sansa and Robb knew, hands clasping, he would be their King.

Something was happening.

Willas was no fool, and he knew, no reunion between siblings took this long. He knew there must be something else going on. It had been hours, the two guards at the door stood absolutely at guard, no ease, no hint that there was something behind the door they weren't worrying about. There apparently had also been someone coming in and out, but (annoyingly) Willas couldn't work out who.

It was frustrating, he had no spies here, no contacts and Northerners for their faults at being awful at politics most of the time, were loyal. There would be no bribing a guard or a serving maid here, all that would see him would be reported to the King and exposed as to trying to set up his own little network.

He was no fool, and Willas knew some situations required delicate hands, this being one of them.

He could not try to employ Southern ways here, they would not work.

Willas had eaten, retired and then un-retired and come back downstairs, had waited for an hour in the dining room with the stragglers before going back to their rooms. He was writing letters at the desk, or at least was supposed to be, but no, his letter remained blank and instead his mind was running at a thousand miles a minute, trying to imagine what was happening.

He didn't know, but he could guess.

He hadn't come unprepared, he had known the risk of bringing Sansa here, but he hadn't anticipated Jon Snow, and why that meant his wife had been sequestered away with her brothers for 4 hours, creeping past into midnight and what they were discussing.

Perhaps he was cynical, perhaps they were just catching up, all smiles and enjoying one another's company, and yet Lady Catelyn wasn't with them (perhaps because of Jon Snow), and surely she would have wanted to wrestle her daughter away to spend time with her? Also, there was the mystery man coming and going.

Maybe not cynical, paranoid, but Willas hadn't helped rise the House of Tyrell to its current heights by taking things for granted, being unprepared and not considering every possibility. No, that was not the way he had been taught.

Perhaps Sansa would arrive imminently, explaining she'd gotten carried away with catching up, perhaps he was just being far too nervous, not giving his wife enough credit, perhaps perhaps perhaps.

But Willas had been taught to think of perhaps, to think of what could and couldn't be. To imagine scenarios in his head and play them out, to learn, to strategize, to think through every possible outcome.

He remembered sitting at his Grandmothers knee as she'd given him an example of a dispute or a shipping issue or of a diplomacy problem and she had him run through every possible outcome, every possible snag or worry or challenge, any concern or way out. He'd been 10 when those lessons had started and had never stopped.

He would be no warrior, he would sharpen no sword, and so he had sharpened his mind instead.

And so, he guessed.

He knew Jon Snow was in the Nights Watch and so tried to imagine why he had come this far, to White Harbour. Black brothers weren't allowed to leave the Wall, unless recruiting. Was he here to clear the dungeons? Willas furrowed his brow; that wasn't right, the Nights Watch usually relied on the Lords of Great Houses sending men to the Wall, not relying on men to retrieve them, Willas knew well enough, he offered all guilty men, bar the most heinous of crimes, an opportunity to take the black, and he sent them up with food, and a bit of gold for the Wall too, knowing Highgarden was quite safe and didn't yield many prisoners.

And so, if he wasn't here recruiting? Had he abandoned his vows? Willas scoffed at himself then putting down his quill, no, there had rarely been, if ever a Stark who broke their vows, and though Jon was a bastard he was clearly a Stark through and through, to Lady Catelyn's annoyance.

So, what did that leave? And why was he hidden away with the King in the North and the future Lady of Highgarden?

It annoyed Willas that he couldn't think of what they could be discussing. The war? Robb was making good progress, holding the Lannisters off at all ends, the alliance with Highgarden might not kill off Tywin and his family, but it would certainly see to Northern independence, hopefully more if Margaery managed to work her magic, he didn't need help, and besides the Watch were neutral, they couldn't intervene.

And so, Jon Snow was here, recruiting maybe but unlikely (perhaps he had used recruiting as a chance to see his family?), had likely not broken any vows (more like impossible), and why else would he be here… ?

And then it clicked.

Of course, Jon Snow was here to become not just to offer advice, but to offer said advice permanently, surely the King, using the powers only a King had, was intending to use those privileges to pardon the brother Sansa had always said he was close to, to bring him to his side.

That made sense, bring him in as his Hand or an advisor at the very least, someone he could trust completely. That made sense, Willas thought it was a shrewd move. It was always hard to know who to trust, he had his Mother but he couldn't hide behind her skirts without looking weak, and so his brother, one he evidently cared for and trusted was the best thing, his best advisor, loyal and likely trained in the exact same subjects and statesmanship as Robb Stark had been.

But Willas fancied there might be more to it than that.

And if he was right, not only was Robb Stark shrewd, but he was hurting his potential new alliance, and doing so, annoyingly, knowing he could.

Willas knew as he quickly dashed together a letter and called for his page, knew that Jon Snow was probably not just to be released from his vows to be an advisor to the King or even the Hand, no, he'd be the Heir.

Robb Stark had not been married for long enough to even do the deed to make an Heir, and any marriage with Margaery, though likely to be quick, might take time to yield an Heir. In the meantime, the Heir to Winterfell, the Key as she had often been called in Kings Landing (which Willas frowned at), was his wife.

If Robb died, which he had an increased chance doing, being a Rebel King, and all, Sansa, would inherit the North, and not Sansa Stark, Sansa Tyrell.

Little Tyrell children under that regard would inherit Winterfell, not Starks.

Clearly Robb had decided quite wisely that could not happen.

Willas was annoyed, to see Sansa placed aside, but less so than perhaps he should be. He was the Lord after all, their first child would inherit Highgarden, and there were many seats any second or third sons that could potentially inherit, and in all likelihood with this alliance Robb Stark would live and have Heirs that were half Tyrell themselves.

He also imagined Sansa would rather see Starks inherit than her own children, just like he would rather Galan would inherit Highgarden if his children were named Stark. The family name would always win against a married one, he wasn't wounded by that.

But the action itself made him pause, at just how wise the young King was being, making many a move Willas had not thought of ahead of time.

Willas realised he might have underestimated him and chastised himself not to do so again. Robb might be a Stark, honourable far too much so and overly concerned with justice, but evidently he had been trained well, it would be Willas peril to dismiss him.

And so, Jon Snow was here as the Heir, which meant ensuring Robb and Margaery were married as quickly as possible, as soon as they had a child they would inherit Winterfell, and perhaps any other Throne if they had any say.

Margaery would be Queen, her children would be Princes and Princesses and Jon Snow would not inherit anything.

But they had to move quickly.

All that was whirling through his mind as he sent a trusted page from his house to deliver a quick summary of his thoughts to his Grandmother, another letter went to Margaery, a suggestion she 'stumble' upon Robb when he left the meeting, he hated to ask such a thing of his sister, but he remembered his Grandmothers story as to how she had ended up married to his Grandfather and not his Great Aunt in her place. Sometimes necessary actions weren't the ones he wanted to ask of his sister but had to.

The sooner they were married, the better.

All of that was done quickly, as just minutes after Midnight Sansa hurried into their borrowed chambers, and he knew.

He had missed something.

He was confident in what he'd guessed, but as she hurried in, her expression … eyes wide and a little glazed, as though still reeling from a shock, her hands shaking a touch, he knew it wasn't just Jon being named Heir, she wouldn't be this effected, something else had happened; perhaps because of the mystery guest.

"Sansa are you alright?" He hurried to his feet with a groan, truly he would be glad to have a bed tonight, sleeping on the ground was never good for the crippled, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes" She hurried, and he could see her force a smile onto her face, "Just tired, I didn't realise how late it had gotten, me, Robb and Jon ended up chatting more about what we've been doing than we realised!" She said, almost convincingly bar a breathy laugh at the end.

Sansa was good, her time in Kings Landing had truly seen her hone her ability to lie, to deceive. She could put on an easy polite act with smiles and a deferential nod and people fell for it, they fell easily, for her pretty looks, pretty smile, and her nod. It wasn't the same as Margaery though, with Sansa they thought her stupid or simple and dismissed her. And though her confidence was growing now he'd gotten her out of that wretched place she still slipped back into that when she needed to lie, like now.

Why was she lying to him?

He decided to play on the offensive.

"Its alright Sansa" He said gently, taking her hands in his, even as his leg groaned in protest, "I know your brother intends to name your brother Jon his Heir"

At that something flickered in her gaze, but she didn't act surprised or splutter like he'd expected, instead she just nodded, played it a little too cool, squeezed his hands in return, "I'm sorry, I didn't expect it, but it does make sense" She smiled then, a touch more genuine, but there was still something there, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell"

"Of course" He said, he felt the same about Tyrells and Highgarden after all, they had fought hard for it, it was theirs, that wasn't the issue at hand. He lifted her hands then to kiss them both with a smile, she smiled too but he'd guessed right as a nervous quiver flicked at her lip, he knew it would fool most people, but not him.

She couldn't fool him.

"Is there anything else?" He asked, and he found himself, even as strangely proud of her as he was for how she'd survived Kings Landing, how good she was, he hoped she wouldn't lie to him, he hoped she could trust him, "You can tell me you know, always"

"I know" She said gently, and seemed to soften, but no, as something imperceptible to anyone but him he was sure passed over her face he knew as she leaned forward to kiss his lips gently and then pulled back, dropping his hands, he knew, "I know that"

She still had something to hide.

"I'm going to get ready for bed" She said then, one last kiss and she turned away in a whirl of her skirts, screwing her hands into fists to stop them shaking, something he'd seen her do before.

And Willas knew she'd lied to him.

But about what? That was the question and one that worried him? What had that mystery visitor or Jon Snow said that had shaken Sansa so? What had they said she couldn't tell him?

All he knew, as he waited for her to wash and get into bed and then went through his own routine and joined her, even as she tucked close to him, as though everything were normal, was that he needed to find out.

Chapter Text

Her feet were starting to hurt.

She felt like she'd been waiting for hours, but she knew it was closer to just one, but still.

At Willas' note, knowing her brother always had a method to any scheme he proposed (and a method that would have been thoroughly thought out, planned, debated in his head and perhaps with their Grandmother and then planned again before being handed to her), she had quickly brushed her hair, sprayed perfume and put a dab of mint on her tongue, before hurrying out into the halls of White Harbour in just a night gown and robe.

She was quick and deft and knew her goal, knew how to dive into nooks to avoid being seen by either Stark guards or her own. Knew how to sneak out the side door to her rooms and stick to the shadows to get to her destination.

Which was Robb Stark, the King himself.

She had done this before, sneaking around at night, quiet as a mouse, avoiding servants, even sometimes family members. She was quick and clever, and that was to her benefit now as she waited, hidden in the shadows, waited and waited.

It was tiring, as what felt like hours (but she knew was really only minutes) passed, and yet then, she heard the door to the room Willas had instructed her to wait by, open, close, and two quiet voices.

"I'll always be with you brother" That was Robb Stark, the King, her intended, or at the very least the man she needed to make her intended.

"Always" The second voice she recognized as Jon Snow, Robbs bastard brother who'd arrived earlier. Willas was clearly concerned about this changing dynamic, urging her to secure their alliance quicker than planned, she wasn't sure why, but she'd longed stopped questioning Willas' plans, bar her Grandmother he was the most cunning of them all.

And so, if Willas had sent her an urgent note asking her to 'go to the King' 'urgently' 'with haste' 'secure the alliance', she wasn't going to question why things in the official channels per-say had broken down or weren't moving quickly enough, she would do as asked and question later.

She could wonder though.

It had to be to do with Jon Snow surely. Was Willas worried Jon Snow would steal his brother's crown? No, surely not, there was no precedence for that. Was he worried Jon would be Robbs Heir instead of Sansa? And so if Robb died the North would be useless to them? That seemed likely and could explain the urgency for her to marry Robb and get her own Heir, but she was still sure she was missing something.

And yet, she had no further time to ruminate and try to guess her brothers thoughts (which in truth was a pointless endeavor, Willas revealed things at his own pace and was impossible to read, she wondered how Sansa managed such an annoyance), as she heard the brothers part, and saw Robb Stark turn down the corridor she was hiding in.

Like a stroke of fate, or luck, she grinned, and then quickly darting out into the corridor, to obscure the fact she'd been hiding at all, she kept her head on her toes, and with two deliberate steps crashed into the King as he turned down the corridor.

Perfect timing if she did say so herself.

"Oh" She said, and that was authentic, she'd always found it was easier to fake some elements of being innocent or conniving, and easier to have some happen through her falsehoods, and so when she bumped into Robb Stark, King of the North and prospective groom, she threw herself into the 'fall' hard enough for it to be real, and so the gasp that left her lips was quite authentic indeed.

And yet, she didn't hit the floor, giving her the ability to fake an injury or to need a hand up, as she'd anticipated. Instead, Robb Stark, with the hands and arms she was now noticing were quite strong, caught her, his hands quickly gripping her waist, not painfully, but firmly, to right her, with a nod.

He was proper too, as soon as he righted her (with those strong arms, and the hands had she been wearing one of her dresses that exposed her ribs, she was sure would feel rough and calloused), he released her and took a proper step back, countering her intentions entirely.

But, Margaery was not one to let her first plan being interrupted, interrupt her, or what she needed to do, and so with a bashful smile (one she'd quite literally practiced in the mirror several times), she quickly dipped into a low curtsey, her head bowing, the skirts of her robe swirling on the floor, open just enough to show a hint of her leg, but not enough to be truly improper.

She'd spent five minutes fixing it just so at the waist, she wouldn't waste that now.

"Your Grace" She said in a voice that was part teasing, part innocence. She didn't quite have a read on Robb Stark yet, but he was a Northerner, she doubted he wanted a Southern seductress, and so she was trying to be what she was guessing he wanted to see; an innocent, pretty bride, beautiful and sweet.

She'd tried to learn more about him, asking Sansa just enough questions to seem like an eager match for her brother, and not enough to tip her into suspicion. She'd learned that Robb was kind, honest, driven by duty (weren't all Starks?), had always been trained to be the Lord of Winterfell, and that Sansa had been unsurprised when he'd called the banners to defend their home, avenge their Father and rescue her and Arya, according to Sansa that had been the exact thing she would have expected Robb to do, which said a lot about him.

Margaery had tried to joke with Sansa about whether Robb had ever had any crushes but Sansa had been scandalized, said Robb would never put a woman in a compromising position, Margaery had simply shared a look with Willas and backed off.

And so though she knew Robb wouldn't mistreat her, and was kind (all good things in her books), she really had no clue as to what he was looking for in someone, and how to ensnare him.

In truth, Margaery knew the alliance was solid for him, the Reach had soldiers, but more importantly to Northerners they had an abundance of food and supplies, which the King needed.

And yet, Margaery knew there would be reluctance for the alliance. Northerners were different, Willas had told her so just weeks earlier when they'd reached Highgarden, and met up with their Grandmother to discuss the trip North and her marriage.

'You have to remember Margaery, Northerners are a different beast' Willas said gently, which worried her, Willas wasn't really gentle to her anymore, he was a kind and loving brother but he'd long stopped shielding her from the realities of the world, they couldn't afford for her to be sheltered.

'Beasts indeed' Her Grandmother had chimed in, 'The North is wild and untamed, and so are the men'

'Indeed' Willas had nodded, 'By all accounts King Robb is just and fair, but we do not know his character. We know he will not dishonor you, but little beyond that.'

'I understand' Margaery had said with a nod, she would not give them any reason to doubt her commitment to this match, she wanted to be Queen, not a Queen, the Queen, and this was realistically the only path to that at the moment. 'He can't be any worse than Joffrey.'

'No' Willas acquiesced, she knew Willas cared about her, he and their Grandmother had plotted to kill a King when he'd mistreated her after all, but she also knew he cared for this family, for the Tyrell name too.

House Tyrell: Growing Strong, they had a precarious position in the Reach, a hard Kingdom to rule, not for the same reasons as the North, with its vastness and hardships, the Reach was much more political, there was little loyalty to the Tyrells, where she knew the Starks had it from their bannermen in spades. Here it was politicking and cunning, and they had to be always careful, always making the next move to secure their future.

This was the next move.

'But we don't know him' Willas said with a sad smile, 'Not at all really'

'We know he is the best person though?' Margaery said, 'For what we want?'

'Yes' Her Grandmother said simply, 'There are fewer and fewer options, this is the best'

'Then we are decided' Margaery said with a small smile, for it was, this was her role, one she took willingly, but also the only she'd ever known.

'Lets hope we don't have to ..deal with another King' Willas offered as levity, but it was only when her Grandmother scolded him did Margaery manage a small laugh, even as fear fluttered in her heart.

"My Lady" Robb nodded to her, and she grinned as she pulled herself to standing, she was a few inches shorter than the King, who was several inches shorter than Willas lanky frame, and yet he seemed bigger somehow than his height, occupying the space, and Margaery felt nerves flutter in her tummy before she clamped down on them.

There was no time for nerves now.

"I apologize for my clumsiness" She teased, and the King smiled at her, and yet he seemed reserved, and that concerned her, she had hoped the King would be a green boy, and yet his smile was tight.

Though she swore as she 'fixed' her robe, flashing a tiny bit more skin she saw something glimmer in his gaze.

There.

"It is quite alright" He said, and then he continued, and Margaery though her expression remained with a small, pleasant smile knew she had something here, "Are you well? Do you need something?"

He was humble, she had learned that, for a King to be asking a Lady if she needed something, humble, and noble. She learned more and more about Robb Stark as the seconds ticked on.

Not the best thing, but she could work with it. Many boys were noble, until they were tempted.

For a moment Margaery wished she didn't have to do this, this game as she offered him a gentle smile, wished they could meet and talk, and just be a normal betrothed couple. Get to know each other, fall in love, spend time together, be happy without any deceptions, at least on her part.

But she wasn't normal, neither was he. He was a King, she wanted to be Queen, and they both had Kingdoms and families to think of.

There was no normality here.

"I'm quite well your Grace" She said with a dip of her head, "Not quite used to the cold yet I'm afraid" She teased, and at the small smile that flickered on his lips she grinned, and even mocked rubbing her arms up and down her shoulders, "I don't know how you don't all freeze" She joked, just teasing enough, she didn't insult his home, but complimented him instead, and did so in a voice that added an edge of being impressed but didn't move over to simpering.

Honestly sometimes it was utterly and completely exhausting being her.

"This is almost warm for me here, I'm afraid my Lady being a Southerner, I'm not sure you've ever felt real cold, and I don't recommend it" He joked back, and she could see something there, underneath the layers of royalty and duty and responsibility, she could see a man, only a year or two older than her, a man with more responsibility than she, a woman forced into marriage, had even ever known, but a man with wants and desires all the same.

Maybe that she could work with.

"Indeed?" She said, and then decided to be bold, "Then perhaps I shouldn't want to marry you, if you'll sweep me off to Winterfell and I'll be chilly forever in the real cold!" She teased. She knew it was risky, to mention their possible impending marriage so soon, reminding them both of it, and yet they both knew it, to her it made sense to be open about it, one of the few times she would and could be open.

Also, she knew with Robb she'd need to be more honest. As much as she could see him smiling, and found herself drawn to said smile, he was no green boy, and she knew Starks above all else appreciated justice, duty, honour, and honesty, she would not get far by deceiving him.

At least any more than she already had.

Robb Stark would not be flattered or manipulated, or at least he couldn't know he was being so.

With that in mind, and his kind, handsome smile, his broad shoulders, the look in his eye that was only getting stronger, Margaery was just realizing as Robb smiled at her … a handsome smile, this might be much, much more difficult than she'd hoped.

"Even Winterfell isn't real cold" Robb offered, and then he said with a bashful smile, and oh goodness he was handsome, "I've been to the Wall and even I near froze"

"I'll have to avoid that then" Margaery teased, and then feeling as though she was losing some ground in ... something, "Though there are ways to keep warm" She said with a little grin trying to get back on path.

But then –

"There are" Robb said, and something smoldered in his gaze, and oh goodness, a fire she hadn't known Northerners or maybe any man could possess was clear in his gaze, not a glimmer, a burning, that had been fostering since she'd flashed some leg and dipped her head. "I wouldn't let you freeze my Lady"

"No?" She said adjusting herself as her voice was just a pitch high, unplanned, and normally she would have taken a step forward then, perhaps brushed a hand over Robbs collar, and yet she knew that wouldn't work here, had enough left to know it wouldn't, and even felt some nerves at the idea, and...and instead cocked her head, "Will the great King save me from some icicles?" She teased, and at his grin she giggled, and that felt natural, normal, real and-

Oh gods.

"You are trouble" He said against all convention, and Margaery gasped in mock indignation smothering her surprise, but also … she'd never been called trouble before, trouble suggested not innocence, and something worried her that he thought that, worried her that he was seeing past her, that was dangerous.

"I think you'll find I am a dutiful daughter and Lady" She said scoldingly, but the teasing edge remained, even as worry crawled at her belly, even as she struggled to hold onto keeping her voice neutral, that high pitch she only ever got when she was nervous creeping back in.

"I wasn't questioning that" Robb said quickly, "I apologise if you thought otherwise, I just meant … you seem far too charming for your own good" She could see the honestly there, she found herself liking it, terrifying as it was. He'd both reassured her and apologized for any implied insult, and then complimented her …this was something she didn't quite know how to handle, well she didn't know how to handle any of this in truth.

One conversation with Robb Stark where she was supposed to be charming him, perhaps getting too close and forcing his marriage hand, perhaps teasing and playing with him, and it felt like she had fallen on the floor at the start, the wind, and the wiles knocked out of her.

"Can a person be too charming?" She mused, but mainly because in truth she was a little stumped, she wasn't used to such honesty, to a lack of back-and-forth teasing, and that smolder in the Kings eye … how did she deal with that? How did she deal with any of this?

"I'll no doubt find out" He offered with a smirk, and the way he said it so assured.. what did that mean? He bowed his head then, "Shall I walk you back to your rooms my Lady?" The way he said it, as though their marriage was pre-decided when nothing had been discussed, it made her hopeful, and yet … worried. Here he was, he'd called her charming, even with his honesty, the lack of ... smoothness so many Southern men practiced that in truth she hated, he had a natural charm, and that look ... knocked off her feet indeed.

Could she handle Robb Stark?

What if she couldn't? And not out of concern for her wellbeing, no, she knew just looking at him, wild as Northerners were, and she could see some of that wildness here, in that look, in all of him, he would never hurt her, and yet her heart, was that at risk?

Or worse … her façade?

"That would be lovely" She said with a shy smile, forgetting any of the pretense she'd meant to use for her wandering the corridors, and instead as he held an arm out to her, she took it.

Took it, and as he offered another smile, one full of confidence that she often faked but Robb Stark just seemed to have, Margaery shivered, and stepped closer, though not out of any desire to manipulate this time, it just felt natural.

And was, as Robb took her arm and walked her back up the corridor, that fire in his eyes (for that was what it was), not fading, even as he asked her for her first impressions of the North and she managed answers, finding composure (not enough, not enough), even as she thought to herself that Robb Stark was different, and this wouldn't be easy, and that terrified her.