eachdraidh | (fourth lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

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(fourth lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

Fellow Shardholders. [ of either court! ]

I would speak to a man of law -- should any find himself amid our numbers. [ such a profession is unknown to her, but stiles has explained some occupations and tenets of his world and this one in particular piques her interest. sansa stark could make use of such a man who might be bound by her confidentiality. of course, she does not quite understand the ins and outs of the arrangement.

but that's why she asks today: to learn; to plan; to piece together little patches of her defence. ] Anyone who would call themselves lawyer. I would speak with you. That is the word for it, yes? [ lawyer. ] My apologies if I've gotten it wrong; I'm only a simple girl and I am unwise in these matters. I want to learn about the things that are mysteries to me.

[ like whether a lawyer's strange binding powers of argumentation would even apply in these lands. once her conversations are finished, she snaps the locket shut and can be found in the library -- where she organizes books she doesn't care to read, because the practise soothes her and distracts her mind from its darker thoughts. or else come the evening she sits in her chambers, and allies of hers are welcome to stop and knock. ]

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[Sigrid slides the robe on over her arms and shoulders.] I've scarcely noticed. [She draws the fall of red hair out of the robe and drapes it over Sansa's shoulder.] What's Alayne finding out?

Hmm? [ her head turns; she watches sigrid with a sly glimmer in her eye. among others, she's more hesitant and embarrassed of her efforts. but the two have made their wild vow: no secrets. ] I've learned that the esteemed sons of Cothromach enjoy hawking. A little scrap of knowledge, yes. But it may prove useful, if not important.

Hawking? [Sigrid leads Sansa toward the bathroom.] I thought Cothromach's underground. That's what Gendry said.

It's true; it's underground. But his grace the High King spoke of hawking. The sons -- they treat it as a right of adulthood to travel into the mountains and catch an eagle for their pastime. So I can only assume they go outside their walls to hawk. [ ... ] I wonder what decisions are made on those trips.

[ she steps light-footed into the next room. ]

[The bath, as promised, is beautiful. Wisps of white steam roll over the milky surface and across floating leaves of sage and rosemary. Good, fatty milk has been put in with honey and oil of almond and white wine. A stepping-stool is placed at the edge for convenient entry, and beside is a folding-screen and a bar over which fresh, warm towels are folded. On the floor is a pitcher of nettle tea to rinse the lady's hair.]

Here you are. [Sigrid walks Sansa to the bath and moves to help her shrug the robe off.] What sorts of decisions do you mean?

Little ones. [ she lets the robe drip from her arms and shoulders -- shedding it into sigrid's care before toeing the stool's edge, lifting herself up high, and plunging her foot into the steaming water. the heat penetrates to the very core: it's hot, but not too hot. hot enough to remind her that even comforting things bring with them a period of adjustment. she sucks in a sharp breath and tries again, this time stepping into the tub and gripping its sides so she might sink slowly into the fragrant water. ] Like who will feast and where they will do the feasting and who else shall be invited. And bigger decisions -- like who will purchase fresh horses, who is looking to build, and whatever else men with money aim to do with it. Whoever spends time with these families will learn what they want, Sigrid.

[ she cups her hands and draws whole palmfuls of water up and lets them trickle over her neck and shoulders. her next words are lifted straight from her memory: ] Everyone wants something. And when you know what someone wants, you know who he is. And how to move him.

[ petyr's lessons, bent to her father's purpose. of course, sansa will not be that person listening in during the hawking meets. but she aims to learn all the same. ]

[Sigrid hangs the robe on the bar and draws the folding screen between the tub and the doorway.]

Sounds true enough. [She draws a chair up to the head of the tub, sits, and delicately unpins Sansa's hair, drawing it over the edge of the tub to keep it dry while she brushes it first. Faolan ought to do the sort of thing Sansa is talking about, she thinks. Faolan ought to make friends among the townsfolk and bring back what he knows. She starts detangling the red hair at the ends, working her way upward, deep in thought.]

What if someone's trying to find the same thing about you?

[ her head tilts. and at first she shuts her eyes, revelling in that sweet attention paid to her. behind these doors with sigrid near, she can practice more and more at being herself.

and if a tangle or two catch and pull, she does not mind. the twinge is minor and unintended. ]

They will find that Alayne Stone wants very little, other than to see her Lord Father again and see herself through these lands alive. [ but alayne stone's skin is getting too tight for her new responsibilities; she will have to be shed, soon. with my wits and cat's beauty, he'd told her, the world will be yours. ] I tell a great many lies, Sigrid. I was never so ashamed of them as I am now -- once again before my blood and house.

[A touch of almond oil works loose some tangles and Sigrid is very gentle. Sansa's hair is truly marvelous in color and sheen, and she would never damage it in a hundred years.]

Lies aren't bad things, [she muses.] Not when they're required to keep people safe. Including yourself. So what do I do if someone's trying to find out things about me?

[ she doesn't need to explain that lord eddard is an honest man. honest to a fault. sigrid can see it for herself -- and see what trouble it might bring him. perhaps the pair of them might work together to lessen those blows.

she exhales. the hot water makes her heart beat a with a little more energy. it's pleasant. ] Share what you are comfortable sharing. I want to think there are good people, here. But don't give them every piece of who you are -- especially not the things they might hold against you.

Which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?

The hidden one. But how d'you know it's even there? And I mean it both ways. Sometimes you think it's there and it's not.

[Sansa's beautiful hair is all brushed out. Sigrid arranges it over her lady's shoulder and reaches for a dip so she can start wetting and washing it, starting with the ends and working up to the roots. Tip your head back, Sansa.]

It's always there. [ she leans her head back and sinks her shoulders another inch into the water. she's beginning to feel the way the milk loosens old dead skin. she's beginning to feel the fragrance invading her pores. she'd smile for it all, but their conversation is still so solemn. ] I think it's always there. Sometimes it's not even held by anyone who means you harm but they protect themselves by gathering small silent knives. Anyone can be false.

[ after a moment. ] But I am so happy I can trust you.

'Course you can. [Sigrid sudses up her hands and begins to massage Sansa's scalp.] And others, I think. People with good, honest hearts like Gendry and your da. Jon. Lancelot. Fili.

[She misses Fili.]

I have not met Fili. [ she dares to open her eyes and tilt them upwards -- to see what corners and scraps of sigrid she can from this tight angle. ] What is he like?

He's from home. Well--my home, sort of. It's complicated. But he's from Middle-earth, is what I mean, and he's a dwarf from the Lonely Mountain. Or not from, but--

[She cuts herself off and tries starting from the beginning.]

In Middle-earth there's a mountain just standing on its own, apart from the other mountains to the north. A long time ago, there was a dwarf-kingdom there, inside the mountain. It's sort of what dwarves do, I suppose. They delve into mountains and they mine for precious things like gold and diamonds and mithril.

Trouble was that they acquired such a great heap of riches that a dragon came. He took over the mountain and killed a lot of the dwarves there, and the rest ran away. My ancestors ruled a city at the foot of the mountain named Dale, and the dragon sort of picked at it like...if you've ever seen a cat trying to pluck feathers off a bird, you'll know what I mean. Most people died, everyone else ran away to Esgaroth where I live now.

But anyway Fili is a young dwarf and his uncle's the heir to the throne, or he's king already or something. I'm not sure. But Thorin--Fili's uncle--he came across Esgaroth trying to get to the mountain so he could take it back. Trouble is he's only got thirteen people with him to go wake up a great fiery dragon--I know because Tilda and I had to set the dinner table for all of them. Fili's brother was bad sick though, so he and Fili stayed behind with a couple others to take care of them. And dwarves are horrible guests, you must understand. Nothing we did was quite good enough for them and they complained all the time and never said thank you.

But anyway Fili and his brother had nowhere else to go, so they stayed in my house. Kili was getting in a bad state when Da left to see about what sounds were coming from the mountain--I suppose he'll kill the dragon pretty soon. Fili said he ought to take us all and get out, away from the dragon, but there was really nowhere to go. The woods are miles and miles away and there's no cover anywhere.

Anyway, I was out on the terrace waiting for him when an orc--horrible, Sansa, they are so very horrible and I'd never seen one before. [She does not sound greatly traumatized, or even all that anxious about telling this part of the story. She's fine now, that's what matters.] I remember...I screamed, and tried to get back in the house and slam the door on him, but his arm was through. And he was very strong, Sansa, and you know how strong I am. He pushed me over and I fell down and he had some weapon like a hammer, I think.

And by then other orcs were coming in and I'm thinking this is the end when Fili throws himself at the orc coming for me. Not a weapon in his hand, but he's so strong he nearly shoves him back out the door, and at half his height, too. I think Bain put Tilda under the table with me and the other orcs were coming and about then is when the elves turned up hunting the orcs. Tauriel was one, and her hair is red like yours.

[Speaking of, the suds are pretty much gone from Sansa's hair. Sigrid takes up the dipper to rinse the fiery tresses. The story was very frightening at the time, of course, but she has no trouble telling it now.]

[ it's a lot. a great deal to hear and to imagine -- some of it more vividly than the rest. but she does not interrupt and she maintains a rapt attention for the breadth of the tale. indeed, sansa is farming through the sentences and harvesting its details like tender fruits: dwarven kingdoms; mithril; fili is an heir himself; and he is strong and brave, despite being a dwarf.

such dwarves must be different, she thinks. like the ones in cothromach. sansa tries to imagine her lord husband performing such feats of bravery and it's a long long stretch, though she's heard whispers of how staunchly lord tyrion stood at the blackwater. and earlier, in the vale.

breath escapes her lips as she sinks a little lower and feels the flow of water over her neck and shoulders. surely, no girl in king's landing had ever been so gentle and personal and deft as sigrid is. ]

Are all dwarves so incredible in Middle-earth? Before coming here, I had only met the one and he is--

He is nothing like these men and women. His is a marked and defective existence. They call him names and he makes japes at his own expense because of it. He is...

[ sansa feels more empathy for the imp than she ever did before. but even so, she cannot bring herself to compliment him aloud. ]

The dwarves I know would take your kneecaps off if you tried that. Practically nothing'll kill them. Even fire doesn't trouble them at all, except for dragon-fire. And they're so very proud, Sansa, but sometimes in good ways. The Lake-men still sing some of their songs, and they've all got a bit of melancholy to them, but so do ours. Except for the one about the Lord of Silver Fountains. I'm not sure if that's ours or theirs, though. But sorry, I've gone completely off the subject, here. These aren't dwarves like little people who're Men, they're dwarves like in Cothromach. They're their own race and not related to us at all.

Their own race.

[ like elves. she presses her lips together and cannot help but wonder whether lord tyrion would be a happier soul if he had somewhere to belong -- once, she'd thought him like every other lion. but now...

even if she knew glimpses of his kindness, it did not keep her from letting him take the fall for the crimes of others. ]

Lord Tyrion. They call him the Imp. They call him half-man. He is Joffrey's uncle. And...

[ her shoulders twist. the sacred act of the bath is broken up for one desperate look. no secrets -- they had promised! ] They married me to him, Sigrid. And those vows weigh heavily on my mind today.

They married you?

[That's the phrasing that makes her brain come to a screeching halt.]

Didn't you have any say in it?

[noooot sure if joking]

I was a ward of the crown -- [ cersei's words spilled out of her mouth. ] The king stood in my father's place.

[ you may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same. in effect, she had been given a choice. between violence and coercion. between tyrion and lancel. the imp had asked her...

sansa had run. tried to run. but they had caught her so swiftly! and the kettleblack knight -- he'd bade her to be brave. reminded her that she was a stark -- a wolf -- and bravery was her right. ]

I-it was my duty to marry as the king commanded -- [ and yet sansa no longer sounded so certain of that fact. ]

That's stupid. It's so very stupid to have a rule like that, dear Sansa, that a king can force anyone to marry anyone he pleases. It's no different from rape.

[That's the word that gets her throat choked up. She wants to cry for her gentle friend, that she's been put through such horrors. Tears appear, but shaking hands set the dipper down and clench in her lap as if she's grasping her own control from the air.]

It wasn't--

[ sansa is a passive girl. but sigrid spurs her to action -- that night in the woods, and tonight as well as she gripped the tub's edges and stood from the water. what time she dallies is only spent grabbing at her robe and wrapping it around her damp skin. bath-warmed skin in cool night air develops gooseflesh.

but sansa ignores her own shivering and sits next to sigrid. she takes her friend's hands in hers and needs to say the next part aloud not only for sigrid's sake but for her own. an assurance of the truth: ] For all his vices and japes, Lord Tyrion never -- he didn't...

I don't think he wanted the marriage either. He told me as much.

[Sigrid nods, wiping her tears away with fingertips, then thumb on the other side.]

Good. Though if you've never been with him and neither of you wanted it, it's not like anyone can prove you're wed to him. I don't think your da would hold you to such a thing, now he's your liegelord and not the king. You're in a different land with a different law and everything. Can't you annul it?

I have not told my father. For I fear the High Septon would be required -- [ she pauses a moment, and understands that this is something she has had to explain to others: ] The chief office of the Faith, Sigrid. Only he can annul a marriage. And so I do not want to breath a word of this to my Lord Father until I have found some...solution.

[She nods.]

I'll ask Solais. But I can't imagine someone so kindly as she would hold you to a marriage neither of you consented to.

(fourth lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

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