eachdraidh | (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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Queen made me do it. I...

[ no. now is not the time for excuses. her sister is not asking her to explain it. or even to justify it. so, in a soft and wretched tone: ] Tyrion Lannister. I'm sorry.

[ she apologizes because she's tied to their enemy. although she hasn't been in king's landing for nearly a year, she feels caught beneath the lion's paw. if the imp dared to show in these lands-- ]

I don't know how to tell father. [ it's bad enough telling arya; sansa anticipates hatred and disappointment and distance. ]

You're married to the Imp. [ it's said flatly, almost in complete disbelief. there's a myriad of thoughts that drive arya to be silent, betrayal and anger being chief among them.

however, after only a brief pause to think, there's no question that sansa did not want that. sansa always spoke of knights and princes and lords with lovely faces and armor. the imp was only half of one of those things. and well, only half a man. she'd wanted joffrey with his stupid golden hair and his stupid sword and stupid crown, not a dwarf, stunted and hideous, lecherous.

arya feels sick to her stomach and then anger, even more anger than before.] You have to tell father. He can make it right.

He can't. [ not unless he manages to kill tyrion from a world away -- and even then, sansa is not certain whether she would revel in that resolution. ] The words were said. The vows were made. We never--

[ she will not say those words to arya. it's bad enough to think them. so sansa swallows it all. ] There is no High Septon, else I'd see it annulled. But it could be some man of law might fix it.

[ and she does not want to hear that same anger in their father's voice. her throat tightens; she breaths in and holds back tears. ] Please, Arya. Don't tell him. Not before I can.

And what could a law... yer, do to break vows? [ arya is skeptical even if she wants this marriage annulled too now.

the imp? arya wants to shudder. or rather, arya wants to stab cersei lannister.]

I won't. But you have to tell him.

I don't know. I don't know anything about lawyers. But I was told they crack apart marriages all the time in other worlds. [ ... ] So I want to speak with one. Before I tell father -- how much better it will be if I can use my same breath to tell him he need not be ashamed for much longer.

But he should know so he can help you! [ arya is one to talk, she never asks for help. but what sansa says next--] Ashamed? You said the queen made you...

And yet I feel it. [ shame. she did not fight the arrangement the way she knows arya would have -- and that pit of shame is the only reason she cannot believe gendry's claims that her sister was packed off to a bolton wedding. ]

Why? [ arya didn't understand why sansa wasn't angry instead of ashamed unless she did not mind it, which arya was refusing to believe could be true.]

[ anger does not come easily to her. but when it does, it is a force turned inwards. it gnaws beneath her chest; it leaves her hollow. ]

I became a thing. A piece on the playing board. Aren't you ashamed of me?

[ she imagines arya must be -- the way she runs from her. the way she speaks. ]

No. [ it's simply and honestly put. sansa cannot doubt it, not when arya is usually so blunt. she had been, in the past. when she was so enamoured with joffrey, the evil little shit prince.

things were different now.]

[ she is wordless. there is (perhaps) some whisper of a shaking breath -- like unspent tears forcing a quaver into her throat. but she does well to keep it controlled. and there are all the nuances she cannot share: how the imp had not been so cruel as others, and how in his way he had been kind. but even so he'd spoken harshly with her. he'd looked at her with those eyes. and she could not love him, a sin against him he seemed to take rather darkly. ]

Then...thank you. For your pledge of discretion. Jon knows -- word had already reached him at the Wall. Lady Margaery, too. She was there. [ and she thinks the latter could attest to how loveless the marriage had been in its brief time. ]

And now you know. I'm sorry I kept it from you. It's not an easy thing to say.

Everyone keeps secrets from me. [ that is said with more than a touch of anger. this isn't the first secret that's been held from her, only to be revealed later. the news of the death of her brother and mother is still a fresh wound, one she tries to ignore.

and with that, she has nothing more to say so she merely shuts her locket, ending the transmission and thus, her conversation.]

Because secrets are p--

[ but arya is gone. and sansa is alone once again -- and she cannot help but feel as if the shame truly does exist, hanging between them. and that she's marked herself as a less a stark for her confession. as if she's given her sister more reasons to cut her away.

gently, sansa closes her locket. and alone she weeps. ]

(fourth lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

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