Only A Northern Song ~ Game of Thrones / Willas Tyrell ~

Chapter Sixty One: Stark Girls

"I am so glad to see you," Willas breathed out as he embraced Sansa, trying not to let his voice shake as relief and shock coursed through him. "Are you..."

He didn't know how to ask if she was alright, because he knew the answer would be surely be negative, and he didn't want to force her into being polite and lying. Instead, he let go of her, and stepped away, taking hold of her hand as he looked her up and down. She wasn't the same girl he had said goodbye to in Winterfell, that was for sure. The Sansa he had waved farewell to on the King's Road had been young and innocent, her eyes shining with naïve joy and a lifetime's worth of dreams.

A few years in the capital had robbed her of that shine. She appeared older, far older than her ten-and-five years. She looked tired, and dirty too from her long journey, but she was alive, which was the main thing. Even so, he couldn't ignore that there was a cut on her lip, and a fading bruise just under her eye, and though he wasn't sure due to the poor lighting of the store room, he thought he could see faint bruises near the edges of her sleeves, as if someone had taken great care to make sure any harm done to her was easy to hide. Those marks sickened him more than the bruise on her eye, more than if her face was completely black and blue, and if he hadn't have been working so hard on maintaining his composure, his grip on his temper might've slipped as he realised all the nights his wife dreamt of his sister in King's Landing, her dreams were not exaggerated.

"Lord Willas, it is good to see you too," Sansa spoke, a little uncertainly, though she at least managed a smile.

She sounded like someone who had relied on formalities for too long, someone who had perfected the art of saying exactly was was necessary and what was polite at court in order to survive. For a moment Willas was reminded of Eddmina when they first met, when they hardly knew each other, and she had spoken formally and said exactly what she had been taught a betrothed would expect and want her to say. The similarities between the girls stung a little, especially when he realised he'd never once thought how alike they were.

Sansa had no doubt expected to be greeted by her mother, or her brother or sister. Compared to the Starks, Willas knew he was a disappointing reunion, especially given the war and the fact she had spent years surrounded by malicious strangers. If Eddmina's nightmares were anything to go off, the fact Sansa was trembling slightly was understandable, as was her formality, but he loved her, and the protective instinct he usually felt for Margaery and Leonette took over.

"Please, don't call me 'Lord', no formalities, please, we're family," he spoke kindly, remembering the girl she'd been the last time he'd seen her, the one who blushed anytime he spoke to her, the one who clearly had an infatuation with his youngest brother. That girl was a ghost in the shell of the person who stood before him. "I didn't think we'd ever see you again. We heard of the riots and all thought the worst. Mina and your mother will be so happy to see you."

At the mention of them a faint smile threatened to overtake and her eyes shone with unshed tears, though his omission of Robb's name didn't go unnoticed. Sansa looked like she had at least a thousand questions but looked too overwhelmed to ask them. Honour nudged her snout into the girl's hand, as if reminding her that she was there, and Sansa immediately knelt again, stroking her hands through the Wolf's thick fur. Willas remembered Lady with a stabbing ache in his gut, and wondered when the last time Sansa felt truly safe was, when she last felt as if she had a protector.

He took the opportunity to glance around to Brynden who had remained in the doorway, watching them cautiously. Willas gave him a nod, one he hoped the Blackfish would understand. He nodded back, the two of them silently confirming that the Stark women needed to be summoned.

"Go find the Princess and Lady Stark," Brynden muttered to the guards nearest to him, who immediately marched off.

Brynden came into the room then, and while he offered Sansa a kind, welcoming smile, he turned his focus onto the other figure in the room, stood off in the shadows of the corner. Willas cursed himself for not even noticing there was someone else there with them, but Brynden had, and he regarded them coldly, his hand on the hilt of the sword on his belt.