DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Sansa II

The hearth was flickering in Sansa's solar, heat rolling from the fire. Every day, Sansa noted, the flames were brighter, and paler. The once warm orange was now a pale yellow. The heat the fire burned, was warmer than before. Jon's egg is getting closer to hatching, Sansa had thought on many and occasion. Yet she knew it would not happen, not while Jon was away.

The white dragon egg was their secret. While the fire burned, it was almost invisible to the naked eye. Jon, before he left, had learned how to hide it enough for others in the room to not notice it. Sansa had a set of tongs for her to move it when necessary. She would transport it from the fire in the solar to the ones in her chambers, or vice versa. She felt she had a responsibility towards the egg, which she knew would hatch when Jon returned.

Sansa was not the only caretaker of the egg. Lady guarded it like it was one of her own pups. It was as if they both sensed something momentous would happen with the egg. Not that Sansa was fond of dragons. She'd hated the two Daenerys brought with her from Essos. Yet here she was, protecting a dragon egg, as if it were her own child. Sansa knew, as long as the dragon was raised well, then mayhap they might be able to prevent it from being like Drogon and Rhaegal. As long as the creature inside helped with the storm, that the Night King brought with him, it might be worth it.

Sansa stared into the flames, the pull of the egg was almost mesmerising, when there was a knock on the door. Sansa blinked a few times. "Come in."

Maester Fell entered the room with a small bow of the head. He closed the door behind him. "Your grace." He said, handing her three scrolls. "These just came in. One from Winterfell, one from White Harbor, and one from Castle Black.

"Thank you, Maester Fell." Sansa smiled.

"Would you like anything?" The maester asked, his voice full of concern. Sansa had been working hard ever since Jon left. She spent much of the day helping build sew canvas for more tents, and make blankets. All the while, she still had a castle and the entire gift to rule. She'd been taking Tormund through some of the jobs, ones which did not involve reading, but in truth, she needed Mance Rayder to come south. He would take over from her, and he could also read and write.

Mance needed to be among the next group coming south. Jon would need to reveal his identity in the next two or three moons. Queenscrown needed its new Lord in place and ready to take over.

"I might need to write a letter to Castle Black." She told him. "I'll be with you shortly." She smiled.

"Do you need a sleeping draught?" Maester Fell asked. "You've been working hard, your grace."

Sansa smiled, but shook her head. "I no have problems sleeping, Maester Fell." It was true, if she fell asleep in her chambers, and the fire was burning with the egg inside, a quiet calm would fall upon her. She knew the dragon egg was part of Jon, and if it were still burning brightly, then Jon was safe. "If anything, it is the amount of work which keeps me from retiring. But it is only for a short while."

"If you say, your grace." Maester Fell sighed, not looking entirely convinced, before leaving Sansa to her letters.

The first was from Winterfell. Sansa pulled apart the seal of House Stark embedded into the red wax, and unfurled the parchment.

Another request for me to ride south for the wedding. Their invitation also suggested if we were having problems of our own, preventing us from attending the wedding and swearing fealty to King Joffrey, another method fealty would be presented. One which we cannot refuse. I fear what that could be. The wedding is one moon from now.

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North

Sansa rubbed her face. The only option the Lannisters had, was marriage. Their options to marry off were Tyrion, Cersei, Tommen and Myrcella. Sansa was already married, therefore she wasn't an option. Tywin might try to have Robb and Myrcella betrothed. It wouldn't be a terrible match, if it weren't for the fact Myrcella was a bastard of incest. She put the letter to one side; she didn't want to think about it.