Reality (GoT)

The Morning After Realisations

Marriage was all Sansa dreamt of, every night, every time she was alone, every family occasion. It was the idea of being Queen, Joffery her knight in shinning armer who would fight a dragon to save her, just like in the Old Granny's tales. His golden locks and deep blue eyes were perfect, he'd jump off his high horse, swoop down and...well and slit her throat.

The dreams got darker as the moons went by, nights got lonelier and memories more faded. The idea she could have ever loved Joffery made her sick to her stomach. How could she ever want someone so vile and psychotic? Let alone want to marry! Stay with him till death do they part. She had made her dad let them marry, made him take her with him so she could get closer to the King. Queen was what she wanted, not Lanister. Never Lanister. But she made the wrong first choice and now she is completely choiceless with no title of Queen, but instead of Lanister.

As soon as Sansa opened her eyes the reality came flooding back in, after all she ended up with the ugly Lanister in the end, didn't she? The light came flooding through the thin silk curtains, revealing the post wedding mess of their room and all she could do was look at it in astonishment. Sansa had heard about the drinking, the boozing and the whores, but never had it become so clear than when the sunlight pealed the whispering away.

She was now married. Married. It still sounded obscure in her head just like when you repeat a word too many times that the meaning disintegrates to noises. So many times had she dreamt of her wedding night and when it came she didn't even consummate it.

Hope.

There was still hope.

If she didn't consummate the married with the dwarf Lanister, she could escape. The window was open, the 'husband' stone cold, the bed sheets large. She could, she could leave now and just run.

But how far?

She stared at the window, the breeze made the curtains danced and it reminded her of large family occasions where people would be flying around the floor with no cares in the world. It was as if the curtains didn't care, as long as someone opened a window to let them dance in the morning rays. She wanted to be as free, to dance and feel glee.

Even though the sunlight filled the room, it still seemed musky and gloomy, or maybe that was just how she wanted to see it. Tyrion never stopped drinking last night, his glass was never half empty and his hands neither. When they had got to the bedding ceremony he just looked blankly at Sansa, studying her like one of his books.

His books filled the whole room, due to a lack of being able to sleep she read the titles of the ones in view around her: 'Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History' by Septon Barth, 'The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling' by Grand Maester Munkun, 'Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons' by Maester Thomax. It seemed strange to Sansa that such a tiny, insignificant man would be dreaming of dragons and almost preparing for them as if seeing one would complete his life, but also he would be ready. Ready to meet a dragon. More ready than anyone else in the Seven Kingdoms.

In some way this brought Tyrion into a more human lighting, but not close enough for her to stop hating him. She guessed it wasn't really him, more his name, what he stood for, who he was associated with, and his grotesque features. So maybe it was just him, yet he did promise not to bed her until she allowed. However, he then went and bedded three other women on the other side of the wall. Thin wall.

Also Sansa could quiet figure out if this was for her or him? If it was to respect her? Or to disrespect his father?

There were jugs everywhere on the floor, empty gauntlets, wine stains, and some under garments. The stench of stale wine stifled the room like a steam bath and the image of Tyrion looking her dead in the eye and saying three simple and understood words, 'I will not', made her plunge back into bed. Can beds engulf people? aloud them to sink in and never arise back up?

She closed her eyes, face contracted, teeth clenched and body tightened. She thought of home and where she so wished to be more than anything in the world, maybe wishing so hard, harder than you have ever wished before, will mean that someone bigger than this all would have to listen. Someone would have to make a change. She decided wishing will not just do, but before her awkward encounter with her new, hungover husband, she should flee their apartments and go pray to the Mother, may she have mercy. Wishing will not free her from the mess reality has entrapped her in. Only something bigger than her and bigger than the land she stands and breaths on can do anything to help her now. Otherwise she's alone, utterly and completely. The old gods never helped her father, never helped her, so Sansa had made the brash decision to see if the seven would listen. Maybe just once someone could hear her scream for help, for mercy, for anything.

The Sept was not too busy and people prayed and lit candles silently, so she swished pass without a glance and assumed her position on her knees. She was wondering if anyone else amongst her was just internally screaming, just yelling because they hadn't been able to in such a long time? Even though she was more than less likely to be just screaming into the abis, it was in one way nice to get it off her chest. However, she still longed to go to the gods wood, even though she was trying to reach out to new gods with new hopes, the idea of her fathers dead soul still lived in the gods wood, amongst his family. Her family. Seeming as now most of them are dying off. All she truly wanted was Arya to walk there with her and kneel with her and remind her she still had her family. Sansa knew her and her sister never got on that well, but it was times like this that she could use another soul to have her back. To not have to play the games alone.

She could feel the water filling her eyes so hurried back to her quarters, skipping the gods wood all together to avoid anyone seeing her. Crying was a weakness and to look weak here means you are going to be prayed upon. She was a Stark after all.

But as she had waisted the sun rising and it had settled above them directly, her Lord Husband had only just begun to awaken.

'Dear wife I was wondering where you had got to! To seek another man I hope not. That or an escape plan. Both would be useful in places like this dearie, never be alone and trapped.' He searched the room for left over wine whilst saying this, and his tone seemed to harden and freeze. Sansa still look at him blankly and wondering if he was really standing there in front of him as her Lord Husband. That and if he was still drunk.

Panicking because this is exactly what she had hoped to avoid, Sansa bowed and replied 'Morning Lord Husband.' Smirking and shaking his head, he grabbed a flask of the long sort after yesterdays wine and closed the door behind him as he returned to the room adjacent to her own.

Yet he made no more mention of bedding her...there was hope.