Loki: Storm of Swords

Chapter 33 - Unwanted Visitations

Sansa sat with Ragna and Rhaenar by the fountain in the gardens of the Red Keep. Ser Sandor and Sif were standing a few feet away, trying to mind their own business, while simultaneously ignoring each other. A little awkward, but they both decided to deal with it. If only for the sake of the family a few yards away from them. "Why were you mad at Father when he left?" Ragna asked as she threw a flower into the waters. Sansa sighed, running her fingers through her daughter's flaming locks. She glanced at Rhaenar and saw him looking at her with his sparkling blue eyes. 

"We weren't angry with one another," she responded and Ragna shot her a 'really?' look. Sansa's brow furrowed and Rhaenar pulled out of her arms, hopping back up onto the edge of the fountain.

"We're not stupid, Mother. We know that you both quarreled. I'm also fairly certain everyone could sense the tension. Everyone, Mother," Rhaenar said and Sansa frowned. She sometimes wished her children were not ahead of their time. 

"We had a disagreement, it is true, but you're children. It is really none of your concern; adult matters are above you," Sansa told them and they both snickered.

"We're our father's children. I was born ready for the small council chamber," Ragna declared and all Rhaenar had to do was conjure up a ball of fire in the palm of his hand. Sansa glanced between the two of them, her lips pursed together.

"Don't think you two can do that and get away with it. You are both six-years-old, and have no place talking back to your elders, much less your parents, like that!" Sansa had raised her voice and both Sandor and Sif glanced over. They saw the stormy expression on Sansa's face, as well as the disinterested/bored expressions on the children's faces. Sif glanced at Sandor and saw him shaking his head.

"Have they done something like that before?" she asked. He glanced at her and shrugged.

"They've always been high-handed youngsters. They know they have power because of who their father is, and what their birthright demands. I'm not going to lie; they can be very imperious," he said with a hint of annoyance. Sif grinned as she looked back.

"I can guarantee you that it comes strictly from their father," she explained. Sandor gave her a sideways glance and adjusted his armor slightly.

"What was he like in your world? He's always so sure of himself here," Sandor said and Sif looked back into her memories of Loki on Asgard.

"He was... a little... less sure of himself on Asgard. He was not the prince of choice, and everyone knew it. As such, the way they treated him was a little less than what it should have been," Sif admitted.

"Including yourself," Sandor fired back and Sif glared at him a little. 

"Oh? Are you good at nuanced subtlety now?" Sif challenged. Sandor made a face as he pondered a good response.

"Not an expert at 'nuanced subtlety', lady. Just not blind," Sandor retorted. Sif turned to face him, her arms folded across her chest. 

"Just not blind to what? Loki is not the type of person to discuss anything about his past that doesn't validate him. So... I can't see him saying anything about it," Sif countered. Sandor grinned a little and turned to face her as well, using his greater height and breadth to his advantage.

"Oh, if anybody has the balls to ask him about Asgard, he doesn't miss a chance to say the nastiest things he can about it. And I mean everything nasty about it. The culture, the architecture, the food, the people-!" and Sandor would have continued if it was not for the fact that he was interrupted.

"My lady! You shouldn't be here in the capital!" they heard Samwell Tarly's voice say.

"I was not banished from Kings Landing; therefore, I see no reason why I shouldn't be here," came a cold response and Sansa froze.