Kind eyes, kind words [Sansa Stark/Open]

[Deleted]

The young knight read over the strip of folded parchment once more. It was written in a delicate, yet decisive hand. He had read it once as soon as it was delivered, then immediately placed it on his small bedside table before grabbing a wineskin and swallowing several dark red mouthfuls. His room was small, but private, much more so than the barracks the guardsmen and common soldiers had shared. The letter had been delivered, slipped under his door in the early hours of the morning, before he had risen.

He had only noticed it when he had donned his clothes and mail and had prepared to leave for breakfast. He had since been sitting silently in his room for the past hour, his mind spinning. Long fingers brushed lightly over the parchment and hesitated a moment before gripping the paper and bringing it to eye level.

[Ser Alaric, your commander Ser Prestor Forley has spoken highly of you. The king welcomes you to the city and while he regrets he cannot meet with you and congratulate your knighthood in person, he is most pleased that another of the Creyon line has distinguished themselves so ably in the cause of House Lannister, The Iron Throne and all the Seven Kingdoms.

With the dissapearence of the Hound, my husbands young betrothed is without a dedicated guardian. While you are young, I have no doubt that you will rise to this task that the King has asked of you and serve the Lady Sansa with honor and chivalry as befits a knight of your station. Do not let her out of your site, do not let let her come to harm. Bring all whispers, plots and murmerings to me. Serve me well and you will be rewarded ser, fail me and I shall have you gelded and sent to the Wall to join your uncle.

-Cersei Lannister, Queen Regent]

Alaric rose from being seated on the bed. He dropped the parchment upon the candle burning on his bedside table and turned away as the flames licked over, then engulfed the paper. The second son of the Creyon family was a tall and well built young man of 18. Clean shaven, with an average face, curly dark hair and eyes that were perpetually caught between a grimace and solemnity.

The message was a clear threat, that was undoubtable. He had had his reservations about joining the Lannister forces in King's Landing when Ser Prestor had received the raven demanding their presence to help protect the Iron Throne. Ser Prestor was a man of duty however and had answered the call with the men at his command. He was then assigned a position beneath his rank and experience as punishment for retreating at the Battle of the Whispering Wood... Other members of their column received similar punishments, having been blamed for the fleeing and allowing Jaime to be captured by the Wolves.

After Alaric had turned his back on the parchment that was quickly being reduced to ash, he had walked over to his footlocker against the far wall and withdrew his sword and greaves which he fixed around his waist and forearms respectively. He then threw on a loose fitting shirt over his chainmail which had his family coat of arms, a white stallion, prominently displayed. The second son of a lesser lord could do much worse than landing a position defending the daughter of late Lord Eddard Stark... Alaric could not help but pleased that if this was the Queen's form of punishment, he would gladly take more. It was said that she was quite beautiful... He would need to be careful, eyes and ears were everywhere in the castle...

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Alaric Creyon left one of the many dining halls and after a hearty breakfast of bacon and porridge he had gathered both the mental resolve and information from loose lipped guardsmen where he would be able to find the young Stark. It was said that often times, the young woman would ask leave to enter the small godswood, more often than not she entered alone as the Septons and Septas would not deign to enter such a heathen grove and her other retainers were godly followers of the Seven.

Alaric had then resolved to procure a bottle of fine arbor red and a small sack of apples, hard bread and cheese and await lady Stark's pleasure in the godswood, sitting underneath one of the red leafed trees away from the main tree with the disconcerting, bleeding face carved into it's trunk. He would wait all day if he had too.

[Cersei Lannister]

Cersei sat upright as her maiden hands tightened her cincher about her waist, her long blonde hair getting its finishing touches, laying about her in long handfuls. She wore a dress of deep green, trimmed in bright gold. Her cincher was inlaid with gold and green lions. Turning to her door she snapped her fingers, her hands clasped before her as her front door opened and she headed down the hall.

Passing through the godswoods entryway she could see her newest appointed knight, Alaric Creyon awaiting on the soft footfalls. A small smirk appeared on her face as she turned and entered the woods, four red capes trailing behind her. She walked into the godswood, her head held high, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Well well well, if I had known that I was hiring the young Sansa a personal cook hound I would have chosen better." Cersei said, her voice dripping with ice. "And I do believe that I said to not let her leave your sights. I know you only received the letter shortly ago but when I give orders I expect them to be followed." she said as she sat upon a bench, smoothing out her dress. She looked over at Alaric, her eyes never leaving his.

[Sansa Stark]

There were guards posted at Sansa's door now. They were present day and night, even when she slept, for sometimes when she awakened in the middle of the night, she could hear their soft voices or their boots shuffling restlessly in the corridor. Whenever she left her chambers, they followed her at a discreet distance, giving her the illusion that she was alone. The young girl was always aware of them, though, and their presence disconcerted her more than a bit. At least the Hound no longer dogged her every step. She was glad he was gone, for his monstrously disfigured face had frightened her horribly, as had his rough voice and menacing manner. Yes, he had been kind to her on occasion, but his kindness held a sharp edge that Sansa was not familiar with, and he had seen right through her attempts at politeness.

So far another guardian had not been chosen for her, and she tried to enjoy her illusory freedom while it lasted. She knew that eventually another one would be appointed, someone loyal to King Joffrey who would report everything she did to him. Sansa was a prisoner in a gilded cage, watched constantly, and she knew she would be punished if she gave even the slightest indication of stepping out of line.

Only in the godwood did she feel safe. Even her guards did not follow her there, and it was also where she felt closest to her family and to Winterfell. How foolish she had been to believe that she belonged in King's Landing, to disobey her father's orders in order to remain with her 'loving' betrothed. If only she had known of his cruelty then; if only she had not taken his word that he would spare her father's life and allow him to take the black. If only, if only, if only...

Sorrow touched her heart as she neared the godswood, remembering the day that her father had been executed. Sansa could still hear the snick of the sword as it swung downward, and the sickening thump his head had made when it hit the ground. She remembered the acrid smell of the blood spurting from his body and the sound of her own screams still echoed in her ears. Last night, she'd had another nightmare, and she hoped the peace and the silence of the godswood would soothe her troubled soul. Sometimes she felt her father's presence when she sat beneath the heart tree, and she often prayed for the rest of her family … even for Arya. Where was her sister now, she wondered? Was she dead as most people believed, or had she somehow survived? Sansa worried also for Robb and her mother, and poor crippled Bran and little Rickon back at Winterfell. The young girl was the only Stark left in Kings Landing, a small lonely wolf among fierce predatory lions, ready to devour her if she made a single false move.

She sighed softly as she entered the godswood, its tranquility a welcome respite from the turbulence elsewhere in the Keep. Yet something wasn't right, and after taking only a few tentative steps, she realized she was not alone. A knight she had never seem before … a rather handsome one actually ... lounged beneath a tree, and Queen Cersei herself sat regally on a bench. Sansa's eyes widened. She had not expected company at all, and felt violated that others had invaded her secret retreat. Yet she managed to keep her expression neutral and dropped into a respectful curtsy. As Queen Cersei had just spoken to the knight, Sansa remained silent, standing there courteously with confusion and fear pounding through her heart.

She wold not speak unless spoken to. It was always safer that way.