♕ — - His house had been to blame for most of her pain
he knew this to be true. Should she have him killed in
the dead of night he’d forgive her. Yet, Sansa was not
that kind of lady. She did not bring about a fire like his
mother had. No she was much gentler, far too kind to
live in a world as cruel as theirs. Yet, he admired her
for he only wished he could have taken back what had
been done to her. Being forced into a marriage with his
uncle Tyrion. Far too unsuitable for a lady of her stature
though none the less loyal. He was only glad he could
give her a key to those chains and free her from the last
cruelty his brother had bestowed upon her.❝ Aye. That would be
most welcome, m’lady. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
She remembers how, Robert Baratheon, first
of his name had chosen to pay his respects
first, to a woman he loved and lost and mayhaps
it makes for a good change that Tommen is not
his father and they can bury the dead and their
past like they should have so many moon turns ago.
With a small bow, she nods to the others of her party,
effectively dispersing the crowd around them as she
gestures for one of the squires to lead the way with
her and the king following behind. The Guest Hall has
been rebuilt and refurbished though its foundation not
touched. It’s not that much different from eleven years ago.
“Your Grace, I hope the accommodations
are to your liking. Our servants are yours
to command, shall you require anything
at all. The welcoming feast in your honour
shall commence at sundown. I look forward
to your company.”
It’s only then that her lips quirk, the first show of
animated expression on her practiced courtesies.
It’s difficult to be cool towards a King she remembers
so well as a boy.
"You look well, your Grace.“