(no subject)

[lastchanceforhonor]

It was, she supposed, very simple. She had cleaned her rooms the best that she could, although given her own state of affairs the best she could was not entirely satisfactory. Still, it was simple. It was time for her to get rid of the things she had been holding onto - those dresses that were too short, the bright jewelry that was featherlight and painted with colors that she had never seen, the frilly, girly things that had no business in her wardrobe.

Sansa Stark knew full well that there was no escaping who she was. There was no escaping her duty, her name, her birthright. She was not free, here - not unless she made herself free. She wondered still if she should have killed him outright, if she would have been able to before she would have been imprisoned, and if that would have changed things. She knew who she was, knew- Oh, her father would not have been disappointed in what she had done, but this - the things, the things that were not fitting or proper, those were...

She still wished for them. Perhaps she was torn from the disconnect, from what she wanted, and what she thought she should do; perhaps it was something more than that, that she knew that by taking her own fate by the hands, as Sansa Stark, The Wolf of Winterfell or something else similar, that if she would follow in her family's footsteps and never let a Lannister or any other family rule her life, it meant that she could not have such things, could not think on such flights of fancy.

She stopped, staring at the pile on her floor, before she shook her head. No. There was no room for them. Not anymore.

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[wholeworldoutthere]

"I have my own reasons to protect you," Klaus said, only very slightly mollified, if only because any further softening of his tone would have sounded like a lie, and he knew enough about her sort to know that.

He crossed over to her, and took her hand, the one not bandaged, making her turn to him and trying to meet her gaze. "You once told me I reminded you of your brother," he reminded her, searching her gaze with his own, unflinching one. "He would have taken your husband's head for his own reason, too." No matter how much he might have protested that it was for her, anyone taking somebody's head did it for their own reason.

[lastchanceforhonor]

"My brother did not come for me," she said, and that is what made her eyes shiny, not her husband, not this. "My brother was fighting his war, and left me alone in a lion's den." She did not want this, she did not wish to think of Robb, to face the fact that she had been left alone, that he did not even send for her or parlay for her or come to rescue her. "He fought his war, and died for it." It was her fault that Eddard Stark had died, and she wondered at times - the darkest of times, she wondered if that is why Robb did not find her, if that is why he left her in the South.

"It is not well to speak ill of the dead," she said then, taking back her hand. "Do what you will, and I appreciate your concern." She had no one, she had to remind herself that she had no one, and she would be stronger for it. She would be, it was what Petyr had told her again and again, although he had told her that she had only him.

It was a difficult thing, and she licked her lips. "Whatever you do for me is more than he had done," she said then, and she clasped her hands in front of her, ever proper even when she was not thinking of it. "So, thank you."

[wholeworldoutthere]

There was a point when any man, hybrid or otherwise, a thousand years old or not, would just about have had it with teenage girls and their... whatever it was they all thought they were doing. First Caroline all but breaking up with him via a note (although if he were perfectly honest, he was fairly certain that he would not have taken it better if she had simply told him, but he could at least have reacted to her), and now Sansa doing that thing that she did, that distance she put between herself and others. It wasn't the first time she did it between them, and Klaus suspected that it would not be the last, but at this stage, he had very little patience for it.

He was tired of growing to care and its coming back to bite him in the arse.

"I will let you know if I get my hands on him," Klaus simply told her, easily shifting back into something as distant as she was. He had had centuries of practice, and worked the shift smoothly, gave her a wan smile, and turned to go.