If there is one thing Sansa learned in King's Landing, it's that the more glitz and glitter there is, the greater is the ugliness and filth underneath it. So she didn’t bat an eyelash when her husband turned away artisans, nor protested when he melted as much gold and sold as many jewels from the treasury as the propriety would allow. She’d rather be surrounded by bare walls than see another riot. And she understood his desire to have nothing to do with Casterly Rock all too well.
That’s why she was shocked when he handed her a silver necklace –they both loathe gold – with sapphires – the colour of her eyes – on the Midwinter. Still, her training kicked in, and her lips spouted appropriate words of gratitude even as her mind was reeling; he just stood in front of her listening, his face stony.
“Davos picked it,” he blurted out when she was done. His face grew even more expressionless.
One could have found offense in his words: that he couldn’t be bothered to find one himself. But Sansa was a Stark, and she knew how to appreciate honesty. Of course her husband didn’t pick it up – he wouldn’t know where to start looking for it. He could manage army equipment, metal and stone better than any maester, but he was utterly lost when dealing with goods from Free Cities – and his lack of patience for bargaining and empty courtesies didn’t help. She smiled and thought of the ways she could thank her husband’s ever-harried Hand.
Then she remembered herself and looked at her husband, stillstanding there and trying to mimic Dragonstone. She knew not why, but once she learned to look past the façade, she found the way he concealed his awkwardness with severity oddly endearing. She rose on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his cheek. This broke his composure for a moment: his eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open. She giggled even as he glared at her reproachfully. Then she pocketed her gift and bowed in greeting. She moved towards the Hand’s quarters; she needed to talk to Davos about organizing the transport of wood from the North to the shipyards to replenish the royal fleet. She thought it would make a perfect return gift.
Re: Stannis/Sansa, mini-fill
That’s why she was shocked when he handed her a silver necklace –they both loathe gold – with sapphires – the colour of her eyes – on the Midwinter. Still, her training kicked in, and her lips spouted appropriate words of gratitude even as her mind was reeling; he just stood in front of her listening, his face stony.
“Davos picked it,” he blurted out when she was done. His face grew even more expressionless.
One could have found offense in his words: that he couldn’t be bothered to find one himself. But Sansa was a Stark, and she knew how to appreciate honesty. Of course her husband didn’t pick it up – he wouldn’t know where to start looking for it. He could manage army equipment, metal and stone better than any maester, but he was utterly lost when dealing with goods from Free Cities – and his lack of patience for bargaining and empty courtesies didn’t help. She smiled and thought of the ways she could thank her husband’s ever-harried Hand.
Then she remembered herself and looked at her husband, stillstanding there and trying to mimic Dragonstone. She knew not why, but once she learned to look past the façade, she found the way he concealed his awkwardness with severity oddly endearing. She rose on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his cheek. This broke his composure for a moment: his eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open. She giggled even as he glared at her reproachfully. Then she pocketed her gift and bowed in greeting. She moved towards the Hand’s quarters; she needed to talk to Davos about organizing the transport of wood from the North to the shipyards to replenish the royal fleet. She thought it would make a perfect return gift.