“Ohh,” she breathed. It wasn’t as gaudy as the jewels Queen Cersei used to wear but there was charm to its simplicity. She unclasped the necklace she was wearing (one of the few she had, a gold one gifted by Margaery on her wedding day) and tried to put it on. Stannis gestured for her to turn and he clasped it around her neck, fingere brushing gently against her skin. “It belonged to my mother,” he said quietly. Sansa looked up, startled. “I know you lack finery and since you are the lady of house Baratheon…” He cleared his throat. “Devan found it at Storm’s End, in one of the storage rooms.” Sansa raised a trembling hand to her throat, thinking of her own mother and how she missed her, how any reminder of her was so special and safe. It was the only reason she continued to visit the place of gods who had never helped her, so she could look at the Mother’s face and imagine Lady Catelyn Stark watching over her. “I will leave you now,” Stannis said. Sansa said nothing, hoping hard she wouldn’t cry. Her husband rose and with a panic she realized she hadn’t thanked him – that wasn’t ladylike, that wasn’t right. She grabbed his hand and he froze, stiffening under her touch. “Thank you,” she whispered. Stannis nodded curtly, looking extremely uncomfortable as he slowly pulled his hand from hers. “Would you – would you like to dine together tonight? Perhaps we could invite Ser Davos and his son.” Stannis blinked. “If you wish.” “I do,” she said sincerely. Stannis nodded, his shoulders relaxing as he made his way out. Sansa waited for the door to shut before she turned to her mirror, appraising her appearance. The silver was slightly discolored, one or two pearls showing their age as well. It was not the most ornate necklace and probably not the most expensive. Yet as she looked, she thought of her mother and how simply she’d dressed, of the day Stannis had confessed why he put little trust in gods, how she had once worn the finest gowns in Westoros in front of a court that held no friends. She thought of the king’s backhanded approval for her as his queen (as his wife) and she didn’t think she would exchange the necklace for anything in the world.
Gratitude (is not bought, they say) 2/2
“It belonged to my mother,” he said quietly. Sansa looked up, startled. “I know you lack finery and since you are the lady of house Baratheon…” He cleared his throat. “Devan found it at Storm’s End, in one of the storage rooms.”
Sansa raised a trembling hand to her throat, thinking of her own mother and how she missed her, how any reminder of her was so special and safe. It was the only reason she continued to visit the place of gods who had never helped her, so she could look at the Mother’s face and imagine Lady Catelyn Stark watching over her.
“I will leave you now,” Stannis said. Sansa said nothing, hoping hard she wouldn’t cry. Her husband rose and with a panic she realized she hadn’t thanked him – that wasn’t ladylike, that wasn’t right. She grabbed his hand and he froze, stiffening under her touch.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Stannis nodded curtly, looking extremely uncomfortable as he slowly pulled his hand from hers. “Would you – would you like to dine together tonight? Perhaps we could invite Ser Davos and his son.”
Stannis blinked. “If you wish.”
“I do,” she said sincerely. Stannis nodded, his shoulders relaxing as he made his way out. Sansa waited for the door to shut before she turned to her mirror, appraising her appearance.
The silver was slightly discolored, one or two pearls showing their age as well. It was not the most ornate necklace and probably not the most expensive. Yet as she looked, she thought of her mother and how simply she’d dressed, of the day Stannis had confessed why he put little trust in gods, how she had once worn the finest gowns in Westoros in front of a court that held no friends. She thought of the king’s backhanded approval for her as his queen (as his wife) and she didn’t think she would exchange the necklace for anything in the world.