#ffiresbride

It killed her that the night was only early. How many feasts and balls and pretend celebrations she had been forced to attend with the Lannister's, to sit pretty and pretend like nothing was wrong, like she was there willingly even after they beheaded her father and put his head on a spike, forced her to look at it. Sitting in the Red Keep again was disgusting, made her feel dirty and tainted. All she wanted to do was go home, to return to Winterfell with her brother and King at her side, with the rest of their siblings around them too. The Stark's belonged in Winterfell, Direwolves belonged in the North, not in King's Landing, not in the South, none of them were safe here, even if one would think that Robb's position as Hand would keep him out of harm's way, but if anything it put all of them further in it.

All around her people laughed and chatted, discussed the latest fashion and what everyone was wearing. The Ladies she passed were fawning over young Lord's who had caught their eye. Sansa had no interest in any of it, even if she should have. Even if the girl she had been before she went south the first time would have been, even if Sansa Stark was known for loving fashion and balls and finding a suitor. She cared for none of it now. She needed no man to be strong, needed no fancy dresses to be seen for her worth. She was a wolf, and she would not wear a sheep's skin any longer.

Her eyes had been going from table to table, examining how everyone was acting. She had noted some glares towards the King and Princess, though more directed at him than at her, which she supposed she could understand. It seemed Daenerys had been content running Dragonstone with her Dragons roaming above it, natural in their habitats. She seemed more level headed, kinder, than the King. One could tell simply by making eye contact with them, she had noticed Daenerys smile and nod her head at a few people, whereas Viserys only forced a smile for looks, and scowled when they looked away. But she saw it all. Saw how Viserys took the spotlight and ran with it, while the Princess sat by her lonesome, not even a plate before her.

So when the King had gone to do whatever he was going to do, Sansa approached the table and took an empty seat near the Princess, turning her body towards her so that the two could talk over the noise of the festivities around them, her hands folding over the soft grey skirts of her dress, folding together to uphold the Lady like appearance that she was meant to have before someone of such a high status : but in Sansa's mind, the two women were equals, both Princesses, both Lady's of their houses.

Having to sit in the presence of what she only saw as an enemy was unbearable. She understood that there was a difference between the Dragon Princess and the dreaded Dragon King. Viserys seemed more tempermental than the lady, more likely to snap and slaughter someone for looking at him the wrong way. Daenerys seemed at least level-headed. Not that it made her trust her much more, for Sansa only thought of the worst when it came to the Targaryens. Especially those that wished to keep her brother and the rest of them chained to the south.

Her brother was a King. He had been a King before Viserys. His home was not Kings Landing, it was Winterfell, and that was where she planned to get him.

"I feel lots of things." She told her, idly swishing the red wine about in her cup, cold eyes sliding across the quiet room so that she could look upon the pale beauty that was the Targaryen Princess. The Lannisters should have slaughtered them when they were nothing but children, she thought bitterly. And then regretted it - but only for a second. These people did not deserve to be punished for their fathers crime, just as she did not deserve to be punished for the false crime they'd pinned on hers. But they were here now, ruining her world and ripping her family to shreds. For that, for that they deserved death. "I feel anger the most though. Resentment for this King that sits in this castle and hides away from the people that want to hiss insults at him. Resentment for his lies, dragging my brother, MY King, south only to keep him here against his will. I feel rage, Your Highness. It burns in me like the fires your children spit in the sky."

For a moment, Sansa simply stares at her with a blank face. She hopes her feelings are clear, hopes that the Princess understands that she had no intentions of playing nice, she was here for one reason and one reason only: to return the King of the North, back to the North.