#rhaegcl

She smiled back. “I’ve good reason for it,” she replied, placing her hand on Viserys’s embroidered silver doublet. She knew he’d be excited when she told him. Daenerys had wanted her to wait, to announce it to everyone over dinner later, but Sansa wouldn’t hear of it. She had to tell her husband first, to think otherwise was absurd.

@rhaegcl  ♡ ‘d

Well, of course. When he has taken the throne back, who else would he marry? Dany doesn’t say that, though. She smiles meekly at him. “Yes, brother, I promise I’ll be a queen you can be proud of.”

The implication was clear; that Viserys could not be trusted by himself, like an angry toddler. In fact, the resolute calm that she was turning on him now was exactly the same she used when disciplining the twins. Viserys was angry fire - quick to start with the right tinder, a passionate explosion, burning out eventually. Sansa, however, was a glacier - cold, steady, unending. Her anger hid silently beneath the surface, advancing day by day thanks to her husband’s mindless pushing.

“It couldn’t possibly be worse than being Joffrey’s wife!” She hardly found it a laughing matter; better that Joffrey should give her up thinking it was his own idea, rather than be forced to continue to simper over him every day.

A wild cat would have been unexpected in the Godswood on its own, even without it promptly hitting the ground and turning into a girl. Sansa’s blue eyes were staring despite herself. Little now had the impact to strike her dumb, but this was almost enough. “Yes, of course,” she said immediately, the ingrained urge to be agreeable kicking in. “I see no reason to tell anyone. Does Bran know?” It was the first question that came to mind. She wasn’t sure what else to say to this situation.

“Lord Willas had some very relevant points to make,” she replied stoically. “It is the duty of a king to listen to all of his councilors, whether he agrees with them or not. You wouldn’t even let him finish a sentence.”

Sansa wanted to cry. She had heard horrid things about the younger Targaryen prince from the maids, things she would never dare repeat to her Lady Mother, but that gave her pause nonetheless. Tears pricked the corners of her Tully blue eyes, and she gave her mother the most plaintive look she could manage. “But Mother, he isn’t a true prince, he isn’t strong, or a warrior, and they say he has an awful temper!”