Chapter 125. Lady Sansa Stark.

Chapter 125: Chapter 125. Lady Sansa Stark.

"I have seen few people as skilled with plants as you, Lady Sansa," Qyburn praised the woman who worked with herbs with such mastery. The girl had an apothecary, a gift from Jaehaerys.

Sansa smiled politely at him. Though she felt a strange sense of unease about the maester. He was a maester who had been expelled from the Citadel, one who had been recruited by Jaehaerys. The prince had a peculiar way of seeing people; perhaps Jae saw something in Qyburn that she could not. Or perhaps it was the other way around. The prince cannot see that nauseating aura he emits.

Even with her thoughts, she didn’t treat him badly; he was a servant of Jaehaerys.

"I tended a small garden in the North. Though the climate didn’t allow for as much variety as here," she replied demurely, her fingers caressing a purple flower.

"Even so, using plants as remedies isn’t the same as growing them. It’s a skill hardly befitting a lady," Sansa smiled at that comment. It was rare for anyone to tell her she did things unbecoming of a lady. Usually, it was Arya who received such praise from the septa and her mother. She wondered how her little sister would be.

Sansa had received it once from her mother.

"A bastard? Is that how I raised you? All that effort just so you’d end up giving your virginity to a prince? A prince who’s now married. That’s more fitting for a prostitute than a lady," Lady Catelyn had said when she found out.

Sansa wept inconsolably that night.

Later, her mother apologized. But the wound remained. Sansa didn’t doubt her mother’s love, but the words broke her heart. And her constant attempts to make her drink moon tea drove her away from her. She wondered if her mother could love Rhaella now that she was a Targaryen.

It was Arya who supported her the most, even her friend, Jeyne Poole, became distant after she told her about the pregnancy. Sansa even considered naming her daughter Arya.

"My Lady?" Qyburn called out, bringing her back to reality.

"I learned it from Old Nan," she confessed. "At least at first, she knew a little about remedies, then I began to learn from Maester Luwin," at which the old Qyburn snorted.

"What you know doesn’t come from a maester," he confirmed. "It’s from the prince, isn’t it?" Sansa felt he was mocking the old maester; she didn’t like it at all.

"Yes. Jaehaerys taught me how to experiment with the plant’s effects. But Maester Luwin gave me valuable knowledge," she said, a bit sharply. "Do you wish to speak of my training, or of my knowledge, Lord Qyburn?" She didn’t call him Maester; she could have done so out of courtesy, but in reality, he wasn’t one.

"I wish to review the books provided by the prince," the old scholar stated clearly.

"They were a gift to me—why would I let you take them?" Sansa asked.

"I’m only looking to exchange knowledge. I didn’t come empty-handed," Qyburn said. "He took out several books; their titles were related to biology.

’Study of Life,’ the prince had explained to her. A word that came from a strange dialect he had never explained. It was enough for Sansa to see the ink on the pages; the shape of the letters was Jaehaerys’s. It was mostly straight, but she could see how it became more unruly as he neared the end of a Chapter.

"Wouldn’t Jaehaerys give me this book if I asked him?" Sansa said.

"Have I done something to offend you, Lady Sansa?" Qyburn asked. "Was it because of Maester Luwin? I apologize for... doubting the knowledge of Winterfell’s maester," he said, though not sincerely; Sansa looked him in the eyes.

"Very well. The original text of my books is written in black ink. The blue is my notes. I’ll have someone send them to you. They’ll be yours for a moon," she said as she left with Qyburn’s books. She didn’t want to spend any more time with the man, and she was curious about the books. "Make sure you return it as it’s presented to you, I’ll do the same".

Jaehaerys had given her maidservants directly under her command, who obeyed her orders. Also, some of those warriors, the Unsullied, were to protect her and Rhaelle. Sansa wasn’t the lady of the castle, but she didn’t feel defenseless either.

"Malla," she called out the name of one of the maids. "Send these books to the maester," she said the word with a sigh, for that was how they addressed him in the castle.

"Yes, my Lady," the maid nodded, taking four thick books and leaving the room.

Sansa entered her room; little Rhaelle was in bed. She was playing with wooden figures. Jaehaerys had carved them himself. Sansa knew he was a married man, but even so, those little gestures he made as a father made it hard to set her feelings aside.

"Have you been here long, Missandei?" she asked a girl with dark skin and curly hair.

She wasn’t a maid; she was something like an adopted daughter to Daenerys. The girl had a gift for languages. She was also quite sweet with Rhaelle.

Sansa remembered how one of the Vance sisters, Rhialta, had made a remark about Rhaelle’s illegitimacy. Neither Daenerys nor Jaehaerys was present, and that was when Missandei stood up for the girl. It wasn’t much—just a "Princes are scary when they’re angry"—and Lady Vance didn’t say another word.

"Just a little," she said as she opened her arms to the little girl crawling toward her. But Rhaelle didn’t go into Missandei’s arms; she went straight to her mother.

"Mhy-sa," the little girl said haltingly. She had started speaking High Valyrian; both Daenerys and Jaehaerys were teaching her simple words. "Mom," Sansa smiled broadly.

There were always going to be comments about her birth. About how Sansa was a foolish girl who ended up in a prince’s bed. Perhaps about how she tried to tie him down with a baby and failed. But no rumor would make Sansa regret giving birth. Her daughter was her life.

"Have you been teaching her words in Valyrian too?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, my prin—my Lady," Sansa watched the girl blush at her slip-up. But she didn’t blame her. Rhaelle was considered the princess of Argentstone; she, like her mother, was just a Lady.

"It’s okay. I really appreciate how you treat my little girl," she said with a smile. "Have you had dinner yet?" The girl shook her head. "Have dinner with me, unless you have plans to dine with someone else." Sansa usually ate alone. Somehow, she felt judged by the others. Perhaps it was just a perception she’d formed based on Rhialta Vance.

"Oh, I almost forgot. The Dowager Queen Lyanna invited you to dinner tonight. Princess Visenya, Lady Lyanna Mormont, and Lady Bethany Blackwood will all be there," she said, sitting up a little straighter, as if she were a herald making an announcement.

"Will the princess’s maids be attending?" Sansa asked, almost preparing to refuse.

"No. Will my lady be attending?" Missandei asked.

"Only if you come with me," she said with a smile. Missandei nodded.

—-----------

"Sansa," Lyanna greeted her.

Sansa was reminded of Arya, her little sister. She looked so much like Lyanna. She wondered if she would grow up to be as beautiful as the queen. It would be quite nice if she did.

"Dowager Queen Lyanna," she said, curtsying. The queen approached; she looked radiant, full of energy. She didn’t even bother to feign any kind of grief, even though it had been nearly seven moons since the King’s death.

"Don’t be so formal... I need to talk to you about something," Lyanna said.

"Of course, Aunt Lyanna," Sansa had lived with Lyanna, but she still found it difficult to address her informally. It wasn’t for lack of affection, after all; Lyanna looked after Rhaelle from time to time. She had managed to shake off the idea that Lyanna was mean and selfish, as they said in the North. "May I ask what it’s about?"

"It’s about marriage," Lyanna replied with a smile.

"Oh," Sansa regretted having gone to that dinner.

"I was a second wife. My marriage was... unhappy, for the most part," she said, looking at her daughter; Visenya was throwing a pea at Lyanna Mormont. "But I don’t think you’ll suffer the same fate."

"I don’t feel well, Your Highness," Sansa said. Marriage was not a topic she wanted to address. She was happy just being Rhaelle’s mother.

"I know you don’t, sweet girl... just listen to one last thing," Lyanna leaned closer to her. The girls hadn’t heard a word of their conversation. "Princess Daenerys—she can’t have children," she whispered.

Sansa felt as if her chest were tightening at that moment. She had heard those words from Daenerys, but hadn’t taken them to heart. She thought it was just the princess’s perception because she hadn’t gotten pregnant yet.

"The lives of princes and princesses are private, Your Highness. It’s not something you should be divulging," said Sansa.

"This is something even the princess has considered... I’m not saying this as a conspiracy; I just want you to be happy." Her words were sincere.

"Thank you for dinner," Sansa said and left.

She didn’t feel like wasting her time plotting against a woman who had shown nothing but kindness to her daughter when most would have shown her hatred.

Note: If you drop a stone, you’ll have 5 years of good luck, if you don’t drop any stone, you’ll have 100 years of bad luck.

Source: trust me, bro.