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“She’s doooooing it agaaaaaaain!”
Sansa ignored her sister’s moaning. Of course she was singing again. It was her gift, a gift so glorious and rare, it would be a crime to leave it unused. So she sang, spreading her arms out wide and tilting her head to the sky to let her song carry to the heavens themselves. Lady sat by her side and looked upward with her mistress. Let Arya complain. Soon enough, Winterfell’s courtyard would become crowded with better company and their chirps and chitters and squeaks and howls should drown out any noise an obviously jealous little sister could make.
She could feel her friends coming to her as the power of her song threaded through her. Her world became words and music and the rest of Winterfell dropped away. The clang of Mikken’s hammer against steel became part of her rhythm. The bustle of Winterfell’s servants, who all suddenly became very interested in staring at the ground as they went about doing their daily duties, dulled into a low bass thrum. The shrieks of the washer women over the incoming birds and their likely negative impact on the laundry they’d just hung out to dry were a soprano chorus.
A highly off-pitch soprano chorus but Sansa could forgive them. Not everyone was as talented as she. And really, as much as Sansa adored her feathered friends, she wasn’t so keen on discovering their leavings when she slid between her covers at night.
The first bird landed on the tip of her finger and peeped in greeting before joining the song. Others came after, quickly claiming her other fingers as perches and moving onto her shoulders and arms when all her fingers were claimed. The birds were not the only creatures lured by Sansa’s siren song. The horses not locked in their stalls came cantering into the courtyard, followed by the chickens and a pig or two, all in step. From the depths of her music, Sansa heard Arya screeching at Nymeria to stay, followed by pronouncing her a traitor. Robb’s voice came next, commanding Grey Wind to his side and having the same luck as Arya. Then came Ghost, then Bran’s unnamed wolf and then Rickon’s Sansa-wished-was-also-unnamed wolf, Shaggydog. Rickon came too, stopping in front of Sansa to yell as loudly as he could for her to shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.
Poor thing. He’s too young to appreciate a beautiful song.
Finally her father came. He put a calming hand on Rickon and went to put one on Sansa as well but had troubled finding a bird-free space on which to do so. He moved to her side for another angle and almost tripped over a pair of chickens flapping their wings in beat with the song.
“Sansa,” he coughed gently. “I think that’s enough singing for today.”
Sansa was disappointed but she understood. A light that shone so brilliantly should not always be seen lest it leave those it falls upon blind. At least, that’s how her mother had explained it to her after that pack of bears had broken down the doors of Winterfell’s main hall during a mealtime serenade.
She ended her song and brought down her arms. The skies above Winterfell became a storm of birds and the immediate area around Sansa became a storm of annoyed siblings reclaiming their direwolves. Her father had to remind them all of how much Sansa enjoyed her singing and how harmless it truly was (well, except for those bears). Robb, Jon and Bran listened. Arya and Rickon still needed a good deal of convincing.
Particularly Arya, who glared at Sansa before asking, “She’s not going to do that for the king when he comes, is she?”
Sansa was aghast. She had to perform for the king and queen and their children. What better way was there to pay tribute (and perhaps charm the oldest prince) than to display her gift? She dismissed Arya only to see their father hang his head.
“About that, sweetling…”
***
So she did not sing, even after she was given ample reason to. The king wanted to betroth her to the prince! Her father was going to King’s Landing and taking Bran and her with him! That Arya would come as well was not enough to dampen the excitement she felt.
It was so much that on the day the king took everyone hunting she excused herself to take a walk near the old tower to be alone and let her joy out. She hummed lightly at first, causing a pair of deer to wander out of the forest to nip sweetly at her extended hands. The usual flock of birds came to call, some carrying sprigs of ivy or flowers in their beaks, which they nestled into Sansa’s hair. Just as she was ready to truly set her gift free, she was stunned to come across the queen and her twin brother. They stood perfectly still at the tower entrance, eyes wide and mouths agape to the scene before them.
In awe, just as mother said!
Sansa curtsied to them but instead of returning her friendly greeting, they backed slowly away, never taking their eyes off of her. When they’d gained a fair distance, they turned walked briskly back to the main castle. Sansa thought she heard the queen mutter something about needing wine.
Bran and his wolf came along a few moments later. “I wonder what that was about?” he asked after Sansa told him of the queen and her brother.
Sansa shrugged. “I think the queen was thirsty.”
***
“What a baby,” Arya declared. Sansa wished to disagree but the cries of “Mommy!” sounding through the air were hard to argue with.
Arya’s mirth ended when they returned to camp. The queen was furious her son had been threatened. She wanted Nymeria dead and Sansa and Bran’s direwolves sent back to Winterfell despite no harm having been done. All the Stark children began protesting and their father appealed to the king, who only gave into his wife. Arya began crying as their father first demanded that the king carry out the sentence he had pronounced, then accepted the duty himself. Sansa felt so terrible watching her little sister weep that she trailed after her father.
Sansa normally disliked dirges just as her father disliked lying, but a solemn song was needed to convince Nymeria to play dead and he understood, after Sansa shed several tears of her own, that some punishments were so unjust, it was better to only pretend to carry them out. Two Lannister guards came over to ensure the deed had been done. They did not linger overlong as Sansa’s dirge had attracted the attention of a pack of wolves of the non-dire, but still not exactly cheerful, variety, who circled around her and discouraged any closer looks.
With Nymeria “dead”, several Stark men were ordered to take her body back to Winterfell along with Lady and Summer. They struggled with her weight and with concealing the fact she was breathing. Only Arya noticed the latter though and when she did, she came to Sansa and hugged her closely.
They would be away from their wolves for a bit, but at least they had each other.
***
Sansa spent most of her time with the queen and her ladies at court. The queen was greatly changed from the day she’d asked for Nymeria’s life, so solicitous and kind now, that Sansa figured her anger could only have come from concern for her son. Her prince seemed to be avoiding her.
“He’s afraid you’ll remember him squalling like a babe,” Arya said one day while she was taking a rare break from her “dancing” lessons to dine with Sansa and Bran. She reenacted Joffrey’s reaction, complete with flailing arms, once more. Bran laughed while Sansa only shook her head. Polite young ladies did not mock their betrothed no matter how accurate an impersonation may be. Yet she didn’t want to chide Arya overmuch after their newfound closeness. Instead, she simply changed the subject to the favor Arya had asked of her.
It was practice, Arya explained. She needed to catch cats for a reason Sansa did not follow and Arya thought Sansa might be useful in helping her draft more cats for this exercise. She’d caught every cat in the Keep except for one elusive black tom and while she didn’t want Sansa to lure the cat to her, she had thought of a game they could play that would sharpen Arya’s reflexes until she could make that black cat hers.
It was a game they had to play in the cellars of the Red Keep so they would not be seen. Sansa would sing and bring the cats to her, only to scatter them with an abrupt change in tune. Arya would go bolting after them, catching as many as she could. They played until both girls were breathless. It was a silly way to spend the day and Sansa was surprised to find herself enjoying it as she did. They would have continued but while they were resting, they overhead the voices of two men. Sansa thought one of the voices sounded familiar from the time she’d spent in court.
Arya urged her to hide and some instinct told Sansa to agree. Once sheltered, the girls listened. The men talked of a lady with child, an upcoming war and, worst of all, a threat against their father! Sansa committed their words to memory as she would a song. After they were sure the men had gone, Sansa and Arya crept from their hiding place. They knew what they had to do. Sansa called the cats to her once more, though this time when she sent them running, it was with a deliberate path in mind and with her and Arya both on their paws.
***
Their father opened the door, clearly expecting Sansa but not for Arya to be with her. Before he could question them, they began answering. What details Sansa forgot, Arya was able to supply and the other way around. Soon they’d spilled the whole shady conspiracy at their father’s feet.
“Oh, and they talked of a woman with child and her husband,” Sansa concluded. “I think his name was Carl.”
Ned sat down heavily in his chair, a serious, contemplative look about him despite the two cats that quickly leapt into his lap. He asked the girls if they were sure and Sansa and Arya answered with vigorous shakes of their heads. He was quiet after that and Sansa wished she’d been able to do more. She was sure she knew that voice!
She repeated this assertion to her father, adding that she was almost certain it was at court where she’d heard it before. That seemed to give Ned even more pause. He shoved the cats off his lap and told Sansa and Arya to stay there while he attended a council session.
When he returned, his face was even grimmer. Normally he kept his children sheltered from the political schemes of King’s Landing, but he recounted the council session in full. Sansa learned the name of the pregnant woman, Daenerys Targaryen, and of the king’s plans to kill her. Their father had objected, naturally, but he’d been so taken aback by inadvertently hearing of it first from Sansa, that he’d made his objections calmly and then had resolved to take them to Robert privately.
He ran his thumb over the emblem of the office of the Hand while he gave Sansa and Arya their next instructions. They were not to trust anyone outside the family. If he gave them orders and they seemed unfair, they were to understand that he only meant the best for them. He saved his final instruction for Sansa.
“You are without your direwolves, but you know you are not alone. If you or any of us are ever to face danger…”
“Sing,” Sansa finished for him. She’d never been prouder of her gift.
***
There had been one bit of excitement right after her father had given Sansa those instructions. Lord Baelish (or that creepy man who always stares at you as Arya called him) had come to the solar to invite Ned to go see someone. He’d had been coy about this invitation, indicating it was not proper for innocent young girls to overhear all of the details, which naturally made Arya wish to go. Ned had shooed them both out his solar.
Sansa never did learn where he had gone. She must have been asleep when he’d returned and her father spoke nothing of it in the morning. Jory only flushed a bright red when Sansa asked him.
Afterwards, her father became too busy to ask. The king decided to go hunting and left Ned to rule for him. It delighted Sansa to think of her father on the Iron Throne, but at the same time, she knew the responsibility was one he did not relish.
She saw him once in court when the queen took her along with her other ladies. The queen was in a poor mood that day, owing to the return of her youngest brother to King’s Landing judging by her sour japes about him. While Tommen and Myrcella had been thrilled to see their uncle and hear about his adventure to the Wall, all Cersei and Joffrey could do was glower at his accounts. Sansa hated thinking so, but she thought it rather unbecoming and downright rude as the complaints continued on even at court.
As spiteful as they were, they were also the only interesting thing to occur. The petitioners to the court were few, their claims commonplace. Sansa kept herself occupied with a low hum under her breath, audible only to nearby mice and the cat who’d been stalking them. The cat was the one-eared tom that gave Arya fits and Sansa was pleasantly surprised when he rubbed up against her leg and purred. Once he saw the queen though, hum or no hum, he leapt at her with a sharp hiss and lashed out a paw, leaving small shreds in Cersei’s dress. That was it for court.
At the evening meal, Sansa told Ned how well he held court and how noble he’d looked on the throne. He smiled at her and went back to his usual business of thumbing through the pages of a dusty old book. He’d spent a great deal of time with that book. Sansa had no idea what its importance might be but her father kept reading and muttering something about seeds and what it could mean. He’d also say things about children and why they were important.
“What children?” Sansa asked. “What did they look like?”
Her father had got a stricken look on his face then and left without word. He returned in the morning, waking Sansa early. The sun was only starting to rise and Sansa was confused and a bit frightened by the apparent urgency.
“In other circumstances, I would have waited for Robert to return. But after the warnings contained in the tale you and Arya told me, I feel I must act swiftly,” her father explained.
“Sansa, I need you to come to the Kingswood with me.”
***
Sansa trilled a deep, commanding note and the boar stopped dead in his tracks, turning to regard Sansa with a head hung in shame for the terrible deed he’d been about to do. Sansa sent him on his way with a scolding verse.
There was brief moment in which the king and his company took in the sight of the retreating boar, the Hand and the Hand’s daughter, who currently had a trio of squirrels on her shoulders and birds flitting about her head. The hunting party was at an utter loss of words in gratitude, Sansa supposed. They weren’t moving much either. Finally, the king took a long, confused look at the wineskin his squire was carrying and proclaimed, “No more wine. I’m done.”
That resolution made, the king started complaining about losing his prey. His unhappiness grew when Ned began whispering in his ear and was at a full rage when Ned finished. From the king’s mouth came a stream of such impolite words that Sansa had to urge the squirrels into making enough noise to mask the sound from her delicate ears. She was not the only one offended. The king’s squire, a young, lithe blond, grew paler and paler as the king raged. By the time the king had exhausted his supply of profanity, the youth looked as if he was going to be sick.
Sansa felt pity for the boy and urged some birds his way to sing to him and bring him cheer. Oddly, he did not seem to appreciate this gesture. He yelled and swatted at them with his wineskin until it dropped from his hand. Ned picked it up for him. Before he handed it back, he sniffed at its contents and a stern frown formed on Ned’s face.
The squire did get ill then and not even the bunnies Sansa recruited could do more than gape in awe at just how much sick a boy that skinny could produce.
***
There was more to it than that, but Sansa was always more partial to the pageantry of court, not its politics. She had little time to think on such things anyway. Her father had announced that his term as Hand had been well spent and was officially over. The king had not been pleased with that either, especially after Ned made him name his brother Stannis as Ned’s replacement, but the king did owe Ned and Sansa his life, so he had to acquiesce. Ned had told his children he had a loose end or two to attend to but after that, they were all going back to Winterfell.
Arya and Bran were eager to go, Sansa less so. She wanted to see Lady again but she’d rather have the wolf come to her than leave behind the exciting Sothern life. Sansa had already made friends with the brand newly arrived Margaery Tyrell and her cousins. Margaery would likely need a friend like Sansa to talk sense to her since the Tyrell girl batted her eyes at the king while much more handsome lords and knights were present.
It was more than the Tyrells though. The legend of the girl who’d brought a boar to heel with her voice was circulating in stories and songs all throughout the Red Keep. The Siren of Winterfell, the bards had named her and while Sansa knew her parents would disapprove of her using her gift in arrogance, she couldn’t help but thrill each time she heard a verse about the young lady who beguiled men with her looks and beasts with her voice. She was a song, a romantic, valiant song! She wanted to share that song with more than just her family and friends at Winterfell. She could always return to Winterfell later.
This led to Sansa doing something terrible. The king’s other brother, Renly, had been so jovial and friendly towards her before (not to mention very striking with his dear friend Loras at his side) and now was often the first person to ask her to sing. No one in King’s Landing embodied that pageantry that Sansa loved more than he. He could teach her all she ever wished to know in that regard as well as help her spread her gift. And again, if she was honest - Ser Loras.
So Sansa went to him without her father knowing and asked Renly if he would accept her as his guest and take her under his wing and protection in King’s Landing or wherever they (and Loras) may go in Westeros. He agreed readily, which somehow made telling her father worse for Sansa.
In the end, Ned was disappointed his daughter did not wish to go home just yet, but he understood. Sansa apologized profusely for going behind his back only to get consideration in return. He told her he knew she was special and a proper lady who loved the Sothern life.
“The Northern too!” she swore and she meant it with all her heart.
***
Renly made for joyous company, always japing and asking for demonstrations of her gift. He thanked her often for her help in achieving his plan for Loras’s sister, which didn’t make much sense to Sansa, but manners dictated she accept his thanks with grace so she nodded along. She was surprised to discover how devout Renly (and Loras) was. So many nights he spent in prayer (with Loras) that Sansa was eager to engage him in religious discussion. She was met with blank stares. Apparently, boys were taught different things by their septons than girls were taught by their septas.
But traveling was grand and gave Sansa all sorts of opportunities to share her gift. In this way, the legend of the Siren of Winterfell grew through the Seven Kingdoms.
On the road to the Vale, their party was greeted by the somewhat brusque people of Mountain Clans. Sansa sang them a sweet lullaby to soothe their crankiness and soon the woods became a bustle of shadowcats come to greet their new mistress. The performance so lifted the spirits of the Mountain men and women, they happily escorted Sansa’s party the rest of the way.
From the Vale, they headed west, all the way to the Iron Islands. She’d heard from her father’s ward, Theon, how rough his people could be but after a single ballad drew forth a large kraken, its tentacles swaying in time with Sansa’s tune, they were most accommodating.
In Riverrun, Sansa reunited with her mother to mark the passing of Catelyn’s father. The plaintive elegy Sansa sang had every fish in the river giving salute as his burial ship sailed down the river.
In Dorne, Renly regaled the Martells with every detail of the Lannister’s fall while Sansa sent snakes slithering in intricate patterns across the floors of Sunspear. Prince Oberyn presented her with one snake to charm, an intriguing creature with scales that were colored in the shape of diamonds and the most delightful rattle on its tail that shook in accompaniment to Sansa’s song. While the duo performed, the prince gathered some liquid from the snake’s mouth in a small glass jar. Sansa had seen people salivate over the beauty of her gift before (Lord Baelish came to mind) but never an animal. She was glad the prince tidied up after it.
After the tour of Dorne, they’d go briefly to the Reach before heading to the Westerlands. “What a coincidence, I’ll be going there too,” Prince Oberyn told Sansa.
He left the same day they did but he headed off in another direction while they went towards Oldtown. The maesters there decreed Sansa ‘impossible’ and clutched their chains as animals pranced through the Citadel.
Alas, they tarried too long in Oldtown. All of Casterly Rock was in full mourning for the recently fallen Tywin Lannister by the time they got there - all except possibly the Rock’s new lord, Tyrion, and his honored guest, Prince Oberyn, who had just stopped by after hearing the tragic news. Sansa was glad to see the prince again despite the sad events around them.
“Poor, poor Tywin,” Oberyn mused. “It must have been grief for his dishonored children that weakened him and left him susceptible to such a violent, painful and sudden illness.”
“He did not suffer too long,” Sansa said, trying to help.
“Yes, that was the downside.”
From Casterly Rock, they returned to King’s Landing, the Dornish prince coming along. During Sansa‘s time away, Margaery had married and borne a son to King Robert and Loras wished to see his nephew. He was a darling babe with a mop of brown curls, just like his mother. Everyone agreed he was the perfect prince.
Oberyn even proposed a toast to the proud father.
It was back to traveling after that. It was during this time that the true legend began.
***
“What do you want?” she asked the singing girl.
She wanted North and North the red haired girl went with the silver-haired queen, her dragons and her armies. Peacefully they marched, past White Harbor, past Winterfell and finally to the Wall. There they joined their might with the Nights Watch, the armies of the North and the Wildlings and stood proud as the creatures from beyond the Wall brought chill winds and undead men and beasts to wage war against them.
It was a brief war, lasting no longer than a single song. Even the undead could find the glory in music. Those that could not hear were consumed by the flames of dragons that could. Those that would not hear discovered the steel of free men eager to add to the chorus. The winds died, a voice rose and the red-haired girl’s song sounded the death knell of the Others.
Thus it was Westeros’s time to sing. They sang the praises of the Siren who had saved them all. Then they sang the praises of all the eligible men of their families to the Siren. Lo, the silver-haired queen did have a hot nephew. Yea, did Ser Loras have a very intelligent and generous, and did I mention how wealthy my family is?, older brother. Verily, the Lords Declarant of the Vale knew of a strapping young man next in line to be their Lord. Forsooth, Prince Doran‘s oldest son was, uh, a very nice guy with a great personality.
They sang on and on to the Siren, but she kept her silence. She took note of the sweetest songs, perhaps to sing back to them one day, perhaps not. Her place was now home, with her family. The Siren returned to Winterfell where the howling of direwolves marked her homecoming and the joyous cries of a reunited family were the only music heard.
Even the bears would not dare to barge in on that.