Author's Notes:

- This is a continuation of The True King Vignettes and Conversations in the Firelight - probably won't make sense without knowledge of that AU. Then again, might not make sense to some WITH it:)

Sansa

Sansa Baratheon tried to wear the power of being queen lightly, determined to use it for the good of the kingdom and her husband's reign rather than for her own personal welfare. However, she did notice that even the slightest changes she made in what she wore set trends in fashion among ladies at court. To this end, she worked with the royal seamstress, Nichola, to fashion gowns with high collars for the winter. This would be an advantage to her step-daughter, Princess Shireen. The starched, ruffled collars would hide the grey scales on her neck and help to hide the ones along her cheekbone. Neither Sansa, nor Nichola could think of anything other than a scarf or a new hairstyle to camouflage the scales on the young lady's cheek.

As Shireen modeled the gown before the looking glass in Sansa's solar, all three were pleased with the work. Both Sansa and she would wear new gowns sporting the high collars at tonight's feast honoring the newly arrived Ser Sandor and his bride, Alys, the widow of Lord Davos' oldest son. There would be a small ceremony where Sansa, as head of House Stark, would raise him to the title of Lord Clegane and bestow him with Dreadfort. The ceremony would be followed by a modest feast hosted by the king and queen in the Queen's Ballroom. She was surprised Stannis had agreed to, indeed, had recommended most of, the fete regarding The Hound. There were only two sources of insecurity she had found in her stoic husband. One regarded his older brother's slights against him and the second was anything to do with her friendship with Sandor Clegane. And he was right that it was more than a friendship, yet it was also less than a romance – at least on her part. She occasionally let her thoughts drift on what it might have been, followed by feelings of guilt. Her life as Stannis' queen was far better than she ever imagined possible when told of their betrothal. When she agreed to the marriage, and the startling thing had been that he had given her the opportunity to do otherwise despite her lady mother having made it a condition of Stark fealty, she knew he would protect her and show her respect. She hadn't imagined she would grow to love him and she certainly hadn't imagined she would feel loved by him.

The difference between Stannis Baratheon and Sandor Clegane was one of passion. She had little doubt Sandor Clegane would devour a woman he felt passionately about; she'd seen it in his eyes as he looked at her. In contrast, Stannis was embarrassed when he lost himself to passion, no matter how much she tried to encourage it. He saw to her pleasure and then found his release, but he seldom let himself truly lose control. In fact, the times had had seemed to lose himself to passion had been after something to do with The Hound, such as the waking her in the middle of the night after she had told him she had kissed The Hound's cheek in front of witnesses after Sandor had killed his brother to save them. The smile she cast into the looking glass behind Shireen at the thought of what tonight might bring forced her to come back to the present when Shireen looked back at her with a puzzled expression. When she was being sensible, Sansa considered Stannis' steely control a good trait. It made him a good king; one who made an extreme effort not to give in to using his power for his own pleasure. Sansa was content with the choice that had been made for her and that she had agreed to, even if she did allow herself to wonder about the path not taken once in a while.

Sansa refocused her attention on Shireen, who was trying to see if she could cover more of the scaly patches on her face with her dark hair. "It is a beautiful gown, Nicola. I wish I were able to show your work off to greater advantage."

"You look beautiful," Sansa affirmed. The past year had seen the girl's gangly features give way to a few curves and softened features. While disadvantaged with both the ravages of the greyscale and the large ears of her mother, she more than made up for it in poise and intelligence. Whoever married Shireen Baratheon would not find her boring unless he, himself, was an utter bore and chose to ignore her. It was this intelligence that Sansa admired most, knowing at the same age, she had been starry eyed and firmly ensconced in her fantasies of a golden prince and a life of song.

Shireen went behind a screen to change with Nicola's help and Sansa waited in silence until the seamstress had left them to make last-minute alterations to the waist and hem. "So, who do you hope approves more, Edric or Devan?" Sansa teased.

The girl's smile was genuine, but held traces of her father's melancholy. "Edric will faithfully approve were I to appear in homespun. Devan would only take notice if I were brandishing a greatsword of valyrian steel."

'I know you favor one," Sansa continued as they sat for a moment's rest before further preparations for tonight's activities continued. "I just do not know which one. I would not know you favored either if you had not slipped and admitted to having had a stronger regard for one over the other."

"It is not that I wish to keep secrets from you," Shireen replied cautiously. "If you knew, you might accidentally let it be known to Father. If he knew, he would try to arrange a marriage believing it would make me happy."

"And you would not wish him to arrange a marriage to someone you regard? You make it sound as though it would not make you happy to marry someone you already care for."

Shireen considered before answering. "I would rather go equally into a marriage where both of us were doing so for the good of our families and the realm rather than marry someone I regarded who did not return that regard. The latter would only bring me sadness and cause him an undue burden of guilt at not returning my feelings in equal measure. Likewise, I would not want the burden of guilt being marrying someone with more regard for me than I felt in return."

She was sure Shireen had just confessed that her affection was for Devan Seaworth. Edric Storm's regard for her was unquestioned. There was great wisdom in what Shireen said, yet Sansa wished the girl felt more hope for her future. That hope may not be a good thing, but the lack of it felt cold and hollow. Somehow, she felt the need to interject a measure of optimism. "You are wise to think this way, Sweetling. I respected your father, but did not love him when we were betrothed. It is quite possible the lack of expectation is what allowed such great regard for him to grow."

"I have witnessed both a cold and a loving marriage, and admit I find it puzzling," Shireen observed with a studious look Sansa had seen her use when applying herself to a problem given her by Maester Pylos. "Logic would dictate that my parents' marriage would have had the greater chance of success. They were far more equal in appearance and age. Your parents were more equal in age, appearance, and family and they were reputed to have had a very successful marriage. However, you and my father are, well, opposites is so many ways. I cannot help but feel your marriage would not be as successful were it not for your unfortunate experience with the Lannisters."

She hated to agree, but Shireen probably had the right of it. Had she not learned that an attractive face and honeyed words could hide the blackest of hearts and the most poisonous venom, she might never have been able to appreciate Stannis' frank words and a forthright manner.

"Of course, my father is amazed at his good fortune," Shireen continued. "I have to admit that I believe both of us thought you were making the best of your situation and telling yourself you had real regard for him when it was impossible for you to do so. I am almost certain he first believed you were in earnest at the same time I came to believe it."

"I don't understand. Are you speaking of something I did to convince you both?" Sansa could think of nothing that was singularly remarkable that she had done publicly that would qualify as a revelation above any other. She was in no doubt about her love for Stannis and it pained her to be reminded that she was not always successful in convincing him. He often made it difficult for her to do so.

"We were having dinner with the Seaworths and you were telling a story about your sister, Arya. We were all laughing, except Father, who did genuinely smile. You reached over and took his hand as you spoke, forgetting you were a king and queen in the presence of your subjects. You were a wife speaking of a happy time and sharing it with those you cared for, especially your husband who you unconsciously touched in a loving way. It would have been far too cunning for you to have been engaged in such a story and consciously made such an effort. I remember gasping, although you did not notice. It was one of the few times Davos and Marya missed something important, they were so caught up in your story. The gesture was not lost on Father. You could have had the ghost of my Uncle Robert walk in and beg forgiveness for not giving him Storm's End and it would not have meant as much as that simple touch."

The story brought tears to Sansa's eyes. She had no idea such a simple gesture had meant so much. Despite the words she had spoken to him, the times she had held and been held by him, could it be that simply laying her hand on his and squeezing it while telling a story had done more? Surely not! Yet had she seen it in another pair, she might have felt she was observing something intimate.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the solar door. She knew it was Elise come to dress her for the evening. "Come, Sweetling. We have a long evening ahead of us."