Chapter Text
SANSA'S POV
Sansa was given free run of the Red Keep and the Kings landing. She had only to ask and her bath would be drawn or her bed turned down. As a guest and a relative of the Royal Family, she was afforded every amenity the palace could offer.
And as a relative of the Royal Family, she was afforded her own guards.
Sansa considered them only a slight nuisance. It was a simple enough matter for someone of her talents to make them think she was tucked safely away in her rooms while she was somewhere else entirely. She had done such things as Alayne Stone countless times. However, the fact that she was being watched made it difficult to set up a meeting with her to- be-husband on the outside. It was only a week before their wedding. But the Persian customs required they do not to see each other for seven days before the wedding ceremony.
In a week, she thought, she’d be married to the ‘Lion of Persia’ as they called him. In one week she would well and truly begin what had been waiting in the stocks for so long. She’d be shipped off to Essos to start her life as a Princess of Persia, living in the far away Kingdom, Dastan’s father had deemed to be his to rule. She had plenty to do to keep her busy in the meantime.
She wondered what it would be like if she was betrothed to a northerner. Her heart wailed at the thought of not seeing her childhood home for a long time. Maybe forever. The naive girl she once was would have done anything to escape the vast wasteland her family was so proud of. Now she knew the truth. Starks never do well in the south or King’s landing. With her marriage she’ll be sent far away from King’s Landing as well as north. But was she stepping in to the jaws of a blue lion from the grasp of a mad golden lion hiding under the hide of a stag?
Though they were both princes by title, her short encounter with him had assured Sansa that Dastan would at least be gentle. He did have the same arrogant authoritative demeanor Joffrey had possessed. But it didn’t scare her, to tell the truth it lured her in.
She liked watching him move, Sansa admitted. He always put her in mind of something exotic—beautiful in its way, and just as lethal. There was his posture, and his movements. Dastan always seemed at his ease, and walked with a near animal fluidity.
His shoulder length hair was as dark as onyx, and as thick, with that careless windblown effect a man might get if he stood on the point of a ship. His mouth was not full but unashamedly sensual, the nose a bit aristocratic in the rugged face. His eyes were a deep, deep sea blue under dark brows. They weren't friendly, Sansa decided, not even curious. They were always simply annoyed.
She heard him before she saw him, and sensed him before that. Sansa very nearly turned around to go back the way to her chambers. It was just another annoyance to come across the same man she’d been thinking of. She turned and he was too close, her body smashed into his. After a moment too long to be called a result of bewilderment, she tried to draw back. But he yanked her hand and drew her back to him. “You better have a very good reason for this midnight session My Lady. I treasure a good night’s sleep very much.” Dastan’s voice was so deep with thick Eastern accent.
He drew back and leaned against the wall. Within his tall frame was a muscular body, broad at the shoulders and slim at the waist. Adorning this attractive structure were burgundy sashes that hung from his neck over the whites and blacks of his robe. A belt of leather encased his waist where a long wicked sword rested beneath its' dark sheath. Sansa raised hereyes from his weapon up to his captivating face.
“Is it normal for men of Persia to court a woman, dressed for battle? Or is it just you because you take me as a possible threat?” He stared at her for another minute, then with something like a grunt nudged her through the vacant hallway. He led her out into the silent passageway where torches lined the length in brackets that cast strange shadows on the brick walls. As they approached the steps leading down the underground level of Red Keep, she knew where they were going.
"Where do we go from here?" She asked and searched unsuccessfully for a way out. "You are not going to carry me down, are you?"
“Are you afraid of darkness, Lady Sansa? I won’t let little bugs bite you.” He said with that signature smirk. “If you are afraid of them, Waite till you see desert scorpions.”
"I know you think of me as a necessity burden, one you must carry on behalf of your father. And you are the kind of man who’d probably kick a sick dog if he got in your way," she added evenly. "But I'm not going back in to my chambers tonight without having my answers , Your Highness, and I wouldn't advise trying to toss me away, either."
“Fine,” he said raising his hands in defeat. “But we are going down there. It’s not good for you to be seen with me at this hour alone, the day before our wedding.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him about Ser Varys little birds who might be listening to their conversation right at this moment.
“Tell me about Nasaf?” She asked him as soon as they entered the huge hall beneath Red Keep which previously housed the huge dragon skulls.
"It is someting you should see for yourself.'
Leaving that subject for another time, she asked question that has been crawling in her mind since the announcement of their engagement. “My prince, are you going to force me to convert into your religion after…our marriage?” Do they even have a religion? Sansa had heard the stories of how the Dothraki horse lords treated their wives. If it was an epitome of how things happen in East, she’d rather end her life than becoming a political pawn in a marriage of alliance again.
“I’m not a very religious person My Lady; you keep the old gods of your northern ancestors I assume.” She nodded, not very comfortable to be in close proximity with him.
“Then you are free keep them as long as you want.” She gaped at him. The statement itself was odd enough, but to hear him deliver it in a tone that was obviously carefree was baffling.
“And,” She started to go for next question, but Dastan silenced with a hand on her mouth.
“Don’t say anything, I heard some noise.” She struggled to tell him that it might be one of Lord Varys’ little birds, but his grip on her face was too tight. “I think you should go back to your chambers my lady.”
They came to her room early next day morning. The three Persian women made her bathe in scented water. Had her change in to a sneer gown of white silk over her small cloths and combed her red hair into a one long braid. Then they took her to the auxiliary suit of her chambers where another set of women were waiting for their arrival.
A motherly looking crone come forward and took her hands in hers. “May the Lord Zuvan bless you my lady," The woman said studying her closely."so beautiful. The moon pales before your beauty.”
The women said with a soft smile. “I raised Prince Dastan since he was a small child, so I’ll be doing his mother’s duties during marriage ceremony in her stead. Since your mother……”
“My lady,” Sansa snapped in. “I understand.” She knew she was being rude to this kind old lady. But the wounds in her heart were too deep. She wanted her mother to be here, her actual mother, whom she wasn’t sure would be happy or not about her marrying a Persian.
“Of course. Come My Lady, we are going to make you the most beautiful bride the Westeros has ever seen.”
They polished her nails, gave her a ceremonial bath of milk, and then smeared her body with turmeric paste , which they promised would give her skin a golden glow.
While doing all those things to her, Kalmia, the kind old women who welcomed her explained everything to Sansa. Persian Wedding customs and rituals which were so much different from their own and their meanings.
“The marriage is held at night so the bride and groom can gaze at the Pole Star and wish to remain steadfast in their lives like the stars.” Kalmia said when Sansa asked her why the marriage is going to be celebrated at night time. "In our part of the world marriage is a bond that extends beyond one’s life. During the ceremony the bride and bridegroom are considered the embodiment of Lord Zuvan and his wife Tara, the goddess of prosperity and wisdom. The bride first marries the gods and then placed under the bridegroom’s protection as a gift from the gods.”
“Please Lady Kalmia, if the rituals are over, please leave me alone.” Sansa said softly. They didn’t say anything, collected their things and left her to sulk in the empty room.
Picking up a brush, she began to groom her hair, and to murmur a song her mother had sang to her when she was a little girl. With hot tears in her eyes.