The Strength of Her // SansaxSandor (On Hiatus)

Chapter 7

07. Bare Hands

Almost back to her room, Sansa's ears picked up the faint sound of voices arguing. Meera and Bran. Sansa would have continued on with no thoughts on the matter had it not been for the strain that Meera's voice carried. Her thoughts longing for a steamy bath vanished quickly.

"...not going to tell them anything?" Meera questioned, desperate and weak. "They're going to want real answers at some point."

Bran didn't at all sound like himself. "And they'll have them when I know more."

The moment that minds and moods began to calm, Bran's presence lessened among the people of Winterfell. His absence wasn't as Sansa's had been, missing only when all members of court and company convened in the Great Hall, but at all times of the day. Jon thought Bran was simply resting, making up for long and cold nights away from home. Sansa could have seen the logic in that response had Meera not sometimes been wondering the grounds alone and looking burdened.

A thought on comforting the girl had arisen within Sansa, but it was quickly disregarded. There was little to no relationship between the two, and Sansa knew as well as anyone that comforts from those considered less than family was of little pleasure.

A sign could be heard escaping Meera's lips as Sansa closed in on Bran's chamber door. Again, it was ajar just enough that one didn't have to struggle to hear the conversation on the other side. Sansa kept her distance, just in case.

"So what then?" Meera wasn't just sad or worried any longer, but angry. Sansa couldn't imagine what Bran could do to make her so. "You're just going to continue this—this plunge into memories that lead nowhere?"

"You don't see what I see. They lead everywhere." Bran showed no indication that he realized that Meera's tone had shifted. Instead, he kept his voice almost uninterested.

Meera didn't reply; the silence merely simmered between them for a few moments. Each one was more deafening than the last.

Sansa knew that now was the time to leave her post. Continuing to eavesdrop on her brother and his friend would not only increase her measurement of discomfort, but also her guilt. No amount of curiosity on Bran's behavior or what information Meera thought Bran should relinquish to others was strong enough to leave her there. With steady breath and lite feet, Sansa continued on to her room.WFP

•••

Neither Bran nor Meera appeared at dinner that evening, and Jon seemed hard pressed to excuse the matter—at least for the moment. There were bigger issues at hand that he needed to deal with, and the curious behavior of the youngest living Stark wasn't at the top of the list.

"Dragon glass and Valyrian steel," Jon listed, sitting between Sansa and Arya as they sat at the head table. His voice matched his expression, pensive and composed. "If we want to have any chance at fighting the Night King, we need these two things, and plenty of it."

"Both are rare," Beric Dondarrion remarked, pouring dark red wine into a goblet.

He, Thoros of Myr, and Sandor Clegane too sat among the Starks. Davos was one of a couple important men missing from this gathering, having left only a day before to head south. Sansa didn't forget his promise to gain information on Littlefinger's intel.

"Do you have any ideas on how to get such a supply?" Beric's voice boomed in the almost empty space.

Few others sat spread throughout the tables in the Great Hall. Some might have taken their food to their rooms or sat with friends around fires and loud stories, but most would have had their meal long before. It was late now, the moon high in the sky and the air sharp. None looking at the hall now would think there were large numbers of men sitting and sleeping and shitting in almost every corner of Winterfell.