Ten of Wands
Rumplestiltskin
(Tyrionsa: Copper Spun Into Gold)
There was once a decent fellow, so honest that he lost his head. But he had a lovely daughter, who had just left the provinces up north for the royal castle, and of whom it was said at court:
"All that copper thread on her head, with the ransom her brother will pay, will be spun into gold." Or so the Queen Mother believed. For the realm was broke, and full of corruption, and teetering upon the brink of war.
So the maiden was led into a bedchamber full of silks and jewels in cool colours, to fit the colour of her eyes, and string instruments she could play like a virtuosa. It looked like a wonderful parlour, but was actually a gilded dungeon.
And the King of all the land, a mere stripling as stubborn as he was cruel, packed her by the wrists and said, with piercing green eyes:
"Now set to work and polish your courtly graces, for we are awaiting your lord brother to pay the ransom; and, if he does not accept our conditions and spin your copper hair into gold, and nip a war in the bud, you must die. After all, there's traitor's blood in your veins..."
Then he shut the door in her face and left her locked inside.
So poor Sansa sat down on her bed, tears in her azure eyes, and she did not know what on Earth she was to do. At last she broke into sobs and tears.
Suddenly, there was a friendly knock at the door, it opened gently, and there stood a little imp with odd eyes (the right one black, the left one green), short crooked legs, and a shock of platinum hair with golden streaks.
"Good evening, traitor's daughter. Why are you crying so bitterly?" he kindly asked her.
"The copper on my head will be spun into gold, a ransom paid will bring me home to Winterfell, but I have not a clue on how it's done."
"I know how to play the game of thrones," the imp replied. "Every day around this time, I will sneak into your bedchamber and teach you how to treat them. The Queen Mother is my all-but-perfect older sister, after all..."
"I would give you anything; this lilac hairnet, for instance," the maiden replied.
And the imp spread out a cyvasseboard on the bed and challenged her to a game of cyvasse. It was so hard thinking that her head ached and she grew sleepy. Of course Sansa lost the game.
"It will take ages for you to master," the imp replied. And they played cyvasse that day until nightfall, when, exhausted, she wearily drew her royal blue bed-curtains and wished the odd-eyed imp goodnight.
And she slept the good sleep of the innocent, drifting away to her native hinterland and to snowy eaves among conifer woods, until the dawn crept up the waves in the next morn.
A few hours after the sun rose, the King and the Queen Mother came, and both golden-haired royals were astonished at her mastery of the courtly ways, but their icy hearts were lusting more than ever for the precious ransom. Thus, when she was left alone with His Grace, he pinned the traitor's daughter to the wall and, holding his shortsword to her throat, hissed into her face:
"If you value your life, 'Princess' of the North, and those of your friends and kinsfolk, I hope that every single fire-kissed hair on your head, and also on your limbs, should be spun into gold as soon as possible." In sooth, young Joffrey was pleased beyond measure at his little game, but his thirst for pain, and the realm's thirst for gold, were not yet quenched. "And, if you succeed, this time you shall become my queen."
Sansa's heart sank in her chest, like a lead weight.
"She's only a traitor's daughter, and a traitor she will become; it's as true as the Wall of her home is made of ice. But I couldn't find a better wife if my men went to search, from Dorne to Winterfell... for she has not even shuddered as I pack her by the wrists, tickle her throat with cold steel, toss her to the ground... Even though Lord Grandfather mentions the Tyrell girl over and over again. Like, what do I know about a complete stranger?" the young ruler thought to himself.
When the maiden was alone, her skin as bruised as her self-esteem, in her bedchamber, the imp appeared on his short stumpy legs once more, and asked in the usual friendly way: "What would you give me in exchange for another lesson?"
"I have nothing more to give," she sighed.
"Then, promise me your own hand in marriage."
"Doesn't he know that I'm his nephew's fiancée?" the traitor's daughter thought. And, besides that, there was no other way out of the predicament. The imp might not be a pretty sight, but he was friendly and clever, completely unlike her crowned betrothed. So she promised the odd-eyed imp what he demanded. And they set to work once more as usual.
When the King came in the morn, and found everything as he desired, he straightaway packed his fiancée by the wrists and, dragging her into the throne room, proclaimed her officially as his bride... but was interrupted by his own lady mother and lord grandfather, and by an old dowager dressed in the Reacher fashion: Olenna Tyrell, the grandmother of the bride.
And Sansa thought of the future queen whom she would soon get to know, hoping that she would give her spouse a taste of his own pain... and, all of a sudden, she remembered the imp. She had not made it to Winterfell yet, the war had reaped countless casualties... and the Tyrells were now officially allied with House Lannister thanks to this engagement... She really hoped that the odd-eyed, stumpy-legged little imp would keep his word.
Days, weeks, moon-turns rolled on... and at last the Tyrells came to the Red Keep. The whole clan, lock, stock, and barrel... not only the bride and her grandmother, but her parents and siblings as well. And Sansa the traitor's daughter made friends with Margaery Tyrell, Margaery of the nutbrown hair and the hazel eyes, for the latter was more outspoken and was the one who started the friendship between both maidens.
She also made friends with the matriarch, her granny Olenna Tyrell, who was wise beyond understanding, and had decades of experience... and, while she was away playing her instrument in her gilded dungeon, the imp and the Tyrells hatched a plan to set Sansa free.
Only that she knew nought of that scheme.
At last the springtime sky was clear and wedding bells pealed loud and clear in the Great Sept. For the Royal Wedding, guests from the Vale of Arryn to Dorne gathered around the young bridal pair, in the vast gardens of the Red Keep.
And Sansa thought of her own marriage to the imp, which had been against her will, and how clever and charming he was in spite of his stature; nothing like the self-absorbed bridegroom in that wedding.
Before the ceremony and the wedding feast, the imp had given her back the hairnet with all its amethysts, telling her to wear it at the royal wedding "for good luck." So now Sansa wore the hairnet, as she watched the dishes being cleared away. The imp, as cupbearer, picked a special amethyst from Sansa's hairnet and put it in his nephew's drink.
He drained the chalice at one single deep draught, to wash down the dry wedding cake...
and all hell broke loose.
Shortly after swallowing his drink, Joffrey began to cough and to retch. His ribcage felt constricted as if by a serpent, then his jaws locked up - he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, his earlobes and the tip of his nose turned blue (well, bluish). The young ruler knew he had been poisoned, but he was unable to throw up what he had drunk.
"Joffrey dear... JOFFREY!!" The Queen Mother screamed as he collapsed in her arms, suffocated, heartbeat erratic, going still and finally cold and silent. Her makeup ran dry with the streams of tears that ran down her face; no sorrow equals that of a mother who has lost her child forever.
In the ensuing chaos, the imp led Sansa to the cellars of the Red Keep, to the part where crates full of goods like Reach fruit and grain were shipped across the Narrow Sea. Using a footstool, he got inside an oversized crate first, then helped her get inside.
It was quite cramped inside, and even dark as Sansa put the lid back into place. "Don't breathe a word! Don't even whisper!" the imp said, putting an index finger to her lips.
She sighed and obeyed, and even shuddered as the crate was lifted and put into a wagon headed for the harbour of King's Landing. They would get married somewhere in Slaver's Bay upon arrival; living among slavers in another climate would be preferrable to that nest of asps, the Red Keep, which she was now delighted to no longer call home.
COMMENTARY
This bunny I had for quite a while, I mean Sansa and Tyrion remind me so much of Rumplestiltskin and the heroine in his tale... You can see it is an AU, with an alternate ending with Sansa leaving for Slaver's Bay with Tyrion instead of for the Eyrie with Lord Baelish... I want my Sansa to be happy, and to get to know the imp (like Belle got to know the Beast, or Jane Eyre got to know Rochester), looking beyond appearances.
Maybe also Sansa will join Dany's entourage and give her intel about what is going on in King's Landing? That is the fun thing about AUs, you get to rewrite the story however you like!
