theladyofwinterfell | tony; established cr

tony; established cr

If having a child weren't a difficult enough prospect, having one alone was even worse. Sansa is practical enough about these things considering she's a queen and sometimes that means pushing one's own emotions aside to focus on those of others but there are the times she just feels...lonely. She's the only person from Westeros here in Temba and, worse, the father of her child is someone she won't be able to be with any place other than this one.

All in all, a difficult situation to navigate and it's only because she's been in this place long enough to know that having a child alone isn't the stigma it is in Westeros that's kept her moving forward. She has her friends to draw her out and make certain she doesn't completely withdraw and Tony pesters her enough to keep her amused. She's met men who are persistent, yes, but none of them are persistent quite in the way that he is; Sansa has no reason to think he'll actually hurt her or, truly, that he'd act on anything. She's unattainable, after all, and she's so round it seems she's swallowed a melon. She's never comfortable and it's all she can do to get through a day without snapping at anyone; at least he makes her laugh.

Right now, he's peering into her livestock pen and it's the middle of the night. It seems she's not the only person who doesn't sleep at night but she suspects his is more out of sheer boredom than the inability to do so.

"Why, precisely, are you lurking outside my house and looking at my livestock? It's not time to feed them yet."

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"I was just thinking," Tony replied, used to her appearing at any hour of the night now and much harder to surprise than he had been when he found her out here alone, "why isn't the whole place full of these guys? What is their natural predator?"

What kept him up at night was rarely boredom. Insomnia, sure, adrenaline from the completion of a project within reach or the dramatic failure of one in the works, but more often than not thirty discrete puzzles he couldn't push far enough to the back of his mind to settle, and one particular problem that would twist his gut with anxiety if he ever laid down too long and started worrying about it. It wasn't going to be just Sansa and the animals alone out here soon.

Tony didn't often bring the melancholy to this gate, though, when he got concerned enough to pass by it and check that the air around the house was still peaceful. So he gave an apologetic smile for the thought he shared, rolling his shoulders back so he wasn't slouched over the fence anymore and could give a charming tilt of his head. "Walking off cliffs," he offered for his own question, "Has to be." They were pretty dopey animals.

"They're not terribly intelligent," Sansa agrees. "Which is good for me, all told. I would have to hire someone to tend them if they got too rowdy. As it is, Lady and I can manage it alone. You didn't explain why you were lurking, though. Surely it couldn't have been the lure of my glownie pen. If it is, I'm sure I can find any number of ways to occupy your mind - there's a whole greenhouse, for example."

Sansa sighs a little and rubs her low back. Walking helps, yes, but there's still pain that she thinks won't go away until her child makes an appearance.

"Do remind me to knit you something out of glownie fur, though. It does give off a glow at night same as it does when they're not sheared."

As much as that offer sounded wonderfully dramatic and a challenge to pull off that only his pampered body could handle, Tony asked, "I'm sorry, is my personality not glowing enough for you? Or do you just need some kind of early warning system, so you can spot me when I'm coming and get your clothes on faster? Don't worry about it, I don't wear pants at home, either, I don't even have an excuse. I'll put a bell on for you." He slouched down again to prop his head in his hands and give a perfectly innocent grin. "I don't lurk, is that what you think I'm doing? I'm just...I'm passing by, I got a thing over there. What's your excuse? You're here constantly. The lady of the house is going to get a restraining order."

"I wear clothes at home, Tony. Honestly. I live here so I walk out here when I cannot sleep. I'm within my rights to do so, am I not?"

Infuriating though he might be, he was always entertaining and Sansa is glad for the laugh just now. She covers her mouth while she laughs, not wanting to laugh too loudly in case any of her neighbors might hear her.

"Do you not wear clothes at home? Truly?"

"It's, honestly, making me a little sad that you do. Nothing is more liberating than everyone else being out of the house and hitting up the kitchen naked. Go for a swim? Incomparable, can barely stand to do it otherwise, bathing suits are inhumane. That baby's going to know right away, toddlers hate clothes, they're living their best lives. Listen, he's already got shit to teach you." This was delivered like a doctoral thesis, Tony clearly impassioned about his rare chances at this freedom coming from a house constantly full of a rotating roster of team members and their own unique personality traits and boundaries. A palace couldn't have been much different, he realized; it was less of a home than an institution, and one had to take their chances as they came.

Sansa is glad that it's dark because she's sure her face and neck are flushed as bright as her hair. She dresses every day even if she's in her house alone and the idea of just walking around with nothing on is absolutely insane. Someone could see her, couldn't they? There's windows and things. Besides, what if someone came over? It's...it's unfathomable.

"I only undress to bathe, I'm afraid. That's becoming a chore these days too but I can just manage. I wouldn't be able to bathe alone if it weren't for showers. We don't have them in Westeros. I do miss a bath, though. There's something very relaxing about a hot bath and as you can see, I am far from relaxed."

That made Tony clutch at his heart, like it was broken to hear Sansa was in such a state, then lean heavily against the fence as though it was the only thing keeping Tony from personally wrestling the tension out of her. "You should be at your most relaxed," he insisted. "You're more powerful than you've ever been in your life at this moment. Before you're ready-- before I'm ready, let me tell you, I don't know how I'm going to take this, I might be a mess, I can't make any promises-- you're going to be chasing that baby around and trying to convince him not to cry, and you're going to wish you enjoyed this time with him more. You deserve a bath, at least. A foot bath, maybe we can manage that."

"You're concerned about the birth of my child?"

It's a strange thing, to her. He is a friend, yes, but this isn't his child and he isn't married to her. Those would be the only reasons to be concerned, she thinks, but people here are different than people in Westeros. She's learned that over her time here and not only are men unafraid of sharing their feelings, it seems people are simply more involved with others and their well-being. Westeros is a cut-throat sort of place, especially for her.

"I'm quite young, normally young women don't die in childbirth. It's different here, besides. Dangerous perhaps if I were back home but not here, not really. You've nothing to worry about, I promise. I'll come through all right. As to enjoying this part? Well. Sometimes I have. Sometimes, like tonight, I'm miserable and cannot sleep. Sometimes I am lonely and worried about doing all of this by myself. Those are the times I tell myself that I am Sansa Stark, Queen in the North and Lady of Winterfell. A queen has no time to think of herself."

The question caught Tony off guard, not sure how he was supposed to take it and pushing him back away from the fence and house to cross his arms across his chest, finding he was left with a mixture of offense and shame for even making Sansa think that was a question. He might not have been particularly good at being supportive, he would much rather play the distraction than engage too emotionally, but he didn't like the idea that he had left her thinking he wasn't concerned. That must have been desperately lonely.

"You're not going this by yourself, are you kidding me? It...it takes a village." He was still doing it. "I'll think of you then, at my pleasure." That tone wasn't nearly as flirty as Tony had intended it to be, he had to shake this off.

"No, I suppose I'm not doing this by myself," Sansa concedes. "I do have plenty of friends here who would help me along. I'm just used to the idea of being married, is all, and I'm not. I'm a widow, essentially, even if people come and go all the time. I can't count on him coming back or even remembering this relationship so I'd be a widow regardless."

Sansa tips her head back toward her house. There's no sense in talking outside a livestock pen when there's perfectly good chairs yards away and it's clear she's not going to sleep soon.

"Come on. Might as well go inside and stop having a conversation with woolly eavesdroppers. I should be wearing more than my dressing gown and slippers anyway. It's not proper."

Forgiven. The offense was basically forgotten for Tony to vault the fence and slide up alongside Sansa to offer a proper greeting kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her. "What part of the marriage are you missing?" he asked, mostly genuine and ready to offer to fill in any gaps Sansa felt were marring here peaceful life here without a companion, but continued, "All of the snoring he did in your bed? Nursing his hangover in the morning? I know, it's how much closet space you didn't have." All of those did seem particularly petty in the ruins of Temba, but Tony still grinned, see? Hardly anything to be missing. That he would be far more pathetically heartbroken and morose in her situation wasn't relevant, this was obviously a utilitarian issue. "If you just need someone to chop wood, I need to work on my back, anyway." It wouldn't even be for her, see, it was nothing.

"None of those things," Sansa says, shrugging. "I miss having someone who wasn't just a friend, mostly. Friends are wonderful and I'm glad to have so very many of them but there are things a husband provides that a friend does not. At least for me, anyway. However, since you offered to chop my wood, you can go ahead and start on that any time you'd like. I'm terrible at it."

Sansa has never once had to chop her own wood and never while pregnant but Tony doesn't have to know that. She gives him a smile since she's inadvertently turned this entire conversation maudlin.

"I shouldn't waste your time with that, though. Let's have tea and talk about the chores you're going to do for me instead."

"Oh, is that what a husband provides? Chores," Tony replied, drawing out the word so they both knew exactly what 'chore's meant with his wry grin if it didn't include any wood chopping, while he waved her off from preparing any tea for them, gesturing for her to take a seat instead. He could at least prove his worth with the tea, he could be concerned and useful, just as soon as he figured out where anything in her house was.

"I've had a butler my whole life," he admitted as he clutched at the kettle and froze, not sure where to go from there, not entirely to explain his fumbling in a kitchen. "The same one, in fact. Raised me, since I was a little brat, not just this vision of composure you see before you. Don't blame him for this, by the way, he did his best," he added, gesturing to his general resolutely bratty energy, "it might be genetic. Anyway, I know what it's like to be pampered and loved, and I do also know that Jarvis is not my husband, so." That seemed as close as Tony was able to get to 'I understand', and pursed his lips, back to focusing very much on holding the kettle.

"I grew up in a castle. I'm used to servants," Sansa agrees. "It was so difficult to adjust to doing things for myself. Still, I learned and I see that you have too. Servants aren't spouses, though. I've never shared a bed with my servant."

Still, Sansa settles on her sofa and tries to find a way to be comfortable. It's a struggle but she does manage and removes her slippers.

"I miss touching the most, I think. Of everything I miss about having a husband, it's having someone touch me just for the sake of it. I went a long while enduring touches I didn't want so to have someone touch me in affection was addictive. It's a strange thing to miss, I guess."

Tony snorted at the idea of 'sharing a bed' with Jarvis, but nodded to being able to overcome their sheltered upbringing to at least be able to get a kettle on a fire. Tony managed that much, anyway, before joining Sansa with a seat on the low table in front of her and a gesture for her to offer an ankle or a hand, whichever was causing her the most irritation this morning, if that was a touch she wanted. "I've always worked with my hands, been very tactile," he offered, another acknowledgment of her frustration that he was going to leave buried in this story with only the flex of one strained hand over his chest to better illustrate just how frustrating that particular trait had been since being dumped out of a lively city full of people willing to pay to shower him in attention, into this wasteland, "so the learning curve wasn't so bad. A lot like this, trial by fire-- I was just a little younger than you when I had my wake up call and had to, you know, wipe my own ass. I think it helps that it's in a situation that you don't really get to be angry about it, as dark as that is. I probably would have been a real shit if I just had to do my own dishes because daddy wasn't paying for it anymore. Can you imagine? This, but worse."

"I can imagine," Sansa says, offering her hand to him for now. Her feet bother her more but she's a lady and she isn't going to just put her feet up to be rubbed by someone who isn't being paid to do it. Sansa can identify with having to learn how to do for herself, though. She, too, had lost her father young and making that change had been hard.

"Women where I'm from are property. You go from your father to your husband and if you're lucky, you have good men in your life and not terrible ones. What I had was good, the first good thing I'd had since my father died. I'd had awful and then horrifying so to have something good was so precious that I miss it terribly. I'll have our child and I'm so happy about that but I do wish I had someone to share this with."

She presses her lips together. "You absolutely cannot want to hear about this. I shouldn't just be pouring it all out when you've tried your best to make me laugh. I like it when you make me laugh."

Edited 2020-05-16 23:15 (UTC)

That she allowed him to indulge her at all made Tony smile like it was an honour to rub the swelling out her joints as he took her by the wrist and tucked her hand against his chest for now, stretching her arm between them to run his thumb along the soft underside and press gently to the inside of her elbow. He shook his head, not used to her horror stories, necessarily, or particularly eager to hear more, but he wasn't going to discourage her from talking through it and explaining herself just because he didn't know where to put what she shared. That was his own problem. "It's a gift," he agreed anyway, with another crooked grin and charming tilt of his head. "I feel kind of on the spot now, though, that's a lot of pressure. How 'bout that diner food, huh? Do you have court jesters, is that a thing for you guys?"

"Some courts have fools, yes, and then sometimes a mummer's troupe will come along and have acrobats and fools and minstrels. We didn't have one at Winterfell - we're a bit grim in the North - but southern courts have them regularly. Not a lot of acrobats want to come and freeze in the snow."

Sansa closes her eyes and lets out a soft hum of approval. "I didn't realize how nice this would feel. I should have asked before now, I think. Good queens never ask anything for themselves. They give everything away. Never trust a ruler who cares only about themself. That was the other thing I liked about having a husband - he gave to me when I had spent myself giving to everyone else." She opens one eye just enough to see Tony's face.

"Why is it that you follow me around anyway? Is it because I look likely to tip over? Surely you must have plenty of admirers you could spend time with instead."

Acrobats were certainly a form of entertainment that Tony would heartily endorse, but the kind of acrobat he was used to in 21st century New York probably wouldn't have made a decent impression on the kind of court that only let women take their clothes off for baths. And a cold pole wouldn't help. That might have been a concept to introduce Sansa to a little later, not quite yet.

Tony was grinning when Sansa looked again, ready to assure her that a little indulgent pleasure should have been one of the perks of being alive, never mind a queen, only to pout at her question, thoughtful and sure he was slightly offended again. He had worked his way slowly from her elbow down her forearm then and took his time warming her wrist between his hands as he pointed out, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you are the only woman I've met here. I'd like some admirers, too, but there's not exactly a selection. Second of all, more importantly, even if I did, the likelihood of any of them being a tall, redhead, stunningly beautiful queen is minimal, so, I don't know what goes on where you're from, but those are the kind of qualities that keep a guy up at night." And maybe he couldn't live with himself if he found out she was in pain out here alone while he was doing something far less important, like anything at all, but that wasn't nearly as nice to say out loud.

"Oh!"

Sansa knows that she's beautiful - she's been told that her entire life - but to be told she's beautiful right now is a little unexpected. Women have children, of course, but she's never thought the process of carrying a child to be particularly beautiful and certainly not when she's this far along. But if he is interested, it's something that simply hadn't occurred to her because Tony jokes about literally everything.

"If you're teasing me to get me to say I'm attracted to you only to laugh at me later, I will sic Lady on you. Gods, I might not even need Lady. I'm sure I could just sit on you and do the job."

"What?" Tony laughed, not the first time she had caused that nervous reaction in him and making Tony think there had to be a subtle culture clash that he was really struggling to work out for it to keep happening. He didn't know where that accusation had come from, framing him like some kind of high school bully, but it did serve to remind him of the difference in their ages that she so easily hid otherwise. Relying on the teasing again, he started, "I don't have to trick anyone into telling me I'm attractive, I have a mirror," with a still confused grin. He had to know what he was doing to make her keep suggesting these assumptions of him, so he bowed over the hand he held to kiss her knuckles with the reverence she must have been more comfortable with then held her hand under his chin with his elbows braced on his knees to meet her eye again. "I'm sorry for making you doubt my intentions," he muttered. "I'm not...hanging around because I have nothing better to do. I mean, I don't really--even when I'm trying to make a battery, I'm..." He sighed, eyes darting away, not sure if this was even reassuring anymore, but without better language, "Worrying."

:):):)

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