Sansa II

Joff was at his most handsome when working, she decided. His golden hair grew duller, plastered to his scalp with sweat, yet his intelligent green eyes burned brighter, sparkling with the soul of the man, the king he would be. He loved solving problems, that man of hers, building, creating, not for himself or any glory, but for his Kingdoms. Oh, and he was freer with his touches these days. Sansa cupped her cheeks with both hands to hide the deep blush. They held hands! Could you imagine anything more wonderful? Mayhaps he would give her a kiss on her next name day!

Workers on either side of his new road dug drainage ditches while her betrothed felled trees one after another to clear the path ahead. His mighty black axe hewed through bark and wood as easily as ripe cheese. A special crew of lads followed in his wake to see to the stumps.

Here in the Rainwood, the ground was wet and soft, which presented certain challenges, but progress was picking up. The whole route was surveyed, and multiple crews had been trained, building their own sections until all was connected into a single highway. This particular stretch would take them out of the Rainwood and hug the coast all the way to Griffin's Roost, the seat of House Connington. Just the other day, a rider informed them that the road from Storm's End to Griffin's Roost was already completed. Small wonder, there would be no obstructions in that sector.

Stone they had in abundance, quarried from the easternmost hill country leading to the Dornish marches. Four separate teams saw to each stage of road construction, after the Valyrian manner. One group of lads crushed gravel while their master stonecutters prepared the paving stones. The bottom layers needed less fine work. Everyone had a job. Everyone knew their place. Delgation, Joff explained. Leaders create leaders. The crews he trained in the Rainwood today would knit the Seven Kingdoms together come spring.

Following my love around, I'm half an engineer myself, Sansa thought in delight.

"Oho, and what is this?"

Sansa groaned. Asha Greyjoy just loved tagging along where she wasn't wanted. Joff was too kind to send her away. "The Iron Islands need to be less isolated, dear," he told her one night. "The fact that their new lord came to King's Landing at all is a good sign. They could grow rich themselves, profiting off all the trade I mean to stimulate."

With a heavy thud, Joff set down his crescent-bladed axe by burying it in a tree stump. "What does it look like, Asha? I'm clearing a path. Valyrian steel serves just as well for cutting down trees as for cutting down foes."

"Oho!" Asha whooped in delight. "And has our golden prince cut down many foes in his time?"

"In the North, I told you. Thousands of wildlings broke through the wall. Even the best of them had only rusty ringmail. What do you suppose happened when they met my black axe?"

Asha looked at him thoughtfully. "So you are no maid then. Yes, I see. That axe has been blooded for true." There was a mischievous grin on her insolent face. "And what of your sword? Ever blooded that?"

Innocent Joffrey didn't understand, because of course he didn't. "I only use a sword in tourneys."

"Not that sword, silly! The sword in your breeches! Ever bloodied that one?"

If only Lady were here! Oh, she'd punish Asha for that one! All knew they were waiting till she was a bit older! Her wise betrothed would not wish her to risk childbed before her time. She loved him for his consideration, and Father much approved of his restraint. Pity, Lady was deeper in the woods, hunting their dinner.

"Not in this life," he answered strangely, and Asha seemed not to know what to make of it either. "Give it up, girl. I'm for Sansa only."

That's right! Tell her, Joff! Sansa resisted the urge to speak up and draw attention to herself. Asha's teasing could be awful!

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"Your loss," Asha answered. She fixed her gaze on poor Jon, who was easier to fluster. "You know, my offer still stands. I could take your maidenhead, Ser Jon. One night swaying beneath the deck of my ship, think on it!"

"I'll not father any bastards," he replied forcefully. Jon would be sensitive about something like that.

"No risk of that. A bit of tansy tea and no worries about wolf seed quickening in a kraken's womb."

"Moon tea has a risk of long-term complications," Joff pointed out.

Asha looked nonplussed. "Complications?"

"Too much of anything is bad, Asha. Tansy is a poison, though a weak one. Imagine what happens if you take little bits of poison habitually, for years. Nothing good."

"The maester king, drowned god preserve us."

"You'll be happier once this road is completed. Imagine Ironborn ships sailing round Dorne and calling at the Weeping Town. You'll fill your holds with cotton, rice, indigo dye, and bend your sails for the Free Cities. In one turn of the moon, you'd be richer than a year spent playing pirate in distant seas where the king's writ doesn't follow you. If you are wise, you and your people will listen."

Asha seemed discomfitted at the prince's words, as any pirate might be on hearing talk of honest work. "I'll think on it," she said and got on her horse, riding north for the sea. They were close now. She could smell the salt.

Lady returned not long after, dragging a huge elk towards their camp. Her wolf had grown strong in the Rainwood, running and jumping and hunting, as she was meant to do. Big as an aurochs she was, but swift and silent. As Sansa would be queen of men, Lady was queen of wolves. None could rival her splendor.

"It seems she's grown, dear," Joff said, having to reach up to pet Lady, even at his height. The rain, never far in this land, was but a pale mist that moistened her fur, yet it smelled sweet to Sansa.

"All this time out and about agrees with her, I think."

"And you?" Joff questioned.

"And me," Sansa agreed. "I would follow you anywhere. It's where I'm meant to be."

Her prince clasped her hand, and she almost fainted. "I think so too," he said softly.

It took another month of work, but they made it out of the Rainwood and switched course west, and then north, following the sea. When they arrived at Griffin's Roost, there was a feast waiting. The Rainroad was complete! It was all thanks to Joff's brilliance and hard work!

The next day, as they were preparing to depart, Red Ronnet Connington and his maester, a young man named Orren, bid them stay.

"Alas, we can't," Joff answered. "I need to be back at court to make my report. There must be an accounting: labor, materials, and so forth."

"There's been a bird, my prince," Connington told them.

Dark wings, dark words, Sansa thought in trepidation. "Has something happened?"

"Nay," the maester said comfortingly. "Glad tidings, my lady. It seemed our Lord Renly shall be wed at last. There will be a grand tourney at Storm's End to celebrate the nuptials."

"Oh? Last I saw him, my uncle seemed unhappy."

Unhappy with you, Sansa thought. Through Lady, she could sense his jealousy, jealous for Joff's place as crown prince, no doubt.

"Who is to be his bride?" Joff asked.

"Lady Asha Greyjoy," Connington answered.

"Hah!" Joffrey laughed aloud. "How do you like that? Asha was teasing us all while planning this! I look forward to the tourney."

Sansa didn't. The date of the wedding was to be her fifteenth name day. Asha just had to steal it for herself!

Author's Note: The year is 302, the last little bit of autumn in the south. Joffrey is sixteen. Sansa is about to be fifteen.