Chapter Text
Sansa smacked her alarm clock with a level of forceful annoyance only a college student on an early Monday morning could muster. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, allowing the odd heaviness that comes with not getting quite enough sleep to compress her body into the mattress. With a deep breath and a whispered sigh, she forced herself up to start the day.
Everyone says college is the greatest time in your life, right next to the birth of your first child and your first trip to Disney World. Sansa might have subscribed to these notions at one time, a time that felt like eons ago. Life had changed since then. These days she is simply trying to drag herself through each week with copious amounts of coffee and maybe more microwave mac and cheese than she’d like to admit. However, college wasn’t a complete hell-hole. She liked most of her professors, the classes could be interesting and she had friends.
Margaery was probably closest to her. They had met senior year of high school, when Margaery transferred in after her family moved up North for her father’s work. Sansa hadn’t thought much of her at first, but after an incident involving glitter glue, a malfunctioning toilet, and the varsity basketball team, Sansa finally saw her kindness as well as her cunning. Three years later, they saw a bit less of each other due to Margaery’s many duties as President of both the Pride Club and Association of Female Engineers, but they both considered each other best friends. Most importantly to Sansa, Margaery was the only one that could really understand how she felt. She could be counted on to arrive at Sansa’s apartment with some chocolate and a bottle of wine in a heartbeat. With Margaery, Sansa never had to explain. Sansa could just sit and cry or stare blankly at the wall and Margaery wouldn’t ask questions or judge her.
The clatter of ceramic on cheap plastic woke Sansa from her reverie. She looked up to see Theon’s cheeky smile and glimmering eyes.
“Earth to Sansa,” Theon mimicked talking into a radio “what is your location?”
“Currently, in the galaxy of doughy pancakes and cold sausage, Captain Greyjoy.”
Theon made a face as he looked down at his plate. “I thought that it looked better than normal today.”
“It’s never better, Theon. You should know that by now.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly it’s cruel that they make us have a cafeteria meal plan for our second year. I have my own apartment for God’s sake! I can take care of myself!”
“Well speaking of taking care,” Theon wiggled his eyebrows “would you be interested in going on an excursion with me and the boys tonight?”
“Theon, it’s Monday. You can’t get wasted on a Monday.”
Theon lifted his arms in mimicked offense. “Hey, who said anything about getting wasted? We’re just going out for some nice easy fun. Pod’s band is playing at The Salty Dog, and we need a DD just in case.”
Sansa squinted at him. “I thought you didn’t like ‘Hipster Folk Music’ as I seem to recall you called it.”
“Yeah, well a man can change his mind. Is that a crime? Plus Pod is a friend and he needs our support if he’s ever gonna take off and donate to my financial aid repayment fund.”
Theon rose from the table and grabbed his untouched plate. “I’ll text you later when we’re ready to go. The guys are gonna meet up at my place before leave.”
Sansa stared down at her runny eggs as Theon left. She really hated Mondays.
Pod did need all the support he could get. Sansa wouldn’t say ‘The Mossy Stones’ were bad, but they definitely weren’t good. As she suspected, Theon and his party friends had only showed up as an excuse to get drunk. Not that she minded, but it was a bit awkward sitting at a bar on a Monday night essentially babysitting seven childish young men.
Sansa sighed and took a sip of her Shirley Temple. She had only drank half of it so far and it was starting to get warm. She glanced around in the dimly lit room to do a quick head count of the boys when she noticed a man sitting at the end of the bar. Sansa furrowed her brow. When did he get here? It wasn’t like the bar was the hottest spot in town tonight, so she surely would have noticed if someone new had come in. She inspected him again; perhaps she was simply mistaken? He was probably in his mid 50’s, with graying hair, a salt and pepper beard, round rimmed glasses, a crisp dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a seemingly permanent frown. No, Sansa had definitely not seen him before.
Theon approached, red faced and grinning like a simpleton. “Stark, come dance with me! You’re being all mopey again.”
“Thank you Theon, but I’m really not feeling it.”
“Oh, come on now,” he grabbed her arm and jerked her off the stool less gently than he intended to “you gotta have fun sometimes.”
Sansa steadied herself “Not tonight Theon. I mean it.”
“But Sansa-“
“The lady said no.”
Sansa turned in the direction of the gruff voice to find the man from the end of the bar standing a few feet behind her and Theon. He must have come over when Theon grabbed me.
Theon let out a long ‘uh’ while looking between Sansa and the man. He wasn’t sure how to handle the confrontation, but luckily Sansa was quick to explain the situation.
“Oh no, everything’s fine. Theon here just doesn’t know his own strength.” She looked pointedly at Theon
“I’m sorry Sansa, really.” He pleaded, “Can I have a forgiveness hug?”
Sansa dramatically rolled her eyes. “Well, I suppose.”
She hugged Theon and quickly sent him on his way back to his rowdy friends. She turned to the man as he said, “A young man shouldn’t treat a young lady like that.”
“It was truly an accident,” Sansa assured him, “He’s never treated me badly in my life. He’s like my brother. I’m Sansa by the way.”
“Davos Seaworth,” He stuck out his hand “Pleasure to meet you.”
Sansa shook his hand “The same to you. Would you like to sit?” She motioned towards the barstools. He nodded. Davos signaled another two drinks from the bartender. As they sat, Sansa noticed a naval tattoo on his forearm. “My brother was in the navy,” Sansa pointed at the tattoo “he was stationed on Skagos.”
“A rough gig,” Davos smiled “came back with all his fingers and toes I hope?”
Sansa’s face dropped. Why did she mention Robb? Why did she get herself in this position? But all she could think of when she saw Davos’ tattoo was the Westerosi Navy symbol on Robb’s crisp uniform the day he graduated from the academy. He was so happy, his face held a barely contained grin, and she never knew she could feel so proud of her big brother. Davos’ smile fell, his frown somehow seemed to deepen.
“He didn’t come back.” Sansa whispered. She looked up from the well-worn bar top into Davos’ sea-blue eyes. They held so much understanding and empathy, a glint of deep set sorrow only someone who has lost a person they hold dear can possess.
“I’d say ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ but I know you’re probably sick to death of hearing it.” Davos sighed, looked down at the new drinks the bartender had set in front of them, then caught her eyes again. “They say it’ll get easier, but that’s not true. Less unfair maybe, but never easy.”
The red head made a half-hearted smile. “I know what you mean. Some days you see something that reminds you of them and it all comes crashing back.” Her voice began to break as she felt tears well up behind her eyes, “And then you hate yourself for the days you forget. You beat yourself up inside for not feeling the pain at every waking moment because how can you forget them? But then pain becomes the only memory you have.”
The tears began to fall and Sansa felt like an utter failure for crying in front of a complete stranger at a bar on a Monday night. She was trying to wipe them away to stop her mascara from running when Davos handed her a hankerchief.
“I didn’t know people still carried these.” She said, using it to dab her eyes.
Davos let out a single, breathy laugh, “Well one can never be too careful. You never know when you’ll run into a damsel in distress.”
Sansa took a deep breath to compose herself, then she met his eyes with hers. “You lost someone too, didn’t you?”
The dormant sorrow in his eyes grew only a fraction, but Sansa knew that pain had just flooded his soul.
“My son,” he said “today is his birthday.”
There was a pause, Sansa didn’t know what to say. She had always felt guilty about her grief for Robb when she was around her parents. She had lost her brother, but she could not imagine what it felt like to lose a child. Not just a baby or a young kid, but a child you had raised for over two decades and seen grow into an excellent man. To Sansa, it seemed like the worst kind of grief a person could experience.
“I can’t imagine how difficult that is,” the hum of the sparse crowd and gentle music seemed to soften, “I feel silly now for heaping my sob story onto you.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” he reached out and gently held her clutched hands, “no one’s grief is any more or less valid than someone else’s.”
It seemed impossible that someone could be so comforting and empathetic, when they themselves were drifting on the seas of sorrow. Sansa smiled, this time with warmth and a sense of peace.
“Thank you.” she said, so softly he could barely hear her. A shout of her name from the other side of the bar broke the moment and Sansa saw the boys were getting ready to leave.
“Here,” Sansa rummaged through her purse and found a pen. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this, but her intuition was telling her that she needed to. That this person not only understood her, but needed her too. Sansa wasn’t sure what this feeling meant, however, she had had enough bad experiences by not listening to her gut that she had learned to really trust it no matter what. “This is my number,” she scribbled the digits onto her drink’s coaster and handed it to him “Call me sometime. If you ever need to talk.”
“Sansa!” Theon yelled from the door, “we’re ready to blow this joint!”
Sansa glimpsed once more into Davos’ wonderful, sad blue eyes and hurried away into the autumn night.