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Sansa watched the rain outside the window in her room. The weather had taken a turn and had been rainy for the past several days in Edinburgh. Her spirits remained high though as she watched for the mail delivery to arrive.
She was hoping to hear from Willas Tyrell again. They had met at a party in London earlier last year when she stumbled in on him in the library. He had the same idea as she did and was looking for a break from the other party guests. It was not the most proper thing, to be alone in a room with an unknown man. But Willas was nothing but kind, even a little shy she believed, during their first meeting.
The second time they meet was at a business meeting her father held to buy new horses from the Tyrell’s for use in Stark factories in Scotland, which were in very short supply due to the war. She had earned a sideways look from her father when she appeared familiar with the Tyrell’s eldest son.
He had asked for her permission to write to her that day. Ever since they had written several times a week. At first her mother passed it off as nothing more than a youthful infatuation. Her father still did not approve, but allowed the pair to send letters to one another.
As their correspondence increased and they seemed to meet, accidentally as Sansa claimed, at different parties her mother became more concerned. Sansa was 18 and Willas was a full ten years her senior. Mrs. Stark did not approve of the age difference between the two.
When Sansa finally saw the mail carrier come down the road she smiled happily. Returning to her book she schooled her features as she waited for the announcement to be made that the mail had arrived.
Several minutes passed before she could here footsteps climbing the stairs up to the second floor of the Stark townhouse. When her mother appeared in the open doorway Sansa looked up from her book.
“A letter came for you.” Mrs. Stark said as she handed it to her daughter. Her expression was neutral as always now.
Sansa’s mother seemed to never smile anymore since news had come of her eldest child’s death in France. Robb’s death had destroyed any war fever in the Stark household. She did not know the exact circumstances around her older brother’s death. Only that her father had muttered “No one should die like that.”, several times during the following days. There was no body for them to bury or mourn over. Instead they were told his grave was in a military cemetery in France.
“Thank you.” Sansa smiled as she took the letter. She hid her eagerness to learn who the sender was. As she turned the envelope over she could immediately recognize Willas’s handwriting.
She tried to ignore her mother’s gaze as she opened the letter and began to read its contents.
“Nothing too scandalous I hope.” Mrs. Stark asked her daughter.
“Mother!” Sansa looked up from her letter. “Willas isn’t like that. We’ve been writing each other about the books we are reading.” Her mother did not appear too convinced at her words, but said nothing more.
Eventually her mother left, still not convinced at the mundane nature of her correspondence. Sansa then eagerly set about writing Willas back. If she was lucky she would be able to get the letter out today.
Mr. Stark had business to attend to in the London regarding the family’s factories involved in the war effort. Sansa was eager to return to the capital and to see Willas in person again. In her last letter to Willas she implied she would enjoy his company at her home when they arrived in London.
She wished they could take a turn around one of the parks in the capital, but they had all been turned into areas to support the war. Instead she would have to be satisfied with walks around her neighborhood or to the theater.
Back in the capital the young pair wasted no time in setting up a new routine for themselves. Instead of writing each other near daily, they would now meet once a day and take a stroll. Always supervised of course by Mrs. Stark, who kept a keen eye on the pair at all times as the two became more familiar with each other.
Before the war the Tyrell family owned hundreds of horses at a time. They sold many to farms and factories all over the British Isles. At the start of the war the government had taken a census of their animals and ended up buying many of them once war broke out. The Tyrells had then set about trying to supply their business with more for domestic work and for the war effort. In the process they had made a nice amount of money.
A downside of all this was dealing with some of the accountants Willas found. He could hear their mumbles of dissatisfaction when he went to check on the families business accounts for his father. “War profiteering” was what was whispered behind his back as he exited the building in London’s financial district. He would be lying if he said it did not bother him.
With his walking stick Willas made his way down the street and back to the Tyrell offices. As his leg began to act up he found a bench nearby and sat down on it. As he stretched his leg out and closed his eyes with a sigh the discomfort in his leg died down.
“You look rather comfortable sitting there like that.” A displeased female voice said.
Willas’s eyes snapped open. In front of him were three young women that were scowling at him with clear disdain.
“I’m sorry. Would you ladies like to sit down?” Willas reached for his stick and stood up to make room for the women.
“Why aren’t you doing your bit?” The second woman asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand?”
“For the war.” The third woman said. “Why aren’t you in khaki’s instead of lounging around here like a layabout? You should be in France like your peers.”
The first woman brought out a white feather and reached for Willas. He tried to back away from her but ended up bumping into the bench and sat back down. She grasped his lapel and stuck the feather in it.
“There.” She said as she pulled back. “Now everyone will know that you are a coward while our brave boys fight over there. Do you think any young woman would want to step out with you knowing that you will not fight the Huns.”
With a final glare the group turned and stalked off down the street looking for other targets of their wrath, leaving a distraught man in their wake.
That night when Willas arrived at the Stark townhouse to walk with Sansa around the neighborhood Sansa noticed he seemed much more reserved than usual and not as upbeat as he sometimes was.
“You surely aren’t tying of my company already are you?” She tried to joke with her beau as they walked several paces ahead of her mother who was chaperoning them.
“Of course not Sansa.” The young man replied. He began to look around and suddenly stopped and turned to face her.
“I’ve joined up.”
Sansa searched his eyes for any hint that what he had just said was a lie or a joke.
“Willas… No, you will not go to the front.” She implored him ardently.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve already taken a commission on with the 2nd Regiment of Life Guards. They’re cavalry; I know how to handle horses.”
“But your leg, you injured it while riding. And you don’t know the first thing about fighting. You studied divinity at Oxford. You wanted to join the church before your father needed help running your family’s business in Cornwall. You have no place in war.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth.
Panic began to rise up in Sansa and she looked to her mother for help. The older woman drew closer to the couple and simply observed what was taking place.
“I cannot take it anymore Sansa. The looks, the stares, people talking behind my back. And some even to my face. I cannot be a coward, not when both of my brothers are already doing their part for the war.”
Sansa reached for Willas’s hands and took them into her own. “Willas please do not do this.”
“That’s enough.” Mrs. Stark broke up the couples embrace and began to steer her daughter away from the scene.
Sansa looked over her shoulder at Willas as she was led away back towards their home. His expression was pained and it mirrored her own as he stood still.
Before she was too far away she called out to him. “I love you.” She was unable to see or hear his reply as her mother quickly pulled her around the corner.
Once the door had closed to the Stark townhouse Catelyn Stark turned to her eldest daughter. “This is for the best Sansa, you will see.”
Sansa fumed at her mother’s words. “For the best? Mother how could you say such a thing? He doesn’t belong in the army! I don’t want to lose Willas. We’ve already lost so much with Robb. How can you wish for more…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word death. She could not describe Willas as dead or dying, it was too painful.
Hearing the commotion in the entryway Eddard Stark appeared. “Your mother is right Sansa.” He said solemnly. “This is for the best. He has made his choice.” While he did not desire the death of the Tyrell, he hoped an extended period apart would break his daughter’s infatuation with the man.
Sansa glared at her father before she gathered her dress in her hands and hurried up the stairs to her room. Once there she closed the door behind her and laid down on the bed.
Feelings of grief welled up inside her as she thought of her brother and now her suitor. She had lost one of the most important men in her life and was now faced with losing another. At first she tried to choke back the sobs but after a few moments she let them out freely.
She slept that night uncomfortably in her dress.
The next day a letter arrived from Willas. For the first time Sansa did not open it when she received it. Thinking about Willas made her heart ache. She was terrified of losing him, so she pushed all feelings away.
Sansa received a visitor nearly a week later. It was Willas’s sister Margaery. The two had briefly met a few times at parties but had not exchanged any letters.
“I’ve come on behalf of my brother.” Margaery said as the two women sat in the parlor. “He loves you Sansa and I fear for his wellbeing.”
Sansa shifted around in her place. “What do you mean?”
“I fear that in leaving you in such a state, he will go and do something foolish on the continent.”
Sansa’s head snapped up. “He already has. He should not have pursued that commission.”
“I mean more than that Sansa. We all agree he should not have done what he did. I mean to say that if he feels he has nothing to come home to, a reason to fight, that he will get himself killed. Will you not see him before he ships off? He leaves tomorrow.”
Sansa considered her feelings towards Willas. She still loved him. She was angry, and rightfully so, but she could not let that come in the way of her love for the man. The decision was easy.
“Yes. I will.” She sighed and looked out the window. “How did he even join up.”
“They need men.” Margaery replied. “At this point they don’t care, as long as you can hold a rifle, they will take you on. A little bit of money and he was able to get an officers commission.”
“His ship is set to depart around ten tomorrow. I’ll see you there.”
Sansa thanked her and began thinking of a suitable gift for Willas to think of her by when he was in France.
Sansa and her mother arrived at the docks and set about searching for Willas and the rest of the Tyrell family. When they found Willas he was surrounded by his parents and sister. His khaki uniform was crisp and bore the insignia of a lieutenant in the Life Guards.
His family did not see her when she approached them. When Willas shifted his gaze to her they parted to allow the young couple a chance to speak with a modicum of privacy.
At first the two did not speak, then they both tried to at the same time. Willas motioned for Sansa to go ahead with what she was trying to say.
“I’m not here to go over our disagreement Willas. And I am sorry for not returning your letters. I will from now on.”
“I can’t blame you. I really did spring this on you.”
The pair continued to look at each other, knowing there was nothing to say to change the fact that he was shipping out and the fact hurt both of them.
“Here.” Sansa said as she took a bit of ribbon off of her dress and gave it Willas. “Bring it back please.” She tried to muster some levity and make a small joke of the ribbon.
Willas ran his thumb over it and thanked her for the favor. “I’ll bring it back. I promise.”
From farther on down the docks a bellowing command went out for the officers to board the ship bound for the France.
“I love you Willas.” Sansa said to Willas with a parting look.
“And I you.”
Not moving from her spot she watched as the man she loved made his way up the boarding ramp and onto the ship.
In another time it would have been a beautiful ocean liner, taking people to far off exotic lands. Now it was making the crossing to the continent carrying soldiers to fight and the casualties back home. She prayed Willas would not be amongst their number.
She was not able to find Willas from all the faces onboard the ship as it pulled away from the dock. There were so many men in khakis waving at the crowds, they nearly all looked the same to Sansa. Instead she watched as the vessel gracefully slid away from view.
After a brief conversation with Willas’s family in which she accepted his mother and sister’s desire to spend an afternoon sometime on a stroll, Sansa left the docks heavy hearted.
Once Willas had arrived in France his letters came infrequently. The couple was use to near daily communication when they were both in the United Kingdom. Now it took several days for a letter from one to the other to arrive.
Sansa was relieved for the most part that Willas seemed to be behind the front and the trenches mostly. His description of the mud and desolate landscape was something she could not fully comprehend and did not seem real.
One Friday morning the Stark household went about its routine as it always did. Around midmorning there was a knock on the door. Sansa sat in the sitting room reading the latest edition of The Girl’s Own Paper when Margaery Tyrell entered the room. She looked pale.
“Sansa.” She said with a forced smile.
“Is everything alright Margaery? Come sit down.” Sansa motioned to the chair nearby.
Margaery made her way to the chair and sat down, only to quickly stand back up again. “I don’t think I can sit.” The brunette’s gaze met Sansa’s and tears began to form in the Tyrell girls eyes. “Something has happened to Willas.”
Sansa could feel herself standing, but did not recall ever telling her body to do so. “No.” She said forcefully as she fought fruitlessly to keep terrible images at bay.
“He’s missing Sansa, we received a letter yesterday saying that he was at some place called Passchendaele. He…”
Sansa watched as Margaery’s lips moved but she could not discern what she was saying. She could only feel that it was terrible and that she needed to leave at once. Yes, she did not want to be in this room any longer.
Willas was missing? That would mean he is dead. They had said Robb was missing at first as well. Then a second letter came after his remains had been found.
No; that could not happen to Willas, not her Willas. This was all wrong. She had to get away from all of this unpleasantness.
She then noticed that the ceiling was rushing away from her. Why would it do such a strange thing?
As she came to Sansa found herself cradled in the arms of Margaery as she lay awkwardly on the floor. Her legs were at an odd angle and her corset was restricting her breathing.
Soon Mrs. Stark and a maid rushed into the room. For the first time in months Sansa saw an expression on her mother’s face that wasn’t sorrow or indifference. “Sansa, whatever has happened?”
Willas was gone. Willas was gone. Willas was gone. The phrase repeated itself in the young woman’s mind. Sansa burst into tears unable to answer her mother as she allowed herself to fall into the violent emotions that ran through her.
“Willas is missing in action.” Was all Margaery could say.
“Help her up. Let’s get her up to her room.” With the help of the maid the three women moved Sansa up the stairs in her distressed state. As the maid helped Sansa out of her dress and into a sleeping gown Mrs. Stark turned to Margaery.
“I am… sorry for you loss Miss Tyrell.”
The young woman could do nothing but nod in response as she glanced at Sansa who now lay on her back on the bed. Her chest heaving as she cried. “I should leave now Mrs. Stark. I’m sorry.” Without another word she left the room as fast as she could without running.
Mrs. Stark dismissed the maid when Sansa was tucked into her bed. She sat by her daughter’s side as she cried herself to sleep from exhaustion.
That Sunday Sansa left her room for the first time. Usually she took time to get ready for Sunday mass. This time though she had to have a maid dress her and offered no input into the selection of her clothes. She simply did not care.
At church Sansa sat forlornly in a pew with her family. When the priest began a special prayer for those fighting in the war Sansa began to shake. Before long once again she was crying for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few days.
Her father had to help her up and out of the pew when the service had ended. She did not see the pitying looks she received from other parishioners as they left the church. All she could think about was climbing into bed and going to sleep forever.
Over the next several days Sansa was visited by her brothers and sister in her room frequently. Bran and Rickon had always been sweet children and they did bring a smile every now and then to their sister.
What surprised Sansa even more was Arya. The girl had always chafed under the social expectations for her gender. She even went as far as to dress in boys clothes around the house. She had taken to wearing Robb’s old jacket when she was outside the house. Sansa suspected it was her own private way of mourning their brother.
She had allowed Sansa to help her braid her hair into a few different styles. Sansa had relished the chance to pursue a more feminine task with her sister, if only for a while.
Early one morning saw an excited Margaery knocking on the door of the Stark’s townhome. When she was let in she hurriedly asked for Sansa but was told she was in her room at the moment.
“Please let me see her. It’s very important news.”
The butler did not seem to want to allow her up to Sansa’s room still so she asked after Mrs. Stark instead.
She followed the butler into a sitting room were the matron of the house sat writing a letter.
“Miss Tyrell to see you.” The butler said when they reached the room.
The older woman looked up with a hint of confusion and invited Margaery to sit.
“Willas is alive.” The younger woman began eagerly. “We just received a letter from across the channel today. He’s been wounded, but he is alive.”
Mrs. Stark put down her pen neatly by the letter she was writing. For a brief moment she found herself angry and jealous that the Tyrell family would be whole once again while her own would always be missing her Robb.
“Sansa will be pleased.” Was all she could bring herself to say at the moment. “Follow me. I’ll show you to her room.”
Sansa’s door was closed as usual, so Mrs. Stark knocked softly on the door before waiting a moment to open it.
Inside Sansa was lying on her bed fully dressed staring up at the ceiling. Mrs. Stark stayed just inside the doorway and motioned for Margaery to go to and tell Sansa.
The younger woman approached the bed and softly called out to Sansa.
“Sansa, I have good news.”
The woman on the bed turned to look at Margaery with a distant expression on her face.
“Willas is alive.” The Tyrell girl exclaimed. “We just received news that he was found in a hospital in Belgium. They don’t know when he can be moved back yet, but father says he will be brought home as soon as possible.”
Sansa sat up in bed still looking bewildered.
“He’s alive?” She asked weakly.
Margaery nodded enthusiastically. “He lost his leg, but he is alive. He was even able to write the letter himself.”
Sansa began to cry again, quickly followed by Margery who embraced her. Though this time their tears were joyful instead of full of sorrow.
From her place by the door Catelyn Stark looked on at the pair. As she did, she could feel her feelings towards her daughter’s suitor change. Perhaps she should not stand in the way of their feelings for one another. Perhaps Sansa truly did love the man.
Sansa wrote a flurry of letters to Willas over the next few weeks while he was in the hospital. Willas informed her that he had lost his leg, a shell landed nearby when he was on his horse. He had been covered in mud and was not found for two days, unable to move from underneath his mount that had trapped him. It had been the second time he was pinned underneath a horse and he had thought it would be the end of his life.
In his last letter to Sansa before he was to return home he had asked her to marry him.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Sansa shouted excitedly as she sat with her family one evening. “Willas has asked me to be his wife and he is coming home tomorrow.” She said clutching the letter close to her chest when all the eyes in the room were on her.
Caught up to much in her elation, she did not catch the look her mother gave her father. Mrs. Stark and had a difficult conversation with her husband over Sansa’s choice of suitor. Eventually the Stark patriarch had given in to his wife’s acceptance of Willas. Though they both thought she could have done better, they did see that Sansa loved the man.
The offered nothing but congratulations and well wishes this time.
The docks were crowded with people waiting for the ships to begin disembarking their men. Sansa waited with the Tyrell family on the pier as they looked for any sign of Willlas. They didn’t know if he would be in a wheelchair, a stretcher or crutches. So many of the men arriving were in poor condition.
After waiting for nearly three hours Mrs. Tyrell spotted her son. “There he is.” She pointed at a man who was being wheeled down the walkway by a nurse.
He looked thinner than he used to Sansa noticed at first. Her eyes fell to his right leg, or what was left of it. His pants leg was pinned up above were his knee would have been as there was nothing below it now.
Still, her Willas was home and she was not going to let him leave again.
She stood back as his parents and sister greeted him happily. He seemed relieved to see them as well. When he looked in her direction he became nervous.
Margaery waved for Sansa to come closer. With her arms clasped in front of her she tried to hide her own nervousness. She had hoped her reply had reached him, but she wasn’t sure.
He eyed her hopefully as she approached. “Sansa… did you get my letter?”
The redhead knelt down in front of his wheelchair. “Yes.” She smiled.
“Good. Ah, then you…”
“Yes.” She cried happily as she wrapped her arms around her fiancé. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“Never.” He said as he pulled the ribbon Sansa had given him out of his pocket. “Never.”