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“What?” Sansa blinked, staring at the woman seated across from her at the table.
“You heard me,” she nodded; eyes sharp like cut emeralds and hair like spun gold. Honestly, she didn’t look like she belonged in a rustic tavern, her dress made of fine red and gold silks; perhaps she was better fit for a castle or at least an expensive estate. Then again, why would anyone invite Sansa into a castle or estate? Most people did even let her kind into populated areas. Sansa was surprised she even had been granted access to the rustic, out of the way tavern.
“I don’t think you understand,” Sansa shook her head, her red tresses dancing as she did.
“What don’t I understand?” the woman asked, cocking her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “You are a banshee, correct?” she said the word as if it were a foul, disgusting thing. In the end, it really depended on how you looked at it. Sansa nodded her head slowly. “And banshees scream when someone is about to die.” Again, Sansa nodded her head. “So, I want you to scream for someone. I’ll pay you quite well.” As if to prove her point, the woman deposited a large pouch of gold coins on the table between them. She didn’t’ even bat an eye at the amount she set down as if she didn’t care how much Sansa’s services would cost.
Again, Sansa’s eyebrows pinched. “I can’t just scream for someone. They have to be dying.”
“Are you sure?” the woman asked with disdain.
Sansa blinked and looked down at her cup. “Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never tired. I don’t often scream.”
The women pressed, “You could at least try. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I could actually kill her,” Sansa threw out immediately, fixing the strange woman with a confused look.
The woman smiled brightly, painted red lips curling into an almost sneer. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”
Sansa wouldn’t under normal circumstances accept such a crude offer. To scream for someone who wasn’t dying was unnatural and unheard of but…she needed the money. Unlike most banshees, Sansa was blessed rather than cursed. She was blessed with a beautiful voice rather than a horrid scream. It nearly put her family to shame. Her mother had tried to comfort her and said that maybe Sansa wasn’t a banshee at all but something much more fair and kind. Her little sister Arya, a terrifying screamer that made mother and father both proud, said that Sansa was a broken banshee with the gift of life. It was a slap in the face every time Arya called her by the nickname, Life-Bringer.
Banshees brought death. That’s what they were supposed to do. Arya was fantastic at it, yet Sansa just couldn’t get it right. She still screamed when people were going to die but they never took it for the warning it was supposed to be, almost getting caught by surprised and half the time missing whatever was the cause of their death. It was because rather than a terrible screech, when Sansa opened her mouth, melodious songs came out instead. The only nice thing about it was that most people found her screaming, or singing as Arya teased, to be quite nice at a funeral. However, a banshee that sung at funerals was a rather sad sight when a banshee should be yowling the warnings of death and screaming for the deceased.
“I can’t believe someone is paying you to do that,” Arya beamed in amazement after hearing Sansa relay the news of her new job and showing the prepaid gold. “I mean to scream for someone not dying? That’s hilarious. Although, shouldn’t the lady have picked an actually screamer rather than a singer?”
Sansa didn’t say anything, looking at the address the woman had given her. It was of a young maiden with wonderful prospects and great kindness. Sansa wasn’t sure what the young maiden had done to deserve such a trick but money was money. Sansa just hoped that both she and the woman were wrong and her song didn’t bring the maiden’s death.
“Oh my heavens,” Arya gasped mockingly, grinning from ear to ear. “You didn’t tell her you can’t scream, did you?” Arya began cackling. “That’s hilarious!”
“Arya!” Sansa yelped, slapping her sister lightly. “Be quiet!”
“Oh come on, you are basically swindling this lady. I couldn’t be more proud, Life-Bringer.”
Sansa flinched at the name, even if her sister was using it in fondness. That wasn’t what she was supposed to be. She was supposed to bring death, not life. “I’m not swindling. I’m doing as she said.”
“Kind of. Did she ask for a sweet song?” Arya teased. “Or death?”
“No, but she asked for me. Not my fault she didn’t do her research,” Sansa crossed her arms defensively.
Arya cackled again as she exclaimed. “This is the best thing ever!”
As the days approached, doubt began to spread in her mind. Sansa wasn’t sure she should go through with the job, despite needing the money. Arya made quite a small fortune with her infamous screams but Sansa had to pull her weight, even if Arya never asked her too. They were sisters and they worked together. Sansa would have to do it. Even if she couldn’t scream, she sure as hell would sing her heart out.
Arya insisted on tagging along and Sansa couldn’t say no, not when Arya would just follow along anyway. She only told Arya to hang back and stay hidden.
As Sansa approached the front steps of the cottage in the middle of a dense wood, little ways off from a nearby village, she could hear sweet humming come from the side. Sansa carefully crept to where the humming was coming from the find a beautiful young woman hanging up clothing on a drying line, humming softly to herself by the open window of her home. Surely, this was the maiden she was supposed to scream for but one look at her and Sansa was suddenly glad she could only sing, rather than scream. Now she just hoped she didn’t kill her.
Opening her mouth, Sansa forced the sounds to come out. Usually, singing came naturally, almost automatically but doing it forcefully was near painful, but she had to do it. She needed the money; she needed to prove herself to Arya and pull her own weight. She needed to show the world that she was a banshee, goddamn it!
The maiden froze as Sansa’s sweet words hit her ears and she turned around. Doe eyes locked on Sansa and a faint smile came to her lips. There was no fear there, just safety and security. Suddenly, Sansa didn’t need to push the words anymore, they came naturally. Flowing out of her like a river, easier than any song she had ever sung before as the maiden approached slowly, entranced and smiling.
When she finished, the maiden clapped, smiling brighter than Sansa could think possible. Sansa’s heart fluttered in response.
“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, rushing up to Sansa. “Who sent you?”
Sansa’s own smile faltered, wondering if she should even mention she had been sent for the exact opposite reason of lightness and joy, however, before she could, a terrifying screech sounded from behind them and dread filled Sansa’s soul. She recognized Arya’s screeches from anywhere and she hoped they weren’t aimed for the beauty in front of her.
“Loras,” the maiden whispered fearfully as she paled when she recognized the meaning of the scream and raced forward. Sansa followed quickly behind. However, when they reached Arya in front of the house, they found her crouched by the woman Sansa had met not three days prior, face down in the dirt. Dead.
“Oh my,” the maiden gasped, covering her mouth in surprise although the tension previously in her shoulders melted away quickly.
“Arya,” Sansa whispered, looking at her sister for an explanation.
Arya shrugged dully, already bored with the situation. “Her time came.”
The maiden invited them both into her home for dinner to pay their respects to the woman. The maiden introduced herself as Margaery Tyrell and explained with a not so sorry heart that the woman who died was Cersei, one of the wealthy ladies of the nearby courts.
“She hated us,” Margaery explained in a neutral tone, passing tea to Sansa and Arya. “My brother and I. I think she was jealous but Loras, my brother,” she gestured to the closed door off to the side, “thinks she is just a cruel woman.”
“Why can’t she be both?” Arya asked as she gulped her tea greedily. The only good thing that came from not being able to scream is that Sansa’s throat never felt wreaked like Arya’s did.
Margaery smiled at Arya’s comment and excused herself to check on her brother, who she had explained was deathly ill. Once she left, Arya turned to fix Sansa with a smirk. “So are you going to tell her you tried to kill her?”
Sansa paled and glared at Arya. “I didn’t try to kill her!” she whispered harshly back.
“You sang for her,” Arya sniggered. “Admit it, you tried to kill her.”
“I did not!”
“Well, you killed that Cersei woman,” Arya shrugged. When Sansa sent her a look of confusion, Arya added. “Well, karma did but only because she tried to get you to kill Margaery. I’m sure if you didn’t take the job, they’d both be alive.”
The message of Arya’s words hit Sansa deep but was suddenly brought back as Margaery rushed into the room, looking at both of them in wonder. “My brother-” Dread filled Sansa’s stomach. Oh, please don’t be dead as well. “-he’s healed!”
“What?” both sisters exclaimed in confusion and amazement.
“My brother, he had fallen ill months ago and couldn’t leave the bed, as I told you. I thought death was coming for him,” she nodded her head to Arya, “but he is healed. Color has returned to his cheeks and he is awake! He thinks he can walk too!”
Margaery disappeared again to go back to her healed brother and Arya turned to Sansa, smiling softly. “I told you, Life-Bringer.”
The two sisters parted a week later. Death and life while always connected couldn’t and shouldn’t be together forever.
“Good luck,” Sansa hugged Arya tightly despite her sister’s struggles that were mostly for show.
“Whatever,” Arya pushed away and straightened her clothing. “Have fun with,” Arya looked past Sansa to see Margaery and her brother standing in the distance, “them.”
“I will,” Sansa grinned. “I hope you…bring many people to their death.”
There was a moment of silence between the two sisters and suddenly Arya tackled Sansa into a fierce hug. “You are a fucking sap and I am going to miss you and your stupid songs.”
Sansa laughed and rubbed her sister’s back. “Just visit but not too often, right?”
“What?” Arya smirked. “Don’t want me to kill your girlfriend?”
Sansa blushed and Arya cackled as she spun on her feet and walked off, ready to find the next sap to warn them of their death. As Arya left, Margaery approached Sansa and brought her hand into Sansa’s.
“Did you tell your sister of your new position in town?”
“No,” Sansa admitted. It was already a hard enough pill to swallow that Sansa wasn’t a true banshee and not continuing on with Arya but telling her sister that she had been prompted to the town’s healer might have to wait until she visited. “She’ll find out soon enough.”
“Did you tell her about,” Margaery let her sentence drift off as she squeezed Sansa’s hand for emphasis.
“Oh, I think she is already more than aware of that.”