Oathkeeper

Chapter 79: When the Laws Unfold Pt. 1

When the setting sun of summer painted the Harbor with a gilded glow, Queen Sansa begrudgingly walked the ground floor of the Wolf's Den. The somewhat breathable fabric of her summer gown cascaded around her, capturing the gentle breeze that whispered hints of . . . grilled fish and lemon?

She thought she should return to the final rays of warmth, the views of the shore from the castle lords chambers. But Lord Wellam Manderlys trial would commence when the city tolled at noon, come tomorrow. Lyanna had done a thorough job of seeking out witnesses to speak at the trial and the Queen was sure they'd have everything they needed to send him to the Wall.

But she could not rest easily while Maester Yoren repeatedly failed at getting her wife to engage with the interactive mind tests he put together. They were meant to help with her comprehension but Brienne had quickly turned stubborn to it all. Inevitably, while Sansa found herself at the edge of the bed, doing her best to encourage her with supportive eyes as opposed to words, the thought of the blonde betrayal beneath her felt . . . unfinished. There were a series of questions she wanted to ask, to which only one would ever leave her lips when she finally excused herself from the conflicting task in the castle, and wound up beneath it..

She was not surprised to see the man chowing down on the meal the Den's cook made. Nor was she shocked to see him arrogantly draped across the chair of his unexpectedly large and comfortable cell. It contained a hearth large enough for a kettle, and a small library in a corner nook. Sansa thought it certainly wasn't an environment that would provoke the man into any form of reflection, so she figured hope was left up to his captivity.

He looked up from his half eaten fish then looked back down at it with a growing smirk and spoke tauntingly, "Your Grace,"

"Lord Wellam," Sansa replied with a stiff face," Enjoying your supper?"

"I was," He laughed snarkily.

Sansa let out a dry, stunted laugh, glancing down at her feet for only a moment, "Well I shall let you get back to that soon. I have a very important question to ask you,"

"What is it?"

"Where is Rickard Cerwyn?"

His pupils shifted to the top of the lid as he eyed her. Then he stabbed his fork back into another piece of fish and tossed it to the back of his mouth. It's meaty flesh smacked between his teeth. Even the sound of his mouth gaping rang out arrogantly. It lingered through the 'dungeon' until Ser Tiberius picked up the handle of a broken wooden torch and struck it against the bars. The hard resonance called for silence, and the impact left a sense of lingering behind.

"The Queen has asked you a question," He said strictly.

Lord Wellam barely flinched at the sound before slipping the last piece into his mouth. Sansa stared, undisturbed as he dropped the plate on his bed and picked up the clean white napkin that was tucked underneath the plate. He wiped his mouth at the rate of a snail then finally brought his undisturbed attention to the woman on the opposite side of the bars.

"I'll be dead not long after you ring that bell tomorrow . . . why would I tell you anything?"

"If that means you'd like to spare us all the time it takes to go through an actual trial and plead guilty, your punishment will be the Wall, not death. And, a trial by combat was presented to you as an option . . . so please . . . try not to sound so cornered. It's unbecoming of you,"

Lord Wellam swallowed hard, as if the insult was a rock lodged in his throat.

"My chances at combat are about as good as my leg," He gestured to his bandaged knee, "Maester Yoren says even milk of the poppy won't keep me from feeling what he'll have to do to fix what your beast did to me,"