bakerstreet | Soulmates

Soulmates

soulmate meme ;
▸ post your character ◂
▸ you're now in a universe where destined soul mates exist! ◂
▸ rng for the type of au and for the ~situation~ ◂
▸ tag around ♥ ◂

type of au;

1. tats, your character has a tattoo of the first words the love of their life will say to them
2. familiars, your character has an animal tattoo representing their soul mate on them
3. glow, the first time your character sees their soul mate, their chests glow!
4. world in color, life is literally black and white, until you see your soul mate for the first time
5. choose your own, i'm definitely missing a milly because i'm lazy, pick your own

situation;

1. first meeting, you've never met this person before.
2. childhood mates, you've always known this person -- but on one particular birthday, everything changes.
3. together, you've been in a relationship for awhile now! happily wed or not, you decide.
4. not together, you've known you're soul mates for a long time, and yet have avoided a relationship.
5. choose your own, self explanatory c:

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"Oh, well, I cannot say no to breakfast."

Sansa normally eats very little for breakfast, wanting her portion to go to a child or an elderly person who needs it more than she does, but the idea of having it all to herself this morning is an appealing one. Will Jon be able to get Winterfell through the winter? She thinks so. He isn't unclever, her brother, and while she might be better at running a kingdom through famine instead of war he won't be terrible at it.

She slips on the robe from the night before and belts it tightly before going to the small kitchen. "Is there anything I can do? I don't know how to cook but I can be shown how to do anything."

"Nothing at the moment. The place will pack itself up when I take the tent down. Wonderful bit of gnomish magic that I've found incredibly useful. I've gotten spoiled from being out among humans and what they've built for creature comforts."

He'd changed, but his attire was something that would fit in with an older lifestyle. Lace front breeches, undershirts, tunics, and an overcoat that would be more fitting for a renaissance faire, or going to a medieval land to steal its Queen away. A cloak was hung at the door, and he'd made a second one from another dressing gown he had, one that matched the look of the gown she'd arrived in. If she needed alterations, he'd make them on the fly.

"Is this what I am expected to look forward to in my future?" Sansa thinks she might be able to get used to it, especially the ability to obtain hot water at a moment's notice. She has never had such a thing in her life. The lack of chamber pots is also quite nice, even if it took her a moment to figure out the one in the tent.

Her food looks wonderful, fresh fruit that she can hardly get at Winterfell just now and eggs so she feels a bit spoilt.

"I could get used to it, I believe."

"I think some of the things I've gotten to learn to take advantage of might throw you for quite a spin. Grocery stores. Malls in general, though they're usually a bit crowded for my liking. Still, there's a lot in store for you to make your way through, and I look forward to watching you learn to navigate it." The pleasure, her pleasure would be something he'd be thrilled to help expand on, even in something so simple as choosing what she wanted to eat.

He mentions many things that Sansa does not recognize but she thinks she will understand the context later when she has moved on from Winterfell and to her new home with Rowan. The business at Winterfell must be conducted quickly, she thinks, because if it is not she fears that she will be trapped there for the rest of her life - however long that life is.

Her crown feels more like a shackle than an honor and she doesn't know how that happened so quickly but she believe that she needs to follow her heart for once and move on.

"I am sure it will be...quite the adventure. I think the best way to attack the situation at Winterfell is for you to briefly show your true self and for me to announce I have been called by the gods to move on and name Jon as my heir. They will accept that. We are a god-fearing people."

"Then that's what we'll do." She knew her world better than he had an inkling of, and if that was the smoothest way to gain her freedom with little fuss and yet ease her need to care for her people and make sure that another ruler was in place, he could manage that much. And it wasn't as if the tent wasn't going with them. He could easily set it up in her chambers, or somewhere else to let her stay within his reach while she dealt with her people.

"If I, with divine authority, name my successor as Jon...well, they will not want to break that promise. They would fear repercussions from the gods if they did not. While we fear the gods, they do not manifest to us regularly so a missive from a god made flesh would be taken quite seriously."

Sansa thinks it will have more weight than simply her own word and will not require her presence to carry out. Bran will ensure no rebellion will break out and Jon will take the throne once found. It will be wrapped up quite neatly.

"I will be free to leave with you after that. I have to embark on my holy journey, after all."

He had to stifle a laugh as he went over to grab her dress. "If that's what you want to call it. Please don't with me around others. I don't think I'd be able to hide the fit of laughter." Holy journey... Dear Gods. Considering all the very unholy things he wanted to do with her, it just made it more ridiculous the longer he thought about it.

He giggled, then cleared his throat. "When you're ready, I'll help with the holy garments- I mean dress." Another chortle.

Sansa colors bright red. "I did not imagine I would be doing...having...a holy mission like a silent sister."

Gods, what has she said to get herself in this particular trap of words? She is normally quite good at speaking and crafting what she means to say and now she's managed to get herself into quite the bind.

"Sorry. I am quite easily embarrassed."

She blushed so prettily, and he found himself ducking down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. "You look charming when you blush. And there's no need to be embarrassed with me. I'm hardly perfect myself, no matter what you think I look like. I've made plenty of mistakes and missteps. My first time among the humans, I almost got myself gelded by not understanding that some pretty lasses required coin for their affections. I've become a wiser male for it."

He'd been fool enough to throw himself headfirst into the human element, and it had taken quite a few stumbles and errors to not wind up outed as what he was or harmed irrevocably. This was new to her. He remembered that feeling, so he could be more gentle about it.

"Yes, some do require coin before you share their bed. I believe that is the first lesson a boy learns as he's growing up," Sansa says, laughing softly. "I felt as if I were one of those women for a long time, bought and sold as I was to my husbands, but I know that I was far luckier than they are."

The kiss on her cheek does nothing to lessen her blush and she wonders if she'll ever get used to affection like this. She certainly hopes so.

"Once I get dressed and do my hair, we can start searching for a way back."

"My 'boyhood' was spent here. I left when I was not quite a young adult sidhe, which wasn't until I was just under fifty. We don't have coin for... affection here. Protection, yes, but not coin. I was given flirty looks and some very enthusiastic come hithers and like a fool, I followed. It was a good learning lesson. And human women, unfortunately, have always been treated like property. My mother would love to educate such foolish men as to what sort of property she is. They wouldn't survive the lesson, but still..."

He sets the dress over the chair, then nods and goes for a cup of tea himself. "Rue will lead the way. If you need help with anything, I've two perfectly capable hands."

"You'll have to relace my corset. It is simple enough to unlace myself but relacing it is another story entirely," Sansa says. "It is unfortunately the price of being a woman, I think, and learning how to breathe with half a breath is a true talent of mine."

Sansa wonders if corsets are in fashion where Rowan currently lives. It seems everything is different there, right down to baths and chamber pots, so it stands to reason that the clothes would be different. His clothes were different, after all.

"I could go without but it would be improper."

"You'll not have to wear one when we get to my home. Not unless you want to. Though, the corsets of where I live are completely different creatures than these things. They're for aesthetic reasons. Most of them don't even have boning or are able to stand up to a tight lace."

He answered that for her without knowing she wanted the information, but women and fashion seemed like something that was just as paired together as men and wanting what women offered.

"I think propriety can be damned if you want it to. I'd like to see someone claim impropriety about you while I'm within earshot." A firm line to his mouth declared that such a comment wouldn't do the party any good for their health.

"If I don't have a corset, my waist won't be trim enough for gowns. I'll have to let all of mine out."

It isn't necessarily a problem as it is far more comfortable to simply wear a chemise and a gown over wearing a corset and a chemise but Sansa isn't certain she likes the idea of going without some sort of structure beneath her dresses. Besides, someone might see the outline of her breasts without it.

"Is this one of those things I will have to put faith in you to understand when I see it for myself?"

"Sansa," he said, moving so that his hands were careful, but they touched along her side and gave a light squeeze. "Your waist is more than trim for any gown. And where we're going, you won't need to let anything out. You look perfect as you are. No cinching required. If you like, I can alter this gown so that you can wear it without a corset, but if you insist on one, I won't fight you over it. Just state that as a doctor, I can tell you that corsets are harmful to the human body when worn over time. Particularly during certain times of a woman's life."

He'd seen the drastic cases of the morphism caused to bodies that had been extremely corseted, much like the way certain cultures rituals and dress changed their bodies. Feet binding for the older Chinese class, and the elongated necks of Kayan women. Without the rings, their necks had lost stability, and he'd found himself forcing not to show a reaction when he'd had to deal with an elderly Chinese woman who'd come in for treatment to her leg and he'd seen the effects of bound feet. Poor things.

"I'll show you all the different forms of fashion when we get to my home. There's so much variety, I dare say it will take you a year or more to find your own style."

"Oh, well, I suppose I could go without then. It isn't as if we are going to be at Winterfell long and this gown is made of heavy velvet," Sansa says, considering it for a moment. "I could go without being laced in. It will be much more comfortable than wearing that corset, that's for certain."

Sansa thinks for a moment. "You wouldn't have to help me get dressed, then, if I'm not wearing it. It won't take me very long. If you would excuse me?"

Breakfast finished, Sansa retrieves her dress to go and slip it on, finding that it doesn't even look as if she'd run through the woods yesterday at all. Once it's on, she busies herself with brushing out her hair.

"It won't take me long to braid it," Sansa assures him, coming back out to the front room. "Or I could leave it down."

He watches her exit the bedroom, smiling as he comes over and lifts a hand to touch just the edge of her air. He's still being careful with her, not wanting to startle her or make her feel she has no autonomy. "I like it down like this. You look lovely."

"Then down it is," Sansa says, smiling a little. "Perhaps I am a bit vain about my hair but I think it is one of my better features."

Other people might say other things are better but Sansa has always thought her hair is one of the lovelier things about her and knowing that it pleases Rowan makes her happy. She isn't used to positive attention like this that doesn't have a poisonous catch attached to it.

"I'm ready if you are."

"Then we'll go." Rue had already managed to open the door, clever fox, and was waiting outside for them. Rowan led her out and once she was clear of the door, he zipped the tent shut and started taking it down. It was a simple thing, and it rolled up neatly into what looked like any other small tent cachet that he nudged into a holder on his backpack. The backpack itself didn't quite fit in with his older fashioned clothes, but as he wasn't leaving it behind, he didn't mind so much.

"Lead the way, brat. And don't go through any thickets. It'll catch her dress," he said to the fox, who promptly darted off. Rowan held his arm out to Sansa to assist in their stroll to the tear that led to her lands.

The fox, to his credit, did pick a path that was mostly clear of brambles and thick foliage and the trees seemed to part for them almost, making their way to Winterfell quite easy. At a certain point, the temperature began to drop and the trees changed from green and brown to blood red and white.

Weirwoods.

"We're back in the weirwood grove," Sansa says. "If we keep going this way, we should make our way back to Winterfell proper." Sansa doesn't know if people are looking for her but she imagines at least someone is; it isn't her nature to wander off for any amount of time.

When she ends up in the castle bailey, her men announce her presence and bow to her in deference. Her hand, Lord Manderly, approaches her and comes to touch her shoulder lightly in his grandfatherly way.

"You gave us a fright, your Grace. Did this young man find you in the woods?"

There's a strange part of him that bristles as the elder man touches her shoulder. He wants to bat it away, but this is not his land, not his people, and she's not showing any signs of distress.

So... this is apparently just the possessiveness of a mated male. Lovely. He's never really experienced jealousy before, not having had anyone he cared enough to be jealous over. He's not entirely thrilled with it.

He doesn't touch the elder, but he does crook a brow at him. "She found herself in my woods, child. And I found her suitable."

Lord Manderly gives him a look that is both questioning and troubled and Sansa leans in and kisses his cheek. Perhaps other queens wouldn't be so close to their hands but Lord Manderly is the closest she has to a father now and she wishes to soothe his feathers before anything gets too tense.

"There is much to explain, my lord hand. I have met one of the Old Gods in our woods," she says. "And we have edicts to issue. Will you call everyone to the throne room to hear them?"

Lord Manderly looks even more confused and looks at Rowan as if he's trying to decide if he's a god or not but then he bows and assures Sansa that he will call the banners and have everyone gather for her. Sansa turns to look at Rowan.

"We'd better get going," she says, touching his hand lightly. "You remember the plan, yes?"

"I do. And I'll wait until they're all assembled. I imagine I might cause chaos walking around without my glamour." He could just imagine it now. The lands reminded him very strongly of the human world before technology had started to creep into human minds. It bothered him to be thinking of these people as 'lesser', but the backward step from even Underhill to here had him glad his people seem to be tied to the other Earth, not this one.

Though... there was certainly magic in the ground. Much more strongly than in the Earth he'd take her to.

Sansa nods in agreement. It takes a while to gather all of her lords in the throne room and once she has, she takes her place at the Winter Throne, Rowan at her right side.

"I have brought you all together to tell you that I have been chosen for a holy pursuit by one of our Old Gods, Rowan of the Weirwoods," Sansa says, motioning toward Rowan. He is still glamoured but he will remove it when the time is right, she thinks, so she continues.

"As this will take me from Winterfell, I decree that Jon Stark will be my successor and he will be returned from exile beyond the Wall and installed as your King in the North once more."

There's a riot from the crowd and Sansa speaks over them, holding up a hand. "Silence. Your God has yet to speak."

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