A Game of Thrones Chapter Fifty-one Free Essays

Sansa They wanted Sansa on the third day. She picked a straightforward dress of dim dark fleece, clearly cut however luxuriously weaved around the neckline and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and awkward as she battled with the silver fastenings without the advantage of hirelings. We will compose a custom paper test on A Game of Thrones Chapter Fifty-one or on the other hand any comparable point just for you Request Now Jeyne Poole had been bound with her, yet Jeyne was futile. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she was unable to appear to quit wailing about her dad. â€Å"I’m certain your dad is well,† Sansa revealed to her when she had at last gotten the dress fastened right. â€Å"I’ll request that the sovereign let you see him.† She imagined that consideration may lift Jeyne’s spirits, however the other young lady just took a gander at her with red, swollen eyes and started to cry all the harder. She was such a kid. Sansa had sobbed as well, the primary day. Indeed, even inside the heavy dividers of Maegor’s Holdfast, with her entryway shut and banned, it was hard not to be scared when the murdering started. She had grown up to the sound of steel in the yard, and barely a day of her life had gone without hearing the conflict of blade on blade, yet some way or another realizing that the battling was genuine had a significant effect. She heard it as she had never heard it, and there were different sounds also, snorts of torment, furious condemnations, yells for help, and the groans of injured and biting the dust men. In the tunes, the knights never shouted nor asked for kindness. So she sobbed, arguing through her entryway for them to mention to her what was going on, requiring her dad, for Septa Mordane, for the lord, for her courageous ruler. On the off chance that the men guarding her heard her supplications, they furnished no response. The main time the entryway opened was late that night, when they push Jeyne Poole inside, wounded and shaking. â€Å"They’re executing everyone,† the steward’s girl had yelled at her. She continued endlessly. The Hound had separated her entryway with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the step of the Tower of the Hand, and the means were smooth with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she battled to comfort her companion. They rested in a similar bed, supported in each other’s arms like sisters. The subsequent day was far more detestable. The room where Sansa had been bound was at the highest point of the most noteworthy pinnacle of Maegor’s Holdfast. From its window, she could see that the substantial iron portcullis in the gatehouse was down, and the drawbridge drawn up over the profound dry canal that isolated the keep-inside a-keep from the bigger château that encompassed it. Lannister watchmen slinked the dividers with lances and crossbows to hand. The battling was finished, and the quiet of the grave had settled over the Red Keep. The main sounds were Jeyne Poole’s unlimited whines and wails. They were fedâ€hard cheddar and new heated bread and milk to break their quick, broil chicken and greens at early afternoon, and a delayed dinner of meat and grain stewâ€but the workers who brought the suppers would not respond to Sansa’s questions. That night, a few ladies brought her garments from the Tower of the Hand, and some of Jeyne’s things too, yet they appeared to be close to as terrified as Jeyne, and when she attempted to converse with them, they fled from her as though she had the dark plague. The gatekeepers outside the entryway despite everything would not let them leave the room. â€Å"Please, I have to address the sovereign again,† Sansa let them know, as she told everybody she saw that day. â€Å"She’ll need to converse with me, I realize she will. Disclose to her I need to see her, it would be ideal if you In the event that not the sovereign, at that point Prince Joffrey, if you’d be so kind. We’re to wed when we’re older.† At dusk on the subsequent day, an incredible ringer started to ring. Its voice was profound and vibrant, and the long moderate clanking filled Sansa with a feeling of fear. The ringing continued endlessly, and inevitably they heard different chimes replying from the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s Hill. The sound thundered over the city like thunder, cautioning of the tempest to come. â€Å"What is it?† Jeyne asked, covering her ears. â€Å"Why are they ringing the bells?† â€Å"The lord is dead.† Sansa couldn't state how she knew it, yet she did. The moderate, perpetual clanking occupied their room, as forlorn as a lament. Had some foe raged the palace and killed King Robert? Was that the importance of the battling they had heard? She rested pondering, anxious, and dreadful. Was her excellent Joffrey the ruler now? Or then again had they slaughtered him as well? She was apprehensive for him, and for her dad. In the event that lone they would mention to her what was going on . . . That night Sansa longed for Joffrey on the seat, with herself situated adjacent to him in an outfit of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everybody she had ever known preceded her, to twist the knee and state their kindnesses. The following morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to accompany her to the sovereign. Ser Boros was a revolting man with an expansive chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was level, his cheeks loose with cheeks, his hair dark and fragile. Today he wore white velvet, and his cold shroud was attached with a lion clasp. The monster had the delicate sheen of gold, and his eyes were minuscule rubies. â€Å"You look extremely attractive and awe inspiring today, Ser Boros,† Sansa let him know. A woman recollected her kindnesses, and she was made plans to be a woman regardless. â€Å"And you, my lady,† Ser Boros said in a level voice. â€Å"Her Grace is standing by. Accompany me.† There were monitors outside her entryway, Lannister men-at-arms in blood red shrouds and lion-peaked steerages. Sansa made herself grin at them agreeably and offer them a decent morning as she passed. It was the first occasion when she had been permitted outside the chamber since Ser Arys Oakheart had driven her there two mornings past. â€Å"To protect you, my sweet one,† Queen Cersei had advised her. â€Å"Joffrey could never excuse me in the event that anything happened to his precious.† Sansa had expected that Ser Boros would accompany her to the imperial condos, however rather he drove her out of Maegor’s Holdfast. The scaffold was down once more. Some laborers were bringing down a man on snags into the profundities of the dry channel. When Sansa looked down, she saw a body skewered on the immense iron spikes underneath. She turned away her eyes rapidly, reluctant to ask, hesitant to look excessively long, apprehensive he may be somebody she knew. They discovered Queen Cersei in the board chambers, situated at the leader of a long table covered with papers, candles, and squares of fixing wax. The room was as mind blowing as any that Sansa had ever observed. She gazed in stunningness at the cut wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat close to the entryway. â€Å"Your Grace,† Ser Boros said when they were guided inside by one more of the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon of the inquisitively dead face, â€Å"I’ve brought the girl.† Sansa had trusted Joffrey may be with her. Her sovereign was not there, yet three of the king’s councilors were. Master Petyr Baelish sat on the queen’s left hand, Grand Maester Pycelle toward the finish of the table, while Lord Varys drifted over them, smelling extravagant. Every one of them were clad in dark, she understood with a sentiment of fear. Grieving garments . . . The sovereign wore a high-nabbed dark silk outfit, with a hundred dull red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to chest. They were cut looking like tears, as though the sovereign were sobbing blood. Cersei grinned to see her, and Sansa thought it was the best and saddest grin she had ever observed. â€Å"Sansa, my sweet child,† she stated, â€Å"I know you’ve been requesting me. I’m sorry that I was unable to send for you sooner. Matters have been exceptionally disrupted, and I have not had a second. I believe my kin have been taking acceptable consideration of you?† â€Å"Everyone has been sweet and lovely, Your Grace, thank you quite a lot for asking,† Sansa said obligingly. â€Å"Only, well, nobody will converse with us or let us know what’s happened . . . â€Å" â€Å"Us?† Cersei appeared to be bewildered. â€Å"We put the steward’s young lady in with her,† Ser Boros said. â€Å"We didn't have the foggiest idea what else to do with her.† The sovereign grimaced. â€Å"Next time, you will ask,† she stated, her voice sharp. â€Å"The divine beings just comprehend what kind of stories she’s been filling Sansa’s head with.† â€Å"Jeyne’s scared,† Sansa said. â€Å"She won’t quit crying. I guaranteed her I’d inquire as to whether she could see her father.† Old Grand Maester Pycelle brought down his eyes. â€Å"Her father is well, isn’t he?† Sansa said tensely. She knew there had been battling, yet clearly nobody would hurt a steward. Vayon Poole didn't wear a blade. Sovereign Cersei took a gander at each of the councilors thus. â€Å"I won’t have Sansa worrying unnecessarily. What will we do with this little companion of hers, my lords?† Master Petyr inclined forward. â€Å"I’ll discover a spot for her.† â€Å"Not in the city,† said the sovereign. â€Å"Do you take me for a fool?† The sovereign disregarded that. â€Å"Ser Boros, escort this young lady to Lord Petyr’s condos and teach his kin to keep her there until he desires her. Disclose to her that Littlefinger will be taking her to see her dad, that should quiet her down. I need her gone before Sansa comes back to her chamber.† â€Å"As you order, Your Grace,† Ser Boros said. He bowed profoundly, spun on his heel, and withdrew, his long white shroud mixing the air behind him. Sansa was befuddled. â€Å"I don’t understand,† she said. â€Å"Where is Jeyne’s father? Why can’t Ser Boros take her to him rather than Lord Petyr doing it?† She