"And yet I will not treat it like one, Lord Ganondorf."
A trifling gift! She felt the weight under those apparently lightly given words. She felt the man as he tried to mine beneath her great city and make it seem all the weaker for how the monarchs might see it. But Sansa (falling short of shaking her head) could feel nothing but a full-heart for the Cothromach. Whatever either queen or king considered the city's worth, she would treat it with the gravity and care it deserved. And that was what drove her to comment upon the slim margins.
"I did not expect a better bargain, no. But I expect it to improve over time."
She could be patient -- she'd never been patient as a child, but patience had been beaten into her. Bred into her bones and blood. Sansa could wait for improvement; she did not need to take it at steel-point.
"Expectations are fickle things. The Gerudo are a people who have always taken what they need. But you are no Gerudo, clearly." No, he knew she would indeed wait and expect things to improve. The Hylians always waited for a hero or for divine intervention, rarely rousing to action unless given no choice. He studied her harshly for a moment, then seemed to have settled the matter in his mind. He did not grow kinder, but he grew measures more reserved.
"But I will not add more disappointment to you, Lady Sansa. I have no need for your ire. In a month's time, I will have an emissary appointed to speak to your own minister here. We will leave matters of coin and quantities to men who enjoy such things."
Her expression barely flinched. Harsh scrutiny was an intractable fact of her life by this point, and she would much rather endure a cold stare than a heavy hand. She wondered if she saw disparagement hiding in those unyielding eyes. Sansa hoped so -- for all Tzilan and Jon and others cautioned her against letting another ruler see her as all her flaws laid bare, she nearly found it a comfort. If he turned up his nose at her gut instinct, then perhaps she could depend upon the Lord of Mair to take her at her weaker word. And all the while she stewed over her next boon, should it be earned: some alternative vein of profit, buried deep in the Spinebacks.
"You have no need for my ire. And I have no desire to give it," her voice stayed low. It would have been melodic, had she ever managed to speak without steel jammed into every syllable. Not the kind of steel that attacked! But the kind that covered-hid-and-controlled the font of feelings felt below. Her mouth opened again; she nearly added some soppy comment about how she missed a friend of hers, a Master of Coin who might put even the deft Minister Tzilan to shame, but perhaps that was a fence too narrow to tread.
"Maps and plains and mountains have made us neighbours, my lord. I would always hope to be pleasant with my neighbour."
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A trifling gift! She felt the weight under those apparently lightly given words. She felt the man as he tried to mine beneath her great city and make it seem all the weaker for how the monarchs might see it. But Sansa (falling short of shaking her head) could feel nothing but a full-heart for the Cothromach. Whatever either queen or king considered the city's worth, she would treat it with the gravity and care it deserved. And that was what drove her to comment upon the slim margins.
"I did not expect a better bargain, no. But I expect it to improve over time."
She could be patient -- she'd never been patient as a child, but patience had been beaten into her. Bred into her bones and blood. Sansa could wait for improvement; she did not need to take it at steel-point.
no subject
"But I will not add more disappointment to you, Lady Sansa. I have no need for your ire. In a month's time, I will have an emissary appointed to speak to your own minister here. We will leave matters of coin and quantities to men who enjoy such things."
no subject
"You have no need for my ire. And I have no desire to give it," her voice stayed low. It would have been melodic, had she ever managed to speak without steel jammed into every syllable. Not the kind of steel that attacked! But the kind that covered-hid-and-controlled the font of feelings felt below. Her mouth opened again; she nearly added some soppy comment about how she missed a friend of hers, a Master of Coin who might put even the deft Minister Tzilan to shame, but perhaps that was a fence too narrow to tread.
"Maps and plains and mountains have made us neighbours, my lord. I would always hope to be pleasant with my neighbour."
As though she would ever say anything different!