A Game of Thrones Chapter Fifty-one Free Essays

Sansa They desired Sansa on the third day. She picked a basic dress of dull dark fleece, clearly cut however lavishly weaved around the neckline and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and cumbersome 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, however 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 long last gotten the dress fastened right. â€Å"I’ll request that the sovereign let you see him.† She felt that consideration may lift Jeyne’s spirits, yet 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 principal day. Indeed, even inside the bold dividers of Maegor’s Holdfast, with her entryway shut and banished, it was hard not to be unnerved when the slaughtering 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 too, snorts of agony, irate condemnations, yells for help, and the groans of injured and kicking the bucket 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 ruler, for her chivalrous sovereign. In the event that the men guarding her heard her supplications, they offered 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 little 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 terrible. The room where Sansa had been limited was at the highest point of the most noteworthy pinnacle of Maegor’s Holdfast. From its window, she could see that the overwhelming 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 stronghold that encompassed it. Lannister watchmen lurked the dividers with lances and crossbows to hand. The battling was finished, and the quietness 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 prepared bread and milk to break their quick, cook 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 also, yet they appeared to be close to as alarmed as Jeyne, and when she attempted to converse with them, they fled from her as though she had the dim plague. The gatekeepers outside the entryway despite everything wouldn't 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, if it's not too much trouble 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 chime started to ring. Its voice was profound and resonating, and the long moderate clanking filled Sansa with a feeling of fear. The ringing continued endlessly, and sooner or later 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 sad as a requiem. Had some foe raged the mansion and killed King Robert? Was that the significance of the battling they had heard? She rested pondering, anxious, and dreadful. Was her excellent Joffrey the lord now? Or on the other hand 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 occurring . . . That night Sansa longed for Joffrey on the seat, with herself situated close 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 terrible man with an expansive chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was level, his cheeks loose with cheeks, his hair dim and weak. Today he wore white velvet, and his cold shroud was affixed with a lion ornament. The monster had the delicate sheen of gold, and his eyes were little rubies. â€Å"You look extremely attractive and stunning toward the beginning of today, Ser Boros,† Sansa let him know. A woman recollected her cordialities, 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 watches 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 illustrious lofts, yet 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 canal. When Sansa looked down, she saw a body speared on the immense iron spikes beneath. 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 gathering chambers, situated at the leader of a long table covered with papers, candles, and squares of fixing wax. The room was as awe inspiring as any that Sansa had ever observed. She gazed in wonderment at the cut wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat adjacent 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 ruler was not there, yet three of the king’s councilors were. Ruler 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 elegant. 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 dim 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 disrupted, and I have not had a second. I believe my kin have been taking acceptable consideration of you?† â€Å"Everyone has been exceptionally sweet and charming, Your Grace, thank you quite a lot for asking,† Sansa said affably. 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 recognize 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, however most likely nobody would hurt a steward. Vayon Poole didn't wear a blade. Sovereign Cersei took a gander at each of the councilors thusly. â€Å"I won’t have Sansa worrying unnecessarily. What will we do with this little companion of hers, my lords?† Ruler 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 overlooked that. â€Å"Ser Boros, escort this young lady to Lord Petyr’s lofts and educate 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 disappeared, his long white shroud blending the air behind him. Sansa was confounded. 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