24

Chapter 24: Twenty-Four

Chapter Text

TWENTY-FOUR:

Sansa didn't remember when they came back for her. Her grasp on her surroundings, on her very reality, was too uncertain; indeterminate shapes danced at the edges of her vision, whispers murmured in her ears, and her thoughts had long since swirled together in ever-shifting eddies. She only knew that when she woke, really woke, she was restrained on the cold steel table again and she couldn't help the hot, relieved tears that seeped down her chilled skin.

"Good morning," Shimura greeted her, stepping into her limited range of sight. Sansa wanted to be angry, wanted to feel a burning rage and icy hate, but she was too exhausted. Her skin felt stretched taut over frail bone, like one touch would cause it, cause her, to shatter; she felt fragile in a way she despised but could not deny, not to herself, and instead she let her emotions simmer, let them rest under her skin just out of reach.

Oh, she had enough anger in her yet to feel the urge to bare her teeth, to close her eyes and refuse to acknowledge Shimura's presence, to defy him with what little strength and ability she had left– she was not that far gone. But she remembered the plan she, Kurama and Mito had made, before the lack of water, food and sleep had clawed at her sanity, leaving her mindless and hallucinating in that white-washed room. And so, she forced her pride back, folding it down, muzzling herself and bowing her head to Shimura as she once had to the bastard King on the Iron Throne.

"...good morning," she said quietly, her voice rasping over the syllables, as if she had been screaming and screaming on an increasingly-raw throat. Maybe she had. The hallucinations were difficult to recall, but she vaguely remembered bright, burning eyes, like blue stars... she did not doubt she would have screamed, recalling His face.

Shimura's eye glinted with satisfaction above her and Sansa felt as if she would be sick, her empty stomach churning violently.

Let him be satisfied, she thought, as he took her meekness for submission, her compliance for defeat. Let him be satisfied; one day, I will tear from him everything he has ever worked for, I will destroy all it is he loves.

Let him think he has won. He could not be further from the truth.

"Do you know," Shimura said to her conversationally, "what it is I first train out of my operatives?"

"No," Sansa said, her voice still quiet, still raspy.

"Most would assume humanity," Shimura told her. "After all, my Root operatives are responsible for carrying out the very darkest of missions, those so terrible that even ANBU operatives would hesitate. We are the unseen roots who support the great tree of Konoha from the depths of the earth. Love, empathy, grief… I train my operatives out of all of those fundamental characteristics of humanity, so they do not hesitate to act and do what must be done. But first and foremost, I train out the aggression. Because when everything else is stripped away, aggression still remains and what is left is nothing more than a feral animal."

"And a feral animal is useless to you," Sansa said, before she could think to stop herself. Shimura's pleased smile had her regret her words.

"Do you know what impressed me the most about your time at the Academy?" he asked. She didn't answer. He didn't wait for one. "Your lack of aggression. Despite the prolonged torture of the beatings, you didn't once react with aggression. Even after what would have been a fatal injury, were it not for your advanced healing, you did not react with aggression, but instead calculation as you acted to control the situation. Just as you did after the death of your friend from the orphanage. Just as you are now."

Sansa was almost tempted to let out her rage in direct defiance of his words, but… as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn't wrong. She had long-since learned how to control her anger; she had vowed never to be like Joffrey, like Daenerys, to be a monarch ruled by her emotions, by her aggression and pride, but to instead rule with wisdom and understanding and cool intellect.

If she could look Daenerys in the face and smile and trade false pleasantries, a conversation with Shimura was nothing.

"Aggression is useless," she said, finally, because this time Shimura did seem to be waiting for an answer. "It shows a lack of control and weakness. It is exploitable."

Shimura's scars pulled as his smile widened. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, it is. But you… you are not weak, are you?"

Restrained to the steel table, her chakra bound under her skin, Sansa met Shimura's gaze with her own, without hesitation. She may be chained, but a chain had not yet been forged that could not be broken. She would break her chains and she would break Shimura.

Whatever he saw in her eyes, Shimura's own single eye burned with satisfaction. "Welcome," he said, "to Root."

~

A pair of shinobi in white masks freed Sansa from the steel table after Shimura left. These masks weren't blank; instead, they were painted with stark crimson and black lines. One mask resembled some sort of bird, Sansa wasn't sure which breed, while the other she thought was a pig– Buta. She was still bare, which she hadn't actually noticed until she was handed a uniform and told to dress. She did, appreciative even of the shorts she had been given– she preferred skirts or dresses over shorts or the odd breeches of Konoha's fashion, but she was far from ungrateful.

After dressing, Bird-mask and Buta escorted Sansa to a barracks, which was underground like the rest of the base. The room she was taken to was small; it had a single bunk, with a single pillow, sheet and thin-looking blanket. The bed was set in the wall and crafted of solid metal. Sansa didn't try to fight as her wrists and ankles were bound to the frame of the bunk and the blanket tossed half over her by her masked escorts. She was too relieved to be on a proper mattress, and even as exhaustion sunk its claws deep into her mind, she knew what she needed to do before she could sleep.

Cut off from her chakra, she couldn't summon one of her Pack, nor could they reverse-summon her, but warging needed no chakra and Sansa gladly closed her eyes, letting her mind drift from her body.

It was easy, finding her Lady. Her partner, her sister-of-her-soul, was such a bright beacon, her presence calling out to Sansa across the realms, and Sansa gladly answered. She entwined herself around Lady's warm presence, basking in the love and possessiveness, and did her best to soothe the she-wolf's agitation.

Sansa/mine/hurt?/where?

I'm okay now, just… chained, she admitted, not wanting to lie, and Lady snarled, sharp-toothed and guttural and wild as the spirits of her ancestors.

Where?/I will find you/I will free you! the she-wolf vowed, and Sansa pushed back;

Alarm/no/don't/stay!

Why?/Free Sansa/mine!/never apart again!/you PROMISED nobody would take you from me! Lady protested, pacing, her/their claws digging into the loamy earth beneath her/their paws, agitation causing her/their fur to bristle.

I have a plan/I'm not in danger/caught in snare but not hurt… anymore…/NEED to stay/if I run, will always be running, won't be able to stop running, Sansa explained. If she escaped without dealing with Shimura, she would always be running– he wouldn't let her go. He had to be dead, for her to be free.

Lady snarled again, then whined in piteous understanding.

Don't like/my Sansa/miss you, she whimpered.

Miss you too/love you/never want to be apart, Sansa curled around Lady's bright presence, the silver-glow of her essence, and wished they could stay that close forever. She could feel Lady's own desire echoed around her, mirroring her own.

"Sansa?"

Sansa/Lady jerked their head up just as Tsukiko bounded into the clearing, the stink of worry clinging to the older she-wolf.

"Sansa, what's wrong? Why haven't you visited?" Tsukiko demanded, bowing her head to nuzzle at their ears. Sansa/Lady whimpered and Sansa let the sorry tale spill out in a tumble of words. Tsukiko was furious by its conclusion.

"If I had the chance to tear Konoha to pieces, I'd do it in a heart-beat!" She snarled, lips pulled back to reveal razor-sharp fangs.

"Kurama would gladly join you," Sansa said darkly. "…Mito too, probably. Though she might hesitate for the Nidaime's sake. He loved the village, and she did love him. But she's going to help me kill Shimura, no hesitation there."

"Sakumo never trusted Shimura," Tsukiko said darkly. "He always said there was something wrong about that man." Her gleaming golden eyes narrowed. "He was involved in the briefing," she said, low and rumbling and deadly, "Sakumo's final mission briefing."

"…you told me that Sakumo's final mission started a war, did it not?" Sansa asked slowly.

"It did," Tsukiko said.

"And Mito told me," Sansa murmured, terrible suspicion settling over her, "that if Shimura had his way, Konoha would always turn to war as the first option."

There was a moment of silence, of awful comprehension, and then Tsukiko roared her fury, the sound so thunderous that the ground and the trees of the forest around them shook. Sansa wasn't sure she had ever witnessed such terrible and awe-inspiring rage as Tsukiko's before her; the older she-wolf rent apart the clearing around them, raw chakra lashing out along with her claws to tear down trees and churn the earth.

She wasn't surprised when Sayomi appeared, flanked by more wolves that Sansa had yet to be introduced to; the disturbance Tsukiko was creating was large enough it must surely be felt leagues out. And more than that, deeper than that, Tsukiko's rage/grief/hate poured through that place deeper than heart, than soul, (Pack, Lady whispered to her, PackPackPack), where it resonates in Sansa's/Lady's own chest as a call to arms, a declaration of war.

Sansa explained the situation to the Alpha in quick, brief words– old wounds rent open by new suspicions and her own perilous circumstances– and Sayomi's pale blue eyes glittered with her own icy rage.

"I was not as close to Sakumo as Tsukiko was, as his main summons," she rumbled, "but he was still Pack. This man, Shimura Danzo, if he has done what you suspect, then his life is forfeit twice over– for his sins against Sakumo, and for his sins against you. Should the opportunity arise, summon any of the Pack and we will fight by your side against this man."

Sansa dipped her/their muzzle as low as she/they could without baring her/their neck. "Thank you, Alpha." She said and Sayomi curled her teeth back in the wolfish equivalent of a smile.

"You are welcome, little baby Alpha," she said, "now– care for you Pack."

Sansa hesitated, confused. "I'm… sorry?" she said. Sayomi gestured with her muzzle in Tsukiko's direction.

"Your Pack," she said, "you may be a baby Alpha, but you are still an Alpha and you have a responsibility to your Pack-mate in her time of need."

Sansa's/Lady's eyes widened. "Tsukiko is your Pack-mate!" Sansa protested and Sayomi's tongue lolled from her mouth in a very wolfish grin.

"Yes," she agreed, "she is my Pack-mate. But I am not her Alpha, not truly. At a push, yes. But not in truth. Not in her soul. Now do your duty by her, baby Alpha."

Sansa/Lady looked up at Sayomi with wide eyes, then over at the raging Tsukiko. How was she supposed to calm the older she-wolf? She/they barely even came up to Tsukiko's elbows!

But… she remembered growling Naruto into submission when he was halfway lost in a Kurama-induced haze, remembered not needing to be stronger in body, only stronger in will. Standing tall, she recalled the first– and only– time she had truly howled; she summoned that feeling now, reaching deep inside herself, where she was entwined with Lady, to where she was claws and fangs and silvery moonlight, and she wove that moonlight around herself, in the centre of her being, and as one she and Lady tilted back their head and howled, ancient wolven song and guttural demand both, commanding her Pack take heed.

In the vague distance, she could hear Gin, Hayu, Katsu and Suki howl their own replies; closer, Tsukiko lowered herself from where she'd been tearing a massive oak with a trunk almost as thick as she was tall to the ground, turning to face Sansa/Lady, blinking her golden eyes in surprise.

Sansa/Lady made a more soothing sound, low and rumbling, almost a purr, loping over to nuzzle against Tsukiko until the tension began to ease from the older wolf. Sansa took note of Sayomi and her pack-mates melting back into the woods, and of Gin, Hayu, Katsu and Suki arriving, Lady's littermates pressing up against their mother, offering her comfort, but most of her attention remained on the slowly-calming Tsukiko.

It seemed to take an age, but finally the last of the tension eased from Tsukiko's bones. "I apologise for my outburst," the older she-wolf rumbled, and Sansa/Lady licked Tsukiko's muzzle.

"It happens to the best of us," they assured her.

"I have… unresolved issues over Sakumo's death," Tsukiko admitted, somewhat redundantly. "And now… the thought of you, trapped with the man who may be responsible for taking him from me…" Tsukiko closed her eyes, as if in pain. "It is unbearable."

"I will get our vengeance," Sansa promised, "I will restore honour to Sakumo's name, for our Pack." She made a soft, huffing sound then, one of almost bitter-amusement. "I don't imagine this was anything close to what my lord father had in mind when he named me," she said, darkly amused. "No matter how aptly-chosen it turned out."

"Oh?" Tsukiko said, head tilting in question.

"My name, 'Sansa'," she explained. "My lord father chose it for me. I was always so proud of it, when I was a little girl. It is an old Northern name, you see. One that fathers give daughters who they believe will bring honour to their families, for the first Sansa in our history books brought great honour to her family when she set aside the lowly knight that she loved to marry her half-uncle, as per the wishes of her father. I saw it as a sign, as a child… a sign that my father believed I was destined to bring great honour to our family.

"Now, I know he just knew Robert Baratheon would insist upon betrothing me to his son and he feared that another generation of Stark daughter would flee from her betrothal to a Baratheon son. He feared raising me a she-wolf, a second Lyanna, and so while he let my younger sister run freely, he allowed my lady mother to carve the North out from my bones, to raise me in Southron customs where a woman first and foremost serves and obeys the men in her life, so that Robert might finally have his Stark bride. He named me Sansa in hope that I would bring honour to our family by doing my duty and marrying the prince.

"And for all the good it did us in the end, I did my duty, for the sake of my family's honour. Lady died for that honour, that duty. And I vow to you, Tsukiko, I will see the true culprits revealed and I will bring honour to our Pack, to Sakumo's name."

Tsukiko made a rumbling sound, a canine-equivalent to a cat's purr. "I believe you," she said, "Alpha."