Location: Myriad Realms, Yellow Plains, Freedom Fighter's headquarters.
"No. No matter what you offer, I can't kill the Emissary of Light," Sansa said firmly, shaking her head as she rejected Wyatt's offer. Before he could twist her words to turn the captains against her, she quickly added, "The Emissary of Light and I took an oath not to harm each other—several decades ago, back when we were still upstarts."
Wyatt's expression turned icy. "See? That's exactly why you shouldn't be part of our organization," he said coolly. Sensing some confusion among the others, he addressed them directly, "Think about it—what will she do when our cause inevitably puts us against the Emissary of Light?"
Sansa hesitated, waiting to carefully choose her words before responding. She knew Wyatt was setting her up, looking for any excuse to keep her out of the freedom fighters. As she expected it wasn't easy to cheat one of the sharpest minds in the Card World. If it were it wouldn't be fun. But she too wasn't just anyone—she was the Matron.
She opened her mouth to respond, but she was a second too late. Wyatt cut her off with a smirk.
"Nothing, that's what I expected from the likes of you," he answered for her. "You'll do nothing. You'll just sit that one out. This means, when we need you most, you'll abandon us. And so we have no place for someone like that among us."
"Wyatt, don't force your delusions onto me. I never said that," Sansa snapped, her eyes flashing. To add emphasis, she slammed her palm against the round table, the sharp sound cutting through the room. "Even if I can't harm him directly, there are always other ways I can help you deal with him." She leaned forward, locking eyes with Wyatt. "Just so we're clear—I truly want to be part of the Freedom Fighters. And I'm willing to go above and beyond for their cause—our cause—if you let me in."
Wyatt's lips curled into a subtle smile. She was sharp, he had to give her that. Without even breaking a sweat, she had clawed her way out of the pit he'd pushed her in. Fine. Let her think she had the upper hand—for now.
Shaking his head as if in disbelief, Wyatt suddenly spoke up, "Prove it."
Sansa narrowed her eyes, asking, "Prove what?" She wasn't about to make assumptions, not when dealing with Wyatt. She'd wait for him to spell it out—she wasn't about to trip over her own words.
"Prove that you'll stand with us when the time comes to face the Emissary of Light," Wyatt said, his face unreadable, as if he wasn't truly invested in any of this. His detached demeanor and his casual indifference were enough to make most people walk away, questioning why they even wanted to be part of such an organization in the first place.
She needed to be here. She needed to join the Freedom Fighters—not for their cause, but for her own. She had plans, and they all led to the same endgame: staging a coup and handing the entire organization over to her husband as a gift while she was controlling it from the shadows. Crazy but it was a lot better than world domination.
"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" she asked, arms crossed. She was running out of ways to maneuver around him, and he knew it. His refusal to give her an easy opening, his deliberate roadblocks—it couldn't be clearer. He didn't want her here. His grudge ran deep.
But she wasn't giving up that easily.
"You figure it out," Wyatt said coolly, leaning back as he studied her. "But know this—how you prove yourself will determine your role in the Freedom Fighters… and what it'll be limited to." He wondered just how far Sansa was willing to go to please Baylor in her own twisted way. Though, honestly, it was debatable whether Baylor would even appreciate her overhauling the Freedom Fighters just to gift their empty shell to him. It was like your girlfriend says she likes cats and you gift her an embalmed cat for her birthday.
"This is absurd," Sansa scoffed, throwing up her hands. She turned to the captains, searching for support, saying, "Don't tell me you're all just going to sit there and let him do whatever he pleases."
But the captains avoided her gaze. All except one—Blair. Thanks for reading—brought to you by *.
Sansa met her eyes and smirked, daring her to speak up, to challenge her, to do anything that might force her to storm out in frustration. But if Blair thought a little provocation would make Sansa back down, she was sorely mistaken. It would take far more than that.
Realizing no one was going to stand up to Wyatt, Sansa swallowed her frustration and pressed on dancing to Wyatt's tune, "You need information on the Emissary of Light, right? I can provide it to you—"
"Not enough," Wyatt cut in before she could even finish.
Sansa clenched her jaw. He had already figured out her plan—she was aiming to start at the bottom, to push her pride aside just long enough to get her foot in the door. From there, she would work her way up, piece by piece, until she could set her real plan in motion.
Wyatt saw it. And he wasn't going to make it easy for her.
Realizing that nothing short of the Emissary of Light's divinity and grimoire would help her earn Wyatt's approval, Sansa decided to take a drastic step—something even he couldn't dismiss. She straightened, her voice unwavering as she said, "How about I bring you the Emissary of Light's head? I know he can regenerate it, but that should be enough to prove I mean what I say."
For a brief moment, she thought she had finally caught Wyatt off guard, and left him tongue-tied.
But before she could celebrate, Luna leaned forward, her eyes glinting with amusement. "If you're confident enough to cut off his head," she mused, tilting her head slightly, "why not just kidnap and bring him to us? That way, I can kill him in your place."