THE CITY WHITHIN

Part I First Contacts

Chapter 1

She couldn't contain her joy and excitement at the thought of living in the mighty Red Keep in King's Landing, of seeing the knights and their deeds, of having the songs come to life. At home, isolated and far away as they were, visits by entertainers and others were few and far in between, and she was hungering to see more of the world.

Their septa, even though she too was leaving with them, couldn't help herself giving them instructions on the eve of their departure.

"Remember both of you that a lady always remembers her courtesies, regardless of circumstances. Always act like one. Don't speak with strangers."

While she had felt somewhat sad on the morning that they left, she'd comforted herself with the thought of all the glamour of the court, and that her home would wait for her; this castle which had belonged to the Starks for eight thousand years would still be there for a few mere months.

Little had she known that the journey would take so long, would be so arduous. She wasn't used to so much horseback riding and was quite sore and tired at first. Also, the weather had been ghastly, with overcast skies, cold winds and occasional downpours. She was grateful that they stopped each night either at the small castle of a minor noble man or at a towerhouse, so they could get warm again and sleep on comfortable feather beds. Arya, as she had foreseen, didn't seem to be bothered by the rough elements. She would ride like Sansa had imagined an explorer would, with eyes lighted by curiosity and cheeks flushed with excitement. To her, it was an adventure. To Sansa, it was a boring long stretch without end.

She had started to feel better after having crossed the Neck. The landscape had begun to change, the trees shorter and lusher, all surrounded by so much green and myriad of coloured flowers that she'd been dazzled. This was very different from the muted colours of the northern moors and their bleakness. Also, the weather got warmer as they went further south; much warmer than she had known, sometimes the air getting thick and sultry with hot humidity. She could see Father and their men getting bothered by this heat; they kept mopping their brows with cloths and their faces would get red from it. To her surprise, it created an opposite reaction in her. Somehow, she felt liberated and blooming like a flower that had been kept in the cold for too long.

She was at the peak of her excitement when they had finally arrived at the city gates, entering by the Iron Gate kept by two guards. Her heart had deflated though as they had entered the city; she had never seen so many people in one place, walking and standing on the streets, gazing with avid curiosity at their party; hungry faces, dirty garments, buildings upon buildings standing close together, narrow, stifling streets. It was so noisy and there was an appalling stench hovering it all. Father had spied her dismay and had smiled understandingly.

"All big cities are like this sweetling. They stink."

She had almost felt like turning back, feeling so letdown. Then she had spied the Red Keep and her heart had soared once again; it was so huge and tall, standing in all its glory on a cliff with red coloured crenellated towers against the bright blue sky. It had looked like a vision out of her dreams, and she had known that it had been worth it.

They had been ushered in by guards and then led to what would be their quarters for their stay, in Maeghor Holdfast. Father had one bedchamber while Arya, their septa and she were to share one. They were large and airy, beautifully furnished and lavishly decorated. They also had their maid, who unpacked their belongings and put them away in chests and wardrobes while Father was gone for his audience with the King and they rested.

But they were young and after having had their nap, they felt fully restored and ready. They waited and waited while Father was still in his audience with the King, fidgeting with excitement and curiosity. Both their glances went to septa Mordane, who was still sleeping and snoring softly, and something sparked between them. Then they couldn't stand still anymore and left the room with as little noise as possible.

They walked in long corridors with torches burning in their sconces, turning at a juncture to cross another one, with tapestries on the walls between the torches and beautiful chests standing in corners. They spied a door that led to a stairwell and descended its stairs. Another long corridor stretched, and soon after that they lost their way in this seemingly endless maze of halls and turns until they reached one that was shabbier looking and gloomy.

They stopped and looked at each other: Sansa in consternation, Arya with a grin.

"Don't fret Sansa, I think that we can find our way back, I remember the turns we took."

Then they heard heavy booted footsteps and a silhouette emerged at the corner of the hall: a very tall and big man dressed in dark shades of grey with a black cloak hanging from his shoulders, a sheathed sword swinging with each step. He was advancing on them slowly, steadily and as Sansa got a glimpse of his face she took a step back. The Hound! She couldn't help herself and stifled at shriek, and that made him laugh in a strange, mirthless way.

"What are you doing there, you little fools?" His voice was deep and raspy and Sansa jumped at the sound of it. "This part of the castle is dangerous for you. Go back to your quarters now."

Remembering her courtesies, she curtsied and replied in a strangled voice. "Yes my lord, immediately. Come Arya."

But Arya was standing her ground. "Why should we listen to him? We don't have to obey this ... person." She turned to him and lifted her chin in defiance. "You have no right to give us orders. We are ladies, you know, Starks of Winterfell."

He snorted in contempt. "Is it that so? Go back, I said."

Sansa was tugging at Arya's arm. "Please Arya..."

For her part she didn't care if he had the right or not to order them around. She remembered her first meeting with him in the Winterfell courtyard, before leaving; how his appearance has scared her so. She had never seen somebody so terrifying looking in her life before and just wanted to escape from his presence. Arya relented and they ran back the way they had come, hearing his mocking laughter echo behind them.

Surprisingly, they managed to find their chamber easily though their shared memories and as they entered it, both of them out of breath, they spied septa Mordane, awake now and scowling, standing beside Father. He was looking worried and let out a big sigh of relief at their sight. He embraced them both, and Sansa reveled in the feel of his familiar and strong arms. But when he let them go, his face had turned stern.

"You should have never left your chamber without an escort. You don't know this place." His eyes bored into Sansa's. "I'm surprised and disappointed at you, Sansa. You're the oldest and should have known better."

She inclined her head in shame, her face burning. Rarely had he scolded her, as she was always trying to be a true lady, good and obedient, and his disapproval of her made her heart sink. Sansa always wanted to be in his good graces.

"I'm so sorry, father. I'll never do this again."

He then gazed at Arya, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"You took so long and we were bored and curious..."

His knuckle stroked her cheek and he smiled indulgently at her. Sansa bristled at that. Arya was not even repentant and he was accepting it! He expected so much of Sansa because she was the oldest while Arya could get regularly into scrapes and it would amuse him. Sansa shot a resentful look at her and Arya answered back with a challenging one.

As they had supper in their father's quarters he told them about his audience with the King, shaking his head with regret.

"He's a much changed man, my old friend Robert. He's aged quite fast and is now fat and in poor health. His excesses have caught up with him. He lost his last Hand through mysterious circumstances, and now I have to put order in the court's affairs and finances."

Their days were often spent in their chamber or on the balcony outside, doing needlework, and Sansa was finding herself restive and stifled. She was even more shut in than at Winterfell, and she hadn't come here to spend all of her days in her chamber sewing. She felt like a prisoner here; she wanted excitement, to meet people, to discover a new world, even to ride.

So one night she asked Father if he could spare one man from his personal guard to accompany her on rides and visits to the city. Sansa preferred Jory, the captain of his guard, but he had to stay close in case father needed him but she also liked Alyn. Father suggested two men, and they agreed on Desmond as the second one.

Even if she didn't like the smell of the city she found myself enjoying the ride through its streets, after having been kept so long in the Red Keep. It was thriving with activity; sellers shouting their wares outside of theirs shops, others delivering goods from overflowing carts, all kind of common folk walking in the streets, little ragged boys screaming and running together. From the distance she could spy the spires of the Great Sept of Baelor and was awed by its majesty.

She had noticed something strange too; a part of the city near the Red Keep was enclosed behind high walls, with only a small gate to enter it. Alyn and Desmond had stayed clear of it, and Sansa asked them what it signified.

"This is the oldest part of the city, called the Walled City. Some long ago King had walls erected around this disreputable area, as he disapproved of ... err... brothels and such, and wanted these activities kept separate from the rest of his city. As it developed over the centuries, other establishments appeared, catering to special demands, like rare poisons and gems, fabrics from exotic lands, spells. It is said that you can purchase anything that you would desire here. Every evening there's street entertainment, like jugglers, pyromancers, singers, fortune tellers. It's like a maze there; the streets and alleys are very narrow, like in olden time, going in circles with lots of dead ends. Needless to say, it is quite dangerous there."

"Then why has the City Watch not put order in this place?"

"Because the Walled City is very lucrative; a great part of the city's income come from it. Foreigners and visitors flock to it and men visit it often too, as certain... establishments are found only within its walls. And even the City Watch is reluctant to go there, as it's easy to get lost in its maze and a lot of them have never returned from it. Its dwellers don't want them there, as they take care of their own affairs."

"My," Sansa said mischievously. "You seem to know a lot about it. Have you ever been there?"

"Of course not!" replied Alyn indignantly, but his reddened face betrayed him and Desmond chuckled.

She found all of this knowledge quite fascinating, wondering if the Hound visited the Walled City and flushed right away from this thought. She chided herself that this was no way for a lady to think and they continued their ride. They also visited the big market in the city, and she could buy items that caught her fancy through the generosity of her Lord father, who always kept her coin pouch full and liked to see her happy returning from these excursions, showing him her new purchases.

She also enjoyed rides outside of the city in the small forests that were scattered around its walls. They were very different from what she was used to, more lush and verdant, and she enjoyed spending time outside again, smelling the sharps scents of the forest, being enclosed in green shadows, spying the different animals crossing their way.

She would think later that this had been the most enjoyable period for her at King's Landing, except for the tournament. To her astonishment, she realised after a while that she wasn't missing the prince at all – had even almost forgotten about his existence. This invoked in her strange feelings of guilt, as she had thought that she loved him, and now wasn't even thinking about him. Also, as a result of not been in the company of Joffrey she hadn't seen much of the Hound either. At night, staying mostly in her chamber had kept her from meeting him in the corridors.

Then the tournament was to take place soon, and she couldn't visit the city anymore, as the arrivals of knights, and even more freeriders, craftmen, merchants and others had created havoc in the city and Father had fifty more men hired as the City Watch guards were overwhelmed by the increase in crime. Also some highborn families were expected to attend. Once again she had to stay behind the walls of the keep, but it was easier to tolerate these restrictions in the waiting of such an exciting event.

The day of the tournament dawned beautiful, with a clear blue sky and a fresh breeze. They were seated in places of honour, with highborn lords and ladies. The King, queen and Joffrey were sitting on a covered dais, surrounded by the kingsguard and the Hound, standing behind Joffrey.

Then came the knights, one after the other in a procession of shining armors, ornately decorated horses; these knights who were the legends of a hundred songs. Her heart was beating wildly from excitement and joy, even more when ser Loras Tyrell rode to her place in the seats and offered her a red rose, in tribute to her beauty.

The next two days passed in a happy blur of constant jousting; these were the most exciting moments of her life – how she wished that it wouldn't stop! But they did, on that night when the Hound escorted her to her quarters; telling her a most horrible story about how he had gotten his burns, terrifying her with his anger, threatening even to kill her if she breathed word of what he had said, even after she had given her word.

Sandor

I showed her … I showed her well. She had to look this time. I forced her to.

After she had closed the door behind her, not daring to look back, he stared silently at it, sighing, then turned back to walk to his quarters, crossing again the entry to Maghor's Holdfast.

I taught her some facts tonight. The little fool, getting up and clapping when I was declared the winner, thinking this a great deed, some act of gallantry.

Well, no honour or galantry there – just an account to settle with dear Gregor.

He chuckled as he remembered her look of dismay, at her trying to wake up her septa, searching for her father, anything to get away from him, trying to hide her fear and repulsion by peeping prettily at him.

I showed her that these tactics wouldn't work with me. Did she think I was a fucking knight, trained in lies and courtesy?

Discontent made his mouth twitch. As he lumbered heavily, he crossed people coming from the tournament. Just a look at his scowl and they took a wide berth away from him, just like he wanted to. He was in no mood to greet anybody. On the morrow would be time enough to be polite again.

The way to his quarters seemed so long tonight. Gods, he was so tired…

But something more than usual was eating at him, like a gnat that kept buzzing. Behind his half closed eyes he continued to see her, her blue eyes soft with compassion as she put a small hand on his shoulder, to comfort him.

Now why did I have to tell her that?

He didn't understand what had compelled him to do it; it had burst out of his mouth without thinking. Did he want her to know him, understanding him? Did he do it to get the feel of that small hand on his shoulder?

Bugger that… He must have drunk too much again. Or did her ways get to him?

Well, doesn't matter.

His bed was calling him, his eyes half closing already as he opened the door to his cell like chamber. Sleep and the oblivion it brought would take care of everything.

Little bird… So pretty.