The sea of ragged men and hungry women turned their starved faces to watch the Lannisters pass. Sansa could see the dull resentment in their eyes, the distrustful sneers on their faces. We should not be here, she thought, Why do we ride through them in our glory while they starve?
None of the Lannisters would ever acknowledge that there was anything wrong with their behaviour. But the resentment from the people lining the route sat ill with her and gave her a sense of foreboding.
Sansa had sometimes rode out with her father and mother back home, greeted with welcome and affection from their people. Her father would talk to young and old, bannerman and small-folk taking an interest in their lives and being welcomed in return.
"The people need to know they can come to you if they have any grievance and you will do your best to help them if it is within your power, she remembered her father telling Robb one day as they went on a ride, "They don't need a lord that thinks he is too good to talk to them, who does not care about their concerns." he'd sighed as he'd remounted his horse followed by the rest of the group and raised his hand in farewell. The villager had followed them on the route waving and bidding farewell to 'The Ned' as he'd been affectionately known by them. "A peaceful land and contented people, that's the blessing of a good lord."
Sansa's heart ached a little thinking of her father so cruelly killed by Joffrey. She must take care to shield her thoughts, no need to make Joffrey angry again.
The procession tried to make it's way through the hostile crowd but it was slow going as if marching through treacle. At every turn the crowds blocked their path, murmuring menacingly at them. There was an air of foreboding from the crowd, it was affecting the animals, making them unsettled and harder to control.
Queen Cersei cracked her whip against the flank of her horse in irritation, her mask of carefree bonhomie slipping. "What is taking so long? Why are all these fools blocking the path? Go and summon some Gold Cloaks to clear the way!"
A woman stood in the road with a bundle in her thin undernourished arms, she wailed, a terrible fell sound that set the fine hairs on Sansa's forearms standing up. She couldn't suppress a gasp of horror as she saw the blue swollen face of the dead child grotesque in it's decay.
Joffrey was about to ride her down but Sansa leaned over to him.
"What, my lady?" his lip curled in a sneer, as it did whenever he talked to her now.
"She's driven mad with grief. Her baby is dead. Have mercy, my lord. Please-" she pleaded, trying to appeal to some small speck of decency he might have inside him buried deep down.
The mother took no notice of them. She held the bundle up to the young king with dead eyes, a silent yet eloquent reproach.
His face contorted with disgust, disdain for this delay painted on his features. "What's this?"
"Her child." Sansa felt the tears spill down her face. How desperate must the mother have been to take such a hopeless and miserable step. How she must have grieved her child, who died of starvation in the greatest city in the Seven Kingdoms. 'Tis still summer. No child should have to starve to death in summer. she thought.
Joffrey huffed, begrudgingly listening to her as he didn't want to look bad. "Very well."
He reached in his coin pouch and flicked a silver stag carelessly at the hapless woman. "There-"
The woman didn't even see it, still holding up the corpse. She seemed as if one already three-quarters dead. She never even once blinked, her skinny arms trembling under the dead weight of the child.
The coin bounced off the dead body and rolled away under the legs of the Gold Cloaks and into the crowd where a dozen men fought for it like starved dogs for scraps of meat.
"Leave her, your Grace," Cersei called to her son, "She's beyond our help, poor thing."
Cersei's imperious tones got through to the mother cutting through her ravaged wits like a sword through curds. Her face which had been blank with hunger and misery twisted with rage. She looked as if she had been possessed by a demon. Sansa made the sign of the seven pointed star, warding herself unconsciously against such hate.
The woman's mouth contorted, her voice was a shriek of shrill loathing. "Kingslayer's whore! Brotherfucker!"
Cersei's confident smile was wiped off her face. Her mouth fell open in outrage, but the woman took no notice of her queen, screaming in impotent rage.
"Whore! Brotherfucker! This is your fault!"
"I beg your pardon?" Cersei lifted her chin as if ready for a fight. The woman dropped her baby like a sack of wheat and pointed straight at her, as if she was laying a dire curse on the queen.
"Brotherfucker! BROTHERFUCKER! Brotherfuckerbrotherfuckerbr otherfucker-"
The king was splattered with dung from on high. No one could see where in came from but Sansa gasped and Joffrey wiped the foul smelling brown mess from his face and golden curls, cursing soundly.
"Who did that!" he demanded, his voice rising into a petulant whine. "I'll have their god-damned head!"
No one leapt to avenge the king. A voice or two from the crowd shouted: "He's up there!"
"A hundred gold dragons to the man or woman who brings me the bastard who did this to me." Joffrey declared. "Dog, go get them!"
"You're the bastard!" someone shouted back daringly to mocking laughter.
"Aye bastard! Bastard! Bastard monster!"
"Justice!" the crowd chanted, the ominous sound of makeshift drums behind them. "Freedom!"
"Give us bread! Bread! Give us bread and meat, bastard!"
"Renly the Golden! Did you murder him too, bastard?" they screamed. "He loved us-"
"Stannis! Stannis!"
"Robb the Young Wolf!" Sansa felt a small strange thrill of pride that the small-folk should shout his name, though she made sure to hide it deep down.
"You killed the Northern Hand. You cursed us! Murderers!"
The crowd surged forward, breaking the line of the spears shouting abuse and throwing missiles, rotten fruit and stones.
"Half-man! Freak!" someone shouted at Tyrion.
"Back to the castle, now!" Tyrion ordered. He spurred to his sister's side.
"We must go. The situation is out of hand."
Cersei nodded curtly, unable to argue with her brother for once. Ser Lancel drew his sword beside her. Hands reached past the lines of Gold Cloaks grasping for him and Joffrey. One got hold of his leg for an instant. Ser Mandon Moore slashed down and parted the hands from it's wrist. There was a howl of pain.
"Massacre! Massacre!" someone shouted. "Now they shed good honest King's lander blood!"
The hatred welling up from the crowd was almost visceral.
"Ride, you stupid boy!" Tyrion roared, slapped Joffrey's grey palfrey on the rump. The horse reared, trumpeting madly and careered wildly ahead. Someone staggered in front of Joffrey's horse and he rode them down, crushing them under his horse's shoes. There was a horrid shriek from the hapless person. Was it man, woman or child? Sansa could not have said. She huddled over the neck of her horse clutching the reins for dear life as chaos teemed and boiled around her.
"Head towards the Red Keep!" shouted one of the guards. In the confusion, Sansa got separated from the rest of the party.
The other members of the group rode away towards the Red Keep but she could not follow, surrounded by hostile maddened small-folk looking for a scapegoat and outlet for their rage. Someone held her bridle stopping her from escaping. There were hands, dragging from the saddle, wicked hostile hands that were not gentle. She felt the shoulder of her fine dress rip and panic filled her. "No!"
In a panic she put her head down and ran. She was disorientated in the teeming crowd, elbowing, punching and kicking like a wilding anyone who dared try and retain her. Somehow she managed to fight and duck her way towards the edge of the crowd while they shouted and fought between themselves.
The town looked very different from foot than it did from horseback. She knew she had to be calm and not panic.
She didn't know which way she was meant to be going. She gathered up her impractical silken skirts and ran, her kid slippers slipping and sliding in the muck. They weren't made for pacing the street and she cursed as she lost one of them in a muddy rut. Her foot hurt from the stones on the ground and she felt her ankle twist giving her a stab of pain but she gritted her teeth and kept pounding on.
I have to keep going, no matter what. I can't let them catch me
She dodged down an alleyway heading for the palace. There were dark shadows waiting at the head of the alleyway, cutting off her escape route. She skidded to a halt looking at them with terrified eyes. One filthy man leered at her, eyeing her up and down as if he would strip and ravish her by sight alone. She folded her arms over her chest to camouflage it.
"Who's this little butterfly then?"
The hem of her dress was absolutely filthy dragged in all the muck of the street and the spattering of shit she'd gotten from the attack on Joffrey from on high. She felt grimy and dishevelled, fiery auburn hair coming loose from her ornate updo. She started at him with big scared eyes. What was she going to do? No one knew she was here. She was unarmed and trapped.
If I show fear I am lost, she thought trying hard to hide her trembling.
"Let's 'ave a look at 'er."
"Please I mean you all no harm-"
If I'm good, if I'm polite they'll leave me be. Even as she thought it, she knew she was being a trusting fool. It hadn't worked at the palace when the Kingsguard had stripped her and beat her at Joffrey's order, laughing at her distress. What made her think it would work here?
"It's one o' them fine ladies ain't it? look at her dress. It's a pretty bit o' skirt." he leered
Sansa backed into a corner, terrified by the look on the men's faces. There were three of them, how was she meant to fight them off unarmed?
"No please," she shook her head backing away until her back met the dank wall of the alleyway. There was no exit and still they kept advancing.
"Bit off yer path, ain't yer m'lady?" one said in a mocking tone, grinning at her in the dim light.
"She's kissed by fire. You know what they say about red-headed women." he made a lewd thrusting gesture with his groin, which reminded her oddly of Theon and his exploits with their serving girls at Winterfell which her mother had so disapproved of. "Never had me a bit o' highborn cunt. Wonder if it true what they say, they fuck like stoats?"
"I'm a maid, I'm only a girl. Please ser let me go." her voice rose in a panic. Even though she told herself that she must not lose her head the threat of these uncouth men and what they intended to do to her filled her with terror.
"With them teats? D'ye think I was born yesterday?" the man sneered making a grab for the neckline of her bodice, she swerved out of his path and tried to make a desperate run for it. He grabbed her arms. "Trying to run. That's not very charitable, is it lads?"
A girl emerged from the shadows brandishing a knife with a wicked serrated blade that gleamed in the dim light. She was dark-haired and skinny dressed in rags and broken down shoes. The girl looked positively feral but Sansa had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life.
"Keep away from 'er. Get back! Get back or I'll stick yer through." she snarled. "Dirty bastards!" The men muttered, thwarted from their wicked purpose
"C'mon 'Ponine, why'yer have to spoil our fun?" whined one. "haven't 'ad a bit in a week and she looks a prime bit 'o rump!"
"Them teats are enough to make a man sit up and beg." the other man said almost admiringly. Sansa shuddered at the though of him touching her.
"No you won't, or you'll have me ter get through!" The girl looked at him in disgust. "You should know better, you have daughters!" "This one's ours! You wouldn't begrudge us a bit o' cunt, would yer?" wheedled the first man.
The girl snarled still brandishing and jabbing the knife at her attackers. "Go on, make a move! Try it, Pate!"
The men slunk off, defeated by the fierce girl. One of them spat in their direction and the girl picked up a stone and dashed it at him in retaliation. She must have had a good aim, for he howled in pain and ran off.
"Hey, you alright?" the girl said in a gentler voice. "They've buggered off now, I think-"
Sansa was shaking too much to answer. Terrible images of exactly what those men were intending to do kept flashing through her mind. They would have despoiled me in this alleyway for sheer sport. Slit my throat afterwards and not given me a thought.
"I'm Eponine and me brother Gavroche is skulking about somewhere."she looked round but it was just them in the alleyway. "What's your name?"
Sansa froze. She hadn't thought of a false name. How safe was it going to be? Still, the girl had defied those men to save her. Would it really be so unsafe to give a name. She didn't have to give her House, did she?
"Sansa-" she whispered.
"Psst, Gavroche!"
A little face topped by a mop of dirty blond hair popped up.
"Who the devil is she?" he said, gazing rudely at her. "'Ang on a blinking minute-"
"She got caught up in the riot. She needs our help."
The lad looked from her to Sansa rather dubiously.
"Oh come on, you saw what them filthy bastards were about to do. She's lost, innit?" Eponine said with an impatient gesture.
The little lad gave a world-weary sigh that made him sound years older than he was. "Awright, then. Soft-heart!"
Once the royal party reached the safety of the Red Keep there was chaos as the they took stock and tried to work if everyone had arrived back to the palace. Joffrey was gibbering with rage at his reception by his people.
"Traitors, I have all their heads, I'll boil them in oil! I'll shoot them through with crossbow bolts, I'll cut out their tongues and use them as a carpet-"
Tyrion gave him such a hard slap that his crown flew off his head and clattered to the floor. Then he shoved him in frustration and rage to the floor.
"What did you do that for? They were traitors! They attacked me! They called me foul names!" Joffrey clutched his face looking as if he was about to cry.
"You set your dog on them! What did you think would happen, Joffrey, they would genuflect in your golden presence?" Tyrion leaned over his nephew near shouting in his face.
"I am their king, they owe me their allegiance!" Joffrey's lip jutted out sulkily. He still had dung clinging to his curls and smeared on his face.
"Seven help me, are you honestly that stupid?!" Tyrion kicked him hard while he was down, his fists clenched in rage. His misshapen face was nearly scarlet with anger. " Clegane is probably dead right now, we still have people missing presumed dead and you come through without a scratch!" he gave an inarticulate growl of anger. Ser Lancel's hand went to his weapon but Balon Swann managed to restrain him.
"Tyrion, stop it!" Cersei snapped. "Who's missing? How many are out there in the chaos?"
"No one has seen the High Septon, Your Grace. He was dragged out of his litter."
Cersei sneered. "That old windbag! 'Tis hardly a loss-"
"My daughter, I don't know where she is. Oh please won't someone go out and find her?" Lady Tanda fretted, wringing her hands.
"Ser Preston and Aron Santagar are still missing, my lord." said one servant.
"Wet Nurse isn't here either." Ser Horas Redwyne added with a smirk, "We'd have heard him bellyaching if he was."
"Thank you for that gem of wisdom right there, Horas." Tyrion said cuttingly. "So Tyrek Lannister is missing too. Anyone else?"
"Where is Sansa Stark?" Cersei said in a ringing voice.
There was an appalled silence as the group realised the gravity of the situation.
"Seven Hells-" someone said feelingly.
"Are you telling me you've lost our most valuable hostage, the former Hand's daughter and you don't know where she is? Is that what you're telling me?" Cersei's voice went deadly quiet and saccharine sweet. You knew when the storm broke it was going to be volcanic.
Joffrey looked up petulantly. "She was riding by me I don't know where she went."
"Oh Gods-" Tyrion placed his head in his hands, a blinding headache coming on. He badly wanted some wine at this moment. "Ser Mandon, you were her shield. It was your duty to protect her, was it not?"
If Sansa was lost in the dark and had come to harm, if this catastrophe cane to public light, Jaime was as good as dead.
"When they started shouting and mobbed the Hound, I thought first of my king and liege." Ser Mandon gave Tyrion a smug smile, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
"And rightly so, Ser Mandon," Cersei put in before Tyrion could tear verbal strips off him. "Boros, Meryn, go back and find the girl."
Boros's face drained of colour. "Us?"
"Yes, Ser Boros. I would leave now before it gets dark." Cersei said crisply as she headed towards the chambers.
"But...but your Grace..." he stammered. "the sight of our Kingsguard cloaks might enrage the mob. Can't we?-"
"Can't you what?" Cersei hissed.
Tyrion was equally infuriated at Boros and Meryn's cowardice. "Get out there and find Sansa Stark, unharmed is that clear?"
"But my lord Hand-"
"Take your damned cloaks off if you're that afraid, but go and do not return until she is found."
"She might already be dead."
Tyrion went to kick the craven knight but it was Cersei who surprised him by boxing both their ears.
"Ouch! Your Grace!" protested Meryn.
"I have given you both orders and I do not expect to repeat them. You better pray you find the little Northerner – unharmed!- or Jaime's life will not be worth a stag to the Starks and if that happens your miserable lives won't be worth living. Am I making myself clear, sers?"
They entered a ramshackle tavern in the run-down part of King' Landing, bordering Flea Bottom. The building listed to the side, teetering on it's foundations like a drunken lush.
"You hungry? There's a pot o' brown over there. The landlord filled it up this morning, I saw 'im. Dunno how he got the meat with them prices-" Gavroche said.
Sansa was dreadfully hungry, her stomach was rumbling from nerves and lack of food as it was nearly dusk, but she'd heard dark whispers about what exactly went in those strange communal pots and she wasn't taking any chances.
"What's in it?"
Gavroche gave her a look as if she'd just said something comical. "Who the hell knows?
"It's food, it fills our bellies and it's cheap ain't it." Eponine added. "- it's best not to think too hard about what's in it, or you'd ne'er choke it down."
Sansa felt at her side. She still had her little purse at her side it didn't have much in it, a couple of coppers and some silver little more than small change. Cersei and Joffrey allowed her very little in case she ever took it into her mind to escape. There was enough to get them a meal, she thought. It was the least she could do after the girl and her brother had taken her under their wing and saved her from those lecherous men.
"You can't drag about in that, you'll just draw attention to yourself." she shrugged off her shabby man's coat and gave it to Sansa to cover her fine garment. "'Ere, that'll do for the nonce-"
"You'll be cold, I can't take your garment!" Sansa said touched but appalled by the girl's generosity. She remembered her courtesies, "But thank you kindly, thank you very much-"
"You speak very proper, don't yer?-" Eponine smirked, imitating her high-born tones perfectly. "'-thank you kindly-'"
"How did yer get all tangled up in this? You were in that procession, weren't you? On yer fine chestnut. Good bit o' horseflesh, that were-"
Sansa thought she couldn't very well deny it. The lad was sharp as a tack, not getting anything past him. He seemed to be the same age as Bran. She wasn't sure, his face seemed quite a bit older, more wordly-wise.
"Let the lass eat, 'Roche, she's probably famished." chided the girl, "-ye can question 'er later-"
She handed Sansa a bowl of the brown and a heel of stale black bread. "Get yer gums round that."
She dipped the bread in the stew trying to soften it enough to eat without cracking a tooth.
"Eat up lass you'll need yer strength."
Sansa tried to swallow a mouthful of gristly meat and tried hard not to think about where it had come from. She attempted to wipe her mouth but there was nothing to use as a napkin except for a sleeve and she wasn't that far gone yet.
"Why?" she asked.
Eponine gave her a smile over her bowl. "Got some friends I'd like yer to meet."