The Fast Maiden honoured her name and was sliding quickly over the waters of the Narrow Sea, propelled by the strong wind. Tyrion was taking care of Sansa in the small cabin he had managed to rent for them both. She suffered from seasickness and her husband wash refreshing her forehead with a wet cloth and putting the bucket next to her every time she had an attack of retching. He did not leave her side even for a minute, so as for fear of any of those sailors trying to pay her an unwanted visit (he had seen the lustful looks they had shot his young wife), as for his worry about her condition. The maester aboard brought her soothing infusions and Podrick went to fetch food and he himself saw about emptying the bucket. Tyrion apologized to the loyal lad, assuring him that he himself would do that task if he was not afraid of parting from his wife's bedside. Pod affirmed that he had nothing to forgive him for and that he willingly made that task.
They had escaped at full speed from King's Landing. Soon after Joffrey's body collapsing to death on the floor, undoubtedly due to some kind of poison, Tyrion, taking advantage of the confusion, searched for Sansa and took her hand.
"We have to go just now. They'll charge us for this."
They started to run and Tyrion led her through corridors, followed by Podrick, always the shadow of his master, until reaching the outskirts of the castle without being seen, next to Blackwater Bay. Among the ships of the harbour was the Fast Maiden, which was about to set to Pentos. A purse of gold succeeded in encouraging the captain to urge the crew, which was accommodating the cargo, and a few minutes later the ship set sail with favourable wind towards Essos.
They left behind the mournful tolling of the bells. Tyrion sensed that he would not see the capital of the Seven Kingdoms again, unless almost all his family died and no one was left to accuse him for his nephew's death. Because he knew his dear sister must be shouting his name in those precise moments, sentencing him for a crime he had not committed.
But it hasn't been as if I didn't want to, he thought sarcastically.
Poor Pod was not going through his best moments either, but he guarded faithfully the cabin door. Tyrion had insisted on renting another one for him, though the boy had refused, but Pod only occupied it during his sleeping hours. The rest of the time he stayed positioned at his masters' door, and he only walked away a little to stretch his legs and breathe the air on the deck when his master, feeling pity for the loyal lad, commanded him to do it.
Tyrion pondered the options regarding the most suitable route from Pentos; the overriding thing to do was taking Sansa far from danger. Getting on to greedy magister Illyrio was not a secure option; he was absolutely capable of selling them to his dear sister Cersei. At the moment, they would have to go on traveling concealed, avoiding the paths. They could not venture falling into the clutches of some dothraki khalasar, outlaws, free companies or slave traders, who lacked scruples in regard to increasing their goods for free. The alternative was going on sailing to Myr and Volantis and, from there, surround the ruins of Valyria to enter the Gulf of Grief and Slaver's Bay. It would be very hard, but it was the only hope they could rely on.
After three days of discomfort and confinement, the Fast Maiden arrived at Pentos' harbour. Tyrion helped his wife to get up and she, unsteady, leaned on his strong shoulders while he held her by the waist. Pod followed them and kept an eye on the sailors while they went down the ship, but they were already busy unloading the cargo and did not pay them any attention.
They went away the harbour and Tyrion found a discreet and hardly visible place where Sansa could sit down to rest. He sent Pod to search for an inn which were at least a little presentable and sat down next to the girl, with his dagger ready under the cloak in case someone seemed too interested in them. The captain of the Fast Maiden had sold them traveling cloaks and now both of them covered under them to prevent the passers-by of Pentos from taking notice of their features. Sansa's flamboyant reddish hair, without mentioning her beauty, and his own short height, were enough to call attention to them, so the frayed cloaks were the best camouflage they possessed at the moment.
"Are you feeling better, my lady?," Tyrion asked softly.
"Yes, my lord," she answered. Indeed, she had better appearance since they had landed, but she looked scared and nervous.
He squeezed her hand in a consoling gesture. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I made a vow to protect you and I'm determined to keep it."
She, under the hood that covered almost all her face, threw him a shy smile. "I know it, Tyrion."
His name on her lips was a sweet sound.
The air carried spicy smells, mixed with others less pleasant, but in that area smelled better than any street of King's Landing. That made him remember that Sansa hardly had eaten at all in three days and that he had not either tasted anything decent since the fateful wedding. He wished Pod did not linger too much.
"Sansa... I want you to know that I didn't do it," he dropped suddenly. You care about the opinion she has about you, he told himself.
"I was sure it wasn't you. I had nothing to do with it, either, though it was not as if I didn't want to."
"Then we are two now," he said. She caught his irony and smiled again. "Who do you thing that did it?," she asked.
"Joff had lots of enemies. It could have been anyone."
Sansa turned serious. "What are we going to do now, Tyrion?"
"We'll have to escape for a time and go so far as we can." He remained thoughtful. "It comes to my mind an alternative I believe is the only one which can save us."
"Which one is it?," she asked nervously, biting her lip.
He worshipped that unaware gesture she made whenever something worried her. "Looking for Daenerys Targaryen."