Fire & Gold

Chapter Two - Needle

Dare to become what they declared you could never be.

Across The Narrow Sea

Pentos

The House of Illyrio Mopatis

Sansa stood as still as she could as the woman moved around her, poking her with sharp needles. The young woman, Ura, was softly pale, her hair thick and dark. But her eyes were a sea green and her lips were a chipped red. As Ura began to move closer to Sansa neck, she began to shake - her fingers twitching.

"Stay still, ma'am, or you might get pricked!," the girl finally exclaimed in exasperation.

Sansa blushed,"Sorry it's just…"

"Don't worry,"Ura replied, as Sansa helplessly gestured to her throat,"No one wants to make enemies of the Spider"

There was a rustle before the door swung open revealing one of the women that had been serving Sansa.

"My Lady, His Lordship wishes to see you in the gardens."

Sansa carefully moved off of the stool, Ura holding the dress tactfully away from her. It slipped off of her body like silk. It's color a light blue. The dress was soft yet modest. The two dresses that had been sent for her to wear had two distinct purposes. The dark one was thick and would allow her body to move swiftly. It would also stand up against any harsh weather or conditions she might face. The blue dress, however, closely resembled her courtly dresses. It would give her status and a name. Something dangerous on the streets alone in Pentos, but valuable when speaking to important people.

She began the walk to Lord Illyrio's gardens. Sansa had walked the entire house when they first arrived. Walking from the large golden walls to the cold kitchens to the garden walls and up the stairs to the offices of Lord Illyrio. She methodically moved through the halls and out the door leading to the gardens.

The gardens were lush with extoic flowers and the gardeners had allowed hundreds vines to curve around the back of the house and over the golden bar of the stairs. She followed the girl to the center before she finally saw Tyrion.

He hadn't drunk a drop of wine or ale and there was something more clear in his eyes. They hadn't been alone like this in weeks and she had missed his company. But Tyrion had been acting in a way that led her to believe he was avoiding her. He was staring off into the distance - a slight pinch in between his eyes that usually meant he was thinking hard about something. Sansa wondered if he was thinking about home.

"My Lord?," Sansa murmured.

Tyrion shook himself out of his thoughts and gave her a small smile.

"Lady Stark"

Sansa approached him slowly.

"Are you alright, My Lord?"

Tyrion gave her a small smile,"Not really, My Lady"

They turned away from the balcony and took a seat in the silver chairs that lined the center of the garden. It was quiet for a moment and they sat still and listened to the rustle of the large trees overhead. The air was warm and fragrant with flowers and sea and salt and dirt.

"I am going on a trip with Lord Varys, we are headed into certain danger."

"Certain?," Sansa asked.

Tyrion stared at her for a moment before he took a large gulp of the cup on the table. He ran his small, stunted fingers over his chair's arm.

"Have you enjoyed your time in Illyrio's House?"

"Yes," the response was automatic and Tyrion knew that after months of agreeing, singing like a bird, to never take her first response as truth.

"I - I feel safe here," Sansa said,"Does that make me a fool?"

He turned away from her.

"While I am gone, you will remain here - Varys will see to it that you are provided for-"

"No!"

Sansa's head swirled - her heart thundered in her chest.

"You will leave me here!"

"Alone!"

The shock was almost too much for her. And she remembered those terrifying months of being alone. Of being Joffrey's plaything. Of almost dying. Of being so horribly alone. Sansa stood, her eyes flashing.

Tyrion stared at her, slightly shocked and confused.

"I was alone once, Sansa's voice and body shook, I was so terribly alone"

"Sansa," Tyrion said, meeting her eyes,"Joffrey is dead"

Sansa pursed her lips and her skin went from red to pale white in a second.

"Lord Varys said I was free, that I could do what I wanted."

Sansa knawed on her bottom lip, rubbing her tongue over the wounded flesh. She spun around and clasped her hands tightly together - squeezing them until they turned white.

"I am going with you"

She walked away from his shocked gaze.

Westeros

The Wall

Castle Black

A Week Before

Jon massaged the soft skin on his chest. His other hand was laid against his heart. The thump! thump! of his heartbeat was strangely soothing. His skin was bare in the frozen cold, only his legs and feet were covered. Gooseflesh wrinkled his skin.

He had died.

He had died from the stabbings of his own people. His hand now shook with rage.

Jon's wrist snapped forward, slinging the clay cup of water against the wall. It broke into a thousand pieces and one small jagged pieces cut against his arm. The cuts from his men covered his body - all smooth cuts that had been meant to kill.

He had died.

The thought shook him to his core.

He had forgotten something - something important. His body shook again - his mouth going slack with the pain, his was determined to remember.

Jon had to.

Jon closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember his dream.

His dream of death.

A rough yet soft hand curled around his cheek. A man whose eyes and nose were gone smiled down at him. Two laughlines were imprinted on his skin. His soft white hair was thick and had the same texture as his own.

"Do not go far, you will return soon"

There was a stuttering and the man's body seemed to shake and go out of focus.

"You are my son"

He had died.

How could he tell them. That a man whose face who was proclaiming to be his father was covered in shadows. Ned Stark had never been one for shadows. Or mythism. He had never been one for theatrics or dramatics and yet Jon felt a strange sense of peace when he had stood in front of the man.

As if his being a bastard, as if being a Snow, as if being lesser than any of his half siblings wasn't important anymore. Then his body shook again, a fierce tremor of pain and confusion. And then his eyes closed, unaware of the presence that gently laid him down.

"You are my son"