" 'Safety?! Where is that?! Her aunt in the Eyrie is dead. Her mother's dead, her father's dead, her brother's dead. Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There's no safety. If you don't know that by now, you're the wrong one to watch over her'. And then lady Brienne asked 'And that's what you're doing? Watching over her?' And he answered 'Aye. That's what I'm doing' ". And then the fighting started and lady Arya ran off" – Podrick finished his tale with a sigh.

"That's it?" – Stannis huffed looking resignedly at Pod and Brienne who were standing in front of him with their heads down.

"Yes, your grace" – Brienne answered – "Except for the language"

"Excellent! Wonderful! Well done!" – Stannis said with mock countenance – "You're a hero, Brienne of Tarth. One truly worthy of legend. Such a shame your heroism isn't spoiled with some wit and a little bit of common sense. Didn't it occur to either of you that the girl refused to trust you because she trusted Clegane? And I suppose it was too much to ask for you to just let them go and follow closely in case your suspicions turned out to be true?"

Birenne stood motionless and stared at the floor. She didn't even try to answer back.

"But your grace, we thought the Hound was going to ransom her. Even lord Tyrion didn't know about him and lady Sansa and…" – Podrick said meekly.

"And what if he was?" – Stannis snapped – "D'you think he would've harmed his prize in any way? Arya Stark still had a sister at Winterfell to pay for her. Both of you knew that much. And she could've even taken him on as a soldier as a reward for delivering their precious sister home. Or were you planning on collecting the reward yourselves?"

"Certainly not" – Brienne huffed in outrage – "I merely thought…"

"You thought?!" – Stannis snorted – "Good thinking! Arya Stark has disappeared and is probably dead"

"I only did my best to fulfill my vow, your grace" – Brienne answered, looking at her feet and praying for the floor to magically open up and swallow her along with her shame.

"Give a fool enough rope and she'll hang herself" – Stannis chuckled – "Look at me, both of you!"

Podrick and Brienne raised their eyes reluctantly and were surprised to see that the king wasn't looking half as angry as they thought he was.

"Your stupidity actually did lady Sansa a huge favor" – Stannis continued more affably – "Getting rid of the Hound was in her best interests however much she may hate it. She'll never thank you for it, but I will."

Then there came a knock on the door.

"Beg pardon, your grace" – Selmy peeked in – "Lady Sansa is here"

"Yes, send her in" – Stannis nodded and then turned back to Pod and Brienne – "Away with you! Try not to catch lady Sansa's eye too much for the time being, Brienne. And don't even think of apologizing or offering to right the wrongs in any way, do you understand?"

"Yes, your grace" – Brienne bowed, turned around on her heels and left the room swiftly with her squire running behind her.

Sansa glared daggers at Brienne as she passed by, entered the room on ser Selmy's invitation and bowed gracefully.

"You wished to see me, your grace?" – Sansa said putting on her sweetest smile as she saw him sitting up in bed.

"Yes, my lady." – Stannis nodded politely – "I apologize for my… informal attire"

"Please do not think of it, your grace. I hope you're feeling better?"

"I am, thank you" – Stannis replied, shifting uncomfortably under the huge fur blanket.
He wasn't at all used to being dressed in nothing more than his shirt in front of young women, especially beautiful ones. In fact the only women who had ever seen him in that state of undress were his wife and the Red Woman. But it somehow felt natural with Melisandre who seemed to enjoy the nearness greatly and Selys's opinion on the subject didn't matter. But now he felt utterly exposed under Sansa's gaze even though neither of them was even remotely interested in the other sexually.

"But I fear the same cannot be said for you, my lady" – he continued calmly, hoping to the Gods he wouldn't blush.

"No, your grace" – Sansa sighed heavily and shook her head as she found herself staring unwittingly at the small triangle of Stannis' bare skin that the untied shirt didn't cover.
The pain from losing her loved ones was still very strong and nothing was further from her mind than sensual thoughts and yet somehow she couldn't help noticing his deep jugular notch, pronounced clavicles followed by well-developed pectoral muscles, the strangely beautiful contrast the black chest hair formed with his pale skin…

"Sit down, my dear" – Stannis said clearing his throat and gesturing to the chair next to his bed.

Sansa obeyed and felt a comforting warmth of his nearness caress her bleeding heart. Even now, lying in bed wounded and vulnerable, the king seemed to radiate a certain innate power, the might of the Warrior and the wisdom of the Father given only to virile men. And for a split second Sansa wished she could climb in next to him, curl up in a ball and feel the comfort of his strength. She yearned to once again be the little girl who hides in her parents' bed from the scary monsters she believed appeared at night under her own.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your sister" – Stannis said gently.

"It seems our family just wasn't meant to be" – Sansa replied mournfully – "Arya and I were never the best of friends, in fact we used to irritate the living daylights out of each other… but I did love her"

"Yes, well… it's only natural for younger siblings to make the older miserable" – Stannis replied resignedly – "It's the main delight and purpose of their lives as far as I can see."

"Did lord Renly vex you a lot too?" – Sansa asked with a vague, but genuine smile on her sweet lips.

"Vex me is putting very mildly" – Stannis chuckled, his heart both warmed and broken by memories of little Renly never leaving him alone, always playing tricks on him and constantly climbing into Stannis's bed at night when he was scared by some bad dream. It was only natural for the little lad to prey upon his brother as their parents were dead and Robert was living at the Eyrie, but he annoyed Stannis to no end all the same – "I did love him once, though …"

"All of this almost makes me fear for my brother Jon if I'm being honest" – Sansa sighed heavily – "He's all I have left and I couldn't bare it if something happened to him."

"Jon Snow is a very capable young man, my lady" – Stannis replied reassuringly – "He can take care of himself"

I hope! – Stannis added silently. He wasn't at all happy with the mood at castle Black when they left and he didn't see much chance of its improvement, unless Snow's scheme with the wildlings should fail or the Watch should get itself a new Lord Commander…

"But Snow might not be the only family you have left. Your two younger brothers might still be alive, you said so yourself" – he continued – "It's a pity we couldn't ask Greyjoy about their possible whereabouts, but I've ordered the Golden Company's spy master to find out all he can about their fates. And Lysono Maar is a master of espionage, probably second only to Varys. If they're still alive, we'll know soon enough where to find them."

"How can I ever thank you, your grace" – Sansa whispered as she looked at Stannis, her eyes sparkling with gratitude and affection.

"We'll see about that when you actually have something to thank me for" – Stannis continued, feeling even more uncomfortable – "And as for your sister… She was believed dead for almost two years before she appeared at the Eyrie with Clegane. It's quite possible that she's still alive. Unknown and glad of it."

"Do you think it possible, your grace?" – Sansa asked doubtfully – "A young girl alone in the wild…"

"Anything is possible, until proven otherwise. But I confess I was very surprised to hear of your… er… relationship with Sandor Clegane" – Stannis continued choosing his words carefully as the poor girl was obviously hanging on to her courage with her fingernails – "I never would have thought of him as a man who would forget his king and his duty for the sake of a fair maiden…"

"You mean you never thought him capable of love, your grace?" – Sansa asked defensively – "Who could have ever expected a bitter dog to be human?"

"I'm afraid I'm no expert in matters of love, my dear, but I am smart enough to not judge a book by its cover" – Stannis said a little reproachfully.

Sansa blushed and lowered her eyes shamefully. How could she be so bad mannered as to be rude to her king, who was also the wisest man she had ever known, except perhaps her father in law lord Tywin? Even grief is no excuse for a lady to misbehave.

"Forgive me, your grace, that was unworthy of me" – she said quietly.

"It's quite all right, my dear" – Stannis smiled with one corner of his mouth – "Tell me everything"

"I'm afraid there isn't much to tell, your grace" – Sansa sighed and gathered all her remaining strength to try and stay calm while telling the story of how her soul truly touched another for the first time. She began at the very first moment she saw her non - knight at Winterfell and left nothing out of her faithful narrative.
Stannis listened quietly and attentively as Sansa poured her heart out. He never said anything, but the knowing and compassionate look in his deep dark blue eyes made Sansa want to say more and more until there was nothing left to tell. She even smiled as she felt some of the heavy weight being lifted from her shoulders and the bitterness from being wronged by the Gods slowly began to turn into to a light, gentle, sad longing for her loved ones and all the happiness she could have had with them.

"I see…" – Stannis finally said when Sansa finished her story.

He paused for a moment wracking his brain in a desperate attempt to find the gentlest way of putting what he was about to tell the girl.

Even a far less intelligent man than Stannis would have no doubt that Sansa believed herself to be in love with someone she considered a fallen hero. One destined to be healed and redeemed by true love in a fairytale happy ending. A notion quite natural for a young girl prone to romantic ideas, but stupid and dangerous none the less…
As he looked at Sansa's young, sad face lit up by the tender emotion he was about to shatter, Stannis was cursing himself for not being more like Davos whose eloquence with words reached a state of the art level. Davos would've surely known how to make the girl see sense without hurting her feelings. He probably would've told a couple of little white lies and twisted facts a bit to meet his purpose, but unlike his friend Stannis was useless when it came to comforting. He never hesitated to lie when necessary, but in such cases as these he honestly believed the pure simple truth to be the best option and always ended up hurting people. Even little Shireen. Even if hurting her meant hurting himself even more, he just couldn't lie to her. And he couldn't bring himself to lie to Sansa either.

"It's very easy and tempting to mistake kindness or pity or ulterior motives for love" – he said honestly, thinking of his own stupid infatuation with Melisandre – "But attaching yourself to someone who shows you the least bit of attention because you're lonely is a recipe for disaster. And you've already seen it happen to you."

"I don't just mean Clegane" – Stannis continued firmly as he saw bitter anger replace shock on Sansa's beautiful face – "You made the same mistake with Baelish…"

"Baelish saved me because he wanted to use me for his own gain, Sandor did it selflessly!" – Sansa cried as she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Are you sure about that?" – Stannis asked looking at her intently, his fiery gaze sending shivers down Sansa's spine as she felt it pierce the darkest and most intimate corners of her soul.

"I was never in love with Baelish!"

"No, but you trusted him all the same."

"And what about you, your grace?!" – Sansa asked defiantly standing up from her chair – "Are you that different from the Hound or Littlefinger, that I should regard myself wise to trust you? Having a Stark at your side will make it easier for you to retake and control the North. You were a friend of my father, just like Littlefinger was a friend of my mother. You're both brilliant players in what lord Tyrion used to call the Game of Thrones…"

"Whatever my motives may be, you should use your own head to find out" – Stannis replied sternly – "You should rest, my lady. You look tired."

"Yes! Thank you, your grace!" – Sansa said with icy rage as she curtseyed and stalked out of the room.

Stannis grimaced as he drained a cup of some new horrible tasting potion healer Storm had brought him and lay back onto the soft furry covers of his bed. He smiled to himself as he listened to Sansa's fading footsteps. He was sorry to hurt the girl, but her reaction of questioning his own motives for rescuing her pleased him greatly. Young Sansa certainly had the courage of a Stark, but as for her quick wit and sharp tongue… Stannis was almost starting to question lady Catlyn's fidelity.

Slowly his eyes became heavy and closed without his volition. Weather it was the effect of the potion or simply the wounds taking their toll, Stannis soon felt himself falling into the peaceful darkness of deep sleep again. He didn't even try to resist its allure as he had already done even more than he had planned to do for the day and he didn't want to face the agonizingly dismal thoughts that occupied his mind when there was nothing else to concentrate on. At least not yet…

Stannis had just closed his eyes when he was woken up again by Willem's voice, saying

"Your grace? Wake up, your grace…"

"Huh?" – Stannis muttered sleepily – "What is it?"

"Drink this" – Storm said, handing him a cup of yet another steaming concoction that looked greenish this time.

Stannis sighed irritably as he sat up and looked around. The soft evening light was touching the room gently with its fading red and yellow rays. It couldn't have been more than an hour since Sansa left and he didn't feel very pleased at being disturbed every five minutes to drink something or other.

"Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?" – he grumbled as he sipped the warm liquid.

"Are you still feeling week?" – the healer asked with a note of worry in his voice.

"Somewhat…"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, your grace, but I'm afraid ser Ormund, commander Balaq and captain Stickland asked to see you as soon as possible. Some of the ravens we sent have returned with replies from the lords Mormont, Glover, Hornwood and a couple of others whose names I can't quite recall"

"That's impossible" – Stannis said bewildered – "There's no way in hell the birds couldn't have made it in less than a day…"

"It's been almost two days, your grace" – Storm said with a little smile, that couldn't really hide the apprehensive look in his eyes.

"What?!"

"The ravens were sent the day before yesterday. You've been sleeping since then"

"Almost two whole days?!" – Stannis exclaimed – "What d'you do, drug me?"

"Of course not!" – Storm replied treacherously – "But since your grace was having some trouble understanding the concept of 'bed rest' I'm afraid I was forced to add a bit of sleeping draught to your medicine."

"A bit?" – Stannis grumbled throwing the young healer a dangerous look.

"I'm very sorry, your grace, but sleep is essential. It's when the body heals itself…" – Storm replied casually – "Oh, and I almost forgot! Lady Sansa's been asking to see you since yesterday morning."

"Did she say why?" - Stannis asked smiling a bit slyly with the corner of his mouth.

"Something about apologizing for saying something horrible" – Storm replied and smiled no less archly – "Although judging by how upset she was I doubt she was the only one to be unpleasant. She didn't sleep a wink last night according to lady Jonelle's maid Mansy. And she looked so awful this morning, I've actually had to slip a couple of drops of 'Essence of Nightshade' into her lunch wine."

"Hard truths cut both ways, I'm afraid" – Stannis shrugged his shoulders – "I'd better see her right away, then"

"Not until I've treated you" – Willem replied, pulling off his warm blanket – "Besides, girls of that type tend to get a bit emotional, especially when their moon blood arrives."

"I'm a curious man, but there are limits to how much I want to know, thank you very much" – Stannis grumbled.

"Just proper functions, nothing to be ashamed of" – Storm giggled and then instantly became serious as he asked – "And speaking of proper functions, aren't you hungry, your grace?"

"No."

Willem said nothing, but Stannis could tell the young healer wasn't at all pleased by his answer. And neither was he.

"Not going as planned is it?" – Stannis asked the frowning young man as he felt the brownish liquid sting his wounds again.

"Not as well as I'd hoped, but the valyrian streak in your blood is very strong, so it's to be expected"- Willem answered matter of factly – "Balaq doesn't agree with your lads when they call you the Son of Fire for nothing, you know"

"What d'you mean?" – Stannis asked completely taken aback. Like any Baratheon he did have valyrian blood in his veins, but he never would've thought to describe it at strong.

"Contrary to what most noble descendants of Old Valyria believe, there's far more to valyrian blood than silver hair and purple eyes, your grace" – Storm smiled excitedly – "Actually blood is an absolutely fascinating thing. The way traits are shuffled through breeding to create new ones can be breathtaking. The slavers in Lys have been studying valyrian blood since the Doom and use the intricate laws of heredity extensively to create beauty and strength in their slaves. Especially the girls and lads in the pleasure houses."

"Like breeding hounds" – Stannis huffed contemptuously.

"Exactly" – Willem nodded with sparking eyes – "Blood affects everything from appearance to the smallest, practically imperceptible working processes of the body. And, as hard as it is to believe, the strongest traits may not be the obvious ones…"

"How can you tell the valyrian part of my blood is strong?" – Stannis asked curiously.

"Oh, it's absolutely obvious, your grace. First of all, your eyes are very dark blue. Unusual color for Westeros, but typical for Lys. Valyrian blood gives that deep, sparkling darkness. By the way, that's a perfect example of what I said earlier about the strongest traits not necessarily being obvious ones. If a person has light purple eyes the valyrian streak in their blood is weaker than in someone with dark blue, dark green or dark whatever."

"Indeed?"

"Aye. Then there's the way you're built. Tall, broad shoulders… angular, but finely cut features… muscular, but lean and flexible…Pale skin… Typical valyrian mixed race. The slavers in Lys would pay a fortune for you."

"Yeah, nice" - Stannis chuckled at the vaguely insulting compliment.

"Ever notice Balaq's peculiar skin shade? A sort of glittering light black? That's a valyrian streak as well."

"That's amazing!" – Stannis shook his head in wonder.

"Mixed race valyrians are known for their high tolerance to pain and blood loss, but suffer suppuration and blood poison very badly" – the young healer continued enthusiastically – "They're also either immune to some diseases or suffer lightly if they do catch them. Greyscale for example is universally fatal to adults, but is easier to stop in mixed race children. Although they still remain scarred, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" – Stannis asked as the familiar pain cut his heart.

The memory of baby Shireen catching the terrible disease was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. His fault. If he hadn't bought that doll… But it didn't really matter now, since he had done something far worse then give her greyscale…
"If a man knows what he is and remains true to himself… the choice is no choice at all" – he had told her – "He must fulfill his destiny… and become who he is meant to be… however much he may hate it… "
And it was true. If sacrifice was easy it was no real sacrifice. He believed it then and he believed it now. What is the life of one child against the lives of all the future generations? What is the soul of one man against life itself? Nothing… But… Why did it have to be him?!

"What do typical mixed race women look like?" – Stannis asked, wanting to picture the woman his daughter could have been as he felt bitter regret poison his soul.

"Either short or tall, but always slender, with beautiful, curvy, well – pronounced figures" – Willem answered a bit cheekily – "Pale, huge eyes, long eyelashes, thick hair, thin lips, tender skin… "

"Studied them closely, have you?" – Stannis chuckled, recognizing the lustful gleam in the young healer's eye.

"I'm not sworn to celibacy, thank the Gods" – Willem giggled.

"How can the streak be strong in me, but not in my brothers?" – Stannis asked after a pause.

"I don't know, I'm afraid" – Storm shrugged his shoulders – "But it's not unusual. And valyrian blood can also sleep for several generations and then come out in fool bloom."

"And how does a lad from the Strom Lands become an apprentice maester of the Citadel, then leave it to study valyrian heritage in Lys and end up in a small castle in the North?" – Stannis asked intrigued.

"It's a long story, your grace and there're fare more important things for you to do than listen to me" – the healer replied.

"I'll decide when to deal with what" – Stannis snapped sternly – "And right now I will hear your story, Willem Storm"

"Very well, your grace" – the young man said reluctantly as he finished bandaging the wounds after applying some sort white odorless of ointment on them – "Twenty nine years ago, my mother, who was a tavern servant girl in Storm's End got groped by some knight and nine months later brought me into this world. I spent the first years of my life in a tavern on the shores of Shipbreaker bay. We had a fairly good life… always had a roof over our heads and plenty of food. Except for the year of siege, but that doesn't really count since everyone was starving, weren't they?"

"Aye" – Stannis nodded – "We tried to leave as much to the civilians as we could, but in the end… the rats weren't half – bad though, were they?"

"Oh yes they were…" – Storm giggled – "Thank the Gods for ser Davos!"

"Indeed" – Stannis said softly, the thoughts of his best friend warming his heart.

"After the war my mother met some man and we moved to Old Town. The eternal love ended as suddenly as it started, so she was forced to work as a maid at the Great Citadel. It was her job to clean, wash and prepare ingredients such as herbs and powders for later use. The work was hard, so she usually left the ingredients to me. I was fascinated by them, so I asked the maesters about every ingredient I laid my eyes on. Seeing my interest, they were kind enough to teach me to read and write and allowed me to use the library whenever I wished. When I was eighteen, they took me on as apprentice. And I was good. Very good. One of the best in my year. After four years of studying, I was about to be granted the title of Maester and sent off to Westeros, but a week before I was supposed to take my vows, I got expelled…"

"What for?"

"For sneaking down to the harbor brothel" – Strom answered with cheeky smile.

"That's it?" – Stannis asked apprehensively – "It's ridiculous to kick an apprentice out for something like that, especially a talented one. Punish him, certainly, but throw him out? You weren't the first nor the last one to do something like that. So, what really happened?"

"I'm afraid I've always had a certain disregard for many of the ridiculous rules of the Citadel, your grace. And a mind of my own that was appreciated even less than my discipline" – the young man replied – "That was just the latest in a long line of rule violations on my part. So the Archmaester, in his wisdom, decided I was too reckless to take the oath. But as a reward for the success I had in my studies, he didn't take away my chain."

"Well, that's something…"

"Indeed" – Storm said happily – "I was desolate at first, but after a while I realized that being expelled was the best thing that could ever happen to me. I ended up having both the full skills of a maester and the freedom to practice wherever I liked. Instead of being bound to one single castle for the rest of my life, I could go anywhere and gain as much experience as I possibly could.
My mother had been dead for some time, so there was nothing to hold me in Old Town. My chain was mostly silver, so I sold it and got a passage to Lys. There I bought a small house in the Pleasure District and started to practice as a healer. And after a while, I became very popular with both the slaves and the masters. I spent two years there, learning everything I could from the alchemists and studying people and diseases, but what fascinated me most was valyrian blood. There's no better place in the world to study it than Volantis, so I sold my practice in Lys and moved to Volantis.
I had even more success in Volantis and became the healer of many aristocratic families. There I heard of the fighting pits. I was planning to move to Meereen in a couple of years to study the treatment of battle wounds, but one of the noble girls, Talisa Maegyr took an interest in my craft and asked me to take her on as apprentice. Since her father agreed, I couldn't very well refuse her."

"Oh, I see" – Stannin rolled his eyes.

"No, nothing like that, your grace" – Willem smiled – "She was a beautiful girl to be sure, but we were both too sensible to be interested. And then, one day, we heard news of war in Westeros.
I decided that being a surgeon in my homeland would be far better than anything I could ever become in Meereen, so I sold my practice and sailed off to Westeros. Talisa ran away from home and begged to take her with me, so I did. We were supposed to make Port at Storm's End, but the captain didn't want to risk sailing past the Lannister fleet that was patrolling those waters, so we sailed up to Widow's Watch and joined Robb Stark's army. I learned a lot about battle trauma and did the best I could to improve the treatment. About a year later Talisa became his wife and I his chief surgeon. I was lucky enough to escape the Red Wedding with ser Roderick, who offered me the maester's post of castle Cerwin. So here I am. "

"Cerwin is no place for a man like you" – Stannis said with a note of admiration – "You're good enough for the Red Keep. Or even better… chief surgeon to myself at castle Black?"

"It would be the greatest honor, your grace" – Storm answered happily, very pleased to get offered the post he was hoping for since he saw Stannis's army of sell-swords arrive at the castle.

"Don't answer lightly" – Stannis replied watching the young man testily – "The enemy marching on the Wall is far more dangerous than any army of men, no matter how well – trained… The legends of the White Walkers are true."

"I'm not afraid of magic, your grace" – Willem answered casually.

"Did you learn a lot about it at the Citadel?" – Stannis asked shrewdly.

"Your grace?" – Willem asked feigning surprise well, but not nearly well enough.

"No maester's chain ever made could possibly have enough silver or even gold to cover the cost of a house in Lys. You must've had several valyrian steel links, which are rare and represent magic if my memory serves."

"Yes, your grace, that is correct" – Storm replied with a touch reluctant, but impressed smile – "I have studied magic at the Citadel, but I sincerely share the opinion of most maesters. I don't really believe in magic…"

Much to Stannis's chagrin their conversation was suddenly by Balaq, who knocked loudly on the door and poked his head into the room without waiting for an answer.

"Oh, finally, you're up, your grace!" – he boomed with a bit of familiarity Stannis didn't really appreciate – "We've been receiving ravens all day with answers to your messages…"

"And what do they say?" – Stannis asked, rising and eyebrow at the sell – sword.

"How the hell would I know?!" – Balaq replied, although the outrage in his voice wasn't nearly convincing enough to Stannis's ears.

"Are you trying to make me believe, Strickland resisted the urge to steel at least one of the scrolls while Wylde wasn't looking and take a peek at it?" – Stannis smiled archly.

"No" – Balaq's laugh rumbled across the room – "I'm saying he couldn't steel any because ser Ormund guards them like a harpy. So do I. We're the Golden Company. We don't break our word, whatever happens!"

"Good" – Stannis replied sternly – "Is Strickland thinking of doing so?"

"What do you think?" – Balaq snorted – "The coward's been dreaming of Slaver's Bay ever since he saw the giants at the Wall."

Stannis smiled to himself as he saw the lysane spit with disgust.

Black Balaq may be a sell – sword, but he was a brave and honorable man, who didn't look for easy ways or turn his back to danger. Besides, Stannis was sure Balaq was eager to have some real adventures worthy of songs and legends…And he was the one to hold the Company in check if things got sour, not the quivering jackal Strickland. So Stannis had to make sure Balaq becomes captain – general before they march to the Wall…

"Well, if the captain – general is so eager to learn the contents of those letters, we mustn't keep him waiting, must we"

"Right away!" – Balaq nodded and disappeared behind the door.

"Storm, tell lady Sansa to come here as soon as I've dealt with the letters" – Stannis told the healer, who was finishing bandaging his leg.

"Yes, your grace".

Two hours later, Sansa was pacing nervously up and down the hall as she waited for the knights and sell – swords to leave his grace. She couldn't wait to see him again and say what a stupid mistake she had made, by behaving like a silly, spoiled little child especially to a man she and her father admired greatly. A man who risked his life to save her and treated her with true respect. She still felt hurt by his harsh and brutally honest words about Sandor and herself, but deep down she knew he was absolutely right. And comparing Stannis Baratheon to Petyr Baelish was an insult the king wasn't likely to forget in a hurry…

When the door finally opened and the men came out of the chamber, most of them looked happy and excited.
Probably a good sign, Sansa thought to herself as she greeted them with a charming little smile and a nod of her head.

"Is it good news, commander Balaq" – she asked the sell – sword, who just couldn't resist the pleasure of bestowing a little kiss on her small, gentle hand, that could hold a dagger just as well as a needle.

"It is, my lady" – he replied with a coquettish smile on his exotically handsome face and gestured her to come in.

Sansa took a deep breath and entered the room with her head held high as a Stark should.

"Good evening, your grace" – Sansa said trying to hide the nervousness in her voice as she curtsied gracefully – "I trust I find you well?"

"Is this a social visit or have you found a reason to trust me?" – Stannis teased, deciding to skip the social graces he always hated and usually ignored.

"Oh, your grace, I'm so sorry for behaving so ungratefully" – Sansa replied guiltily – "I am loyal to you and always will be, truly I am! I didn't mean anything I said… It was so stupid of me to…"

"It's all right, child" – Stannis interrupted with a twitch of his lips and gestured her to sit down – "It's natural to defend those you believe yourself to love, even when you know it is wrong to do so. Although I am curious to know what differences you see between Baelish and myself"

"Oh, your, grace, please don't repeat what I said!" - Sansa sighed heavily and obeyed. She was relieved to see that the king wasn't angry with her, but she still felt stupid and guilty.

"I insist"

"There's a world of difference between you" – Sansa blushed – "True, you're both very clever, but you are strong and honest. Littlefinger isn't. You went into your enemie's castle and risked your life to save me, Baelish used others including myself to kill Joffrey and steal me away so he could use me… You could've attacked King's Landing and claimed the throne when Tywin Lannister was no longer alive to protect it, but you did what only a true king would do. You chose to protect the realm and its people, even those you despise. Baelish would murder his own mother and everyone else in the seven kingdoms if it got him any closer to the throne…"

"That's absolutely right" – Stannis interrupted her, looking quite pleased – "How do you know it was Baelish who murdered Joffrey?"

"Baelish and lady Olenna Tyrell. He told me so himself. Without my knowledge he put poison in a necklace I wore to the wedding, part of which lady Olenna later removed and used successfully. Lord Tyrion and I got blamed for the murder they committed."

"A brilliant scheme, which turned out even better than either of them expected. I assume you know, most of the lords of the North have answered my messages" – Stannis said, changing the subject – "Most of them swore fealty to me and to you as Wardness. They will send their forces to castle Black and we will join them shortly."

"I never doubted they would" – Sansa replied happily – "But who were the ones, that…"

"The Karstarks. They refuse to follow anyone who is associated with the Starks in any way" – Stannis said musingly – "They've never forgotten what your brother did to their lord and they never will, but they'll bend the knee sooner or later."

"This is no way for a sister to speak of her older brother, but Robb was a fool to behead Rickard Karstark" – Sansa shook her head – "But surely he's paid for that! The entire North has"

"There's nothing wrong with telling the truth" – Stannis replied feeling almost as proud of the clever girl as lord Eddard would've been – "Especially since you're absolutely right. Beheading the man half of his forces recognized as lord was one of your brother's fatal mistakes. A king must expect the loyalty of his subjects, but never be too sure. As should a Wardness"

"When do we leave for castle Black, your grace?" – Sansa asked, feeling very pleased and flattered.

"As soon as the deserters from Winterfell and the forces of Bear Island arrive" – Stannis replied – "But you won't stay there long, my dear. Just long enough for you to see your brother and accept the vows of your vassals as Wardness of the North. After that you shall return to Cerwin or to any other castle of your choice."

"But your grace, a wardness should never leave her people in times of war. And I'm not afraid of hardships" – Sansa said stubbornly. She wasn't going to allow anyone to look down on her and keep her at bay. She didn't intend to be a wardness only in name.

"I'm not suggesting that you are, but the Wall is no place for a lady. Your troops will be led by your brother Jon Snow or myself. Your presence is needed here. To keep the North in check and provide the army with a secure and reliable rear. And take care of your younger brothers, should we manage to find them. But, as wardness, you shall be required to attend some of the council meetings, so you will get a chance to travel to castle Black often enough"

"As you command, your grace" – Sansa replied contentedly, feeling pleased as to be taken seriously and treated as an equal by a man like Stannis.

Suddenly they heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?!" – Stannis called irritably.

"I beg pardon, your grace, but another raven just flew in" – answered Storm as he came in and handed Stannis a small scroll. Stannis opened it and cursed under his breath as he read.

"What is it?" – Sansa asked worriedly.

"It's from castle Black" – Stannis sighed heavily seeing his worst fears being realized – "I'm very sorry, my dear, but your brother Jon is dead. Killed by his own men. And the wildling's warg scouts report, that an army of White Walkers is marching on the Wall as we speak..."

If the windlings were scared enough to inform the Watch and Thorne was convinced enough to send for help, we're in really big trouble, Stannis thought to himself.

"Storm, alert Wylde, Strickland and Balaq immediately" – he continued decidedly – "Wylde and the rest of my men shall stay here with lady Sansa and a thousand sell - swords to wait for the Mormonts and anyone else, who chooses to come. I shall lead the rest of the Golden Company on a forced march to the Wall. We leave at dawn."

"At once, your grace!" - Willem nodded and ran out into the hall.

"Your brother's death will be avenged, I swear to you" - Stannis said, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable as he watched the girl's eyes fill with tears. He hated crying women, because he had absolutely no clue what in the world was he supposed to do with them...

But Sansa didn't hear him. She didn't hear anything as her heart screamed silently.

"No! No, no, no, no!" - she thought, desperately refusing to accept the news that were slowly starting to sink in - "Jon can't be dead! This can't be happening! Not to my brother! Not again!"

Sansa felt her eyes swell with tears and wiped them quickly. She didn't want to cry in front of the king. She didn't want to show weakness... But tears ran treacherously down her face and she couldn't stop them however much she tried.

She didn't even get to say a proper goodbye to Jon when they left for King's Landing. She was too stupid and carefree and to eager to impress Cersei and her mother to bother with sentiments for her bastard brother. But she did love Jon as dearly as anyone in her family and she never got to tell him that! And no amount of sorrow or remorse on her part could change that now!

Sansa shrugged as she suddenly realized she was saying her thoughts out-loud and Stannis was listening to her. Sansa blushed deeply and muttered some excuse as she tried to run for the door, but Stannis caught her arm, pulled her to himself and hugged her, cursing under his breath.