A.N/ Thank you for the kind reviews. They really do make my day!

Chapter 10

They rode through the city and Sansa was surprised over the lack of destruction she saw. On their flight from King's Landing she had seen the wreckage of war littering the roads but here she saw men peddling canal boats, errand boys dashing between the merchant houses, and even flower sellers calling out for custom. She spotted Elario charming a pretty young girl with a purple flower and he winked when he caught her gaze. It seemed that business in Braavos had already continued. She did see two of the Unsullied chain together a couple of battered men but their shoulders were hunched and their heads hung; the spirit had long ago left them. Overall it seemed as though the city had expected an attack and they were doing their best to ignore the intruders. Braavos was one of the richest cities in the world and Sansa assumed that they did not want the Dragon Queen to disrupt that. "Are the Unsullied as ferocious as they say?" she called to Sandor, as their party made their way to the Sealord's palace. She had not ridden a horse in months and already her thighs were beginning to cramp as she sat uneasily in the saddle. Arya must've noticed but said nothing and Sansa appreciated it. It made her feel weak and silly.

"They can be. An unthinking army, the poor bastards do whatever Daenerys commands without hesitation. They own nothing. Some of them don't even have names."

She knew little about the Unsullied except that they were great fighters and they were eunuchs. She felt uneasy whenever she saw one of their golden helms and glistening bodies; Leah had told her a particularly nasty story about them slaying animals as part of their training.

The Sealord Marcelo, when they met him, smiled and greeted them as politely as ever but when Sansa dipped a curtsey in return she noticed the bead of sweat on his dark brow. She smiled wryly at that, remembering as always the Sealord's testy loyalty. She had yet to tell Sandor about the Prince's behaviour and wondered how much the Sealord would sweat then. They were led by an Unsullied into the lord's own audience chamber and there upon the marble throne sat Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, and the Mother of Dragons.

She's so young, was Sansa's first impression.

She didn't look that much older than Sansa and yet she had accomplished so much. Daenerys was slim with a childlike face and magnificent wide violet eyes. She had the infamous long white hair of her house and it was simply braided back away from her face. She was very beautiful but in a wild untamed sort of way...much like Arya was. She was dressed as a Dothraki in a pair of rugged breeches and an exotic brown vest. There is nothing grand about her, and yet she is more regal than even Cersei Lannister. Cersei was the only queen Sansa had ever seen but her charms came from her looks and expensive gowns. Daenerys, evidently, needed none of them to rule. Her maids and servants looked up to her with total devotion and the Dothraki at her side looked ready to kill for her.

Sansa curtseyed beneath the queen's gaze and tried to look as composed as possible. I have the blood of the First Men in my veins. I am a child of winter, she reminded herself, and a maiden flowered. I must not shiver like a child. I must keep my head up and my back strait. She will not own me.

"So you are the daughters of Winterfell," Daenerys began and gestured for them to rise. She was sitting on the edge of the throne, as though waiting to leave. Sansa sensed an impatient streak in the young queen that admitted to her age.

"Yes, your grace."

"The surviving children of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully?"

"The very same," she confirmed, ignoring the stab in her gut when their names were called.

"The same Stark traitor that rode beside the Usurper?"

"Our father was no traitor," Arya interrupted, frowning. She didn't shout but it was obvious that she wanted to. "King Robert was his friend."

Daenerys looked unmoved. "And they murdered my father."

"The Mad King. Jaime Lannister did that."

"And in time he will know my revenge," the queen promised. A slight frown had appeared between her eyebrows. "They killed my brother, the rightful heir."

Sansa decided to interrupt before Arya could reply. It would suit them all best if they didn't go down this road. "If it please your grace," she said briskly. "We could speak for an age about the dead and never agree. We three were all born after the rebellion. None of us can account for their actions." Sandor let out a bark of laughter from beside her and she felt herself blush.

There was a small silence and then finally a voice spoke up. It was not a voice she expected to hear, however.

"Well said, my Lady."

"The Imp!" Arya cried.

"Arya!"

If Tyrion Lannister was irritated by Arya's outcry he didn't show it. He smiled at the two sisters and Sansa was struck by the new scars that ran across his face. He had always been an ugly little man but now he was almost grotesque. He'd grown a little beard in a feeble attempt to hide some of them but it did little to help when his nose was partially gone. Sansa was so surprised by his sudden appearance that for a second she forgot her courtesies and stared. Only his voice roused her, "It's a pleasure to see you both again."

She would not have said it was a pleasure but nevertheless agreed. "You are kind to say so, my lord. What brings you to this corner of the world?"

A wry smile played at his lips but it looked more like a grimace. "The same reason as you it would seem."

Daenerys intervened, "Lord Lannister is under my protection and has sworn me the support of the Westerlands. His advice on the politics of Westeros has been most helpful." Sansa nodded, unsure if Tyrion could deliver on his promises. From what she could remember Cersei had never shown the slightest affection for her youngest brother and if rumour was true neither had their father. Did he truly have the gull to bring down the rest of his family?

"And then Ser Clegane came and told me of your predicament. I can promise you revenge for your mother. For your brothers. But first you must bend the knee and promise me your help."

Sansa held out her hands. "And what help is that? As you can see I have little."

"You are the key to the north. They will follow the remaining Starks."

Sansa exchanged a look with her sister and Arya's eyes were burning. She knew Arya wished for vengeance and even she longed for the deaths of the Frey's and the Bolton's, but she had seen what came from revenge; had seen the bitterness and emptiness in the eyes of Robert Baratheon. All she wanted now was home. "We aren't interested in revenge, your grace."

Deanery's tilted her head slightly, as though reading her mind. "Then I promise you stewardship of the north, Lady Sansa. I will give you Winterfell."

Winterfell. She felt Arya's grip on her shoulder and nodded her consent at once. We can go home.

Sansa remained uneasy in the golden queen's presence and in turn Daenerys never sought her out alone. The only times they spoke were in the company of others. She couldn't pin point the exact reason but there was just something about the young queen that made her feel uncomfortable; it might've been her unchanging prejudice against her father or her relentless tirade against those who doubted her. Daenerys seemed completely single minded in her actions and her moods tended to turn without cause. She was truly a Targaryen; unpredictable, quick to anger, and sometimes even plain rude. The courtesies that had once saved Sansa were wasted on the Dragon Queen and for that Sansa found it hard to like her. Sansa was uprooted from the Palace of Silk and moved into the Sealord's Palace in order to be close in case she was needed. She felt a flicker of sadness at leaving the palace. She had enjoyed the company and the lessons more than she could've ever guessed. It had housed her well and treated her like a friend. The rooms felt familiar to her and she would miss sitting on the balcony and looking out over the city. She assured the Costa's that she would never forget their kindness and when Winterfell was restored she would repay them. However, she did ask them if they might release Leah into her service; she had grown fond of the maid and Leah was more than excited to leave.

It didn't take her long to get settled and she tried to accustom herself to Daenerys' strange court. She found that she enjoyed the company of the Imp, even if he did tend to be sharp with his words, but was shy of the huge Dothraki bloodriders. In contrast Arya spent most of her time talking to Rakharo and Aggo and ignored the Lannister. The Sealord remained at the queen's side but was withdrawn and fixed everybody with an insolent stare. The first time they were alone he implored her to speak to Daenerys and beg her to move on but Sansa gave him an icy look.

"You try to beg a favour from me? You would have allowed a drunken lout to abuse me while I was under your protection. I do not forget, my lord."

"My lady, I do not-"

"Swallow your excuses. I shan't be taken advantage of again."

Sansa enjoyed walking in the Sealord's gardens, especially as it had its very own heart tree. It wasn't as large as the one at home and had no face carved into its bark but she was not unused to making do with what she got. She would visit most evenings and kneel before it, praying for her family and for the strength to face the shell of Winterfell again. She'd been told of its ruined state but would not let that deter her. She even prayed for Bran and Rickon. Sometimes, when she was alone, she imagined Bran's voice coming from the heart tree and he would reassure her that he and Rickon were alive and in hiding. She knew it was just a childish fantasy fuelled by hope but it plagued her dreams and so couldn't just forget about it. She asked Tyrion the Imp if there was any truth to such things as he was the most well learned, but he'd only fixed her with a sarcastic smile. "If dreams were real I would be a very satisfied little man."

She had paused at that and looked down at him curiously. "What do you dream about, my lord?"

"Whores."

She did not have a chance to talk to Sandor properly until a week later, and he found her walking alone in the gardens. She gave him a warm smile and asked if he might join her. It was a chilly evening and the wind tugged at her soft dress. She still preferred to dress in the Braavosi style and tonight wore a dress of green silk with a white cotton shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She left her hair down so that it might blow back around her face, having long ago discarded the elaborate styles of King's Landing. Sandor was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches with a thick cloak of grey cotton thrown over the top.

"I thought you had forgotten me."

He smiled wryly, "You've been kept busy." She had. It seemed that every day the queen wanted to discuss something and she relied heavily on Tyrion and Sansa for their knowledge of Westeros. She had given up asking for Arya's input after the youngest Stark had fallen asleep during a council. The memory brought an amused smile to Sansa's lips even now.

"Tell me," she implored, and they began to walk along the winding path. Exotic plants and flowers littered the sides but she only had eyes for Sandor.

"It's a dull story, little bird. I spent a couple of weeks on the coast, drinking myself into oblivion, when I ran into Jorah Mormont and the Imp. Or at least, they ran into me. You won't know Mormont but your father did - he's the reason he's exiled out here in the first place. Slave selling, I think. Anyway, they tried to fight me, thinking that Daenerys would like my head on a spike for my brother's crimes but it was an easy win; a dwarf and a drunken fool. I was going to leave them in the brothel but I decided that I would take them to her. Through the haze I thought of you and how you needed help. She's a sure bet," he added sincerely. "She may be fickle but she's not an idiot. She could have fed me to her bloody dragons but she saw the advantage of having the daughter of Winterfell on her side. Plus the Imp spoke up on your part."

Sansa was silent for a moment while she took it all in. "Why did you leave?"

He cringed back at that. "Not now, little bird."

"Then why did you come back?"

"I swore I would," he shrugged and she smiled at him. "Now tell me of your time, and don't give me that gentile crap. Be honest…" She told him about the years that passed and the new things she learnt. She told him about Leah, about learning of Joffrey's death, of Pentos, and finally the prince. "That bastard," he swore once she finished.

"I was fine," she assured him. "I was looked after."

He fell silent at that and they sat on one of the many carved benches overlooking a fountain. Sansa hunched up beneath her shawl but the wind still chilled her. Sandor noticed this and gruffly passed her his patched cloak. She remembered that day, so long ago, in King's Landing when he'd thrown her his cloak for the first time. She'd been half naked in front of the entire court and his cloak was the only thing that comforted her. It did the same now. Sandor leant back and chuckled underneath his breath. "You make people want to look after you."

Sansa raised an eyebrow, stung. "You make me sound so weak."

"It was a compliment. It's your greatest gift. Cersei had her cunt, Daenerys has her family name, but you…you inspire a different kind of loyalty."

She laughed and gently laid a hand on his. It looked tiny in comparison. "I missed you."

"And I you. You've grown into a different person while I was gone." Her mother's name hung in the air between them but Sandor was wise to ignore it.

"So have you." It was true. He was still rash and headstrong but there was an air of calmness around him now, as though he had let off some steam. He stayed away from alcohol as well which greatly soothed his temper.

"Do you prefer it?"

"You'll always be the same Sandor to me," she admitted. "With your snarls and honesty. I wouldn't want you to be any other way."

"I scared you once," he reminded her.

Her expression turned serious and she took back her hand. She had long ago forgotten to be afraid of the man beside her. She had seen him cry, wiped the blood from his knuckles, and shared his bread and salt. She felt safer with him than she had ever done before. True, he had shouted at her and left her alone but on the other hand he had saved her life. She would never be able to repay his kindness. The scars on his cheek were now part of him and she couldn't imagine him any other way. "And Joffrey made me love him. Appearances, my dear Sandor, can be utterly deceiving," she replied.

Wherever she went Sandor was often at her side and they were easy in each other's company in a way they had never been before. Arya was still mistrustful of him and Tyrion the Imp avoided him but Daenerys seemed to admire his spark.

One morning the gates opened to admit two riders and Daenerys led them all out to greet them. The scowling one was presumably Jorah Mormont from Bear Island. He was muscled like an ox with shaggy brown hair and a slave mark on one cheek. He gave Sansa and Arya a courteous nod but only seemed to have eyes for the queen. Sansa was unsure what to make of him. Then there was Barristan Selmy, or rather Barristan the Bold as Sansa was taught. She had listened to tales of his bravery as a child and remembered that Bran had dashed around the yard the next day brandishing a wooden sword and calling himself Brandon the Bold. When she saw the white knight she felt herself grin and she beckoned to him. "Ser Barristan," she greeted, and he took her hands.

"Lady Sansa!" he sounded genuinely happy to see her again. "You have grown, sweet child. My condolences for your losses," he added soberly.

"Thank you, ser. I hope you are well?"

"Much better now. I recall the last time we met…it was on the Kingsroad, was it not? With Renly and Ser Ilyn."

"It was indeed," she smiled, remembering how excited she had felt that day and how scared she was of Ser Ilyn Payne. She'd been filled with dreams of prince's, pretty dresses, and songs. She gestured to Arya beside her. "My sister, Arya."

"Yes, I remember you as well," he chuckled. "Your wolf pup mangled Joff's arm."

Arya smirked and gave him a little bob of a curtsey. She lacked Sansa's grace but there was something equally as charming about her awkwardness that made people smile. To an acquaintance the two sisters were as different as night and day; Sansa was prim, graceful, and everything a true lady should be while Arya was short tempered and blunt. Yet they both wielded the same Stark fire. Arya could lead a charge, but Sansa could last a siege.

Daenerys looked taken back by the familiarity but held her tongue as she led them inside the palace. Later on she requested Sansa to take a seat beside her at dinner and questioned her on the Kingsroad meeting. She knew nothing of Renly or Ser Ilyn and Sansa tried her best to explain their characters justly. She spoke honestly and without bias but appreciated the grimace Daenerys made after hearing about Ser Ilyn. On her right hand side sat Sandor who kept quiet but she felt comforted to feel his shoulder against hers. He had been there too, she reminded herself, on the Kingsroad. Joff sent him away for scaring me. She could've laughed at the way things had turned out.

Later on Daenerys sent a page to her rooms, asking if she would join her for a nightcap. Sansa was surprised by the intimate invitation but accepted, sparing Arya only the quickest of looks. The queen was already changed for bed when she arrived but wore a robe of ivory lace to cover her modesty and had her exquisite hair pulled down. She poured Sansa a glass of wine and she took it thankfully. It was hot and spicy, filling her belly with warmth.

"It's been mulled."

"It's delicious, thank you," Sansa replied and took a proffered seat by the fire.

Daenerys sat in the opposite chair and leant forward as she spoke, "I have heard many stories about you, Lady Sansa. Your sworn shield never seems to stop talking about you and my Lord Lannister knows everyone's business," she smiled. "But I have a question. It is said that the Usurper's Queen had you beaten before the court…even stripped. Is this true?"

Sansa's grip on her glass tightened and she tried to not look hurt. She is very bold. "Joffrey did that."

"Your family betrothed you to him?"

"I begged them for it. Joffrey was once all I ever dreamed for."

The queen watched her over her glass. "You wished to be queen?"

"I wanted to be a princess," she corrected honestly. "I was young, in love with the idea of feasts and court."

"But you were unhappy there."

"It is dangerous to be surrounded by lions." What more could she say?

"Why did you not run away? Your sister did."

The question was so simple and yet Sansa had no answer for it. She could've found a way to escape had she been brave or crafty enough but instead she'd stayed to face the lions. She had been struck dumb with fear and acted like a child. I was a child, she tried to justify, but then so was Arya. The one thing Sansa hated above all was being called stupid. All her life she had been written off as an empty headed little girl and she was sick of it. Her father and mother had expected no more from her than to marry well, as had the rest of her family and maester Luwin. On her eleventh name day she overheard Arya and Jon privately discussing her, calling her "just a silly girl" and to take no notice of anything she said. Only after did they notice her standing there and Jon had blushed to the very roots of his hair, stammering apologies. Cersei and Joffrey had called her dumb plenty of times in King's Landing and she even remembered a drunken Sandor shouting it at her in the canal house. No other word moved her as much. Only little Rickon had ever looked at her as anything more…and that was only as a warm lap to sit on.

"I put my trust in the wrong people," she replied curtly.

"A foolish mistake, but understandable," Daenerys murmured pityingly.

"Was that all, your grace? I must retire."

"Your sworn shield holds you in such high regard," she noted and finally sat back. "Tell me, how long has he been in love with you?"

Sansa rose to her feet and even though her hands were shaking managed to put the goblet down gently. She tried to steady her voice, affronted, "Is this courtesy in Meereen? Prying into the lives of others is considered rude in Westeros. You may want to polish your manners if you ever wish to sit on the throne."

"How dare you!" Daenerys frowned, standing as well. "The Iron Throne is my birthright. You have no right to speak to me so."

"You have no right to speak to me so."

"You do not wake the dragon," Daenerys warned. "You are here at my charity."

"And you do not bait the wolf," Sansa retorted. She breathed in heavily and held her head high. "I will leave you."

She made it to the door before Daenerys spoke, and when she did Sansa was surprised to hear a hint of amusement in her tone. "Goodnight, Lady Stark. It is good to see some iron in you at last."

The queen did not mention their discussion again and warmed towards Sansa. She requested her presence at all council meetings and even accompanied her when she rode out into Braavos. Sansa was hesitant but then she found, to her utmost surprise, that she was starting to like the queen too. It turned out that they had a lot in common and their tastes were very similar. Daenerys truly cared about her subjects and there was an honesty about her that was refreshing. She admitted to Sansa that she was at a loss with Westerosi customs and implored her to educate her. In order to conquer the Seven Kingdoms she needed the support of the people and while Tyrion was patiently explaining to her the history of the houses she needed someone to fine tune her manners. Sansa agreed hesitantly.

She told Sandor about her new task while they sat together at dinner and he raised an eyebrow. "Dragon, lion, and now a wolf. You'll devourer them all up."

Sansa laughed but for once didn't take the bait. They were supping on roasted lamb with bean and garlic sauce and drinking elderberry wine. She had long ago gotten used to such rich food. "And the Clegane hound," she added.

"They'll be no conquering for me, little bird. No doubt I'll be shipped off to the Riverlands to round up any outlaws."

And his brother, she thought despairingly. She looked up at him, alarmed. "You aren't leaving me again, Sandor. You'll be coming to Winterfell."

She tried to sound matter of fact about it but to her surprise he snapped back. "And what use will I be there? I don't fit in with your elegant world."

"You fit in with me," she replied quietly. "Wherever I go, you must come with me. You swore yourself to me and I won't have you running off again. Besides, I swore we would dance again when I reclaimed Winterfell."

Sandor's face softened under her gaze and he sighed although the un-burnt side of his mouth seemed to be smiling. Sansa found herself doing the same. "Aye, alright. We'll dance to your little heart's content. Now stop peeping at me and eat your food."

Their return to Westeros was long winded and hard. They were scheduled to leave within the fortnight but complications kept arising. Daenerys' temper often blew and Sansa preoccupied her time between Arya, Tyrion and Sandor in order to keep calm. She was nervous about returning home. She had been so wary to leave all those years ago, thinking that she was running away and abandoning her family, but she had learnt a lot. She was returning now as a daughter of Tully and Stark. She was water and ice. She had found Arya and she would search long and hard for Rickon and Bran too. Rebuilding Winterfell would be horrifically hard but it would be worth it. And then I'll be home.

She wondered what awaited her.