The moment Lord Varys read the message his little bird delivered, he knew it would be known throughout the Red Keep very shortly. He would need to look for Lady Sansa Stark. Or rather, if the information was correct, the Princess Sansa.
He had seen her around the Red Keep, tormented time and again by King Joffrey. The boy was getting to the point that the Master of Whisperers was ready to slip a knife in his back. He was getting more and crueler than the Mad King by the day, a feat he would have thought impossible. And his target was generally his betrothed, the daughter of the late Hand of the King, Eddard Stark.
Thinking about that man brought sadness to Varys. He, like so many others, had underestimated him. He had risked his life, the life of his family, for the son of his sister, the uncrowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He had done everything, given his honor, his very life, to save the life of an innocent child. Varys admired that. So often, children were sacrificed for the crimes of their parents. They were killed so that they would never rise up against those who defeated their fathers. But Varys felt that, if he got the chance to come to the throne, Jon Snow, or whatever his name truly was, would break the wheel, the cycle of violence that begat violence, because he had learned at the knee of the most honorable man in Westeros.
Now, Varys would do similar, see that the man's daughter was as safe as she could be. It might not much be much more than she was already, but he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure the girl returned to her family safely.
He was pleased to see he wasn't the only one who had that goal. Tyrion Lannister, of all people, had appointed himself, and his personal sellsword, as the defenders of Princess Sansa. So, with that fact, Varys hoped any issues he could not cover, the acting Hand of the King would be able to. He knew it behooved him to tell Tyrion the news he had learned, but first, the lady herself should know.
The Spider arrived at Lady Stark's chambers and knocked on the door. It was answered by her handmaiden and Tyrion's lover, the Lorathi girl Shae. "My lady," he said with a smile.
"Lord Varys, what brings you here? Come with a message from the Lord Hand?" she asked, the sarcasm ever-present in her voice.
"Alas, no. I am here to see Lady Sansa, though," he replied. "Is she in?"
Shae looked behind her, most likely to the other girl. Then the door opened fully and he saw her sitting at her vanity. "Lord Varys, you honor me with your presence. Please, come in," she welcomed in that formal, lifeless tone she had taken on since her father's execution.
He bowed as he stepped in. About to speak, he realized there was another set of ears in the room. He shot a glance to Sansa, who picked up on it. "Shae, could you please go to the market and pick me up some oranges. You know the one we found the other day." The other girl was about to protest but was cut off. "I am perfectly safe with Lord Varys. He knows what fate will befall him from my beloved Joffrey should anything happen."
Shae glanced from he back to Sansa and left. Once the door was closed and he was sure to hear Shae's footsteps down the hall, he walked in further. "I am happy to see you looking so well, my dear. And I see Lord Tyrion's friend has been a help?"
"What is your business Lord Varys? I doubt it is to talk about the competency of my handmaiden," Sansa questioned, getting right to the point.
He approved of her thinking. "My lady, as you know, I have many birds around the realm who sing me the sweetest, and unique, songs. Most are here in the capital, but other as far-flung as Highgarden and the Wall." Her face brightened at the mention of the latter. "Over the past couple of weeks, there have been a few songs sung of your family."
"My brother Robb, the traitor, you mean," she added, looking at him guardedly.
"More likely your mother, Lady Catelyn Stark and your brother, Jon Snow," he corrected Then he hurried on. "I know you are a wolf trapped in a den of lions, with few you even think you can trust. But I assure you, you can trust me. I spent time as a mummer and it has equipped me in creating masks for myself, that suit my audience. As the audience changes, so do the masks. I tell you this because I do not think I need them around you. Do you think you may find a way to trust me? Maybe I can share with you information I have learned?"
He could see the battle being waged within her. He hoped it would turn in his favor. And, after a moment, it did. "You have news of my mother?" she asked in the voice of a girl years younger than she actually was.
He nodded once. "I have received word that your mother has made a trek to the Wall, to return with your brother Jon." He knew she would think it outrageous, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
"You lie. My mother has hated my bastard brother Jon from the moment she came to Winterfell," Sansa shot back.
He smiled, knowing that would be how she answered. "Your mother has hated him because he was a stain on the honor of your Lord Father." But he brought out the scroll he had received some weeks ago. "My dear, I am beginning to suspect that both of your parents were as good of actors as I once was," he told her, handing it over.
Sansa read it. "Why would my mother owe anything to my Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar? She never met her and he kidnapped my aunt."
"Oh, your mother met Lyanna but once. They were both present at the Tourney at Harrenhal. Lady Catelyn Tully was in the stands when Prince Rhaegar crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty," he informed her. Now he sat down, trying to put her at ease. "Did you know that many lords and ladies of the realm did not think Lyanna was kidnapped? That she left with him on her own accord and that it was used as an excuse to start a rebellion that intended to overthrow the Targaryens?"
She narrowed her eyes as she shook her head.
"Oh, yes, it was quite the topic of conversation, even after Robert came to the throne. Not spoken of in his presence, mind you," the Master of Whisperers noted, "but powerful words to the right people. Many of those loyalists would lament from time to time the lack of a marriage or a child. Those people tend to put their hopes of a restoration in the Khaleesi roaming around Essos now."
"Why are you telling me this? My father fought to free his sister and overthrow the Mad King," the young lady reminded him.
"Your father fought because Aerys called for his head after the execution of your grandfather and uncle. Jon Arryn called the banners to protect his foster son. And Ned Stark did fight, from the Trident to King's Landing. And when Ned Stark arrived in the Throne Room, after finding Jaime Lannister on the Iron Throne, two small bodies were brought to the victors, courtesy of Lord Tywin Lannister. The bodies of Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen, killed because of who their father was, and what they could represent in the future." He stood and paced, remembering every gory detail. He wanted to spare her, so he just went about telling her of the aftermath. "When your father saw that, Honorable Ned Stark demanded the head of Tywin and any of his men directly responsible. Robert laughed and called the children 'dragonspawn', refusing his request. Lord Stark left after that, headed for Dorne and continuing the search for his sister."
Now Sansa seemed to be remembering her own family's lore. "He found her, but she had died of, of a fever," the girl stuttered.
"Yes, a fever," he repeated, unconvinced. "My lady, did your maester teach you history?"
She was caught off guard by the switch in topics. "Some."
"Your family descends from the Kings of Winter, the King in the North, am I correct?" When she nods, he continues. "Torrhen Stark was the last king, the one who bent the knee to the Conqueror and was named Warden of the North. Aegon wished to bestow another title on Torrhen, but the former king refused. He tried many more times over the course of his reign but was rebuffed time and time again. So, at last, Aegon set in perpetuity the offer. It has taken nearly three hundred years, but finally, the Starks have claimed their gift."
"I am not one to make vows, but I vow you this: when the time comes, I will make certain that you are safely out of the grasp of those who may mean you harm. They are plentiful here, and will only grow in numbers when the news breaks. I am not one of them, but I know who they are, where they lurk. I swear to you, princess, I will protect you from them." He moved to the door but was stopped by her voice.
"I am no princess, my Lord. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully, sister to Lord Robb Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark and Rickon Stark," she listed for him as if he did not know.
"Yes, you are," he replied, "but by the proclamation of his Grace, Aegon, First of His Name, and by the decree forged in ice and fire, you are also Princess Sansa Stark." He bowed deeply to her and left her befuddled.
It took Howland Reed a day to put together what Catelyn Stark would need for the next part of her journey. In all that time, she stayed in her room or in the company of Howland or Maege Mormont. When she was ready to depart Castle Black, they were seen off by Lady Maege, but also by Ser Alliser.
The latter came up to her horse, his cold eyes almost freezing her in place. "When you fail, know that I warned you. Lord Snow will not go through with these plans. He is too honorable to break his vows," the man said.
"They were vows taken without knowledge of what he has given up," she reminded him. Then Catelyn whispered in his ear. "He will take his rightful place on the Iron Throne. This I know." But even as she said that fear crept into her heart. She had not forgotten the dream out of her mind, of Jon, dead in the snow.
Halfway to the coast, Catelyn asked Howland, "You said you have had these dreams before, correct my lord?"
"Aye, my lady," he confirmed.
"Have any of the dreams you had not come to pass? Did you see something but the exact opposite happen?"
Howland did not answer for a time until he said, "I do not have such great ability with this power, you understand?" Then he looked at her and must have seen something in her face. "You said you saw Jon lying in the snow? I fear I know what it is you meant. You want to know if that will come to pass." She merely nodded, and he let out a sigh. Jojen came to me, one morning, not too long ago. He said he had seen Lord Eddard at the Sept of Baelor, making a public confession. He said the king had promised mercy, but after your husband admitted to the crimes he had not committed, Joffrey call for his head. I did not want to believe my son, I had the same hope you have about Jon."
"And yet, it came to pass," she concluded sadly. She had read the raven scroll with the news of her husband's execution. She had not known mercy had been agreed to, but of course, knew how the event had ended. Thinking about her dream, of Jon's death, made her laugh bitterly. "There was a time I prayed for his death. And yet, I saw myself weeping over his body, imploring any gods that would listen to undo it."
"Gods work in ways we cannot fathom." Howland tried to comfort her, but the guilt from all those years ago reared its head back to her.
They finally made it to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea late one night, and Lady Stark was shocked by the state of it. Even in the dark, she could tell the only thing that seemed to save this keep from complete desolation was the fact that it had a small port. There were more people here, other than the Night's Watch.
They found a small tavern and Howland saw her inside. He spoke to the innkeeper and handed over some coin for her stay "I am sorry, but this is where we must part." She wanted to protest but stopped herself. He smiled weakly, having probably expected it. "I wish you safe travels. And I promise you, my lady, we shall see each other again."
"Have you seen this?" she asked.
He laughed but did not reply. He only took her hand and kissed it, before opening the door to the inn. When he was gone, she turned to look at her surroundings. The people gathered in the tavern were a motley mix of black brothers, foreign sailors, and men and women in rough clothes. But the owner was kind and showed her to her room. He told her the amount given over by Lord Reed was enough for a few days and nights, then told her when meals were served and bid her a good night.
She decided it was safer to stay in her room, even though she felt oddly more comfortable here than at Castle Black. Also, she was tired from the days of journeying from Castle Black. It wasn't until sunlight streamed through her window that she awoke the next day. Washing and going to get something to eat was her next priorities, then she was determined to seek out who it was who would join her.
When she finished her food, she made her way to the door. "Where are you going?" the man behind the bar called out to her.
Catelyn turned to him. "I need to get some fresh air," she told him.
"'Tis dangerous out there for a woman and one on her own," he replied.
"I thank you for your concern, but I will only be out for a short time," she informed him.
He did not seem convinced. Coming over to her, he handed her a knife. "Milady, if you are bullheaded enough to go out there, I ask you to take this. The man who traveled here with you begged me to ensure your safety."
That made her smile. Taking the knife, she thanked him and went outside. The air was crisp as winter was coming faster here than any part of Westeros. However, all those years of living at Winterfell helped her in coping with the climate. She wrapped her cloak tighter, helping her to not feel the bitterness so much.
Eastwatch didn't look much better in the daylight, Catelyn realized as she walked around the village just outside the gates. There were a few stalls selling different kinds of fish and even a few that looked to be Essossi spice traders. She stopped at on to take in the exotic scents when she heard a commotion heading her way. Catelyn put the hood of her cloak up to try and be less noticeable, but one of the men in the group must have spotted her.
"Pretty lady in fine cloak," he said, his words slurred and his mouth smelling of ale. "Must have imported some fancy whores up here. Give the brothel a different look."
She moved to the side, trying to get away from the man. At the last moment, however, he grabbed her arm and yanked it so hard, she nearly stumbled. "Unhand me!" she cried out.
"Not gonna be able to afford you later, so I want to try you now," he said. "Lookie here, boys! Free woman!" His words brought others of his party to her.
She struggled to grab the knife the barkeep gave her, but her other wrist was seized by the brigand. "A fighter, eh? I like a woman with spunk!" he cheered as he began dragging her to the back of a building. He whirled her around, ready to trap her against the wall when someone stepped in between the would-be rapist and his compatriots.
"Unhand the lady," came a southron-accented voice, clear and strong. The drunk turned around. When he moved his head, Catelyn could see an older, wrinkled face, wisps of grey hair and a near white beard and mustache.
The attacker laughed. "You want her? You can't even get it up for a woman! What'd you do with her?"
The other man just stood there as the others approached. She saw a sword being lifted from its scabbard. "Behind-!"
She didn't even get the second word out when the rescuer, in one motion, lifted his sword and gracefully turned on his toes, bringing his weapon down in one motion. All she saw was blood and a hand fall to the ground before looking up and seeing the man trying to stop the blood from spitting out of his stump. Another turn and a second man was on the ground with his tunic getting soaked from the blood seeping out of his chest.
Two others in the group had the good sense to run after that, but Catelyn's captor remained. "Think your good with that thing, eh?" He shoved Catelyn to the ground and pulled out a pair of knives. "Grandpa, I've killed more men with these here than any man with a sword."
"I doubt that," was the answer as he moved out of the way of one of the weapons. Another movement and the swordsman sliced at the brigand's upper arm. He snarled in rage at that cut and went after his opponent with more ferocity. But for an older man, he was far from slow or sluggish. His quick feints finally found their mark as his sword went through the attacker's heart, killing him instantly.
Catelyn watched in horror as it all transpired and even though she had been saved by this man, still she didn't know who he was. But then he reached for her hand and pulled back his hood, revealing his identity. "Ser Barristan Selmy!" she gasped out.
"Lady Catelyn Stark?" He didn't seem to realize who it was he had just rescued.
But Catelyn remembered Howland Reed's words, "It was his loss that led an event of great gossip, of the first crowning of a Stark." She nodded before telling him. "It has been many years since last I saw you. I was but a girl then, at Harrenhal."
Recognition surely flashed in his eyes. "You and your sister looked lovesick when the Prince rode past you," he replied. Then he looked from side to side. "My lady, I do not think this is the best place to have such a discussion. Perhaps there is somewhere else we can retire to?"
"I arrived last night and was put up in a tavern around the corner. We can speak there," she said.
"Would that be safe?"
Catelyn smiled. "I believe my companion who brought me here paid extra for discretion, so we should be fine."
He bowed to her. "Then lead the way, Lady Stark."
