Another rewrite, although this one is more for spelling error than anything. Proofreading isn't one of my strong suits :p

Sansa Stark sat in her room, looking out of her window and up to the moon that shone so brightly over Blackwater Bay. It had been a number of days since the riots had occurred, yet many of the city's residence were still unruly. The Gold Cloaks had been highly active in suppressing the riots by orders of Lord Tyrion. They had been a brutal thing, taking the life of one of the queen's cousins, as well as Preston Greenfield, one of Joffrey's Kingsguard. Sansa had felt especially sorry for Lollys Stokeworth, who had her dignity taken by half a hundred men. Men who would have taken Sansa's dignity and rape her, had it not been for the Hound saving her.

But the memories of the riot were distant to Sansa right now. As she looked down upon the rocky waves of the bay, she saw the faded shadow of a ship that had once sailed out of the harbor. It brandish a number of flags which portrayed a silver moon on a dark blue backdrop. Olyvar, I'm so sorry. Even after he had given his forgiveness when they had met outside of the walls of King's Landing, Sansa could not help but to continue feeling guilt. It was her fault that her father died, it was her fault that this war ever began. All for her golden prince and the glowing aura he had possessed before he saw fit to kill her father.

Arya was right. I'm so stupid. The memories of her family continued to haunt her throughout her days held captive in the Red Keep. Her father's head, proudly displayed by Joffrey until Lord Tyrion had come to court. Arya, who had escaped the clutches of the Lannisters to an unknown fate. Sansa hoped that her sister was still alive. She wanted so badly to apologize for everything.

Her thoughts eventually focused on her brothers. Robb, who was fighting a war to avenge their father and rescue her. Bran, who was acting lord of Winterfell. She had been so happy upon learning that he had woken up, yet so distraught when she had heard that he would be unable to walk again, to be a great knight like he had dreamed of doing. And Rickon, little Rickon. How was he dealing with the war? Would he even remember their father?

A tear fell down her face, but Sansa quickly wiped it away. Even in her moments of privacy, she continued to hold back her sadness out of fear of Joffrey's punishments, despite them being curbed recently by Lord Tyrion. She hated not being able to cry, to express her pain without being brutalized. Without having her dignity stripped from her.

A knock at the door broke her concentration. She turned, scared as to who might be on the opposite side. "Come in." She said nervously. The door opened slowly, and to her relief it revealed Lord Tyrion and his bodyguard, the sellsword Bronn.

"Lady Sansa. Forgive the late interruption, but I have something important to discuss with you." The little Lannister seemed to have a troubled look on his face as he spoke, something Sansa was not familiar with seeing. "Bronn, guard the door." The sellsword turned heel and left the room, closing the door behind him as the Hand of the King sat in a chair, using a fire from an already burning candle to light the others.

"Lord Tyrion, I don't believe I understand." Sansa said cautiously as she sat in the chair opposite of him. Olyvar had given his word that Lord Tyrion was trustworthy, but Sansa still held to her suspicions. Everyone in the capital was a liar, why would Tyrion Lannister be an exception?

"No." The dwarf said grimly. "But you will understand the night Stannis attempts to take this city." Sansa looked into the mismatched eyes of the youngest of Lord Tywin's three children. If all she had heard of the Lord of Casterly Rock was true, then Sansa felt it was Tyrion who best resembled his father's intellect. "That will be the night you are free from this prison."

"What?" Sansa could only come up with the word in response, her mouth slightly opened in shock. Was this true? Was she going to be released to Lord Stannis before the battle would begin, perhaps as a peace offering?

"Stannis Baratheon is coming for this city, and the throne that Joffrey sits on." Sansa could hear the venom that Tyrion spoke with as he addressed his nephew. "If he succeeds, it will be the end of us all. Even if you are Olyvar Arryn's cousin, Stannis' men will not care. And that is something I cannot allow to have happen."

"What do you plan to do with me?" Sansa asked. Fear was driving her now. She had heard so many horrible things about Stannis Baratheon, namely the rumor that he burned his enemies in sacrifice to his new, eastern god. But it had to be nonsense. Olyvar would not follow such a man. Would he?

"Nothing will be done to harm you, my lady. I have arranged for you to be smuggled out of the city during the battle. Lord Varys will be assisting me in getting you out."

"Where will I be going?" Sansa asked, hope rising in her chest. There was only one place she wanted to be, and she prayed that it would be the place that would escape Tyrion Lannister's mouth. The hope increased as she saw a small smile stretch across the lord Hand's face.

"First, you will be smuggled to Riverrun, to your brother and mother. From there, I imagine you will be sent home to Winterfell." It was all he needed to say. She rose swiftly from her chair before kneeling down, embracing the man whom had protected her from harm. Olyvar, you were right. Thank the gods, you were right. She felt joy overcome her, an emotion that had become so foreign to her since her father's death. Sansa felt tears washing down her face once more, but she refused to wiped these from her face.

Colemon

"And this one?"

"Ah, the city of Braavos." Colemon looked on as young Robert pointed out the city on a large map he had procured for the boy's lessons. He was so far behind in his studies, but since the removal of Lysa Arryn from power in the Eyrie, the boy had been making impressive strides. "Tell me, do you remember what this city is famous for?"

The boy put his hand to his head and scratched, thinking on the question. He turned to Colemon with a blank look on his face. "The men without faces?"

"A good guess. A correct one at that matter." Colemon ruffled the boy's hair playfully, much to Robert's delight. "Yes, the Faceless Men are said to make their home in Braavos. Is there anything else that we might find in this city?"

Again, the boy looked back to the map, but after only a moment he turned back with an exhilarated look on his face. "The Iron Bank!" The boy's enthusiasm brought a smile to Colemon's face.

"Very good. The Iron Bank is quite famous for the money it loans out." And for how they retrieve their debts. Colemon had heard the whispers of how brutal the bankers were when it came to their gold, the tales of brutality rivaling those of what he had heard was occurring during the war.

"Can we go there soon? After Olyvar gets back?" The child looked to his maester hopefully, almost begging to be met with a positive answer. But it was the assumption that his brother would be returning that made Colemon swell with pride. Robert truly did begin to idolize his brother now that he was no longer coddled. The tales of bravery that had come from the Riverlands and into the Eyrie were admirable, so much so that Robert had begun speaking of how he was going to be a great knight when he was older.

"I'm sure your brother would like to go with you when he returns." Colemon was careful to not answer definitively, but his answer was enough to placate the child, who was beaming once more. "But for now, we must continue our lesson. Let's make our way back to Westeros." Colemon eyed the map for a moment before pointing at a location off the western coast of the continent. "Tell me of these islands."

"Those are the Iron Islands, home to the Ironborn. Our enemies." Although it was not technically true, Colemon silently agreed with his lord's assessment. The news of Theon Greyjoy's treachery was met with outrage and calls for summoning their reserves to send into the North in a liberation attempt. Royce and Colemon, however, had agreed to not yet get involved with the North yet, especially after hearing of the news that Robb Stark and Lord Olyvar had a falling out. They would have to wait for their lord's command after Stannis won the throne. If Stannis won the throne.

"Indeed, but not the enemies that we are focused on. Tell me, who are these enemies that your brother is fighting?"

"The lions of Lannister." Robert moved his finger so that it pointed into the heart of the Westerlands. "Casterly Rock." He moved his finger once more so that it was positioned on the eastern coast of Westeros. "And King's Landing."

"You are learning very quickly, my boy. But it is the Baratheons of King's Landing that we are fighting, not the Lannisters."

"Aren't they bastards though?" Robert looked back to Colemon with a quizzical look on his face. "I've heard the rumors, you know. That all three aren't King Robert's children. That they're the Kingslayer's seed."

"That is what your brother and King Stannis believe. But until we can defeat them completely, Joffrey, his mother and his grandfather will claim him and his siblings to be true Baratheons. They would never admit such a thing." Another pat on the head, met with another curious look. "It has gotten quite late, my lord. It is time for you to rest."

"But Maester, can't I stay up and keep studying?" The boy's sullen face almost made Colemon want to give in. But the boy's physical health was still in a precarious position, and deviating from the norm was not something that should be risked.

"I'm afraid not, my boy. Now go on, your guard is waiting outside to take you back to your quarters." Defeated, the boy made his way across the room, but before he could do so the door opened with Nestor Royce entering.

"Ahh, good evening my young lord. Doing well in your studies I hope?" When the boy nodded at the jubilant question, Lord Royce gave a laugh. "Good, good. That's a lad. Now go on and get to bed." Colemon watched as young Robert left the room, and saw Nestor Royce's face went from happy to serious after the door closed. "We've received a new message from Lord Olyvar."

"Have you read it?" Nestor shook his head as he approached, handing it to Colemon. With a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, the maester began unravelling the note. He recognized the handwriting of his liege, and began reading aloud the contents written on the parchment.

Maester Colemon and Lord Royce

By the time this message comes into your possession, I will be in the heart of the Reach in an attempt to garner favor with the Tyrells. If I am successful, I will be wed to Lady Margaery, Lord Mace's daughter. If I fail with these negotiations, then I will be fighting against the might of the Reach. Should I perish, I will have it known that my brother, Robert, will be my official heir. Both of you shall act as his guardians and regents. Furthermore, I have arrange a deal with Tyrion Lannister…

"The Imp?!" Nestor Royce hissed in disbelief, interrupting Colemon as he was reading the letter. Colemon continued on.

With Tyrion Lannister, who will smuggle my cousin, Sansa Stark, out of the capital in exchange for his life, should he be taken prisoner. King Stannis is aware of my deal, although I am not sure he will honor this agreement. You are to write to Dragonstone and Storm's End to remind him. Should he not comply, and Tyrion Lannister is executed, we will abandon Stannis.

Olyvar Arryn

Colemon looked up to his fellow lord, who was just as perplexed as he was. Secret deals with the enemy? A possible marriage or war with the Tyrells? Abandoning Stannis? What is going on? "Time is of the essence." Colemon stood quickly. "We must obey our lord and write to King Stannis."

"It's not that I am concern about. What does he mean when he says abandon Stannis?" Colemon could not find an answer to this question. Lord Olyvar had held true to Stannis Baratheon's claim for the entirety of the war, even putting aside the love he held for his family in the North to support his king. But now, only one question ran through Colemon's mind as he and Royce made their way to the ravens; what could have gone wrong for their relationship to sour to the point of Lord Olyvar to consider betraying Stannis?