Sansa

II

The few miles outside of the city and the way up had been like traveling through a fog that grew progressively thicker as you went, although it wasn't a fog, it was the stench of King's Landing that Sansa had remembered hating so much, that same smell which made her turn away on instinct. Though now, it wasn't alone, the smell danced with the scent of fires and burnt men and burnt buildings. The same smell hung in the air that Sansa knew to be wildfire. She had smelled it that night of the blackwater and would never forget it.

It was a musky smell, almost like oil, but more putrid and sharp. It smells green, Sansa thought. Though not the lush and lively green of grasses and forests and some fruits, but the vibrant green that reminded her of what one retched up when there was nothing left in their stomach to vomit out. The smell couldn't have prepared her for the sight. King's Landing was now a burnt, shriveled husk of its former self. Only pockets of the city remained; the three high hills, though in truth only Aegon's looked to still be standing, the other two looked as though the earth beneath them had erupted like a volcano and fell back down to create small hills littered everywhere. Only the northeastern corner of the city looked to still stand other than that, and Sansa could see what would now be about a moon's turn worth of these people making camp and erecting their crude structures to sleep and eat in.

Where is their queen? Sansa thought to herself. Daenerys should be out here helping them, she should be flying to every castle pleading for help, so why does her dragon lay curled up outside of the gate and why does the city not seem half as loud as it should if their queen was amongst them, giving them hope and aid.

Sansa remembered the days where she thought she would be queen. If she were queen, she would make them love her. The woman's heart may have been well intended once, but it was plain to see now that she had tunnel vision and only cared for power. She was no different than the players Sansa had known since she was in King's Landing. Cersei, Varys, Littlefinger, Stannis, Renly, even Tyrion, they were all the same, feeding into the cycle of power that preyed on the innocent. Hopefully, though, things would change with this council.

Cersei, Sansa thought once more, her thoughts trailing back to the woman who had ruined her life. She'd hoped to see the woman's execution but after what happened, Sansa imagined it was better she wasn't here.

The men above the gates shouted to one another and opened the large doors that Sansa had crossed through what felt like a hundred years ago. There were Unsullied and Dothraki guarding the streets as Sansa's procession made its way into the city with some Riverlanders, Crownlanders, Northmen, and Knights of the Vale scattered throughout, serving as guard. The latter began to cling to her procession as she made her way and Sansa needed only to turn around on her horse to see that perhaps three hundred or more had joined them.

She smiled to herself and gripped the reins tighter, looking out on the people that lined the streets. There were of course children running about and men and women with their stalls and their wagons selling whatever they had to offer. So many of the people before her were covered with burns, Sansa realized. One man had half of his face burned in a way that reminded her of the Hound. The hair had burned away there and the hair on the other side appeared to have almost melted into the flesh on the other side of the man's face.

The rest of the way had been much of the same, with the scars of war set out before them, still fresh and bleeding like so many wounds. They were trying to rebuild, trying to gain some semblance of normalcy, Sansa could see with their makeshift encampments and hovels, but their foundation was rubble and ash. A proper encampment could be seen atop Visenya's hill, even from the bottom of it as Sansa's party proceeded uphill. She could see a group of people awaiting them at the entrance of the encampment and knew that one of them was Jon. He would not be happy with her, but it was still her brother, he wouldn't see her differently, she was sure of it.

"Lady Sansa," Jon smiled and nodded, though it was almost stiff, she could tell. "I hope that the roads were kind."

"They were, though the winds were not. I fear it may still be winter." There was no time to ask Jon why he was being so formal with her, not in front of everyone. "It is good to see you as well, Lord Davos."

She curtsied to both and made her way into the encampment, nodding and smiling at many as she passed along. There was a designated area already prepared for them, complete with the direwolf banners of her house. She looked for Arya, hoping to see her somewhere, though Sansa knew that if Arya was there, she would have been waiting with Jon and Davos. The sound of a man clearing his throat took her from her thoughts and she turned to see Tyrion standing a yard away.

"It is good to see you, my lady. You look beautiful." He smiled at her and she wasn't sure if he was being genuine or mocking her.

"Thank you, my lord. You look handsome as always."

"Oh, enough of that, Sansa." He laughed a bit, and she was able to relax, at least some things had not changed. "We've gotten your tent already prepared, we've been waiting for you. Would you come with me? Your men will be separated accordingly into the camps we have for soldiers."

She turned and nodded to Lords Manderly and Glover, who turned away and began to discuss those plans with some other Northmen that must have been with Jon. Sansa turned and followed Tyrion into the tent, looking up at the Stark banner as she walked under it.

"How are you, really?"

"Jon is being oddly formal with me, and I can not figure out why. I have to garner support for this trial, and in truth, I'm not sure Bran is capable of ruling Winterfell in my stead. Brienne is a knight, not a lady, she can not handle that responsibility."

"Nor can you handle the responsibility of so many things at once." He put his hand on hers. "Not by yourself, anyway."

She stared into those mismatched eyes that had made her feel so many things over the years. Fear, hatred, even safety, though now when she looked into them all she felt was confusion bubbling up to the surface and being blocked there as though by some cruel god who enjoyed seeing her squirm in confusion.

"Thank you, Tyrion, you are kind to say so."

"Wise to say so, I would think." He smiled to himself like he was the cleverest man to ever live. "Your first two marriages need not scare you from a third. You are still young and beautiful, and if I may say so, my lady, the only member of your house likely to have any children named Stark."

"My sister may yet surprise us. Speaking of Arya, is she running about somewhere here? I was hoping to see her, she left Winterfell with the Hound when the rest of you did, though it doesn't look like she is here." Sansa was trying to ignore the pounding in her chest but she knew what happened to so many Starks that had gone south, if Arya were to die…

"I've heard no word of your sister being here, but the Hound was seen. He died in the fires." Her breath caught in her throat and the world spun around her for a moment. "Was there anywhere else she may have gone?"

"She could be anywhere," Or maybe she died in the fires as well. "She could have left Westeros altogether, or perhaps she's checking names off her list."

"List?" His brows furrowed, though she hardly noticed. "I can ask-

"Thank you for your time, Tyrion, I must be on my way." She gave him no time to finish his thought, her mind focused only on her sister.

Sansa's thoughts had been only a consolation, she knew better almost immediately. If Arya were not here, chances are she was dead. She pushed out of the tent and looked every which way, locating the maester and the Northman who had accompanied her. With a few quick sentences, she had the lot of them going out to give orders for a search for Arya while the maester would be sending ravens when possible to a large cluster of lords. These ravens would tell them that should they hear any word of Arya, they would inform her immediately for a reward.

Her heart was racing, only surpassed by her mind. Soon, one foot was in front of the other, and she was walking towards the docks to see if anything could be found there. The city was more and the same along the way, a healing wound, though festered and angry, it was healing all the same.

The docks were made of fresh, raw wood. There had been no time to use anything but. The wood was likely from the Kingswood itself, Sansa imagined. There were ships scattered along the coastline, with different banners all throughout. There were the Velaryons of Driftmark, some of the Manderly ships that had arrived ahead of her, Gulltown ships, and some others she didn't quite recognize. Though more numerous than all combined were the black and gold Greyjoy sails. They had arrived a few days past, she had heard, and now it seemed that Yara had taken control over the docks and was building them anew. They had little other choice, however, if they hoped to make King's Landing a port ever again.

The birds were beginning to return to the bay, though in thin flocks, still hesitant of the city of ashes.

"Lady Sansa!" She heard a woman's shout, deep and commanding.

A woman swaggered forward dressed the same as the rest of the ironborn, though by her demeanor and the way that the others looked at her as she walked by, she could only be Yara. Sansa's hand immediately went to the pockets of her coat, pulling out the pin that she had found herself staring at every night. Parting with it seemed almost impossible, though she knew this day would come. How had it come already? There had to be something else that she could give her. Anything.

"Lady Yara, it is good to finally meet you." She curtsied before the woman who had her hand extended. "I'm not accustomed to hand shakes, that is a man's custom here on the mainland."

"You green folks and your courtesies," Yara laughed, though not mockingly. "I understand you were more of a sister to my brother than I was. I thank you for that. He wanted to fight and die for you, he told me as much when he rescued me from my uncle. He paid the iron price in the end, and for that he will swim beneath the watery halls of our god. What is dead may never die." She clasped her hand over her heart and closed her eyes.

"I brought this for you. I had one made for his body to be burned with, though I brought his own to give to you." In truth, she could not bear to burn it with his body, and so she had given him the wolf. She pulled out the kraken broach with trembling hands. "He died with honor."

"Thank you, my lady. I will not forget this." The woman walked away, and she could sense that Yara needed the day to herself. Sansa imagined she may need the same.