Sansa carefully wove her pearls into her hair, she was very careful to use twists but not braids, braids would make Viserys angry. She untangled her necklaces, then adjusted the ornate silver cuffs that sat just below her knees. She rearranged the silver chains that wrapped around her calves in different patterns, attaching them to different points on the silver ankle cuffs. She checked her toe rings, and the rings on her fingers, the bracelets on her arms… Dothraki did not believe in money, these were her wealth, and Illyrio had taught her to trade them sparingly. If she still had the harp she could have traded songs, but Viserys had destroyed it out of jealousy. She wondered, when they reached Vaes Dothrak, how many chains a new dress would cost?
The afternoons and evenings seemed long now that she no longer had her harp, and she saw their place at the feast moving further and further away from Khal Drogo, that wasn't good! Why couldn't Viserys see that she had been trying to help him?! She had worked so hard! Playing even when her fingers ached. Daenerys had tried to help by inviting Sansa to join her, but that had only made Viserys angry as well, she was not a hand maiden. Why couldn't Viserys see that if she was to be a queen first she had to earn it? Yet even Viserys had turned his attention from her, spending more and more time with the Lysene whore.
One afternoon, while Doreah was 'helping' Viserys with his bath, Sansa found herself wandering the camp alone. She moved towards the horses and watched the new foals with their mothers. Without even really being aware of it she slowly began to hum. She found a place to sit, under the shade of a tree, and slowly humming moved to singing, it wasn't until the song was finished that she realised she was not alone.
Khal Drogo was leaning against the tree she was sitting under, when he spoke his words were soft, as if thinking aloud to himself. "My grandmother used to sing to the horses, they say that her songs made the foals strong." He muttered in Dothraki.
Sansa did not look up at him, or move from her sitting position, she kept her eyes on the foals as she replied. "Some say there is earth magic in music." She replied in perfect Dothraki. "One of my teachers was descended from Old Valyria, he claimed that there had once been harps, with strings of silver, that were powerful enough to control dragons, some say they could even hatch them."
"You… you understand? Then why do you not speak with us?" Khal Drogo asked, surprised.
"It would not please my husband to learn that I can speak the Horse-man's tongue." Sansa replied cautiously. "Were he to catch me now, he would likely beat me for this, as would be his right, although it is difficult to hold my tongue when Jorah twists your words."
"Jorah mistranslates us?" Drogo questioned.
"Frequently," Sansa replied. "He twists the intent of your words, changes commands into requests, statements into questions, it is not Viserys' fault that he doesn't know your ways, he will never understand them while Jorah lies to him to try and keep the peace. Jorah swore an oath to my husband, but he lusts for your wife." She looked up at him this time, his face was unreadable.
Drogo was silent for a long time, but finally he spoke. "It is good that you give me this gift of knowledge, I will give you a gift in return, I will pretend that I do not know you speak our tongue." He said quietly, then he turned and walked away.
Sansa sat watching the foals a little longer, gods, what had she done?! She had not intended to reply to Khal Drogo in Dothraki, the words had just come out. She was so alone, she didn't belong here, out on the great grass sea. She was suddenly angry at Viserys for not taking up Illyrio's invitation to stay in comfort at the Manse, there was no reason for her to be here! Anger moved to desperation, there was no escape, she started to cry.
Nobody came to look for her, eventually she pulled herself together and washed her face, she needed to look strong. The feast had well and truly began when she approached it, and Viserys was already seated, talking and laughing with Ser Jorah. Viserys hardly even glanced her way as she took her seat. For the first time Sansa wondered if anybody would care if she died? Plenty of food was offered, but she did not eat, she avoided the mare's milk, knowing that it would give her substance, and drank only water.
~~/~~
Three days, three days Sansa had eaten nothing, and drunk only water, and Viserys hadn't even noticed, Sansa had never felt so alone. It was late in the afternoon, the riding had stooped for the day and the tents were being pitched. Sansa was walking aimlessly around the camp when she felt the first stab of pain in her stomach. The second wave of pain drove her to her knees and ripped a scream from her mouth, as she moved to stand she realised that there was a wetness running down her legs and blood on her dress. She forced herself to stand, but another wave of pain hit, she stumbled again, this time huge arms caught her, Dothraki arms… She barely made out the face of Haggo, one of Khal Drogo's Bloodriders, before losing consciousness.
She dreamt of Winterfell, the cold snows and the grey walls, but they did not seem so hateful to her now. She wandered the keep, searching, searching… what was she searching for? The keep was empty, the keep had never been empty, but it was empty now. She found herself at the godswood, the heart tree had her father's face, but the tree would not look at her. No matter where she moved the face on the tree moved away from her, she tripped over a root and feel into the black pool. She found herself falling deeper and deeper… drifting into the cold and darkness.
Something dived into the water after her, at first she thought it was a dog, but when she looked more carefully she saw it was a direwolf, white, with red eyes, and she was afraid. The direwolf grabbed her with its jaw and she tried to pull away, yet the animal held her firmly and pulled her up towards the surface. As she climbed out of the pool the direwolf shook itself dry, then changed into a boy, naked and innocent, with dark hair and accusing eyes. Sansa suddenly realised that she was a little girl again.
"Why do you hate me?" The boy, Jon, asked her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sansa whispered. "I was a stupid child and you were easy to blame. All I wanted was my mother…"
"It was my fault though, wasn't it?" The boy-Jon asked. "I know who my mother is now, it was my fault."
"Oh, Jon, I'm so sorry, I wish I could take it back, I wish I could take it all back, I wish I could come home." She hugged him and he hugged her back.
"You can," He whispered. "I'm coming for you, I'm going to bring you home, I promise."
"They don't want me." Sansa whispered.
"You are our blood, there will always be a home for you at Winterfell if you want it." The boy-Jon replied. Slowly he changed from a boy into a young man, handsome and brave. He touched her face. "I will find you, Sansa, I will bring you home."
The dream faded and Sansa's heart almost broke as she found herself in a Dothraki tent, Jhiqui, and two other Dothraki women tending to her.
"Water." She whispered in the common tongue. Jhiqui obeyed, bringing a skin to Sansa's mouth, she tried to sit up and the woman helped her.
"Easy, easy." Jhiqui cautioned. "You have just lost baby, easy now."
Sansa listened and pretended not to understand as Jhiqui instructed one of the other women to tell Khal Drogo and Viserys that she was awake. Sansa listened as the woman talked amongst themselves, believing that she did not understand. She tried to take in what Jhiqui had told her. She had been pregnant, she had miscarried, but she had been pregnant, she could have babies now. A month ago the news might have brought her joy, but now it just left her feeling empty.
~~/~~
The Khalasar moved on, Sansa was not well enough to ride and was put on a cart, Viserys rode on the cart beside her, even though she begged him to return to his horse, she could not make him understand what harm he was causing himself. After three days she could take the disgrace no more and insisted on returning to her horse, against the advice of the hairless men and the birthing women. Viserys had tried to convince her to stay on the cart a little longer, but that was for the weak and the old, he rode beside her, and his presence gave her strength.
Her blood had been heavy and painful, but she was a maid flowered now, and Viserys' interest in her seemed renewed. He was gentle, even kind. He was attentive, making sure that she ate and drank. Her sweet prince, how could she have ever been angry at him? He allowed her to spend time with Daenerys and her hand maidens in the afternoons, after the riding was done. Daenerys was kind, but oblivious, her belly was swollen with child, and she seemed ignorant of the pain that constantly talking about her baby caused Sansa. At least she allowed Sansa to handle the dragon eggs, somehow they brought her peace.
It became ritual that Sansa would set up the dragon eggs and other things around the tent while Daenerys bathed, then fresh water would be heated for Sansa and she would have her turn to bathe. The hand maidens would then tend to her skin as they did Daenerys's, it was nice to have her skin rubbed with oils. In time Sansa managed to convince Daenerys to start joining the feast more often. After a few weeks Daenerys was joining the feast every night, and Sansa and Viserys' place had raised again. Hope had returned to Sansa, they would get their army, and when they returned to Westeros it would be her family begging her to save them, not the other way around.
~~/~~