The attack against her happened when and where they least expected it; not in a Castle but at an Inn.
Everything started with a horse whining well after midnight, which woke him up. He didn't know why he couldn't ignore the noise as he tried to fall back asleep; instead, he walked to the window and saw a surprising number of men walking and sneaking to the place through the front door.
That night in particular he had felt too tired and he had left two of his men posted on her door along with her guards. He had gone to bed with his clothes on and the only thing he thought of doing was putting on his shoes and grabbing the sword before rushing to her room.
"Something's going on downstairs," he explained to Jacob, who immediately sent a man to check. The guard hadn't made it to the end of the hall when they heard screaming from down below. Right away all but two guards left them to cover the hall.
Podrick opened her door and found her standing even before he could utter a word. Their eyes found each other; hers were wide and filled with panic. He signaled for her to be quiet and he saw her trying to pick her clothes up but they had no time to lose.
Not caring that she was only wearing a robe, he took her by the arm and swiftly dragged her with him; Sansa managed to take her coat, which was on a chair on the way out. As they ran out she saw her men guarding their rear as two guards followed them. Some paces ahead, they met Lord Harry who signaled them to continue along the corridor.
Podrick was sweating profusely as he was careful to be silent as they walked through the place, but when they reached the second floor through a passageway meant for the servants, they were caught. They ran away in the darkness as her Guards and other soldiers appeared to try to stop their attackers. He took her hand and they descended another floor rushing her even more.
Suddenly, they opened a door and two men turned towards them. Time seemed to stop as they were recognized; the men looked at her, then at him and her again. And Podrick assessed their weapons with a quick glance. He felt her tugging at his hand to go back but it was too late. The worst thing they could do was turn their backs on them and get backed into a corner.
He let go of her without thinking about the enemies that could have been following them and heard something as Lord Harry appeared beside them; there was also the sounds of steps rushing to them and Jacob's voice. Seeing Lord Harry throwing himself at the enemies ahead, he realized that what was behind them was far worse.
For now, the priority was dealing with the ones in front of them. He joined in the Lord's attack after seeing one of the enemies easily blocking his attack. This time everything happened in a rush, he went outside and waited with his sword held firmly in his hands for the first man to approach him, to lunge at him, his senses at the ready. Podrick didn't even realize how he defeated him, his focus was on regaining his balance and blocking the sword that grazed his neck.
Taking advantage of his opponent's bad stance, Podrick kicked him between the legs and though he found armor, it wasn't too thick as the man doubled oven in pain while screams of "Run! Run now!" rang in the air.
Podrick swung his sword and assuming he had killed the man, lifted his eyes to see her run past him in a blind panic while men tried to follow as her Guard, Lord Harry and other soldiers tried to block the way of about ten enemies. Podrick followed her with his eyes realizing he was the last man in the defense line, and he got in the way of one of the men who skipped over their defenses, cutting him off and earning her a few seconds of advantage.
It was pouring rain, there was a thunderstorm, which was the only reason why no one heard the screaming as their enemies flooded out and she disappeared in the total darkness. He made to follow her but his arm was suddenly hit with immense pain.
Sansa didn't know where she was going; she was running as fast as her legs would carry her. She kept stumbling and tripping, her shoes weren't made for this. She kept glancing back but didn't see anyone following her. She needed a weapon, a sword or a knife. She never stopped and though her coat protected her form the rain it kept getting heavier and making her slower.
A building suddenly became visible through the fog and darkness but it didn't seem wise to go into it. Further along, she lost her balance and fell, she slid and tumbled down a hill, making herself into a ball to protect her head from being hit, though thankfully the mud made the fall feel softer than under normal circumstances.
When the world stopped spinning she struggled to stand as she felt dizzy and lost. She tried to take a step and pain shot through her from her ankle but she knew she couldn't sit there and wait to be rescued, so she struggled and moaned through the pain to take the firsts steps. With great effort she limped her way without direction noticing that the pain got better as her foot got warmer; she also noticed she lost the coat somewhere but she wouldn't go back for if even if the cold started to get to her.
A while later, she found herself standing in front of a road barely illuminated by the full moon, half hidden between the clouds. There were about twelve or fifteen battered houses along each side of the road, at least they looked abandoned. She immediately acted. The Green Door. Without hesitation, without thinking, she ran towards that house in the middle of the street.
The only color to her in that moment was the green on that door.
The door opened as soon as she turned the knob and she silently pushed her way inside with her shoulder. The only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat, her breath and the rain falling on her since part of the roof had collapsed who knows how long ago. The state of the place made it even more evident that it was abandoned.
Several feet right in front of the entrance and facing a corridor there was another green door. All of the sudden she heard noises outside so she went straight to the door and realized that instead of a small room, it led to a closet or a cupboard. She locked herself inside of it as she tried to pick up on the noises outside. Moments later she heard the door opening and then screaming; orders being shouted from the street.
The sounds of screaming and swords striking against each other flooded the place. It was difficult but Podrick managed to get rid of one of his attackers and when he realized he was free but that the massacre continued, he decided to go into the direction where Her Grace went. As he ran he looked at his arm and realized that the wound, though open, wasn't too big, he wouldn't have been wounded if he had been wearing armor.
He ran blindly taking notice of whether he was leaving a bloody trail but the darkness made it impossible to tell, he imagined the rain would erase any evidence on the mud as it had erased any track she would have left to tell him where she went. After some time he felt he was being followed and he turned to find Lord Harry bleeding from either his head or face, he couldn't tell, "I don't know where she went." he admitted.
Lord Harry was a seasoned hunter and he looked to the ground, not finding tracks or any broken sticks to signal her passing; he would have liked to have a torch too, along with more time and patience. Nothing left to do but leave it to chance, "I'll go that way." She had seemed to vanish somewhere in that direction but he wasn't sure.
Podrick nodded and went left, no clear destination in mind. As he went, he looked for clues but he couldn't find anything in the dark, though he wasn't giving up. He slipped down several times but he continued quickly and carefully.
Where could she be? Which way did she go?Suddenly he stopped as he reached a small town, everything was dark. She wasn't stupid; she wouldn't hide in the first place she had come across.He was about to pass by when, from the corner of his eye he saw a ghostly movement in the air near the end of the road; he turned and saw that there was nothing there, nothing but a door.
A fucking green door! He immediately ran towards it, feeling the distance growing and that he'd never be able to reach it.
As he grew near, Podrick saw a flock of three black ravens that were standing on the roof of the house took flight again, were they the flash of movement that caught his attention? No, that wasn't it; he thought he had seen her skirt flapping in the air.
He hadn't finished closing the door when he heard screaming outside. Men ordering others to find her. Had they seen him? And the voices were so close there was no chance of escaping! He grabbed his sword in fear, took a deep breath and for a few seconds that he perceived as the lasts of his life, he went deeper into the living room seeking refuge, he was about to turn back and face the door and his attacker when he saw another green door in front of him.
Sansa thought everything was lost when she saw that the door was opening; she immediately flung herself at whoever was on the other side, throwing punches; one hitting a chin and another a shoulder but she was promptly stopped and strongly and cruelly held by her wrists, though as she struggled, she realized it was Ser Podrick holding her while hissing in a low voice Ma'am, Ma'am, Ma'am they're outside, so she quickly stopped and he released her. Lighting stroke through the darkness and she saw blood on his shirt. Without a word, he swiftly pushed her inside with his body.
He was holding his sword in one hand and closing the door behind him with the other. He found himself looking into Her Grace's eyes through the darkness. In his search for safety he pushed her further into the room but he felt her body push-up against his, letting him know that the small space wouldn't leave much room for moving, she barely moved an inch back, it just wasn't enough.
He stopped moving because he feared that the old wood would creak. "Are you hurt?" he whispered as he tried to take the sword with his other hand. He couldn't hear her reply but he felt her slightly shake her head.
They were both afraid, their hearts galloping in their chests. Their own breathing sounded too loud to their ears.
Sansa startled when the door of the house opened and they heard orders to continue to look for her down the road.
Podrick lowered his head to speak to her as low as possible, almost against her ear, "don't breathe so loud," he asked and he felt her nodding. He straightened up again.
They could tell that two or three men remained in the house by the way in which the wood creaked from their weight as they walked. Torchlight suddenly filtered in through the closet from a hole in the door. At least the hole was above their heads.
He looked at her when he felt her taking his hand as the steps neared their hiding spot, in turn, he gripped the sword's hilt harder wishing he was better positioned in case the door was opened, but there was no room to do it. Podrick closed his eyes imagining the man stabbing his sword through the rotten wood instead of just opening the door.
As the steps continued on to the hallway and then from behind them, she gripped his hand harder and harder. The smell of alcohol suddenly reached Podrick's nose and he gave her a surprised look but he couldn't dwell on that thought since dust started falling over their heads; one of the men was standing right above them on the second floor.
A silence that felt like an eternity fell upon them and he studied her in the shadows, the shape of her head against the wall, her eyes closed and her lips moving. Praying, perhaps. Podrick also closed his eyes and slowed his breathing as he tried to vanish the thought of his life, regrets and anything that could take his focus away from this moment and the men outside.
He didn't know what was worse, the silence or the men's steps. He felt her eyes on him and he searched for her stare, which reminded him of her soft and cold hand on his, so he started squeezing it rhythmically to give her a false sense of bravery. Bravery he didn't possess.
She nodded at him. Knowing they were trapped and that there wouldn't be much to do, they just kept staring at each other.
If by any chance they managed to get rid of the two men, the ones outside would catch them.
The wood started creaking again.
'Let's go, there's no one here.'
'Are you sure no one had come in before you entered?'
'…I think so.'
'You think or you know?'
I know.
Both Podrick and Sansa were able to hear the hesitation in the man's voice.
Sansa tensed up as she wondered if her and Podrick's wet clothes were leaving a puddle under them in that moment; there was an old carpet and the water would reach it at any minute, if it hadn't, already.
All of the sudden a curse was heard followed by several strikes before a final louder one. Then, more steps, another curse and the door closing again. There was moaning and gargling. Podrick could tell the man was painfully drowning in his own blood.
They heard noises but they couldn't tell what they meant; maybe it was the same person crawling. When suddenly, the lower part or the door started getting slapped; Sansa was quicker to act letting him go and grabbing the handle at the same time as the person outside tried to use it to open the door or to stand up.
Since Podrick was wary of the man pushing his sword through the door, he placed his hand on hers making her release the handle as he gripped his sword with the other ready to strike. He just didn't know where.
Taking a final breath he let go of the handle and the door opened a little. With one hand, he tried to push her away as subtly as he could as the shadow was visible and the choked moan could be heard. He acted on instinct knowing what had to be done; he pushed the door open with a single violent shove to get out and pushed the sword through the man's neck before he could even react.
The man, who had been struggling to kneel, fell to the side as he tried to take a few breaths before bleeding out. After a moment Podrick went to reach for the man but she took him by the arm, stopping him. "I can't leave him here. That would give us away if they come back," he whispered and he felt her hesitating before letting him go.
Podrick stepped out completely and after making sure that the man was dead –not that it was possible to survive that– he handed her his sword to hold.
Sansa looked intently at the puddle of blood growing under the man and she looked at him trying to recognize him but she couldn't. "... Neither his armor nor his clothes bear any sigil," was the only thing she said.
Of course they don't. With an effort that caused his wound to open a little more, he dragged the man into the hall to make it seem like he had continued crawling when the green door hadn't opened.
When he straightened, and looked to the front door he noticed where the men had left the torch, but what he really saw in the dancing shadows left by the light were the scars along her naked arms.
He could see that two or three that had required stitching had been treated neatly. The longest one was about 3 or 4 inches long before getting lost in the robe's sleeve. He felt himself taking in a shocked breath, one of Joffrey's guards? Joffrey? Ramsay?
He went back to her and she turned to him and now he got to study her arms from the front where there were some more scars, barely visible to him; they seemed to be scratches without a lot of space between them on her on her upper arms.
She could tell what he was doing and it made her uncomfortable so she immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest, which made him take notice of the bluish robe she was wearing; it was soaking wet and almost transparent. He lowered his eyes and subtly looked at her curves even though he tried not to but the upper part of her body looked as though she was naked; he couldn't ignore her heavy breasts, her hard nipples, her slim abdomen, her waist, and her thighs.
Avoiding her eyes, and with the image of her perfect body printed in his mind, he walked to a table and removed the threadbare tablecloth and returned to place it on her shoulders to cover her, "are you certain you aren't hurt?" he asked seeing blood in the lower part of her robe. Realizing that she didn't notice his disrespectful, lustful stare calmed him down a bit but in his mind he could see Brienne scolding him for it, and a part of him was doing it too, it was unbecoming of a Knight.
She shook her head and wrapped the tablecloth tighter as a blast of wind coming from the roof made her realize she was shaking from the cold, "... It's not mine." She assumed it was his, "we can't leave," she stated when he stood in front of her, "We're safer here than outside."
Feeling more pain than before, he took the sword from her and placing his hand on her back, guided her deeper in the hallway to be concealed from the torchlight in case a passerby could discover them.
He handed her a knife, "Ma'am, cut my sleeve off, I need a tourniquet."
He wasn't too sure that she was paying attention to him because she seemed petrified and looking at the horizon. The smell of alcohol still present had him wondering if the fright had vanished her hangover. That's when he realized that maybe asking her to cut off the sleeve might not be the smartest thing if she had been drinking that night.
But after he spoke, she set to task and he asked "how long before your men on our next stop realize you're missing?" When would they start worrying because there were no signs of the Queen's retinue?
"...Eight, ten hours." She answered, really seeing the wound in his arm. She knew it was there but seeing the open skin, the muscle and the blood flowing shocked her and him too, she realized.
She didn't know how she did it but she helped him wrap the sleeve around the wound. He moaned with pain as she tightened it more and she didn't know if that would even help or not.
They couldn't stay there for half a day. They heard voices in the street so they went back to the small cupboard and she found herself squeezed between the wall and Podrick once more.
They remained in that position, pushed against each other and staring into each other's eyes as they honed in their senses. This time he felt her trembling against him, from cold or fear it was anyone's guess and he felt that his hand was on her back, on top of her wet robe so he wordlessly extracted it from under the makeshift cover and put it on top of it instead. Minutes later, when it was evident there was no one around, he put some space between them, not that there was a lot of room, but they didn't step out of the cupboard again.
It wasn't easy to take stock of time when there was so much tension and in the dark. Podrick felt the time passing as he continues debating with himself about the best course of action.
After a long while she felt him nodding off, "the blood loss?" she whispered.
She took him by the wrist and caressed him as she softly asked the question, making him blush and his blood boil, it definitely wasn't blood loss. He shook his head in answer and to shake away the image of her in her wet robe that suddenly came to his mind. "I was falling asleep," or that's what he assumed.
She grumbled annoyed and she released him. How could he fall asleep at a time like that?
"You learn how to when you're a soldier," he answered as though reading her mind, "...a job thing." He breathed deeply, "These wet clothes aren't helping." They'd catch something from the didn't reply and after a while he spoke again, "You were drinking last night, Ma'am..." it wasn't a question.
She felt herself blushing since she was well aware that she had overdone it, she had drunk more than she was used to, "...Yes." she answered curtly and without explanations.
Podrick realized she didn't want to talk about it but it was quite important to know if she was alert and of sound mind, it could save their lives, "how drunk are you?"
Saying she felt defensive was understating it, "I'm not," she replied "...with such a fright, any buzz I might have had went away..."
Podrick nodded concerned by the situation and about her. He had noticed that she was drinking more than she had when she was only a lady, but he had brushed it off as her wanting to relax now that she had so much pressure on her... but the scars he didn't know she had until a few hours ago were a new factor to consider.
Her drinking alone after shutting herself in her room was a surprising realization in itself... he wondered if it had become a habit and how much she drank to be able to conceal it the next morning... the rare times when she slept in.
Sansa sighed as she felt him tensing beside her; she didn't want to reveal that sometimes a drink, or several, were the only way for her to find sleep. And she preferred drinking wine to the potions her Maesters sometimes gave her that left her heavily hazy through the next day.
This morning she was particularly thankful that she hadn't taken a potion. "...It was just a bad night that left me wishing to forget it all... I have told you that these outings make me anxious for my safety." she offered that for his peace of mind, so that he wouldn't go digging deeper.
Podrick turned to look at her intently; he could understand that, "…do you wish to forget it all often, Ma'am?" He dared asked further.
Sansa exhaled, "I'm not Lord Tyrion," she said putting the matter to rest. Lord Tyrion had a drinking problem, she didn't.
Podrick stuttered for a few seconds knowing that that was true and realizing that if he kept on pushing her, he'd make her more than just uncomfortable. He would talk about this with Jacob... if they survived, his mind added. Anyway, this wasn't the time for it.
Silence enveloped them and after a while he put his forehead against the door trying to focus, trying to wait for longer, until he felt that it was sensible to step out of their hiding spot and after a long long while, he opened the door again.
He saw that the sun was raising and that the torchlight had gone out, which meant that two or three hours had passed since everything begun. "I'm going to put on that man's clothes and armor and I'll go out to see what's going on," he let her know. "You stay here. It'll be alright."
"No!" she exclaimed taking him by the arm to stop him, "It's dangerous and I don't want to be left alone."
"...We can't stay locked in here not knowing what's happening."
"...We're safe here." she insisted.
"Until they regroup when they can't find us. Until they start suspecting we might still be nearby and they send another group to check. And that's if they haven't already!"
Her attackers had gotten time to regroup if they had indeed defeated the Queensguard and her soldiers, which seemed to be what had happened since they weren't able to make it to this place to look for them.
Sansa sighed, "...leaving is a bad idea, Podrick."
"Do you have a better idea? Other than staying?" he went to leave but she pulled on his arm with more force than he imagined her having.
"Staying is the best idea. Listen to me!" she felt herself losing the little patience and calm she had been pretending to have.
"I'm slowly bleeding out here,Ma'am." he looked to the ground so that she'd see the blood on the carpet, "if we don't risk it now, they'll find us." his cut wasn't too deep and he could see that the blood had stopped flowing for the most part. "Let me help you as long as I can."
It'd be better if they were found together than apart, she thought selfishly. She looked at the floor perplexed, but she didn't think it was that much blood,no woman would thing that was too much blood, but what did she know?"If you leave this house, I'm coming with you. I'm not staying here alone."
Now, that was foolish. They argued for a couple of minutes until they reached a sort of agreement. "You'll wear the armor, then, I need to protect you."
"Exactly! You'll need it more than I!"
This woman was impossible!He thought as he lost his patience, and he had a lot of it, "Would you stop second guessing my decisions? I know more than you about these things!" he stepped out of their hiding place pulling away his arm harshly. "Stay here, I'll go see if there's something in this house that we can use."
"Podrick-"
"Trust me, Ma'am." he pleaded before shutting the door again.
She stayed in the dark, feeling helpless and afraid. She heard him moving on the first floor and then more dust fell over her as he stepped on the second floor. In her anguished mind she thought about the worst case scenario until she realized he was taking too long. When she heard him coming down, she saw that he was carrying two heavy blankets, that's what took so long?She thought sardonically.
Podrick couldn't help but notice her, seeing her robe hugging her curves in the remaining wet spots. "We can't go in the direction of the Lord from last night, we have to assume that all roads are surrounded." he commented as he passed by her and towards the dead body. He asked her to help him rid the man of the armor and clothes. He passed those to her. "Change into them, quickly."
There was no time to consider the man's naked state, her own indecent state of dress and the fact that Podrick practically saw her naked to then press her against a wall with his body. She went to a corner of the room where he couldn't see her and she changed in haste.
The man's shirt was covered in blood and she was grossed out as she put it on, then she put on the trousers quickly and the boots, but when she got to the chain mail she was surprised at how heavy it was and how hard it was to get it on; by the time she finished she was tired and sweating as it covered her torso and arms.
When she came back walking with a heavy gait, Podrick helped her to adjust the chain mail by turning it a bit and sticking in her hair. In turn, she helped him wrap his wound with the cleanest part of her robe, which they tore to do just that, their own clothes were the cleanest things in that house even as muddy and wet as they were.
Sansa's chain mail was followed by a heavy leather coat that closed at her waist, from where a skirt made of metal plaques hanged to protect her legs. A single metallic plaque covered her entire torso along with metallic shoulder pads.
Podrick didn't say it as not to frighten her more, but the chain mail would be doing the bulk of the protection seeing that the armor seemed to have been carelessly forged with cheap metals. If the dead soldier had been a bit shorter or burlier the suit of armor wouldn't have fit her at all. Not that it fit perfectly, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
She put on the gauntlets and the helmet as he fixed some details in her disguise but as he looked at her he came to the conclusion that her utterly feminine features gave her away, along with her clumsy movements hindered by the weight along with the way her hips moved as she walked.
They took what was left of the robe and two old thick and ratty blankets.
He was shocked to see her walking fast and more assuredly after leaving the house, though she still took him strongly by the arm for reassurance. It could work; they'd think he was a prisoner if they were spotted from afar.
The sword on his hand would betray the truth and he wondered if he should hand it to her to complete the disguise but that would be a mistake if it came to using it.
"Podrick?"
"Yes?" he asked as he studied their surroundings amidst the thick fog.
"...I won't let them capture me alive..." he looked at her, "a merciful death isn't the first thing they give a woman."
He looked to the horizon in front of him without replying. A few seconds later he noticed he didn't have his knife on him, she had it. When had she taken it? And where did she put it? "Promise me you won't rush into anything, Ma'am."
"I won't...but you know my history..." he nodded immediately. She felt him taking her gauntlet clad hand and squeeze it a few times to let it go again.
"...You're not one to give up, Ma'am...So don't." he didn't add that maybe the worst was over to avoid jinxing them. Also, it wasn't the time for chats but to be alert, they had to rush, "I came from there," he pointed left, "You?" she pointed ahead.
"I don't know where I was coming from; I fell on the side of a hill."
Podrick looked around and he walked to the thicker part of the woods, "we'll be harder to find in there than on main roads and in plain sight."
Over an hour later, as they walked along the trees they heard a horse's whinny. They quickly hid and then they saw it appear smeared with blood and a saddle, and a dead rider on its back. The full armor made them realize it was one of Winterfell's men.
They looked in both directions for a few moments, expecting a trap and after a few minutes Podrick stepped out and slowly approached the brown horse. It seemed to recognize him because it suddenly started walking toward him at a slow steady pace.
Sansa took the reins and pet the horse as she looked in every direction while Podrick dismounted the soldier, whom they both recognized when he opened the helmet. He took the armor off in minutes and organized it on the ground.
Then, Podrick looked into the saddlebags, reaching inside until he found what he was looking for, a little pouch with a needle and thread.
Sansa observed him settling on a rock as she kept watch over their surroundings; he unwrapped the tourniquet and she felt like rushing him but she knew it wasn't fair. As soon as he took the needle and tried to thread it she realized he'd never had done something like it. Then, when she saw him shaking before piercing his skin, she decided to act. She quickly took off the gauntlets.
She knelt before him in a rush he was about to ask what she was doing but she took the needle in a single move.
"I can do it." She said with determination. She'd never done it before, but it couldn't be too different from fabric.
Podrick stuttered for a couple of moments until he remember Brienne saying she was an amazing seamstress, "Do it then." he wasn't about to fight her on this.
Obviously, it wasn't as easy as stitching on fabric but once he stretched his arm and squeezed the skin together for her to thread the needle between, she got the hang of it in seconds. She even corrected him when she saw him squeezing too much skin in, though she noticed it upset him since he was in pain and he wanted her to finish as soon as possible.
They were both silently in awe. When she reached the end, she tied it and cut the thread at both ends and they both realized they were drenched in sweat.
Now, he hoped they'd come across a Maester before an infection could take hold, Podrick thought as he stood and helped her stand as well.
They worked together to tie a tourniquet to prevent more bleeding. While they did, Podrick spoke, "I'd advice to wear this man's armor instead of the one you're wearing but for now I think it is better that you stay with the one you have on. If we come across enemies, they won't attack someone who seems to be their own from afar."
"And If you use his, they'll attack you." she stated the obvious.
Podrick knew that, as much as he knew that if they came across Winterfell soldiers they wouldn't attack her right away because they'd think her his hostage. "Your life is worth more than mine, Ma'am. It's why we're all here." he realized she was about to say something but thought better of it because she avoided his gaze. Podrick set to work right away, putting the armor on and guiding her to help him.
They got on the horse with her in the front and him behind, at least for now, wishing to get far from that place.
"My men said they would set a camp on the Northeast." she said; her armor felt heavier and heavier and her thighs and hips hurt as the metal plaques pushed into her when the horse started galloping at full speed.
"Twenty men, right?" she nodded. "The men who attacked the inn and who followed us doubled or tripled that number. If we're in bad luck there are still forty-five or fifty men looking for us. I don't know what direction to take but it won't be north."
"There was a village...I visited it years ago, to the southwest if I'm not mistaken. I have support there." And not only from lords but from the people; they'd be welcome, there.
"How far?"
"...A day and a half, two maybe." she knew that was a lot.
He shook his head. "That's too far."
"Do you know of any place that's nearer?" she asked sardonically and willing to order him if necessary.
Podrick sighed, giving up, "No matter where we go the only thing we can do is hope not to find enemies, Ma'am."
.
.
.
Once more, thanks to fangfaceandrea for this translation.