A/N: Review responses are in my forums as normal. For those readers who are coming in blind to GOT [SPOILERS], this might be a confusing chapter. As background, Sansa Stark was originally betrothed to Prince Joffrey Lannister, who is presented as one of the most despicable characters in the series. Things happen, she's finally married off to Tyrion, believe it or not, and Joffrey is to mary Margery Tyrell, the daughter of the filthy rich and powerful Tyrell family.
It went exactly as planned. For the Tyrells. As for Petyr Baelish-all proceeded as he had foreseen. Until it didn't.
Chapter Nineteen: The Dragon Queen
"If you want to live, we have to leave."
Ser Dontos's words rang in her ears, but didn't quite reach her mind. Sansa stood frozen, watching as young King Joffrey, the source of all her torment and anguish for the past two years lay mewling on the ground. Her heart surged with a terrible, black joy that locked her knees and took her breath away.
Suffer, a voice whispered in her mind. Suffer, you foul, loathsome little monster. Suffer like you made me suffer.
"My lady, we must go!" Dontos Hollard, a fat failure of a knight but a brave man as a fool, tugged her arm hard enough to unlock her knees. She found herself following, and then running, drawn as much by the man's terror as by his hand on hers.
As they cleared the outer walls of the Red Keep, weaving their way through revelers come to partake of the king's "generosity" in celebration of his nuptials, the bells of the Great Sept began to ring.
Her legs and feet hurt after moments, but it was such a great, terrible distance from the Red Keep to anywhere else in the city. Her chest began to burn, but still she ran. Ahead, poor Ser Dontos gasped for breath, himself overcome from their flight.
Still, they ran. Around them, the day began to fade into twilight. The wedding celebration was intended to last the entire day and well into the night, and much of the city had gathered around the keep for the free food the Tyrells had promised.
It provided she and her savior empty streets as they ran, hand-in-hand, as the day followed Joffrey into darkness.
"Where are we going, my Florian?" she asked.
"A ship awaits us," Ser Dontos gasped at her. "But we must be quick. Those bells are tolling for the king. They're tolling for us!"
On and on they ran through the width of the city, not toward the harbor, but toward the coast of the bay itself. They eventually left the streets entirely, slipping through narrow passages that looked as if they had not seen human feet in ages. Abruptly they emerged from the city walls entirely, on the top of a steep, rocky hill leading down to caves that lined Blackwater Bay. In the distance, over the water, she could see some of the partially sunken ships from Battle of the Blackwater Rush which broke the back of Lord Stannis's claim for the throne.
And through one of the arching, shadowy caves, she saw a rowboat waiting.
"Get in!" Dontos urged her as he climbed in and pulled the ropes.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe!"
The boat was waiting for him. He was prepared, just like he promised. Sansa Stark climbed in, and he quickly began rowing them out into the bay. After several minutes of rowing, a fog rolled in as the temperature cooled with night's fall.
The silence of that long trip burned like fire on the edges of Sansa's mind. She replaced the events of Joffrey's death in her mind. The way he choked and held his throat. Intermittent, in flashes of memory that made her breath catch, she saw the axe swinging down at her father's head. She saw the way Joffrey gloated as he pointed to her father's head on the pike.
How long do I have to look?
As long as it pleases me.
She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't realize that Dontos had stopped rowing. His face glistened with sweat as he turned in the dingy and held up a thieves' lantern. After a moment, a dim, barely seen light illuminated the fog in the distance to their left. Securing the lantern, the former knight rowed the dinghy about to head for the brief burst of light.
In moments, they reached the hull of a ship and a dangerous rope ladder than hung down its side. She could not see who was up there, but assumed that Dontos had to trust the person if he'd hired the ship to rescue her.
"You'll be fine, m'lady," Dontos said. "You're stronger than you know."
Her feet hurt from the flight through the city, and her mind felt raw after watching what happened. But she knew there was only one direction to go. So, despite her misgivings, she climbed up the ladder.
And found herself in the arms of Petyr Baelish. She barely heard his words as he held her arms. He spoke to her, then: asking about her, assuring her in a voice that made her want so very badly to believe him, even as a part of her was terrified of the man.
"Lord Baelish!" Dontos called up from the dinghy. "I promised I'd get her to you safely!"
Wait. Dontos worked for Baelish?
"First you'll want your pay," Baelish said. "Ten thousand, was it?"
Sansa couldn't help but gape down at the man who she thought had so selflessly risked his life to save her. But now to learn this? Ten thousand dragons was a prince's ransom! Was that all she was to the poor fallen knight? A bag of coins?
But it was a traitor's death the man had. Sansa screamed in horror as crossbowmen stepped to the rails, leaned over the ship's rails, and shot Ser Dontos in the neck. Through the thick fog she could see his eyes widened as his death took him. He stumbled back in the dinghy and did not move.
Baelish covered her mouth with his hands. "We don't want the wind to hear you, do we?" the man whispered to her. His fingers caressed her cheek as he released her. "A thousand gold cloaks are searching for you. How do you think they would punish the girl who murdered the king?"
What? "I didn't murder anyone!
"I know," Baelish assured her. "I know. But you must admit it looks suspicious. The king who executed ..."
His words blurred in her mind as the horrible reality of the situation settled in. He was right-they would blame her. Especially now that she'd fled the city. She could see Cersei smiling at her as they tortured her or worse.
She listened in numbed shock as the man gloatingly revealed Dontos' true motivations, and why he now lay dead in a dinghy. He removed the necklae she thought was a gift of high value, only to realize it was a fake tool to smuggle poison into the wedding feast celebration.
"But you're safe now," Baelish assured her. He placed a hand around her waist, his hand resting uncomfortably on her hip. "We're sailing home. You're safe with me."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Baelish's ship had two masts with triangular sails. When she rose from her chambers, numb and sore and so tired it felt as if a great weight were draped around her shoulders, it was to find the sun rising over a swath of land directly east of them.
She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that Lord Baelish was not on the deck when she rose. Instead, she saw a familiar knight she'd not seen since the Tourney of the Hand. "Ser Lothar?"
Ser Lothar Brune turned and bowed his head. "M'lady."
Lothar had a common face, with a flat nose and somber eyes. It was an honest one, she felt. She'd rarely seen him speak, but knew from the tourney he was strong and a good fighter. Baelish had to have trusted him for him to be on the ship.
"Where are we?"
"Still in Blackwater Bay, m'lady," he said in a calm, quiet voice. He pointed to the long coast east of them. "That's Massey's Hook there, and north of that, Driftmark. Then the Dragonstone after. We must be quick, though."
"Why?"
"The Dragon Queen's raiders patrol the coast, now. They've been seizing merchant vessels bound to or from King's Landing. I've heard terrible things about what those slave soldiers do to any women they find."
Sansa should have been terrified at the prospect. But with that heavy weight about her shoulders, all she felt was tired. So instead she stood on the deck of the ship as the crew pulled the various ropes to direct the sails in the best way to capture the wind. It dawned on her that this was the very first time she had ever been on a ship.
It should have excited her.
She stood next to the quiet knight as the ship cleared peninsula and the islands that protected Blackwater Bay. The sun sat high in the sky as the ship entered the Narrow Sea. "Where are we going, Ser Lothar?"
"Baelish Keep, my lady," Ser Lothar said. "In the Fingers…" He stopped talking and turned away, staring at something over the water.
"What is it?"
"M'lady, go below," Ser Lothar said firmly. He turned and ran to the aft of the ship. It had no castles or defensive structures at all-it was a merchant vessel, not a vessel of war. The knight spoke to the captain.
Sansa ignored his instructions. Instead, she followed where he looked until she saw it. Two sails sat on the horizon. Large, square sails like the Ironborn used.
Sansa knew from Maergery Tyrell that Tywin Lannister had offered the Ironborn some unthinkable prize to destroy the Dragon Queen. Instead, the Iron Fleet was defeated so thoroughly that only a few ships made it back to the Iron Islands out of a fleet of over a hundred.
If I were a pirate queen, I'd seize and use the ships sent against my enemies.
Baelish emerged from his cabin below deck. He glanced at her but ran immediately back to the tillerman and Ser Lothar. Just in the minute she stood watching, the sails grew larger. The two ships must have been going much faster than they were. Was it the angle, perhaps? Or the sails?
Around her, the small crew of the ship began to panic as they too realized that potential enemies were closing in on them. The wind whipped at her hair briefly, only to die completely. Overhead, the sails went slack as the air around them went perfectly still.
"We're becalmed!" Baelish said. "Do we not have oarsmen?"
"Lord Baelish, we do not," Sansa heard the captain say. "This is a merchant sloop, as you well know. We're at the mercy of the wind."
The two sails approaching seemed to surge forward, only for their sails to go slack as well. Unlike the ship Sansa stood on, the two approaching ships did have oarsmen. She caught the barest hint of movement as oars were lowered to hit the water, and once again the ships began to surge forward, even faster than before.
Baelish rushed to her side. "Sansa, you must go below!"
With the heavy weight over her, she met his worried glance. "Why? Will they rape me any less below than above?"
"Sansa, please!"
She shook her head stubbornly. "What point is hiding, Lord Baelish? Now, of all times, what place do I have left to hide?"
The two ships came on. They sat low in the water-lower than the sloop she stood on. They didn't have the large cargo space or interior cabins, but their length and low sides meant that they were as effective with oars as with sails. The men who rowed wore leather armor of a cut and style she'd not seen. Round shields hung on their backs and spears were stood on end near each.
Each ship held fifty of the men, with a few sailors in cotton or wool scrambling about to furl their useless sails.
Abruptly, a breeze tugged at her hair. Baelish turned to the captain, who bellowed an order to his men. Sailors desperately pulled at the triangular sails to catch the breeze and get the ship moving, but it was too late.
Sansa stumbled back with a startled cry as a steel grapple hooked into the railing. The second ship had come around the other side, propelled with oars faster than the fledgling breeze could catch the sail. They too threw their grapples, seizing both sides of the ship. Baelish pulled a dagger and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the central mast. Ser Lothar pulled his arming sword and stood over them.
Sansa expected the crew to fight; surely, they would. But the captain stepped back from the tiller and held up his hands. "We're unarmed! We yield!"
Other sailors took up the call. "We yield!"
The Dragon Queen's ships pulled themselves next to the sloop with more grapples, and then men began climbing aboard. They spoke to each other in a language Sansa had never heard. One of them walked stiffly to the captain, who stood with his hands in his head.
Other men went below. Sansa felt Baelish stiffen against her, his dagger at the ready. One of the men came rushing out a moment later, jabbering excitedly in his foreign language. "No, no, no, no…" Lord Baelish whispered as more men came out carrying wooden chests in their hands.
"They appear to be taking your gold, Lord Baelish," Ser Lothar noted dryly.
Overcome, Baelish took a step away from Sansa. "Wait!"
Half a dozen foreign soldiers snapped their shields and spears into place, staring at them over the edges of those shields. Baelish held up his hands. "Wait! I'm sure we can come to an agreement!"
"Aye, you can, ya smarmy bastard," a voice said in the Common Tongue. Sansa bit back a scream as a terrifying man appeared over the edge of the ship. He carried a vicious, curved blade at his hip, with boiled leather armor like the foreign soldiers. The right side of his face, though, was covered in horrible black tattoos.
The man hopped up onto their ship from one of the two raiders. He ignored Lord Baelish and Ser Lothar as he stepped to one of the foreign soldiers holding the chest. He popped it open with a knife and stared at the coin within. He said something that made the soldiers laugh, before removing a handful of coins and closing the chest.
He gave a word, and the soldiers took the chest to one of their two ships.
The new man handed the coins to the captain. "Her Grace, Queen Rhaenys, does not want honest captains harmed by this war any more than necessary. This and the lives of your crew for your cooperation."
"My thanks, m'lord."
The man snorted. "I'm no lord. I'm a knight, to be sure. Sell sword. Former slave. Now I guess I'm a captain myself." Another of the foreign soldiers emerged with yet another chest, then another, and two more beside. Four chests of gold. That was more money than her father ever had at one time in Winterfell.
"What were you doing with all that gold?" Sansa demanded of Baelish.
"Why, he's giving it to Queen Rhaenys," the tattooed man said. He regarded Ser Lothar. "You three are coming with me, Ser. We can fight about it a little if you'd like, but you're coming with me. Dead is just as easy as alive."
"I cooperate only on your word that your men will not harm the Lady."
The newcomer barked a laugh. "With what? They have no cocks! They're Unsullied!"
He walked right up to Sansa. "Red hair," he noted. "Pretty. Just a girl. And yet here you are the day after King Joffrey dies in the presence of Lord Baelish himself. If I were a betting man, I'd say I was looking Sansa Stark. You kill the king, little girl?"
"No," Sansa said.
"Too bad. I think the Dragon Queen would have paid you your weight in gold if you had. Whelp, time to move on, lads. Ser, Lord Baelish? Cooperation will mean you are treated well. No cooperation means you won't be."
Ser Lothar sheathed his sword. "I'll cooperate."
Baelish looked like he would rather swallow his tongue. Nonetheless, he put his own blade away. "As will I."
"And what about you, Little Bird?"
Sansa started at the term. She'd not heard anyone call her that before Sandor Clegane drunkenly left her chambers. "I'll cooperate."
"Good to hear. Come on, then. Time's a wastin'."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Ser Wylis Toyne sat in the center of the longship as it sailed south toward the Stepstones. He, Baelish's gold, and Sansa were on one ship, while Baelish and Ser Lothar were on the other. Around her, she tried to pick out words from the Unsullied. She guessed they were speaking Valyrian or something similar, but she'd never heard the language spoken. She'd learned some, just because all people of noble birth were expected to have some grasp of the language. But a grasp of a few words on parchment did not prepare her for the fast drivel of words from men's lips.
"Why did you call me Little Bird?" Sansa asked.
The horribly tattooed man regarded her squarely a moment. "Ran into a man who might be even uglier than me. Mean man, foul mouthed and bad tempered. He said he knew you. Called you a Little Bird."
"Sandor Clegane," she said. "Where?"
"White Harbor. I was trying to get the true story of what happened at the Twins. I'll give it to your brother. When my Queen sent him the warning, not even she expected him to pull off a win. She was thinking he'd slink back to the North and be done with the war. Instead, he took the Twins and secured his position even better! Very impressive."
Sansa didn't try hiding her frown. "What? How could she have sent him a warning? My Lord...my husband said only the Hand knew about the plan."
The man laughed. "Rhaenys has a pet Shadowbinder who can see the future, and a Red Priestess who can talk to people through glass candles. And a spy in the Red Keep. That's on top of the dragons and the finest set of legs this side of the islands. Doesn't have much up top, but damn that woman has some legs. And if I said that in Ghiscari, where these chaps could understand me? They'd cut my fuckin' balls off. They love that woman like no one's business. Remember that. Rhaenys herself acts almost like a commoner, but her Unsullied will do a number on you if you insult her."
Sansa had no idea what to say to that, and so said nothing.
It felt odd to sleep in an open ship filled with men, but they were determined to make good time back to their pirate base. It was even more odd to have to make water or night soil over the side of a ship filled only with men-even cut men. But after only a week of hard sailing, they reached the islands of the Stepstones, where legend said the first men crossed into Westeros thousands of years before.
Her first glimpse of Port Royal made her heart quail. She saw the towers on either side of the narrow harbor mouth, and the black volcanic walls that surrounded the huge harbor, and it felt as if they were sailing into the mouth of the Stranger himself. But once past the towers, she saw a massive stretch of black sandy beach with dozens of ships at anchor in a harbor large enough to hold a hundred ships easily.
Long, narrow floating platforms extended out from one end of the beach where she saw two great, hulking ships at dock. On the opposite side, she saw children splashing in the water.
Then something emerged out of the water with the children that was even larger. Sansa covered her mouth in horror as a massive, monstrous head rose from the water with a child hanging from its snout. "Oh Gods," she gasped. "Is he...your queen feeds her dragons with children?"
"The fuck are you on about, woman?" Toyne demanded. He followed her gaze before laughing. Because at that moment, a child scrambled to its feet on the dragon's snout and then jumped into the water with a thrilled scream.
"That's Elliot," Toyne said. "She's got three. Temeraire's her dark knight. The big, mean fighter of the bunch. Saphira's like her big sister, always watching out. And Elliot's like a big child, wanting to have fun. Still, she must be in the water if she's letting the children play with her dragons. They're big and strong enough they don't always know what's play, and what's snapping a kid's neck by accident."
The Unsullied furled the sails and rowed the long boat all the way to the beach. The second ship with Baelish and Ser Lothar did the same. As they climbed down ladders, Sansa was stunned to see a figure she recognized.
Ser Barristan Selmy looked different out of his armor. But she recognized his face from her time in King's Landing, and he obviously recognized her as he came down to meet them with a squad of more Unsullied at his back. He froze for a moment, looking oddly relaxed in thick cotton trousers and a silken tunic of light blue. He recovered quickly and walked right up to her before bowing his head.
"Lady Sansa," he said. "I am surprised but pleased to see you well."
"Am I a prisoner, Ser Barristan?"
"If you are, it will be a prisoner of honor," Barristan said. "Unfortunately, we can't ignore the fact that we may come in conflict with your brother at some point. However, my queen does not hold with hostage-taking, and would never order you harmed for your brother's actions. For now, you are our guest." The man stiffened when he saw Baelish and Ser Lothar.
"Toyne, escort our other guests to the stone tower. Make sure they have every comfort, but keep them under guard for now."
"Aye. Be seeing you, Little Bird."
Sansa watched Toyne walk away, barking orders in Ghiscari to the Unsullied. Baelish stared long and hard at her before he left. In their absence, Ser Barristan offered her his arm. "Walk with me?"
As exhausted as she was from her trip, the heavy weight she'd felt after escaping King's Landing had lifted. Now she felt oddly hollow and light, as if even the slightest breeze might carry her away. She took his arm, and the two walked along the beach toward the children playing in the distance.
"Are you well, my lady?"
"As well as can be, Ser Barristan."
"Then perhaps I can help. Your sister Arya has been reunited with your family. We've received word that young Robb has routed the Ironborn from Moat Caitlin and even now marches to retake Winterfell. We know he is still fighting Bolton forces."
Sansa walked in silence for a long moment before she felt her eyes water. She couldn't even have said if she cried in relief, or sadness that she was not there to see them. Ser Barristan kindly said nothing as they walked.
The spell passed quickly, and instead of tears her ears rang with laughter. She paused at the unlikely scene of children squealing in delight as a terrifying dragon with gold and white scales rose from the water with wings wider than the longship's length. The wings slapped down, creating a wave that swept over all the children there, much to their delight.
On the edge of the beach, Sansa noticed more of the Unsullied standing at attention. There were a few women in linen bathing gowns, some of whom were in the water with the children. And from their midst rose a figure that Sansa at first mistook for a man. Only, it couldn't be because the figure wore a linen blouse and pantaloons like a woman. The woman turned to the dragon and lifted a hand.
The dragon lowered its head to her hand, and then turned its head to allow the woman to scratch. When she finished, the dragon made a strange gargling sound before it turned, lifted its wings, and launched itself into the air. The children moaned at its departure.
"Oh shush, you don't want to play fishies around a hungry dragon," the woman called. "He might eat you by mistake!"
"Sorry, your grace!" all the children called out as if the response were rehearsed.
"Okay, out with you," the Dragon Queen said. "We don't want your mothers coming to yell at me for you all getting wrinkly." Moaning playfully, the children scampered from the water and ran into the village as naked as their birthing day. The queen herself walked up to one of the Unsullied, who handed her a thick robe for her modesty.
The queen walked with a man's step-like Ser Barristan walked or her father. It was the walk of someone who knew their balance. She walked like a warrior. As she came closer, Sansa saw shoulder-length black hair and striking gold on black eyes. She was not a beautiful woman as Sansa would judge, and was freakishly tall, but for all that she carried herself with a sense of command and strength that Sansa couldn't help but respond to.
She curtseyed.
"Your grace, Ser Wylis appears to have caught quite the prize," Ser Barristan said. "This is Lady Sansa Stark, King Robb's eldest sister and wife of Lord Tyrion Lannister."
"The one Joffrey was to wed first?" The queen had a deep voice for a woman, but nonetheless a rich, feminine one.
"The same."
Sansa felt hands on her shoulders, still smelling of the ocean, and looked into those golden eyes. "Did you kill him?"
"No, your grace," she whispered. "But I'm not sorry he's dead."
"He was a nasty little shit, wasn't he? I sense there's more, Ser Barristan."
"We also caught Petyr Baelish, Your Grace."
"Baelish? What was he doing with Lady Sansa?"
"I thought you might ask him, your Grace. You're very persuasive."
The Dragon Queen chuckled. "I can be. Right now, I'm hungry. And dirty. And Sansa, you look like you could use a wash even more than me. Let's go get cleaned up. Ser Barristan, let the others know we'll eat in an hour."
"I well, your grace."
Sansa followed dutifully as the queen began walking barefoot through the sound. "What's to become of me, Your Grace?"
"Well, right now? A bath, a meal and a bed. And then I suppose eventually I'll have to send you back to your family. You may be with us for a little bit, I'm afraid. I promise you, Sansa, you're not a hostage. But while you're here, I'd love to hear your perspective of what's been happening in King's Landing."