Blooded

Sansa Stark rode behind Podrick Payne, hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Between Brienne's plate armor and the hefty warrioress herself, she figured Brienne's horse already had enough to deal with. Besides, this made it easier for her and Pod to flee if it should become necessary for the Maid of Tarth to defend them. So far it hadn't. They'd been lucky.

She reflected on the unaccustomed feeling of good fortune. It would be easy to get used to it. Also dangerous. She still had her blood-stained bridal gown to remind her of that. Pod had mended and washed it for her as best he could, but like her less visible stains, these would never entirely go away.

She remembered sitting by a fire, wrapped in furs, watching him scrub the white brocade against the rocks in what she could barely even call a stream. Brienne had been atop a nearby hillock, ever vigilant of the safety of her new charge. It had seemed like overprotectiveness to Sansa, until she'd recalled how many failures this woman had on her conscience. Then Pod had looked up, pushed his sleeves above his elbows and grinned at her. She wished she could trust his simple loyalty.

Riding behind him now, her cloak and his body were enough to hide the state of the still felt exposed, out here on the open ridgeline. Even the wind seemed to be trying to tear away her disguise. Apparently, the advantages of high ground outweighed the risks. She didn't know anything about that. What she did know was that she didn't feel safer.

As they reached the crest, Brienne pulled up slightly. Podrick moved his horse alongside hers and asked, "What's wrong?"

He and Sansa both saw what was wrong before she could answer. Four men on horseback were coming up the other side of the ridge, headed in their direction. "Should we turn back?" Sansa queried.

"No. We don't know they're looking for you. Turning back now would just arouse suspicion. Keep your eyes straight ahead and don't look nervous. You'll be fine."

Easy for you to say, she thought. In agonizingly torpid fashion, the distance between the two parties shrank. Sansa did as she was told and kept her gaze level over Podrick's shoulder, but she could see the man in the lead was looking at her. A windblown wisp of hair blocked her vision. As she tucked it back, Littlefinger's unwelcome voice popped into her head: A memorable shade. All she could do was hold steady.

Brienne nodded curtly at the men as they passed and then they were to the rear. Every muscle in Sansa's body melted in relief. Her heart rate was just starting to slow when the drumming of hooves behind her drove it back up instantly. She kicked the horse's sides and it jumped to a startled canter. Where did that come from? Pod yanked on the right rein, pulling the horse around in two tight circles. The first time around, she caught a flash of Brienne crossing swords with one of the men. The second time, his sword was flying out of his hand and cutting down the man next to him.

Pod finally got the horse under control and pointed away fom the melee. As it shot off, Sansa looked over her shoulder. Her hood blew back and released her hair to stream in front of her face, but she could see with shocking clarity as a third man's arm came off. She stared, equally repelled and fascinated, as Brienne sideswiped the sole survivor's horse with her own, knocking him to the ground. A quick tap on the shoulder and Podrick brought them to a halt.

Brienne was kneeling on the brigand's chest, holding her sword to his throat. "How much is the bounty on Sansa Stark? How far has it traveled?"

His mouth opened, but it took a moment for words to come out. "Wha- who?" he stammered.

She shook him. "Sansa Stark! The bounty!" Then, as she took in his expression, "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Look, we just thought you'd be easy pickin's. Two women an' a boy. Whatever you're in, it's nothin' to do wit me."

"Shit," said Brienne.

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Podrick stepped around the campfire and rested a hand on Brienne's back. "They attacked us," he soothed her. "What do you think they were going to do to us? You had every right to kill that man."

"He was helpless."

"He was a cutthroat. Prob'ly a raper too."

Sansa watched them as she undid the braid she had confined her hair to after the afternoon's close call. It had gained her a horse of her own, courtesy of their assailants, but also a fresh set of worries. Not since King's Landing had she felt so useless. Her sworn sword stared glumly into the fire, chin resting on balled-up hands, but she would occasionally glance at the pile of saddlebags on the edge of the shifting light. A thought that had been scratching at the back of Sansa's mind suddenly burst free. "That's not all that's wrong, is it?" she asked.

Brienne looked at her, surprised. "As a matter of fact, we're almost out of food. We've been stretching our supply with fish and game, but I don't think we can replace it. Especially when our only fighter is also our only hunter." She directed a pointed look at Podrick, who pretended not to notice.

"Do you have coin to buy more?"

"Plenty. That's not the problem."

Sansa's expression was grave. "I'm the problem. You don't want to let anyone see me."

"There are so many powerful people looking for you. The Lannisters, the Boltons, maybe even the Vale. It's far too dangerous."

"You could go by yourself."

Brienne's jaw set. "I won't leave you unprotected."

"Then send Pod." His head swiveled toward her in alarm. "No one still alive has seen him with me, have they?"

One fist uncurled into a forefinger that thoughtfully stroked Brienne's chin. "Fair point. There's some risk to being alone in any town, but I don't see that we have much choice."

A shorthand look of agreement passed between Pod and his master. As he began to help her remove her armor in preparation for sleep, it was Sansa's turn to gaze into the fire, wondering how best to present the plan that had been germinating for the past few days. While it had only just flowered during their conversation, she felt it was important to have the right words prepared.

Finally, she spoke. "We're going to have this problem again, you know. And again. What are we going to do when we run out of coin?"

Brienne didn't even look up. "I can't think about that now."

"I have been thinking about it. Besides, I can't run forever. You said it yourself. Too many powerful people are vying for my head."

"Maybe I could convince my father to take you in."

"Are you truly certain no one there would sell me to my enemies? Answer honestly." She was met with silence. "What we need is to be different people."

At last, she had their undivided attention. Podrick even let a lace fall from his hand. Sansa forged ahead. "When Pod goes for supplies, he can buy gowns too." She glanced down at her stained and dirty dress. "I need new clothes anyway. A lady's gowns, and something to change the color of my hair. If anyone asks, he can say they're for his sister. We'll travel as an exiled Qartheen woman and her guard."

Her companions absorbed this information. She'd had more than enough experience with dismissal to know this was a good sign. It meant they were taking her seriously. "Why a lady?" asked Podrick. "Wouldn't it be better for you to blend in?"

The corner of Brienne's mouth tugged grudgingly upward. "No matter how much she changes her appearance, her bearing and speech will still mark her as a lady." She shook her head. "I don't know, little one. It sounds risky."

"Little one?" Sansa stood, emphasizing the fact that she was almost as tall as Brienne. "And it's not like you could pass for lowborn any better than I could. Not with that armor."

"Hm, yes. I'm starting to regret accepting it. Look, my lady, all I'm saying is that you'd have to become someone with a completely different past. Every day. How much do you really know about Qarth?"

It was the first time either of them had ever heard her laugh. "To most people, Qarth might as well be on the sun. I probably know as much about it as anyone in this part of Westeros. And there's almost no chance of meeting someone who's ever been there."

"It sounds like you've given this a lot of thought," Brienne mused. "A lot." Sansa shrugged and just like that, it was done.

She wound a lock of hair around her finger and stretched it out, examining it against the firelight. It was an idle habit, but now she said, "I think I'd like to be a blonde this time."

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As she laid out her bedroll, she felt a slight pang of guilt for not telling Brienne and Pod her full intentions. Only slight, however. Even the best-intentioned people had let her down too many times. At any rate, she wasn't sure what she could tell them. The longterm contours of her plan were shrouded in a mist she had yet to figure out how to blow away. Telling herself that helped.

"I know it's been a long time, " Pod said softly, "but you're different from how I remember you."

Sansa Stark didn't answer, but as she laid down with her back to the fire and stared into the blackness, she smiled.