Chapter 15

Sansa strolled through the garden, her nerves on fire as she did so. She made every effort to hide it, of course, but she had no idea of knowing if she was successful. Bronn was following at a discreet distance, but was just close enough to draw the attention of Lord Baelish. They were purposefully close to Baelish's offices in the castle, making sure that he saw. She hated this plan, but she knew that they had no choice, so she ignored the rippling feeling in her gut that protested against her every action and did it anyway.

This encounter had to happen…but that didn't mean that she had to be comfortable with it. In fact, she was decidedly uncomfortable with the whole situation, because Sansa was well aware just how much it hurt Bronn to act this way towards her, digging under his skin in the worst way possible, dredging up bad memories, and Sansa was loathe to cause him such discomfort.

But she was determined to get out of King's Landing, and this was the only way that it was going to happen.

Sansa could feel her jaw tightening, tensing, and she had to consciously let it go.

She knew where Bronn was, she could sense him just out of her periphery, and she knew that he was staying close not only to draw Baelish's attention, but to also keep an eye on her. As much as she felt confident about her abilities, she felt safer knowing that Bronn was nearby.

He had told her that he would approach her as soon as Paetyr was in sight.

And he did.

As soon as they both knew that they had the weasel's attention, the sellsword approached from behind and to her right, giving Sansa only a second to react as he almost brutally grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the side, shoving her firmly up against a wall. Instead of his body feeling yielding and pliant, it was hard and she could feel the barely suppressed disgust that he held back as he forced himself to take advantage of her.

"Struggle, girl," he hissed into her ear as his other hand irreverently pulled at the hem of her dress. "Struggle or he won't believe it…"

Forcing down the anger at being forced into this position, she struggled against him, all the while, he tightened his grip on her wrist. After a moment, however, it no longer felt as though she was pretending, as the Bronn she knew seemed to disappear; in his place was a man who was taking what he wanted, when and however he wanted…and a trickle of fear ran through her.

Even though Sansa knew that he had warned her about this, "I might not be able to control it…It is dangerous…It is unpredictable and volatile…It's who I was long before I ever met you…", facing the reality of it was much worse and more terrifying than she had expected. She was no longer pretending to struggle, and even called out, saying, "Bronn, please...don't…!", but he didn't seem to be listening, his eyes seemingly colder than they'd been the night before.

Just as his hand was sliding between her thighs, his fingers tight and forcing themselves higher, her eyes shut tight at what was about to happen, Baelish's voice rang out.

"Doesn't look like your attention is wanted, Ser Bronn."

His emphasis on the title dripped with mocking derision, and for the first time, Sansa was relieved to hear the man's voice. Anything to keep Bronn away from her.

However, at his voice, Bronn seemed to shake free from whatever gripped him, and he pulled back, his hand dropping from between her legs, his eyes lightening and a look of total disgust crossed his rugged features and Sansa knew, in that moment, that he was furious at himself and at what he'd almost done to her.

However, as he looked at her, she could see something more in his look. As if he was experiencing guilt…but not about what had just happened. About something that he was remembering. It was a very distinctive look, one that she was intimately familiar with, but she brushed it off, knowing that now was not the time to think about it.

Wrenching herself from his grasp, she walked briskly towards Baelish and said, "It was nothing, my Lord."

Bronn glared back at the two of them, looking down at where she'd wrapped her hands firmly around Baelish's arm, and then fell back into character as he leered lecherously and said, "Oh, trust me…it was definitely something."

He then turned and strode out of the garden, leaving her and Paetyr behind. She was actually genuinely grateful for his interference, which made it all the more easy to respond when he asked her if he wanted her to escort her back to her quarters.

Sansa shook her head.

"No, thank you, my Lord. If…if it pleases you, I would much rather spend time in your company."

She looked back at him, their eyes level with each other, and gave him a faint smile, one that seemed to work, as he nodded and patted her hand, which was still wrapped around his arm, and said, "Of course, Sansa. I completely understand. Now," he added in a low, hushed tone, as they began to walk towards his office, "I suspect that you might be more amenable to hearing about my plans for your early exit from King's Landing?"

At that, her eyes lit up, and she was able to nod with genuine excitement at hearing his words. Everything was going exactly according to plan, just as she, Bronn, and Tyrion had hoped. And, to make it even more interesting, it seemed that Baelish was involving a man who had no ties to any of the royal families, in order to make sure that nothing could be traced back to him or her. She was grateful for it, but she was also worried about how long it would take him to put it together.

Bronn was leaving tomorrow, and she had to be gone before Joffrey's wedding to Margery Tyrell, in three days…but she might have to stay for it, after all.

That did not sit well with her. And she knew that if Bronn knew about it, it would not sit well with him, either.

Putting it to the side, she focused on the task at hand, keeping thoughts of Bronn in the back of her mind, knowing it would do no good to linger on them. She was going to be leaving, and that's what she needed to be thinking about.

Not what ifs.

Tyrion strode back to his chambers after a long day at court, wondering why he hadn't seen Shae that entire day. Even though it was normal for her to not come and see him during daylight hours, he was certain that she would have tried to come earlier as their ties had seemed to be renewed and rekindled.

As he changed and settled for bed, he waited for her. It had become her habit to come over in the evenings, where they would then spend the time indulging themselves physically to their hearts' content…but as the hour grew long, and his wine cask lowered bit by bit, Tyrion was very aware that she would not be coming over that evening. He was slightly worried and he felt a linger of apprehension in the back of his mind as he thought of what might have happened to her, but brushed it off, finally coming to the conclusion that she was somehow upset with him and making him pay for the imagined slight against her by ignoring him.

Enjoying one last glass of wine, he absently wondered how Sansa and Bronn's plan was coming along. He didn't know all of the details, as per their agreement, but he wasn't an imbecile, and knew that something large was certainly about to happen. He knew Sansa would be gone, at least, but he didn't know what Bronn's plans were, just yet.

He had the vague inkling that Bronn already had a place to go, a place that he would be meeting Sansa after she escaped King's Landing, but he wasn't entirely sure where it might be.

Bronn was a sellsword and focused on his own self-preservation, and to see him actually worried about someone other than himself was rather disarming, but not entirely unpleasant.

Tyrion took a long swig of his wine and placed it on the table, dropping to the floor, and then walked on surprisingly steady legs to his bed. The curtains were already drawn, and he sunk into the soft, silken, red and gold blankets that covered the heavy mattress.

He wondered how the sellsword was taking it. Was he panicking, or was he steady and firm in his resolve?

Also, why was he so threatened by Shae?

Shae was smart, Tyrion could readily admit that, but she was not the kind to sell someone out simply for the thrill of it. There would have to be something in it for her, and Tyrion could see no obvious reasons for her to do so. He kept her in lavish comfort, and paid her well enough that she could have had her own servant if she wished it, but she seemed perfectly happy to be his paid companion.

The situation was not as dire as Bronn feared it to be, so the dwarf let the thought go.

And he slept.

Bronn strode down the corridor, trying to make haste without drawing attention to himself as he headed back to his quarters to pack up his remaining things. He was leaving sooner than even he had planned, so he needed to escape quickly, without drawing anyone's notice. It was past the witching hour, so he was less likely to be seen…still, he wasn't taking any chances. He took every corridor that afforded him proper cover and kept him out of view of the guards.

As soon as he arrived, he hastily grabbed the few things he owned and slipped them into his pack. One of the benefits of living a life on the road was that he had not accumulated a bunch of worthless things along the way, and could travel at a moment's notice.

Bronn had the brief presence of mind to grab Sansa's wrist guards and put them in his bag, as well. She would be needing them once she joined him outside of the castle walls.

His fingers lingered too long, not wanting to let go of the leather, and he silently marveled at how she had grown and excelled over the past weeks, become a force to be reckoned with, and he felt his chest swell with pride. Damn. He cared too much.

Shoving them in almost brutally, he tied the pack shut and threw it over his shoulder and quickly left, taking the same precautions as before.

He could not be seen.

Sansa inwardly marveled at the simplicity of the plan that Baelish had shown to her regarding her escape from King's Landing. During the wedding feast, Baelish told her that there would be a great distraction, one that he could not reveal the details of, but that it would be enough of one for her to simply slip down a back pathway where one of his servants would meet her and usher her quickly to their mounts, already packed with provisions, and they would ride off without anyone being the wiser.

It was almost too simple, she silently mused as she got ready for bed, thinking over it, and seeing too many ways that it could go wrong.

Bronn had been teaching her that if something sounded too good to be true, then it most likely was. He had been teaching her how to question everything and not follow blindly, not even him. Immediately, she had questioned him, saying how could she know that he was telling her the truth? And then he'd grinned…

This was something that she had to think about.

How could Baelish benefit from her disappearance? If anything, Sansa mused, it made more sense for him to keep her there, to use as an asset and an ally, someone to vouch for his character….

Yet, he was helping her escape.

She thought about it carefully. What sort of distraction would be enough of a distraction that her absence would go completely unnoticed?

Well, she silently mused. If something were to happen to Stannis, or Cersei, or Margery or…or Joffrey? That was when it hit her. This had to be Petyr's plan: he was going to get rid of Joffrey. That would be the only thing that would bring the whole kingdom to a standstill long enough for her to not be noticed escaping. Sansa suddenly felt sick to her stomach as the next realization hit her.

They would think it was her.

Once they realized she was missing, they would blame her for Joffrey's death, and she would become hunted by virtually everyone in the kingdom, not just sympathizers of the king. The Lannisters would most certainly pay a hefty reward to anyone who could bring her in, and money, as Bronn constantly said, could buy virtually anyone, if the fee was high enough.

Sansa suddenly had the desire to grab her things and run that very night, not wanting to be involved with Baelish's plan…but she quickly realized that she would not make it past the gates.

Settling into her bed, and wondering where Shae was that evening, as she had not arrived to help her change into her nightclothes, she put her reckless thoughts to the side, silently reassuring herself that in only a few days she would be free.

Not safe…but free.

And that was what was important.

Bronn had taught her how to defend herself; not just how to defend herself, but how to fight, and she could use that. Even if she was alone, she was never truly alone. Bronn had taught her well, and he had taught to never hesitate, and so she wouldn't. She would kill, if she had to, if it meant being free. She would do it not only for herself, but for Bronn.

He had helped make her who she was.

No longer cowering.

No longer afraid.

Feeling a surge of confidence, Sansa closed her eyes and put her head on the pillow.

Only a few more days.

Part 15/?