Chapter 2
Ser Lothor proved correct in his weather predictions, as it took three days for the storm to pass. Sansa spent the time playing with Robert, embroidering a handkerchief for him, and thinking on Ser Lothor's options. She had a feeling that she could go to Lord Manderly and spent the rest of the war resting in comfort. And when it was all over, he would help her to begin again, wherever she wanted. She was certain of it. It was the safest option she had, aside from the journey there, which would probably be harrowing in the winter.
But she wasn't going to go to Lord Manderly.
Her family had died trying to right wrongs. Her father was beheaded for no other reason than he was a good man. Her mother and brother died trying to end the tyrannous rule of a monster. Her sister was gods only knew where – if she was still alive – and her baby brothers had been killed, their bodied burned by a boy they'd grown up with, whom she'd always thought of as a friend.
How could she remain safe?
She knew that if she did it, she might die. But, she reasoned, she might die anyway. And at least this way she could die fighting. I am a Direwolf, a Stark of Winterfell, she told herself. I am strong. I am brave. But she didn't feel brave. Her stomach and bowels churned constantly, her hands shook, and she fought the urge to burst into tears. Enough crying!
After dinner the next evening, Maester Coleman, Ser Harry, Lord Gerald Grafton, and Lord Lyonel Corbray joined them for a meeting that Ser Lothor had arranged. Sansa sat quietly as they all chatted over wine and the small cakes the inn mistress had been convinced to provide for them. Finally, Lord Corbray spoke.
"While I appreciate this time to discuss the Eyrie's affairs with you, I have no wish to be out too late this evening," he said, not unkindly. "The snow is fresh, and the temperature is dropping. Soon, the road will be iced again. So perhaps we could get to the purpose of this meeting?"
Everyone looked to Ser Lothor, who looked to Sansa. She nodded slightly, and he began. "I believe we all know that Lord Baelish had his own reasons for doing things, reasons that he preferred to keep to himself. I've been in his service for some time now, and I know quite a bit of why he did what he did. Lady Alayne told us a few days ago that Lord Baelish wanted no blood shed in the Vale, that's why he'd agreed to marry Lady Lysa. But there was another reason that he chose to come north. And he brought that reason with him." He fell silent, his gaze resting on Sansa.
"Lady Alayne?" Lord Corbray asked, confusion evident in his voice.
She knew they were all looking at her. I am brave. "My name is not Alayne Stone," she said quietly, raising her eyes. "My name is Sansa Stark." She let those words settle for a bit before she continued. "Lord Petyr helped me to escape from Queen Cercei and King's Landing, and brought me to the Vale because he knew my Aunt Lysa would help to keep me safe. His original plan was to wed me to my cousin, Lord Robert, and to ask the Lords of the Vale to join the Northern Lords in defeating the Lannisters. But once he arrived…" she sighed shakily. "It's obvious that Lord Robert is frail, and the chances that he would survive, especially after his mother's death, seemed slim. And so Lord Petyr bartered a marriage contract with Ser Harry's aunt, in the hopes that when he was raised to Lord of the Vale, we could still continue with the same plan."
"Sounds good to me," Harry grinned.
"Then he heard rumors of an army in the south," Ser Lothor said. "They've been unstoppable so far."
Lord Grafton nodded. "I've heard talk of them as well," he said gravely. "Did Lord Baelish have any idea of who they are?"
Ser Lothor nodded. "The Golden Company," he said. "And there is a Targaryan in their midst."
"The girl has finally crossed the sea," Ser Harry said musingly. "I would have think we'd have all seen or heard of her dragons by now."
"Not the girl," Ser Lothor corrected. "A boy. The youngest son of Prince Rhaegar. Prince Aegon."
The Maester nodded slowly. "There were always rumors that the youngest boy lived," he said.
"And he would be the right age," Lord Corbray added thoughtfully. "Ten and six, mayhaps even ten and seven by now. Prince Rheagear was well loved by the people, and especially if this boy looks like him…he would draw many to his cause."
"I haven't seen him, so I've no word on how he looks. But I believe, as you do, that people will support him. So did Lord Baelish. It was the reason he dared the weather and brought us to Gulltown. He intended that he and Lady Sansa would make their way south."
"His untimely death has changed the plans a bit," Sansa said. "But Ser Lothor and I believe that going to the Targaryan king is still my best chance at survival."
"And what will you offer him?" Lord Corbray asks curiously.
"Men," Sansa said simply. "I can provide him with the support of the Northern Lords. I would hope that I can offer him the support of the Lords of the Vale as well. In return, I would ask that the North – including the Eyrie – be returned to independent rule. Or at the least that House Stark be allowed to continue as Warden of the North."
"The support of the North but six kingdoms instead of seven," Harry said shrewdly.
"Six kingdom are better than none at all," Ser Lothor said. "The queen is destroying us, bit by bit." No one could argue that.
"Are you certain you want to do this, child?" the Maester asked softly. "Surely there's somewhere you could go….."
Sansa smiled sadly. "I'm sure I could go to White Harbor – as Ser Lothor originally suggested – and Lord Manderly would be happy to take me in. He would keep me safe and comfortable until the war is over, and even after if necessary. But…..how can I?" she asked, fighting tears, her voice beginning to quiver. "How can I live comfortably, sipping wine and eating cakes, while my entire family lie in cold graves, each one dug in one form or another by a Lannister? No," she said, shaking her head. "To answer your question Maester Coleman, no. Not only am I not certain I want to do this, I'm rather certain that I don't. What I really want is to go home. To laugh with my brothers, be annoyed by my sister, watch my parents walk hand in hand through the godswoods. But I cannot, because I have no home to go to, nor a family waiting. I cannot sit idly by. I must fight."
"You may die," Harry said gravely.
Sansa's fear was plain on her face as the tears fell from her eyes. "Yes," she whispered shakily. "There is that. But I've realized," she paused, swallowing hard. I am brave. "I've realized that we all die, eventually. And if I can choose, I will die fighting."
The Maester's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Harry nodded his approval, a grim smile on his face. Lord Grafton chuckled. "Blood will show," he said. "You're a Stark. By the gods, you're Ned Stark's daughter."
Lord Corbray smiled slowly. "I'll rally the Lords of the Vale," he said. "And if young Harry agrees, we can send him to rally the Northern Lords." Harry nodded.
"First, I need you to get Lord Robert to safety," Sansa said quickly. "Once word of Lord Petyr's death reaches the Queen, she'll send for him. She musn't be allowed to take him," she said urgently.
Lord Corbray nodded in understanding. "No, you're right, of course. We'll see to him."
"Thank you, my lord," she said gratefully. "Lord Robert can be difficult in the best of times, but he is only a child. And in the last two years, he's lost his father, mother, and step father. He's all alone."
"We'll leave in the morning," Ser Harry said confidently. "We'll get the boy back to the Vale, Gate to the Moon is the goal. It will be hard going in this weather, but we should have him safely locked away before the Queen known her Lord Protector is dead."
"There's a ship at the dock that plans to leave on tomorrow's evening tide, if the weather holds," Ser Lothor said. "Lady Stark, four knights and myself will be on it. Gods willing, we'll be to Tarth within a few weeks."
They all nodded and rose to leave, Ser Harry and the Maester hugging her. She'd already said goodbye to Robert, although he thought she would be joining him in a few week's time. Gretchel had asked to go with the little lord, so Sansa was keeping another one of the maids with her, one suggested by Ser Lothor specifically because she had some training with a sword and dagger. Sansa wasn't looking forward to being on a ship for weeks, but she hoped it would be worth it.
The next morning she rose before dawn with Gretchel to see them off. Robert was weepy that she wasn't going with them, and she kissed him and held him tight. She hated lying to him, but it had been almost a month since his last shaking spell and she prayed that it would hold. He'd enjoyed the trip to Gulltown more than anyone had expected, and was pleased to be returning home, although he was saddened about Lord Petyr. Ser Harry had assured him that he would take care of him, and he was excited to see Lady Myranda again. Before they left, Harry pulled her aside.
"If you still wish to arrange a marriage, I'm happy to oblige. Just think on it," he urged, reaching for her hand. "Me Lord of the Vale, Warden of the East, and you Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North. We could have it all," he said fiercely. "Even the Lannisters would tremble in fear of us and our power. We would be the true King and Queen of the North." Sansa sighed, nodding. Harry hadn't paid her a passing thought until he'd discovered who she was. She knew that ultimately, her house and title would be her best asset in arranging her own marriage – it was why the Lannisters had wed her to Tyrion, after all, to have a claim to Winterfell and it's lands. And although she had learned firsthand that Ser Petyr was right – Life is not a song, sweetling - she was still young enough to want a husband who actually wanted her, and who would treat her well.
The sky was clear, and there were no signs of clouds on the horizon. It was a perfect day to leave. She and Alinor broke their fast in their room, then she sent the girl to return the dishes to the kitchen, and to wake Ser Lothor and tell him that she needed to pick up a few things before they left and she needed a guard, and for them to wait for her downstairs.
While Alinor was gone, she knelt before her chest and pulled out the package at the bottom. It was wrapped in a length of scratchy brown wool, tied with twine. Curiously, she cut through the string and unwrapped the wool, then pulled out the heavy fabric. Several long packages, wrapped in paper and tied in string, fell from between its folds.
The hooded cloak was heavy velvet, white, with seed pearls sewn throughout. The edges and inside were lined with thick, white fur. On the back, a seated direwolf had been embroidered in silvery gray thread, with angry eyes and its mouth caught mid-snarl. It was beautifully made, and the seated direwolf brought a sudden rush of sadness over Lady. She wondered what it was for as she laid it gently on the bed, then kneeled to pick up the long, slender packages. There eight of them in all, each as long as her forearm. She could tell without opening them what they were, and she stood for a moment, her heart pounding. Of course, the Master of Coin would want to bring coin. And it wouldn't be wise for him to carry it all, or for the Maester to carry it all either. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about them starving or going without shelter. Maester Coleman had given her some of the money he'd been entrusted with before they left, and she also had the small pouch of gold that Lord Petyr had been carrying when he was killed, and another fuller one that had been amongst his belongings, along with a few other things he'd had that she could use as currency and bargaining tools. She refolded the cloak, putting the packages back between the folds, then rewrapped the package and put it away, taking inventory of her meager contents. Three serviceable dresses – including the one she was wearing – two changes of small clothes, a sliver of heavy gardenia scented soap, a package of the black root powder they used to dye her hair, and a pair of serviceable shoes.
She and Alinor tried to make quick work of the shopping, accompanied by Ser Lothor and Ser Kiers. At the first shop she purchased two premade dresses, knowing she and Alinor could alter them on their journey. She considered a third, but decided against it – she wanted it all to fit into her trunk. On their way out, Ser Lothor took her lightly by the arm. "Is this wise, my lady?" he asked softly, a scowl on his face. "We don't know what we're going to be facing when we arrive, perhaps we should be more careful with our resource?"
"I know what we'll be facing," Sansa answered in a whisper. "A king. And I cannot present myself to a king looking a pauper. If only for that one day, I must look my station. I must look like a queen." Ser Lothor looked as though he wanted to argue, but decided against it. Sighing, he nodded, although his scowl only deepened when she purchased a bar of water lily scented soap, a pair of shoes (only one, most people wouldn't see them from beneath her gowns, she reasoned), a few pots of paints for her eyes and lips, along with a heavy body cream, and a small bottle of fragranced oil. She also purchased a pair of the heavy iron curlers Alinor would need to make her hair presentable, a few lightly jeweled hairpins, a pair of well made earrings with a matching necklace, two small bolts of cloth, an even smaller amount of lace, threads in a variety of colors, more sewing needles, a small bottle of honey, and a small bottle of mineral oil. And finally, a tin of biscuits, and tea made of ginger root, to hopefully keep her stomach calm on the journey.
Well before the sun had set they were aboard the Captain's Fancy, waiting to depart. The ship was large and comfortable, as it was used to transport passengers, although during colder weather they mainly acted as a supply vessel. She and Alinor had a large cabin with comfortable berths, a desk and chair near the window, a separate table to eat, plenty of room to move about, and even a dedicated area for bathing, separated from the main part of the cabin by a lovely folding screen, with delicate paintings of brightly colored fields of flowers and trees backed by the snow covered Vale.
Sansa looked at the room in surprise. "More careful with our resources?" she asked Ser Lothor with a smile.
He chuckled. "Our accommodations were not expensive, my lady. We're probably the only passengers on this trip, so we're given the best."
They were in fact, not the only passengers. Another man was traveling south as well, middle aged, with deep brown hair streaked with gray, stern brown eyes, and rigid bearing. "A military man," Ser Lothor said grimly. "Said he's going to see his daughter in Tarth. You'll not be leaving this cabin much."
Sansa nodded, thoughts of the attempt on her life never far from her mind. "Well, if this journey is anything like our last, we won't need to worry about it," she said lightly. "I'll be too sick to even consider leaving."
But despite the queasiness that began almost the moment the ship left the dock, she managed to keep the contents of her stomach. The ginger tea and biscuits helped, as did the tea cook sent to her when he heard that she wasn't well, made of boiled lemons and herbs, sweetened with a bit of honey. She and Alinor made the adjustments to the premade gowns, and using the fabric and lace they bought, turned one of her existing gowns into a suitable traveling dress.
At every stop, two of the knights would leave to visit a few of the pubs on the docks, while another would accompany Alinor to the market, to see what news and gossip they could hear. Two knights would always stay on board with Sansa, who never left the cabin. She didn't mind staying inside, as the thought of the salt air and ever present smell of fish on a dock made her stomach turn. She made a few lacy handkerchiefs, and read a few books from the Captain's library – one a large history of the kings of Westeros (which had become a subject of interest), and another slender book of folklore and legends. She also tried to struggle through a large volume on historic military battles and their strategies. She didn't understand it, and trying to sort it out made her head spin. However, when Ser Milton found her trying to read through it, he kindly sat with her and explain some of it, using her biscuits and spools of thread as visual examples. After that, the knights would spend time talking with her about what she was reading. It still made her head spin, but it helped quite a bit. They also spent some time trying to teach her how to handle a dagger.
"There's no time to train you with a sword," Ser Lothor said. "Perhaps later. But for now, I'd feel better if you knew at least the basics of how to defend yourself. Surprise will be your best weapon, since no one will expect you to be armed, much less have any idea of how to use it," It was easier than learning military strategy and as she was very interested in staying alive, she paid close attention.
The morning they docked in Tarth her stomach was churning more than usual. "Nerves," Ser Lothor said, as they all crowded in to she and Alinor's cabin. "We all feel them." Everyone nodded.
"It'll be alright, milady," Alinor said, taking Sansa's hand. "You'll see."
Sansa gave her a tightlipped smiled as Ser Lothor and one of the knights went to visit the dockside taverns and find what news he could, and Alinor left with one other. They were all back within a few hours, Alinor with a lemon cake for Sansa.
"Lord Jon Connington has returned home," Ser Lothor said. "It is he who's leading the Golden Company."
Sansa paused, thinking, gazing unseeingly at the small cake on the table before her. "He was exiled by the Mad King for not capturing King Robert," she said slowly. "He was a friend to Prince Rhegear."
"It would make sense that he would be trusted with the young prince," Ser Milton said. "He was military strategist, and seasoned soldier."
"That's who he was," Sansa said. "What do we know about him now?"
"Nothing," Ser Lothor said. "There isn't too much information out there. They're keeping quiet. There are whispers of ships landing down near Rainwood, but there's no town or city there, not even a port."
"How many ships?" Ser Kiers asked.
Ser Lothor shook his head. "We have no way of knowing. I heard as few as two or as many as a dozen."
"What about in the markets, Alinor?" Sansa asked, reaching for the cake. It smelled delicious. "Thank you, by the way, for the cake."
Alinor grinned. "You're welcome, milady. I remember they're a favorite of yours. As for news, it's mostly the same as what the men heard. Ships docking where there's no dock, and the Lord Connington has returned home. I heard that a few men have gone down to join them, swear fealty and all, but nothing more. And nothing about the king. But I did hear news out of King's Landing," she said. "Apparently, both the Queen Regent and Queen Margaery have been arrested by the Lord High Septon, for crimes against the faith – treason and debauchery. Ser Kevan Lannister has stepped in to help keep things under control."
Sansa stared at her in shock. "The Septon arrested Cercei and Margaery? The fat one?"
"No, there's a new High Septon, I believe the fat one finally died," Ser Lothor said with a small frown. "Or was killed. I don't recall."
"Evidently, Queen Margaery's father, Lord Tyrell, was holding Storm's End under siege when word of his daughter's imprisonment came," Alinor continued. "He packed up and left. He left a small group of soldiers there, but not enough to stop anything."
"So Storm's End is left wide open, just as the young prince arrives," Ser Kies said.
"As both the Queen and the Queen Regent are arrested, and I'm sure everything in King's Landing is in complete disarray." Sansa said slowly. "Isn't that convenient timing."
"Isn't it?" Ser Lothor said cynically. "He's got someone on the inside. Someone powerful."
"Who's powerful enough to have the Queen's arrested?" Ser Milton asked. They were all silent for a moment, thinking on that.
"Well, whoever it is, hopefully they'll appreciate the support of the north," Sansa sighed. "Is there any reason to change our plan?"
"Not that I've heard," Ser Lothor answered. They gathered their things and left the ship, Ser Lothor stopping to speak with the Captain. The Captain's Fancy would continue south to the port at Weeping Tower, then return north along the same route it followed down, with the exception that it stopped in King's Landing on the return trip. "If I'm allowed to," the Captain said grimly. "I'm told that they're not allowing ships into the Bay." Ser Lothor made arrangements to re-board on the return trip if their plan didn't work out, and then they went to the inn where he had arranged rooms.
Sansa's stomach appreciated the solid ground beneath her feet more than she let on. She spent a few days lying down resting, trying to regain her strength. Alinor and the others continued their quest for information. Ser Lothor told her that he'd found a boatman who had taken a few people across the river to Griffin's Roost, but he was hesitant to take anyone else.
"He said he's always had a bad feeling about it," Ser Lothor said with a small frown. "Then he found a man hiding in the brush a few miles up from the camp where he drops them. Said the man was terrified and told him that they're killing anyone who attempts to join, so as to avoid spies. The boatman said they were almost away from shore when an arrow came out of nowhere and killed the man. According to the boatman, he barely escaped with his life."
"Or maybe they let him escape with his life so he could tell his tale and dissuade others who'd want to join," Ser Milton said gravely.
"My thoughts exactly," Ser Lothor said.
Sansa's stomach churned and her heart raced. "But would they kill a lady who came?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"We have no way of knowing," Ser Lothor said, wearily.
"Perhaps if she came asking for Lord Connington, instead of the king?" Alinor asked. "Everyone is trying to swear fealty to the boy king, but if she's not asking about him….." she trailed off.
The knights looked thoughtful, and then Ser Kiers nodded. "It could make the difference," he shrugged. "We have no way of knowing."
"We've come all this way," Ser Milton sighed. "We might as well try."
"Easy for you to say," Alinor shot back. "Yours isn't the head he'd be after."
"Actually, yours isn't the head he'd be after," Sansa said wryly. "You're most likely the only one of us who would live. If he kills me, he'll kill all of my knights as well."
"But he may not, immediately," Ser Lothor said thoughtfully. "A highborn lady, come to give him support…he may at least hear you out."
"May," she said. She reached for her cup but pulled her hands back when she realized they were shaking. Alinor grabbed them tightly.
"You won't go alone, my lady," she said fiercly.
"Perhaps I should," she said quietly. She held up a hand when they all started to protest. "None of you came to go to your deaths," she said. "I know that. You said you'd see me safely to my destination," she said to Ser Lothor. "You have. I understand if you go no farther."
"We knew the risks when we agreed to come," Ser Mathew said. The tallest of her knights, he was a silent, middle aged man. He was her favorite instructor in military strategy, he helped her to see the battle plan as pieces to a puzzle. "And I will not send a girl of ten and five into a battle alone."
Sansa smiled gratefully, then chuckled shakily. "Actually, I'm ten and four."
"A mere child," Ser Milton said sadly.
"A child willing to die to save her people," Ser Kiers said. "I will not send you over there alone."
"Nor I," Alinor said.
"Nor I," Ser Milton said.
"Nor I," said Ser Tomas.
"Then it is settled," Ser Lothor said firmly. "We'll hear no more talk of you going alone."
He went off in search of the boatman, while Alinor and Sansa started to prepare her. The started with a hot bath, and then spend a long while washing the black dye out of her hair. It took hours of scrubbing, but finally her hair was its natural auburn. She added a bit of honey and mineral oil to it, to add moisture. Then they pulled out a heavy cream and gray gown to let the wrinkles fall out.
It took two days to find exactly what they needed but finally she stood on the deck of a small ship. The horses and wagon were stored below, while she and Ser Lothor stood at the rail, watching the coastline of Tarth recede. Her stomach was churning, and she gripped the rail tightly. Behind the island the sun was rising, painting the receding landscape in pink and gold. The breeze lifted her hair from her face and she reached up a shaking hand to pull her hood farther forward.
"You look lovely," Ser Lothor said gruffly. She tried to smile but she couldn't. She felt like a lamb being led to slaughter, and she was suddenly certain this wouldn't work. Her stomach was in her throat and her heart pounded in her chest, and she was lightheaded.
"Easy, my lady," Ser Lothor said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her back. "Close your eyes," he commanded, and she obeyed. "Deep breaths," he said. In only a few moments the panic eased, leaving only the nausea that was ever present when she was on a boat. "Let's get you down to the salon," he said. "A cup of your ginger root tea and you'll be alright."
It wasn't a long journey, only a few hours. By midday they'd reached the dock at Griffin's Roost. Ser Tomas and Ser Mathew would be staying aboard with Alinor and their things, along with the ships crew. The captain had been instructed that if they hadn't returned or sent word by evening tide to return to Tarth without them. While Ser Milton went to get the horses, Sansa removed her serviceable heavy cloak and Alinor wrapped her in the heavy velvet and fur cape that Lord Petyr had given her, then gave her the matching sheepskin lined calfskin gloves they'd found tucked into one of the inner pockets. Sansa's left hand found the heavy pouch she'd tucked into one of the cloak's pockets, while her right slipped through the invisible seam in her skirts to find the dagger strapped to her thigh. She looked nervously over to Ser Lothor who stood ready, the cloth bag she'd asked him to carry slung across his broad shoulders, the cloth pouch resting against the small of his back, hidden beneath his heavy cloak.
"Truth is your salvation, Lady Sansa," he reminded her gently. "A young, highborn lady, no family, simply seeking his protection." She nodded as Alinor adjusted one of her jeweled hairpins, then fastening the thin chains across her throat and breasts to keep the cloak tightly closed.
"You look stunning," she said, pulling up Sansa's fur lined hood. "I'll see you in a few hours," she said firmly.
They mounted the horses and rode the short distance to the gatehouse. An older man eyed them warily. "Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, to see Lord Connington," she said, trying to impersonate her mother's authoritative tone.
"Milord didn't mention no visitors," he said, pulling his cloak tighter about his thin frame.
"And yet, here we are," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "And as we've come all this way, would you be so kind to let my lord know that I've arrived?"
He ducked into the gatehouse again, and sent a gray bird flying out of the window towards the castle. Moments later, the same gray bird returned. The man sighed and opened the gate.
"Thank you," she smiled graciously as they passed him to begin the long ride up to the castle. Her heart was racing, and her mouth was dry. Her stomach churned and her hands shook. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and run away. But run to where? There was no where else to go.
"Who is she?" the prince asked curiously.
"A potential ally, perhaps" Lord Connington said musingly. "Her father's murder was the catalyst for this war. House Stark is descended from the First Men, they've been Warden of the North for generations."
They argued briefly about whether or not the prince should greet her, and compromised. Lord Connington met her in the hall, while the prince waited in an adjacent room where he could hear the conversation.
Sansa tried to keep her chin up as she came through the great double doors. Lord Connington – she assumed he was Lord Connington - stood waiting for them just inside. He wasn't overly tall, but broad shouldered and stern looking. Armed guards lined the walls. She stopped a few steps from him.
"Lady Stark," he inclined his head.
"Lord Connington," she forced a smile and small curtsey. "Thank you for your hospitality."
He raised a bushy eyebrow. "I haven't offered you any," he said shortly. "What do you want?"
Sansa stopped, startled. She had expected wine and courtesies, not a rushed, almost angry meeting in the hall, still wearing her cloak.
"Uhm…" she paused, swallowing hard. What to say? "I've come to beg your protection, my lord," she blurted, her voice quivering. "I am a young girl alone, with no family and a bounty on my head."
"And why should I risk myself for you?" he ask brusquely.
"Because I can lend thirty thousand fighting men to your cause," she replied shakily.
A boy appeared from an adjacent room, his expression incredulous. "Did you say thirty thousand?" His platinum hair and deep indigo eyes made him instantly recognizable, and she'd seen portraits of his father and grandfather in the Red Keep. She dropped instantly into a low curtsey, and she heard the clank of armor as her knights dropped to one knee.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she said weakly. "The Lords of the North and of the Vale rally behind the Direwolf banner of House Stark. They will support you."
She heard Lord Connington mumble something under his breath. "Rise," the prince said imperiously.
She and her knights rose. "And how do I know that these men of yours will actually appear when we need them?" Lord Connington asked.
Sansa paused. "You may send a raven to Gate of the Moon, if you wish," she said uncertainly. "Lord Royce will tell you."
"Why would these men follow you?" the prince asked with a chuckle.
"I am the last living child of Lord Eddard Stark," she answered.
"You're only a girl," he grinned.
Sansa's brow raised. "And you're only a boy," she said smoothly. His smile vanished. "Men do not follow you because of you, Your Majesty. Yet. I've no doubt that one day they will. But today, they follow you because of who your father was, and your grandfather. My men are the same. For generations House Stark has ruled as Warden of the North. Kindly, with compassion. The Lords of the North rally behind the banner of House Stark because of who my father was, and my grandfather, and his father before him. My father was a good and just man, who was senselessly murdered. The Lords of the North and of the Vale will rally behind the Direwolf banner, to clear the name of House Stark."
"And in the meantime, while I send endless ravens to verify what you say is true, I suppose you're asking to stay here," Lord Connington said wryly. "For protection."
Sansa smiled politely. "I can return to Tarth, my lord, if you wish," she said, forcing her voice to remain strong, and her chin up. She couldn't go back to Tarth, she'd already announced herself. How long would it take Cercei to realize she was there? Or some opportune mercenary, looking for the reward being offered for her? No, she had to stay here, it was her only hope. "But please remember, the men are my payment for your protection. If you are not protecting me, then I will keep my men." It was a desperate gamble. His eyebrows raised, but she rushed on. "However, no matter what your decision, I have brought a gift for the king. A small token of friendship. Ser Lothor, if you please?" He pulled a dark velvet, drawstring bag from the pouch she'd given him to carry, and she offered it to Lord Connington.
His eyes narrowed when he took the bag from her hand. "Where did you get this?" he growled.
Sansa stuttered in the face of his sudden anger. "I….I had a friend at court," she said. "He gave it to me."
"Had a friend?" he said, the bag still unopened in his hand. "What happened to him?"
"He died," she said in a small voice, although she kept her head up and her eyes on his. "He died protecting me."
"What is it?" the king asked, moving closer to Lord Connington's side.
The older man let out a sound like a small growl, but pulled open the bag, removing a round object wrapped in white velvet.
"Your father's crown," Sansa said softly, when the fabric had all been pulled away.
The gold of the circlet gleamed brightly against the white of the fabric it sat on. In its center was a deep amythest, the size of an egg. On either side was a sapphire, only slightly smaller than the center stone. The rest of the crown was adorned with emeralds and rubies and diamonds.
"He had this commissioned a few months before Robert's Rebellion," Lord Connington said softly. "The stones were all a gift from some ambassador from across the sea. It was delivered only days before he was killed. He never had a chance to wear it."
The king reached for it, but Lord Connington pulled slightly away. "Allow me, Your Majesty. Please." The boy nodded, bending his knees slightly. Lord Connington gently placed the crown on his head, and Sansa smiled as he straightened, accustoming himself to the weight of the crown.
Lord Connington took a small step back, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes of the tears that gathered. I will not fail the son.
King Ageon smiled at the expressions of those who stood around him, then took the few steps towards Sansa, offering his arm. "Lady Stark, will you join me for the midday meal? You must tell me about the North, I know nothing of it." His grin was engaging, and Sansa smiled in giddy relief as she laid her hand on his.
"Of course, Your Grace but…." She gestured towards her knights. "I've left the rest of my men with the ship, along with my handmaiden and our things. If we're not staying, then we should return so that we may leave on the afternoon tide," she said apologetically. She needed an answer, and she needed it now.
"Nonsense, of course you're staying," he said airily. "Lord Connington will arrange rooms for you and your men while we eat." He lead her away, asking questions about Kings Landing. Her knights fell in step behind them, leaving Lord Connington with an empty velvet bag and a slow smile. The girl was bold. That was good, they needed bold.
Now, if only he would hear from Dorne.