The first days of their journey passed without any incidents, the sea being calm and the wind favourable. It all changed once they sailed through the Gullet, leaving the sheltered expanse of the Blackwater Bay. A storm caught them just east off the Stonedance, turning the whole ship into a toy in the hands of the sea and wind. Having grown used to the swaying of the ship, Sansa thought the Hound was overly cautious when he advised her to keep a bucket on hand after Captain Tymis had told them a storm had been coming.
She was glad for his advice after her stomach started roiling in the same rhythm as the waves outside and she ended up emptying her lunch into the wooden pail. The Hound himself spent the duration of the storm in the hold of the ship, keeping his horse calm, lest the animal kick a hole in the hull in its fright. Afterwards, when she expressed her wonder at how he had been able to keep himself from vomiting, he merely told her that it took a lot to turn a dog's stomach and a mild storm was not near enough.
The storm by itself wouldn't have been that bad, even if Sansa could have done without the vomiting. No, the worst part of the whole experience were what she had at first assumed to be hunger cramps. As it turned out, the cramps were not caused by her inability to eat without retching immediately but rather by her first moonblood.
It was quite an inconvenience. She was the only woman on the ship as she had found out on the very first day and with nobody to counsel her, she had to try and remember all she had been told by her mother and septa about it. In the end, she managed to deal with it but it was not a pleasant experience. The pain in her tummy was probably the worst part.
She spent the days of her moonblood in her cabin, reading stories from her books or looking over the maps. She also went through the contents of her jewellery cassette, deciding immediately that the moonstone set she had received from Joffrey would be the first to be sold. She repacked her clothes, thinking she would have to get a chest and some new dresses as well. The ones she had weren't fitting her as well as they used to, her body growing in several places.
Her voluntary confinement ended as they were passing by Tarth, the sea around the island having the most amazing blue colour she had ever seen. The name Sapphire Isle was well deserved, she thought as she gazed at the cliffs rising in the distance. Captain Tymis made a mention of how only four more days would be needed to reach Tyrosh, the wind and sea helping them along rather than hindering.
Other ships would be spotted regularly, of all kinds and shapes - the trading cogs and galleys from Pentos, the majestic swan ships of Summer Isles, the pompous Volantene skiffs, they all sailed either north or south or east or even west. Westeros was torn by war and there was always some skirmish going on in the Disputed Lands but as Captain Tymis pointed out, a war was not only a risk but also a gain for those who knew their business well. And Tyroshi were daring and capable of great feats Sansa would not believe if told about them, the captain claimed regularly at the dinners he invited her to. As he pointed out, a lady of her obvious standing should not be made to eat the same fare as common sailors. Sansa wasn't sure if it was only a compliment or another attempt at finding out her identity.
The Hound had repeatedly told her to keep silent about who she really was because all it would take was one word from the captain and the ship would turn sails - for Storm's End or maybe even back for King's Landing. But Sansa knew that much even without being told. The captain had taken their gold, yes, and he was courteous and polite and even entertaining with his storytelling and coloured hair. That didn't make him trustworthy and Sansa never reacted to his hints about her name or origins.
It didn't seem to bother him. Sansa had a feeling he was doing it only to pass time and not out of a real curiousity. There was an incident where the captain inquired whether the dog's head helmet the Hound possessed came from Tyrosh, since the city's armourers were known for creating such shapes with steel and iron. He was rebuffed rather rudely by the Hound but when Sansa asked the same question later, the Hound told her that his helmet had indeed been forged by a Tyroshi armoursmith living in Lannisport.
It had been on the twelfth day after they had left the King's Landing that they finally reached Tyrosh. Captain Tymis oversaw his crew from the upper deck and asked Sansa to join him as he showed off the large city proudly.
"The Bleeding Tower sits at the mouth of the harbour," he told Sansa in his accented Common Tongue. "It was built after the Freehold fell and the enemies swarmed over her carcass. Tyrosh was taken by the Band of Nine and they left Alequo Adaris as the ruler after they marched on. Alequo ruled for several years as a tyrant and the Tyroshi didn't stand for it for long. The first Archon rose against Alequo and his forces prevailed over those of the tyrant. The Archon then had the tower built and he had the blood of Alequo and his most loyal men mixed into its mortar so that it might stand forever, supported by the lives of the men who sought to keep Tyrosh enslaved. And every morning when the sun rises, the blood seeps through the stone and collects on the surface of the tower, reminding all that Tyrosh is Free."
"Is it true?" Sansa asked, looking at the tall structure they were passing. The captain nodded.
"I would not lie to such a beautiful woman. Tell me, my lady, will you truly be so cruel as to withhold your name from me?"
"I am afraid so," Sansa replied easily, overlooking his dramatics for she had gotten used to them. She looked at the Hound who stood with them as he put his hand on her shoulder.
"You better go and collect your things. We'll be getting off the ship as soon as we're moored."
The Rhoynar Queen glided into the harbour, her movement slowed by the bustling in the port proper. Sansa came to stand by the plank and waited for the Hound to lead his horse out of the hold. The black courser seemed even more dangerous than before, continuously tossing his head and neighing, tugging at the reins and not standing still for a single moment. Then again, he had been confined for twelve days. Sansa knew enough about horses to realize that the poor animal was eager for some proper exercise. She didn't even think about approaching him while he was that agitated, leaving his handling to his owner.
The captain came down to bid them farewell and Sansa found that when she thanked him for the pleasant journey, she truly meant it. The Hound merely nodded at the man, gave him another dragon - for continuing silence, he said - and they stepped off the ship and onto the Essos' soil. The Hound raised her onto Stranger's back despite her protests and nudged the horse into a brisk canter.
"We need to find an inn with a stable," he told her. "Do you want to rest for a few days or should we start looking for a ship immediately?"
Sansa thought it over. The journey by the ship wasn't that bad but she wasn't exactly eager to get back on another so soon.
"Could we start on the morrow?" she asked. "We need to pawn off my jewels and I also need to buy some better fitting dresses for myself."
"Very well, little wolf."
They left the harbour and entered the city itself, Sansa looking around with a barely concealed curiousity. A lot of the people walking or riding around had impossibly coloured hair. Sansa saw green and blue and purple and orange in all shades, often contrasting with the colours of their dresses. She also saw dark-haired and bronze-skinned men with bells in their hair, fair-skinned and pale-haired women in silks, people with a skin as dark as teak and many more. Tyrosh couldn't have been larger than King's Landing but the colours and sounds made it appear ten times as big.
Most of the people talked in the language of the Free Cities, the Valyrian dialects that Sansa had only the barest knowledge of. But now and then, the Common Tongue could be heard as well and the Hound steered the horse in the direction where it was coming from. They found a side street where all of the establishments - the inns, shops, winesinks and even brothels - were meant for the crews from the Westerosi ships and it was there that the Common Tongue prevailed.
The Hound chose one of the larger inns and secured them rooms and board. Sansa gladly ordered a bath for herself before giving the moonstone set of jewels over to him. She wanted them sold as soon as she could, to rid herself of every memory of Joffrey. The maid the innkeeper sent to help her with her bath was a talkative girl who came from Dorne and very soon, Sansa knew which merchant sold the finest fabrics and which tailor was familiar with the newest fashions. She ordered the maid to send for them, guessing that the less she roamed the streets, the better.
Sansa dressed in her best dress after her bath as it was the most comfortable one she owned and had a light supper brought in. The Hound arrived shortly after, gruffly announcing he had managed to find a jeweller who had been more honest than others. The fabric merchant came in the middle of his explanation, bringing samples of his wares with him. For a moment, Sansa felt like the young girl she had been before it all, admiring the texture of the fine silks and cottons and exclaiming over the colours. The tailor was not far behind and Sansa was taken to another room to have her measurements taken, the man assuring her he was going to put all of his workers to work on her order to have it done as soon as possible.
In the end, Sansa commissioned herself ten new dresses for everyday use and four for feasts. Half of those dresses were to be made from warm and heavy fabrics, ideal for colder climates. The other half was to be light and airy for warm countries as Sansa still didn't know just where her path would lead next and she wanted to be prepared.
When she glanced at the Hound, she found him looking immensely bored with all the fuss she made. But he remained in the room despite his boredom, making Sansa realize he was actually taking his role as her protector seriously, as he had promised. She gave him a warm smile in thanks, even if he frowned at her, making her look away quickly.
Happy and content with how her escape had turned out, Sansa insisted on looking around the city before the evening came. She was smiling as she walked down the stairs into the common room of the inn, the Hound following her obediently, if reluctantly. She turned around to ask him if he knew where they should look first and so didn't notice an old man with a white beard stand up from one table and walk towards the stairs. She bumped into him, making them both stagger. Sansa flushed in embarrassment. It was unbecoming of her to be so careless.
"I beg your pardon, my lord," she told the man. "I was being careless and did not pay attention to where I was walking."
The man didn't reply immediately, staring at her as if trying to recall her face from somewhere. She was about to ask him if he was alright when the Hound came down, looking between her and the old man for a moment before laying his hand atop his sword meaningfully.
"Is the old man troubling you, girl?" he rasped, stepping menacingly forward and the old man finally spoke.
"I meant no harm, my lady. You merely reminded me of someone I knew and I was surprised by your appearance."
Sansa smiled at the man and laid a hand at the Hound's arm to keep him at her side. She didn't think the old man was a threat to her. He looked slightly familiar to her as well, but that could be just a coincidence. She didn't know anyone that old who would have a reason to be in Tyrosh.
"It is alright, my lord. It was chiefly my fault," she assured him again and the man nodded.
"I am at fault as well, my lady, so do not trouble yourself anymore," he told her as he gave a half-bow in her direction. "Be safe."
Sansa watched as he walked away, only now noticing the staff he was leaning on. The Hound was looking, no, glaring, after him, too.
"I really feel like I have met him before," she told her protector quietly.
"I'll ask around later, to find out his name," he promised her and led her out of the inn and into the streets. They didn't get far before the Hound tugged her closer, speaking quietly.
"It seems our old friend's as interested in us as we're in him."
"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, about to look back before the Hound tugged at her arm again.
"He's following us, little wolf. Come here," he pulled her into a smaller side street abruptly and pushed her gently into the closest doorway. "Stay here and keep quiet."
Sansa didn't move, though, looking at his as he loosened his sword in its scabbard.
"You are not going to hurt him, are you?"
"Seven hells, girl," he sneered at her. "I want to question him, not to kill him."
She was still stubbornly looking at him, wanting more than just that assurance. She didn't want him hurting that old man just because he happened to go the same way as they did. It wouldn't be just.
"Promise me you won't hurt him," she demanded and the Hound snorted loudly but nodded.
"Very well girl, I'll do my best not to hurt him."
It was the best she was going to get and so she finally obeyed, pressing herself against the dark blue door while he stalked slightly back and leaned against the wall by the entrance to the street. The few people walking by gave him strange looks but hurried past the moment they saw his face properly. Sansa peeped from her hiding place curiously, hoping that the Hound had been wrong and the old man hadn't been following them. She had thought herself safe this far from the King's Landing and she didn't want to lose that feeling.
But when she saw the old man stop at the beginning of the street and slowly move further in, she lost that hope. He was obviously looking for someone. Sansa closed her eyes, recalling his face and trying to remember where she might have seen him. The short white hair, the kind eyes, the long beard, his courteous manners. And then she remembered. A day by the river, Lady still at her side, two strangers talking to the Queen. He hadn't had a beard back then but he had been as gallant as befitted his title as the most renown knight in the Seven Kingdoms.
Sansa opened her eyes, realizing just who that old man was. And with that came the knowledge that he was someone who would never hurt her, for he was one of the few knights who still upheld the ideals and vows attributed to them.
She looked over just in time to see the Hound taking a step into the old knight's path and the knight backing off wearily. Of course he had recognized them. His confusion at the inn must have stemmed from the fact that her and the Hound were in Tyrosh together.
Sansa stepped out, smoothing out her skirts. Just as she was about to walk over, the Hound and the knight moved fast, raising their respective weapons, the old man catching a blow of his opponent's sword with his staff. Without thinking, Sansa cried out.
"Sandor! Leave him be!"
The men stopped at the sound of her voice. The Hound glanced over at her as she hurried to them. The knight stood back cautiusly, his staff at the ready to defend himself. That was right, he had tossed his sword at Joffrey's feet after being dismissed from the Kingsguard.
"Don't you know how to listen, girl?" the Hound snarled at her, moving protectively in front of her but Sansa smiled, urging him to sheathe his weapon.
"Do you not recognize him?" she asked but didn't give him a chance to reply. "I do not think I have to fear harm at his hands. After all, Ser Barristan Selmy is known to be a true knight. Am I right, Ser?" she turned to the man in question who sighed and lowered his staff before smiling gently at her.
"You are, sweet lady. On my honour, you are safe with me."
"Selmy?" the Hound looked at him incredulously and then he laughed harshly. "Bugger it! It's really you. The beard sure fooled me."
Ser Barristan Selmy, the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard looked at the man who had taken his place as one of the White Brothers and then at Sansa and shook his head wonderingly.
"The world is a confusing place indeed. Who would have thought I would meet you in Tyrosh, Clegane? And with young Lady Stark as a company. What brings you here?"
The Hound glanced at Sansa who gave him a tiny nod of approval and he finally sheathed his sword.
"It's a long story, Selmy and one you won't like at all."
"It is alright, I have time enough," the old man replied and Sansa stepped forward.
"Then you should join us for dinner. There are many things you should know and I would like some answers as well."
"Thank you for your kindness, my lady," he bowed. "I will gladly join you."
As Sansa turned to walk back to their inn, all thoughts of looking around Tyrosh gone from her head, the two men flanked her on each side. And only as they reached the inn did Sansa realize just how strange the arrangement was. On one side there was Sandor Clegane, the Hound, a man who despised knights thinking them false. And on the other was Ser Barristan Selmy, as true a knight as any storybook hero she had read about in her childhood. And yet, when she thought back on how they behaved in regards to her, she couldn't help but feel they were more alike than they would admit. Yes, it was going to be the most interesting evening.
A/N: The largest demand on the reader's suspension of disbelief is the timing of this chapter. Please, accept the fact that Ser Barristan is only in Tyrosh by this point in time and not somewhere around the Valyria on a ship bound for Quarth. There is a reason for it. Oh, and the Bleeding Tower story is made up by me.
