Disclaimer: ASOIAF, GoT, whatevs, is not mine. I am borrowing the characters and their world.

Summary:

AU. First Part of a Trilogy, telling the story of Cadenzsa Forel, Syrio Forel's only child.

Cadenzsa's mother has decided it is time for her child to marry. Since no man in Braavos would dare touch her for fear of her father's sword - and Cadenzsa's, of course - the clever Syrio has relocated to Westeros in hopes of finding a man deeming worthy of his precious only daughter.

He has gone to King's Landing to find a Lord, or a Prince, or a Knight that will give Cadenzsa the life of adventure that she deserves. Cadenzsa, the clever girl, has decided to sail first to the North, and travel down through Westeros, in order to see the land for herself, and to learn of its people. She finds herself, though, soon stuck in the Hold of Winterfell, prey to the charms of the three young men that live there.

Sansa

Sansa was barely speaking to her father, for she was rather furious at him, and uncharacteristically so. She tried to be as polite as she could towards him and her Septa, but it seemed that she and Arya had formed a strange alliance which had never been forged before. Arya was stabbing the table quite furiously with her dinner knife.

Septa Mordane protested, of course, and Lady was safe under the table, missing Nymeria at her side. Sansa was afraid for Lady's life, for how much longer could the Queen hold her tongue? Her father said that Queen Cersei would do as the King commanded, like a good wife should do, and since the King had declared the Stark girls' story to be true instead of Joffrey's, no harm would come to Sansa or Lady. But Nymeria was gone, and Arya was mad beyond belief over it. Sansa didn't blame her; Sansa felt sorry for her, for the very first time. And she was furious with her father, for the very first time, that he didn't do anything.

Sansa felt alone in the Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand, and though her father was sitting next to her, she didn't feel like he was. He smiled at her, though, and touched her hand. "I have a surprise for the two of you, today," said her father.

The girls glanced up, but didn't say anything. Both of them were in a strange alliance of silence against their father.

"Arya, what are you doing?" her father asked Arya.

"I'm practicing," she sneered.

"For what?"

"The prince!" shouted Arya.

"You may stop that and eat like a young Lady," said Septa Mordane, which caused Arya to throw her knife on the floor and stomp out. She didn't get very far, though, when a pair of dark arms circled around her and a great laugh came. Sansa turned around in her chair to see a familiar face.

It was Lady Forel, all dressed in a beautiful Southern gown of island blue and gold trim on the sleeves with all sorts of pattern of swirling waves like the sea. She laughed heartily as Arya gasped and her eyes went wide. Arya squealed in glee and jumped into Lady Forel's arms, and Lady Forel swung her around til her feet flew in the air.

"Oh, my sweet girl! I have missed you so much!" Her voice! Lady Forel had lost her Free Cities accent and now spoke in a Westerosi tone. And she sounded beautiful, like the voice a soft brooke might have. And her hair was pinned in beautiful gold pins and flowing long in curls. Sansa looked at her father, who smiled at her in a knowing way. When Sansa looked back, Lady Forel smiled at Sansa when she and Arya had stopped turning. "Sansa!" said Lady Forel. "Just look how beautiful you've become since last I saw you! I've lost my accent, as you can see." A wave of torrid tears suddenly came over her, and Sansa bolted from the table and into Lady Forel's arms, burying her face in her black hair at the curve of her neck. Out of shock, Lady Forel held onto Sansa's shaking shoulders and spoke again in her Free City voice. "Sweet girl, if it bothers you so much I shall go back to talking like this!"

Sansa felt as if her life was over. She missed her Lady mother, and she feared for Joffrey's lack of affection for her. Surely, after everything, he hated her, and she was surely going to be sent back to Winterfell with her tail between her legs. Sansa was so afraid and frustrated, all she wanted to do was scream, but her Septa had taught her too well against screaming and throwing tantrums. Suddenly, she'd turned into a woman she hadn't recognized before, and she didn't know what to do.

"Lady Forel," she heard Arya whine.

"I'll see you in a moment, sweet girl. I think your sister and I need a chat in private." And Lady Forel wrapped her tan arm around Sansa and lead her away down the Hall and out into the garden. She had no kerchiefs, so she used a tendril of her lovely black hair to wipe Sansa's wet face. Her hair smelled of jasmine flowers and sunshine and sea air. As Sansa leaned her head against her shoulder, she felt her heart calm. "I heard a rather strange something about you and Prince Joffrey..." Sansa's eyes went wide; she knew of Lady Forel's temper quite well, for it seemed so great that it had rubbed off on her. But she smiled, instead, and said: "He found out what you're made of."

Sansa gulped. Lady Forel smiled and brushed a lock of her copper-colored hair behind her ear.

"So, what really happened?" They came and sat on one of the alabaster benches. Sansa then noticed that Lady had trailed behind them, and sat at Lady Forel's feet. She gently caressed Lady's snout and then scratched behind her ears.

"They said they were going to kill Lady as punishment...but she was innocent! She didn't bite the Prince! She didn't do anything!"

"Calm down, my songbird, nobody said that she did." The Braavosi squeezed Sansa's pale hand. "So it was Arya's wolf that bit the Prince?"

"She ran away. We tried to find her, but Nymeria got away."

"Good thing she did," said Lady Forel. "Otherwise she would have met a rather nasty fate. Why did she bite the Prince?"

Sansa began to tremble. "Because he attacked Arya." Her own voice was so tiny, so quiet, she didn't know if she really spoke it or thought it. "He was drunk."

Lady Forel laughed. "There should be an age limit on when a man can drink," she said with a toothy grin. Sansa began to sob again. "Now, now, no crying, my songbird. Look at what a terrible face you make when you cry!"

"I don't care!" Sansa mewled, crumbling into her strong arms. She cradled her and rocked her back and forth, and sang a pretty song from Braavos, one of the ones about love she knew so well. She loved hearing Lady Forel sing, and the memories of them together in Winterfell was the only thing that brought her enough comfort to breathe.

"Now, now, Sansa, you must tell me why you are crying. Are you afraid?" Sansa didn't say anything. "Are you angry?" Sansa looked up, confused. "I cry when I'm angry, sometimes. I get so angry that I can't even form words to scream, so I just end up crying." Lady Forel then laughed and wiped away her tears with her long hair. "Just tell me what's on your mind."

"Joffrey hates me!" sobbed Sansa. "He'll hate me forever for what I did! I threw my sandal at him! I'm so ashamed! I'm humiliated! And I've got nobody but myself to blame for it all!"

Lady Forel laughed. "Well, I couldn't be more proud of you for doing what you did. But I must tell you that I don't think he hates you; I think he's more humiliated than you are. It's better to run a dagger through a man's eye than to bruise his pride." Sansa wasn't sure what to do, but she wiped her eyes anyway. "From what I understand, Prince Joffrey is growing up in the shadow of the great conqueror Robert Baratheon, a man who has made Seven Kingdoms bow to him in only a few short years, despite the Targaryen legacy which had gone back so many centuries. The boy has large shoes to fill, so any bruise against his growing man's pride will sting quite hard. But don't despair over it by any means, because he knows now you're not to be trifled with. Like I said, he found out what you're made of." She winked.

Sansa smiled. "So did I," she whispered, her hands shaking. Lady Forel then began laughing and wrapped her arms around Sansa's shoulders tight. She smelled so sweet and wonderful, and Sansa's tears stopped. She sighed contentedly and leaned her head into her chest. "I'm so happy to see you, Lady Forel," she said.

"I'm happy to see you too, Sansa."

She laughed, in spite of everything. "Lady Forel, please tell me that you'll be at the Tourney tomorrow? It would mean everything to me if you were to come. I'll ask my father so we can have seats together! And we can sit together and watch the joust."

She nodded. "I'll be there. I can take a break from packing my things, anyway."

Sansa frowned in confusion. "Packing?"

Lady Forel nodded. "I'm sailing to Dorne in two weeks. I'm to join House Martell by marriage of Prince Quentyn. By the end of next month, I'll be Princess Cadenzsa Martell. That has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Oh..."

A beat. "What, no congratulations?"

"Pardon, milady! Of course I should congratulate you. I'm sure you'll be very happy there..."

"You wish I would marry Robb, too, don't you?" Sansa's voice got caught in her throat. "Truth?"

"Well," she mumbled softly, "if you were to be up in Winterfell..." A beat. "It's just that I've never had an elder sister before. I've always wanted one."

"And how would it help you if I were going to be up in Winterfell while you're down here being in King's Landing as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?" There was a long pause. "Besides, I don't think Robb likes me that way."

"But of course he does, milady!" Sansa insisted. "All he could do while you were there was talk about you! I truly thought that he would ask for your hand while you stayed with us."

The Braavosi laughed like a waterfall tripping over itself. "Oh, Sansa, Robb and I would never work together. Besides, he's got to marry another Northerner from one of the many Houses of Westeros before he could even consider me. He's too bound by duty to do that, and we both understand. But I do care deeply for him, I will have you know, and I shall owe him a great kindness when the time comes." She stroked Sansa's copper-red hair gently. "Now, now, don't look so disheartened about it. Or is that not what's wrong?"

Sansa swallowed hard, for her mouth felt rather dry. Lady came and sat with her back against her on her haunches and waited for a scratch or two from Sansa's hand. "What if the King sends me back to Winterfell? What if he thinks I'm not good enough to be Joffrey's Queen?"

"I think your father will think you're too good to be Joffrey's Queen." Sansa felt another stream of tears run down her face, and Lady Forel wiped them away again. She wished in that moment more than anything that she would forsake Dorne and go back to Winterfell with her, so she could be home with an elder sister, who would sing songs with her and read poetry with her, and have babies that Sansa could play with. Lady Forel smiled and leaned back on the bench, wrapping an arm around Sansa's shoulders. "Listen, you mustn't let them see you're afraid. I don't know how things are done here in Westeros, so I won't be much help. But you know how things are done here, and I think you'll do well in a place like King's Landing."

"I'm so confused about everything. I'm torn between my love for Joffrey and what a horrible person he turned out to be. He said that-!"

"-I know, sweet girl, I know. But you mustn't let anyone hear you saying such things, hm? If the wrong person were to hear you say those things..."

"But you're not the wrong person, are you, Lady Forel?" She gave a smirk and shook her head. "I trust you." And she leaned her forehead into the crook of her neck. She smelled like flowers and salt, like when a garden sat on the cliffs of the sea, where the salt and spray came flying up like a thousand tiny birds. "My heart feels as if it's going to burst. I've never been in love before. It's so confusing... Have you ever been in love, Lady Forel? Ever once?"

There was a very long pause. "Twice, I think. But it was probably just the once." Sansa pulled away in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Her brown eyes went far away, and looked over the horizon. "I was sixteen, maybe a little younger. I went to Volantis for the first time, and met a handsome Volanteen about my age, called Qavo. He was dark-skinned and had chestnut-colored hair, and his eyes were queerly pale and green, much like sea foam on a very clear day. But his teeth were white and pretty, and he was tall, and his nose had a bump in it from when he broke it as a child." She then laughed, and turned to Sansa. "I loved him more than I could possibly say."

"Then what happened?" Sansa's eyebrows tilted up in worry, and their fingers twined together. "Did your father dislike him?"

She shook her head. "It's a very long story, songbird."

"Please tell me?"

"It's not a happy story. You might end up crying."

"Does it pain you to think about it?"

Lady Forel shook her head again. "Not anymore, no. I haven't cried over it in quite some time. But there was a time where I cried every night and day over it." The thought horrified Sansa, for Lady Forel was one of the mightiest women she'd ever met, and such a thing to bring tears to a mighty heart such as hers must have been the tragedy of tragedies.

"Please?" begged Sansa after a pregnant silence.

Lady Forel then laughed and smiled and continued her sad story of love. "When I came back to Braavos, Qavo came with me. I remember he was wearing a shirt that was bright orange when he came to the Sealord's Palace with me. He planned to ask my father for my hand in marriage. I went in first to speak with my father, who was still serving as the First Sword of Braavos. But I found out that the Sealord of Braavos had fallen ill that week, and he died that same afternoon. I wasn't surprised, for he was quite old, and my father served him well for those nine years. Two weeks later, the new Sealord was proclaimed, and my father..." She trailed off. "Well, the Sealord had known my father for many years; he had watched me grow up. He summoned me to his Palace, alone, one day, and told me that - out of every woman in Braavos - he had chosen me to be his wife. I was appalled at the thought, and I'm sure the Westerosi would think me mad to refuse, but the Free Cities are different places. To make the long story short, I said 'no'. I made the mistake of telling him that it was because I was in love with someone else..." She looked for a moment as if she might cry, but no tears came. "I thought that my family would be happy for me. My father was the only one that told the Sealord 'no' to his proposal, which ultimately caused our family to cut us off, and my father was First Sword of Braavos no more. Three days later, Qavo was dead, by the hand of the Faceless Men, a deadly assassin guild of the legendary guild in Braavos. I must have just missed the assassin, for his body was still warm when I found it, lying face down in that alley with a poison dart in his neck." She then shook her head. "I saw him, a year later, walking around. But it wasn't him. A Faceless Man had taken his face off and was using it for their nefarious deeds. My Qavo of Volantis was now a mere shadow, a beautiful lie and painful truth, a Faceless man, a mask of death. They used their foul magic to carve his beautiful face off his flesh and use it for their own."

"My Lady..." Tears formed in Sansa's eyes. It was a tragedy fitting of any song. Lady came and licked the top of her copper-colored hand and nuzzled against her lap. The Braavosi smiled and scratched behind her ear. "Would the Sealord do such a thing to you? To one of his people he has sworn to protect?"

"Jealousy can drive a man to madness, sweet girl. You must remember that. He would be the only one that could afford a Faceless Man against Qavo's life." She then shrugged with a sad smile. "But it didn't matter. I couldn't prove it was him. And even if I could, it wouldn't matter. No matter what I did, my Qavo would still be dead, and there would be nothing I could do to save him from that terrible fate. But he was my first love, and I shall cherish the memories of him forever. It turns out, though, that your first love is never the real thing. Your first love is like a brilliant comet, or a shooting star that passes in the night sky of your life. It's beautiful, and for the moment it happens it makes your heart sing. But life will show you that your first love won't always last, and you're probably better off for it. You see, when the real thing happens..." She shook her head and looked far away. Sansa gripped onto her wrist and leaned her head against her shoulder to listen in. Lady set her large head in her lap. "True Love is nothing like the songs. When the real thing happens, you don't actually know what it is, only because it's the most frightening and powerful thing you've ever felt, and it's so great a feeling that you think you might die. It burns within you. Like a fire; like a sudden summer storm inside of you, you can't ignore it, no matter how you try. It will hurt, of course, but just as much as it will cause you pain, it will bring you a joy that will take you to another world." Sansa felt a grin growing on her face.

"Like the songs?" she breathed dreamily.

"Much better than the songs," laughed Lady Forel, pinching Sansa on the cheek playfully. "It makes you feel like writing your own songs about your love, and eventually you might, but you know you shouldn't, only because you probably can't even begin to touch the evocation of what this powerful feeling is. Sometimes, when I feel it, it overwhelms me. You have to become numb to it, in a way, because if your heart really felt the way it truly did, it would kill you. And when the wind is warm and the crickets sing, you lose hours thinking how yours is a love that time will lie down and be still for."

"That's so romantic!" swooned Sansa. "Like your Knight in Shining Armor?"

"More like my handsome Prince..."

"Is he handsome?"

She burst out laughing. "He's Westerosi. I've never seen any man like him before. The men of Braavos are... Well, he's not like them. His hair is... Well, his skin is all pink and smooth and hairless, like a baby's..." She laughed again. "He's quite lovely to look at as far as the Westerosi go, I'm sure, but I think he's positively funny-looking. But something about his eyes will be watching me always. They're the color of the warm sea waters after a storm. And his smile lights up the darkness like the sun breaking into the dawn. I'll never forget the moment we met. It was as if I was suddenly no longer alone, and with that smile he ushered in the World that was suddenly open and wide and waiting for me."

"Oh, milady Forel, who is he?"

She smiled a toothy grin and shook her head, her hair letting off that beautiful jasmine-flower scent. "It doesn't matter."

Sansa's face fell. "Oh, but it does matter, milady! Of course it matters! If it's real, true love, then it matters more than anything else in the world! You've got to hold onto it!"

"My sweet, it doesn't matter. Not anymore. When I was a Braavosi, I might have stormed in and stolen him away, and we might have sailed far across the Narrow Sea together to live out our life as an adventure. But I cannot be a Braavosi and be safe from the Sealord's wrath at the same time. I'm a Westerosi now, and Westerosi women wed them who their fathers tell them to." She sighed. "I'm sure I'll be happy in Dorne. It will be warm and sunny all winter long there, and I hear Prince Quentyn Martell is a capable warrior. I'm sure we will learn much about each other, and we'll have lots to talk about. I'll have an elder sister there, and a younger brother, too. I'll have a family there."

"But what of your love, milady?"

"My father said that love is like a fire that only dies if you don't feed it. I don't know if it will ever truly die, but I think I'll just learn to live with it. As long as he's happy and he ends up with a good life, I can be content with that. Love is selfless in that way, don't you think?"

Sansa didn't want to accept it. The harsh realities of the world were coming to be far too horrible for her innocent heart to bear. She grasped her hand, as if it was a tree branch sticking out of a cliff she was dangling from. If Lady Forel, who was so brave and wonderful and beautiful, didn't get a happy ending, then what hope was there for Sansa? "But what does your Love think, milady? Doesn't he feel the same way about you?"

"He feels, I think, probably stronger than me, if that was possible. His heart is much greater than mine, for it can bear a greater sorrow, and therefore a greater happiness. He is much braver than me, too, and I'm sure felt more afraid when we parted than he was willing to show. But I know of his love for me, for he was the only one of us that was brave enough to say anything about it." She frowned for a moment, but then shrugged and smiled. "I think that he and I are a shade too practical to ever really do anything about our love, now. He said he would come and get me someday, of all things. He tore off his cloak and threw it around my shoulders, and said I belonged to his House first. Then he told me that he would someday find me again, and steal me away forever. Until then, I suppose I could wait, but the Gods only know when that will be that I'll see him again. It could be hours, for he could be on his way down here now. It could also be days, or years, or even decades. It could be centuries, and I could be dead before he comes to my side again, all old and gray and withered, watching my corpse drift away with those still-brilliant blue-green eyes."

"He'll come for you, milady! You mustn't give up hope!" insisted Sansa.

"He might," said Lady Forel, "but he's got until the end of next week to get here and sweep me off my feet, otherwise I'm sailing off to Dorne and marrying Prince Quentyn."

Okay, so a LOT of things are revealed about Cadenzsa's past, and now we delve deeper into the changes in Sansa's character. Seems that she's gotten a bit of the wolf blood in her awakened by seeing a strong Lady with a stronger voice? HOW AWESOME?! LADY IS ALIVE! In fact, I am having NO Direwolves die in this story, at all. Or The Grey Lady. Or The Stallion Who Will Mount the World(WiP). NO DEAD DIREWOLVES. Lots of dead people, of course, but I'm not killing animals. At all. It's too fucked up.

Anyway, I'm continuing on with TSSoB and TGL as best as I can with a full-time job and me constantly being either hungry or exhausted. This chapter was much shorter than my other ones, but Sansa's kind of hard to write for. Oh well.

Message me/comment/review/whatever with any ideas or things you'd like to see, such as character POV requests and plotline requests! I do enjoy a good input here and there.

LOVE! R&R!