The girls found themselves rowing toward a ship. Sansa lowered her hood, looking up at the large wooden mass in front of them. Dyana tried to look at the sails, looking for a sigil. But she couldn't see through the fog.

The juggler pulled the boat up to the side of the ship, where there was a rope ladder. "Up you go, my lady," he told Sansa.

Sansa stared up at the deck. "You'll be fine," he encouraged. "You're stronger than you know."

She climbed up, and Dyana suddenly heard her gasp. "Lord Baelish?" the Stark girl asked.

"Petyr," he corrected.

He looked down at Dyana, who started to climb up. He stepped aside when it was time for her to get on deck. "Are either of you ladies hurt?" he asked.

"No," Dyana said, while shook her head.

"Good. Good. I'm sure you two have had quite a fright. Rest easy. The worst is past."

"Lord Baelish," the juggler spoke up from the boat. "I promised I'd get her to you safely."

"Softly, my friend," Littlefinger said. "Voices carry over water."

"I should get back before someone thinks to look for me," the man replied.

"First you'll want your pay. Ten thousand, was it?"

Petyr snapped his fingers.

"Ten thousand. Though I wouldn't mind more for bringing the other..." the juggler began.

He was cut off by a man with a crossbow stepping to the edge of the ship. "Wait!" he cried, but the man did not wait.

A bolt imbedded itself in the juggler's cheek.

Sansa let out a horrified shriek, but Dyana was quick to silence her, pressing a hand over her mouth. Littlefinger nodded to the Tyrell girl. "Shh," he encouraged Sansa. "You don't want the queen to hear, do you?"

"Margaery is queen," Dyana said, thinking that he couldn't hear.

But he heard. "Not with Joffrey dead, she isn't," he stated. "A thousand gold cloaks are searching for both of you, on Queen Cersei's command. And if they found you, how do you think they would punish the girl who murdered the king?"

"I didn't murder anyone," Sansa said.

"I know. I know. But you must admit it looks suspicious. The king who executed your father, who tormented you for years, and you fled the scene of his murder."

"Why did you kill him?" Sansa asked, meaning the juggler, lying still in the boat.

"Because he was a drunk and a fool and I don't trust drunk fools," Littlefinger answered.

"He saved me. He saved Dyana."

"Saved you? My lady, he did that on my orders. Every one of them. And he did it all for gold. You heard him, he wanted more for bringing Dyana. Money buys a man's silence for a time. A bolt in the heart buys it forever."

"He was helping me because I saved his life."

"Yes and he gave you a priceless necklace that once belonged to his grandmother."

Littlefinger reached around Sansa's neck, unclasping the necklace. "The last legacy of House Hollard," he said.

He lay it on the edge of the ship, drawing a knife and shattering one of the gems with it'd base. "I had it made a few weeks ago. What did I once tell you about the capital?"

"We're all liars here," Sansa said.

"Come, my ladies. I know you've had a difficult day. But you're safe now. I promise you that. You're safe with me and sailing home."

Littlefinger hadn't prepared for Dyana to be on his ship. He'd prepared Sansa a cabin, but not Dyana. He stopped at the nearest port possible and found a cot for Dyana, which he had put in Sansa's cabin. That night, Dyana sat on her cot. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, leaving damp trails of sweat. The ship rocked side-to-side, making her feel dizzy.

Sansa stepped up to her. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I've never been on a ship this long. I didn't expect so much- - so much rocking," Dyana answered.

"Are you going to be sick?"

"No. I think I'm all right."

Sansa nodded. She sat down beside Dyana, who let out a sigh. "I shouldn't have left. My sister... what will happen to her?"

"I don't know," Sansa replied. "I don't think anyone would hurt her... but I can't be sure."

"Is she even the queen anymore?"

"I don't know."

Dyana hesitated a moment before she took Sansa's hand. She didn't expect Sansa to react, but the Stark girl's fingers twined with her own. "I'm glad you left," Sansa said to her. "I would've missed you if you had stayed in King's Landing."

"I didn't even think," Dyana said with a chuckle. "I just left. I don't know why."

Sansa shrugged her shoulders. Her next sentence changed the subject. "Tommen will be the king, now."

"Margaery will sink her claws into him soon enough," Dyana responded.

The younger girl let out a chuckle. She moved closer to Dyana, leaning into her side. "I didn't tell you," she said, "I really like your dress."

"I like yours, too," Dyana said. "But I'd much rather like to see you out of it."

Sansa suddenly froze. "What?" she asked.

Dyana let out a laugh. "Nothing," she replied. "It was nothing."

Sansa nodded. "All right," she murmured.

There was a pause, before Sansa let her head rest on Dyana's shoulder. "I don't trust Littlefinger," the Tyrell stated.

"He saved us," Sansa answered.

"But why? He could've left us. Left you. But he went through all of the trouble to make sure that Cersei couldn't charge you for killing Joffrey."

"He loved my mother. He feels responsible for me."

Dyana chuckled. "A man like Petyr Baelish doesn't feel responsible for anything or anyone, except maybe a whore who gets him lots of money. Then there's you. What makes Littlefinger so interested in you?"

"He loved my mother."

"And you look like your mother. Piece it together."

Sansa shook her head. "He's not in love with me."

Dyana shrugged. "Then he lusts after you. Either way, he wants something from you."

Sansa went quiet. She let go of Dyana, standing and moving to her bed. "I'm going to sleep," she said.

Dyana smiled slightly, nodding. "All right."