Sansa Stark – Part One

Sansa had just begun cooking the little rabbit Rickon had caught when they heard them. Far off voices coming from the Twins, growing louder as they neared. Frey men. Jon had been nearly asleep but sprung to life at the sound, standing in front of the others, his arms spread wide as if to protect them.

"It's just over here."

Robb's voice.

She noticed her half brothers arms relax just a bit, still he was cautious, his eyes darting back and forth in the direction of the noise. Just behind him Arya was clutching the dagger Rickon had been playing with earlier, she must have taken it from him.

Robb appeared first, Stevron Frey at his elbow. They were with a small group of Frey men, loosely armed and looking rather aggravated.

Roslin had told Sansa about her eldest brother, Stevron, once while they were practicing their needlework. Just a passing comment or two when Sansa had mentioned her own siblings. She had called him her kind brother; it had seemed strange at the time, all Sansa's brothers were kind so she had no knowledge of the cruelty one could endure at the hands of ones own blood.

Stevron was a weasely looking man, with light grey eyes that held nowhere near the steel or strength of Arya or Jon's. He was old, in his sixties she guessed, older than her parents had been, but he smiled kindly when he saw them.

"All the Stark children, alive," he murmured, in wonder, mostly to himself.

Robb smiled weakly at his siblings, something wasn't right.

Stevron waved them over, "Come along then, we have horses waiting. And a ship. My father, the Lord of the Twins, has commanded it."

There was a glint in his eye. Something was amiss, she was certain of it now.

The five remained still, a safe distance away from the suddenly more foreboding looking Frey men. Though few were physically bigger than Robb, he looked weak amongst them, his eyes giving away his uncertainty.

Stevron looked at Robb, "Mutes you have here? Tell 'em to hurry up. It's getting to be dark."

Robb swallowed thickly, "Everything is alright, we need to get on the road to Seagard tonight though, so please hurry."

Sansa felt a pull on her skirt and looked down, Bran was sitting propped against a tree looking on helplessly.

"Jon, put Bran in his seat." She commanded, with a newfound strength, "Arya, Rickon let's go. The Frey men were kind enough to come out here and find us, we should not keep them waiting."

She turned and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at the waiting men who were leering at her, ignoring Arya's grumbles as all her siblings, surprisingly, followed her commands.

The walk to the Twins was not as far as it had seemed when Robb had left that morning, before long they were standing in the shadow of the massive structure, being ushered across.

She snuck more than a few glances at her eldest brother, who seemed to be deep in thought, his head down as he walked ahead with Stevron Frey.

True to his word, there were horses waiting at the end for them. Nothing like Bran's black purebred, just simple work horses who looked a bit worse for the wear.

Stevron patted Robb on the back heavily, "Be safe Lord Stark, my son Ryman will make sure you get to your ship safely."

The two shook hands and the elder Frey began to walk away, his men following, before turning once more, his eyes watching Sansa though his words were meant for Robb, "Remember our deal now boy, you understand?"

Her brother nodded, swallowing heavily. It appeased the older man who turned, disappearing across the bridge again with his men. Only one man remained beside them, she deduced it was Ryman Frey.

He was an older man, though not nearly as old as his father, not terribly tall but with a belly so big he looked as if he might topple over. His cheeks were red and he was wobbling as he stood, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Shall we be off then?"

xXx

Stevron Frey proved himself to be every bit a man of his word, they reached Seagard in half a days time and found an unmarked ship waiting on shore for them. Their temporary companion, Ryman Frey, gave little explanation for how they had readied a ship so quickly. He made sure they found their way safely aboard and than was gone, headed back to his ancestral seat.

Once free of the Frey's, Sansa felt instantly lighter. She had never traveled on a ship before and was, to her dismay, feeling very excited.

Her and Arya were meant to share a cabin, the smallest on the ship with one tight little bed, but Arya was off somewhere up top with Jon, leaving her to her thoughts.

Knock, knock.

She jumped slightly, hesitant to answer.

"It's Robb."

The door opened slightly, "Are you decent?"

"Come in."

Her brother entered, shutting the door tightly behind him, "We need to talk Sansa."

He joined her on the little bed, his eyes never quite reaching hers as he wrung his hands.

"We'll need to find a horse once we reach land, Bran is too heavy to carry even if you and Jon take turns. He likes his independence too, though he won't – "

"We need to talk Sansa," Robb spoke at last, cutting her off, "we didn't gain free passage across the bridge."

"I will be going back there then won't I?" It was more of a statement then a question, she began to understand the look the Stevron Frey had given her.

Robb shook his head, "No, though I could tell Stevron liked the look of you. It isn't you Walder Frey is interested in though. When my match was arranged," his voice faltered at the mention of Roslin, "when my match was arranged, Lord Frey was also looking to marry off his son Elmar."

"To Arya."

"Yes, to Arya. They are the same age and Walder took a liking to her."

Sansa was shocked that he would discuss this with her. Robb had always been kinder to her than the others, valued her more then they did, but he had never spoken to her about anything of importance, never trusted her with such intimate details. Jon was his confidante, not Sansa.

"Father turned him down though," he continued, "he knew Arya was not ready to marry. So Walder was forced to arrange another match for his half-wit son. He has so many children Sansa, more than you can imagine and some of his elder sons still have not made good matches."

Sansa choked back the bile rising in her throat, the thought of her wild little sister tied down to an old man sickening, "How old?"

"I had my choice, I chose as best I could, please believe that," his voice was pleading for understanding. That was why he had spoke to her first; good, sweet Sansa would understand, would be complacent and agreeable. She felt sick at herself too.

"How old?"

"His name is Perwyn, he's a decent man Sansa. Ten years my elder maybe, he will take care of her."

Her voice, though quiet, was filled with a venom she did not know she possessed, "So you sold our baby sister to the weasels."

"I did it to protect us."

Robb rubbed his face in his hands, his shoulders sagging. The past month had aged him more than she had realized, when he looked up again she saw his face was fret with worry lines.

"You didn't protect Arya."

"I'm trying Sansa, give me some credit."

She smoothed out the creases in her hopelessly dirty dress, thinking idly that she now understood what it was like to be Arya, come from a day of swordplay and fighting in the mud with the boys; she felt the dirtiness clinging to her skin and visibly cringed.

"You should have offered them me, Robb. Arya will be no good at keeping peace with the Frey's, and Jon won't let her go. You know that." She would sacrifice herself for her sister she realized with a start.

"I wish the world wasn't this way Sansa, I wish I didn't have to barter with my own blood but I must. I must regain Winterfell for mother and father."

Sansa was spent, all her strength used up on what little words of rebellion she had found, "Of course you do not wish this Robb," she patted his hand gently, "you're the Lord of Winterfell now, you cannot think solely as our brother any longer."

Sweet, docile Sansa had come back to the forefront, willing to listen to her brother; willing to understand.

"Need I ask who you intend to offer me to?"

Robb rose, running his hand through his unruly hair before opening the door, "Do not hate me sister."

He answered her with his avoidance, already half way out the door when she spoke again, "I will grow to like the Iron Islands Robb, please don't trouble yourself with your worries."

xXx

News had reached the islands of Pyke long before their ship did and when they stepped foot on land for the first time, Bran clinging to Jon's back, they were greeted with the first familiar face they had seen since leaving Winterfell.

Theon Greyjoy, the reinstated Prince of the Iron Islands, awaited them on shore, a smirk on his face.

"I don't believe it, you lot really survived then."

He looked older than when Sansa had last seen him, or maybe she had not looked as closely as she did now. A man of six and twenty, Theon stood nearly as tall as her brothers but the resemblance ended there. He was leaner than Robb, but the muscles of his arms corded below the skin even when he was not flexing, his brown hair hung in front of his light blue eyes, a hint of mischief sparkling there, and his face was darkened with several days growth of a beard. His skin was tanner than any of the Stark's and he was dressed in fitted armor and long black sleeves, a sword hanging by his side.

Gone was the boy that would play with Robb as a child, allowing the younger boy to tag along with him. He looked wild, as wild as the Ironborn people were known to be.

"Welcome to my home!" He threw his arms out, gesturing towards the barren islands, only the crudest of buildings in close proximity.

Sansa noticed more than a few soldiers rolling their eyes.

From behind him came a woman, built similar to Theon, with the same wiry muscle. Her hair was cropped close to her face, darker than Theon's and highlighted full lips and shapely eyebrows that appeared to be constantly arched. She was dressed almost uniformly to Theon.

"Welcome to the Iron Islands, children of House Stark," when she spoke the soldiers seemed to regard her with a total respect, turning towards her, their heads bowed, "we have learned of your misfortune at the hands of that pussy King Joffrey." This ellicited laughter from the men, "We sympathize with you and would seek to open our home to you."

Who was this woman that was so freely speaking and so crudely at that. A lowborn certainly, surely not Theon's wife, they would know if he had married and that would ruin Robb's plans for her.

"I am Asha Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands," Theon scowled at his sisters back, "yes I did say Queen, do not look so surprised. It is time I take my proper title, don't you agree, Lord Stark?"

Robb bowed his head, "I believe it fits you very well, m'lady."

This appeased the Iron Queen, who smiled broadly at them, before turning to her men, "Ready the horses, up to the castle now."