"She is a beautiful girl, Your Grace," Missandei told Daenerys, who was working on a drawing with a piece of charcoal on paper. She was never particularly good at drawing, but she had tried to apply herself in something during her days as a refugee, moving from city to city, hiding from Robert Baratheon's agents. "Have you seen her before?"

Daenerys shook her head. "I've not, but, she exists in my mind. Rhaegal once burped a ball of fire and I saw her in the flames as well. I can't explain it."

"Can't explain what, Your Grace?" Barristan Selmy asked her.

"This girl," Daenerys told the Lord Commander of her Queensguard. "Ever since Astapor, I had a feeling that I'm being watched. After we've taken Yunkai, the feeling only got stronger." She had told him this before, and he had dismissed her thoughts gently. She decided to show him what she had meant and displayed the drawing for him to see. "It's a rough sketch, but, Rhaegal coughed out her image in his flames..."

For whatever reason, he had paled upon looking at the sketch. "That's not possible," he said, his white brow furrowed.

"Why?" Daenerys asked. "Do you know her?"

"Know her?" Barristan Selmy exclaimed. "Your Grace, she is Sansa Stark, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark. She was once betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, but she is now a Dornish princess, married to the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell."

Daenerys dropped the piece of charcoal in her hand. "She is Lyanna's niece?" she concluded. She had heard the tale far too many times before. Her brother, Rhaegar had abducted Lyanna Stark and kept her in a remote tower in Dorne. The Starks demanded her back, along with Robert Baratheon her betrothed. Together, they rose the uprising that ended her family's dynasty.

"Yes, she is," was Barristan's reply. "Your Grace, Lord Eddard Stark might have risen against your family, but he had done so only to avenge his own. Your father burnt Lord Rickard Stark, his father in the throne room itself in his armor while Brandon Stark was forced to look on. He killed himself trying to save his father because he was tied to a strangulation device, his fingers just almost reaching the sword that could cut the chains that bound his father."

Daenerys' eyes widened. She had never heard of such a tale before. She had never heard of her father's cruelty. She knew that her father was mad, but she did not know of its extent. "You were there when my father killed the Starks?" she demanded.

"Yes, I was," Barristan said. "The throne room smelled of burnt flesh for weeks."

"That is why she is spying on me?" Daenerys asked. "She wants vengeance for her family?"

She had expected an affirmative answer, but Barristan shook his head. "The Starks value honor to a fault," he said. "They only wanted justice for the murders of their family. It ended when your father had died. When Robert Baratheon sent his assassins to kill you when you had just married Khal Drogo, Lord Eddard Stark reasoned against it. Now that Lady Sansa is a Dornish princess, she is your relation by way of the Martells. She has no reason to harm you."

Her brother Rhaegar had married Elia Martell, who was the sister to Sansa Stark's husband. She had heard that the Martells had a deep hatred for the Lannisters that stemmed from the murder of Elia Martell and her children. "So, she is no threat, this Sansa Stark?" she asked.

"No, she poses no threat," Barristan said. "She has no army nor does she have a motive. Perhaps Ser Jorah would tell you more about her. He is from the North as she is."

Jorah looked towards them and also Daenerys' sketch as he walked past them and decided to join the conversation. "Lady Sansa was trained to be a lady at age three, Khaleesi. But they say that the Starks have strange gifts in them. They are descended from the First Men and they were never conquered. In the Age of Heroes, the First Men and the Children of the Forest fought together to defend the world from the Long Night, and as a result, they were given gifts of strange abilities by the Children of the Forest, and some say, that strain exists in the Stark line."

"What gifts are they?" Daenerys asked Jorah.

He only shrugged. "No one knows," he said. "But like you and your family, the Starks have a bit of the old magic from a forgotten age. If you can have your dragons, then Lady Sansa could have her strange gifts. Magic is real now."

"I suppose so," Daenerys said. Whoever Sansa Stark was, perhaps she was just like herself, trying to find a place in the world that was filled with so much blood and chaos. She picked up her piece of charcoal again and placed the last curls of Sansa Stark's hair. She set the sketch down and turned to Missandei, "Tell the caravan to prepare to move. We've dallied for too long this morning."

Missandei smiled and nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

It was barely dawn when Sansa woke. Carefully, she pried herself away from the mess of arms and legs that she, Oberyn and Ellaria had become in the night and walked towards the beach wrapped in a thin blanket. Although she could not see the sun, she could still see the indigo of the night being replaced with bright light, lifting the darkness and returning it to pale blue. Thus, she plopped herself down and continued to look upwards.

"Why is it that whenever you stare into the distance, I feel you have something in your thoughts?" Ellaria asked Sansa, breaking her from her gaze towards the sky. The older woman sat next to her and patted her lap. Sansa instinctively laid her head there, using Ellaria was a pillow. "You are troubled, my love, ever since we've come back to Dorne."

"I'm not," she tried to lie. "I just wanted to look at the sea..."

"You are troubled, my love," Ellaria repeated. "You tend to look into the distance when something's in that pretty head of yours."

"I don't know if I truly belong here," Sansa said. "Dorne's beautiful, the family's wonderful, but... I can't hide out here all my life. I..."

Ellaria's expression told her that somehow, she had expected that she would say something like that. "You need only say the word, and Oberyn will ride for war by your brother's side with you in tow," she told her, caressing the side of her fair cheek. "But you don't want that, don't you."

"If Robb needs Oberyn, he'll have to go," Sansa said. "But..." She looked towards the direction of Essos, where the center of their alliance was, where Daenerys was. She was a Greenseer, and perhaps a warg. She could be of use to help her with her dragons, which were growing larger and larger. But then again, she could just as easily fill that role when Daenerys crossed the Narrow Sea.

"You'll want to spread your wings," Ellaria finished her sentence for her. "I understand. When I was younger, I felt the same way too. My father had me raised like you, you know. I learned to run a keep, even though I was a bastard and he wanted me to look after our keep. Naturally, I wanted nothing to do with it. I spent my youth traveling all over Dorne, escaping my father until I met Oberyn."

Sansa could not help but chuckle at her story. "Look at you now," she said. "You're a mother of six and... you're helping Doran to manage the Water Gardens as much as he lets you to." Doran preferred the term "outsourcing", when it came to Ellaria's assistance in the management of the Water Gardens. Although the seat of the Martells was in Sunspear, the Water Gardens were their private residence, of which half was opened to everyone. She could be allowed at least such a private responsibilty. It was true that Dorne held bastards and trueborn children in equal regard, but since they had the rest of Westeros to contend with, somethings could not be forced no matter how they fought against it.

"I can see the irony, but it is what I have accepted for my fate," Ellaria told her. "You are so young, my love, even younger than I was when I tried to escape my father. I understand if you'll want something more than just being Oberyn's wife, especially when you've just escaped one gilded cage. I cannot caution you to wait, but you must think before you set foot out of Dorne. The world is a dangerous place, my love, far more dangerous for a beautiful girl with two powerful surnames. The bounty on your head will buy a man enough gold to last three generations if things turn out for the worse."

That much Sansa understood as well. "I'll stay here, for now," she said. "I've quite a lot of lessons on diplomacy with Maester Caleotte as well." The good maester was going to teach her on the subtleties of politics in Essos, and she intended to learn as much as she could before she really was sent there.

"Perhaps we could have Oberyn make good on actually teaching you how to fight," Ellaria suggested. "Although, at this rate, you'll only be able to barely defend yourself."

"I'm not sure about that," she said. She remembered that it was merely a jest. "Besides, I would have Brienne with me, if it really comes to that..."

"If it really comes to that, you will need as many blades as you can have," Ellaria cautioned. She took up a stick and twirled it around expertly, as if she was handling a knife. "My father also made sure that I knew a thing or two before he stopped hauling me back into his keep whenever he caught me."

Sansa nodded in understanding. "Have you been to Essos, Ellaria?" she asked. She knew Oberyn spent five years there, fighting with the Second Sons and traveling there.

"Sometimes, to accompany Oberyn on trade ventures," Ellaria said. "Dorne trades more with Essos, my love, than any other part of Westeros. it is more feasible and more... palatable."

Then, Sansa's eyes brightened. "Do you think that we will have the chance to go one of these days?" she asked.

In fact, Ellaria smiled. She retrieved a piece of paper, a sealed letter with the seal of Winterfell. "Obara and Nymeria sent this, it arrived last evening, but Oberyn and I decided to celebrate whatever news the letter carries with you first."

"How would you know that this carries good news?"

"Oh, they said so in their letter."

Eagerly, Sansa read the contents of the letter and she was so happy that she had squealed and hugged Ellaria tightly, kissing her over and over. "Arya... Arya found her way back to Robb and Mother!" she exclaimed. Tears were welling in her eyes, tears of happiness. She had thought that she would never see Arya again. "And... Robb's appointed me as his Ambassador... I'm to go to Volantis..."

Ellaria was smiling widely at the news. "His queen is from Volantis, no?" she reminded Sansa. "House Maegyr is a very powerful family there."

Sansa nodded. "He wants me to bring gifts and good wishes to his in-laws, and a message from Talisa." Inside her letter was another sealed letter, written in High Valyrian. "Does her parents know that she is pregnant?"

Ellaria shrugged. "Perhaps they will after you've brought the letter to them," she said.

"How is it that you already know so much more than I do?" Sansa asked, Ellaria, who only looked towards Oberyn, who sat next to them.

Oberyn kissed her forehead. "I thought by now you would have realized that Obara and Nymeria stayed with Robb not merely because they're 'hostages' or that they truly believed in his cause," he told his wife. "They are our eyes and ears in the Northern Army, my love."

"What else have they discovered?" Sansa asked Oberyn.

"That the Hound, Sandor Clegane was the one that delivered your sister," Oberyn returned pointedly. "He asked for three chests of silver in payment and in his own words 'twenty pretty women to fuck until he can't fuck any longer'."

"Did Robb give him the women?" Sansa asked.

"Queen Talisa sourced them from the brothels at Lannisport herself, according to Nymeria," Oberyn answered. "Robb plans to buy the Hound's service."

Sansa nodded. "The Hound is bloodthirsty like his brother, but he has a good heart. He saved me a few times when he was Joffrey's bodyguard." She remembered a particular episode when she was so close to throwing Joffrey off the ramparts after he had made her look at her father's severed head on a pike. "He'd do well as long as Robb knows how to control him."

"Now come, I hear that you are to be on your way to Volantis as your brother's ambassador," he said, picking Sansa up in his arms. "We must see that the Lady Ambassador is well prepared for her journey."

"Will you come with me?" Sansa asked both Oberyn and Ellaria.

"I'm afraid that it will only be Oberyn and you, my love," Ellaria said with almost a pout. "After all, he was the one who has married into the North. Besides, you would need a Dornishman when dealing with Volantenes."

Sansa thought that Oberyn would be carrying her back to the tent, where her clothes were lying in wait for her, but they did not stop. "Oberyn... my clothes are back in the tent..."

"Oh, did you have any need of them?" Oberyn asked. "I was on the impression that the Lady Ambassador would have a whole new wardrobe commissioned for her, as a wedding gift from her husband..."

"What if someone sees me?" Sansa asked. "I'm not wearing anything!"

"You have me and that blanket around you," Oberyn told her. "Is that not enough?" He was teasing her and she knew it. It wasn't fair, how much sway he has over her. The warmth of his body was all she needed and she would melt into nothingness.

Thus, defeated, Sansa relented and resigned herself to being carried by Oberyn back into their chambers. "'Lady Ambassador' though," she mused. "Is this the proper term?"

"It is one used in Essos," Oberyn pointed out. "Here is Westeros, we are seemingly one nation, however we fight between ourselves, but it Essos, each city is a state onto itself, and they send ambassadors to one another as emissaries of peace."

When they returned to their chambers, Sansa could see a few maids shuffling about space that was to be Sansa's closet. It would seem that Oberyn did mean it when she was receiving a full new wardrobe as a wedding gift.

She had a few new dresses made for her from the time of their betrothal until their last days in King's Landing. He had not wanted her to be paraded in the gowns given to her by the Lannisters or wearing the ones that she had clearly outgrown. Being from the North made Sansa very frugal, and she had not the heart to wear most of them. When she had been unconscious, Ellaria had helped her to bring as much of them as they could carry and she had made do with them until now.

Now, Sansa had more than a few dresses. There were ones made of velvet for the winter, stored next to the furs that had reminded her of home. There were a few that were salaciously cut, coming from one ribcage to the other, crossing at her neck, revealing everything below her breasts until her waist, but had separate long, voluminous skirts in matching colors. Some of them weren't even skirts, but were very wide, flowing trousers that eased movement. Oberyn seemed particularly proud of one that was made in Qarth. It was made of light-colored silk with intricate embroidery. The gown had no bodice to say the least. It was into two separate pieces from the filigreed belt, and each piece would cover her breasts, connected to the cape by shoulder pieces made of the same material as the belt. It was the color of the night sky, accented with silver and sky-blue gems.

"It's beautiful," Sansa exclaimed after Oberyn begged her to try it on. If she was to act as a diplomat, she would have to dress like one, he reasoned. She would be representing not only the North, but also the Riverlands and Dorne. She would needed to impress all that looked upon her. The wardrobe was only a tiny part of what she had to have in her arsenal.

"You are beautiful," Oberyn corrected her. It was rumored that Daenerys Targaryen had worn something similar when she was in Qarth, but it was not before long that she developed her own alterations to the fashions of the Qartheen. Sansa, however, was to be a diplomat. She had to be seen to respect the local culture and she had to be seen to be powerful enough to afford the very latest of fashions. As it was, Sansa played the game like Margery Tyrell, playing within the bounds of her role as a noblewoman, not outside of it, and she was playing it very well. She had no need for instruction in statecraft. All she needed was information so she could properly pry her craft. "No princess could be fairer."

For whatever reason, Sansa blushed. She had thanked her husband's compliments with a kiss, and he readily accept it. However, she had a feeling that it would not be the only gift she was receiving. He led her to the study, where there were two boxes waiting to be opened. The first was a simple dagger about 18 inches long. It was beautifully made, with sapphires that matched the color of her eyes and onyxes at the hilt. "I will teach you how to use it tomorrow onwards," he said, fighting the urge not to rip her Qartheen gown to shreds just to have her again. He then pushed her fiery red hair to one side and waited for her to open the second one.

It was a necklace with the most exquisite pendant she had ever seen. It was made of gold and depicted the Northern direwolf chasing the Martells' sun and spear. A perfect amalgamation of their two houses. Sansa was at a loss for words, gently caressing the pendant while he helped her to wear it. "When you present yourself to the Triarch Maegyr of Volantis, you will be 'the Lady Ambassador, Princess Sansa of Houses Stark and Martell'," Oberyn told her. "No one would dare underestimate you then."

When she threw herself into his arms, it would be the second time she had cried that morning, out of joy and thankfulness. "Thank you," she sobbed quietly.

"Shh, my love," he hushed her, kissing her tears away, and when they had dried, leaving her eyes reddened and slightly swollen. "You are the most peculiar thing, Sansa. You can stare down your enemies in court until their hairs bristle at the back of their necks, even as they torment you, but you cry when you are happy..."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just..."

"Stay the way you are," Oberyn said, sweeping a stray piece of hair away from her face. He knew that it was only when she was with him and Ellaria, or her family that she had allowed this trait to show through. It had honored him to know that she had trusted them as much as her family.

"I'll never take this off," she promised him. "I'll wear this until my last day."

Oberyn nodded, and sealed her promise with another kiss.

HAN: I wonder what will happen when Sansa meets Dany. HMMM.

I based Sansa's new wardrobe on Dany and Missandei's, by the way. I'd take it that whatever they wore around Essos would be considered the height of fashion.

Enjoy!