50. Allies.
Night had fallen over King's Landing. Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei had already returned to the mansion, and it would soon be time to go downstairs and have dinner. Sansa was sitting on the bed, reading a book. After speaking with her brother Bran she had gone to rest to the bedroom, for the doctor had told her that she needed a lot of rest during her pregnancy and that she had to take good care of herself. Sansa felt tired, so she didn't complain about having to be in bed almost the entire day, and anyways she didn't feel like doing anything. Ever since the day of the accident the only thing that she wanted to do was to close her eyes and sleep, but sleep never came so she decided to take a book and try to read it. She had been an avid reader in the past, but she felt too tired even for that. Reading stories didn't seen to make any sense anymore. Why would she want to read stories that had endings full of lies when she knew that they weren't real? In the past she had thought that books with sad endings were awful; now she knew that they were just realistic.
She had barely managed to read a chapter when the door of the bedroom opened, and she put the book down on her lap and looked at the person that had come in. It was her brother, Rickon, and he seemed to be about to explode with anger.
Has Bran spoken with him already? Sansa wondered after seeing how angry her brother was. After Gendry had left she had gone to talk to Bran and she had told him about her plans with Gendry. Bran had listened quietly while she told him that Gendry was going to take him, Rickon and Ned away to Europe to keep them hidden, and she had also explained why. She had told him the whole truth. After she was done, Bran was very pale and looked sick to his stomach. Sansa had thought that her brother would vomit all over the floor after knowing what had been going on with Joffrey in all those three years, but the young Stark had managed to keep his cool and he had talked to Sansa, arguing with her. He did not want to leave, but after Sansa told him that Ned could not stay in King's Landing and that he needed someone from his own family to protect him, Bran had agreed to go and not to argue anymore.
"Rickon?" she asked, wondering if everything was alright, though she was sure that her younger brother had come there to protest. She was right.
"I'm not leaving," what the response that she got. Sansa sighed and closed the book that was on her lap before putting it on the bedside table.
"Rickon..."
"You've heard me," he hissed rather harshly, glaring at her with his angry blue eyes. "I'm staying right here with you."
Sansa closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She felt a headache coming; she did not have the energy to have this fight with her brother, not after just having the same one with Bran. Besides, Rickon was a thousand times more stubborn than Bran.
"Yes, you are," she said to him. She spoke softly, not wanting to fight. It was already decided. Her brother would leave along with Ned and Bran, and that would be the end of it. However, things were not so clear for the youngest Stark sibling.
"No!" he insisted. "I'm staying right here with you!"
"No!" she exclaimed angrily this time. "Lower your voice, they are going to hear you!"
Rickon turned around and slammed the door of the bedroom shut, locking himself and Sansa inside and isolating them from the rest of the household so that they wouldn't be heard. He turned around again to face his sister, who was getting out of the bed.
"You can't tell me what to do! You are not my mother!"
"I'm your sister!" she almost yelled. "And I will tell you what to do because I want you to stay alive!"
"You shut up during three years to protect us, but that didn't keep Mom and Robb alive, did it?!"
Sansa did not know what kind of demon possessed her at that moment, but right after hearing Rickon's hateful accusation her hand shot up and slapped him right across his face, turning his head to the side. Rickon didn't even wince, even though the red and swollen mark on his cheek looked very painful, but Sansa gasped, unable to believe that she had just done that. She covered her gaping mouth with her shaking hand, looking at her brother horrified. She had hit him. She had never ever hit anyone from her family, not even when she was extremely angry with them! All she had ever done was yell, but now she had completely lost control over herself.
What is happening to me?
"Rickon, I'm so sorry..." she apologized with trembling lips.
Rickon lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head, and Sansa feared that he was not going to forgive her. She was surprised when Rickon apologized.
"No, I'm the one that's sorry," he murmured, finally raising his gaze to look at her. He wasn't glaring at her anymore, and the expression on his face was sad. Sansa stopped seeing the angry young man that Rickon had been moments ago and instead started seeing the boy, barely nineteen, whose world had crumbled to his feet in flames around him without previous notice. "I shouldn't have said that..."
"But you are right," Sansa whispered weakly. "Maybe if I had said something earlier they wouldn't be dead..."
"He would just have killed them sooner," Rickon hissed, and the hate returned to his voice. "Or not, we will never know! What matters now is that he doesn't kill you."
"He won't hurt me."
"Yes, he will! And I will kill him!"
"Don't," Sansa muttered severely. "Rickon, I don't want you anywhere near Joffrey, understand? He will pay for his crimes eventually, but I don't want you getting hurt meanwhile."
"But you can't send me away," Rickon said stubbornly. "I am going to stay here, to protect you."
"Sandor will protect me."
"Clegane is not enough! If anything, he got you into even more trouble!" Right after saying that Rickon lowered his gaze to stare at his sister's belly, which had a tiny little bump, almost unnoticeable. "I'm staying, Sansa, there's nothing you can do about it. Bran will leave to be with Ned, but I'm staying. Don't try to convince me to leave, I won't change my mind."
"You are under my care! I'm responsible for you, so you'll do as I say!"
"I am legally an adult! I can do as I want, and I say that I'm staying and that will be it!"
Sansa opened her mouth to protest but she stayed silent. She just didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Reluctantly she gave up, and Rickon looked at her with pity in his eyes. He did not want to fight his sister and make her suffer, but he had no other choice. He approached her until he was standing right in front of her.
"You have been protecting us all this time..." he murmured, feeling an intense guilt building up inside of him and consuming him. He felt that he should have known what was going on with Joffrey. He always boated that he was so smart, that he perceived and figured things out so easily... But his senses had failed him miserably, hadn't they? "Let me protect you now."
"I just..." Sansa started saying, but she choked on her words. She closed her eyes and the images of her father's dead body and the caskets of her mother and brother once again tormented her mind. "Please don't die."
Rickon hugged her and Sansa held on to him as if her life depended on it.
"I won't die, big sis," Rickon murmured. "I promise."
Sandor had waited until everyone went to sleep and all the lights were off to sneak out of the mansion and go to the car. It wouldn't really be a problem if anyone saw him leaving, for it was his night off and it wasn't unusual to see him and the other bodyguards leaving some nights to go to the pub and get pissed drunk. That hadn't gone out to get drunk at night in a very long time because he didn't want to leave Sansa alone with Joffrey, and getting drunk was certainly not his intention this night either.
He drove all the way from the Red Keep mansion to Visenya's Hill in absolute silence. His mind was spinning, thinking about the pictures and the note over and over again. He had burned the pictures back at the mansion so as to not risk having the wrong person finding them, and he had the note in his pocket. He visualized the message a million times on his mind, trying to guess who in seven hells had sent him that bloody note.
Sandor still couldn't believe that someone had been following him and Sansa all along and had taken pictures of them together in the most compromising places and situations. Never before in his life had anyone ever snuck up on Sandor, and much less spied on him. Those who had tried had ended up badly, and that was one of the traits that made him an excellent bodyguard. But that time, right when he should have been more careful than ever, he had completely fucked up. Like, he had seriously fucked up! If those pictures reached the wrong hands Joffrey would have his head, and then Sansa would suffer the consequences as well. Sandor wanted to punch himself. How could he have been so stupid?!
He wondered who the fuck had sent him the message, and what the hell that fucker wanted. If that person's intentions were to extortionate Sandor them they had gone to the wrong place, for he didn't even have a penny. Sansa and the others Starks were loaded with money, but Sandor would not tolerate them giving up their fortune to save their necks. No, Sandor had a better option, one that he was very good at. He looked at the compartment in which his gun was hidden. He would wait for whomever had summoned him at Visenya's Hill, and then he would pull a bullet through that asshole's brain to silence him or her forever.
Visenya's Hill was the best place in the whole city for that kind of encounters. There was nothing in there apart from parks full of trees, and in those late hours of night there was not a single soul in there. Sandor pulled over next to some trees and shut down the engine of the car. He didn't leave the vehicle, though, and he examined his dark surroundings before checking the hour on his watch. It was 11:58, two minutes before the time at which he had been told to be there.
Sandor waited inside the car, and he reached for the gun inside the compartment in front of the passenger's seat. When he looked back up and he almost jumped on his seat when he saw a hooded man a couple of feet in front of his car that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
That must be him, Sandor thought, and he grunted with distaste. He was finally going to know who was the son of a white that had dared to soy on him and the little bird...
He got off the car and slammed the door shut behind him before he started walking towards the hooded man. He hid the hun behind his back as he walked, and he observed the strange man in standing in front of him. The man had his back turned to Sandor, so it was impossible to see his face. He wasn't particularly tall, and he was plump. His hood was of the brightest purple color that Sandor had ever seen, which made him frown. Since when did people come to this kind of meeting dressed like that?!
His grip around the gun became tighter, and he had to restrain himself from aiming at the back of the man's head and shooting him right then and there. But first he had to see his face...
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my friend," the hooded man spoke then. His voice was soft and calm, and something about it made Sandor grit his teeth with annoyance. He thought he recognized that voice from somewhere...
The man turned around then to finally face Sandor, and he pulled his hood down. Sandor snorted when he recognized the man.
"Varys," he muttered. "I should have known..."
Varys, the most celebrated paparazzi, journalist, and spy of the country smiled when Sandor recognized him. He didn't seem one bit bothered by the anger in the bodyguard's menacing grey eyes. Sandor moved his arm from behind his back, letting the gun be seen by Varys. The plump, bald man simply looked at the weapon with indifference.
"If you kill me, a copy of the pictures I sent you will be all over the internet by morning," he told Sandor. "I wasn't going to come here without some... insurance."
"What is it you want?" Sandor asked, not putting the gun away, but not aiming at Varys with it either. "Is it money?"
"Money is of no use to me," Varys said, and Sandor knew that it was probably true. Varys never did anything for money. He had a show and a magazine, in which he always revealed information that no one knew about politicians and other important people. He revealed their secrets and ruined their careers, and sometimes what he did to destroy someone worked for the benefit of another politician or powerful person. Varys was a dangerous man, for no one ever knew what his true intentions were, or whose side he was on.
"What is it, then?" Sandor hissed. "Why did you take those pictures? What do you want?!"
"You are a smart man, Clegane," Varys said. "What do you think I want?"
"Well, you clearly don't want to extortionate me or Sansa," Sandor said, that much was obvious since Varys didn't want money. What other options were there, then? "And you don't want to show them to Joffrey, not really. You would have done it by now if you did."
"Oh, I could show them to him. In fact, that would serve my purpose," Varys said. A small smile appeared on his thin lips, making his expression kind of malicious. With each second that passed Sandor trusted the man less and less.
"If your career is anything to go by, you want to ruin Joffrey," Sandor rasped, and his eyes darkened a shade when he realized then what the purpose of those pictures was. "You want to show them to him so that he snaps. You want to show his true face."
Smiling with satisfaction over Sandor's deduction, Varys nodded his head.
"Joffrey Baratheon is a good actor, but I wonder how long would he be able to keep his wrath hidden if he ever saw those pictures of his wife and his bodyguard in public?" the bald man asked himself I'm a fake tone of curiosity. He already knew the answer to that question as well as Sandor. "He would finally show his true colors."
"Why do you want that?"
"Why do I want anything, really? I have my own reasons."
"If you want to make those pictures public at least give me time to get Sansa out of the country and hide her!" Sandor asked, starting to sound a little bit desperate when in fact he was very desperate. He would gladly kill Varys if that would solve anything, but he already knew that Varys had arranged for those pictures to be uploaded to the internet if anything ever happened to him. Sandor could not hope to kill him and find whoever it was that had the copies of the pictures in time to prevent them from going viral. He felt so powerless!
"Clegane, you haven't been able to get her out in two years, what makes you think that you can get her out now? Joffrey will follow you wherever you go, and he will find you."
"Then why did you make me come here?!"
"To make a deal," Varys explained, remaining calm unlike Sandor who was already shouting. "I want to create Joffrey's downfall, but what I have is not enough. Now, I know that he has committed crimes, many of them. The plane crash? That was no accident, I'm not a fool. But he covers his tracks very well, and getting evidence that he was behind that crash will probably be a tedious and long process. Now, if you can give me something, anything that will uncover his true nature to the world..."
"So you are blackmailing me," Sandor scoffed. "I give you valuable evidence, or you'll destroy me and Sansa, is that it?"
"Well, yes," Varys admitted, merely shrugging his shoulders somewhat carelessly. "So what is it going to be, my friend? Do you have anything for me?"
"I don't have anything right now..."
"Pity," Varys murmured before Sandor could even finish. It took all the control he had for Sandor not to shoot him at that moment.
"But-" he quickly added. "I do have something," he said, igniting Varys's curiosity. "What if I told you that Joffrey Baratheon not only killed President Stark... but that he also ordered Theon Greyjoy's death? And... He also killed Vice Present Stark with his own hands. There is evidence of that, and I can find it. I will find it."
He saw Varys's eyes brightening up with the sparkle of victory that appeared in those that had found a treasure. Sandor knew that he had been right in giving Varys that information before the bald man, the master of secrets of Westeros, smiled with the overwhelming satisfaction that came only at the glimpse of success.
"Well then, my friend. I believe we have a deal!"