Dragons

In the midst of the pouring rain, thundering hooves echoed across the open field as three centuries of the Golden Company charged towards the Ser Gregor Clegane's men. The once-solid ground had turned into a quagmire, on a muddy crossroad that threatened to ensnare and hinder the mounted warriors.

Mephos witnessed as the cavalry of Serjeant Temerin charged head on into the ranks of the Mountain's men. As the clash began, the air filled with the metallic symphony of swords clashing and cries of men. Men on horseback fought with relentless fury, blades flashing as they faced the barrage of raindrops.

Swords bit into flesh, and the ground churned as horses struggled through the muck. But even as they engaged, the second century struck from the flank, a whirlwind of steel and speed that destabilized the Lannister ranks.

The third century, where Mephos was riding, remained concealed from view until it surged forward unexpectedly, bursting forth from the rear with a resounding roar. They were encircled, Mephos realized. He would be part of the force delivering the monster to King Aegon, securing everlasting glory. Caught between three unyielding centuries, Ser Gregor's men faltered, ensnared in a deadly pincer movement. Chaos ensued as men fought for their lives, the cacophony of battle overwhelming all other sounds.

In thar carnage, he was just an ordinary soldier of the Golden Company but I fight valiantly. Mephos felt his heart pounding, the rain and sweat mingling on his brow as he parried blows and thrust his sword. The world around him was a blur of movement and color, the battle becoming an instinctive dance of survival.

Suddenly, as if emerging from a nightmare, Clegane himself charged towards Mephos. He had heard the rumors about the Mountain, but the beast before him now was clad in armor and moved with an unbelievable swiftness, mounted on the largest horse Mephos had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat as he confronted the Mountain, a hulking figure of death and devastation. With a desperate cry, he swung his sword, but the immense strength of the Giant easily deflected the blow.

In an instant, Clegane's massive blade descended, cutting through armor and flesh. Mephos's world flared white-hot with pain, then darkness consumed him. His last sight was of the battlefield, still full of turmoil, and then he saw retreating figure of Gregor Clegane.

"The monster has escaped," he uttered, taking his last breath.

...

Direwolf

Sansa had initially been wary of Aegon's intentions. The scars left by Joffrey's torment ran deep, leaving her guarded and hesitant to trust. Yet, now, she is a hostage of the new king. Aegon also appeared distant, as if estranged from the present moment. Sometimes, she would think that the young king was not fully present, not quite grasping what was happening around him. Yet, he would swiftly disprove her assumptions, engaging with his guests in a manner that made them feel like the most important people in the world. His responses were insightful and eloquent, leaving a lasting impression, even if the interaction was brief.

The way Aegon spoke carried a peculiar accent that seemed both familiar and foreign to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. It accentuated his enigmatic persona, like a man who did not wholly belong anywhere. Sansa had never met a Targaryen before, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the embodiment of the Targaryens she had heard of in countless stories over the years.

Initially, Sansa felt like the young king didn't pay her much heed. He would acknowledge her presence with a polite nod as he passed by, as if there was no need for further acknowledgment. However, with time, he started to address her as "my lady" with a subtle half-smile, barely detectable.

In Maidenpool, Sansa found herself with much more freedom than she had in King's Landing. Accompanied by guards and handmaidens, she could venture beyond the castle walls, exploring the town and visiting the pool or craft shops. The newfound freedom was refreshing after the confinement she had endured.

Lord Mooton's daughter generously gifted her several new dresses, adding a touch of elegance and color to her days in Maidenpool, amidst the busy camp and the looming uncertainties.

She felt the war fading from her mind, as she sat in the verdant park, beside the castle, watching the boats glide into the harbor. Strong Thunderex stood beside her, her guardian, always as silent as a statue. The dark days of strife did not dim the vibrant trade, vessels laden with goods sailed from Essos, and Sansa would often receive a gift of silk or spice from faraway lands she had never seen.

"Your Westeros has a certain allure. Wild and untamed, yet alluring," a voice startled her from behind. It was Lysono Maar, the spymaster, who smiled at her with a hint of mischief. "Lady Sansa, how do you fare this day?".

Many joys had graced Sansa's life in recent moons, but she was still sorrowful for she had not heard from her mother and brother. Dark thoughts haunted her; what if the raven had fallen; she knew that arrows felled the winged messengers, for in war, knowledge was more precious than gold, as her father had taught Robb. Or mayhaps the letter was never sent, and she was fooled once more by the schemes of her keepers, entombed in false hopes, swayed by her own yearnings. She searched Lysono's face for a sign of deceit, but she knew she lacked the skill to read men; she thought of Littlefinger then, he surely had it.

"I am well, my Lord," she said to Lysono with courtesy; today she had no mood for his witty words; though the effeminate Lyseni was the nearest thing to a friend she had here; she almost laughed at that notion and wondered how Jayne Poole would envy him for that.

"I am no lord, I fear," Lysono Maar tried to say, but he was interrupted by a strange commotion that filled the courtyard of the castle.

Lysono and Sansa climbed the stairs to the top of the wall where the courtyard was visible. Captain of the cavalry Otreyes, on his big black horse, was waiting in front of the entrance gate; his golden armor and orange cloak were smeared with mud, his sword was hidden in a sheath of wolf skin, with an open wolf's jaw at the beginning. He held a red banner in his hand; Sansa could barely see his face under the lifted visor. Of all the officers of the Golden Company, Otreyes was the rarest at Lord Mooton's court, he seldom graced the feasts with his presence.

"I have, the Mountain, on the run", said Otreyes in a loud and somewhat hasty voice, tossing a banner on the courtyard ground; whose face Sansa recognized. Lannisters.

Otreyes's eyes met the fiery crimson hair of Lord Connington, next to whom Aegon stood before Sansa's eyes, his shadow blended with the shadow of the weirwood crown. The king's beautiful white face was now adorned with anger, the skin around his purple eyes was powerfully wrinkled and colored in red, with frowning eyebrows, like gloomy clouds, whose thunder will roar powerfully across the horizont.

"So what are you doing here, then? Why didn't you pursue him?", Aegon snapped at Otreyes with an angry voice, but Sansa shivered; she had never seen him angry, but now he looked like a beast that wanted to devour Captain Otreyes.

"I came to give my report, because the beast escaped beyond our lines; boundaries that you set for us", equally powerfully shouted Captain Otreyes, as if he was not addressing the King, but an ordinary soldier. "I had only three centuries at my disposal and I cut down two thirds of his men. He is returning with his tail tucked where he came from. If you hadn't scattered my centuries all over this godsforsaken land, maybe I would have followed him."

The news of his cavalry's success did not soothe Aegon's mood, "How dare you! You knew that Clegane was a priority, and you let him slip through your fingers".

The anger of their exchange seemed more powerful than the howling of the sea wind; Otreyes just snorted and turned his back and left the courtyard.

Aegon caught sight of Sansa on the battlements, and for a moment, she could discern a hint of shame on his face. He didn't want me to see him like this.

"Ah those two, always grabbing each other's necks, and they used to be inseparable like two fingers of the same hand", Lysono Maar said with feigned sadness and aroused Sansa's curiosity. The spymaster sat on the pedestal next to the battlement intended for archers.

"What happened between them?" she asked him in a gentle voice, and Lysono smiled because he wanted her to ask the question. You caught your fish, Lysono.

"The same thing that sows discord between every two men. A woman.", Lysono giggled happily, as if he had been waiting all his life to tell this story. "Mind you, our great King and gallant captain Otreyes did not fight over the same woman, but they loved her equally." Sadness covered Lysono's face and Sansa always found it hard to see how sincere the expressions on his face were. "You see, beautiful lady Sansa. Our King loved the sister of captain Otreyes... Oh what a love it was, they were almost inseparable. The girl even knew the secret of his identity, so strict that one could lose one's head for it."

A wave of jealousy swept Sansa's heart, at that moment she felt a strange mixture of sadness, fear and anger at herself. Her mind scolded her. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong.

"...Mertyn and his sister are from your roots, north of that fantastic wall, which everyone talks about", Lysono continued, not noticing Sansa's sorrow. Wildlings are not northerners, they do not belong to Westeros; the spymaster crossed the line if he thinks he can compare a wildling with a noble high lady of Westeros. "As a boy, he was captured along with his mother by pirates whose intention was to sell them into slavery. A cruel fate if you ask me. But it was not meant for Mertyn; Braavosi galleys intercepted the ship, not far from Pentos, freeing all the unfortunate souls. The boy and mother ended up in a foreign environment, a city that could not be more different from the wilderness they came from. The poor woman's health was impaired by the heavy sea voyage, and she died in childbirth, bringing little Eira into the world."

"The children's luck turned for the better, as the young widow Otreyes felt compassion for the orphans and welcomed them into her home. Her husband, a merchant whose ship was swept away by the waves... along with him", Lysono said with a wicked grin, "...had left the fair lady with so much wealth that she never had to lift a finger again. Lady Otreyes favored the company of women, if you catch my drift Lady Sansa", Lysono winked, but Sansa was puzzled, for it seemed natural that a lady should keep company with ladies; all noble ladies had lady companions and queens had ladies in waiting. She shuddered at the thought of herself in that role, if she were to wed Joffrey.

"She had no desire to remarry, but she longed for children, so she adopted the two children and made them her own. Young Mertyn became a skilled rider, an excellent warrior with a sword and even better with a spear, through her money. In his desire to prove himself he joined the Golden Company. Eira caught the eye of our Targaryen at Lady Otreyes' ball; she spurned the king at first, but he persisted and at last she agreed to spend a day with him, if he could catch her a flying squirrel, a furry beast of swift speed and sharp claws. Children's game."

Despite her jealousy, Sansa listened intently to the story, thinking of all the lover tales she knew.

"...and he succeeded, Lovers in stories always succeed," Sansa cut off Lysonos words. "But that doesn't explain why Captain Otreyes doesn't like Aegon."

"You are wrong, Lady Sansa, if you think this is a romantic story with a happy ending," as if seeing through her soul and discovering what Sansa is, Lysono looked directly into her eyes. "Yes, the boys fought together, learned from each other; nothing builds friendship like war, because only when the ice cracks under your feet do you know who your friend is. The three of them were; Aegon, Mertyn and a boy named Agrilla, probably as smart as all the Golden Company together,"... but he's not here, did he also get angry with Aegon, why does Aegon lose friends so easily.

Thunderx, who loomed like a silent shadow beside Sansa, did not give the impression that he was listening to the story, or that he was interested: he said shortly, "the boy knew how to set up the camp defense like no one. With his mind he would double our number."

"...true, good Thunderex, but even the sharpest mind cannot shield a man from a spear in the face. The boy was doomed, and faul destiny, as it was Aegon who ordered the assault that claimed his life. That death was the first fissure in the stone, Lysono said.

...and the girl's death sealed the rift. Sansa felt a pang of sorrow, but also a deep relief; she had never rejoiced at someone's demise before, she chided herself, but the odd sensation of gratification lingered. She posed a question to Lysono, hoping to conceal her state, "How did she die?"

"The quarter in Pentos where the girl dwelled was ravaged by the shaking sickness. A cruel twist of fate, the death toll was meager but she didn't escape it. Aegon endeavored to rescue her, following the healer's advice he ventured into the marshes near Velvet Hills, to fetch sunroot. A realm where only fools tread, teeming with horned lizard beasts and flesh-eating plants. The king was assaulted by one of those verdant horrors, and now he sports a faint scar from the thorn.

He prevailed once more, but when he reached her she was no more. They say he paid three hundred gold coins to lift her veil, to gaze upon her for the last time", Lysono wept, and Sansa sobbed, she wished she could stop but tears flooded her eyes. Thunderex, her loyal shadow and protector, knelt down and offered her a handkerchief.

"And then the bitter part, Mertyn held Aegon responsible for the death, his sister and her daughter should have remained at Lady Otreyes' house, where they would be more secure, or so the cavalry captain believed."

Her daughter. The detail seized Sansa's notice. Aegon was barely two years senior to Robb, though his face bore more marks of age than Robb's. "Did they have a child?", Sansa inquired of Lysono eagerly and for the first time in her life she felt a she could understand her mother. Aegon is not yours and never will be.

"Ooo yes. The little one is five years old, you should have seen her. She has Aegon's eyes, but the rest of her is a mirror of her mother. Halfmaester Haldon mentioned something about that, but it slipped my mind", Lysono pondered as he attempted to unravel lost words. "The blood of the First Men runs stronger than the blood of the dragons. That's it."

Duncan, the Prince of Dragonflies, who loved Jenny of Oldstones, and gave future crown for her, had raven hair, or nearly so, Sansa could not recall. His sire was also Aegon but she knew not which by number, who wed for love to... Think... to... Think, Sansa... to Betha Blackwood. "The Blackwoods are an old family, one of the few in the south who worship the old gods", her father's voice echoed within her mind.

Blackwoods traced their lineage to the first men, the ancient ancestors of the North. The thought lingered in her mind as she drifted into sleep, and she dreamed of Arya on horseback, racing through Winter town with a pursuer on her heels. Her escapade drew different reactions from the townsfolk; some smiled at her daring, others frowned at her recklessness. Arya reached the gate of Winterfell in a swift gallop, and Sansa caught a glimpse of her home's silhouette. Winterfell seemed more radiant and lively than ever, as if its walls were made of joy. Arya's passage through the gate did not take Sansa to the courtyard of Winterfell but to the Godswood where she saw Theon, surrounded by people who looked like him. The sharp barking woke her from her sleep, the sun had not risen yet.

Is Theon in Winterfell, she thought it unlikely that her father's ward would not go with Robb to war, they were friends after all. She did not pay much attention to the dream, because although she saw Arya on horseback, she was never as good rider as in her dream. Sansa missed her sister. Tossing and turning on the feather pillow and bedding, she watched shadows of the lonely candle play on the ceiling tapestries of her room. The nights were no longer warm and pleasant, she noticed, autumn was showing its presence more strongly every day and soon she would have to have a brazier. As a Northern lady, the cold should not have bother Sansa, but the sun-drenched days of late summer were still dear to her. She had almost forgotten the North and its people, sometimes it seemed to her that she would never return, but the return was not the intention, she was suppose to marry the prince and live a perfect life as a lady at the royal court. "The blood of the first men runs stronger", the words of halfmaester Haldon came to her mind, does that mean that Sansa would never stop being a stranger among people who mostly are not the First men.

She had wandered to the rose garden, restless from the lack of sleep. In the castle, Sansa had the privilege of walking freely without guards. She found a bench and savored the crisp air of the dawn. Her eyes drifted to Aegon's tower, but it was still dark. Perhaps he was with his men in the camp beyond the walls. Footsteps were heard on the second floor and when she looked up, septa Lemore was descending the open corridor, radiating confidence in her white robe, carring lovely face bright with cheer.

"Seven blessings, Sansa Stark. You are up early to enjoy the gifts of the new day." she said with a playful smile" adding mischievously "his majesty is in his tower". Sansa felt her cheeks warm up.

"Good morning, septa. And maester Haldon, is he here?" she asked politely.

"Halfmaester. Haldon has not completed the forging of his chain at the Citadel. We refer to him as a halfmaester, since without a fully forged chain, he cannot hold the title of a maester. And indeed, he is present here. I am on my way to him; if you wish, you are welcome to accompany me." Septa didn't pause for Sansa's response; instead, she hastened her steps towards Haldon, quickly putting some distance between them. Lemore was the most unconventional septa Sansa had ever encountered; the steadfastness and sternness displayed by Septa Mordane seemed foreign to her. She even dressed with more freedom, revealing more than customary.

The chamber of Halfmaester Haldon was immense, yet it gave an impression of being both tight and confined. The walls were lined with books, while tables scattered throughout the room were filled with bottles and muddy vessels containing various plants and potions. Strange liquids simmered over small fires, and unfamiliar scents, some pleasant and others not, enveloped the space. On a small table beside the bed, an unusual game with different figures was set up. Halfmaester had just moved a piece, and Sansa had a feeling he was playing against himself.

"Lemore and Lady Sansa. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he addressed Sansa, not anticipating her being there. He casually tossed a bottle towards Septa Lemore, who caught it with surprising dexterity. Not quite the usual trait for a septa. Sansa gazed at Haldon, unsure of how to frame her question... and why.

Haldon didn't belong to those who wasted time without reason. "Septa, I didn't expect to be preparing this potion for you," he said.

"New city, new opportunities," Septa replied with a tone that matched her shoulder shrug.

"Halfmaester," Sansa carefully spoke up, "may I ask you a question?"

"You already did, Lady Sansa. Though I assume it's not the question you truly wanted to ask," Haldon responded, moving a piece on the board, but now it was a different color. She was now certain he was playing against himself, but she couldn't fathom how that was possible. After all, doesn't a person have only one mind?

"Lysono mentioned hearing from you that the blood of the First Men is stronger than that of dragons." Haldon raised his head from the game, focusing all his attention on Sansa for the first time.

"Hmmm, I phrased that differently. I said it 'flows stronger,' not that it is stronger. A subtle difference, but an important one. The blood that guarantees dominion over the mightiest creatures this world has seen is reasonably stronger and more desirable. Although it's certain that some other bloodlines become more dominant when mingled with dragons. Targaryen incest is based on a reasonable premise".

"I was wondering, did my father uncover that Joffrey isn't King Robert's son in a similar manner?" Sansa asked, though she was thinking of Betha Blackwood and Eira's daughter.

"If he did, it would be a feeble piece of evidence and an even weaker argument to question Joffrey's legitimacy. You've inherited the Tully look from your mother, not his, so your father must have had something else to go on, likely something he carried to the grave. As for the Targaryens, their intermarriage, or at least their unions with those of Valyrian descent, leaves little room for debate. There aren't many examples. Queen Alycent Hightower, primarily of Andal ancestry, bore four children, all with silver hair and violet eyes, and all were laid to rest by her. Prince Duncan had black hair with streaks of silver, but his brother, King Jaeherys, had the typical Targaryen appearance. Yet again, the Blackwoods, despite their First Men lineage, reside in the south and intermingle with Andal families. A similar case is seen with King Aegon's mother; his late sister had their mother's features, whereas he inherited the traits of his father's lineage. Establishing a pattern, if one exists, is arduous."

Sansa noticed that Aegon's daughter wasn't mentioned. Was it intentionally omitted?

"You forgot one pair," Lemore said pleasantly, sitting comfortably in the corner, reading one of Haldon's texts. She will brought up Aegon and Eira.

"Prince Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna," she stated plainly u surprised Sansa. You mean the abduction and violation of an innocent lady, Sansa thought, but in this company, she avoided mentioning her aunt, as well as her grandfather and uncle. Those wounds were too deep, and she feared that bringing up any of it might anger Aegon.

"That's irrelevant to this conversation. They had no children, if they even consummated such a relationship," Haldon said somewhat grumpily, adjusting his topknot as if someone had deliberately unraveled it.

Sansa wanted to retreat to her room; she felt like she knew less now than before entering Halfmaester's quarters.

"O yes, Lady Sansa, I forgot to relay the news. Your brother has won another victory against the Lannisters, near place called Oxcross, if I am not mistaken. The king wanted me to pass it on to you," Septa Lemore winked at Sansa. She was both happy for Robb's triumph and concerned, fearing for him; each new battle brought new dangers.

"And tomorrow the elephants arrive," Haldon remarked, not paying any heed to the septa's words. "The ships are not far from the port."

The tomorrow morning was bright and warm, as if autumn had taken a break. The cobbled streets of Maidenpool were teeming with people. It seemed like the whole city was eager to catche a glimpse of the elephants, and even Aegon wanted them to parade through the town. Sansa stood by his side on the sept's terrace, where they had the best view. A strange but pleasant fluttering sensation stirred in her stomach. The arrival of the beasts was announced by an unusual chorus, like the sound of trumpets. From the high terrace, she gazed at them with wonder and delight: their large ears, long trunks, and ivory tusks, slow movements. They looked both amusing and majestic at once.

"They are even more magnificent in golden armor. But today, they had to swim; even for elephants, it's quite the burden," Aegon smiled at Sansa.

"They are wonderful, Your Grace," she replied sincerely.

"Would you like to get close to one? A smaller one, of course," he asked her. She felt a hint of fear, but it seemed that fulfilling this request might bring him joy, so she simply nodded.

A small elephant passed through the gates of Lord Mooton's castle, drawing a crowd eager to witness the creature up close. The elephant that entered was only about half the size of most of its kind, with small tusks. Perched on the elephant's neck was a small, brown-skinned man. At first, Sansa assumed he was a child, but his features were too mature, his skin too weathered. Soon, more of the same men followed.

Aegon handed Sansa an apple, saying, "They absolutely adore apples."

"I don't know," she murmured softly, standing before the elephant, which, though small, still towered over two horses. Sensing her nervousness, Aegon took her hand and extended it. The young elephant reached out with its trunk, deftly plucking the apple from her palm and placing it in its mouth.

"Elephants are gentle creatures. They must be provoked severely to be ready for battle. Before a fight, their keepers give them wine mixed with various herbs to agitate them. After that, you guide them in the right direction, and they wreak havoc," Aegon explained. Sansa could see it; she would have never dreamed that such a tender and deliberate creature could cause harm.

"Ride it, Lady Sansa!" Ser Franklyn Flowers bellowed, his laughter rumbling from his ample belly.

"If you don't want to..." Aegon's face bore a gentleness and concern that touched her heart. She felt compelled to go through with it."

I will," she said shortly and with confidence. The small, brown-skinned man muttered something in an unfamiliar language, and unexpectedly, the elephant knelt, folding its front legs and lowering its head like a subject bowing to its lord. In this gown, I'll never manage to climb onto it.

"May I?" Aegon expressed his desire to assist her, and Sansa nodded in approval. He lifted her as if she were feather-light; the warmth of his breath pleasantly grazed her skin, and the proximity of his face stirred even more butterflies in her stomach. But it was short-lived.

Sansa found herself atop the elephant, which gently rose and began to walk slowly around the castle courtyard. For the first time in her life, Sansa Stark felt larger than all her inhibitions.

"Beware the Wolfmaid, a mighty warrior!" Ser Franklyn Flowers bellowed again, prompting laughter from many—Myles Mooton and his elder brother Harrys, one of the Peake brothers, Haldon, and the septa on the balcony. Even the usually dour Ser Tristan Rivers cracked a smile. Although she knew Ser Franklyn was perpetually cheerful and jovial, Sansa didn't want to be made fun of.

"Nyzar and his handlers do not give names to the elephants until they've tasted battle. This female is too young to have seen battle, hence she remains nameless. You can bestow a name upon her; Nyzar doesn't know the common tongue anyway.", Aegon brushed off Ser Franklyn's jest.

"Lady," Sansa replied, "I'll name her Lady."

"Lady it is," Aegon smiled, "a fitting name for one who'll break warrior's hearts. Although I suspect Nyzar wouldn't quite approve; his people take great pride in nurturing war elephants. The name shall remain our secret."

"...and bones," Haldon chimed in from the balcony. Sansa didn't want Lady to cause harm to anyone or, even worse, someone to hurt her, but her word carried little weight in this matter.

...

Happily, Sansa made her way to the grand hall of the castle, where she dined with Eleanor Mooton, the eldest daughter of Lord Mooton, and the younger Elyza, who was Arya's age, though Elyza seemed more akin to a proper lady. If only I could see her just one more time, I would tell her it doesn't bother me.

Eleanor extended an invitation to Sansa for a ball celebrating her mother's birthday in a few days' time, and she promised to provide her with a new gown.

...

The grand hall was adorned like never before; ornate screens graced the walls, majestic crystal chandeliers mingled candlelight and crystal. The sounds of music and dance enveloped the hall, while the officers of the Golden Company, bedecked as if they held the world's riches in their hands, swayed to the rhythm.

Amidst the golden tunics and doublets, Balaq stood out with his feathered cloak, its myriad feathers glistening in vivid hues. The Maidenpool nobility had grown accustomed to foreigners, and during the festive evening, they appeared to belong to the same world.

Sansa Stark watched as Aegon Targaryen walked towards her, his silver hair shining in the torchlight. He smiled warmly, his violet eyes sparkling with a hint of light mischief, then bowed slightly, extending his hand to her.

"My lady, may I have the dance?" he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Sansa felt a surge of emotion, a mix of nervousness and excitement. She had been waiting for this moment, the culmination of weeks of subtle and hidden glances. Slowly she placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Of course, your grace," she replied, her voice soft and sweet.

Together, they walked to the center of the clearing, where a group of musicians played a lively tune. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling the strength of his muscles. Their eyes met, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her.

They moved in sync, their steps matching the rhythm of the music; and swayed and spun, their bodies in perfect harmony. Sansa felt a rush of exhilaration, a sense of freedom and joy. My own tale for a song. She forgot about the war that raged outside the camp, the enemies that lurked in the shadows, the uncertainty that clouded their future. All that mattered was this moment, this dance, this man.

She looked up at him, admiring his handsome features. His face was strong and noble, his jawline sharp and defined, lips were full and tempting, curved into a gentle smile, with eyes deep and expressive, revealing a depth that she rarely saw in others

After what seemed like an eternity, Sansa and Aegon eased their pace, gliding through the dance with elegant and poised steps, under the gaze of countless eyes.

"Maester Keln told me that no answer came from Riverrun," Aegon said in a gentle voice, without a trace of pity. He meant me no harm, not even with his words.

"No," she answered, "Could something have befallen the raven?"

"I doubt it. The skies are clear and free of trouble, and Haldon says that ravens seldom perish in flight, unless they face enemy arrows. And there are none here."

"Perhaps Riverrun was besieged," Sansa ventured, masking her unease.

"Unlikely, the new host Lannisters were mustering at Casterly Rock is lost thanks to your brother, from the west they pose no danger to Riverrun. Most of the lions are still before us." Sansa swelled with pride for Robb, her brother had never known defeat, but her thoughts drifted more and more to Aegon, whose heart thumped strongly against hers; his arms made her feel secure, and mere presence kindled a curious warmth around them. She wished that Robb and Aegon would never cross swords... but it was inevitable if Robb refuses to relinquish his crown.

Aegon spun her around, with a strong but gentle movement, she felt the muscles in his arms move. She didn't know why but she just wanted to hold him that way. "You know, you are not the only one lost here, Lady Sansa," their circular dance revealed the others in the hall. "The Golden Company is a place of lost souls, without a home and a family. Lord Laswell, he raised his finger towards Laswell Peake "...he has three castles on his shield, none of them belong to him, and two were taken from his family because of the rebellion. The others are Rivers's, Hills, Flowers... bastards joined in feigning that there is a home they can reclaim or return to. For many, that lie is a cage, from which they cannot flee" Sansa listened carefully to Aegon. Is Winterfell my prison?

"Do you long for home, your grace?" she asked him softly.

"Aegon, please, call me Aegon" he said, and Sansa echoed his name.

Aegon gazed at her face with a pensive expression, and his mind wandered briefly to another time. "My home was a person", he whispered, and Sansa knew he meant Eira. "No skilled masons or hammer blows can mend the loss of my home".

"But you have a daughter", Sansa blurted out, and regretted it as soon as the words left her lips. Aegon said nothing, and his presence seemed to fade, and the uncertainty was drowned by the clamor of a thousand voices that surrounded them.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by Lysono Maar, who captured Aegon's attention. The spymaster had just arrived at the ball, and Sansa felt that this was an occasion suited to his tastes. Slowly and gently Aegnlon lowered his hands and untied their small ring

"Sire, significant news from the south. Pretender Renly is dead. The majority of stormlords have joined Stannis, along with some Fossoways and Florents," Lysono urgently conveyed. Sansa recalled the lavishly dressed brother of Robert Baratheon.

"As expected from the Fossoways, they have no honor whatsoever. To me, it makes no difference whether I kill them under Renly's banners or Stannis's," Franklyn Flowers interjected, prompting light laughter from the others.

"Tyrells?" Aegon inquired.

"It's certain they've declined to join Stannis," Lysono responded.

"We have a meeting in an hour," Aegon announced to all, yet to none individually, "until then, the revelry and dance may continue."

He turned again and smiled to her, "I hope Lysono did not bore you with his tales from my past", he said, and bowing slightly. "Forgive me, Lady Sansa, I must go, as I have lingered too long, many duties await me". He took her hand, slowly and gracefully, and kissed her knuckles. The warmth of his kiss seared her soul, the passion that stirred her spirit, and she felt as if he could see the scars that marred her heart, the pain that haunted her dreams.