Ever since she was young, she had been brought up on the wonders of the Freehold. From the buildings to the people who ruled the cities, to how they operated, and the fact they had rebuilt much of what they'd had prior to the Doom. Did they have the Valyrian peninsula? Nay, they did not as much of it had been blown to pieces when the fourteen flames erupted that fateful day four hundred years prior. Some of the cities had been lost such as Pentos and Qohor and Norvos as there was not enough people to rule them all, although there was a lot of trade between previous cities in the Freehold to the current Freehold.
When they had docked in the harbour, Sansa's eyes had widened in awe. She'd been told by many people that Valyrian cities were massive but seeing one with her own eyes really put it into perspective. The sky towers, streams, dragon roads, normal roads, streets lined with houses and stalls and shops. The harbour being busy with trading galleys and war ships with a variety of different coloured sails and trying her best to remember which one belonged to which. This was to no avail as curious wonder was far too strong to really concentrate. Stepping onto the island had felt strange, not liking the sudden jolt of going from sea legs to land legs, remaining behind to make sure Jeyne got off with no issue too and wondering when her uncle would arrive.
Benjen was remaining behind to watch Rickon and Winterfell, Brandon and Barbrey were due to arrive a couple of days after they did with their daughter Alys. She was looking forward to that. Despite spending almost two years with Jonathor and Cregan, she missed having a lot of female company. Especially since Arya and Rhaella were just as wild as one another and neither were interested in what she was interested in. Hence her friendship with Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole. The former had not come, having to remain behind with her father for tasks arranged by her father but at least she had someone to marvel over everything with.
Recalling the last time she had visited White Harbour and being shocked at the size of the only Northern city. In comparison to Dragonstone, it was a town at best. And if what Viserys Targaryen spoke was true, Volantis made Dragonstone look like a small town. The thought that a single city could be that large was incomprehensible to her, but due to familial links her House were permitted to visit anywhere in the Freehold with no permission from Lord and Lady Freeholder's required.
They were led through winding streets until they came to what appeared to be a bridge, only once they were close enough did she realise it was a dragon road. Much wider than the ones they had in the North and nearing three hundred years old. Dragonstone had not always been a city. What started off as an outpost became a village which then became a town. Then another village appeared and grew into a town. Both growing in size until they were conjoined and it was decided instead of two neighbouring towns it would be one large town. And in a little more than one hundred years, the entire island was a city. A carriage was waiting on them there, with horses specifically bred for such an activity and standing at least eighteen hands high if she were to guess, much larger than the horses in Winterfell anyway.
Her mother, father, and Robb opted to ride themselves. Everyone else jumping into the carriage. The Targaryen's stepping in first as this was their city- it would be rude to not let them do so. The Manderly's and Aeranor Rhaeleris also opting to wait on the latter's family arriving to ride together. It was a large carriage, one that could easily carry them all and more as they rode along the smooth surface towards the manse where all lived. Taking in all of them as it had been a while since she'd seen them last. Elia was just as beautiful as she remembered. With her bronzed skin and eyes so dark they were basically black, hair braided intricately around her hairline with jewels sewn into her deep red dress much like the amethysts that were sewn into her own dress. It was a heavy garment, much heavier than she was used to in Winterfell when she was not wearing a fur cloak when it was colder than normal, but there was no denying it was a beautiful dress.
Rhaenys much like her own older Valyrian cousin looked almost identical to her mother, the only difference being she had slightly lighter skin and a few of her fathers facial features. Aegon however, it was like looking at a twin with different colours. He looked so much like Aemon, the only difference being their noses, hair colour, and eye colour. Apart from these three things, the brothers were almost identical. Horses neighing catching her attention as she looked out the window to see more carriages coming closer from neighbouring dragon roads which crossed, all with flags of differing colours atop them and wondering which belonged to which Valyrian family.
"It's a lot to take in cousin, but you'll slot in."
Sansa snapped her head towards Aemon who was giving her a warm smile which she welcomed greatly. Only now did she notice she felt a little uneasy at just how different it was here and she'd only been on the island for not even an hour. Valyrian's were incredibly secretive of their ways and House Stark were privileged to be permitted what they were.
"How long until the wedding, uncle?"
Rhaegar turned to his eldest children who blushed and looked down to their feet momentarily, having to fight the disgust down that they were siblings who were wedding one another. The thought of being with either of her brothers was one that made her feel like she had gnats crawling all over her. As her father said though, they had different beliefs, and it was not noble to treat people who's beliefs did not align with their own differently.
"Eight days, dear niece. There are still a lot of preparations to be made. Valyrian weddings are a grand affair. Although I do imagine both will try and wriggle their way out of it but neither will succeed."
Aegon's eye twitched ever so slightly at his fathers remark whilst her aunt and Elia tried to stifle their laughs. Whilst courtly mannerisms were common, they were with family. If one could not be honest with family then there was no need for courtly mannerisms- something Old Nan had drummed into her head alongside her mothers. At least the siblings didn't seem pleased with the match, simply wedding for duty only. Sansa remembered when she was young and her father had spoken often that he would've expected for an offer between herself and Aegon- a match she wouldn't have minded. She'd lived in the North her whole life. Despite this fact, the North had never truly felt like home to her. Alas, once she was old enough to take more lessons and it was broken down to her why such a match could not happen, she had accepted. Instead she was promised to Domeric Bolton- the only trueborn son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort.
The older terrified her. With a gaze as cold and sharp as a freshly formed icicle and a face so thin he had a skeletal appearance to the area. His son however (much to her relief) did not look much like him, taking mostly after his mother Bethany Ryswell. Thus binding both branches of House Stark as one again as Bethany's sister was her aunt Barbrey. Whilst the Lord was cold, his son was warm, and Sansa found herself excited for her own wedding. Imagining walking through the Godswood at the hour of the wolf where there was no sound other than footsteps walking through fresh summer snows, staring at the face carved into the Heart Tree by the Children of the Forest thousands of years before and promising themselves to the other.
Arya and Rhaella grew bored quickly. Her silver-haired cousin clicking her tongue loudly as her small dragon flew passed their carriage, letting out a comically non-threatening roar as she done so. One that was immediately drowned out by one that caused her to wince and her ears to ring. Rhaegar rolling his eyes in annoyance which was all the confirmation needed that it had been Shadow who'd done so. People had grown used to dragons in the North. Whether that be Rhaeleris' flying from Braavos to White Harbour or her cousins mounts. Remembering a conversation between Aemon and Arya when her sister had asked quizzically why they never remained put.
"Zaldrīzesse zokli soty daor, Aryys. Zokli hēnkirī syyri issi. Mēre issi, se mēre pontāla iksi. Hen ajorrāelza rhēdī, baelilzi, pontāla baelili. Mēre īlvys zaldrīzesse ryy sētenon ānogrī iksi. Yn zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor." (Dragons are not wolves, Arya. Wolves are best together, dragons are best alone. They are one of us, and we are one of them. We know that if needed, they will help, as will we help them. We are one to our dragons through magic and through our blood. But a dragon is not a slave).
It was something Sansa did not understand, nor was it something she ever thought she would understand. Staring out the side of the carriage and wishing Lady were with her. Whilst the carriage was large, it was not large enough to house nine direwolves. Instead, Cregan and Jonathor had opted to wait in an inn for their parents and sister to arrive. Then they would travel to the manse with the wolves. By now, Rhaella had grown even more bored as now she was clicking her tongue in a very annoying way, trying her best to ignore her cousin as much as possible. Alas, Aemon and Aegon stepped in by tickling their little sister which immediately turned the annoying clicks into raucous laughter between the siblings. Rhaenys simply shaking her head but there was no denying the faint smile she wore too at their antics.
It took them a couple of hours before they arrived at their destination. Horses rearing up a little at the sudden halt which caused her eyes to widen in alarm before they were calmed. Curiosity running through her as she wanted to know what the Targaryen manse looked like. Aemon spoke often on the grandeur of it, and her mother had told her often on how grand the castles in the southern Kingdom's were. Wondering which was grander of the lot. They'd passed a few whilst sailing down and she'd been shocked. Whilst many were considerably smaller than Winterfell, they looked so much nicer than her own home did. The heat was nice, not too hot but not too cold either.
A guard walked over to help them all down, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as her foot slipped slightly but managed to compose herself. Looking at the black coloured road that was so smooth it was like glass. Waiting until everyone was outside and the carriages were driven away, catching sight of silver hair so bright it was like light bouncing off a mirror from someone she did not recognise, noticing the woman wore ribbons braided through her hair coloured a dark yellow. Then another female got out of the carriage and her eyes widened for a moment before snapping to the other, noticing they were twins. Then a third woman stepped out who also looked identical and realisation dawned on her as she understood who this family were. House Caeniar of Volantis. Twins were relatively common to the families of the Freehold, usually every couple of generations a set would pop up. But these were the first triplets in more than two hundred years if what was written was accurate. Baemala, Visenya, and Jelaerya.
They had a rocky history within the Freehold. Being the second House to lose their dragons when Galaenor Caeniar ordered his family to use their fire magic to try and stop the Doom from causing more destruction. Something which backfired massively on them. Then there was the war known as the Reforming of the Freehold, where they'd fought against her cousins House for the top position only to be spat on by being named one of the lower House's. According to Aemon, they'd never gotten over it, but they were not in a position to rebel again. Two young children stepping out of the carriage both with silver-white hair which proved their Valyrian blood, the girl running towards Rhaella with no hesitation as the two began talking rapidly in High Valyrian. Sansa tried her best to understand their conversation, but the accent was a struggle and she was far from speaking the language of the Freehold fluently. Damn you Aemon and Rhaella for being able to fake a Northern accent so well- although she did not say this thought aloud.
"Kirimvose hen māzisi, Āeksios Ezīmillius Maelos." (I thank you for coming, Lord Freeholder Maelon.)
At least her uncle spoke a little slower than he normally would so she could make out what he was saying. The man being terrifyingly tall, at least half a head taller than her uncle Brandon. Head balding in the middle and only a sprout of silver-white hair that Sansa couldn't tell if it'd always been that colour or turned said colour in age. Whilst silver was the most common hair colour in the Freehold, it wasn't uncommon for someone to have golden hair or even honey blonde. The Good Lady Freeholder Alysanne being the latter as was Aemond One-Eye.
"Ñuhon lenton avy kirimvose, Āeksios Ezīmillius Rhaegus, Ābrāzmus Ezīmillius Elius, Ābrāzmus Ezīmillius Lyannus. Sparos bisys issa?" (My house thanks you, Lord Freeholder Rhaegar, Lady Freeholder Elia, and Lady Freeholder Lyanna. Who is this?)
Sansa realised then they were talking about her, mind going foggy for a moment before smiling and curtseying gently. Thinking on the words for a moment and speaking.
"Ñuha brōzi Sanse issa; Tale hen Ābrāzma Ezīmillior Lyanno lēkie iksan." (My name is Sansa; I am Lady Freeholder Lyanna's niece.)
She hoped she had not messed up her pronunciation with that, the tongue feeling foreign in her mouth as it was almost never spoken in the North.
"Is it true you have wolves?!"
"Baemala!"
That was one of the mans sons who cut her off but she had not met them before so she could not put a name to either. If she recalled correctly they were called Gaeremond, Aenor, and Taecegon.
"Skore? YYdrās ryptas, valzyyrys. Zokli jorrāelan rhēdē!" (What? You heard the talk, husband. You know I love wolves!)
Sansa decided right then she liked this woman, and at least she could put a name to the man talking to her. This must be Taecegon, her brother-husband. Heir Freeholder of Volantis and said to be a fierce warrior. Fighting in the Third Faith Rebellion at the age of four and ten. Not unheard of, but definitely uncommon for a boy so young to be involved in battles. Wearing a sword of Valyrian steel at his hip with an enamelled hilt in a mixture of red, purple, and that same dark yellow braided through Baemala's hair.
"Kessa, aderī kesīr sās." (Yes, they will be here soon.)
The older had a large smile on her face at this, clearly trying to hold in her excitement. Was this really the family who had fought with her cousins House for hundreds of years? If so, how amicable they currently were was jarring. By now, they were through the walls and making their way through expansive gardens. With streams and hedges and trees filled with fruits she'd never seen before. Aemon reaching up to pluck one from the many branches, crack it on a rock to split it before offering his betrothed half. It was white on the inside, the outside brown and hairy, filled with a clear liquid that looked like water but it was cloudier than that. Wondering to herself what it tasted like.
There were flowers she had never seen before and some which were familiar such as the blue winter roses- her aunt's favourite flower, recalling her mentioning Rhaegar had planted them for her not long after they had wed one another. A marble walkway appeared then separating the gardens into two with what appeared to be a courtyard at the end in front of a massive hedge which she knew was surrounding the Targaryen manse. It was strange thinking they were directly in the centre of the city, because it was so peaceful here. Birds chirping in the air and the wind whistling quietly when listening carefully enough. A large water fountain was there now, a single dragon carved out of a mixture of black stone and marble wrapped around a pillar breathing fire into the air, the water coming out in different colours, speaking before she even thought on the words.
"How is the water so many different colours, uncle?"
Rhaegar turned to her now before guiding her over to it so she could see. The older pointing to shards of what looked like glass but it wasn't as clear as that.
"It's called a prism, a discovery of House Vaelaleas a little more than one hundred years ago. When light hits off the crystals, colours bounce back. The water makes it brighter. No one can manipulate gems as well as the Vaelaleas' of Mantarys, Sansa."
She'd heard the talk. Each House were known for something different. Targaryen for their metal work, Rhaeleris for their goldwork, Mellarys for stonework, Velaryon for their ships, Celtigar for their beadwork, Caeniar for silk, Vaelaleas for gemstones, Tarennis for armour, Rhaentheon for weaponry, Dallaeron for spice, and Velraenos for lace. Wondering to herself if either had helped make her dress as Aemma Rhaeleris had ordered the clothing left at White Harbour just before they departed.
The water from the fountain moved backwards too forming a small river, carved into the centre of the marble walkway, looking around in total awe at everything. Aemon was right, it was a grand place, and they weren't even at the manse itself yet. The hedge surrounding it was directly in front, easily thirty feet in height. A far cry from the massive stone walls she was used to Winterfell for sure, but impressive all the same. Then the manse came into view. Made of stone so white it was almost painful to look at from the light hitting off of it. Two floors high with a section that curved out in the middle where there were more intricately carved water fountains. Pillars on all sides carved just as much in patterns she'd never seen before nor did Sansa think would be possible to carve. Gold decorated the outside too, inlaid delicately in the pillars if she didn't know better would've thought were always a part of them. The Targaryen manse was much smaller than she thought it would be, but the sheer wealth she had seen walking up to it made Winterfell seem smaller. Noticing the Valyrian's removing their shoes which confused her initially before remembering her aunt telling her it was rude to bring outdoor footwear inside in their custom, instead being given slippers made of a fur so soft it didn't feel real.
Inside was even grander than the outside. Mouth dropping slightly at the deep red carpets that were the same shade as freshly made summer wine, tapestries aligning the walls, weapons aligning the walls that had belonged to numerous members of House Targaryen going back hundreds of years. More golden statues that somehow she knew was solid and not coated gold. Spotting a large dragon one with eyes with a deep red gem inlaid- garnet if she recalled correctly. A stone only found in Slaver's Bay and the Red Waste. Paintings of many members of the House and Arya was pointing and making gasping noises as she read some of the names. Visenya Targaryen, Aemon the Dragonknight, Maeressa Targaryen. Whereas Sansa much preferred the members who were into songs and stories and court, her sister preferred the warriors. Especially the warrior women in the family.
The Caeniar's were guided by a few servants to a separate area of the manse, them all being guided into a large dining hall. The table being circular and made of mahogany if the dark colour was anything to go by. Carved intricately once again with what appeared to be vines but it was difficult to tell due to the large red and black lace cloth covering most of it. Servants walking in carrying numerous trays of food, the smell immediately making her mouth water as they were placed in the centre. Another difference. Unlike Westerosi House's where each person was served separately, in the Freehold the food was served in the middle and everyone was expected to help themselves.
Rhaegar carved into game of some kind- one she didn't recognise. Dripping in honey and covered with a crust and delicately spiced. Passing the knife to Elia who then passed it to her aunt. Slowly working its way around everyone at the table. By the time it got to her, much of the breast of the animal had been carved away but Sansa didn't mind, leg meat was always her favourite when it came to game. On and on the cycle went until her plate was so full it was almost falling off, but it was rude to them to refuse food. To leave food was not frowned on because a person could only eat so much, but refusing food offered was an affront in Valyrian custom. Biting into a crispy onion that she'd dipped into a thick garlic heavy sauce before working her way through it all as best she could.
"How do you like Dragonstone then? It's quite different from Winterfell, I'd imagine."
It was Elia who spoke, noticing Aegon's and Rhaenys' ears perk up in interest. They visited every now and then, but as they were Heir Freeholder's they were almost as busy as the Lord and Lady Freeholder's. In this regard, Aemon and Rhaella had it simple.
"Warm."
It was quiet for a few seconds before Aemon snorted aloud at Robb's quip, this starting a chain of laughter around the table as servants came out with even more food. This time it was shellfish and raw fish wrapped around rice (the idea disgusting her immediately but she would try it so as not to insult any of them). Aemon cracking the head of a langoustine and sucking the meat from the shell as his older sister tipped back a shell with something into her mouth and swallowing whatever it was whole. Such food may be common in White Harbour or Bear Island, but definitely not anywhere else. It would spoil long before reaching its destination as the North was an incredibly vast Kingdom. Larger than the southern Kingdom's combined if what she was taught in her lessons was correct.
She hesitantly reached for the rice, trying to keep her face still at feeling the raw fish on her fingertips. Seeing Rhaella dip one into a dark brown sauce before eating it whole. Sansa followed her younger cousins lead and closed her eyes as she put the small bite into her mouth. As expected, the texture was not nice, but she found the freshness of the meat a surprise.
"Never eaten raw fish before, Princess?"
"Raw seafood would spoil long before it reached Winterfell, son. It is quite the change. We're used to elk and deer and pheasant. Not much grows in the North due to the harsh climate."
It surprised Sansa a little at her aunt referring to Aegon as son. Remembering then Aegon had only been a few months old when she became Rhaegar's second wife so he'd known her practically his entire life. This thought was immediately thrown away though when she recalled a time where her aunt and uncle had come to Winterfell- prior to Aemon and Rhaella fostering- and both talking on how she had gotten Aegon's respect. She'd never asked about it, but perhaps it was something to be brought up. By now, her stomach was fit to burst and she sighed in relief as a small cake was brought out and each slice carved. Only large enough for a few mouthfuls but she doubted she could eat anymore than she already had. Vanilla flavoured sponge with ginger cream covered in a candied fruit she'd not seen before but it was incredibly sweet which worked nicely with the spice. A servant walking in and speaking too fast for her to make out what was being said but her uncle nodded which was all she needed to know.
"All belongings are in your rooms now, and the wolves will be here in a little more than an hour."
"In other words prepare to keep Baemala busy or she'll not leave us alone."
Elia smacked Aemon over the head at that, her cousin turning to his second mother and narrowing his eyes before shaking his head fondly.
"It's too hot in Volantis for a wolf to survive, and she's more or less the only member of her family who is interested in Northern custom. You know many people in the families call yourself, sister, and mother Andals- "
"We're not Andals!"
"Arya!"
Her sister glared at her interjection but it seemed to break the awkwardness that had formed.
"I know, they call me such as well although for decidedly different reasons. The Rhoynar typically don't get along with Valyrian's. That's what hundreds of years of animosity causes, Princess."
"If anyone dares call me Andal- "
"Enough Arya. You are blood of the First Men and blood of Andalos. Whilst you were raised in the ways of the First Men and the Old Gods, never forget your blood because blood does not change."
She sulked at this and pouted her lips but this was broken by Rhaenys.
"It's true, cousin. I'm half Valyrian and half Rhoynar, I'm not one or the other. The sooner that's accepted, the better. Wearing ones weakness as armour is a wonderful thing because then nothing can harm you."
Those words didn't make much sense to Sansa, nor did they to Arya or Bran. But Robb nodded gently as did her mother and father so she supposed it was something that would make sense as she got older. Servants walking over again and a short balding man catching the leaders attention as they all walked to the corner to discuss whatever. Wondering to herself who this man was. They were led to their rooms after this, it being confirmed they would need to share as they were expecting dozens of visitors for the wedding and there simply just was not enough room to house them all separately. Her room was rather simple, although even this didn't hide the grandeur. Two beds with posts all intricately carved, with a silk so fine in a pale lavender colour draping all sides, a Myrish rug of probably the highest quality available, the bedding being so white it looked like freshly fallen snow with red lace sewn into it in patterns even she wouldn't dare to attempt. There was an attached area separated by beads hanging from the top of the door where there was a large bathtub. The water already steaming as a servant asked if she preferred any oils added to the water whilst bathing. Timidly stating she was fond of roses.
How long she had bathed for she knew nought, but the woollen covering that was left worked wonders for keeping the heat in. Being met with silk bedclothes which she wasted no time getting into as she wrapped her hair up and began twisting the moisture out of it. Where was Arya? That question was answered soon after as Aemon walked over with her, noticing she was covered in mud.
"Where were you? There's baths ready- "
"Do I need to bathe?"
"Yes, Arya, you do. Aye, you're clean from washing frequently on the ship but in Valyria cleanliness is something that is upheld with everyone. Not just us higher up in the hierarchy."
Arya pouted again, expected their cousin to give ground to her- which he usually did in Winterfell- but here he did not. Simply raising his eyebrows until she finally caved. Sansa noticing now there was a pretty redhead with him carrying a tape measure.
"I hope I'm not intruding, Laenora is here to take your measurements to start mending your dress for the wedding."
"Not at all."
The woman walked in now and began working on taking her measurements. Scribbling on a piece of parchment as she went.
"How are Valyrian weddings carried out? I know about the southern ones and Northern ones, but not the other."
"On that I will remain tight-lipped. My father wishes for you to witness our marriage rights with a blank slate. All I will say is, go to sleep earlier the night before because they're usually a whole day affair."
Sansa's eyes widened in shock at the words as Laenora finished taking her measurements and giving her a sample of the different chains she could have. Chunky chains? Thin chains? Three interlinked together? One with gemstones worked into the metal? Valyrian steel or non Valyrian steel? Eventually deciding on a singular chain with charms and confirming she would like it to go from shoulder to shoulder across her front.
"Are the wolves here?"
That was when Aemon snapped his fingers as two solves bounded inside. Lady stopping at her feet and sticking her tongue out asking for petting which she happily gave. Nymeria on the other hand jumped onto Arya's bed and much to her chagrin, the silk bedclothes.
"Where's Ghost?"
"My sister is more than a little taken with him, last time she saw him he was still barely a pup. Speaking of my sister, she has work to do in the city tomorrow to ensure everything is running as it should be. You are all welcome to join and get a tour of the city."
"Will she be on Ellaron?"
Aemon laughed a little at the concern in her voice and shaking his head in the negative.
"Nay, she will not. Ellaron is quite a shy dragon much like mine own, she wouldn't take kindly to being used for something as mundane as going through the street of Dragonstone."
Relief washed over her at this, that was something she could never see herself doing. Aemon walking over and kissing the top of her forehead gently which she'd learned when he'd come to foster was their way of saying goodnight. Wondering to herself on what she was going to see the following day.