Catelyn Tully Stark

On route from the Eyrie to Winterfell, 300AC

For many years now, she had thought to herself that if she reunited with any of her siblings she would be ecstatic and not want to leave them again. Yet the last few days, she had been thinking of how much she had wanted to get away from Lysa. She loved her sister fiercely, but she hated how stupid she was at times. Even when they were young, the younger only thought 'in the now' and not the wider impact her actions may cause. The taking of Tyrion was a prime example of this. Time was of the essence now. Her father's men were likely to arrive soon and she knew her brother would be with them. Catelyn was torn between wanting to see him again as she hadn't since she had left Riverrun with Robb to head to Winterfell for the first time.

But it was a ticking explosion, one she was roped in on. And she couldn't even do anything about it because one of her core values was to support family and Jon was family to her- just not through blood. She wondered where he was now. Probably back in Greywater Watch but she had no way to know with certainty as she wasn't near a rookery. As soon as Tyrion had officially been cleared of the charges against him, both her and her uncle packed their little belongings and made their way out, the sellsword who had fought for him coming too alongside a few guards so nothing would happen. Remembering when she had last seen the dwarf deep in his cups and charming numerous people with his wit.

But two days into their journey, she was at her wits end with the man. He never stopped talking. Not even for a few minutes. Both he and the sellsword sharing numerous similarities it was like bouncing back and forth between a loving wife and husband. It reminded her greatly of the banter she shared with Ned. It had taken years for them to get to that stage, but she had grown to love him deeply and she knew he was the same with her. Who would've thought the eldest child of a Lord Paramount would match so well with a second son? Right now, Tyrion was chatting animatedly to his new friend, talking about the numerous escapades he had done when he was a child. Whether that be tying his brothers shoelaces when he wasn't looking, to once covering his sisters chair in a thin layer of glue which caused her to get stuck and rip her favourite dress.

"Does he ever stop talking?"

Catelyn rolled her eyes at her uncle's words. He was sworn to protect Lysa, but he was also brought up in the same vicinity to protect family at all costs. Therefore, he was travelling back to Winterfell with her before turning around to go back to where he stayed. He had been asking her numerous questions about it, genuinely interested. Remembering he had fought alongside Ned in the rebellion started by Balon Greyjoy. Her husband spoke highly of the man, and that was saying something. If Ned didn't like someone, he said it aloud and didn't really care much on it. Many Northerners were like that, something that terrified her at first but now welcomed as it allowed her to not keep guard of her own sharp tongue as often as she did in the south. In the south, everything could be an insult. In the North, there were simply statements of truth. Remembering once where he had told her he was brought up by his mother saying that if a person took offence to a statement of truth, they needed smacked across the face. She had snorted at the time, but as she grew older and more accustomed to her new lifestyle, it was something she had adopted too.

"Lord Tyrion, I must say I find it strange that you were in the Vale. Last I heard you were back in Kings Landing."

Her words cut the other two off as the sellsword- Bronn- kicked his horse into a gallop to get ahead, her uncle doing the same as well which left them alone. The Lannister was riding a pony, with a saddle shaped to accommodate his stunted legs.

"How honest would you like me to be, my Lady?"

"As honest as your lips will allow you to be."

Tyrion let out a loud laugh at her retort, and she had to fight herself from laughing too.

"We received the raven about your son being unable to walk again after his fall from the tower. I remembered him talking about how he wanted to ride hard and fast into things with a lance or a sword like his brothers but that was taken away from him. I had that same thought process when I was younger. Therefore, I travelled back to Casterly Rock, asked the stable master to design a saddle much alike my own but with a few added adjustments. I was on my way back to Winterfell to give it to him when your sisters men took me."

Catelyn frowned a little as his words sank in. She watched as he reached into his pocket and handed her a scroll of parchment, noting the similarities. The main difference was that the sides were curved to support the back of the legs with straps to tie them in which would keep him from falling. Remembering how devastated he had been when he was told he would never walk again. Yet, thanks to this, he would be able to ride again.

"Why would you go to such an extent, my Lord?"

Now, Tyrion snapped the reigns a little and edged his heel into the pony to get it to pick up some speed to catch up to the other two and shouting back.

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in for her, and an immense feeling of gratefulness entered her at the gesture. Many House's are raised with the belief that all Lannister's were evil and will do anything to be the one on top. Yet here was one of them, having a saddle designed so her paralysed son wouldn't forever be bedridden? Brynden rode back as he noticed she was remaining behind, quirking an eyebrow up at her in silent questioning. Steadily, she handed the parchment over to him as he scanned it in detail. No words were spoken between them as she spotted the way his eyes lit up temporarily.

"The little lad will be delighted. Tell me, what are my grandnieces and grandnephews like? I have never gotten the chance to meet either of them."

She looked around her now, taking in the scenic view of the Vale as they made their way to the Kings Road where they would be separating.

"Robb is his father's son despite him having our colouring. At times he can be rather cocky but that's common with people who are seventeen name-days. Sansa is without question my miniature. She looks almost exactly as I did at her age and she is a joy with her mannerisms. Now Arya- she's something."

Brynden chuckled a little, knowing he was about to hear something ridiculous.

"They say in the North wolf blood runs wild in the Stark's. I didn't believe it until she was pulled from me. Looks just like her father. But gods, she is wild. Half the time she's running along walls or climbing massive trees, running riot in the training grounds with tourney swords. Bran is a lot like her, or he was before he fell. He also has our colouring. He's very impatient and loves scary stories. Especially the ancient Northern ones such as the Age of Heroes amongst other things. Then there is Rickon. He much like the others is wild too, but he is still a baby. He is nearing his seventh name-day soon, and it warms me massively I shall get to be there to witness it."

She turned to face her uncle at this, noticing the large smile on his face. For someone who was adamant on never wanting children, the thought of them always filled him with joy.

"And the other?"

No name was spoken, but she immediately knew who he was referring to. Her thoughts spinning in her head as she tried to think of an excuse as to why she did not hate him. But she couldn't tell him yet. Eventually, she would, but now was not the time. Then an idea sprung to mind.

"Truthfully uncle, when I first heard that my husband had gotten a child on another woman during the war, I wasn't too affected. He's welcome to whatever solace he may find and we did spend that year apart. But when I rode through those gates and I saw him there with that squabbling baby, I was heartbroken. However, a few years into our marriage he confessed something to me. A promise he made to a sibling who would die soon. Jon is not his, he is Brandon's. Brandon did not know Ashara was with child so when he stopped there on the way back from finding his sister's body to return Dawn to the Dayne's and found him there, he couldn't leave him. He made an agreement to look after the babe. He looks a lot like his mother. He and Robb act like they are brother's despite them being cousins. He adores Arya and Bran. And he cares deeply for both Sansa and Rickon."

She heard a choking noise coming from him as she turned to see him drinking from a water skin. Clearly the confirmation shocked him. And if this shocked him, the real truth would have him fainting on the spot.

"Aye, the boy is a bastard, but he is my nephew. We're not close but we were at an understanding. Not that it matters now as he's missing beyond the Wall somewhere. The boys were devastated when the raven arrived from Jeor Mormont."

The whole time she was talking, she kept her voice low and her eyes on their travelling companions, making sure none of them could hear what was being spoken. This was a theory they had come up with beforehand where the 'fostering' was brought into it all. She'd successfully managed to stall the impending war by some time, but it wasn't going to be much.

"When did he tell you? Although I must say it's much more his character to take in his orphaned nephew than it is to sire a bastard of his own."

She bit the inside of her cheek at this. If only he knew there was a lot more to it than what she had told him. When it comes out, millions will be affected, and thousands will die whether indirectly or directly. War can tear the closest of friends apart and can tie the worst enemies to one another in ways she could not explain.

"He told me just before he left to fight in the war against Balon Greyjoy. I wanted to send the boy for fostering to get him out of my sight but he confirmed to me just beforehand he promised to look after the child no matter what it would cost him. I spent hours in the Sept when he told me."

Soon, the next day came where they finally reached the Kings Road, Tyrion and the sellsword turning south whilst they turned north. The silence that came from their departure almost ominous. They spent the night at the Inn, the Innkeeper still frightening her like she had as a child with her teeth stained red from chewing on leaves constantly and looking like blood. The Neck was the most difficult part to get through due to the dense forests and murky swamps, her being on edge as she remembered there were two living breathing dragons within the trees. Greywater Watch was always moving, but Howland had confirmed it always remained between the eastern shore and Moat Cailin- the famous fortress that had never been taken but now remained in ruins. Ned had talked often of how he had wanted to rebuild it and give it to Bran or Rickon, but that would not be for a very long time.

"Seven hells, it's cold."

Catelyn snorted a little at his words. She had been the same when she first passed the area where if the tales were true, was where the Children had attempted to flood the place to separate the North from the other Kingdom's.

"If you think this is cold, you're not prepared uncle. I find it rather refreshing."

He gave her a look at this, but he detected no trace of a lie in her words. It was true though. Up here, the air was so crisp and clean, the water flowed in streams and rivers cleaner than most, the soft layer of snow having a calming crunching sound underneath the hooves of their mounts. The land was sparse in the North as were the people. The entire population of the Kingdom matched that of Kings Landing which was terrifying to think about. However, two days later they arrived at Barrowton, the large wooden fortress currently run by Lady Barbrey Dustin, the goodsister of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort much further north than here. Next came Castle Cerwyn a day later, and the following day they were in the Wolfswood where the road was cut in which led directly to Winterfell. Numerous birds flying around, a single hummingbird even landing on her uncle's hand as he marvelled at it. They got said birds in the Riverland's but they never came close to people. Whereas here, they were so used to it they would come up to yourself. However, the next morning they were awoken to a surprise. At first, she had been grossed out when she felt a tongue on her cheek, but when she opened her eyes and stared into deep amber eyes of her eldest's direwolf, a small laugh escaped her lips.

"Hello Grey Wind."

Just like that, the wolf bent his body forward and began wagging his tail like an excited puppy before bounding over to Brynden. He was curious at first, but she shouted to wake him up, the man jumping back in fright at the creature now in his face. Grey Wind was almost the size of a pony now, and his teeth were incredibly sharp. Remembering how Summer had ripped that assassin's throat out that was sent after Bran. It was rare she thought on that fateful day, especially because it was overshadowed when she saw those tiny wings appear from Jon's shoulders after the eggs had hatched. It had been almost two months now since she had last saw them, and she wondered how large they were now. It had now almost been a year since they had hatched.

"Uncle, this is Grey Wind. He is Robb's. I'm sure the other two are nearby too."

He was still stunned, and if she didn't know any better she would've assumed he had died on the spot he was remaining that still. Eventually, he shook his head and reached a hand out for the wolf to sniff, Grey Wind doing so cautiously before letting out a howl and bounding off towards the castle.

"Robb must have him helping patrol. They're very smart animals, and incredibly loyal."

"I thought it was rumours they all had direwolves."

Steadily, he took his bow and shot it at a branch, a squirrel falling down which he began skinning for food for the remaining journey. Catelyn wasn't keen on said meat, but food was food, and she was hungry and had her fill. Quickly splashing her face with freezing cold water to clean the saliva from her cheek and getting on her horse.

"We'll be there in a couple of hours, uncle. And then you can be warm again."

He shot her a glare at her words, her own lips pulled apart in a smirk. Like she had said, the sun had fully risen in the sky as the castle came into view, an overwhelming feeling of home overcame her. Never in her life would she have thought she would acclimate so well to the North but she had done so, and now she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to leave here. It was so peaceful, and it was refreshing that nobody skirted around one another here. Everyone spoke what they felt, and this reminded her greatly of her father teaching her to be like this as well. Hodor came over to take the reigns, his sheer build still taking her off guard. It wouldn't surprise her if he shared an ancestor with the Mountain due to his sheer height. The only person who could confirm this would be Old Nan, and she regularly forgot who was alive and who was not, so there was no way to know with certainty. Honestly, it was a miracle the woman was even still alive. It wouldn't surprise Catelyn if she had reached her one hundredth name-day.

When they rode into the courtyard, numerous people were surrounding them, her eyes scanning the crowd for her sons. But when her eyes landed on Robb and she saw the way his eyebrows were creased in the centre confirmed something was very wrong. What had she missed whilst she was on her journey back? Despite this, he managed to remain passive as he stepped forward to greet both her and her uncle before asking them to come in. Once she was in her own chambers again that she shared with Ned, a sense of loneliness and guilt overcame her. She had been so close to him and the girls too, but she had not taken the time to seek either of them out. After cleaning herself and brushing her tangled hair, she made her way to the Lord's solar where Robb had taken his father's mantle. Bright blue eyes meeting her own as he asked her to lock the door behind her.

"How did the talk with Varys go, mother?"

Catelyn took notice of the way his voice was quiet, almost like he were trying to fight off tears.

"About as well as expected. And I managed to talk my sister into trialing Tyrion which buys us time-"

"It doesn't. These ravens arrived yesterday."

He slid them over to her as she hesitantly took them, noting the red lion seal which confirmed this came from a Lannister. Why would they be writing to them? It was difficult to read the writing at first due to the old lettering typically used by Maester's. The words blending together before understanding dawned on her. A letter asking them to swear fealty, something which was only done when the current monarch- her stomach tightened as she gripped the wooden desk.

"King Robert?"

"Is dead. And Joffrey has been proclaimed King despite him still being within the bracket of needing a regent. Read this one next."

Her hands were trembling as she thought of the implications this was going to cause. With Robert dead, this meant the Lannister's power was secure, and the Lannister's hated the Stark's. She recognised the wolf seal used, confirming it had come from Ned. Of how Robert had died and how he had asked Ned to stand in as Joffrey's regent. But her husband refusing to do so, which explained the letter from the Lannister's asking Robb to come south to swear fealty. Of how he planned to tell people finally and that he had made arrangements to get the girls out. But why would he go to that extent?

"What does this mean, Robb?"

Her eyes took in the worried expression on her sons face, him biting his lip in anxiety before stating;

"Father found out why Jon Arryn was murdered and why Stannis fled not long after. Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella are not Robert's kids. They're products of an incestuous relation between the Queen and her twin."

Just the thought made her want to wretch. If she wasn't shaking before, she sure was now. Gods, Ned! Her eyes glancing over the remaining words and by the time she got to the end, she dropped the parchment as she slowly lowered herself into the chair.

"I've sent ravens to all the Northern Lords. It seems like we will be calling the banners soon, mother. We also received communication from Jon and all I'll say is, he has not been idle."

Of course he wasn't, he had gone to Starfall. She knew that already. Still, she took the final scroll and was met with Jon's slightly messy handwriting. Her eyes widening once again and if she hadn't been sitting down she knew her knees would've buckled over this. Fuck, this was bad. Very bad.

"We have a bastard playing King, and we have a King playing bastard. Father is a prisoner in the Red Keep and we don't know where Sansa and Arya are as the ravens do not state anything. All I do know is they aren't dead because they're useful to them as leverage as much as I hate to say it. Then there is Jon getting confirmation the Martell's will not take part in the wars that will follow, and two dragons now large enough to ride. Whether he will do so yet or not is a mystery, but it seems our attempts to stall the war have been futile. It's here mother."

Sansa Stark

Kings Landing, 300AC

To think that not long ago she had been preparing to leave the castle on her father's orders was strange. It all seemed strange. There were times she felt glad that she hadn't had to leave as she loved life here in the capital, but when those guards had grabbed her arms and took her to Maegor's Holdfast within the keep where she was promptly locked away without being told what was going on it snapped back into place for her. What had happened? Clearly someone found out her father was trying to get both her and Arya out and had stopped them. Gods, Arya! She hadn't seen her since that fateful morning when the Gold Cloaks stormed the keep and started slaughtering her father's men. To Septa Mordane giving her a chilling look and telling her to run where she was captured. Had it been hours or days? She honestly didn't know as she had been placed in a room that had no windows and she couldn't see outside.

All there was was a makeshift bed and a chamber pot. Nothing else. People came often with scraps of food that were barely edible and not at all what she was used to, her stomach growling in anger at her for not eating. It's not that she didn't try to, but trying to swallow stale bread with no water was like trying to force an arrow through a brick. How did she end up a prisoner? She hadn't done anything. The moment the door had been locked when she was brought here she had cried until she couldn't breathe. This wasn't fair. A future Lady should not be treated like this. The only thing she could do was analyse the dress she was wearing, one made of the Myrish silk Joffrey had gotten her that day he had shown her around the city. His name tasting like the sourest sweet in existence now.

Joffrey wasn't royalty, he wasn't even a Baratheon. He was a Water's. She had been brought up with the thought that bastards were only out to steal their trueborn counterparts birthrights. Something her Septa preached and even her mother did on occasion. Or at least, that had been the case until they were told about Jon. Her mother's words circling in her mind once again that both sides could be justified. But now, they couldn't, because Joffrey had no birthright. No one had come to see her other than servants to bring her food and to take her chamber pot to clean. Not Cersei, not her father, not Arya, nor her betrothed. The only thing she could do was count the bricks in the room to keep herself occupied.

One, two, three-

The door opened slightly as someone placed a tray with stale bread on it, picking up her chamber pot and leaving again.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

On and on it went until she got to fifty before the door opened again as her chamber pot was slid inside once more. Sansa standing up to grab it and bring it over to her before noticing there was a slip of parchment inside. Eyebrows creasing slightly as that had not happened before now. She also noticed this one was different to the usual one. That one had been a bright emerald in colour whereas this one was more a forest green. Many people couldn't tell the difference but she grew up surrounded by greenery and could tell so like pork and chicken. She reached in to take it, quickly unfolding it and immediately recognising the handwriting. Eyes welling up as she read.

Her father had gotten a letter to her. Him detailing what had happened and that he was being held in the black cells after confronting Cersei on her treachery. To Joffrey going into a rage and demanding he be locked up and for both her and Arya to be taken. This hurt her massively. Joffrey had always been kind to her, yet it was he who ordered she be held like a prisoner? Relief washing through her as it mentioned Arya managing to escape but he had no idea where she was. But he had entrusted a few people to search for her and get her out of the capital. She wanted to keep this, but it wouldn't be good to keep something like this out in the open. Therefore, with a heavy heart, she tore it up and threw it into the fire in the room. It was barely there, just enough to keep some heat in but nothing like the luxurious fireplaces in the Keep. Returning to counting bricks and trying to eat some of the solid bread despite it hurting her throat.

One hundred, one hundred and one, one hundred and two.

Then a noise caught her attention, dropping the bread in fright before groaning in irritation. That was the only food she had and now it was dirty meaning she couldn't eat it. Trying to find the source of it, it sounded like when a knife scraped awkwardly against a plate. That high shrieking causing anyone nearby to cringe as their ears ached. Then she noticed one of the tiles shaking which had her standing up and backing away until she was in the corner, trying to hide herself in the shadows. When it was removed, a child's head popped out and began gesturing for her to follow. Sansa immediately felt conflicted. She wanted to follow as clearly this was a way out, but she didn't want to trust this child. Especially because the boy was not speaking to her, just beginning to move his hand faster as if there was no time. Then footsteps were heard, and she could hear Joffrey's voice outside which had her eyes widening. If she hadn't received that letter from her father, she would've gone that way. But now she knew he had been the one to order her be kept captive...

With the thought, Sansa took a deep breath before running to the child, eyeing the drop into a hallway below. One which didn't appear to have any decoration, a strong scent of mould entering her nostrils. It wasn't a big drop, perhaps only seven feet, and she sat on the edge before pushing herself down, legs buckling as soon as she landed. The child worked to pull the tile back on to seal them off before swinging on the bars he was on and grabbing a loose rock on the side so he could climb down. Jerking his head to the side.

The entire time they were running, Sansa could only think 'was this happening?' Was she really escaping from the Red Keep and the boy she was supposed to wed? Leaving her father behind? Despite these thoughts, she took in her surroundings as they continued to run, noticing paintings on the walls of numerous people with silver-gold hair and variations of purple eyes. Remembering a time where she had believed there to be these within the Red Keep too and were replaced with portraits of the Baratheon's going back to Orys. Taking in their features as she did so. From Rhaenys, to Jaehaerys, to Alysanne, to Rhaenyra, even to Rhaegal who was known to be mad from a young age. Finally, her eyes landing on the final four. Aerys, Rhaella, Viserys, and Rhaegar. She had pictured what Rhaegar looked like but seeing him now, the similarities he shared with his son was unmissable. It was so obvious now. All that needed to be done to have he and Jon be twins were if the younger to have a slightly smaller face and his father's silver hair.

It was only when she felt the boy grab her hand and promptly tug at her when she realised she had stalled. Noticing they were coming to numerous tunnels. Without thinking, she took the painting down, stuffing it into her dress, and running once again. Feeling the way the cool metal of her bracelet against her skin. Cersei had told her not to wear it as it had come from a bastard, but she had kept it with her, just didn't outwardly show it to anyone. Soon, streaming light entered her vision and she realised they must be near the coast as the small space in the wall ahead showed the Blackwater. The boy reaching down to pull another tile away as they dropped down, landing on numerous rocks as they did so in a cave overlooking the bay. Where was she? And where was this boy taking her? She knew by now he wasn't taking her to her doom because all he had to do was leave her. She could hear the bells coming from the Keep that were signalled when there was an escaped prisoner. One so shrill and loud it chilled her to the bone.

It was difficult to run over the rocks due to all the seaweed on them and the fact they were damp with rain that was falling heavily from the sky. Her red hair quickly becoming soaked and sticking to the sides of the face which she usually hated but right now she did not care about that in the slightest. At least it was dark, meaning there would be very few people outside meaning it would be easier for her to get out of here. Her dress snagged on a rock which caused her to trip, her knees scraping against some other rocks and possibly some glass too. Her hands coming away covered in blood and dirt but she carried on. Tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks as she done so. Soon, a small boat was visible and a man she recognised was stood beside it, pausing in alarm.

"Lady Sansa, there is no need to worry. Your father tasked me in getting you out of the capital. It was I who sent that letter to you earlier."

This calmed her as she cautiously walked over, the scent of lavender and powder invading her nostrils, clinging to her like old perfume. Varys reached a hand out to help her into a boat as he rowed them away from the shore, him reaching in to a bag to grab a long black hood out like the kind Septa's wore.

"Put this on, it'll hide your hair."

Her eyes widened a little but did as he said, making sure to tuck as many strands as she could under the material. Stopping at the outermost area of the nearby harbour as someone lowered a rope ladder down for her to bring her on to deck. A flash of pale blonde hair catching her eye. Before thinking, she grabbed hold of it as she began climbing up, the man reaching out to pull her on deck. The second her hands felt the wood beneath her, she was breathing hard and was sobbing uncontrollably. The bells had now been replaced with horns and sirens, alarm beginning to rise as she spotted Lannister soldiers patrolling the docks.

"Come with me, my Lady. You're safe with us. We're taking you to the King."

Fear gripped her now at this, knees beginning to buckle. If he was taking her to the King, why was he not taking her to the Keep? Confusion clouding her thoughts as she was led into a cabin where there were fresh clothing for her to change in to. The man left as she quickly dressed, pulling on the black hood whilst she was at it. A dress made of a scratchy material she was not used to, in a deep mauve shade. There was a gentle knock on the door and once she confirmed she was decent, he walked in. Sansa had thought many men and boys beautiful. Joffrey himself was with his golden blonde hair and striking green eyes. But if he was beautiful, this man put him to shame. Blonde locks coming to his elbows in deep waves and bright blue eyes.

"Allow me to introduce myself, my Lady. My name is Torghen Hill. Your cousin tasked me to collect you when he heard your father had been taken captive. I am taking you to safety."

Suddenly, the King wording made sense. If Joffrey wasn't truly a Baratheon, this meant he had no claim. Leaving three remaining claimants- four if Shireen was included in on it. Stannis, Renly, and Jaeron. And her cousin had the highest claim of them all.

"How did he-"

"The King has a spy network in place. He found out what happened and also who betrayed your father to the Lannister bastard. This person was supposed to be on our side, but clearly they were playing both sides despite ours being the winning one currently. Someone will bring you food in an hour or so, in the meantime, some watered wine."

He reached his hand out which was carrying a flagon, her mouth salivating at the thought as she opened it and took a long gulp. Her face screwing ever so slightly as she wasn't used to the taste yet. Her father only ever let her have one cup at a time and only at gatherings or formal events. She felt it travelling down her parched throat and filling her stomach, lips smacking together to savour the sweet yet sour taste.

"My brother is pressing on the claim?"

Torghen seemed shocked by her referral, but he answered her question.

"Aye, he is. He's been preparing to do so for months. I'm taking you to somewhere safe, he is going to send someone to collect you when the brunt of the fighting is over. I don't know much else on it other than this I'm afraid, I am simply following a raven."

Sansa nodded at this, and then she asked the question.

"How long has it been since?"

"Thirteen days, my Lady. I must leave now, food will be brought to you soon. It won't be much I'm afraid, but it will be much better than what you were eating in the Holdfast."

She felt the ship pulling away from the docks now, her stomach twisting at the sensation. She'd never been on one before, but at least there was a bed she could lie in. Her thoughts tormenting her on what was going to happen now.