SANSA II

"The day was bright and clear, and the air was for once light with a swallor of summer breeze. Lady Pellegrara Quelyanis sat beside Sansa in a pink and green dress, and with her hair made up to rise in a hill of green flowers and ribbons towards the sky, watching intently as Princess Sansa did her best at playing the harp. She was gifted, naturally, with slender fingers and a sense for music, but sometimes she fumbled and could not find the proper way. Lady Pellegrara stood always on the ready to tell her when she had made a mistake, and Sansa listened and obliged when she showed her on her own harp how she was supposed to play instead.

They were outside on the grey stone of the platform in the courtyard, as usual, and just as usual, Arya was not there with them. She had played with them for a couple of days, as she had promised, and Lady Pellegrara had accepted them both playing the Dornish song about the prince, though she had first been forced to ask around after it among the other singers and players in the city. It was apparently not a well-known song to her, though she was from Pentos and had lived for six years in King's Landing. After two days, however, she had found the song and learned how to play it herself, and then gladly instructed both Arya and Sansa at playing it. At first, by the time she was ready, Arya had almost forgotten that she had asked about it, but then she became enthused again, and they all played together.

Arya was firm and hard in her fingers, and actually surprised Sansa in her talents. But she was still a first beginner, though, and only nine, so she could not be expected to be as good as Sansa herself, nor indeed anywhere near as good as Lady Pellegrara, the second playing mistress of Pentos, a true trouvere of noble birth and formerly in service to the rich magister Heranos Nykano. Sansa had never seen him with her own eyes, and apparently he still lived at his mansion in Pentos across the Narrow Sea, but when Lady Pellegrara talked about him, which she often did, she found that she imagined him to be a tall and slim lord with a green velvet magister's robe, short dark hair and many brightly shining golden rings and jewelry. She knew that most wealthy people in Essos prided themselves greatly on their personal belongings, and not necessarily the pride of their house.

At any rate, Sansa and Arya had tried their best to master the song about the Dornish lord coming to the Wall, and their spirits were at times so high that they even allowed themselves to laugh – or, well, Sansa allowed herself to laugh; Arya laughed recklessly at any moment, as she most always did – even as Lady Pellegrara was scolding them. They felt close for once, and enjoyed the playing greatly. That had only lasted a couple of days, however, and after they had finished learning the song they played and recited it in front of their Mother and Father and all the others in the throne room. Their Father and Mother had applauded them loudly, and seemed overjoyous in their sharing of the song as goodly behaved siblings, for once, and her Mother the Queen had given Lady Pellegrara a yellow agrimony flower bouquet as a sign of gratitude, for all to see, thanking her for her good work in bringing them together. After that, however, there had been one or two days more hence, and the playing had gradually faded in Arya's interest. Yesterday she had said that she was feeling finished with playing the harp, and then she had run off somewhere else to play with Lady Haelda instead. Sansa guessed to herself that it had been inevitable.

Jeyne was not at the practice either, though she seldom was, as Sansa enjoyed having Lady Pellegrara to herself. And the others were nowhere near the harp players as she was, anyway. Lady Wynafryda preferred the lute and gittern and Marla Piper was best at the rebec, the viol, the shawn and the pipes, to and for the namesake of her house. Jeyne Poole played both the lute, the rebec, the pipes and much more, but did so rather mediocrally, and never with much fervor or joy.

Symon Silvertongue was not there today either, having taken to courting the feeble-minded but kind Lady Lollys Stokeworth with his songs instead. Sansa did not mind; she perfectly revelled in the company of Lady Pellegrara, and imagined that one day they might travel to Pentos together and play for all of the magisters of the Free Cities to see and hear. They would no doubt be shocked to see so much beauty and talent combined, for the Lady Pellegrara was surely among the finest trouveres on this side of the Narrow Sea, and Sansa looked up to her greatly, but she was certainly also old, somewhere around forty-and-five, or even fifty, Sansa guessed, with a wrinkled neck and eyes and a snipey nose, requiring a Myrish seeing glass to read, and painting her lips with cherry-and-glistern makeup to make them seem more red and lovely.

Sansa plucked at the strings, concentrating intensely. The piece was from the Free Cities, and originally called something which she could not pronounce, but in the Common Tongue, it had been translated in Lady Pellegrara's notebook to Jonquil's Radiance, though Sansa did not know whether they told the stories of Florian and Jonquil in Essos across the Narrow Sea.

When she was finished with her lesson, Septa Mordane came and led her by the hand to her chamber. Naesha and Demarra were inside as well, prepared to help her pack before the journey.

"Now Princess, make sure that you only choose what is necessary. We will be on the move for a moon or two, I believe, but nonetheless you cannot take all your gowns with you. The Queen says that you are to pack no more than four chests of clothing, and two chests for your other belongings.

"Only four clothing chests?" Sansa said. "That sounds like rather much."

"It certainly does, Princess, but when you consider how large your garderobe here is, and how long the journey will be, I am sure that you will begin to think of it in quite different terms. I would say you can choose about a third of your dresses, and we will have new ones made along the way instead."

"If you say so..."

"I do, my Princess." The septa bowed her head in a curtsy and left, presumably to tend to Arya and the others. They were to leave in only a matter of hours, and Leyna had already helped her to pack her most important chest yesterday. It was the one that held her favourite books, her embroidery, her favourite hairpieces and her washing necessities.

Sansa looked over her garderobe, letting her hand and mind brush over the many dresses and gowns, all in different colors and shapes that she owned. There was her regular red and blue Tully one, her regular scarlet red Tully one, made in satin, the red and blue one with the leaping embroidered trouts, the red and grey Tully and Stark one, the orange and airy white-and-green summer flowered one, which she had worn only twice or thrice, the Stark pearly white, the soft seashell white one with the shell-like overlappings and linings, the regular Stark grey, the other Stark grey with the woolen fur trimmings, far too warm for most summer days, her old favourite summer green, the green one with emeralds entertwined in small nets, the teal one, the aquamarine one with waves, the silvery grey one, the other silvery grey with direwolves howling beneath a full moon, the third and fourth silver ones, the pink one, the violet one, and all the rest. It seemed almost an impossible choice to only fill four chests and no more, but Leyna took her hand and said that she would help her, and so they began.

Sansa counted and guessed for how many occasions she would be able to wear one dress. For the majority of the journey, they would not meet with any new people, and so she could choose only her most modest dresses, and the ones that were the warmest and most comfortable, once they got north across the Neck and started making their way high up into the cold North. Then her Stark dress with the woolen inlays would be perfect, she thought. At first, they would stop by at Riverrun, however, to see her grandfather Lord Hoster and uncle Edmure, as well as Lady Daenerys, Marla's cousin M[ ] and many more. After that, they would return back to go along the Kingsroad up north, through the majority of the Riverlands, visiting the courts of House Darry, House Erenford and House Roote at Lord Harroway's Town, and perhaps after that stopping by at the Twins to meet with old Lord Walder Frey and his great court of half a hundred sons, grandsons, and their families. For that Sansa meant to wear one of her Tully red dresses, or possibly the Tully and Stark one. The Freys were a weasely and spiteful bunch, not among her grandfather's most trusted bannermen, as her Mother had told her, but Sansa knew that it would be all the more good to show herself in a good light to them and rising above. At Winterfell, she would want to dress particularly beautifully to make her best impression on her uncle, aunt and cousins, and so would bring with her some of her very finest dresses for those days, the silver Stark one, the pearly white one, the blueish grey with the large bowtie rosettes in front, and several others.

After they had finally decided, and filled all of her crates with her packings and most important belongings for the trip, Naesha and Demarra along with some servants carried the boxes all the way downstairs through the stairway of the Red Keep and down to the outer courtyard. Ser Jory stood waiting by her Father's side at the head of the column of riders, holding the reins for his and the King's horses. Ser [Marlon/Merlon] and Ser Balon were slightly further back, standing at the side of the great wheelhouse, by the side of her Mother the Queen, Septa Mordane, Arya and Haelda, Jeyne, Wynafryda and Marla.

"Goodness me, princess! Where have you been for so long?" Septa Mordane chastised her. "Even your sister took a short time packing, and she has not been acting out of herself all day!"

"I'm sorry, septa", Sansa said, "but I simply had to choose all of my best gowns and dresses for the journey. If I had been allowed to take more boxes with me, I would not have taken so long to pick them out."

"We already have enough packing to see us to the end of winter. Now come quickly and sit yourself in, Sansa", said her Mother, and Sansa looked back on the great pile of chests, suitcases, barrels and boxes all stacked up on top of each other at the back of the wheelhouse.

Sansa greeted her friends quickly, and wondered at how they all had managed to pack so quickly. But then again, they had nowhere near as many dresses as she did, and they all usually stood ready and waited for her. Her Father was not ready, though, from the look of it. He was still standing by the side of his horse, talking to Jory as the servants were walking back and forth with more of the barrels. There was food rations, wine and ale barrels, packs of thick winter clothes, medications and much more. Grand Maester Pycelle would not be travelling with them, however, on account of his age and needing to stay representing the Red Keep and his order at the Small Council. Instead they had Maester Frenken of Stokeworth to travel with them, and to tend to any wounds they might sustain during the journey. It was said that most of all the bogs of the Neck would be dangerous, the very air filled with poisonous fumes and disease. Sansa hoped dearly that the strange Maester Frenken would be as good as Pycelle at treating her.

"How far is it to Winterfell?" asked Marla to Septa Mordane. "And how long will it take?"

"I believe we will be there within a month, my dear", the septa replied. "Though that depends on the weather. If the roads should be frought with rain around the Blue or Green Fork when we try and pass, then..."

"It hasn't rained for ten days", said Arya, putting her elbows to her sides in that particularly unladylike manner of hers.

"Nine days", Wynafryda corrected her.

"No, it's ten days", Arya insisted. "At any rate, it's a dry season."

"It might not be the same in the Riverlands", said the septa. "Only to go to Harrenhal is several days' journey north, and the weather can change most strikingly in such a matter of time. The roads of the northern Riverlands are infamous for such sudden bursts of rainfall and muck, I'm afraid."

"Is a lady allowed to say muck?" Arya asked, mischievously, and angled her grey eyes up at the septa, where she was standing behind her, tilting her head back to see her reaction.

"Quiet, Arya", the lady Haelda said for once. "Don't say it like that."

"Not like that? Then how am I supposed to say it?"

"You don't say it at all unless you have to", said Sansa, taking Haelda's side. "Besides, you're standing in a pile of it right now", she inclined at Arya's dress, which was just now draping itself in a pile of horse dung from the horse just in front of the wheelhouse.

Her sister looked down at the small dung pile, hopped up in disgust, and then began chiding the horse angrily for having relieved itself. The sight was so funny that Sansa had to giggle to herself, covering her mouth as ever while the septa did her best to look away from it all, clearly sick of the commotion of it all already.

"It's just a horse", said Sansa. "You can't be mad at it for doing what horses do. You should watch more carefully where you step your feet. Aren't you supposed to be some wolf warrior? Wolves never step in dirt."

Arya stuck out her tongue at Sansa and tried kicking some of the dirt her way. It didn't work.

"Stop it, Arya!", said the septa, finally looking down at them.

"Seven Hells. I can't believe I'm going to be stuck with you inside this wagon for a month", Arya said, as Sansa was not sure whether she was talking to her or the septa.

"Arya Stark! That is NOT proper language for any lady whatsoever the sort! Apologize!" The septa said furiously.

Arya sulked, but relented.

"All right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I only wish we could go North to Winterfell straight away, instead of having to stop at all these other places first."

"These other places are all the subjects of the King", said the septa. "It is important that your royal father comes and visits them when he finally finds the precious time to do so. How should you feel yourself if you lived at only a small holdfast, and the King did not give his time to stop at your keep on his way up?"

"Relieved", Arya said, jokingly. "I've heard that they will need to find food for all of us while we're there. It sends some lords all the way to bankruptcy when a king stays there, Grand Maester Pycelle said. It would be far better to keep off the main roads and just hunt for our food instead."

"Perhaps that would be so, but I do not believe that three hundred men could take down an equal number of deer if they were all stomping about in the woods, armor and all."

"They would take their armor off, of course. And you'd only need one deer to ten or twenty men."

Her sister seemed to be right in her extrapolations, but the septa was not having any of it.

"And what of the vegatables? Are they to pluck them directly from the farmers' fields without asking?"

"Why not? It all belongs to the King anyway", Arya said.

"And you do not believe that it would be simpler to go to the lord of that particular place and get the food directly from his storerooms instead of collecting it?" The septa said.

"I don't know", Arya said. "Perhaps the roads are so bad and flooded with muck that he hasn't gotten much food collected."

"That is enough!" the septa screamed, fully red in her face. "Get inside now, you utter beast of a child, and speak no more of the travels until we have reached Riverrun!"

Her Mother watched on with a disapproving face, but whether she was disapproving of Arya, or of the septa, or both, Sansa could not say.

"Thankyou, Mordane. I believe we are ready to take the rest of the girls inside as well.", she said.

Jeyne Poole was the first of them to go aboard, after Lady Haelda, who always followed in Arya's steps. The gap up to the platform of the wheelhouse was tall, almost to Sansa's waist, and so Jeyne climbed backwards on the wooden ladder, complainging all the while of its construction.

"Why could they not have made a normal stair?" she said.

"Why did you not wear your less rigid dress today?" Sansa asked her back.

"I did not know we were to climb up it ourselves. Or that it would be so high", Jeyne glinced, struggling with her legs snugly inside her greyish orange-and-brown dress.

Ser Arys Oakhart heard what she was saying and came immediately forward to pick her up, scooping her light frame from the middle of the stairway and all atop the wooden floor of the wheelhouse. Then he did the same with Wynafryda and Marla. Sansa stopped him with a politely outstretched hand, however.

"Thankyou but it's quite all right, Ser Arys. I can manage", she said. She had chosen her best dress for walking today, and she also spied the small door knob handle of the wall which Jeyne had apparently not seen, and thus she managed to drag herself up, take two and then three steps up the wooden ladder, then a laborious fourth and fifth, and then step up onto the platform, smiling quaintly as her shoes touched the oaken floor with a clack.

"I see indeed that you can, Princess", Ser Arys said with a smile, and returned to stand by the side of his sworn brothers again.

"Very well. Are we prepared to go at last?" asked the Queen, surveying the wheelhouse.

"I believe it is almost so, Your Grace", replied Ser Arys. "Only a little bit of packaging left."

Sansa looked out again and got a more proper glance of the rest of the column. In front of them were Father, King Eddard Stark, clad in his finest silver grey doublet, his long dark hair flowing down from beneath his iron and silver crown along with his beard, his massive cloak showing the silver grey direwolf of Stark on a white background, and Ser Jory stood beside him, along with Ser Erryk, and a dozen or more knights, most of whom she knew, but some of which came from further away in the Crownlands.

Among them was also Robb, seated on his proud grey horse, and Bran, on his fuxen beige white one beside him. Rickon had originally been supposed to go along with the Queen and the girls in the wheelhouse, but Sansa saw that he had been given the leave to sit tied up carefully at Ser Erryk's lap, to stop him from crying at being apart from Bran while they rode out.

Behind them, guarding the rear of the wheelhouse were Ser Arys and Ser Mandon, along with the enormous line of knights and sworn swords and the dozens of packhorses and servants with the heavy carriage which composed the rear of the party, and after that the smaller wheelhouse were Lady Selna, [ ], Lady Tanda, Lady Lollys, Lady Pellegrara, Maester Frenken and the others were to travel in.

After the smaller wheelhouse came the row of servants, horse tenders, blacksmiths and camp makers, and then the final part, a line of sworn swords and knights of different coloured shields, and with four knights carrying the proud direwolf of Stark bringing up the rear.

Sansa viewed it all, taking in the sight with a gasp, looking back to where they were at the forefront of it all, and at their sides by the entrance to the wheelhouse, on the dry beige crackled ground of the courtyard stood still Ser Arys and Ser Mandon, as the servants finally brought up the very last of the carriage, including Sansa's dress boxes, and placed them on the already enormous mound of load inside the walls of the wooden construction.

There was a relative silence for a few moments, the voices of half a hundred riders gradually toning down with anticipation as the King looked over the line, and Sansa went quickly back into the inner comfort of the wheelhouse again to sit down next to the others, sitting between her Mother and Jeyne on the soft red cushions of the bench. I could be quite comfortable here, I suppose, she thought quietly to herself. Her Mother the Queen was sitting next to her, fidgeting with her rings.

She looked back, or tried her best to do so, wondering where her harp was just now, as the servants had packed it on. Lady Pellegrara was in the smaller wheelhouse at the back, but surely both of their harps would be here somewhere. Sansa had begged her Mother to let her take Lady Pellegrara with her on the long journey, so that she could still enjoy playing while on the road and not lose her skills during the time it would take them, and so finally she had relented, agreeing that some harp playing or anything of the sort would most likely be of service when it came to crossing the dreary and eerie landscape of the Neck, where else the wind would whisper in the ears of men and women and children alike, and drive them to hop and drown in its murky waters and bogs.

She saw to her gratitude that her beautiful harp had been stacked away at the very top of the pile, just beneath a soft leather bag of something she did not recognise, on the secondary mound in front of them. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the gods for giving her such a pleasant beginning to their journey. Her Mother was also sunk down in prayer, but of a more serious kind, she saw.

"Right then! Off we go!" Ser Jory called out from her Father's side. A host of trumpeteers played at the sides of each of the gates to make the order understood by everyone and to herald the departure of the King.

Grand Maester Pycelle, Ser Barristan, Lord Baelish, Lord Gyles and [ ] all stood waving in a formation behind them as they left the Red Keep behind, not to return for what suddenly seemed like a very long time indeed. At least they were all going together, be it for good or for worse, thought Sansa, as she took her Mother's hand next to hers, and her Mother squeezed it gently back.

"There, there. It's going to be all right, Sansa", she said. "The best part of the journey is before us. It will become worse further on, but for now, we shall simply sit back and try and not bite the heads of one another before we have left the capital."

The wheelhouse's enormous wooden wheels, with its [ekrar – spokes?] [ ], were creaking and gnisseling as they made their slowly winding way forward to start, and the entire equipage swung and veered its way into motion, the weight of it resounding with the sound a splinter or two out the back. And then they were on their way, rotating ever so slowly forward, as the horses trudged along in front, and she could see the backs of Robb and Bran and Ser Erryk, behind half a dozen gleaming suits of armour and streaming direwolf banners, and perhaps Father and Ser Jory as well, if she looked closely as far into the distance as she could.

"Do you think Lady Daenerys will be pleased to see us?" Sansa asked.

"I believe so. And we will also meet with my brother Edmure as well, and my father, as you know."

"Yes, but I already remember them far better than I remember her. She only sat at her chamber the last time we came to visit her, never coming out to talk to us. But I remember her hair. It was silver white, just like her brother's. But she did not say anything. I don't think she speaks much at all."

"That was many years ago now", her Mother said. "She was young and shy, as any child would be in that situation. I am sure that the Lady Daenerys will be glad to meet us all, and you especially. Your grandfather and Edmure will see to that. Just relax now and try not to think too much, Sansa. We still have a long way before we are there."

And just as she said it, Ser Jory echoed her sentiments from outside.

"Come on, faster now! Put a move on! For king and country! It's a thousand leagues from here to Winterfell, and winter is coming!"

Sansa looked out at the direwolf banners of the knight's line once more, and shivered down to her spine at Jory's words, as she for the first time fully realised what they would have to endure. She only hoped innerly that her dress that she had brought was warm enough for it to be able to stave off the cold winds of the North, the one with the grey woolen lining, but somehow, she had already began to have doubts about that."