A Furious Thing

No More Hiding

There were no men from Riverrun. Sansa tried to stamp down her fear. A part of her, a childish part, had hoped that her mother would be coming to save her, but Catelyn's letter didn't come with knight's in silver armor ready to protect her from the big bad world- a world which now included her husband.

Sansa, my heart breaks for you. My dearest child, I wish you'd never experienced such a thing. I would send men if I could, dear one, but we cannot risk taking you from Dorne. Robb won't hear it, your Uncle Edmure will not hear of it. But I assure you, you'll be safe in Starfall, and Robert will surely pardon you when the war is won and done. He cannot blame you for doing your duty to your husband.

But, perhaps for the first time, Sansa knew her mother was wrong. Perhaps Catelyn was only assuring her safety because she wasn't allowed to send men for her- her mother had made it clear that her brother and her Uncle had forbid it- but Sansa could not hear this. So she wrote another letter.

Sansa would not wait in Starfall, where it might or might not be safe. She would take her fate into her own hands.

She prayed to the mother before she sent her next letter, hoping that or words would reach the God's ear, and turn her words into what she needed them to be. She wrote to the reach, to Margaery's family, imploring them to rescue her. She'd taken up correspondence with Margaery's eldest brother Willas, during the very depths of her fall from grace, just after the fall-out from the incident with Joffrey, and before she married Ned. She'd kept it up even after she was married, finding Willas very clever.

She hoped that she'd become enough of a friend to him for the request to even be considered. And if that was too much to ask for, she prayed that he'd at least find some political advantage.

In the meanwhile, Sansa prepared herself for flight. She packed a few of her things, trying to keep in inconspicuous. She also began dismissing her maids, until the only girl left to attend her was a particularly loyal young girl who'd she'd always been fond of. While she wouldn't dare to tell the girl her plan, she felt safer than the others.

She considered replying to her mother, explaining her new plan, but thought better of it. Better not to alert anyone who might try to talk her out of it. Her nerves were frayed as it was.

It had occurred to her previously that her actions might be a result of her ordeal. It made sense that such a loss might make a woman act erratically, but she didn't look kindly upon her motives being questioned- even by her own mind- and so she cut that thread of thought off before it could continue to unravel. She had to steel herself for this. There could be no room for doubt.

Arya Snow- Arya Targaryen- was a fierce girl. Aegon was sure of this, even as he held her while she weeped. The small bits of fierceness he'd seen previously confirmed everything that Varys had relayed about her.

Her arrival in King's Landing had been a major factor in the time frame for their attack. If she hadn't appeared, they probably wouldn't have waited much longer, but he'd wanted to hold off until he was sure of where she was. They'd had a vague idea beforehand, that she was in the Stormlands. Not exactly safe. But Varys had sent word immediately after her appearance in the capital.

Growing up with Ashara, he'd asked his foster mother about his family, and along with his parents and his elder sister, Aegon asked about her. She told him all she could, that she was a girl with dark hair, and that she was his sister. But that was about it. He'd spent night picturing his family, and she was right there along with Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen, and poor little Rhaenys. As a man severely lacking in family, Aegon found himself incredibly protective of what he did have, and he'd known vaguely of Arya since he was a little boy. The fact that the girl had been living as a bastard upset him.