Sansa's maids told her the food in the city was scarce. The only sources of food for the time being were coming from Rosby and Stokeworth, it wasn't enough for the smallfolk, not by a long mile.
These days, Princess Myrcella and her, started visiting the royal sept at least once a day. The princess, to pray for her uncles to see reason, and Sansa… Sansa just prayed.
The gods wouldn't hear her anyways.
She only went to the sept as a companion to the princess and because it reminded her of the times she prayed with Mother back in Winterfell's sept. It was calming, in a way.
Their routine was broken only twice.
The first when Lord Tywin summoned her to the Small Council. Her stay was short, she sat in place until a knight in Lannister colors got into the room. She was dismissed shortly after.
The second time, was just yesterday afternoon. Princess Myrcella started crying in the middle of their daily praying. Apparently she had overheard Lord Tywin talk about Lords Stannis and Renly. "They're gonna kill Tommen," she said between sobs.
Sansa went to comfort the princess in her arms, it was all she could do.
She could have lied, told her everything was going to be alright, but she didn't want to lie, not to her friend.
She took Myrcella to the godswood, thinking that the sept might be reminding her of Lord Tywin's conversation. There, in the shadow of heart tree, both girls sang. First, jaunty and merry songs, and then the saddest most heartbreaking songs they knew.
It was an odd thing, but she found that wistful melodies helped the most. They ended up spending the time before dinner in the heart tree, hearing the rustle of leaves and seeing the birds fly.
That day, Sansa didn't saw Lord Varys.
She encountered the Master of Whispers from time to time. Sometimes while walking through the corridors of the Red Keep, sometimes while going back to her rooms from the godswood.
They exchanged little more than greetings, except when Lord Varys informed her of her family. It was from his mouth, she learned of Jon and Lord Edmure laying siege to Duskendale. By the afternoon of that encounter, most of the Red Keep knew.
A mix of elation and fear gripped her heart that day. Her brothers were getting closer, but they were not here with her.
Other of the reasons she didn't mind Lord Varys as much, was that Lord Baelish was never close when she encountered the Master of Whispers. The Master of Coin was growing more insistent by the day and Sansa started to understand more and more of Annara's distaste for the man as well.
However insistent Lord Baelish was, he knew his limits as well. He didn't approach when Princess Myrcella was close, at most, he would greet them when they were together.
Which is why, today was going to be challenging. A servant told her the princess wasn't available, it seemed the queen had barred her from any visitors in her room. From the time she had been in the Red Keep, Sansa knew if it depended only on the queen, she would never see Myrcella again.
She was thankful then, it didn't depend on the queen alone. Lord Tywin would get the princess back to her routine in a few more days, she was sure of it. He pushed for her to be Myrcella's companion, she just had to be patient.
In order to not meet Lord Baelish, Sansa was tempted to just wait in her rooms. Annara would come a little later and she could hear of whatever new information her maid would share.
It was tempting, but it also would left Arra hungry. With that thought in mind, Sansa decided to spent her day in the godswood taking care of Myrcella's garden, that way asking for bigger portions wouldn't raise any eyebrows and if Lord Baelish approached her, she'd be able to react in time.
The princess' garden was full of sunflowers and daisies. It was nice, but it wasn't the best she had seen.
Back in Winterfell she had a garden of winter roses of her own. They were her favorite flower, she even had a dress in that color of her own, it had been a while since she put it on.
She was familiar with weeding. Back in Winterfell a gardener would've left everything to help her with her garden. "You could hurt your hands, milady," the gardener would say and bring her leather gloves when she insisted.
The few times Father saw her taking care of her garden, he would smile and twirl her in a hug. Even through the laughter, she was able to see the sadness hiding behind his eyes. Sansa never asked why seeing winter roses made him sad, and now, she would never know.
She raised her gaze to the sky and saw a flock of gulls.
"Arra?"
"Yes, my lady?" the maid answered from the side, she was the only one helping her with the garden.
"I've worked quite the appetite, could you bring me sliced beef, bread and soup?"
"Of course, my lady," Arra said and left for the kitchens.
Sansa stood up, washed the dirt from her hands in the fountain, and made her way to the shade where she usually ate her lunch at. Near the heart tree with shrubs hiding her from the world. Making a turn for her spot, she hoped not to run into Lord Baelish here while she was alone.
"Greetings, my lady," Lord Varys said instead.
There the Master of Whispers sat in a table with plates and silverware arranged. She knew not to trust him, but so far, the man hadn't done anything to her. She was still reluctant though.
"My lord," she said in response, still doubtful to sit near him or find another place. There was one thing that compelled to stay, and it wasn't the lemon cakes Lord Varys had with him.
"Lord Baelish was looking for you," he said. "He had something urgent he wanted to tell you."
And that was reason enough to share a table with Lord Varys. That way, the Master of Coin wouldn't approach.
"I'm waiting for my maid to bring me food, my lord. Would you mind me sitting with you?" He made a gesture in affirmation and she seated on the opposite side of the table. "What is that urgent thing Lord Baelish wanted to tell me?"
Varys giggled behind his hand. "How would I know, my lady? I'm not Lord Baelish."
Sansa didn't deem it polite to answer with the truth, so she pointedly stared at the lemon cakes on the table.
"Guilty as charged, my lady," Lord Varys said while pushing the tray toward her. "I heard the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms liked lemon cakes a great deal. And I'm just a humble servant looking for her favor."
She didn't move to pick one, doubt filled her mind.
"No need to worry, Lady Sansa, here," he pushed the tray closer to her, "pick one, any will do, I'll eat it first so you know it's safe."
That was very forward of him, had she been the Sansa of the past, she would've apologized for making him say that. But, she wasn't that Sansa, not anymore. She turned the tray and picked the one in her left, the one touching the plate and gave it to him.
Lord Varys, never once stopped smiling and munched on the cake without doubts. She looked carefully until he swallowed the pastry and only then she picked up one to her plate.
The taste was as she remembered, sweet with that soft tang she loved. She couldn't trust Lord Varys, but his lemon cakes were delicious.
"What is it that Lord Baelish wanted to tell me?"
"Nothing much, my lady. He's just preparing to leave for the Vale and he wants to convince you to follow him, take you to your aunt, the Lady Lysa Arryn."
What.
Lord Varys giggled behind his sleeve. "Lord Baelish's finding that the new Hand is… not very friendly to him."
Her hands stiffed. Her body stiffed. She hadn't met her aunt, but they were family right? Sansa knew she'd be better off in the Vale than in King's Landing. The little hope she cradled in her chest almost burst open, but her mind's whispers stopped her.
"I-I wouldn't follow him, my lord, that's treason," she said. "We should- My lord, you should tell Lord Tywin to stop him."
It had to be a trap, aiding a hostage escape was treason. There was no other reason for Lord Varys to tell her. Her heart was about to escape her chest. Joffrey would have her head if he heard of the plot. She couldn't allow it, not with Jon this close, Duskendale was a week off of King's Landing.
"Peace, Lady Sansa," Lord Varys said with his hands up. "It wasn't my intention to scare you. It's just…" He sighed. "Lord Baelish's not someone I can call a friend. He's your mother's friend, of that I have no doubt, but that doesn't mean he's a friend of yours. I just wanted you to know of his intentions."
Her mind was dissecting his words, what did he mean, why was he even telling her? What did he want? What was the correct response?
"I'm not a traitor, my lord. I wouldn't dare betray the king." She wanted to leave, but doing so… felt like a mistake. She couldn't leave Varys like this.
"I'm so sorry, my lady, it wasn't my intention to scare you. Just to warn you." Varys sighed.
Warn her? "Of what?"
"Of Lord Baelish, of course. I told you, he's your lady mother's friend, but the plans he devised for you…" He turned from her with a sigh and his back hunched. "Lord Baelish was born with no wealth and no lands. In the last fifteen years, he has acquired more wealth than most lords could ever dream. He's an ambitious man, and I worry of the lengths he'll go to get what he wants."
A cold feeling started creeping up her neck. "He-No, that doesn't make sense."
Lord Varys turned to her, his eyes were sad. "Haven't you questioned why he always finds you when the princess is not by your side? Why does he keeps giving you presents? And how he always keeps reminding you of his friendship with your lady mother?"
She couldn't deny the truth of his words. "He wants to marry me? That, he wouldn't, he couldn't, Mother wouldn't allow it."
"It's as you say, my lady. He's too lowborn to be considered." Lord Varys paused to lean and whispered, "But what if he saved you from King's Landing? What if he took you to the safety of the Eyrie with your aunt?"
She took a long breath of air, she needed to calm down. "It doesn't matter in the end. I wouldn't commit treason."
Lord Varys gave her a tiny smile and a nod. "Of course not. Lady Sansa is a leal subject of the Iron Throne. And I'm just a spider who worries for little ladies."
She returned to her cake, she wanted nothing more than leave, but what if Arra returned and didn't find her? What would Lord Varys do to her if she found him here? Would he find out Sansa was trying to get the servants on her side?
It was only a few more minutes for her maid to return. With her, she would excuse herself to her rooms and leave the Master of Whispers alone.
There was a little voice in the back of her head, saying that perchance Lord Varys was on her side and did worry for her. What did he gain from telling her of Lord Baelish's plots otherwise?
She quickly rejected that notion. This was King's Landing, she couldn't trust him.
And yet, she had to ask. "Why are you telling me of this?"
"I don't like seeing children getting hurt. Especially not when the lords play their game of thrones. When the powerful move, it's the innocent who suffer."
She ate her lemon cake, even if now tasted more bitter than sweet, and kept her silence until Arra's return. With the maid in tow, she excused herself from the table.
"Take the tray with you, my lady," Lord Varys said. "As a token of my apology."
She noticed a folded paper in the base, so she accepted and had Arra help her to her rooms.
After eating with her maid, she unfolded the paper.
The Vale was not united. Some lords were on her brother's side while the Lady Arryn refused to raise her banners. Two thousand Valemen were joining her brother, opposing their Lady's mandate. The Vale wasn't a safe then, not with the lords divided. She read it once again before burning it in her hearth.
In the next days, she found no one in the Red Keep knew of the situation of the Vale. They knew the Vale was with Robb, but not of the fractures in their midst.
She couldn't understand why Lord Varys hadn't told the Small Council of this.
###
I never quite understood the fascination Westerosi nobles have with hunting. I mean, what's the part they liked? The tracking? The persecution? The final blow? The taste of prey you killed with your own hands?
If I was being honest, the only thing I could see them enjoying is spending time outdoors. It's the only thing that made sense to me. Hunting is a very social activity after all. Nobles talking with their peers outside of politics and administration, all the while keeping their images of manly men.
Even feasts didn't offer that political freedom on their participants. I've seen Father being accosted by informal petitions at feasts all the time, not once had I seen him relaxed in one. Hunts, on the other hand… even if sometimes his companion would petition something, Father's casual countenance didn't waver.
Father and Robb used to drag me to hunts (they insisted twice, maybe thrice to join them), and in those jaunty activities, I learned the most valuable virtue for a hunter. Patience.
Dacey and I were on the Muddy Way on our way to Fishmonger's Square. I had freed the pigeons back at Chataya's, now I was carrying my rodent helpers to free them somewhere close to where Arya told me the Red Keep tunnels were.
The city was restless, even this early in the morning. Back in the Street of Sisters, a few blocks away from Chataya's, someone wanted to buy my mice. "Meat will fetch a good price," a greasy man told me. It was something I hadn't included in my calculations.
The city was on the brink of starvation, so of course they would eat mice and rats. When realization hit, I checked on my pigeons to see if they were still alive. Thankfully they were, so I guided them to the more affluent part of the city, near the Red Keep.
"How long before you tire of fish?" Dacey said from the side. Yesterday's meeting of a Prince of Dorne had left her grumbling.
"This may be a surprise, but I'm fond of fish." Doubly so when our hostess only asked us to be in charge of buying fish for the meals at her brothel.
"Ohh? Someone would think a highborn such as yourself would have a much finer palate."
Yup, she really wanted to hit something. "Finer tongue my ass. If we could find all the ingredients I needed, I'd turn your opinion on fish."
I hadn't even tried with substitutes, maybe they would be good enough. Well, another item for the ever increasing backlog then.
The cage in my back squeaked when I stopped and Dacey crashed on me. A carriage going wild almost runs me over, I chuckled, it seems no matter the place people will still be maniacs on the road.
"Cover for me," I said unstrapping the cage from my back. "I'm freeing the mice."
"Shouldn't we get closer to… you know?" She still got in front of me while I crouched.
"Not really, these little helpers are gonna get close all on their own."
I skinchanged into the mice and rats. Six different perspectives welcomed me. All my practice helped me not to plant my face to the ground. I gave them vague instructions and directions to go and returned to my own mind.
I shook my head and got up. "It's done. Let's get the fish and then find a place to rest."
"Rest… right," she gave me a look.
I guess she wasn't completely sold on my magic usage just yet. All the folklore of evil Warg Kings must be hard to reconcile.
We got into the Fishmonger's Square in silence, had to haggle a little to blend in with everyone else, and with fresh fish in our bags, we went off to a secluded place to rest.
My pigeons did aerial reconnaissance. In normal circumstances, Cerati would've gotten the job, but a hawk flying over King's Landing would've been way too conspicuous, though it probably wouldn't matter. It's not like anyone would ever suspect a with king using a hawk to spy on them. Truly, hindsight is great.
For the time being I used my pigeons. I was looking for buildings that looked they had a lot of history between their walls. According to Arya, the tunnel she found was in a back alley of the Hook in Aegon's High Hill so a big part of my efforts were focused there.
"Sooooo, do you need me to keep silent?" Dacey whispered.
"Not really. Though I admit, I'm not stretching myself too thin right now. If I were micromanaging three of more of my helpers, my words would just sound as nonsense."
"Maicro-mangin?" She whispered tilting her head.
"Ah. I mean controlling each and every step of my little helpers," I said turning my head to her. "Also, don't whisper, it'll just make it seem we are hiding something."
She gave me her are-you-stupid look. "Right…"
I sent one of my rats inside a sewer three blocks away from the River Gate. "I can assure you, Daven, whispering will only make it easier for someone to hear us."
"Sorry," she said under her breath.
"See that's better. Now we are two unremarkable sellswords talking about what brothel we'll visit next."
One of my pigeons found a posh stable. The masonry was done with care, the engravings were done by someone who knew their craft and the place looked well cared for. I sent a mouse, that place looked very promising.
"Sooo, are you a greenseer too?"
"I don't think so. Greenseers are haunted by prophetic dreams." I was haunted by other kind of dreams.
"You say 'haunted', as if knowing the future was a bad thing… wouldn't it be useful? You could quickly find… what we're looking for, right?"
"Mmmhh, you're half right, it's just that…" How to explain about the curse of prophecies? "Prophecies are unreliable, how could someone know exactly what comes next? It's not possible, and even if one somehow knew what comes next… it would drive them mad."
"I don't know, Jaren. Knowing the future sounds very useful to me."
One of my rats found a nice looking inn. It didn't look very fancy, but it had a basement, so I sent her there. Creepy basements are always worth exploring, much more so if you are not exploring it yourself.
"You are thinking only of the advantages. Think of it this way." I picked up a stick to fiddle with. "Let's go by the thing I think would drive anyone mad. Say you have a green dream of your own death…"
That got a reaction out of her. She shrugged. "Then, I'd just avoid it."
"Of course." I huffed, snickering for her troubles. "But what did the dream show you? I can assure you, they aren't specific, they might show you your death, but not the details that drove you to those circumstances."
She squinted her eyes. "How would you know? Didn't you just tell me you aren't a dreamer?"
I hummed while I sent one of my pigeons outside the city walls in Aegon's High Hill. If I were a paranoid madman building tunnels on my fortress, I wouldn't built every tunnel exit inside the city.
"I'm not, but I've studied every Targaryen dreamer the Realm knows of."
She turned her body in my direction. "Is this when you tell me you are like those Valyrians of old, and did blood sacrifices for your magic?"
"No?"
"Heh, I'm joking," she said while patting my shoulder. "It's just… studying every Targaryen dreamer is sooo you."
Huh. "Thanks?" I shook my head and sent another of my mice into a brewery. "Anyways, what every Targaryen dreamer has in common, is that they aren't shown details. Everyone knows it was thanks to Daenys the Dreamer the Targaryens were able to escape the Doom of Valyria. What most don't know, is that the Doom of Valyria came twelve years after her dream."
"Eh? How do you know that?"
"Winterfell's library has some tomes from Old Valyria, contrasting those tomes with records we have from the lords of the Narrow Sea, you can easily find that twelve year gap."
She chuckled. "Of course you'd find something like that in books."
I sent the rest of my rodents into sewers and got up. "Yup, that's me." I stretched my body with a groan. "We've rested enough, we should go back."
We found our way into the Muddy Way to go straight to Chataya's. The city was awakening in full force and with it, the gold cloaks would start moving. I doubt they would be looking for us specifically, but as always, I guided myself with the 'better safe than sorry' mantra. Given how Dacey gave me zero pushback, I believe she thought so too.
We were a few blocks into the Muddy Way, having seen a couple of gold cloak squads patrolling when my companion spoke.
"I've been thinking—"
"What a terrifying prospect," I said.
"Shut up, you idiot." She gave me a slap on the shoulder. "I've been thinking, even if Daenys the Dreamer was off by twelve years, her dream still saved her family. Dragon dreams sound very useful, don't you think?"
"That's just coincidence. There were other prophecies in the tomes I read." We stopped in the corner, a carriage crossed the street at full throttle. "There was this nonsensical prophecy about how the gold of Casterly Rock would destroy the Valyrian Freehold. And yet…"
"The Lannisters never marched against the dragonlords of old," she completed and we continued our way.
"Aye, I found a few more prophecies, but none other I could prove or disprove. There's also the fact that the Lannisters used to have a Valyrian steel sword. If the Valyrians were averse to deal with the lions of the West due to that prophecy, why did they sell them Brightroar?"
"Well." She shrugged. "It still saved them."
I could feel my patience abandoning me by the minute. "Look, my point is that you can't trust on prophetic dreams. It's like rolling a die and betting on a six, would you make a decision based on that alone?"
We kept walking in silence for a few minutes while Dacey was deep in thought.
"It still saved the Targaryens. I believe you wouldn't blindly trust on dragon dreams, but they could give you an edge."
There was a grain of truth in what she said. Besides, I could admit I really hated prophecies. They were… how to say it… against free will.
A predefined future that was going to happen no matter what? Nightmare fuel, that's what it is.
I had to admit to Dacey's point though. "I guess, if used carefully," I saw her smirk, "very carefully, prophetic dreams can be useful."
We went straight for the Street of Sisters and to Chataya's. In there, someone not even a prophetic dream could predict was preparing himself for the day.
I couldn't fully understand why Prince Oberyn was in the city. Or at least, why he was staying at Chataya's.
I wasn't illiterate on Dorne, I could somewhat guess of his intentions in the city. What I couldn't understand was why he wasn't in the Red Keep. Dorne was a nominal ally of the crown, shouldn't he use that to his advantage and get close to his targets?
The only reason I could see for Prince Oberyn staying at Chataya's (aside from his self professed love for carnal desire), was that Dorne wanted to stay neutral and treat with the winner at the end of the war. All the while taking care of Dorne's most egregious enemy in one fell swoop.
According to Alayaya, the prince leaves the brothel in the mornings and returns a little after midday. Then in the afternoon he, "Enjoys the gifts the gods gave him," Alayaya said.
Since we could half guess the prince's objectives in the city, I was half tempted to get him in on our heist. But we couldn't trust him, at least not yet.
So Perwyn volunteered to take his measure. I trusted Perwyn's social skills, out of the three in my party, he was the most perceptive. And probably he was the one with more common interests with the prince.
We arrived at the brothel and left the fish with Janick. There we learned Prince Oberyn left a little early, with Perwyn for companion.
Dacey and I had to do a double take at that. Perwyn couldn't have shared much more than an hour with the prince of Dorne. He was either the most sociable man in Westeros, or Prince Oberyn was about to gut him like a fish in a back alley. Since we didn't know where they went, we would just had to wait.
I occupied myself exploring with my rodents, Dacey was reading a book by my side. I had explained her that I was at my most vulnerable when skinchanging into multiple animals at once.
Close to midday, with Perwyn still out in the city and with my brain feeling like mush, I took a look at the horizon with Cerati. I saw a dust cloud forming miles away in the roseroad. Getting closer, multicolored banners greeted me.
The war was coming for King's Landing, and it was color green.
###
A/N: Varys conversations are really hard, lol. Hope it was good enough on the subtext and ambiguous bs he likes to pull.
So, what is Oberyn getting up to? What is his plan? Who's to say?
You can read one chapter ahead: p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / yorud.
Anyways, give me your comments ╭ (oㅇ‿ o )ᕗ