Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shae

They paid for a fortnight's stay, which would give them time to figure out their long-term goals, or at least what they would do in the next year. Time to craft a story of who they were, and so forth.

"We should have saved that sum for necessities," Sandor groused, looking over the fine meal they'd been brought. "We're going to need new clothes so the two of you don't look like ladies."

"We paid less than you think," Shae said with a wry little smile. "No one gets a fortune from me unless they deserve it. Now, I have a job for you."

"Not a good idea to just send me out, you know. Suppose that cunt Joffrey sent someone out after us?"

"We will be safe enough," Shae replied, "No one came for us in the night. We can spare you for a little while."

"Fine. What do you need done?"

Shae handed him two of the necklaces they had liberated from the Red Keep. "Go and get yourself some new clothes, maybe some different armor. Sansa and I are fine with what we have for now, but you should find something else. You are the Hound in our hearts, but you cannot keep wearing the suit that they know."

"Are you a fool? Simply selling the armor would be enough."

He grumbled, but left--and Shae, shaking her head, turned back to Sansa.

"You wanted him gone, didn't you? So we could talk." Sansa's voice was soft, but less broken than the night before, and the fright seemed to have gone from her eyes as well.

"Yes. I thought it might make things easier. There are many things you could do, but I thought you might like to be asked--is there anything you want to do?"

Sansa seemed to think, but all that crossed her face was confusion. As if she had not thought of such a thing in a long, long time. She had not had the chance in so long, Shae thought, she had stopped considering it. "What could I do?"

"You have been taught ladylike things all your life," Shae replied, "You could easily become a dressmaker, and make beautiful gowns. We could buy a shop, and live above it. But you are also beautiful yourself, and a woman of age who has bled. We could find you a rich husband--"

"No," Sansa said suddenly, "I don't want to marry a man I don't even know. I wanted to marry Joffrey, and he turned out to be a monster. If I had to marry right now, I--I'd prefer it be Sandor. He is only mean when he has a reason to be, but--but he would never harm me--either of us. And I don't want to leave either of you. I...you two are all that I have left now. If he said no, I suppose--I suppose we could be...I could...like you..."

"A whore? You are too pretty to be a whore," Shae replied. Ah, the poor girl, she was desperate for reassurance. Another reason she sent Sandor away; he wasn't capable of giving any.

"No, I meant...a courtesan. I heard a lot of dirty talk from the sailors, even through my door on the ship. They--men would pay a lot to bed a maiden, and it would let us...it could be enough to get a start as one of them."

"They would," Shae replied, nodding. "Even in the poorest towns, a man would pay a high price for a woman's maidenhead."

She remembered still how much her mother had gained for her own. So much money that they had no worry of food for a long time.

"But why would you want to do that?"

"The Queen--Cersei," Sansa said, "The night we left, before I slipped away...to my quarters. She told me that the best weapon a woman has is between her legs."

Tyrion had told her about that. His sister, bedding Jaime and Lancel and probably many others. Others in the Kingsguard, probably; all those men eager to get a shot at the Queen's cunt. She used sex as a draw to get what she wanted, to make men act for her.

"I have not always done so well as Lord Tyrion," Shae replied, "And the courtesans of Braavos are famous, yes. It could be easy for you, you are young and beautiful and you adapt easily. But you must not run into becoming one so quickly."

"I..." Sansa paused, looking away. "It's not only to find work. It's...it's...without my maidenhead, if my family wants me back--I won't--I'll be ruined. They won't be able to marry me off."

"You want to ruin yourself?"

Shae could not stop her jaw from dropping, but the look of shock remained even when she regained her composure.

"Lord Tyrion said that my brother was trying to protect the North from him, and from the Lannisters, but...they didn't even care to save me. They didn't even care enough to ask if there was any sort of trade to make for me. I would have known--Cersei, or Joffrey, they'd have told me if someone, anyone, sent a letter like that."

The tears were glistening in her eyes now, and she seemed to be fighting them back.

"I don't want them to be able to decide to take me back when there is no danger in doing so. They abandoned me--they wouldn't try to save me, or--or Arya. Why should I go back to a place where they would only use me for their own ends, marry me off to seal some alliance? Why should I let them do that, when they would do nothing for me?"

The tears began pouring at that, and Shae took Sansa into her arms, letting her cry on her shoulder.

"Shh...shh...it's alright," she said, "It's alright, I'm here."

They sat like that for what felt like forever to Shae. But Sansa did eventually sit back up.

"I have another idea," Shae replied, "If you would be open to it."

"What?" Sansa hiccupped slightly.

"We save money, we buy a small barge," Shae said, "Or we buy one now, if we've enough. We still have not sold all of what we brought with us. But we get the barge, regardless, and I become a courtesan. I have been in Braavos before. You sew as well as any tailor I have had gowns from--so you sew my gowns."

"And--and the H--Sandor?"

"He is our loyal guard, to stop men from taking liberties they did not pay for," Shae replied, "We may still have to hire servants, and another guard or two. And if you want to lose your maidenhead so badly, you can marry him and have it done the proper way; there is a Sept here. It would make sense to hire a married man and his wife to serve together for different purposes."

"If--if he agrees to it."

"I'm certain he will. He does not seem like he wishes to look elsewhere for a wife anyway."

It may not be the most ideal plan, but it would be better to be on a ship, and be safe from swordsmen or assassins bursting in the door. Or--as safe as one could be, anyway.

*Sansa*

It was not such a bad plan, Shae's idea. If they did not have the money now, they could save it little by little. Shae could charm men, the Hound would be her faithful guard. And she could sew tunics and gowns. In truth she was glad of the alternative; she had seen the way the men yanked at the women in the riot, had learned of what had befallen poor Lollys, and had overheard Theon bragging once about how he took a woman like a beast from behind. She wondered if Sandor would do that to her, but when she shut her eyes she could not picture it.

She thought about it--becoming a famous courtesan. Hair like fire, and skin like ivory. A Westerosi woman, foreign and beautiful. Ladylike, and desirable. It would not be so bad, to have power over men like that. But then she thought of Cersei, bitter, and with children that were not her husband's, if the rumors were really true. She saw herself like that--bitter, and in her cups all the time, aging and angry that there were younger and more beautiful women around.

If she married the Hound--well, she would never be the Queen or Lady Paramount she might once have been. She would be a commoner, if a trueborn one. Her...their...children would be well-protected, though. No one would look at them and refuse to keep them safe. No one would decide that they were not worth the effort of protecting. The Hound would not allow it.

There was a window in their room, and she looked out of it at the city she could see. They said that Braavos was the most free of the free cities. No man, woman, or child was a slave here. It was written on that arch, back in the harbor.

She was free. Free of Westeros, of the poisonous Lannisters, of the stares of men at court, the leers she would get from the Kingsguard or Joffrey, free from their threats and their plots and their lies.

"Where do we start?" she asked, after a long pause.