Chapter Text
It seemed the smell of smoke and ash in the air would never go away. First, Flea Bottom had burned the day the mob had attacked them, and now, Stannis was burning the woods south of the Blackwater Rush while the Imp had set the waterfront ablaze.
From her bedchamber, Sansa could see the fires burning in the distance. During the day, the smoke blackened the sky while at night, the flames colored the horizon a bright orange. The only time she left her chambers was to go to the Godswood, so for most of her day, she sat by the window, watching the world around her burn and fall apart.
Someone had told her that Lord Stannis commanded many times the men Joffrey had. Nine out of ten days, the thought made her tummy twist with fear. But sometimes, she could not help but wonder if her life would truly be so much worse if Stannis took the city. He would take her hostage, no doubt, but she already was a hostage. Perhaps he would even exchange her, return her to her mother and her brother.
Joffrey though... Joffrey would lose his head. They would drag him out onto the steps in front of the Sept of Baelor or perhaps they would build a scaffold just for him. They would force him to kneel, and then they would lop off his head, just like Ser Ilyn had taken her father's head. Joffrey would squeal and beg for mercy, of that she was sure.
And the Queen... what would Lord Stannis do with the Queen? Would he take her head as well? Brotherfucker, brotherfucker, brotherfucker! She could still hear the mob screaming. A rare smile crept across Sansa's face. Yes, Stannis would kill her too.
A knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts. She turned around.
“Lady Sansa.”
“Ser Jacelyn.” She forced herself to smile. Courtesy is a lady's armor. “What a pleasant surprise.”
In truth, she was neither pleased nor surprised by his visit. Not a day passed that the Commander of the City Watch did not find a pretext to see her. At first, he'd inquired about her well-being after the attack. Later, he would bring her messages from the Queen, only the words he said did not sound like the Queen at all, and even Sansa knew Ser Jacelyn was the Imp's man.
“I wanted to check on you, see if you are well, my lady,” he said, shifting from one leg to the other, an anxious smile on his square face.
An honest face, Sansa thought. And an honorable man. Only why wouldn't he leave her alone? “I am, thank you, Ser,” she heard herself say. The silence that followed was deafening. Should she ask him if there was any news of Tyrek? But Sansa had already asked him thrice, and each time, he had only shaken his head.
Tyrek. Just thinking his name made her face flush and her ears burn. But Tyrek was gone now, lost during the riot. Killed by the mob and thrown into the river, most like. Somehow, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Did they hurt you before they killed you? Did you cry or did you face them bravely like a lion?
Ser Jacelyn took a step towards her. “My lady, if it please you, I have a gift for you. To... to make you feel better after all you've been through. If you would come with me.” He reached out with his iron hand.
“I... I feel better already...” Sansa instinctively took a step back. “No need to trouble yourself, Ser.”
“It's no trouble at all. Come! I'll show you.” He took another step towards her.
“I... I am betrothed to the king!” Sansa's voice was shrill, betraying the fear she'd tried so hard to hide. Her eyes dotted around her chamber. He was blocking her path, but perhaps if she was quick enough, she could dash past him, make for the door and call for help before he would catch her. But with the preparations for war, the Imp had reassigned her guards. They think I won't run; they think I have nowhere to go. The Lannisters' misjudgment had allowed her to sneak out into the Godswood. For all the good that's done me. It meant she was on her own now.
Ser Jacelyn stepped back, raising his hands defensively. “My lady, I did not mean- It is a gift, no more, I promise. I- Lord Varys bid me-” He ran his good hand through his salt and pepper hair, unsure where to look.
He is an honorable man, she told herself. He will not harm me. “My apologies, Ser Jacelyn,” she responded politely. “I did not mean to question your honor. I- lead the way, Ser!”
Sansa knew she ought not go with him, but she did not know how to refuse without insulting him, so she followed him out the door and into the corridor. She had never noticed the narrow spiral staircase at the end of the passageway, winding its way down into the darkness.
Ser Jacelyn took a torch from the wall. “Follow me, Lady Sansa!”
Deeper and deeper they went, until the flickering torch in Ser Jacelyn's hand was the only source of light. The air grew cooler as they descended, making Sansa shudder. At long last, they arrived at the bottom of the staircase. Ser Jacelyn took her hand as he led her into a narrow tunnel. Please don't touch me! She wanted to tell him, but no sound would come out of her mouth. With each turn they took, Sansa's heart sank. Even if she were to turn around and run, she would no longer find her way back in the darkness.
Finally, they stopped in a small room. “Here we wait,” Ser Jacelyn said. He suddenly noticed he was still holding her hand and let go of it awkwardly, taking a step back. “Beg pardon, my lady!”
She knew the shape of the person who stepped from the shadow even though she did not recognize him at first, not until he removed the hood over his head.