The Lion and the Rose: South

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

Sansa (Part I of II)


“But everything is so wonderful in Winterfell!  You’ll love it there.  Why can’t you come with me?” Sansa asked Lady Brienne as she packed for her journey to Winterfell.

“My lady, your mother often spoke of Winterfell and I know that you will be very happy there, but you and your sister are finally safe.  When I swore to serve Lady Catelyn, she made me a promise as well.  She promised me that when the time came, she would not stop me from...”

“At least stay for a few days.  Jon won’t treat you the way uncle Edmure did, I promise.  He isn’t like that.  And Arya would be so very delighted to meet you, I just know it.  I’m sure you’d be all she’d be able to talk about for the rest of winter,” Sansa replied.  At least that part is true.  Lady Brienne will hate Winterfell, Southrons never like the North.  But it would be so very dreadful to spend the whole journey with no one to talk except a bunch of smelly soldiers.  And Lady Brienne was one of the only people left who could still make Sansa feel safe.  Everyone else who tried to protect me is dead.  Father, Lord Tyrion, and Lord Petyr.  All of them...except the Hound, but he was scary and never wanted anything to be happy.

“I swore to avenge King Renly’s murder, but I suppose...I suppose I also swore to protect you.  Perhaps it is my duty to see that you safely arrive at Winterfell.”  

Suddenly, the door swung open and the Lord of Riverrun entered the room.  Sansa had come to love her uncle dearly during her time in Riverrun although she wished he would stop making such nasty japes about Lady Brienne.  Still...Sansa had decided that she would not hold this against her uncle.  He’d been so very kind to her and he wasn’t half as cruel to Lady Brienne as some of the other men in Riverrun.  Sansa’s uncle could always cheer her up with a jape or a good-natured boast.  And while she would never completely forgive Lady Roselin for being a Frey, Edmure and her were so deeply in love that simply seeing them together reminded Sansa of her parents...of how happy they were before King Robert the Fat came to Winterfell.  Sansa loved spending time with baby Hoster most of all.  He was a sweet baby who never cried at night and was finally learning to walk.  Today though, Lord Edmure frightened Sansa more than anything she’d seen since she left King’s Landing.  The moment she saw the look on her uncle’s face, Sansa knew that she would not be returning to Winterfell after all.

At first no one quite knew what had happened at Winterfell.  Northerners began flooding into the Riverlands and they all had different stories, each more unbelievable...and horrible than the last.  One man said that King Stannis had killed Jon in single combat after he discovered that the latter planned to take him prisoner and turn him over to Daenarys Targaryen.  Another said that Lord Bolton’s bastard had declared himself “King Beyond the Wall” and burned down Winterfell after his army of 100,000 wildlings melted The Wall.  There was even a ridiculous story that the Others had invaded the North and that the Night’s King had taken Arya for a wife after turning her into an Other.  Oddly enough, it was more difficult to imagine Arya as Queen of...well...anything than it was to imagine her as an Other or a Wildling.  Those are just stories, The Wall would never come down and even if it did, the Others aren’t real.  And yet Sansa couldn’t help but think of her house’s words: winter is coming.

As the weeks went by, some of the details about the Battle of Winterfell were eventually confirmed.  Everyone said that King Stannis had died in some sort of great battle and that Winterfell was captured by an enemy from beyond The Wall.  Most of the refugees now insisted that the Others were the enemy from beyond the wall, but Sansa would not let herself believe such a thing.  It was too horrid.  The Others don’t exist, no more than giants, snarks, and grumpkins do.  But if mother and Lady Brienne could come back from the dead...  No!  They can’t be real!  The only silver lining was that none of the stories involved her sister dying.  Arya escaped from King’s Landing and then made it all the way back to Winterfell, she must have escaped from Winterfell too.  It was a Wildling attack, Sansa decided.  Jon probably saved Arya and cut his way out of Winterfell.  Perhaps they’ll even arrive at Riverrun in a few days. Sansa remembered what Lord Petyr once told her: “Life is not a song, sweetling” and knew they were not coming to Riverrun.  I’m still just a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns, she thought bitterly.  Tears rolled down her cheeks as Sansa realized that wherever Jon and Arya were, dead or alive, she would never see either of them again.


During those horrible weeks, Sansa couldn’t stand to be around anyone except baby Hoster.  Everyone else was always looking at her with pity and telling her how sorry they were about what had happened.  Don’t they realize that they’re just making it worse.  Why can’t they all just leave me alone.  

The Blackfish said he was leaving Riverrun to oversee the defense of the Twins in case whatever attacked Winterfell decided to march south, but Sansa knew the real reason was the argument with Lord Edmure over her uncle’s decision to allow all of the smallfolk fleeing the North into the Riverlands.  The Blackfish insisted that they were just “more useless mouths to feed.”  Sansa’s granduncle was a hard man by nature, but he treated those he respected with a gentle kindness.  He was also one of the only men in Riverrun who ever spoke up for Lady Brienne when people called her “Brienne the beauty” and once even threatened to break a man’s nose for calling her “the Beast of Tarth.”  Sansa overheard him tell her that she would always have his gratitude saving his grandniece and made her promise him something before he left.  Sansa didn’t know what Lady Brienne promised except that she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about it.  

Not long afterward, Lord Edmure mentioned that he had pursuaded the Tyrells to send several thousand soldiers to reinforce Riverrun in case the Twins should fall.  “The Tyrell men should arrive on the morrow,” he told her one night, “I promise that you’ll be safe here.  If anyone attacks Riverrun then I’ll break them the same way that I broke Tywin Lannister at the Battle of the Fords.”  But you didn’t break him, Sansa thought bitterly, Lord Tywin won the war on your wedding night when your wife’s family murdered my mother and my brother Robb...and took you prisoner.  “Must she accompany you everywhere,” her uncle asked, scowling at Lady Brienne.  Before Sansa could respond, the door opened and one of her Uncle’s men entered the room.  “My Lord, the Tyrell reinforcements have arrived.  Their commander, Ser Damon Flowers, asks that you open the gates and grant him an audience at once,” the man said.  

“Very well, let us go and greet our guests.  I shall have to wake Roselin.  Her presence will be expected and so will yours, my lady.  I suppose your bear might as well come too since she’s still wearing that bloody armor of hers.”  Lady Brienne scowled at the jape, but mercifully said nothing.

It was the coldest night Sansa could remember since she left the North.  She struggled to keep herself from shivering.  Even her uncle looked miserable and plainly regretted his decision to wear a fine blue doublet rather than armor.  Riverrun had never experienced this sort of weather before and unlike Winterfell, its great hall was not designed to keep men warm during the winter.  The cold reminded Sansa of the stories about the Others...about Arya...about how she...  No!  That’s impossible, the Others aren’t even real.  They’re just a story to scare children.  Ser Damon was accompanied by only 30 of his 2,000 men in the great hall, although all of the others had passed through Riverrun’s gates.  Ser Damon frightened Sansa a great deal, he was a bald man who wore a constant scowl and looked a great deal like Ser Ilyn Payne...although he talked much more than Ser Ilyn.  He is not a true knight, she decided.  

Once Ser Damon had eaten Lord Edmure’s bread and salt, he looked at the Lord of Riverrun and said “My Lord, I wish I were here under different circumstances.  I fear...how can I put this...I...I fear that I must report that House Tyrell has learned of a plot on your life.  A most vile conspiracy.  In fact, someone in this room is planning to murder you this very night.  I thank the seven that we arrived in time to warn you.” But why would...who...who here would ever want to hurt uncle Edmure, Sansa wondered, as murmurs of confusion spread through the room.  

“My...my life,” stammered Lord Edmure, “but who would...who are these traitors, Ser Damon.  Tell me their names and if what you say is true then I promise House Tully will never forget what you have done.”  The knight tilted his head at her uncle and for a brief moment simply stared at him silently.  “No,” said Ser Damon quietly, “I don’t imagine House Tully will forget what I’ve done tonight.”

Something was very wrong, Sansa realized, although she couldn’t figure out what it was.  None of this makes any sense.  Why wouldn’t Ser Damon just tell Lord Edmure as soon as he arrived.  It reminded her of a mummer’s farce.

“The names, Ser?  Who do you claim intended to kill me tonight,” asked Lord Edmure.
“Why Ser Damon Flowers, of course,” replied Ser Damon and before anyone could react, he grabbed a dagger from his belt and threw it at Lord Edmure.  The last thing Sansa remembered was the sound of Lady Roselin screaming as Ser Damon’s dagger went through Lord Edmure’s eye, killing him instantly.

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

Sansa (Part II of II)



What happened next was a blur, all Sansa could remember after her uncle died were Tyrell soldiers pouring into the great hall and the screams that echoed through Riverrun that night.  She didn’t know how they escaped, but the next thing Sansa remembered was racing through some sort of dark tunnel with Lady Brienne...and Ser Hyle Hunt, of all people.  They slowed down somewhat once they realized that no one had followed them.  “Where are we?” Sansa whispered.  

“The tunnel leads out of Riverrun and to a nearby riverbank, my lady.  There will be a boat waiting for us.  There has been ever since the Blackfish left.  Your granduncle never trusted the Tyrells.  Before he left for the Twins, he made me promise that if anything happened, I would take you, your uncle, and your uncle’s family through this tunnel and see that you all made it to Harrenhal safely.  He said he’d be waiting there with his men if Riverrun fell.  He forbid me to tell anyone because he feared that Tyrells might have spies in Riverrun,” Brienne replied.

“But why did he tell you and not Lord Edmure?” asked Sansa.
“The Blackfish thought your uncle was more likely to find himself in need of rescuing than I was, my lady.”
“What about lady Roselin and baby Hoster?  Where are they?”
“I...I don’t know, my lady.  Lady Roselin had made it out with us, but she turned around and ran back towards Riverrun once she realized her baby was still in his crib.  I cannot say what became of her afterwards.”

They traveled through the tunnel for what felt like years until they finally came out the other end and saw two small boats on the riverbank, just as the Blackfish had promised.  “Aroooooooooooo,” howled a wolf somewhere in the distance.  They were almost there when a voice cut through the darkness like a knife through cheese.

“I think that’s far enough,” said Ser Damon as he emerged from the darkness with three of his men.  
“But...but how,” Sansa whimpered before the false knight cut her off.  
“How did I find you?  The Tully b!tch told me where you were going before we killed her.  All I had to do was promise to spare her son’s life in return.  Simple enough, really.  Of course, he still drowned after I threw him into the river, but I promise you that I gave him every chance to swim to safety.  Shame he decided to throw his life away like that after...”  “Aroooooooooooooo!”  “Bloody wolves,” muttered the false knight, “after his mother betrayed you lot to save him.”  

Lady Brienne put her hand on the hilt of her sword and began to step forward when Ser Hyle tripped her, unsheathed his sword and stepped forward.  He looked at Lady Brienne.  “Forgive me, my lady...for everything.  See to it that Lady Sansa makes it to Harrenhal safely.  You have to go...NOW!”  Sansa couldn’t help thinking that Ser Hyle was the last person she would’ve ever expected to have been a true knight.  His sacrifice was the most gallant thing she had ever seen.  

“Kill them all,” shouted Ser Damon as Lady Brienne scooped up Sansa in her arms and ran towards the riverbank.  By the time they reached the boats, all three of Ser Damon’s men were dead and the false knight himself was battling Ser Hyle.  Maybe Ser Hyle will kill him and escape...maybe... thought Sansa as Brienne began to row the boat away from the riverbank.  “Arooooooooo!  Aroooooooo!  Aroooooooo!”  howled the wolf...no...the wolves.  It was a whole pack and they didn’t sound nearly so far away as they had before.  Sansa’s hopes were dashed when she saw the false knight slice off Ser Hyle’s head with one swift stroke.  Lord Petyr was right, she thought sadly as Lady Brienne rowed their boat down the river, life is not a song.  And yet even though she had just seen him take off Ser Hyle’s head, for a moment, Sansa could’ve sworn that she heard Ser Damon screaming somewhere in the distance.  

It was some time before they reached Lord Harroway’s Town and during that time it was plain that the Riverlands had descended into chaos.  Yet nothing frightened Sansa so much as the day it began snowing.  Winter has come. In Lord Harroway’s Town, all the Northern refugees claimed that the Others had attacked Winterfell, but Sansa knew they were wrong.  They have to be wrong!  In the end, it was only because of Lady Brienne that Sansa found the strength to make it to Harrenhal.  The former seldom spoke anymore and often looked like a broken women.  She seemed to have even more traumatized by the massacre at Riverrun than Sansa had been.  One day, Lady Brienne turned to Sansa and sadly told her that she didn’t know how to trust people anymore.  She’s only pushing forward because of her vow to protect me.  If I die, Lady Brienne will have nothing left to live for, Sansa realized. I have to keep going.  I will...I must...for her sake.

Somehow they made it to Harrenhal and Sansa was shocked to discover that not only was the Blackfish already there, he was letting the smallfolk take shelter behind the fortress’ walls.  Sansa’s granduncle looked as though he’d aged 100 years since he left for the Twins.  He wept when Lady Brienne told him about Lord Edmure’s death and Sansa realized that for all of his scolding, the Blackfish loved his nephew very dearly.  “I didn’t want to believe it,” he muttered to no one in particular, “at least the c**t paid dearly for it.”
“Who?” Sansa asked.
“The Tyrell bastard who killed my nephew, no one can agree on how he died, but everyone has reported the butcher died some sort of horrible death on the night of the massacre.  Some say there was a mutiny and his own men flayed him to death.  Too good a death for the likes of him, I say.  One of the survivors even swore he saw the little sh!t being eaten alive by a monstrous direwolf while a large pack of wolves feasted upon several nearby corpses not far from Riverrun.”  Sansa thought of the howling she’d heard on the night of the massacre and shuddered.

When he recovered, the Blackfish turned to Sansa and said “I know what happened at Winterfell.  Seven help me, I know.  The Others have taken the North.  I...I have seen them.”  The Blackfish seemed to grow older with every word.  
“But...but that can’t be true.  They...the...the Others...they’re not real.”

"They are sweetling,” her granduncle replied sadly, “I saw them when they captured the Twins.  I’ve seen them raise men from the dead.  I’ve let the smallfolk in because keeping them out will only increase the size of the Army of Winter.”
“But...if they attacked Winterfell...then...then...Jon is...”
“Dead.  Meat in their army, most like.”
“But if the stories...I mean...if the Others are real...then the stories... Arya is...s-she can’t be...”
“The smallfolk...the smallfolk say,” replied the Blackfish, “they say that the Night’s King has turned your sister into an Other and made her his...his Queen.”
“But how?  That...that can’t be...how would...why would...she...she would n-never...”
“Arya’s gone.  She’s not your sister anymore, she’s one of...one of them now.  I’m sorry.”
“S-She is one of...and the N-N-Night’s King made her...and...she...Arya is his...his...his...”  Sansa fainted.

Sansa awoke on a bed and saw Lady Brienne in her armor, kneeling in prayer beside her bed. “What...how long...where is my granduncle?” she asked.
“My lady, we arrived at Harrenhal two days ago.  You’ve been asleep since the Blackfish told you about...”
“Please don’t...I can’t bare to hear it again.”  Just thinking about Jon...about Arya...if she was still Arya...hurt too much.  
“As you wish, my lady.”
“How long...how much longer do you think my granduncle will live before he leaves me too?”

Lady Brienne looked at Sansa sadly and said nothing as she lowered her visor.

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

"To all the so-called Lords, Ladies, and pretenders within the realm of men,

I can assure you that none were more shocked than I to learn that this raven had been shot down over the Vale.  Perhaps this so-called Lord Royce would be so kind as to explain to me why I received the raven he claims to have shot down before he did.  In fact, I even replied to it.  The Bastard of the South speaks true, he was indeed foolish enough to challenge me...for a time.  He later came crawling back begging for my help in the Vale, but that's a tale for another day.   Meanwhile, this so-called Lord Royce was all to eager too foresake the doomed lot of you for a mere taste of the scraps from my table.  But how could a raven I received have been shot down over the Vale?  Ah wait, now I remember!  This so-called Lord Royce tried to ally himself with me and I sent him a forged copy of the raven.  I have the original and my response to the Bastard of the South.

To the being claiming to be the Night's King,

The Lord of the Waters hears your demand with interest, but wonders what offer you can possibly extend in return. He instructs me to specify that he will not be satisfied with mere proposals of clemency.

signed with a simple scribble, Qyburn

"Qyburn,

You'd do well to advise your Lord of Waters that he is not in a position to demand anything.  I do not need him to hold the North.  Don't need him at all, really.  If your Lord of Waters does not leave Bear Island immediately then I will crush him like an ant.  That is not a matter over which there will be any negotiation.  However, if he serves me loyally and aides me against my enemies then there is much and more that I can offer him.  Ask your Lord of Waters what it is he wants from life.  Gold?  The secret to immorality?  Land?  He need only execute Rickon Stark to prove his loyalty and all those things and more could be his.  And if you are able to broker a successful agreement, I shall reward you as well.  You will be free to conduct whatever experiments you desire on any humans you wish without any restriction.  Oh and one other thing, just this once, I would like both your and Lord Aurane's signatures on the reply.  It is important that the Lord of Waters acknowledge that you have full authority to negotiate terms on his behalf, not that I doubt you, but all the same you'll have to indulge me in this.  

The Night's King"

As you can see, what the so-called Lord Royce claims is simply impossible.  Had he indeed shot down the raven, I couldn't have very well responded to it.  Oh and one other thing, I suppose it may interest you all to know that he offered to prove his loyalty to me by convincing House Tyrell to sack Riverrun in order to force the Blackfish to withdraw from the Twins when I attacked so long as I promised to make him King of the Vale and let him rule that pathetic mountain ridge as a human vassal.  I've been meaning to ask whether the Tyrells did anything noteworthy in the Riverlands lately.  I'd very much like to know whether or not he made good on his promise.

The Night's King" (signed with human blood)