Archive of Our Own

It's dangerous, to beg a god, any god, to heal your sick and dying child. The open prayer allowed for any god or deity, malicious or otherwise, to be summoned. They could as easily rope the begging parents into some deal that would lead to despair and destruction in later years. It was a dangerous thing. But Catelyn Stark did not care.

It was her second child, her first born daughter, and she would doing anything in order to keep her child alive. She had gone to the Sept a day ago, but when she got no immediate response nor any change in her child's sickness, she went to her husband's gods. She knelt before the Weirwood tree, arms clutched tight to the feeble and barely-breathing babe, and looked up at the weeping, smiling face. Her tears ran free as she plead for the survival of her two day old babe, uncaring of what may come of such an open-ended prayer.

It was pure luck, that the god that answered was a neutral one, not looking to cause any mischief or evil. In fact, those few that knew of the god and his domain, would say he was more of a good one than a neutral. A god of soldiers and battles, of survivors and the abused, the god was the patron deity called upon in times of distress and war.

The god had heard the prayer, and was tempted to let another answer, until he looked upon the dying child. Despite it all, the young girl still seemed fight against her inevitable death, her heart a weak flutter that still persisted nonetheless. The god had to commend her for such strengths, and decided to answer the prayer.

Appearing a few paces behind the knelt woman, the god asked, “How far are you willing to go in order for your child to live?”

Catelyn Stark gasped and whirled around, staring at the young man behind her. For a moment she wanted to demand him to leave, an intruder to her prayers, until she noticed the strangeness of him. He stood in all black, a thick fur cloak hiding most of his form, but he stood imposing. Golden light just slightly haloed him, like the sun shone directly behind his body, casting it into an unnatural glow. This was a heavenly being, Catelyn had come to the quick conclusion of, and stood up. Her legs were sore for how long she had knelt onto the hard ground, but that was of no importance to her.

Facing the god, Catelyn answered firmly, “I would give my life.”

The god looked unimpressed, “And what could I do with that? The child isn't dead yet, so a life for a life would not work. To heal the child, give it a stronger body than the one it was born with, would need more than your unnecessary sacrifice.”

Unsure, Catelyn, responded, still wanting to save her child, “What would you want?”

The god began to step closer, not a single leaf or twig crunched under his footsteps, silent in his prowl towards her. Catelyn was tempted to step back, instincts flaring, but she held firm despite her terrified shaking. Her child was more important that her fear.

The god stepped close enough to look down upon the sickly child. He observed quietly, and Catelyn was able to behold the sight of his features loosing the initial sternness. The crease in his brow softened, eyes less like a steal blade as he took in her daughter.

“She is a fighter.” He murmured, a rough hand coming out from to cloak to let his finger tips gently touch her daughter's pale skin. Pride and trepidation filled her in equal measures, watching with the protective gaze only a mother would have, eyes tracing his finger. “What is her name?”

The maester had suggested to not give the child a name. It would only cause more pain to name her and then lose her. Even Ned hesitated in suggesting a name, so Catelyn whispered it for only her daughter to hear. Gazing down at the child, Catelyn said, “Sansa. Her name is Sansa.”

The god hummed in contemplation, “The name of a would be queen of the North, had the birth right not been taken from her.” Startled at his words, Catelyn blinked up at him. “You are familiar with the history?”

Shrugging, the god pulled his hand from her child, “I'm interested in stories like that. Where someone who would obviously be the better choice, was pushed aside by those others deemed more worthy due to status or gender. I like to laugh at the human stupidity.”

Catelyn thought the god to be strange. He appeared young, but the power coming from his could not be argued with. The way he seemed content to just talk with her had her guard easing, becoming assured that he meant her and her child no harm.

“What do you want?” Catelyn had to repeat, less of a fearful command and more of a curious question.

“To heal her, the child would be in my debt. A debt I would have to collect one day.”

The breath in her lungs stuttered, “And...would that debt be harmful for her?”

The god stared at her, the storm like eyes heavy as he spoke, “Some gods will require the human to make up for their debt. A god saves a human and they may demand eternal servitude. Some even steal away those that they saved, making them their bride or bride-groom.”

Catelyn felt like the words in her throat were stuck. She didn't know what would be a worse fate for her child: servitude or forced marriage. The god though, noticed her struggle and continued with blunt honesty, more reassuring than she would have assumed, “I have no need for a wife, nor a servant for that matter. However, debts must be paid, and one day I will collect her from your protective arms. She will not be harmed by me. It makes no sense to heal her and then hurt her. At least that is my view, as some gods aren't as kind.”

“You would torture me with the knowledge that I would be raising my child only to have her taken away?” Her words were shaking, but Catelyn still managed to sound as confident as a lday of her status should.

The god quirked an eyebrow, bemused, “I could heal and take her now. Would you want that instead?”

Catelyn's arms locked together, keeping Sansa as close to her chest as possible. The weak child barely squirmed in discomfort by the smothering, unaware of the stand off between her mother and the god.

Said god, after a long moment of tense silence, let out a puff of laughter. “It's your choice.”

Catelyn ripped her eyes from his, looking down at her daughter. Softly, she asked, “How long would I have her for, until you steal her away from me?”

He informed her softly, seeing the pain the mother was in, “Until she reached adult hood by your people's standards.”

'Fifteen years.' Catelyn thought. It felt like a long enough time, but not long enough. Closing her eyes, Catelyn leant down and brushed a kiss against her daughter's forehead, a few tears of resignation slipping from her eyes.

“I accept.”

The sudden gust of wind had the woman gasping in shock, the frigid air numbing as the snow was picked up from the ground. In front of her, the god glowed golden as his hand reached once more, taking her child from her frozen arms. He cradled Sansa close, pressing a single finger to the child's chest, uncaring of the snowstorm building around them. Through hair whipping across her face and snow muddling her vision, Catelyn noticed the god's lips moving, but was unable to hear the words spoken.

And as soon as the storm awoke, it died down just as quickly, leaving them both covered in a layer of snow, however only Catelyn was shivering. After a long moment of the god staring down at Sansa, he handed her back to Catelyn. The woman was quick to grab her child, holding her close once more. In her arms, Sansa's cheeks were rosy again with life, seeming to breath easier as well.

“Do not be negligent in teaching her about me.” The god then warned her, “To be raised unaware of the debt would only cause more harm than good.” Quickly, Catelyn nodded in understanding, “Should I teach her anything else?”

For a long moment, the god stared off into space in contemplation, before adding, “How to keep a household running would be good. Cleaning, cooking, gardening. She will need it.”

That...could have been a worse request. As a highborn lady, Sansa would never be taught such things, however who was Catelyn to disagree against the god that healed her daughter?

“May I know your name? An-and offerings? Do you accept those?” It would be remiss in her manners to not give such things as a continued gratitude for healing her child. And perhaps, the fearful and doubting part of her hoped if she continued to appease the god, perhaps no harm would come to Sansa.

“I am Cor Leonis, The Immortal.” The god answered, the name like a low resounding bell throughout the forest. “And for offerings? Simple foods and gifts made or given with honest emotions would be acceptable.”

And with that last bit of information, the god – Cor Leonis – disappeared.

Catelyn blinked in surprise, and couldn't stop the gawped expression on her face as she whirled around the forest, searching for the god. Nothing. It was silent and empty besides her and her daughter.

Letting out an exhaustive breath, Catelyn glanced once more down at Sansa, and muttered to her daughter, “He is a very strange god. But,” Catelyn begrudgingly admitted, “It could be much worse.”

Every night after that meeting, Catelyn had whispered to Sansa as a babe, telling her of the god and how much Catelyn was sorry. “I'm sorry, sweetling. I'm sorry I'm selfish enough to want you by my side for as long as I can. I'm sorry, my love.”

Ned had not taken her news well, angered that she made a deal with an unknown god, but Catelyn stood firm. She too did not wish for her child to be taken. But knowing that after fifteen years of raising her daughter, she would still be alive though so far away was worth it. It had to be worth it.

She raised her daughter as the god said, showing her into the kitchens and having the cooks teach her when she was old enough. There were many strange looks garnered but as the Lady of Winterfell, her commands were met with response. Sitting Sansa down, Catelyn spoke of how to run a keep, keeping inventory in order. The mother had the gardeners walk Sansa around the glass houses, telling her about soil and sunlight and watering. And Sansa was a bright child, memorising all that they taught her and unafraid with getting her hands dirty when required. It was so unladylike that for the first few months when Sansa reached three – Catelyn deemed a good age to begin learning – she would twitch at the sight of her mud covered daughter, grinning as she came running back from her gardening lesson.

Oh she knew many thought her mad, thinking that her child's brief bought of sickness had caused her to lose her mind. However, those rumours weren't too bad, as Catelyn still made sure Sansa started all her lady lessons at the same time. And Sansa flourished in them, enjoying her music and dancing. Exceeding well in her sewing and embroidery abilities. If Catelyn hadn't already contracted her to be taken away by a god, Sansa would have been the perfect Lord's wife. Perhaps even a future King's Queen.

Then again, Catelyn conceded tiredly, brushing her child's long hair away from her sleeping face one night, 'A god's ward could be seen as a higher position than a queen.'

Catelyn had to really contemplate just what Sansa would become. The god said she would be no wife nor servant to him, but still under his protection. A ward was the best position Catelyn could come up with in her mind, and admitted that it wasn't too bad.

If only Ned could come to accept her decision, just as she did when he brought back his bastard son from the war.

Humming to herself, Sansa skipped through the Godswood, enjoying the weak summer sunshine. Up North, there were no hot summers like in the south according to her mother, so Sansa enjoyed what she could, when she could. In her arms, a basket full of wild flowers and other pretty pieces of nature she had found, swung to every hop and skip she made. Upon her head was a bluebell and dandelion flower crown, lopsided but no less sturdy.

The outdoor dress she had on, specifically for any task that would require her to get dirty, was predictably muddy at the hems. It was a simple blue colour, a deep green work apron pulled over the front and tied back with a large bow had a pocket at the front. It contained her handkerchief, some small gardening scissors, gloves, a white ribbon in case the one currently holding back her messy braid was lost or ripped, and a small note book and charcoal stick.

At eight, Sansa thought herself a very lucky girl. She had a very dear friend, a wonderful castle to live in, and a happy family. Well, as happy as it could be. Mother and father were always so overly polite with one another, and Arya sometimes liked to tug at Sansa's long hair when she was upset. But she still thought herself lucky.

Once she exited the Godswood and the dirt turned to cobbled stone, Sansa took off running. She had to get her offerings finished before this evening, wanting to join her older brothers and Arya for bedtime stories after dinner. With the quick feet that her teacher would commend her for in their dance lessons, Sansa easily dodged workers and servants alike, coming to a trot once she reached the castle entrance.

At the doors, her mother stood, exasperated amusement upon her face as she took in the basket near over-flowing with flowers. “I truly do not think that the god will know what to do with all of that.”

“It's to make the altar pretty, mother!” Sansa exclaimed cheerfully, and her mother smiled softly, holding her hand out for Sansa.

“Come now. Lets get you cleaned up before supper, hm?”

Sansa nodded enthusiastically, slipping a hand through her mother's one, and together they made their way to her room.

It wasn't a shock to learn about the god that saved her life and the debt she owed him. Her mother had been telling her about it since she could remember and it was always an assured thing for her future. Robb would become Warden of the North, like father. Arya would more than likely be married off to some lord if she doesn't run away to become a knight. Jon spoke quietly of the Night's Watch at times with Robb and Theon. Bran was already talking about knighthood and the kingsguard, so his future was predictable. And for Sansa, she would become a god's ward. They all had their futures more or less planned out for them, and Sansa's just happened to be a little more strange.

Arya had at one point complained about all the different lessons Sansa had, upset to be stuck sewing for longer than Sansa would be. Catelyn, unimpressed, had suggested if Arya really wanted to spend the day learning to chop vegetables, she certainly could. Mother had thought that would dissuade Arya and make her focus more on her embroidery, but instead, Arya had leapt to the chance.

Sansa had been more than happy to have Arya join her in the kitchen and laundry tasks, enjoying being able to get along with her sister for once. They always seemed to clash, and it hurt Sansa, already knowing her time with her family would be limited. She didn't want it wasted on stupid fights and arguments.

When they entered her room, Sansa ran over to the altar, a medium sized long table against the wall, facing her bed. It had two large white candles on either side, with a wooden bowl sat in the middle. She would burn flowers and soft smelling herbs in it, letting the gentle smoke rise throughout her room and out the slightly ajar window. In her mind, she imagined that the scent reached her god, hoping it appeased him, from where ever he watched her.

On the left side of the bowl was a plate where she laid food offerings, such as her favourite lemon cakes or tasty berries she had picked that day. On the right was a hand woven cloth that she set her interesting findings from the woods. Today was an acorn that looked to be two acorns fused together, and a pretty coloured leaf. Then, taking off her flower crown, she delicately placed it around the two on the mat.

With the help of her mother, she bundled up the wildflowers, tying them with twine and hanging them on the wall over the altar. The old flowers were placed in the bowl and set alight.

Taking one last moment to straighten the altar up, brushing away any ash, crumbs, or dead leaves, Sansa gave a nod of approval to herself. And then her mother made sure the girl was presentable for dinner.

Like every evening, Sansa laid upon the altar the dessert of the night. Sadly it wasn't lemon cakes but a cranberry tart. Afterwards, she hurried to Bran's room to snuggle down with her siblings and listen with rapt attention at the stories Old Nan weaved into the night.

And like every morning, her offerings would be gone, leaving Sansa to smile brightly as she started her day.

At eleven, Sansa was excited when it was announced that the King and his family would be journeying to their home. She and Jeyne had spent nights afterwards, discussing the beautiful dresses that the Queen and princess must wear. Chatting late into the night about what it must be like to live in such a beautiful castle.

Then, when a hunting party came back with dire wolf pups, all that excitement was forgotten about when Lady was placed into Sansa's arms. She held her new companion close, Jeyne tucked next to her and joining in on the pets. The little ball of fluff was wonderful, accepting the bows Sansa delicately tied to her with the grace of her namesake.

The pup would follow along with Sansa everywhere she went. Sleeping peacefully by the fire when Sansa was in the kitchen or curled into an empty basket when in the laundry rooms. She would sniff and sometimes chew at the leaves of the plants Sansa would maintain and joyfully chewed on the crocheted ball the girl had made for her. Sansa could only hope that her god would accept Lady when she joined him.

Sansa had even went far enough to write a letter, setting it on the altar. The words insisted what a good wolf Lady was, truly, and she would never harm anyone! The small carved wolf that was in place of her letter the next day set her heart at ease, now reassured that Lady would not be left behind.

However, the excitement of the the dire wolves soon died down and the King's arrival reignited it. Sansa wasn't allowed much in the kitchens during the hasty preparations, shooed out so she wouldn't be caught underfoot. Pouting, she had retreated to her room. It was already growing dark now, and Sansa decided she didn't want dinner that night, not hungry with the lack of extra work to entice her appetite.

Instead, she dressed in her night gown, pulled a shawl over her shoulders to keep away the chill and curled up on her large windowsill, over looking the grounds. Through the fogged glass, she could only make out blurred figures of the people moving about, like ants from how far up she was.

Tugging her sleeve over her hand, Sansa wiped away the fog to get a clear view. In the distance, mountains rose like blue giants, and she wondered what made them look so blue when they were filled with green and brown nature.

“Sansa.”

She jolted, whipping her head around at the unfamiliar voice, and was met with a strange man standing in her room. Heart in her throat, Sansa stuttered out fearfully, “Yo-you aren't allowed in here, s-ser. I must a-ask you to leave. P-please.”

The man smiled, amused, “It's good to keep up your guard. But to demand such things from the god that healed you is quite rude.”

Her body stilled, heart pausing in it's pounding, only to speed up in realisation. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Sansa couldn't form any words, watching as the god strolled over to the altar, fingers reaching up to brush against the dried wildflowers.

“Such diligence in your worship.” The god murmured, approval thick in his voice, “I'm a very lucky god for your loyalty. I've seen that you don't even go to the Sept or the Godswood much.”

Throat dry, Sansa willed herself to reply, “It...feels wrong to pray to gods that, that I don't owe my life to, Lord Leonis.”

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head as he made his way to her. He was opposing, tall and broad. He was like a tower before her, cloaked in black and fur, and radiating ancient power. Then, the tower crouched down until his face was leveled with her's.

“And how do you really feel, knowing you will be taken away from your family? Never to see them again?”

“It hurts.” Sansa blurted out. Then she wanted to kick herself, thinking her honesty would offend him. However, instead he just made a gesture to carry on, so she did. Though with better decorum this time. “I will miss them all. My parents, siblings, and Jeyne. I will miss Jeyne dearly.”

He exhaled softly, “I am sorry to take you away from them. But a debt must be paid, and to not do so, could lead to some...severe consequences.” The weight of his words were not unnoticed, and Sansa could almost see what those consequences were, imagination running wild.

Looking down at the ends of her shawl, fingers fiddling with the edges nervously, Sansa murmured, “I understand.”

Warmth. The touch of his fingers against her chin were warm. It felt...safe. His touch was safe. He nudge her head back up, and offered a small smile, the sternness leaving his features with the kind expression. “I could only grant you one day a year to visit. Anymore would be too much.”

She perked up. “One day?”

He nodded, “From dawn to dusk.”

Leaning forward, Sansa demanded, “You promise?”

Holding a hand against his heart, the god promised, “I swear it. Just name a day. Your birthday? Your friend's?”

Frowning, Sansa took sometime to think it over, wondering when the best day for her to visit would be. Then she straightened up, and slyly suggested, “The summer solstice.”

He blinked, then threw his head back in laughter. “Oh, you clever girl. Picking the longest day. I'm impressed.”

A bashful smile pulled at her lips, glancing away. It was a cheeky answer, but he did say she could pick any day. Grinning at her, the god agreed. “Very well. The summer solstice. Every year.”

Letting out a triumphant cry, Sansa threw her arms around his neck, face burrowing deep into the fur of his cloak. His chest rumbled like a thunder storm as he chuckled, returning the embrace. The god smelt like a blacksmith, fire and steel. And underneath that, there was that pure scent of freshly turned earth, feeling like home and protection.

She did not see her god after that, though the usual missing offerings everyday continued. And when the King and his family arrived, Sansa dressed herself in her best clothes, blue and warm, and proudly stood in line with her siblings. She's going to meet the royal family! The King must be very dashing and strong, with all that her father would say about his childhood friend. And the Queen was known for her beauty, so all her children must be equally as pretty. And the crown prince! He had to be dashing!

She tried to keep the disappointment off her face when she saw just how enormous King Robert was, not at all like the stories she was told. But the queen was how she pictured as well as the prince. His golden curls were like from a fairy tale and she couldn't stop the blush appearing on her cheeks when he looked her way.

The welcoming feast was thrilling, and Sansa thrived in all the dancing and singing. Her, Jeyne, and Arya were sat near one another, discussing the knights that came with the Royal Family, though Arya was more fixated on their armour and swords and not their looks like the older girls.

And when she was summoned to talk to the queen, Sansa felt ever so proud of her sewing skills when they were complimented.

“Have you flowered yet?”

Shocked at the very forward question, Sansa warily glanced at her mother, who also looked uncertain. Stilted, Sansa shook her head. It was strange for the queen to ask such personal things, and the look in her mother's eyes told her there was more to the queen's question.

After being dismissed, Sansa made her way back to her sister and Jeyne on shaky knees. If a woman flowered, she would be deemed ready for potential marriage, though typically marriages for girls were around fifteen, when they were declared fully grown. And Sansa knew that marriage was not in her future, due to her god and all that it entailed.

The rest of the night felt hollow, and Sansa was almost glad when Arya decided to try and lighten her mood by throwing food at her. Any other time, Sansa would have retaliated, but in the company of royalty and with how unsteady she felt, the older sister gladly allowed Jeyne to pull her to her room. They washed her face, dressed into their sleeping gowns, and curled up together.

“What did the queen say? You never told us.”

Curling more into herself, Sansa replied softly, “She complimented my dress and then asked if I had flowered.”

Jeyne gasped softly, as stunned as Sansa was, “That's a far to forward of her., even if she is the queen.”

Silently, Sansa nodded into her pillow, confusion swirling in her stomach. Seeing how lost she was, Jeyne tugged Sansa close. Gratefully, the red head snuggled close into her friend's embrace. Jeyne smelt like the apples she adored to eat at every moment and the winter flower soaps that were made here in the castle. She felt safe.

Catelyn was practically trembling with rage as she glared her husband down. “How could you just accept the proposal without telling me!?”

“It's a good match for Sansa's future. To marry the heir to the throne-”

“Have you forgotten the debt she must pay!?” Catelyn cried, “To have her betrothed, and then suddenly leave could cause unrest! The Lannister and Baratheons would take it as an insult, thinking that Sansa had run away! How could you just-”

“Robert wanted the Starks and Baratheons to join for years-” Ned tried to explain, growing frustrated. Catelyn did not care though, rage building and building in her chest.

“I understand that he is still caught up with you sister, and I understand that he must still be grieving. But I will not allow him to drag our daughter into it. You already decided to become his Hand, knowing very well that none of your family did well in the South, but how dare you bring the children into this.”

Her husband then insisted, “I have to know who murdered Jon Arryn.”

“Oh you have to?” Catelyn sneered, “And leave your home and people behind for that snake infested city? It's dangerous, Ned! And now you want them to sink their fangs into our daughter!? I can't believe you!”

He went to speak but Catelyn couldn't stand to hear it. She whirled around and stalked out of their room, letting her anger guide her feet. They must have known where she needed to go, as she ended up in the Godswood, staring into that carved face that always caused chills to run down her spine, panting from her rage. She was never comfortable here with these gods, always preferring the Sept.

However, she needed that wildness that the Sept could not offer in order to take in her anger. She did not want her children in the South. Maybe once, she dreamt of having daughters that she could show around her old home, let them enjoy the finery that she grew up with. However, things were different, and Catelyn would now only allow them to go as far as Riverrun and back. And with only four more years left with Sansa, Catelyn didn't want to lose any of that precious time with her daughter needlessly in Kings Landing.

And Arya. Arya would hate it. Catelyn knew her younger daughter was never to amount to the lady Sansa excelled at, but the mother still loved her dearly. She had entertained sending Arya to the Mormonts when she was a little older, deciding it was about time she just gave in with allowing Arya to learn to use weapons. More than anything, she just wanted her family happy, and with it being split up, Catelyn knew nothing good would come of it.

“Dark thoughts seem to be on your mind.”

Glancing up sharply, Catelyn caught the form of Cor Leonis sitting on the wooden bench off the side of the Weirwood tree. He had his sword sheathed and was resting his arms on it between his legs. It was such a casual position, that for a second Catelyn forgot he was a god, thinking him a young lord instead.

Then, the anger dissipated from her body, shoulders slumping, and she made her way over to him. It was inelegant the way she slumped onto the seat, but it was late in the night with only the god to judge her lack of manners. He appeared more amused than anything.

“My husband is going south in search of the one who killed his friend and is bring my children with him. And on top of that, agreed to a betrothal between Sansa and the crown prince.” Catelyn confessed, watching the god with trepidation on what his response would be.

That had the amusement fading away, the god sitting up and alert. “And I assume he is aware of the debt Sansa owes?”

“Of course.” Catelyn scoffed. She loved her husband but disappointment in his actions were a familiar feeling. “We've clashed over it for years. He never agreed with how I went about saving Sansa. He thought I should have agreed to something else.”

Leonis crossed his arms, frown contemplative, “It was perhaps not the most fair trade, but with how Sansa was slated to die in a few hours before you brought her to me, that was changing fate. And it came with a steep price.”

Worried, the woman asked, “Is changing fate so terrible?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged indifferently, “If someone makes a different decision, fate is changed but it stays relatively calm. Many different worlds exist depending on choices made. But to save a life of a soul not meant to live at that moment, could cause...sometimes deadly consequences.”

The heart in her chest lurched, fear for her daughter's fate rising to the surface. “What do you mean by that?”

The go tilted his head upwards to the branches above him. Eyes faraway, he elaborated, “In another world, Sansa was not born sickly and lived. In this she was meant to die until your intervention. In doing so, things may spiral into chaos. And the best way to rectify that is to remove her from the scheme of things as quickly as possible, so that she isn't affecting this world too much.”

“Can one life really disrupt things to such a degree?” Catelyn wondered, surprised by his explanation.

“What would have happened if Aegon the Conqueror decided not to invade Westeros?”

Catelyn opened her mouth to answer but paused. Because, thinking about how, if the first of the Targeryens hadn't turned their eyes towards Westeros, that simple decision would have changed the entire Seven Kingdoms history massively.

And Leonis could see the realisation on her face, nodding, “So you see? Sansa wasn't meant to live in this world, but I took that risk. And now, though things aren't as bad, if she goes South, is to be married to the prince, she becomes an important person. And an important person can affect the world you live in for good. Or for the worse. Whether they mean to or not. You must be careful.” He stressed and Catelyn nodded seriously.

“But,” She couldn't help but ask, “Why did you save Sansa, knowing that she could ruin this world?”

The frown lines on his face softened as he replied quietly, “Because she was an innocent child. I think that is a good enough reason to me.”

Catelyn couldn't agree more.

However, there wasn't much she was able to do after Bran's fall, caught up in the tragedy. The most she could do was convince her husband not to bring Arya. Her younger daughter would not do well south and he agreed readily. Anything to appease his upset wife, though he too was distressed over his son's injury. Sansa however, had to go with Ned, the betrothal already set in place by the King, and there was no use arguing with the stubborn man.

Packing for Kings Landing, Jeyne and Sansa gushed over all the beautiful dresses they could make with the abundant fabrics available. It was all she could do to keep her mind off of Bran, her brother still unconscious. She didn't understand how he could have slipped, her brother always having sure footing when he climbed. Not once had he ever fallen from a height in all the years he had climbed. The girl made sure to visit him everyday before she left, pressing soft kisses to his brow.

Sansa was also saddened to leave Lady behind, but was comforted with the knowledge that they would not be parted forever. And besides, her dire wolf companion would hate the southern heat, and Sansa would not wish her friend to be miserable with that thick coat of hers.

The night before their departure, Sansa made sure to leave behind a large offering at her altar, knowing it would be awhile before she could continue her devotions properly. Snuggling close with Jeyne, Sansa fell asleep to thoughts of pretty dresses and gardens full of flowers.

Jeyne couldn't understand how it all went wrong. It was such chaos, guards charging into their rooms, dragging Jeyne away from Sansa and throwing her into the black cells. It was terrifying, the dark surrounding her completely. In the silence and shadows, her mind played tricks on her. She remembered when she would have nightmares, waking up to a room lit by the moon, and the shadows danced like something was there, even though she knew it was nothing.

Like this, there wasn't even the moonlight to bring clarity. And the squeaks and movement of rats made it worse, not knowing what was a real bite and what was just her imagination. She didn't know how long she was down there, her stomach grumbling, but not enough to feel faint. It couldn't have been for longer than a day or two, but time didn't seem right in the cells, minutes dragging on like days.

The scratching at the door had a hoarse yelp jump from her throat, thinking it was the rats again. Until the whine of some canine had her fearful mind dimming enough to draw out confusion. The scratching continued once more before it was silent.

BANG!

The light was blinding, hurting her eyes now so adjusted to the darkness, that Jeyne had to hold up an arm to block her face. Squinting, her eyes adjusted enough to make out the creature standing in the door way. She would know that animal anywhere.

“Lady?” Throat like chalk, she coughed dryly as the dire wolf padded her way to Jeyne. Lady was bigger from the last time she saw her, and couldn't stop the smile the pulled at her cracked lips as Lady licked at her cheek. Then her furry head began to nudge at Jeyne until the girl took the hint and started to rise up on trembling legs, gripping Lady's ruff tightly. She noticed a bell that was tied to the blue ribbon around her neck, however, it did not make a single sound despite the jostling. Setting that strange observation to the side, Jeyne focused on standing.

The dire wolf stayed patient, waiting until she was stood up fully and offered her side to Jeyne. Blinking, bewildered, the girls asked, “Do you want me to ride you?”

Lady huffed and presented her side to Jeyne again, this time stepping close enough to bump against Jeyne's chest. Uncertain, but willing, Jeyne grasped Lady's fur once more and struggled to swing one leg over the wolf's back like she would with a horse. Luckily, Lady lowered herself so that Jeyne could fit her weak limbs over her.

It was strange, very different to riding in a saddle. She could feel at animal's rib cage move with every breath, the muscles tensing and relaxing as Lady started to walk towards the broken cell door. Leaning forward to have a better grip, she squeaked quietly when Lady took off in a run.

The air rippled past her and Jeyne just managed to catch a glimpse of two guards bleeding at the entrance of the black cells, only for them to disappear as Lady turned a corner.

Gulping, Jeyne decided to keep her gaze firmly in front of her, just in case she saw any more bodies. Jeyne had decided it was best not to question how exactly Lady came to be in Kings Landing, recalling quite confidently that the dire wolf was left back in Winterfell. It was a blessing that Lady was here, saving her, and Jeyne wondered where she would be taking her.

And when they turned a corner to go up the stairs to the Hand's Tower, Jeyne's eyes widened with hope and realisation. They were going to Sansa! Sansa would know what was going on. All Jeyne recalled were people spitting out that Lord Stark was a traitor and that Septa Mordane was nowhere to be found.

When Lady skidded to a halt not a few feet away from Sansa's room, Jeyne swallowed heavily at the guard that stood there. The fur under her rose, Lady bristling as she started to snarl and snap at the guard.

Not wanting to get in the way, Jeyne was trembling as she practically fell of Lady. Her back flattened against the stone wall, and the girl watched, horrified, as the most docile of the dire wolves, growled and leapt at the shaking guard. Lady tore viciously at the arm that tried to swing at her, the metal armour doing nothing to protect the screaming guard against the sharp teeth and powerful jaw.

His screams were cut off, gurgling as those teeth then sunk themselves into the guards neck. Watching the man's life drain from his eyes, Jeyne couldn't stop the sob that left her, tears would be falling if she wasn't so dehydrated. Death was something she knew, but she had never seen it before. And not in such a brutal manner.

And when Lady turned her golden eyes towards Jeyne, blood dripping from her muzzle, the girl had a split second of wondering if she would be next. Until Lady's ears flicked back, and she whined at her, as if asking for forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, Jeyne tried to remember all that her father had taught her about being a Poole. They may not have been a large house, but they were loyal and had been serving the Starks for hundreds of generations. Jeyne was even being trained before she left Winterfell to be Robb Stark's next Stewardess. Her heart ached, remembering how Lord Stark was attacked and her father died to help defend him. But now could not be the time to cry. When they were safe, Jeyne could cry and scream and grieve as much as she wanted. But now, Sansa needed her. 'Steadfast and Firm' were her house words, and she would be exactly that.

Exhaling, Jeyne walked towards Lady, holding out a hand to run through the wolf's thick pelt. “Thank you, Lady. For saving me.”

Lady licked at Jeyne's hand, before her ears flicked and turned towards the door, alert. Gingerly stepping over the body, Jeyne cracked open the door, and saw Sansa. He dear friend was pressed against a vanity, a shard of glass gripped tightly in her shaking hands. Jeyne had a split second where she watched her dear friend's eyes widen in astonishment before she rushed towards her.

The glass shattered when Sansa dropped it running and flinging herself at Jeyne, uncaring of how dirty the other girl was. Sansa sobbed heavily into her shoulder, words a mess and incoherent. But Jeyne grew up with Sansa since they were babes, just months apart from one another. She could understand her friend even if she was screaming down a mountain and Jeyne at the foot of it.

“I know.” Jeyne whispered, eyes burning but still unable to produce tears. “I know, Sansa.”

After their reunion, Sansa quickly dragged Jeyne in, greeting a wiggling and cheerful Lady with pats and kisses. It was late in the night, and so far it seemed no one had noticed the few dead bodies in the Keep yet as the bells had not been rung in alarm yet. So Sansa took that time to shove goblets of water at Jeyne, as well as her favourite fruits, babbling all the while.

“I had begged Joffery to show father mercy, and he said he would send him to the Wall. But then he-” She choked on her words, and Jeyne rested a hand on her's. “You don't have to speak it Sansa. I-I understand.”

“Oh Jeyne!” Sansa then choked out, shame in her voice, “I'm so sorry about your father. Here I am crying over mine but you are so strong.”

Sniffling, Jeyne gripped Sansa's hand hard, needing something to anchor herself in this moment, “I have to be, Sansa. I have to get you back to Winterfell, so I need to be strong for you.”

Gulping her tears back, Sansa looked pained as she whispered, “I don't want you to be strong for me. That's not fair.”

Jeyne smiled sadly at Sansa and her dearest friend knew what just that simple expression said, not needing anymore words. Sansa then declared wetly, “You must cry though as soon as we are home. I won't accept any later.” And then sniffled, standing up from the bed.

“We have to escape while we can.” Sansa then began to rummage through her chest of clothes, “The Lannisters haven't taken my things just yet. I think Joffery wasn't meant to...not show mercy. I haven't heard a thing about what was going on, but it seemed like they've forgotten about me for the time being.” And from her chest, she pulled out a thick dress and handed it over to Jeyne.

Taking it, the brunette began to change, glad to be out of her dirty and soiled clothes. She managed to take a quick scrub with a wet cloth to her body, wanting to be as clean as she could, wanting the tainted black cells off of her.

Once Sansa helped to lace the back of the dress for her, handing over a pair of boots and socks, Jeyne sat down at the vanity to pull them on as Sansa began to brush through her tangled hair.

Braided, cleaned, and as ready as she could be, Sansa fashioned a sack out of a cloak, shoving bits of bread and fruit that was in her room, as well as a water skein that she unearthed from her chest, into it.

Jeyne took that, tying it across her body, letting the weight settle on her back. Then, in a breath of tense silence, Sansa grasped Jeyne's hand, and they shared a long moment. Worry swam in Sansa's blue eyes, and Jeyne knew her own brown eyes reflected the same feelings. This was dangerous. They could even die. But at least they would do so trying and not waiting around for someone to save them.

Lady went first, sniffing around as she started towards the stairs. However, Sansa took the time to pause, kneeling down by the guards dead body. Fumbling with the guards belt, Jeyne was confused until she recognized the sword. Ice.

The brunette helped strap it over Sansa's back, the blade massive and nearly touching the ground when her friend straightened up. The red head huffed, muttering, “Heavy,” To herself before following Lady's retreating figure.

They crept down the stairs, checking to see if the coast was clear, before quietly running with Lady, letting the dire wolf lead them through winding stone halls. Their fingers were entangled as they went, never wanting to part from one another in this moment. The firelight from the antikas cast dancing shadows around them, the only light to show their way. From the windows they passed, there was no moon in the sky.

When the girls began to lag from the running and the weight they carried, Lady herded them onto her back and the massive wolf, almost as big as a horse now, took off quickly. Jeyne hugged Sansa's back, minding the large blade, and tossed glances behind them every few minutes.

They had just managed to make the main entrance hall for the Castle when the alarm bells were rung. The entrance door was thrown open and Lady skidded to a halt in front of the group of guards that had started to enter. They paused in their tracks at the strange and frightful picture of a large wolf carrying two girls.

Then, once the absurdity faded, the men drew their blades with sharp shrieks of metal. Jeyne's grip on Sansa's waist tightened, and Lady stood firm, teeth baring as she growled at the enemies.

However, something strange happened. Lady shook her head, and the bell that had been silent rang once, twice, thrice, and the sound echoed, reverberating across the stone walls. As the ringing began to fade, there were twin squawks and a pair of crows glided into the entrance chamber.

They dove down towards the space between the girls and the guards, and in a flurry of feathers, two people landed in a crouch, their backs to them.

Slowly, they stood up, calm and confident in their movements as they pulled out sharp knives, dual wielding. One of them then glanced back at them, Jeyne and Sansa gasping lightly at the sight of a woman.

“Go.” She commanded softly, “We will hold them back.”

Lady seemed to understand what the other two couldn't comprehend in that moment and took off, leaping high over the guards. The impact of her landing had them gasping once more in shock, holding on for dear life. Turning back around, Jeyne stared in awe as the two crow people easily took on four times their numbers, strange blue light flickering now as they plowed their way through some of the best fighters in Westeros.

The race to the city's exit was terrifying. Lady was confident in every turn and leap, never tiring under the exercise and weight she was carrying. Every now and then they would catch a glimpse of the crows, some flashes of blue light, and when they passed a dead guard or two, Jeyne knew that they were keeping their word, protecting their escape.

Finally, the exit was in sight. However, the draw bridge was slowly rising, blocking their path. Panic filled Jeyne and she felt the wordless cry of despair leaving Sansa's chest more than heard, heart beating like a drum in her ears.

A crow cawed above them, gliding through the air, rolling and diving mid spin. In the twisting movements, they turned into a person again, their blade glowing blue as it cut through the thick metal chain holding the gate. There was a groan in the wood, and the other side was suddenly released, allowing for Lady to leap onto the wood and race out of Kings Landing.

The crows followed after, circling around them every now and then, keeping watch as Lady continued to run. The night sky above them was expansive, stars dancing and joyous. It felt like hope.

Sansa's god was waiting in a clearing, a campfire crackling away. Lady had led them straight to him, and Sansa was quick to hop off the dire wolf and dart towards him. He opened his arms, welcoming and warm as he embraced her.

“Thank you.” She murmured into the fur around his neck. His large hand smoothed down her hair, “Always, Sansa. I'm always watching over you.”

Pulling back, Sansa hastened to wipe her eyes as she gave him a grateful smile, “But you saved Jeyne too. And you didn't have to.”

“You are to be mine, Sansa. I staked that claim the second I healed you as a child. And I want to make you happy. Leaving your friend to die would not do so. Plus,” And here, her god glanced over at where Jeyne was standing by Lady's side, curled into herself and looking uncertain. Stretching out a hand to her, Cor's stern features softened as he beckoned her closer.

With the first few steps hesitant, Jeyne approached them, shyly placing her small hand into his. He squeezed it gently. “Plus, Jeyne is an innocent. And I do not leave innocents in danger when I can help them.”

Her friend gave a bashful smile along with a curtsy as she said, “Thank you for saving me, my lord.”

“Of course, child.”

The night air was warm, the fire warmer, as the two girls laid down on the blankets the god had provided. With Lady curled by their heads, offering a pillow for them to rest upon, Jeyne and Sansa fell into a sleep, knowing they were safe from danger now.