moonlight10
patreon
GOT : Chapter 186
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 12:21:06 +0000 UTC( Sansa POV )
As the large ship with Martell sails finally docked, Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.
Never would she have imagined that she would be relieved to see the harrowing Red Keep, towering over Blackwater Bay, nor did she imagine she would smile while seeing the agglomeration of King's Landing looming on the horizon.
It had been a long journey since Sunspear. First, by horse, to Ghost Hill, where she stayed at least a week, waiting for a break in the weather to head to Greenstone.
Then, by ship, to Greenstone, where she was feasted by Ser Aurane Waters, who had named himself regent of the place while waiting for Prince Quentyn to formally give it back to the Estermonts.
Another journey by ship then started, towards Storm's End.
She did not stay long in the old keep, but long enough to be impressed with its walls, great halls and intimidating allure, waiting for the final leg of her journey, towards King's Landing.
On arrival, things had indeed changed.
Lannister, Baratheon and Tyrell banners were gone, replaced by those of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, flanked by the sun and spear of the Martells, the trout of the Tullys, the falcon of House Arryn, and, most importantly, the direwolf of House Stark.
Sansa carefully stepped out of the ship and onto the dock, looking around her. Several armed men accompanied her, all bearing the direwolf of House Stark on their armor or doublet.
Like a Queen, she was escorted to the edge of the dock, where Stark banners fluttered in the wind, but, most of all, someone was waiting.
It was like she was struck by lightning.
There, at the edge of the pier, waiting for her, in a simple black and grey outfit, was Jon, his dark brown hair waving slightly in the wind, with Ghost by his side, ever vigilant.
Sansa rushed to him and immediately hugged him tight, not letting him go as she cried out tears of joy in his arms.
"By the gods, Jon, it's really you…" she wept, not even trying to keep her composure.
"It's me." Jon hugged her back dearly. "You're safe now, I swear it."
She broke the embrace, looking at his dark grey eyes, when she noticed them flicker in surprise, or shock. What happened? Did he realize how big she'd grown? When he'd left for the Wall, she was a girl of eleven, whilst she was now fifteen, almost sixteen. Not a woman grown, but almost.
Jon ran a hand across her cheek and muttered, "What have they done to you…"
Sansa clasped her cheek slightly and sighed.
Sometimes, she forgot she got burned at all, having tried to lock that painful memory away. Every time she acknowledged her burn or placed her hand against it, she could remember it all. The pain, the cries, the pleas for mercy, and Cersei's hysterical cries and shouts.
"Cersei," she chose to say simply.
Jon slowly nodded.
A voice came from behind Jon. "I think I've done my part." He slowly turned around to face Prince Quentyn, dressed in his fine Dornish garb, with Margaery at his side.
"Aye, I'll release the Dornishmen into your custody before the morrow," Jon acquiesced.
"Prince Quentyn. Margaery." Sansa bowed slightly.
"I think it's Princess Margaery now." Margaery gave her a half-smile.
Sansa opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it, before finally uttering: "So the rumors were true?"
Margaery shifted awkwardly while Prince Quentyn snickered slightly.
"We were wed after you…left," Margaery simply replied. "Nothing had happened before."
"Ah…congratulations, then, Princess Margaery." Sansa bowed again. "I wish you both a happy marriage."
"And to you a safe trip home, Jarlinna Sansa." Prince Quentyn bowed to her, kissing her hand. "Know that you will always be welcome in Dorne."
Sansa shied a little at the words. It would have to take some time to adjust to this new reality, where she would be equal in rank to someone like Prince Trystane.
Jon, for his part, had stayed silent. Once they had left, though, he turned back to Sansa and shook his head.
"They're the easiest ones to interact with, surprisingly enough. Shall we go?"
Sansa followed him back into the Red Keep, her prison for three, almost four, years. A place she would have cursed and dreaded to come back to. But now? With Jon at her side, it felt…liberating.
"When do we leave for the North?" she asked.
"As soon as I have finished with the southern politics here." Jon sighed. "I'm afraid a lot has changed since I last saw you."
"News travels fast, even to Dorne," Sansa countered, petting Ghost as they made their way towards the keep. "I know much of what happened. They say you destroyed an entire Reacher host at Riverrun. They say you ride a dragon three times the size of Queen Daenerys'. They say you took down three dragons in battle…"
"A lot of exaggerations, I'm afraid." Jon chuckled.
"You do ride a dragon, though?" Sansa asked.
"Yes, that part is true."
"I would never have believed it." Sansa snorted. "Father…that he could hide something like this. I remember being jealous of your dark brown hair, how you resembled Father so much…"
"I believe that's how I am alive now," Jon said. "Whatever Father has done, it is thanks to him that I am the man I am today, and I cherish it."
"But who are you, Jon?" Sansa looked into his grey eyes with a tinge of sadness. "Is it true that you have renounced your name?"
"I gave up the Stark name so that the North may yet prosper," Jon answered with a deep sigh. "I gave up my own name to ensure that you, Rickon and Arya would live peacefully in Winterfell…"
"Arya is alive?" Sansa gasped in shock.
"You did not know?" Jon raised an eyebrow. "She escaped during Father's execution, and managed to run to Riverrun."
"I…I thought she was dead." Tears began flowing down her cheeks as Sansa tried to grab a hold of something to sit down on.
Ghost whimpered, putting his head in her lap, while Jon kneeled down to wipe the tears from her face.
"She's in Winterfell at the moment, with your mother and Rickon," Jon told her. "She'll be delighted to know you're safe too."
Sansa laughed; her eyes filled with tears of joy for the first time in years.
When she left, she thought that Arya was an insufferable idiot, but now, the only thing she truly wanted was to hold her in her arms and tell her how she was sorry about her behaviour, for saying all these mean things to her and having to separate her from Nymeria…
"Bran?" she asked.
"No news," Jon said sadly. "Your mother prays that one day, he will show up at the gates of Winterfell, as if nothing had happened. But, to this day, nothing at all. It is like he vanished."
Sansa slowly shook her head. It would have been too good to be true. For Bran, Rickon and Arya to all be alive. Slowly, she got back to her feet, helped by Jon and Ghost alike.
They entered the Red Keep and immediately headed to Jon's rooms, escorted by a few guards. She recognized the rooms they were in, for they were Baelish's before. Ghost did not enter with them, much too large to even fit within the door.
The room was just like she remembered. A large room, richly decorated and stocked, with a large bed and several long chairs.
However, what attracted her eye was not the fact that the room had stayed almost identical to how she remembered it, but more the figure in one of the chairs, who was helped by another woman.
"Sansa…" Jon coughed, "this…is my future wife, Arianne."
Sansa gasped, turning to him with a sly smile."I'm guessing the whispers were true there too."
Sansa looked at the woman in the chair. She had a beautiful face, long, dark, curly hair, brown-golden eyes and full lips. Though, what defined her the most, other than her olive skin, was the state of her belly, which was now completely round.
"Sorry I couldn't come to greet you, Lady Sansa." Arianne smiled at her. "But as you can see, I am quite incapacitated."
"Ari, Sansa is a Jarlinna now," Jon pointed out.
"Apologies, I forget with these names. I much prefer calling you Princess, like my brother. Would this be fine?" she asked.
"My congratulations, Princess Arianne." Sansa bowed, shaking her hand. "But call me Sansa, I hardly like titles anymore. When is the babe due?"
"Any day now, according to the Grandmaester…well, the new Grandmaester." Arianne scoffed.
"What happened to Grandmaester Pycelle?" she asked.
"He has a serious case of having his head removed from his shoulders." Arianne laughed. "Lannister creature…"
