It was time to see if Lord Petyr Baelish’s words were as strong as stone.
While Sansa, Brienne, Podrick and the battalion of a thousand northmen waited behind, Baelish galloped to the gates of the Crossing with an envoy of not more than a dozen knights of the Vale. An equal number of men from the Twins trotted up to Baelish, in all likelihood some bastard children of the late Lord Frey. Sansa had already warned her men to stay alert. If Baelish and the Freys were planning to take her hostage, Sansa’s men outnumbered them three to one.
Soon, she saw Petyr return to the battalion. He is worried, Sansa saw before he spoke. “Lady Sansa, I may require your assistance in securing safe passage across the Twins. Lady Brienne, if you would kindly accompany us as well?”
Brienne was never like to leave Sansa’s side, yet she found it odd that Petyr explicitly requested her presence at the parley. As the trio trotted towards the Freys, Sansa’s apprehension manifested in a piercing comment at Littlefinger. “You told me the Freys would let us pass. Must it come to war, then?”
“Absolutely not,” said Baelish confidently. “Safe passage to the Vale is imminent. The only complication lies in the men I just met. They are not Freys.”
Sansa had no time to express surprise – by then, they were within earshot of those in front of them. Her eyes instinctively turned to the sigil of their clothing. With one look at the silver trout, all was clear.
Brynden the Blackfish looked much older than the last time Sansa saw him, times when he infrequently visited Winterfell. His hair had turned from grey to white and wrinkles were looser, but his eyes gleamed like a child as, after a second of puzzlement, he recognized the daughter of Catelyn Tully. Before Sansa could react, she found herself bound in a bear hug by his great uncle. He smelled of salt and ale, which Sansa thought more fragrant than the scents of King’s Landing.
“Uncle Brynden!” Sansa managed to say. “I did not know you were alive!”
The Blackfish broke the hug. “Neither did I, if you ask me,” he said in cheerful rasps. “I wondered if it was the wrong choice to ignore Lady Brienne’s pleas to accompany her to you, back at Riverrun. I had to barely escape the place with my life. I left my own home to Frey mice, with nothing to live for. They were dark days, me waiting for them to pursue me and end it. None ever came. It seems the cowardly roaches told the Kingslayer of my demise rather than my escape.”
Brynden’s tone changed, becoming grimmer and with more steel. “I traveled to the Twins in disguise, hoping to catch a glimpse of old man Walder Frey and end him before he ended me. That was the best plan I had. Instead, I found someone better. If you want to thank someone for my life, thank not the gods, but the man standing beside me. It seems some years in the dungeons has made a king of my nephew.” The tone was harsh, but pride was clearly present.
The scarred, bearded man beside Uncle Brynden hardly reacted to his comments. He looked less a king and more a tramp, but his envoy seemed to hold him in such reverence that there was no doubt he was their leader. Amidst the masses of hair he sported, the crown was hard to miss, but Sansa eventually saw it. Till now he had not spoken a word, glaring at everyone with eyes of stone, but after the Blackfish recognized Sansa, and upon him recognizing Brienne of Tarth – once Lady Catelyn’s sworn guard – his countenance softened.
As he struggled for words, Sansa saw him to be overcome with emotion. Finally, he spoke. “Sansa, allow me to express my deepest sympathies at the death of your mother and brother. Every second of every day the Freys kept me hostage in their dungeons, I dreamed of their extermination by root and stem. After the last of their pests died at Seagard, I hope I have given some consolation.”
With acquaintances made, King Edmure Tully allowed Houses Stark and Arryn to pass through the Crossing unharmed. Sansa expressed her delight and promised to send Jon a raven to discuss terms of alliance with the Tullys, should he survive the war with Daenerys. Baelish, in his own way of offering an alliance, spoke of his gratitude and promised to return the favor in the future.
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