Despite all she had heard from her mother, it was the first time Sansa Stark had been to her mother’s birthplace. Massive stone walls of white imposed upon her, threatening to fall and shatter everyone into tiny bits. The great drawbridge lay open, a gaping mouth. The deserted castle was probably housed by tramps, beggars and few remaining Freys hoping for shelter from winter, before Lannister and Arryn men stormed inside to clear the castle.
They were not supposed to stay here for long. Littlefinger had told her that Daenerys Targaryen had reached the Neck and, while that was a fair distance away, if she chose to swarm in with her dragons, the Lannisters would lose a lot of men. Instead, they would leave thousand-and-ten garrisoned in the castle – half Lannister, half Arryn – and name Yohn Royce Lord of Riverrun and Warden of the Riverlands, before continuing their retreat to the capital.
As Sansa and Ghost leisured through the interiors, she saw the Kingslayer approach them. From his body language, she knew he was seeking her out. “Lady Sansa,” he said, hoping to dispel the growls of Ghost with the courteous greeting, “I hope your time outside of King’s Landing was pleasant. I wanted you to know… when you fled after the death of Joffrey, it was me who sent Lady Brienne to protect you. Your time in the capital will not be another unpleasant experience. I swear it.”
His tone seemed sincere, yet Sansa could not help replying, “I mean no offence, Ser Jaime, but I did not choose to come to King’s Landing on the honor of a Lannister. Not after what the gallant Prince Joffrey put me through.”
Sansa wondered how Jaime would react to her brazen disrespect to him and his child, but the Kingslayer gave a chuckle. “He was a cunt, was he not?” he said, more to himself than to her.
Heading into King’s Landing, Sansa had a thousand northmen on her side. That may not count much against the horde of Lannister and Arryn armies, but she knew Cersei could not afford to make another grave enemy in the northmen. Besides, Sansa suspected a lot about Littlefinger, but amidst all possible deliberations in her mind, the one certainty she had in her mind was that he did not wish upon her harm. I have a powerful ally in him, she thought, but unlike Father, when I reach the capital, I intend to make more.
As the men made final preparations to depart from Riverrun, Littlefinger called her quickly. He was conversing with Jaime and other bannermen, when he saw him. “If you would excuse me,” he said briefly, before he broke away from the men in Sansa’s direction. His voice was quiet and quick. “I want you to send a scroll to Ellaria Sand of Dorne,” he said. “I do not trust Yohn Royce to do this, and there will be too many eyes in the capital.” Before she could say anything, Littlefinger shoved the parchment in her hands and returned to his conversations.
As Sansa made her way to the rookeries, she spent no time hesitating whether she ought to read its contents. The instructions were long and detailed, and Littlefinger made it clear that it could be the last trustworthy correspondence between him and Ellaria, but his words of turning traitor against the Lannisters were certainly not wind.
He did promise to rid the world of Cersei Lannister, Sansa thought, as she tied the scroll to the raven.
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