Chapter Text
Summary:
Shae sees the lust in her lion’s eyes, as he looks at the young wolf girl. It the same look she has seen in a hundred other men’s faces. And it is in Sansa’s eyes that she see’s something else- something she has not seen since she ran from her father’s reaching hands- long forgotten the soft face of her sister long dead. So Shae smuggles the Princess of the North with the help of a Viper, and another Stark girl touches Dornish soil.
Parings: Shae/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Sansa Stark/Young Griff, Mrcycella Baratheon/Tristan Martell,
Shae I
Shae has come to understand that Sansa Stark trusts her.
As much as the terrified girl can trust anyone.
And it is on the eve before her wedding to the man that Shae had stupidly fallen in love with, that Sansa Stark’s trust in her is pushed to the limit. She carefully gives the girl the exact amount of the prepared herbs, and Shae makes sure, deliberately, to prepare it in front of her. She turns to the girl Tyrion had forced her to serve, that one that he was to marry the very next day, and silently offers the prepared cup of tea.
Sansa Stark is barely four and ten, with a sweet pale face that has turned drawn and quiet.
Her eyes are blue- the bluest thing that Shae has ever seen, and when they look at her, there is a quiet understanding and resignation in them. She is dressed in her shift, a thin thing that is much too short, much too tight across her budding breast and hips. But she sits still and poised, and when she reaches for the cup, her lily-white hands do not tremble.
“Will it hurt?” is Sansa’s question.
“No.”
Sansa smiles. A soft thing that turns her brilliant and soft pink lips. There is a slightly crooked nature to her smile, a wry hint of sadness. But in her eyes all Shae sees is pure gratitude.
“I- Please. Please, if you can, will you throw my body into the sea? I do not want King Joffery to have his way with my remains.”
Shae shudders.
She had seen the macabre remains of the King’s playthings. Women who simply wished for coin to feed themselves, to feed the babes earned in their trade, thrown at the feet of the boy King. She knows Tyrion had hired some of the women and had spared no thought to their fates. She had told herself it had been the women who had made the mistake- the woman who had made the choice to risk their lives at the hands of the King.
Now she is not so sure what else she had told herself with the promise of Tyrion’s love.
“I will care for you, my Lady,” she tells the girl, gently.
“Run, if you can, afterward. They will blame you for giving me this. They will not make your death easy.”
Shae almost corrects her. Almost tells her the truth- But there is a corridor right behind Sansa’s mirror, and she knows that the Queen will place someone there tonight. Whether they are already there, had already heard, or running off to tell the bitch is something she will never know.
“Drink deeply, and quickly.”
“Thank you, Shae. You were my truest friend here.”
Sansa Stark drinks it all, deeply and easily, her face not even flinching at what Shae’s knows is a truly bitter brew.
She falls asleep quickly, and Shae is already catching the girl in her arms.
You were my truest friend here.
Shae thinks her heart is breaking. She knew Sansa had trusted her. She knew Sansa had liked her- but there was love in those words. Affection she had buried and held tightly in her heart, only given away with what she thought was her death. Shae is many things. But to think she is loved by this child makes her feel more than the whore to a man that intended to throw her away. Carefully, she presses a kiss to the girl’s head and lifts her easily in her arms. Sansa is tall where Shae is small, but she is undeniably underfed and waisfushly thin. And Shae has always been strong. Shae goes to the fireplace’s hearth and presses into the switch with her hip. It opens yet another corridor- wide enough for her to carry the girl out of the Keep. She gently lays Sansa within the thin carpet in the room and rolls the sweet girl up as neatly as she can. She strips off her clothing, sweet cotton of a handmaid for the rough spun clothing that would not look out of place in the market. She reaches for the packs she had set aside. Two dress changes for the pair of them, money, some food and water, her Lady’s jewelry, and the doll that the young girl still clung to. She shoulders it before she lifts the carpeted girl again.
Shae is quick and quiet. She has mesmerized this path ever since they had announced the betrothal between Sansa and Tyrion.
Her heart is hammering.
She has done what she hopes is the smart thing- gone to another Lord who has reason to hate the Lions- and who would not want another noble girl destroyed at their hands. A risk. But she has a dagger swiped from the mockingbird man tucked on a strap on her thigh, and a second escape plan if she needs it.
And if there is one thing she can do to spite Tyrion for making promises he had never intended to keep, for lusting for a child- it is to take that child out of his hands.
You were my truest friend here.
I will keep such words true.
Oberyn I
He awaits on a Dornish ship, for another abused girl from the clutches of the Red Keep, and he wonders if he is doing the right thing.
He had not thought much of the red-headed Stark girl, only seen a girl with perfectly poised manners and simpering at the Lannisters’ feet like a kept pet. He did not think much of her suffering or the fact that the child had seen her entire household slaughtered before her eyes, that she had been apparently beaten until the young handmaiden had corned him and his love. Desperation in her eyes and the wariness of a kicked dog, she had told him grimly of the girl's treatment within the Red Keep.
And her forced marriage to a man whose family had only given her suffering.
And he thought of Elia- of sweet Elia and her children's bones that Eddard Stark had brought to them despite the fury of their new conquering King. The sadness and wish in grey eyes that he had been swift enough to save his sister.