Thor stood in the half-dark of the passage, his brow furrowed as he thought hard. The sun was rapidly gaining height in the still-new dawn sky, and he was losing the precious night shade that helped them escape.
Arya and Sansa were both staring at him, waiting for an answer. The girls had finally calmed, though their eyes still showed fear and worry. Arya crossed her arms, restless as ever. Sansa, meanwhile, held her hands close to her chest, glancing nervously toward the shadows.
"So… how do we leave?" Arya asked, her voice sharp. "The gates are crawling with guards. We can't just walk out."
"I know," Thor grumbled.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "The city's locked tight. The queen made sure none can escape until Joffrey is crowned. If I take you through the gates, they'll stop us before we've gone three steps. Even I can't fight the entire city guard without drawing half of King's Landing down on us."
Arya frowned. "Then what? We stay here and wait to be caught?"
"No," Thor said firmly. "There's another way."
He racked his mind for every possible path, using his meta knowledge and common sense. Only one option came to him—Hugh.
He remembered something useful just in time. Last night, Varys had made arrangements for Ser Hugh, Jon Arryn's squire, to leave the city and return to the Vale. Thor had asked the Spider himself.
Varys wouldn't have had time to undo it yet, not after what happened tonight. Even if the eunuch wished to deal with Thor, he couldn't have known all that would unfold in just one night.
So, most likely, the arrangement for the Vale's knight was still valid. Thor could use it.
"If we find Hugh, we leave with him."
Sansa blinked. "Who's Hugh?"
Thor gave her a grim smile. "Don't worry about it, but we have to hurry."
"Good. Then let's go." Arya nodded. The little girl didn't wish to leave, but once her mind was made, she knew that staying behind was even more dangerous. The sooner they went back North, the faster they could do something to free their father.
"Not yet," Thor said. "First, we must disguise you."
He rummaged through the bundles he had taken from the storerooms and pulled out plain woolen dresses, old cloaks, and scarves. Arya wasted no time throwing hers on. She looked down at the rough brown cloth and grinned. "I look like I belong in Flea Bottom."
Thor chuckled.
Sansa, on the other hand, struggled. The coarse fabric made her wince, and the hood covered her hair poorly. "This… this doesn't look right," she whispered.
Thor studied her for a moment. Her red-gold hair gleamed even under the shadows. "Then we'll hide more." He draped an extra scarf across her head and face, the closeness bringing shyness to her cheeks.
It was also then she realized she had been tugging on his arm the whole time, not to mention her earlier action—directly engulfing him in an embrace. Her cheeks flared with embarrassment.
What can we say—girls at this age are mostly like that. Boys a little older than her too only think of girls at this age.
Thor wasn't any better, but he had just a tiny bit more restraint over himself as he was technically older. A bit more brain in his head.
Though this could just be Post Nut Clearity.
Sansa, embarrassed, kept her eyes down, not daring to look at his handsome face directly, though she stole a few glances. That was when she noticed marks around his neck.
She hadn't any experience with men, but even an innocent girl like her could figure out what those marks were.
She didn't voice her findings, just kept her eyes down again. But a pang of unease rang in her.
Embarrassment, excitement, remorse, dejection, or regret—she wasn't sure what the feeling was, only that it didn't feel right.
Thor had no idea what was going on inside the girl's head. He just tucked her locks away, making sure she wasn't recognisable in any way.
"Keep your eyes down. Don't speak unless I tell you."
Sansa nodded, though uneasily. Arya rolled her eyes. "She'll stand out no matter what. She walks like a lady."
"Then walk in front of her, hide how she walks," Thor said, lowering his voice. "Both of you must do whatever I say after we leave here. Do you understand? If anyone looks too close, all is lost. Follow my lead."
Both girls looked at each other and then nodded in unison, full agreement in their eyes.
With that, he guided them to the hidden passage Arya had once used—the same dark tunnel that led out of the Red Keep. The air was damp, the stones cold beneath their feet. Sansa clung to Thor's cloak as they walked, while Arya darted ahead, scouting every turn.
At last, the torchlight of the city's edge came into view. Thor drew a deep breath. "The port. That's where we need to go. Come on."
…
[North – Mole's Town]
Tyrion Lannister shuffled into the dingy brothel of Mole's Town, already regretting every step that had brought him here.
'Pissing at the edge of the world. Little did he know how much this piss would cost him.'
The place stank of stale ale, sweat, and something worse. The whores swarmed him almost as quickly as flies to honey.
He might lack in the height department, but he was a Lannister. His fine clothes—no matter how dusty and rough—told everyone that much. Not to mention the pouch full of gold.
"Well, well, a fancy lord come down from the Wall," one of them purred, leaning close. "What'll it be, little man? We've got everything a man could want."
Tyrion sighed and waved her off. "For once in my life, I'd like food before fornication. Bread, meat if you've got it, and something to drink. Wine, preferably just wine and not anything more in it akin to hair dirt or spit."
The women laughed, exchanging looks. Another one sat on his lap despite his protests. "You sure you don't want a tumble? We'll make it worth your coin."
"Sweetheart," Tyrion said, pushing her gently aside, "if I gave into every offer thrown at me, I'd be dead by now. Let me live a few more days, hmm? Bring me a bed, your finest, and then perhaps if my body allows, I'll ask for the company of such lovely ladies as you."
Tyrion somehow maintained his smile while saying this.
He tossed a few gold coins onto the table. The clink of Lannister gold made them scurry to fetch what he asked. At least gold still commanded respect—even here. Hell, folks respected gold here more than anywhere.
But peace lasted less than an hour. The door to the brothel slammed open, and a group of Night's Watch men stormed in, their black cloaks swaying. "Where is the dwarf!" one of them barked. "By command of the Lord Commander of Castle Black, he'll come with us!"
Tyrion's eyes widened. "Ah, splendid. Nothing like being hunted by men in black with pitchforks in their hands." Not even kidding—some Night's Watch members really did use those as weapons.
He spun toward the whores, desperate. "Hello there, I just had a little change of plans—would you like to earn twice as much as you would otherwise?"
The woman arched a brow. "You wouldn't even buy me for a penny, and now you want to pay me?"
"Yes, yes," Tyrion hissed, fumbling for his purse. "Not for that. To hide me."
She crossed her arms. "Hide you where? Where could a tavern wench like me hide a big man like you, m'lord?" she snarked.
"Somewhere safe, somewhere close, and somewhere away from the crows. You do that and this gold is yours." Tyrion didn't have time to play this game with her. He showed the few gold coins he hurriedly took out of his pouch.
The wench had her eyes fixed on the gold until she smiled back.
The woman looked at the gold in his hand, then at his desperate face. She snatched the coins from his hands and then, with a smirk and sly smile, lifted her skirt.
"Fine. Get under."
Pointing beneath her skirt to Tyrion's bafflement.
"What? You asked for somewhere safe and close, didn't you? Come on, it doesn't have teeth. Won't bite, I promise." She laughed to Tyrion's embarrassment.
'Fuck…'
Before he could second-guess himself, Tyrion ducked beneath her wide skirts. The smell hit him instantly—sweat, stale ale, and something far worse.
Did he mention the girls here didn't care much about personal hygiene? Even after taking customers they didn't wash often. And gods knew less about the horrid smell. They didn't take baths—period.
He gagged. "Seven save me. I've been in sewers that smelled sweeter than this."
"Shut up!" she hissed, swatting him lightly with her hand as she straightened.
The Night's Watch men spread through the room, peering into corners. One came right up to her. "You there, seen a dwarf?"
She snorted. "Only dwarf I've seen is between my legs, mister. Wanna see?"
They laughed and moved on. Underneath, Tyrion muttered, "If I live through this, I'm buying a bathhouse for the both of us."
The woman stomped her foot lightly, making him wince. "You mean I'm buying the bathhouse. Those coins are mine after this, little lord."
Tyrion sighed. He wasn't leaving Casterly Rock ever again.
xxx
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