Thor led Arya and Sansa through the winding streets of King's Landing, keeping his hood pulled low. The night was almost over and the sun was on their heads, the guards swarming the city since the king's death. Every corner held danger, every shadow another pair of eyes. The girls stayed close—Sansa clutching his arm tightly, Arya creeping beside him with her little sword hidden beneath her cloak.
Staying out of sight was harder than he anticipated when eyes were everywhere and he was more recognizable and popular than the most expensive whore in the town.
That tourney had made him popular, but that popularity wasn't helping him here.
Finding Hugh was harder than Thor expected. The city was sprawling, the harbor a maze of ships, sailors, and guards. He couldn't just ask openly; too many ears, too many men hunting for Starks. More than once, they had to duck into alleys or slip behind stacked crates when a patrol of gold cloaks passed.
"Stay close," Thor whispered, putting an arm in front of the girls as another group of soldiers marched past. Arya fidgeted, wanting to move, but he shook his head firmly.
"Patience. I told you, you follow my lead."
It took nearly an hour, creeping through shadows, before Thor finally found Hugh. The young squire had been given a small cabin aboard a merchant ship preparing to sail. But when Thor peeked inside, he frowned. The space was tiny, barely enough for Hugh himself, let alone two girls and a man the size of Thor. Sansa wouldn't last a day in such cramped misery, and even Arya looked doubtful.
"Thor." Hugh was surprised to see the man again.
"We meet again, Ser Hugh. Seems like our fates are intertwined more than we expected," Thor said offhandedly and looked around. The place really wasn't enough for all four of them.
"This won't do," Thor muttered.
"What's not enough? It's a little small but I'll do with it." Hugh, confused, thought that Thor was just looking out for him. He was a little grateful.
Thor didn't explain, he just smiled and motioned for him to look at the girls.
Leaving the girls with Hugh, Thor sought out the captain. He found the man on deck, a burly sailor with a sharp face and greed in his eyes. Thor approached, lowering his voice. "It's a fine ship you got here, she's a beauty."
The captain eyed him suspiciously. "Aye, been with my father all his life. He passed it down to me. She's old but reliable and knows her way around the sea." The captain smiled, seeing that Thor was praising his ship.
Thor pulled out a heavy pouch of gold, letting the coins clink in the moonlight. The captain's eyes widened. "Yeah, a fine vessel such as this shouldn't be disregarded just 'cause it has seen more seasons. Though fixing it could cost a fortune," Thor said firmly.
"Take this, consider it a gift of good fortune. For you and your ship. I only ask one thing."
The man licked his lips, torn between fear and greed. Someone tossing this much money was definitely trouble. But greed was a sin long known to mankind. And to this day, there wasn't any solution to it.
The captain swallowed hard. "What you want?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the gold pouch for a second.
"Nothing aside from a bit more space in this fine vessel, food and warmth until we are here. And her to take us to our destination…" Thor shrugged, dangling the gold in front of him.
...
Inside the cramped cabin, Sansa and Arya sat across from Hugh, the former squire of Jon Arryn.
It was Ser Hugh now, actually, if anyone gave a damn, much to Hugh's dismay.
The small room smelled of salt and wood, the faint creak of waves rocking beneath their feet. Sansa clutched her cloak tightly, her face hiding her discomfort well but not entirely, while Arya leaned forward, curiosity shining in her eyes.
"So… who are you really?" Arya asked, blunt as always.
Hugh hesitated. His clothes were worn, his face tired, and there was still blood on the bandages from Thor's friendly beating he gave him.
"I was a squire," he said slowly. "To Lord Jon Arryn. But he's gone now. With him gone, so was my place. Men like me… we're easily cast aside."
Sansa's brow furrowed. "That's awful. But why are you here?"
Hugh gave a faint smile. "Because someone helped me when no one else would. There were people who wished to kill me, Thor saved me back then. Guards are looking for me, so he found a way to take me out of the capital. Thanks to him I'm going back to the Vale. He arranged my passage home. Without him, I'd be dead in a gutter."
At that, Arya leaned back, folding her arms. "He did that. He's a good man like father."
Sansa shot her sister a look. The way she said it didn't feel right, but she had to agree.
'Ser Thor was indeed a real knight. Always helping people, saving them.' She thought with a small smile tugging at her lips.
Before Sansa voiced her thoughts, heavy boots echoed on the deck above. Voices carried through the wood, sharp and commanding. Arya stiffened. Hugh's face turned pale.
"They're searching," he whispered.
Sansa's heart dropped. "For us."
The sound grew louder. The creak of the hatch above opening. The thud of armored men stepping below deck. Panic surged through the cabin. Thor wasn't back yet—he was still dealing with the captain.
"We have to hide," Arya hissed.
"Where?" Sansa whispered, frantic.
Hugh stood, wincing from his wounds, and motioned quickly. "Behind the crates. There's a gap near the barrels. Go!"
The girls scrambled as boots thudded closer. Arya pulled Sansa down into the narrow space, dark and reeking of fish. They pressed themselves flat as Hugh slipped back onto the cot, pretending to sleep.
The door burst open. Two guards entered, their armor clanking. "Find them, they have to be here."
Sansa's breath hitched, but Arya pressed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The guards stomped around, lifting lids, kicking barrels. Hugh groaned on the bed, distracting them for a moment.
One guard leaned down, peering closer to the crates. Arya tightened her grip on her sword. Sansa shook her head, terrified.
'Not again, Arya don't poke this one too, you idiot.' She held her sister back from doing something that would cause more trouble.
The cat-and-mouse game had begun, and they could only pray Thor returned in time.
...
Joffrey woke with the sun burning his face and a crown burning in his thoughts. Today was his day — the day he would be king. He sat up in his bed, bright and proud, and for a moment the world belonged to him.
He was looking forward to bringing some order to this rotten city. From today onwards, whatever he wished would happen.
He would be the king.
Then the news reached him. The Stark girls were gone. Thor was gone. The traitors had slipped through his hands.
Rage flared fast and hot. He pushed his chair back so hard it crashed, and his voice filled the chamber like a struck horn.
"Find them!" he shouted. "Bring me those Stark girls. Bring me Thor. Dead or alive!" His face was red, his small hands clenched. "I want them before me. I want them broken before I'm crowned."
He paced, heavy and sharp. "And where is Eddard Stark? Bring him to the city. I will have his head public for all to see. Let the realm learn what happens to those who betray the crown."
Servants hurried, eyes lowered. Guards nodded, fear on their faces. Joffrey's smile returned — thin and cruel. He imagined the crowd, the stones slick with blood, his name shouted by a trembling people.
"Do not fail me," he said, voice small and hard. "I will not have my throne mocked. I am king."
And where the seven hells was his mother on this important day?
xxx
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