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sansa

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Despite arrival of Spartacus in Darrow, Ilithyia felt she had found something of a place in the city that still seemed so strange in many ways. There were men -- more than one, something she would have to remedy eventually -- who were willing to pay for her every need in exchange for her company, an arrangement that worked well in her favour.

Though far from extravagant, the money paid for food and shelter, with enough leftover for other pleasures she might choose to indulge in. The finest and most difficult being that of her dress.

Over time, she had managed to find several gowns that served purpose, but in Darrow, such garments were difficult to come across and Ilithyia found herself growing frustrated with limited options. Weather would change, she had been told, would grow colder, and only now was she beginning to find things to suit her current needs. Albinius was easy to buy for, but her own wardrobe was still sorely lacking.

Upon street, she sighed, having wasted time in yet another shop with nothing to show for efforts. Yet she smiled upon seeing Sansa, then crossed the busy street, pausing only momentarily to look for cars.

"Sansa," she called, warm smile upon lips. "How are you?"

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"The telephone," Ilithyia said, having not once touched the device since arrival. It was, she assumed, still in the drawer she had left it in, collecting dust. "Even such words feel strange upon tongue and I have yet to work out purpose. Should someone desire my company, they should seek it out."

Ilithyia disliked the idea of being quite so available at all times. It reeked, to her, of common place in life, of subservience.

"Julius Caesar adapts well to Darrow in ways I cannot understand," she said then with a laugh. "And he is of my time."

For a moment, Sansa felt what she knew to be a sharp pang of jealousy. Though there were a great many people she was happy to be away from, ones she wouldn't have wanted to show up here, the fact remained that she was horribly alone here. It might have been nice, she thought, to have just one person from her own world and time here with her, if only so she wouldn't be facing it on her own.

She dismissed the notion quickly, however, not wanting to hold it against Ilithyia. She understood well what she was getting at, anyway. Her own phone, as she'd heard it called, remained in the room that had been waiting for her, unused. "How anyone could is beyond me," she said. "I don't know how to use the telephone at all yet. Or the... computer, I believe?"

Ilithyia had yet to touch the strange shape sitting on the desk in her quarters, choosing instead to ignore its presence. Though little explanation had been given, it was well enough for her to know she wanted nothing to do with it. She would get along in Darrow just fine without it.

"I take great comfort in knowing I am not alone in such thoughts," she said with a smile. "Though I don't wish hardship upon you, it is good, is it not, to feel less alone?" In a way, Spartacus brought same, a familiarity bred from anger and desire for vengeance, a comfort to her all the same.

"Those are precisely my thoughts on the matter as well," Sansa said, pleased to have been told as much. She certainly wouldn't have wished anything for Ilithyia except for her to adjust as easily to this place as was possible, but even so, there was a great deal of comfort in not being alone in her confusion. "Perhaps we'll be able to figure more of it out together."

"Perhaps," Ilithyia agreed, though mind was still on thoughts of Spartacus and she thought she might warn Sansa of his presence in Darrow. Their continued friendship might put Sansa in danger and while Ilithyia thought it could work out in her favour, a warning would be looked upon favourably if something were to happen.

"There is another here from my time," she said, looking over to Sansa. "A man named Spartacus."

"Oh?" asked Sansa curiously, brow lifting. There was something about the way Ilithyia mentioned him that held her attention, seemed different from the way she had talked of the other man here from her own time, and she couldn't help wondering now what that difference was. King's Landing had left her instinctively wary, but there was, she thought, no reason to truly worry until given a reason to. "And what of him?"

Though Ilithyia had been first to speak his name, she felt now at a loss for words. What truth was there to grace tongue and describe Spartacus and who he was to her? She knew so little of him herself. The things she felt for him were confused at best.

"He is..." Father of her son. Rebel slave. A monster, a god. "Dangerous. A most hated enemy of my husband. Should you speak to him, remain cautious. He will not take kindly to one whom I consider trusted friend."

It was as Sansa had feared, though she knew better than to let it show, well-practiced in keeping such things to herself. There was no way even a place like this could remain entirely safe. Grateful as she had been for her freedom, she knew better than to let herself be lulled into a false sense of security. Now, she was grateful for that. At least she wasn't too taken aback by the news Ilithyia delivered.

"Spartacus, you said his name was?" she asked, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. "I shall try my best to stay clear of him." She paused a moment, something softening with concern in her expression. "Does he wish you harm?"

Ilithyia knew so little of what Spartacus truly felt toward her, knowing what he did about her son, though she knew he had wished her dead upon more than one occasion. "He has laid hands upon me more than once," she answered, settling on words that were both vague and true. "Though I suspect distance will be kept upon new shores. He finds Darrow more unsettling than he does my presence."

"I should hope he would not try to do the same again," Sansa replied, her frown deepening. Though there was some comfort in Ilithyia's belief that this man, Spartacus, would keep his distance, it still wasn't particularly reassuring to know that he might still wish to hurt her. She'd been hurt before; no one should have had to have that follow them here. "Is the other man you spoke of aware of his presence?"

"Caesar, yes," Ilithyia answered. "He will be certain to keep harm from befalling my son." And, she assumed, herself as an extension. She was the closest Caesar had to home and though she held no expectations, knowing well enough he was married, she felt comforted by his presence all the same. He would keep Spartacus at bay, she expected, if only for Albinius.

"I am glad, then," Sansa said, "that he will be protected." As it was, Ilithyia shouldn't have had to worry about her own safety, but for her child to now be a concern as well could only have made this Spartacus' presence more unsettling. For her part, she meant to try to steer clear of him, though knew well how difficult that might be. It wasn't as if she knew anything more about him than what she had just been told. "Thank the gods you are not here alone, if there is someone who might wish to hurt you."

While Spartacus could be genuine threat and Ilithyia would use her femininity and vulnerability if she had to, she thought it might not benefit Sansa to hear false words. With a smile, she leaned in a little, tucking a curled strand of hair back from her face.

"He would do well to keep distance from me and those I would consider friend," she said. "Or he would risk meeting his own end."

It ought to have been chilling. Sansa was aware of that, on some level, and yet instead she found herself comforted by it. Whatever threat was implicit in Ilithyia's words, however she could have made that possible, it was, for once, for her sake rather than against her. When it had been a long time since she'd felt safe at all, let alone protected, there was no way for her not to appreciate that.

"I hope he keeps that distance, then," she said. She did not know the man, nor did she want him here, but she could not wish death on someone she was so unfamiliar with. "I would not want to encounter him."

"There is another here who shares his face, though not his disposition," Ilithyia said in a breezy tone, taking Sansa's arm and leading her down the sidewalk. "I will point him out to you so that you may know face of potential enemy."

The man called Delta had been kind to her, gentle, and it had left her unsettled. She wished no further interaction with him, but felt it safer to show Sansa his face before Spartacus himself.

"I would be grateful for it," Sansa replied, easily falling into step at Ilithyia's side, the small smile that curved her lips genuine, a little relieved. Though she wasn't sure she would ever get past the distrust instilled in her in King's Landing, though she wasn't sure she would want to, it was nice to think that someone here cared about her well-being, especially now that she was without her title or her claim. "I wouldn't want to cross paths with him, least of all unknowingly."

"And I would not put you in the path of such danger," Ilithyia said with a smile. Since her son's birth, she had found a different side of herself, a protective streak she had not yet known and found it not extending to Sansa. It was not entirely selfless, she knew well, but it was also not entirely due to what Sansa might one be able to do for her.

That, too, was unsettling in its way.

"I expect little trouble," she said. "Truly. Much of his will to fight disappeared upon arrival, it seems."

Though Sansa knew better than to let something like that lower her guard, and imagined that the same was true of Ilithyia as well, that thought proved to be a reassurance as well. She doubted, of course, that anyone from her home who arrived here would be left in the same position, but for now, that wasn't a concern, and this was slightly less of one.

"I hope it stays that way," she replied. "I've heard people say that troubles from home should have little meaning here, but most I knew would never give up so easily."

"Those who say such likely have few troubles to follow them there," Ilithyia said, though she would do her best to ensure her troubles would remain in Rome. No one knew of Licinia's fate, nor Seppia's and Ilithyia would have it remain as such.

"Are there troubles you fear may yet find you here?" she asked kindly, looking over to Sansa.

It was instinct, mostly, that made Sansa hesitate. Even now, there was a part of her that wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't still being watched, that someone wouldn't hear, that word wouldn't reach the people of whom she spoke. Irrational though it may have been, such things were too deeply instilled in her to shake so easily. Ilithyia had told her of her own worry, though, and what was more, she didn't see any reason to worry about trusting the other woman with such information. She came from somewhere far away and vastly different, had no ties to the people whom Sansa was glad to be free of. It would be alright, she told herself. Nothing would happen if she spoke up now.

"There are people from home," she replied, words slow, careful, so she could keep her tone even, "who I am glad to be free of. Even without their position from home, I would not want them here."

Ilithyia nodded in understanding, because she imagined there were plenty of people from Rome who would not be pleased to see her upon their arrival. Spartacus, for one, but there was sure to be others, many who would not be well pleased to see her face with the things she knew about him and the things she would be able to do to them.

"Be well assured, you would have nothing to fear from anyone as long as I draw breath," she said. Sansa knew little of Ilithyia's life before Darrow, but it mattered little. Her smile was dangerous, even as she continued to look at Sansa with affection. "If any of them are to come here, be sure find way to get word to me."

"I will," Sansa said with a nod, obedient as ever, though she would have agreed regardless anyway. There was something in Ilithyia's expression that made her spine straighten even as it set her at ease, reminding her of what she'd left behind without the threat to her own well-being. If she'd had any doubt before, it would have been gone now, that Ilithyia was a valuable ally, someone it could help her to know, and it made her care about the woman all the more. She'd had too few of those. "Thank you," she added. "And should you hear the name Lannister —" She paused, but more fleetingly this time. "Know that they are no friend."

"Lannister," she repeated, then nodded, committing name to memory. "It shall not be forgotten." And should anyone arrive in Darrow with intention of hurting Sansa, they would soon learn to keep their distance. Ilithyia would be sure of it.

It felt good to have a goal, however vague it might be. An intention, something for her to promise herself to other than her child. It felt familiar and Ilithyia had not realized how much she missed having things to do in Rome until this moment.

"There is one who should not pose a threat," Sansa said after a long, drawn out moment, still sounding conflicted even as she did. "His name is Tyrion. He is my husband." Though she still hated his family and what they'd done to her, he had been kind to her when she had needed it, and she wouldn't have him dismissed as readily as his sister or father or nephew. He had not asked for the marriage either, after all, and had not consummated it despite orders to. To her, that meant a great deal.

"You're married," Ilithyia said, interested. That Sansa had not spoken of him until this moment said much and she considered the situation. Though they came from different worlds, Ilithyia believed there was much they shared in common and she well knew the benefits of marriages that may not have been for love.

Truth told, she knew she should not have insisted upon marrying Gaius because she loved him. Her father would have had her marry another.

"For love or power?" she asked. "That is, is it a marriage you desired or were thrust into?"