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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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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?"

"It was — I was thrust into it," Sansa answered, that much coming with considerably more ease. It wasn't as if that had been much of a secret, after all, even if she had also been told of how fortunate she was. Given what had happened to her family, the disgrace she had faced on their behalf, it ought to have been an honor, marrying a Lannister, and all things considered, she knew it could have been worse. If she had to be wed to any of them, at least it was one who hadn't hurt her, who had stopped others from doing so. She resented even so that they had forced her to become one of them. "So they could take my family's land."

Such acts were common in Rome and though she felt for the girl, Ilithyia well knew there were worse fates to be dealt by the gods. Men and women, even children, were often killed over land.

Killed or sold into slavery.

"Such titles mean little here," she said, voice light. "You would find few willing to press idea of such a marriage if you should so wish to be free of it."

"I should," Sansa admitted, the first time she had been willing to let herself to so. Tyrion knew that she had not wanted the marriage, but then, neither had he, and she had never needed to expressly say so. Besides, it had been preferable by far to wedding Joffrey, or one of the other Lannisters. Now, she felt a bit as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, even as heat rose to her cheeks, coloring them a faint pink. "But without him here — and to the gods, we are married still."

They had never consummated the union, though. That, she thought, had to count for something, if not back in Westeros, where they could never have admitted it, then here, away from the rest of his family and her claim to Winterfell.

"The gods hold little sway in Darrow," Ilithyia said with a smile, though she felt the gods held little sway in Rome as well. Lucretia's servitude to them after her near death had been off putting and rather pathetic at times, as had her own husband's unwillingness to cross them. Those who spent their time scurrying about and trying to serve them were wasting little time given to them, she felt.

"What sort of gods do you have?" she asked, curious.

"There are the old gods and the new gods," Sansa replied, though she knew there were many others that people worshiped. To her, they were of no consequence. Growing up with two sets of gods was enough, especially here, where no one else seemed to know of either. "My father still believed in the old gods. They have no names, or anything like that. Then there are the Seven: Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone, and Stranger. They're... what they sound like, really."

Though she doubted that they held much sway here either, she couldn't give them up as easily as that. Even if no one else here was familiar with the religions she knew, even if her prayers had mostly been fruitless ones, that didn't mean that they weren't here.

"The gods hold many names across many worlds, it seems," she said, because it felt similar. "We have Jupiter and Juno, the King and Queen of the gods, but they are the mother and father of many of the lesser gods. Apollo, Diana, Venus. They reign over different things."

And she believed they did little for those who tread in Darrow, as little as they did for those in Rome, if they existed at all. "My husband believed in them only as far as they helped his cause, because the people believed in them."

"That happens often, I think," Sansa said, though there was little she knew of where that would have played a part at all. Still, that wasn't nothing, and it made sense, anyway. Piety could make a good tool like that. Even she had feigned it on occasion, going to the godswood to meet with Ser Dontos, pretending it was a new-found devotion to the old gods that brought her there. That didn't even begin to touch on what it could do for large groups of people. "Do you believe in them? Your gods."

"No," Ilithyia said, needing little time to think of her answer. "There was a time I believed, but the gods left prayers unanswered of all those who sought their guidance. If they are there, they are silent, and then what good are they at all?"

If they were there and remained inactive, they were as good as dead.