Ser Lothor led Sansa below deck. The room Littlefinger had prepared for her had clearly taken some thought.
The room Littlefinger arranged for her was small and cramped, but at least the narrow wooden board was covered with a feather bed, piled with thick furs, making it somewhat comfortable.
"Look, though it's cramped, it's warm, and there are new clothes inside, at least clean and warm," Lothor pointed to a cedar wood chest by the window. "Please forgive me, I still have my own matters to attend to."
"Thank you, Knight," Sansa quickly thanked him.
Lothor glanced at Sansa. "Remember to change your clothes when you disembark. You are going to see the King, and perhaps your great-uncle Blackfish. You should know proper etiquette. You are a graceful lady, but it's a pity you shouldn't have come to King's Landing."
Sansa nodded. King's Landing felt like a nightmare, a dream from which she couldn't wake. She felt a bit scared; princes and knights in fairy tales weren't like this. Reality was more like a dark, heavy nightmare.
"The Storm, will The Storm see me?" Sansa asked Lothor.
"Yes, stormbreaker, The Liberator, the chain-breaker, the King of Two Cities, the Stepstones, and the Iron Throne, Prince Gendry."
"What does he look like? Is he very much like Lord Renly?" Sansa asked with excitement. The Storm was his codename, could he be the legendary knight?
"Renly is his uncle, so he should be quite similar. But The Storm is taller than his uncle, stronger than his uncle. I heard that Renly was a traitor and a useless fop." Lothor glanced at the girl; she was indeed still a little girl, a Child who loved to fantasize.
Northerners were said to be cold and tough, but this Child didn't seem much like a Stark; more like a Tully.
Lothor left the cabin, leaving Sansa lost in her fantasies.
Sansa opened the cedar wood chest; dresses, underwear, long stockings, cloaks—everything was there. All made of wool and linen, not fitting for a beauty like her, but at least clean and warm.
"Gendry. The Storm." Sansa lay on her small bed, repeating the name.
Sansa lay in bed, pondering repeatedly. If the most powerful knight in the known world smiled at her, she would immediately rush into that embrace. Gendry, Sansa imagined a young, handsome face, charcoal black hair, blue eyes, a taller and stronger handsome man.
What did it matter if he was a bastard? King Robert had already recognized him, not to mention he would be the wealthiest and most powerful king in the world. However, he already had a fiancée, the most beautiful girl in the world. But Sansa weighed herself; she was also a beautiful girl.
"If only I could marry The Storm." Sansa imagined The Storm taking her hawking, or the two of them watching a Tourney in the garden, listening to Singers play the harp. "Once I bear him a son, he will fall in love with me. I will name them Eddard, Brandon, and Rickon, and raise them to be as valiant as The Storm, and to hate the Lannister." In Sansa's dream, her children were like The Storm, and there was even a girl among them who resembled Arya.
The only trouble was that youthful, elegant, valiant face belonged in another girl's embrace.
Lothor climbed onto the deck, looking at Littlefinger's cowering, crumpled body—a pitiful man, a beast of power, a vanquished general of power.
"Do you see this man? He is nothing more than a very ordinary minor Lord, yet he was determined to climb. His ascent was merely the path of a lowly man who relied on women."
"Even this despicable man would betray his benefactor. Hmph."
"Once he is delivered to Gulltown, your mission is complete," Lothor told the Mercenaries and squire.
The men nodded, then yielded their positions to Lothor.
Lothor smiled proudly. He had already given some gold to these Mercenaries and guards in advance, and would give another portion upon completion of the mission, letting them decide whether to stay or leave. Could the King of Two Cities, the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne, lack such wealth? They were The Storm's heroes; once they reached Gulltown, they would receive another portion.
Two or three Mercenaries and guards were very satisfied. For secrecy, Littlefinger had only brought a very small number of people this time. Although it meant backstabbing their employer, the wealth they gained would be even greater.
They served Littlefinger for gold dragons, and naturally, they would backstab Littlefinger for gold dragons. Moreover, with the exposure of the Vale and the Lords knowing about Littlefinger and Lysa, the Vale had changed colors, and Littlefinger was now rootless.
"Do you know why you lost?" Lothor looked at Littlefinger, who was convulsing in pain and unable to speak.
"Others have gold, you also have gold, but you only have gold, and that's not enough. Power is power, Lord Littlefinger," Lothor murmured. "Under the sun, shadows cannot hide."
The ship sailed towards Gulltown, as if it were just an ordinary day.
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