Notes: this chapter is a rehash of Sansa's escape with a different outcome.
Disclaimer: GRRM owns everything you recognize.
Prologue
Far across the city, the bells of Baelor's Sept began to toll. Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.
He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."
A good heart, I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? She decided that they were.
She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.
The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before. For a moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net.
When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net for a closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.
A sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath. Why am I so scared, it's only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that's all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it's lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless ...
Ser Dontos had said the hair net was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey's wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth. What kind of magic? The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hair net, had he lied about the rest as well? What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape? What would happen to her then?
She heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hair net down deep in the pocket of her cloak. "Who's there?" she cried. "Who is it?" The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave.
Sansa pulled away from his touch. "You said I must wear the hair net. The silver net with ... what sort of stones are those?"
"Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady."
"They're no amethysts. Are they? Are they? You lied."
"Black amethysts," he swore. "There was magic in them."
"There was murder in them!"
"Softly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie." Dontos chortled. "Oh, tasty pie. Silver and stones, that's all it was, silver and stone and magic."
The bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like he had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. "You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair..."
"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested."
"Tyrion?" she said, shocked
"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it." He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. "This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear." They turned to leave the godswood. Too late. A pair of crimson cloaked Lannister guardsmen entered into the godswood.
"Lady Sansa" one of the men shouted, "The queen has ordered your arrest". Fear gripped Sansa.
"The queen bitch shall not have her!" Dontos declared drunkenly. He tossed aside his brown hooded cloak to reveal a surcoat of red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard and drew his sword. He lunged at the closest man as the guardsmen drew their own swords in response.
The man parried the swing with ease and drove Dontos back. The second Lannister man rushed towards the disoriented knight turned fool turned knight again. Dontos blocked the thrust but just barely. It would not have mattered though; her drunken knight in shining armor was cut down by the other man at arms with a wicked slash across his exposed neck.
A wail of terror left her throat as Ser Dontos fell and his Life's blood was emptied into the soil of the godswood. The Lannister men seized her by the arms and escorted Sansa out of the godswood. The best she could hope for now was a cell with her dwarf husband.