"No little bird I won't hurt you." He was gruff and frightening, yet she was no longer scared of him. He turned to leave. She felt the need for there to be more than this moment. She could not go with him but it became very clear in her mind that she would likely not see him again. She thought for a short moment.

"Wait." He halted, his large frame silhouetted in the doorway.

"What is it, little bird?" She grasped the small piece of fabric in her hand. It was soft and rough at the same time. She had sewn a pattern of summer flowers along the hem. Her initials, she had also put in at the corner. It felt silly but she needed to give something of herself.

"Will you take this as a favour?" It was something ladies did in songs. She wanted this so much to be a song despite her recent education on the harsh realities of the world they lived very much within. Sandor looked down at the small scrap of fabric in her extended hand.

"I am no knight. I do not play at jousting. What use have I for that?"

"For luck then."

"Luck is a fickle mistress. She has shown precious little favour to me or you. I don't expect that to change with a little piece of finery." Her hand shook a little.

"Please, humour me." He came back and took hold of it, blood from his armour already staining the fragile little cloth. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable.

"Because you ask it of me, so sweetly." It seemed as if he wanted to say more but he did not. Instead, he nodded respectfully and left. Sansa felt melancholy descend over her. She had lost her last ally. The maid Shae could easily turn treacherous as so many had before. Still, she felt comforted that he had taken a little piece of her with him. That she could send a part of herself out to be free. She realised, she still held the doll. She hugged it to her chest and kissed it. She herself felt deserted by luck and happiness.