Sansa II

Sansa crouched down toward Robert. He was still trembling. She took him into his arms and soothed him by singing him a song. The same song, she noticed, that had soothed the Hound. But instead of soothing the frail and weak eight year old, the boy began to cry. Bewildered, Sansa held him until his crying subsided into sniffling.

"Sweetrobin," Sansa gently wiped Robert's tears away. "Why do you weep?"

"That was the same song Mother sang to me when I was little," Robert confessed. Snot dribbled down his nose, and tears continued to travel down his cheeks.

"Your mother sang The Mother's Mercy?"Sansa asked. Robert nodded. Unbidden, she gently wiped his eyes, which had already swollen red. "No more crying, Robert," she said, using his name, hoping that he would be brave. "We're safe now." Sansa broke the fierce hold the boy had on her, and stood. "We must go away from the Vale."

"Where do we go?" Robert's voice was a hushed whisper and squeaked.

Sansa didn't know. Littlefinger had smuggled her into the Vale, and two years before her father had lead them to King's Landing. All her life someone had made decisions for her, and had leaded her. In a sense, the Hound had fulfilled the hole that had been left vacant after her father's death. He had offered to protect her and leave behind the torturous imprisonment she had known."I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." In the end she had defied him, and that had left her with an estranged Lannister husband, a price on her head, and far away from home. If she had said yes to him, would Winterfell still be standing? Would her family be alive? She didn't know, and now she never would. That time had passed, she realized. Her childhood and daydreams. That is what the Hound was trying to tell her all along. Littlefinger had tried to tell her this as well, but by then it had been too late. "Life is not a song, sweetling."

"Alyane?" Robert whispered uncertainly. He clutched her dress like a very small child would. As gently as she could, Sansa pried his small fingers away. With a surprise, she saw that his fingers were long, pale, and smooth like hers. We're both summer children.

"My name is no longer Alyane, Robert," the child was looking at her with a strange intensity. This was no longer the whiny and frightened child that Sansa had first met. He was something more now. "You will call me by my true name Sansa from this day forth. Do you understand?" Robert nodded.


Sansa packed whatever food she could find in her woolen knapsack. Dried cheese, salted meat, apples, and watered wine were put in. She slung the knapsack over her shoulder and looked at Robert Arryn. Sansa had been able to two grey find fur-lined coats that fit him and herself. She pulled the cowl over her head, and did the same with Robert. The risk was too great for either of them to leave their faces in the open, even with Robert's poor eyesight. The boy almost looked comical in his coat. At first he had complained that he couldn't see, but at Sansa's encouragement he was able to see what was in front of him. Sansa ran her fingers through her hair from habit. Although her hair had not become its original auburn color, she knew that with Littlefinger dead her hair would become the color of flames from the lack of the brown dye he had acquired. If people saw her face even now, her head would be on a spike in King's Landing and Robert would become another piece in the game of thrones. She had been a piece as well until she had pushed Littlefinger out of the window. She still remembered how broken and blood his body had been. Inwardly, Sansa shuddered and forced herself to be brave for Robert.

"Come, Robert." Sansa held out her hand. The soft hand of the child before her clasped her own, and before she could stop herself, Sansa looked back. In a way the Eryie and the Vale had been a haven for her. Those impregnable stones walls had protected her from the war that had been present in King's Landing. Now she was going to have to leave and face danger again. The Stark words that her father had said so many times resurfaced in her mind and she had a sudden urge to say them. "Winter is coming," she whispered. Sansa wondered Robert would ever see his childhood home again. Would he reclaim his birthright years after the war?

"Will…I come back, Sansa?" Robert's voice filled in the quietness of the castle.

"I don't know," Sansa answered honestly.

It had taken them a day's journey of walking to the High Road. By that time, Robert was exhausted and Sansa was excreting sweat despite the cold air. Despite wanting to sleep on the hard cold floor with Robert's warm body against her, Sansa knew they must move quickly. Taking a deep breath, she had carried Robert's body above the snow drifts. He was lighter than air, but Sansa struggled as the snow continued to reach new heights. By nightfall, the worst had passed. Both of them were stumbling now, and Sansa had allowed them to rest beside tree that guarded blocked the wind and snow. The ground around it was surprisingly barren. Robert was too exhausted to reply. Sansa had to force him to eat a bit of cold cheese and meat before Robert instantly snuggled against a tree and fell into an exhausted sleep. Sansa followed soon moments later.

Sansa woke to find the sun in her eyes. She shielded her eyes, and saw that noon had risen already. She stood, stretching her sore muscles and woke Robert. Despite his feeble protests, they continued to walk the High Road until dawn. It occurred during that time that Sansa recalled her father telling Bran years ago that the High Road of the Vale was a perilous path with lethal animal and vicious hill tribes that haunted the road. During his youth, he had said, not even his childhood friend Robert Baratheon had not dared venturing in the dark woods and fought against the infamous tribes. Bran had been exhilarated by the tale, she remembered. Now Sansa was walking unarmed with a sickly boy. Robert's lips were already turning blue and his hands were as cold as ice. I must be brave for him, Sansa thought. At that moment there was a movement behind her. Sansa sensed nothing behind her and kept walking, although more quickly now. There was a loud crash and she heard the heavy footsteps and heavy breathing. The Hound? Not daring to breathe she quickly looked behind her to find a large hairy man carrying a battle axe in each of his hands. A scream bubbled in her throat, but he had put one of the axes to her throat before she could take a breath. Robert was held down against her as the hill tribe man held his hand over his small body. Sansa could feel a liquid traveling down her legs and knew that Robert had wet himself. She dared herself to look at her captor. He was tall, though not as tall as the Hound. An unruly beard etched his face, and angry pale brown eyes stared back into her frightened ones. He tightened his grip on her and Robert. The knapsack of food was beginning to crush against her back.

What was I thinking? Sansa suddenly thought. The Hound would move silently as he took me, and would try to calm me against his fierce grip. He wouldn't try to hurt me. She could feel Robert sob against her, and she wanted to cry as well from her foolishness.

The hill tribe man paid no attention. "How dare you insult Shagga son of Dolf!" He roared. His nostrils flared. "My mountain." He fingered his disgusting nails through Robert's silky long brown hair. "My goat." Robert shuddered under his touch.

"No!" Sansa suddenly knew what he meant to do. Tears welled in her eyes. "Please," she pleaded. "Spare him, Shagga son of Dolf. He's only a boy."

Shagga growled. He continued to finger his fingers through Robert's hair. "Shagga son of Dolf will chop off the child's manhood and feed it to the goats." He continued to stroke Robert's hair. "Then he'll have the cunt." He leered at Sansa.

"Before you harm either, you will face me." Shagga sharply turned to the voice who had dared to challenge him. The challenger was taller than Shagga, but long-limbed and heavily muscled. The voice was muffled from a cowl that hid his face, and a large hand carried a large sword compared to Shagga's two battle axes. His movements toward Shagga were silent and swift, and he spoke again. "You'll have to chop off my manhood first before you fucking kill them, whoreson." His voice was hollow and raspy, as if he hadn't used it in quite a while. Sansa recognized it. Her heart leaped, and although the cowl obscured his face, she could see the flaming anger in his grey eyes. "I will fucking rape you and kill you before you touch her." The sword gleamed in the glowing dawn.

"Who challenges of Shagga son of Dolf?" Subsequently, the hill tribe man released Sansa and Robert. Urging Robert on, Sansa managed to distance themselves from the two fighters. She saw their rescuer remove his cowl, and it took all she had to not scream his name.

"I am Sandor son of Conan." Grey eyes dark with rage eyed the tribe hill man. A mass of scars twisted across the left side of his face, and his long dark hair was pulled to the left side where hair no longer grew. The burnt side of his slightly face twitched. The Hound raised his sword.