A/N: You all seemed very relieved that our unlikely hero got there Just in time. Love the reviews. Hopefully this chapter will answer some of your remaining questions. Enjoy!
SANSA
The days since her return had been bleak, cold and frozen with snow coming down so fast and thick there were times you could not wander outside without fear of becoming lost in it. But the nights had been far crueler. Sansa had scarcely slept since she had been returned to Winterfell. Her screams of terror bounced and echoed off the stone walls of the keep. They never failed to draw others into her rooms, oft in such a panic that the first time it happened she had screamed all the more when seeing armed shadows moving around her in the dark. After that she insisted that tall candles be lit about her rooms and remain to burn throughout the night. She would have allowed Lady into her bed, but her wolf was too big. She settled for keeping her within sight at all times.
Every evening before she slipped between her furs and blankets she would check the halls. There were always guards posted outside her rooms now. Her fathers' own bannermen, she knew, and yet the sight of them brought little comfort. No, her sense of safety only truly came when she noticed that among the changing faces of her guard there was always one constant after the sun went down.
However, even the presence of Sandor Clegane outside her door did not keep the nightmares at bay. This was especially true after it was confirmed yesterday that Ramsay Snow, the Bastard of Bolton, had escaped the Hounds' savagery that frostbitten night. And still, he had been the one to answer her screams last night, the only one who could calm her when even her lady mother could not.
"I'll be here until the sun come up, little bird. You rest now." His voice was always rough and harsh, but she heard the gentleness there.
"He could come back for," she had gasped between sobs.
"He'll not survive me again," he had growled in response. "No one will ever lay a hand on you, or I'll fucking kill them."
His words, however brutal, had brought immense comfort. It was what she held onto when she felt the darkness creeping in and saw danger in every doorway. He stood off to the side in the halls, often hidden in shadow, but she saw him there and it helped her settle to sleep.
But today she must be presentable. Today is the start of the tourney. Archery will take place this morning, tomorrow would be the joust, and the last day would hold hand-to-hand combat. So Sansa tried to shake the horrific thoughts that had plagued her dreams in the night as she set about letting one of her ladies fix her hair and lace her into a warm but elegant grey gown edged with white fur and decorated with white pearls. It would not hide the remaining bruises, but might help to distract from them.
When she gathered her cloak about her shoulders and summoned Lady to her side, she took a steadying breath and crossed the threshold of her rooms. She had not been outside since she had been returned.
"My lady, you look a true northern vision."
Sansa turned slightly and saw Bronn slip from the shadows in the stairwell at the end of the hall. A smirk came to her face unbidden when she saw how startled the young knight who stood guarding her door became at his sudden appearance. Bronn ginned widely.
"I have come to escort you to your tourney, my lady." Bronn offered his arm in a rare gesture of chivalry.
"I will be escorting young lady Stark! She has no need of you, ser," the young man blustered when Sansa made to accept his arm.
"Aye, and just how to do plan to do that when you are relieved of your legs?" Bronn menaced with a raised brown and a hand on his sword hilt.
"I do not believe that will be necessary," Sansa cautioned him with a hand on his sword arm. It would not do for him to attack one of her own, under her own roof, although she believed the threat to be an empty one. "What is your name, ser?"
"Hallace, my lady," he stammered, flushing slightly. She smiled kindly at him. He did not appear much older than her.
"Ser Hallace, Bronn is sworn shield of lord Tryrion Lannister, who is a dear friend of mine. He means me no harm, and is able to see me safely to the tourney. I thank you for your service, but I will not need you as of now." She leaned forward and touched his mailed arm, offering another warm smile. The lad flushed scarlet and nodded jerkily.
"As you say, my lady. If you have need of me later, I will not be far," he tried to assure her, but his voice broke. She pretended not to notice as he quickly made his way from the hall. Bronn offered no such courtesy as he snorted loudly.
"I take it Tyrion has sent you to watch over me?" she inquired dryly as they made their way out into the grey morning. There was a biting wind that blew her hair about, but at least the snows had ceased falling.
"He is very taken with you, as you no doubt already know. It really is a shame you are not to be wed. I would have enjoyed watching you slap him around a little," he jested and patted her arm genially.
She chuckled in surprise. "What makes you think I would need to strike him?"
Bronn stopped and regarded her with raised brows. "Have you met our little lord?"
This time Sansa laughed freely. She had not done so since she was taken and it felt better than she had imagined. She stopped when she felt eyes on her. Unbidden, her gaze swept across the yard until it found the source, hidden as it was under a snarling helm. The smile that stretched her mouth was full and genuine, and it held even after he turned away to bludgeon a knight with a tourney sword. When she turned back to her companion she saw his head shaking.
"You know I was jesting before when I suggested the Hound as your almighty defender," he japed.
"And yet he was the only one who managed to find me after I was taken. He even put my attackers to sword," Sansa responded, trying very hard to disguise the naked admiration in her voice.
Bronn snorted. "You make it sound like a song. The truth of it is much uglier. There were so many pieces of them it took full day to identify the number of victims."
"I know the truth, thank you. I was there to witness it firsthand," she snapped with more ferocity than she intended. Bronn merely laughed.
"And yet you do not cower as most fair ladies would. Or turn away repulsed. I give you credit for that. He does not cut a handsome figure." He pulled her along towards to stands where she spied Tyrion waiting with her brother, Bran.
"There are more important things. Beauty fades. Character often grows stronger." Her observations were hard come by. Sansa knew many comely lords and knights. None of them showed half the honesty as her unlikely guardian.
"This is true. You are smarter than most of these puffed up lords and ladies. And here is the most puffed of them all," he added in a loud voice as they took their seats with Tyrion and Bran. Lady sat by the edge of the risers, her head at a level with Sansa's lap.
"If only being puffed up added height, I would gladly hold my breath for as long as possible," Tyrion retorted before taking Sansa's hand and placing a soft kiss on top. "My lady Sansa, you are a vision as always. It is good to see you with a little color in your cheeks."
Tyrion had been kind in his frequent visits. He was never put off by her lack of attention and he did his best to make her smile. It was nice to have such a friend. She had missed having someone to confide in. A wave of sadness washed over her as she realized he would be leaving shortly after the tourney. And then she would be alone once more.
"Did my compliments fall short, my lady? I do not believe I have ever seen you so melancholy." The concern in Tyrion's voice caught her attention. She did her best to smile.
"You must not pay enough attention. She always looks like that," Bran teased. Sansa kicked lightly at him and turned to Tyrion.
"Not at all. You are always more than generous, my lord. Do not mind me. I will cheer up once the festivities begin," she tried to assure him, but the words sounded hollow even to her ears.
"Speaking of that, I must be going. It would not do if I missed my only opportunity to show up Robb," Bran joked again, his smile widening as he saw Sansa shake her head in dismay.
"You're terrible today, Bran. Whatever has gotten into you?" She scolded, but there was no heat behind her words and she could not disguise her smile.
"I have been spending too much time with your new friends," he countered, much to Tyrion and Bronn's delight. They chuckled heartily as Bran departed with a swagger she had never seen.
"I think you have been bad influence on him," Sansa mused as she watched him go. In truth, it was good to see such confidence in her brother. With Robb around he sometimes felt overlooked.
"Then my mission is complete. I shall have to find a new one to occupy my time lest I die of boredom." Tyrion leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "Is there anyone else worth corrupting in this frozen wasteland? Or I have sullied that last true innocent of the North?"
Sansa laughed and shook her head. "I am sure there are many of us that remain impervious to your evil intent. But do keep trying. It amuses me to watch your attempts."
"I have something that could tickle your fancy," Bronn commented offhandedly, but he was interrupted by a most unwelcome voice.
"My lady Sansa, how wonderful to see you again. I trust you are recovering well from you little adventure?"
It took every ounce of her practiced courtesy to keep her immense displeasure from showing on her face. She even managed a polite smile.
"I thank you, my Prince. I am feeling much better after a few days' rest." The words came smoothly, easily, but she could not disguise the coolness in her voice. He seemed not to take notice. Or he did not care to.
"My mother and I would like to extend a royal invitation to you, once this pathetic jape of tourney has concluded, to accompany us to King's Landing. We will show what true luxury is like in capitol." Prince Joffrey stepped closure and lowered his voice in what she imagined was his idea of seductive and intimate. "Perhaps we could find solace in each other during these difficult times."
Lady growled lowly while Sansa swallowed reflexively to keep the rising bile at bay. "How kind of you, my Prince," she stammered. Her mind whirled while she tried to think of something, anything that would get her out of this mess gracefully.
"Mayhaps you should discuss this with her lord father, nephew," Tyrion said evenly. "You may discover he is most reluctant to part with his lovely daughter so soon after near death escape."
Joff waved his hand dismissively. "He won't even notice she is gone, what with all his other children milling about. Plus, Myrcella will be here and occupying his attention."
When his hand ventured too closely to Sansa Lady's ears flattened to her massive head and she bared her teeth. Joff finally took notice of the warnings from the normally gentle giant and took a step back in genuine fear.
"Your beast will stay here, of course," he commanded with a derisive sneer.
"Lady never leaves my side," Sansa countered, her voice hard as ice.
"I don't recall her being at your side when you were stupid enough to be taken by a bunch of unwashed peasants," Joff bit back, frowning.
Sansa tried not to appear affronted by his callousness. She smoothed her skirts to in an effort to control her features before lifting her eyes to him again. Smiling she said, as calmly as possible, "I thank you for your wonderful invitation. I will discuss it with my lady mother at my earliest convenience. Please enjoy the festivities in the meantime."
She did not mean it to sound like the dismissal that it was, but she was desperate for him to take his leave of them. She did not want to anger him, however. Lucky for her he did not seem to take offense.
"I shall await your response eagerly, my lady. But see that you do not keep me waiting too long." With a lecherous smile he turned on his heel and strode away. Sansa could not contain the full shudder that shook her frame.
"Well, he certainly thinks highly of himself," Bronn remarked drily.
"He's vile," Sansa said before she could think to stop herself. Her hand immediately shot to her mouth and she looked around her, afraid someone had heard besides them. When Tyrion began to laugh uproariously she glared at him. It could have meant trouble for her if she had been caught speaking out against a member of the royal family.
"This one sees people for who they truly are, I think," Bronn observed with a look of appraisal in his eyes.
"The Seven save us all then, for we are doomed," Tyrion jested with a full smile that Sansa could not help but return.
"As much as I hate to agree with that little shit on anything, he made a fair point." Sansa and Tyrion stared up at Bronn in open shock. "Where was that wolf of yours? I heard they loosed her from the kennels. Can she not track like a normal wolf?"
"I do not know exactly. All I was told was that she returned shortly after I did. Farlen did mention something about her having recently hunted." She would not say what she truly thought. In this company, she did not have to.
"Maybe you can rest easy then. Perhaps she did what a Hound could not," Tyrion said gently. He knew of her nightmares.
"She does not have that kind of nature. She is too gentle," Sansa disagreed as she stroked Lady's head.
"She is her mistress in animal form," Bronn concluded with a knowing nod. He gave Lady a scratch behind the ear that she seemed to enjoy greatly.
"She keeps her secrets much as you do," Tyrion murmured around a smile.
"I shall need to guard my thoughts more closely from now on," she confided quietly, looking around again.
"Only when we are in public. I pray that you will always feel free to tell me exactly what you think. I find it extremely refreshing, if not highly entertaining at times." Tyrion did not even try to dodge her hand when it struck out at his arm, lightly.
"See, what did I tell you? You're beating him already and you're not even wed." Bronn nodded towards her. She rolled her eyes but laughed again.
"You will need to speak to your father if you do not want to go to court," Tyrion said with a note of seriousness. It seemed to dull the mood slightly.
"Yes, I have a feeling this will be a tricky invitation to refuse. Mayhaps you can help me with that?" She lifted an eyebrow at him.
Bronn snorted. "If anyone can come up with a scheme to save you, it's this man here."
"What are you calling me?" Tyrion challenged with a slight frown.
"Nothing fit for a lady's ears," Bronn retorted.
"You might be surprised what my ears have been exposed to. I have four brothers, if you remember," she remarked with a smirk. "And my sister puts them all to shame."
"Yes, she is a strange sort of lady, that sister of yours," Tyrion said, not unkindly.
Sansa let out a most unladylike snort before covering her mouth with her hand and blushing slightly. "Um, yes, she would argue that she is no lady, but a lord born in the wrong body," she stammered as the men laughed openly at her gaffe.
They sat and traded japes and pleasant conversation as the archery competition went underway. Sansa stood and cheered loudly for Bran, but unlike her companions, did not heckle or boo those she did not like. Not even when there were Flayed Men who competed.
"You are far nobler than I," Tyrion stated plainly as he glared openly at the pink man sewn to the back of some knight's doublet. Sansa said nothing as she clapped quietly until a thin shadow fell over her. Lady's head whipped around, but she made no other move.
"My lady Sansa," lord Bolton's papery voice carried to her on the wind. She tried to contain a shudder. The slight man squinted his eyes before nodding in acknowledgement at Tyrion and Bronn. "Lord Tyrion, ser."
"Lord Bolton," Tyrion managed in a clipped voice. "Come to watch the festivities? Is there nothing else that demands your attention? The current location of your bastard, perhaps?"
Sansa said nothing, but placed a calming hand over Tyrion's. It would not do for him to provoke lord Bolton. He was not known to allow a slight to go unpunished, no matter who gave it. Tyrion patted her hand gently, but did not lower his heated glare. Lord Bolton ignored him entirely, his grey eyes latched onto Sansa's blank face.
"My lady, I wanted to offer my deepest and more heartfelt apologies for the actions of my men. I hope that you know I would never condone such atrocities against a highborn lady, like yourself." Lady growled, as if sensing the lie. Sansa had heard the tales. How lord Bolton's bastard had been conceived. How he used leeches to rid himself of his 'evil' blood. How he allowed his men to rape the low born women – and even young girls – in their lands without punishment or even acknowledgment.
Words are wind, she wanted to say, but it would not have been proper, or necessary. Her father had made sure to command that Ramsay be brought directly to him to answer for his crimes should he ever turn up on his fathers' lands. Lord Bolton had acquiesced, but Sansa could hear the falseness in his tone. She wondered if her parents had heard as well. She was still not entirely convinced that Lord Bolton was not hiding his son to save his skin. Or more accurately, his head.
"That's not what I've heard," Bronn said plainly. Sansa noted his dagger was out. He used the tip of it to clean beneath his nails. Lord Bolton did not even look his way. He continued to stare unblinkingly at Sansa. It was most unnerving, but she did not allow herself to look away.
"I am sure you will see to it that no others under your banner make the same mistake, my lord," she said in an unwavering voice. Her heart thrummed so quickly in her chest that she was beginning to feel faint. Her condition did not improve when he merely inclined his head. She saw his jaw tighten before he spoke again.
"You have my word, my lady."
"Does she also have your word that your wretched bastard will be brought to justice when he turns up on your doorstep?" Tyrion challenged. Sansa did not know where his bravery came from, but she admired him all the more for it.
"I do not answer to you, Imp." Lord Bolton seemed to be reaching the limit of his tolerance for Tyrion's questions. Or possibly even his presence.
"No, you answer to my lord father," Sansa blurted without thought. Her cheeks heated but she held his eyes.
They stared at each other in stony silence until Lady made a sound similar to a low groan. It was not quite a growl, but it broke the spell all the same. Roose straightened his back in an effort to look down his nose at Sansa, but she stood taller than he.
"Enjoy the tourney, my lady." He turned abruptly and stormed off through the crowd. It was only after he disappeared from sight that Sansa was able to catch her breath and begin calming herself.
"I do not think your wolf likes him," Bronn noted, gesturing to Lady. When Sansa glanced down at her she saw that she had stood fully sometime during the exchange. Her fur was standing up on her neck and over her rump. No sound came from her, but her bright eyes still watched the crowd alertly.
"No one likes him," Tyrion said plainly.
Sansa nodded in agreement while trying to focus on something else. She found her eyes unwillingly seeking out her newest source of comfort. She heard Bronn and Tyrion continue discussing the lack of honor Flayed Men held, as well as their own personal thoughts on how to deal with Ramsay should he ever turn up. Sansa's eyes swept the crowds hopefully, searching. She may not have been as discreet as she had hoped. When he thought she had spied his distinctive helm, her breath caught.
"Is there someone particular you are looking for, lady Sansa?" The coyness in Tyrion's voice set her on alert. She feigned ignorance and looked at his with wide eyes.
"I'm just enjoying the events, lord Tyrion."
"The Hound won't compete until the morrow," Bronn said casually, crunching loudly on an apple.
She flushed. "I wasn't –"
"You were," he cut her off, grinning.
"You must be joking," Tyrion intoned flatly.
"She's not," Bronn quipped before she could respond.
"I was not looking for him and I do not . . . I was not . . ." she floundered for an appropriate response, but came up empty. What was she arguing? She was not so sure herself.
"From a stunted man to a burned one. Your tastes have not improved, my lady." Tyrion wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
"He is taller though," Bronn contributed.
"You are not helping," Tyrion snapped, to which the sell sword merely shrugged. Sansa managed a light laugh.
"It is not what you think. I am merely grateful for his earlier assistance in saving my life. That is all." She did not know who she was trying to convince more; herself or the two men who stared back at her dubiously.
In truth she knew that was all it could be. Sandor Clegane was not a kind man or even a noble man. He was brave and honest, but a known drunk and aggressor. Besides, she did not think he even liked her. He seemed to scowl whenever she spoke to him, no matter what she said. But he is gentle when it counts, a little voice whispered in her mind. She shook her head to silence it.
She cast a sidelong glance at Tyrion only to see, much to her dismay, that he believed her words less than she did herself. She spoke no more of it and instead focused on the remainder of the archery competition. When Bran bested them all she stood and cheered, smiling so proudly she thought her face might split in half. It faltered only slightly when a very comely maid presented Bran with a favor and a kiss. The crowd roared its approval and for a moment Sansa tried desperately to be happy for him.
She would never have men present her with winter roses and declare her the queen of love and beauty as Rhaegar Targaryen had her late aunt, Lyanna. All the better, really. You do not want to be the cause of another war, the little voice taunted her. This time it was harder to ignore.
A/N: So, I am sick in bed with the worst flu EVER. Some reviews would most certainly make me feel better ;-) Please and thank you.