When Varys snuck into the black cells with word that Cersei and Joffrey planned to have him executed, Ned wasted little time planning his escape. Having obtained a key to his cell from one of the Spider's little birds, he fled the capital under the cover of darkness that very night with a heavy heart, the man knowing in order to save his family, he would have to leave his daughters behind.
Ned was confident that Joffrey, though cruel, valued Sansa as a pretty prize, if nothing else. He believed the boy king would not hurt her; though according to Sansa and Sandor, nothing could have been further from the truth. Sansa had her manners and courtesies to wear as armor; Arya, however, he feared would not survive long.
Willful, determined, and so much like Lyanna that she frightened him, his youngest daughter had taken every opportunity during their stay to let the royal family know how she felt about them. When word reached Ned that Yoren had successfully smuggled her out of the city, a sense of relief came over him. Ned had begged the old gods to return the girls to him as well as keep the younger boys safe, and it seemed by the outcome that they had answered his prayers.
Hiding deep in the Kingswood and travelling by night, Ned met many northerners who had homesteaded in the South along the way. They were mostly smallfolk families eager to make the pilgrimage back home to avoid the Mountain and his men, but Ned still felt more at home among them than he did in King's Landing. However, never would Ned have predicted that the northerners, having already heard he had been taken captive, promptly rebelled against the Iron throne and made his son King in the North. The people willingly hid the now King Regent in the North among them from the Baratheon and Lannister soldiers, risking their lives to protect him and sharing their meager provisions.
Though many of them enthusiastically professed their desire to proclaim him King in the North in place of Robb, the smallfolk had little power to make such a declaration. Besides, it was said that Robb had already been crowned by his bannermen and the riverlords and though the idea filled Ned with a feeling of foreboding, his sense of honor would not allow him to his subjugate his eldest son's claim.
It seemed everyone knew it would only be a matter of time before Stannis showed up in King's Landing. Indeed, word reached Ned that Robert's younger brother was well on his way to Blackwater Bay when he finally reached the Stark encampment. By then the Stark host had already captured Jaime Lannister, and in so doing irrevocably earned the ire of the crown.
Ned tried to convince Robb to join forces with Stannis, as he had the rightful claim to the Iron throne and set aside his own ambitions for the good of the North. It was the best chance of regaining his sisters, Ned told him, but in the end the lad was convinced by his bannerman that a Westerman would never have the best interests of the north in mind. With this thought firmly fixed in his mind, Robb continued his push south toward the capital, and Ned, not wishing to dishonor his king, supported his son. Now, however, Ned realized that in so doing, he made a grave mistake.
"Robb, your mother, your uncle and I must speak to you at once-alone." Ned intoned while casting a dismissive glance around the room at the bannermen present, settling a particularly black glare at Roose Bolton. The Blackfish raised his brow and gestured for them to leave. "Did you not hear your King Regent?" The Greatjon was the first to rise and, after a brief pause, the rest of Stark bannermen left the family alone, with Roose Bolton exiting last.
"What is it, Father?" Robb frowned as he glanced between them.
Ned drew a deep breath. "I have supported your claim in hopes you would see the true nature of our situation, but that has not been the case."
"And what would that be?" Robb challenged, not disrespectfully.
"Stannis Baratheon has more right to the Iron throne than any Stark, son; surely you must see that."
"But my bannermen-"
Brynden spoke up. "They are good men and loyal, 'tis true, but they also want to curry favor for positions of power if and when you take the Iron throne. Allow me to speak plainly."
Robb nodded. "Considering the way things have transpired, nephew, do you see that happening?"
The young man stiffened slightly while cold fear drained the color from his face. "I-I would like to think so, but as things stand, I do not know."
"Search yourself; you know the truth, deep inside." Ned patted his shoulder. "Son, you are a fine leader but we cannot battle Stannis, Balon Greyjoy and the Lannisters. Individually or together, it makes no difference; we simply do not have the manpower for it. And what is more, Danaerys Targaryen is across the Narrow Sea with three dragons."
"Baby dragons." Robb murmured while scratching Grey Wind between the ears. "They are small yet."
"They are a year old." Brynden threw a large venison thigh to the massive direwolf at his nephew's side. "And Grey Wind here is but a yearling-does that make him any less deadly?"
The men watched the enormous creature hastily devour the treat until Robb reluctantly admitted, "No."
"Her dragons and growing every day. She has overthrown the slavers of Yunkai and has amassed an army of Unsullied and Second Sons, not to mention her husband's Dothraki khalasar. If the men did not fear her dragons, she would be hard pressed to have so many men follow her, Targaryen or not."
Gritting his teeth, Robb started to protest, only to be silenced by his father. "One day soon, Danaerys will return to besiege King's Landing. Son, listen to me, please," Ned placed his hand on Robb's forearm, "She is a Targaryen through and through. She will take what is hers with fire and blood, make no mistake."
"But we have reports that Tyrion Lannister has the wildfire that Aerys had the pyromancers produce-and according to Jaime it is enough to destroy King's Landing," Robb argued weakly. "Surely the Imp did not use all of it during the Battle of the Blackwater-"
"The Lannisters will fight only to secure their own claim, not to spare the Seven kingdoms from Danaerys' wrath. Jaime only revealed the wildfire to you because it frightens him, as it rightly should all of the Seven kingdoms. Remember, Robert rebelled against the Targaryens and I fought alongside him. Unless I am much mistaken, she will come for us and the Lannisters first."
"But if we-"
"All of our defenses combined will not be enough, son, believe that, against three adolescent dragons," Ned interrupted once more. "Danaerys herself is impervious to fire whereas everyone else is not so fortunate. Her dragons react to her distress, as the direwolves do, and as they grow will become even less predictable."
"Then why should we fear her if she cannot control her advantage?" Robb snorted. "And a woman-"
"Rhaenys and Visenya rode Vhagar and Meraxes alongside Aegon; you would do well not to underestimate her because of her gender. I knew her Father and I knew her brother, Robb; believe me when I tell you that she will not hesitate to burn everything and everyone in her path to take back the throne for her house. We must retreat to the north to ensure our survival."
Robb sat in stony silence, mulling over his father's words while Catelyn wrung her hands anxiously.
"How can you be certain of her intentions, Father?"
"It is bred into the Targaryens, lad, this egomaniacal entitlement and sense of invincibility," the Blackfish growled. "You're too young to remember what they are capable of doing to their enemies-and what we witnessed was before they had dragons, the Seven save us."
"Would you do any less?" Ned queried. "Grey Wind fights alongside you, does he not? With our family reunited, we would avail ourselves of his sisters and brothers; why should Danaerys be any different?"
Sighing, Robb nodded resignedly.
Catelyn draped her arms over her son's shoulders and nuzzled into the crown of his hair, just as she did when he was a boy. "I know Jeyne is with child, Robb. Believe me when I tell you that you do not want to meet a Targaryen in battle when you have so much to live for; we have our family, let that be enough. When the rightful ruler ascends to the Iron throne, we will support them."
"But what of the men who have fought for us?" The young man's eyes snapped up to meet his father's steady gray gaze. "What would you have me do? Tuck tail and run? There is nothing the Lannisters would like better."
"Send Jaime to the Wall. Free Arya of this wretched betrothal. Search out betrayers amongst us and bring them to justice. Give up the claim to the Iron throne, son, and let us return home."
Pursing his lips, Robb's eyes flickered toward his mother a moment before he nodded. "We can join with Stannis Baratheon and fight Joffrey and Cersei. We have an heir among our ranks that has far more claim to the Iron throne the Joff."
"True enough, that; Gendry Waters is Robert's son, make no mistake. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on him, and so did your mother, your Uncle Brynden and the Greatjon."
Slowly Robb assented. "But how will I face my men?"
"Explain your position. They will respect you for taking the right stand, son, you must have faith in them."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Robb slowly agreed. "I will speak to Jeyne at once, and then to the men. What do I do about the Freys and the Boltons? First I betray them and now this?"
Brynden shrugged. "Edmure will still wed Roselyn; she is said to be quite fetching. They can bring the wedding party here. As for Arya, well…"
Ned stepped in, "I will tell them you spoke prematurely, and that your mother and I could not agree. I am not averse to quitting on House Bolton, for there is treachery afoot on the part of both Roose and Ramsay."
Robb leapt to his feet. "No! Father, how can you even suggest such a thing?! He has been my most loyal-"
"He has been a viper in your bosom, son. Even Clegane and Jaime have seen it."
Crying out in frustration, Robb pounded on the table. "Then we shall take care of them once and for all. I must speak to Clegane at once."
Catelyn and Brynden exchanged embarrassed glances. "You may wish to wait, son, for he is with your sister at present. In their chambers. Alone."
Robb eyes widened. "You don't think they would-after the noon meal?" He asked incredulously.
Ned shrugged and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his breeches. "Aye."
"But Sansa is a lady, not raised to act in such a way! Clegane has already corrupted her for true."
"Son, have you been so very different with your wife?" Catelyn narrowed her eyes at him.
Blushing crimson, Robb sputtered, "Father, Mother-this is hardly appropriate."
"No it most certainly is not. Do not question your sister and goodbrother's principles in my presence, I beg. You should wait until the evening meal and then speak to them.
"No, I will speak to them at tea and no later."
"Robb, you must not act hastily in regards to the Boltons; if this is not handled discreetly, it could very well put the family at risk. Swear to me you will wait until we conference with Sandor and Jaime before you act."
"I swear it, Father." Robb reluctantly muttered before agitatedly exiting the room.
"Fuck Sansa, don't stop…wait, oh Sansa-gods woman!" Sandor shouted out, spilling his seed as he did so. "Fuck, I didn't mean to do that-I-" he stammered apologetically when he regained his senses.
Giggling softly, Sansa carefully licked his softening manhood clean as he slumped back into the furs, gasping for air. "When done properly, the man isn't supposed to be able to stop himself, or so I was told." Sansa said matter-of-factly as she snuggled close to him while stroking his abdomen with her fingers.
"Where the fuck did you learn that? I'll skin the bastard alive," Sandor sat up and chuckled somewhat nervously. She had brought matters to a head most expertly, and her skill had him more than a little anxious. Hastily he handed her a glass of wine and a handkerchief and then pulled her into his arms. "Give me a name, woman." Sandor took a long draw from his wineskin and eyed her closely, preparing for the worst.
"Sandor please, it was not a man but a woman." Sansa stared at him innocently.
At her words, Sandor began choking violently on his wine. "Please, calm yourself and let me explain." She patted his back. "The handmaidens in King's Landing often described a different, more intimate way of loving, one said to please men greatly and that would not result in pregnancy. I used to be so embarrassed by their speech that I would run away, but once I fell in love with you, I paid close attention so I would learn properly." Sansa scandalously whispered while wiping her mouth as daintily as if she just ate a lemoncake. "Later, Shae answered my questions and told me a few things. I only meant to learn for you, love. I waited until we had more privacy and I wanted to try today, because you have done the same for me many times and I-I enjoy it immensely." With that admission, Sansa blushed furiously and buried her face in his chest.
"You're reddening clear to your chest, love," Sandor needled her, the scarred man thoroughly enjoying her innocent ways. He kissed her deeply and settled her into his lap while lazily tracing her nipples with his fingers. "As innocent as a lamb you are. You needn't worry; it will remain our secret."
"Oh, thank you, husband, for I fear my reputation would be ruined if anyone found out that I…that I…" Sansa struggled to find the right words, and distracted as she was by his caresses, her words dissolved into a low moan.
"What?" Sandor grinned devilishly and tipped her chin up to him. "That the King of the North's sweet ladylike sister can suck a man off better than the best trained Lysene courtesan?"
"For shame, Sandor!" Sansa scolded before burying her face and laughing heartily into his chest, the young woman both scandalized and pleased by her husband's bawdy praise.
"Now, let's find something for you to enjoy." Sandor ran his hands over her belly and inner thighs before slipping his fingers in between her slick folds.
"Oh, Sandor, yes!" She cried out with abandon while shamelessly grinding into his hand.
Just then there was a sharp knock at the door. Sansa bit her lip to keep from crying out but Sandor did not stop his ministrations.
"Give us a few minutes." Sandor growled out while continuing to thrust his fingers inside her. Moaning, Sansa mewled and writhed in his arms.
The knocking soon grew into loud clamboring. "Clegane, this is your king; open the door."
"Oh…oh, Sandor!" Sansa sobbed, biting her lip. Suddenly Sandor felt her inner walls clenching around his fingers as she released.
"Fuck you're beautiful when you come," Sandor growled in her ear, stilling his hands and pulling her tight against his chest. "My beautiful wanton wife."
"Sandor," Sansa panted heavily, "my brother…he…"
"He can bugger off for a bit." Sandor nibbled her ear while tenderly stroking her belly.
"Clegane, open this door at once or I'll have it broken down!"
"You do and you'll see something that'll scar you for life, boy," Sandor snarled, the man's patience suddenly coming to at an end. "And then you'll be in for beating, you best believe." Turning back to Sansa, he rasped, "Bloody hells, wife, we're going to camp out if this keeps up…"
Shrugging apologetically, Sansa handed him his breeches. "Please, love, let us dress in haste before he makes good on his threat. Oh, Mother save me, he mustn't-he wouldn't dare break down our door!"
Sandor laughed long and low as he pulled on his breeches, the sound like a snarling dog. "If he does he'll be in for the beating of his life, king or no." As soon as he saw Sansa had tied her dressing gown, Sandor jerked open the door, the man not even bothering with his lacings. "Like Father like son." He rasped low, watching the king's face redden as he regarded the couple. Draping his arms over the doorframe, Sandor smirked as he sized up the gaping boy. "Want to know what we were doing or do you have some other buggering business with us?" Leaning in, Sandor grinned wickedly, "You stand out there long enough you might learn a thing or two."
Stiffening like a ramrod, Robb angrily stammered out, "Father said you might be occupied thus but I dared not believe it! Dress, the both of you, and meet me in my conference room in a quarter hour hence!"
"Aye, we'll be there, boy." Sandor called before slamming the door in his face.
"Sandor, please try with him." Sansa wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his chest.
"Bugger that, and bugger him, too. He left you in the den of the lions; I'll not forget it, either." Tenderly Sandor caressed her face as he stared into her eyes, his stern countenance softening as Sansa returned his gaze.
"That is over and done, love."
"Aye," Sandor muttered and then kissed her lightly before slapping her soundly on the backside. "Come wife, your kingly brother requests our presence."
