KAI

Kai watched the Mountain's men unfurl the banners with a well hidden sneer. There was the three dogs on yellow of House Clegane, the Crowned Stag for King Joffrey, and even the Lion of the Lannisters. As approaches went it was as subtle as a bludgeon to the face. Even some of the Mountain's men voiced their disapproval. They wanted to enter Highgarden like thieves and deal with it like thieves as well… or like rapers, arsonists and killers.

But those that had complained were still looking for odd teeth in the long grass. The Mountain's leash on his men had to be absolute.

Likewise, Kai thought, my own leash on them. His right hand drifted to the leather purse at his waist and he weighed it in his palm. Its contents would not interest even the most desperate cut purse. Inside was a collection of smooth, dull, grey stones. Some were no more than pebbles, and even the largest was not large enough to cover his palm. That one belonged to Gregor Clegane, and Kai could find it in the bag within moments if necessary.

First though he wanted to see how the Mountain handled the situation before he pulled on that particular leash. There was always a risk, even with these small dull grey men, that the beast would feel the leash and turn on the bearer. Best to wait and see if the Mountain would follow the commands on civility he had surely received from the Queen. There was no way she would want him to lead his men into Highgarden where they could damage the newly formed alliance, soon to be sealed by marriage.

An hour passed, but still Kai kept careful watch on the walls as the other men fell to gambling and drinking. The Mountain also remained on his warhorse, impassive face turned to the white walls of Highgarden. However Kai doubted he was tasting the air as he was, noting the streams of the curse's taint and decided where the dog and the bird had gone. They had stayed within the walls, that was clear to him, but after… the scent was strongest to the south, but they had not come out of the main gates again. Kai sighed mentally, all of this waiting around was for nought, they were long gone.

Finally the guards were pushed open and several figures on horseback emerged, one in armour was carrying the flower of Highgarden and the Tyrells, trailing behind the others. The Mountain hawked up and spat upon the grass. The lead horse carried a serious looking man with a closely cropped dark beard. Kai ignored him, he had already recognised the Septon who came with the small party. To the others he would seem to be completely ordinary, a man of no note, and no unusual features. Had the Mountain ever met Ektor he might have noted the same ordinariness of features that Ektor had, the same ageless undistinguished look. But to Kai he looked very remarkable, and very familiar.

As the Mountain passed flat pleasantries with Ser Willas Tyrell, the lead rider, Kai and the Septon communicated through the smallest of movements in face and hand. His brother reported much that he had already gathered. Sandor Clegane and the Stark girl had been here, but had moved on already. Kai questioned why he had not held them here, and the Septon was overly apologetic, the fugitives had received sanctuary from Willas and his consort in a private garden and the Septon had only tasted them after their departure. Kai was furious, but to all others he seemed as stony faced as ever. The Septon promised to make amends at the new moon with a larger sacrifice than usual, and Kai grudgingly nodded his acceptance.

Suddenly he was brought back to the conversation between the Mountain and Ser Willas. The latter was offering Gregor and his men the hospitality of his city, and some of the men at the back of the pack were smirking and sniggering at the offer. Kai slipped his hand into the purse and grasped the Mountain's stone, pulling back on the leash before he could answer the offer.

"No Ser. If you haven't seen the pair we're hunting, then we'll stay on the road and run them down there."

"I wish we could help more."

They nodded at each other and the Highgarden party wheeled away and cantered back to the main gates. The Mountain spat again, and drank deeply from a wine skin. The faces of his men were dark and sullen but this time no one spoke out against the plan to move on. Kai released his grip on the Mountain and their party moved to rejoin the road.

SANDOR

The Hound woke as the dog, and with the aching need to bite someone, anyone, if only it would make the pain in his head go away. Seven hells, this was by far the worst he'd ever felt after a night drinking. Maybe because the dog was so unused to it, maybe because he regretted doing it. He'd just been so fucking mad about… everything. He'd thought they'd fixed it all when the bird had changed, but she was just becoming darker and darker. She'd taken the novice's eye for fuck's sake!

He looked around the room then, searching for her even though his head swam with the effort. He saw her slumped against the door of the tower room and his heart stopped. But she was just asleep, her chest rising and falling against the serving girl's dress, breath stirring the dark hair that had fallen over her face. He jumped down from the bed and went over to her. He saw then that her hand had fallen from where the other lay in her lap to rest, open, on the floor, and that a small knife had spilled from it to roll onto the floor. Last night she had been his guardian.

He struggled silently through his change as it came, holding down the pain that reverberated more in his head this time. Then he dressed quickly, before lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. She stirred and he brushed her hair back from her face.

"Sleep little bird, sleep." But she opened her eyes and sat up quickly.

"We have to leave… we have to leave now!"

"What?"

"The novice, he's here. I meant to… I was going to- it doesn't matter. We have to leave right away."

Sandor quickly strapped on his armour as Sansa rushed to get their belongings into the saddle bags. She was still spinning around the room in her panic when the smoke started.

"No! No! We don't have time…"

"I can do the rest girl." He gently took her by the arms to stop her whirling. "I'll get us out of here."

"No!" She was near sobbing, fear and panic on her face. "I do not want to leave you! Not now!"

She kissed him.

His first thought was how he must disgust her, the smell and taste of last night's wine on his breath and in his mouth. But that thought vanished as she pressed her lips harder against his. She did not know what she was doing but she pushed all her urgency and panic into the kiss and he held her tight against him until she pulled away, looking up at him with wide heart shattering blue eyes.

He was so stunned that for a moment he did not notice that the smoke was gone. Sansa lifted her hands and stared at them in confusion. Sandor took them in his larger calloused ones.

"Did we… did we break the curse?" She asked so quietly he could barely hear her.

But he clearly heard the sob she made as the smoke returned.

"Lass, we have to go…"

He released her hands and watched as the smoke came fully, taking away her downcast face and her tears.

"…and then the Patchwork Knight rode his horse fast to the town, his beloved hawk flying high above him. The giant was smashing and crashing into the buildings, killing ladies and squishing men. And then the Patchwork Knight drew his great sword, Deathbringer, and cut him in half! And then he found all the Smiling Brothers who were hiding in the town and cut them in half too. And there was blood and guts everywhere! And then the Patchwork Knight saved the Princess. The end!"

The children sitting in the dirt in a half circle below the boy on the wooden table clapped and cheered. He did an elaborate bow, his body finally stilling after playing out the parts of the Knight, the giant and the creepy men he called 'Smiling Brothers'. Suddenly a baker dashed out of his shop, shouting at the children to clear off and they scattered to the alleyways, including the boy. But Sandor stepped out from the shadows he had been standing in, watching the show with folded arms and an amused smirk, and grabbed him quickly by the back of his shirt before picking him up. The boy looked up at him through a mess of dirty hair.

"It wasn't me!"

"What wasn't?"

"Whatever you think I did…"

"You told a good story. Seems to me I might have seen this Patchwork Knight before. And you. You collected the coins for us last time I was here."

"Mouse at yer service mi'lord."

Sandor put the boy down and then watched him look up at the bird on his shoulder, eyes wide and gleaming.

"She aint a hawk, boy."

"And yer sword aint called Deathbringer is it?"

Sandor grunted. "You know this city well?"

"Better than any!"

"We need an out of the way place to rest. Somewhere with more than one way in and a shit load of privacy."

"Might know a place. Cost you though…"

Sandor grabbed his shirt again and the bird chirped twice suddenly. Sandor let him go reluctantly.

"We'll negotiate."

The boy smiled and rubbed his hands together in glee. "Come with me then, and we can discuss terms as we walk."

"You're a sharp one, best be careful you don't cut yerself."

Mouse laughed and strode off, pointing out sights of the town as he went. Sandor followed but then interrupted the babble. There was something he needed to know.

"Who are the Smiling Brothers, boy?"

Mouse frowned and all the babbling died on his lips. "That's what we call'em, us that live on the streets. They don't look like much. Some are Septons, some are Maesters… novices and those will full chains. But they all look the same. Or like brothers at least. And when they look at you… they smile. And if they smile and give you sweets or cakes… Well, those children, they ain't seen again. Might not happen straight away. Might be a week later we look around and think, where's Jorge, or where's Jeynea? But they ain't seen again." He kicked at a stone in frustration.

"So you want me to 'cut'em in half'?"

"You got a sword, you got armour even if you hide it under that patchwork cloak. You could do it."

"How many are there?"

"Lots. I run errands for the Maesters sometimes. Sometimes I get a coin and a hot meal out of it. More and more my errands take me to one of them. They ain't given me the cake yet though. I'm useful, me."

"Do you know a Maester who isn't a Smiling Brother… one who's good with books and scrolls?"

"Yeah. Maester Bruth. He's too fat and bald to be a Smiling Brother. And he has this wart on his nose…"

"Tomorrow you'll take us to him. Might be there's silver in it for you."

His eyes got even wider, and he smiled, showing off the gaps where his milk teeth had already fallen out.

"You got family? You're too young to be out on the streets."

Mouse shrugged. "Got a brother. 'E comes by to see if I got coin for ale sometimes. At least I think he's my brother. He might be my father. He blacks my eye sometimes."

"And yer mother?"

"The red pox took her and my baby sister. Don't want to talk about that." The boy looked away, swallowing a lump in his throat. Sandor frowned, and felt the bird move around on his shoulder, her distress showing in her fidgeting.

"Take us to this place you know. There'll be coin and a meal."

He smiled and fair skipped along the street. "You wanna hear more stories of the Patchwork Knight? I got loads already…"

Sandor laughed deeply and the boy started prattling as they walked along the busy cobbled street, the common-folk making room for the large warrior in patchwork, the song bird on his shoulder, and the skinny, dirty, boy.

"And then there was the time that the Patchwork Knight fought the dragon…"

SANSA

The room was one of the poorest that they had found themselves in so far on this strange journey. And it was in a dark and twisted part of Oldtown where suspicious looking characters had eyed up the patchwork cloak and the bird, sneering as they judged the risk of taking them and the reward they might carry. But at least those shady folk had the irregular looks and pock marks of normal men. And not a single one had smiled at them, and for once Sansa was reassured by that.

She could accept the mould that spread across the wall, the cracked windows, even the smell, just as long as they could rest a while after their mad race from the Vallen household. It had almost felt like that first night again, when Kings Landing had burnt green in the night sky behind them. Except this time the sky was rising in a clear sky that she was flying through on brown and scarlet wings.

After the boy had brought them to these rooms, Sandor had sent him off again to fetch them food and drink, with clear orders to return before the sun set. Sandor had already grabbed chicken legs and bread from market stalls as they had wended their way to this decrepit dank building, following Mouse's erratic path. But he had then decided that they should stay hidden away tonight. If the Smiling Brothers could 'taste' them as the novice had done, then staying in one place should reduce the chance of one stumbling upon them.

But with Mouse out scouting food for them, and with Sansa in her bird shape, Sandor was having to deal with the silence and with having nothing to do. She had watched pace for a while, then throw himself onto the pallet that served as a bed, before getting up again to pace again. He was liked a caged beast, and she wondered if he would be worse when his change came and the dog was trapped in here with her. Both of them had grown accustomed to the road, and to their freedom. Sandor still defended hers, gruffly turning down the offers of a cage for the bird on his shoulder shouted at him by stall keepers.

After all while she noticed that his fidgeting movements had stilled and that he was focussing on something by the window. She stood on a timber beam above him and from her angle she could not quite make out what he was doing. After a moment she heard a creaking sigh as he pulled away a length of wood from the window frame and took it with him to the bed, the only furniture in the shabby room. He took out the small knife Dorna had given her from a saddle bag on the floor nearby and starting pushing the blade into the wood.

There were curses, shouts, and occasionally bits of wood were thrown into a far corner. Once he even got up to pull off another length of wood from the frame. He was so far leant over his work that Sansa could not see what he was doing clearly, his dark hair falling forward, his shadow covering the rest. Eventually the day was coming to an end so she flew down to the bed to await her change. After the smoke had vanished, she leant closer to him, trying to see what was in his hands.

"He's late. The boy. Told him to be back before sunset."

"What have you made?"

Suddenly Sandor seemed uncertain, still hiding the thing away in his large hands. She gently took his fingers and opened his hands out flat. In each hand was a small carved man, just longer than her greatest finger. One was larger, blockier, and even though the work was crude and jagged, she could see that he was meant to be wearing armour, lines scored into the soft wood marked pauldroons, a gorget, even boots. And the other… wasn't a man at all. He'd tried to carve a dress, widening the shape at the bottom for the skirts, and the hair was sleek and straight, but with lines to mark hair flowing down her back.

"Could you make him a cloak… a patchwork cloak? It'd need to be small."

"I could do that. Are they for Mouse?"

"Boy could use them in his storytelling. Earn him some extra coin."

"I thought you did not care for knights…?"

He laughed ruefully. "You been an influence on me, girl."

She realised that she was still gently touching his fingertips with her own, the figures lying there between them.

"And the woman?"

"You could make a cloak for her too I suppose."

"No, I meant… why did you make the woman?"

"The way he tells it, the Patchwork Knight saves the Princess…" He grimaced slightly, looking away.

"It's time?"

He nodded, not looking back. So she pulled his face towards hers with a gentle hand. Her eyes roamed over his scars. They were still bad, but what was worse was what they had done to him. And because of that they no longer scared her; they just made her angry on his behalf.

She moved to kiss him, but he pulled away.

"Little bird? What're you doing?"

"I thought… When I kissed you last, my change stopped. Only for a moment but…"

"So you'd kiss me to stop mine?!" Something was wrong, his muscles were tensing. He was pulling away from her.

"Or to make it easier."

He stood up quickly, pushing the figures into her hands.

"Don't do that, girl!"

"I just want to help!"

"I don't need your help!" The words were coming out sounding more and more alike to growls. He turned away, folding over as the fire spread through his body, remaking it. She looked away as he stripped his clothes quickly, throwing them at the walls of the room in his rage. When she looked back he was the dog, and he was throwing himself at the walls of the room, scratching at them with his claws and even snapping at them with his teeth.

As the fates were against them it was then that Mouse returned, opening the door with a smile on his face.

And the dog went for him.

MOUSE

The smile had been false.

He had walked back to the rickety old building where he'd left the Patchwork Knight and his bird with heavy footsteps. He'd already watched the sun go down through one good eye and one swollen one. He'd seen it as he sat on the steps of a pawnbroker's, looking down the street he should take to get back to them. For the first time ever he felt really bad about not doing what he was told. His belly ached with it.

When the maesters asked him to run errands for them he felt like their commands were flexible things, stretching and shifting to suit him. If he wanted to take a longer route that took him past the shop of the snobby old baker who threw out stale cakes too soon, he would. If he wanted to spend an hour or so digging around in the mudbanks of the river looking for lost coins, he would. But the Patchwork Knight's command about when to return had been given with such force… no not force, there had been something else in the large man's voice. Had it been fear?

But even though this time he had really meant to do as he was told, it had still gone wrong. Buying the food that the Knight had asked for had been the easy part. Getting it and the coins that had been leftover past his brother when he'd spotted Mouse in the street had been much, much harder. Mouse had whispered to the Warrior when he'd spotted Osric approaching, asking him for the strength to knock the much large man down this time. But the Warrior must have been busy dealing with the last of the War of the Five Kings, because Mouse ended up in the slimy gutter of the street again. With a black eye, but with no food and or coins.

Arriving at the Patchwork Knight's room he had opened the door wearing a wide smile, hoping he could find a way to talk his way out of the rage he assumed he'd be greeted with. But then an immense dog had charged towards him, snapping towards him with a muzzle full of sharp teeth and crazy rolling eyes! The little boy had fallen back onto his rump, reawakening the bruises Osric had already given him. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel those fangs ripping into his neck at any moment.

"No! No! Bad dog!" A woman's voice came and saved him.

There was a cold, steel-like edge to her voice, and he cautiously opened his eyes to look. The dog's claws skittered on the wooden floorboards of the room as he quickly stopped, his ears dropping as his tail went down between his back legs.

Mouse's eyes looked past the giant beast to the woman…. No, this was a lady. She was dressed in a serving girl's uniform, but even with the apron she had the look of lady. Most serving girls he'd seen, the ones who had given him a clip round the ear for stealing from their kitchens, had seemed bowed and aged by their work. Even the angry defiant ones who gave him a real clout didn't have the same tall, elegant, sternness of this lady as she commanded the dog to go and lie down. But as he took in her pretty face and her stunning blue eyes he was also reminded of the Maiden, who he rarely spoke to because there was no reason that She would be interested in a little Mouse.

"Are you okay?" She walked over to him, offering him a graceful hand to pull himself up with. He was ashamed to hold it with one of his grubby paws, but she insisted as he hesitated. He watched the dog warily as he slunk to a corner and sat down in a pile of wood shavings and chips. He nodded mutely, still staring wide eyed at the beast. Half its muzzle was marked with burns, but it watched him steadily with intelligent grey eyes.

She turned to the dog again. "You and I will talk later!" the dog turned away to stare at the wall and rested his muzzle on his front paws.

"I'm sorry! The food and the coins… I'm sorry, they're gone! I'm so sorry! Will the Patchwork Knight be angry…?" He tried not to sniff, but there were prickles in his eyes.

"Do not fret about that. Who gave you that black eye?!"

"Don't matter." He sniffed away a drip from his nose, trying not to wipe it on his sleeve as he would have done normally, if she hadn't been watching with those pretty eyes. "Where is he? The Knight?" He looked quickly around the room, taking in the pieces of armour and the patchwork cloak that rested at the end of the bed.

"He had business elsewhere…" She was lying. And she was nowhere near as good at it as him. The Knight's clothes were here. Unless he was walking about naked 'elsewhere'. There was a sudden sadness to the lady, and he didn't want to upset her, so he just nodded mutely. She was looking at him sadly too.

"Are you okay, m'lady?"

"I have a little brother… he's about your age. I have not seen him in a long time. Nor my other brothers, or my sister."

He hopped up on the bed, swinging his legs without thinking about it. The scab on his right knee was tempting but he fought the urge to pick at it in front of her.

"Where is he m'lady? Where's your family?"

"I'm no lady…"

He shrugged. She was, but if she wanted to play the lying game again he'd let her.

"They are at home, all of them. All of them are safe and sound at home." She was lying again, and he was sad for her.

"You travelling with the Knight?"

"…Yes. In a way…" She was hesitant, trying to come up with some story he thought. She sat beside him on the bed, and for a moment he was reminded of his mother. She'd comb his hair and sing to him. He wondered if this lady would sing to him.

"Can I come with you?" He looked up at her with wide eyes, whispering in his mind to the Mother, asking Her to be this lady, just for a little while.

"I don't know…" Her eyes drifted back to the dog in the corner. He was watching, but Mouse didn't know what she expected him to do. Dog looked away and buried his nose in his paws. Mouse got the strangest feeling that Dog was still sulking after his telling off. Mouse knew the best way to deal with a telling off was to apologise loudly, even if you were probably going to do it again. Dog needed to learn that.

"I could squire for the Knight! Or I could collect coins as the bird is singing!"

He saw one of her hands drift to a saddle bag on the bed, and get out an antler horn comb.

"That hair is a mess!" She started to comb out his tangled mop of hair with it, a look of concentration on her face.

Mouse prayed with all his heart, Mother, please mother… let her say yes.

SANSA

The Bird, the Mouse and the Dog walked together down a crooked moonlit street. Sansa thought it sounded rather like the start of one of those awful jokes Ser Dontos told, before Joffrey would pelt him with whatever was at hand. But it was not a joke, it was a true tale. The Bird, the Mouse and the Dog walked together watched by the moon. Sansa was still unsure that this was a wise move, but she refused to let Mouse go out on his own again to replace the food he'd had taken from him. And if she went with him, then the dog came too, even if he slunk along at her side, head down and tail still between his back legs. She wondered if in this form her reprimand had had more impact. He had said she was his master now, and instinctively she had reached for memories of her mother's way of telling off her children and her father's way with the hounds of Winterfell.

Bad dog, bad dog, the words echoed in her mind. But he wasn't a dog. It was the man who had been angry, who'd carried that anger with him into the dog. Sandor always carried anger with him it seemed, and she prayed to the old gods and the new that there would be a way she could help him lay down that burden. But whenever she tried to help him it seemed she made things worse. Trying to kiss him to ease his change had only made him mad. She had thought… she had thought he might want to kiss her again. Men were a puzzle she felt she was not old enough to understand. And Sandor was more a puzzle than most.

They reached the small back alley tavern that Mouse had assured her was ignored by Maesters, even the less demanding novices. But just because the Smiling Brothers were unlikely to be found here, that did not mean that their plan was without danger. Already on their way here a man had approached them, barely looking at Mouse as he had pushed him aside, and had made gruff remarks to Sansa… about the painful and disgusting things he would do to her. He would walk oddly for the next few days until the swelling went down she thought, but the dog had not broken the skin which showed remarkable restraint on his part. She had reached for her hidden knife even before the dog had leapt at him, and she had not thought about that kind of restraint.

The tavern was dark and smelled oddly of smoked hams. Sansa could see why even the poorer Maesters avoided it. She and Mouse took seats in a shadowy corner, the dog sitting at attention by her side. A serving girl with a sour look on her face and grease in her hair stumbled over and Sansa was glad that she had changed from her own serving uniform into one of the travelling dresses. Although, Mouse had warned her that there was only one type of woman who would frequent a tavern in this part of town, and at this time of night. Even if she dressed plainly, there would be those who would assume.

"Bit young fer this line o'work int he?" The woman sneered as she pushed a ratty cloth over their table.

"That's none of yer… bloody… business!" Cursing came unnaturally to Sansa, and she thought she felt the dog's sides shaking as he did that odd huffing dog laugh.

The woman turned up her nose. "We don't get many of your type in here girl."

"Worried about me stealing yer business?" She tried hard to round out the preciseness of how she usually spoke and tried to remember all of the times Septa Mordane had corrected her grammar, to do the opposite.

"Bitch" Hissed the woman and went off.

"But… but… we want food!" Mouse looked panicked.

"She'll be back sweetling. We have coin."

Sansa was right of course, and they ordered the best that the tavern could offer. Which was not much admittedly, but it sufficed. And after they had all eaten their fill Sansa tried hard not to laugh as Mouse burped and squeeked out an apology. The dog was cracking bones between his back teeth and Sansa felt oddly content as she supped on a cup of wine and water.

That happiness was broken by the arrival of three men. They were drunk, wearing swords and leering at her as soon as they spotted her in the corner. The dog's fur rose on his back and he let out a deep growl.

"Time to go Mouse." She whispered to the boy and he nodded mutely.

"Don't leave so soon, pretty lady. Oh, I don't think your dog likes me." The Hound was standing now, teeth bared at the leader of the three, a muscular man with a tattoo of naked woman on his shoulder. He smiled a gapped tooth shark's smile and sat at the nearest table to them, leaning over towards her.

"Leave us be."

The second and third man looked almost familiar, both with cropped short hair and hawk like noses on lined faces. Then she remembered the riot in Kings Landing, and the men who had attacked her. It wasn't their features, it was the looks on their faces that she remembered. With her right hand she pulled the small sharp knife from where it lay in her bodice.

"Oh look, the girl's got a knife. Well, so do I." The first man pulled a larger dagger from his belt. Sansa looked around for the serving woman, anyone, but the tavern had cleared. The dog's growl was getting louder but the men seemed unconcerned. One was even picking at his shark's teeth with a splinter. Sansa's panic grew and she found it hard to breath.

It was then that Mouse pointed silently at the shadows on the wall, eyes two wide pools of fear. Sansa looked quickly, unwilling to look away from the men. The shadows were moving.

No, no they weren't shadows… it was smoke and it was coming from her. Was she changing again?! She looked down at her hands, the empty one and the one holding the knife. They were whole. But still the smoke undulated behind her, and now the men were noticing. They did not notice for long, as tendrils wrapped themselves around them and started… squeezing.

Sansa closed her eyes, feeling something dark caressing her on the inside, warming her as the wine had done. Unbidden, her body moved, dancing slightly with the smoke. The dog was barking, three for danger, over and over again. But she was in the embrace of the shadow and the tavern seemed so far away.

Until he bit her hand and it came crashing back around her.

The choking men fell to the floor as the smoke dissipated, gasping for breath. Mouse grabbed her bloodied hand and the three of them ran from the tavern.

SANDOR

He'd woken before both of them and had let his change take him in a dank alleyway at the back of the falling down building. When he crept back into their rented room the boy and Sansa were still sleeping on the woodworm eaten bed. Mouse was tucked into the smallest shape he could make, but had still somehow managed to pull all the threadbare sheets over himself. Sansa lay on her back, both arms up in surrender, a halo of dark hair around her pale face, dark shadows under her eyes. One hand was ineptly bandaged with strips torn from her purple Vallen apron. Mouse had helped her do it before they had curled up on the bed, exhausted. But there had been no place on the bed for Sandor, so he'd passed the night lying up on the floorboards, his nose inches from dust and dirt, and the inquisitive spiders that travelled across the floors in the night.

There was no place in her bed for him. Mouse had been quick to stake his claim to the bed, and Sansa had lain next to him, stroking his hair and thinking of her littlest brother no doubt. Bran? No, that was the cripple… the other one. The older brothers had made more mark on Sandor, if only because he'd spent a moment thinking out how he'd take them in a fight. The other Stark girl… the one who had stared at him in his armour all wide eyed and excited… the one who'd sobbed when he'd killed the butcher's boy… Arya. He remembered her name. But the youngest Stark boy, the one of an age with Mouse, that one's name escaped him. Sansa had taken to Mouse as though he was her brother, and she was sure to want him to come with them. The boy was too young for this road, it was far too dangerous. And besides, he didn't need a fucking squire! He was no bloody knight, whatever embroidered stories Mouse told…

His mind returned to the same thought again. There was no place in her bed for him. And there was no place by her side if he couldn't control his rages. He'd always held them in check before, bringing out the beast in him when he fought, smashing it into men with his sword and shield. But when he'd gone for the boy… and before, when he'd turned on Sansa, it had taken him fully. There was something red and bloody growing in him. And he thought that it was growing in Sansa too.

He leant back into the shadows, still watching her gentle breaths. The girl had… shit, he didn't even know how to describe what she'd done back at the tavern. Magic? Fuck that. He understood iron and steel, not smoke and magic. They needed to go to see Mouse's Maester Bruth today. He needed answers.

Sansa stirred and looked up at him. He placed a finger to his lips and she silently rose from the bed to come closer.

"Let me see" he whispered, gesturing to her hand, and she held it up to him. He unwrapped it carefully, but it was already near healed. Now only small pink marks showed where the dog's teeth had broken the skin.

"I would have killed them, had you not…" She started, whispering as well.

"Dogs bite their masters, I told you once lass."

"No, it was not like that. You stopped me. Thank you."

He was having to lean forward to hear her whispers, and he suddenly realised how close they had become. The dark curtain of her hair had fallen forward, and his lips were inches away from where it parted at the top of her head. And he still held her hand in her palm. He let go quickly and moved back from her.

"And you stopped me, when the boy… when I… Consider the debt paid." He looked away from her eyes awkwardly. Gods damn those Tully blue eyes!

"Will we see Mouse's Maester today?"

"Aye lass… we'll see him. And he'll tell us how break this damned thing… or I'll break his neck."

Sansa drew back from him, shock on her face. Good, it was past time for hard truths.

He gestured at the sleeping Mouse. "We can't take him with us if we leave Oldtown. You know that, don't you?" Sandor's voice was as hard and cold as he could make it. He knew it had to be. "Once this is over, once this Maester tells us how to fix this fucking mess, he goes his own way. We all do once it's over."

But then she fixed those eyes on him again, locking his to hers, and there was the same steel in them he'd seen when she'd shouted at the dog.

"Neither of you are leaving me. You hear me. Curse or no curse, you stay with me."

"That's not what I said, girl…"

"Good. But now you know it. You stay with me. Swear it."

Then he saw the smoke, emerging from her hair and rolling around her like snakes in the grass. Some of it twisted and rolled towards him and he recoiled, eyes wide in fear.

"Sansa!"

She closed her eyes and the smoke fell away suddenly. When she reopened them there were tears in the corners of her eyes. And then one word whispered from her lips, sweetly and quietly and he had no defence against it. Or her.

"Please."

He slowly knelt before her, placing his right fist over his heart, his other hand grasping his dagger.

"I swear it… my Lady. By the old gods and the new, I swear it."

"Wow! And I thought I had some good stories!"

They turned as one to see Mouse standing by the bed, his hair sticking up on one side, creases from the sheets marring his face and his eyes wide and staring.

Sansa nodded, smiling warmly at the boy. Then the smoke returned; completing her change as Mouse watched in awe, his mouth dropping open. She fluttered to her high perch.

"This story is definitely going to bring in the coin!"

"Hush boy!" He snarled at him, "You keep your mouth shut!"

Mouse mimed sowing his lips closed, but his smile couldn't be contained. Sandor rolled his eyes.

"Well, if squire you be now, you'd best get our gear in order. And be quick about it, or else I'll clip you 'round the ear!"

"Yes, mi'lord!"