DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, be it the ASOIAF characters and settings or the little thrown-in quotes/lines from Lady & the Tramp. The former belong to GRRM and him alone; the latter to Disney.

They searched for Petyr Baelish for half an hour at least before Jaime Lannister finally stopped and said, "This is madness."

"You think Sansa didn't see him?" Sandor snarled. He couldn't stand the idea that the Kingslayer didn't believe the little bird. Sandor had seen the way she'd trembled, seen the sickened, frightened look in her eyes. He couldn't imagine that a mere apparition, or some man who looked slightly like Littlefinger, would have made her come unhinged like that.

"Oh, I believe she saw him," Jaime muttered. "And he is not my only concern. But the Red Keep is far too large for us to search every nook and cranny on our own, and I assure you he knows more of this place than you or I. Let us return to Sansa and take her to the Queen and King Consort. They can rouse others of whose loyalty they are sure. If we come upon Baelish and he is not alone...say, if he has a dozen swords with him..." Sandor saw Jaime glance down at his missing sword hand.

"I'll kill every one of them, then," Sandor smirked.

"And get yourself killed in the process? I'm not sure Sansa would enjoy that as much as I," Jaime quipped in reply. "Tell me, did she ask that you return to Winterfell with us? Did you refuse? Is that why she has been loathe to set eyes on you the past few days?"

"Winterfell?" Sandor snorted. She hadn't asked, of course, and if she had...

If she had, how would you have refused?

"So she didn't ask. I am surprised. I assumed she would, and then we'd be stuck with you," Jaime mused.

"Not sure what this has to do with the matter at hand. Are we to return to Maegor's, or not?" Sandor needed to change the subject. The hope that had swelled in him over the fact that Jaime was surprised that the little bird hadn't asked Sandor to come to Winterfell...it wouldn't, couldn't,be denied, yet he didn't have time for it just now.

Jaime gazed about them, obviously frustrated. "Yes, I think that would be best." They made their way to Sansa's chambers without meeting a single Tyrell - or Littlefinger, for that matter. But Sandor's heart caught in his throat when they arrived, for the door to the chamber stood slightly ajar and neither Brienne nor Sansa was there.

"Seven hells," Sandor muttered.

"There doesn't appear to have been any sort of foul play..." Jaime mused.

"Foul play or not, the wench and the little bird are gone - and that does not bode well," Sandor snarled. How could the Kingslayer not see how worrisome this was? It took every bit of self-control Sandor had not to smash his fist into the other man's handsome bearded face.

When Jaime looked at Sandor there was pity in his eyes. "I think we'd best go to the Queen's chambers. Immediately." Sandor nodded and with one last troubled glance at Sansa's chambers, they made their way further up into Maegor's. They were greeted with an unconscious Dothraki and a barred door, and again Sandor nearly choked on the emotions and the curses that swelled within him. "Should we break down the door?" Jaime whispered hoarsely, obviously unsure. This was the Queen's sanctuary, after all...but it was obvious that the Queensguard member lying slumped against the wall had met with some sort of foe. Or foes.

"We need to get into that room," Sandor grunted. Jaime's lips thinned into a grim line.

"On the count of three, then. Both of us, all of our weight. One, two, three." The two of them rushed the door, slamming into it simultaneously, and it groaned under their combined weight. Sandor heard the crack of wood beginning to splinter. "Again," Jaime ordered, and they backed up. "One, two, three!" This time the door gave enough that a bit of hacking with their swords did the trick, and they stumbled through the opening, kicking and chopping at the broken pieces of wood to clear their way.

And were greeted by a pallid Queen Daenerys, Ser Loras Tyrell with his sword drawn against them, Brienne and Ser Jorah lying in a corner bound and trussed and obviously a bit worse for the wear...and fucking Littlefinger with a dagger to Sansa Stark's throat.