The great hall could hold no more. Sansa was seated to the side with her mother, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. Her father stood in the middle of the dais with Robb, who would be going with him, and Theon, who was to serve as Robb's squire, seated behind them. The Stark bannermen filled the benches and lined the walls. Even the servants and maids stood in the far back of the room and spilled out into the hall, eager to know what lay ahead.

As her father thanked the men for their loyalty and reiterated Lord Stannis's request for aid, Sansa let her eye wander over the crowd until it rested on Sandor. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. He turned, met her eye, and returned his attention to her father. Sansa did the same.

"Lady Catelyn will travel to the Eyrie and treat with her sister, Lady Lysa Arryn. The Vale's men, crops, and supplies may be needed and Lady Arryn needs to be convinced to join Stannis's cause. Lady Catelyn is best suited to that task."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall. Sansa had thought her mother would remain at Winterfell but, as she didn't appear surprised by this news, she knew her parents must have discussed it long before today.

Her father went over some more details. "Mikken will travel with us, Gendry will stay behind. A corps of men, as able and loyal as those leaving, will remain to protect Winterfell." Ned called out their names and, one by one, they assembled on the far side of the room.

While this was going on, Maester Luwin entered the hall and slowly made his way toward the dais. The chattering that had increased among the men quieted as he passed, the tone becoming one of inquiry rather than idle talk.

"My lord," he said when he reached the foot of the dais. "This just arrived for you." He reached out and handed Ned a scroll.

Ned looked at the scroll for a moment before unfurling it. His expression hardened. When he looked up, there was silence in the hall.

"The Lannisters have laid siege to Riverrun."

Sansa heard her mother gasp as a roar went up from the men.

Ned held up his hands. The noise lessened but did not die out as men continued to whisper to each other. "We must go to Riverrun."

The Greatjon stood up. "They're trying to draw you out, the bastards. They'll want to split Stannis's forces in hopes that we'll be easier to deal with in pieces. We should attack King's Landing." He turned toward the area where the Starks were seated. "Sorry, Cat, but your brother should be able to withstand a siege. The Riverlands are well supplied."

Many men voiced their agreement.

Ned called for order and said, "We will go to Riverrun."

"Who's leading the siege?"

Ned pressed his lips into a line before answering. "Gregor Clegane."

All heads swiveled in Sandor's direction. Sansa heard "turncloak" muttered and her heart clenched.

"When do we leave for Riverrun?" was all Sandor said.

"Tomorrow," Ned replied. He would have gone on but he was interrupted.

"How do we know he's not here just to lead us into his brother's trap?" one man-at-arms wanted to know, nodding toward Sandor.

"Clegane has agreed to fight for the north and he will be under the Greatjon's command, despite his field experience," was all Ned said in response.

This clearly didn't satisfy everyone but no one challenged Ned further on that point.

"We should still go to King's Landing," someone shouted.

"And get caught on the kingsroad between the Lannisters and Clegane?" another man answered. "No, we have no choice but go to the Riverlands. Let Stannis sail into the Blackwater and engage the Lannisters there."

"Maester Luwin, write to Lord Stannis and tell him we will go to Riverrun first," Ned said over the din.

"They're drawing you out, Ned," the Greatjon cautioned. "Joffrey wants to punish you for not supporting his claim to the throne. This maneuver smells of Tywin Lannister. Gregor Clegane answers to no one else."

"Then our true opponent is known to us."

"How many men do they have?" called a voice from the back.

"Same as we have, if the report is accurate," Ned replied.

Sansa's head was spinning. The arguments flew back and forth about their allegiance to Stannis.

"You Northerners forget your history," Sandor said in a voice that cut across the hall. "Be an independent region again. Make Lord Stark King of the North and expand his territory through the Tullys and the Arryns. The North is protected by the Neck. The Eyrie is impregnable. Only Riverrun is vulnerable. Gather your forces there. Join the three areas together. Fuck the throne and answer only to yourselves."

There was some eye-rolling but there were more nods of agreement. Sansa saw Robb sit up straighter. "King of the North?" he said.

"The idea has merit," someone agreed.

"What about the Others? Or the wildlings? We'll need support if they come over the Wall."

"The Others take the Others. And the wildlings. You think the capital will empty out to help us should either of them come? They'll run south."

"Prince Doran is no friend of the Lannisters. We could form an alliance with Dorne."

"Dorne is leagues and leagues away! We'd spend all our time battling pirates in the Narrow Sea."

"Who needs a prince in the south when we could have a king in the north?

"The King of the North!"

Ned held up his hands. "I've sworn my allegiance to Stannis and it's his cause for which I'll fight."

There was some griping as the details were hashed out but the men knew their lord and eventually quieted down. Ned called for their departure at an early hour. The men all rose, some filtering out, some standing and talking in small groups, and a few approaching Ned to speak with him directly. Sansa saw Sandor talking with one of the Greatjon's sons but was then pulled away by her mother.

Sansa had hoped her family could dine together privately that night but her father insisted they share the meal with the men in the great hall. Afterwards, they did spend an hour together in their solar but then Ned was called away and Catelyn insisted everyone else get to bed for some rest.

Sansa went to her room but wasn't sleepy. She rooted through her sewing basket and did a little stitching as her mind ran over the events of the day. Sansa had experienced such a wide spectrum of emotions that they eventually pulled her eyelids down, though pangs of worry jolted her awake several times after she finally dozed off.

The next morning, Sansa went directly to Sandor's room. The door was open and Sandor was seated in front of his mirror. Harry was adjusting some straps on his armor.

"Good morning," she said, though it was the worst of mornings. Part of her wanted to cry though it still didn't seem real that they were leaving.

"Lady Sansa," said Harry with a broad smile and a tip of his head.

"You can take that trunk to Lady Sansa's room," Sandor said, nodding at it.

"My maid is still there, Harry. Please tell her I'd like it put next to my wardrobe."

The trunk was not large and Harry was able to hoist it onto his shoulder. With a nod, he left them.

Sansa moved to stand behind Sandor. They looked at each other in the mirror. A heavy sadness weighed on her. Sandor appeared to be scowling but Sansa knew he was upset, too. Needing something to do, Sansa reached around him and picked up his comb. She pulled it through his long hair.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to take care of while you're gone?"

"You're not my squire, little bird," he said in a flat voice.

"I'd like to have something to do while you're gone. Are all of your things packed?" She looked around the room. The shield bearing the Clegane sigil was still above the fireplace.

"Everything of value is now in your room. The rest of my clothes are in those trunks. I suppose Rikard will put them in storage."

"No, he won't." Sansa reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. "I've instructed Rikard that this room is to be kept ready for your return. I took the extra key. If anything is misplaced, he has been made aware that he will answer for it."

The flicker of a sad smile passed over Sandor's lips. Sansa returned the key to her pocket and continued to comb Sandor's hair.

"Little bird . . ."

Sansa looked up. "Yes?"

"I meant what I said. There will be no others," he said quietly.

Sansa put down the comb and gripped the cold paldrons covering his shoulders. "No," she agreed just as quietly. "No others."

Sandor reached for the flagon sitting on his table and took a long swig from it.

Sansa ran her fingers through his hair. There was so much to say and yet nothing to be said. To distract herself, she gathered part of Sandor's hair into sections and began to cross them into a net-like braid.

"I don't want you to fight your brother," she said, keeping her eyes on her work.

Sandor blew out a breath. "It has to happen."

"Does it?"

"He killed my family and made me look like the monster that he is. Yes, little bird, it has to happen. For my sister if not for me."

Sansa had no reply. Sandor watched as she continued braiding his hair. She expected him to protest but he turned his head to look at it and said, "I like it. Can you do more?"

Sansa made two more braids so that the rough skin of his scars seemed to blend into the bumpy texture of the braids, giving that side of his face a reptilian quality. The other side she left loose. The contrast was striking. Frightening, Sansa thought, for anyone who doesn't know his true nature.

When she was done, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He rose and turned, looking down at her from his impressive height. Gently, Sandor pulled her against him and bent to give her a lingering kiss. Sansa wished he wasn't in his armor so she could truly feel him in her arms once more.

"I -," he began to say quietly against her ear just as voices sounded in the hall.

Sandor stepped away and reached for his gauntlets on the table, his back to Sansa. A moment later, Ned and the Greatjon walked through the door. Their eyes widened to see Sansa in the Hound's bedchambers, though Ned's quickly narrowed.

"Lady Sansa," the Greatjon said.

"Father, my lord," she answered.

"We have some things to discuss with Clegane," her father said.

"Of course."

Sandor turned and looked at her.

"I'll pray for your safety," she said, distressed that they'd run out of time to be alone.

"My thanks," he said with a nod.

Too soon, Sansa stood on a dais in the yard with her family and looked out at the mass of men and horses crowding the courtyard and bailey. Sandor was in the rear, near the gate, since he would be among those leading the column down the kingsroad. Her father spoke of the importance of their mission and assured the men of their certain victory. With a rousing cheer and much jostling, everyone turned toward the gate. The crowd separated for Ned and Robb as they made their way to their mounts. The women who would be following the men smiled and laughed, eager for their new adventure. Sansa did not envy them. She'd had enough adventure. She wanted for nothing more than to have Sandor return to her safe and whole. He was easy to find, sitting higher in his saddle than those around him. She squeezed the ribbons she was holding in her sweaty palm. She suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. Before she knew what she was doing, she jumped off the dais and began threading her way through the crowd.

"Sansa!" her mother called after her.

Sansa heard but pushed off the flank of a horse and kept working her way forward. When she was nearly to Sandor, she noticed a ribbon threaded through and wrapped around the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. Who else would have presented him with a favor? she wondered, her feet momentarily unable to take another step. Then something about the color struck her as familiar. She forced herself forward and called, "Sandor!"

He turned, disbelieving.

"Is that . . . ?"

"Is what?" His brows were drawn together; his eyes darted back toward the dais before returning to her face, confusion mixed with warning.

Sansa could feel more than a few eyes on her. She motioned to him and he bent down to hear her. She dropped her voice to a whisper, "The ribbon. Is that from my smallclothes? From King's Landing?"

His eyes grew soft and he gave a small nod. "Do you mind?"

Sansa blushed and felt shy. She knew he'd taken it but she'd never imagined he'd kept it all this time. To see something of hers, so intimate, wrapped around his sword for anyone to see made her giddy. "No, I don't mind." She smiled. "I have something else for you, though."

A smile played across his face though Sansa knew he was trying to hide it. "Then let me have it, girl."

"Come down here, please."

Sandor dismounted and stood before her in full armor, the steel muscles of his paldrons and cuisses no competition for what Sansa knew lay beneath. Despite the dog's-head helm under his arm and his exposed scars, Sansa didn't see the Hound at all. Sandor's gray eyes shined with restrained excitement and she could see he was breathing faster. Sansa's smile broadened. She took his elbow and drew it away from his body. Sandor watched her fingers as she knotted a strip of cloth around his bicep. On the yellow fabric she'd embroidered the three black dogs of House Clegane. Black and yellow streamers hung down to his elbow. Sandor stood straight and tall as Sansa took a step away from him. "My thanks, Lady Sansa," he said, pride in his voice.

"I wish you a sure and safe return, my lord."

Sandor bowed as much as his armor would allow. Sansa dipped into a quick curtsy. For a moment, they just looked at each other. A lump rose in Sansa's throat and she was overcome by the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

"I wish it, too, my lady."

Sansa gave him a wobbly smile and then turned to make her way back through the throng of men and horses. Everyone seemed to be looking at her, most with surprise, some with confusion, a few with resentment. Various muttered comments reached her ears. "- never would have thought -" "- that ugly bugger?" "Got something for me, pretty?" Doubt began to stir within her, then true worry as she reached her family. Summer, Shaggydog, and Nymeria's heads all turned in unison as Sansa approached the dais, Nymeria giving a small yip. Bran didn't seem to notice Sansa's return. Rickon was busy taking in the excitement, calling out and waving to various people. Arya's face was composed but her eyes were laughing. Their mother was incensed.

"Sansa!" Catelyn said in a low, sharp voice. "What is the matter with you? Why did you do that?"

No man should have to leave for war feeling uncared for. She nearly said it. It was a compassionate answer but it was not the truth, not entirely anyway. Sansa looked out across the courtyard. Her father was in front, shouting orders, Robb to his right. The yellow band and streamers on Sandor's arm were clearly visible. If possible, he seemed to be sitting even taller in his saddle than before. Sansa felt an overwhelming surge of pride and love for him. She looked into her mother's blue eyes and said, "I did it because I wanted to."

Just then, the gates were opened and the men and horses filed out. Sandor reached back and briefly touched the ribbon tied to his hilt but he didn't turn around. Sansa fled the dais and ran the entire way to her room where she flung herself on her bed and sobbed until her throat was raw. She heard her door open and close but she didn't care who it was. A hand squeezed her shoulder.

"Sansa," her mother said.

Sansa sat up, leaned against her mother, and cried on her shoulder. Catelyn patted her daughter's back and made shushing sounds. After a while, Sansa collected herself and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief her mother offered. Catelyn's eyes were sympathetic but her lips were pressed together.

The next morning, Sansa sat in her family's solar and mournfully did her stitching. Her mother was writing to Lady Lysa for more information on the mountain clans, her offer of a visit having been previously accepted. Catelyn kept casting glances in her daughter's direction but Sansa refused to meet her eye.

"They're coming back!" Arya shrieked out of nowhere.

"What?" Sansa dropped her sewing and ran to the window. Far down the road were two horsemen under a Stark banner, a small cloud of dust in their wake. "It's just two riders. I thought you meant they were all returning."

"Maybe they are," Arya said excitedly.

The girls ran to the great hall with Catelyn on their heels. Word of the riders had spread through the castle and others were moving in that direction. The Starks stood on the dais and waited until Jory and Desmond entered the hall, a smaller figure in a hooded cloak between them. They looked a little surprised to see the crowd awaiting them but walked to the front of the hall and stood before Catelyn.

"This is a somewhat private matter, my lady," Jory said quietly.

"Leave us, please," Catelyn announced.

It took several minutes but the onlookers dispersed.

Sansa wondered if she should go but her mother didn't look at her so she stayed put.

"My lady, Lord Stark sent us to return Jeyne to your care." Jory pulled back the hood to reveal the tear-streaked face of Jeyne Poole.

"Jeyne!" her mother exclaimed as Sansa stared bewildered at her friend.

"Tell her what you did, girl," Desmond urged quietly.

Between sniffles, Jeyne mumbled, "I wanted to return to King's Landing."

"Whatever for?" Catelyn asked, coming down the steps to stand in front of her, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Willard!" she wailed.

Catelyn turned to look at Sansa, not understanding. Sansa approached. "Willard is a very nice young man, mother. He's a Lannister man-at-arms who befriended Jeyne when we were in the capital," she explained in an undertone.

Jeyne hung her head and Sansa's heart broke for her.

"And you wanted to return to the city, even in the midst of a war, to see this young man again?" Catelyn asked.

"I love him," Jeyne blubbered.

Catelyn pulled in the corner of her mouth.

"We must be getting back, my lady," Jory said.

"Of course. Thank you both for returning her safely."

Jory and Desmond accepted her thanks and quickly left to rejoin the rest of the Stark men.

"Come with me," Catelyn said, leaving the hall with Jeyne in tow.

Sansa and Arya didn't say a word as the two of them left. Sansa knew Jeyne must be mortified beyond words. She watched her friend trail after her mother with pity.

Later that evening, as her mother brushed Sansa's hair, Catelyn said, "The foolish girl attempted to disguise herself and travel to Riverrun as part of the baggage train."

Sansa's eyes widened. She'd had no idea her friend was thinking of doing such a thing, let alone was capable of actually going through with it.

"Apparently," Catelyn continued huffily, "one of the men propositioned her and, when she refused, her identity was discovered. You can imagine how quickly word traveled up the line to your father, as though he didn't have enough to worry about!"

"What did you say to Jeyne?" Sansa asked.

"Jeyne is in no doubt as to my feelings about her behavior," Catelyn said stiffly.

Sansa listened with a heavy heart as her mother described how Jeyne had sobbed and sobbed but Catelyn simply proceeded to fill Jeyne's schedule. She was to be busy morning until night with lessons, not just with Maester Luwin - "A privilege, not a punishment" - but also with Joanne and every other available adult with a skill to share.

"I have half a mind to ask you to watch over her," Sansa's mother concluded, "but I don't think that would do either of you any good."

Sansa's feelings were still raw from the previous day and she raised indignant eyes to look at her mother in the mirror. "I didn't conceal myself in the baggage train."

"No, but you did give a favor to a man whose presence still offends half our bannermen."

"If the bannermen don't like it, they can consult their lord. I didn't see any of them refusing to go. And if they're only going in hopes of winning my hand, that is their expectation, not mine. If it's the north they want, they'd do better to court Robb." Sansa was instantly abashed by her words and the scandalized look on her mother's face. "I'm sorry," she added, an irrational irritability overtaking her.

Catelyn stilled for a moment before continuing to brush Sansa's hair. "It's been a hard few days for all of us."

Sansa nodded and was grateful her mother seemed willing to let the matter drop.

The next morning Sansa and Jeyne ate together in glum silence. Winterfell felt desolate. The gaping void inside Sansa seemed to expand every moment Sandor was gone. Sansa felt her mother's eyes on her and wasn't surprised when she approached after Sansa had risen and Jeyne had left for the first of her many daily lessons.

"Sansa," Catelyn said without preamble, "you're going to come to the Vale with me."