~Sansa~

When they finally reach Casterly Rock Sansa can't help but stare at the formidable castle with open-mouthed awe. All of the stories she'd read and all of the songs she'd heard had not properly prepared her for the beauty of the Rock. The castle is carved into the mountain and looms over them, huge, and intimidating.

She feels a little foolish when she sees the look on Arya's face matching her own, realizing she must look like some country beggar, with clothes dirty and torn from the trip, staring up as if she'd never seen a castle before.

She and Tyrion ride at the front of the party now, winding through the streets of Lannisport, heading for the front gates.

"Welcome to your new home," Tyrion says, as the horse approach a large entry tunnel, carved to look like you are riding into a lion's mouth.

"It's so big," Sansa breathes, still trying to take it all in.

"How else would they fit all that Lannister ego in there?" Bronn asks cheekily from somewhere behind them.

"They had to have the roof raised after my father took charge," Tyrion chuckles.

If the gate guards are surprised to see Tyrion, weeks after he was originally due to arrive, they say nothing of it, instead only bowing low and raising the gate to allow them entrance.

The Hound keeps his head down despite wearing a helmet he stole on their journey to hide his face, but no one pays him a second glance.

They ride their horses right up to the entrance of the castle before dismounting, and Sansa rubs her sore backside, already fantasizing about the feather beds surely waiting for them.

The sun is low in the sky and it is almost an acceptable time to turn in, for which she is grateful. Sansa is too tired to play Lady of the Rock today, or possibly ever.

They all dismount and stable boys appear almost out of thin air to take care of their weary horses.

"Spoil them," Sansa tells one of the boys, "they've had a difficult journey."

"Yes, my Lady."

Tyrion sighs loudly staring at the front steps.

"All right, one final matter to handle and then we can all collapse on our asses and not move for a week. Sound good?" Tyrion asks, but continues without waiting for a response. "Follow me."

The group abides.

Tyrion takes lead, followed by Sansa and Arya side by side, with Bronn and the Hound bringing up the rear. He leads them into the castle, and straight off to one side into a large study.

Sansa would love to spend more time examining the entrance hall, but knows she'll have plenty of opportunities in the days to follow.

In the study Tyrion signals everyone to take a seat.

"I'll be right back," he tells them, ducking out of the room without explanation.

"That wasn't at all enigmatic," Bronn remarks sarcastically.

Sansa and Arya sit down on a plush couch in the center of the room, sighing at the softness. Bronn sits down at a large ornate desk and kicks back, resting his muddy boots on the shining mahogany surface, and the Hound continues to stand, pacing the room nervously.

"This place is beautiful," Sansa says, making conversation.

"It's huge," Arya replies, nodding. "Think it has secret tunnels? Ooh, do you think Tyrion would show them to me?"

Arya's excitement is already bounding thinking of the possibilities and Sansa can't help but laugh at the girl's euphoric expression.

After whatever "understanding" Arya and Tyrion had come to, which they still wouldn't tell her about, the two had become much friendlier to one another. The rest of their journey had been filled with the two of them peppering the other with questions.

Arya wanting to know all about the Rock, and wanting details of Tyrion leading the Battle of Blackwater, and Tyrion wanting more details on Arya's travels, such as the faceless man and the Brotherhood.

"He might if you ask nicely," Sansa says, smiling.

"If he won't, we can find 'em together," Bronn pipes up. "I might be pretty interested in exploring the secret tunnels of the Lannister Castle."

Off in the corner the Hound starts mumbling to himself.

"What's with him?" Sansa asks Arya quietly.

"He doesn't like tunnels," she answers just as quiet. "You have to carry a torch."

Before Sansa can reply the door opens back up and Tyrion walks in, a steward behind him.

"Okay, let's wrap this up," Tyrion says, clapping his hands.

He strides over to a large tapestry hanging from the wall, and when he pulls the edge back Sansa sees it is hiding a small vault built into the wall. Tyrion pulls a key from his pocket and slips it into the small lock.

When the vault door swings open Bronn lets out a low whistle and stands up to get a better look. The vault is packed with gold coins.

Tyrion counts out several stacks of coins and sweeps them into a large coin purse. When he finishes he closes the vault, locks it, and returns the key to his pocket.

"Here you are," he says, turning and walking to the Hound, the purse outstretched.

The Hound snatches it up and peeks inside, before grunting.

"Looks about right."

"And as for the other half of our bargain, this is one of my stewards, Jonathan, he will be leading you out to the docks where there is a ship waiting for you to board. It leaves at midnight. By morning you will be out of reach of all those hunting you."

Arya sits up straight, surprised.

"He's leaving already?" she asks.

"I thought it safest to get him passage as soon as possible," Tyrion tells her, then he turns back to the Hound. You should go soon, Jonathan will take you the back way to avoid being seen."

The Hound nods and steps forward to leave, but Arya jumps up from the couch and stands in front of him, blocking his passage.

Sansa stands up as well, and places a hand on Tyrion's shoulder, leading him to the other side of the room. She's not sure what Arya is thinking, but it seems best to give her a little privacy.

"You're leaving then? For good?" Arya asks.

"Aye, probably for good. Fuck this whole country. I don't want to ever come back."

"Well, good," she huffs, crossing her arms. "Glad to be finally rid of you."

"Then we're in agreement," the Hound growls, grimacing down at her. "You've been nuthin' but a right pain in my ass."

"And you're just an ignorant mercenary, no better than a common thief!"

"I didn't hear you complaining about those eggs we stole off that farm when you were starving."

"Well, that's different—" Arya starts.

"Oh, no. You can't pick and choose when to have morals. You're a lying thief too, little wolf."

"I hate you!" she cries, voice cracking.

"I hate you, too," the Hound says quietly.

Then, to probably the surprise of everyone in the room, Arya steps forward and throws her arms around the Hound's waist, burying her face in his stomach.

He stands there, shocked, a horrified expression on his face as he realizes the little girl clinging to him had started to cry.

~Arya~

She tried not to cry. She really did. It didn't matter though; try as she might Arya can't control the stream of tears pouring from her as she clings to the bastard who's been trying to ransom her off for months.

All she can think of is how he tried to protect her from seeing what happened to her brother and mother, and how he was the one there with her, telling stories from his youth to help her understand her pain. She didn't realize it at the time, but he was trying to look out for her, in his own weird way.

Arya is also terrified to see him go for another reason. He understands her. He understands her thirst for vengeance, and her need to be the one to kill those that have wronged her. He doesn't judge her, instead sharing in her hatred. Arya saw the looks from Tyrion and Sansa when she told them about her kills. They wouldn't say it, but they thought it was wrong.

Maybe not wrong those men had died, but that she had did it herself.

The Hound understood. And now he was leaving. Forever.

After a very long moment, Arya felt a clumsy hand come down to pat her back awkwardly. She tightened her hold on his waist, not caring at the moment how week it made her look. Another brief pause and then the Hound finally returned her hug, his arms wrapping around her, practically swallowing her whole.

She's not sure how long they stand like that before she finally pulls away and wipes her eyes and nose noisily on her sleeve.

"You should hurry and go," Arya says, voice thick, "Before I change my mind and put you back on my list."

The Hound gives her the smallest smirk.

"Aye, wench, I'm going."

"Goodbye," she whispers.

"Goodbye, little wolf."

Arya watches as the Hound follows Jonathan the steward out of the study, pausing only a moment when Sansa grabs his hand and wishes him safe travels.

Then he's gone, leaving Arya to sadly wonder if it is truly the last she'll see of him.


Author's Note: Ugh! Sorry about the crazy delay! Things have been insane in RL as of late. I am officially located in Michigan now, instead of Texas, but still waiting to move into our new house as our mortgage company is being a giant a-hole. (Excuse my ranting, I'm staying with my in-laws (enough of a trial) but they also have really slow internet which puts me on edge)

Anyways, please let me know what you think! I will try to have another chapter up at normal time on Sunday night, but it could be slightly delayed. I will try though!