I do not own ASOIAF. I do not profit from this story, nor would I ever seek to do so. All credit for characters and setting to the wonderful GRRM.
A BIG THANK YOU TO ALL READERS AND REVIEWERS. I appreciate all the feedback.
Sansa felt a shiver in her body as she imagined that she heard footsteps moving up the stairs, footsteps of a creature, neither dead nor truly alive. It was like one of Old Nan's stories brought to life, one of the scary ones that her brothers had always loved but that she had not been able to stomach. She reached back and pulled Sandor's cloak up over her shoulders. His cloak had protected her more than once. She felt safer with it draping her shoulders.
"Lady Brienne, send Sandor to me at once."
Brienne left the room after giving a brief bow.
It was time to be a player, not a piece. There was no time to be afraid. Petyr had said he would make her a player but always treated her like a piece. He needed to learn a lesson, a painful lesson that would end with his life. He did not know that the north remembers.
Thump. Thump.
Heavy footsteps that could not be mistaken were coming down the hall. The door was pushed open without a knock, and Sandor came in stiffly.
She rose to her feet. He was her man. She wondered when that happened, when he decided to serve her. She could not help remembering his confessing words to Elder Brother, words she had not been meant to hear. He said he had faced his brother because he had heard her ask her father to allow no harm to come to Loras from the Mountain.
A rush of warmth filled her at the sight he made. He stood straight and looked right into her face, though his eyes did not seem to be meeting hers. Her eyes caught on the sword he wore. Oathkeeper Brienne had called it. Hopefully, Gendry would be up to the task when the time was right.
"You called for me, Li—ady Sansa."
Sansa felt a twinge of disappointment as she rose to her feet. Why had he stopped himself from saying Little Bird? It was different if there were others around, people who would not understand their relationship. Showing such familiarity to a woman he was in service to would be inappropriate. It could lead to the wrong conclusions and grief among the people that she was supposed to rule. But if they were in private, she enjoyed it and it could not hurt anyone.
"Yes, I wanted you with me. I am going to meet with Lady Stoneheart."
Sandor nodded and moved to his place behind her. He stood with his hands crossed in front of him and stared at the door.
Sansa tucked the ends of his cloak around her as she had with his Kingsguard cloak that night that seemed so long ago now. Glancing up at him, she saw his hand rested on the hilt of the sword. She briefly wondered what he would look like seated in her father's chair. Another statement Petyr had made rose in her mind about 'low born cheeks.' Would the North accept anyone without Stark blood sitting that seat? She would have to marry him to give him the chair.
She looked down as her mind began to race. It was foolishness to wonder about such outcomes when he ran off every time they kissed. Was she not pleasing to kiss? She had not kissed him the way that Petyr had most liked her to kiss. It made her shudder to think of it, kissing the man who had put a dagger to her father's throat. Had Petyr been planning how to take her when he did that? She shoved aside thoughts of the Lord of Lies. Would Sandor like those kinds of kisses more than her others? He was a man grown. Would it be nice to share such kisses with Sandor?
The kiss she remembered with her Captain had been searing and hard, the same as his body had been when he held her. It was impossible to remain clueless to the differences between their bodies when he held her as he had. He was so large and strong. All the times they spent sharing his mount during the time since they were reunited had only reinforced the memories of his physical power. She had seen very few men who could approach him in size and strength. She had one of the most powerful protectors in the seven kingdoms.
She shifted. If she was not expecting her mother, she would give Sandor the chair and sit at his feet. They would be able to talk over everything the coming weeks would bring.
"I made my offer to Willow, and she said that she would tell the other children of it. I am certain some of them will join us."
It would be better this way. At least, she would have some companions beyond Sandor. She did not have to trust them at all. It had been so long since she had companions that were not in the employ of someone else. She wondered if these children would be loyal to her.
"Sandor, I want you to stay with me the rest of the night. I feel safer with you here close to me." She wondered if she should promise not to kiss him. Would it be better to pretend the kiss had not happened or to say something about it?
He did not respond more than a grunt.
She should apologize for kissing him. He was a man grown. He did not want to be subjected to kisses from a little girl. Her kisses upset him, maybe even angered him with the reminder of the night of Blackwater. He did not enjoy kissing her, and why would he? She forced back the tears. It would be better to find a different time to think about this. Her mother was coming for a meeting. All her wits would be required to make her ends happen. But if she did not say it, she might lose her composure in front of her mother.
"Sandor, it was not my intent—"
The door opened softly, and Sansa abruptly cut off from what she was saying. It was time to begin playing. She had to put it out of her mind. Distractions were unaffordable right now.
Gendry was with Lady Stoneheart. He followed one step behind to her left.
"With your permission, my Lady, I will translate." He took to one knee in front of her after placing down a chair for Lady Stoneheart.
Sansa nodded to him. He was one to keep close to her side. A blacksmith who was clearly close to whatever her mother had become. His love for her sister also seemed obvious. She wondered what Arya had thought of him.
"Mother," she asked, staring at the strange hooded and wrapped creature. "I wanted to see you."
The gurgling sound she now knew as her mother's voice came from Lady Stoneheart's mouth.
Sansa placed her hands in her lap after a quick glance at Sandor. It was strange how comforting just looking upon him had become. She hoped to always have it.
"I am glad you are well, Sansa."
Sansa paused a moment, thinking carefully over her words. She tried to hear the voice, the words of her mother coming from Gendry.
"How has this come to happen? I was told you were dead. I would know how you have returned to life, how you died. I have heard the tale of the return to life of Lord Beric Dondarrion from my most loyal protector." She would continue to reiterate how important Sandor was, just to be sure that the other woman understood that hurting Sandor would only hurt Sansa.
Sansa was quiet as she was told the story. She met the eyes of the woman, paying careful attention to every detail. Her plan and needs were clear in her mind. How she was going to accomplish them was less so. This story was giving her the information. It was giving her time to plan.
"Lord Dondarrion gave his life to restore your mother to hers."
"How many men are part of this Brotherhood?" She shifted. Her father had sent one hundred men to bring the Mountain to justice. How many were left of that number?
"There are a fair number. Some have been sent to acquire food. Some have left on other missions."
Sansa shifted as she heard Sandor growl softly. She looked up at him. His gray eyes were angry as he shifted slightly.
"Sandor?" What happened? During both her interviews with Jaime, and so much more, he had remained almost totally silent. It was unusual for him to make a noise when she was having an interview unless he thought her threatened.
"They are using my money to acquire their food, money they stole." Sandor shifted some. "Money I could have used."
Gendry shifted a little as if he wanted to say something. He glowered at Sandor.
Sansa stiffened. It would be best to let them share their grievances with each other, rather than keep them bottled up. Though, it would be nice if they could have left it for another time. Even though their last difference of opinion had led to Gendry being pushed down in the mud. She would not have more fighting between her men. They both had such great value.
"Any money of his that remains, I would have returned to him immediately. Gendry, do you have something to say?"
"He would have used the money to continue drinking. We have used the money to help the children, those who have suffered the most from this war between five kings." Gendry's blue eyes were bright as he spoke.
"And to pay a ransom, I believe. Who knows what all the money has been spent on or what it would have been spent on? I am not interested in speculation about how the money would have been spent, Ser. The money was stolen from my Captain. He earned it through his superior abilities at the Tourney of the Hand. You had no right to steal it from him. The remainder will be returned." Hopefully the stolen amount could be returned to Sandor through services rendered.
"What of the Kingslayer? Will you punish him for his crimes?" Lady Stoneheart was sitting stiffly in the chair.
Her mother's feelings toward Jaime Lannister were obvious. She was so blinded by hatred because of some smart remark the Lord Commander had purportedly said. Well, no matter how angry she was, Jaime Lannister was not going to be hung. He still had uses.
"Father always said that family was important and that family has to work together to survive the winter. Ser Jaime Lannister is my goodbrother. I may not have chosen him for my brother. I may not have wanted him for a goodbrother. But my brother he is."
She did not even think of him as her brother in truth, but it did not matter what her real thoughts and feelings were. What mattered was making it clear that Ser Jaime could serve her in ways that no one else could. She hoped he would honor the unofficial words of his family. The fact that he was here showed a certain amount of honor to his words. If half of what he had said about what the Mad King had done was true—he was an interesting man.
She felt the hardness of the Starks in her for the first time as she spoke her next words, knowing she could allow no argument to sway her. Jaime was valuable.
"The words of my mother's family, the Tullys of Riverrun are 'Family. Duty. Honor.' I believe in these words every bit as much as I believe my father's words. Ser Jaime is my family now."
The half dead-half alive creature almost howled in rage. The woman was on her feet pacing furiously.
"He crippled your brother. Did he tell you that?"
A chill went through Sansa that shot straight to her bones. She never suspected that Bran had been hurt by the Kingsguard. Apparently, the only Kingsguard to never strike her had harmed Bran. But Bran was dead, and it was not by Jaime's hand.
"What are you talking about?"
"Brandon, your little brother who loved to climb, who desired nothing more than to be a member of the Kingsguard, was pushed from the window by that monster."
Sansa took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She steeled herself. She loved Bran, and when she had her sons, she would definitely have a Bran. She could work around the moves that had already been made. She needed Jaime, no matter what he had done to Bran.
"Bran is dead. Theon Greyjoy is a turncloak traitor. He killed my little brothers." Sansa kept her voice calm and even. She only had one brother left, albeit a half-brother, but he was a brother. "Lord Fray killed Robb. Joffrey killed Father."
She would not punish someone for crimes committed against someone who was dead, so long as they had not killed him. Jaime was her one chance. It was a slim chance, but without him, her chances were none.
"Your brother—"
"My only living brother is at the Wall, and he can never leave. You cared for him as much as I did. You would not let him stay in Winterfell after Father left. He had nowhere else to go. I was foolish then. Bran is dead. Lord Commander Jaime is not responsible for that."
Sansa fought not to yell. She could not help wondering if Jon had been allowed to stay in Winterfell, if he would have been able to save Bran and Rickon. Jon loved Bran. They were often together. Jon would have protected them, kept them safe. Jon might have ridden south to save father. Jon would surely have not trusted Lord Fray. She shoved the thoughts away. It was a waste to wonder over what might have been. Right now, it matted to look forward to what could be not back at what had not been.
"The Lannister oathbreaker should be punished."
"He has lost his sword hand. He has suffered for his crimes." Jaime Lannister's sword was talked of as being one of the finest in all the seven kingdoms. That was lost to him, something that had defined him. It would have been kinder to kill him.
"He should die."
Sansa felt that same chill, the terrifying sensation of when her boot was lost out the moon door while her aunt tried to push her made her breath come a little faster. Her mother would not call for death so easily. Her mother had been merciful and kind.
"No, I need him alive."
"Lannisters are nothing but liars. They repay trust with treachery."
"He is the only person who can do what I need done."
Sansa shifted, thinking on the words of her family. 'Family. Duty. Honor.' 'Winter is Coming.' Unwittingly, the words of the Lannisters charged through her mind. 'Hear me Roar.' He was her best chance for accomplishing her ends. She needed her mother to hear her.
"He is my family. I have a duty to him as he has to me." She felt silly saying it, especially when she considered all the Lannisters had done to her. But Jaime was crucial to her plans.
The urge to yell at her mother for the part she had played in causing the fight to break out was great. If Tyrion had just been left alone, Jaime would not have attacked Father. Lord Tywin would not have sent the Mountain to pillage the Riverlands. She shifted. It did no good to dwell on what might have been. Her mother had taken Tyrion. Lord Tywin retaliated and won, something he had been known for since the Reynes and Tarbecks defied him. What was done was done and could not be undone bby any amount of wishful thinking. All that could be done was to look forward.
"Mother, I need something of you." Sansa paused, watching Lady Stoneheart for signs of her receptiveness.
The woman resumed her seat and looked Sansa over carefully.
"You have only to ask, Sansa."
Sansa shifted forward in her seat slightly, staring at the covered face.
"I need the outlaws. I would have them stop their activities for the time."
Lady Stoneheart was stiff and rose to her feet.
"I want to take all these children to safety with me. Sandor can not possibly be our only protector. I need Gendry to come with me. He has sworn to serve me and stay by my side."
"Who will help kill the Frays for their crimes? They should all die."
Sansa took a deep breath. She did want the Frays punished. What they had done was beyond despicable. They had taken their liege lord captive and broken guest right.
"Mother, I want to take over these matters. I need these men with me. I need protection for the children on the road. I need Jaime Lannister alive to bring justice."
Anyone searching for Jaime Lannister would provide nothing but trouble for Sansa and her party. She had enough people out looking for her now as it was. If the country was to be filled with more people searching for her, she would not do anything to contribute to a more concerted effort. It would be best to send some sort of message giving false whereabouts to King's Landing.
Lady Stoneheart looked down at her.
"Why? Tell me why."
"I believe that with the help of the Lord Commander I can bring to justice one of the driving forces behind Father's death."
Lady Stoneheart rose frightfully. A woman so centered on vegeance for her family and protecting what was left of it would find this a worthy reason.
"Why do you believe he will help you?"
"I spared his life. A Lannister always pays their debts." Sansa bit back telling her the real reason. Petyr Baelish had admitted to her his role in the strife of the Lannisters. A man with Jaime's temper might do something rash.
"What about what Lord Bolton said to your brother before he killed him?" The wisp of her mother was almost howling with rage again. She was like a wild animal—frightening and bloodthirsty.
Sansa shifted, remembering Brienne's tale of Jaime meeting Lord Bolton. Her first thought when she saw him was that he was some monster. Regardless, a man's words were no reason to condemn him. Only his actions should be punished. Words were wind. Ser Jaime was clearly a man who spoke first and thought later. That much was clear after only two conversations with him. His brother was the same. She shifted a little.
"Lord Bolton will pay for his crimes. But is there any way to conclusively prove that Ser Jaime said those words you heard from Lord Bolton? He may have fabricated it. A man who would kill his king would do anything."
"And if he didn't?"
"They were just words. Lord Bolton will be punished for his oath breaking and for killing Robb."
Sansa shivered a little, remembering the one time that she had met Lord Roose Bolton. He was a frightening man, with his pale eyes and too soft voice. She had hidden behind her father's legs. She would eliminate all Boltons.
She would work toward justice for all the treachery her family had suffered. Some had been dealt with and some had not. If a long summer meant a longer winter, there was plenty of time to plan what she would do with Lord Baelish and Lord Bolton and the Frays.
As satisfying as the thoughts were, she wondered if she would be able to carry through with them all. Despite everything Petyr had done, he had still saved her life. His reasons were not honorable, but he still saved her from the queen. Did his reasons invalidate his actions? There was no time to think of this. She needed to focus on collecting whatever small or large number of men that her mother commanded. The thought of what happened to her father's men rippled across her brain then, and then her father. Tyrion had ordered his bones returned, but they had been sent to Riverrun.
"Mother, what happened to Father's bones? Do you know? I know that they were sent back to you, but did they get home? I know father would want to be home in Winterfell with Uncle Brandon and Aunt Lyanna and Grandfather."
Lady Stoneheart had a hardness to her as she looked over at Sansa.
Sansa lifted the handkerchief that was resting in her lap. Her fingers dug into the fabric she had so long kept close to herself. She covered her mouth with it and shook a little.
"I watched Father die. Joffrey made me look at his head when he put it on a spike. Father's bones were sent to you. Are they home?"
She pressed the handkerchief that had wiped her blood that first day she had been punished by the Kingsguard to her lips. Turning slightly toward Sandor, she stifled a sob. She had once been down in the crypts where the kings of winter were. Her father would want to be there. He had been a Lord of Winterfell. She would have to find a stonemason, if there were any left anywhere, who knew her father's likeness well. He ought to have a statue. Thinking of her final words to him brought tears to her eyes.
"Please, Mother. Can you do this? Make sure that father gets home. I hate the two of you not being together. I hate thinking of him not being in Winterfell."
Her mother was worse than dead. Maybe if she could help her father get home to Winterfell—maybe it would all be okay. Maybe it would help this creature. It would at least relax searches in the area she had to travel through.
"Please, I need these men for safety. Their current actions will not help me keep safe. They can help me and these orphans. I will sleep better once I know that Father is home."
Lady Stoneheart said nothing as she moved about the room.
"The Frays have already begun to suffer for the crimes, and their suffering is far from done. I promise you that, Mother. But for now, I need the Brotherhood to help me to safety. If my father is safe in Winterfell where he belongs, so much will be better. I want to know that you are with him, making sure that things are the way he would want. You knew father better than anyone."
Sansa shifted, remembering her father's words she overheard once to her brother Robb, 'A Stark must always be in Winterfell.' Well, that was not possible right now. The castle was in ruins. She had no gifted builders to help her rebuild the holdfast. Winter had set in. There was no way to repair the castle right now. There was probably no food or anything else in the castle.
Lady Stoneheart looked her over.
"I will go for you, Sansa. But as soon as your father is safe in Winterfell, I will continue avenging your brother."
Sansa paused a moment. Lady Stoneheart would need help with what she was doing.
"I think you should take Harwin with you. He knows the North. He can translate for you." She knew that she could use Harwin. Harwin knew more of horses than any man she knew, but it was necessary to leave her mother with helpers. After the crimes her mother had been subjected to at the hands of the Frays and Boltons, she had the right to seek her vengeance. It was an argument she would lose, but if it was in the north, with any luck, the crown would let it be a problem for the Northern lords.
Sansa shifted. She could use someone who knew horses the way Harwin did, but her mother was set on vengeance, and taking on the Boltons would not be easy.
"I know we shall see each other after winter has passed."
Lady Stoneheart nodded to her.
"And when we do, if it is the will of the gods, old and new, I will have found my sister. If anyone could survive what she has been through, it is her. Arya is strong."
"Before I leave, I would see you off in the morning and fetch all the men I will send with you."
Sansa nodded, standing as her mother moved to the door.
"Good night, Mother."
Sandor moved and shut the door behind Lady Stoneheart and her translator, Gendry.
Sansa slumped over in the chair. She wondered briefly if Jaime would be safe in the room where he was or if her mother would harm him. So much depended on keeping him alive and healthy.
He moved swiftly to her, taking a knee heavily in front of her.
"My Lady?" He did not look into her eyes as he addressed her. His eyes were searching her face.
She bit her lip a moment before answering. It was disconcerting for him to not address her by the nickname he gave her. She could remember very few instances in King's Landing when he used her name. Even when he returned her to the Red Keep after the riot, he had called her little bird in front of all those people—including the hand of the king at that time.
"It's fine."
Sandor rose to his feet, looking down at her. His eyes crossed a little and darkened even as he took a step back. Sansa clutched the fabric tighter around herself.
"Piss on that, Little Bird. What's wrong?"
She looked up and smiled softly, though the tears remained. Her eyes traced the way his hair fell across his face before moving to his eyes. He called her Little Bird again. She pondered for a moment telling how she had missed the nickname, but dismissed it. It was not something to say at this moment.
"That woman who used to be my mother. My mother used to always ask my father for mercy when he had to put someone to death. And now—" Sansa trailed off. Her smile faded as she stood. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Watching someone kill those you love and who loved you will do that to some people."
Sansa shifted a bit, wondering at him again. She had heard rumors about his family while in the Red Keep, stories so horrible that she had believed them to be just rumors, even knowing what Gregor had done from his brother's lips. What else could that monstrous man have done that was true? She did not dare inquire. Sandor had the tendency to share stories on a whim without being questioned. He had threatened her if she ever spoke of the story of his burns.
"Yet you stopped me from killing Joffrey."
Sandor shifted as she pressed the simple horn cup into his hand.
"I did."
He downed the cup of very watered wine. A moment of foreboding tingled in her. She did not wish him to take up his old drinking habits. He was terrifying as a drunk.
Sansa was quiet. She tucked her knees up close.
"Are you the same little girl who went to King's Landing a few years ago?" Sandor asked, setting the cup down and not even looking at the flagon.
Sansa shook her head. Sandor had changed too. She could not believe, when she looked into his eyes, that he was the same man who so frightened her when she first met him. It would be a comfort to have his arms to hold her whenever she needed.
Sandor shifted.
"Sandor, where is your castle? You said it was close to Casterly Rock."
She tucked her legs up, completely wrapping his cloak around her body. It was almost as though she was using it as a cloak of protection. The thought gave her comfort, though she knew that it was a match that could not be approved. There would be ways around it once she returned to Winterfell and put down the Boltons.
"It is in the hills between Casterly Rock and High Garden. It is relatively inaccessible, and the attendant lands are good, quite fertile. There should be plenty of food and money for more for the whole of the winter."
Sansa remembered the story of how his family became nobility. Apparently, Lord Tywin's father considered the saving of his life to be worth a great deal. Lord Tywin might not reward a man so handsomely as his father had.
"How long do you think it will take to reach?"
"Impossible to say. Perhaps as much as a moon's turn with the increased size of the party."
Sandor stood with his back to the door, gazing at a place on the wall behind her.
"Try to sleep, Little Bird."
"Sandor, I wanted to speak with you." Sansa tried. She owed him an apology for her pitiful kisses. He did not enjoy them any more than any man would enjoy a kiss. She had felt his arousal, but he was a man. It might be simply a natural response to any kiss, whether he enjoyed it or not. She ought not to have done it, despite the fact that he had kissed her in the past. He had given ample reason to believe that a kiss would be agreeable and pleasurable. She should have kissed him differently.
"It will be a long journey with little and less pleasant places to sleep, Little Bird. You should sleep now."
Sansa bit her lip and stood. She kept his cloak tucked around her shoulders as she curled up in the middle of the bed. It would do no good to continue trying to talk to him. When he determined that it was time for her to sleep, he would not speak anymore to her. Rolling up in the cloak slightly, she settled into the bed to enjoy a night of sleep and peace that might be her last for a good while.