Margaery and Robin were married and despite Margaery telling the young boy that she didn't want any sort of celebration, the Eyrie was a bustle of movement. Night had befallen. Ramsay's men were particularly loud and colorful… probably because many of them had finally been returned to their home. Robin had decided that the men that had traveled with Ramsay and Sansa from Winterfell would be staying in the Eyrie. They would be replaced, man for man, with the men that he had kept the first time. That way the men that had been gone for such a long time would now be reunited with their friends and family and the others would be fresh. They wouldn't be worn down from travels or the small fight that had transpired. Ramsay hadn't argued. Sansa noted that he hadn't said much of anything lately.

She sat between him and Osmund at their final meal of the day. Loras, Taryne holding Ygritte and Melisandre sat across from the three of them. Ramsay was visibly on edge and the five of them weren't attempting to set him off. He wasn't in Winterfell anymore. If he stabbed the person nearest to him it would most likely be a Knight of the Vale and they were in the Vale. There would be an uproar and Petyr would whisper in Robin's ear and attempt to get Ramsay thrown out of the moon door. Sansa just knew it. So when a man let out a particularly crude joke and Sansa blushed deep red and Ramsay's head jerked towards him after seeing her reaction she swallowed all of her morals and put a hand on her stomach before leaning heavily against him. She instantly had his full attention.

"I think I just need to rest," she said to his unanswered question.

Ramsay was to his feet rather quickly and Osmund and Loras followed suit.

"Loras can help me get Sansa to bed," Ramsay said helping his wife up.

Osmund nodded. He understood that Ramsay didn't want Ygritte alone beside The Red Woman. Personally, he didn't blame him. He'd heard what she'd done to the daughter of the last self-proclaimed king. Osmund would be damned if such a thing happened to Ramsay's offspring. He sat back in front of them with a thud and Ramsay and Loras both took up a side of Sansa.

She resisted the urge to tell them that she wasn't helpless and instead offered a smile to Margaery who had stood from her place at the table lined in the front of all of the rest. She, Robin, Petyr and two others were seated there with two empty places where she and Ramsay were supposed to be. Margaery continued to stand until Sansa waved her off. She nodded once and sat gracefully back down. Sansa admired her. She was a natural noblewoman. She seemed to be so without error or outwardly trying and it was amazing. Sansa pushed down her envy. She should have been thankful of what Margaery was doing for not only her own house, but for the Stark/Bolton house as well.

When the two men got Sansa up the stairs, Ramsay dismissed Loras with a curt thank you before shutting the door in his face. He helped Sansa out of her dress. Margaery had sworn that Sansa hadn't had to force herself in to one but she had been completely disgusted with the thought of wearing trousers to Margaery and Robin's wedding. She was more than happy that Ramsay was freeing her of the damned thing now however. He yanked her hair free of its complicated updo without her having to ask as she shimmed out of the dress he'd untied. She let it pool around her feet and Ramsay crossed the room. He threw open one of her trunks and found her a nightgown before making his way back over. Sansa spun around to face him and lifted her arms so that he could clothe her. He pulled her arms through her gown and then pulled it slowly down, over her face, her neck, her breasts and the stretch of her stomach. He released it then, letting it fall down the rest of her on its own. He placed his hands on either side of her. She'd told him she wanted to name their child Robb if it was a boy. He had agreed. They hadn't come to terms with anything for a daughter, however and this was their last night together.

Ramsay helped Sansa in to bed before shedding his own clothes and changing in to bed clothes of his own. He wasn't in the mood to drink with the merry men of the Vale. He didn't want to partake in their stupid games. He wanted to spend his last night with his wife. He clambered in with her and they sat side by side, Sansa's hand over his. They weren't talking. There was nothing to say. Sansa wanted to tell Ramsay to just stay at the Vale with her, but she knew he never would. Ramsay wasn't sure what he wanted to tell his wife, but he knew that there was much to be said. He took a deep breath.

"Name our child whatever you'd like, Sansa and I will love them."

He'd told her that before but he felt like it needed to be expressed again. She nodded silently and then they fell- hot, fast tears that she could hold back. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want him to die. She wasn't even sure if she was crying over him. Her emotions were so frazzled. She was partly crying for him and partly crying for Jon and Arya. They were all going off to possibly die. Her stomach was in knots and her heart was aching and the child she was carrying was choosing now to become active.

Ramsay said nothing. He sat beside his wife and he let her cry herself out. He let her cry until her throat ached and she collapsed in to his side and wrapped her arms around him and fell asleep. And then he sat there, with an arm around Sansa until he couldn't anymore. Then he laid beside her, a hand on her stomach. He was doing this for their children. He was doing this for his wife. He was doing this because it was his duty as a father, husband and king in the north. Priorities. He couldn't very well stay glued to Sansa and Ygritte while the Lannisters were doing Gods knew what… not even if he wanted to. He eventually found himself tired enough to sleep somehow. He would miss his family- the only family that had ever wanted him.

When Sansa jolted awake in the middle of the night and awoke her husband soon after there were no words exchanged between them. They shifted in the darkness and Ramsay soon found himself buried in his wife to the hilt until they collapsed wordlessly together to return back to sleep.

X

Jon Snow crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Brienne- hard. She had lost her mind if she thought that he was going to let her waltz right in to the camp of Jaime Lannister… alone. He wouldn't let The Hound march in to that camp alone honestly. She sighed and continued to pace.

"What if I can get sir Jaime to lay his sword down?"

"You won't," Jon said simply.

"What if I can?"

"His family killed our brother!" Arya growled, "We don't care about his surrender. We want his life!"

"Arya," Jon deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. Sansa should have kept her girly little knight.

"Just allow me to speak to him."

Jon looked around the room. The Hound and Tormund stood by the entrance of the tent.

"If you go Tormund goes with you," Jon sighed.

Brienne nodded without a second thought.

"Thank you Jon!"

"We have archers preparing. We will lay siege to their siege when ready, whether you have returned or not, Brienne. That's Sansa's uncle in there."

"Of course!" Brienne turned on her heels and hurried out of the tent.

Tormund followed and then The Hound exited after them. Arya cast her brother a look.

"The less time we spend here the better chances we have of getting to Tywin quickly."

"They killed Rob and our father and mo- Catelyn."

"I know that Arya!" Jon ran a hand through his hair.

His youngest sister started pacing.

"Unbelievable!" she threw her arms in the air.

"He won't surrender," Jon said quietly.

"And if he does will you accept?"

"Arya-"

"Will you!?" she screamed.

Jon rubbed his temples.

"Tywin made that call, Arya. He's the one we want. Jaime was following orders and lost a hand in the process."

"I wish Robb was lucky enough to only lose a damned hand, Jon! But instead he lost his head. We should behead Tywin and then take off Jaime's head and sew it to a stupid lion!" she was turning red in the face.

Arya stomped her foot in frustration and then tore her way through her brother's tent.

"Arya!" Jon called.

She ignored him and pushed on and Jon let his head fall back in frustration.

X

Brienne rode in to Jaime's camp with Tormund and The Hound flanking her. She didn't remember the latter being a part of the negotiation, but she wasn't about to attempt to stop them. She stopped and looked out at the tents that were littering the land, making it a sea of red and green; red tents and green grass.

"Looks like a siege," Tormund said simply.

"You have a keen military mind, Tormund," Brienne said simply.

The Hound scoffed and started his horse again. Tormund followed after him. Brienne took a deep breath. She caught sight of Jaime Lannister making his way through his men from his horseback. He looked better with the shorter hair she noted. She found herself taking a few sharp breaths without understanding why that was so. She'd shared things with him as he'd shared with her. She'd told him how she'd come to be a knight. He'd told her how he'd become The King Slayer. They'd saved each other's lives. She hadn't been able to save his hand however… She sat up straighter and started after the two men she'd entered the camp with.

It wasn't long before they were met by some of Jaime's men.

"Move the fuck out of my way," The Hound said dryly.

"My name is Brienne of Tarth," Brienne cleared her throat, "Please tell sir Jaime that I've come to speak with him.. I uhm, I have his sword."

The Hound and Tormund both looked back at her. The Hound was amused, but Tormund- he was disgusted. The Free Folk lived on honor. Brienne was sworn to Sansa and she protected the girl with the sword of a man who had been related to the death of several of her family members. Brienne was a different one. He didn't want to believe that she had strange motives, but he would be telling Jon about this all the same.

They were allowed in to the camp because besides reporting how many men Jaime had there wasn't much that the three of them could do that wouldn't result in their death. Tormund stood outside of Jaime's tent, his arms crossed over his chest. He had no desire to see the King Slayer more than he needed to. He stole a look at him to know who to shoot in the leg when the official battle begun and then he let himself out.

Jaime Lannister looked from Brienne to The Hound. His blonde hair was choppy looking and brown. That was what Brienne looked at. The Hound was focused more on his fake hand. Jaime looked between the two of them.

"You sure do keep interesting company, Lady Brienne," Jaime scoffed.

"He's sworn to Sansa as well," she said plainly.

"Yeah, yeah," The Hound waved an arm absently, "Where is my brother?"

"Sworn to Cersei," Jaime said never taking his eyes off of Brienne.

She was wandering around with The Hound and a wilding- this woman of noble birth.

"Then, I'm done here. I'm leaving your stupid camp."

The Hound stomped his way out and Brienne smiled awkwardly.

"Brienne, I never thought you'd find her," Jaime scratched the back of his head, "I assumed Sansa Stark was dead."

"She's a Bolton now."

"Even worse," he shrugged.

"Why would you assume she was dead?" Brienne asked genuinely confused.

"In my experience girls like her don't live very long."

"Then I don't think you've met any women like her."

"Well, I'm proud of you," he ignored her comment, "I am. You fulfilled your oath to Catelyn Stark and not only did you bring one Stark from the dead, you brought them all back. There went from none of them to four of them and the bastard boy. That's an accomplishment."

"The Hound retrieved Arya and the north took care of the rest."

"Of course the north did," he said tightly, "My sister wants Sansa and her entire family dead and then there's the fact that Tyrion is known to be with her and he's suspected of Myrcella's death," he crossed his tent, closing in on her, "I know Tyrion didn't do it, but Cersei refuses to believe me," he stopped in front of Brienne, "What a… complication," he said the word slowly.

Brienne took a deep breath and felt the need to puff out her chest.

"Yes, well Sansa wants your father's head."

"I bet she does," he chuckled, "Brienne, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to aid the Blackfish."

"Please feel free to take him," Jaime waved his hand in the general direction of the castle.

"It's not he who should be leaving. Lady Sansa would like to cement her mother's family's place here at Riverrun."

"With what army?"

"Besides the Tully army?" Brienne wasn't going to tell him how many men Jon had.

"The Tully army is a little busy at the moment," he smirked, "And I'm sent here to take over Riverrun and then defend it from these Tully rebels. So you can see how this is a bit of conundrum."

"The Tullys are rebels because they're fighting for their home?" Brienne asked slowly.

"Riverrun was granted to the Freys by a royal decree."

"As payment for betraying Robb Stark and killing him and his whole family."

"Exactly," Jaime's tone had gotten slightly darker.

Brienne held her ground.

"The Freys are all dead. Sansa Stark had them all killed."

"Then we need to recapture it before giving it away again I suppose."

They paused. They stood and simply looked at each other. Brienne licked her lips and Jaime took a deep breath. His face visibly softened. He didn't want to harm Brienne. He was actually sort of… fond of her. He turned away from her.

"We shouldn't argue about politics," he said retreating to a table with wine housed on it.

"You're a knight Sir Jaime," she reminded, "I know there is honor in you… I've seen it myself."

"I'm a Lannister," he spun back around towards her.

"So is Tyrion," Brienne retorted.

"Don't ask me to betray my own house," it was a statement that sounded more like begging.

Brienne's heart ached for him. She would never show it. Her duty was to Sansa and the Starks.

"I ask you no such thing," she said finally, "You want Sansa Stark, march for her. Leave the Tullys alone."

"Aren't you supposed to be guarding Sansa instead of offering her up?"

"I told you to march for her, Sir Jaime. I have no doubts that you will fail in the attempt."

"Charming," he rolled his eyes.

"You're going to sacrifice your men to battle for Riverrun when there is no one better to run it. The Freys are dead. There is no mission because there is no one to return Riverrun to."

"So we give the Tullys their ancestral home and what do we get?"

"We'll let all of your men march back south where you belong. Your father will need the backup when he meets our forces."

"And you're telling me this because you believe the knowledge won't make a difference," Jaime turned away and grabbed the wine.

He poured himself a drink.

"I'm telling you this because I know it won't and if you refuse my offer your men will be slaughtered, more than half of them at the least."

"Not everyone wants to die for someone else's home," Jaime admitted, "but dying for my family's honor doesn't seem half bad."

"I am giving you my word that if you abandon this castle, you will have safe passage south from the forces with me."

"I'm not abandoning this castle, Brienne."

"You have until nightfall to give a final answer," she said calmly.

He nodded and Brienne took a breath before looking down and beginning to remove the sword that she wore as her own. Jaime watched her in part surprise and part amusement as she held out his old sword to him. He looked from the bottom of the blade, up to the lion at the end of the handle. He sat the wine down without taking a single drink and walked back up to Brienne yet again. He let his eyes rake over the sword. He sighed.

"You gave me this for a purpose," Brienne said, "and I have achieved that purpose."

Jaime let his eyes rake over the sword again. His head was spinning. He was… anxious for lack of a better word. Brienne made him feel that way; sort of excited and yet really calm as well.

"It's yours," he shrugged, "It will always be yours."

His words took on new meanings in Brienne's head but she beat the thoughts down. Her eyes threatened to water, but she fought the tears away. She hugged the sword to her and then turned and started towards the exit of the tent. Jaime followed and was slightly shocked when she stopped mid stride and spun around.

"One more thing, Sir Jaime."

"Yes Lady Brienne?"

He was close to her, uncomfortably so.

"Should you continue to refuse to surrender and you attack the castle, honor compels me to fight for Sansa Stark's kin."

"Of course it does."

"To fight… you," she specified.

Jaime took a moment before nodding slowly.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"If there's no chance of surrender from you there will be bloodshed. The Blackfish is not leaving Riverrun and we are not leaving without him holding this castle."

Jaime opened his mouth and then closed it again. Brienne shook her head and turned away from him, rushing out. She hurried towards her horse and a waiting Tormund fell in line.

She quickly mounted her horse and he did the same. She sighed. Jaime was standing outside of his tent looking at her now.

"How did it go?" Tormund asked.

"I failed," Brienne set her horse in to a walk.

X

Sansa stood holding Ygritte, silent tears rushing down her face. This was it. He was leaving. He had decided that Osmund and Loras would both stay. Osmund was supposed to be Sansa's babysitter and Loras was supposed to be Petyr's. The two of them stood with Margaery wedged between them, arm's length behind Sansa. Ramsay believed he could hold the fort on his own until Jon arrived. Sansa hoped he was right.

Ramsay planted a kiss to Ygritte's forehead and then looked at his wife. He sighed at her tears and reached behind her pulling her braid free. It was something he did often. She licked her chapped lips and tried to steady her breathing.

"You need to start your lie in," Ramsay said softly.

"Be vigilant," Sansa said back.

"Stay out of trouble."

"Don't kill your own men."

"Eat full meals."

"Be weary of your arm."

"Sansa…" Ramsay closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Ramsay," she said back.

He opened his eyes and then leaned in to his wife. Their mouths met and Sansa's hair flew around the both of them. When they pulled apart, he ran a hand down his wife's face and let his thumb lazily trace over her bottom lip. Sansa closed her eyes and found herself leaning in to his touch.

"There's only us, Sansa," Ramsay said quietly and she nodded.

"Only us," she agreed.

He smirked at her. That was their love, their admitting that they were the only people they needed. Of course Sansa knew her siblings were included in that, but she'd never told them such a thing. It felt like just a thing between her and Ramsay.

He stood there looking at his wife with her red eyes and he fought for something to say- anything to tell her that she and their children were his reason for living.

"Wait for me," he said finally and it was a low primal growl that made Sansa's breath hitch in to her throat.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck and crashed his lips in to hers again, a rough, demanding kiss that made her head swim. When they broke apart he planted a quick kiss to Ygritte's forehead again and then Sansa's forehead again before looking over the two of them and nodding to himself.

"Come back to us," Sansa said tightly.

Ramsay nodded once before walking off a little and grabbing the reigns of his horse. He looked back at Sansa.

"Our blades are sharp," he said simply.

"Our blades are sharp," she repeated and then she watched him mount his horse.

Margaery stepped forward and took Sansa's hand in hers and squeezed. They stood there until the very last horse disappeared from view.

A/N: Thank you to everyone that reads, follows, favorites, and/or reviews.