Sansa had been sitting in front of her vanity, watching as the young handmaiden brushed her long, copper hair. She tilted her cheek, surveying the fading bruise that had marred her face after the riots in Flea Bottom. She gently brushed her fingertips over the mark, feeling smooth skin. There would be no scar-as the queen regent predicted. Though now it wouldn't matter much if she still had a pretty face. Joffrey had a beautiful new queen and Sansa's husband-to-be couldn't care less what she looked like. Sansa felt like her stomach was full of rocks at the thought. For as long as she could remember everyone had always commented on her looks. That her beauty was the only true contribution she would bring to a marriage. That and her name. Now her family was in open rebellion with the crown lacking any prestige and her future husband preferred men. Sansa sighed and waved off her handmaiden. She was just about to dismiss all her servants, looking forward to some alone time, when a knock came to the door. She pulled her dressing gown closer shut and nodded to the girl. As the door opened, Sansa quickly smoothed her hair, making sure she looked acceptable enough to receive visitors. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned to greet her guest. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips when she saw her dwarf friend.

"Lord Tyrion" she curstied gently as propriety demanded. Tyrion had always waved off her signs of respect as they had gotten to know each other, but Sansa had been determined to greet him as his status demanded. When he didn't immediately scoff at her actions, she looked up curiously. The look on his face sent a shiver down her spine. She stared in fear, sending a prayer to any God that was listening that he wasn't here to deliver more bad news.

Quickly, she sent away her servants, leaving them alone. As they left in a flurry, Tyrion just stood unmoving, doing everything he could not to meet her eyes. Her fear mounted with each passing second until the door slammed shut behind the last handmaiden. The silence grew more and more tense as she stood, rooted in fear, unable to move. Please, please...her mind spun Please let it not be mother. Please let it not be Robb or Arya or Jon... her thoughts were interrupted by Tyrion taking a large breath before meeting her eyes finally. The pain in his gaze took the wind from her lungs and she swayed on her feet.

"Sansa..." he breathed, so mournfully and laced with compassion.

Sansa's legs finally gave out and she crumpled, landing on the stool behind her. Tears pooled in her eyes and her fingers tightened in the soft silks of her dressing gown. Gods no! Please don't take more of my family from me! Please let it be anything else!

Tyrion immediately rushed to her side and took her fingers in his, encouraging her to look at him again. When she did, he had lost all color in his face. "Sansa...Sansa, be calm!" he rubbed her frozen hands in his, glancing around desperately, clearly lamenting sending her handmaidens away. "Be calm, my lady."

"My...m-my family?" she managed to croak.

"They're fine!" he hastened to assure her. "They have not been killed, Sansa. Forgive me" he cursed under his breath as he quickly moved to the table. He poured a small measure of honeyed wine into a cup before returning to her side. "Forgive me for scaring you, my lady. I assure you, your family is alive and well. Last I heard, the Young Wolf was still thoroughly beating us." Sansa struggled to return her heart to a steady pace and accepted the wine. Gulping it down, she willed her mind to stop spinning. Tyrion would never lie to her about something this important. If he said that her family was okay, they must be. She took a deep, shaky breath and tried to smile, feeling foolish for her overreaction. When Tyrion just continued looking shame-faced, the smile faded. She felt her back straighten as she steeled herself for the information he was delivering.

Perhaps it is Joffrey. Perhaps there has been some issue with the Tyrell alliance and he wishes to continue our betrothal. Or could it be that he has stripped me of all my titles-he once threatened that in his anger. That would make me useless to them though-they needed me alive in part to keep control of Robb, but mostly for my claim on the North should my brother fail. Whatever it is, it must be bad for Tyrion to react this way.

She secured the walls around her heart before turning to the dwarf in front of her. "What is it, my lord? What has brought you to me?"

"My lady..." he faltered before kneeling before her. She had kept her seat on the stool and they had been of a height, but now she was looking down on his bent head. Curiosity swirled through her now that she had calmed. Now that she knew that whatever painful blow Tyrion was about to drop would only effect her. "You must forgive me for bringing this news to you. You know that I would never distress you purposefully. I just..."

He looked so distraught and in the midst of learning her fate, Sansa couldn't help but pity him. She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly and look up at her. She tried her best to smile encouragingly at him.

"It's okay, Tyrion. What has happened?" she all but whispered.

He sighed again. "My father...he learned about a plan to wed you to Sir Loras Tyrell." he spoke quickly and Sansa felt her breath catch again.

So this was it. She would be beheaded like her father like a traitor.

"I don't know if you knew of the plot, but my father will see it ended." He met her eyes searchingly and Sansa nodded slightly, silently letting him know that she was aware of it. His shoulders dropped and his mouth became a grim line. "I had prayed they had not filled your head with hope only for my family to take it all away from you again. My father believes you to be ignorant of the plot, thank the seven, but I didn't want more dreams of yours being crushed."

Sansa released the breath she was holding. As long as she acted innocently, she would go unscathed. Still...she allowed one small tear for what could have been slip down her cheek before nodding tightly and swallowing the lump in her throat.

"So what is to become of me?" she asked weakly.

He just looked at her, clearly lost for words, and Sansa felt irritation at the situation rise.

"He will marry me off, won't he?" she demanded. "To some Lannister cousin, no doubt. He'll still tie me to your family. I'll never be free of you Lannisters!" Ire flowed through her as she stood abruptly and moved several paces away towards the window. The tears on her cheeks came from anger and frustration now and she rubbed them away, hoping he had not seen them. Tyrion had yet to respond to her and it annoyed her. He had always told her the truth, no matter how brutal it had been. He had never shied away from anything in their friendship and to see him doing it now was unnerving.

"Well?!" she cried. "You obviously know! What are you not telling me?"

Tyrion's head still hung, avoiding her eyes and it was infuriating and altogether worrying. How bad could it be, that he would be acting this way?

"Tyr-"

"You're right." His words cut her off and they lapsed into another tense silence before he slowly got to his feet. "You'll never be free of us. With one act my father has taken escape from you again. Taken everything from you... taken everything from the both of us" The personal disdain dripped from his tone and Sansa felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as a chill passed through her.

"Who is it, Tyrion?" She asked.

But she knew.