authorsnote: in some ways this was a lil hard to write, but I hope you enjoy reading it.

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songrecs: skinny love - birdy

It was a wonderful thing to see.

The chaos that erupted in court, the anger, the yelling, the outbreak across was quite something to behold.

It warmed something in his blood, to see such chaos in the Lannister Court, to see it up in flames, at something he'd helped cause. It wasn't justice, no, that would only come when he had Tywin Lannister's head on a pike above Sunspear, alongside the heads of Gregor Clegane and Armory Loch, only then could he rest and know justice had been done.

Only then, not a second before.

But for now, he could revel in, even enjoy the disruption his and Sansa's little plan had caused to the Kings Landing court, he didn't even try to hide his smirk, only sat back in his chair, and surveyed the chaos.

Surveyed the yelling, some people in tears, others shaking their fists. Mace Tyrell, the fat flower of Highgarden looked baffled by the going-ons, the Tyrells themselves angered. Cersei Lannister looked ready to throttle the young wolf, and Tywin, the Hand and murderer himself was glaring at her, hands clenched into fists, only a flicker of his composure compromised.

It was enough for Oberyn to enjoy himself even more.

One glance at Sansa Stark and he found himself feeling proud. She stood among the chaos, head, and chin up, back straight, face expressionless, not cold but closed off, not a hint of emotion. Her blue eyes, Tully blue, Riverlander blue were like chips of ice against her pale skin, he wondered wryly how her fairness would manage Dornish sun.

She stood among it all, unflinching, her hands clasped in front of her, as still and stoic as a statue. She did not glance at the honeyed Margaery Tyrell trying to catch her eye, did not even look at the Lord Hand glaring at her, only past him, past the Iron Throne, as though the wall was all that would catch her attention.

Like a wall of ice was between her and the world.

He felt saddened a touch, that, that was how she'd been forced to be, closed off, ice instead of warmth. They didn't treat girls in Dorne such a way, to be forced to hide within themselves, but then that was the Capitol, that was the Lannister's; rotten as always.

And yet somehow the young wolf had survived, she was here, standing, head up, proud, quiet, but proud. She ignored those yelling, those that condemned her, she just stood, as though none of it bothered her. Only the whites of her knuckles, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her hands gave her away.

He wouldn't be surprised if blood was pooling in her palm from the way she was clenching her hands, and yet he admired her for that oddly, that she would be so brave to stand so still in the chaos and refuse to flinch.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

His house words, and yet they applied to the little wolf too.

"The crown will call Ser Gregor Clegane to stand as Champion" The Queen Cersei spoke first, her beautiful face twisted with an ugly contorted rage. Evidently Lord Tyrion slipping through her fingers had made her determined to go after his wife for the crime.

If Oberyn had his way, she would find herself disappointed again.

"Yes, Lady Sansa" Lord Tywin said then, smoothing his expression, ever in charge, "Consider you may not find a champion to fight for you, and certainly not one willing to go up against Ser Gregor" He pauses then, "And so I will give you a chance to take that back, and instead go to trial"

"I will have a champion" The little wolf says, confident then, and he feels warmed at her faith in him, and slightly annoyed by it; Starks are far too trusting, he could easily be double-crossing her.

Though he feels more warm than annoyed, she has placed her faith in him; he will not let her down, not on his life. He knows he will either emerge victorious for both of them, or he will die, he knows the latter is not an option, not for him, nor the little wolf.

"None would dare go up against Ser Gregor" Cersei sneers and Oberyn wants to laugh, though he waits, just a touch, wanting to build the tension, wanting for the moment to be even more glorious than he knows it will be, as he waits.

Oberyn has always had a little showmanship, one of his few faults.

And yet, the little wolf, the Lady Sansa glances at him, eyes blue, and for a moment he can see the barest flicker of emotion, just a hint of worry, smothering hope, and so he rises. He won't torment her, not even for his own cruel pleasure at the spectacle they created, she has suffered enough.

"I will" He said simply, and stepped forward, down the steps and to the woman he would defends side, he was standing with her after all, not the Lannister's, he'd be dead in the ground and rotting before he stood with them.

"I will be the Lady Sansa's champion"

And if they had thought the chamber had erupted before, now there were truly fireworks.

He could only grin, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of one on Lady Sansa's face too.

Everything happened quickly after that.

Her hands were shaking as Prince Oberyn stood next to her, whereas he stood steady she tried to emulate him, gripping the flesh of her palm, her nails digging little half moons into her skin, she could feel blood pooling there, but that was preferable to openly trembling.

'I will be the Lady Sansa's champion"

'I will be the Lady Sansa's champion'

'I will be the Lady Sansa's champion'

The words seemed to echo across the room, and in her head. It was too good to be true, she was sure she'd wake either back in her cell, or under the canopy of her bed, Joffrey still alive.

But no, Joffrey was dead, to her glee, and she had a defender. The thought of Ser Gregor had near made her flinch, and yet as Prince Oberyn had stood and declared for her, she had felt eased, Prince Oberyn was a legendary warrior, and he hated the Lannister's (the latter they had in common), surely that meant for his victory.

The Gods had not listened to her prayers so far, and yet she vowed to pray as soon as she was able, to beg them to help Prince Oberyn, to beg for his victory.

She had little hope left, and yet some remained, a small flicker like a candle about to die, and yet if it did die … what would be the point in any of it? She had to hope, even just a little, she had to.

"You fool" Cersei spit at her, and yet Sansa remained, nails pressing into her flesh, still, unflinching, she would not give them, particularly the Queen, the satisfaction. "Guards, take her back to the black cells, where she can think about her stupid decisions" The Queen said, grim satisfaction stamped across her features.

"The Queen Regent is mistaken" Prince Oberyn hurled back immediately, he seemed calm, and yet there was a deadly fury at the undercurrent of his tone that near made her shiver, only his hand moving over to halt her as she went to turn around stopped her.

She wasn't afraid of the black cells, and as the Kingsguard had stepped forward she had gone to return to them, the filth was everywhere in Kings Landing after all, some real, some bleeding through the walls of deceit, she didn't care where she was.

But Prince Oberyn's hand stalled her, he shot out a hand and gripped her arm, and with ease turned her back to face front. She felt a little chilled, but also relieved by the strength she felt in his grip, though he was gentle she could see it took him no ease to move her around, and she hoped, hoped yet again he would succeed.

She would pray until her knees bled, for her safety, and the Princes.

"Lady Sansa is a Lady" He said, and she liked the way his accent curled around her name, so different from the clipped tones of the Lannister's, she liked that he was different, wasn't one of them, neither was she.

They may have dressed her in red and gold, made her marry a Lannister but she had never, and would never be one of them. Never.

"She is entitled to proper accommodations whilst awaiting trial" The Prince continued, eyebrow raised, "Surely you know that, my Lord Hand?" The disdain in his voice as he spoke to Tywin Lannister was clear, and Sansa near smiled at his boldness, none others would dare.

For the millionth time that morning she was glad to have the Prince be her champion, not just because of his skills as a fighter, but because he was the very antithesis of the Lannister's, and for him to potentially win? To put it to the Lannister's like that? She wouldn't have known that kind of satisfaction in a while.

She craved it then, as though it burrowed into her chest, for the Prince to win, not just to save her, but to make the Lannister's hurt.

Sansa had never been a vindictive person, and yet she'd grinned the night after Joffrey's death, even sat in the black cell she'd laughed, smiled, joy overflowing that he was dead, and now she wished for the Lannister's to hurt, to be ashamed, for the Queen to cry, for the Hand to lose. Never vindictive until now.

It certainly felt better than the pain that had been (and would continue to be) her constant companion these past moon cycles.

"Escort the Lady Sansa to her rooms" Tywin Lannister said, tone clipped, he like her was trying to remain composed, but whereas she bled to keep still, the Hand's anger bled through in his tone.

Good.

"She will not be allowed to leave, she will take her meals there, a handmaid will attend to her, and two guards will be posted at her door" Tywin said, "The trial will happen on the morrow" And then he looked at the wider court, who had fallen silent as Oberyn had challenged the Queen, all waited with bated breath. "Court is over for the day"

And then he left, and Sansa almost allowed herself to sag, to breathe, almost. She held back, as the Queen swept past her with just a glare, evidently not daring to say anything as Prince Oberyn stood next to her, unmoving, even a little smirk playing on his features, his hand still on her arm.

She'd rarely felt safer than she did with him next to her. Some would say that was foolish, feeling safe with a viper coiled next to her, and yet she'd rather a viper than a lion.

The Tyrell's walked past next, and it was Sansa who looked away as Margaery tried to catch her gaze. She had no interest in rekindling her friendship with the brief Queen, not after it had become clear she had only been interested in marrying her claim to Highgarden.

That hurt Sansa, and angered her, she was more than her claim, more than just her name, she was a person, a person who had hurt and suffered, and yet that didn't matter here.

'We're all liars here'

And worse than that.

"Go" The Prince snapped her out of her thoughts then, his tone gentle as two guards converged on her, "I will see you in the morning before the trial"

"They won't let you" She hurried out, her nerves just starting to fail then, and she clenched her hands harder, felt blood drip down her fingers. She didn't want to leave, Prince Oberyn was the only thing keeping her together, his certainty, where would she be without it?

She was strong, she had to be, but a girl could only take so much.

"They will" He said assuredly, glancing at each of the guards, his expression arrogant, and yet rather than irritate her, it reassured her, "I will see you on the morrow"

She nodded then, for what else could she do? She needed to hide in her rooms, to scream into a pillow, to cry, to shake, to pray until her knees bled to match her hands.

Hope, near flickered and gone, she couldn't let that candle go out, wouldn't, couldn't.

"Lady Sansa" Oberyn said, pausing her then as she had once again gone to turn, though this time he didn't need to pull her back, she looked at him willingly, why did his gaze; as black as his hair, soothe her? She didn't know, it was foolish, 'life is not a song', and yet he made her feel safe, for the first time since her Father had died, there was some feeling of safety, no matter how small.

She had to hold onto it, like her hope, it was all she had left.

"I will not fail you" He said, and the way he said it, gaze dark but fixed on hers, his expression hard, she nodded, for she had to, for she believed him. How could she not?

And so, as she followed her guards, she kept her head up high, even as people looked and whispered and gossiped, she kept her hands clenched, the blood dripping down her thumbs of both hands now, but she did not flinch, she did not shake.

She held onto her hope, from Prince Oberyn's words, from her own beliefs, she held onto it, she held herself together, the candle flickering at the centre of her heart.

It was only when in her room alone did she fall to her knees and scream into her fist, muffling the sound, tasting the blood on her tongue.

thoughts?

my poor sansa 3

but next chapter we have the trial! it should be interesting and with a few healthy twists...

speak soon