Jon led Sansa to their father's bedchamber. It was different without her mother. There was no joy or love, only the comfort of practicality. The only ornamentation was a family portrait leaning on a table. All she knew of Dacey Mormont was that she was a warrior. Sansa hoped the woman could bring some color to Ned Stark's life.

Sansa took a plush armchair and Jon sat in the floor to play with the pile of wolves. Arya had her feet in Robb's lap on the sofa. Her injured ankle was wrapped in a cloth brace. Ned stood behind them and Benjen leaned against a dresser. His black direwolf snapped and pounced at his boots. It should have been Shaggydog, should have been rolling in the mud with Rickon. Instead, the wolf would be named Lya and live on the Wall.

"I believed you, but to see it for myself..." her father confided.

Exhaustion was evident in the drop of his shoulders and bags under his grey eyes. Sansa truly hated the king. Robert Baratheon's neglectful rule had given the likes of Peter Baelish and Tywin Lannister free reign. He was to blame for the state of things as much as anyone.

"You didn't see it for yourself," Arya teased, shuddering.

"I have questions but I don't want the answers," Robb said.

"If you ask them I'll marry you to the ugliest woman I can find," Sansa warned.

Robb immediately sobered, to Benjen's amusement. He'd arrived two days after the feast with the answers to Ned's raven. Jon convinced Sansa to tell him about their awakening and the life before it. Her uncle hadn't been surprised, just very sad. She still couldn't stand to see the pity in his eyes.

The men passed the time planning to treat with Mance. Arya wanted to go, just because she'd never been, but Ned and Benjen didn't want to have to keep an eye out for her. Robb and Sansa would also stay to begin preparations for the upcoming winter. If all went as planned, the new Lady of Winterfell would be there to help as well. Their discussion circled back to the Lannisters at the mention of recruits. If Jaime went to the wall neither of his sons could. Tommen was a fair candidate for the future, but as Arya poetically said, Joffrey was a worthless piece of shit.

"He's just a child, Arya," Ned admonished. As are you, he left unsaid. There were instances when Sansa suspected her father didn't believe them.

"Yes," Sansa spat. "A child that ordered me stripped and beaten in front of his court. A child that had to be stopped from serving me my brother's head at a royal wedding. A child that ordered your head cut off when he promised mercy. And his mother! His mother killed her husband, your closest friend, the king. She killed thousands when she blew up the Sept of Baelor. His mother-"

Sansa stopped herself. She was standing, yelling down at her father. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This sort of outburst would have gotten her killed once. That was a lesson she needed to remember. The wolf blood had gotten so many of her family killed. It would not do to succumb to that madness now. She was once called the Queen of Winter; the ice in her veins was her warmth.

When she spoke, her voice was flat again. "The way your legs twitched when Ilyn Payne cut off your head haunted my dreams even when I was living a nightmare. I won't see your honor get you killed again."

A page interrupted, knocking on the door. The King had ordered a meeting in the great hall. Sansa, to her surprise, didn't want to go. Her family eyed her with concern. Ned tried to speak, but she led the march across the castle. Robb wordlessly took her arm. The two of them walked together, trying not to trip over the pack of direwolves. They were the size of small dog and only a couple of months old. She hadn't had the chance to watch them grow. Cersei Lannister had her dire wolf dead and tried to wear the pelt.

King Robert sat at the royal table, half drunk and very angry. Ser Barristan and Ser Arys stood guard on either side. Their intricate armor was an ugly contrast to the simple northern room. The Starks, minus Jon and Benjen, bowed and sat at the nearest benches. It was a tense, uncomfortable wait. Sansa was almost relieved when the main doors opened. And then Sandor Clegane stomped through. Alone. His steps were calm and rhythmic and his ruined face betrayed no emotion. He knelt before the king. The hair brushed to cloak his scars fell forward, revealing the mottled skin.

"The Hound, the Lannister dog," the king said.

"I serve the king," Sandor rasped.

"Before or after the Lannisters? Did you know?"

"I suspected,Your Grace. "

Sansa's heart leapt her in throat.

"Yet you didn't say anything?!" Robert asked, his voice raising.

"It would have been treason, Your Grace."

Ned stood and spoke to his old friend. "It's unbelievable. You can't fault the man for keeping his silence on this matter. Any good guard keeps the things he sees to himself."

Robert grumbled something awful. It wasn't too different from Robb's belly when it hadn't been filled in the last half hour. Sandor scowled at the floor, but didn't refute his unwelcome defense. He'd taught her, in his own way, how to survive amongst these fools. He would make it through this.

"Where were you summoned from?" Robert demanded.

"Barracks, Your Grace."

"Oh, stand already. What were you doing? Getting ready to run back to Tywin Lannister with your tail stuck between your legs?"

"No. The men have started up a betting pool."

The king stared at the Hound for a solid minute and then burst into laughter. He was in tears before he recovered. "Good Gods. How's it going?"

"Money's on Selmy for the Queen's trial by combat."

"And who will be her champion? You?"

"Fuck no. Your grace."

"You're not a loyal dog are you?"

"I'm the sworn shield to the crown prince, but the way I figure there is no more crown prince."

Robert's mood darkened at that. He and Joffrey were more alike than either of them would admit. Both were petulant, moody boy kings that couldn't care for themselves, let alone millions of people. Though, Sansa reflected, she was not one to judge. She'd failed too.

"Your Grace," Ned pleaded. "The man's done nothing wrong. He cannot be blamed for the atrocities of the Lannisters."

"Fine," The king sighed. "You're to stay up here though. I don't want to have to worry about you spying on me on top of everything else. Godsdamnit Ned, you take all the fun out of everything."

Ned frowned. He was so blind to Robert's bloodthirst. 'Killing is the sweetest thing there is,' the Hound had said. Her father might enjoy it in the heat of battle, but Ned Stark was a simple man who only wanted to be left alone with his family. Sansa did too, but wolves protected their packs. She had a taste for blood and wouldn't stop until all the creatures in the night were dead.

"No, stay here," the king said.

Sandor froze. She could practically hear the swearing in his head. He spun on his heel and marched over to sit a few feet down from her so that he was facing the mummer's show. Arya slid the pitcher of wine down to him. Sansa usually didn't encourage such things, but this would be a long afternoon. The gluttonous king hadn't chosen the dining hall by coincidence.

Myrcella and Tommen were next. The children were frightened and sad. Tommen was hunched into his big sister, too afraid to look anywhere but his soft leather boots. They parroted words from their septa, but Robert cut them off when they started to beg for their mother and 'uncle'. He shortly informed them that Tommen would go to Dorne and his sister would stay in Winterfell. Robert emphasized that they were bastards, only Waters now, and they shouldn't expect to be treated like royalty. They were escorted out, the youngest whispering, 'Why can't I be a Snow? It's much prettier.' to his sister.

"Joffrey Waters, Your Grace," a voice called.

Joffrey was more disheveled than she'd ever seen him. A streak of dirt marred his golden face and his hair was in disarray. Those green eyes of his were shining like his mother's. Jaime, brave Jaime, had those same eyes but never that gleam of desperation and greed.

"Father," Joffrey spat, bowing slightly.

"I'm not your father, boy. Your father is your uncle too."

Joffrey's jaw clenched in anger. Ned thought her foolish to fear a boy, but when a boy that cut open pregnant cats for curiosity was left unchecked, it was a fearful thing indeed. Mad kings always resulted in a rebellion. First Aerys, and then Joffrey. It was more than her past grievances. The seven kingdoms were at stake and that did not bode well for winter.

"Where is Mother?" The boy demanded.

"Rotting in a cell."

"You'll die for this."

Sansa peered down the table. Her father had his eyes closed and his hand massaging his temples. Arya, however, was elated.

"That's treason, boy," the king said. He waved the shifting kings guard to their calm facade. He looked more amused than angry. Sansa empathized. She'd be relieved to find out that Joffrey wasn't her child too.

"I'LL KILL YOU FOR TREASON!"

The king laughed. "I'm a fat old man and you couldn't kill me. You're pathetic. Your father was well on his way to being one of the best swordsmen in the realm at your age."

"My grandfather will hear of this!"

"Not before I send him your mother's head."

"You'll not touch the Queen! HOUND! Tell him!"

The Hound did no such thing. He stared back unapologetically. "Not your dog anymore."

Joffrey's face went from red to purple. It might have been worrying if it were not so funny. Only Tyrion could have drive him to this state before.

"I was going to tell you that you'd be taken to Riverrun but if you keep it up, you'll go to the gallows with your mother. Now, get out of my sight."

Sansa hadn't considered Riverrun. Foolish, maybe, and daft,seeing as she was half Tully herself. In Winterfell, he'd be too close to the wall if Jaime chose to take the black. Besides, they had Theon.

Arya sniggered as Joffrey was dragged out of the hall by two guards. He was quiet, for once, but it was evident that he was in a rage. She pitied whoever was guarding him.

"Cersei Lannister, Your Grace."

Cersei strode down the aisle like a queen. Her golden hair was long and unbrushed, her feet were bare, and still half dressed, yet utterly beautiful. Her pride might have been admirable if Sansa hadn't experienced the cruelty and arrogance that came with it. Danaerys was a proud woman, but she had pulled herself up from an exile in poverty. Her pride was earned and although she had a temper, she was caring and just.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Robert asked.

Cersei stuck in her nose in the air and predictably said, "I demand a trial by combat."

Robert's teeth shown gleefully through his dirty, wiry beard. She was not a lion. She was a mouse caught in a trap.

"Who will be your champion?"

"Gregor Clegane."

"The mountain is half a world away. I'm not waiting up here in this muddy shithole for that idiot for three weeks. Who will fight for you?"

Cersei blanched, her lips going thin. "My father will never-"

"Tywin Lannister is a month away."

"Lannisters always-"

"Pay their debts. But you never paid yours. You killed my children so you could fuck your brother!"

"Jaime is twice the man you will ever be!"

"No true man fucks his twin sister!"

"The Targaryens-"

"The Targaryens needed to keep their dragon blood before they got all their beasts killed. You have no excuse. You're nothing but a murdering whore. You killed our children and you probably killed Jon Arryn. No matter. Who will fight for you here?"

"I had nothing-"

"SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH. WHO WILL FIGHT FOR YOU?"

"You have no right to call me a whore! You do nothing but fuck whores. You are a sorry excuse for a king. If only I had been wed to Rhaegar instead. But he had to steal the Stark-"

Robert's chair slammed backwards, but whatever he had to say was cut off by Ned.

"No mention of my sister will fall from your lips again."

Sansa had never seen her father so spiteful. It was relieving to see his stoic demeanor slip into rage. It was obvious that her father was a warrior. He was raised to be one, not a lord. He and his small group of men had defeated the Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy. This was the first time in either of their lives that she could see the killer in him.

The former queen sneered. "And you! Who are you to judge me? The honorable Ned Stark with his bastard son and barbaric daughters. Your daughters will grow to be nothing but spinster witches."

"That shouldn't be a concern for you, Cersei Lannister," Sansa said dreamily. "What was it that toothless woodswitch told you? Ah, yes. 'You will not marry the Prince. You will marry a king. He will have twenty children and you will have three. Gold will be their crowns; Gold will be their shrouds.'"

Cersei reared back as if the words were a physical blow. Sansa really wanted to goad her with the line about a younger, more beautiful queen but didn't want to appear suspicious.

"My children? What will happen to my children?"

"Your children are now bastards. They will have no lands or titles."

"And Jaime? What about Jaime?"

The king's lip curled in distaste. "He will either die or take the black. Whichever he decides when he wakes up."

It ate at the king to give him that mercy, but the North was difficult enough to maintain as it was. To deny someone the Night's Watch, especially in the current atmosphere, would be political suicide.

"When am I to die?" Cersei asked.

Sansa begrudgingly admitted that it was an admirable choice to accept her fate with dignity. Perhaps she thought Jaime would chose to die with her. She would be a a bigger fool than anyone realized to think she would get such a kindness.

"Tonight."

"So soon?" She choked out.

"I've wanted to wash my hands of you for a long time. You are the most conniving, manipulative bitch I have ever had the burden of knowing. I will not suffer your presence any longer than need be."

She staggered, but nodded firmly. "I could have loved you once. And then you whispered her name while-"

"Out," Ned ordered.

Winterfell guards moved immediately. The king's men looked to Robert for guidance, but he only shrugged and gulped his ale. Cersei, so much more pale than she had ever been, tried to fight out of their grip and utterly failed. Her jailers marched out behind her. The room was silent. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath. Then, Robert belched, the crude causing even the kings guard to eye him with scrutiny.

"Well, should we eat or get her out of the way?"