Sansa held onto Red Walder's waist tightly as they raced nearer to the Twins They took no road, heading north directly toward the castle through the woods and fields; Ser Perwyn Frey and the three Crakehall brothers their protectors. The Crakehalls would break off six leagues from the Twins — where they would wait to explain their actions to a (presumably) very upset Jaime Lannister — leaving the Freys and Sansa to go the rest of the way alone.

The sun rose and set, the landscape changed, but Sansa kept her face pressed against Red Walder's back, not noticing much that they passed. She thought about Jaime — how she had deceived him — and wondered how he had taken waking to an empty bed.

They didn't stop more than a few times each day — even then it was only a few minutes here and there to water the horses — before finally breaking well after the sun had set each night. A Crakehall set up Sansa's tent; the men would sleep under the stars.

Sansa tried to get comfortable each night, but the noticeable lack of body heat next to her didn't allow her to get much rest. Her mind was abuzz as well, never calming so she could truly sleep. She fell into a fitful sleep, wrapped in Jaime's cloak, and dreamed of that last night at Riverrun.

Sansa unclasped her cloak as she entered her chambers. That couldn't have gone any worse, she thought. She sighed as she began to undress, knowing it would be hours before Jaime came to berate her for how she behaved in front of his men.

She climbed into bed in a shift and tried to sleep, hoping she would be doing so when Jaime came into the room. She didn't want him to be mad at her right now. They could talk about it tomorrow.

A frantic knock on the door woke her from the early stages of sleep. It opened without her say so and in rushed Red Walder Frey. He was sweating and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Walder, what—" She sat upright in bed, covering her torso with the blanket. He shhed her, not even looking at her body. Normally she would be appalled to be quieted in such a rude manner, but she knew he had something important to say.

"I agree with your plan, Lady Sansa." Red Walder said, not wasting any time. His words came out in a rush, "We haven't long. I spoke with my uncle, Perwyn. He'll help us. He'll have horses a few hours before dawn just down the Red Fork. Josmyn will wake us, he's to guard your door tonight. I'll need to get a few protectors, but the Crakehalls were already to be my scouts and the way they looked tonight when you announced the plan — I have my suspicions they'll oblige. Josmyn will make sure Lord Jaime drinks his fill before he returns tonight, so he'll sleep soundly."

"Jaime's not much of a drinker, not lately anyway." Sansa said, skeptically.

"I trust Josmyn to do his job," Red Walder waved it off. He looked at her finally, his eyes full of fear. "Do you trust your husband to kill the Freys?"

Sansa nodded.

"Pack whatever you need, make it light. Hide it," said Red Walder, already walking toward the door. "Josmyn will wake you."

He left as quickly as he had come. Sansa stared at the door for a long time — when she finally tore her eyes away, the sky was black as pitch. She slid out of bed and was about to start packing when she realized that a hostage wouldn't have time to pack anything. She would have what she was wearing at the time. If she was going to play the part, she had to commit. Instead of packing, she went to the desk in the corner and pulled out a quill pen and bottle of ink. Words flew out of her onto the blank piece of parchment in front of her. She folded it and hid it behind her trunk before returning the quill and ink to their proper places.

The door opened nearly an hour later when Sansa was almost asleep again. Jaime was still speaking with someone outside — Josmyn, she assumed. Finally, he entered the room and shut the door. She could hear him moving around the room, taking off his hand, undressing. From his lumbering gait, she knew Josmyn had done his duty.

He plopped down onto the bed and, after a few minutes, said, "I know you're awake."

Sansa sighed and rolled onto her back, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, wishing she could say goodbye to him properly. Tell him why this was the only way that made sense.

Jaime rolled onto his side and placed his hand on her midsection. "What was that in the Great Hall? Why would you want to risk your life for this? It doesn't matter why I'm attacking Walder Frey; I'm just attacking him." He ran his thumb along her stomach. "You have to think of the baby now."

"I'm sorry, Jaime — I wasn't thinking clearly." Sansa said, trying not to cry. He would be devastated come morning when he woke to an empty bed. She had to do this. She turned onto her side to face him. His green eyes were locked on hers and he reached his hand up to caress her face.

"I don't want to lose you," said Jaime. He leaned forward and kissed her fiercely.

Tears welled up in her eyes as he kissed her, wetting his cheeks and causing him to taste salt. He pulled away sloppily, bracing himself clumsily with his stump. He was very drunk. Sansa looked away from him, toward the window across from them. The night was still and looked pleasant enough, she wondered how warm it would be in a few hours' time.

"What pains you?" Jaime asked, leaning against the pillow to look at her — it was easiest for him in his current state.

"Nothing, my love," lied Sansa, forcing a smile for him. He saw right through it, of course. He may have been drunk, but Jaime Lannister was far from stupid. He stared at her until she gave him something of substance. "I feel foolish."

He smiled sadly and cupped her cheek. "There's no reason to feel foolish, Sansa."

She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, holding back the tears, before she looked at him again. She leaned forward and kissed him passionately — it could very well be one of the last times she kissed him. He pulled her to him and she climbed on top of him, making quick work of his clothes — she was going to say goodbye properly.

His breath was coming out fast as she slid onto him; he moaned as she moved up and down on his shaft. She held onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. Jaime reached up and grabbed her by the neck, pulling her down for a sloppy kiss. He rolled them over and pumped into her, still able to perform this task despite how inebriated he was.

It didn't last long, but he held off long enough for her to finish too.

"I love you, Jaime," said Sansa as he pulled out of her and rolled onto his side of the bed. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. She rested her head in the crook of his arm, trying to keep from crying for fear of alerting him to her distress.

"And I love you, Sansa."

Josmyn's hand softly shook her awake hours later and she slipped out of bed, dressing silently, her eyes on Jaime. Ready to go, she walked toward Josmyn at the door. As she glanced back at Jaime's peaceful sleeping form in the bed — arm still outstretched toward where she had been sleeping — she felt a pang of guilt course through her. She thought about abandoning the plan and staying. But she knew that she had to do it. Josmyn was clearly anxious — drumming his fingers against his thighs as he waited for her.

Sansa grabbed the note from behind her trunk and unfolded it. She smoothed it out and placed it next to Jaime's metal hand. As she turned to the door, she paused. She reached for Jaime's red Lannister cloak. She needed something of his — she just needed it. He had others, but this was the one that reminded her most of him.

They were off each morning before the sun rose until they were within a few leagues of the Twins. They stopped where they assumed no other Freys would be and it was there they bid farewell to the Crakehalls. Sansa thanked Tybolt, Lyle, and Merlon in turn — they had risked their lives for her stupid plan, one she had lost faith in days ago.

"You keep safe in there," said Lyle, the Strongboar, staring out at the two towers in the distance. "Lord Walder isn't known to be kind to guests."

"Especially not those whose families have crossed him," added Tybolt as he bound Sansa's hands together for effect.

"Twice," chimed in Merlon.

"I think you've said enough," said Perwyn, seeing the uneasy look on Sansa's face.

Sansa watched the Crakehalls grow smaller and smaller as she and the Freys rode through the woods toward the Twins. The winds howled, tearing at the leaves on the trees, as they neared the Green Fork and Sansa clutched tighter to Red Walder's cloak as best she could.

Riders came out to meet them as they neared the western tower. The two Freys strained their eyes to see who had come out — there were three of them and they were riding fast up the slope to where Sansa was halted with the two other Freys.

"Black Walder," muttered Perwyn with a sigh. "Terrible temper."

Sansa — her hands now bound — clenched her legs tighter to the horse between them; she had heard horror stories of "Black" Walder Frey. She asked, hoping they all weren't horrible, "Who else?"

"Edwyn, his elder brother — a man full of hate if I've ever seen one." Perwyn whispered as they drew closer. "And Lyonel."

"He won't hurt you at least," said Red Walder, watching his brother's approach with a sad smile on his face.

The three Frey riders clattered to a stop feet in front of them. They didn't say anything at first, just stared hard at the newcomers — Lyonel almost smiled at his brother, but Black Walder glared in his direction. Finally, Black Walder's stern voice filled the chilly air.

"You bring a Stark into our midst? Have you a death wish, Red?"

Red Walder kept his composure, how he did it, Sansa hadn't the faintest clue. He replied, "A Stark hostage, dear cousin. Are you aware of what marches toward us?"

Black Walder placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Tell us or I'll end you and that little wolf bitch of yours."

"A Lannister host. I've brought our lord a bargaining tool," said Red Walder, keeping his green eyes on Black Walder's cold grey ones.

"Why would you turn on your lord?" Edwyn asked, his voice a bark.

Red Walder was a better mummer than Sansa thought he could be, he kept his face calm yet expressionless. "You think the Lannisters have ever been my lords? You've both squired for other lords, but they were never your lords. Lord Walder Frey is the only one we serve."

His brother seemed doubtful, but the other two — after nearly a full minute of hard eying him — accepted it. Edwyn asked, "And you, Perwyn?"

"I've never been loyal to Stark." He left it at that, kicking his horse into a canter toward the Twins.

Red Walder and Sansa were escorted to the Twins by the three remaining Freys and they were met by even more once inside the western tower. Ser Aenys stood with his younger son, Rhaegar — a man as unfitting to bear the name if there ever was one. Red Walder's father, Ser Emmon, stood there with them, Ser Hosteen, and Ser Ryman, whose belly was so large, his belt threatened to snap.

Emmon — a short, balding man who was as thin as Ryman was round — walked toward his son, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the intimidating Freys in the room. He breathed angrily, "I've sided with the Lannisters in this conflict. If you've messed this up for me—"

"Problems, Emmon?" Hosteen asked, raising his voice to drown out Emmon's weak whispers.

He pulled away from his son and looked at his younger brother — a man stronger than him in all senses of the word. "None."

"Then let's not keep our dear father waiting," said Ser Aenys.

Black Walder gripped Sansa by the forearm and pulled her toward the Great Hall.

Lord Walder Frey, as old and worn-out looking as ever, sat atop the massive black oak chair at the back of the hall. He perked up as Sansa and Red Walder were led into the room. Perwyn stood near his chair, looking still as a statue.

"Your uncle has told me much about your escape," croaked Lord Walder, his beady eyes trained on Sansa though he spoke to Red Walder.

Now was where they couldn't falter in their farce. Sansa kept her eyes on the ground, knowing a hostage would only speak when spoken to. Red Walder, however, had to orchestrate their lie perfectly just as Perwyn had. He cleared his throat and approached his grandfather; when he spoke, his voice was loud and clear enough to echo through the hall so all of the Freys — numbering in the several dozens — could hear.

"I learned of the Lannisters' attack when Jaime Lannister sent me to deliver a note to Benedict Broom, the master-at-arms. I had already heard of the note your lordship sent demanding Robb Stark to answer for his many crimes against you; I knew it was only a matter of time before Lannister reacted. He planned to have the army moving within two days—"

"Heh, stupid man. Could have holed up in the Rock for an eternity," a leering smile was plastered on Walder Frey's face. "When did you steal the girl?"

"That very night, my lord."

The elder Frey nodded. "Good. And he has the Stark boy with him?" Walder Frey asked, his gnarled hands gripped the arm rests greedily.

Red Walder nodded. "Captive, like her ladyship here. The Starks are mere collateral, my lord."

"A Stark for a Stark, fair trade I would say," wheezed out Walder Frey. The way he was looking at Sansa made her uneasy. His unyielding eyes, boring into her soul as he stared down at her from his seat at the head of the hall.

"As I thought, Grandfather." Red Walder was smiling, but Sansa could see his hands shaking at his sides. He clasped them behind his back so no one would notice.

Old Walder smiled, an ugly thing to witness — his teeth were well past yellow and there was something evil that lingered there. "You've done well, my boy." He looked at Red Walder's father, Emmon. "Take your lad to our best room."

"Yes, Father." Emmon Frey grabbed his son by the arm and led him from the room. Red Walder's eyes met Sansa's — they were cold, but she knew it was all part of the act.

"Now, what to do with you," said Walder, staring down at Sansa. Lothar Frey stood next to Walder's chair and she could see the wheels spinning in his head. They called him Lame Lothar and she always thought it was because he was dim-witted. But, seeing him walk, she knew it was because of his twisted leg. He was possibly the most dangerous of his entire family and it was all due to his brain.

"I'd suggest the dungeons, my lord," said Lothar in a hushed whisper that echoed through the hall anyway.

"Yes, very well. Take her away."

She woke to the shouts early two mornings later. The bruises on her sides made sitting up difficult. The Lannister army is upon us, they were all yelling. Pounding footsteps came from the stone stairs in the hall and her door swung open, smashing against the wall. Petyr Frey, brother to Edwyn and Black Walder, walked anxiously across the cell.

"You're to wait out the battle in the Great Hall," said Petyr, unlocking her chains and pulling her to her feet by a hand. Sansa's wrists were still manacled as he led her out of the room, her eyes growing wide with fear.