A new chapter after quite the hiatus! Sorry for leaving readers hanging. A special thanks to those who reviewed during the gap, it gave me a bit of push to continue : )

Jaime's eyes scoured the great hall, but he could see no sign of his wife. The jubilation he had felt since winning the tourney was rapidly evaporating in Sansa's continued absence. The whole day had gone exactly as he'd hoped. Jaime had long since lost count of the number of tourneys he'd competed in but the satisfaction he felt at today's victory was unmatched in his previous experience. Cersei had enjoyed it when he won and had always shown her appreciation in creative and exhilarating ways. However as with every aspect of his love affair with his twin, the whole thing had been shrouded in secrecy, whilst Cersei had seemed to revel in the duplicity, Jaime had always viewed it as a necessary evil. Today, with his wife, there had been no such necessity and hoisting her on to the back of his steed as he placed a crown of blue roses upon her head had given the cynical Lannister knight more pleasure than he would have cared to admit. As if that had not been enough, her words to them as they danced, about having the marriage of her dreams, had left Jaime feeling as if he was walking on air. In short all had been so perfect that he should have expected a disruption of some sort. He reflected grimly that it was also no surprise that the cause of his present disturbance was Brienne of fucking Tarth, he had seen his wife leave the hall with the blonde giantess a short while ago and neither had yet returned. The wench's presence had been a blight on Jaime's domestic happiness since her arrival and he felt an irrational impatience to know what the two women could be discussing. Taking a final look around the room to confirm that Sansa was not present, he strode out intent on locating his wife.

Jaime had not gone very far when he noticed a light coming from underneath the door of a little used room. He opened it without pause; either he would find his wife or he would have the small satisfaction of embarrassing a canoodling couple. He saw Sansa immediately; her back was to him and he could see her shoulders shaking. His eye's met Brienne's and he took in the look of consternation on her features. Jaime felt fury course through him; how dare this cow come here upsetting his wife?

"Sansa, what has she said to you?"

The redhead turned at the sound of his voice and Jaime was surprised to see that although her eyes were watery, she wore a radiant smile. Sansa came towards him and spoke in a tremulous voice.

"Jaime…my brother is alive!"

She flung her arms about him, burying her head in his chest. Absurdly an image of Robb Stark's contemptuous smirk came to Jaime's mind, although more than enough lurid tales of the Young Wolf's last hours had made their way to the Rock for him to know that could not be the brother Sansa spoke of. Next Jaime thought of Bran and hated himself for the dread which pierced him. He put a hand under Sansa's chin and gently lifted her face.

"Your brother?"

"Rickon, my baby brother, Brienne found him in the North, she took him to-"

"Lady Sansa!"

Brienne cut across the younger woman's speech with urgency. Jaime glared at her, his face a picture of disdain.

"Come now, wench, let us all have the tale! I personally am intrigued to know how you can be sure this northerner you found is indeed Rickon Stark and not simply a crafty pauper."

Jaime felt Sansa tense at his words and regretted speaking so plainly, but he was deeply unnerved at the sudden reemergence of Stark spectres and did not relish the implications for himself and his family. Brienne's lips worked as if she was swallowing a multitude of insults and when she did speak the words were ground out.

"I had sight of Robb Stark on more than one occasion, his brother bears him a strong resemblance. In addition, the boy was accompanied by a large beast which could only be a dire wolf. He referred to the creature as Shaggydog."

"Shaggydog!"

Sansa breathed the word like a prayer and Jaime knew his wife was now fully convinced. He had to admit that the presence of one of the beasts Sansa and her siblings had kept as children certainly added credence to the wench's tale. He looked at her defiant glare and was sure she would tell him little more. He fixed her with a smile that was closer to a snarl.

"I see, well since you have succeeded in ensuring that my wife is in no condition to return to the feast, may I ask that you make your way to the Great Hall, find my Aunt Dorna and explain that Lady Sansa has exhausted herself and that she and I have retired to our chambers."

The blonde woman glared at him and remained rooted to the spot. After several moments Sansa turned her head to her sworn shied.

"Brienne, do as Jaime says."

"Lady Sansa, I-"

"I know, Brienne, you do not wish Jaime to know about this. There is little that can be done about that now, I told you when you first arrived, there are no secrets between my husband and myself."

The maid of Tarth dropped her head defeatedly and left the room. Jaime turned to his wife.

"My love, let us go to our chambers, away from any ears."

Sansa nodded. Jaime watched as she took several deep breaths and pinched the bridge of her nose, his heart squeezing as he observed how practiced she was at concealing her emotions and thought about how she had learned the skill. They walked to their chambers in silence, fortunately the celebrations were still in full swing in the great hall and the rest of the keep was deserted. Jaime locked the outer door of their rooms and ensured the windows were shuttered. Whilst he was occupied, his wife had picked up a blanket she was stitching for their son and was gripping it tightly as she paced. She looked up at him with bright eyes.

"I remember the day Rickon was born so clearly. I was the first to hold him after mother and father. He wasn't bald, like Ty was, he had a mop of black hair, but that fell out when he was a few months old. I used hold him and sing to him, I would pretend I was already a great lady, married to a handsome lord and that Rickon was our son. As he got older he could throw inconsolable tantrums, but I could always calm him with a song."

"Sansa… If this lad has a dire wolf I am sure he must be from Winterfell…"

Jaime stopped, unwilling to dash her hopes for a second time that night. Sansa smiled and shook her head.

"You do not understand. The wolves, they were not the same as dogs; my Lady was the tamest by far and even she would tolerate few besides myself. Shaggydog was wild, he would not stay with someone who was not Rickon."

In the face of her calm certainty Jaime found it hard to doubt, he tried to rationalise the tale.

"Did he tell Brienne how he escaped the Iron Born?"

"Theon killed two farm boys, the bodies he displayed were burned beyond recognition. Rickon is in the company of a Wildling woman named Osha. Apparently she was captured on a raid near Winterfell some weeks before it was sacked. Maester Luwin showed her a way to take my brothers from the keep via the crypts before he succumbed to his injuries."

"Both your brothers?"

Jaime felt dread rise within him and again hated himself for wishing a boy dead. But he could not lose Sansa, not now and he was unsure whether she could resolve herself to stay with him if Bran Stark still lived. His wife looked straight into his eyes and held both his hands.

"Rickon and the Wildling woman told Brienne that Bran has gone beyond the Wall, he is accompanied by the children of Howland Reed, they said he has something he must do."

Jaime stared at her speechless, feeling close to bewilderment. Sansa game him a small, wry smile.

"A fantastical tale is it not? Jaime, I cannot afford to think of Bran, a crippled boy, beyond the Wall… if it is true then… he is far beyond my help. Still, little Rickon is alive and not so far from me after all."

Jaime felt his heart sink. He spoke in an uncharacteristically tentative tone:

"Sansa, love… if your brother is still alive, he has a stronger claim to Winterfell than you."

Anger and disbelief flashed across Sansa's face.

"Does that displease you?"

Jaime frowned at her, irritated with himself for his inability to explain what he meant clearly.

"You know I care nothing for your claim! My father however…"

"We don't have to tell anyone who he is. We could say he was my bastard cousin, I know my uncle Edmure has a reputation-"

She spoke quickly, her blue eyes pleading and Jaime could tell that she knew it was a dream which could never come to pass. Fuck my father Jaime felt the increasingly familiar bitterness towards Tywin rise within him. Since the red wedding he had found reason to curse his sire with frequency. Sansa looked at him with an expression of resignation.

"It would not work would it? We cannot risk it, besides there is Shaggydog too, I cannot separate another of my siblings from their wolf."

Jaime pulled her to him, feeling his heart would break how many blows can she suffer at the hands of my family, before it kills the love she bears me? He was startled to feel her give a short mirthless laugh.

"Well, it seems Lord Baelish has his red headed Stark at last. He approached me in King's Landing soon after my betrothal to Joffrey was broken, he offered me a means of escape."

His wife looked down and Jaime felt a protective rage flare within him, he was sure that had Sansa found a means to get to Littlefinger following her betrothal to him, his wife would have taken it and the thought of losing her to the conniving brothel keeper was not one he could suffer easily. Sansa looked up at him once more.

"I have never met my Aunt Lysa, I know she was at court while her husband was Hand, what is she like?"

"I did not have a great to deal to do with her."

Jaime was evasive, still preoccupied with the earlier revelations and not sure is would be helpful to give his candid opinion that Lysa Arryn was a mad bitch. Sansa shifted and began to play with the blanket again.

"Shae was very hostlie to Baelsih and he did make me uneasy, he tried to give me the impression he wanted to help me for love of my mother… almost as if he was some sort of uncle to me."

Jaime snorted, and his wife gave him a half smile.

"I was less than convinced myself, for I cannot remember my mother making mention of him although she spoke of her childhood often. Although from what Brienne told me tonight, my mother must have placed some trust in Lord Baelish. It seems that she was convinced that your brother was behind the assassination attempt on Bran because Lord Baelish identified the dagger used as one he lost to Tyrion in a bet they made at a tourney."

That bloody dagger! Jaime remembered Sansa's mother questioning him about the object during his captivity. He'd seen Robert Baratheon waving the thing around but could not remember much about it. Now he turned to his wife.

"I have heard this tale before, my love. I know Tyrion lost that day because I shared his fate. Tyrion never bets against me in tourneys, he claims it is as foolish as it is disloyal. "

Sansa frowned.

"So the dagger was no longer Tyrion's, perhaps Baelish had seen him with it in the past?"

Jaime pondered sourly that it seemed more likely Littlefinger was trying to make trouble for Tyrion, although he could not fathom why. He wondered if there was some way he could alert his younger brother to this new knowledge, without risking their sire finding out how it had been obtained. His thoughts were disturbed by Sansa laying a hand on his arm, he looked into her face and saw a strained smile.

"At any rate, my youngest brother is alive. He is with kin and in a strong noble house. I am sure Lord Baelish has plans for him but these must involve keeping him alive. He is alive and safe - I must content myself with that."

Jaime's first impulse was to scoff at the naivety of this statement, but then he took in his wife tense demeanour and felt dismay seep through him. Sansa was putting on a brave face; for his benefit. She sought to convince him that she was content when in truth she was not. His wife knew better than anyone the risks a Stark child faced as a pawn in the game and Jaime was convinced that she thought less of Littlefinger than she let on.

The two prepared themselves for bed and, lying curled into him on her side, her head on his chest, Sansa soon appeared to be asleep. Jaime knew he would not find rest that night. His pride from earlier in the day seemed to come back to mock him now. He may be able to present his wife with fripperies and empty crowns, but when it came to being her true champion he was powerless. Jaime railed against the thought; the idea of being unable to act was abhorrent to him. However he could not deny that Rickon Stark was unlikely to be safe at Casterly Rock, furthermore Jaime was aware the Eerie was not a place he could simply stroll into and extract Rickon from. It was not as if he could lay siege to the place; Tywin must certainly hear no word of the youngest Stark's location and obstructive as Lysa Arryn had been, there was certainly no other pretext for making war on her dominions.

Being aware of all the reasons why he must accept the status quo did not make it any easier for Jaime to content himself with doing so. He cast up thoughts of the past, remembering the day he had been stripped of his white cloak and the conversation he had with Sansa shortly after. I had two younger brothers, Ser Jaime, now I have none. If I could have done anything to protect them I would have. Jaime felt his guts twist with sorrow to think how his wife must feel now, knowing her current situation meant there was nothing she could do for Rickon. His mind then turned to the earlier part of the conversation, Sansa refusing to flee to Winterfell with him. She would have chosen Littlefinger over I. The realisation pierced him like a sword and he felt a wave of fury for the coniving Baelish. The day Jaime had been expelled from the Kingsguard, Baelish had been made Lord of Harrenhal by Joffrey, no doubt with Tywin's approval. Littlefinger owed much to House Lannister, yet he seemed to be repaying the debt with dishonesty. Jaime turned his mind to Tyrion's imprisonment in the Eerie, reflecting that his emotions upon receiving that news were akin to those he felt now; he'd been sick with worry and railed against his inability to do anything, throwing himself into the war against the Starks with a ferocious zeal. It seemed a dagger had been the key to the Tully sisters' belief in Tyrion's guilt; and Baelish had been the one to identify the dagger as Tyrion's.

He was disturbed from his brooding by his wife, throwing her arms out and groaning in her sleep. After a second she gasped and sat up sharply. Jaime was familiar enough with Sansa's nightmares to recognise the latest instance, they had been becoming less frequent of late but it was hardly surprising that the evening's revelations had prompted reoccurrence. He pulled her to him, stroking her hair soothingly and trying his best to mask his own pain at seeing her distressed. After a minute she pulled away with a sigh.

"Was it the wolves tonight, sweet one?"

"Not quite…let us not speak of it, Jaime, I would rather forget."

"Very well."

A heavy silence hung over the pair. Jaime could make out Sansa's silhouette and saw she was twisting the coverlet between her hands.

"Jaime, as well as talking of my brother, Brienne told me my Aunt believed Jon Arryn was slain and that she fled to the Vale for fear that she or her son could be next."

Jaime barely suppressed a curse and sought a way to express his opinion as diplomatically as possible.

"Sansa, your Aunt was aways irrational when it came to her son, I think the lad was sickly in some way and as he was her only child, she was extremely overprotective."

Sansa was silent for several moments before taking a deep breath.

"Brienne said, Lady Lysa told her… House Lannister was behind Jon Arryn's death, she said that was the reason my father agreed to become King Robert's hand, Jaime-"

"No, Sansa, I swear to you, I did not poison Jon Arryn to keep my affair with Cersei secret."

It cost Jaime to speak of his past so bluntly, he felt he and Sansa had been put through enough pain on that account. He saw his wife nod her head emphatically, and wished it was light enough for him to look into her beautiful eyes so he might know beyond doubt that she believed him. She spoke after a minute:

"Something changed father's mind though, Jaime, something made him come south, I know at first he planned to refuse. Whatever made him change his mind, it was the ruin of my family."

Jaime heard the tears in her voice and pulled her close to him once more, he hated to see the woman he loved reliving all this pain and the warrior within in him sought something to fight on her behalf.

"Why in Seven Hells did your Aunt take the wench into such confidence?"

"I have been wondering about that too, I do not think anyone expected I should be so happy in my marriage."

Jaime knew Sansa was fighting to keep her voice level, he could not allow this to continue. Implausible as storming the Eerie may be, there was no way he and is wife could remain at the Rock ignoring these revelations without it poisoning their happiness. Jaime had learnt his share of hard lessons in recent years and he was acutely aware that they seemed to have glimpses of a larger and as yet unfathomable picture. He placed a hand under Sansa's chin and gently pulled her face up to his.

"Wife, there is more to all this than meets the eye. I truly wish we could bring your brother here, if I did not know it would bring a storm of swords upon all our heads I would ride out for him the very night. But there is too much trouble coming our way from the Vale, for us to simply ignore it."

Sansa squeezed his hand.

"You are right, husband, …father always said "When snows fall and the white winds blow. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives." We need our pack, Tyrion and Margaery were born to play these games. Tyrion needs us too, he needs to know about Lord Baelish and the dagger. I think we must find a pretext for a trip to King's Landing"