Sansa strummed her fingers against the linen cloth of the table as she surveyed the dining room. The great hall was adorned in gold after Joffrey had insisted on restoring it to its former glory. Every inch appeared to be dripping in gold, covered by foul Lannisters. She would most likely be surrounded by gold until the day she died. Considering what she had done with the Hound, that day might come quicker than she had once thought. She would be finally be free of gold and Lannisters, the two things she wished to live without.

Sansa couldn't help but allow her gaze to sweep through the crowds. She knew who she was looking for, as embarrassed as she was with herself. Two days had passed since she had prematurely declared her love out loud only to have been completely shunned and abandoned in the night. He had slipped off of her in a heartbeat, dressed as quickly as would allow him, and fled from the room. She could only watch him go, far too stunned to speak or move. Since then, he had done his very best to avoid her much to her mortification.

Sandor stood behind Joffrey, ever as imposing and large. He would not look at her, would not talk to her. She had tried approaching him twice after he had left her but he would continue to leave if she tried to speak to him. She had even tried reaching out to touch him but he had pulled his hand away almost as if her touch had burned him, as if nothing had happened between them. With a turn of his cloak, he had left her alone and tear ridden once more.

Although Joffrey had begun the evening tormenting Sansa, Joffrey's focus had been taken off of her as soon as he had laid eyes upon the imp. Joffrey had insisted as he became increasingly inebriated that Tyrion would be his cupbearer for the rest of the evening. Tyrion almost appeared as miserable as Sansa was, perhaps even more. Sansa couldn't help the feeling of pity that had begun to grow in her chest toward the little man, even if Joffrey was paying her no mind because of it.

Those in the audience were either laughing along with Joffrey or pretending not to see the humiliation painted across Tyrion's face. It appeared that she was not the only one was just trying to survive Joffrey.

It was impossibly tiring to attend these dinners yet Joffrey had insisted. Insisted, being the kind word, rather he and Meryn Trant had arrived at her chambers after Sansa had one of her handmaidens send word that she wasn't feeling well. Joffrey had behaved sickeningly sweetly at first until she refused to attend dinner again. Trant was sent to deal with her after that.

Sansa rubbed her forearm where she was sure a greenish bruise was already appearing under the fine linen of her dress. Married to Joffrey, she would never be able to wear dresses that did not cover all portions of her skin ever again.

How she had ever desired to live in the capital was beyond her. She had known nothing of the outside world, only the stupid stories of love that she had chosen to follow. Now, she sat among lions, most of whom wished nothing more than to claw her throat right out.

Somehow, she had ended up sitting next to Littlefinger who was uncomfortably close to her, his knee brushing against hers. "My lady, how is your meal?" He grinned at her, his teeth shone in the light like a viper just as ready to kill as the lions that surrounded her.

Sansa smiled just as sweetly as she would for the king, "It is very good, thank you Lord Baelish."

"I'm very glad, my lady. Tonight is a special evening for you." Sansa kept her gaze toward Sandor who turned to look at her just as Littlefinger opened his mouth to speak. Sansa was unsure what Littlefinger meant by 'special evening' but she knew better than to ask further. Littlefinger was not one to abandon a game before it was fully played out. Sandor continued to watch her and her heart fluttered in her chest. This was the first time he had explicitly looked at her since he had left her chambers. She wished she could convey her feelings for him in just one look but before she could take advantage of his extended gaze, Joffrey's shrill voice pulled his attention away from her.

"Cupbearer! I don't remember telling you that may sit back down. I'm still thirsty!" All eyes were on Tyrion as he visibly debated with himself over whether the punishment for refusing could be worse than serving Joffrey. Taking a large swig from his own glass, Tyrion pushed back his chair and reached for a new jug of wine.

Sansa's eyes followed Tyrion as he slowly crept through the room, jug in one hand and cup in the other. She looked over at Cersei who was clearly amused by her younger brother's embarrassment. It was shocking how much a woman could hate her own flesh and blood brother, he had never meant for the way he entered the world to happen. Tyrion stopped in front of the King's table and made a clear effort of pouring the wine into the cup before shoving it over to his nephew.

"That's not so hard, now is it, uncle?" Joffrey laughed aloud prompting the rest of the hall to laugh along with him. Sansa did not laugh. Joffrey took a large swig from his glass before continuing, "Uncle, I do believe that I am hungry, bring me a slice of pigeon pie." Tyrion turned to comply.

Joffrey began to cough, slightly at first then very loudly until his entire chest was shaking. It all happened very quickly, believing himself to be choking he downed the rest of his goblet before stumbling forward and falling to his knees. Cersei was beside Joffrey in a heartbeat screaming and panicking, cradling his head in her lap as foam began to pour from his mouth and the convulsions only grew. His eyes began to bleed and Sansa could not help but continue to watch emotionless as her tormenter lay suffering before her.

In a last ditch effort, Joffrey raised his trembling arm and pointed to Tyrion who appeared just as surprised as anyone in the hall. Joffrey gave a final wheeze before his head lolled to the side and the convulsions stopped. Cersei stilled in her movements before letting out an inhumane screech. "Take him! Take him! Take him! TAKE HIM!" She shouted toward the guards as they rushed to arrest Tyrion. Refusing to even fight, Tyrion allowed the guards to take him as Cersei watched on. She would finally have what she had always wanted, Tyrion's head. Before returning her gaze to Joffrey, Cersei's eyes flicked to Sansa's with such hatred she was sure that if not for her grief, Cersei would've stood and strangled her to death.

The guards surrounded the high tables as Tywin stood and ordered for the royal family to be safely escorted back into the castle. Sansa could not move, her eyes did not dare to leave Joffrey's. Someone grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her forward to follow the group, Sansa had little care of who it was. All she desired was to stand over Joffrey and kick his rotting corpse. She needed to be sure he was dead. Whoever held onto her seemed to understand and pulled her roughly forward until her feet followed by instinct. Her eyes remained on Joffrey's lifeless ones even as the distance between them grew further and further apart.

Sansa could feel her eyes glossing over. It didn't feel real, Joffrey was finally dead. She had wished and prayed and dreamt and it had happened. He was gone. Dead. He could never torment her ever again. Sansa couldn't help the bubbling laugh that escaped her throat. Sansa felt herself returning to her body as she took in her surroundings. A hand was still tight around her wrist and pulling her forward. Her eyes felt groggy and her body felt lightheaded. Sandor? No, it didn't feel like Sandor. Whoever was pulling her was doing so uncomfortably without the touch of a lover.

They stopped in a dark corridor, far enough away from the commotion that it was only a light murmur in her ear.

"You're safe now, my sweetling." Littlefinger reached out to brush his fingers through her auburn curls, raising his hand holding her hair to his nose to take a large whiff. "He will never hurt you again, I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, my love."

He grew closer and closer to her until she was trapped between him and the wall behind her. Even with her height advantage over him, fear was beginning to paralyze her. "What did you do?" She whispered. It was already clear what he would say, why he would say he did it. Baelish was not one to give up easily, she should have known what he would do to get what he wanted from her. It was so clear to see now what Littlefinger was capable of, how easily he could change alliances.

"I poisoned him, my love. For you. For you and me." He spoke softly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear allowing his hand to drift down her face until it rested along her neck. "I love you, Sansa. I can take you away from this, take you back home, you will be mine." His hand continued to drift down her neck until it stopped above her heaving chest. The touch of his skin on hers felt wrong and panic danced down her spine. It was all she could do to stand still and let out tiny sounds of fear as his hands continued drifting.

"Stop." It came out no louder than a murmur, as he continued touching her, eyeing her body under his lustful gaze, no doubt imagining what he would do to her. His hand came out to stroke the underside of her breast. She tried to swat him away but he deflected her. "Lord Baelish, stop this now!"

"There's no one preventing us from being together now, Sansa. I can take you back home. We can rule the North together. I know you want to go home, I will take you home. You have to trust me."

Sansa could barely breathe. He was not listening to her, refusing to listen to her. He was prepared to take what he wanted from her. Sansa reached out to slap him but his hand gripped her wrist and squeezed hard. "Sansa, don't make me think you don't want this. I know you want this."

"I don't want you!" She screamed loudly trying to kick him away from her but his grip on her was tight and unyielding.

"Of course you do, you know how much I love you Sansa. You remind me so much of your mother, yet you are so much more beautiful than she ever was. You have so much more fire and spirit than her." Sansa cried loudly as she felt his hard manhood press insistently into her. Memories of the Bread Riot overwhelmed her senses. It made her feel just as helpless now as she had been then. She could not claw herself away from this sick man.

How could she have just escaped her tormenter to have been thrown directly back into harm's way? Littlefinger was rocking against her now and she could not stop him. His breathy moans was causing her stomach to heave. She was sure at any moment she would throw up. The strength of her arms and legs were no match for him and he trapped her easily, continuing his movements. It was becoming hard to breathe. His hand began to unlace his breeches and Sansa screamed. At this moment, she wished anyone could hear her, anyone at all. He placed his hand over her mouth as he worked on pulling his breeches down his legs.

"No, stop!" She tried to speak through his hand once she saw his manhood jutting out from between his legs. Nothing had ever looked so disgusting. She bit the inside of his palm to try to escape. He snatched his hand back to his side groaning in pain as he shook his head at her.

"Now, now Sansa. You mustn't do that." Flipping her around, he now had her with her stomach pressing against the wall and his manhood pressing against her bottom. "Be a good girl and spread your legs." He pushed her legs apart with his knees and she couldn't fight anymore. All ounces of fight drained from her body and she willed herself away. It would hurt if she continued to struggle against him, she could escape him if he believed she trusted him. "Considering you have fucked the Hound, I'm assuming you are worn in enough that you won't need any help. I've waited a long time for this, sweetling" His hand reached down to raise her skirts and started to undo her smallclothes.

A sudden gasp halted his movements before the sound of a large sack of meat hitting the floor echoed down the corridor. The blood was still pulsing in her ears as Sansa stood still pressed against the wall, unable to move. She opened her mouth to scream.

A hand was placed over her mouth to stifle the noise. She inhaled the familiar smell of alcohol and metal as the tension exited her body in one swift exhale. Sandor pressed against her from behind. The feel of his cold armor against her made the tears spill even faster down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her middle and held on as she shook against him.

"I'm so sorry, little bird." The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through her. As upset as she was, she couldn't help but feel calmed by his overall familiarity. The smell of his hair, the alcohol that seemingly followed him around. She wished to be closer to him, to never allow him to leave her ever again.

Sansa could not catch her breath even as the puddle of blood confirming Littlefinger's death pooled around her shoes. She could not turn to look at Sandor, he had betrayed her, left her, thrown her back to those that were determined to torment her, rape her, kill her.

"Little bird…" Sandor's voice trailed off. He placed his large hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her around to face him. Through her tears, she could barely make out the expression of sorrow and regret molded across his face. She had never seen him this vulnerable before. It almost appeared as if he was just as fearful as she had been.

"You…you… you left me." She could barely understand herself as is. By the shadow cast across his face, she figured he could hear her clearly. "You left me, you left me!" She cried as she burrowed against his chest unable to control the gasps and wails that shook her entire being. Sansa could not remember a time she felt so angry.

"I thought you would die if I stayed." His voice came out barely above a whisper. That was not good enough of an answer. He was supposed to protect her, to love her. He had made her tell him she would never leave him and then proceeded to leave himself!

"I almost died because you left me. I told you I loved you and you left me! You left me!" Her hands began to bang into his chest. She could feel the red rising in her cheeks and continued to hit him harder. Unaffected by her, he let her until she could take no more and shrunk to a ball on the floor.

He lowered himself down onto his knees and rubbed her back as she sobbed. She couldn't help but smile a little at that, it was after all a very unusual thing for someone as rough as the Hound to be so gentle with her. He pulled at her shoulders until she was on her knees before him as well. He was still looking down at her even with her on her knees as well as he placed his palm on her cheek. "I will never leave you again, Sansa." Her heart fluttered on it's own accord. No matter how mad she was at him, it seemed her body had forgiven him the minute he had saved her from Littlefinger.

"I love you." He spoke gently. Her wide eyes snapped to his and she saw the truth of his words. "I love you so much." He pulled her face to his and pressed his lips against hers. Stunned at first, Sansa felt herself quickly melt into the kiss until she was pressing herself against him with such urgency and filled with such glee she barely recognized the feeling.

"I love you." She spoke just as gently against his lips. He kissed her quickly then before pulling himself up and then her. "Don't ever leave me."

"I will never leave you again, little bird. Never." She pulled his head down again and kissed him hard. Her lips molded over his until they were both panting against each other. A noise from the other side of the hall shook them apart.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, reaching his hand out toward her.

"Yes" She breathed and placed her palm inside his warm one. She smiled.