Sansa

Sansa followed Eponine and Gavroche through the back streets of King's Landing keeping her head down. She hoped her hair wouldn't catch attention and make people look twice at them as she didn't have a hood, but covering her bedraggled silk dress seemed to have done the trick. As long as they walked briskly and didn't linger, no one gave them a second glance. She'd tried to neaten her hair a little, tidy away the worst of her fallen locks into at least a decent knot at the nape of her neck. Eponine had exclaimed over her red-gold locks running a hand over them in awe.

"Lovely and smooth it is. Like new polished copper." she'd breathed in admiration.

Sansa had wanted a brush to tame her hair which tended to wave and curl wildly but since Eponine didn't have one to hand she was just going to have to do without.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked, struggling to keep up with Eponine and Gavroche's swift strides. She was still trying to manage in those cursed kid slippers which were worse than useless. Sansa heartily wished for some sensible shoes with decent grips so she would stop sliding round in the mud. She couldn't wait to get that hated silk dress off which was completely ruined by the day's events.

"It's not far," Eponine reassured her. "Just a tavern where all our friends congregate."

"They can help me?"

"You just leave the talking to me. We'll persuade them, won't we 'Roche?"

Sansa was unsure even though Eponine sounded confident and gave her a reassuring smile. "Courage, dear friend . We are so close. These are good men and they'll help you once they hear of your plight, I promise."

It was so strange to hear the word 'friend' from this wild girl. Even though they were from worlds miles apart, Eponine had been a true friend to her in a way that she hadn't experienced since she'd left Winterfell and made her way to King's Landing. She's shared what little she had, saved her from those dreadful men. Sansa now found it hard to trust, she'd learnt that from the Palace and having to live amongst the Lannisters, but this girl had been nothing but kind to her.

"Here, look. The lanterns are on, so they're all there. Our luck's in!"

Eponine rapped on the door in an odd rhythm. It was evidently some kind of code.

A male voice came through the door. "Have you the password?"

Password?, thought Sansa. What kind of place is this?

"Damn, what is it again? They keep ruddy changing it. I can never keep up!" muttered Eponine.

Gavroche rolled his eyes as if used to this. "Seriously 'Ponine, keep up!" She bent down so he could whisper it in her ear.

"Patria-" she said clearly, winking gratefully at Gavroche. He scampered away, raising a hand in farewell.

The door creaked open.

They ascended a dark creaking staircase and pushed open the door. Eponine's face lit up as she spotted a young man with green eyes and freckles and she hurried to his side an adoring look of her face.

"Hi, Marius!" she said brightly but the man barely even seemed to notice, greeting her in an off-hand manner.

Sansa hovered on the doorstep unsure of her welcome as the occupants of the room stared at her, their companionable hubbub suddenly hushed. She went pink, feeling as self-conscious as she did during court functions when all eyes were on her.

"Who's this then?" one man said from the foot of the table where he was whittling a toy mule from a bit of soft wood.

Eponine took charge. "This is Sansa, she's with me. I wanted to her to meet you all for we need your help."

"You were caught in the mob?"

"You could say that, I suppose-" Sansa said, hesitantly looking at her questioner. There was no need to tell these strangers that she was in the procession, not unless they insisted on details. I'm not lying, she told herself, feeling a little uneasy, I'm conserving the truth. I have no idea if I can trust these people so far.

"We need your help, my friends. You wouldn't turn away a female in need, would you?"

"As if you're a female in need. You're street tough, Eponine-"

"I wouldn't cross you with that wicked blade of yours." laughed another man, the dour one who drank in the corner. His green eyes glittered with amused malice from underneath dark curls. "You most probably gut me like a trout as soon as look at me."

"I might be, but Sansa isn't-" Eponine retorted, "it's her that needs our help."

the group took another look at her, curiosity piqued by Eponine's statement.

"Sansa, is it? Riverlander, are you?" asked one man with interest. "Pretty name-"

She nodded shyly trying to make a good impression despite her bedraggled raiment.

"My mother was a Riverlander, but I am from the North-"

Catelyn Tully of Riverrun, although now might not be the best time to announce her ancestry. Not until I know I can trust them.

"You'll have to speak to Enjolras, but I guarantee he won't like it." the drunkard said, devoting himself back to his bottle. "He's wary of strangers-"

There was an amused chuckle rippling round the room, as if they all knew and could easily guess the reactions of the man mentioned.

Who on earth was this Enjolras? Sansa asked herself. And why was his opinion so important? Was he the leader of this strange band of friends? Would she have to throw herself on his mercy?

The unmistakable sound of feet tramping up the creaking staircase caught everyone's attention.

"That's bound to be him. Late tonight, ain't he?"

A young man with blond hair walked through the door, eagerly greeted by all the group. Tall lithe with the ascetic air of a marble statue in motion, it was easy to see his charisma and why the group greeted him with such warmth.

He pushed a hand through a head of unruly golden curls, taking the enthusiastic greeting of the group as if it were his due. He shrugged off a dark red cloak taking a swiftly vacated seat by the fire.

"Ah, my bones are so weary!" he sighed, showing a moment of human weakness before the mask went back on, and he went back to business. "- but at least the edition is ready to distribute tomorrow morn. We have to strike fast and capitalise on the unrest today. We can reach more people than ever, if we take advantage of the public mood."

"That why you've only now come home. We wondered where you'd got to?"

"There was a great deal to be done at the headquarters but they liked my piece about the riots." A hint of a smile flitted across his mouth. "A vivid and true picture of this most dramatic and eventful day."

"Who's this?" he frowned distractedly as if startled to see a stranger at one of their meetings.

"This is Sansa-"

"-from the North, she is."

He gave her a shrewd look pushing his blond curls out of his eyes once more. "What is she doing here?"

"She was caught in the mob and nearly attacked down an alleyway by three creeps. They soon cleared off once I showed them the edge of my blade-dirty bastards! But she's lost and frightened and I was wondering if we could help her at least for tonight." Eponine told him.

Hr frowned, making the carved marble perfection of his features seems stern and rigid for a moment. "I don't know if I approve of strangers at our meetings. How do we know we can trust her?"

Sansa knew she had to try and win this severe godlike being over. The last thing she wanted was to be slung out in the street on a night like this when the town was still in turmoil after the mob at the docks.

"I promise I would not betray your trust, ser-"She sank into a neat little curtsey, good manners ingrained into her by her poor dead Septa Mordane. The group looked at her oddly, as if she had lifted her silken skirts and done a handstand against the wall. Sansa looked up at the leader giving him a charming and sweet look as she could, appealing to his better nature if she could. She couldn't suppress a gasp as she took him in fully for the first time.

Stop staring at him like an utter idiot! You should know better than to gape as if you've never seen an attractive man before. Don't make a fool out of yourself! she chided silently. He had rather wild unruly golden curls that threatened to get into his deep blue eyes, a mouth that tended towards the severe

You of all people should know just how deceptive an alluring exterior can be.

Joffrey had all the beauty of his family all golden hair and emerald green eyes, and yet his meanness of spirit and cruelty knew no bounds. I was taken in once, I can't afford to be again.

But oh, how beautiful and remote he seems; like a gallant knight of old. She thought admiring the high line of his cheekbone, the straight line of his nose even the gold of his eyelashes, like a statue of the Warrior in the sept back home.

"Please Enjolras, she won't be any trouble, I promise." Eponine gave him her most beseeching look, all big appealing dark eyes.

"She knows how to be discreet, does she? Silent?" he questioned.

"I can be, if that is what's required, ser." She gave him a demure look from underneath her lashes.

He gave her another searching look, giving a put upon sigh as he relented. "Very well. As long as she knows how to be quiet she can stay."

He might be as beautiful as an angel, but he's not very friendly, is he?, Sansa told herself.

The group settled down to business discussing the doings of the day and laughing at the discomfiting of the Lannisters as they left the docks. They all seemed to think it was a huge joke; laughing heartily at Joffrey's impromptu shower of dung, applauding the mob's shouts for bread and justice, and mocking the young king and his party. Sansa decided she would keep her presence at Joffrey's side a close secret. It was best when they seemed to have such a bad opinion of her and her kind.

"Could not have happened to a nicer lad!" laughed one man sloshing ale into a tankard. "I only wish I had been the one to shower him in shit!"

"My sentiments exactly, Combeferre! How sweet it was to hear the shouts for freedom and bread intermingling!" Marius said, his eyes shining with fervour.

So that's why they wanted passwords at the door, they plot revolution! Gods, what have I got involved in now?, thought Sansa slightly alarmed by what she was hearing.

"The people taking the Lannisters to account for the foul murder of Renly Baratheon. Blaming them for the murder of the Northern Hand, Ned Stark at the Sept of Baelor. Polluting even the church-" Marius spoke excitedly.

Sansa hadn't had a good opinion of him for being so dismissive of Eponine, when he clearly adored him, but he seemed more moderate in his views, less strident and extreme than Enjolras who was rather the firebrand.

Admirable sentiments, thought Sansa sceptically watching them, but who will bring the likes of Tywin Lannister and his family to justice? If even the Hand of the King- her own father was not safe from their machinations?

Enjolras wrinkled his nose, unimpressed by the memory of the former Master of Laws. "What was Renly Baratheon to me? Sure, he talked a good talk of making King's Landing great once more but at heart he was one of them. He paraded in his silks and gold whilst the people struggle to scratch a living."

"Renly wasn't a bad sort really. I remember he came to the Citadel once for one of our talks. He had some interesting ideas-" Marius answered "-and the Hand was a breath of fresh air in this corrupt town. He came to a bad end. I think he was a man too honest for the position-

"That's all they were, ideas. He would ne'er have implemented them!" Enjolras sneered, which Sansa thought was a bit unfair. "-as soon as he tasted a bit of power, he would have soon abandoned them. He was no more a saviour then the rest of them. No, we should not put our trust in princes and lords. If we want freedom in the Seven Realms, we must earn it with blood if necessary-"

What kind of group had she found herself in the middle of? The leader freely talking sedition and rebellion while the rest of the men round the table encouraged him and cheered. Joffrey would have had his tongue for less if he had heard.

Is this how the people of King's Landing truly think of us? While we sit behind the walls of the palace in grand but luxurious isolation, they are plotting to throw us all down?

It seemed that she had walked from one dangerous situation into another.

Enjolras

By the time he'd reached the safe warm sanctuary of the ABC Tavern, he had so many ideas bubbling in his mind for speeches and pamphlets, he could scarcely catch them all. Now was the time to strike while the iron was hot, to capitalise on the wave of feeling against the regime. If encouraged, the people would rise. They would finally speak out against the ill-treatment they had been forced to endure under the Lannisters and their corrupt court.

The last thing he had expected was to find the group gaping at a feminine newcomer who stood there utterly out of place in their humble lodgings, like a battered stray flower growing out of the side of the road. She stood there in a ragged coat he vaguely recognised as one of Eponine's and a filthy dress which once might have been a delicate green-blue. The hem and skirts were all mucky with ground in mud and refuse, and her fiery red hair was slipping out of a low rough bun.

Eponine tried to intercede for the girl, pleading with them to help her in her distress.

She murmured some sweet little courtesy, giving an elegant little bob of a curtsey which would not have looked out of place at court. Her soft rose-pink mouth fell open staring at him as if he were the Warrior or the Smith reborn.

This girl is going to be nothing but trouble, he told himself forcing himself not to stare at her lovely face. Those big limpid blue eyes raised towards his shyly looking at him beseeching him to help her in her distress.

We're meant to be revolutionaries! What am I meant to do with a high-born maiden in our midst while we plot overthrow and rebellion. A maid as fair as autumn with fire in her hair-

She has distracted me enough, I have a meeting to get through, he told himself sternly, forcing his gaze from her and speaking gruffly to hide how disconcerted he was by her presence.

"For too long the Lannisters and their cronies have ridden rough-shod over the people of King's Landing and the realm itself."

"Aye!"

"Today we have seen the people rise up against their oppressors. At last raise their heads and say no more!"

"Tywin Lannister thinks he can buy off justice with his bushels of gold, but the time will come when justice will come for him too!"

"It is time to get rid of these useless high lords who contribute nothing of any worth to society. Like locusts, they take and contribute nothing in return." carried away by his own words and fervour, intoxicated by his own eloquence Enjolras was stood up now, thumping the table with revolutionary zeal. "-the seven kingdoms would be better off without these lords who tear the country apart for their own petty motives whilst we the people suffer under their yoke!"

"Enjolras, on a roll here! Aye!"

"Did not Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark tear the country apart because of a woman? No one knew why Lyanna Stark ran off with Rhaegar in the first place? And yet they used it as an excuse to make the country bleed? We want nothing to do with such men!"

She tutted in the background, obvious disagreeing with every syllable he uttered but trying not to outright contradict him out of sheer politeness. That disapproving little noise led him to push back and challenge her.

"What is it, milady?" he said turning sharply, looking down his nose at her.

She blinked as if surprised to be challenged so abruptly, though her mouth was pulled into a disapproving line. "Ser-"

"I told you, I'm no ser-" he snapped, irritated by her for some reason. She got under his skin, making him lash out unreasonably at her. "Let's hear your objections, milady, since you evidently have them!"

She lowered her eyes demurely which merely annoyed him further. So the girl didn't have the courage of her convictions.

All of a sudden, Enjolras wanted nothing more than to needle her, to get her into an argument, to get under her shell as she had to him. Why should she remain aloof and untouchable whilst he was in such turmoil?

"I thought you wished for me to remain silent, ser?" she observed.

He scowled, infuriated that she was right, he had said that to her at the beginning.

"Very well...While what some of what you said is true I feel your argument is-" She stopped, as if not wanting to be frank.

"Spit it out and speak plain!" he snapped, raising his voice to her.

He could see her tremble but she held her ground, chin held up like a queen.

Damn, if he hadn't finally gotten to her! Enjolras found he liked the heightened colour in her cheeks, the sparkle in her lovely blue eyes as she entered into verbal combat with him. Flesh and blood; a spirited and beautiful young woman, instead of a dazzlingly unobtainable vision of the Maiden.

"-I feel your argument is frankly simplistic."

He didn't have to even see Grantaire to know he was smirking at the thought of him being challenged by a chit of a girl. "What?"

The rest of the group fell silent, watching them argue avidly.

"I don't argue that some high lords abuse their position and make the people suffer. They forget that the people suffer too and more than they do. But to lump all in the same category and blame them for the ills of the realm seems wrong." Sansa stated. Her voice shook a little, and she trembled a little but she held her ground.

"Our little philosopher has a tongue in her head!" he mocked, a slightly mean edge to his voice.

"You asked me for my opinion, ser." she replied frigidly.

"Why, so I did!" he chuckled, infuriating her further. "-I suppose you think I was unfair about the handsome and gallant Lord Renly, tragically slain before he could reach King's Landing and deliver his people from the Lannister regime?"

Sansa didn't like his sarcastic mocking tone. "It was sad about Renly. He was a young man, and did not deserve to be cut down in his prime, but he should not have made a claim not backed by his birthright. I think perhaps he was influenced by his friends...My Fa-" she stopped herself just in time, reeling from that dangerous slip of the tongue. "-Lord Stark always said that though Lord Stannis was a hard man, he by rights was the next king of the Seven Kingdoms and we owed him our allegiance. No one expected Cersei and Joffrey to seize power-"

"Spoken like a true insider, milady!" Enjolras sneered. "I suppose all these great and good are intimate friends of yours?"

"I knew them, which is more than you can say-" she snapped, needled by his mockery.

She rose to leave; still dignified though trembling with fear, pride and more then a hint of anger.

"Where are you going, my lady?" Marius alarmed by the fact she was heading for the door at this time of night. Eponine grabbed her hand, pleading with her to stay, but Sansa seemed determined to leave.

"Sansa, it's late. Really you don't have to leave-" she said urgently. "I know things got heated. Things were said in the heat of the moment that might be regretted in the morning with cooler heads-"

"It occurs to me that someone of my kind is not exactly welcome given the aims of your group. I should leave now-" she slipped off the coat and handed it back to Eponine. "Thank you for the loan of your coat. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Eponine."

She turned to the rest of the group, looking Enjolras right in the eye."You have my word of honour I shall say nothing of your conversations tonight. I am no informant, ser. But I think you have done me some injustice. I do have some sympathy with your cause; I said that at the beginning had you the will to listen. But I think you are unfair to judge all by one example. Lord Stark was a good man and deserves not your scorn, ser."

She swept from the room as dignified as she could manage in a filthy silk dress which rather spoiled the effect she was aiming for.

"Eponine, please go after her. She can't wander round King's Landing this late at night!" Marius said. "I'll talk to Enjolras-"

Grantaire took another swig, highly entertained by the spat. He addressed his friend, grinning maddeningly at him as he scowled. "Well, well...our pretty little high-born maiden certainly stirred things up some, didn't she?"

Enjolras glared at his friend.