"Enjolras, what are you doing here?" Eponine still sounded distrustful, which was understandable in the situation, she felt. The women felt protective towards Sansa, especially as feeling had been whipped up against her in the group.

"I need to speak to Sansa." Enjolras told her, an earnest gleam in his eye. "Please? It's important."

Musichetta looked down her nose at him forbiddingly. She could be formidable when crossed and she was plainly cross with the way the problem had worked out. "I don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

Eponine joined in, airing her opinion freely. "If you had seen her in that alleyway backing away from those creeps trying to attack her, you would never have said that about her, or allowed your friends to cast aspersions on her character. It's not right!"

"Then please, please help me make this right! I don't want her to go." He found himself admitting, turning crimson as he realised that he'd confessed something so personal he hadn't even acknowledged it to himself.

"You don't?" Eponine couldn't help being somewhat surprised by this admission. She eyed him shrewdly.

He shook his head. "I will never forgive myself if she leaves like this. Please let me make things right here."

"You know how you can make things right for a start? Stop Grantaire and his little campaign against her. Whatever she's done, she needs our help, not our censure."

When they reached Sansa in the humble room she was renting from Musichetta, she was hurriedly packing the few items she had managed to acquire during her working life at the tavern into a bundle: a couple of bodices, a rough linen shift with deft black-work round the neck and hem, and two neatly mended skirts. She was rolling them round a pair of wide wooden patten clogs, humming a sweet poignant little ballad to herself as she worked.

Enjolras saw the clothes he had got her carefully folded on the end of her bed and felt terrible. I never meant for this to happen… he told himself, his heart sinking. I don't want her to go. How in Seven Hells has this happened?

"Sansa?"

She looked up guiltily, the colour rushing into her cheeks, up her neck and staining her delicate ears red. Evidently she hadn't expected to be caught in the act. She was obviously planning to disappear without a word, possibly this very night.

"Sansa, dear friend what are you doing?" Eponine asked. She made a sign to Enjolras, silently asking to hang back for a moment. He didn't like the sound of that but he did so reluctantly, lingering by the doorway.

She gulped, looking even more guilty.

"Eponine, please try to understand-"

Eponine shook her head in disbelief. "Were you going to skip town and not say a word, Sansa?"

"I'm sorry Eponine, Musichetta, you've both been so good to me, you saved me, but I can't stay here, I've lingered long enough, I realise that. I must leave, head north."

"By yourself? Eponine said incredulously, brows raised in disbelief, taken aback by her determination. "You're going to leave King's Landing alone, go all that way?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

Enjolras burst forward, unable to keep silent. "You do! You have a choice, Sansa. You don't have to leave. Please reconsider-"

Eponine turned to him, startled by the sudden break in his cover. "Enjolras!"

The colour rose in his cheeks but he stood his ground, devoting his attention to Sansa, holding her hands in his and looking her ardently in the eye. "I heard what you said to Eponine. You want to leave King's Landing, but I think you are making a mistake." He said earnestly.

"Do you?"

"We said we would offer you our protection such that it was, and that still holds true. Do you not feel safe with us any more?"

"Because every moment I stay, I am putting you all in danger. This was foolhardy, you should all dislike and suspect me, I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"What makes you think that?" he interrupted.

"The little birds," she stammered, looking up at him with those big blue eyes, "You all thought that they were there to spy and that I had something to do with it, because I knew about them."

"Courfeyrac did not truly meant to upset you. He did not do it right, but his heart is in the right place. He doesn't think, none of them actually think-"

"Grantaire does. Grantaire thinks that I am nothing but a doxy!" she reminded him.

"He had no right to take things so far behind our backs. I will speak to him and set him right, don't fear about that. He has for some reason known only to himself, misjudged you dreadfully."

Sansa thought about telling him about Courfeyrac's odd statement that Grantaire was jealous of her, which didn't make much sense to her mind, but perhaps it was a motivation of sorts. She decided to hold her tongue, not sure how she would even bring it up.

"There was something that he said that I didn't get?"

"I don't understand?"

Enjolras hesitated to explain himself. "He said there was a girl at the pillow-house that he is working at currently who said, well…"

"Who said what?" Sansa was genuinely puzzled at what this mysterious woman could have said to the painter to be taken as such secure proof of her alleged deception.

"He said that she knew you, a 'Jeyne' Is it true?"

Sansa went pale with shock at his words, her hands trembling so much she had to put her bundle down. "What was the girl's name? Jeyne Poole? She was dark haired, this high, dark eyes, a northern accent?" She burst out, her voice low and urgent.

"You do know her, then!" Musichetta could not help but say.

Sansa turned to Musichetta, eager to exonerate herself. None of this made sense, but Jeyne did know her and in between the sheer relief of knowing that she was alive, she could now see why the misunderstanding had occurred. No wonder a suspicious Grantaire had leapt to the conclusion that she had fled from the pillow house. But oh, how awful for poor Jeyne! "Jeyne is my friend! She was closer to me than anything. I grew up with her. I thought…I thought she had died!"

"It's not so outlandish that Grantaire may have leapt to conclusions?" Enjolras used caution, not wanting to upset her again.

"But she isn't a doxy! Jeyne and I are innocent. We are maids, I suppose that means 'we were', doesn't it?" Sansa insisted as she tried to work it out. "So why was she in a pillow-house?"

"So tell, me, who is this 'Jeyne' you know like a sister?"

"Jeyne came with me from Winterfell." Sansa explained, looking at them earnestly. "The day that they raided the Hand's household. They stopped us from escaping, and then they killed or imprisoned everyone. I thought she was dead like Septa Mordane and Lord Stark."

"Killed everyone? Are these people monsters?" Musichetta asked, shaking her head at such wicked doings of the great and good.

"They killed the whole household, so we would not resist when they came for Lord Stark. It's all my fault…" her voice choked as the tears she had been trying so desperately to fight refused to be confined anymore and started to trickle down her face. She was just so weary and tired of it all, the heavy weight of guilt she had been carrying like a burden ever since that horrible day.

"Why is it your fault?" he asked Sansa as she sobbed, gently comforting her by stroking her hair holding her close, enfolding her in the scarlet warmth of his doublet.

Seeing them together, his arm round her waist, her hands clinging to the dark red cotton of his tunic felt like Eponine was witnessing an intimacy she was not meant to be privy to. Signalling to Musichetta, they slipped away leaving the couple to themselves.

"She is falling for him, that's what's breaking her heart. Poor lass! And he has no idea." Eponine sighed.

Musichetta was a bit more canny than that. She took one last glance at her in Enjolras's arms. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that, Eponine."

Sansa and Enjolras were so intent on each other that they barely noticed Eponine and Musichetta leave.

"Why blame yourself for the Hand's tragedy, Sansa?"

Sansa looked up at him with miserable haunted eyes. "Because I told them." Her voice was low and tormented as she admitted the truth, the things she had not thought, had dared to think since the fall of her father from the illustrious position of Hand. "I opened my big mouth and told them that I didn't want to leave King's Landing. I was nothing but a brainless little fool, dazzled by the glamour of King's Landing and not heeding the danger."

No wonder the girl blames herself. What a terrible burden to take upon such young shoulders!

"You blame yourself for something that was so much bigger than you. I know you grieve about your friend Jeyne and her fate, for your friends... You think that they deliberately sent her there t punish her? To a pillow house?"

The Seven alone knew how the girl had been treated there. If even a worldy man like Grantaire was moved to pity-

"They must have captured her and held her there. She must be so terrified!" Sansa sobbed, trying to pull herself together and regain control.

Enjolras just wanted to comfort her. He did not want to see her unhappy and in pain.

"Shush, shush-" he murmured, holding her close. "I said I would keep you safe and I will. Whatever it is, whatever you're hiding from-"

"How can I stay if your group don't accept me? They all think-"

"No, they don't." he said firmly, thrusting aside his misgivings "- and even if they did, they wouldn't say anything, they wouldn't dare. You are a lady in distress, and we have said that you are under our protection."

Sansa hesitated, obviously wondering whether she could trust him. She was taken utterly by surprise to feel his lips on hers, tender, passionate and insistent.

"Enjolras-" she breathed, dazed by surprise and wonder.

He seemed almost taken aback at the boldness of his actions, as if he had surprised himself by expressing them after such long restraint. "I didn't mean- I don't- I didn't expect to do that!" he came out with, sounding rather shocked.

She responded to him, tilting her face and running her finger through those golden curls of his.

"Why on earth did we wait so long?" he breathed in awe. "Sansa-"

This time it was she who kissed him, silencing his words with the sweetness of her mouth.

Sansa leaned on his shoulder, taking comfort from his strength as he held her close.

She had held her tongue for so long, thinking that he would never be interested in a girl like her, that she was everything he disapproved of and fought against. The kiss he'd given her had proved differently. She gently touched her lips, still dazed by the tenderness and care shown in that kiss, feeling cherished for the first time in a very long while.

"I never thought…I never dared dream. I thought you didn't like me, didn't trust me at all." She murmured.

"I will own that I have many questions about your background, and I wish you would tell us the truth and be done with it, but I understand your fear. Trust me to keep you as safe as I can."

"I trust you."

This was like the heady daydreams she and Jeyne had harboured about kissing some handsome young lord or knight like Ser Loras Tyrell or in Jeyne's case Lord Beric, back when she was young sheltered and innocent. When she'd been happy. So different from Joffrey's cloying, overbearing attentions, always accompanied by a sly hand taking liberties and demanding more than she was prepared to grant.

Is it so bad to want to be loved and cherished? For someone to care for me?

"But what shall we do about Jeyne? We can't just leave her there in that pillow-house?"

"Grantaire is the one person that might actually be able to help us." Enjolras told her. "He seems to have developed a rapport with this Jeyne. She trusts him. If we came up with a plan to get her out, he could help us save your friend."

"But he has never trusted me. I truly don't think he likes me at all."

Enjolras had noticed the antipathy and wondered what was behind it.

"Despite his bias against you, he is a good man. Let me talk to him, see if I can persuade him to change his mind. Jeyne will not be left in distress, I promise you." he vowed.

She looked up at him with grateful eyes, enjoying the comfort of his arms and wondering now that she knew the sweet comfort of his kisses, would she ever be able to leave him now? Oh Sansa, try not to be such a fool over this man, this paragon out of your reach!

Sansa, you are such a ridiculous fool for him. Just because he is more chivalrous, kind and loyal than any knight she had met since her departure from home, does that mean you should forget the very real danger you are in?

Yet she was so weary of hiding, hiding her feelings and emotions behind that cool, cautious wary facade, pretending that she hadn't been attracted to him, had not longed for him from the beginning, despite their disagreements and distrust.

She had started to believe that decent men like him simply didn't exist any more.

The next day

With all the romantic tension between the two of them, something was bound to give, and it just happened to ignite into passion the day that there was finally ample food in the shops and Sansa had taken it into her head to make lemon cakes for them.

"There's food in the shops!" she beamed bright as the noonday sun, followed by Eponine. Both girls were weighed down by sacks of food which they placed on the counter. "It seems the blockade is over for now. There were wagons coming into the gates and there's ships at the dock. We hurried there to see what we could get, before the crowds started panic buying."

"So good to have decent victuals again."

"Why is there food coming in now?"

"Apparently there was some sort of a blockade from the Roseroad which was stopping the wagons from reaching the city. But it's over now!" Comebferre told them. "The Tyrells made a deal with the crown to let in the wagons once more and they've brought plenty in compensation. We have a positive glut now!"

"The Tyrells were blocking the food supply from the Reach and the Stormlands, well that figures!" Enjolras contented himself with saying.

I was right! The manipulative games these high-born fools play with our lives for their own gratification. Our hunger is mere sport to them! For some reason he didn't go into one of his famous rants on the subject. He just didn't want to upset Sansa, see the radiance fall from her face. I would have her smile as she is right now. Radiant and lovely as the Maiden herself.

"I know 'tis a bit of an indulgence but I got some Dornish lemons which were on sale, because a couple of them were over-ripe and dented. I wanted to do something nice for you all, since you've all been so kind and welcoming to me, so I thought I could make you all lemon-cakes!"

He drew Musichetta aside for a moment, as Sansa worked, mixing the cake batter with a concentrated face as Eponne grated the zest off the lemons, filling the kitchen with the sharp summery scent. She didn't even seem to notice the smudge of flour on her cheek as she baked. Enjolras could not help his gaze straying fondly towards her for a moment before getting down to business. "When you get supplies, remember to start stockpiling. It's deadly important."

She turned to him in surprise at the seriousness of his tone, "Stockpiling? I don't know what I have spare, times have been hard lately, but why are you so adamant about stockpiling stores?"

"Winter is fast approaching." he told her.

She raised her brows in surprise, "Really? It's that time again?"

"Yes, the pale ravens are going to be sent any time now from Oldtown. Times are going to be hard because supplies from the regions are going to be scarce. This convoy from the Reach is welcome, but will it last us?""

"Worse than now?"

"Aye."

"But surely the Crown will provide something for the capital. Soup kitchen, fuel stores…"

Enjolras shook his head, privately despairing at the unthinking trust the small-folk had that the great lords would fulfill their side of the social contract and provide for those well-off than themselves. Those selfish venal bastards cared only for their own! "Put not your trust in the Crown. Buy as much non perishable food as possible and start storing and let us hope it lasts until Spring starts again."

In the kitchen , Sansa, Musichetta and Eponine mixed the ingredients for the cake. It reminded Sansa with a sweet yet sharp pang of home, Cook baking treats for the Starks, sharing with Arya, Bran and Jeyne. A taste of home she longed for with a fierce pang.

"These were such a treat at home. I loved these so much."

Eponine tried to swipe a bit of lemon cake batter to test. "Gavroche would love some of these."

"We'll make sure we leave some for him. We have enough ingredients for three each, as long as we don't make them too big."

"Lemon cakes?" The group were pleased but surprised by her little gift to them at the evening meeting.

"Just a small token of my thanks for helping me. I really appreciate all you have done, all of you." she said in her polite tones and a smile. Her gaze passed over Grantaire and he looked away.

The group fell silent, tucking into the delicious cakes with a healthy appetite.

"This is amazing." Jehan said in awe at the first delicious bite of cake. "Like paradise on the tongue."

"Musichetta and Eponine helped me make them." she said, pleased at his appreciation of their efforts.

"Do you not like your lemon cake?" she asked Enjolras, who had barely finished his first one by the time everyone else had embarked upon second helpings.

"I'm not really one for sweet things, but I'll share this one with you if you'd like." he offered as he noticed the faintest gleam of greed in her eyes at his words. He had noticed how she'd relished the taste of the cakes.

He broke the moist sticky cake into two and handed her a piece, their fingers brushing as he passed it over to her. He noticed the secret shared thrill that passed between at the luxury of touch.

It was really was quite scrumptious, moist not too sticky but aromatic with the scent and taste of honey, fresh butter and the sharp taste of lemons. The cake was like heaven after the weeks and months of starvation in the city, a taste of hope and luxury. He broke off little pieces of cake, feeding her small slivers, prolonging the pleasure.

The tip of her tongue chased the last taste of lemon filling from his fingers. She licked his fingers with such a sweet innocence, barely stifling a soft moan of pleasure that went straight to his groin. The feel of her tongue, the warm softness of her mouth, her sweet full lips against his fingers was incredibly arousing.

Combeferre was staring at them, his breathing shallow and agitated.

"What's the matter with you?" Courfeyrac frowned, unable to work why his friend was acting so weirdly at the first sight of luxuries for months. He barely seemed to be enjoying the frankly delicious cake which was most unlike him.

"I'm going-" his voice sounded strangled.

"Combeferre? What are you-"

"Look I'm going to have to go, before I start lifting the god-damned table." He nodded sharply at Enjolras and Sansa opposite him.

Things suddenly became a great deal more clear to Courfeyrac. "Oh, I see..." No wonder their leader had been so keen to admonish Grantaire for his attempts to discredit her.

"Think, Courf! Why was he defending her so strongly?"

Courfeyrac shook his head, wondering why he had not truly seen it before. Once you looked at the pair, it was clear something at least had happened between them. Enjolras sought her out now, and she fairly glowed, radiant in his presence, like a spring flower in bloom. "You know the saddest thing of all? I don't think he even realises it."

"Realises what?"

"That he's a man just like any other, and he desires her just as she is entranced by him."

Courfeyrac glanced at the pair of them sharing the lemon cake, Enjolras's fingertips sliding out of her mouth, lingering on her lips lovingly. "I think he realises it now."

"You're driving me mad, do you know that?" Enjolras breathed as he caught her up in the service corridor.

Sansa stared at him, wide-eyed, as strongly attracted as he was and equally unable to hide it from the rest of them. His eyes fixed on her mouth as she bit her lip, eyes darkened with longing, "I'm sorry, ser." she murmured, sounding positively alluring. If this girl really tried to entice, how irresistible, how dangerous she would be...

His hands wrapped round her waist, pulling her close and tasting the honeyed sweetness of the cakes from her mouth.

This was madness, a divine crazy madness sent by the Maiden herself, she knew this, but she couldn't tear herself from his arms. If her poor dead septa could see her now. She wasn't behaving remotely as a proper maiden should. She clung to Enjolras, kissing him over and over, wanting and needing to be closer than ever to him.

"Enjolras, I was just wondering whether we have enough space for another-" Marius's voice intruded into their amorous idyll, trailing into shocked horrified silence. "Oh! I-"

Sansa buried her face into Enjolras's doublet, ashamed of being caught kissing him. His arms wrapped round her defensively and she relaxed in his embrace, feeling protected and strangely safe.

Enjolras was too shocked to shout at his friend, having been taken by surprise. The silence stretched out awkwardly.

Marius hastily beat a tactful retreat. "I...well...erm...I'd better be going." he sputtered, scurrying away.

After Marius had beat his hasty retreat, Sansa pulled away from Enjolras with reluctance.

"You'll stay with me?" he murmured. "Say you'll stay with me?"

She was weak and foolish. Being with him was only going to make things worse when the truth finally came to light. And yet she was so desperate to be loved, she craved the affection of this beautiful remote young man so much despite the danger that she pushed her misgivings to the side and let him kiss her tenderly once more.

After 'the Lemon-cake Incident', as it swiftly became known, it was immediately apparent that Enjolras and Sansa had come to some sort of arrangement and were an item.

Marius and Courfeyrac discussed trying to get Enjolras alone for a rather awkward and necessary talk in Marius's opinion. Courfeyrac thought he was fussing about nothing but Marius fretted so much and caused such a fuss that in the end, Courfeyrac agreed to go with him.

"They absolutely categorically must not sleep with each other. It's of vital importance!" Marius paced up and down as he fretted. Courfeyrac leant back in his chair, highly amused at how agitated his friend was, and managing to be very unhelpful in his suggestions.

"I don't think that it's going to go that far, Marius, seriously. A couple of kisses and cuddles, that's all."

"That's how it starts out and then you end up trawling the streets at midnight for a herb-wife or maester willing to supply moon-tea at short notice and a heavy price." Marius said darkly. "Are you going to tell him, or am I?"

Courfeyrac gave a short cynical burst of laughter. "After last time? Absolutely not! You're on your own, Marius!"

"But-"

"They'll be fine. Enjolras isn't exactly one of the world's great lovers, he's too dedicated to his craft. Sansa is just a sweet distraction while the struggle looms ahead. He's too sensible to throw everything away now. Stop fretting!"

Out in the quarter, the Goldcloaks were a heavy presence, lingering on street corners, questioning and searching. Sansa made sure that she stayed in the safe close confines of the tavern and if she risked going out that she was heavily cloaked and went out at dawn and dusk when there were less people about.

Gavroche and Eponine noticed that one particular man patrolled the area exclusively, interrogating and examining every resident he came across with brusque words. She didn't know if she were being paranoid but he seemed to be looking for someone.

They're searching for my friend. I have to warn her! Eponine thought as she tried to side-step him. Even worse, she knew the man, Javert, a nosy prating busybody, with a nose like a bloodhound. He must not get her!, she thought to herself

He eyed her with great suspicion, taking her all in at a glance and not seeming to think much of what he saw. "You there!"

She opened her big brown eyes wide in mock innocence. "Me?"

He looked down his nose at her as if to say: don't waste my time. "I'm searching for a girl with red hair, six and ten years of age with blue eyes. Have you seen her?" Javert asked.

"Nah, guv, sorry." Gavroche responded with admirable cool, shaking his head. "-ain't seen nothing."

Javert scowled as if he would have liked nothing better than to prove he was lying but Gavroche was giving nothing away. Eponine decided to follow his lead.

"Not me, sorry!" she chimed in.

Javert leant forward still suspicious of them and everyone in the quarter, obviously suspecting they were all lying to him. "Well, keep your eyes open. There's a reward for her safe return."

"What do we do?" Eponine hissed under her breath to Gavroche as they hurried out down an alley, using a shortcut to get to the tavern. their encounter had scared them and made their mission all the more urgent. They just hoped that they were not too late.

"We're going to have to warn her about Javert. If he's on her trail, he won't give up in a hurry."

Eponine was inclined to agree, even though she knew now that Sansa and Enjolras were now involved with each other that she was unlikely to want to leave him willingly.