"Wake up, little bird," Sandor's breath fell hot against Sansa's ear. He had tossed beneath her long before dawn, but it was so very snug under the furs that Sansa resisted awakening as long as she could. Sandor's strong arms wrapped protectively around her middle, cradling her against his chest. "Come. I want you beside me today. Dress."

Why would he need her with him? Sansa doubted her father would want her in the bleak dungeons of Riverrun. Sleep called to her; it had been two moons since she had slept in a proper bed, and she did not want to leave it for some drafty dungeon. "No, too comfortable." She burrowed back into his body and grudgingly opened her eyes. The room was still dark.

"What time is it?"

"An hour before sunup, I'd wager.

"Oh love, it is so comfortable here. Can we not stay a bit longer?"

Sandor's rough fingertips traced circles over her shoulder. "Little bird," he rasped a bit louder. "There's nothing I'd like better than to spend the entire day in bed with you, but I needs you to come with me, lass. I have a suspicion that you are right as to what the Freys are about. I believe Jaime will agree, too."

Sansa's eyes snapped open at Sandor's admitting he thought the same as she did on the matter. "Those wicked Freys! What sort of retaliation do you suppose they will plan? Tell me, Sandor, please."

Sansa could feel the tension in her husband, his mood darkening as she awaited his response.

Groaning, Sandor rolled away from her. "No. Do as I say and get up now." Irritation tinged his words, so without further questioning, Sansa readily arose and laid out his new clothing.

Knowing how he enjoyed the sight of her nude body, Sansa remained undressed. It made her feel wanton and wicked but the simple fact was that her husband talked more when he could stare at her openly. Casually Sansa tried again to get Sandor to share his thoughts as she tied the lacings on his tunic. "Please, won't you tell me?"

"Thought you'd distract me, did you?" Sandor laughed wickedly, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. "That all you had to do was prance around naked and I'd tell you everything?"

When Sansa pouted, he tweaked her chin. Sandor looked amused, not angry, and so Sansa laughed outright. "No of course not. I just thought you might answer me with a little persuasion."

"You've already got me as riled as a greenboy, woman, no matter how many times I fuck you. And as much as I would like to play along, there's no time for it now."

"Sandor, be serious for a moment. I want to know what you think."

"No, now I need you to stop this at once. There's no sense working yourself up until we speak with the lion when it will only upset you further."

"Alright. But you know I can bear it, Sandor, whatever it may be."

Sandor stopped her. "Aye, I do at that. Jaime won't tell me truly with Ned and your brother breathing down his neck, you best believe. I need your help."

"You will always have it, you know that."

"I do." He stared levelly into Sansa's eyes.

Pride swelled her heart. "I hope they have not gone too roughly on him, Sandor. It is not our way."

"Bloody unlikely, that." He settled his hands around her waist, rubbing circles just above her hips soothingly. "Kings are kings, northerners or not, they don't go lightly on the enemy."

"Yes, I know." Sansa worried her lip. "I'll do my best to smooth the way for you, husband."

"A smart little bird you are, lass." Sandor brushed his lips against her neck. "Now dress before I take you again."


Ned and Robb stood with their arms crossed, frowning solemnly as Sandor and Sansa approached the cell. The mirroring expressions of the men drawing a sharp laugh from Sandor in spite of the palpable tension in the air. "Goodfather; my king," he rasped as Sansa put her arms around Ned.

"What is she doing here?" Robb demanded. "Explain yourself."

"What do you think, boy? I asked her to come. I told you yesterday that your sister learned to chirp in the den of the lions. You need her. You would see that if you ever got your head out of your-"

"Robb," Sansa interrupted. "Please let me help you."

Ned took Sansa by the hand. "Such is not the place for you, child."

"I know you wish to spare me such unpleasantness, Father, but I am no longer a child," Sansa answered softly, "though I know you wish I was. The Lannisters robbed me of my innocent ways. Time spent with them has given me insight. Let me help you both."

"No. It isn't proper for the sister of the king to speak to the traitor on the Iron throne's uncle."

Sansa smoothed her skirts primly. "Jaime Lannister is Joffrey's father and you know it, brother. Please stop this at once. To continue this pretense in front of my husband is insulting. Sandor has known the truth about Joffrey since he was a babe."

Both Ned and Robb sharply turned to him. "And yet you said nothing?"

"Not my place to question kings and queens," Sandor muttered low. "How do you think I managed to keep my ugly head on my shoulders? By asking fool questions of my betters?"

"Father, brother, Sandor is not the person who first told me such." Sansa returned to her husband's side.

"How did you come to hear it, lass?" Ned squeezed her hand. "I would have thought the Lannisters would have taken the heads of anyone who dared mention it."

"It is the worst kept secret in King's Landing, Father. The whole court speaks behind the backs of the queen regent and king alike, for all of their threats and punishments. Ser Barristan admitted it to me in private after Joffrey relieved him of his position in the Kingsguard."

"Ser Barristan is no longer in service to Joffrey?"

"No, and I do not know what happened to him."

"Stannis knows it too, which is why he feels justified in his claim to the Iron throne," Sandor offered. "I overheard the Imp say so to the Spider. That is why Joffrey has dealt so harshly with his subjects, to prevent them from rising against him and joining Stannis."

Ned shook his head. "You both were lucky to get out before the battle."

"Luck had nothing to do with it." Sandor growled low. "Planning, aye." Turning to Robb, he snarled loudly, "You were not coming for Sansa, that was for bloody sure, so I took the first chance I got to get her out."

Robb opened his mouth to protest but was soon interrupted by his father. "And you brought her to us, for which her mother and I are most grateful, as is my son."

"That was Sansa's wish." Sandor shrugged. "I would take her anywhere she wishes to go, believe that."

Turning to Robb, Sansa frowned, her cheeks flushing indignantly. "You did not think it wrong to leave me in the company of Joffrey himself. You did not think it improper for me to be around the queen regent, his very own sister, for that matter. Why does this upset you so, brother?"

"A better question I couldn't have asked myself." Sandor added, placing his hand protectively on the small of Sansa's back. "But kings aren't like to answer the questions of those beneath them, isn't that so?"

"No, and why should I?" Robb bristled angrily. "You are my guest here. It is not for me to-"

"Stop this, all of you," Ned raised his voice. "We need to be united in this endeavor if we are to succeed. Robb, we must find out if Sandor and Sansa's theory about the Freys is valid. Perhaps Jaime will be more likely to cooperate if you and I do not go in. We can listen from outside."

Sandor snorted but said nothing.

"You all can come in now," Jaime's mocking voice echoed from inside the shale cell. "Please, don't leave me out of this loving family moment any longer, I beg."

Ned gestured to the sentry, who unlocked the door and stepped aside, admitting them.

Robb furiously turned away. "If either of them tries anything, kill them."

Sansa started to reply but Ned shook his head and led her inside behind Sandor.

"Sandor Clegane as I live and breathe." Jaime grinned wickedly. "You're looking well."

"Lannister," Sandor gruffly nodded. "You look like shit."

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. "I am certain I smell like it, too. You must forgive, my lady."

Shaking her head, Sansa sighed heavily.

"So you stole my son's former betrothed, I see and decided to keep her for yourself. Well done, Clegane." Jaime dipped his head toward Sansa. "A far better match for you, my lady. I stood by and watched one king abuse his wife; I did not relish the thought of doing so again." His voice was resigned and devoid of emotion.

"Thank you for saying so, Ser Jaime." Sansa answered coolly, the young woman at a loss for words as she took in the former golden knight's ragged appearance and changed demeanor.

"Such a polite daughter you have, Stark." He looked over Sansa carefully as Sandor sat down in front of him. "Such a quality served you well in the Red Keep, too, no doubt.

"Indeed it did, Ser Jaime."

"Cut the small talk, lion. We needs ask you a few questions."

"Oh, and here I thought you'd come to chat about the old days."

Sandor barked out a harsh laugh. "Always the smart ass, even in the worst of times."

Jaime grinned. "Just like you, Sandor."

"Aye, true enough, that."

Alarmed, Sansa knelt down beside him and drew out her handkerchief. "Ser Jaime, forgive me, but you look as though you have not been fed. Father, is it so?"

Ned's mouth twisted slightly. "He killed Torrhen Karstark in an attempt to escape. Your Uncle Edmure is rationing his food as punishment."

Sighing, Sansa turned away from Jaime. "Father, please, is there no way we can have a meal brought to him? Such is not our way, to deny prisoners food. I fear it will anger the old gods." She met her father's gaze and slightly inclined her head.

Raising his brow, Ned slowly assented. "Yes child, you speak truly. I'll have it brought at once."

After Ned left, Sansa poured Jaime a cup of water. "Forgive them, Ser Jaime. The Tullys do not worship our gods."

After draining the cup, Jaime eyed Sansa warily."And what do you expect in return, my lady?"

Sandor spoke up. "Heard about old Walder's sudden agreement to wed the Tully's to the Freys, have you?"

Jaime nodded.

"What do you think they are up to?"

"I think there are traitors among the Stark host."

Gasping, Sansa drew closer. "Who?"

Jaime shrugged. "Could be any of a number of men looking to claw their way closer to the Iron throne."

Scowling, Sandor brought his face mere inches from Jaime. "Give me a name, lion."

"And what will you give me in return?"

"A way out of here, might be. A clean death."

Sansa glanced between the men anxiously. "You crippled my brother. Your son had me stripped naked and beaten in open court. Please, if you have ever felt a moment's remorse, tell us the name."

"I don't have a name," Jaime replied. "And remorse is not our way. But if I had to wager a guess, I would name Roose Bolton."

Sansa sputtered in disbelief, but steadfastly held her tongue when she noticed Sandor nod his head eagerly. "Aye, then we are of the same mind."

"But why?"

"He stands to gain the most, wife."

"Yes," she replied weakly. "I suppose he does." After several moments, Sansa took Jaime by the hand. "You shall be given a bath, food and a better place here, Ser Jaime. You have my word."

His green eyes glittered with amusement. "I believe if it was within your power, you would give me all of those things, Lady Sansa; however, your kin are of another mind entirely."

Before Sansa could answer, Ned soon returned with a servant in tow carrying two large plates of food and a flask of wine.

Sansa quickly set it before Jaime and rose. "We are finished, Father. Please, would you escort me back to our rooms? I am feeling rather weak and tired."

"Of course, daughter." Ned glanced between her and Sandor and then drew Sansa's arm through his. "I'll return shortly."