Hesitant as she was to divulge the substance of Sandor and Jaime's conversation to her father, Sansa nevertheless knew she could not avoid the topic indefinitely. Lord Stark did not become the man he was by being stupid, and Sansa understood that her father agreed to escort her back to her chambers expressly expecting her to confide in him. Struggling to hide her inner tumult, Sansa purposefully strolled alongside her father, the young woman doing her best to delay their return as long as possible.

Although she longed to gratify him, Sansa understood that honor dictated that, even though he was head of the family, Ned could not inquire about the nature of a private discourse between husband and wife. Any discussion of the matter must be initiated by Sansa and so it was entirely in her hands how to proceed.

Sansa was unsure how he would react to Sandor and Jaime's conclusion that the Boltons were poised for betrayal. Her father already disliked Sandor and cared even less for Jaime. She certainly did not want to do anything that would make matters worse, and so Sansa decided not to offer the information outright. This situation required a different approach, one she had seen her mother successfully use many times.

"Father, both Sandor and Ser Jaime seem to believe some of our bannermen are likely to betray us, especially considering the tide of the war and the wealth of Lord Tywin. Tell me such a thing isn't so."

Ned sighed heavily. "They are right, Lemoncake. Both Clegane and the Kingslayer know all too well the ways of war and politics. I have spent many nights pondering just such an event, as the Lannisters are bound to offer a pretty sum to the man who takes down the king in the north."

"It seems like a fairly discernible tactic, Father, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Indeed. My experience with Robert taught me that the wisest way to proceed often is the most obvious."

Sansa did not know what to make of that, but her father's words made her uncomfortable just the same. "You are a man of war, Father, and experienced in the intricacies of the game of thrones." She stopped midstride and faced him. "Tell me truly: who would you say stands to gain the most from usurping Robb's claim to kingship in the north?"

Ned traced his toe on the granite floor before finally looking her in the eye. "Will you keep this between us, lass?"

"Certainly, Father." Sansa squeezed his arm. "Please speak freely. I won't even tell Sandor if that is your wish."

Ned patted her arm. "A good daughter you are but I daresay the man I name would hardly come as a surprise to my goodson." He heaved another heavy sigh. "Roose Bolton would be the man I think most inclined to turn. His wicked son Ramsay is just the man for the job, too, and Walder Frey would be more than happy to strike back at our family. Of course, they all would need someone powerful enough to go along with it, and the support of a house as big as ours."

"The Lannisters." Arya had said Lord Tywin was very smart and calculating, and that Cersei was more like him than Jaime. Knitting her brows, Sansa shook her head. "Why Ramsay, though, Father? What does he stand to gain? Roose Bolton does not even acknowledge him as his true born heir, even after Domeric died."

"His father's approval, child, which can drive certain men to do almost anything."

Shivering, Sansa nodded understandingly. "Joffrey tried to gain his father's approval through cruelty. Needless to say, before the king died I am certain Joffrey felt it was his failure that Robert did not love him. Then he sought to earn the respect of his subjects in the same manner."

"We would have come for you and Arya, Sansa, you must believe that."

"It was wise that you did not, for I fear none of you would have survived. Sandor took care of me and still does still. I hope both you and Robb will find a way to trust him."

"Aye, I am on my way but I doubt your brother will be easily swayed."

"Father, Sandor agrees with you about the Boltons. Please, you must convince Robb not to trust him."

Ned frowned but said nothing.

A sick sinking feeling came over Sansa. "What is it?"

"I have shared my fears with your brother, and Robb believes there is another way to secure the loyalty of House Bolton."

"Good gods," Sansa began to tremble, at once comprehending the answer. "Who is it that Robb betrothed to Arya?"

"Not a Frey, lass. A Snow."

"Father, no!" Sansa gasped and pulled away from him. "Please, you cannot allow Robb to do this to her-" The conversation abruptly ended when Arya met them on the staircase.

Upon seeing her father and sister's faces, Arya's easygoing smile fell. "What's going on?"

"Arya, sweet; come here," Sansa gestured to her.

"Seven hells, if you're calling me sweet it must be serious," Arya turned to her father. "What is it now?"

Ned stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Your brother has decided you will marry, not a Frey, but Ramsay Snow."

"What? No, no, no," Arya shook her head, backing away from them. "Mother agreed to marry me to the bastard of Bolton?"

"Arya, you mustn't speak that way about those not true born. Jon is not-" Sansa began.

"I say the bastard of Bolton because he is a bastard, not by birth, but by his behavior!" Arya shouted. "He raped Lady Hornwood and starved her to death!"

"How do you know this?" Ned gripped her shoulders tightly. "Answer me, Arya!"

Arya wriggled away from him. "Hasn't Sansa told you where she and the Hound found me and Gendry?"

Ned shot a look at Sansa, who shook her head. "No, Arya, I have not told anyone yet."

"Harrenhal, that's where! The walls still smell of dragonfire. Everyone was talking about Ramsay there!" Arya stood beside Sansa. "It was a horrible, brutal place. Gregor Clegane was there and Lord Tywin, and Amory Lorch and-"

Sansa put her arms around her sister. "Shh, it's alright now."

"Sansa, why did you not say so?" Fury spread across Ned's face.

"It is Arya's story to tell, Father; I left it to her when she would tell you."

Ned knelt down to Arya and pulled her into his arms. "How did you end up in Haranhall?"

"Yoren's convoy was attacked by the Lannisters and they took the surviving men as prisoners to Harrenhal for labor. They tortured men there. I was dressed as a boy so no one bothered me. Only Tywin and Jaqen were smart enough to see I was a girl."

"Tywin Lannister? Are you certain?"

"Yes, Father."

"Did Tywin know you were a Stark?" Ned leaned down to look her in the eyes.

"No, and my friend Jaqen killed any man who bothered me."

"Where is Jaqen now?"

Arya shrugged. "He's Braavosi. Probably the Free Cities."

"He is of the Faceless Men, Father; I doubt anyone could find him that he did not wish to do so."

Sighing, Ned assented. "And Clegane freed you from that place?"

"No, Jaqen did, but Sandor was just outside Harrenhal's walls," Arya sniffled into Sansa's gown. "He was ready to breech the walls. He killed the soldiers sent for us, ambushed them and cut them down. He took us away from there, hid us and kept us safe. The Hound left Hot Pie at an inn where he found work and then Gendry and me made for Riverrun with them."

"Hot Pie?"

"Her friend," Sansa looked at her father uncertainly. "Does Mother know?

Ned shook his head.

"Arya cannot marry that monster, Father," Sansa stood in between Arya and Ned. "Sandor and I will not stand for it."

Ned gritted his teeth. "It's good of you to protect your sister, lass, but I'd hoped you two would have more confidence in me that to believe I would allow Robb to give Arya in marriage to that animal."

Arya let out a huge sigh of relief.

"What shall we do, Father?" Sansa took his hands in hers. "Say the word and it will be done, I swear it."

Ned pulled Arya and Sansa both into a tight embrace, "Worry not, loves. I'll convince your brother there must be another way. If I cannot, then Clegane and I will have a talk; but either way, you won't be marrying a Bolton, believe that."

"You'll have the Hound steal me away from Robb?" Arya stared wide eyed and cautiously hopeful at her father. "But you hate him!"

Sansa eyed her father closely.

"I would." Ned answered solemnly. "I don't deny that I am not very fond of him, but I would do anything to keep you away from the Boltons. Now, not a word of this to your mother or brother or your uncles, understand?"

Both young women eagerly agreed.

"Or Gendry either."

"Alright." Arya grudgingly agreed. "Will he come with us?"

"We'll see."

"Father, forgive me, but Jaime Lannister named Roose Bolton as well. I promised him a bath, clean clothes and a better holding area for his cooperation. Would you please see that he gets these things?"

Ned smiled at her. "You have a gentle heart, daughter. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Sansa kissed his hand, after which Ned swung open the door of the solar.

"Go on, girls, take your ease. I'll go speak with the men now."

"Yes, Father." Sansa kissed his cheek; Arya took her turn as well before both went inside the bedchamber.


Jaime eagerly ate his fill and drank deeply as Sandor looked on, a sardonic smirk playing across his scarred mouth. "You sang prettily enough for my wife, lion. Who knew all she had to do was smile sweetly and feed you? Robb has taken the wrong approach."

"If you'd eaten the slop these Tully serve up, you'd know why," Jaime laughed ruefully. "He's a greenboy through and through. Now, what will you do for me, Clegane?"

Sandor drew a deep breath. "I'll see that you get an audience with my goodfather. Perhaps he'll see that you are sent to the Wall rather than executed."

Shrugging, Jaime finished off the second flask. "That's better than this place, I suppose. His son is most eager to prove his manhood."

"Aye," Sandor agreed. The door to the main cell clanged loudly, causing both men to rise to their feet. "It's Ned and Robb."

Several Stark soldiers flanked Lord Eddard and Robb. Ned handed Sandor the key, who quickly unlocked the cell door. "I'm taking you to your new quarters, Kingslayer," Ned said tersely. "My daughter promised you better conditions and you shall have them."

Jaimed eyed Robb's sour face. "Your son seems to disagree, Lord Eddard. What say you, boy?"

Robb stared him down. "I'll honor my sister's word-this time."

"You'll honor it always, mark my word." Sandor spat out. "Come along, lion."

"Ah you Starks and your honor," Jaime snorted as Sandor drug him to his feet. "Finally it seems it will work to my advantage."

"Get this straight, Kingslayer," Ned drew Ice and held it to his throat. "If it weren't for honor, I'd have had your head long ago for what you did to Bran."

"Fight me, then, you and your son. Or Clegane here."

Ned bitterly laughed in his face. "And why would I do that?"

"To save lives," Jaime stepped closer. "You lost two thousand men trying to take me. You fight for your family and I fight for mine: choose your weapons and let's end this once and for all."

"No, we're not doing it your way, Kingslayer." Robb hissed, gesturing for Sandor to lead him away. "Take him to the upper level of the cells. A room has been made ready for him. The guards will direct you."

"Why this sudden care for my well-being? This is far more than concern over keeping your sister's word as a matter of honor; after all, you didleave her to fend for herself. I dread to think what would have become of her honor had Clegane here taken more after his brother and less after his father." Scoffing, Jaime raised his brow. "Tell me truly: have you grown fond of me, boy?"

"I'm sending my men to your father with my terms of peace." Robb spat out angrily. "And if you call me boy once more, I'll gag you."

Ned turned sharply toward Robb. "Son-"

"I've made up my mind, Father."

Jaime laughed cruelly. "You think my father will negotiate with you? The last time he went to war, he offered Elia of Dorne and her two young children to Robert Baratheon as a token of fealty. My father does not bargain." Jaime watched as Ned and Robb exchanged looks. "Ask Ned if you don't believe me. He was there."

"Enough talk, lion. Sansa offered you food and clothing, not the opportunity to taunt her kinsmen. Away with you now." With that Sandor sharply jerked him out of the room.