A/N: Here we are with chapter 41. In case you haven't done the math for yourself, there's going to be a total of 50 chapters before I begin the sequel so we're really close to the end here, folks. It was kind of weird for me writing this chapter because since I've already written chapter 47, this was my last Sansa chapter to write. That was a strange feeling for me because, though this is certainly no hundred some chapter epic, it is the longest thing I've ever written and only the second thing that wasn't a one-shot that I've actually completed. So I'm rather proud of myself. Anyway, there isn't anything in particular to keep an eye out for in this chapter, so just go right on down and read it. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Specifically, Ulfric's rousing speech is courtesy of the former.

Rating: M for both strong and crude language and sexual references

The large iron door that led into the city of Windhelm was well-worn with age and contrasted sharply with the pristine blue and gold banners of House Stormcloak that hung on the battlements beside it. Standing before it, Sansa felt as though her life were coming to an end. Not perhaps in death, but she was certain that a phase of her life was coming to a close. No longer was she Sansa Stark, the innocent young maiden who had believed that life was as perfect as the songs she so loved, and no matter what happened when she passed through the gate into Windhelm, she was sure that she would never be the same again.

"Are you ready, little bird?"

Sandor's voice was not ungentle, though it held a hint of impatience, and he fidgeted in agitation at her side. Squeezing his hand, Sansa nodded and followed him through the door and into the city.

In preparation for their audience with the Jarl of Windhelm, Sansa had urged Sandor to discard his mismatched armor in favor of a suit of fine clothes which he only very reluctantly agreed to wear while Sansa bathed until she all but shone and donned a pale blue dress that she had been given by Shae for her seventeenth nameday.

They walked toward the Palace of Kings in silence, Sansa's contemplative, Sandor's brooding. She thought on their journey, all they had been through and the words that Sandor had whispered against her ear the night before when he thought her asleep. "I love you, little bird. I love you too much to lose you."

They were met just inside the doors of the palace by the Jarl's steward, who politely asked if they had a meeting with "his grace". They exchanged a glance and then Sandor answered in the affirmative. Surely Stormcloak wouldn't be so busy as to dismiss them without an appointment.

The man nodded and withdrew, apologizing for that fact that the Jarl was meeting with his commander but promising that he would be with them shortly.

As if on cue, Ulfric's voice could be heard from one of the rooms beside the hall, rich and deep as it echoed through the throne room. "Right now, things hinge on the east. If we can take Falkreath without bloodshed, all the better. But if not, I must be there to lead our troops."

It was Robb Stark's voice that sounded in reply. "Do not believe that I don't understand, my king. But, you must not—"

"Yes, I must not. You sent Ralof to bring me this message, and now you say the same. Yet still without reason. Until you can tell me why I cannot lead my men into Falkreath, I will do just that." The Jarl sighed audibly. "I was a soldier long before your birth, Stormblade, but you know the price of freedom as well as I do. The people are still weighing things in their hearts. Winning over Falkreath could finally give them the promise of victory that they seek."

"Perhaps, but...what's left of Skyrim to wager?"

"They have families to think of."

"How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner, my king? We are their families."

There was a momentary pause. "Well put, friend. Tell me, Robb, why do you fight for me?"

"Because of what my father believed in, and died for. I'd follow you into the depths of Oblivion; you know that."

There was a heavy silence before Ulfric spoke again, his words leaden with the heavy burden of his cause. "I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil. I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet who brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight...because I must."

"And fight you will," Robb assured him. "But not today, and not in that city. Please, my lord, believe me when I say that you must not go. I...I can feel in my bones that something terrible would happen, though what, I cannot say."

"Enough!" Ulfric commanded sharply. "I have heard enough. Three days hence, you will stand at the gates and watch as I march to Falkreath and if you do not stay your tongue on the matter, I will have it ripped from your head. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Stormblade?"

"...Yes, my king. I will send Ralof to tell the men to be prepared for your departure."

The statement of deference was followed by the familiar sound of Stormcloak boots as the Jarl and his commander left their maps for the comfort of the throne room. Curious, Sansa looked toward the room from which they were emerging and realized with a start that the man she saw was Ulfric Stormcloak. The handsome clean-shaven youth she remembered now had a rough, though neatly trimmed beard and his once war-hardened body had gone soft from his time as a Jarl. Though nearly twenty years his senior, his physique made him look like a mere boy in comparison to Sandor.

Without seeing them, he moved to his throne and had just caught sight of them at the end of the hall when the tall, armored man standing just below Ulfric stepped forward, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Sansa?"

Broken from her silence, Sansa's face lit up with a grin and she abandoned Sandor to run toward her brother, laughing happily as she was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Robb!"

They hugged for a moment before Robb hastily withdrew and stepped back to his place beside the Jarl, visibly chagrined by his behavior, apparently unfitting for the Stormblade of the would-be High King. Ulfric looked down from his throne and his expression shifted from irritation to curiosity.

"Sansa Stark, I presume?" His voice was an impressive baritone that would have made a younger Sansa blush and Sandor growled lowly under his breath as he stepped up to her side. "And if I'm not mistaken," he continued, casting a cursory glance toward Sandor. "General Lannister's dog himself. An interesting pair to say the least. Tell me, Lady Sansa, how exactly this came to be. The truth of the rumours we have heard isn't quite reliable I'm afraid."

Sansa smiled graciously and reached out to take hold of Sandor's hand before speaking, a motion which the Jarl took careful note of, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the gesture. "My lord, as you know, the King's Landing Inn was destroyed not but a week ago. Sandor was kind enough to—"

"Sandor?" Ulfric interrupted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. He scoffed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the Lady Sansa has made you her pet, Hound." Sandor's neutral expression turned into a snarl and he made to step forward, but was held back by a warning hand against his arm.

"Sandor was kind enough to rescue me from the fire and has been my protector ever since." Though her tone had grown a bit stiff, she managed a small smile in her lover's direction.

"I thank you for that then, my lord," Robb interjected, bowing his head in respect. "You risked your life to save my sister's and for that I will be forever in your debt."

Though Sandor seemed vaguely pleased, his response was gruff. "I'm no lord, Stark."

Ulfric had been watching the exchange with an unreadable expression and upon the latter statement, spoke up again. "Though I suppose you're hoping to become one now. Is that what you want in exchange for keeping our fair lady from any...harm?" The emphasis he put on the last word suggested that he had a better understanding of their relationship than he let on and Sansa's stomach twisted with sudden apprehension.

A moment passed in silence as Sandor hesitated and after exchanging a glance with Sansa, he spoke slowly in response. "I believe that Lady Sansa should be the one to decide my reward." When Sansa nudged him gently in the side with her elbow, he amended the statement with obvious reluctance. "My lord."

Ulfric raised an eyebrow and shifted on his throne, one hand resting lightly against his bearded chin as the other lay draped casually over one of the armrests. "Is that so?" A moment passed in silence before he sighed and waved a hand lazily in Sansa's direction. "Very well then. What is it that you believe your Hound deserves, Lady Stark?"

Now that the moment had come, Sansa seemed unsure of herself. Was her marriage to Sandor too much to ask for? Would her wish even be granted if she did have the courage to inquire? Part of her thought not, but another begged with her to give it a chance. All your life, your choices have been dictated by those around you, she told herself. Is it not time to have the happiness you both deserve?

Bravely, she stepped forward and looked straight into the dark brown eyes of the Jarl. "I ask to be wed to Sandor Clegane, in the eyes of both gods and men."

Robb looked shocked at the suggestion, though stayed silent, presumably trusting his sister to ask for only that which would truly ensure her happiness. Ulfric, on the other hand, reacted more violently, leaning forward in his throne and directing an undisguised snarl in Sandor's direction.

"Is that so? You think that the Hound deserves the hand of the eldest daughter of the Stark family? That man," He pointed a thick finger at Sandor who glared back with no longer disguised hatred. "Is a traitor!" The last word was spit out with such malice that Sansa nearly staggered backward, her eyes quickly filling with tears.

"Eddard Stark has been declared a traitor to the Empire and is hereby sentenced to death by execution."

No! Her thoughts spun wildly as Ulfric's voice interrupted the memory of her father's death. He growled something toward the guards at the doors and Sandor was dragged away from her side. Paralyzed, she watched him try to fight them off, but when their swords were drawn, he resigned himself to what was happening and offered his wrists out to be shackled with nothing more than a murderous glance at the furious Jarl. This isn't what was supposed to happen! she wanted to yell. Everything was falling apart so quickly, and then, with a final command from Ulfric, it shattered.

"Take him to the dungeons. This mutt deserves to rot."

"You may speak freely now, my lady," Ulfric began once Sandor had been removed from the throne room and the guards had returned to their posts. "How many times did the Hound rape you?"

Her tone was clipped, angry, furious. "He never—"

"Oh, yes he did," the Jarl interrupted. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll say as much. Our brave people of Skyrim won't want to hear that one of the wolves lay with a dog. Especially one who hunted for the lions."

"But, he—"

Ulfric silenced her with a wave of his hand and looked down at her with haughty derision. "What was it that Clegane cried out when he fucked you? Lady Stark? Lady Sansa? That would be fitting given his position. Or perhaps he called you his bitch?"

Little bird. He called me little bird. Sansa avoided his gaze.

There was a brief pause before Stormcloak snorted and then continued his assault, leaning back in his throne and throwing her a look through narrowed eyes.

"You seem the proper lady, but I bet you're feisty in the bedchamber, aren't you? Did the Hound like it when you fought back? Did he fuck you like the dog that he is?"

Her insides twisted with rage at his sardonic tone and Robb's gaze fell to the floor. "He made love to me like any man would to a woman he loves," she retorted hotly.

Ulfric laughed loudly. "You really think he loved you? He only wanted you for your cunt, my lady..."

Sansa met his gaze evenly, her jaw clenched so tightly it was almost painful. "He didn't seem to mind my mouth, my hands, or my breasts much either, my lord."

When Ulfric scowled, she knew she'd gained the upper hand, if only slightly. Robb's reaction caught her eye and she glanced over at him, hoping that he at least would support her against the vindictive Jarl. Though there was shame and anger in his gaze, he said nothing, bringing tears to his sister's eyes.

A moment passed in silence before Ulfric's tone changed. "I do hope you can see why Clegane must be imprisoned." When she stayed quiet, he continued regardless. "He is a traitor, my lady. You know as well as any what the Lannisters have done to our country and her people, and the man you call your 'protector' has helped them rape and pillage our land for years now with no sense of remorse. I simply must show the people of Skyrim what happens to someone who crosses their future king. If I let him go, Skyrim would fall into chaos and no justice would ever be done."

Sansa opened her mouth to argue against what the Jarl considered "justice", but a warning look from Robb kept her silent.

Looking pleased at her lack of resistance, Ulfric smiled. "And besides, you are too valuable an asset to be thrown away on the Lannister's dog, Lady Sansa. The Stark name still carries power in Skyrim, and a marriage arrangement could prove profitable to us both."

"Profitable?" she asked drily.

"Oh, yes," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked her over. "I secure my position over the throne of Windhelm, ensure the loyalty of the Starks, and you..." His teeth bared in a smile that held no remorse. "You have the honor of marrying a King."

Sansa felt the breath rush from her lungs as she realized what he was suggesting. Her perfect song was quickly turning into a nightmare. She had come to Windhelm to be freed from the Lannisters forever and to marry the man she loved, and now she was being forced further into the civil war and into a marriage to Ulfric Stormcloak. Somehow, the courtesies she had learned so well as a girl returned to her despite her terror and revulsion and she clasped her hands before her as she approached the foot of the throne.

"My lord..." She hesitated and then swallowed down the lump in her throat before continuing. "I will do as you ask, but please, there is but one thing I would first ask of you."

Ulfric cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Do go on."

Taking a deep breath, she looked up to meet his gaze and suppressed a shudder at the gleam in his eyes as he appraised her. "I ask that you grant Sandor mercy, my lord. Please." She fell to her knees and raised her hands in a gesture of entreaty. "I will stay and...and..." She looked away. "Become your bride if only you promise that you will be merciful."

A moment passed in silence as Ulfric stared down at the young woman at his feet before he nodded slightly and gestured for her to rise. "Very well. Let it not be said that I am heartless to a woman's pleas." He looked to the man at his side. "Stormblade, your sister has begged for mercy, and it is mercy that shall be given. Find Ralof and tell him to prepare the block. Tomorrow, at dawn, we will have an execution."