A/N: No notes for this one. Anything that would need to be explained is explained in the chapter itself, I believe. So, just read and enjoy as much as you can. This one's a bit of a downer...and speaking of which, be sure to look down at the rating. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin.

Rating: M for references to rape, abuse, and self-harm.

The room was dark, and cold. Without windows, no light was allowed inside. Without windows, she lost her only hope of escape.

By now, she no longer knew how much time had passed. Had it been mere seconds since the axe had fallen or had it been longer: hours, days, months, years? Had she already lost her famed beauty and grown wrinkled and grey in the time she had spent there, painfully alone?

Each day, someone would plead from the other side of the door for her to come out. To breathe fresh air again; to sleep; to eat; to live. After waiting long enough without reply, they always went away. Why couldn't they just understand that she didn't want to live anymore? Was it such a difficult concept to grasp? They all knew what had happened. They all knew what he had done to her.

Sansa shivered as a gust of cool air blew in from beneath the heavy oak door and she pulled the tattered rag of what had once been her wedding dress tighter around her bare shoulders as the sound of light, hesitant footsteps stopped outside the door for a moment before moving away and continuing to one of the other rooms nearby. The gown that had for its purpose hugged the voluptuous curves of its lady's young body now hung limply over her emaciated frame, torn in two by her lord husband's greedy hands and shredded to pieces by the nervous scratching of her jagged nails. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the feel of him off of her skin.

"Sansa..."

She turned toward the sound of her name and the motion sent her head spinning. She was weak from a lack of food and sleep and from having nothing to drink but the heady Alto vintage that Ulfric had left on the table beside the door. It was the same wine that he had used to get drunk before he returned to her a second time, his lust and cruelty insatiable. By then, she hadn't had any strength left to fight.

"Sansa, please..."

The voice was familiar and sounded as broken as she felt. Was it her father that she heard, beckoning from the shining halls of Sovngarde, or merely her battered mind playing tricks on her?

Rising unsteadily to her feet, she walked toward the door with tiny steps, just one foot in front of the other. If she could reach the other side, she could leave this all behind. She could be with him again. With him...

The key turned in the lock and she tried to open the door, but collapsed from the effort. As she cried out, a strong pair of arms wrapped around her thin waist and she looked up to see Robb staring back at her, his eyes filled with pain and guilt.

"Gods Sansa...look what you've done to yourself..." He spoke more to himself than to her, but she gave a quiet moan in reply and curled into him as he lifted her gently from the ground.

His steps were careful, but hurried, as he carried her down the stairs and shouldered his way into the Stormcloaks' tactical planning room, through the throne room, and down the steps to the lower level of the Palace where the court wizard resided.

"Help! I need help!"

His plea was answered when a heavyset young man appeared at the entrance to the downstairs laboratory. His look of confusion shifted to one of understanding at the sight before him and he hurried to Robb's side, helping him carry the limp young woman between them into the lab and onto the bed in the corner.

When she was released from their grip, Sansa curled into herself and gave a small whimper as her brother moved away from her and approached the man who was watching stoically from the corner. She didn't want to be left alone again.

"Wuunferth, she needs your help. Any longer in there and she would've died. Please...help her."

The court wizard nodded in understanding and glanced over at Sansa before lowering his head and murmuring something to Robb that Sansa wouldn't have been able to hear even if she had cared to listen.

Closing her eyes against the throbbing in her skull, Sansa pulled her knees to her chest to try and dispel the sharp pain that was radiating from her abdomen. She wished now that she had remained on the cold hard floor of Ulfric's chambers, wasting away until she slipped into the void without the pain that she knew she would have to face now.

The soft murmur of voices above her continued as she cried silently, and it wasn't long before exhaustion took over and she fell into a deep sleep. Her last conscious thought was that of wishing she would never wake.

"I think she's waking up."

"Eh? Don't just think it Samwell, make sure. A lot is riding on this girl's life."

Sansa opened her eyes in response to the conversation being held above her to find the chubby young man who had carried her to safety looking down at her in concern.

"Yes, ser. Definitely awake."

An old man in dark blue robes replaced the boy Sansa assumed was his apprentice—she seemed to recall somebody mentioning the name Samwell Tarly—and he gently pushed a goblet of water into her trembling hands.

"Drink this. Divines know you need it."

She nodded her thanks and he watched for a moment as she raised the cup to her parched lips before adding, "When you need more, just let Sam know. And sit up when you have the strength."

He turned away to return to the concoction on his alchemy table, and worked in silence as Sansa drank her fill, glass after glass until she was able to raise herself from the bedroll where she had been placed, propping herself on her elbows.

It was only as her wits began to return to her that she realized her state of undress and she blushed, trying to cover her nakedness with trembling hands. The gesture did not go unnoticed and the court wizard cast her a look of sympathy before turning to his apprentice.

"Leave us, Sam. Go send word to Lord Stark and then find that wife of yours and have her draw up some water. I have a feeling Lady Stormcloak will want a nice warm bath and the company of another woman."

Lady Stormcloak. The name sounded so foreign.

Nodding, the young man shuffled off hurriedly, leaving Sansa alone with the elderly sorcerer.

"Do you know who I am, girl?"

She hesitated. Robb had said something to someone that she hadn't seen when he had carried her here. A name. She tried to recall what she had heard, but there was only one name that her memory could bring to mind, so she shook her head.

"They call me Wuunferth the Unliving, but don't let that scare you. I'm the court wizard for Windhelm. Your brother had entrusted me with your care." He studied her features for a moment then continued, his voice low. "I may be sworn to our mutual lord in name, but I urge you to tell me no lies, my lady. Nothing you say will reach the ears of the Jarl." Sansa hesitated for a moment then nodded slowly as he stepped toward her.

"Do you trust me, girl?"

Again, slowly, she nodded, and then unfolded her arms from around her knees as he knelt down beside her. His weathered hands roamed carefully across her pale skin, and what he found surprised even the lady to whom the wounds belonged.

Her neck was marred with dark marks, made by the greedy kisses that had torn skin and scarred the tender flesh. Large, dark bruises made patterns over her pale skin: on her breasts, across her stomach, branded into her hips and the inside of her thighs. As for those injuries that had been self inflicted, her ribs poked from beneath pallid skin from lack of sustenance, and the beds of her nails were caked with blood from the worrying of her teeth and the tearing away of her desecrated skin.

Wuunferth exhaled slowly at the evidence of what Sansa had endured, and tears sprang to her eyes as her mind forced her to relive that night. "You're my wife now. You do know that's an honor, don't you?"

"My lady..." His deep voice was soft and gentle as he spoke. "I need to...examine you. To ensure that he did no permanent damage. Physically." They both knew that she would never lose the emotional scars that the experience had left her with.

Her throat grew tight with fear at the thought of another man touching her, but she let her legs fall open as a single tear escaped from her lashes. What was one more humiliation for the sake of her own life after all she had already been through?

He was careful in his examination, and when he finally moved back to his alchemy lab, he was frowning. It was that frown that scared her more than anything.

"You need to eat, girl." He returned to her side to deliver a plate of lemon cakes then retreated again with a murmured, "Robb brought these for you while you were asleep. He said they used to be your favorite."

Sansa looked at the pastries for a moment before taking one between her slender fingers and lifting it from the plate. Lemon cakes. She had always loved lemon cakes. Though she was starved and desperately needed to eat something for fear that she might waste away, her gut clenched as she raised the cake to her lips and she had to resist the urge to retch.

"I can't."

Wuunferth cast a glance in her direction then sighed heavily and brought her a steaming mug of honeyed tea. "At least drink this then. We'll get you fed this evening before the Jarl returns."

Sansa paled. "He's returning so soon?" He had left her early that next morning for Falkreath, boasting of what he declared would be the final decisive push of the war in the Stormcloaks' favor. She had hoped he wouldn't make it back alive.

Wuunferth nodded absently. "So says your brother." He watched her for a moment in silence then met her gaze with an unreadable expression before asking bluntly, "When did you last experience your moon blood, my lady?"

She blushed. It had been just after she and Sandor had escaped from King's Landing. How long ago that had been, she couldn't say. It felt like she had lived an entire lifetime since then.

"I...don't know, my lord. There was some blood after...after..." She looked away and struggled to regain her composure before finishing in a whisper. "But it wasn't much."

"I suspected as much." He said more to himself than to her, before meeting her teary-eyed gaze. "Lady Sansa, I wish I could give you this news under far better circumstances, but..." He hesitated and then sighed again. "You're with child." More to himself he added a murmured, "Though how it managed to survive your ordeal I do not know."

Sansa's mind stopped its frenzied whirling and she blinked once before turning her gaze to her abdomen. "Oh."

Wuunferth nodded, though his expression was grim. "It's been barely even a quarter of a moon since your wedding night though, my lady. You're too far along."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, and she slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. "You mean..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought that he had placed in her mind. Could it truly be...? Have the gods not abandoned me after all? A moment of silence passed before he finished it for her.

"It isn't Ulfric's. It can't be. The babe that you're carrying was fathered by Sandor Clegane."