Shae wanted to just travel across the prairies, hide in the forests and deal with whatever troubles lay ahead that way. But Sansa knew her wardrobe would not withstand it, and Sandor wanted Sansa to feel some vague sense of normalcy while traveling home.

They stopped at River Run first. The dinner there was the best Sansa had had since she first came to King's Landing. Shae was given new clothes that were better cover against the weather, and Sansa was given many gifts in honor of her father. The lords there promised to send word to her mother, telling her of Sansa's new safety. Sandor wanted to leave the castle a day after they came, discovering a new problem.

"Having been in King's Landing as long as I have, I know the Queen's spies when I see them. They're here, even with your family's allies." He's seen an unnoticed spy of the queen's, they were excellent at hiding and there was no telling what they would hear if he, the handmaid Shae or Lady Sansa talked to someone too close to their vicinity. "We need to leave soon, without telling anyone." He turned to Sansa "And you can't stand out as a lady of noble birth, little bird. We'll steal some of the maid's clothes before leaving." Sansa looked to Shae for assurance or defiance, whatever the woman thought best. Shae thought for a moment.

"What about her hair?" She asked, hesitantly touching the red strands now. Sansa imagine her hair cut to the scalp and flinched.

"Dye it, cut it; cover it. There's many ways to keep Lady Sansa's identity hidden," Sandor replied simply. Shae nodded and Sansa felt a little less assured of the way things were going. She looked at the man who'd secreted them away from under the queen and king Joffrey's noses.

"Do you think they'll still be looking for me?" She asked the Hound

"The king's betrothed and his favorite hostage? I doubt Joffrey cares about much else at present. But he has better things to worry about, since his grandfather helped save King's Landing," Sandor said. Sansa nodded and looked away. Sandor stared at the lady, wishing he could just rest a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. He glanced up at Sansa's handmaiden, who was staring back at him. With the Hound's look Shae understood his intention, and so Shae rested her hand on the lady's shoulder. At least someone was comforting her.

"We'll get suitable clothing for you, my lady. Right now we can settle for covering your hair, when that isn't enough we'll have to cut it." Shae said. Sansa blinked and nodded, her rescuers noticed a tear rolled down her cheek.

"It's only hair, little bird," Sandor chided her gently.

"This hair marks me as the oldest Stark girl, I know that," Sansa began "but I've grown it out for so long. My mother brushed it for years. When I miss her the most I can feel the way she'd put pressure on the brush over my hair. Now I don't know the next time I'll see my mother, if ever. And my connection to her will get severed either way." She said. Shae embraced Sansa, holding the lady as she quietly sobbed. Sandor walked away to tear himself from piling onto the touching moment, and Shae pulled Sansa with her. They traveled down the hallways and sneaked a few garments from the servant's quarters.

As night fell, no one noticed a giant, and two little pale figures racing across the River Run lands to their next destination. None of them knew as yet where it was.

When he opened his eyes, he could only see through one of them. Tyrion's vision cleared, as Maester Pycell stood over him, his smug smile the only thing offered.

"Pod." He stated, looking up from his pillow, discombobulated at his new quarters "POOOD!" Tyrion roared, his door squeaked opened an instant later. Then he saw his faithful servant beside it. "Find Bron, or Varys. Tell them I am here with Maester Pycell and I am very much alive," He instructed.

"Yes, Mi'lord," Pod replied, quickly shutting the door behind him as he rushed out. Maester Pycell leaned farther over Tyrion.

"Would you like something for the pain?" The old man asked, the smug smile still glued to his face. Tyrion shielded his wounded face from the maester, not wanting to touch the bandages even himself.

"What happened?" Tyrion asked

"The murderer and traitor Stannis Baratheon suffered a stunning defeat at the hand of your father." Tyrion looked away, taking in the details of his quarters.

"Where am I."

"These are your new chambers," Pycell replied in disinterest, looking about the room himself. "A little cramped perhaps, but you don't need much room, do you?" He said, laughing to himself. Tyrion stared back at him in defiance, hurt welling in his uncovered eye.

"You are no longer Hand of the King." Pycell added. Although the Lannister lord knew this would happen, it still stung being said out loud. Pycell walked away, then took a step back to Tyrion, taking out a gold coin. He showed it to the lord.

"For your trouble," then tossed it to the man's bed, Tyrion flinched at it. Maester Pycell then left.

Varys was the first visitor Tyrion had after his unpleasant conversation with the old man. The eunuch sitting at the dwarf's bedside told him of the queen's attempted assassination of her little brother. He didn't want to believe it.

"Why would I lie?"

"To create strife between my sister and me," Tyrion stated.

"Where before there was nothing but love," Varys replied in sarcasm. The knight Pod had shoved a javelin through had tried to kill him on his sister's orders.

"Pod," Tyrion began

"Yes milord?" Podrick asked

"Would it be, excessive of me to ask you to save my life twice in a week?" Tyrion asked. Pod smirked.

"No, milord."

"You're a good lad."

Bron wasn't head of the gold cloaks anymore, his father and sister were. Tyrion's hill tribesmen had been paid off as they'd been promised a while ago. Now he had no one else to protect him save for perhaps his brother, and Podrick. Shae had secreted Sansa off, and now Tywin knew of his son's disobedience. Many soldiers had been dispatched to bring the lady back. Joffrey said dead or alive, Cersei had said make sure she's still fit to bear children. Tywin hadn't disagreed with either of them, and now Tyrion feared for Sansa's safety. He loved Shae, and he knew Shae loved him before. But now with this wound over his face, who can tell if the mysterious foreign beauty would still care for him. And who could tell if Sansa would be alive by the end of the week.

Tyrion isolated himself in his room until he could bring himself to take the bandage off. An ugly scar would now be across his face, over his left eyebrow, across his nose, and down to his cheek. He was a monster now, as well as a dwarf. Perhaps it was best that Shae didn't see him like this.