Hi! I'm exhausted so I couldn't re-read the chapter in search of autocorrect mistakes. If you see any please do tell me :)

The title of the chapter comes from the song My Demons by Starset.

48. They Wanna Break Me and Wash Away My Colors.

The room was almost silent, save for the sound that came from the TV. The voices that came out of it were the only thing that broke that dead and cold silence, nothing else did. The birds outside were silent, there wasn't even a bit of wind that would move the branches of the trees in the garden, and the mansion was deserted. Sandor felt like he was the only one in that place, and the silence was almost making him uncomfortable, which was the reason why he had turned on the TV to hear a bit of noise while he got dressed. Some talk show was on, one that was known for talking about quite controversial things that dared not to be said in other programs, and Sandor decided to listen to what they said. However, after a few moments listening what he heard put him in a foul mood. Maybe the silence would have been better.

The host of the show was a man in his fifties, with white hair and gentle blue eyes. The guests of the show were two women and a man who were impeccably dressed and whose expressions were serious. One of the women, who had shoulder-length dark blond hair and looked like she was in her thirties, was speaking.

"The official story is that the plane crashed because of a failure in the engines. According to all the reports, nothing could be found in the black box that suggests that the plane was attacked and crashed on purpose, and they are very detailed reports. I personally don't know anything about planes and engines, but some of my colleagues do understand about them and say that the reason why the plane crashed so soon after taking off is perfectly credible."

"But there has been talks about the plane being crashed on purpose," the host said.

"Well, of course. An event like this is bound to make people start talking about possible conspiracies and terrorist attacks, but there isn't any evidence that points to something like that happening. The engines failed, and the plane fell."

"You don't seem to think the same thing as Alice, Jeyne," the host said, addressing the other woman, who had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. The woman shook her head, disagreeing with what the blonde woman had just said.

"I do think that the official story is very credible, and that there is a very high possibility that it is true. Accidents do happen, after all, and this time it happened to the President. Just because President Stark died doesn't mean that there necessarily has to have been an attack. I did believe that at first, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, now there are some things that are just so strange," she said, putting special emphasis on the word 'strange'. "I think there is more to what happened than what they are telling us."

"So you believe that it wasn't an accident, that it was an assassination?"

"I believe that there is a possibility, yes," the black-haired woman, Jeyne, said. "And I believe that the Government thinks the same thing as I do, but they aren't saying anything about it."

"What makes you believe that?"

"Well, the first thing that threw me off was the now First Lady Sansa Stark," Jeyne said, and Sandor stopped dressing himself to focus only on the TV after hearing Sansa's name in the show. "We all know that she had to be in that plane. She was going to attend a memorial for her father and she was going to fly to the North with her family, but she didn't. She got off the plane. That's what I don't understand. I could understand that maybe she missed the plane, but getting off it? Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, you tell me," the host said.

"I don't know either!" the woman exclaimed, trying to get her point through. "No one knows, because no one has given an explanation of what happened that day! Sansa Stark got off the plane for apparently no reason and then drove away. And then- and this is the best part- in the middle of the road she made the driver and the bodyguard get off the car and she drove away from the city! And there are witnesses of this, I am not making it up."

"She drove away?" the host asked, listening closely to what the woman was saying with interest. She nodded.

"Yes! She just took the car and drove away for hours! President Baratheon believed that she was dead while he was taking the Oath of Office, which means that she did not call him to inform that she hadn't been in the crash. And things get even stranger. About fifteen hours after the crash, she arrived at a hospital in Sow's Horn, of all places, in company of two bodyguards. One of whom, by the way, was apparently injured. Why?"

"But Sansa Stark went to the hospital because of a hemorrhage caused by her pregnancy," the blonde woman interrupted then. "She wasn't injured."

"I know, but that's not the point. The point is that she appeared in a hospital in Sow's End fifteen hours after the plane crash killed three members of her family. A plane from which she had gotten off! It doesn't make any sense!"

"Are you implying that the First Lady knew that the plane was going to crash?" the host asked. From his tone of voice and the way in which his eyes had widened a bit, it was obvious that he was shocked and scandalized by the thought.

Sandor grunted when he heard that question in that shitty talk show. That Sansa knew that the crash was going to happen? That she knew that it was going to happen?! How dared they ask such a vile question?! They knew nothing, nothing! He wanted to grab the remote and throw it against the screen to shatter it to pieces.

The woman, Jeyne, must have realized how wrong what she had just said sounded, and she tried to fix it. "No! No no no, what I am implying is that apart from the crash, something else went terribly wrong that day, something concerning the First Lady, and the Government and the media are keeping quiet about it. I wonder what it is, I wondered what could happen that made Sansa Stark like that and end up where she did. In simply asking a question, I'm not accusing anybody of anything, if that is what you were asking..."

But that's what you were doing.

The host nodded his head once after the woman was done speaking, and then he turned his attention to the man that was sitting with the two women. He had been silent the entire time, listening carefully to everything that was being said and maintaining a serene expression on his face. From time to time the small shadow of a smirk would appear in the corner of his lips, making is obvious that he was being amused by what he was hearing.

"What about you, Charles? What is your opinion on this whole situation?"

"Well," the man said, speaking for the first time. He had a foreign accent, "I agree with Jeyne here, there is something else that happened that day and it is being kept a secret... But if I was given the opportunity to ask anybody about it I would ask the President."

"The President?"

"Yes," the man, Charles, nodded, "the President. If I could, I would ask President Baratheon what really happened that day. I listen to all the rumors and I have analyzed them. I have watched all the footage and read all the reports that there are on the crash and on the events that happened after the accident... Or was it really an accident? In starting to believe that it was not."

"So you are accusing someone, like Jeyne?"

"I'm not accusing anybody!" Jeyne protested between gritted teeth.

"Well, she is implying that something weird happened before the crash, but what I'm implying is that someone caused the crash. Someone like... the President, maybe?"

There were gasps from the audience of the talk show. Some people exclaimed unintelligible things and others shouted in protest. The host- who had turned a little pale- asked for silence before addressing the man again. He looked at him with eyes wide with surprise.

"What makes you think that? That is a very serious accusation."

"It's not an accusation. I believed that it was a normal crash at first, just like everybody did, but the actions of the First Lady surprised me just as much as they did to Jeyne. But... two days ago, while I was watching the funeral, I couldn't fail to notice that little incident between the President and the First Lady in the end."

"She got nervous," the first woman, Alice, that had spoken said. "Anyone would in a situation like that."

"She didn't get nervous with anyone else," the man pointed out. "We didn't see the President and the First Lady together at any moment, and just when he tries to approach her she pushed him away and told him not to touch her. In my opinion only an idiot wouldn't see that there is something very wrong with that."

"It doesn't mean that President Baratheon... that he..." Alice seemed to be struggling to pronounce the words. "That he killed President Stark!"

Sandor payed closer attention to the TV and the talk show, interested in it now that they were getting closer to the truth. Yes! Yes, that was exactly what had happened!

Come on, you fools, he is getting it right! he thought while he looked at the man on the TV, Charles. Listen to him!

"Who is the only person that benefits with Robb Stark's death?" Charles asked.

"The then Vice President," the other woman, Jeyne, realized. "By becoming President..."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Alice kept protesting. She was convinced that the crash had been a simple accident.

"I would be very surprised if it turns out to have been a real accident," Charles commented. "How many politicians have died in the past years? I can think of four, not counting President Stark. President Robert Baratheon was killed, Vice President Eddard Stark was killed, Governor Renly Baratheon was killed during the failed attempt of assassination of Joffrey Baratheon, and Theon Greyjoy died. He was going to be Robb Stark's Vice President."

"It's all Starks and Baratheons," Jeyne realized.

"Theon Greyjoy wasn't killed, he suffered a terrible accident," Alice said.

"It could have been a staged accident," Jeyne said, shrugging, after having figured out what Charles had been meaning to make them realize. She seemed to slowly being convinced that that was the truth behind it all, and she was right!

Sandor was getting frustrated. Why couldn't everyone else realized what those people, Jeyne and Charles, had realized? Joffrey was the murderer. Joffrey was a monster. Joffrey needed to be dealt with, but for that more people- powerful people- needed to realize that was those two people were saying on TV was the truth.

"President Baratheon wouldn't kill his brother-in-law!" Alice protested, completely unwilling to stop defending the man. "He loves the First Lady, he wouldn't do something so terrible to her."

"Sansa Stark was supposed to be in that plane," Charles reminded her.

"So the First Lady also had to die?"

"She would have died had she not gotten off the plane. And, if that had happened, would we be sitting here today, talking about this? No, we would be lamenting the terrible accident that happened to kill the President and his family, and we would dismiss all talk about conspiracies and assassinations. However, it is the surprising survival of Sansa Stark and her actions that have made us come to the conclusion that the crash wasn't an accident. If it was an assassination, then it would have been the perfect crime if Sansa Stark had died. But she didn't, and now two things have been implied here today. The first one was that she potentially knew that something was going to happen. The second one is that she was the flaw in the plan. It might be one of those two, or it might end up that she simply survived by luck and it was all an accident. Will we ever know the truth? I don't know."

Sandor had his eyes glued on the TV screen when suddenly his phone started ringing, startling him. He picked the phone up and checked who the caller was; he didn't recognize the number. He almost ignored the call, but a little voice inside of him told him to pick up, so he did.

"Hello?"

He heard a female voice clearing her throat, and he waited for her to speak. When she did, Sandor noticed that whoever was calling him was nervous.

"Hi! Is this Sandor Clegane?" the woman, whose voice Sandor did not recognize, asked. Sandor detected a slight foreign accent.

"Aye. Who's this?"

"I'm... Well, I don't know if you will remember me, I'm the nurse... From the hospital in Sow's Horn..." she murmured, suddenly sounding more embarrassed that nervous, like if she was regretting having called.

Sandor frowned at first, but then he remembered the woman. He remembered her grey eyes and her dark hair and how extraordinary her resemblance to his mother was. He remembered what he suspected about her, and Sandor became pale then.

"Michele," he murmured, remembering her name. He thought that he could hear a sigh of relief at the other side of the line.

"Yes, that's me. You remembered!" she said happily, and Sandor thought that maybe she was smiling, wherever she was...

Of course I remembered, he wanted to say, but he didn't. He became nervous then, and he frowned again. How did she get his number? Why was she calling? Was everything okay? Had something happened? Sandor didn't know what all that was about, but he remained silent waiting for the woman to explain herself.

"I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm bothering you or something," she excused herself then. She reminded him a lot of Sansa at that moment.

"No. No, I wasn't doing anything," Sandor said. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off so that he could hear Michele better. "How did you get this number?" he finally asked, curious.

"Well, I have my sources," Michele said matter-of-factly, and Sandor chuckled. At that moment she reminded him of himself. "You see, I... After I saw you in the hospital and you told me your name I couldn't stop thinking and... Well, I... I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead," Sandor said, encouraging her. He guessed what she wanted to ask, and he admired that she was being brave to do it. Most people usually wanted to hide from the truth, but not that woman. Besides, her asking questions might answer the questions that he had been asking himself since the night if the hospital as well.

"Are you the son of Marcus and Celia Clegane?" Michele asked quickly, and Sandor nodded. Those were his parents alright.

"Aye."

"Oh my God... Well, I don't know if you know about me, but..."

"I do know about you," Sandor said, interrupting her. He felt strange. His doubts had just been confirmed. Michele Leblanc was who he thought she was.

Seven hells, why are so many bizarre things happening all at once? Can't I catch a fucking break?!

"You are my brother, then?" Michele finally asked, and she sounded as if a big weight had been taken off her shoulders after the words left her mouth. For Sandor, however, it felt as if that weight had now been placed on him.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. He couldn't believe that was happening. He had just found his sister, that sister that he thought that he would never get to meet...

Life was twisted and fate was a bitch. If Sandor wasn't already sure of that it had been bloody well confirmed at that moment.

"Oh my God!" Michele exclaimed, apparently unable to believe that that was happening as well, but she was more excited about it. Sandor wanted to be as excited as her, but at that moment he just couldn't! "I-I know that this is unexpected, it's just... When I heard your name... Oh my God, I can't believe this!"

"How did you know?" Sandor asked.

"My adoptive parents told me that I was adopted when I was very young, and they told me who my real parents were when I turned eighteen... After I graduated university I came to Westeros and I loved it and decided to stay, but I found out that our parents died and I never had the courage to find the rest of my family..."

You were much better off without us, Sandor thought bitterly, knowing that that was the truth. Life with the Cleganes was misery and pain and a hell thanks to his brother.

"I- we have another brother, right?" Michele asked then, which immediately alarmed Sandor. "I think that his name is Gregor?"

"Don't talk to him," Sandor said immediately, probably startling Michele. He heard her gasp in surprise at his tone of voice. "Don't call him. Don't let him know who you are, don't let him find you, don't let him get anywhere near you."

"Why...?"

"He's bad, Michele. Our parents wanted to give you a better life, don't throw it all away by getting anywhere near that monster."

"Is he the big man that was with you in the hospital?"

"Aye. Are you listening to me? Don't get in contact with him. And if he tries to track you down call me immediately."

"Ok..." she murmured, and Sandor could tell that he had scared her, but he didn't care if that meant that she would listen to him and stay as far away from Gregor as possible. "Is he dangerous?"

"Very."

"Is he the one that hurt you?"

Sandor hesitated for a few seconds before replying: "Yes."

Michele must have picked up in his voice the hint that he did not enjoy talking about the things that Gregor had done to him, so she didn't say anything else. A heavy silence followed, and Sandor found himself wanting to know what his sister was thinking. He never cared about anything, but Michele was the only decent me never of his family that he had left. He had had no one since his parents died over twenty years ago, only Gregor, so he had been alone. Michele shared his blood, and she seemed to be a good and decent person. Sandor was happy, and at the same time he cursed his luck. His life was a mess at that moment, what was he going to do with his sister? He couldn't just abandon her after finding her, he didn't want to lose her, but he couldn't invite her into his life, where everything was danger. But he wanted to know what she was thinking of him. Was she disappointed? Was she scared? Suddenly he was afraid...

"I wanted to find you," he confessed then, breaking the silence, "but I knew that you would be better off away from us."

"No one is better being alone," his sister murmured, and he realized tat she was right. He had thought the opposite for quite a long time, but he knew that now that it was bullshit. "I'm moving to King's Landing in two weeks, I got a job in the hospital there. Maybe we could meet somewhere and catch up on stuff? We could have lunch and get to know each other, if you want."

"I would love to," he admitted, "but I can't. I'm... Im in a very fucked up situation right now, and I can't really do a lot of stuff apart from trying to fix it, so... Maybe someday, though."

"Sounds good," Michele said. "Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"No, bit really. But... thanks."

"You are welcome."

"I'm glad you called."

"I'm glad too. I have a long break now, can you keep talking or are you busy?"

"I-" Sandor checked the time and saw that it was getting late. "Fuck, I have to keep going. Today is a bad day, I have to work. I'm taking San- the First Lady back to King's Landing."

"Right, you are her bodyguard," Michele realized, remembering how Sandor had come into the hospital carrying Sansa in his arms. "Well, we can talk in some other moment then."

"Sure."

"Please, call me anytime if there is anything you need, ok?"

"Ok. Good bye, Michele," Sandor said, feeling sorry that he had to stop talking to his sister. He wanted to stay on the phone for hours and get to know her and ask her a lot of things and answer all her questions, but that moment was a terrible one for that. Besides, maybe it would be better to have some time to get used to the thought that he had a sister, and to think about the things that he was willing to tell her and the things that he wanted or needed to keep a secret from her.

"Good bye, Sandor."

He hung up first and he put the phone in his pocket. He was fully dressed already, and so he left the bedroom and walked down the corridor in the Winterfell mansion towards the stairs, which led to where Sansa's bedroom was. He couldn't stop repeating the conversation with his sister in his head, and he still couldn't really believe that he had found her. It was such a bizarre feeling, having a family member that he didn't hate... It was a relief, and it was a curse. He didn't need more people to worry about, but he couldn't just not care about her. He couldn't wait for another chance to speak to her, but at that moment he had to forget about her. At that moment, his grand priority was Sansa.

Joffrey had already left for King's Landing with his family and he had allowed his wife to stay for longer in the North. Bran and Rickon had left for a walk with Ned, and the mansion was empty at the moment save for a few staff people and Sansa and Sandor. He walked up the stairs and the he went towards the bedroom where the girl had locked herself up in. The door was closed, and Sandor knocked on it. There was no answer, so he entered the room to see if everything was alright. Sansa was sleeping on her bed, completely covered as of she was a small and scared child that wanted to shocked herself away from nightmares. Her hair was a mess and the were dark circles under her eyes; they had been there several days already, but they were even darker now. Sansa was the opposite image of healthy at that moment, and Sandor felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. There was a tray of breakfast food next to the bed, and it was evident that Sansa hadn't touched it. She had been having a very hard time eating lately.

Sandor sighed and approached the bed after closing the door of the bedroom behind him. He sat on the bed next to Sansa, feeling the mattress sinking under his weight. Sansa still had her eyes closed, and Sandor caressed her cheek and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Sansa," he murmured with his raspy voice. "Sansa... Wake up, little bird."

He tried to be as delicate as he could. He had never been a patient or gentle man, but with Sansa he acted in ways that he had never known that he was capable. He couldn't be rough with her, and much less at that moment. Sansa was destroyed inside, and he had to pick up the pieces and help to fix her. It was going to be hard, but he had to try.

"Sansa, please, wake up," he murmured again. "Open you eyes..."

Slowly, Sansa slightly opened her eyes. She hadn't been asleep, not really, but she was so tired... She blinked several times and little by little her eyes opened more and more until she was gazing up at Sandor. She looked scared, but after she saw him there she relaxed.

"Sandor..." she murmured, and Sandor was taken aback by how raspy her voice sounded, machine his. It was probably because she had barely spoken at all since the funeral. "Is it time to leave...?"

"Not yet," he told her, and then he placed a kiss on her hair. He looked at the tray of breakfast food then. "You have to eat."

"I don't want to."

"Please."

"I'm not hungry," she protested weakly. Sandor didn't want to force her to eat, but he knew that she had to get some nutrition to keep herself healthy.

"The baby needs food," he reminded her, and that finally convinced Sansa. She realized that he was right, she was eating for two now.

Reluctantly she sat up on the bed, and Sandor helped her. Sansa felt too weak to even lift her arm and pick up the fork to take the food from the plates to her mouth, so Sandor helped her again.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, and she just sat there while Sandor picked little cut pieces of fruit from one of the plates with the fork and took them to Sansa's mouth. It was a big effort for her, but she opened her mouth and ate what Sandor was giving her.

Patiently, Sandor fed Sansa as if she was a small child, which he didn't mind at all. After Sansa finished all the little pieces of fruit Sandor fed her some toast and cheese, and then he took the glass of orange juice and slowly gave it to her to drink. Eventually he managed to make Sansa eat most of the food that was on the tray, and he stopped defined her when he saw that she couldn't care to swallow anything else. He cleaned her up gently with the handkerchief, and then he just sat there watching her while Sansa closed her eyes and rested a bit. Even something as simple as eating was a big effort for her at the moment; in a few days her strength had abandoned her, leaving her physically and emotionally drained. The funeral had been the worst thing that she had had to endure in the past days, and she was still trying to recover from it.

"Sandor," Sansa whispered then.

"Yes?"

"Help me to go to the bathroom... I'm so gross, I need a shower..."

"Sure," he said, and he stood up from the bed and then he gently picked Sansa up in his arms and carried her to her bathroom.

He placed her with her feet on the floor and stayed by her side to make sure that she wouldn't fall. She didn't, but when Sandor turned to leave she grabbed him by the arm.

"No, wait... Stay, please."

Sandor didn't say 'no'. He closed the door of the bathroom and locked it, and while Sansa stripped out of her nightgown he prepared a warm bath for her. In a matter of seconds Sansa was standing completely naked in front of him, but for once in his life Sandor didn't look at her with lust. Not because he didn't desire her anymore; Sansa was still strikingly beautiful, but that was not an appropriate moment to think about her in that way. At that moment what Sandor had to do was help her, nothing else, and so when he looked at Sansa he only thought about that.

Sansa sat down on a stool while the bathtub filled itself with warm water, and once it was done Sandor helped her get inside of it. Sandor held Sansa until she was sitting on the bathtub. She stayed there and didn't move while Sandor removed his jacket and rolled back his sleeved so that they wouldn't get wet, and then he grabbed the sponge and put soap on it. Sansa didn't take from him to wash herself, but she nodded slightly to let him know that she wanted him to do it. Sandor soaked the sponge with the soap, creating foam, and then he proceeded to gently rub Sansa's back with it. He washed her shoulders and arms and noticed that she had lost a little bit of weight in those days and looked weaker than ever. His eyes moved to her front then and found her belly; he had believed it to be still completely flat, but now that he was seeing Sansa naked he could see that there was a tiny and almost imperceptible bump there. It was normal, since she was nearing her fourth month of pregnancy. Sandor rubbed that tiny bump carefully with the sponge, leaving some foam on it.

"He's still so small..." Sansa murmured then, and Sandor looked at her. Sansa was gazing down at the small bump in her belly, but there was a distant look in her eyes.

"He will grow soon," Sandor murmured.

"Too soon," Sansa sighed, and it didn't escape Sandor how her voice sounded desperate. "Give me the shampoo, please..."

Sandor took the bottle of shampoo and gave it to Sansa. She took it, but her hand trembled and the bottle slipped out of her grasp, falling into the water and splashing everywhere. Sansa murmured a soft 'sorry' but Sandor quickly fished the bottle out of the water and poured some shampoo into his hand and applied it to Sansa's hair. He helped her wash her hair and massage her scalp, and then he also helped her rinse it. Sansa was as helpless as a little girl that day and needed Sandor for almost everything because even lifting her arms in the air was being a big effort for her, but he didn't mind. He did everything with as much care as he could muster, and after he was done helping Sansa wash herself he helped her out of the bathtub and out a large towel around her small and delicate body. Sandor sat on the border of the bathtub and Sansa sat down on his lap and leaned against his chest, resting her head there. They remained in silence, listening to the water escaping through the drainage. Sansa shivered, feeling a bit cold after getting out of the warm water despite being covered with the towel, and Sandor put his arms around her.

"Thank you," Sansa suddenly whispered.

"Why?" Sandor wondered. Sansa didn't have to thank him for anything; if he could, Sandor would devote himself to the woman and he would gladly do anything that she needed, no matter what it was.

"For being so good to me," she answered, and tilted her head a bit to the side to look at him. She looked better than before, but she still looked exhausted.

"Bullshit. You should be treated much better."

"But I'm not," she snapped. "I'm not treated better by anyone else, but you... You are the only one that cares about me."

"I'm not the only one-"

"Everyone else is dead," she interrupted him. She closed her eyes and sighed. "And I'm afraid for those that are not dead yet... Back in the hospital you said... You said that you were going to look for evidenced to show the world who Joffrey really is."

"Aye."

"Please be careful..." she said, and she shuddered. "I couldn't stand it if I lost you too..."

"Nothing will happen to me, little bird," he said, and he kissed her damp hair. "I promise."

Not long afterwards, once Sansa was already dry and she had managed to dress herself comfortably for the rest of the day (in completely black clothes) Bran and Rickon returned to the mansion with little Ned. The time to leave Winterfekl behind and go to the airport to travel back to King's Landing was fast approaching, and Sandor helped Sansa get everything ready. She didn't have a lot of belongings in Winterfell, just a few clothes that they had brought for her before she arrived there from the hospital, and so she only had to travel with a small bag and nothing else. Bran and Rickon and Ned were traveling to King's Landing with Sansa and Sandor. Ned travelled light, because he had originally been in Winterfell with the sole purpose of visiting his uncles and he hadn't taken a lot of clothes with him; all of his belongings were in the Red Keep mansion, in his room. Bran and Rickon did have a lot of luggage, however, since they were moving from the North to King's Landing because of Ned. Robb and Talisa had out in their will that they wanted Catelyn to be Ned's legal guardian in case anything should happen to them, but in car she wasn't able to take care of the child- which she couldn't, since she had also perished with them- they had originally left Sansa as legal guardian of the child. Talisa's family lived abroad, and the didn't want Ned to have to move out of the country, so Sansa had been the best option until they recently. Robb hadn't wanted his son to be around Joffrey a lot of time, so he took the decision in the end to leave Bran as legal guardian of the child. Bran had taken the decision of moving to King's Landing so that Ned wouldn't have to change everything in his life all of a sudden- school, friends, lifestyle- even though the child had grown up in the North, and Rickon had wanted to go with him. After Ned was done with that semester in school then they would move back to the North.

"Ready?" Bran asked them before leaving the mansion and walking towards the car that was going to take them to the airport. Everyone nodded, and so their journey began.

There were no incidents in the way to the airport, and the flight to King's a landing was quiet. Sansa slept through the entire flight and so did Ned, while Bran and Rickon maintained a hushed conversation and Sandor sat watching them all, but mostly Sansa, with worried eyes.

You poor people, he thought as he looked at the remaining members of the Stark family, not including Jon and Arya.

Things were much worse in the airport in King's Landing than they had been in the North. The reporters and paparazzi had somehow managed to find out that the Starks would be traveling that day and they had gathered at the exit of the airport, eager to get a few words from them. The cameras started flashing as soon as they saw the family and their bodyguards approaching, and the reporters held their microphones in front of them while they struggled with each other to get a good place in front of the exit of the airport. Most of them called Sansa's name.

"They can't do this to you," Rickon hissed, indignant. "You are the First Lady now, they can't act like that!"

Sansa merely shrugged.

"Unfortunately, I'm still a celebrity after all," she murmured before walking out the doors of the exit.

The cameras flashed full in her face, making her narrow her eyes with discomfort. The crowd of reporters made it almost impossible to walk, and the bodyguards tried to clear out the way for them. The reporters shoved microphones in Sansa's face while they shouted different questions. She put on her sunglasses so that they wouldn't have to look at them.

"Mrs Baratheon!" some of them called her. "Miss Stark!" others called her. They all wanted the same.

"What happened the day of the accident?!"

"What happened between you a President Baratheon at the funeral?!"

They were the same questions asked over and over again. Bran's was pushed by his bodyguard, who managed to get him out of that crazy crowd of reporters and cameras. Rickon had picked up Ned and tried to shield him away from the questions and the flashes. The youngest Stark sibling was livid.

"Have you no shame?!" he angrily shouted at the cameras, and he made his way out of there.

Sansa was still trapped in the sea of reporters and cameras. She looked around, and though her eyes were covered by the dark sunglasses, it was obvious that she looked terrified and full of a growing anxiety. Sandor almost punched the way open for her, and pushed reporters and cameras away from the woman.

"Move away!" he yelled at them just as angrily as Rickon had. "Get out of the way, you fuckers!"

Some reporters back away scared of him, but others ignored him and continued harassing Sansa.

"Do you believe that it was an accident?!"

Sansa shook her head; whether it was to say 'no' or because she was beginning to feel panicked, no one really knew. She looked down at the floor and covered her ears with her hands while she kept shaking her head from side to side, trying to block the voices away. Her lip trembled, and Sandor heard her whimper.

"Were you aware of any conspiracies to kill your brother?!"

Sansa screamed, and Sandor actually hit the reporter who had asked that question. The man fell back against other reporters and cameras and made them trip, and in the confusion Sandor grabbed Sansa, who was shaking uncontrollably, and took her away from there.

There had been two cars waiting for them at the exit of the airport; Bran, Rickon and Ned had already gotten into one of them, and Sandor and Sansa got into the second one. Because they didn't have to wait for any luggage to be put inside the car, Sandor commanded the driver to start driving away immediately and so he did. As they sped away from the airport and left it behind, Sandor looked at Sansa. She was crying again, and she was shaking. Sandor cursed under his breath.

"Those thrice-damned sons of bitches!"

One thing was hearing someone asking those questions in a talk show in TV, and another very different thing was to have them actually asking those goddamn questions to Sansa. If he could, Sandor would have snapped their necks. How dared they think that she had known what was going to happen?!

"Sansa, don't listen to them," he said, trying to calm her down. "They are full of shit..."

"Ge-Gendry..." she suddenly stammered. "I-I need to speak to Gendry..."

"What for?"

"Just... Please. I ne-need to speak to him... It's very important..."

Sandor wanted to know what Sansa had to say to Gendry Baratheon that was so important, but he didn't ask. If Sansa wanted to share it with him later, fine, but he wouldn't force her to say anything. He nodded his head.

"I'll let him know so that he contacts you," he told her, and that seemed to do the trick and Sansa calmed down. Her cries turned I to sobs, and her sobs became silent until she was sobbing no more.

As they approached the Red Keep mansion, Sandor found himself thinking back to the promise that he had made Sansa to find evidence against Joffrey. He needed a plan, but where to begin? Suddenly, his conversation with little Ned popped up in his mind.

The safe behind the portrait.

Sandor didn't know what he could find there. He didn't even know how he would get his hands on whatever was inside that safe, but it was a start.

God, help us, he prayed, much to his surprise, as the car entered the property of the Red Keep mansion, otherwise we are fucked.

A small group of people in black gear were gathered in front of a one-way mirror, watching the interior of a training room and closely observing the actions and behavior of the girl that was inside and apparently oblivious to their presence there. One of them knew better, and knew that she was only pretending to not know that she was being watched.

The small group of Faceless Men watched Arya Stark as she swiftly moved around the training room, throwing knives with an excellent aim at the dartboards that hanged on the walls at different distances and heights; in all of them she hit bull's eye. The look in her grey eyes was cold and serene and angry; it had been the same ever since she was locked up there.

Jaqen H'ghar observed her from out user the room, and the other side of the one-way mirror. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. He hadn't known that Arya would be looked up there, in that place in the middle of nowhere near Oymyakon, but when he had woken up after falling asleep in the plane that took them to Russia he had found out the truth and he could not go against the boss's orders, even though he hated them. He had been forced to leave Arya there in that place, that frozen hell, while he went away and spied, just like the boss had commanded him to do. He had been away for a year, gathering information and finding out everything that he could about the people that attacked them, and now he was finally back. He didn't know how he had expected to find Arya, but she was stronger than he had imagined. He should have known that she would have been preparing herself every day for the moment when she was finally free to claim her vengeance. She had sworn that she would have blood, and she would. Eventually, she would. But now, with what Jaqen had just found out, he guessed that Arya was going to want more blood than it had been originally planned.

The other Faceless Men whispered nervously next to him.

"How do we tell her?" one of them asked, referring to the news that they had to give her.

"Who shall tell her?" another asked, looking at the girl throwing knives. He was a skilled assassin, but he looked nervous. "She isn't going to like it one bit."

They all looked at their boss, who was also there. The Kindly Man didn't say anything as he watched the girl inside the training room, but when he sensed everyone looking at him he sighed.

"I'll tell her," he announced.

"No," Jaqen said then, and everyone looked at him surprised. "I will tell her. If any of you try to give her the news that her mother and brother were killed, she will stick a knife in your throat in less than a second."

The Kindly Man was no coward, but he knew that what Jaqen was saying was true. He had denied Arya Stark the opportunity to protect her family, and now that they were dead she would hate him and try to attack him before giving him the chance of explaining anything. Although the man could easily defeat Arya in a fight, he did not want to hurt her. Jaqen was Arya's friend, she would listen to him. Perhaps she could try to hit him, but never harm him. Jaqen was the man they needed.

The door was unlocked, and Jaqen walked inside the training room. The door was immediately locked behind him, making a lot of noise, but Arya didn't turn to look at him. She continued throwing knives with perfect aim. Jaqen coughed and tried to get her attention. He was actually nervous. How was he supposed to deliver the terrible news?

"Arya..."

Before any other words could leave his mouth, Arya had spun around over her heels and she had thrown a knife at him. The knife flew right past him, making a buzzing noise near his ear, and it buried itself on the wall behind him. He could almost hear the people that were watching from outside gasping.

Arya stared at him, and he stared back at her. He hadn't moved an inch after the attack. He had expected something like that to happen.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing that an apology was in order. He hadn't seen Arya in a year, after all. She was probably thinking that he abandoned her.

"For what?" she hissed.

"For everything."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't expect you to," he admitted. "I didn't know that they were going to bring you here. If I had I wouldn't have let them take us from Mumbai with them."

Arya didn't say anything, but something in her eyes told Jaqen that she believed him. That made things easier for him, but he still had to be very careful with his words.

"Where have you been?" she asked him then.

"Everywhere, spying. I had to find out who attacked us and why."

"Well, did you?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded. He gulped before proceeding. "Arya... We need to talk."

I cut the ending in half. Arya will very probably have another appearance in the beginning of the next chapter ^.^ Finally!