"You realize, Sansa," Catelyn said, as they both helped Arya pack her things, "Without you by my side, with only Arya and Brienne with me on this trip, I'll be surrounded by women and still hear talk of nothing but swords and warfare the entire way to Riverrun?"

Sansa laughed, handing her mother one of Arya's few dresses, folded neatly.

Catelyn shook her head. "First Arya learns the sword, then you bandy about knowledge no one should properly know, then you manage to get Robb engaged to the second-richest family on the continent, and now you've become Margaery's lady-in-waiting? What are you doing to this family?"

Everything I can.

"I'm her friend," Sansa replied, keeping her tone level through tight control. A princess was no one's lady-in-waiting. Not even a Queen. "Of course she wants me nearby."

Catelyn pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter's head. "I know, dear one. I'll miss you, is all."

Sansa smiled up at her. "And I'll miss you, too, Mother."

...

It still hurt, having said farewell to her mother, Arya, and Brienne hours ago. A simple trip to Riverrun shouldn't have been a point of worry but with a war on, nothing was ever certain. Sansa had cried as she hugged her sister goodbye, for all she tried to hide it. Arya had called her silly, but hadn't been able to keep her own fears from showing in her face. Just like Sansa, Arya knew firsthand how quickly anyone's fate could change.

Sansa rode with the men as the army picked up camp, continuing on its way towards Casterly Rock. They'd been on the road for hours, with songs drifting back from any man with half a voice. Margaery rode with Robb, too far ahead for Sansa to make out the words passed between them. All she could see were smiles and grins and Robb's head tipped back in laughter. They were sickeningly adorable.

Sansa missed Theon. He'd be able to make her laugh and unlike Margaery, wouldn't have abandoned her so soon after declaring how much he needed her. Of course, Sansa could ride ahead with Robb and his beloved Margaery, but even she had limits on how far she would intrude.

Horns sounded over the distant hill. Two long blasts – enemies.

The camp exploded into a frenzy. Horses screamed and reared as men clambered to get them properly saddled. Soldiers rushed the wagons, prying swords and lances and armor out as quickly as possible. Robb galloped ahead to his bannermen, Grey Wind at his heels.

Margaery pulled her horse up next to Sansa's. "What's going on? Robb told me to stick by you. Is it–"

"You said you wanted to see a battle, my lady," Sansa replied, grim. "You may well get your wish."

Margaery swallowed, for once looking glad to see Lady standing guard beside Sansa's horse. "Have you seen one?"

"Yes," Sansa replied, refusing to elaborate. Blackwater. The Battle of the Bastards. The Long Night. "I had hoped to grow far older before seeing one again."

Slowly, black shapes crested the far hill. It was an army, alright, with men on horseback leading the way for thousands of footsoldiers.

"Can't be more than five thousand of them," a soldier near the girls announced.

"We've only got eight," the soldier next to him hissed back. "And with them catching us unprepared–"

"Have faith," Sansa replied back so loudly that soldiers all around her craned to hear. "The Young Wolf has never lost a battle yet – not against any of the Lannister hordes. You think a mere few thousand will stand in his way?"

Grumblings of assent drifted through the men. Margaery watched Sansa with an appraising eye.

"But the Tyrells were supposed to be here already," a third soldier hissed. "Now we're exposed without them."

"And do you need the Tyrells to lace up your boots?" Margaery said, pitching her voice in a mimic of Sansa's. "No! You are men of the North! Your King fights for you – fight for him!"

Even more murmurs of assent followed her words. Both girls smiled at each other as the men surrounding them shifted to form a defensive perimeter.

"Lances forward!" Robb bellowed as he galloped down the line. "Swords, behind!" Meeting Sansa's eyes, a flash of fear coursed through him. "Umber!" he shouted. "Get the women away to safety!"

"Aye, Your Grace!" Umber galloped over from further down the line. "Come on, ladies, there's a nice bunch of trees beyond that hill."

"That's odd," one of the soldiers said, shading his eyes with his hand. "Their banners. It don't look like Lannister colors. It looks like… maybe orange?"

Another soldier snorted. "It's Lannister red, you blind moron. Who else would be riding out to fight us?"

"No," the first soldier replied. "It definitely looks orange. Mayhaps there's a bit of red in the center–"

Immediately, Sansa galloped her horse away from Margaery and Umber as he called out curses after her. She headed straight for Robb.

Thankfully, he pulled up short, waiting for her to arrive.

"Are they Dornish?" was all Sansa could get out through her heavy breathing.

"Dornish?" Robb made a face. He fumbled the far-eye at his belt, putting it to his face. "Aye," he said, still looking through it. "House Martell itself on the march. So they've joined the Lannisters too, now?" Collapsing the far-eye back, he nodded at Sansa. "Good catch. I'm glad I kept you with me."

He picked up his reins to ride off again. Sansa grabbed his sleeve. Thankfully, at least none of the men could hear her words. "Robb, they may be here for us."

Robb stared at her, squinting in the sun. "Come again?"

"I…" There wasn't a good way to say it and even less time to waste. "I wrote to Oberyn Martell, inviting him to join us. I knew he wanted vengeance on the Mountain and–"

Robb wheeled his horse back the other way. "We'll have words, after." More loudly, he called, "Bolton, Karstark, to me!"

Umber had finally caught up to Sansa. "My lady, it's not safe here. We must get you–"

"It's not safe anywhere," Sansa replied and galloped after Robb.

Robb glanced over at her as she joined him, but said nothing, his gaze quickly switching back to the Dornish army.

The army was still marching over the hill, getting closer. Umber rode back to Margaery behind the Northern lines, both of them hesitating and waiting to bolt. Margaery studied the other girl but Sansa had no reassurances to give. She could only watch helplessly as the army approached, the same as everyone else.

A shout rang out from the Dornish. Abruptly, their marching halted. A small group broke away from the front, riding steadily towards the Northern army. Robb mimicked the move, walking his horse out to meet them. His bannermen followed without needing an order, his personal guard falling in around them. Sansa rode a step behind her brother.

At the front of the Dornish army rode Oberyn Martell, his spear cocked casually across the pommel of his saddle. Around him rode other Dornishmen – generals and lords, most likely – and three girls Sansa knew only by reputation: the Sand Snakes. They studied the approaching Northmen with a keen eye and ready smirks; Sansa could only hope their infamous tempers wouldn't shift those smiles into something more deadly.

Oberyn drew rein on his horse. The Dornish halted behind him. An easy distance away, Robb halted the Northerners. They waited, staring at the Dornish, braced for any move.

"Hello, my friends!" Oberyn called out. "I must say, I was surprised to get your invitation. I never knew wolves could be so… generous."

"What did you say to him?!" Robb hissed at Sansa under his breath. But there was no time to deliberate before a reply. Pitching his voice louder, Robb said, "Friends are always welcome, Prince Oberyn. We would ask you to share in our Northern hospitality."

"I have no interest in hospitality," Oberyn called back. "The terms already offered are gift enough."

The Northerners shifted at that; they had no idea what those terms were.

"I only ask that you answer two questions before I agree to your terms," Oberyn said, stepping his horse closer. His daughters followed.

Robb's eyes flicked to Sansa.

Quickly, she whispered, "That the Mountain is his and we'll share killing Lannisters."

Robb gave a quick nod; easy terms, indeed.

Oberyn stopped barely shy of striking distance. Robb's guards shifted in front of him, readying to draw swords. One of the Sand Snakes shot an unimpressed look to her sister; her sister laughed.

"Ask your questions," Robb levelly replied, ignoring the girls.

Oberyn studied Robb, trying to take his measure. Sansa couldn't tell whether he liked what he saw. A hint of a smirk toyed with Oberyn's mouth. "Here are my questions. What do the wolves seek and what do the lions rule?"

"I hate bloody riddles," Karstark muttered.

As Robb still made no reply, Bolton stepped his horse forward. "The Lannisters cut off Lord Eddard Stark's head. We seek–"

Robb gestured him into silence. He turned toward his sister. "Sansa?"

As one, every eye in the Stark and Dornish parties fell upon her. Sansa straightened in her saddle. "The wolves march for justice, Prince Oberyn. The lions rule the Mountain, who is not ours to kill."

Never taking his eyes from her, Oberyn's smile only grew. "So. It is to the Red Wolf we owe our friendship."

Robb shifted in his saddle. "If her answer is acceptable–"

"Of course it is," Oberyn replied. He rode closer, offering his arm. "My spears are yours, until the Mountain's head adorns them."

Robb clasped it. Hesitantly, he grinned. "I hope to see it there as soon as possible."

Oberyn laughed. "I think we're going to enjoy making friends with wolves. We're going to enjoy it very much."

With a whistle that split the air, Oberyn gestured back at his troops. Immediately, they lowered spears, ambling toward the Starks with the easy pace of combining forces.

Robb turned back to his troops and Oberyn fell in at his side, already discussing the necessary logistics. But, as he rode past, the Dornish prince's wink was entirely for Sansa.

Despite the fact that he was old enough to be her father, Sansa couldn't stop her blush.

One of the Sand Snakes nodded to Sansa as she fell in next to her.

Sansa nodded back, trying not to feel like she was drowning. The Dornish were here, thanks solely to her. That elation was only tempered by the knowledge that the more she changed, the less she knew. And she didn't know the Dornish, not at all. In her past life, Oberyn had barely spared more than a glance toward the frightened little Stark girl married to the Imp. The Sand Snakes she had never met a single time.

"Red Wolf," another Sand Snake whispered as she rode past. Sansa had no idea if it was an insult or a compliment.

...

"You betrayed me," Robb said later, when he could finally have words with Sansa in private, as he'd promised. His blue eyes flashed, locked forward instead of on his sister.

They sat not in his tent, where any passing ear could overhear, but on horseback deep in the woods, his guards a distant protective circle, waiting out of earshot.

"I got you an army, Robb," Sansa said, feeling the old stubborn anger rising. "I thought you'd be happy to have more men, to have a skilled fighter like Oberyn–"

"You didn't tell me they were coming," Robb replied.

"I didn't know they were coming! He never wrote back, he just showed up–"

"You never even told me you'd written him!" Robb yelled. Finally, he looked at her, his eyes blazing. "Do you realize what could have happened, Sansa?"

"Well," Sansa replied with a snort. "If you'd sent me away like Mother wanted, you probably wouldn't have been able to answer his questions. So I figure you could add your gratitude for that to your list–"

"Perhaps," Robb said, but the anger in his eyes didn't wane for an instant. "But suppose us stupid men knocked our heads together enough that we figured out we were on the same side. What could have happened, Sansa? What could have happened if we'd marched a day or two earlier?"

Sansa gestured one hand casually. "Then you'd have taken longer to meet up. The Martells could figure you were on your way toward Casterly Rock. They'd find you."

"Aye," Robb said. He turned away again, his jaw clenching in anger. "And we'd have begun our siege of Casterly. We'd have begun our siege without them. Men would be dead because of you."

Whatever she had been about to reply stopped dead in her throat. "What?"

Robb grimaced. "8,000 men attacking a gate will lose more men than 11,000 attacking the same gate. And if we'd had their 3,000 with us, some of the dead would be Martells instead of Starks. What would have happened if the Martells had shown up only after we'd taken the castle, when we only had 1,000 left? Should the families of those dead 7,000 blame the Martells, for marching as fast as they could? Or should they blame you, for not even hinting to your king, your brother, that there might be a reason to wait?"

Sansa's mouth tasted of ash. Robb continued his lecture, explaining the nature of her error, but she had heard enough. The Martells had joined in time, had reinforced them before the siege…

But the knights of the Vale had not. She'd made this same mistake before – at the Battle of the Bastards. If Robb was right, men had died because of her. Stark men, good men. Jon had nearly been one of them. She had summoned the Vale and not even told Jon. Perhaps he could have waited. Perhaps he couldn't have. But could Sansa really say that Jon would have done the exact same tactics, knowing a fresh army could be riding in to reinforce him?

No. Not for one second. And Jon, lovely, kind Jon, had been grateful enough to simply be alive that he'd thanked her for it.

"I'm sorry, Robb," Sansa cut in, interrupting the rest of his lecture. He paused, turning to watch her. "You're right. I could have gotten men killed." I already have.

Robb gave a tight smile. "You're young. Gods know I've made my share of mistakes. But we can help each other, Sansa. Neither of us has to do this alone."

Again, he was right. She squared up to face him, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. "I sent Theon to Stannis. He told him how to breach the defenses, how to–"

"I know," Robb cut her off. "Theon told me."

Sansa paused. She hadn't expected that. "And now Theon's on Pyke. I don't know if he's betraying us, but there's a chance he might." Robb's eyes flashed to her in startlement, but she continued. "He hasn't written back, but I told him – in code, of course – about the weakness in Casterly Rock."

"Sansa!" Robb hissed, leaning closer even in the middle of the deserted wood. "You think he might betray us and you told him our greatest asset?!"

"He'd betray us to his father, not to the Lannisters," she quickly replied. "So I told him a secret that Balon Greyjoy could only use to help us."

"After we take it, he could definitely use it against us!"

It was her turn to level a patronizing glare at her brother. "We know about it. We can spare a few guards."

"Aye, we can," Robb said. "But it seems foolish to tell secrets to a man who might betray them."

"I'm gambling that he won't," Sansa replied, trying to keep her tone light. "And that, like most people, he'll rise to the expectations given him."

Robb snorted, shaking his head as he looked away. "You're more cutthroat than my fiercest soldiers. Is there anything else?"

Endlessly. "Robb, I…" Sansa paused, without the faintest clue how to say it. "I don't have spies," she finally lead with.

He turned to study her, something unreadable in his blue eyes. "I had wondered. You've gotten perhaps two letters the entire time you've been here and only left camp the once. What is it, then?"

"It's not… quite natural," Sansa said, pleading with the gods not to make their own gift mark her as crazy.

Robb gave a slow nod. "Are you some sort of greenseer?"

Relief flooded her at the unexpected liferaft. "Yes – of a sort. Where most see a fixed future couched in riddles, I see possible futures with absolute clarity."

Robb tugged her into him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And to think I almost sent you away. This is how you knew about Bolton and his bastard, isn't it?"

Weakly, Sansa could only nod.

Robb chuckled, his lips still pressed into her hair. "No wonder you haven't told me everything. We'd still be talking into the next century."

Sansa could only nod, again, even more relieved.

Releasing her, Robb leaned back to get a proper look at his sister, a hesitant smile on his face. "Anything else I need to know that might be important?"

"Baelish," Sansa replied, ignoring Robb's surprise. Baelish wasn't here personally, might not run into them again for years, but she couldn't risk the potential disaster of Robb not knowing. "He killed Jon Arryn, he and Aunt Lysa. Baelish is in love with Mother and would kill anyone and destroy anything to get closer to her – even her family."

Robb looked as murderous as she'd ever seen. "So we kill him."

Sansa hesitated.

Robb scowled. "We know that and we don't kill him?"

"He's useful," Sansa finally replied. "He survives by making himself more useful alive than dead to every single player of the Game. If we get a chance to kill him, absolutely – his death wouldn't even be avenged. But if we can't, it's in our best interest to continue acting friendly with him. If he doesn't suspect we know, he could be a useful ally."

"How?" Robb said, looking pained.

Sansa shrugged. "If Stannis hadn't killed Joffrey, Baelish would have."

To avenge Mother's murder, but that part didn't need to be said. Sansa hoped it would never come to pass.

Robb could only stare incredulously.

Sansa swallowed. And there's a Targaryen girl with three dragons hell-bent on reclaiming her throne soon to be heading our way. And an army of the dead on the march to destroy everything that breathes.

But some things could still wait.

Finally, Robb swallowed. It took him a moment to work up to the question closest to his heart. "Margaery?"

He couldn't manage more than a single word, and even that, with such fear in his eyes that it nearly broke Sansa. She fell against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. "She's a dear friend and I hope she'll be as dear a sister. But be on the watch for her own self-interests. She hides them under kindness toward others."

"When she asked me for you to stay…?" Robb said.

"I don't know what she got from it," Sansa replied. "Perhaps simply a better friendship with me, or to test how far she could push you. She's cleverer than I am – which is what scares me."

"What scares me," Robb said, wrapping his arms around his sister to return the hug. "Is that I think I'm in love with her."

Worry settled into Sansa's stomach like lead. "She eats hearts for breakfast. Watch yourself with Margaery, Robb."

His arms tightened. In barely more than a whisper, Robb said, "I don't think I can."

A/N: The next chapter is the last of this batch. Hope you've enjoyed these. :)