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Chapter Text

Act I:

SCENE: Kingsroad, somewhere near Trident.

It is morning, sun still low in the horizon, its warm rays falling on the hive of bustling activity on the ground. A young woman, hardly more than a girl, with delicate features and auburn hair, walks slowly along the side of the road with a huge direwolf following her on a leash. The road is crowded with soldiers, servants, wagons and supply carts, all busily getting ready for yet another day on the road. Dust swirls lazily in the air, raised by the commotion of many feet and wheels.

The girl walks unhurriedly, eyeing the activities curiously but cautiously, stepping aside to avoid a puddle of water spilled by men carrying buckets. The wolf presses her nose against her side and she scratches it behind the ear, talking softly to it as she does so.

A tall, broad-shouldered man clad in half-armour observes her from among the trees, near where the horses are tied up. His face is a ruin, half of it terribly burned, and despite his long dark hair being combed to the burned side to cover it, the sight is gruesome. His eyes are grey and sharp and relentlessly trained on the girl.

As she meanders closer to where the man is standing he squares his shoulders, sets his jaw and walks towards her. At first the girl doesn’t pay him attention, but when he gets closer she notices him. An unsure beginning of a smile – forced and polite – appears on her face. The man speaks.

“That little sister of yours is getting herself into trouble.”

“?”

“Aye, it is you I am talking to. Or do you see anyone else around?”

“Pardon me ser, I was…”

“Fuck your sers. I am not a knight. You can save your courtesies too, I have no use for them.”

“I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about, I didn’t mean to…”

“Doesn’t matter what you mean. What does matter is that Lord Eddard’s wild spawn is grating the hells out of the royal party. Prince Joffrey doesn’t like her giving the queen the brush-off and spending time with commoners instead.”

“Oh that. You are absolutely right! I know that Arya can be terribly wilful and obstinate and I agree with the prince that her place should be with her future good-family. It is only proper.”

“Couldn’t care less about what’s proper, but I do care about making this journey as trouble-free as possible.”

“I…I think I understand. But why come to me? I have already tried to tell her to stop being a child and start behaving like a lady, but she won’t listen to me. Even Septa Mordane has a hard time with her.”

“Does it take Lord Eddard himself to make the girl behave? Odd folk in the North.”

“If our mother was here she would do it. But unfortunately she is not… But why is it so important to you, if I may enquire? She is just a little girl after all.”

“Aye, little girl she may be and otherwise I wouldn’t give a horse’s fart about what she does – but she is the get of the Hand of the King and if she enrages the royal prince and gets punished for it, the Hand might get upset. And if that happens, then King Robert gets upset and bothers the Queen. And then Cersei gets upset – and believe me, you don’t want to be around when that happens.”

“Oh.”

----------

“Stop glaring at me like that, I am not going to eat you alive, girl. Not quite yet, at least.”

“I was not staring at you.”

“Don’t lie, you stink at it. I have seen you gawking at me, being afraid of me.”

“I … I am not afraid you. You are my betrothed’s sworn shield, I’ll be safe with you.”

“That you’ll be – doesn’t mean you like to be near me though.”

“I trust you have good intentions if you seek to talk to me. And I see the matter is of great importance. But how could I be of assistance? What could I do?”

“Hells if I know what or how. You are the one trained by septas and maesters. If it was up to me I would use my fists but… As long as you figure out how to keep that hellraiser in check, I don’t give a toss how you do it.”

“I…I am not sure what can I do - but I promise I will try.”

“Hmmphh!”

=============================================================

Act II

SCENE: The Riverlands, the Inn at the Crossroads, outside the main entrance.

It is dark, past sunset, torches set on sconces around the courtyard shedding flickering light on the wooden porch and stairs leading from the inn to the yard. The yard is hard-packed earth and rectangular in shape, surrounded by all sides with buildings; stables, kennels, sheds and opposite to the inn, the guestrooms.

The door opens, sounds of laughter and bright lights spilling from the opening. The auburn-haired girl steps out in the company of another girl, shorter, younger and brown-haired. The younger girl speaks animatedly, using her hands in wide gestures, while the older girl only nods now and then, maintaining her composure.

The yard is almost empty, only a few hurried servants crossing it carrying bundles and boxes, not stopping to look at the new arrivals. A stable cat slinks along the side of the shed, its tail slowly flicking back and forth, its whiskers standing out stiffly.

The burned man leans against the wall beside the porch, hidden in the shadows. He stands as still as the gnarled timber itself, not moving a muscle. Even the cat doesn’t notice him until it is right next to the man, and then darts nervously to the side.

The girls are halfway across the yard when the younger stops, crosses her arms across her chest and after a few more exchanged words, turns on her heels and runs way. The auburn-haired girl stares after her with pursed lips.

The burned man steps out of the shade and quiet as a shadow walks behind the girl, who startles and turns to look up at him. There is no fear in her demeanour.

“She may not be happy but at least she is behaving.”

 “I beg your pardon?”

“The wolf-girl. Your sister.”

“Ah. Yes, she is not very happy. Yesterday when the prince and I were walking in the woods we ran into her, practicing alone with her wooden sword. She was very agitated for having lost her practice partner and spoke insolently to the prince.”

“Aye, I heard about it. Everyone within the hearing distance of the royal chambers last night heard about it.”

“I was luckily able to diffuse the situation by asking Prince Joffrey to show me his prowess in arms; I told him that seeing Arya’s practice reminded me that I hadn’t seen him training at arms since Winterfell. We came back to the camp and I followed his training for quite a while.”

“Clever girl. Good to get him away from that hellspawn.”

“She may be a bit wild but I assure you she is very sweet – when not provoked. And for some reason Prince Joffrey seems to aggravate her greatly.”

“That he does. So what happened to her playmate?”

“I spoke to my lord father and he acted on the matter. I believe he sent him back to Winterfell.”

“You did? Well done. I wouldn’t have thought you to be so resourceful.”

“The highest duty of a lady is to support her family; first her lord father, then her lord husband. I try to do my duty, especially as our lady mother is not here.”

“Hmmmpph!”

“And when we are married, I will do my duty to Prince Joffrey.”

“Just as well you think that way, as that is what he’ll be expecting from you – and more.”

“What do you mean, pray tell?”

“Nevermind. You’ll find out.”

Chapter Text

Act III

SCENE: King’s Landing, the Red Keep, the main corridor leading to the royal chambers.

Early afternoon sun streams through stained windows illuminating the floor and its mosaic tiles, decorated with intricate details.

The auburn-haired girl runs along the walkway. She has grown; more like a woman and less like a girl. Her steps are hasty, her face tear-streaked, although she appears to try to compose herself as she runs, wiping her face with her sleeve. It is as beautifully embroidered as is the rest of her dress, soft wool in light blue that compliments her blue eyes.   

On one of the side corridors the burned warrior walks briskly, clang of cold steel echoing against stones at every long stride as his sword scrapes against the dagger hanging from his sword-belt. He is clad in full armour, his face is set in grim determination and his shoulders are slightly hunched. Fingers of his right hand rest at the hilt of his sword; he looks prepared to draw it at the slightest provocation. His eyes sweep the narrow corridor as he walks, but he doesn’t see the girl as she is still behind a corner.

The two forms approach each other inexorably, neither aware of the other. They both reach the intersection of the two passageways almost at the same time, the man just a second earlier, which is enough for the girl to hurtle straight against his side. The girl almost loses her balance; only the man’s fast grip on her elbow keeps her upright. The girl looks at him, eyes widened.

*loud thumping sound as the girl’s soft body hits against the man’s hard armour*

“Ouch!”

“What the fu – well, if it isn’t the little bird! Why such a hurry? What are you doing here?”

“Please, let me pass.”

“You have been running – I thought ladies don’t run.”

“Please se… please, I have to go.”

“Not before I know why the prince’s betrothed is running around in the Red Keep like the Stranger himself was chasing her. Is something amiss?”

“No – yes – I mean, nothing is wrong – but I have to hurry!”

“Where?”

“I have to see the Queen straight away! I have something important I need to discuss with her!”

“Something important? Would this by any chance have anything to do with the Hand of the King making discreet enquiries about a ship; safe and fast and ready to leave in the moment’s notice? Towards the North, perhaps?”

“No! This is… concerning a completely different matter.”

“Why don’t I believe you, girl? Are you on your way to tell the Queen what’s happening? Does your father know?”

“Just let me go, please!”

“Are you sure you know what you are up to? If Lord Eddard is planning something he goes to great lengths to conceal, why would his daughter give it all away?”

“How do you know about it then?”

“I’m a dog, remember? I smell these things.”

“And do you disclose what you smell to your masters?”

“Mayhap I do, mayhap I don’t. It depends. But what would you care if you are ready to spill the secret yourself?”

“This is about my life too!”

“So you were going to tattle on your father?”

“Oh!”

“I thought so. Now, listen to me and listen to me well. Hell broke loose with the passing of the king. There is more into it than what seems, something very rotten. If I were you I wouldn’t deliberately try to mess things up any further.”

“But he wants us to leave! I would have to leave Joffrey! He would surely see it as a desertion and he would be wroth with me!”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You are just a girl, you have to do what your father tells you. Everyone can see that, even Joffrey.”

“Really? You think he would understand?”

“I don’t like what I see brewing and your father has some good sense in trying to make you leave. You would do well to follow his orders.”

“I would? Are we really in danger?”

“With Cersei and Joffrey running things…aye. And not only you; Lord Eddard would do well to pack his bags and leave as well.”

“But he is the Hand – he can’t leave his position.”

“He can come back when the dust has settled. For now it would definitively be better for him and his family if he cleared out of here as soon as he can; it is a matter of life and death and I am not exaggerating. I hear “Essos Queen” is ready to leave tonight. You must all be in it.”

“I don’t know… I really think I should discuss this with Queen Cersei. She’ll know what’s best.”

“You think so? Like she threatened to get your sister’s wolf killed just because it bared its teeth to Joffrey? Think again, girl.”

----------

“You are truly not going to be let me pass, are you?”

“No.”

*sigh* “Very well. I will go back to my father and tell him about your warning - he’ll know what to do.”

“Aye, I expect he will.”

“Well then.”

“Well.”

“I will be off then.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“Farewell.”

“Off you go. Run away already – and don’t stop for anyone. And so you’ll know, I’ll be watching over the Queen’s chambers to make sure that you don’t try to sneak back.”

Chapter Text

Act IV

SCENE: The Riverlands, a small settlement a short distance from Riverrun, a stable next to a cluster of small houses.

It is early morning just after sunrise and the horses are starting to get restless waiting for their morning hay. Narrow open slits high on the ceiling let in enough light to reveal orderly stalls and their occupants, horses of different sizes and shapes. A few of the stalls are empty and in one them lays a sleeping form of a large man, his forearm resting across his face. He is dressed in a dented armour and his breeches have been worn to threads on the knees.

The large stable door opens and the auburn-haired girl slips in, quietly closing the door behind her. She is older and her figure has changed again, as is her demeanour. There is something assuredly confident in her bearing, even though she slouches a bit as she stops for a moment and glances around. After a while her eyes seem to get accustomed to dim light and she starts walking along the main aisle. She looks into each stall as if looking for something, stepping very softy, not making a noise. Clearly she doesn’t want to make her presence known.

The sleeping man shifts and makes a noise between a snore and a rumble and the girl stops, her hand on her throat. As the man settles down again the girl continues towards him, pressing her back against the wooden stalls as she approaches him. The man mumbles in his sleep and the girl pricks her ears and cocks her head, apparently trying to catch what the man is saying. When she is right next to him the man moves again and his arm drops by his side; it is the burned warrior.

The girl leans over him but doesn’t touch him. Again the man mumbles something, then seems to sense the girl’s presence and startles, his hand immediately reaching for the dagger by his side.

“…little bird… mmm-mmmm…”

“What?”

“Ergh, ugh. WHAT!”

“Oww!”

“Who goes there? Stop, you sneaking whoreson whoever you are! I have a dagger and I’ll use it, I swear I will!”

“It is only me, Sansa Stark – please let go of my ankle!”

“Sansa-fucking-Stark?”

“Yes! I am sorry I startled you – please can you unhand me, it hurts!”

“Fuck me sideways, it is you!”

“I am truly sorry I surprised you, I should have knocked.”

“Hells girl, you should have knocked – I almost stuck my blade in you! I don’t take well being attacked while I sleep. You are lucky I didn’t cut you.”

“I didn’t think, I honestly didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted to make sure…”

“Make sure of what? And what the hells are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be safe and sound in Winterfell?”

“I am here with my family. But what about you, why are you here?”

“You heard that I tucked tail and ran in the Battle of the Blackwater, didn’t you?”

“-“

“No need to answer. Every bloody peasant in the whole fucking Westeros has, why you would be an exception.”

“Not everyone knows what I know, about…your reasons…”

“-“

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you about it.”

“Nevermind girl. Forget it.”

“I am sorry. Truly. You look like you have fallen upon hard times.”

“Feral, you mean – why don’t you just say so? I have seen better days, that’s true enough. Life on the road lacks the comforts of the Red Keep. It also lacks the lickspittles and treachery of it, so can’t complain too much.”

“Pardon me. It is not for me to pry into your matters.”

“My matters are nor here nor there. But enough about me. You have grown, little bird. You look like a real woman now. A lady.”

“It has been a while. When we left King’s Landing we sailed to White Harbour and returned to Winterfell. We stayed there for a while but with King Joffrey accusing my father of all those horrible things and rousing the kingdoms against him, he had to come back.”

“So I have heard. That doesn’t explain what you are doing here, in the stables at the first light – all by yourself.”

“I thought you might be here. I had to come and check.”

“Me? What nonsense are you spilling?”

“I have heard stories of a man bigger than others, man wearing a hound helmet, been seen in the Riverlands and the Vale. As we have travelled I have made discreet enquiries. Yesterday a merchant visiting Riverrun told me of a man of such description, and that he has been sleeping in a stable in the village for the last two nights.”

“Still a stupid little bird – what if it had been another big man here, and you sneaking here on your own?!”

“Well, it wasn’t. It was you. Besides, that’s why I was quiet, I only wanted to have a look first to make sure.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why have you been asking after me?”

“I have been thinking of you a lot after those horrible events in King’s Landing. I wanted to – and my father too - find you after, to thank you.”

“He did, did he now?”

“Yes. He lost many good men there but it could have been worse – much worse. We got away, and the Northerners who were to follow us overland were on their guard when the king’s men attacked. Because of you most of them got away and we found out about the dreadful treachery of the Lannisters.”

“I heard what happened. Not that it makes me want to gloat but I’m glad to hear you heeded my advice.”

“I trusted you. I told everything to my father and he said I did right. You really should have come to us, after the Blackwater. He would have rewarded you, I know he would have.”

“I didn’t do it for him.”

“Why did you?”

“-“

“Anyway, I have wondered about where you are and what you do.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason? You have been kind to me, kinder than anyone, and you came between a disaster and me and those that I love. Is it so strange that you should be in my thoughts?”

“Have you made it into some kind of a bloody song? A gallant knight saving a noble maid – isn’t that what you have read in books?”

“Nothing of a sort. You are not a gallant knight and I am just a stupid little bird. Although I hope not as stupid as I was, anymore.”

“Hmmmph.”

“Have you perchance ever thought of me?”

“What is it to you? No, I haven’t.”

“When I came in here you were sleeping. Just before you roused I heard you muttering about a little bird. How many little birds do you know? If I was a vain woman I might think that a man waking up with a lady’s name on his lips might be thinking of that lady…”

“You heard wrong. I was snoring, that’s all. Besides, your name is not little bird.”

“As you say.”

*rustle of straw and clank of metal as the man gets up from a sitting position and stretches himself*

“You better leave. You don’t want people seeing you coming out of a stable with straw in your skirts. Your father was a fool for dragging you with him here in the first place. The Riverlands are not safe.”

“My father doesn’t plan to fight; he works hard to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He made a pact with Lord Frey about his support and neutrality, a pact sealed with a marriage alliance.”

“A marriage? Whose? Not yours?”

“No, not mine, but my uncle Lord Edmure’s. He is marrying one of the Lord Frey’s daughters.”

“So your father speaks for Lord Edmure now, eh?”

“No, not really. That was… an accident. Originally it was my brother Robb, but he was unfortunately detained and Lord Edmure stepped in to fulfil the commitment.”

“Detained? Did he fall from a tower as well?”

“No, nothing like that. If you have to know, he was sorely disappointed when Theon Greyjoy abandoned our house in favour of his father, when he was sent to Lord Greyjoy to negotiate an alliance. Robb took it hard, he and Theon having grown up together. He made a mistake in his grief and… then he married Lady Jeyne Westerling.”

“Hmmpph! The young wolf in heat – so there is warm blood running in those cold veins after all.”

“That is not kindly said! He was devastated. Theon was his best friend.”

“I bet so was Lord Frey. A daughter as a Lady of Riverrun is one thing, as a Lady of Winterfell quite another. Letdown for his ambitions for sure.”

“I am sure it is not as bad as that. He has been quite delighted by the wedding.”

“So is that what all the fuss here is about?”

“Yes, we are preparing to leave for the Twins. Most of my family is going there; my lord father and lady mother, Robb and I. So things are a bit disorganised at the moment”

“The Twins?!? Now?!?”

“We are leaving tomorrow, I only came to the village to collect my gift for the bridal couple from the jeweller. Father wanted to send a servant but everyone was occupied and I didn’t mind, leaving early… It is quite safe here, so close to Riverrun.”

“Why so soon?”

“Lord Frey insisted the wedding to take place immediately and invited all of us there while we are still in the Riverlands. Hence all the hurry, we didn’t expect it to happen quite yet.”

“He insisted?”

“Yes, he was most adamant.”

“-“

“What is it? You are suddenly very quiet.”

“The old fuck! The man is sly as a skunk and I doubt it is the joy of nuptials that spurs him. I smell a rat in this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know yet. But I will make it my matter to find out. I still know people and there is nothing wrong with my eyes or my nose.”

“But how would you – sorry, it is not my place to question.”

“How could I do it when I am declared a traitor, you mean? Do not worry, I have my ways. Can you come back tomorrow morning? Meet me at the old well just outside the settlement – nobody goes there anymore so it should be private enough. I should have some news by then.”

“I am not sure… We are leaving mid-morning.”

“Come and I try to make it worth your while. I don’t like what I hear. That old fart Frey is up to something, I bet my sword on it. Tomorrow, sunrise, here. You will come?”

“I can’t promise – but I’ll try.”

Act V

SCENE: The Riverlands, outside a small settlement a short distance from Riverrun, next to an old well.

The well is built of sturdy stones but has been dry for a long time as indicated by the air of neglect and abundant vegetation growing around it. It is mid-morning and people are up and about, but the path to the settlement is some distance away from the well and the passers-by are shielded from the view by thick bushes.

The burned warrior leans against the edge of the well, arms crossed and a deep frown etched across his forehead. In daylight his armour looks even worse than before, dented and rusty, chainmail under it jagged and sporting several holes and runs. He is alert, observing his surroundings but paying particular attention in the direction of Riverrun. A few times he seems to be hearing or seeing something, as he draws up and stares intently to the bushes, then leans back again and relaxes somewhat.

The auburn-haired girl – woman – steps to the small clearing from under tall trees almost undetected by the man, but when he finally sees her he pulls up and starts slowly to walk towards her. She continues on until they meet in the middle, then both of them stop. The girl has to crane her neck to look at his face but she does so, staring right into his eyes. For a moment neither of them speaks. The man opens his mouth, then closes it and swallows visibly, then opens it again.

"So you came."

“It was not easy, I had to make up a story – and I really don’t like lying to my family.”

“It was good you came. I did some exploring and the word is not good. Something stinks into high heavens with this wedding.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are men-at-arms gathering to the Twins, Lord Frey has called for his bannermen but discreetly. Messengers and ravens have been traveling back and forth between the Twins and King’s Landing.”

“And? Wedding is a big event for a lordly house.”

“When have you seen soldiers needed for a wedding? Don’t be blind, little bird. This whole thing has Lord Tywin’s fingertips all over it.”

“But what can I do, what can we do? We can’t cancel it at this short notice! And what you have may be only hearsay, gossip and idle talk.”

“Not all hearsay is untrue. My advice is for you not to go.”

“But… I must.”

“Fall sick. Faint. Say you have some womanly affliction, your father won’t ask too many questions if you do.”

“I can’t – and what about the others? If we don’t go it would be a monstrous affront to Lord Frey, he would never forgive or forget!”

“Have it your way then. Let your family travel but warn them. Tell them to be wary, keep their guard up. Not let their men to drink themselves senseless. Wear chainmail under their tunic at all times.”

“That I can do. And I promise I will be very careful as well.”

“You are not going. Do I have to break your legs myself? I’ll do it, if that’s the only thing to keep you from going.”

“My lord! How dare you?!”

“The little bird has found her talons, has she? Aye, I dare. Pass my caution to your father if they must go – but one slip of a girl in the wedding of that size and grandeur will not be missed. You will not offend anyone by not going.”

“But why? Why would you care whether I come or go?!”

“My reasons are my own. Now, I better move on. I have raised enough commotion here already with my questioning; the king is still after my hide and I rather keep it myself.”

“No you are not. You will come with me to meet my lord father and tell him all you just told me. If he believes you – and there is no reason why he shouldn’t – he might even offer you a position in his household. And if he does, you’ll accept it.”

“You think you can order me about, girl?”

“Of course not – but you said yourself that I have found my talons. It may not be very polite to tell you what to do, but neither is threatening to break someone’s legs.”

“Hells, but you’ll be the death of me yet!”

“I doubt it, but unless you come with me, I will go with my family to the Twins.”

“You don’t play fair, do you?”

“Are you coming? We better leave in all haste.”

Chapter Text

Act VI

SCENE: The North, Winterfell, the keep’s armoury.

The approaching twilight renders the large room full of shadows, the light of a single lantern illuminating only one of its corners. The stone walls are lined with shields, spears and swords hanging from crude metal hooks. Pieces of armour are carefully stacked along the long shelves built all around the room, metal gleaming dully where the light touches it. A simple wooden bench is resting against the far wall and on it sits the burned warrior, clad in loose tunic and breeches of a northern cut, sharpening a sword. His movements are steady and methodical, the stone swiping steel evenly in broad arcs, in steady rhythm. He is focussed on his task but stops every now and then to test the blade for sharpness with his calloused thumb, then continues.

At the other end of the room a small door leading outside opens slowly and the auburn-haired woman steps in. A flurry of snow flows in after her and a breeze makes the flame of the lantern to flicker, causing sharp shades of the hanging weapons to dance on the wall. She is dressed in an unadorned woollen dress and has a fur cloak tightly wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn’t seem to be wary of the man in the room and doesn’t try to hide her arrival.

The man looks up, freezes for a moment, then reluctantly gets up to his feet, setting the sword on the bench. He doesn’t move but waits for the woman to walk up to him, which she does. Just before she reaches him, she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders and raises her head defiantly to meet his stare.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“Didn’t know I was required to serve you with my presence, Lady Sansa.”

“Please don’t ‘Lady Sansa’ with me. Aren’t we past that already?”

“That is what you are, aren’t you? Lady of the House Stark that I serve, Sansa your name. Or will it soon be Lady Umber instead?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Greatjon and his son arrived yesterday, did they not? The whole keep knows what their business is. Smalljohn needs a wife and you need a husband. Doesn’t take a maester to work the two and two together.”

“-“

“So it is true. Then, you’ll be wed soon and ride to the Last Hearth with your lord. So it doesn’t matter whether I have been avoiding you or not. Besides, I have been busy. I have a mind to leave myself.”

“Leave?! Why – where?!”

“Somewhere south. The Starks have been good to me; Lord Eddard is a fine lord, I grant you that. But it is time for me to move on.”

“You can’t! You are needed here!”

“By whom?”

“By everyone! By me. Most of all me. It used to be so different, remember? When we first came back you used to spend time with me. I told you stories about Winterfell and the North, and you told me about your life.”

“That was then. Now is now.”

“Everything is changing, that much is true. Dark wings with dark words fly from the Wall, and Jon has been here twice to meet with father. It is something serious; old things beyond the Wall have been awakened, things from Old Nan’s stories.”

“Aye, something is afoot.”

“They all are worried; my lord father, Jon, Robb, even my mother. They don’t tell me what it is but I know it is bad.”

“No need for you to worry about something you can’t do anything about.”

“He wants to send us to safety to the Vale; my mother, Arya and me. The Eyrie is safe, they keep on saying.”

“The Vale? Are they fucking serious? You know that Littlefinger holds power there now?”

“Of course I know; he married my Aunt Lysa. He was always a close friend of family and now he is our kin for true. He will keep us safe.”

“Aye, he keeps himself safe that’s for sure. Baelish is up to his old tricks, I know it. He doesn’t care about that crazy aunt of yours, all he wants is power. And your father the fool is going to deliver the biggest prize into his hands just like that!”

“But he is kin!”

“Kin or not, he only cares about himself. Who do you think was ready to betray your father in King’s Landing? And your aunt listens to his whispers and does exactly as he tells her. The Vale may pretend to be neutral but Littlefinger serves whoever pays the highest price. And I suspect Lord Eddard can’t offer him as much as Lord Tywin can.”

“But what would he gain from us?”

“You’d be his pawns. Your mother at his mercy - finally. The honourable Lord Stark to do his bidding unless he wants to see his wife and daughters cruelly done by. Lord Tywin promising him whatever he wants for a chance to hold Lord Eddard by the balls. I can imagine how keen Littlefinger was to offer you his ‘hospitality’”.

“Well, as a matter of fact he was, but that’s only natural.”

“Listen to me girl; don’t go there. Besides, I saw the way how he looked at you in King’s Landing. He wants you for himself, just like he wanted your mother. Probably he wants you both, the sick fucker.’”

“But if my father decides to send us, I must.”

“Do I have threaten to break your legs all over again? You have said yourself that I saved your life before - one would imagine you’d trust me by now.”

“I do! I trust you, truly. But I am not making the decisions, and you know that.”

“Hmmmph! I will seek out Lord Eddard first thing in the morning. Mayhap he doesn’t know what vile creature Baelish is, ready to sell the hide of the Hand of the King when it served him well. If your father hadn’t left when he did after King Robert’s death, he would have learned that to his misfortune for sure. I’ll make sure he listens to what I have to say.”

“I know he will. He has always treated you fairly, hasn’t he? And as for how Lord Baelish used to look at me…I have seen you look at me too, lately.”

“Well, I don’t. If you happen to pass by me and I notice, is that a crime?”

“No it is not and you do look. I look at you too, have you noticed?”

“-“

“So you have. It makes you feel odd, perhaps? I know it is unladylike, and I know I shouldn’t be here telling you these things, but sometimes I get tired of being a perfect lady. I don’t know what is going to happen but I am sure that things are about to change. World is not going to be the same as before, and if I wish for happiness, it is up to me to get it. My parents mean well, but they don’t know my heart.”

“Fly away, little bird. You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I do. And so do you. I have already declined the proposal from House Umber, although I am aware that my parents looked upon it favourably. They asked me why would I do such a thing and then…then I knew.”

“Go away, don’t get any closer.”

“But I must. I can’t help it.”

“Shush! You don’t know the dangers of the game you are playing!”

“I am not playing any games - and I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Hells girl, don’t touch me or I swear you’ll regret it. There’s a limit for me too and you are just about to cross it!”

“I can’t.”

“Fuck it!”

---------- 

“...mmmm… I have never been kissed like this …”

“Hells!”

“Don’t go…”

“Believe me, it is going to be worse if one of us doesn’t leave right now.”

“I don’t care. I want it to be worse.”

“You have no notion of what it is that you say.”

“I do, at least a little. Please, hold me.”

“Are you mad, girl? Would you spoil yourself with a dog?”

“I don’t see it that way. I will not be spoiled by you, you can’t spoil me! Only people who want to hurt me could do it, and you are not like that!”

“Sansa…”

“Please…”

*sounds of heavy breathing, slam of two bodies against the wall*

“Oh, we can’t, not here!”

“Seven fucking hells! I warned you, didn’t I? I told you to go away, did I not?”

“It is not that, just - not here. Somebody could walk in at any time.“

“Not here, not anywhere. I am not doing that to you.”

“Hush. Maybe we can meet again tomorrow night in the abandoned rooms in the Broken Tower, after the keep has gone to sleep? If you want?”

“If I want?! Bloody hells, I should ride out this very night if I know what’s best for me. And never look back.”

“But you do know what is best for both of us! This is not a frivolous thing, this is what I truly want. And if we… I know I could get my parents to approve… with the way the world is going.”

“Still head in the clouds, eh? If I as much as touch you, Lord Eddard is going to skin me alive.”

“No he won’t, you are much too valuable for him – and for me. But we don’t have to do anything …irreversible. Please, meet me tomorrow night!”

*deep sigh*

“Seven hells! I’ll come, little bird. I knew that you’ll be the death of me yet – but I’ll come.”

Chapter Text

Act VII

SCENE: The North, Winterfell, a small corner chamber in the family quarters.

It is dark outside, but inside the room several torches line the wall and many candles crowd the shelves and tables making the room bright as day. It is warm and humid, the warm walls of the ancient fortress ensconcing the occupants in its warm embrace. The room is in disarray with clothes and rags been strewn about, buckets and wash basins on the floor. An opened chest rests on the table, its contents spilling out of it as carelessly rummaged through; metal utensils, needles, wooden spatulas, jars full of various greenish and brown liquids and leather pouches tied with a string. A bloodied sheet lays on the floor crumpled and forgotten.

The large bed in the middle of the room is piled with more sheets and blankets and the auburn-haired woman rests buried under them. Her face is contorted and unnaturally pale, lines of exhaustion showing clear against the almost translucent skin. Her long hair is tangled and unkempt. She clutches the edge of a blanket in a hard grip.

An old man with grey hair and beard stands in the middle of the room and watches the woman. His brow is furrowed and he rubs the bridge of his nose wearily. Two women dressed in simple dresses and aprons hurry around the room carrying buckets, linen, cups half-filled with potions, handfuls of herbs; both of them with downcast eyes and tearstained cheeks.

The woman in the bed raises her hand, feebly, but that is enough for the old man to rush to her side. The woman says something and gestures towards the door, and after a moment the old man nods, gets up and ushers the others out of the room to the corridor with him.

Hardly have they let when the burned warrior enters from the same door and stops to stare at the bed and the woman in it. He stays like that for a while, the expression on his face a mixture of despair and fury, and then something else shining through those hard grey eyes - hopelessness. He is dressed haphazardly in a motley of mismatching clothes and snow-covered furs, wrinkled and in disarray, as if he had been sleeping in them for the last several nights or ridden hard through wintery woods – or both. Yet the deep lines in the corners of his eyes suggest lack of sleep, hollow cheeks lack of food. He sways slightly on his feet before collecting himself and taking the few steps that take him next to the bed. He kneels on the floor and places his large hands on the woman’s shoulders, touching her gently. The woman turns her face towards him and whispers something, the burned man lending his ear right next to her mouth. 

“Sandor…”

“Yes, little bird? The maester said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes… I did… I want to -”

“Hush, don’t strain yourself. You need all your strength to recover. We can talk later.”

“There won’t be ‘later’ - I am not a fool. My lifeblood is draining away from me and I don’t have much time.”

“Fuck that! Don’t even say such thing! The maester will –“

“He has done his best but… I’m so weak…”

“You can’t leave me like this, girl! Can’t leave us!”

“You saw him? He is perfect, isn’t he?”

“He wants his mother, that’s what he needs. You can’t just bring him into this word and leave! Leave him and our girls – and me.”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything. Whatever you want.’

“Don’t hate him for…this. It is not his fault. He is just a babe and sometimes these things happen.”

“I couldn’t –“

“You remember how Lord Tywin hated Tyrion because of his wife? And how it made both of them bitter? I don’t want that for my son…our son… Promise!”

“How could I forget this? Every time when I look at him I’ll remember how he came to life from your blood. Especially if you…”

“You can. You must. Love him – you are all he has.”

“Little bird…”

“PROMISE!”

“Aye, I promise. I will not hate the boy. I will love him, as his mother.”

“You will get over this, I know you will. You are so strong.”

“Not for this. My strength is fucking useless for any of this!”

“You know what is odd? As bad as it is, I am not afraid when you are here with me.”

“There was a time when you were afraid of me, remember?”

“That was long, long time ago. I was foolish then. How could I ever…”

“You were right. I was a maiden’s nightmare, then. You were not foolish but wise to be wary of me.”

“Hold me now and kiss me – like you kissed me the first time in the armoury. Do you remember?”

“Bloody hells, do I? The best thing in my whole sodden life!”

“Even better than the first time we lay together?”

“Now you are teasing me, girl.”

“Maybe I am… Mmmmmmm… kiss me again…”

“Shhhhh. Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

“Sandor?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you have any regrets?”

“What kind of a fucking question is that? No! Do you?”

“No. No regrets at all. It has been perfect… better than I ever dreamed. Just… I should have asked you to come with us earlier – to have more time with you.”

“We are here now. You and me, together for long time - and with our children.”

----------

“I am cold. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Shhh…”

“Promise me…”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“When the children are old enough, settle in the new lands up North. They are Starks but also Cleganes and deserve their own house. And you… you would have stayed here for me, I know, but now… You are your own man. Have always been.”

“Nonsense, I stopped being my own man since I had you, and you know it.”

“I couldn’t bear for you to leave across the sea with our children – they belong to the North. Establish a new house, you its first lord and our son after you. You should wed again…”

“And whom should I marry? Who could I even think of after having you, not to say who’d have me? No, no marriage for me. I have loved one woman well and she is all I need. Ad I’ll never be a lord and you know that well.”

“If not you, then he…and he and his wife will fill the keep with children.”

“Hush, just lay still.”

“Tell him about me, and how I loved him when he was just a smooth swell of my belly. Tell him…”

“I will tell him all about his mother, the finest woman in the whole Seven Kingdoms. I swear.”

“If it pleases you, you could raise a small memorial for the hound and the little bird in your new home… to tell our story when we are both gone…”

“I will commission the finest statue the craftsmen in the North can make. A beautiful little bird and an ugly hound.”

“Not ugly…just different.”

“Sssshhhhh…”

“I am not afraid, not really. Just that I can’t feel anything. My feet are not there anymore, and my hands…”

“Sansa?”

“-“

“Sansa!?!”

 “-“

“Your face – it’s so cold.”

“-“

“FUCK!”

EPILOGUE

SCENE: The North, The Hound’s Keep, the inner courtyard just in front of a small stone building.

A cold winter’s day drops a soft flurry of snow on the ground, the surface of the newly fallen snow sparkling in bright sunshine. The courtyard is full of activity; men, women and children going to-and-fro between the buildings, dogs barking and horses neighing. A progression of fully laden wagons is leaving through the large front gate in a high palisade, carts filled with wooden barrels, bales of furs and assorted chests and boxes. The front of the long train is already turning at the fork of the road towards the South while the last carts are still inside the keep. The road is well used and wide, the other fork leading straight up to the North, a group of fur-clad wildlings approaching the keep from that direction. They carry bundles of tightly packed pelts on their shoulders, their steps hastening at the sight of their destination. Smell of freshly cut timber permeates the air, wafting from newly built sheds and warehouses outside the palisades.

The burned warrior, noticeable aged, sits on a low seat in front of a bronze sculpture of a fierce hound. The dog is a big black monster with half its face marked with deep burn scars, and on its shoulder perches a little bird, its beak fearlessly turned towards the bare teeth in the hound’s growling mouth. Behind the statue is a small windowless stone building with only one small door at its front, sealed shut. The door is made of thick northern wood and on it are engraved the sigils of House Stark and House Clegane.

The man’s hair and eyebrows are grey and bushy and his beard is almost white – where it grows on that burned face. Once powerful shoulders have stooped and lost much of their former strength, and yet his stance is serene and his posture erect. A dog – a beast not unlike the one depicted in the statue – rests on his feet and every now and then the man scratches its ear almost absentmindedly, the dog leaning towards its master.

For the longest time the old man stares at the statue, then abandons the dog and reaches up to trace the outlines of the little bird with his gnarled but still enormous hand. He smiles quietly to himself, deep creases forming at the corners of his grey eyes.

A young man at the prime of his youth steps into the courtyard from the keep. He is the spitting image of the old man bar his colouring – dark auburn hair and blue eyes - and his stature is tall and strong. By his side walks a woman who carries herself proudly despite her advanced state of pregnancy, and after them, two women. Both of them bear a striking resemblance to the auburn haired women who died in the bed of blood, long time ago. Before any of them reaches the old man, three young children run past them; two boys and a girl, various combinations of auburn and black hair, blue and grey eyes.

The boys run towards the burned man shouting and laughing, the girl giggling and trying to keep up with her brothers, not giving up. The old man raises his head and turns towards the commotion – and smiles again.

THE END