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Dark wings, dark words Sansa grew up hearing those words over and over again, leaving the lips of her lord father and her lady mother, yet she learnt that it wasn’t only dark the color of gloom words and since she lived in King’s Landing, she started to associate it with the immaculate white of the Kingsguard more often than not.
It was unfair, since white had always been the color of the snow, of the sigil of house Stark and, undeniably, of Home. And yet she was starting to see how unfair life was, when the words of Joffrey echoed through the Hill of Baelor. She would have preyed on the Seven and the Old Gods to meet dark wing because they would have brought news from Winterfell instead of the white, ghostly shapes which were knocking at her door.

She bit her lower lip, trying to make herself presentable. It was sad how she was getting good at it, pretending that she wasn’t hurting, being the perfect lady she had always wished to be because otherwise they would have called her a traitor. All for the person who killed her own father.
Her only hope was that the Queen still loved her, and since Cersei said Joffrey did too, she tried to repeat that it must have been true. She knew better, but she didn’t dare to think about it. She must be strong.

The door swung open and there he was, her prince, her king, now, wrapped in crimson and golden, his long, wavy hair kept together away from his lovely and cruel face by his crown. He looked beautiful and terrible, and Sansa hated herself because she couldn’t help a blush growing on her cheeks at the idea that he went looking for her. She knew better, and yet…

She also was aware that he would have never accepted anything but the perfect ladylike behavior coming from her. So she kneeled, her eyes not leaving his face while she tried not to shiver away at the image of the members of the Kingsguard who were with the king. Weirdly, the only one she wasn’t afraid of was the Hound, because he was the only one who never hit her. It would have been funny to think about it, if only it wasn’t so frightening.

“Your Grace,” She whispered and, apparently, for that day it seemed to be enough, because Joffrey’s hand was extended toward her and he smiled and for some instant it was difficult for Sansa to remember why she was so afraid of him.

“My Lady, I’ve something to show you, come,” He said, and while he sounded oh so gallant, she was well aware that it wasn’t a request but an order, one she had no possibility to refuse. And it didn’t matter that she was well aware that whatever was expecting her wouldn't have been pleasant, one simple glance at the members of the Kingsguard who were tasked with trailing Joffrey was enough for her to bow slightly and follow him outside.

She was surprised when he started to walk toward the deep bowels of the Red Keep. She had never thought about the idea of being thrown in the dungeons, but now she thought about how stupid she had been to deny that was a possibility all together. Of course, whatever the Queen and Joffrey said couldn’t be trusted, what happened on Baelor’s HIll was enough to prove which was the worth of their words. Joffrey had no love left for her, if he ever loved her at all, and now there she was, trying to take the smallest steps as possible while she couldn’t help but walk behind the King, the fear of one of the longswords poking at her back too frightening for her to stay back.

It didn’t take long before the darkness completely swallowed them, the only light the shy flame of a torch held by one of the White Cloaks. She wanted to focus on what she could see of their faces, hidden by their helms, but everything was blurred in front of her blue eyes but for Joffrey’s golden cape. He was saying something, or so Sansa thought, but she didn’t seem to be able to hear the words. She felt as if she was underwater. She was shaking, and every step she took seemed to be more and more difficult, her own body starting to feel as heavy as leed.

Someone bumped into her and Sansa fell on the ground, she must have yelled, even if she bit into her lower lip until she could feel the metallic taste of blood to avoid getting Joffrey’s attention on her. She had never been able to be invisible, not even when she needed to, and she was now envying that ability of Arya. It was weird, how many things she despised of her younger sister back when they were still in Winterfell, things which were so Arya’s that now she wished to have paid more attention to, to learn from.
And there, on the dusty floor of one of the paths which led to the deeper part of the Black Cells, she realized that she missed her little sister, maybe more than she was ready to admit.

She tried not to cry, her mind barely registering the fact that Joffrey and the Knights of the Kingsguard must have stopped because the light of the torch was now closer to her than it had been while they were walking. She wondered what would have happened if they didn’t realize she had fallen on the ground. Would the King have moved on, leaving her alone in the dark but, at least, free to run back in the Red Keep? Sansa doubted that, but it was almost pleasant to think it would have been a possibility.

A strong hand wrapped around her arm, tugging her up back on her feet in a way which wasn’t completely unkind and another one positioned itself under her armpit, helping her up. She knew her gown was probably a mess and she was feeling her hands stinging where they crushed against the floor to stop her fall, but she didn’t busy herself cleaning either and only bit stronger on her lower lip, trying to push the tears back. The knight’s hands were still on her, but she didn’t dare to look at the person who helped her. A part of Sansa was sure it was not out of kindness, but maybe to prevent both her and the man to be scolded by Joffrey who was now grinning as if he was feeding off Sansa’s pure terror.

When he spoke, he made sure she was looking at him. “We are not far, don’t worry, my Lady”

She wanted to ask him where he was leading her, or how not far they were from where, but she knew better than doing so much so she simply nodded, moving one step forward and hoping against hope that would have been enough for Joffrey. He stepped in front of her, almost making her lose her balance once again. “Are you not going to thank me for the gift I’m about to give you?”

That was enough to make her blood run cold: she learnt what kind of gifts usually came with Joffrey, but she also knew that she couldn’t refuse him what he wanted, so she casted her eyes down on the ground and hoped to sound as defeated as she could when she said: “I don’t deserve any kind of gift from you, your Grace, but I’m grateful you thought of me.”

It didn’t matter that she hated each of the words she forced out of her mouth, it didn’t matter that she didn’t want anything more than push Joffrey on the ground even if it would have changed nothing, she needed to keep reciting the part, if she wanted to survive The point was, did she want to?

Joffrey didn’t let her time to think about that, and of this, she was weirdly glad. Even if that meant having to drag her feet following Joffrey down the steep corridor. This time, the White Cloak who helped her up kept his hand on her shoulder, pushing her slightly as if he was trying to prevent her from falling again. She had no idea if it was to help her or to prevent Joffrey’s outburst, but the two things started to sound extremely similar in Sansa’s mind.

And then the King stopped in front of one of the cells. They weren’t in the deepest part of the dungeons, but still it was deep enough for it to be completely dark and empty of every guard. That didn’t help to ease any of Sansa’s worries to get gifted new rooms down there, where she could smell the hard ground and the humidity of the air. She looked at the thick wooden door in front of them. There was only a small gate in the upper part of it, making it impossible to see what was hidden inside, but the young Stark girl knew she wouldn’t like it from the wicked smile plastered on Joffrey’s lips.

“Give me the keys,” He ordered to one of his Kingsguard who was busying himself with the lock of the cell. Apparently, he wasn’t being rapid enough or all the young King wanted to do was to be the one to push Sansa inside of the room, she couldn’t tell, and wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.
As long as the door would have been closed, she could deny what was going to be her fate.

“I want you to be the first one to know - He continued, as she heard the lock swinging back in the otherwise absolute silence of the dungeons. - After my mother, of course, but she’s been the one to tell me.”

He took the torch from the knight’s hand and grabbed a handful of Sansa’s sleeve, as if he was barely able to wait the time needed for the door to swing open before pushing her inside. She didn’t fall only because the room the door opened in was so small she managed to steady herself against the wall while Joffrey placed the torch on a rack she couldn’t see in the pitch black cell.
She let her eyes take in as much as she could of what she was sure was going to be her new room to the point where she almost didn’t notice when Joffrey stalked closer.

The cell was just long enough for a man to lie down, and barely wider. In one of the corners there was a bed made of straw and a bucket, on the opposite corner she could see some chains and a mass of rugs, and that was about everything there was to take in. Sansa couldn’t help the shiver which ran down her back, and while the room was cold, that wasn’t the reason.

“I can’t wait for everyone to know,” Joffrey said, pointing at the mass of rugs. Sansa had no idea what he wanted to show everyone, not until the rugs moved and she could see a mop of auburn curls she would have recognized everywhere.

And her world shattered.

Her knees gave up the moment she saw Tully blue eyes glaring at the King.

“Leave her alone!” Robb roared, moving to get on his feet while the chains didn’t allow him even that much. Joffrey laughed, throwing his golden hair back in a cascade of soft waves, but Sansa didn’t care, she couldn’t help to take her eyes off her brother’s.

She dreamt of meeting Robb once again, she dreamt of him marching into King’s Landing and presenting her Joffrey’s head on a silver platter, Grey Wind by his side, in his white and gray armor with a crown in his hair. And now she saw he couldn’t save her. He couldn’t be her prince like they played so many times when they were just children, nobody would have come for her.

“Robb…” She whispered, her voice thin and weak, not even daring to look up at him because she knew the tears would have finally found their way to her eyes and she didn’t want to cry in front of Joffrey. Still, she reached with her hand to wrap around Robb’s chained one.

“I’m sorry,” Robb answered, he was whispering, and Sansa could understand why, but she could also tell his voice was rough, as if he didn’t drink in a long time and what he said to Joffrey took away all of the voice he had left.

There were many things she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t, not when the King was in the same room. Not when she realized that nobody would have come for them. Not when all of what was left of their family were Bran and Rickon. But there were so many things she needed to know, and so many things she needed to tell Robb and then she could have allowed herself to cry. She moved closer; somehow, now that they were down there, it seemed like Joffrey wasn’t paying her any attention, as if his only interest was to break her and leave her in pieces. Sure, he was staring at them, that wicked grin only getting wider and bigger, but he didn't say anything and his Kingsguard stayed outside.
Robb, bound like that to the stone wall at his back, wasn’t any threat and Sansa had never posed one even if a part of her wanted to get on her feet and push the torch against Joffrey’s face and melt that ugly smirk off of it. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but it would have been something

When Robb realized what she was trying to do, he tugged at her hand, still between his, until their chests were pushed together. “I’m sorry - He whispered, once again, this time against her cheek. - I should have protected you, I should have…”

Sansa felt heavy tears running down her cheeks, her arms wrapping around Robb’s torso as far as the chains allowed her. She had no idea how long she would have been allowed to stay there, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She knew she had a part to play, she knew what she had to say. And a part of her hoped that if she played her part Joffrey would have allowed her to come back. So she bit once again her lower lip and, despite it being the last thing she wanted to say, she made sure everyone in the cell and outside of her would have been able to hear her words: “You should have listened and do as I wrote you to.”

She held him closer, hoping he would understand and so that she couldn’t see the betrayal which was probably taking over her brother’s face, but while he didn’t say anything she froze in his weird hug. She knew she was shaking, she could almost feel her teeth shattered, but she had to be brave, she had to pretend she was loyal to Joffrey. Because, maybe, then she would have been allowed to meet him alone, maybe even before Joffrey paraded him in front of the entire court.
She stopped to fool herself about the fact that having Robb in the Black Cells would have meant anything different from his head adorning the Red Keep just like their father’s was. But maybe she could… do something. What, she had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, into her brother’s ear, before pushing herself back. Robb’s hand squeezed her wrist as if he was trying to keep her from getting away, but a moment later she turned her eyes toward Joffrey. She knew they were swollen and red and filled with tears, but maybe that was what he wanted to see. Maybe she could please him enough. She needed to be smart. She needed to be strong, even if it meant saying something she would have regretted. “Why are you bringing me to my traitor brother? Is this a way to test my loyalty?”

Sansa could feel herself shake, could feel the stinging of her reddened eyes and the stickiness of the tears on her cheeks. And she could feel her heart break while she said those words, but if she learnt something about Joffrey was that he was mostly blind to the things he didn’t want to see. And he wanted to see Sansa’s reaction to the news he just delivered her, he wanted to see her break and fall into pieces. He wasn’t expecting her to behave like she was and that caught him off guard enough for him not to notice the thin mask she was wearing.

He didn’t have an answer for that, because the pain Sansa was showing was different, deeper inside of her soul, but not so evident on her face, secret and hidden. And maybe secret and hidden would have given her a chance.
The King nodded, but it was clear that he wasn’t satisfied. Still, he wouldn't admit what he really had wanted, not in front of so many people, maybe not in front of Robb. So she held his glance, cleaning the dust off of her skirts and waited for Joffrey to turn, leaving the cell. Only when she was sure he couldn’t see her, she dared to look at Robb. The room was once again almost completely dark, but she could see the brightness of his eyes and she really hoped she could see the silent promise in her own eyes, the promise to come back soon.

**

Sansa was almost surprised to realize she had been given the possibility to walk around the Red Keep as long as she was with a member of the Kingsguard and didn’t meet with the other Lords and Ladys at court. She had not expected that, and especially not as a consequence of what happened a few days before in the Black Cells.

She didn’t want to dare too much, but the day Sandor Clegane knocked on her door telling her that he would have shadowed her for the day she wondered if she could at least try what she had been thinking about for a while, by now. Since she left Robb’s cell.
Why the Lannisters didn’t parade him through the streets of King’s Landing to take his head was a mystery she wasn’t so eager to solve, but that gave her a little bit more time. She needed to talk to Robb, and she needed to send a raven to whoever could help them.

It was weird how she realized she had been dumb trusting Joffrey and Cresei when they told her the King loved her but, at the same time, it was even weird how her mind was trying to rush through something which she had no idea about how to call.

“I’d like to see Princess Myrcella,” She told the knight. Clegane looked at her as if she had just grown a second head, but didn’t say anything. It was clear that he found the request bizarre, even if there wasn’t a real reason for it. Sansa and Myrcella had grown closer while they were in Winterfell and even if they didn’t talk a lot since Sansa arrived in King’s Landing there wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t have seen her.

The man looked as if he was thinking about what instructions he had been given and after a moment it seemed like it was a request he could accept and escorted her outside of the Princess’s chambers.

Sansa wondered if she was doing the right move but, on the other hand, it felt like she didn’t have any other options. So she smiled at herself while she nodded and, a moment later, the door opened to show the kind face of Princess Myrcella. She didn’t even flinch in front of Clegane’s face but, Sansa guessed, she had seen it for her entire life. Instead, her surprise at her presence on her door was evident in her deep emerald eyes.

“Lady Sansa,” She said, a bright smile on her lips as she moved to the side, letting her in. “I didn’t expect you.”

Sansa looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry to bother you, Princess.”

The reaction was almost immediate and exactly what the older girl had expected: Myrcella’s cheeks colored a deep shade of pink and she chewed on her lower lip before immediately excusing herself: “That’s not what I meant. I’d quite enjoy the company.”

Sansa nodded once and stepped into the room, Clegane just behind her. Myrcella didn’t ask him to leave, but Sansa wasn’t hoping that much. She had to admit there was something comical in seeing the extremely tall man witness the two girls’ chirping about life at court, and Sansa could admit the Princess wasn't the worst company to spend time with, certainly better than her brother. When neither of them had anything else to talk about, the Stark girl excused herself, promising Myrcella they’d meet again the next morning. She didn’t get to talk about Robb with her, but she knew better than rush things and while she didn’t know how long, she knew she had time.

It didn’t take many days until it became a sort of daily task for Sansa to visit Princess Myrcella either in her chambers or in the gardens. She was glad that neither Joffrey or the Queen summoned her and if it wasn’t for the Kingsguard always following her, she’d almost be able to convince herself nothing had changed since she first arrived in King’s Landing, even if she knew she couldn’t let her mind play that kind of game. Myrcella was kind and nice to talk to, but Sansa wouldn’t have allowed herself to call her a friend. Even if she seemed to be barely able to stand Joffrey’s constant bugging, too.

She knew that the pace was only momentarily, though. Every morning, when she opened her eyes, she wondered if that was going to be the day the King was going to take Robb’s head and she knew she had to try to do something. She also knew there were only two possible outcomes: she either succeeded or they both would have been dead. But maybe that was better: what reasons did she have to live when all the people she ever cared about were either dead, prisoners or disappeared?

Her family didn’t need her, she sided with the Lannisters when they killed her own father. What right did she have to survive when everyone was dying because of her?

“Sansa?” Myrcella’s voice reached her through her foggy mind. That day, they were in the gardens. Mycella sent her maids away the moment the young Stark girl arrived but there wasn’t anything new in that: the Princess preferred for the two of them to be alone and Sansa was grateful for that. But now her emerald eyes were filled with worry and she could feel soft fingers brushing against her wrist, as if to be sure she was there.

Sansa blinked, trying to focus on the young girl’s face. “Yes, Princess?”

“I asked you if you’d rather have Ser Greenfield leave us alone for some moments,” She sounded extremely casual about it and it took Sansa some moments to realize the man was the member of the Kingsguard who was escorting her that day.
She didn’t have an opinion on him. He never talked to her except when it was impossible to stay silent or to bark her orders, but he never shied away when Joffrey ordered him to hit her. She was prone to think it was only because he was scared of the king’s reaction if he refused, though.

If that question would have come from everyone else, Sansa would have thought it was a trap, to see if she really was loyal to Joffrey and his mother, but Myrcella was different. The Princess wasn’t scared of Joffrey and didn’t mind speaking openly against him when Sansa was the only audience she had.
Still, she would have been too naive to answer eagerly at her request, so she just shrugged in her shoulders before saying: “If you think it to be appropriate, Princess.”

Myrcella nodded, a bright smile on her lips before excusing herself. Sansa looked at the princess talk with the knight and, a moment later, he bowed and walked back inside of the Red Keep, looking over his shoulder as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, but not wanting to disobey a direct order from his Princess.

“Finally,” The blonde girl said, once she reached Sansa once again. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for days, and I can’t postpone it now.”

Sans looked at her, a cold feeling of fear making its way up her spine. She thought about the last meetings she had with Myrcella. She was better than the Stark girl to pretend, but even Sansa noticed there was something off, her smiles looked less sincere, her words more calculated, and her usually joyful tone was softer when it was just the two of them. She didn’t notice it up to that point because she guessed growing up at court made one better at hiding those little changes.

But now that she saw it, she was terrified. Still, Myrcella didn’t let her time to say anything before continuing: “I wasn’t sure until mother asked for us all to break out fast together this morning, but I’ve heard voices. When Uncle Jaime came back from the Riverlands, he brought back a prisoner…”

“Robb,” Sansa couldn’t help but say, and maybe another person would have felt a bit of satisfaction when the princess’s eyes went as big as saucers at the realization that she already knew, but the Stark girl couldn’t help to enjoy Myrcella’s company so she didn’t. “Your brother brought me to see him almost a month ago. I don’t know -”

There were many things she didn’t know, many ways that sentence could end. She wasn’t sure which one she wanted to use, and was glad that she didn’t need to pick any because her blonde friend nodded at that. “He was waiting for our grandfather to reach King’s Landing, but he sent Uncle Tyrion instead.”

It made sense, Joffrey would have taken Robb’s head with as many witnesses as possible, and the Hand of the King must have been present. She had no idea about how things would go on now, and a part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. “I haven’t been made privy of what happened to your brother’s army or your mother, but I know my grandfather is fighting the Ironborn or so the maids have said.”

Sansa nodded, it wasn’t like anything of what Myrcella said was new or useful, she heard the same voices even if she was not allowed to speak with other Lords and Ladies at court since it wasn’t like Joffrey could do anything to stop the nobles who wanted to talk to her or about her family when she was walking by, but having the confirmation warmed a bit her heart. Especially if she thought about the fact that if Tywin Lannister was busy fighting the Ironborns maybe Theon was safe. She would have needed to ask Robb how things went down during the battle, but still, Sansa was going to take any good news she could get her hands on.

And she knew she had to be careful in what saying next, but she also knew that maybe that was the opportunity she had been waiting for all along when she first asked Clegane to bring her to Myrcella’s chambers. She wasn’t sure such a chance would have presented itself again. She just really hoped she didn’t misjudge the Princess all along.

“I’ve something to ask you,” She dared, her eyes focusing on the younger girl. “I’d like to talk to my brother and I know the guards would never allow it, not without Joff’s order but…”

“You want me to bring you to his cell,” Myrcella finished for her. She was smart, more than pretty much everyone at court gave her credit for. Sansa appreciated that in the Baratheon girl more than she would have admitted out loud. Because being smart and cunning wasn’t considered a quality a lady must possess, let alone a princess. “I can do it, but not now. Meet me in the kitchens after sunset.”

She didn’t let Sansa the opportunity to say anything and a moment later she stepped back, turning toward the colonnade which led back inside of the Red Keep. Sansa followed her without a word, and Sir Greenfield was waiting for them next to the door. Maybe he was the reason why the princess cut their meeting short.

**

When she got out of her rooms, once the sun completely disappeared behind the hills west of King’s Landing, Sansa was surprised to notice that there was no member of the Kingsguard outside of her door She suspected whoever was supposed to control her went to have his dinner and deemed it safe enough to leave Sansa to her own devices until her supper was served by one of the maids.

That didn’t mean that she wasn’t scared. She only had a vague idea of where the kitchens were and she didn’t think about taking a cloak from the chest of her clothes so whoever walked in the hallways might have seen the young Stark trying not to be noticed making her way toward the lowest levels of the castle.
Eventually, she found herself following from some distance one of the servant girls and, after a while of wandering around, she found herself swarmed in the busy aisle she really hoped would have led her where she was supposed to go.

The kitchens were too hot and filled with so many people and smells that nobody would have noticed that she wasn’t supposed to be there and Sansa almost didn’t notice the princess who dragged her behind a corner.

“Come,” She said, and then the two girls were off toward a door Sansa hadn’t noticed coming the same way. She had no idea why there was an entrance to the dungeons from the kitchen, but she suspected it might be useful when they had to bring food to the prisoners, if someone bothered. The alternative wasn’t something she liked to think about so she just nodded once, letting Myrcella drag her through the narrow path.

She didn't even have any idea if it was the same Joffrey had her take. While she had been scared out of her mind when she was walking down that path with the King, she was weirdly starting to trust his sister and the girl tried to chatter with her all the way until they reached the point where torches were needed to see what was in front of them. From deeper inside of the cells, she could hear people talking and she was only glad that there weren’t bars like in the cells in Winterfell and nobody could see them. From the amount of different voices, though, she could say which way the war was going and she didn’t like it even in the slightest.

A part of her wanted to try and recognize some of the voices, another knew better. There was still hope until the people who knew about Robb’s whereabouts were fewer than she expected.

“We’ll need some light,” Myrcella whispered and Sansa wondered if she too was trying to make their presence unknown to whomever might be down there. “Joffrey is having dinner with the Lords and my mother and uncle are with him, but they can’t know I’m not in my rooms.”

Sansa didn’t know how to answer that but looked at how the Princess moved deeper down in the labyrinth of cells and steep passages and decided that she didn’t want to be left behind, especially when they found a corridor lighted dimly but a torch which Myrcella asked her to take. A moment later, the one of the flames was the only comforting source of light they had in the pitch black mess of the Black Cells.

She didn’t recognize the hallway or the door in front of which Myrcella stopped, but a key was produced in the princess’s hand and she realized she didn’t even care how she might have had it. A part of her wanted to remember to ask the other girl, once their escapade was over, but the majority of heer being didn’t even care, not when the door swung open and Robb raised his eyes on the newcomers.

Unlike the previous time, her brother wasn’t on the floor. His hands were still chained together and to the wall at his back but he was allowed to move up and down the narrow cell and it was what he was doing. The rugs he had been wrapped in were in the same corner he had occupied before and, for how Sansa could see - which wasn’t a lot despite the warm light of the torch - everything else was unmutated.

“Sansa…?” He asked, as if he just saw a ghost, noticing a moment later the person behind her. His eyes, already impossibly wide in surprise, got even wider. “Princess?”

Myrcella nodded, just once. “I’ll leave you two for a while. But first, I’ve got an answer from your Lady Mother.”

And she produced a thin piece of paper from her skirts. Sansa was only partly aware of the fact that she was probably looking like an idiot. She stood there, her eyes going from the unexpected help she found in the Princess and her brother who was reading whatever their mother sent to Myrcella. She remembered her telling the Stark girl she didn’t know what happened to her mother just that afternoon.

Robb looked at Myrcella, gratefulness in his huge eyes as he read what Catelyn wrote and then felt like he had to give an explanation to his sister because he dragged her in his arms, holding her closer as Sansa sobbed into the crook of his neck. She could smell each of the days Robb had been a prisoner in the Black Cells on him, but she didn’t care. “What…?”

Her eyes went on Myrcella’s, but the princess didn’t give any sign of wanting to answer the unspoken question. She stepped back, getting outside of the cell, giving the two siblings the illusion of privacy. The door stayed open and while Sansa would have thought suspiciously of that in any other occasion, she knew it was a sign that the blonde girl wouldn’t have closed her inside of the dungeons.

Robb moved so that they could look at each other and for the first time since she left Winterfell she felt home. It wasn’t perfect and he was a prisoner, but there was something, in knowing he was there, in knowing Myrcella was helping, which filled Sansa’s heart with a feeling she had long forgotten: hope.

And when, what felt like hours later, she had to leave the cell in which Robb was still prisoner, she was aware that, maybe, things would have changed, at some point. She didn’t ask him about what plans he might have, and he didn’t tell, but there was no doubt in the existence of those, she just had to trust him and be brave.