Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/342518.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Myranda_Royce, Petyr_Baelish, Sandor_Clegane, Mya_Stone
  Additional Tags:
      Future_Fic, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-18 Words: 5348
****** Let Them Know a Better Day ******
by girloficeandfire
Summary
     Sansa has lost herself in Alayne Stone...or so she thinks. Still,
     when an old acquaintance arrives in the Vale she has quite the tangle
     of "yes-no-maybe-I don't know" feelings...
     (Originally a sansaxsandor LJ commentfic response to the prompt:
     "Since there are so many stories of Sansa seducing Sandor, I want
     Sansa to be the one with "a tangle of yes-no-maybe-I don't know
     feelings." Given the world she lives in, her own slightly deranged
     state of mind, and the ways and aims for which she has been raised...
     it just makes sense.")
Notes
     DISCLAIMER: Of course I own none of this and am just extrapolating on
     the wonderful world that GRRM has created :)
They arrived during the dinner hour on the second day of the storm.

When the servant came to find Lord Petyr, he listened intently for a moment and
then waved the man off. "Apparently I have some unexpected business to attend
to," he announced. "Continue with your dinner. Alayne, daughter, would you
accompany me?"

She set down her fork and stood, placing her hand on her father's arm as he
strode from the hall. "Is everything all right, father?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. It is merely some wandering brothers of the faith, come to beg for
food I'm sure. I thought you would do well to see how I handle them. We must
help where we can in times like these, but it would not do to be too generous.
You understand?"

Alayne nodded. Her father had a kindly smile about his lips at the moment, but
his eyes were as cold and empty as usual. She wondered if their visitors would
see this as well.

The group of men were all clothed in brown roughspun robes as befit their lot
in life. There were ten of them, though two seemed in dire straits and were
being carried by the biggest, a brother of six and a half feet at least. One of
the weak was clinging to the large man's back, the other cradled like a baby in
his arms. Though the large brother's face was hidden by a hood and the cloths
wrapped around his face to keep him warm, Alayne could sense his frustration at
being made to wait while the men suffered in his arms. When her father finally
spoke she looked to him.

"Brothers. You have had a long and difficult journey from the Quiet Isle, I'd
wager. This storm should not be taken lightly. I will have my servants prepare
quarters for you and bring you food. We can talk on the morrow, but I do
suggest you stay here at the Gates of the Moon until the snow has abated. They
could last as long as a sennight and I do not think you would be able to make
it all the way back to Saltpans in this weather."

"This is most gracious of you, my lord," spoke one of the brothers, apparently
their leader of a sort. "Two of our men have need of a maester, I fear, but
that, food and shelter is all we need for now."

Lord Petyr nodded and beckoned to the servant who had fetched him from dinner.
Alayne heard him mumble a few commands into the man's ear, and then her
father's hand was on the small of her back as he said "I will call for you
tomorrow morning after I have broken my fast." He guided her from the hall, but
Alayne tossed one more curious glance at the brothers before she and Lord Petyr
turned a corner and they were gone from sight.

"I think you should stay in your chambers this evening, Alayne. I will send for
you in the morning; we will break our fast together and you may sit with me
when I talk with these brothers."

"Yes, Father," Alayne said dutifully. Before they went their separate ways, her
to her chambers and him to who knows where, Lord Petyr paused and brushed a
tendril of auburn hair from her forehead. His fingers lingered just a little
too long on her face, but this time he did not presume to press his lips to
hers and it was all she could do to not sigh in relief.

***

The next morning the snow seemed to be falling even heavier than the two
previous days. Lord Petyr sent for her quite early and Alayne was still rubbing
sleep from her eyes when she arrived in his solar to break her fast. Her
father's smile was a bright one, reaching up enough to crinkle the skin at the
corners of his eyes, but the eyes themselves remained stoic. "I do love your
beautiful hair, daughter, but some days I wish we still had the ability to hide
its true color," he admitted.

"I as well, father," Alayne said, and she meant it. Though her auburn hair was
beautiful, it reminded her of Sansa Stark. Alayne Stone was supposed to have
plain brown hair, hair that was easier to hide behind than these bright locks.

"I have sent for the leader of the brothers. I cannot have you with me all day,
but I wanted you to witness this discussion. The brothers will dine with us
tonight, but other than that I would prefer you to avoid them unless I call for
you. Is that understood?" Alayne nodded obediently. "Good girl."

Lord Petyr's discussion with the brother was short and to the point. As
expected the brothers had come to ask for food to bring back to the Quiet Isle.
Winter had been raging for near two years now and their supplies were nearly
gone, he told them, but he knew that the Vale had escaped most of the
destruction caused by the war of the five kings and hoped that Lord Petyr had
some food to spare.

"I can give you mules to get you back to the Quiet Isle, and what you do with
them once there means nothing to me. I can supply you with food for your return
journey as well, but as you must know there are numerous families and servants
in residence here at the Gates of the Moon. We do not know how long this winter
will last, but the maesters say it cannot be but half over at most. I will give
you what I can and no more, brother. Now let us go see about those mules."

Alayne was sent back to her chambers until dinner and for most of the day she
was alone, until afternoon when Randa came sweeping in, Mya stomping at her
heels. "Such a to-do about these visiting brothers," Randa clucked as she
plopped down on Alayne's bed.

Mya's lip curled in distaste. "Lord Petyr is giving them some of our mules,"
she growled. "They'll die on the way back to the Quiet Isle...poor beasts." The
words "my mules" were what Mya really meant, Alayne knew, but dared not say. As
a bastard daughter and something next to a servant, Mya truly did not own
anything...even a mule or two. Alayne knew how she felt.

"I think my father is being too cautious. He will give them little and less,
and they made such a difficult choice coming here. They risked their lives."

"Oh Alayne, some days you are far too pious for me...though I was under the
impression that you preferred the old gods, as often as you visit the
godswood," Randa winked at her. "Now, what are you wearing to dinner? I'm
thinking something quite low-cut might do to tempt these brothers."

"Randa!" Alayne cried, scandalized. "These are men of the faith!"

"They are still men, Alayne. All men are."

"Oh please," Mya snorted. "Did you see the one with cleft lip and the giant
mole on his chin? I'd rather not believe he was a real man."

Though they should not be talking like this, Alayne knew, the three of them
still collapsed in giggles and wiled away the afternoon discussing whether any
of the brothers could ever be thought of as handsome. "That big one's hiding
something," Mya said thoughtfully. "I saw him last night and this morning and
he won't push his hood back or remove the wrappings from his face. It's not
that cold in here."

"He is quite large," Randa grinned. "I'm less interested in his face and more
interested in what else he may be hiding under those robes of his." Alayne
gasped and threw a pillow at her.

"Out! Get out! You are too much!" she laughed. "I need to dress for dinner."
Her friends left her and once alone, she sat breathlessly back on her bed and
thought how Sansa Stark would never have listened or participated in such
conversations as Alayne had with Randa and Mya.

***

The table was quite full with Alayne, Lord Petyr, the Royces, the brothers, and
a few others present for dinner. Though she seldom had to speak, Alayne was for
some reason quite uncomfortable. She could not get over the feeling that
someone was watching her, though she never once caught anyone staring in her
direction. The large brother with the hood was across the table and a half
dozen seats down from where she sat, and he was the only one whose eyes she
could not see. It made her uneasy but she dared not say anything to her father
for fear that he would banish her to her chambers until such time as the
brothers could leave the Gates of Moon. As the storm still raged outside, that
could be many many days.

***

By the next morning Alayne was tired of being holed up inside. She went to her
father and asked if she could please visit the godswood.

"But daughter, the snow still falls quite heavily. And the cold..."

"I will be fine, father. I am a child of the-"

"Enough," he said sharply, looking around with concern though no one was there
to hear what she had almost said. "You may go, of course, but dress warmly and
be careful."

"Thank you, father," she said with a curtsy, and rushed to her chambers to
bundle into a warm woolen gown, boots and gloves and several heavy cloaks.
Checking to make sure she was not followed, Alayne stepped out into the deep
snow and trudged toward the grove of weirwood trees. Once she was among them
the snow was not quite as prevalent - the trees were large and grew close
together, so that even without leaves they kept much and more of the flakes
from settling to the ground. She used her boot to brush most of the snow away
from the roots of the biggest weirwood and knelt to pray. To pray for winter to
end, for the brothers of the faith to reach the Quiet Isle safely, for her to
remain safe. Watch over me as you have so well for nearly two years now, she
thought fervently. Keep me protected, secure, sheltered.

Suddenly, the snow stopped.

It was not just the weirwoods that were keeping it from falling. It was the eye
of the storm, Alayne knew, yet for it to find her at such a time...

And then a hand gripped her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.

***

Though the girl at Lord Petyr Baelish's side had often kept her head down and
rarely spoken, he'd known her the moment he laid eyes on her. It was the hair,
mainly, but also the girl did not carry herself like the bastard child she was
supposed to be. The part of him that had been taught silence and penitence
wanted to leave her be, but he could not keep his eyes off her now any more
than he had all that time in King's Landing.

When he saw her head out the door bundled against the cold and snow, he had to
follow. He watched her kneel for many minutes, and when the snow stopped he saw
her look up in surprise and wonder and she looked so like the beautiful girl he
had known at the Red Keep that he could not stop himself from grabbing her arm.
For a moment she looked frightened - but then she peered up into his hood and
he knew she could see his eyes gleaming from beneath it. She reached up and
pushed the hood back off his head, then gasped.

"It's...you!" she whispered. She tried to take a step back but he kept a tight
grip on her arm.

"Aye, girl. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Well you are supposed to be dead," she said.

"And you are supposed to be married to the Imp, little bird, yet I do not see
him hiding here with you."

"I am no little bird," she murmured, and he could see the tears glistening in
the corner of her eye. "I am Alayne Stone, bastard daughter of Lord Petyr
Baelish. I am unwed and a maiden...ser."

He snorted at her and tightened his grip on her arm. "You are a little bird if
I say you are a little bird. Now tell me your name, girl. Your real name."

"S...Sansa Stark," she finally replied.

"That's better. Now how about you tell me what you're doing here, pretending to
be some bastard girl...and failing miserably, I might add. Anyone who knows you
would recognize you, especially with that hair. But also you carry yourself too
proudly. Littlefinger should see that, at least."

She touched her hair. "We used to dye it, but we ran out of the ingredients..."
she said sadly. Sandor reached up and twirled a lock around his finger,
swearing that he could feel her trembling.

"You are not safe here, girl. But I could keep you safe. I told you as much
once, and nothing has changed."

***

Is this what the gods have sent me? she wondered. It seemed far too
coincidental otherwise; she prayed for safety and security and he showed up and
repeated his promise from so many years ago, his promise to keep her safe. She
stared up at him and was surprised to find that it did not scare her anymore to
look into his face. Of course he does not scare you; you are Alayne Stone, and
bastard brave.

"We...we should not have this conversation here...in the open..." she heard
herself stuttering. His laugh was a harsh bark.

"Who is going to hear us, little bird? The trees? Everyone else is too sane to
wander outside in this weather."

She tried to struggle against his grip again, but this time he not only
tightened it - he pulled her close to him, close enough to feel the heat
radiating from his body, close enough to feel his breath on her face. "Think
about my offer, girl. This winter won't last forever, and when it's over
Littlefinger won't be able to keep prying eyes off you for very long."

Alayne could not help herself; her eyes were drawn to his lips, focused on the
scarred side, which was twitching - though not quite so madly as she had seen
it do in the past. Before she knew it she was reaching up with her free hand
and brushing her fingertips over the ridges at the edge of his mouth and then
suddenly he shoved her hand away and bent to kiss her, crushing his lips to
hers, and though she was not sure if she wanted this she let him do it, trying
to remember what it had felt like the night of the battle of Blackwater Bay.
Sansa had been afraid of this man, of his scars and his strength, his words and
his kiss, but Alayne refused to let him scare her. The kiss was rough, harsh,
not sweet at all, yet it made her heart flutter all the same and when he
flicked his tongue over her lips they opened automatically. His tongue stroked
hers and she responded even though she was not quite sure what she was doing -
but then he abruptly pulled away and held her at arm's length.

"I will give you until tomorrow night. If we are to go we will need to do so as
soon as the storm abates, and before that I will need to find a way to supply
us for the journey. Do not seek me out; I will come to you for your answer."

The Hound turned and strode off through the trees, and Alayne was alone with
her thoughts, her gods, and her answered prayer.

***

He would take her, if she'd let him. He would keep her safe as he promised,
from others. But this time he would not leave his desires unfulfilled - he'd
had enough of that after he'd left her in King's Landing that night, as pure
and untouched as she had ever been. Alayne Stone may be an unwed maiden, but
Sansa Stark is certainly no longer pure or untouched, now that she's been
married. And she kissed me back.

***

Alayne did not know what to do. She hid in her chambers for the rest of the day
after her encounter in the godswood; she even took her dinner in them, keeping
her father and her friends away with hints that she had her moon blood. She
tossed and turned that night, wondering exactly when the Hound would come for
her decision, wondering what that decision would be. She was no longer silly
enough to believe that she was safe here, not with Lord Petyr's kisses and
Randa's constant questions, but after the Hound had kissed her just so she was
sure she would not quite be safe with him, either. The true question was, which
danger was worse? As soon as winter was over her father would have her
maidenhood proved and marry her off to Harry the Heir, yet she knew he would
not let her go quite that easily. And so long as any Lannister was alive, she
would continue to have nightmares about them coming for her, one after the
other, Tyrion deranged with anger that she could set him aside when he had been
so kind to her, Jaime with sword in hand to cut down everyone and bring her
back to Cersei, Cersei, the most wicked woman Sansa had ever known...

On the other hand, there was going with the Hound and knowing that sooner
rather than later he would take her, take her as she knew he'd meant to the
night of the Blackwater. She could fight against it, she could cry, but he
would have her all the same - if he wanted her.

And she knew he wanted her.

Still, maybe she could stave him off...at least for a little while. Maybe he
could take her...Where? Certainly not to Winterfell, still in ruins and those
buried in drifts of Northern snow that would shame the ones here in the Vale.
To the free cities, perhaps, to wait out the winter, maybe to chase these tales
of dragons she so often heard. Sansa would not like that, dragons being huge
scary nasty beasts, but Alayne would not be afraid...only he wanted her to be
Sansa Stark, his little bird...that name and that history that she had tried so
hard to forget...

The next day Alayne had to leave her chambers, but only once did she catch
sight of the brothers of the faith, sitting by the hearth in the main hall and
speaking with Mya about the mules they were to take. Alayne hastened to leave
the room as soon as she saw that the Hound was standing at the edge of the
group, but before she could do so he looked up and she could see his eyes
gleaming at her from beneath his hood. He will come for me tonight, she
thought, and I must go with him. She knew it then, knew it more than she had
ever known anything. She did not want the lecherous Harry the Heir as her
husband, was tired of suffering her false father's gropes and kisses, and she
simply could not hide in the Vale forever.

She returned to her chambers to pack some of her things.

***

The girl was hiding from him, but she must know that he would come for her no
matter what. Sandor was still undecided as to whether he would take her from
here even if she said no. She had always been a silly little bird who didn't
know what was best for her, he told himself.

Littlefinger was still playing the gracious host, inviting the brothers to dine
with himself and the Royces, but Sansa had not been there the night before. Of
course the other brothers did not think to question her absence, but Sandor
noted it and told himself that two could play at this game. She was obviously
not too ill, as he'd seen her looking hale and healthy when she stumbled upon
them in the main hall that afternoon, but he decided that rather than go to
dinner he would search her out. He spread the tale that he would be spending
the evening in the sept; the eye of the storm had passed and he knew that no
one else would want to trek across the yards to pray that night, even his
godsworn brothers. As soon as they all disappeared into the hall for the meal
he made his way to her chambers, but was surprised to find them empty -
apparently she had gone to dinner. No matter.

He sat down on the edge of her bed to wait.

***

She went to dinner that night, expecting that he would be there, that maybe he
would pull her aside on some pretense and she could tell him that she had made
her decision...but he was not present, and when her father asked after the
large, silent brother their leader piped up that he had gone to the sept to
pray.

"A devout man, to brave this snow merely to kneel before the Seven in our
sept," Lord Petyr drawled, and Alayne swore that she could feel his eyes boring
into her as she forced down her stew. He can't know, he can't, even I was not
sure until I saw his face, I who knew more about him than anyone... Still, she
forced herself to play her part that evening, finishing all of her food,
drinking a glass of wine with her father and the brothers, posing inane
questions about the Quiet Isle and their work there. It was quite late when her
father sent her to bed, and she had drank three more glasses of wine. Her head
felt light and hot as she made her way to her chambers, wondering if the Hound
had decided not to take her with him after all...

Her chambers were dark and she stumbled to the hearth, cursing under her breath
as Alayne was wont to do. The fire that had been leaping merrily when she had
left for dinner was mere embers, but she stoked it and added some kindling and
soon it was growing again. She still felt too hot from the wine so she unlaced
her gown deftly, and as she turned toward her bed she pulled it over her head,
tossing it to the floor before laying down on the mattress with a groan of
relief.

"Don't get too comfortable, little bird. You still need to give me your
answer."

Her eyes popped open. He was sitting on the other edge of the bed, but turned
in her direction. Her heart beat madly in her chest as she stuttered,
"You...you should have made your presence known!" and struggled to bury herself
in the blankets. Her shift was a small, wispy thing...she might as well be
naked in front of him and he would not look away.

"And spare myself your little show, just now?" he asked, laughing darkly. "I
think not. Cursing, building your own fire, tossing your discarded clothing on
the floor...maybe you are more the bastard Alayne Stone than I thought, girl."

She sat up, her right hand balled into a little fist, and punched his shoulder
as hard as she could manage. "Do not mock me," she whispered fiercely. "And
keep your voice down...I swear these walls have ears."

Suddenly he grabbed her fist, crushing it in his hand, using it as leverage to
swing his legs onto the bed. He pushed her back and pinned her beneath him.
"Such a brave little bird," he rasped. "Don't you know that when you hit a dog,
he's liable to bite?" She opened her mouth to protest but he covered it with
his own, kissing her even more fiercely than he had the day before in the
godswood. His weight was pressing her down into the mattress and she could feel
his stiff member against her upper thigh. She was panicking, beating at him
with her free hand, but this only made him kiss her harder and for a moment she
lost herself. It was as if the heat from the wine was slowly seeping throughout
her entire body, but the majority of it was pooling below her belly and as much
as she knew this needed to stop, the thought of letting him have her flitted
through her mind...

And then he broke the kiss to pull off his robe and she turned her head away
from him and said, "I can't," but he threw his brother's raiment to the side
and pulled her face back toward him and kissed her again, pinning her hands
down when she tried to push him away and using his other hand to unlace his
breeches. He withdrew his manhood from them and moved on top of her, pressing
himself into her thigh in a way that made her ache to know what would happen
next, even as she continued to struggle and think if this happens I'll have no
choice, I'll have to go with him, stay with him, hide with him, and though he
may keep me safe I will never be able to return to the things I've loved...
Arya's face flashed before her, Arya who hated the Hound; she saw Jon Snow full
of righteous anger; her dream of rebuilding Winterfell dissolved in front of
her and yet her body was betraying her for even as she writhed underneath him
in a vain attempt to escape she felt a tingling in her woman's place and when
his chest brushed her nipples they budded stiffly and she arched toward him.
***
He was no fool; he knew she wanted him to stop. But now that he'd come this far
he meant to see this thing through. The Imp had had her, after all, so why not
him as well? It wouldn't make any change in her situation and he knew she
couldn't have decided to come with him, anyway. And then even as she beat at
him and tried to push him away, her tongue was moving against his and her
nipples were aroused and when he pressed himself into her cunt she was wet and
that was all the encouragement he needed.
***
It felt just as Randa had described it, the wanting, and probably Alayne Stone
with her bastard's lack of morals would succumb to it but Sansa Stark could
not. Her maidenhead meant a good marriage and the chance to return to
Winterfell, and she mustn't - she mustn't -
Suddenly his stiff member was pressed against her folds and he grunted, pulling
away just long enough for her to moan, "No, please," but he pressed a hand over
her mouth and said, "Don't play games with me, girl. Physically you want this,
I'm experienced enough to know that. Would you rather it be Littlefinger here
with you now? Or is it me you want?"
Alayne - no, Sansa now, Sansa - could not help herself. She mouthed the word,
"you" into his hand, even as her mind was screaming this isnothow it is
supposed to be, just because you dreamt of his kiss all these years does not
make thisright...
And then the tip of him brushed at her folds again and she shuddered with
something that bordered on both need and fear and when he thrust into her she
screamed, the noise muffled by his hand but as harsh and raw as the pain that
bloomed inside of her as he broke her maidenhead.
***
He could sense her inner turmoil but rather than bother to wait it out, the
moment he felt her mouth the word "you" against his hand he took her. Though
her scream was quieted substantially by his hand he realized that he felt
sorry, suddenly, for what he was doing...but she was so very tight around him
and he forced himself to move slowly, slowly, and he placed his free hand
between her legs and flicked at her nub and she stared up at him, her eyes wide
and veiled with...with what? Pain? Lust? He was so wild for her that he could
not tell, except that suddenly her eyes rolled back in her head and he pinched
her nub between his thumb and forefinger as he pushed into her and she clenched
around him and shuddered from head to toe, her sigh a hot breath on the hand
that still covered her mouth.
***
It hurt when he entered her, yes, but after a few long moments his gentleness
made it less burning and more aching. Still, when he reached down and touched
the spot that she used to please herself when she woke sweating and wanting
from her dreams of handsome knights coming to rescue her, she was shocked at
how strong and sudden her need became. When he looked into her eyes she saw his
lust and desire but also his utter openness and devotion and when he gently
pushed into her, pinching her nub at the same time, a rush of pleasure exploded
in her belly. Her entire body shook with it and she knew she had never
experienced something so beautiful, except maybe for when her eyes found his
again and he moaned her name, not his mocking nickname for her or the fake name
she'd hidden behind for so long, but her name, her name, "Sansa, Sansa..." and
she hated herself for not being able to fight him off and hated him for what
he'd taken from her but she loved him then also, loved him because he wanted
her and loved him because he could protect her.
***
He had to force himself to pull away from her after he had finished and when he
did he realized that there was something wrong. In the flickering light of the
fire he could see a dark stain on the sheet below them and suddenly he realized
what he'd done. "Seven hells!" he swore, a bit too loudly. The girl was
struggling to cover up herself and the evidence of what he'd done, but he
stopped her, ripping the blankets back and causing her to scoot away from him.
"I...I tried to tell you..." she whispered, and though he felt shamed he could
not control the words that spilled from his mouth.
"Didn't try too hard then, did you? I'd say I was sorry but here's the truth:
better that it happened now than when I meant for it to happen that night in
Maegor's Holdfast. And now that I know where you are I can stay away. You need
never see me again." He stood and began dressing quickly, but the little bird's
chirp stopped him.
"What do you mean, 'never see you again'?" she asked incredulously. "You said
you would take me away from here. You promised to keep me safe."
He scoffed at her. "Do you see my version of keeping you safe, girl?"
She looked away but he could see the tears that began falling down her cheeks.
"You shouldn't have done that. I...I didn't really want it, or rather I wasn't
ready for it...but now I'm not a maiden and staying here with Lord Petyr will
be far worse than going somewhere with you. So will you take me as planned, or
leave me here to rot?"
This girl will be my undoing, he thought, but then he realized that he had
already been hers. "I'll come for you when the storm is done," he promised
tersely, and he left her to clean up the mess they'd made.
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