Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1740611.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of
      Violence, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane_&_Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark, Canon
      Relationship(s), danger-relationship, slow_burner_-_Relationship, slow
      burn_relationship_-_Relationship, san-san, sansa_realtionship, sandor
      relationship, sansan_fanfiction, forbidden_love_-_Relationship
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane, Tyrion_Lannister, Shae_(ASoIaF), Margaery
      Tyrell, Cersei_Lannister, Joffrey_Baratheon, Jaime_Lannister, Tywin
      Lannister, Petyr_Baelish, Loras_Tyrell, Lannisters, Starks_(ASoIaF), Arya
      Stark, Bran_Stark, Daenerys_Targaryen, Jon_Snow, Ned_Stark, Catelyn_Tully
      Stark, Rickon_Stark, Ramsay_Bolton
  Additional Tags:
      Love, Heartache, War, Fantasy, Alternate_Universe_-_Medieval, Kings_&
      Queens, Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-04 Updated: 2017-09-08 Chapters: 15/21 Words: 71861
****** The Hound & the Maiden Fair. ******
by KellyJunglette
Summary
     In this version of events, Sandor Clegane does not flee during the
     battle of backwater, but instead decides to stay and protect the
     little bird. Sansa Stark then goes on to marry King Joffery, which
     entwines in a long and complicated relationship with his most loyal
     of kings guard, The Hound.
      
     This is also my first ever fan fic, so go easy on me ;) I just enjoy
     reading them so much I thought I'd give it a go myself. Hope you
     enjoy reading as much as I do writing. & Of course all characters
     belong to George RR Martin, & some text is taken from both the HBO
     show as well as from ASoIaF.
***** Sansa Baratheon. *****
SANDOR
Sandor Clegane planned on getting thoroughly drunk that night, even more so
than usual. His day was to be spent following King Joffery around the castle,
while he saw to tedious wedding arrangements. This was not a task that left him
filling with joy, but it had become somewhat of a routine of late. 
It was a cool and bright morning, sunlight poured through the glass of
Joffery's chamber window. The young King stood facing his mirror, one leg
rested on a small cushioned stool. "Here." He said, gesturing to his puffed out
chest. "Higher." A gaunt looking servant man was pinning a brooch to
one shoulder, his hands shaking in fear. It was a golden lions head, encrusted
with several red rubies. Of course, Sandor thought, doing all he could not to
roll his eyes. The King spent a moment posing, brushing the fabric and picking
off invisible hairs.
"Better."
The serving man let out a small sigh of relief.
When Joffery was finished twisting and turning, he gave himself a smug little
nod and flattened the stomach of his doublet. 
"Thats all." He said plainly, sending the man scurrying away to where he once
came.
Joffery did not so much as acknowledge Sandor as he entered, only clicked his
fingers once, meaning that he should follow. This was no new gesture, but it
still angered him each day. He gritted his teeth and followed.I am meant to
protect this King, such as he is, not follow him around like some obedient dog
- his mouth twitched at the irony - such as I am. 
First, he accompanied the boy to break his fast with Cersei, which was always
a pleasant affair. Thankfully, not a very frequent one as The Queen Regent
tended to relieve Sandor of his duties during this time, on the account that he
'frightened the children'. Today however, he was not so fortunate, and the
little prince and princess were sent elsewhere. So, he listened to them spout
shit at each other about bards, and singers and flowers for the best part of an
hour, all while they cut into crisp bacon and runny eggs.  His stomach rumbled
loud and empty. Sandor's own breakfast had consisted of half a horn of ale and
some stale bread he had found on his bed side table. Afterwards, he followed
the boy outside as they set up the wedding feast tent, listening to him moan
and bark that it was 'simply not grand enough' for the wedding of the century.
"No flowers. I told you. And more banners, yes there. I want the Lion above the
Wolf. Not beside it, idiot." He quickly ordered most of it to be changed,
sending the servants running around like scared little mice. Im not paid enough
gold for this shit.Sandor Clegane told himself.Im not some fucking wet-
nurse. As the day went on his legs began to ache; they tended to when standing
so long beside that bloody Iron throne. Sandor much preferred to be out on the
field, patrolling the keep ...or at least in some dingy alehouse, with a whore
and flagon or two. The King - of course - quickly grew tired of his wedding
preparations, and kindly left the matter to his master of feasts, much
preferring to hold court instead. 
So there he stood, in his usual spot, watching Joff send man after man to his
death, for one petty crime or another. Spending so long stood doing nothing
left him restless, and his mind kept wandering. Joffery was to marry the little
bird on the morrow, and the thought of it alone made him seethe with anger. He
tried to fill his head with the taste of the thick Dornish red he would be
glugging later that day, but it done no use. Even the idea of calving his great
sword through the likes of Tyrion Lannister, wouldn't do the trick. The image
of that little bastard putting his hands all over her caused him to grip the
hilt of his sword so tight, his knuckles went white with strain. Little cunt
wouldn’t even know what to do with her.He thought bitterly as he paced out
behind him into the yard. 
Joffery spent the latter part of the afternoon playing with his crossbow, while
Sandor and Ser Meryn Trant stood idly behind, no one exchanging a word. No
bloody point me being here.He grumbled to himself as he watched the King shoot
arrow after arrow. The boy missed more often than not, and in all honesty,
it seemed pointless to Sandor to even practice at all. He's never going to
bloody use it. The boy hadn't put the thing down since he had it made a few
days before. He'll never shoot an arrow through a mans skull. Not unless he's
already tied up on his knees, begging for his life.Besides, Joff usually liked
Sandor to do his killing for him, and that suited him just fine.
The Hound had watched over the boy since he was a wee babe, a child with curly
blonde hair that liked to suck his thumb. Over recent years however, he had
witnessed him change from a clueless little boy into nothing but a cruel little
monster. It was mostly his mothers doing he supposed, twisted bitch always
whispering things in his ear. He had grown a lust for not only power like his
mother, but for blood as well. Even when he was young, he would ask Sandor to
bring him cats and birds for him to torture and kill. The prey had changed of
late though, the cats and birds slowly became beggars and whores. Every time he
brought the boy a new play thing, no one ever saw them again, including
himself.. But Sandor Clegane always done as he was bid, it was not his place to
question little princes, never mind little Kings. 
On occasion, the Hound did find himself holding some kind of pity for the boy,
for years he felt almost responsible for him. He was his dog, his sworn sword
and shield. He had taken an oath to protect him. There was a time when he
wanted to teach him how to fight - how to be a man. He needed a father figure,
someone better than these shits he was surrounded with. King Robert never
seemed to care much for the boy, nor did his uncle Jaime. Uncle or father,
it needn't matter, he only cares about Cersei's cunt. Sandor grimaced at the
thought. Jofferys mother gave him a warped view of the world and he never
had any real friends his own age. No wonder he's fucked.He thought, rubbing his
beard. He's a cruel, spoilt little child…with no idea what goes on in the real
world. He wouldn't last an hour on the street of flea bottom. Still, if he
didn't get his own way he would throw a tantrum, or cry when his mother shouted
at him. The most feared man in the seven Kingdoms. HA! Thats what the entire
Seven Kingdoms had been lead to believe. Sandor chuckled to himself. Truth
be told he's just a green boy hiding behind his mothers skirts.
"Good shot your grace!"
He had missed, again.
Meryn Trant. 
Sandor rolled his eyes. 
Cunt.
Joffery - clearly growing tired - clicked his fingers for another bolt to be
cranked for him, while he sipped on a goblet of watered wine. Sandor watched as
the ornate crossbow was wound and drawed back into place. Too damn slow, what
good would that be in a fight? 
"Bring the birds, this is growing dull."
An old leathery looking man who sometimes tended to the hawks, came dragging
out a cage stuffed with flapping pigeons. As he reached inside to grab one they
all squawked and thrashed their wings, sending out a whirlwind of feathers and
bird shit. The boy returned to his new moving targets with a satisfied grin.
Again, the Hound grew bored and restless, the shirt underneath his armour was
sticking to his chest. The air was thick and muggy, so much so he thought he
might be able to cut a sword through it. Watching the birds fly away in fear
reminded him of another...and uncontrollably, he let his mind go to her again,
recounting every moment of the night he had visited her chamber. He must have
played it over and over in his head a hundred times, though it never seemed
enough. I shouldn’t have kissed her. Her face appeared when he blinked his
eyes, but he shook his head and willed it away.
"Another bolt." Joffery spat. "Faster. I haven't got all day."
The Hound had never imagined himself to be a man turned stupid by a pretty
face, but the little bird had done something to him that no one else ever had.
He wanted to protect her, teach her, help her….Kiss her. And of course he
wanted to fuck her. That was how he justified these feelings he had, he just
wanted to fuck her. Fuck her like every other man in this Keep wants to fuck a
pretty little high born maid.The problem was, she wasn't just a maid, she was
still a child, no matter how much he told himself she wasn't. He may not have
been a good man, but neither was he that. It left the feelings he had buried
deep down, under a blanket of wine, filling him with guilt and lust...close to
driving him mad. Not to mention the fact that she was to be his Queen. A
thought even punishable by death. What would that little cunt do if he knew I'd
imagined having her a thousand times? 
One of the pigeons dropped with a heavy thump to the floor. He watched it panic
and squirm, blood seeping out beneath it. He thought back to the girl, the
morning he had found her in her chambers, trying to burn her sheets after the
night she had flowered. Always trying to make everything seem so much
better than it is. There was nothing flowery about the look on her face, or the
blood smeared down her thighs. The Hound gritted his teeth. These high born
Lords would coat a shit in silver and call it a candlestick if they could. 
Joffery clicked his fingers.
"Bring me some cheese."
Sandor just couldn't help himself, his mind always went back to her. He blamed
the boredom. He blamed anything he could to justify the thoughts. He was back
in her room. It was night, black as pitch. He was on top of her. The sky was
filled with swirls of green fire and smoke. So much fire. She was under him,
shaking, his dagger to her throat. Her hand was on his face, she was touching
him, running her fingers down his ruined cheek. No one had ever touched his
face before. He had never let them. Sandor took a song. She took a kiss. Her
pouty little lips parted when he had pressed down his own. She wanted it. She
did. 
"More wine." Joffery called.
Remembering himself, The Hound urged the thoughts away, a flash of anger
protected him from the pain. He remembered how she had refused to leave with
him, it turned his mood sour in an instant. What did I expect? That we would
run off into the sunset? Like she would of done with an ugly dog like me.It
almost made him angry, that he was foolish enough to think she might. But it
made him angrier that it bothered him so, why do I care? She's just a stupid
girl. He blamed it on the wine. Too much fucking wine. Thats all it was. 
Petyr Baelish came skulking out of the shadows shattering any more thoughts
with his presence. The Lord had his hands firmly clasped behind his back, with
that same false grin on his face, the one he always liked to wear. 
“Your grace.” Baelish bowed, though Joffery barely acknowledged him, releasing
another arrow across the yard. It landed with a thump on an empty barrel. 
“You must be excited for the morrow.”
Joffery made a pishh noise with his teeth. 
“It has been nothing but an annoyance. I've left my Mother to deal with it now.
And the Stark girl is a fool. Pretty, but a fool. Talks too much. And I can’t
stand the chatter of women.” He turned to Sandor, laughing. 
Joffery often spoke to the Hound like this, though he rarely responded. He
talks to me, not with me. Like you would a dog. 
“She truly is a beauty, Your Grace.” Baelish noted. 
“A noisy one. Perhaps, I’ll gag her when I bed her tomorrow.” Amusement
flittered across Joff's eyes. He looked off into the distance as if to picture
it, before returning to his crossbow. 
Maybe I’ll cut off your cock and gag you with it. Sandor Clegane thought,
keeping his stare fixed ahead, jaw clenched and his hand firmly on the hilt of
his sword. He never showed his thoughts, nor emotions. Not only did it make him
feel weak, he would have been a dead man by now if he did. He hated the idea of
others seeing him anything but angry. Sandor Clegane wanted to be feared and
respected, and he had watched enough stupid men talk themselves to their own
deaths. 
Baelish let out a fake chuckle and stroked at his pointy beard. 
“Well your grace, if you require anything don’t hesitate to ask, you know I am
rather adept in that area of expertise. My brothels are the finest in the
Kingdom.” He smiled. "I wouldn't want the King to have an unpleasurable wedding
night." 
Slimy litter fucker that one.Sandor Clegane could smell out a liar, and Peyter
Baelish stunk to high hell. 
“A King doesn’t ask. He commands.” Joffery sneered, turning to the slender, now
un-smiling man. He draped an arm over the short wall beside them, pointing his
crossbow casually towards him. 
“I beg your pardon, your grace, I only wish to offer my services to the King,
does he require them. “ 
Joffery snorted out something he gathered was a laugh and began to pick at his
crossbow tediously, like he did when we was sat upon the Iron Throne.
“As is happens…Now I come to think of it, I may still need some of your
services afterward Lord Baelish, no doubt Sansa will lie there on her back like
a deadfish. All that Tully in her..” The King seemed to think his little joke
was hilarious, as did Ser Meryn, though Peyter only answered it with a hard
smile.
“I will be awaiting your command your grace, I have the finest whores in the
seven Kingdoms. Girls to suit every wish or whim you may desire. Any fantasies
you have in mind..” He gave a little bow and slunk back off into the shadows.
Sandor always found himself agitated when in the presence of that slimy little
cunt. There was something about him that got his blood up. He had envisioned
his death several different times in several different manners. 
"His whores should be paying me. I am the King. I'll charge a gold dragon for
everyone he brings. The wedding will be paid for in a matter of hours." Joff
chuckled. 
The boy thinks he knows how to fuck a woman.He almost let out a laugh.
“Trant, Dog...” He waved his hand lazily in the air. “Walk me back to my
chambers I’m bored. See to it that my mothers there, I wish to speak with her.”
When the boy King relieved him of his duties, Sandor marched back to his
chambers with nothing on his mind but wine and women. All this thought of the
little bird and Joff and the bedding had vexed him. His dark mood left him
bitter and lustful, so he went to seek out the nearest red headed whore he
could find. He bent her over the trencher table and downed a flagon of ale. Yet
somehow they never seemed enough anymore. He knew she was faking it, pretending
that she was enjoying it when she wasn’t, that pissed him off. But more than
anything he was sick of how they dare not look at his face while he fucked
them. They dare not look at his scars. Not one of them. He couldn't even spill
his seed. It left him angry and almost ashamed, though he’d never let anyone
know it.
He drank the sour red wine he loved so much until he staggered back to his
chambers from a tavern just outside the castle walls. As he reached the
stables, he stopped and patted Stranger, beautiful beast that he was. He
stumbled on a rock, cursing himself for being so drunk. Then he was charging up
the never-ending steps to his chamber, his hands pulling him along the walls.
He kicked off his boots and slumped onto his bed, the room spinning around him.
Sandor lay there in the darkness, every now and then taking a long pull from
his wineskin. He liked the darkness, filling it with light from a flame seemed
unnatural to him. He liked the silence too, it calmed him somewhat. It was a
haven of sorts, the darkness. 
Sandor stretched out his aching legs, belched, and rested his head on his
pillow. His eyes grew heavy, so he gave in and shut them. Immediately he was
greeted with the green fire. His own men burning and screaming on their knees
in front of him. The very flesh melting off their bones. The battle of
Blackwater - it haunted him. The way those flames swirled across the sky. The
fire. The burning. I had meant to flee. Tuck tail and ran. The shame bubbled in
his chest. He had never ran away from a fight, or even thought too. No one
knows, they never will. He told himself. Besides, any man that did wouldn't
dare question it, I'll crush their skull. 
He became so maddened by bloodlust and fire, all he wanted was to seek comfort
by seeing her, by touching her. He drank himself into a stupor and went to find
her in her room, eyes wide and frightened. Like a scared little bird. Sandor
told himself he was going to take her, whether she willed it or not, but as
soon as he saw her face he knew he couldn’t. She looked so fucking beautiful
and innocent, how could a man like him ruin something so perfect like her.
Sandor Clegane refused to become the monster that his brother was. A mans gotta
have a code.
His eyes were open again, staring into the dark abyss above him. She's to marry
Joffery tomorrow. The idea of that little prick putting his hands all over her
made his blood boil. He prayed he didn’t have to stand guard outside his
chamber while he had his way with her, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself
controlled. It was dangerous, these feelings he had, he even found himself
doing things to help protect her, it was putting them both at risk. If he
carried on the way he had he was sure someone would know, and how he would be
mocked for it. I need to stop this, I’m no bloody fool. She’s just a stupid
girl. Though when he shut his eyes he saw her big blue eyes and her pouting
lips; lips he imagined wrapping around his cock. It made him hard almost
instantly, and the image wouldn't leave his mind. 
He was finding himself thinking of her more and more, leaving him at his wits
end. He told himself that he just wanted to fuck her, nothing more, but
something about the girl made him loose his head and act a fool, and he almost
hated her for it. With one blink of those pretty blue eyes, his guard came
crashing down around him and turned him into a love-struck little boy. He tried
to shake off his thoughts and sat up, taking yet another long drink from his
wineskin. It’s just the wine. He told himself, but the walls around him spun.
The stone seemed to be shrinking in around him. He pulled at the laces around
his collar. Fuck. He splashed his face with the cold stale water from his
basin, but it was not enough. I need to get out of this bloody room. He pushed
himself off the bed and staggered to his feet, stumbling over empty bottles and
skins. He found himself charging along the corridors of the keep, trying to
shake off any thoughts he had of her, though once again he found himself
walking to her chambers.
 
SANSA
 
Sansa couldn’t keep herself still, the looming thought of her wedding day
forever playing on her mind. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, she felt so sick
with worry. Shae had tried to tempt her with lemon cakes and jellies, but she
could scarcely look at them. The only comfort she found was in the Godswood,
away from prying eyes and ears. Her servants had set up a table on the small
stone folly that overlooked part of Black water bay. It was a beautiful spot,
you could see right out across The Narrow sea. There she often watched the
merchant ships slowly cross the horizon, with their colourful sails flailing in
the wind. If she wasn't quite so petrified she may have stopped to enjoy the
views again.
Sansa had sought to do some needlework to distract her from unease, but as soon
as she threaded the needle it reminded her of her mother and how she wouldn't
be there on her wedding day. Sansa missed her terribly. As much as she wanted
to be a woman grown, she would have done anything to feel the embrace of her
mothers arms once more. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Her eyes squeezed
shut and pictured Winterfell. Already the tears began to well up. Glimmers of
her Mother's hands braiding her hair flashed before her, Lady sat curled up at
her feet. For a second she could feel the warmth from the hearth in her old
chambers, the smell of the rushes on the floor. Yet when she opened her eyes
she returned to the new prison she called home. The one that she had once
wished so very hard for. Sansa sighed. I was so stupid. What I would give to
return to The North. She wondered if it even looked like home anymore, or if it
was just a ruin. Theon. The notion turned her stomach and she decided to think
of it no more. He is the traitor, not Robb.
The autumn breeze tousled her hair as she pondered, the leaves scuttling around
her feet. She wished she could stay there a little longer, not even praying,
just enjoying the quiet and calm of its atmosphere. Although, that isn't to say
she hadn't prayed. Sansa must have mouthed a hundred different pleas a thousand
different times. It felt as though thats all she done of late, sit and cry and
pray. Pray for someone to save her, for anyone to save her. Another stupid
thought from a stupid girl. She sighed. There are no heroes in life, not like
the songs. The monsters win. The crickets began to chirp and the sun began to
set across the sea, making for quite a spectacular sight. She watched the
streaks of red and orange and pink through teary eyes. It looked as though she
could see the very spot that Heaven met the Earth. She thought of her father
with a heavy heart and prayed once more. Mother, just give me strength. I beg
you.
A long silence followed. Filled only with the gentle rustle of leaves and
distant crashing of waves.
Sansa began to hum, then sing...
 
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,and not a soul to hear. 
 
Sansa let her eyes glaze over the ships sailing in the distance, the gentle
waves scattering the evening sun like the sequins on her dress. The hour was
late by the time she pulled herself to her feet to leave, and made her way back
to her chambers. She could feel the guards behind her start to follow, always
watching her every move. The castle was bustling, everybody she passed
chattering with excitement for the morrow. Servants were running backwards and
forwards, carrying all manor of things. One of her hand maidens caught her as
she entered the great hall and smiled sweetly.
“We were all wondering when you would return, M'Lady."
She said it as jittery as a mouse. She looks like one too. Sansa thought,
eyeing her mousey brown hair and twitchy nose. I wonder if she’s one of
Cersei’s. 
"Yes. You should be in your chambers my dear, get a good nights rest for the
morrow.” Another much fatter handmaiden continued, notably in a much more
insistent manner. Hmm.. Definitely one of Cersei's.   
Sansa nodded and gave a weak smile.
"Of course." 
"I will fetch some things for your chamber M'lady. I've fired the hearth, I
shan't be long." 
Thankyou, but I won't be sleeping a wink tonight.
The handmaidens did their fussing and curtseys, then scuttled off like the
little rats that they were around the castle. Much to Sansa's relief the
presence of her guards also deserted her, supposing they had slinked off to the
kitchens for mead. Continuing her journey through the castle she reached
the serpentine steps, lifting her skirts as she went. The sudden isolation made
her feel almost uneasy, it was a very rare thing for her to be alone anymore.
It made her heart race a little faster, and her mind swim with thoughts. Stupid
thoughts, thoughts of running away and slinking out of the keep at night in a
hooded cloak. Thoughts of Robb bursting into her room with Joffery's blood on
his sword. Thoughts she knew would be fruitless, yet she liked to think them
none the less. 
Her heel buckled slightly as she ascended, suddenly being careful not to slip
on the smooth stone steps. I am getting married tomorrow... Married. Her heart
seemed to sink and twist right down into her stomach. I am to be…The Queen. The
world is going mad. She thought, tracing her fingers lightly along the wall. Or
maybe it is me who is loosing my mind? She found herself nervously smoothing
her skirts. I am to loose my maiden head. The nervousness in her seemed to
bubble right up to her throat. The bedding ceremony was what she feared most.It
is my duty. She tried to tell herself, chewing on the corner of her lip. Some
of the ladies in court had warned her that it would be painful. Though her
mother had always assured her it was a cherished and pleasurable affair.Somehow
Sansa knew that this would not be the case with Joffery Baratheon.Some more
serving girls passed her on the steps, awkwardly curtseying on the narrow
stairs as she passed. Joffery had told her that there was to be a great
surprise for them all too, I wonder what he has planned?  Nothing good she
supposed.He has been so secretive. Sansa had heard that there was to be
seventy-seven courses for the feast. Seventy-seven. How ridiculous, I’ll barely
manage seven.
As she passed an open window in the tower, she stopped to feel the breeze blow
softly on her neck. It pushed her hair over her shoulder and went tumbling down
her back. Sansa perched up onto her tip toes to see out over the ledge. The sea
was glistening in the moonlight, there were still some ships on the horizon.
For a moment she thought they might have been Stark ships, if there ever was
such a thing. She had always supposed that her Mother and Brother would have
come for her by now, to save her. Surely they would never let her marry him,
not now. I must not give up hope. They may still be yet to come. They must...
 “What’s the little lady doing wandering around at this hour?” Someone said
from above, further up the serpentine steps. It was Sandor Clegane, she knew.
No other voice was as deep nor as menacing as his.
 Sansa turned to look up at him, the extra steps above adding to his already
towering height. Her head was swimming and she was sure she had stared at him
speechless much longer than she had intended. He was wearing his old armor, not
the shining white and gold of he kings guard, but the dull grey chain mail he
wore before Joffery became King. His long black hair had fallen in front of his
face, thankfully shadowing most of his scars.
 “I…I was praying in the Godswood, Ser. I’m just returning to my chambers.”
 “Praying to the Gods. For what? Your wedding on the morrow? The Gods can’t
help you now girl, they never fucking will.” He took a long pull from
a wineskin.
 He's drunk. She realised, suddenly feeling threatened. He stepped down to just
above where Sansa stood, never breaking his stare.
“Pretty little maid like you, given to that little cunt. “ He laughed, lifting
his head from the shadows of his hair.
 She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, all the courtesies she knew had fled her
mind. All she could think of was that night, how he had kissed her. Sansa had
hardly spoken with him since he had visited her room, and she was glad of it.
That isn't to say he hadn't always been close though, there was nothing to be
done about that. She glanced at his lips remembering how they pressed down
against her own, it made her heart flutter and her cheeks blush.
The scars on his face twisted in the flicker of the candle light. Sansa lowered
her gaze to the floor, but was met with a large calloused hand. He raised her
chin, putting his face close to hers, staring right at her. He was so near, she
could see every twist of scar and misshapen lump of skin that was stretched
across his face. He smelt of sour wine, so strong she almost wrinkled up her
nose. The moonlight above them lit up his features even more so, revealing his
intense stare and furrowed brow. For a moment she thought he meant to kiss her.
 “I’d make you mine. If I could.” He rasped.
 Sansa took a breath, but before she could speak his hand left her chin and he
had turned away.
 “Now go, little bird. Get some sleep. I don’t suppose your’ll be getting much
of it tomorrow.” Sandor Clegane laughed bitterly, walking past her down the
steps, hand on the hilt of his sword.
 His voice sang in her mind all the way back to her chamber. Tomorrow is my
wedding night. I’m to give Joffery my maidenhead. A thought that once made her
blush with excitement, now made her feel sick to her stomach. I don’t want his
wormy lips all over me.She shuddered. The Hound was right, I am just a stupid
little bird.Her feet were running now, though she couldn't remember telling
them too. He scares me,she thought, slamming her door shut behind her. She
threw herself onto the bed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. A flurry of images
flashed through her mind. She saw her father on his knees in the stocks,his
head on a spike. She bit her lip.He murdered my father. How could I have ever
loved him, he’s a monster... And I am to be his wife.
Later Shae brushed her hair and tried to calm her nerves, though it did nothing
to help the jittery feeling in her stomach. Sansa tried to mask her dark
thoughts and worry with pointless chatter and nervous laughter. It must have
worn thin because Shae grabbed her hand and said,
"I know you are scared, try not to be. You must be strong. You will be The
Queen of all of Westeros, my Lady. Do you know what that means? You are the
most powerful woman in the seven Kingdoms. As of tomorrow he cannot treat you
as he does now."
Sansa let out a very unladylike snort.
"I am a prisoner here, nothing more. Only with thick castle walls and gilded
fences to replace otherwise iron bars. Nothing will change. It will only be
worse."
Shae's voice lowered.
"You must be wise, my lady. Use it to your advantage."
She knew Shae was trying to console her, but she was not as stupid as she had
once been when she first arrived to Kings Landing. She could see through the
great facade now, though there was just nothing she could do to change it. I
have to play the game, I have no choice.She had been traded away like
a Shepard would a goat,my happiness traded for what? My title? My name? She had
done her best to make him happy, she smiled and nodded and kept her mouth
closed. She let them think her stupid, it was the only thing she could think to
do,let them know that I am no threat.
There was one thing she felt that was protecting her from her and her King
however. A very unlikely one. Sandor Clegane had saved the girl from being
beaten a growing number of times, one way or another. He said he would make me
mine if he could. She blushed again. Mayhaps he cares for me? She thought, But
he's the Hound, he doesn't care for anyone. The notion that Sandor Clegane
cared for her seemed almost ridiculous; so she tried to shake it from her mind.
Im so stupid.
Yet sometimes she would lie awake at night thinking of when he had come into
her room, remembering the way he had kissed her. He came in the middle of the
night, after the battle of Blackwater was won, the drunkest she’d ever seen
him. He had left her his cloak, Sansa had hidden it under her summer silks in a
cedar chest by her bed. He wanted her to leave with him, though she had
refused. I wonder if I was wise. Sansa had tried to avoid him after that,
though he seemed to follow her like a shadow sometimes. He was the first man to
have ever kissed her, it sent her belly in a flutter. Joffery can not be called
a man. She felt embarrassed and flushed. If someone were to know…If The King
were to know! She wondered if he could ever feel her looking at him in court,
when she let her eyes wonder over to him, though he never returned her gaze.
She didn’t understand The Hound, he was always so harsh to her, yet he gave her
kindness in the strangest of ways.
Sansa slipped her fingers along the silken mattress. Pressing her cheek into
the cool velvet pillow. 
"Will it hurt?" She asked Shae faintly.
"The bedding?"
Sansa nodded.
"Perhaps a little…But nothing a Queen cannot handle. I will be near by all
night, I won't let him hurt you." she smiled softly, though Sansa could see the
emptiness in her eyes. It was something no one could promise her, and she knew
it well. Shae rested a hand lightly on her own. "It is something that gets
better with time...and practice. Goodnight my lady, now get some rest."
 That night when she finally drifted off to sleep she dreamed that it was
already her wedding night, she dreamt of Joffery’s eyes devouring her as she
undressed. Only, he was bigger than Joffery had any right to be, and when he
climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. “I’ll have a song
from you,” he rasped, his big strong hands exploring her naked body. Sansa woke
startled in the middle of the night, staring out into the darkness. She had a
curious aching feeling within her that she had never felt before, and her chest
was heaving. For a brief moment she felt something strange that she could only
call longing. She stared up at the canopy, breathless, willing her mind to
return to the dream. She could not get back to sleep after that, so she just
lay there until light began to peer through her window and Shae came knocking
on her door.
Later on, the other handmaidens filled her bathtub with steaming water and
added lavender petals to try and calm her. Sansa gingerly stepped into the hot
water, immersing herself to her shoulders and letting down her long auburn
locks.
 “Do you think they will do the proper bedding ceremony?” She asked Shae as she
swirled the water over her arms.
 “It is tradition my lady, though a strange one in my opinion.”
 “Don’t you have it in Lorath?”
 “No my lady.”
 Sansa shut her eyes. Shae trimmed her nails and curled her hair so it fell
into ringlets that dangled down by her waist. Another maid plaited two strands
of her hair at the crown of her head, in the traditional style worn in the
capital. The other maids continued to fuss over her, dabbing perfume and
ointments behind her ears and on her wrists. They smelled of summer flowers and
sweet lemons, a scent that the Queen was also fond of. Her skin was massaged
with oils until it glowed in the soft light that trailed in her window and her
lips pinched until they were a rosy red. I do hope I will look beautiful. A
rich berry pigment was rubbed onto her cheeks, giving her a flushing glow.
Sansa thought of her dearest Mother and made a silent prayer that perhaps she
would arrive today, along with Rob, to save her from this awful fate. She
crossed her fingers behind her back while they powdered her nose.
Soon after, Cersei arrived with her handmaiden and seamstress, and watched
Sansa as she dressed in front of the looking glass. The small clothes were a
delicate cream silk, almost the colour of Sansas porcelain skin, and the
wedding gown itself was beautiful, she could not deny it. It was everything she
had ever dreamed of as a little girl growing up in Winterfell, though the man
who would be taking it off tainted it. She tried to suppress a shudder. The
dress was made of Ivory samite and cloth of silver, lined with a slivery satin
and the shiny grey of her house sigil. Her corset was pulled so tight her
breasts were pushed up high under chin, she was certain she wasn’t going to be
able to eat a single bite incase it burst open. The skirts were long and full,
inscrolled with ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey, that seemed to sparkle like
the stars as she moved. Cersei waved her hand, calling over a maid holding the
most beautiful silver and amethyst encrusted crown she had ever seen. It
gleamed in the light as she brought it across to her on a velvet pillow.
Wolves, stags and lions were all intricately carved into the metal, they almost
seemed to dance and entwine together as she gazed at it. The shape of it was
striking and unique, yet dainty and feminine. The girl placed it carefully on
her head so it wouldn’t ruin her carefully formed braids. Oh my, she
realised. I have a crown. 
 Sansa stared at her reflection, not quite recognizing the woman she saw
looking back at her. She looked beautiful, a woman grown, a proper lady, a
Queen. It was the day she had been dreaming about for so many years, yet
nothing quite like she had imagined it. Indeed, Sansa looked the part, but that
was all that could be said.I am nothing but a pretty puppet. The harsh reality
of it all stung her and tears began to well up in her eyes. Please Mother, save
me. Please be waiting outside the castle walls with an army. Please.A tear
rolled down her cheek.
 “Your prettier when you don’t cry Sansa.” Cersei said raising from her chair.
Her gown was equally magnificent, Lannister red and gold brocade with a deep v-
cut neckline and a ruby encrusted lion around her long neck. She moved with
effortless grace, it left Sansa in awe. 
 “You look very beautiful” The seamstress said when she was finally dressed,
tugging on the bodice.
 “I do don’t I?” Sansa gave a little sigh and swirled her skirts around, but
she couldn’t dismiss the doleful feeling in her heart. No matter how lovely I
look it wont change Joffery. She thought bitterly. The beautiful silk clothes,
the ornate jewelry, the sweet smelling fragrances and lavish surroundings, none
of it seemed to matter anymore, not as long as she would be married to him.More
hot tears began to fall down her cheeks but Shae patted them dry with a piece
of cloth.
“Come along now, they will be waiting.”
She followed the Queen out of her chambers with her small army of maids behind
her, carrying the long skirts of her dress so they didn’t touch the floor. She
felt a little dizzy, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, and no matter how
hard she tried, the tears just kept rolling down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying little dove? Was this not once a day you once dreamed of?”
“Today will be the happiest day of my life, your grace.” Sansa almost didn't
have to think when she spoke anymore. Her lines were well rehearsed. I wonder
if I could be in a mummers show? She mused.I already spend my days pretending,
like the men do in their shows across the seas. 
But of course Cersei saw through her lies and gave her a sideways smile.
“Just wait until the day you bear his children sweetling.”
Cersei left with her maids to a smaller entrance to the sept, while Sansa made
her way towards the main doors. A prickle of heat rushed up her neck. It’s
actually happening. I’m marrying Joffery. The sudden realisation made her head
spin so much she thought she might faint. She wanted to turn around and run, as
fast as her feet could carry her, yet she found herself bolted down onto the
floor. Shae and the others left her standing there alone, while the great
carved wooden doors began to open. It was all happening so fast. A sea of faces
turned around to look at her and she felt her cheeks begin to blush. She was
terrified, I wish I had father here to walk me down the isle, to give me
courage. 
In place of Ned Stark was the new acting Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister, father to
the groom. He met her with his arm extended, meaning for her to take it, yet
not saying a word. He wore a grand doublet of black and red velvet, covered
with golden scrollwork and pinned with the hand broach at his chest. His black
leather boots reached above his knees and a golden chain of rubies sat around
his wide neck. Sansa took his arm and began to walk down the great marble
steps, taking care not to trip over her flowing skirts. Her eyes glanced over
all of the Lords and ladies that attended, some of which were faces she had
never seen before. The Hounds tall figure stood ominously beside King Joffery,
his expression unreadable, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He wore
the shiny white and golden armour of the Kings guard, with the long white cloak
hung from his broad shoulders. He can’t protect me now. She thought sadly,
returning her gaze to her King.
Joffery stood waiting for her surrounded by his Kings guard atop the steps that
fronted the broad marble plaza, the statue of King Baelor the blessed gazing
down upon him benevolently. He was staring at Sansa, his worm like lips curving
into a sly smile, with one hand clasped on his belt. He wore a beautiful golden
and cream embroidered doublet, with a red velvet robe draped across one
shoulder. When she reached him she gave him a shy smile, and glanced up at the
high septon who was about to wed her. The septon asked the King to give her his
protection, to which he shook out the cloak of wolves and stags in a flourish.
Joffery placed it carefully over her shoulders, and surprisingly gently. Sansa
could feel all of the eyes in the room on her while they exchanged the vows,
not daring to look back. Its all happening so quickly. The tears had stopped,
she was too scared to cry. Once the septon wrapped their hands together, the
two of them were one, husband and wife.  All the dreams she’d had as a girl of
marrying a gallant Knight tasted of ash now — desolate and bitter on her
tongue. She swallowed them down.
“With this kiss, I pledge my love!” The King exclaimed, pulling her close and
pressing his cruel lips against her own. He kissed her long and deep, a kiss
that reminded her of another, of The Hound. Yet this kiss did not give her the
same delight she felt the night of the battle, nor the jittery feeling in her
stomach that followed, it only left an emptiness, almost a repulsion. The High
septon solemnly declared Joffery of the House Baratheon and Lannister, and
Sansa of the House Stark to be one flesh, one heart and one soul. When she
walked outside the doors of the sept, she was Sansa Baratheon, Queen of the
Seven Kingdoms.
***** A Wedding Gift. *****
Chapter Summary
     A Wedding Gift from the King.
She looks like a woman grown.Sandor Clegane thought to himself as she walked
down the isle.She looks fucking beautiful.He stole a glance at her while
everyone else was watching her enter the sept. The dress she wore clung to her
hips and revealed curves that Sandor had only ever dreamed of. He quickly
teared his eyes away, before anyone had the chance to notice. The boy King was
beaming, and had been all morning as he boasted of how many times he planned on
having her later that night. Sandor felt like shit from all of the wine he had
devoured the night before, so he soothed himself the only way he knew how, more
wine. He slipped off down to the kitchens and necked a skin before having to
escort Joff to the sept, in the hope it may shake the sickness in his stomach.
Tasted like watery piss. He told himself, yet the wine had only seemed to
agitate him further. As the little bird approached closer he could see the fear
on her face, smell her pain, her eyes were wide and scared like a child's.
Joffery took her hand and smirked.
Sandor stood like the good dog that he was and watched the long ceremony take
place - and it was a very long ceremony. He started to wish that he had taken a
piss before he left the Red Keep. How much bloody longer? He grew impatient.
The old cunt wouldn't stop ranting on about the seven this, the stranger that.
Oh and love.Pffft love. Lords and Ladys weddings seemed so bloody false to
Sandor. They're all built on lies. Just arranged to better their bloody house
name or coin purse. Its not love. Its lies. And Sandor hated lies. Why not
marry them and be done with it. The court had all fallen for the tale though it
was true, as had the people of Kings Landing. The love that the young couple
had would bring back the North and South as one again, and the War would be
over. Blind and stupid, all of them.They were all smiling, the crowd- smiles
bought with coin. By now he had drowned out the dull tone of the new High
Septons voice, unaware that the service was nearing its end. He continued to
stare carefully ahead, eyes far away from the couple at the alter, studying the
familiar faces of the court. Then with no warning, he saw the boy kiss her in
the corner of his eye and he felt his mouth twitch.
That’s it. She’s married to that little cunt.
His lungs felt tight in his chest. He wondered if the girl thought it better
now, now that she was Queen. Of course he knew otherwise, if anything it was
only to get worse, much bloody worse. Cersei was the true Queen,and will make
sure of it till her last breath. The new Stark Queen was no more than a
pretty puppet, one that held the North - one that would be used and ridden
until seen fit. Joyful cheers and applause filled the air, echoing throughout
the entire sept. The bells began to ring loud and bellowing, and the new regal
couple turned to their new subjects.
A subtle hint of hatred flashed within her eyes, quickly concealed with a wide
grin. She had been very careful of late, only speaking when spoken too, smiling
and agreeing with every snide remark the young King made. She never spoke of
knights or sers. She barely even whimpered when being beaten anymore. The mask
she wore grew tighter and tighter, yet, Sandor could still see her misery
deepening everyday. She was a shadow of the young excitable girl that arrived
in Kings Landing a handful of moons ago. Maybe she's learning that this life is
not some fucking song. 
He followed the newly wed couple out of the sept and back towards the Red Keep
in their golden litter, stopping briefly to accept congratulations from the
High Lords and Ladies. Ser Addam and the gold cloaks held back the crowd, while
the great stature of Baelor the Blessed looked down on them benevolently.
Sandor Clegane swung up onto strangers back and lurched into motion with the
rest of the guests. He was careful to watch the commons, though they were
cheering Jofferys name, there were shouts for bread and food as well. The war
was spreading famine within the city, but the crown had coin for a seventy-
seven course feast. It wasn't unlikely this information had been widely spread,
and widely condemned. He watched both the pair and the crowd warily as they
were helped into their litter.
The wedding feast had been set up just outside the throne room, in the outer
yard, safe within the castle walls. Banners, flags and pennons had been hung
everywhere. Yellow, red and grey. Baratheon, Lannister and Stark. Joff took the
little bird arm in arm and whispered in her ear as they walked up the steps to
where they would be seated on the dais. A pavilion of golden silk had been
raised, to shelter them from the afternoon sun. He watched the back of their
heads as he followed, like a good dog. 
Sandor took his usual place behind Joffery, while Meryn trant stood behind the
little bird in his shining white cuirass. Cersei embraced the little bird and
kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. When
the King and Queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a drone
prayer.
"Let the cups be filled!" Joffrey proclaimed, when the gods had been given
their due. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of dark Arbor red, The King had
to use both hands to lift it. "To my wife the queen, long may we rule!"
"Long may you rule" the sea of faces shouted back at him. A thousand cups rang
together, and the wedding feast was well and truly begun.
The air slowly filled with the dull roar of laughter and gentle chatter as the
seats were swarmed by guests. One by one, all the lords and ladies began to
bring over their gifts and wish them well. Lord Tywin presented a valyrian
steel long sword with a carved lions head hilt that had rubies for the eyes.
Shame he’ll never fucking use it,he thought. Give the thing to me, always
fancied myself some valyrian steel. The boy pranced about with it for a time
while the crowd cheered and 'oooh'd'at the spectacle. He swung it carelessly
past the little birds head just to scare the shit out of her. She gasped and
threw her hands up in front of her face, to which the crowd laughed
hysterically. Laughter bought with coin and fear.
After the crowd died down, the imp gave them some tatty book that looked even
older than Pycelle, but Joffery cut up into shreds, much to Sandors delight. He
hated the Imp, he hated how someone so small in stature could make him feel
even smaller. Many times the dwarf had mocked him in one way or another, and
every time he had imagined all the different ways he could kill him. It brought
him great joy as he watched him waddle away with his head to the floor.
Next up were some of the flowery lords from High Garden offering all manner of
things to the newly weds, all with fake smiles and deceitful eyes. Flowers,
tapestries, exotic perfumes and lavish jewellery. Every one of them trying to
get as far up Joff’s arse as they can.He sighed with irritation. Lord Mace
Tyrell went the extra mile, presenting a golden chalice, three feet tall, with
two ornate handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. Sandor almost
grunted a laugh. What the fuck he gonna do with that? Wash his balls in it?
"Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms," The fat little lord explained.
He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby
lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and a
pearl direwolf. The little bird seemed to think it beautiful, but the boy
quickly waved it away. Sandor had heard that Mace Tyrells daughter was to marry
Tommen in due time, or thats how he had overheard it in the tower of the hand.
He supposed he was trying to buy favour. 
Eventually, when all of the gifts were given the seventy-seven courses of food
came pouring out. By then Sandor was sweating under his armour in the hot of
the mid day sun, and wanted nothing more than it to be over so he could go and
have a drink, well away from all the sers and flowery Lords. He stood silent
through all of the bards and stupid entertainment, though one performance did
make him smile. Five dwarves came flooding out of nowhere fighting each other
with wooden swords, each one dressed up as one of the usurpers. One of them -
he guessed was supposed to be Stannis - was riding the red woman as a horse,
though it looked as though he was fucking her. When the boy king suggested
Tyrion should go down and join in, well, the look on the little Lords face was
priceless. This day is taking a turn for the better, he thought grumbling with
laughter. Then to top it off the boy King poured the entire contents of his
goblet right on top of the little pricks head. Sandor hadn't laughed that hard
in weeks. 
As the celebrations continued, Joff became more and more drunk, he could not
seem to quench his thirst for wine. Eventually Sandor excused himself and went
and found a privy to relieve himself of his own mornings wine. He stretched his
head back as he hastily unlaced his breeches enough to free his cock for a
piss. There were times a piss felt as good as killing a man, and this was one
of them. By the time he had returned, Joffery had started to spit out insults
at his guests, and throw food and goblets at the dancers below him. No one
expected any less, no one dared even look him in the eye. Jaime tried to
distract him, his mother tried to calm him, not that either done any fucking
use. 
'KNEEL!' Joffery kept shouting. 'Kneel before your king.' 
He laughed hysterically as all his guests subjected to his wish. The Hound did
not kneel. And Joffery never asked him too. He was glad of that. Out came
another course of some roasted beast, its mouth stuffed with an apple,
surrounded by cloves. Joffery began to tear at the meat, stuffing mouthful
after mouthful into his face. A serving girl gingerly cut the little bird a
piece. 
"Aren't you hungry?!" He said turning to her, she shook her head. Her hands
were still firmly clasped in her lap, her new shiny crown perched on her head.
She hadn't said a word, though Sandor had not expected her too. Other than
mutterings of thanks to the lords and ladies that is. She mouthed something
faintly but it was drowned out by bards, lutes and pipers.
The sun was setting and the mood was changing. By now many of the guests were
drunk and dancing together before them. A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed
cartwheels and handstands, standing upon each other’s shoulders to form a
pyramid. Some of the guests had decided to try it for themselves, much to The
Kings amusement. Sandor started to turn his thoughts to the upcoming night,
where the little bird would be sleeping, in that little cuntsbed. He squeezed
the hilt of his sword and stared off into the distance, trying to think about
something else. Anything else. The harper was playing Maiden, Mother, and
Crone,a song his mother once loved and sung to him at a young age.
But The Hound cared not think of her, so his mind went to his brother. Memories
he had of them two growing up in Clegane Keep, when he was just a boy. He
wondered where he was now, he wondered if he felt any remorse for the harrowing
things he had done. But those were thoughts he didn’t much want to recall
either. Luckily Joff's shouts interrupted him, the boy turned to Sansa.
 “Oh, I had almost forgot. I have too, brought you a wedding gift, my Queen.”
He said taking her delicate little hand in his own. She blushed. 
“Thankyou, your grace. You are too kind.” She sounded just like the pretty
little bird that she was, reciting all the words her septa had taught her.
Joffery ushered over some serving girls carrying a little velvet pillow, on top
was a sparkling pile of rubies and diamonds on a golden chain.
"Its magnificent, I helped design it myself." Cersei was sure to say.
 “My Queen needs jewels as equal to her beauty. ” The King announced getting to
his feet. The guests began to applaud.
 The Hound saw her lips curve into a thin smile from the corner of his eye. He
suddenly realised it was one of the few times that he had ever seen her smile.
Meryn Trant stepped back as the boy clasped the necklace around her long swan
like neck. He wanted so badly to look at her, to trail his eyes down from her
neck to her chest.
"Yes, yes, shhh." He spat at the crowd as they clapped.
 “I have brought you another present, Sansa. One I think you will like much..
much more.” This time a grin spread across Jofferys face, not the friendly
cheerful kind but one much more sinister. The tone of his voice went thick with
sarcasm. What now?
 He clicked his fingers and ushered someone towards them.
What game is he playing... The little bird kept up her weak smile, though she
knew just as well. He’s up to something.The crowd seemed to stir in their
seats, the drunken dancers suddenly still and quiet. Cersei and the Imp glanced
at each other nervously. 
 “Thankyou, My King. Truly. You shouldn't have.”
"Oh but I should."
Several servants came rushing over, all carefully carrying an enormous silver
platter with a satin covering draped over it. When they reached the high table
they placed it down right in front of her. There was a long pause were she did
not move an inch; the sea of guests grew silent. Joffery stood and swayed as he
did, leaning on the table in front of him, flicking his velvet cape over his
shoulder.
 “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?” Joffery shouted, clearly, so all the
guests could hear. She looked up at him with eyes full of dread. When the girl
returned her gaze to the mound of satin, she took deep breath and winced.
'Don't be so ungrateful my Queen. It cost me a great deal to acquire this for
you."
She sighed, not wanting to upset him. Cautiously the girl began to lift the
fabric, her delicate hands pulling it back a little at a time. Sandor could
see how much they were shaking even from afar.
"Hurry up!"  Joffery snapped. "We haven't got all night!"
Grabbing and pulling back the fabric himself, the scene that followed was
an unforgettable one. The little bird screamed so loudly the whole of the Kings
Landing must have bloody heard her. The fabric fell to the floor and revealed
Sansa’s brother’s head staring back at them, grey from tar and rotting at the
eyes. A big juicy red apple had been shoved in his mouth with figs and
raspberries surrounding the rotting flesh of his cheeks. The face was almost
unrecognizable; in fact it didn’t really look like a face at all. Sandor was
only sure it was him because of the iron crown still sat on his head. Robb
Stark.This was fucking cruel even for Joffery. Horrible little cunt. The Hound
suddenly wondered what it would be like to have his own brothers head given to
him on a platter. The guests and lords on the head table began to shout and
panic.Others began to scream too. He grabbed the hilt of his sword.
 Sansa wretched and pushed the tray away so it fell with a crash on the floor,
she fell back as though she were about to faint but Sandor jumped forward and
caught her just before she hit the floor. She didn’t even seem to realise he
caught her, just stared back up at Joffery with her mouth open. He tried to
pull her to her feet but she was shaking so much she nearly toppled over. The
guests started gasping and shouting 'Rob Stark!', 'The head of Rob Stark',
other women started fainting at the sight of the severed head that was now
rolling across the floor. 
“You evil little…” Tyrion was shouting in disbelief, rushing over to the girl.
Someone was laughing but he couldn't recall who. 
 Sandor wanted to scoop her up over his shoulder and take her away, he didn’t
want the dwarfs hands on her, trying to comfort her, only his own. The imp
reached out to take her hand though she pulled away before he even got near. It
was Joff laughing. The boy king was laughing fiercely, spilling his wine all
over the floor, clutching at his belly. He is mad.
Sansa looked up at Sandor for a moment, tears welling in her eyes, speechless,
terrified, then... she ran. She pushed past everyone and ran.
 “Where are you going? Your bitch mother’s head is here too would you like to
see?” Joffery shouted after her as she dashed across the marble floor. Her
little crown fell from her head and it rolled all the way back to Jofferys
feet.
 “Dog, after her.” He snapped. “I want the bedding when she returns.”
 The smile that spread across his face made Sandor want nothing more than to
slice him in half with his greatswordand and split those slimy little lips in
half. All in a frenzy of blood and guts right there, in front of them all. Push
me a bit further boy, lets see how much it takes...The rage inside him was
bubbling. Though... ever loyal, Sandor stormed after her, just like he was
told.
He found her in her cage, just where he knew he would. Where else can she go? 
She was on her balcony, draped over the wall. Her upper half hung over the
edge, looking down at the long jagged drop below. As he grew closer he could
hear her sobbing her little eyes out, some of the cries getting lost in the
wind. Her feet were bare, pressed up onto her tip toes as she stared over the
edge. She wants to jump.He realised. He walked right up behind her, but she was
so distressed he did not think she could tell.
“The little bird thinks she can fly.” He rasped, making her tremble so much she
almost fell, if it weren't for his iron grip around her wrist. She turned
around and stared up at him, he saw then that she was clutching a doll,
something you might give a child. She might look a woman grown, but she’s still
a little girl. He tried to put the thought out of his mind and began to think
whether he’ll have to scoop her up and carry her back to the feast, or whether
she’d come by herself. In truth, he wanted to carry her, he couldn’t help but
want to touch her whenever he bloody could.
 “They…they’re..I’m the only one left..” Was all she managed to choke out.
Sansa looked up at him desperately, her eyes red and glassy from crying. She
still looks fucking beautiful even with snot and tears all over her face. She
let out a little cry and with no hesitation, threw herself at him, pulling her
body close against his own. Willingly. She was sobbing, her head pressed
against his chest, so tightly he could feel the warmth of her. She looked so
bloody delicate he was almost afraid to touch her. She had her arms wrapped
around his back, clinging onto him like she never wanted to let go.
 “Little bird…” He rasped, fighting every urge in his body not to grab hold of
her. He stood still as a statue, half afraid the boy King were to walk in and
see them. They stood there for a long moment, in silence, the only noises
coming from the little birds sobs. She tightened her grip on his back and his
affections got the better of him, the invisible guard came tumbling down. He
placed his hand on the small of her back, the other gently on the back of her
head. He wasn't sure what to do. She was so close he could smell her, smell the
sweet scent of her auburn hair. The little bird was right there, in his arms.
Seven hells.
 She pulled herself back to face him, yet she didn’t tell him to let go or not
to touch her, but only gazed at him with wide eyes and pouty lips, tears
running down her cheeks. She doesn’t want me to let go of her.He realised, I
could just kiss those pretty little lips and she might not even fight it.
 “I’m so sorry. I…I should have gone with you. When…when you wanted to leave.
I’m so stupid.” She curled her hands into little fists and thumped them gently
against his chest. “You would have kept me safe. You would have protected me.”
 Before he could find an answer another voice came from the doorway.
 “What’s going on here Clegane?” Both Sandor and the little bird jumped right
out of their skin, pulling away from each other instantly. The little bird
jumped back so fast she almost fell over her own feet. The imp stood eyeing
them suspiciously, his brow furrowed. Fuck, he saw me holding her.
 “I…I was just bringing the little bird back-“ He stumbled. Sandor Clegane was
a bad liar, and he knew how guilty he sounded.
 “I’ll escort the Queen back to the feast. Hound, go find a tree to piss on.“  
He didn’t wait around and marched straight back to the feast tent, his jaw
firmly clenched. She smelt so fucking good.He found himself wondering if she
smelt that good everywhere. How can I think about that now? When she’s just had
her brothers bloody head, served to her on a platter. I am a sick fuck. An old
sick, twisted dog. She deserves better. How could I ever think she would want
an old cunt like me? Something so fucking pure and innocent as the little bird
and all I want to do is fuck her bloody when she’s got tears running down those
pretty little cheeks. He was fuming now, both with himself and the boy KIng; he
wanted nothing better than to stab that little prick in the heart with his own
fucking sword. Yet when he reached the great hall doors, he took a breath and
punched the stone wall instead, over and over until his fists were bloody.
"Lord Tyrion is returning her, your grace." He rasped.
"Well go back and get her. I want her here now."
Sandor clenched his jaw and turned on his heel.
Someone get me some fucking wine. 
 
SANSA
 
The following few days after Sansa’s wedding, in all honesty she could not much
recall. It seemed as though she were trapped in a droplet of water, trapped in
some soundless oblivion in which only she existed. Her head felt as though it
were stuffed with linen, her heart hollow and her body numb. When people spoke
to her it was as if she was not in the same world, only watching from outside.
The tears just seemed to roll down her cheeks involuntarily, she never even
noticed when they did or didn’t anymore. Sansa spent most of her time in the
Godswood, alone. She liked it there, it meant not having to speak to anyone, or
see anyone. Joffery would never come there, she knew, it was the only place she
felt remotely safe. Safe, there is no such thing. She thought bitterly.
Shae kept fussing over, telling her to eat and sleep. Yet she couldn’t seem to
do either, the very thought of food made her feel queasy. What if they serve me
lunch and its someone else’s head?It almost made her retch and she had refused
to eat a bite ever since. No matter how tired she was, the nightmares still
came to her. When she could not sleep she lay under her blankets shivering with
grief. The new Queen of Westeros felt painfully weak, it seemed like too much
of an effort to even bother getting dressed anymore, though Shae would insist.
So much death. Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did
not seem so terrible to her anymore. If she flung herself from her window, she
could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would
write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and
innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her.
 It was starting to rain in the Godswood, though the breeze wasn’t too chilly.
Sansa didn’t mind, the rain felt nice against her skin. The coldness made her
think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. It was beautiful there,
the sun was half hidden behind clouds, only a swords breath from the horizon.
The sky had turned a glorious pinky colour, spotted with grey splodges of
looming cloud. Then the grey reminded her of the colour of her brothers cheeks.
She had heard her mothers were the same, though she was glad to say she had not
seen it herself. 
 “We should go back your grace, your dress will get ruined.” Shae told her from
afar.
 “No its alright, I think I’ll stay a while longer.”
 “Your grace, please. You must come back, you’ll get a chill. I’ll prepare you
a bath. Let me fetch you some lemon cakes. You love lemon cakes.”
 “No its quite alright, you go back. I’ll return soon.”
 “I’m not leaving you.”
 She had had enough by then. Why won’t you all just leave me alone? 
"Leave me." she repeated once more.
"No."
 “Your Queen demands that you leave me be!” She snapped, pursing her lips.
"Your being a child!" Shae spat back, her deep brown eyes narrowing.
"Your refusing to obey orders from your Queen. An act sentencable by death."
Shae quickly bowed her head.
"Has your entire family been murdered by your own husband? Then forced to sleep
with him every night? Has everyone your've ever known been killed? Are you a
prisoner in your own chambers? A prisoner in your own mind?" Sansa's voice was
breaking under the anger. "I SAID LEAVE ME BE!"
For a moment there was silence, only filled with the autumn breeze whistling
through the trees of the Godswood. 
"As it happens, all of my family are dead too." Shae replied, before adding..
"Your Grace".
The handmaiden turned on her heel and left.
Sansa turned to watch her climb the steps back to the castle. She knew the
guards wouldn’t be far anyway, but it was the closest she could get to be being
alone anymore. She tried to close her eyes but every time they shut she saw
Robbs face, and the rotting flesh around his dead eyes. Then her fathers when
Joffery took her up to the and made her look at it. Sansa wanted to pray to the
mother, to the maiden, even to her fathers Gods in the wood, though she didn’t
see the point anymore. They had never heard her prays before, only given her
worst nightmares. All hope was gone now. There was no one left to save her.
They are dead. They are all dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
The night before she dreamt of footsteps on the tower stair, an ominous
scraping of leather on stone as a man climbed slowly toward her bedchamber,
step by step. All she could do was huddle behind her door and listen,
trembling, as he came closer and closer. It was Ser Ilyn Payne, she knew,
coming for her with Ice in his hand, coming to take her head. There was no
place to run, no place to hide, no way to bar the door. Finally the footsteps
stopped and she knew he was just outside, standing there silent with his dead
eyes and his long pocked face. That was when she realized she was naked. She
crouched down, trying to cover herself with her hands, as her door began to
swing open, creaking, the point of the greatsword poking through . . .
 She woke murmuring, "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, please
don't," but there was no one there to hear.
 The rain was falling a little heavier now, and Sansa felt her hair starting to
stick to her shoulders. It wont be long until they get someone to fetch me and
return me to my cage. I’ll just stay a few moments longer. Just a little
longer.The peaceful atmosphere that the Godswood had, seemed to soothe her
sadness, if only slightly, but it helped all the same. She shut her eyes and
pictured home. It was her safe place. The thick granite walls, all of the sky
high turrets surrounding it, the big heavy drop bridge that crossed the moat.
Inside the walls its air was always warm and thick from the hot springs. The
bustling great hall was full of happy familiar faces. The beautiful tapestries
that hung above their heads as they feasted on pies and pastries. She saw the
face of her friend Jeyne Pool, laughing and playing with her braids. She saw
her uncle taking a swig of ale. Old Maester Luwin making a jest with Septa
Mordane. Hodor muttering 'Hodor' while a stable boy teased him. So many faces
came back to her, ones she had not seen for what felt like an age. And one's
she supposed she would never see again. Behind her, her mother and father sat
side by side, holding hands and watching them all. The grey direwolf sigil
swaying proudly above their heads. Arya was there too, her face all grubby with
dirt. So were Bran and Rickon running around after each other playing silly
games. And Rob. Rob was smiling at her, his eyes twinkling and full of life.
She began to hum the song her mother sang to her when she was little… and for a
second she forgot where she was entirely and all that had happened to her.
 “What are you doing little bird?.”
 The voice made her jump, then she was back, back in Kings Landing. Back in the
foreign place she was now forced to call home. Though the face looking back at
her was a familiar one. Sandor Clegane was wearing his shiny gold and white
armour; it seemed to shimmer even more so with the water dripping off of it.
His black hair was all stuck to his face. The rain was falling harder now,
Sansa had to squint her eyes to see him through the drops.
 “I’m fine.”
 “I didn't ask how you are girl, I asked what it is your doing out here in the
rain."
 The deep rumbling sound of his voice was strangely comforting along with the
soft patter of water.
 "Thinking." 
Sansa turned away to stare off towards the sea, eyes flickering.
"Thinking will only make it worse. Come back inside little bird. Now.”
 “I’m fine.” She insisted. I wish everyone would stop hassling me. Why can’t
they just leave me alone. I just want to be alone.
 “No your bloody not. You wanna sit out here in the rain and freeze then fine.
Where’s that bloody hand maiden of yours?”
 “I sent her away.”
 "You want to do this on your own?" He gruffed a laugh. "Good luck." 
 Sandor came and stood in front of her, forcing her to look at him. His dark
hair was sticking to his face, his eyes squinted in the rain. Sansa hadn’t seen
much of The Hound since the wedding, yet she always felt as though he was near,
like she could feel his presence. Sansa didn’t mind though, The Hound didn’t
seem to scare her anymore, he actually made her feel quite safe. Then she
almost laughed at the notion, there is no such thing as safe.
 "I….I am not alone. Not when I am here. I have the Gods.."
 He laughed hard at that. A flash of lightening lit up his face and for a
second, he looked positively frightening. It made her jolt, though after she
was met with soft eyes and water dripping off the end of his nose.
 "If there are gods, little bird, they made sheep so wolves could eat mutton,
and they made the weak for the strong to play with. Your a wolfling girl, stop
acting like the mutton."
"But they are all dead, Joffery…he murdered them! My family. All of
them...dead!"
 “Yes. But crying won't bring them back girl.” He continued. "Don't think I
won't pick you up and carry you over my shoulder either."
 Water was rolling down her cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure if it was rain or
tears. He pulled the white cloak from his back and placed it over hers. He held
his hands there on her shoulders, just for a moment longer than he needed to,
but enough for Sansa to notice. She forced herself to look at him properly, to
look inside his mysterious grey eyes. For the first time she realised that they
were not so filled with hate, but also kindness. There was honour in there, in
those eyes, she felt it.
 “Your grace!” Shae was calling from the steps behind, with a small army of
other hand maidens following her, shawls all pulled up over their heads.
 “You must come inside, you’ll get a chill. The King is asking after you, he
mustn't see you like this. Ive had to call the guards..!"
 The other ladies took her arms and urged her back towards the castle, the
scratchy cloak still draped around her shoulders. I just wanted to be alone.
Though, I am alone now. Mother, Father, Robb, Bran, Rickon and probably Arya
too. I’m the only one left.The thought made her sad again. I wish Lady were
here.
"For fuck sake."
Sandor Clegane scooped her up around the waist and lifted her off the floor as
she struggled feebly. Carrying her through the howling wind, all the way back
to the keep. 
 “Look after her.” She heard him say from behind as they reached the iron door.
 “I am looking after her.” Shae snapped back at him, her arm wrapped tightly
around her.
 “Fucking looks like it.”
 As they reached the hall Shae snatched off the cloak and tossed it back to him
and they made their way back to her chambers. She was shivering from the cold
now and suddenly anxious. It was no way for a lady to behave, she just couldn't
face returning to the beautiful room she calls a prison.
"I just wanted to be alone. I'm..I'm sorry." She said as the ladies ran her a
hot lavender bath.
 Shae put her hands on Sansa's sholders and looked her firmly in the eye.
“Don’t apologise your grace, you’re the Queen now. ”
She looked at the other serving girls and lent close to Sansa's ear. "It will
get better. I promise. You cannot let him win. You are a Stark. You must be
strong. You must save yourself now." 
 A shiver ran down her spine, hard like a bolt. It made all the hairs stand up
on her arms. 
What is a stark if I am the only one left?  She thought gloomily. If I am ever
to be saved…she's right...well I must save myself. 
Sansa lowered herself into the bath and dipped her head under the hot steamy
water, holding her breath. 
All is not lost. I am not alone. My family might be gone. But I have friends. I
have Shae…and….and I have….Sandor.
 
***** Innocence lost. *****
SANDOR
 
The girl had been in pieces after the wedding, broken like a fragile little
bird that had fell from its nest. Sandor had been watching her, protecting her
the best he could from the boy king. He knew he shouldn’t, he just couldn’t
seem to stop himself. I truly am a bloody fool. Gone soft by a beautiful woman,
a girl. Touching her had only made it worse, having her like that in his arms
made him crave it even more. She would speak to him now unprovoked, when he had
to escort her to and from court, she would even look at him full in the face.
She looks at me as though I’m a friend. I shouldn’t have bloody held her like
that. I’ve forgotten my place. I’m a dog, not one of these fucking knights. He
paced up the hall, eyes fixed on the door at the end. She belongs to Joffery
now. He tried to hold himself back, to be mean to her whenever he could, but
she didn’t look at him in fear anymore. He stopped to adjust the fingers on his
gauntlets and pushed open the door to her chambers.
 “The King wants you.”
 She was stood in front of the looking glass, her maids tying up the back of
her dress. Her arms were bare and he realized she was not yet fully clothed,
her lily white skin was exposed, showing him cleavage he had never seen before.
 “You should knock!” The little dark haired foreign one snapped.
 “I should knock your fucking teeth out, how about that?” He rasped before
shutting the door and telling her to ‘hurry up’. The image of her naked skin
stuck in his mind and be began to wish he had walked in just a few moments
before.
 When the little bird stepped out into the hall she looked up at him with a
half smile.
 “What? Don’t expect me to take your arm like one of those sers”.
 “I wasn’t.’” was all she said sweetly before they began their journey to
court. 
 Little bird doesn't know whats coming. Sandor heard the chatter in the hall
before he was sent. Joffery was being poisoned by Baelish, whispering things in
his ear. He wasn't sure what yet, but he knew it wasn't anything good. As he
left they were all bickering like a bunch of fucking fish wives. There were
whispers as well, of the new little Queen. How she had barely been seen since
the wedding. How the King already regretted marrying the daughter of a traitor.
Sandor couldn't see the sense in it, she was no use to the Lannisters anymore.
The game was changing, Cersei and Tywin had been plotting something, Sandor was
sure of it. Though Joffery did not care to attend small council meetings often,
meaning he learnt no more of it. As Sandor and the little bird crossed the
courtyard he decided to warn her.
“He’s in a foul fucking mood.”
She shot him a worried look and clasped her hands together in front of her.
"Oh.."
"Seen a fair few tongues and cocks cut off this morning."
She covered her mouth and looked down to her feet. "Ohh…"
They walked in silence until the reached the corridor before the great hall.
She stopped and turned to him.
 “Why does his grace want to see me?”
Her eyes twinkled up at him. He forced himself to look away.
 “How should I know?”
 When he marched her through the big oak doors Sandor returned to his usual
side beside the King, facing down the steps towards a worried looking Sansa,
the lords and ladies of the court all circled behind. Quite a crowd had
gathered. It had appeared word had gotten around fast. The fat little highborn
Lords and Ladies loved to feast on gossip and spread it around like a slab of
butter. 
 “My Queen, you look quite lovely today.” Joff called down at her, picking at
his Iron throne.
 “Why thankyou my King.”
 He nodded.
 “I must ask you something. Something of great importance."
"Of course. What is it my King?"
"You must answer truthfully."
"Of course my King."
"Have you bled yet?” 
He smirked.
She let out a muffled gasp of horror. Plainly humiliated, while the court
sniggered.
 “Well? It has been brought it to my attention that you should be with child by
now.” Joff continued.
Baelish's doing, Sandor thought. Why does he want the little bird dead? Or with
child?  It didn't make any sense. How does that greasy little cunt gain
anything from this?
Her cheeks turned crimson with the the question asked of her.
Sandor Clegane found himself gritting his teeth together. It was something he
did not want to listen to be discussed. His little bird, in his mind, was still
the innocent young maiden she once was. He wasn’t sure if he could bare seeing
her with child; she's only a child herself. And what does that make you? He
remembered how he held her again, and how he wanted to touch her. At the royal
wedding, Sandor had stayed just long enough to see the little bird be returned
by the imp. He couldn't stand there and watch while that nasty little fuck put
his hands all over her, while they undress and embarrass her and carry her off
to her bed. He raced straight to the kitchens to fetch some wine and stayed
well away from everyone. He had gotten so drunk he woke in the stables with
stranger and a pile of horse shit by his head. Luckily it was Trants duty to
watch over the royal bedding, and stand guard outside the door. Although he was
not there, it isn't to say the thought of it didn't fill him furiously with
rage. He knew it had happened. He just chose not to think of it, he did not
want to, it was easier for him that way. But to see her belly grow with his
child..that would surely break him. 
 Sansa nodded her head ever so slightly before returning her gaze to her feet.
 "Why?" The King snapped, sending spittle towards her.
 Baelish stepped forward again ."As we discussed. Perhaps she is not able, your
grace." 
 The King leant forward, narrowing his hateful eyes. 
 “I should have known you weren’t fit to bare my children. My mother said as
much."
 "She did?"
 "Oh, yes. She said she worries about our future children, whether they'll be
stupid like you, but I told her not to trouble herself. But it appears my
mother gave you more due than you deserve. What’s the use of a traitor wife who
can’t even conceive?"
Sansa went to say something but he silenced her with a hand.
"I’ll beat a baby into you if I have to, is that what you want Sansa?”
 Tears began to well up in her eyes. She knows what’s coming. And I’m going to
have to stand here and watch. 
 “I want your children more than anything your grace…it.. ”
 “Then why haven’t you? You’re a traitor just like your father, your brother,
and your bitch mother. Your not fit enough to have my children.” Joff had stood
up from his seat now, his hands in fists. "You’re a freak just like the rest of
your pathetic family."
 “No please, your grace, that’s not true…I…I…”
"What magic have you cast so you may not conceive? It is treason! Thats what it
is! Moon tea your've been drinking I bet. Who gave it to you? Tell me who is
helping you! Ill slit their throats myself!!!" He was screaming now, all high
pitched and red in the face. Shut up you little cunt, is all Sandor could
think. Joff stepped down closer to her, pointing his boney little finger in her
face.
She mumbled something unrecognisable. To which he only snorted a laugh.
 “I’ve had enough of your sniveling.“
She gasped to say something.
 "SILENCE!"
 Joffery turned back and picked up his cross bow from the side of his throne,
then rested it on his lap towards her head.
 “You bore me Sansa. And what good is a boring, childless wife?”
The girl spluttered, unable to speak. 
"Are you Baron? Is that it? Can you not carry a child?"
Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat to speak, though Joffery hushed him
with a hand. 
"My lady?" He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "It is law to answer your King."
She smoothed her skirts nervously. 
 “I…next moon I promise I’ll…I’ll give you a…” Tears were falling from her
eyes.
"I grow impatient my lady." Joff loaded his arrow and shut one eye to aim it at
her head. Sandors chest tightened. The Hound had a vision of ripping his sword
free and throwing away the scabbard, only to slice Joffery Baratheon in flurry
of guts.
Sansa fell to her knees, sobbing. "No please. No please. Don't kill me.
Please!"
 “Meryn.” The boy called.
 The Toad Ser Meryn Trant marched over to her shaking body, kneeling on the
marble floor and unsheathed his sword.Some fucking ser you are, cutting little
girls. You fucking cunt. He gritted his teeth together, waiting for the screams
of the little birds pain. He hated him. He thought about taking a bite out of
his neck with his teeth and how it would feel to watch him squirm on the floor
until he bled out. Deserves a slow painful death. Trant grabbed the little
birds neck so she was forced to look at him. He couldn't just stand there and
watch it. Not again. Everytime he bare witness to her being hurt it grew harder
and harder to see. 
 “Leave her face, I like her pretty.” Joff called out, a smile spreading across
his lips.
Trant walked behind her and hit her hard in the back with the flat of his sword
and she fell flat on her front with a yelp. He winced when he heard her call
out in pain. Sandor wanted to call out and stop him, he wanted nothing more
than to slice through Trant and grab her before anyone else could hurt her.
That’s enough now.Trant hit her again.Stop, just let her bloody go, he willed
silently in his head. He looked away, then back, then away again.
"Thats enough." He found himself mumbling.
Trant hit her once more, harder this time. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't
stand there and let him beat her.Fuck it.
"ENOUGH!" Sandor shouted loud and clear, his voice echoing throughout the
throne room.
Trant shot him a look and raised a brow, pausing before raising his sword
again. Joff only looked at him and chuckled.
"Its enough when I say its enough."
 Suddenly, and not a moment too soon Cersei came roaming in with her hand
maidens in tow, swishing her dress as she walked, looking like some bloody
floating tapestry. The sound of the iron door opening made half the court turn
to see who entered. She walked slowly through the crowd and greeted her son
with a kiss on the cheek and took her seat on the dais. All attention turned to
her as she flicked her golden hair over a naked shoulder.
 “What is the meaning of this my love?” She asked tilting her head with a coy
little smile.
 Joffery sighed, seemingly embarrassed by his mothers appearance. 
 “The king does as he wants.” Was all he snapped before sitting back on his
throne.
 “I was only curious. I could hear the screams outside the walls. What has the
little wolfing done now?” 
 He sighed with irritation. “I am beating a child into Sansa. As she has yet to
give me one.”
 Cersei raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the girl with something that
almost looked like pity. Sandor knew that Cersei was a liar and a whore, and a
selfish one at that, yet she was not as cruel as him. She was one of the few
people in the seven Kingdoms that could calm the boy or sway his actions, if
only slightly.
 “How long has it been little love? A moons turn or more?”
 Sansa nodded feebly as she returned to her knees, blood seeping through the
bodice of her dress.
“Just…one, moons turn.”
 “It took me five moons turns to conceive yourself after my wedding night your
grace, perhaps she is still yet to do so, give it a little time.”
 Joff lowered his cross bow and turned as if to speak, his cheeks burning red.
 “You will have to try again my sweet, every night I should say. I’m sure that
it wont be a problem.” Cersei smiled as the rest of the court laughed under
their breaths.
The boy flared his nostrils in anger and let out a sigh pointing his cross bow
back at the girl. He considered for a moment and leant back on his throne
before smirking and lowering it once more.
 “You have one more moons turn Sansa. Or I’ll have this marriage annulled and
I’ll find myself a more suitable, and willing wife. Your lucky my mother cares
for you.”
 “I have said no such thing.” Cersei announced, getting to her feet. "The
importance of a little prince or princess deems quite important is all."
 That made Joffery smile.
 “Thankyou your grace, my…my king. I will, I swear it…” She smoothed her skirts
as a hand maiden came to aid her and Joff waved his hand for her to leave. She
could barely stand the poor little bird, limping and shivering with fear.
 “Oh, and Sansa.” He called after her.
 “If you don't...I’ll put your pretty head up there on a spike, along side the
rest of your family.” His lips curved into an even crueller smile.
 
SANSA
 
Sansa sat in the gardens for the best part of the morning doing her needlework,
trying to forget about the previous day at court. The warm breeze and the
gentle sound of the leaves swaying in the trees had calmed her somewhat. Beside
her sat Lady Tanda and her daughter, chatting aimlessly about gossip and
meaningless drabble. Though Sansa didn’t mind, it gave her the chance to take
her mind off the ever-growing worry she carried. Lady Tanda smiled at her
sweetly; showing her sympathy whenever she could, but Sansa knew the only way
she would remain with her head on her shoulders was by having Jofferys child.
There must be another way. She kept saying to herself, though she knew there
was no use. I’ll have to share his bed again. She shuddered at the thought.
Not much had changed since her wedding day, though she had not really expected
it to in truth. She attended court whenever she was bid, walked the gardens as
she always had and visited the godswood whenever she could. Joffery would ask
her to sup with him most nights, though they spent many of them in silence. He
would say things to try and sway her, to get her to say something wrong but
Sansa never broke. If I have come this far I can survive anything. She told
herself. With the title of ‘Queen’ she felt empowered, even if it didn’t change
her life much. Though she had ordered three beautiful new dresses to be sown
for her from the seamstress, as it only seemed fitting that a Queen should look
the part. Cersei even supped with her, young Tommen and Joffery some nights,
though they had been awkward and intimidating. She had asked to visit the city,
to see something other than the red stone walls, though Joffery had refused.
The King would not let her attend small council meetings nor visits to his
chambers. I’m still a prisoner, she realised. Now more than ever.
 When the sun reached its highest point Sansa decided to retire to her chambers
for a short nap. She had been so tired of late and found it troublesome to
sleep at night. She often dreamt of mother and Robb, wondering how they died,
if they were in pain. She muttered her leave as Lady Tander and her daughter
got up to curtsey her off, and her handmaidens came following without a word.
They seemed to follow her now like shadows and it was growing bothersome. She
walked up past one of the balcony’s that overlooked the Blackwater bay, where
she stopped for a moment to gaze. The water was rippling and shining, like
liquid diamonds waving over sapphire, truly beautiful. As she watched she
realised there were still rotting pieces of boat jutting up into the air from
the battle, tainting the otherwise picturesque view. She turned to realise all
her hand maidens were stood watching her, wondering why she had stopped.
“Leave me be.” She said them, and they turned in a swirl of multi-coloured
silk.
Shae moved slower than the rest, and rolled her eyes.
Sansa perched herself on the balcony for a moment and let her mind wander off
again, yet she spotted something to the side of her that caught her attention.
 Sandor Clegane was roaming the halls, near the entrance to her chambers. He’s
always so close. She thought to herself as she caught his eye.
 “Your grace.” He rasped, awkwardly and almost sarcastically. Sansa didn’t
think he had grown used to having to call her ‘Queen’ just yet.
 “The King wants you to sup with him tonight.”
 She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”
 He lingered for a moment before turning to walk away.
 “Lord erm..Clegane?” She called out after him, not quite sure what she wanted
to say.
 He turned raising the eyebrow on the unburnt side of his face. It seemed to
Sansa that she had forgotten how to speak for a moment, or even why she had
called him back. Instead she just studied his face, the red raw twists of flesh
that entwined within one another on the left side, then the strong jawline and
black stubble of the right. 
 “Out with it then? Or did you just want to have a good look at this?” He
rubbed his face with his large gauntleted hand.
 “Do you think he expects me to stay? In his chambers I mean…” Sansa didn’t
know why she had said that, though she supposed it was because she knew that’s
what it meant. The thought of sleeping beside him again made her cringe.
 “What sort of fucking question is that?” He barked, turning to walk away.
 “You heard him, he’s going to kill me if I don’t give him a child.” Her lips
began to tremble, she realised she had been holding it in all morning and the
tears began to well up.
 “Then give him what he wants.”
 “But how?”
 “You truly are a stupid girl. Didn’t your mother tell you how little princes
and princesses are made?”
 “Yes. I’m not stupid…I know how. I just…well we don’t share a bed. He has only
ever… once.”
 “I don’t want to know about how many times you’ve opened your legs for the
King."
"But…"
"Leave your bloody problems at someone else’s door.”
Sandor Cleganes mouth twitched.
Her wedding night had been a blur, something she tried to push out of her
memory. Though the bedding seemed to haunt her, especially at night when she
was alone. She can remember everybody carrying her, everyone tearing at her
clothes, ripping them off piece by piece, laughing and jeering. Her eyes were
stinging from all she had cried that day but it seemed there were no tears left
to cry. The crowd dropped them both, in Joffery's chambers onto the silk four
poster bed, half undressed. She can remember Lord Tywins face, and Cersei's..
the others were a blur. Where is The Hound? She can remember thinking. He is
always here. Why isn't he here. Why isn't he here to protect me? Joffery was
laughing and shouting, though she cannot remember what. Then they all left, and
the door was shut behind them. It was silent. She was so scared.
He jumped on top of her and grabbed her face, squeezing her lips together as
his hissed "Your mine to do with what I please Sansa. Don't you ever forget
that." She tried to look away but he wouldn't let her, his eyes were wide and
crazed. I can still get away she thought hopelessly. Trying to squirm out of
his grasp. Its no good. He began to laugh at her. "You will look at me. You
will always obey me. Are you listening?!" Then he slapped her, hard and fast so
it stung her cheek. "Are you listening? Answer your King." She nodded. His
breath reeked of wine. He kissed her but his lips were thin and smooth, awkward
and fast. He began to kiss her neck then he bit her so hard she thought it may
have drawn blood. Sansa closed her eyes tightly shut. Its my duty. she repeated
over and over in her mind. Its my duty. I must. He fumbled around with her
skirts until he ripped them clean off. She tried to cover herself but he
grabbed her wrists and pinned her down beneath him. She cried the whole way
through, though Joffery only seemed to like it more. She tried to close her
eyes and wished that it would all be over soon. Yet it seemed to last an age
and whenever she closed her eyes she saw his rotting face.
It wasn’t at all how Sansa imagined it would be, her mother once told her that
it should feel good, though all she felt was searing pain. It must be different
if you are in love, she told herself. Surely it cannot be that awful. Its
written in songs. Loosing your maiden head is supposed to beautiful. Though her
wedding night was anything but that. Joffery choked and slapped her, till she
was blue in the face. She was sure she was going to faint. The things he
whispered in her ear she knew would never leave her. He'd snarl at her and
laugh, when she pleaded him to stop. He pulled her bottom half up and forced
her to watch as he had he way with her, sniggering. Then finally when he was
done, he got dressed and left, without a word. Leaving her there alone, scared,
in pain and shaking.
Joffery had commanded that she was to sleep in her old chambers after that, and
he had scarcely seen her since. She wondered if she had done something wrong,
no one had told her what exactly she was to do. Maybe I done something wrong?
Maybe thats what angered him?. Though Shae and her ladies took good care of her
after, and assured her that it was not her doing. "Thats just how it is" One of
her maids said. "A noble boy from the castle I grew up in done it to me all the
time. Couldn't say or do anything about it. So that was that." Sansa's face and
neck were bruised slightly so she kept herself hidden for a week while she
recovered. It had only been a few days since she had dared step out of her
chambers. The pretence had been so strong, she even managed to convince herself
all was well. Then the memory of her wedding night was too much for her, and
she suddenly felt dizzy.
"Im scared. I don't know what to do."
 He turned to leave and the words just seemed to burst out of her mouth.
 “But…Sandor…he’s going to kill me.” She cringed as she said his name, she
hadn’t meant to, it was far too familiar, yet she couldn’t very well call him
Ser, or Lord or even The Hound. It didn’t seem right.
 “Not my fucking problem if he does.”
  He seemed surprised by the sound of his own name. His eyes were smouldering
under a careful stone expression.
 "But you helped me. All those times. The other day, you lied for me!"
 "I did no such fucking thing"
 "The name day, it was a lie. And you know it!"
 The Hound leaned forward and brought his ruined face close to hers. His voice
low.
 "Then shouldn't you be thanking me little bird, sewing me a fucking
handkerchief or whatever it is stupid little girls do?"
 Her stomach lurched, and she felt the tears that she so often cried begin to
well up in her eyes all over again.
 The Hound let out a grunt.
Does he truly not care if I live or die? I thought he cared for me.She
swallowed her tears in tightly.He's The Hound,she told herself, he doesn't care
for anyone. Sandor Clegane smirked down at her.But he held me, protected me, he
kissed me.The memory of him coming to her room flashed before her very eyes,
she saw him on top of her again, his dagger poised to her throat, with the
green swirling darkness swarming in the sky. He had asked her to leave with
him; he said that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, that he would keep her safe.
Sansa was so scared she had refused, though she had begged him to stay there in
Kings Landing. She couldn’t have said why, though maybe it was because he made
her feel safe. Because she felt something for him.I should have left with him,
I never would have had to marry Joffery.
"I should have gone with you."
"Little bird, be quiet." His voice was quick and harsh.
She could barely hear him say the words, her mind was running around in
circles. She was back at the night of the Battle of Blackwater. The Hound never
said he would stay though, he never even replied, she just remembered how his
lips pressed against her own, so hard she could feel all the tiny little ridges
of scars and stubble. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage, so hard she
thought it might burst out of her chest. For a moment she was frozen, until she
felt herself kiss him back, at first only gently. This isn’t so bad, she can
remember thinking, the panic in her belly dulling a little. He wasn’t hurting
her, or moving harshly, but quite softly. She could feel him smiling. He isn’t
going to hurt me. She closed her eyes, letting his mouth move against hers,
before he called out ‘Little bird’ once more and left her alone in her bed,
staring out into the darkness.
Sansa had assumed that he had left right then and there, in the dead of night,
and that she would never have seen him again. Yet at court the very next day
there he stood, gleaming in his armour, his hand firmly on the hilt of his
sword. That night had seemed like a lifetime ago now, and the thought of it let
off all of the tiny butterflies in her belly all over again. Sometimes she
almost thought she might have dreamt it, that it was all imagined, all in her
head. But the torn white clock that she had locked away in her cedar chest
under her summer silks, confirmed the memory was to be a very real one. He
kissed me, he does care for me, he must. Sansa suddenly realised how often she
must have thought about him, and how often she had been left confused. But then
she felt angry. Angry he was not there for her on her wedding night, he wasn't
there to protect her then, when she needed him most.
 Sandor stared at her for a long moment. His eyes looked like the sky on a
stormy day. He frowned, turned on his heel and marched, leaving her stood
behind, tears rolling down her cheeks. He is right; I am a stupid girl. I
thought he cared for me, but he doesn’t even care if I live or die. He’s just a
horrible, cruel dog. He’s just another one of Jofferys pets. The anger hit her
just as soon as the tears did, and she couldn’t help but step forward and let
out a cry…
"Why didn't you stop him. On my wedding night? Why didn't you save me?" 
 The Hound stopped in his tracks and Sansa almost covered her mouth with her
hands. If someone heard, if anyone heard them…
"Shut your mouth girl. You want to get us both killed?" 
His voice was deep and firm, though hushed. He stood still, facing the other
way.
"But…"
"You are not mine to save." He rasped, glancing over his shoulder. "You belong
to the King. Why should I give a damn what he does with you."
 Her lips were trembling.
“If you don’t care…then why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave Kings Landing
that night…when you came to my chambers?”
She had asked that very question to herself at night a thousand times. Why did
he stay? He left me with a kiss and a bloody cloak, and never breathed another
word of it to me again. 
 “Shut up your chirp-” He growled glancing back, his piercing grey eyes wide
and shining.
 “Why?!” She cried out again.
He stood in silence for a long moment, before turning around to face her
properly. His tense shoulders dropped as he did, and the corner of his ruined
mouth twitched with it.
“Because you asked me not to, little bird.”
Before Sansa could answer he was storming off down the hall, his golden armour
shimmering in the afternoon sun. I haven't imagined it all. He does care.She
realised. Dabbing the tears from the corner of her eyes.And I think I care for
him too.Her heart fluttered in her chest as if to confirm it.
***** Blood & wine. *****
Sansa
 
He is even more handsome than I remembered. Sansa thought to herself, looking
down on the knights from the balcony. Ser Loras Tyrell stood proudly with one
hand on his hip, as his squire put on his gleaming silver armour, the jewels on
it sparkling in the midday sun. He was chattering away to his squire, a short
boy with a mop of curly brown hair. Sansa had heard that she was to marry Ser
Loras if it weren’t for Jofferys betrothal, the thought had made her sad. I
could have been the lady of Highgarden, I’ve always wanted to see it there. To
float down the pleasure barges and visit the beautiful gardens, and he’s so
handsome. A proper knight.She had heard that he was a fierce warrior, the pride
of the Tyrell family itself. It could have been my happily ever after. She
sighed and returned her gaze to her King,who was sneering comments about how
fat one of his cousins had become.
Joffery had arranged a small tourney within the castle, to celebrate the naming
of Ser Loras to one of his Kings guard. All of the court was present, a sea of
multi coloured silks and feathers sat upon tiered chairs of stone and timber.
The arrangement reflected the rigidly stratified nature of the court, with
Joffery and herself at the top, the cooks and servants at the very bottom. As
she let her eyes move over the crowd below, she caught sight of Mace Tyrell, a
large fleshy man father to Ser Loras. Tywin had arranged the joining of his
house to the Lannisters, after Sansa's own wedding. Within the month Margery
Tyrell was to travel to the capital to be betrothed to Prince Tommen, though it
was said she was several years older than the boy. As part of their agreement,
Ser Loras was to join the Kingsguard, and Lady Tander even heard rumours of Ser
Willas marrying Cersei Lannister, though Sansa thought it absurd. I hope Lady
Margery is as warm hearted as Tommen. I would very much like a friend at court.
A sister.
Sansa returned her eyes to the melee below. Behind Ser Loras Tyrell stood
Sandor Clegane fiddling with his own dull grey armour, trying to unbuckle the
straps with his large calloused hands. As she watched him struggle it dawned on
her that The Hound did not have a squire, not at least one she knew of. She
couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to be, knowing how short his temper is.
He isn't truly a knight, she remembered, he can't have a squire. The two men
looked as different from one another, say as well a dog from a rose. Even the
reddest roses have thorns, Sansa thought, eyes flittering between the two men.
Ser Loras looked up towards her and her King, and gave a low bow. And dogs will
die for you, but never lie to you. She found herself staring The Hound. It was
a rare sight to see Sandor Clegane without his armor, and Sansa had never
before noticed his body as she did at that moment. He still looked as much a
warrior as he did with it all on, though he was wearing a brown leather jerkin
and linen shirt underneath. His big broad shoulders and strong muscular arms
clung to the fabric as he moved, pulling it tight around them as they flexed.
He stood a good two feet taller than any other man, apart from his brother The
Mountain of course. Sansa tried to avert her eyes, no lady should stare so
vulgly at a man, but the jerkin he wore was open slightly at the top. It showed
a little tuft of the black hair that grew on his chest and her mind began to
wonder. He fascinates me. Sansa thought tilting her head. I wonder how far that
hair goes down…I bet the rest of him isn’t nearly so bad as his face... She sat
up straight, squeezed shut her eyes and silently scolded herself. 
To start the tourney Ser Osmund Kettleblack and Ser Balon Swann were to fight
with shield and mace. Lord Tywin Lannister commenced the proceeding, followed
by the new Septon calling over his blessings to the Knights in the name of the
Seven. 
“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day!” Joffery shouted down at them with a look of
disgust. His eyes flittered over Sansa, leaving her conscious and awkward. I
hate it when he looks at me like that. It was the same look he gave her
sometimes when she supped with him, or when she wore the low cut dress he had
made for her. 
The Kings eyes returned to the tourney, as did Sansa’s. It reminded her of her
Fathers tourney, and how excited she was to see the jousting and knights in
their shining armor. It felt like so long ago now, a distant memory she had
almost forgotten. She wished her father was sat next to her as he had, and
Arya. She often wondered what had become of her, if she would ever see her
again.I do hope she is safe somewhere. As much as the two sisters bickered, she
loved her all the same. She remembered Arya didn't want to go to the tourney,
she would rather play in the dirt with sticks. Sansa had been trilled, she
could barely sit still in her seat. She remembered Sandor Clegane saving Ser
Loras' life, how he defended him against The Mountain, who had turned crazed.
He cut off his own horse’s head. The blood had made her feel faint. The
Mountain terrified Sansa, there was no hidden kindness in his eyes, not like
his brother. Sansa thought back to the story The Hound had told her, of how he
got his terrible scars. How can a brother do something so horrible to his
own?In Winterfell Sansa often fought with her sister, she even said she hated
her, though the worst she ever done was put dung in her bedding. 
Ser Balon shattered Ser Osmunds shield, his sigil of a black kettle on red
roses flew off into a thousand pieces. The Lords and Ladies in the gallery were
engrossed in the melee, as were the men on the ground. Sansa looked over the
faces before her, and noticed some new ones that must have stayed in the castle
since her wedding. She recognized Lord Mathis Rowan, the golden tree of his
house spread across his velvet doublet. Lady Oakheart, a tiny delicate woman
with eyes of watery grey, who looked most uncomfortable watching the clashes of
steel. Yet Sansa found her eyes flicker over to The Hound once more, who was
now in his full armor. Her eyes seemed drawn to him as a moth is to a flame.
Ser Balon was announced the winner, who pulled off his helm and bowed
graciously to the cheering crowd. Ser Osmund kicked his splintered shield and
threw down his sword, swearing profusely. 
“Well fought, well fought!” Joffery cheered taking a large gulp from his wine
cup. Without warning, he turned to her. 
"Did you like that, my Queen?"
"It was well fought, your Grace." She said nodding in agreement. As she always
did.
"I said it was well fought." He spat, scowling at her. "I asked if you liked
it."
"I did, your Grace."
"What did you like about it?"
She scrambled her mind for a safe answer, running out of time she was quickly
saved by the next duel.
“Sandor of house Clegane, to match Ser Boros Blount.” Someone called, hanging
up the two sigils of their houses. Three dogs on a yellow field, for those that
died in the autumn grass. For Ser Boros, a red stripe between to porcupines on
green. Though Sansa could not recall why that was his sigil. 
“I wager 100 gold dragons on my dog.” Joffery called out to the crowd, though
no one matched for a long while. Sansa could feel the tenseness of the guests,
praying that someone had to wager with him, or she would feel the brunt of his
anger to be sure. He liked to take his displeasure out on her, no matter what
she tried to do to deter it. 
Petyr Baelish suddenly stood in his navy blue embroidered tabard, the mocking
bird of his house clasped to his neck. Thank the Gods.Now that the War of the
Five Kings was as good as over, Sansa had heard it said that Petyr Baelish was
to become Lord of the Vale, marrying her Aunt. I wonder what Aunt Lysa is like,
if she looks like my mother? Sansa never had the pleasure of meeting her, and
supposed she never would. She heard whispers in the court that Petyr had loved
her Lady mother once, though Catelyn never told her of it.
“Done, your grace. What is a tourney without a little gamble?” Lord Petyr said
smiling.
“Very well.” Joffery waved his hand. “Rip off his head, Hound!” 
Sandor Clegane looked up at him though didn’t reply, just swung his sword arm
around to loosen his shoulder. Sansa felt her tummy knot and her heart begin to
beat a little faster. She suddenly found herself anxious, and hoping that he
wouldn’t get hurt. As Ser Boros slammed down his helm Sansa thought she saw his
face with a flash of horror. He raised his shield edged forward, taking small
uncertain strides. The Hound drew his enormous great sword from his back, a
sword twice the size of Ser Boros’s. That’s not fair. Sansa thought, he’s
already twice the size of him.His snarling dogs head helm made him for quite
a terrifying sight. The first blow was met steel to steel, though Ser Boros was
taken a back. Sandor crashed down his sword hard and fast again and again,
taking great chunks of wood from Ser Boros’s shield. The pair circled each
other making clinks as their steel kissed. Sandor swung faster than the knight
and sliced his leg with the tip of his sword, just below the chain mail, a line
of blood seeped through his surcoat and down onto his calf. Within moments the
Hound had smashed the shield straight out of his hand. Ser Boros staggered back
as he was kicked down onto the floor, the Hound towering over him. The crowd
began to stand and cheer, shouting at him to finish the job. 
“I yield!” Ser Boros shouted as the tip of Sandors sword met his neck. “I
yield, I yield!” Sandor turned up towards the dais where Sansa was sat and for
a moment she thought he looked right at her. Yet she soon realised he was
looking for Joffery’s approval and her heart seemed to drop right down into her
tummy. Joffery nodded as if to accept before taking another gulp of wine. 
“Well done dog. I’ll see it you get a comely bitch with nice teats to reward
you!”
The crowd roared with laughter as did Joffery, Sandor looked around uneasy and
sheathed his sword. Sansa felt herself feeling giddy as she watched The Hound
move around below, though perhaps it was from the wine. He's so strong. 
After a long day of clapping, complementing various Lords and Ladies and taking
small constant sips of wine Sansa found herself drunk and dizzy. The sun was
setting in a sky of pink and purple and at last the tourney was over. I’m ever
so tired, she realised. I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine.She disliked the
taste of the Dornish wine they had served, though Joffery had commanded she
kept taking sips. He’s started to drink near as much as his father did. Sansa
remembered King Roberts red cheeks and fat belly, yet she couldn’t imagine them
on Joffery. He would make a terrible drunk, worse than his father, she
reflected. When they left the tourney King Joffery had been so drunk that he
almost tripped and tumbled down the chairs.If only he had, and had broken his
neck. When they reached the castle he took her arm and asked her to join him in
his chambers. The question caught her by surprise and she almost refused. I
could say I feel ill, or I have my moons blood. Then she remembered that it
would mean loosing her head.
“It would be my pleasure, my King.” It’s my duty. She told herself as she
entered his grand chambers. And the only way I’m to stay alive.
They sat on the royal balcony overlooking the bay as they were served a
selection of fruits and pastries, followed by a sweet pink coloured wine. I
much prefer the taste of this one, she thought, taking a sip. The view from his
balcony was quite breathtaking, you could near see the whole of the Blackwater
bay. Vine leaves crawled up over their heads, sheltering them from the
remainder of the setting orange sun.
As she carelessly watched the horizon, Sansa spilt a splash of the wine onto
her new lilac dress. All down the lace that trailed down her chest to her
lap. She blushed and tried to discreetly brush it off with the back of her
hand, though it made no use.I hope he does not notice. It would be enough for a
beating, she knew. Yet Joffery spoke little to Sansa, but mostly to Ser Balon
Swann who stood as a statue, near the great oak door to his room. The more
drunk he became, the more it seemed that he liked the sound of his own voice
and Sansa soon found herself drifting off thinking about her family. She
wandered where Arya would have gone if she had indeed escaped, she always loved
Jon, perhaps she is with him at the wall.It seemed doubtful but she told
herself it could be true.Suddenly she realised she had not heard a word Joffery
had said.
"Well?" He questioned her, prodding at his plate. "Tytos, after my great
grandfather. Or mayhaps Joffery, the second."
Sansa was confused, what had he meant? "I'm sorry my King, I did not hear
you." 
"Are you deaf as well as stupid. My sons name."
'My', doesn't he mean ours? Sansa had always wanted to name her child after her
father, she didn't think she could ever call him Joffery. What if he is to be
like his father? Two Jofferys. She shuddered at the thought. But Sansa had
always wanted a girl, so she could teach her to sing and dance and sew. She
hoped she would have red hair like her own, that she could braid like her
mother used to in Winterfell. Shae had taught her how to braid the crown of the
head, like was the fashion in the capital, she could practice on her. Yet Sansa
was only now approaching her sixteenth name day, and the thought of having her
own child made her tummy knot. She had looked after Bran and Rickon when they
were still young, but Sansa was worried she wouldn't know the first thing to do
with a baby.
Could I ever love him? Or her? Knowing they had come from his seed? She wasn't
sure that she could.
"What if it is to be a girl your grace?" She asked, covering her wine stain
with her hand.
Joffery sneered at the suggestion.
"What use is a girl?"
Sansa found herself wondering what she would like to call her daughter if she
were to ever have one. 'Lily' she thought, after my favourite flower.Thats a
beautiful name. Or Jonquil, after the maiden in the song. Mayhaps she might
find her true love as I never will. Sansa found herself hoping that she would
never have to marry her daughter to someone like Joffery, or ship her off to
Dorne as Cersei had.
Sansa looked up at Joffery over her goblet to be met by those terrible green
eyes and a smirk. He nibbled on a piece of cheese from his ornately carved
dagger, waving it around as if to threaten her. Their suppers often consisted
of this. Pointless chatter, leering eyes and vile remarks about her family and
home.
"Now that the war is almost won and all of your traitor family are dead,
Winterfell is mine by right. I'm going to start by burning down anything that
remains of that pile of rubble you called a castle."
He's trying to hurt me. She realised. Courtesy is a ladies armour, her Septa
always told her.
"As is your right, my King. The walls of Winterfell are nothing compared to the
beauty of the Red Keep."
Joffery's smirk dropped and suddenly he pushed away his plate and dismissed the
servants and Ser Balon from the balcony. Her stomach lurched. He stumbled over
to grab a jug of wine laid on a beautifully carved oak table just inside the
door of his chambers. He ushered her to follow him but she felt so clumsy she
almost tripped over the hem of her skirts. His room is twice the size of mine,
and much more beautiful. If one kind word could be said of King Joffery it was
his lavish taste for beauty and luxury. He poured himself a cup, but not one
for her, she noted, and sat down on the bed. The posts were golden lions
reaching up towards the ceiling, draped over with red velvet and gold brocade.
Plumped up cushions in shades of yellow and red covered most of it, with
candles lit all around. It looked beautiful but the size of the bed made
Joffery look tiny, as if he were being swallowed by satin and velvet. 
“Come Sansa. Sit.” He tapped on the bed beside him and pouted his wormy lips.
He’s looking at me that way again. Sansa looked at him wondering how she could
have ever found him handsome. As she moved over towards him her head swam and
she stumbled up the steps. The floor was so polished and slippery. 
She done as she was bid. The velvet seemed to reach up and hug her.
"Your very beautiful Sansa. You know that? Stupid, but beautiful. Can't have it
all I suppose." He sniggered.
"Thankyou, my King."
She lowered her eyes. She knew what was coming.
“Come here and take off your clothes.” He reached out to touch her, yet Sansa
flinched.
"No." She found herself saying.She didn't want to, not again.
He ran his fingers through his hair and put down his cup.
"What did you just say?" His nostrils flared as he said it.
Her throat suddenly became tight and dry, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Nothing, I'm sorry." She choked out, trying to look as though she hadn't meant
it. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She told herself,I must do my duty.
"Mother says I'm still to put a son in you. That is if you aren't baron." He
snorted.
Quickly, he moved towards her. Joffery wrapped one hand tightly around her
throat while the other ran up her arm and gently tickled her neck, yet his
expression was dark and anything but gentle. "Your going to like it this time."
He whispered."Aren't you Sansa?" She nodded though she knew she wouldn't.
Closing her eyes she found herself thinking of Sandor Clegane, wandering if he
had ever tickled a woman's neck so softly. Somehow the thought excited her and
she let out a quiet sigh. Joffery seemed to enjoy the noise and grabbed her
skin hard, pulling her close. Yet when she opened her eyes the sudden closeness
made her tense up, recoiling from his touch.
"I want you on your knees."
She done as he commanded, careful not to fall. She looked up at him with a
stare made of stone.
The King slapped her hard across the face, with the back of his hand. It stung
her cheek fiercely, his ring had cut her skin.
She looked at his hands, so small and soft, not the hands she wanted to touch
her at all. His nails dug into her skin and hurt her. He pulled her up again by
her hair. Just let him do it and get it over with. I'll pretend to like it. Im
good at pretending. The King paused and scowled, he began to pull at her dress.
Then leaned close as if to kiss her, so she shut her eyes tight and held her
breath. Just get it over with. She thought. But his lips never found hers, and
she blinked them open again. He looked as pale as snow, his eyes blood shot and
weary.
“Are you well my King?” She asked, eyes wide.
"I'm...I'm fine." He pulled her up again by the throat and swallowed.
Then pushed her hard onto her back and into the silks, swaying as he did. For a
second she thought he might faint.
“My King?” She asked again, only to be answered by a wave of a hand and a
spluttering cough. He leaned away and was sick all down the side of the bed,
showering it across the marble floor. Sansa found it hard not to retch herself,
the smell was over powering. It smelt of wine and cheese and garlic, and the
liquid puddled far out across the floor. She wrinkled up her nose as he turned
back to face her, spit dribbling out of his mouth. He choked and coughed, his
face red from both anger and embarrassment. 
“GET OUT!” He screamed, spraying spittle in her face. "GET OUT!"
Thank the gods. She prayed, running out of the room without a second thought,
her head spinning, clutching at her ripped bodice. There are Gods after all. 
 
Sandor
 
The Hound walked into the dimly lit bathhouse in the bottom of the Red Keep,
his eyes heavy from the wine. Though he was permitted to use the lavish ones
that they kept for the Sers, he preferred to use the one for the servants and
guards. At least no one here will bloody talk to me. He wanted to be alone with
his thoughts. Looking around the foggy room, an old man sat asleep in the tub
furthest away and another in the one Sandor normally uses. I better get some
bloody peace here. He was sick of Jofferys constant arguing with his newly
appointed grandfather, Tywin the hand. Although it did mean Tyrion was no
longer, much to Sandors delight. Maybe Tywin can teach Joff some bloody life
lessons. The Hound kicked off his boots and made his way over to the tub,
eyeing the skinny man that was sat in his place.
 
“Move.” He said, his voice as harsh as steel on stone.
The man leant back and rested his elbows on the edge, stretching out his legs
in front of him, revealing a tiny pink cock.
“Do you know what? I don’t think I will. There’s plenty of room in here and I
like this spot just fine. There is another one over there if you don’t want to
share.” His voice was nasally and high pitched like a boy going through
puberty, yet he looked a man grown.
“You’re a talker.” He rasped.
The man turned to glance up at Sandors face with a self-satisfied smile, though
it soon turned into a look of complete horror.
“I said fucking move.” He rasped again.
The rat faced man considered for a moment before getting up to leave without a
word. They’re all afraid of me, bunch of gnats. The tubs were built for 6 or 7,
in the traditional style of the Free Cities, though Sandor never shared. He
waited for him to leave before pulling of his sword belt and breeches and
emerged himself to his chin in the steaming water. As he let his tired muscles
soak he allowed himself to shut his eyes. In an instant he saw her face again,
those big blue eyes staring back at him.
His mind keep going back to something he had heard shared in lowered voices
earlier that day, he could not understand it. Sandor had walked past the bottom
of the steps that lead up to the rookery, on his way to escort the boy. It was
Cersei, he knew and Maester Pycelle. Their tone made him slow his pace.
'A bigger dose could have other complications, your grace. She may never be
able to bare a child.'
'Good, A few less enemies for my grandchildren.'
They were slipping the little bird moon tea. He knew they were plotting
something. They were always plotting something. They don't want her with child.
Now the war of five kings was as good as over, he supposed she no longer held
any use.They want her fucking dead.The realisation hit him hard. How could he
protect her from that? He had strong arms and good steel. He could cut a man in
half, but playing cruel little games like the ones Cersei and Tywin played, no,
he could not protect her from that.
He threw water over his face.
There was another conversation that had played on his mind for days. He didn’t
mean to say what he had, though when she mentioned sharing a bed with the
little prick it made his blood boil and he couldn’t hold his tongue. Of course
he cares if she lives or dies, the girl had been the one thing he had been
thinking of since the first day they met in Winterfell. He remembered back to
the first time he spoke to her, walking with her direwolf as they made camp for
the night. Lady, he remembered she called it. Ha, only the little bird would
call a beast like a direwolf, a lady. He smiled. Then he remembered the way she
looked at him, how scared she seemed to be. How scared she was of this face. He
splashed up water over his head again to shake the thought.
He hoped that she had understood that he hadn’t meant what he had said. That he
does care for her in truth, I care more than any other fucker here at least. He
never thought she would ever speak a word of the night off the battle of
Blackwater; he thought he must have scared her out of her wits. Yet when she
asked him why he had stayed, the look in her eyes told a different story. She’s
so bloody naïve and innocent. At first he told himself he needed to be harsh
with the girl, which led him to say the things he had. She needs to learn that
she cant trust anyone in this place, not Cersei, not Baelish, not even me. If
she gets too close, I’ll only hurt her. In truth Sandor Clegane wanted nothing
more than to reach out and hold her in his arms as he had before. She’ll thank
me one day, for all the hateful things I do. She has to learn, this world is
not some bloody song.  
He splashed the hot water over his arms and rubbed his aching neck. The scar on
his shoulder seemed to be healing nicely. Another one to add to the pile. His
arms were smattered with scars, some still red raw, some silvery and old, some
burns from when he was younger. Whenever he looked at himself now, he felt
nothing but anger and hate. Yet years ago when he was still a squire he used to
look at himself alone in his room and cry, although no one has ever known it.
As the heat of the water surrounded him, the steam in the room got humid and
Sandors eyes grew heavy once more. He closed them and stretched his aching
body, kneading the muscles in his sword arm. He had pulled something when
fighting in the tourney. He stretched it and made a fist over and over again.
Sandor put his head back, taking a deep relieving breath. He imagined that the
little bird was right there in the tub with him, washing herself, smiling shyly
at him. He pictured her emerging from the water, naked as her name day, looking
like some bloody mermaid. He looked around again to make sue he was alone.
He wondered what her breasts were like, what they would feel like. Soon his
cock was throbbing, so hard he had to take it in his hand. He wanted to know
what she would sound like, what little moans might come from her mouth if he
were to ever fuck her. I will never fuck her, she's the Queen. Your a dog. He
envisioned the tuft of auburn hair between her legs and the pink little folds
that lie there. He wanted to know what they would taste like. How it would feel
to run his tongue over the tiny mound of flesh and make her legs quiver. He
wanted to slide his fingers deep inside her, to make her arch her back and moan
his name. To feel the wetness of her. He rubbed his cock up and down below the
warmth of the water. Imagining his hand were her pink little lips wrapping
around him, her mouth sucking on his hard throbbing cock. He was so close to
cumming he ached with want. He knew it was wrong to think of her but he wanted
her so fucking badly. He imagined her bouncing up down on him, her legs pressed
either side. Sweat and steam dripping down her naked body. Soon he found his
release, and instantly he flooded with guilt. 
Suddenly he heard steps and jeering voices from outside the bath house. In a
daze he got up quickly, pulling on his rough spin breeches to cover the massive
erection he still had and turned to face away. The cloth stuck to his still
damp body. He shrugged on his tunic and grabbed his sword belt hoping to make a
quick exit before the men entered the room. 
"Well if it isn't the Hound." A voice shouted, followed by barks and woofs from
the other drunken guards behind him.
Sandor ignored them and continued to get dressed, pushing his long hair out of
his face. 
"The fuck you bunch of cunts want." Was all he said clasping his sword belt
back onto his hip. 
"Your a cheery one aren't you?" The voice said again. Sandor recognised it as
one of the former sell sword guards that liked to think he had was the next Ser
to be knighted to the Kingsguard. Pompous prick. Wont be so smug without that
babbling tongue inside your mouth.Sandor suddenly found himself wishing he had
his dagger so he could remove it himself. My great sword is too big, i'll have
to split open his skull. I'll let he blood run out into the baths and drown him
in it. The tone in Sandors voice made the other men pipe down, yet the unnamed
guard must have felt bold with his belly full of wine.
"Isn't it your duty on the halls tonight Clegane? You gave Ser Boros a nasty
gash on his leg in the tourney, he's in no fit state to walk." He called out to
him, over a clash of clinking armour dropping to the floor.
Sandor found his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to slice the man in half.
Can't get any fucking peace anywhere. He hadn't killed a man in a good few days
and he felt the itch inside him want to see a mans blood on his sword. The
tourney had only made it worse,cutting a man but not killing him.It made him
want it more. I could imagine it was Joffery and cut off his cock.He thought,
licking his teeth. He turned to face the men all unchanging by the pillars. He
was faced with ten of them or more and he let out a small grunt. More than I
fancy killing on an empty stomach.  
"Aye." Is all he said, walking out towards the kitchens.See the girls making
you soft.He punched a sconce clean off the wall as he walked the steps back up
to the keep. His blood was still up from anger, but most of all from the image
of the little birds body washing naked in the bath. 
***** whispers In The Darkness. *****
Sandor
 
Later that night Sandor patrolled the halls of Maegor's Holdfast, enjoying the
silence. The hour was late, all the lords and ladies tucked up in their feather
beds, just how Sandor liked it. He enjoyed the night shifts, yet tonight he was
restless. After the tourney he had hoped he might visit Chattayas whorehouse
and drink some of the gold dragons he had won.Need to take my mind off that
bloody girl.But with Ser Boros injured it was his duty to take over the watch.
He slowly paced the halls thinking whether he should go to the kitchens again
before he lapped the halls of the hold one last time. He supposed he should go
up to Joffs chambers soon and let Balon go back to the white tower, whilst
Sandor stood guard for the rest of the night.
As he reached the top of those steep steps that never seemed to bloody end, he
cracked his fingers in his guantlets. Some of the sconces had flickered out,
leaving half the hall in darkness. Have to get one of those scrawny kitchen
wenches to light these again. As he continued down the hall he thought he heard
a noise ahead, though he couldn’t see a thing. Suddenly there was a shadow of a
figure coming towards him, tiny patters of footsteps growing louder and louder.
Down the stairs from the Royal apartments. For a moment he thought he was about
to catch a whore slipping from the imps room or a hand maiden off to steal wine
from the kitchen. But when he heard the foot steps were running he felt his
mouth twitch. Maybe I will kill a man tonight, bout fucking time. He squinted
his eyes and wrapped his hands around the hilt of his sword. Your'll wish you
ran the other way… He unsheathed it and held the steel straight a head of him.
Soon Sandors blood was pumping hard again, a rush of adrenalin pushed around
his body. Been too long since I killed a man. He thought. And too long since I
fucked a woman.
 “Who goes there?” He called out into the darkness, ready to slice down anyone
who might stand in his way.
 He was answered with a gasp and the figure stopped still in their tracks.
There was an erie pause. It remind Sandor of the silence just before battle. 
 “Please...no. Don’t hurt me!” A tiny voice cried, stepping forward again.
Their skin seemed to glow even in the darkness. He soon realised it was a
woman, he could see the skirts of her dress moving as she walked. So it is one
of the imps whores then. He wandered if he should pay her for a tumble himself,
he was still raging from his thoughts of the little bird earlier. He sheathed
his sword and stepped towards her, only to see that it was the little bird. He
could make out her little pink lips trembling in the darkness. He squinted to
see her face to make sure that she was real. She looked tired and sad, though
as beautiful as ever.I can't bloody escape her..
 “I’m sorry, I was just returning to my chambers.” She mumbled reaching out to
lean on the wall, pushing her hair back with her other hand. She looked
flustered and scared. What’s wrong with her? He narrowed his eyes.I smell a
lie. 
 “At this hour?” He rasped, stepping forward to tower over her. She’s been with
the king, In his bed.As they moved towards each other the moon met them both
through a window above, revealing a dishevelled head of auburn hair and glassy
blue eyes. 
 “You shouldn’t be wandering about on your own.” He rasped.
 “It was his Graces wish that I left, my handmaidens weren’t to know.”
 “Was it your wish as well? to leave?” He said, wondering if she truly enjoyed
being in his bed. He found himself faced with a flash of jealously, angry that
she was with Joff and not with him. Jealous of that greasy little cunt! The
thought almost made him laugh. The boy is little more than a rat dressed in
fancy clothes.
 “I…I will do whatever my King asks. It pleases me to please my husband.” She
was looking down onto the floor.
"Tweeting those little songs again are we?"
She shot him a sorry look and parted her lips.
 “Does it please you to be in his bed?” he found himself saying, grabbing her
wrist. She swayed a little as he did and stumbled over his boot. She’s drunk,he
realised. It was the first time he had seen her drunk; usually it was him
wandering the halls in the night with a belly full of wine.
 “No…it doesn’t please me. Not one little bit…but I wasn't in his bed…I...” she
said breathlessly, so quiet Sandor almost didn’t hear. She leaned forward and
the sudden closeness made him realise the iron grip he had on her wrist. They
found themselves face-to-face, so close he could smell the scent of wine and
mint on her breath, yet neither made a move to pull away.
 “I would rather be in yours…” She whispered softly.
He almost let out a laugh but the look on her face made it choke in his throat.
She looked fiery and passionate, her hair fallen in front of her face. She
looks like a statue of the maiden but with the eyes of the warrior.He lifted
her face with his thumb for a better look. Statue of the maiden,
pfft...Look what she does to you, you sound like a fucking poet. 
 “Your drunk.” He rasped, peering at her with angry eyes. The drink has made
her bold, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.
 “No.” she whispered, placing a hand over his, leaning into him.
"Well...perhaps just a little. The King kept making me sip my wine."
Sandor rolled his eyes.
"Let me take you back to your cage."
 “No, Just hold me, please.” Is all she said, laying her head on his chest. It
was all the words he had ever dreamed of hearing her saying, yet he found
himself holding back. She’s drunk, she doesn’t want this, not truly. But how
could he deny her? Yet he was almost scared to touch her, like his touch would
only bring her only fear and pain. She’s had enough of that to last a lifetime,
I don’t need to hurt her too. 
 “Stop, little bird.” He said trying to pull away. Before you do something
you’ll regret.
 She leaned closer to him again, parting her lips ever so slightly making a
little ‘o’ shape. He felt his cock stir in his breeches as he watched her chest
begin to heave.Is this a bloody dream? It’s a sweet one if it is. Her porcelain
skin was glowing, even in the darkness of the hallway. She was looking right up
at him with those big blue eyes, Seven hells I want to fuck her. Sansa was
looking at him, without a shadow of fear on her face. She can look at me now,
he thought. She's not scared of these scars anymore. She clung onto his arm
just staring at him, as if he were the one person she had been searching for,
for a hundred years.
"Did you mean what you said. That you stayed because of me?" She whispered. 
He couldn't help but narrow his eyes,Its like she can't believe I've got a
heart somewhere underneath all this armour. It made him angry all over again
and he snapped "Don't fucking flatter yourself." 
She made a little sighing sound and looked completely taken a back. She went to
pull away, tears welling in her eyes again. Fuck sake Clegane Just tell her,
what have you got to bloody loose?
"Someone has to protect you. No wolves left here, so a dog will have to do. "
He said it begrudgingly. But Sansa beamed him a huge smile all the same. The
hand on his arm tightened. 
"I can't stop thinking of you…" She whispered. 
She licked her bottom lip softly, tilting her head as if she knew exactly what
it would do to him. It pushed Sandor over the edge and he found himself pushing
her up against the wall in a shadow of darkness. He could no longer see her
face but felt her hands reach up and place themselves on his chest, clinging on
to the metal of the plate. Fuck I shouldn’t. He told himself, but he found his
hands wrapped around her tiny waist. He knew he was rougher than he should have
been; she’s just a girl. She’s Jofferys play thing. Not mine.Though his
thoughts didn’t make him want her any less. He could feel the warmth of her
through her dress, the curve of her shape. She closed the gap between them and
pressed herself against him, so he could feel her breath lightly on his face.
The over whelming urge to kiss her took over him but he stopped himself. She’s
not some fucking whore.
He was about to push her away, to walk off and leave her there in the shadows.
She’s playing with me, and this is a dangerous fucking game.A voice in his head
told him to do it, to just reach out and take her, right there, but he shook
his head as if to try and rattle them out of his brain. She’s turning me soft
as shit. I need to go, I can’t. She’s drunk that’s all this is. He went to let
her go, but he felt her slowly brush her face against his, their noses touching
as she found his lips in the darkness. She kissed him ever so gently with those
soft little wet lips of hers, her mouth tasted of mint and wine. She lingered
for a moment and slowly pulled away, as if she were hesitating to kiss him
again. He thought she might turn to leave, to run off back down the hall, but
for Sandor it was not enough. He felt his mouth twitch as he eyed her shadow
eagerly, pushing her half into the moonlight. Now that he had a taste, he
wanted so much more. I’m not one of her fucking flower knights. I want her, I’m
going to have her, I’ll fuck her right here in this hallway.Lust raged through
him and he saw red, there was no stopping himself anymore. In that moment all
that existed was her flesh and his. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he
pressed his body tightly against hers, and they deepened their kiss. Fuck, she
wants this just as much as me.His tongue explored her mouth as she cupped his
ruined cheek with her hand. He trailed down and started to kiss her neck,
licking the sweet taste of her skin whilst she sighed breathlessly. She tastes
even better than I imagined.
 His hands were all over her now, exploring her, reaching up cup to her
breasts, filling his hand. Need to get this armour off. His cock was rock hard,
throbbing with want for her. The little birds hands slid up under his white
scaled cuirass, running over the bottom of his stomach, feeling for the
muscles, tracing the lines. That’s it, just a little lower. He grabbed her
breasts harder this time, pushing her hard against the wall into the complete
darkness of an alcove, parting her legs with his own. Her breath was ragged,
yet she was making quiet little sighing sounds as he sucked on her sweet skin.
Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck as she leant her head back. I
can't have her here, i'll take her back to my bed. He thought he heard her
murmur ‘yes’, but he couldn’t be sure. This is so fucking dangerous, what if
someone comes? Fuck it I want her. I want her right now. He reached down to
pull her skirts up but suddenly she tensed up. Little fucking cock tease, he
wanted to snarl at her. She went rigid all at once and pulled away from his
grasp. See, she doesn’t really want you, a voice said in his mind, a voice that
reminded him of his brother. His face flashed before his eyes and he pushed her
away. There were steps coming down the hall, more than one, and hushed voices.
He didn’t want to pull away, not yet, not now – but he knew he had to. He
grabbed her wrist and dragged her along the hall, pulling open a door and
stuffing her inside. She turned around to look at him with wide eyes before he
shut the door, his finger over his lip, telling her to hush. The Hound turned
to pace back up the hall, but the voices were just around the corner. Fuck.He
changed direction, as if to walk past them. His blood was pumping, his cock
still hard. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if to check it was
still there. The realisation comforted him.
 He glanced up only to be greeted by two very shocked looking faces. It was the
fat Eunuch and that slimy little fucker Baelish. What the fuck are they up too
at this time?  He thought. Sly ones they are. Varys was grinning. It was making
Sandor nervous. What if he heard us? What if he knows?! He has his little eyes
everywhere. Suddenly he found himself feeling strangely uncomfortable and
worried for the little bird. His fingers were pressed on the hilt of his
sword. If she gets caught, fuck, If she gets hurt... it will be all my fault.
As they reached each other the pair stopped in front of him.
“Clegane.” Varys said with a stiff nod and a wry smile.
"Bit late for a walk isn't it?" Sandor rasped.
"Or a bit early. Depending on how you look at it."
Baelish twisted the hair on the end of his beard and edged past The Hound.
"Well...as much as I would love to stay and chat, I think we must press on, my
Lord."
Sandor frowned. "Fuck off then."
Varys spat out a chuckle.
No one seemed to mind his lack of curtsies and he certainly didn’t feel like
giving them now. A long moment passed after the steps retreated down the hall,
and he turned to go back to the door where he had hidden the little bird. He
waited a moment, straining his ears for any other footsteps, and opened the oak
door. She looks so fucking innocent standing there, her hands up to her mouth,
as white as the snow, her hair a mess.
 “Anyone in here?” He rasped.
 She shook her head. He glanced around the room, it was dark but he only saw
odd pieces of furniture and empty barrels.
 “Quickly.” Was all he whispered pulling her again by the wrist and out into
the hallway, before anyone else decided to take a late night stroll. She turned
back to him, eyes glassy with tears.
 “I’m sorr-“ Her voice was a quite as a mouse.
 “Go.” He said sternly. Sansa turned and stumbled as she went, he watched her
wander off down the hall in a hurry.
 It had all happened so quickly. What the fuck was I thinking? He was so close
to having her, but he knew it couldn’t last. He was a halfwit to think
otherwise. But she was so willing. She wanted it.For a second he almost wished
they had been caught, just to see the look on the Lordlings faces, that a
monster like The Hound could have the little pretty bird. She said she wanted
to be in my bed.His cock seemed to stir again at the thought. He pictured her
there in his bed amongst the skins, rolling over and looking at him with sleepy
eyes and a mass of auburn hair. He couldn’t seem to shake the image from his
mind. He remembered the taste of her neck, of her soft skin. She would have let
me have her, right there like some whore.Yet somehow that angered him. She’s
not a whore, she's the little bird. He found himself following her direction,
only to curse himself and turn back towards the Kings chambers. Did she tense
up because she heard the footsteps or because I went to slip my hand between
her thighs? He kept trying to shake his head to get the thoughts out, but they
were going nowhere. She’s turned me into a buggering fool. If someone caught us
I’d have my head on a spike. No bloody girl is worth that.He sighed with
irritation, rubbing his hands over his face, pacing down the hall. For fuck
sake. Who am I trying to fool? The little bird is worth dying a thousand
deaths, each one gorier than the last.
 
Sansa
 
Sansa pushed her face into her feather pillow, whispering his name into the
silk. She rolled onto her back but the room was spinning so fast she thought
she might throw up, just as Joffery had. I’ve never been so drunk, she
realised. She sat up suddenly feeling ill, and pulled off her heeled boots. As
she leant forward, she thought she could smell the Hound, the leathery male
scent she inhaled when she was wrapped up in his arms. What if we had gotten
caught? The thrill of it all had made her dizzy with excitement. Her heart was
still beating wildly in her chest and the smile on her face was making her
cheeks hurt. She was sure she was blushing a crimson red, though luckily no one
was there to see it. She slipped silently into her chambers, hoping she hadn’t
woken Shae in the adjoining room. I hope no one saw us. If Joffery were to find
out…The fear curdled in he stomach as she thought of his name. He’ll kill me,
he’ll kill us both. She started to unroll her stockings and threw them lazily
onto the floor. If anyone is to ask, I’ll tell them that I simply left Jofferys
room, nothing more.
 Her hands were clumsy as she struggled to take off her dress in the dark
without her handmaidens help. Maybe I could wake up Shae, she wouldn’t tell,
would she?Sansa shrugged off the dress and laid it on the back of her chair.
She tip toed back across the room and laid back down onto the bed, wrapping her
arms around herself. There was an aching inside of her that she had felt only
once before; it left her breathless and hot. She flew off her covers and
slipped off her silken shift dress. I said I wanted to be in his bed, it almost
made her cringe. He’s going to think me a wanton. What if he tells someone,
what if he tells the King? Her heart was still beating so hard and fast that
she thought it might never stop. When she shut her eyes she saw his face again
stood there in the shadows of the hallway. She wanted to kiss him again; she
wanted the feeling of his body on top of hers. He’s so strong, but gentle
too.Sansa had never felt this way before, she wanted to slap herself and hug
herself all at the same time.He's the Hound.She tried to reason in her head,
over and over again.I'm a Queen, I can't go around kissing knights in the
shadows of hallways. Wait, he's not even a knight. She never thought she would
find herself feeling this way about someone, other than her husband, especially
not a man like the Hound. What would everyone think of me? She could almost
hear the jeers of the ladies in court, the names that they would call her. She
flung herself back down into the pillows again, feeling like she were about to
burst into tears. 
 But as she closed her eyes she remembered how he kissed her back and a smile
crept across her face once more. She remembered how he had sucked her neck and
she found herself tracing her hands over where his lips had been. Her own
thoughts even made her blush as she rolled about in the bed wishing he were
there beside her. She couldn’t keep herself still, just squirmed in the sheets
imagining that the covers were his hands caressing her, not the silk. He had
meant to lift up my skirts. She remembered, before she heard the footsteps.
Would I have let him if I hadn’t? She tried to imagine how it would feel for
his rough manly hands to slide up her thighs and between her legs. The thought
caused her to let out a muffled sigh into her pillow and run her hands over her
breasts. Her nipples were so hard, and sensitive to touch. Is this what it is
meant to feel like when a man takes you into his bed?She wondered. Joffery has
never made me feel this way.Sansa found herself wondering if she truly should
have left with Sandor all those moons ago, when he asked her to leave with
him.Maybe he still would? He could be the shining knight I have been waiting
for, just not quite how I imagined him.She wanted to scold herself for thinking
such silly thoughts.Im not a little girl anymore, I am a woman grown, a Queen. 
 Sansa knew she should stop herself, What would Septa Mordane think if she
could see me now? Or Mother? I'm no wanton, I'm married. She knew she should
roll over and go to sleep but she couldn’t get the thought of the man out of
her mind. She remembered how he grabbed her breasts so hard it almost hurt, but
she had almost liked it. Sansa tried to do the same to herself and found her
head leaning back into the pillow, her breath fast and shallow. He’s the
Hound.She reasoned with herself.I can’t have thoughts like this about the
Hound.She tried to picture his scared face but it didn’t seem to bother her
much anymore, she kept thinking of his body instead and how he had touched her.
As she rolled around in her bed she felt a wetness between her legs and slowly
let her hand slide down there gently. It felt wicked and wrong but she wanted
it so badly she allowed herself to move her fingers over the wet folds of skin.
Soon she found herself rocking her hips against them and she was rubbing harder
than before. She imagined hearing him rasping ‘little bird’ as he had, into her
ear, in that rough harsh voice. Sansa arched her back and pressed her fingers
against he nub of flesh that was starting to feel so good, as her wet fingers
slipped over it. Yet it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t his fingers, his hands. She
imagined his thick muscular arms pinning her to the bed, forcing her to lie
beneath him. The thought of it excited her, the idea that he could so easily
over power her, there would be nothing she could do.
It left her dizzy and suddenly she sat up in the darkness. Looking down, her
skin was gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. How will I face him on the
morrow? She asked herself, brushing her hair back with her fingers. What will
he think of me? The room was spinning again so she stared up at the ceiling,
wandering what the Hound had thought about her kissing him. But he didn't push
me away, he didn't want me to stop. Sansa wondered if he would have had his way
with her, right there in the hallway, had she let him. She remembered all the
things he had said to her, how he said he would make her his if he could. It
sent her heart a flutter again and she smiled face down into the pillow. He
wants me just as I want him. Soon she drifted off into a deep sleep, having
dreams full of birds and dogs and wolves, chasing one another, as if it were a
game.
***** Such a fool. *****
Sansa
 
Lord Tywin had arranged for the Lannister family to sup with him that evening
in one of the smaller halls, an offer that made Sansa feel quite uneasy. Lord
Tywin had never supped with her before - spare special occasions - in fact she
felt he had made himself rather alouf since the wedding. If it wasn't for Lord
Tywin, the Battle of Blackwater would have been lost, and The Gods only know
what would have happened to me then. Joffery disregarded his uncle as Hand, and
immediately named his grandfather the new Hand of the King. Sansa found him an
frightening man, stiff and cunning, and barely seen. He chose mostly to stay in
his tower, only to attend small council meetings that Sansa was not allowed to
join. 
Ser Balon had came earlier that morning to tell her that all of the Lannister
family had been summoned while she was breaking her fast.I am a Lannister, they
have made me a Lannister. she realised, not a Baratheon.Sansa had heard some
truly wretched court gossip earlier that day; however apparently the city had
been talking about it for quite some time. They were saying that Joffery is
born of incest, between Lord Jamie and Cersei, a thought that made her
physically shiver. It can't be true, it can't. Thats disgusting. When Lady
Tander told her she felt so sick she almost threw up her lemon cakes. She
remembered something her mother once told her about the Targaryens, how they
married brother and sister for years to keep the bloodline pure. Still, it all
seemed so wrong to Sansa, something that the Gods would most definitely frown
upon. The idea of having to marry Robb or even Jon felt bizaree beyond words.
Her mother said that every time a Targaryen was born, the Gods would flip a
coin for them to be mad or brilliant. She had heard tales of Maegor the cruel
and Balon the Blessed, though it seemed to Sansa they were all a little mad. At
first she had not believed the disgusting tales the ladies had told her, until
she realised maybe that was the reason for Jofferys own cruel madness.
There must be something important Lord Tywin wishes to tell us all. She
thought, as Shae dressed her for the evening supper. But why would he want me
present? No one tells me anything....Unless?A pang of fear prickled like a rash
all over her body. Perhaps they knew about the Hound? Perhaps someone saw me
kissing him. The terror of it all made her feel faint and she leant back only
to be caught by Shae’s open arms. 
“Whats wrong your grace?” She called, sitting her down onto her chair.
“Nothing, nothing. I…I don’t feel well, that’s all.”
Suddenly Sansa’s head was spinning and she couldn’t catch her breath. She had
felt unwell all day, but more nervous than sick. She must had walked the
gardens half a hundred times, hoping the fresh air would help her pounding
head; but more so she would avoid the Hound. Much to Sansa’s relief she had not
seen him, and prayed she wouldn’t for a time. I don’t think I can bring myself
to even look at him. Every time she closed her eyes she seemed to see his face
looking back at her. His ruined mouth sucking on her neck. 
Joffery had not summoned her though, as she had first feared. When she sat down
for her afternoon tea with Lady Sybell - still without a word- she thought she
might have gotten away with it. The Hound wouldn’t tell, he’d be in just as
much trouble as I, she realised. But now she was to be summoned to supper with
Joffery, Cersei, Tommen, Tyrion, Kevan and Tywin himself. They know, they must.
Someone must have seen us. They’re going to kill me. Tears began to roll down
her cheeks and she started to panic.
“You drank too much wine last night your Grace, that’s all. The feeling will
pass. Let me fetch you some water.” Shae said as the others tried to soothe
her.
It was the wine that made me do it, Sansa thought,I never would have been so
bold if it wasn’t for the wine…Yet she found herself thinking about it all day.
Remembering the way Sandor had held her made her heart beat a little faster
every time it came back into her mind. I wonder what it would be like to wake
up in his bed?The thought made her blush all over again. She found herself
wondering if the Hound shared his bed with anyone else, or whether he visited
whorehouses like the other members of the Kings Guard. Though Sansa found she
didn’t like thinking about that at all. The night before had left her ever so
confused, and the questions plaguing her mind just seemed to grow and grow. She
knew she shouldn't have kissed him, yet she wanted to so badly. Perhaps that is
why.
When she woke in the morning she found him to be the first thing on her mind,
yet it was not regret or embarrassment, but something she could only call
excitement. The thought of him made her smile and she caught a glimpse of a
grin in her mirror as she got ready. The danger of it all had only seemed to
add to the thrill, it felt like it was their own little secret and they were
the only ones to ever know. Sansa just found herself hoping it would stay that
way, yet she was worried that someone would notice her acting different around
him. Every time she would see him she was sure would blush scarlet. I'll wear
my curtsey as my armour, she told herself. I won't so much as look at him, or
pay him any mind. 
Once shae had calmed her somewhat, Sansa chose a green dress with a golden
ribbon that crossed up from her navel to her breast, and long pointed sleeves
that almost touched the floor. She wanted to be certain she looked her best. I
must be strong. I am a Stark of Winterfell. If they were to question her or
punish her for what she had done, she must face it like a Queen, not like the
scared little girl that she was before. As the months passed after her wedding
she was starting to become braver in her new role, although she still very much
felt like a prisoner. One of her hand maidens tugged on her hair roughly as she
put it up into a braid, the sharp pain made her curse and pull away. Sansa
tried to reason with herself that they wouldn’t know about what had happened
the night before, but why else would they all summon me? Shall I deny it?
Should I lie? 
Her tummy still felt uneasy from all of the wine she had the night before,
though Shae told her to drink lots of water and get some fresh air. Once she
was fully dressed she dowsed herself in her favourite scent and took the long
walk around to where they would be eating. She wanted to walk outside to feel
the sun on her shoulders before she sat down with the family, to calm her
nerves. Although when she reached the small hall they would be dining in she
was a nervous wreck. Her hand maidens followed her to the door in silence, her
eyes following the cracks in the floor, though she could hear other steps
walking towards her. Sansa finally lifted her eyes from the stone only to be
met with King Joffery’s eyes; green, scowling and bloodshot.
“Sansa.” Was all he said eyeing her with a look of distaste. Behind him was the
tall dark shadow of Sandor Clegane, though she couldn’t bring herself to look
at him. She almost felt his touch again, his hands wrapped around her waist
like they had the night before. She found herself feeling weak at the knees and
had to look down at the stone floor once again. As they entered the feasting
hall she felt his presence leave, and glanced over her shoulder to see that he
had went to stand guard outside. She felt a flood of relief, yet she didn't
want to leave her eyes from the doorway either. 
Lord Tywin was the last to enter the hall, wearing a black and red leathered
jerkin that was slightly pointed at the shoulders. Sansa found him rather
intimidating, even more so than his daughter. Cersei wore her hair down and
loose, a small braid clipped at the crown of her head. Her dress wasn't one of
her best, a pale blue satin with silver lining, quite simple compared to her
usual ostentatious gowns. She still looks beautiful. Sansa couldn't help but
envy her beauty, no matter how much she hated her spirit. Tyrion Lannister
seemed as drunk as he usually was, downing his cup before Sansa even managed to
take a sip of her own. He smiled at her warmly, though she didn't return the
favour. He's so ugly. Kevan Lannister gave her a similarly warm smile, though
it still seemed to her that his face was made of stone. Little Tommen sat on
his cushion playing with his fork, a cheeky smile on his plump face. Everybody
greeted one another in the correct way, and returned compliments and small talk
as the drinks were served. For a time it felt almost cordial, if a little
forced. The first course was a soup of buttered potato and stewed snails,
though it was far to rich for Sansa’s taste. The nerves in her stomach made it
even harder for her to swallow and she wasn’t sure she would keep it down.
Cersei made a comment about how pale she looked and asked whether her moon
blood had come.
“No, your grace. Not yet. I hope to be with child.” Sansa said, forcing herself
to smile.
“Good. I was wandering how you were doing on that front.” Tywin said to his
grandson, who looked equally unwell. Sansa frantically tried to think of some
pleasant conversation, before he could mention how they had failed to share a
bed the night before.
“Joffery suggested the name Tytos, after your father, my Lord. Or Joffery the
second, after himself.”
“Tytos? My father was a fool. And Joffery? Rather arrogant to name your son
after yourself. We will find another.” Tywin sniffed, his eyes refusing to meet
her own.
There was an awkward pause as those seated around the table waited for Jofferys
response. 
“What did you just say grandfather?” He finally sneered, though he looked too
woozy to properly bother giving him any wrath. I hope he’s been sick all day.
Sansa thought, remembering how he tried to put his wormy lips on hers. Tywin
simply turned his head back towards the other direction of the table. Sansa
followed his lead as the others did, in the hope he would not further the
conversation. 
“As you may all know, Petyr Baelish will be leaving for the Vale on the morrow
- to wed Lysa Arryn. This means he will be acting as Lord of the Vale, and
bring the Eerie into the fold. However, this does mean we will be needing a new
master of coin.” Lord Tywin said.
“But with Margery and Tommen to be married within the month, we will need
someone to manage the finances. The Tyrells are just as lavish as Lannisters. I
expect they will want a wedding feast to envy Joffery and Sansa’s.” Tyrion
said, raising an eyebrow. Sansa saw a flash of her own wedding feast, and her
brother’s head rolling across the floor, the memory caused her to push away her
plate.I miss Rob. She remembered how the flakes of snow melted in his hair the
last time she saw him all those years ago. Joffery shot her a look from across
the table but Sansa returned her gaze quickly to her cup. 
Tywin turned to his son, Tyrion.
“Which is why I am naming you new master of coin.” 
Cersei let out a muffled laugh and brought her wine goblet to her mouth.
“I’m rather good at spending money, but a lifetime off outrageous wealth hasn’t
made me very good at managing it.” Tyrion protested.
“A reward for your valour is what you wanted. Here it is.” Tywin said shortly,
laying his knife down onto the table. Before Tyrion could object again he
raised his hand to silence him. 
"It is also high time that young Tommen found himself a sufficient match."
"Father, he is ten." Cersei snapped placing her hand on the boys shoulder.
"By which time I had already promised you to Rhaegar Targaryen, had he not got
himself killed." Lord Tywins lips pursed.
Cersei's face twisted into a scowl which she hid partially with a wine glass.
"The Tyrell's have proved a financially beneficial ally of late. One that may
come in useful in keeping the throne through these tortuous times. In the words
of House Stark, Winter is coming,and High Garden hold the majority of our
grain. It would be wise to have them on our side. Mace Tyrell has a young
daughter, lady Margery. She will be visiting soon with the rest of the
Tyrell's. She and Tommen will be promised to one another, if the little prince
approves of course." His lips moved into what she supposed was meant to be a
smile.
Tommen's eyes were wide, it was clear he had no idea what was going on. Cersei
rubbed his arm protectively. 
“Now, the real reason why I have summoned you all here.” Tywin announced,
getting to his feet. He looked right at her. 
Sansa’s stomach tightened so much she was certain she would retch. Lord Tywin
pointed over to the door, his face still as stone. This is it, they are going
to bring in the Hound and hang us both. They know…they must….They're going to
bring him in...
But when her eyes lifted up from her lap, another man was stood in the doorway.
A man not nearly so tall or intimidating as Sandor Clegane. A scraggly aging
man was stood looking back at them, though he was dressed in a beautiful beige
leather jerkin. It was studded with gold all across the front in the shape of a
lion reaching up towards the collar. It looked as though someone had taken a
common street beggar and dressed him in royal clothing. His hair was long and
messy, his eyes were sunken deep into his face and his cheeks gaunt. He smiled
at them all, revealing yellowing teeth. Who is he?Cersei let out a gasp and
pushed herself away from the table, knocking over cups and plates. The servants
jumped back in the chaos, fleeing away from the table. Sansa returned her eyes
to him, and saw that he was missing one of his hands. A stump poked out from
the sleeve of where his fingers should have been.
“Jamie?!” Cersei cried, her hands over her mouth. 
The mans smile broke into a huge grin. Oh my, It’s Jamie Lannister.Cersei ran
over to him in a flash of blue satin and white trim, hanging off his shoulders
like a drape, sobbing into his jerkin. 'Jamie', she said over and over again.
The sudden outburst of emotion from Cersei surprised Sansa, she had never seen
the woman act out this way, let alone ever seen her cry.
“Can it truly be you?” She asked him, reaching up to his cheek. 
Even Tywin had a mild smile on his hard face, and Tyrion was grinning from ear
to ear. Kevan was muttering about how glad he was to see him and Tommen looked
as though he might burst into a million pieces with excitement. There is some
love in this family, Sansa noted. However twisted and small.Yet Joffery looked
ever indifferent and let out a loud exaggerated sigh. 
“Uncle jamie!” Tommen cheered, as he came to sit down with them at the table.
“Your so thin, your hair, your beautiful golden hair.” Cersei said her eyes
washing over him. Then she let out a howling cry. “Jamie. Your hand. Who done
this to your hand?!” 
“The Goat of Harrenhal.” he said, waving his stump in the air. It was enough
for Sansa’s stomach to flip all over again. She found herself wondering if she
would feel the same if the Hound lost a hand. It was a strange thought, she
knew, so she shook it from her mind. 
“Who? I must know more of how this happened. I'll murder them, I'll murder them
myself!” Cersei sobbed uncontrollably. 
“You shall sweet sister, but not now. I am weary. Where is the wine?” Servants
came tottering over serving him all manner of food and drink. He wasn’t at all
how Sansa had remembered him, she watched him eagerly over the table,
remembering how handsome she thought he once was. He used to have gorgeous
blonde hair.Her eyes lingered over the greasy strands dangling in front of his
face. He looks more like a cattle herder than a knight. 
“You should have come sooner. You should have come straight to me.” Cersei
huffed, waving away the servants offering fruits and cheese.
“I only arrived this afternoon, and I doubt you would have greeted me so warmly
when I had shit smeared all over my face.”
Tommen started giggling uncontrollably, spitting his soup out onto his doublet,
much to Cersei’s dismay. Tyrion thought it hilarious and patted his brother on
the arm, splashing wine over himself. Soon they were bickering between each
other until Tywin hushed them all in a loud and menacing tone.
"You are Lannisters. Stop acting like fools. Jamie, I am pleased you have been
returned to us. Now we can put this stupidity behind us and you can finally
take your place at Casterly rock, as my son and air."
Jamie's face dropped.
"My place is here-"
"We will not discuss it now."
"We will. I am not going to that rock. I am Lord Commander of the Kings Guard."
"A Lord Commander without a sword hand?" Tywin's eyes narrowed.
Jamie slammed down his cup in anger and Sansa found herself glancing over at
the door. I want to leave, I'd rather be anywhere but here. She remembered that
Sandor Clegane was on the other side of the door and smoothed her skirts.
Moments passed and she looked around the table. Joffery was furiously stabbing
at his food seemingly oblivious to the conversation in hand. At the head of the
table Tywin Lannister still appeared mildy annoyed, his green and gold eyes
peering over his cup. Not a word was said now, just uneasy looks flashed at one
another as bites were eaten. My new loyal and loving family. Sansa thought
sarcastically, also picking at her food. Flashes of home filled her mind, of
Winterfell, the great hall where they held joyus feasts filled with music and
mead. Keep your eyes down. She thought, not wanting to tempt fate. As the food
was cleared Jamie Lannister cleared his throat and seemed to finally catch
sight of Sansa and turned to her. She tensed up. 
“Well...It appears I have a new sister and a new Queen. Welcome to the family,
your grace.” Jamie said, kissing her lightly on the back of her hand. It was a
gesture that long ago would have made her blush, though she found herself just
wanting to pull away from his touch.
“It is so good to finally make your acquaintance properly, my lord. I am so
glad you are back home safe.” 
“Yes. Well…not all of me, but most of me.”
Sansa smiled but her Septa hadn't taught her any courteous answers to give a
man who had lost his hand. She was worried she would only make it worse, so she
took a sip of water instead.  
They finished their supper as they heard tales of where Jamie had been and how
he had made it home. Many of which Sansa found too gruesome to listen to over
dinner, so she left most of the venison and carrots that were served soon after
the soup. One character Sansa found most interesting was a woman called Brienne
of Tarth, a woman who thought herself a knight. The idea of it made her giggle
and she found herself wanting to meet her at once. I bet Arya would have liked
her, she found herself thinking. Once the tales were told and the supper was
done, they brought in Bethany fair fingers to play them the lute. Cersei and
Jamie were sat together, whispering in each others ears. Like lovers. Sansa
thought, screwing up her nose. Lord Tywin had already asked to be excused, so
Sansa found herself entertaining and singing with young Tommen and his nurse.
He’s such a lovely boy, Sansa thought, nothing like his brother. She told him
stories that old Nan used to tell her when she was little, ones about giants
and warriors who rode shadow cats. It was nice to let herself relax, with
Tommen she could act like a child again, back to a time when she had no worries
or problems. He's too young to marry.She thought.Let him play a little longer. 
“Dog!” Joffery shouted unexpectedly, causing Sansa’s heart to jump right out of
her chest. He came walking through the door, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his
hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. “Take me back to my chambers, this bitch
is boring me." 
Sansa wasn’t sure if he was referring to herself or to the bard, but she
curtseyed him off all the same. She was sure someone would feel the tension in
the room as Sandor entered, but no one seemed to notice. She let her eyes flit
up to him, but his stare was cold and hard, as if he hadn’t even noticed her.
Perhaps he’s angry with me, she thought. He always seems to be angry with
me.After they left she felt a little sad that he hadn't looked at her, even
though she knew he wouldn't. 
When she returned to her chambers later that night, Sansa found herself
exhausted. She didn’t think she could carry on like this, the guilt of their
kiss following her around like some horrible looming cloud. They don’t know.
She kept telling herself. They would have said by now.She wondered what the
return of jamie would mean for her, if it meant that he would be staying in the
Red Keep or going back to Casterly Rock. She found herself feeling sorry for
him, now that he had lost his hand, wondering whether he would still be able to
fight as the warrior he once was. She wondered what Margery would be like, and
hoped that they would get along. I wonder if she will be stupid like I was? If
she has any clue as to what she is marrying into?
Shae brushed out her long hair as she played with the doll her father had once
given her when she first arrived in Kings Landing. Its face was starting to
peel and the straw that stuffed it was all uneven, but she loved it all the
same. I wish father were here. He would know what to do.She knew playing with
dolls was silly, but it made her feel close to him somehow. She tried to
picture his face though it seemed harder than it had been before. Sansa prayed
to the mother for strength, then to the warrior to send down some knight to
save her from her fate. She knew it was no use, that is was stupid, yet prayed
for it anyway, as she had so many nights before.
The days were passing faster, and it was soon that Joffery would demand a child
from her, else wise have her head. There was nothing she could do. She was
trapped and it dawned on her that no one was ever going to rescue her. All her
family were dead. Sansa prayed for her family, that one day they would all be
laid to rest below the castle of Winterfell, together where they all belonged.
That was the least she could hope for. She took a moment to picture each one of
their faces, in as much detail as she could remember. The thought soothed her.
As she laid her head down upon the pillow and closed her eyes, she thought of
her sister again. She wondered what Arya would think of her and the Hound.
She’d call him ugly and laugh at me for being so silly. It made her smile, but
when she slipped her hand underneath the pillow she was met with a piece of
parchment, rolled up tight into reel.
 
SANDOR
 
Sandor Clegane stood watching the man he once knew as Jamie Lannister with a
look of pure amusement. He looks like a fucking drowned rat. He had aged a good
ten years since Sandor had last seen him, and then of course there was his
hand. If someone cut off my sword hand I've have them slit my bloody throat
with it, he thought, eyeing the golden fingers that now took its place.A golden
hand. He chuckled to himself in his head. I wonder if he'll fuck Cersei with
it. The knights of the Kingsguard sat around the table of the white sword
tower, summoned by Joffery to discuss the new arrangements. Sandor had been
acting as Lord Commander, though never actually knighted, and never fucking
would be. This was much to the dismay of the small council however, Joffery had
refused anyone else other than his loyal dog, knighting or no knighting. It was
not a role Sandor yearned for, yet he did not refuse it. It gave him an
opportunity to be more than just a jumped up body guard. A title that had began
to wear very thin. He had helped plan the defence of the castle during the
Battle of Blackwater, and lead the men through the gate to battle... that is
before all was almost lost. 
Joffery took at seat next to his uncle.
"As you are all well aware my uncle Jamie has returned.." He said, as the men
gave each other concerned looks. "And The Kingsguard needs to be restored to
its former..glory."
The room burst into growls and murmurs.I'm surrounded by a bunch of cunts. He
realised, looking at the sorry excuses of men that sat around him. The
Kingsguard - A band of brothers sworn to protect the King. 'The fiercest
warriors in all of the Seven Kingdoms!" HA! I could murder everyone of these
pricks with one hand round my cock and my eyes shut. Fucking spineless and
weak, thats what they are. Sandor spat onto the floor. 
Who is the boy going to get rid of then? He wandered. Ser Boros Blount perhaps?
The short-tempered, old little man with a broad chest and tiny, bandy legs. Far
too old to swing a sword anymore. Or Ser Preston Greenfeild? Sorry excuse for a
knight if there ever was one. Comes up to my fucking waist. Ser Arys Oakheart
was all the way off in Dorn and fucking dead for all we know. Who did that
leave? The new shining knight that was Ser Loras Tyrell? I've fucked women that
look more of a man than him. Still a boy, and green at that. He spat once more.
Last and most definitely least was the one he was hoping for. The toad that was
Ser Meryn Trant. He rubbed his red beard as Sandor eyed him. The bags under his
eyes hung like Maester Paecylles balls. The only one of these cunts who can
actually swing a sword and he likes to fuck and beat little girls. Sandor
thought he looked nervous. His beedy eyes darting all around the room.One day
i'll slice my sword so far up his arse it'll come out his throat. This time he
hacked up a big ball of phlegm and he spat it on the floor.
"Charming." The Kingslayer sneered with his usual air or arrogance. 
Other men were in the room as well, though standing behind. Other Sers who
wanted in on the Kingsguard. Most were new faces, ones from high garden he
supposed. A few old ones lingered though, like the cold hard face of Ser IIyn
Payne.
"My uncle will be acting as new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, for now. He
has still to prove he can protect me without his hand.." Joff glanced over at
his uncle with a sneer.
"I am perfectly able your grace, its more of a challenge for them this way."
The smile Jamie gave him was almost enough to slice his face in two. Joff
turned to Sandor, his hand brushing back the dirty blonde locks on his head
again. The men in the room muttered again. It was clear Ser Jamie Lannister was
not a popular choice. 
"My uncle wishes that you be removed from the Kingsguard, Dog. Being that you
will not accept your knighting."
"I'm no fucking ser." He barked. 
Ser Balon and Ser Meryn unsheathed an inch of their swords in a rage, the light
glistened off the steel. 
"How dare you disrespect the king!" Ser Meryn shouted, his ugly face turning a
ruby red to match his beard. The other men seemed to stir in their seats too,
though no one made a sound. 
Joffery only smiled and raised a hand for the men to re-sheathe their swords.
Sandor found himself hoping they wouldn't.I'd cut these green boys down before
they could beg for their mother. Sandor hated the other Kings guard, their
knighthoods meant nothing but lies and bullshit. 
"Don't worry Dog, I have another task for you. You have always been loyal to me
and I still want you close. You will remain in the Kingsguard, and stay by my
side, though you will take a slightly new position."
What cunt do I have to follow around like a dog now? Tywin? Tommen? It better
not be fucking Tommen. I'm not some fucking wet nurse. Sandor tilted his head
back ready for the blow Joffery would serve. Just pay me in wine and gold and
I don't fucking care.He thought.  
"Your'll serve as newly acting Queens guard, to Sansa." Joff's mouth twisted
into a smile. "My new Queen has a tendency to scutter off whenever she wants,
this is something I need you to stop. And who better? You terrify her, the look
on her face when you enter the room is better than any cruel jape I play on
her. You can torture her when Im not there to do it myself. Of course Your'll
protect the King as well. Given my uncle is practically lame.." He laughed.
The notion seemed to delight the boy King, yet Sandor found himself gritting
his teeth together in a rage. Queens guard? I'll have to follow the little bird
around like a shadow, stand guard while she sleeps on the other side of her
door.He pictured her face, then pictured her lying seductively on her bed. Then
for a moment the role didn't seem so bad, he felt like he could protect her
properly, watcher her every move. But then he realised it would be asking for
trouble. He had told himself he would keep a distance from her now, after the
night she ran into him down the hall, yet his want for her just kept growing.
Being Queens Guard would mean being by her side day and night, and he wouldn't
be able to control himself. The knowledge that she wanted him kept playing on
his mind, he couldn't quite believe it. She must be bloody mad, Jofferys made
her loose her fucking wits.He couldn't understand why someone as beautiful as
her would want to kiss a monster like him. There had not been a moment that he
had not stopped thinking about her since they're meeting, and it had truly
grown too much to bare.  Joffery eyed Sandor eagerly, waiting for his
agreement. He almost fought it, yet he found himself nodding like the loyal dog
that he was. 
"Good. Ser Meryn will guard Tommen, and Margery when she arrives in a few days
time. I'm sure your'll like like that, I hear she's a comely bitch. Might be I
give her a visit myself when she gets here."
"But..I have always guarded The King himself, your grace." Ser Meryn wined like
a little girl. His face showing utter disbelief. 
"And he thanks you for it." Jaime replied.
Joffery tugged down his doublet with a satisfied smile.
"Jaime, you arrange the rest."
"But your grace, there is much more to discuss. The war…"
"The war is won." 
"The war is not won. Not while Stannis lives." 
"We broke Stannis. Remember? On the Black water. Pity you weren't there to help
uncle." 
And with that Joffery left the tower with Ser Meryn Trant following promptly
behind, most certainly to argue is place in the guard. As soon as the boy King
made his exit the rest of the men began to argue about who deserves which role
spitting out insults about each other and why they should go. Ser Osmund
pounded his fists on the table barking about how Ser Balon had threatened him
the night before over a game of dice. Ser Loras shook his curly brown hair
shouting profanities and Sandor found himself slamming his own hand down on the
table. 
"You bicker like a bunch of fucking fish wives." Sandor growled, getting to his
feet. 
"You have not yet been given leave." Jaime said turning to him.
"Fuck your leave." 
He marched out of the room, down the spiralling steps straight towards his
chambers, to the wine skin he had left on his table. Call themselves fucking
knights. he spat again. Couldn't fight their way out of a fucking barrel. 
Sandor had served the Lannisters for as long as he could remember, ever since
he squired back when he was a boy. There was a time long ago when he dreamed of
becoming a knight, of protecting the weak and becoming one of the most feared
warriors in the seven kingdoms. Though that all changed when they knighted his
brother, the title seemed to loose all glory and meaning. He wanted no part in
it. His feet seemed to move without a thought and he soon found himself walking
the halls of majors holdfast, his mind full of hateful words and bitter
memories. 
As turned the corner the little bird was walking right towards him, her cheeks
blushing. She’s already bloody seen me. He realised. He couldn’t help but eye
her as she was staring at the floor. Her waist was so tiny he was sure he could
have wrapped a single hand around it. Then he remembered how he had held her,
how he felt the curve of her shape and how much he wanted to do it all over
again. It had felt like an age since he had held her, but in reality it had
only been a fortnight or so. As they grew closer she sped up her pace, her eyes
still firmly on the floor. Her hair was blowing behind her, rippling in the
sun.
“No point avoiding me girl.” Sandor growled. He watched her body tense up as
she slowed beside him in passing.
“I’m to be your bloody Queens guard.”
 Sansa brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes moving from the floor to his
boots.
“You scared to fucking look at me again now are you?”
She didn’t say a word. That angered him even more. He lent forward.
“Weren’t so shy before little bird.”
She reluctantly lifted her gaze, her cheeks blushing crimson, though she
quickly flittered her eyes back to the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re always fucking sorry.” He rasped at her. She cant even fucking look at
me. She embarrassed. Ashamed.
For a moment Sandor thought she might turn away and continue to run off down
the hall, yet she lifted her eyes up to his own once more.
"I'm…I'm afraid you might find it a little dull. Being Queens guard…my Lord. I
imagine the King would have it better you serving were you are needed most."
"You trying to get rid of me girl? Not my place to question the King." 
She dropped her hand from her mouth and Sandor found himself looking at her
pink pouty lips.  
"I only meant…you may find it boring. Following me. I am not permitted to leave
the castle walls."
"I've seen these walls a thousand times, seeing them a few times more shouldn't
hurt."
She had gone back to reciting all the pretty little things her septa would have
told her. She had been trying hard to avoid him and he knew it. He studied her
face, remembered how she looked at him the night before. She's so fucking
beautiful. He wandered what she must have thought, waking up and remembering
the kiss they had shared. She tasted so fucking sweet. Sandor stared at her
lips, watching them as they pouted when she spoke.
"Oh…well…thank you…my lord. I'll be leaving then…" She spoke nervously, her lip
trembling slightly as she turned to walk away. 
"I'll escort you. Your grace." He said it thick with sarcasm, jesting at the
title. The idea that the little bird was his Queen still amused him. 
"Oh.. theres no need. I…I was just about to visit the Godswood." She stuttered.
"I have orders to guard you girl. I'll do my fucking job."
In truth Sandor just found himself wanting to be near her again. And now he had
every reason too. This is going to be dangerous. He thought. And fucking
stupid. He looked at the way her body clung tightly to her dress and how she
had grown into her curves, looking like a real woman, no longer a girl. He made
her feel as though how he did just before he entered battle. His heart would
beat the same and his blood would rush around his body. He loved that feeling.
Though he felt it strange a woman could give him it also.
"No…no its fine. I promise you. No harm will come to me there." She was
mumbling. But his eyes were busy on her body.
Why doesn't she want me there? She's still embarrassed about that sweet little
kiss she gave me. He smiled at the thought, wandering whether he should torture
her a little more. Sandor watched her turn to walk away, though her nervous
movements and worried look caused him to wander. Whats she bloody hiding?The
little bird was practically shaking, looking as though she had seen the ghost
of her bloody brother behind him. 
Sandor lowered his voice. "I need to speak with you about something, something
I heard..." It had been playing on his mind. He had to tell her about the moon
tea, as much as the thought of her carrying Jofferys child filled him with hate
and dread, if she wasn't to conceive soon, she would be hung from her neck
until dead. And the thought of Ser Illyn putting her pretty little head up on
one of those spikes filled him with something much more sinister.
"Another time...soon. I'm sorry I must go."
"Little bird..."
"Please excuse me..my lord." Was all she mustered.
He watched her scurry along down the hall, as quick as her little feet would
take her. She glanced over her shoulder as if to check he wasn't following her,
her face a pale wash of white. Sandor stood for a moment considering whether to
leave her and return to his wineskin sat on his table in his chambers. He
almost left to go and taste the sour red wine that he had been longing for all
day, yet something stopped him. Theres something wrong. He couldn't say why,
yet he knew that something was not right. The way she spoke to him, the urge to
leave him, without being followed, it wasn't just because of the kiss they
shared. Something was wrong, though he didn't know what. He waited a moment,
until she left his sight, then he continued to follow her towards the Godswood.
He caught a flash of auburn hair blaze around a corner, then a flash of skirts
around the next. She was running now, he realised. What is she bloody up to?  
The sun was setting over the bay as he came to the top of the Godswood, looking
down on it below. The clouds had covered most of the sky, though an orange
light still crept through the gaps above. The wind was blowing hard, whistling
in Sandors ears. He saw the top of her head disappear within the trees as he
paced down the stone steps to the centre of the garden. As he reached the first
clearing he caught site of two figures stood close within the shrubs and bushes
behind the trees. They were leaning close together, then he saw one was a
woman, the other a fatter shadow, that of a man. 
"I'm so glad that you came." He heard the man say as Sandor approached, his
voice slurring as though he had drank a belly full of wine. 
The womans voice was quieter, and much softer, just like the little birds. It
can't be her. He found himself thinking, wishing, hoping. She wouldn't be
meeting a man, would she?  Sandor stormed forwards, pushing apart the branches
of the trees. As he came to one of the weir wood trees he stood behind the
trunk to cover his body from view, though he caught sight of Sansa whispering
with a man facing the other way. Her expression was intense, her eyes wide and
glassy.What is she fucking doing?
"My beautiful Jonquil. Did you get my letters?" He heard the man say. 
"Yes. But we can't keep meeting like this…its dangerous. If the King-" 
"But it is almost time my lady. You saved my life. Please let me repay the
favour." The man was slurring, leaning into her with his hand on her arm. The
rage inside of Sandor bubbled like a volcano ready to erupt in a fury of blood
and steel. The idea of that vile bastard touching her beautiful pale skin was
absolute agony and he found his heart went straight up into his throat. He was
ready pull his great sword from his back and slice him down in a single swing.
Yet Sansa placed her hand over his, softly, just like she had to Sandor the few
nights before. 
"I must be quick, before they see that I am gone. But I have a present for you
my sweetling. It is all that remains of my house. It was once my mothers." The
man pulled something from his belt, though Sandor could not see what it was. 
"I cannot except it Ser. It is so very kind, but I cannot."
"I don't have anything else left. Please my beautiful Jonquil. Wear it and let
my name have one more moment in the sun before it disappears forever."
She recoiled her hand and brought something to her chest. The bulging man
leaning forward to kiss her sloppily on the cheek. 
"Thankyou." She whispered. Returning a soft kiss on a fleshy cheek.
Sansa turned away towards the path behind them, Sandor spun around to hide
behind the tree, his hands still shaking with anger. His blood was pumping so
hard he felt he could have cut down a thousand men if anyone were to stand in
his way. 
"Farewell sweetling. It won't be much longer I promise you." The man called. As
Sansa went to walk away Sandor peered around the tree again, at the man stood
there. His face was plump and red, his nose covered with red veins and purple
blotches. His eyes were watery and bloodshot, dark circles rimmed them
underneath. Yet he looked familiar. He was wearing tattered clothes that were
ripped at the shoulders. As he went to walk away Sandor saw that it was motley
he was wearing. Its that fucking fool. Ser Dontos.
He didn't know wether to laugh or kill him right there and then, to leave him
choking on his own blood in the bushes. What is that little bitch doing?
Opening her legs for every other cunt in the castle?! The little bird wouldn't
do that. She's so fucking innocent. She can't be…Sandor found his throat
tighten and he held back a scream of fury. He couldn't quite believe what he
had seen. The little bird with another man. Anda fool? A fucking fat
fool? Suddenly the kiss they shared seemed worthless and cold. The glowing
memory of it that he had held so dear had turned sour in his mouth. How many
other lips has that little mouth kissed.The woman that he thought she was
seemed to shatter into a million pieces, in a cloud of lies and deceit. She's a
fucking whore. I should have known better. Like she would have wanted a monster
like me in the first place. She's a fucking whore! He felt himself go into a
rage, one he could not control. 
Ser Dontos waddled up the path tripping at the stone as he went, pulling from a
wineskin that sat on his hip. Sandor wanted nothing more than to run up
straight behind him and slice the mans throat from ear to ear. He couldn't
believe she had let him put his hands on her. His fat sweaty hands. He couldn't
bare the thought of anyone touching her, let alone that bloody fool. As soon as
he was gone from sight Sandor exploded into frenzy of violence and anger. With
a great roar he lunged his fist into the tree, over and over until the orange
sap of the weir wood seeped out all over his gauntlet. He couldn't believe the
depths that the little bird had sunken to. He thought that the kiss they shared
had been more than a drunken grope in passing.
The fucking fool? It was a joke, an embarrassment. He hated her for making him
feel this way, for letting him believe that she may have actually had some
genuine feelings for him. She's led me on. Turned me into a fucking fool as
well. For a moment he found himself wandering whether he should tell the king
of her little meeting with Ser Dontos, yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.
He knew it would mean her certain death, and that was something he just
couldn't bare to think about, even if he hated her for making him feel this
way. He pulled out his sword and slashed at the trees around him as he stormed
back towards the castle, growling like a rabid dog. Yet with every stroke he
only seemed to grow tired and restless, and found himself falling on to his
knees exhausted, with tears in his eyes. 
***** The Lion meets the Rose. *****
The gift had seemed innocent enough, yet every time Sansa looked at it it made
her tummy tighten into a knot. It was a beautiful necklace, though it needed
some polishing to be sure. The gems were a deep purple, stones that Sansa had
never seen before. It will go well with my new gown. She thought, imagining the
lilac satin that the dressmaker fitted for her that morning. Sansa wandered
what Ser Dontos' mother looked like, and whether she had worn it often. The
Hollard name was not a well known one, Sansa struggled to remember the sigil,
though she thought its colours may have been red and pink.
She rolled the gemstones between her fingers remembering their first meeting.
She must have read the letter that appeared underneath her pillow a hundred
times, she knew every tiny ink splotch and each curve of a letter by memory
now. Come to the Godswood, if you want to go home. The first one read. The note
was unsigned, unsealed and the hand was childlike and unfamiliar. For a time,
she was foolish enough to think it was written by the Hound. The thought made
her feel silly now. Sandor Clegane, writing me love notes and leaving them
under my pillow. She blushed. If only. She blushed even more. Sansa let herself
fall back onto the feather bed with the note of parchment scrunched tightly to
her chest.
"I thought you would never come." She remembered a voice saying from the
shadows. 
She was so scared, aimlessly wandering around the Godswood in the middle of the
night. What am I doing? She asked herself. Every animal call or rustle in the
bushes made her jump out of her skin. It was cold and her hot breath was
misting in the darkness in front of her. She tripped over a rock as she neared
the edge of the wood, she could her the waves crashing against the shore in
front of her. It was hard to see with the heavy hooded cloak pulled down over
her face, but she was terrified she would be seen. Sansa had rolled up some old
blankets under her silk sheets, so if her handmaidens were to check on her they
would just have thought she was sleeping. As she reached the bottom of the
Godswood, for a moment she thought she was too late. It had taken her the best
of two hours until she sought the courage to leave her tower and slip out into
the night. In truth, the only reason she had was because she had convinced
herself Sandor Clegane would be waiting for her, ready to whisk her away and
take her off into the night. Im so stupid.When Sansa saw Ser Dontos in his
tattered motley, her heart sunk right down into her belly.  The fools blotchy
cheeks and crooked teeth curved into a smile, but Sansa almost wanted to let
out a cry. He had seemed just as nervous as Sansa was on their first meeting
though, which calmed her somewhat. There was a terrible moment when she
realised she was all alone in the woods, with a man and no one knew where she
was. Fear bubbled up her throat. But he bowed, and his hands were clammy and
cold when he reached out to touch her. He kissed the back of her hand
clumsily before he introduced himself. She had almost forgotten about the
Knight turned fool, though she had remembered how Sandor Clegane had lied for
her on that same day. 
"You saved me, not only from Joffery but from myself." Ser Dontos said, his
cowl pulled up over his chubby cheeks and thick neck. 
She didn't trust him to begin with. She had wanted Sandor. Not…this. Sansa
demanded to know who had sent him, waiting for it all to turn into some cruel
jape that would end up in her being beaten by Joffery. But Ser Dontos spoke
genuinely, and Sansa could not believe the man smart enough to play throne
games. He spoke to her so sweetly, and called her his 'Jonquil'. As he
explained further, it seemed she simply had herself an admirer, one that wants
to repay a kindness she once gave to him. The sentiment a sweet one, though
Sansa had prayed and prayed for a knight to come and save her, not a fool.I ask
for a knight and end up with a fool. What have I done to anger the Gods so?
 She almost chuckled. Ser Dontos ushered her to sit on the rock underneath the
great white weir wood tree and spoke ever so softly. First he told her of her
beauty and how kind she was of heart, then told her how he had shamed his
family and how he only wanted to put right all the wrong that he had done.
"My house was once a great one. On the rise! But all of that is over now,
thanks to a few fat drunks like me." He said with sad eyes. 
She remembered how he nervously licked his lips. 
The longer he spoke, Sansa found herself feeling sorry for the man that sat
before her, and could not but help feel endearment for him too. 
"So please, your grace, trust me. I only wish to help you."His cheeks wobbled
as he spoke.  
"My life is a poor thing, but it is yours." He slumped down onto one knee. "I
vow, with your fathers Gods as witness that I shall send you home."
Sansa opened her eyes and was back in her safe little bird cage within the red
keep. He promises me he will help me leave, but how? He's just a fool. And what
will he expect if we were to leave. What if he asks to marry me as payment, I
cannot. But heswore. He swore a solemn oath to take me home, before the Gods!
He might not be a knight, but the world is not what it seems.
Knights aren't chivalrous and charming, friends aren't really your friends.
Nothing is as it seems. Maybe this fool is my knight of a different kind. I'll
let him free me and i'll run away. No one will never find me.  
Her head was swimming. She was being stupid. It was all too good to be true.
Shae noisily banged on the door, and entered just after Sansa had time to stuff
the parchment down her bodice. 
"Lady Margaery has arrived your grace, will you be changing ready to sup with
her this evening?"
Sansa nodded, her cheeks flushed with the apprehension of being caught with the
letters. 
"Have you seen her?" Sansa asked Shae and her other handmaiden, as they removed
her shift dress. 
"No your grace, though I heard the guards saying she is very beautiful."
Sansa was excited to meet Lady Margaery, it was not often she got to sup with
new faces, and women of the same age. Lady Sybel, Lady Tander and the others
were all much older, and would only tell her what she wanted to hear. Their
daughters were too young, and Lady Tanders daughter, simple of mind. They only
spoke of court gossip, men they fantasied about or other meaningless dribble
that Sansa found tedious to listen to.
While Sansa was dressing, Ser Balon came to tell her officially that she had
been summoned for the supper with the Tyrells, though the King wished to see
her afterwards. She knew it would be coming, Joffery had only asked her to
visit his chambers once that week. Every time she visited him now he seemed
less interested in her, and told her to leave as quickly as he could. It was a
blessing in Sansa's eyes, the less time spent with him the better, though it
seemed to her that he was purely doing his duty now, and had no love left for
her at all. Thats if he ever had any love for me. The last time she shared his
bed he had been rough with her, pulling her around like she was a rag doll for
him to play with. Her arms were bruised a purple green all along the top, and
he had bitten her neck until it turned a blood red.I'll have to wear a long
sleeved gown. Sansa thought, not wanting Lady Margaery to think her clumsy. 
Everyone was already seated in the hall by the time Sansa was met with Jofferys
arm outside the doors. Ser Jaime Lannister followed the King, in his beautiful
golden and white cuirass. Sandor Clegane stood ominously behind him, though his
eyes never met her own. She knew he would never look at her, though she wished
for it all the same. The kiss they had shared still played on her mind,
especially late at night when she lay awake in bed. Now that Lady Margaery had
arrived, Ser Meryn would be her and Tommens shield, which meant the Hound would
be Sansa's. It was an idea she couldn't quite decide wether she liked or not,
given the moments that they had shared together. He had seemed very distant
over the previous days, and it saddened her greatly. He must regret kissing me.
 
"I've gotten you a pet, sweetling." Joffery said with a smirk, pointing a
finger at Sandor Clegane. 
"He barks and has a terrible bite, you might want to keep him on a leash."
Joffery extended his arm of blue velvet and led her into the hall, leaving the
Kingsguard to stand guard. As she entered her eyes met Margerys instantly. Her
face really was quite striking. The Tyrell girl wore a splendid green dress
with a cloak of flowers that bowed from her petite shoulders. Her hair was long
and ashy brown, she blinked with chestnut coloured doe eyes, and her face was
heart shaped and beautiful. Her mother and grandmother stood close behind her,
faces that Sansa could remember meeting on her and Jofferys wedding day. As
Sansa and Joffery approached, Margaery done an exaggerated curtsey before
smiling shyly at them both.   
"You do me a great honour your grace. I have been so excited to meet you." Her
voice was soft and warm, and genuine at that.  
"I have looked forward to our supper. It is so good to finally meet you at
last." Sansa said, kissing her dutifully on the cheek. 
"The honour is mine, my lady." Joffery said, kissing the girls hand. 
Sansa flashed him a side ways glance, his eyes were full of hunger. Wide and
crazed. For a second, it almost made her jealous. 
A fire was crackling in the hearth, and sweet smelling rushes had been
scattered on the floor beneath them. A dozen or more people took their seats
around the long trestle table after Joffery and Sansa took their own. The
Lannisters sat along one side, with the Tyrells on the other. Lord Tywin,
Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, Ser Kevan, his lady wife Dorna, Tommen and Sansa took
seat at one side, with Joffery at the head of the table. Along the Tyrell side
sat Margaery, Ser Loras, Lady Olenna, Lady Alerie, Lord Mace Tyrell, Ser
Willas, Ser Garlan and a petite lady that Sansa guessed was his wife, Lady
Leonette.
At once each Lord and Lady introduced themselves to the king and to each other,
beaming with compliments and smiles. All except Margaerys grandmother, Lady
Olenna. An elderly woman who smelled strongly of rose water, and had wizened
white hair. The 'Queen of thorns', they called her, yet Sansa thought she just
looked like a sweet little old lady. 
"Kiss me, child." She said, offering a wrinkly hand. She paid no mind to
compliments or curtsey, only washed her eyes over the Lannister family in front
of her.
"Lets have a look at the boy then." She said, placing brown spotted hands on
Tommens soft cheeks. 
"Grandmother!" Margaery exclaimed, with a shy smile. 
Everyone took their seats as the serving girls came rushing over with wine and
mead. Sansa took the moment to look around the table at the family that would
soon be joining her own. Margaery seemed lovely, and beautiful too. Ser Loras
looked equally as handsome, it made her heart beat a little quicker just
looking at him. He had swapped his white cloak of the Kingsguard for a silver
and grey doublet, that ruffled at the collar. Lady Alerie, Margaerys mother,
was nothing short of exquisite. She had a long silvery braid that was bound and
jewelled with rings and gemstones, and eyes that were the brightest blue. Lord
Mace Tyrell looked cheerful, his big chubby cheeks pushed upwards with a grin.
Sansa found herself thinking that at one time he would have been handsome. Ser
Willas was comely too, with a strong jaw line and curly brown hair, though he
walked with a cane. Sansa had heard that Ser Willas suffered a crippling injury
to his leg in his adolescent years from a tournament accident, while he was
facing Oberyn Martell in a joust. To his right sat Lady Leonette, a dainty
women with shining straw coloured hair and a slightly hooked nose. Then as her
eyes wondered to the last man on the table her heart skipped a little more in
her chest. Ser Garlan looked much like his younger brother Ser Loras, though a
little taller and broader of shoulder. He had a well kept brown beard that
seemed to give him a dashing look, one that Sansa would almost call regal. They
are all so beautiful. She thought, suddenly conscious of how she had done her
hair and what dress she had chosen. 
"It is so good to finally meet you my Lord. I am so excited for our wedding. I
hope I am not a disappointment to you." Margeary told Tommen, who had been
dressed in a cream and gold doublet that was slashed with velvet at the front.
It seemed to Sansa that he had been dressed to look much older, though he still
looked no older than ten. 
He shook his head and grinned, ruffling the golden hairs on his head. 
"I am excited for the wedding too. Uncle Tyrion says it won't be long. And
Mother says they'll be singers and dancers. Do you like singing?"
"Yes. Very much my Lord. I can sing you a song one day, if it please you." She
smiled shyly again. 
When Sansa caught sight of Cersei's eyes burning holes into Margeary she almost
let out a giggle. She doesn't like this arrangement at all. She realised.
"I am so happy that we will be joining our houses your grace. " Mace Tyrell
said, raising a goblet into the air. 
"As am I." Tywin replied, as Joffery looked as though he had no intention too. 
"So it is agreed the wedding will take place in two weeks time? That should be
long enough to settle the last few arrangements." Lord Tywin said over his
goblet. 
"Yes, it should be more than enough time." Cersei said, with a smile so false
it might have cracked. 
"Its settled then." Mace Tyrell said warmly. 
"Are you going to bring the food? Or do you mean to starve us to death?" Lady
Olenna snapped at a petrified looking serving girl. 
Joffery let out a bark of a laugh and spat his wine all over the table, his
teeth stained red from the liquid. 
"Will there be food at our wedding? Can we have lamprey pie? And leg of lamb?"
Little Tommen said with a grin.
"You can have whatever you want little love." Cersei replied with a hand on his
arm. 
Sansa found herself hoping that Margaery and Tommens wedding would be very
different from her own, though she imagined it would be. It was more of a
formality, being Tommen was so young. The bedding wouldn't happen for a couple
more years at least. Though it would mean that Margaery would live with them in
the Red Keep, an idea that quite excited Sansa. 
"You must all take a walk in the gardens with me while you are here. They are
most beautiful." Sansa said, as the first course of trout baked in clay was
served. 
"You've seen them gardens a hundred times. Don't pretend you still enjoy them."
Joffery sneered taking a gulp of wine. 
The ladies exchanged glances that made Sansa feel quite uncomfortable. The
other men were sat closer at the other end of the table, and seemed to speak
endlessly to one another. It was left to Sansa to engage in conversation with
the other Ladys, though it meant Joffery as well. He was picking at his food,
his expression bored and movements lazy. 
"I imagine it must be rather dull to be cooped up in here like a hen. Perhaps
you would like to visit High Garden, if your grace permits it. Now that peace
is restored and all is right with the world. The pleasure barges are quite
spectacular the first time you ride them." Lady Olenna said picking at her food
with her fingers. 
"I would like that very much my Lady." Sansa had always wanted to visit High
garden, it sounded like such a magnificent place. Much nicer than Kings
Landing. I won't be here much longer though. She thought again, that is if Ser
Dontos sticks to his word. He said it won't be long now. 
"Sansa doesn't leave without my say so." Joffery sniffed and everyones eyes
turned down to the table.
A second course of white beans and bacon came out, along with a rich Dornish
red wine to match. As Sansa brought it to her mouth she took a sniff, the smell
reminded her of the Hound, and how his breath had smelt just before he kissed
her. She cherished the thought for a moment, picturing his face in the shadows
of the hall way. Her tummy flipped and she silently scolded herself. 
"Have you decided on your wedding gown Lady Margaery? We have a marvellous
seamstresses here in the Keep." Sansa said softly, after clearing her throat. 
"How nice of you to ask your grace. I was thinking short sleeves of ivory
samite and silver scroll work on the bodice. Though Mother prefers a more
demure style."
"A trail of satin roses, that follow behind a good 8 feet. With long pointed
sleeves, like my own wedding gown." Lady Alerie said, her eyes going off into
the distance as if to picture it. 
"A trail of roses, for a Tyrell. How original." Lady Olenna said thick with
sarcasm.
"I think it sounds lovely grandmother." Margeary voiced, smiling warmly. 
Without a word of warning, Joffery let out an irritated sigh and slammed his
cup down onto the table in annoyance.
"DOG!" He shouted towards the door. He slurred his words a little and Sansa
realised he was starting to become drunk. 
"Your grace..." Cersei snapped, her eyes narrowed. A hint of a blush on her
cheeks from embarrassment. 
Sandor Clegane came pacing over from the door, his hand firmly on the hilt of
his sword. 
"Move my chair to the other end of the table. I have no business talking of
wedding gowns." Joffery stood and turned to Lady Margeary with a bow.
"Excuse me, my ladies." He said as an after thought, while Sandor Clegane
dragged the large oak chair across to the other side of the room. It occurred
to Sansa that Lord Tywin may have seated Joffery there for a reason, given the
look on his face. He doesn't want him to embarrass him while they discuss
important arrangements. Sansa thought, as Joff took his seat next to his grand
father. 
"Very good dog."
Sansa watched him leave the room in a flash of white cloak, she realised her
mouth was open so she filled it with a mouthful of bacon.
The rest of the evening went much better than the start, and Sansa found
herself quite liking the new ladies in her company. The conversation was
pleasant and relaxed, apart from the odd jape and sarcastic comment from Lady
Olenna, but Sansa grew to quite like it. It was a breath of fresh air for
someone to speak so boldly. However Sansa did find herself feeling slightly
envious of Lady Margery. Not only for her beauty, or that she was surrounded by
her loving family. But because she was to marry Tommen, one of the sweetest
boys she had ever met. He might be younger, soft and chubby, but Tommen would
never hurt her. He would never dream of doing the things Joffery had done to
her. Margery might not become Queen like Sansa had, but her life as a lady
would be how it should be. How Sansa had always dreamt her own would be.
As the fruit tarts and sweet biscuits were served, Ser Dontos came in on a
wooden horse singing 'The bear and the Maiden fair' in a drunken slur. The
Tyrells fool 'Butterbumps' followed shortly, shoving an orange into his mouth
and slapping his cheeks, to which the ladies giggled and laughed. My so called
Florian, Sansa thought, cringing at the plump man making a complete fool of
himself. She had always loved that song, it was one of her favourites, yet the
reality of a fool for a knight wore thin in real life. Sansa reached up to her
neck to touch the necklace he had given her and sighed. 
"Such a beautiful necklace, my love. You should wear it for the wedding, no
doubt!" Lady Olenna said over the noise of the fools song. 
"Thank you, my lady. I will."
"Yes. You will." She said firmly, resting a wrinkled hand on her own.
 
 
SANDOR
I could just draw my sword and cut him down right here in the hallway. No
fucker would miss him. Sandor Clegane thought as he watched the two fools come
along the hall and enter the feast. I'd be doing him a favour, sorry fucking
excuse for a man that is. He eyed him with a sneer. Why would the little bird
want him? He couldn't get his head around it. He was stumbling along, covered
in food and drink all down his tattered motley tunic. 
His anger had turned sour over the previous days, he was fed up of thinking
about it. He had turned to wine, of course. what else was he supposed to do? He
had drank so much the night he caught her, he woke up in the stables with
Stranger by his side. She's just a pretty face and a pair of teats. He told
himself as he sipped his ale in the tavern the night before. Maybe she'll open
her legs easier for me now. She wants to act like a whore, i'll treat her like
one. All women are bloody whores. For a time he thought he had overcome it,
that it didn't matter anymore, he didn't care. Yet as soon as he saw her again
his heart seemed to shatter in his chest like a blade through a piece of
glass. 
Joffery called him in once more, though this time he sounded more bored than
angry. The first time he entered the hall he had caused quite a stir, he was in
no hurry to go in there again. The Margeary girl who was to marry the younger
boy was a pretty one. Yet he found himself comparing her to the little bird
almost immediately. The other Tyrells all looked as green as summer boys
though, Sandor thought. Fucking flower knights.One of them was a cripple, and
the other loved himself more than his lady wife by the look of it. Who Sandor
guessed was the Lord of the family was fat and sweating, his cheeks sagging
down to his chin as he was stuffing it with beans. His eyes rose to meet
Sandor's, and terror filled them both. Old men still scared like little boys.
Just at the sight of him.I bet he's never seen a fight in his life. He felt the
other eyes in the room latch onto him too, though he kept his stare straight
towards the King.
"Oh my!" A women's voice shrieked behind him.
You like this face? He felt like barking, but when he turned he saw nothing but
a little old lady smiling up at him. 
"You are quite spectacular aren't you." She said, eyeing him up like a piece of
meat.
Looks like Im still to answer to the boy. Not just the little bird. After he
had caught Sansa meeting with the fool he had asked Joff to not guard the girl
when the Tyrells arrived. After a few skins he had told the boy "Im no fucking
septa or hand maiden. I've been your sworn shield since you were a boy." Though
Joff had still refused. Sandor wanted no more to do with her and her wanton
ways. She's made me soft. Soft men get bloody killed. And I am not being
killed. As far as he was concerned the further away she stayed the better. His
blood seemed to boil even when he caught sight of her walking down the halls or
standing in court. Seven hells, stop fucking thinking about her. She's some
bloody sorcerous. Getting under my skin and following me wherever I go. Joff
wouldn't fucking listen. The boy is as stubborn as a mule and the thought of
Sandor frightening her was an idea too sweet for him to refuse. 
"If it bores you, terrorise her. Im sure you of all people can manage that,
dog. Mother says fear is stronger than love. Besides, its only for a short
while. Mother says we are not to trust all these new faces in the keep. We need
personal guards, at all times." The boy King had told him. 
This was something Sandor felt the crazy wench was right about, there was an
uneasiness in the air. Lord Tywin was struggling to control the boy King, and
it was said Stannis's numbers were growing day by day. Titles and faces were
shifting and changing, all these new puffed up Lords were jumping at a chance
to kiss joffery's arse. It was all feeling very uncertain. It was clear this
new joining of houses was to strengthen the crown and put an end to Stannis for
good. Whether it would work or not was another thing all together. 
Ser Meryn gave him a sour look and rolled his sagging eyes. Fucking toad.Again
he walked through the room, hit by the warmth of the fire and the smell of
roasted meats. The feast had been going for some hours and it looked as though
Joff was well and truly drunk. The candles on the table were melted down to
stumps, so far that it pooled down onto the table. He caught sight of the
little bird, her pale skin glowing brightly even in the dim light of the hall.
Tommen had fallen asleep at the table, his head propped up with his hands. The
nan came in to usher him out, and Sandor caught a flash of the Tyrell girls
smile. 
"Escort Sansa back to my chambers. Have her wait for me there while I show Ser
Garlan my crossbow."
Sandor gave a nod. 
"It has been a pleasure to meet you all, truly. I bid you good night." She said
sweetly, getting to her feet. She sings them songs so bloody well now.He
thought bitterly.All of them lies.
Cersei, Tywin, Jaime and Tyrion all left the hall shortly after they did, with
some of the Kingsguard in tow. Sandor tried to hear their conversation behind
them, but they spoke in no more than a whisper. The little bird walked quickly,
lengthening the distance between them and it made it hard for him to lag and
listen in. 
"Why you in such a fucking hurry." 
She can't wait to get into his fucking bed. He kept picturing seeing her there,
standing in the Godswood with that fools hand on her bloody arm. He thought
about confronting her, but every time he opened his mouth the words seemed to
get stuck in his throat. Fuck I need some wine. He filled the silence between
them with his thoughts, thinking about how he would spend his night after
finishing the watch. It didn't make much use, she kept humming quietly and
breaking them. 
"I..I'm not in any rush. Im sorry." She said softly, slowing her pace to a
stroll. 
As they crossed the yard she looked up towards the sky. The moon seemed to
glisten in her eyes as she looked up in wonder. She took a deep breath and
Sandor noticed her breasts move tight in her dress as she inhaled. He couldn't
keep his bloody eyes off her, no matter what she's been doing with that drunken
fool. 
"What you bloody looking at girl?" He rasped, pushing the small of her back
along the path. 
"The sky. Its beautiful." She sighed, staring up at the stars.
"Keep walking." He barked, though she seemed to just ignore him.
"You hear me girl?"
Sansa stopped and turned to him, with those big tully eyes. "Are you angry with
me?" 
"Keep walking."
"But…"
"Keep fucking walking."
She turned to look at him but he pushed her forward again.
"Do I need to beat it into you?"
There was silence for a moment and she obeyed, moving forward at a tiny pace.
"Whatever I have done to anger you…Im sorry."
Sandor Clegane had heard enough Sorry's from the little bird. All he wanted at
the moment was the fine Dornish red wine he had kept in the kitchen, and maybe
the young little whore in Chattayas with the big blue eyes. 
"If any more words come pouring out of your mouth I'll put my blade through
it."
That shut her up. He started walking faster, his knuckles white from the grip
on his sword. He escorted the little bird through Maegors Holdfast and up the
stairs towards the boys room. He kept thinking of the fool. He could hear his
mocking voice in his head. She wants me. She doesn't want you. He was saying
over and over. Before he knew it, it had turned him into a rage. The longer he
spent in her presence the angrier he became. He had spent so long trying to
protect her, to show her how dangerous this place really is, how important she
is, and how it can all change so suddenly. Sandor was finally starting to
believe that she was getting it, that she understood its not all princes and
castles and songs. Then she risks it all by doing something so fucking stupid.
His heart started pounding. He hated how he made her feel. The boy wants me to
scare her. I'll fucking scare her. As they reached the top of the tower he
grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into Joffs room. She thinks she can play
games with me. I'll show her. Stupid little bird.
She looked up at him startled, eyes wide and shining blue. Her mouth made a
little 'o' shape as she caught her breath. She is so fucking beautiful. But he
was so angry with her he wanted to beat her bloody. How had a stupid little
girl fooled him into thinking she might actually want him. A monster like him.
He didn't want anyone else to have her. He wanted her. Him and no one else.
She's mine. He couldn't bare her loving any other man. He told himself to fuck
her, to take her right there and then. Everyone else has bloody had her, why
can't I? She reached out to touch him, her dainty fingers brushing the back of
his hand.Just bloody take her, right in the King's bed. Grab her and push her
down on her back. Shewouldn't fight it.Sandors teeth were gritted tightly shut
and he thought he felt his mouth twitch. His eyes washed over her body and his
cock grew hard. Her breath was erratic. He hated her and loved her all at the
same time. Love? The word shocked him and he pushed her away.
"Sandor…" She sighed, looking up at him with big eyes, her lips pouting. He
lent into her. She blinked so innocently. Fuck. I can't. It took all of his
will not to grab her again and kiss her but he slammed the door shut and paced
back off down the hall without a single look back. His whole body was seething
with anger and lust. These thoughts were consuming him, he was loosing sight of
what is important. He had to stop this. He had too.
By the time he had made his way back to Joffery in the courtyard, he had calmed
himself some what. I'll be finished my watch soon. I'll go and get some wine.
Maybe a nice roasted chicken. I'll fuck all the gold in my purse away. Some of
the guards were holding torches while Ser Willas and Ser Garlan shot arrows at
a straw dummy set up against the wall. Joffery was still clutching a goblet of
wine and chuckling to himself. It seemed the other Lord's looked rather bored.
"Well shot. We shall have to take a hunting trip. Show these other fools how it
is done." 
"Yes your grace. I hear the game in the Kingswood is plentiful." The cripple
said leaning onto his jewelled cain. Surprised he can get himself onto a
horse.Sandor thought bitterly.
"The hour is late, see it that Ser Garlan and Ser Willas are escorted back to
their chambers. I shall call for you tomorrow Ser's, to arrange the hunt." Joff
tugged down his doublet. 
"As you wish, your grace. Good night." Ser Garlan nodded and bowed, too deeply
in Sandors opinion. He looked as though he was trying to kiss his boots. 
"Is my lady waiting?" Joffery said with a sly smile. 
Sandor nodded. 
"Off with you then dog. Ser Balon take me back to my chambers."
Sandor turned on his heel and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The sooner he
had a drink and forgot about the little bird the better. When he reached his
chambers he slumped down onto the bed and snatched the wineskin from his table.
His room was dark, just how he liked it. The only light coming from a covered
sconce well away from his bed. He watched the light flicker from the flames
behind and flinched. The walls in his chambers were bare, apart from the weapon
rack that hung on the opposite wall and the Clegane sigil on his shield that
sat above the empty hearth. The floor was covered with straw and debris, he had
let no one in to spread rushes or sweep for several months. He closed his eyes
and enjoyed the silence for a time, taking longer and longer pulls from the
skin. The way he had sat meant his armour was cutting sharp against his back,
though he made no move to change it. The Hound never took off his armour, not
even when he visited the whore houses. He trusted no one, and knew better than
to let his guard down, that was before he met the little bird. 
When he was starting to feel good and drunk Sandor unsheathed his sword. He
found his whetstone and oilcloth in their niche and began to pull it along the
blade. As he worked he thought of Clegane Keep, the home he had grown up in as
a boy. He could still recall the sounds of the stead that surrounded the
grounds, the smell of the smoke and sounds of other children playing. The taste
of suckling pig and boiled beans filled his mouth again. He saw his father, the
pathetic jape of a man that he was. Then his mother, though her face was
blurred now, it had been so long since he had laid eyes on her. Sandor had her
look, he remembered. She had his grey eyes and long black hair that went well
down past her waist, though she always braided it into a plait. Sandor re-
sheathed his sword and laid down the whetstone, his eyes heavy from the wine.
He remembered playing in front of the fire as a boy, with the tiny wooden
knight that belonged to Gregor. The memories were bitter sweet. He hated it
there, he hated him, he hated his father almost as much as Gregor. What sort of
man is afraid of a bloody child. He had lied to the others, his father had.
Told them that Sandors bedding had caught fire. That hurt almost as much as the
burns.  
He pushed himself up from the narrow straw bed and splashed his face with the
water from his basin. Enough of this. He told himself, pushing back his hair.
He filled his wineskin and made his way to Chattaya's, in the hope to relieve
some pain, or maybe anger. As he left the castle Sandor passed a few other of
the guards, yet none made a move to acknowledge him. Stranger snorted as he
patted him, its been too long since I rode him. He thought, I need to ride him
more. Sandor mounted the great black destrier and crossed the draw bridge,
beginning the journey dow through the winding shit stained streets. Sandor
hated the city, even more than he did the Red Keep. He pulled his snarling dogs
helm from his saddle bag and pushed it down over his face, though it did not
block out the smell. Soon he found himself in Fleebottom and kicked Stranger
into a canter. Beggars and wealthy merchants scattered before him. 
"Fancy a tumble?" A haggard looking woman called from a window, her heavy
breasts pushed against the window sill. 
Sandor passed a group of gold cloaks, with their full helms covering their
faces. Though they seemed to pay him no mind, no one ever did. Too scared. He
smiled. There was a woman screaming somewhere, and the sound of dogs growling.
He turned again and the streets were getting narrower and narrower. Fucking
rats nest. He thought. The stench of filth seemed almost as bad as it did in
the summer sun, rivers of shit flowed openly along the narrow streets. He and
stranger twisted around bends and alleys, until he reached the Street of
Sisters. The road was much wider here, he passed a wagon and some children all
huddled together poking at what looked like a dead cat. Some men were shouting
and jeering ahead of him outside of a tavern, one curled up on the floor.
Chattaya's was just around the corner. Maybe i'll have a drink first. He
stopped stranger and the children ran away like scared mice. The night was cold
and misty, so it made it hard for him to see.  
"Dance for us. C'mon. Or Farkes here will beat you bloody." One of the men in
front shouted.
"I thought you were supposed to be funny ey?" Another said, booting him in the
side. 
As Sandor approached he couldn't believe his eyes. The man on the floor was
wearing motley, his hat covered with bells.Its the fucking fool. He was drunker
than Sandor had gotten the night he caught them both together. Kneeling on the
floor while men jeered at him and threw coppers at his feet. He was singing in
a slur and covered in his own vomit. 
This is the man the little bird wants? She's the bloody fool, not him. She
deserves so much fucking better. He had a mind to leave him there on the floor,
for the other men to beat and jest, yet he found himself striding over to
them.I'm not in the castle, I could slit his throat and no one would know any
better. He'd join the rest of the bodies floating in the Blackwater rush. As
soon as the men spotted the Hound they retreated back into the tavern without a
single word, leaving the shit covered joker in a ball in the gutter. Sandor
swung down from his horse, patting stranger firmly as he did. 
"Mercy, Ser." The fool was mumbling between retches. "Please. Mercy."
"Im no fucking Ser." The Hound snarled from behind his dogs head helm. I'm
going to play with him.
He removed his greatsword from the long sheathe on his back, swinging it close
to Ser Dontos' face. He kicked the fleshy man onto his back, and pressed the
point of the blade into his cheek.
"Mercy. Please. Mercy!" He was crying. 
Sandor twisted the blade, and nicked the skin so that a stream of blood began
to poor all down his face onto the floor. The fool let out a scream but Sandor
silenced him with another kick to the ribs. The Hound grabbed the man by the
scruff of his neck, ripping the already tattered motley. He stunk of wine and
stale vomit, and then he realised he had let go of his bladder just moments
before. Pathetic. I should do him a favour and end his worthless life right
now. Sandor wrapped his fingers tight around his neck and lifted him up off of
his feet. He slammed him into the side of the tavern, while Ser Dontos
struggled and kicked his legs. The Hound pressed his helm close to the fools
fat face, peering at him through the narrow visor. 
"If you touch another hair on the little birds head I swear to the stranger
I'll rip your fucking balls off and shove them down your throat." He growled. 
The fool was snivelling like a child, his hands held up over his head. 
"You fucking hear me, you fat cunt?" Sandor grabbed his greasy hair and yanked
it back to see his blotchy face. 
"Please don't. Please…Who…who is t-the bird?" He cried, refusing to look Sandor
in the eyes. 
"The little bird. The fucking Queen." Sandor paused for a moment, seemingly
unable to say her name. "Sansa."
Ser Dontos' eyes filled with terror then proceed to nod vigorously, tears
rolling down his chubby cheeks. 
"You understand me, fool?"
Ser Dontos nodded again, choking from the grip around his neck.
"Good."
Sandor dropped him carelessly, so he landed with a thump on the floor with a
cry of pain. 
"Please don't hurt me. They…they made me do it. I didn't want too."
They? Sandor rolled him over onto his back again with a sharp kick. 
"Who are they?"
"I don't know, they'll kill me though I know it."
"I'll fucking kill you right now in the street and feed you your bowels boy.
WHO?"
Sandors sword was pointed at his chest.
"I don't know…they told me to send her letters, to befriend her. To give her
gifts."
"One last time fool. WHO?" He placed a heavy foot on his stomach. The fool spat
out a chunk of blood. His eyes wide with fear.
"I don't know! People would come in the night, messengers. It was never the
same person. They told me they would kill me if I didn't do it..."
Sandor was raging. Someone is trying to hurt her. Why would they need to gain
her trust, and why the fool?He wanted to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. But he
needed to know more.
"Why? "
"I have to get her to trust me. Trust me enough to leave with me. Thats all
they said. Please just let me go. Please!!" He had shit and blood all over his
face, his eyes looked like two big shining moons.
"Leave where? When?" 
"I don't know, please Ser. I don't know. I…If I knew I'd tell you, please don't
kill me….Ser"
Ser. And with that The Hound kicked down hard and fast, he heard the bones
crack. And the fool's whimpering was silenced. It was not enough. He wanted to
see the life drain from his body. He wanted to feel the joy from it. He took
his blade and slowly pierced it into his throat, taking great pleasure from
watching the blood pour down his neck, out of his mouth and into a pool beneath
his head. He drew back the blade to slice into him again hard in the chest, but
he sensed people stirring behind him, he needed to go back to the castle. He
needed to get back to the little bird. Sandor wiped the blood from his sword on
the fools motley. He mounted stranger and galloped as fast as he could to the
castle, splashing in the river of shit that winded down beside them. I have to
get back. I have to protect her. 
***** The Kings faith. *****
Sandor
 
“So it is settled then. Our new friend, Mace Tyrell will become new master of
Ships, while Ser Kevan will resume the last open position on the council,
Master of Law.”
Cersei shuffled in her seat before she spoke.
 “You cannot seriously trust these Tyrell’s father, for one to sit amongst the
council-“
“One must sit amongst the council to give them false importance. Besides, Mace
Tyrell is not a man that will cause us any problems.” Lord Tywin cleared his
throat.
“Summer has ended. Hard times are ahead. Stannis Baratheon’s ever-growing army
and Baelon Greyjoy’s band of pirates are still alive and eager to take the Iron
throne. We need as many friends, as we can get.”
 The Hand of the King took a long deep sip from his goblet.
It was the second time Sandor Clegane had been forced to attend a small council
meeting, though this was the first since Lord Tywin had returned. So far it had
gone somewhat differently. When he first entered the small private audience
chamber, his presence was questioned immediately. However King Joffery refused
for his loyal dog to leave his side. Boys scared. Wants me here to protect him.
The new meeting room was almost as dark and dingy as The Hounds chambers.
Though it was much more grand, well it should have been. Large Myrish rugs
covered the floors and colourful tapestries surrounded them, but there was so
little light it made them hard to see. The group all sat around a huge ornate
oak table, yet in the darkness it just looked as though it was gathering dust.
Joffery was clearly unhappy with the change.
"May I ask why you have been holding the small council meetings in here?" 
"It is much closer to where I work. And It is not often that your Grace wishes
too attend.."
"But if I were, I now have to climb all the stars in the tower of the hand to
attend a meeting?" He was picking at his chair, nostrils flared.
Lord Tywin turned his head slowly towards the boy.
"We could arrange to have you carried."
The silence was so thick it made The Hound think of the moment just before
battle. When everything goes still and eery, when the very blood in your veins
seems to run cold for just a second. Joffery let out a bark of a laugh and
everyone in the room seemed to have swallowed simultaneously.
 “What else do we have?” Lord Tywin contuined.
 “It seems the death of Robb Stark has not entirely put an end to the
rebellion. There is news of people still baring his banners in the North, and
many Northern lords are still refusing to bend the knee.” Ser Jamie announced.
 “Sansa must bare Joffery a son; to seal this royal marriage and finally tie
the North and South together. It is high time that she should be with child.
Grand Maester, you assured me the girl had flowered.”
 “Well..ugh… ugh.. yes. Perhaps I could brew…”
 “But I do not wish to put a child in her.” Joffery said plainly, swirling the
wine in his cup.
 “You will. And you are.”
 “I will not. The girl bores me. I want a new wife. A more comely one.”
 Sandor’s chest tightened as the words left the boys mouth. 
 “You cannot break the vow of marriage without good reason your grace…” Pycelle
stuttered, stroking his thin silver beard with his fingers.
 “Then we will give good reason.”
 “Joffery…” Cersei lent forward to place a laced hand on the Kings arm, but he
stood abruptly.
 “I wish to marry Margery Tyrell.”
 Tyrion let out a snort of a laugh. Everyone shot eachother looks around the
table. Cersei’s nostrils flared, but just before she opened her mouth Joffery
spoke again.
 “Why should my fat little brother marry her? Joffery spat. “He’s a child.”
 More of a man than you. And the boy is barely nine. Sandor thought silently.
"If I marry Margery I will have all of High garden, its money and army... Sansa
is heir to nothing more than a freezing pile of rubble!"
 Jamie raised his eyebrows as if the boy had a point.
 “If your Grace has not forgotten, you are already married. Do you wish to
anger the North into yet another War? Tommen will Marry Margery and you will
put a child into Sansa.” Tywin replied calmly, his eyes narrowing.
 “I will not. I am The King and I will do as I please!” Joff slammed his hands
down on the table and spat through gritted teeth.
 “I never wanted to marry her. Mother forced me too. I am the King and I should
choose who I want to marry.” He added, pushing back his hair.
 Sandor saw the dwarf rubbing his temples in the corner of his eye.
 “A Good King must do many things he does not wish-”
 “I am going to marry Margery Tyrell.”
 Lord Tywin stood slowly, with each forefinger pressed down against the table.
 “You will not.”
 “I WILL. And I am. I AM THE KING! Not you Grandfather!” Joffery seethed
slamming down his hands again, knocking various cups off of the table and onto
the floor. It made Varys jump violently in his chair, he had to dab the wine
from his powered cheek with his sleeve.
 “Any man who must say ‘I am the King’, is no true King. I’ll make sure you
understand that one-day, once I’m done winning the war for you.”
Lord Tywin Lannister sat down once again.
 “My…My father won the real war! He took the Iron throne! Whilst you…you sat
and hid in Casterly rock!” Joffery seemed to regret the words as soon as they
left his lips. His eyes quickly darted to the floor and the room went still and
silent.
 Cersei took a Sharpe inhale of breath. She eyed Lord Tywin intensely.
 “The King is tired.” He announced. “Hound, see him to his chambers.”
Sandor Clegane straightened his back and took a step towards the door. Though
he hesitated for a moment.I take orders from the boy. Not you, you old
fool. But the rattle of his armour in the silence shook the boy to startle. To
Sandor's surprise the boy King obeyed, pushed back his chair and grabbed his
mothers arm timidly. Like something a child would do after being told off for
playing in dirt. His face turned the brightest shade of pink, and Cersei's gaze
seemed to have become stuck to the hem of her dress. 
 “I…I am not tired..” Joff began, looking to his mother for support.
“Come my dear, there is a lot more just me and you can discuss together.” And
with that, she dragged him from the meeting. Sandor followed behind, his hand
on the hilt of his sword. A smile was growing behind his helm. Finally the boy
was disciplined.He's shitting his little silken pants. Fucking shame it was not
given to him a long time ago. 
As he followed the pair out of the tower of the hand, he reflected on the
meeting. This is not good for the little bird.What will become of her if he
does marry the Tyrell girl? He saw flashes of the dwarf walking her down the
isle, her being passed around from Lannister to Lannister. Would she have
to leave the keep? Be married off to some other Lordling cunt? He could not
protect her then. She is no longer safe here. Not that she even was in the
first place. And who the fuck is it trying to sneak her away, do they already
know of her fate? It filled him with dread. 
 
Sansa
 
The bright morning light beaming through her window was an assault on the deep
sleep that had taken hold of her. It had been the early hours until she finally
settled the night before, her dreams were full of blood and bitter sweet
memories from Winterfell. Sansa had been tossing and turning beneath the covers
for what seemed like an age.I thought the nightmares had stopped.The sheets
beneath her felt damp with sweat. She remembered seeing little Rickon in the
dream, playing with him by a hearth, but the flames consumed him. Just like
Theon Greyjoy had him burned him alive.
The Queen woke alone in her bed, as she usually did. Not that this upset her.
When she opened her eyes, she sighed. Another day in this golden hell. Shae and
the other hand maidens pulled back the shutters and filled the room with more
light. Sansa was handed lemon water and quickly ushered out of her bed robes.
It was a routine she knew all too well. She would make water while they ran a
lavender bath, then Shae would brush her hair gently. Whilst Sansa waited for
it too cool, she sipped the lemon flavoured liquid delicately, sometimes
nibbling on the fruit that was laid out each morning. She could not eat this
morning. Her tummy felt tight and uneasy. After bathing she would be dressed,
styled, sprayed and powered until someone came to call upon her door. This
morning that someone was Sandor Clegane. It had been him more often that not of
late. She knew it was him from the way that he knocked. Always two sturdy
bangs. Quite slowly. A second apart. Followed by the door opening almost
immediately. It always sent a flutter through her chest. 
"The little bird is being let out of her cage."
Sansa let out a confused sound that could only be described as groan.
"Where too?"
She turned to him, taken a back. He was wearing the bright white and gold
cuirass of the Kingsguard. A long white cloak hung from his broad shoulders,
right down onto the floor. It had been a time since Sansa had seen him in
anything other than his old grey armour. He looks rather handsome... If a
little odd. Though Sandor looked down uncomfortably at it, as if to let her
know he had no want in wearing it.   
"I am to escort you and the rest of the royal party to the Sept of Baelor,
Kings command."
Something about Sandor's face made her feel uneasy.
"Why?"
"I do not know. Your grace." He said it thick with sarcasm. "But the longer you
keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you."
Had Joffery found out about her meetings with Ser Dontos? She had not heard for
him in over a week. Perhaps he had been captured. Please no. He was her only
chance of escape. He could not have found out about the Hound had he? No he
wouldn't have sent him to fetch me. The last time the King had summoned her
like this he had commanded Ser Meryn to beat her with the flat of his sword
until her wounds weeped blood. 
"Remember your songs today, little bird. You may need to sing them."
As they reached the doors that lead out of the Red Keep Sansa felt a flutter of
fear. It had been so long since she had seen the world outside the walls of the
castle, even if it was just down into the city below. A large and very
elaborate carved golden litter awaited her outside, big enough to hold her and
shae. The body had been painted a beautiful silvery grey, just like her sigil.
Though it had been covered in a thick golden vine which engulfed it. There were
guards everywhere, and she suddenly realised that there were other litters in
front too. She nervously smoothed her skirts. The cream and gold samite was
itching against her chest. She looked out into the city, a sea of orange tiled
roofs and sandstone walls. It was much larger than she remembered. But Sansa
could already see the Sept jutting up out high above the rest. Suddenly an even
larger litter began to move ahead, this - she supposed - was her loving
King. It was not open like the others, the only way you could see was through
tiny slots at the back. He's going to be ever so stuffy in there. She thought,
I hope he chokes.As she stepped up into her own carriage, she noticed the crowd
in the distance looking up at them all ominously. Sansa felt sorry for the all
poor men having to carry them down the steps. This must be terribly heavy.
"Your Grace!" A soft voice yelled behind.
Margery Tyrell came gliding down the steps towards her with a beaming smile.
Her long wavey hair was flowing behind her in the sunlight.
"How do you fair? Im so excited too spend some time together, and to see more
of the capital!" 
She looked beautiful. The dress she wore cut down all the way to her belly
button, revealing a tiny mole just above it. It was a gorgeous emerald green
colour with patterns and scroll work she had never seen before. It was very
eye-catching. Sansa found herself wondering where it had come from and how much
it must have cost. I could never wear a dress like that, she thought. Joffery
would never allow it. Wild flowers had also been weaved throughout her crown of
braids, they looked much prettier than Sansa's traditional Capital head dress.
The girl from high garden grabbed her hand tightly. 
"I asked for us to share a litter, if you would like your Grace?"
"Erm.. yes of course." She said, settling in amongst the silk cushions.
"Do you know why we are going to the Sept?" Sansa asked.
"Don't you? I guessed perhaps a rehearsal for mine and Tommen's wedding?
Maybe Your Grace has a surprise for you. How romantic!" 
The litter jolted unexpectedly and the two girls gasped and giggled. 
"Ser! Why are we going to the Sept?" Sansa called out to Ser Meryn who was
riding close by.
"The King does not wish for your grace to know."
"But she is the Queen. Her grace demands to know!" Margery was giggling
flattening her dress.
Not that that matters. Not that I am any more than a prisoner here. 
"His Grace was certain you are not to know."
"How exciting!" Margery proclaimed. 
How terrifying. Sansa thought biting her lip.
With that they started the decent into the city and it suddenly dawned on Sansa
that it would be the first time they would see her as their Queen. It scared
her a little and she found herself searching for Sandor. He was sat atop his
great black destrier just behind them, both eyes fixed straight ahead. Moving
at a snails pace the litter attracted quite a crowd, faces peered in from all
angles to get a good look at the two ladies. Sansa smiled and waved, yet none
were returned. They passed through a sea of ragged men and hungry women,
breastfeeding a tide of sullen eyes. As they reached flee bottom Sansa pulled
out a perfumed handkerchief for her and her companion, and they quickly held it
to their nose, the smell was quite overpowering. 
They turned the narrow curving hook and began their climb up Aegon's High Hill.
The crowd was thicker here, it seemed the word of their arrival had travelled.
"Traitor!!" Someone yelled from deep within the crowd. " Bastard boy!" Screamed
another. Sansa pulled the veil curtain down around the litter. As if it would
somehow protect her. She peered out at all the dirty gaunt faces that were
staring intently at her, motionless. Fly's ran all over their cheeks but they
did not seem to notice. People were shouting in the distance but she could not
make out the words. Margery shot her a worried look and they clasped their
hands together. "Please your grace, we're starving!" She heard a woman cry,
followed by a short sharp scream. The crowd was growing louder. Sansa had no
idea the city was like this, the war of five Kings was almost over, she thought
the people would be excited to see her. 
The tall dark shadow of the Hound on his great horse closed in to her side, she
felt a flood of relief. 
"Why are they being so hostile? I have done nothing to them." She whispered to
him.
"You don't think they hate you for hiding up there in your castle, with a full
belly. All while they starve to death in the streets 'coz of a war you
started?"
The sudden consciousness ate at her.
 The guards spread out, pushing the sea of people further back. They were
almost there. She could smell the musky incense from the sept. Thank the Gods! 
Margery whispered in her ear "Those poor souls." as they were led up and out of
her litter.
She did not have much time to think as she was escorted out of the litter,
though she could still feel the burn of a thousand hungry eyes staring at her
from behind. Suddenly she found herself feeling very selfish, and very stupid.
Sandor placed a heavy hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. Sansa
craned her neck up at The Great Sept as she was hurried inside. It was truly
magnificent. The enormous marble domed building had seven crystal towers, one
for each of the seven. Past the entrance doors they faced the hall of lamps.
Hundreds of suspended and coloured globes of glass hung above them. She wanted
to stop and see them all in detail but she was being moved in so fast. The
party was gathering in the sept-proper, leather boots and velvet shoes all
shuffled along the marble floor. Margery was whisked away with them by her own
guards from Highgarden. Ser Preston told her to wait behind, while the others
entered. Soon she was on of the few people left. Fear was bubbling up in her
stomach.Whats going on...
A golden gauntlet'd hand grabbed her wrist. 
'Come with me little bird."
She looked up at the scarred side of Sandor Clegane's face. 
"Don't look at me. Keep walking." He rasped, leading her towards the doors of
the main hall.
"He wants to divorce you." He continued, his eyes fixed at the crowd ahead. 
Sansa gazed up at him confused at what she heard. Divorce me?
"I said don't look at me." He snarled. They kept walking.
"But…The faith does not permit it."
"You think the boy cares."
As they entered the doors of the main sept a sea of silk and powered faces
turned to watch her enter. She was careful not to trip on her dress. My skin is
no longer porcelain, it is steel. She reminded herself. Joffery was intently
staring at her, with a mad glimmer in his eye that shook her. The Hound left
her side and she felt the courageousness leave her entire body. I cannot be
strong without him. She found herself clutching her chest, where she had
stuffed the handkerchief he gave her down the front of her bodice. It made her
feel safe.
"My Lady." Joffery nodded through a curved smile. His lips were glistening,
they looked like shiny worms.
"Thank you all for coming, truly." He held onto the front of his belt with an
air of arrogance and placed a black leather boot up on the marble step beside
him. It was clear he was addressing the rest of the room. Cersei stood forever
at his side, though with a look of worry. Her hair was down and loose over her
shoulders, which was a rarity. And it dawned on her that she wasn't wearing
nearly as many jewels as she normally would for such a public event. Somethings
very wrong.Shortly after, Lord Tywin marched into the room, dressed all in dark
leathers, with a look of sheer anger. The King continued.
"I... Joffery Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men,
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, gather you all here
today, in front of Gods and men, to bare witness as I annul my marriage to
Sansa Stark."
The crowd behind her gasped in union. Fear took over her body making her knees
lock into place as if I could not move. Annul our marriage? It was as if all
the prays she had ever whispered in the Gods wood had all been heard at once.
Every breath of air that she took suddenly got harder. Sansa's hands started to
tremble.
"Your grace, The faith of the Seven does not console marriage annulment's of
any kind." Lord Tywin declared, his face hard as stone. "You cannot ask to
change the faith-"
Joffery raised a hand to stop him. 
"I am the King. The King does not ask. He commands."
Sansa could feel the crowd of people gathered behind her shuffling with
unease. 
"I have listened to your nonsense for too long Grandfather. Silence."
Joffery adjusted his beige doublet and gave a self satisfied grin.
"The stark girl and I have reared no children, besides, it would not be right
nor proper for a King to have children with the daughter of a man beheaded for
treason." He continued.
A figure stepped forward beside her, though Sansa's head seemed unable to move.
"Your grace, your small council thinks this may be unwise, if you would take
time to reconsider…" Cersei pleaded, with a tremble in her voice unheard to
Sansa before.
"I have taken some time to consider. I wish to set Sansa Stark aside. For the
good of the realm."
Joffery signalled for Sansa to approach the alter of which they once got
married, all those moons ago.
"If there is anyone who disagrees with this annulment, they should speak now."
He warned, placing a hand on the hilt his sword. It suddenly occurred to Sansa
that it was forbidden to bring weapons inside the great sept, though every
guard had been armed to the teeth. The Septon's and Septa's surrounding them
all looked at each other uncomfortably. He can't.
Tywin Lannister stood and took a long deep breath. Though he chose not too
speak. The Hand of the King paced off slowly through the sept and out of the
door. His footsteps echoing throughout the room.
"High Septon." 
Sweat was trickling down the face of large fleshy man they called the High
Septon. He was dressed in a lavish silk gown, with seven pointed stars stitched
all over it. He carried a silk ribbon in one hand and the Seven pointed star
clutched to his chest in the other. His hands were shaking violently. He does
not want to break the faith. Sansa realised. He's forcing him too. Once their
hands were bound together once more, the Septon began to real out their titles.
The High Septons voice shook..
"Let it be known that King Joffery of the houses Baratheon and Lannister, the
first of his name, and the Lady Sansa of the house Stark, heir to Winterfell
and the North, first of her name are no longer bound by faith, nor love. No
longer share one flesh, one heart, one soul. That their marriage is annulled in
front of the Seven…" The Septon broke off, his breath ragged.
"And cursed be he who questions it!" Joffery finished. Pulling the dagger from
his belt much to the shock of the Steptas and Septons around them. With one
quick cut he sliced through the ribbon to symbolise the end of their joining.
She left the Great Sept of Baelor in a daze, as nothing more than Sansa Stark,
and it felt nothing short of glorious. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** The Riot. *****
SANSA 
Outside, the bells were ringing. Slow and ominously. Sansa Stark hated the
bells. They made her think of horror, of death. The Battle of Blackwater Bay,
the swirling green smoke in the sky, the screams of hundreds of dying men
outside her window. 
The thick wall of hot air hit her suddenly; the powerful stench that filled her
nostrils made her feel a sudden nauseous. An even larger crowd had gathered
around the sept of Baelor, eager to hear the news that was to come. Joffery
pushed back his golden curls and smiled into the sea of sullen starving faces
below. He too seemed oblivious to their torment and starving. Sansa thought
back to all of the food that was wasted at their wedding, the 77 courses that
were purely for show. The thought disturbed her. The King cleared his throat
and began to give his speech surrounding the new royal divorce. A blush crept
up the back of her neck. This will not be taken kindly. Margery was no longer
at her side, she noted. But now stood well away, next to her fleshy father as
he whispered in her ear. The High Septon stood close behind clinging onto the
seven pointed star. His jaw was tightly clenched, sweat glistening on his
forehead.
Tywin Lannister strode towards them, looming like some demon dressed in black
velvet and leather boots. He was seemingly unapologetic to the interruption as
the crowd whispered amongst each other. The Kings Grandfather placed a firm
hand on Jofferys arm, urging him to step away from the dais that lead down into
the city. Some short stern words were exchanged, though Joffery continued all
the same. Even in the sticky heat, there was a certain chill in the air.
"As from this day forward.." Joffery went on, one hand clasped on the hilt of
his obnoxiously jewelled sword. 
Unable to lift her gaze from the floor, sansa found herself studying
the beautifully marbled tiles below her pearl encrusted feet. She dare not
raise her head. She could feel the hundreds of eyes that were staring right at
her, from head to toe. Im that moment, she felt as naked as her name day. Look
up, she urged herself. I l cannot look ashamed. It was unseemly, she knew, but
she just couldn't seem to raise her chin. She could feel how uneasy they all
were. As Jofferys speech persisted, there were growing mutters and
bickerings. Eventually someone pulled up enough courage to speak freely.
"You cannot change the faith, your grace! The Gods will punish us!"
"It has forever been a sin to cast aside your wife, your grace! It is not
something that can be changed." Another well dressed man shouted. 
"The Seven will be angry. Angry with all of us." Several people cheered to
that. 
The King raised his hand to dismiss them and spoke for a time, yet Sansa could
not tell you a word that left his lips. She was consumed by her own thoughts.
I am no longer his. No longer his to torment. He can't hurt me anymore. She
studied his face. I am no longer married. I am no longer the Queen.The
realisation hit her. I am no longer safe. The king was throwing coppers now, as
the crowd fought each other for the last piece. He thinks himself so
handsome. Yet he is so ugly inside. The king joked with his mother as she clung
on to his arm. Sansa found herself biting her lip, engulfed in her thoughts as
she was ushered back into her draped litter. She could not take her eyes off
her now ex-husband, who was struggling to mount his horse. Suddenly she felt
shame. Hurt, like a woman not wanted by her husband. The thought was absurd.
But she was upset, tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. I bet
they're all sniggering at me, Sansa thought. Margery. The ladies at
court. Though none dare do it to my face. Her thoughts swam violently around in
her head. I was to do my duty. To be a good wife, to give him a son. To be a
Queen. A mother.She parted her lips to speak or cry. She wasn't sure, but
neither tear nor sound came out. Her eyes darted about, the crowd was somber on
either side as they passed by.What will become of me now? Where will I go? Will
I marry another? She lent forward immediately to ask Joffery for some kind of
reassurance, yet as she took a breath to speak, a pile of dung flew from the
crowd and hit him flat on the cheek. The wet filth splattered all over his face
and hair. It was hard to suppress the laughter.
"Who threw that?!" He screamed, after a number of shrieks and profanities.
"I demand to know who threw that! A hundred golden dragons to bring me his
head!" 
He ran his fingers through his hair, made a furious face, then flung away a
handful of dung.
"Bring me the man who threw that flith! I want him hung! I want him hung, drawn
and quartered!" 
"He was up there!" Someone shouted, pointing.
The King wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open
balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one
another and the Royal family.
"Dog, bring him to me. I want to watch him lick it off before I cut off his
head!"
Obedient, Sandor Clegane swung down from his saddle, but there was no way
through the crawling wall of flesh. Sandor drew his sword, the men around him
flinched and squirmed away. The crowd was crammed together tightly now, as the
few mounted Kingsguard pushed them back against the wall. People began clawing
at one another. Others were shouting "Feed us! Please your grace, please".
Panic came over her.
"I want him! Dog, cut through them all, kill them all-" A pandaemonium of
sounds drowned his last words. Suddenly they were engulfed by a thundering rage
from all sides. The sea of sullen faces seemed to wash over them, like a fierce
wave over the shore.
 "Sinner!" "Brother fucker!" "Oathbreaker!" they shouted. Stones were thrown
from over head, knocking several people to the ground. The gold cloaks could no
longer hold the line. A ragged man grasped his hand up at the Kings leg, but
only for an instant. Ser Mandon's sword removed it from his arm. The blood
sprayed all over his palfrey. "The gods will curse us all!" Someone was
shouting. "Bitch, whore!" Another was screaming at the Queen regent. 
Jaime Lannister spurred to his sisters side immediately, his sword drawn,
shining in the daylight. "Cersei" He he was saying, over and over. "Cersei,
Cersei, Cersei" When he cut through the crowd he pulled her up upon his horse
without hesitation. The blur from his sword left a red mist as it moved. She
flew her arms around him desperately. "Whore!" They were shouting, though it
was hard to make out over the screams."Brother fucker! Whore!" 
"Protect the King!" Ser Meryn bellowed.
Brown tattered rags seemed to engulf the colourful velvets and golden plate
around her, like ants over a discarded piece of lemon cake.
"Back to the castle. Now" she heard Lord Tyrion shout from behind. It suddenly
occurred to Sansa that Tywin Lannister was no longer up ahead in the column.
But in fact, he was no where to be seen. Nor was little Tommen, nor Margery for
that matter. Sansa frantically looked around for a face that she knew, but all
that stared back at her were angry muddy faces she had never seen before. Her
litter was being pushed from side to side, she clung onto the edge, praying not
to fall. Rough hands were reaching in and pulling at her dress. "I have no
money!" She yelled.Help. Someone help. The Hound had vanished amongst the sea
of men trampling those that had fallen already. His riderless black destrier
was ploughing down those ahead as they shrieked in pain. Whether it had been a
man, a woman or a child, Sansa could not have said. She could not recall
leaving the litter either, though now she was on her hands and knees. Something
had struck her face, she could feel the sting of the cut. As she reached up,
she felt the blood trickle down her cheek. Help me.She squeezed her eyes shut
and pictured Sandors face. Help me.Someone was shouting her name, though
she could not make out who.
There was a flash of a gold cloak and for a split second she thought she might
have been saved. But the man fell to his knees, face first into the dirt. Sansa
could not make out who it was. Sandor? There was blood everywhere. So much
blood.A hand was wrapped around her arm tightly, pulling her away from
the column. The fingernails were digging into her arm. Get off me. Please. Let
me go.Sansa shoved him as hard as she could and ran frantically away into the
nearest alley. Another hand grabbed her, then another. Tears were rolling down
her face. It had all happened so quickly, she could not remember crying.
"Its the fucking Queen" A man said, his hand yanking a fistful of her auburn
hair. Her legs were no longer carrying her. Another man laughed. "Ever fucked a
Queen?" 
She was being dragged now, more than two men, though she could not quite see
their faces. One of them was cackling with laughter. She seemed to had lost a
shoe.
"Please no, leave me be!" She screamed. One of them hit her hard around the
face. 
Her head was searing in pain. It made her ears ring. She caught a glimpse of
one mans eyes. They were brown, almost black. So full of loathing and pain.He
hates me.She saw.He hates me and I've never even met him.
They pushed her on her back, the beautiful dress shae had chosen, being ripped
apart. Sansa flayed her legs, trying to kick. Her short ragged breaths drew
gasps of the hot muggy air. The metallic taste of her own blood was on her
tongue. She did not know where she was, nor how she got there. It smelt of
horse dung, and it was very dark. Help me. Please Gods, someone help me. Im
going to die here. She thought desperately. One of the men crawled on top of
her, his thick bushy beard scratching against her neck. The sweat from his head
left her cheek clammy. "Have you ever been fucked before, little girl?" he
whispered, sending a fierce shiver down her spine. The faceless man struggled
with his breeches, while another clawed at the inside of her thighs. Sansa
tried with all her might to get up, but they were kneeling on her arms. Its
hopeless. She gave one last scream for help but a calloused hand covered her
mouth. She shut her eyes tight and tried to think of Winterfell. Of the distant
haven she still somehow called home. But the clawing stopped abruptly, and the
man on top of her collapsed, crushing down against her chest. When she opened
her eyes he was being pulled back. There was a flash of sliver and his throat
opened, gushing out a river of red. Sansa threw up her arms to cover her face.
There was a clang of steel against stone, and the sound of a body dropping to
the floor. "Please no-" someone was cut off into a choking gurgle. The sound of
steel sliced through another man. Her knees were up to her chest. Footsteps
were running away. "Arghh!" Another shouted, followed by another slump to the
floor. Then silence. Beautiful, peaceful silence.
"Your safe now, little bird. Your safe." A voice rasped.
This time, when she opened her eyes, they were met with the Hounds. That
intense stare through a blood smattered face, inches away from her own. He
was so full of pain, she could see it as clear as day in his cloudy eyes.
Sandor brushed aside the hair from her face, with that familiar and somehow
gentle touch. She was safe.
"Thankyou…Tha-" Was all she could muster. He touched her lips lightly with his
hand. For a second she thought he was going to speak, but he took a short sharp
breath and pulled her up over his shoulder. Sansa had never felt such a relief
in all of her years. She was certain she was going to die, right there on the
floor. The girl found herself flinging her arms around him tightly, just as
Cersei had.  
 
SANDOR 
 
The ground was glazed with guts. Men were snarling and squealing as the
ground became slippery with gore. He was the butcher, and they were the meat. 
Where is she? Where the fuck is she?
Someone was clawing up his leg, groaning and crying. "Help me" he was saying.
"Help me, please". Sandor wanted to feel sympathy, but he found none. A swift
stroke of his sword finished him in a crimson haze. He continued forward, he
could see the hulking black outline of stranger up ahead. He began to feel
something almost like fear. Though not that which took over his body when a
burning flame brushed his skin - not like the fear from the fire - but a
different kind, something new. Something much more terrifying. Images of men
slicing through the little birds long neck flashed within in his mind. Dirty
hands were all over her ivory skin, pulling her auburn hair. I must find her. I
have to find her. He called out for her over and over, but she did not reply,
he only heard the wailing of dying men. He pushed forward, cutting through any
poor soul still left close by. Where fuck is she? I have to find her. 
He cursed himself for leaving her side. He should have known better. He should
have been more prepared. Fucking Joffery, stupid little cunt! He spat onto the
ground. Citys fucking killing each other just so he can marry the next little
twat with a fancy name. His knuckles turned white as he clenched at the hilt of
his sword. He had gone to mount stranger and head back up the column to shield
her, but a gaunt faced man had come at him with a boulder, trying to smash it
over his head. He lost count of how many he carved through after that. When he
turned back the little bird was gone, along with her litter.I am the fucking
Queens guard. Im supposed to protect her. He became increasingly desperate as
he searched through the faces. I've failed her.There were shreds of Lannister
banners entwined throughout the bodies. The streets had taken to look like a
battlefield. Though instead of shields and banners, only bloodied rags
remained. 
"Clegane! Pull Back! Pull back!" 
Where the fuck is she? He had to find her. He ignored the orders. She has to be
ok, she has to be here.
"Pull back to the castle!!" Ser Boros Blount was shouting from further up the
hill. There was not many to follow. Most of the so called sers had tucked tail
and ran as soon as blood was shed. All that remained was a handful of knights
and city guards wielding swords and spiked clubs. The High Septon lay a mangled
mess of silks and entrails beneath his feet. Fool. He muttered at his lifeless
body. The smell of death hung in the air, it got Sandors blood pumping. He
carried on, scanning the faces and bodies scattered amongst the floor. Most had
fled now, ran away like rats down alley ways and into the holes they called
homes. Sandor turned off around a corner, away from the groaning cries of pain.
The air was thick with smoke down there, something had caught a blaze. A trail
of smoke roared out of a gaping role in a roof up ahead. A girl was screaming
nearby. shrieking like a bird with a broken wing. Little bird.In a frenzy he
followed her calls. The blind rage that took ahold of him tore through each of
her attackers one by one. The anger consumed all that he was. He murdered them
all, each more more brutally than the next. When the fighting was done. He
found her, laying in a ball, shaking. A mass of auburn hair over her face. He
knelt down next to her. Her breathing was ragged, but she was breathing. And
her eyes were open, though wide with fear.
Laying there half naked, beaten and bloodied, covered in filth; Sandor Clegane
could honestly say that she had never looked so beautiful. The relief coursed
through his veins. 
"Are you hurt?"
She gazed up at him with tearful eyes, but shook her head.
He wanted to kiss and choke her all at the same time.Stupid fucking girl.
Nearly raped and killed. Never run off. Never leave me. Im not leaving your
side again. Im sorry. Im sorry. Im sorry. The words almost tumbled out of his
mouth, but Sandor Clegane knew better. He said nothing; only tossed her limp
little body over his shoulder and carried her back to Stranger. He slid his
hands under her arms and lifted her up upon the destriers back, leaving his
hands to linger there just a second longer than they needed too. He pulled out
a handkerchief from inside his garb and dabbed at the blood that had began to
trickle down her face. She cowered and held the cloth there herself instead.
"Your not safe here anymore, Little bird." 
"I never was. And I am never going to be" She looked down at him from the
saddle, red curls blowing across her face, still unable to catch her breath.
Hmmph. The girls learning. 
"No, little bird. Not here you won't anyway."
He pulled himself up behind her, her body still shaking against him.
"Your alright now, little bird. Your alright." He said trying to calm her as
best he could. 
"We need to get you to a Maester."
An arm stretched around his back, as she sat side saddle in front of him. Her
head pressed against his chest. 
"You think Joffery will send me away?… Now... now I am no longer Queen."
Sandor spat out a laugh.
"You think he'd let his little play thing go so easily? Don't be stupid girl."
With a hard kick, Stranger burst into a gallop. She clung to him tightly as
they rode.
As they grew closer to the castle, Sansa returned her gaze up towards him, with
eyes as big as bloody plates.
"Don't take me back there, please. Lets go. Lets run away from here. Keep me
safe, like u promised." 
The words that poured out of her sweet little mouth were so faint, yet Sandor
heard every single fucking syllable.
"Please? I don't want to go back."
The words rang around inside his head like the  bells of the sept.
Fuck.
"Clegane!!" Someone was shouting. "He has the Lady Sansa!"
There was a stir up ahead, he pulled his eyes away just for a second, but
instantly the moment was gone. Castle guards were running towards them,
cheering upon their return. When he looked back at her he saw only downcast
eyelashes, her hands covering her face. Had she even fucking said it? 
He squeezed her side gently as they slowed to a trot. Silently cursing the
heavy metal of his gauntleted hand, preventing the feel of the warmth of her
skin beneath it. She relaxed her shoulders and lent back into him, the
closeness making him tense. When they crossed the bridge of Maegors holdfast he
placed her gently down onto the floor. Only now did he realise just how hurt
and weak she was, slumping against the wall. There was chaos all around,
injured guards and men were dotted around the courtyard. Swiftly, hand maidens
and Septons flocked to the girls aid. 
"Take the little bird back to her cage." He said "See to that cut." 
Sandor turned, his mind still clouded from killing. I need wine. And women. He
thought, stalking to the kitchens. A voice shouted and stopped him for a
second.
"Well done Clegane!"
It was the half man. He snorted.
"I didn't do it for you."
 
***** A Bloody promise. *****
 SANSA
 
Her bruises were a multitude of different hues and colours, ones that should
not be on ones skin. There was garish purple splotches, roughly the size of a
fist, while others were smaller and more grayish, though just a painful. They
were all over her, everywhere - It was horrible. And it wasn't just the
bruises. There were cuts, too. Lines across her body, like someone or something
had dug it's nails into her, tearing her flesh. Maybe they had, she still
wasn't sure. Something had clawed away at her in any case, the gashes were sore
to touch. It was awful, she could hardly bear to see herself in the looking
glass. Sansa pulled a shawl over her shoulders in an attempt to cover the
pain. I need to get some air. Outside on her balcony, the sun was already
setting. Threads of orange light lingered in the sky, mingling with the rolling
clouds. Have I really been asleep so long?  She looked out at the vast,
intricate, labyrinth of streets and alleys that was Kings Landing. Smoke was
rising up here and there, merging with the clouds as they reached the sky.
There is misery in the streets. It seeped out of the cracks in the walls and up
out of the sewers. She remembered how she had imagined the capital back when
she was still in Winterfell. All marble buildings and towers, fountains with
beautiful sculptures of mermaids, colourful flowers and exotic smells. She
laughed at herself under her breath. I was so stupid. The city smelt of sewers,
burning flesh and smoke. 
There was a chill in the air, deciding to return inside she lay on her
featherbed and sighed. Sansa grimaced with pain. Her head was aching were it
had been cut. I am stronger than I know. She thought, My skin has turned to
porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Sansa looked down at her hands and observed the
dirt under her finger nails. The muck would just not seem to go. Memories of
her pale hands on the ground trying to get away from the man between her legs
brought tears to her eyes and her vision became blurry.
How many more tears could I possibly have?  Sansa thought. How many times have
I sat in this golden prison, and cried? 
Someone was at her door. Two slow sturdy knocks.
The Hound. 
Her heart fluttered.
Immediately he entered, alone. With a concerned look and furrowed brow. The
hour was late. It was a rare sight to see Sandor Clegane without his armour. He
donned a simple leather jerkin, with the three hounds of his house
stitched across his chest. For those who died in the summer grass. Sansa warmly
recalled the story of his grandfather. It made her smile. 
"How are you little bird?" He asked.
"I'll be fine." She said, suddenly feeling shy. "Thank you for asking."
He gruffed at that and took a sip from the wine skin he had tucked away in his
pocket. 
It reminded her of what Master Pycelle had brought her earlier when she woke.
Milk of the poppy. She glided across the room - as gracefully as she could -
with all her wounds and bruises. She heard him shut the door as her back was
turned, it made her heart beat a little faster. We are alone. As she lifted the
vial from her bedside table a sting of pain pierced through her chest and
shoulder. She made a 'psssh' noise as she sucked in air, bending over, almost
dropping the glass to shatter on the floor. Suddenly he was behind her, a firm
hand around her wrist, holding her. He ushered her down onto the bed, leading
her back onto a pile of silk cushions and furs.
"Lay down little bird. You need to rest."
She muttered her apologies, her head swimming. He sat beside her, pulling at
the soft woollen robe that covered her silk bed dress. Her head began to swim. 
"Let me see."
"Ser, Your've forgotten yourself." Her voiced trembled, embarrassed. She didn't
want him to see her like this.  
He rolled his eyes.
"Fuck your Ser's girl. LET ME SEE!" 
He placed his hand just underneath her collar bone, the sudden skin on skin
contact made her jolt.
"Come on...I won't hurt you little bird." He rasped softly.
And with that Sansa melted beneath him.
He reached up and gently pulled the robe off her shoulder, dropping it just
enough to see the worst of her bruises. His fingers lightly traced over the
marks, with a touch so gentle for such a large man. She watched his calloused
fingers run over the paleness of her skin, her chest convulsing up and down as
he did. On her neck, he dragged his fingers upwards slowly, until he reached
the spot just behind her ear. Sansa looked at his lips and thought to kiss
them. 
"I should have raped their fucking corpses!"
That threw her.Why must he always be so vulgar?! She averted her gaze and found
her distraction with the tiny vial still in her hand, nervously bringing it up
to her lips.
"Piss on that girl. Drink your fill of this." He said, raising his wine skin,
but she wrinkled her nose. 
"No, Thankyou."
"Fine. Suit yourself."
He took another pull. 
The closeness between them perpetuated, yet neither went to move away. 
"I'm sorry." He said shortly, furrowing his brow.
"What for?"
"For not.. protecting you. I swore I always would."
Some instinct told her to lift her hand and place it on his neck. His mouth
twitched as she brushed her fingers against his skin. His eyes locked with hers
and for the briefest moment they didn't seem so full of hate anymore. She
couldn't tear her gaze away. They were like smouldering pits, grey but full of
heat. The closeness between them felt so natural, and so comforting. More
comfortable than any blanket or fur she had ever lay beneath. 
"But you saved me! Those..those men were going to kill me or worse.."
"Yes, and they almost fucking did. I never should have left your side."
His voice was rough and angry.
"Sandor, I should be thanking you. You saved me. You were so brave."
"Brave?!" He laughed, pulling away from her. "A dog doesn't need courage to
chase off rats."
The closeness was gone. She cursed herself for her words.
There was a long silence. Sansa knew there was so much in Sandors silence, so
much he was unwilling to say. 
"Do you know what will happen to me now?" She finally whispered. Worrying what
it might mean. Worrying that she might be sent away, without him.
The Hound shook his head.
"I know about your little plan." He gruffed suddenly. "The Fool. I put my sword
through his throat."
Sansa was at a loss for words. 
"It was not him who wanted to help you, someone was paying him to write those
letters."
She was confused.
"Who?"
"That I don't know, little bird. Not me."
She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, silently urging him back. Her arms
slipped underneath his and entwined around his back. I don't want to be without
him, she thought. Please Gods, don't let me loose him too. They stared at each
other for a long moment before she rested her forehead against his. Had he
killed Ser Dontos for her? Was it jealously that spurred him to do it? Neither
broke their stare. The closeness felt so good, warmth seemed to rush to every
corner of her body.  And then, he kissed her, hard and slow. She could feel the
faint burn of wine as his tongue rolled against hers and it seeped down her
throat. Sandor took her head in both his hands and deepened their kiss. To
Sansa, the world simply fell away. In that moment he was the only thing to her
in the world that mattered. When they both eventually pulled apart, they took
shaky, shallow breaths. They couldn't take their eyes off each other. His hands
slid down her neck to feel the curvature of her breast but Sansa inhaled
sharply in pain. For a moment she too forgot how much she was hurting.
"Im sorry." He muttered suddenly. Shifting sideways, looking back at her, his
eyes glistening in the darkness.
She sat up and rested her face on his shoulder, running her fingers lightly
across the leather. 
"I can't watch him hurt you any longer." He rasped. 
Sansa sighed, unable to speak.
They sat for a long moment in complete stillness. 
"I'm taking you away from this place. Before anyone else tries to do the same.
"
He said it suddenly, his voice as rough as a sword against stone. The flame
from her candle flickered, sending dancing shadows up and down the walls.
"I'm not asking you this time either, girl."
He stood up, pulling down on his jerkin.
"But...Where?! How?" Her words became muddled. 
"Winterfell, could be.  Across the narrow sea..."
Sandor's eyes dropped to the ground, deep in thought.
"Watch it turn to shit here now. Mark my words girl. That doe eyed little
whore's got her claws so far in Jofferys back, she'll rip him to shreds before
long. The Tyrells think they can play with Cersei. It's the calm before the
storm. We should leave. And now."
"Please…" She found herself saying, sitting up in her bed and clutching the
silk to her chest. "There is nothing I want more..."
He shot her a hard look.
"It won't be some fucking fairy tale. You know that? Shitting in the woods and
sleeping in the dirt. Thats what it will be. But its better for you than
staying here. Fuck knows what they'll do with you now." He rubbed his hands
over his face almost anxiously. 
“They'll be no hand maidens to comb your pretty hair." Sandor Clegane reached
up and tugged it almost gently. She shot him up a glance, as mouth was curved
into a smile.
"I need to go. One of those fucking handmaidens of yours will be back soon."
The Hound stepped back into the candlelight, but his expression was dark.
"Im going to free you from this cage little bird. And thats a bloody promise." 
With that he was gone. 
Sansa fell back onto her bed, the milk of the poppy swirling her thoughts. Her
eyes grew heavy. Then when blackness came over her, it sent her to a deep
dreamless sleep. 
 
SANDOR
 
The problem was his face. Everyman, from the beggars in flee bottom, to the
Nightswatch on the wall had heard of the Kings dog. Sandor Clegane. The Hound.
He had been given many different names over the years. Although, most men
are too scared to look upon his scars, they all know that he has them. It was
not a trait that could be hidden easily. A cloak and hood? He thought as he lay
upon his bed, maybe a fucking mask? But it was not only his name and face that
worried him, but the stories that went with them. How many he had killed,
tortured, beaten. The men, the women, the children; there was a lot of folk who
would want him dead. And many a folk who were simply scared shitless of him.
Too scared shitless to help or listen.. Standing a good two foot taller than
any other man and having half his face burned like a juicy mutton chop, was not
something they were going to forget easily. Most men would simply run a mile.
No matter the money. Besides, no amount of gold Sandor had could shadow what
the Lannisters could offer. If he gave 100 gold stags for a ship across the
narrow sea, Tywin Lannister would give 500 just to be told which one was set to
sail. There would be a hefty reward as well he supposed, once word spread
across the city. Gold and a lordship for the man that brought back the Hound
who stole the Queen. For the dog that tucked tail and ran. No doubt some
fucking bard will write a song about it, he chuckled to himself. She'll like
that. 
The whole of the seven Kingdoms will be searching for them. No one must know.
He decided, in the darkness of his chamber. Not even her.Most importantly he
needed a distraction. The Royal wedding. He could whisk her away at the feast
while everyone was drunk, it might just be the best chance he had. Thats it, he
decided, I ready the saddle bags and I take her on Jofferys wedding night. 
Sandor woke just before dawn, as he so often did. It was still and quiet, just
how he liked it. He washed away the nights wine with water from his basin, then
let open the shutter to glimpse an inch of burnt orange sky. A beam of light
fell across his room, revealing a cockroach scuttle across the stone. He stood
on it and smiled when he heard it crunch. His first thought was to visit the
kitchens, and take some of the blood sausage he saw them stuffing the day
before. Sandor took five with a chunk of bread and washed it down with a watery
ale. He returned to the darkness of his room for a time, plotting on how he was
going to take her. The silence helped him think. Its time I showed my face. Or
half of it. Donning his Kingsguard armour he met with the other men in the
White Sword Tower. Duck-faced Lord Slynt sat at the table wearing a black
velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, all but he in the room turned to
look at him as he entered.
"No one told me we were meant to dress as a woman today Slynt." Sandor
announced.
Jaimie Lannister muffled a laugh. 
Sandor continued to eye him, rubbing his beard.."Its been a while, be careful I
might bend you over that table and fuck you with my sword."
"Your pork sword? Always suspected it of you Clegane." Janos Slynt spat back,
his hand in a fist. 
The Hound grinned, running his tongue slowly across his teeth. 
What a Cunt.
"Remember who isn't wearing their armour. I don't want to ruin that pretty
little dress of yours when I slice off your cock."
Slynt rose to his feet and The Hound spat out a harsh laugh.
"You think your a hard man? Looking like that?!"
The men in the room laughed and stirred, though quickly silenced by The
Kingslayer.
"Now, now. As much as I'd love to sit and watch you two idiots spit insults at
each other all day, Im afraid we must arrange the shifts over the royal wedding
before we attend court this morning. So, if I may..."
When they were done Sandor set off to collect the little bird from her
chambers. The meeting was as dull as shit, but very helpful to his cause. Jaime
gave a simple overview of who was guarding who and when they were patrolling
what, all of which luckily went his way. Seeing as Sandor obviously still
refused his knighthood, he was still given the little bird as his primary duty,
a role which suited him most. He was relieved in truth, it would make getting
away that much easier. Most of the gold cloaks would be patrolling the city,
from fear of another riot or peasants trying to storm the castle. The rest
would be protecting Joffery and his new little Queen. This time the feast would
be held inside the throne room, which would make it a great deal more crowded.
That could could raise a problem, slipping away unnoticed might not be as
easily done. As he climbed the serpentine stairs he pictured her laying in bed,
a mass of auburn curls and pale soft skin. He knocked twice, slowly. The
foreign hand maiden with the little black eyes pulled open the door. Like a
fucking shadow, that one. She might be a problem.
"The King wants you to attend court this morning. You are too come now."
Sansa met his eyes with a smile, dabbing some sweet smelling oil on her chest.
The dress she wore clung to her body and he could not but help stare at how her
breasts were pushed up together. Beneath all that steel of his armour, he felt
his cock stir. 
"Yes, if it pleases his Grace. I need just a moment." 
Sandor waited outside the door, imagining having her every way he could. He
lost himself in his thoughts and jolted at the door as it reopened. 
"Im ready." She said softly with a faint smile.
They walked side by side towards the great hall, his mind still wandering. The
hand maidens from her room trailed closely behind.
"How is his Grace, this morning." 
"I haven't seen The King yet. Though I heard he's been spending a great deal of
time with that Tyrell..girl"
Playing with his crossbow and feeding his ego. Clever bitch. Watch Cersei
murder her for it.
"Oh." Is all the little bird sighed, mouthing a word as if to say more but
deciding against it. 
When they reached the hall they were met with Little finger, smoothing his long
doublet. 
"Lady Sansa, radiant as ever." 
Sandor snarled as he watched his eyes flit over her body the same way his had
moments before.
"Kind of you to say, Lord Baelish." 
"Might I speak to you, alone for a moment. I have been meaning to come and
visit you since I returned from the Vale." He said, curving his lips into a
thin smile. "Before his Grace arrives."
Sansa gave a concerned look then a nod at The Hound, though he returned it with
narrow eyes.
What the fuck does he want? Thought he was gone for good. Sandor didn't let his
eyes leave the couple as they spoke in hushed voices across the hall. He could
not see the little birds face, only Baelish's. It was hard to read his
expression, but the man was reeking of lies, then again he always had. They
spoke for far too long and it began to raise his temper, there was nothing he
had to say that was of any good. Before long they announced the Kings arrival
and they quickly done their courtesies and she returned back to him, but his
eyes lingered on her far too long, he wants her.He realised teeth bared like a
rabid dog.I'll break his fucking skull.
"Stay away from him." He grumbled under his breath, as he left the little bird
to climb up to the gallery, with the Tyrell girl and the rest of the pretty
little idiots.
He took a spot next to Ser Meryn between the King and the common people, ready
to cut out anyones eyes that even dared look at him. He didn't have to wait
long until he got his first taste of blood, a thief that was stealing bread for
the orphanage. Sandor was ordered to cut off a hand while Ser Meryn held him
down, but the boy was squirming about like a fish. 'No, please no! I'll do
anything!' He screamed. Last words all the fucking same. No, please, stop,
mercy. Bloody boring. Then finally when he managed to stay still, The Hound
slammed down his sword and heard the steel hack through the bone he imagined
was Baelish's neck. Sandor's fun was soon over when Lord Tywin entered the
hall, bringing an invisible cloud of sobriety. The rest of the court took a
much less bloody toll, and much less of Sandor's work. It was enough though, he
let out some of the rage inside of him. When it was over, finally he escorted
the little bird back to her cage.
"What did he say to you?"
"Who?" Sansa gave a sideways glance at her one of her lady's before adding, "My
Lord."
Sandor rolled his eyes.
"You know fucking who."
"Could you give us a moment" She said smiling sweetly until the swirl of silks
scuttled off.
"It is none of your concern, he's been a friend to me. More than you know."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
He found himself grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back against the wall,
much harder than he had meant too. He must have knocked the wind from her and
she let out a little gasp. He hand't meant too, it was that fucking creep. He
makes him so damn angry. 
"Let go of me! Why must you behave this way? "
She dusted herself off and bit her lip, refusing to look up at him. 
"What did he say? He's a nasty little cunt, don't trust a word of it."
"He said nothing. No need to lay your hand on me!"
Her hand maidens came rushing to her aid. Sansa blinked through tousled auburn
hair.
"If you please..I think my ladies can escort me the rest of the way."
They each took and arm and shot him a daggered look before tottering up off the
hall. 
Seven fucking hells.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Tricked. *****
SANSA
 
There was a time when I loved and trusted Joffery.. I even trusted Ser Dontos
somewhat. They repaid that trust with nothing but death. My fathers head on a
spike and rumours of a fat body covered in motley outside an ale house. I need
to stop putting such trust into others. Perhaps I should be more cautious of
The Hound. I should remind myself of all of the awful things he has done. I do
not wish to make the same mistakes again. Mayhaps Lord Baelish had a point. 
"My Lady?"
It was Cersei's handmaiden, the one with the square jaw and hard face. She had
obtained a long red scar across one cheek not weeks ago, for reasons unknown.
It gave her an even more intimidating air than before.
"The Queen asks that you join her in her chambers, My Lady. She has a gown for
you, for this evenings festivities."
"How Kind, of course. " 
A feast was being held for all of the wedding guests that had arrived for King
Joffery and Margerys wedding in a few days. It was said the prince of Dorn was
attending, along with all of the Martells, Redwynes, Tyrells, Freys, Tarlys,
Fossoways and swifts. She wanted to make sure she was looking her very best, it
was not everyday you got to sup with such unfamiliar and well respected Lords.
What little girl was left in her was excited, but only to fill how lonely she
had become. A much more cynical voice spoke then, No doubt they will all be
awful, and boring.
It had been difficult since King Joffery had cast her aside. She felt the eyes
watch her as she walked the castle gardens, heard the soft giggles behind
jewelled hands. No one wanted to be seen with the girl he no longer wanted, the
girl that caused the riot, the reason the High Septon was torn apart. She had
instantaneously become even more of an outcast than she already was, shunned by
everyone around her. Content at first, she grew lonely, her only escape to
steal a moment with Sandor Clegane. That was all that kept her going of late.
When she lay in bed at night, it was his touch she yearned for, his voice she
wanted to hear. As silly as she knew it to be, she still prayed he would
somehow save her.
That is not to say that the new Queen was not unkind to her. Days before she
had been summonded amoungst her flock of hens as Lady Olenna had called them,
to eat lemon cakes and drink spiced tea as they overlooked the bay. The real
reason she soon discovered was nothing of the sort. It soon became clear they
were digging, trying to uncover as much as they could of The King and his
council before they were to join their houses for good. With a woman such as
Lady Olenna it had proved difficult to keep such a tight lip, and sansa had
been fretting about the words she had spoke ever since. 
I do hope this is not the real reason Cersei has summoned me. She found her
throat dry as she swallowed.
Though Sansa had found herself excited as she read the invitation the previous
day, she ripped the paper opening it in such haste. Many weeks had passed since
the riot, her bruises had faded away and scratches had healed, yet she had
still not learnt anything of her fate. She still received the odd visit from
Joffery to torture her in some way or an invitation to court. She was being
left to her own doings, no longer watched day in, day out, a ward of sorts
rather than a hostage. Things were too easy, no one had tried to use her for
her claim. The soon to be Queen had mentioned a match with her older brother
Ser Willis, though she had heard little more of it. In the moments that
followed she scolded herself for being so stupid.  
When she reached her chambers she was met with a small army of faces, all
surrounding Queen Cersei. A great number of guards in gold cloaks were present
outside her door too, she noted, perhaps Cersei had also grown wary after the
riot. 
"Little dove!" She proclaimed, pretending to be surprised by the arrival. "Sit,
sit. I have a gift for you."
The Queen wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves
that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. She had arranged her
hair artfully in a delicate silver net, with winking gemstones. Her hand
clasped a goblet of sweet wine. The atmosphere in the room was strange, she
knew something was a miss but not quite what. 
The gown that was brought out to her was equally as exquisite. A low cut dress,
one similar to what Cersei herself would wear. 
"Beautiful, all silk and Myrish lace. Very costly. The colour will suit you
well too."
She ran her fingers over the material carefully.
"Thankyou for your generosity and thoughtfulness your grace."
Sansa eyed her suspiciously. 
"But... what is the occasion?"
"Your wedding, little dove." She arched a brow. "To Tyrion"
Sansa scoffed something between a laugh and a gasp.
"You look much prettier with your mouth closed Sansa. Come along now, the
septon is waiting, and the wedding guests as well. Im afraid it won't be much
on your first wedding, but we felt it important to haste, what with the Kings
own wedding happening so soon. "
"Wait….what…"
Queen Cersei studied her critically. "A few more gems, I think."
"At once, your Grace"
A hand maiden was quick to hang the moonstones Joffery brought her from her
ears.
"Better. Now, I understand your reluctance my dear. Cry if you must. In your
place, I would likely rip my hair out. He's a loathsome little imp, no doubt of
it, but marry him you shall."
"No! You can't make me."
"Of course we can. You may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a
lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to
titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same." The queen
opened the door. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Osmund Kettleblack were waiting, in
the white scale armor of the Kingsguard. "Escort Lady Sansa to the sept," she
told them. "Carry her if you must, but try not to tear the gown, it was very
costly-"
Sansa tried to run, but Cersei's handmaid caught her before she'd gone a yard.
"No, No!" She blurted.
Now? Surely not. They mean to marry to the imp.. right.. now?A sickening
feeling bubbled in her tummy and festered up her throat. They tricked me! Sansa
backed away releasing herself from the hand maidens grip. Ser Osmund Kettle
black stood ominously behind them in the white scale of the Kingsguard,
smirking. 
"Be brave sweetling. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren't they?"
Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. Where is Sandor? To be brave she needed him,
just to see his face and know that she would be alright. She thought to run
again, she thought to cry, but she knew neither would make much use. I am a
stark, and I have survived much worse. And he is not so bad as the rest of
them.
"I'll go."
Cersei smiled. "I knew you would."
Some time later as they left her room and descended the steps they were met at
the bottom by Joffery himself, and the great hulking shadow of Sandor Clegane
behind him. His expression was stone, as always, but the words he had said to
her repeated over and over in her head, "I'll free you from this cage, thats a
bloody promise". It gave her courage. The King was resplendent in crimson and
gold, his crown perched at an angle on his head. Sansa glanced back at Sandor
Clegane and found herself imagining him scooping her up by the waist and
carrying her away to safety. There are no hero's, she reminded herself. Only
monsters. If anything Ive learnt that by now. 
"Im your father today." Joffery announced, extending a taffeta covered arm.
"You're not, your'll never be."
His face darkened. "I am. And I can marry you to whoever I like. To anyone.
Your'll marry the pig boy if I say so, and bed down with him in the sty.
Perhaps The Hound too. You can be his bitch and bed him in the kennels."
Sansa's heart lurched.
They paced across the yard and stopped just before the small litter waiting by
the gate. She could feel everyone staring, her cheeks were burning. Their
litter had been sitting in the sun, and it was very warm inside the curtains.
As they lurched into motion, Joffery reclined onto an elbow while Sansa sat
staring at her hands in disbelief. He was talking, The King, though she could
not say what he had said. As they reached the sept, she finally choked out a
few words as a groom helped them both down onto ground.
"Please..if you ever loved me, even a little bit, you wouldn't do this-"
Tyrion Lannister stepped forward to great them.
"Your Grace." He said with a stiff nod. Tyrion looked up at her with his
mismatched eyes and bowed.  
"My lady this is no way to bring you to your wedding. I am sorry for that. For
it being so sudden, so secret."
He knew? How many others knew? She wondered. Surely not Sandor, he would have
told me. Wouldn't he? 
"My Lord father felt it necessary, for reasons of the state. Else, I would have
come to you sooner." 
Tyrion raised a blunt fat fingered hand. She supposed she was meant to take
it. 
"You look very beautiful Sansa." He said attempting a grin.
"It is good of you to say, My Lord."
Was she meant to call him handsome? She did not. 
He lowered his voice. "I know I myself am not much to look upon, but neither am
I Joffery."
Sansa found herself giving the imp a weak smile.
"No. That you are not."
"Come." Her future husband said.  "Let us do our duty." 
 
 
SANDOR
 
The seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises
exchanged. Though The Hound was not paying attention, instead he studied the
new High Septons ridiculously tall crown, which stood twice as tall as the old
one. How the fuck that old crone even balancing that on his neck? It was a
wonder it hadn't crushed him.
The girl looked as beautiful as ever, even next to the little beast stood
beside her. He had known for days, hearing the secret betrothal be agreed
during a small council meeting. He didn't dare warn her, there was nothing
either of them could do to stop it. It was too risky to leave now, when so much
of the focus was on her. He must be patient. The time will come. Still, The man
they call the Hound found it even more difficult to witness than her
marriage to Joffery. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had
gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks. The Hound watched
impatiently as the boy King swept away her crimson cloak and gave it to the
twisted little man next to him. The little bird turned away to do her part, but
Joffery kicked away the stool meant so he could clasp it around her neck.
Someone tittered. Cersei.
The imp was tugging at her skirts, meaning for her to kneel. Through
stubbornness or fear - he could not tell - the little bird stood ground and
pretended to ignore the blushing dwarf at her feet. Joffery was laughing now,
they all were. It spread through the sept like a disease.
"Hound." The King called.
His jaw tightened.
"My uncle needs a boost to climb his bride. Would you be so kind?"
So Sandor Clegane lifted the wriggling imp by the scruff of his doublet, just
long enough for his fat little fingers to clasp the damn thing, before dropping
him like a sack of shit onto the great marbled floor. Joffery was roaring with
laughter, clutching at his belly.
When Tyrion looked up at her, his face was as red as her cloak.
"With this kiss…I pledge my love." Her voice was shaky, unsure.
Now, realising that she must kneel, she lightly kissed the little Lord on the
ground. Its done then. He felt his nostrils flare as he tried to keep the rest
of his face composed. The Hound often associated anger with fire, a hot burning
inferno of rage that had led him to kill many a man. But this..this feeling was
cold. A frozen fury that burned deep inside of him, like ice. As their lips
parted, cold ashes seemed to fall away and his mind clouded with hate.
Passed around the Lannisters like some fucking camp follower. 
Some hours later, in the small hall, dusk fell through its tall windows, and
the candles were lit. It was a much more somber affair than her first wedding,
bards playing ballads such as the rains of castamere over, and over again. No
fools or dwarfs on wooden horses, just stiff dancing and godly readings. Sandor
Clegane was not nearly as drunk as he had hoped to be either. Being as small a
feast as it was - with a mere forty something guests - it made it difficult for
him to sneak off to quench his thirst. 
Lord Tyrion however, had guzzled his way through many a flagon already. The
Thick Dornish red, Arbour gold, dark bitter ale, sweet blackberry wine, it
seemed not to matter much. By the time the first course came out he was red
faced and swaying. It was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails,
served in gilded bowls. The man quickly shovelled in mouthful after mouthful,
splattering it all over his velvet doublet.
Sansa tasted a spoonful of soup and pushed the bowl away. ‘‘Not to your liking,
my lady?’’ The imp asked, dribbling soup down his chin.
‘‘There’s to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy.’’ She fiddled
nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his
betrothed Tyrell whore. She is jealous of her. He realised. Stupid girl cannot
wish to be back in her place. surely? 
"It is time." The boy proclaimed. "It is time for the bedding! Rip those
clothes off of her! Let my Uncle have a taste of what I already have." Quickly
other men took up the shouting as well.
Sandor winced. Fuck this. He trod across the rushes and rose petals, feeling
relief in every crunch. He needed to get out of there. He thought to go to the
alehouse, but wanted to drink alone. The blood-coloured wine in his cup was all
the company he desired.
"I'll have no bedding." He heard the little birds new husband call out,
quieting the cheers quickly. He turned back and saw the imps heavy eyes looking
up from over his wine cup. It stopped The Hound in his tracks.
"There will be if I command it." Joffery said seizing the little birds
arm. "Might be I come and warm her bed after your done with her. Might be half
the gold cloaks will too."
The imp slammed his dagger down into the table, where it stood quivering.
"Then your'll be fucking your new wife with a wooden cock. I'll geld you, I
swear it."
A shocked silence fell. Sansa tried to pull away from Joffery, but he had a
tight grip on her and her sleeve ripped. Lord Tywin rose from his seat. "I
believe we can dispense with the bedding. Tyrion seems to be rather drunk and
unaware of his words."
Jofferys face twisted into a rage.
There was a spasm of fear across the imps face and before the King could speak,
he swayed up from his seat. "It is only because I envy your own royal manhood,
your Grace. Mine is so stunted and small." He gave a little bow as people began
to snigger. Though none from the lips of King Joffery or Tywin Lannister. The
imp hiccuped loudly and steadied his hand on the table in front of him, before
belching.
"I believe I am going to be sick."
A dark lumpy of spray liquid burst from his mouth, covering most of the little
birds feet.
A long silence followed, broken by Jofferys shrieks of joy. 
"Hound, escort Lord Tyrion to his chambers, alone."
"I am quite capable to waddle there myself." He spat, wiping his mouth with the
back of his sleeve.
The little bird spoke up, staring at her toes."Your Grace. If I may be excused,
I wish to go and change." 
Joffery was so delirious from laughing, he barely seemed to care and just waved
his hand lazily in the air as he sucked in for breath. 
Sandor Clegane took it upon himself to escort her, craving her presence alone.
He followed her outside quickly into the moonlight, breathing in the crisp
autumn air. As soon as door closed behind them she exploded into a fit of
giggles. 
"Perhaps the little bird is as drunk as her Lord husband." He rasped.
When he went to look at her, he saw her eyes were full with tears. They were
wide, shining in the light above them. He supposed it was some crazed look of
relief.  
"Let us leave. Now. Take me now, I beg you. Before I have to lay with him, I
can not. I will not." 
"Your right, you won't. You think I'd let that imp put his fat little hands on
you?" His voice became a growl.
"Then please, lets go. Now. I'll take all my jewels, we can sell them, we can
sneak out onto the docks…"
"We don't leave tonight little bird."
"Then when? I cannot stay in this Gods forsaken place a moment longer!"
Her hands were pushing all the loose hairs back from her face. The yard was
silent other than the murmurs from inside the hall.
"Shhhh, little bird. If someone hears…" He grabbed her by the arm and ushered
her away from the hall. 
"Your drunk." He scowled. Wishing that he was also.
"I am not, Ive only had two cups of wine."
Sandor rolled his eyes. She stumbled a little as they walked in the moonlight.
"What if he comes to my chambers tonight?" She whispered.
"I'll make sure that he doesn't."
Sansa shot him a worried look.
"As much as Id love to cut that smile off his face, that is not what I meant.
Ill stand outside your fucking door all night if I have too."
The little bird smiled as they walked slowly back to her cage.
 
 
 
 
***** Death bed. *****
SANSA
 
"Where would you have taken me? If I left with you that night, the Battle of
Blackwater?"
He grabbed her shoulder hard, causing her to holt. His voice spoke quietly.
“Say it a little bloody louder girl. You want all of the eunuchs little spiders
to hear you saying that?”
 She lowered her eyes and mouthed a sorry, suddenly conscious of the walls
around them and what ears may be lurking behind. Sandor leaned forward to
whisper close into her ear, her heart pounded a little faster.
"I was a fool. We never would have gotten away alive. Not then...”
Sansa smiled shyly at him. “Even so, where would you have taken me?”
Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he guided her further up the
steps. 
“Anywhere out of this stinking pile of shit they call a city. Winterfell, might
have been, could have been. Maybe even across the narrow sea, get myself a job
as some fat Lords sell sword.” 
Sansa had always wanted to see the world outside the seven Kingdoms. It must be
better than here, anywheres better than here. Septon Mordane had once told her
tales of the free cities; that the sun shined so hot that the women bared their
stomachs and sometimes their breasts. They walked the streets without a care in
the world, their hair oiled and braided, jewels through their noses. She said
that Lords and Ladies have slaves that will do anything for their masters; and
wear collars, like the kind you might find on a dog. She said everyone’s skin
is the colour of horse leather and that they do not worship the seven, or even
the old Gods but many different ones. I wouldn't bare my stomach, no matter how
hot the sun, Sansa thought, covering her tummy with her hand. She tried to
imagine The Hound there in his dull grey armour, long black hair sticking to
the sweat on his face; he would be so hot in all that metal. Maybe he’d have to
bare his stomach. The thought made her blush.
“I’d like to see the free cities one day.” 
"Eye. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. Might be I see them myself soon." 
He pushed open the heavy door and ushered her in.
It was cold inside her chambers, the handmaidens had left the window ajar. 
"Goodnight. Little bird."
She heard him say. It made her heart sink a little in her chest. It meant it
was time for them to part.
"Goodnight….Ser."
Sansa said it with a grin as she threw him a look over her shoulder.
He was leaning against the frame.
"Fuck off." He scoffed. 
The smallest hint of a smile on his lips.
They stared at each other for a long moment, before Sandor broke the silence
with a raspy "Hmm.." as he went to shut the door.
His hands had barely clasped the metal before she spoke again.
"Stay with me. Tonight." 
She blurted it. Almost too loudly, seemingly surprising them both. 
She didn't want to be alone. Only to be alone with him. Perhaps it was the
sweet wine she had drank at the feast. Perhaps it was the loneliness that had
taken hold of her recently. Perhaps she just couldn't bare to spend a
minute longer in this perpetual state of want and turmoil. But she wanted him,
she wanted him desperately. 
Sandor Clegane looked at her long and hard for a moment.
"You know I can not."
Sansa stepped towards him, bold as brass, her head cocked to the side a little.
"Please, it is not right for me to sleep alone on my wedding night..."
Perhaps it is the wine. Her heart was racing, she felt alive. 
Sandor breathed what she thought may have been a laugh.
"You should return to your lord husbands bed."
His hand left the door handle. 
"The one soaked in piss and wine?"
He grumbled with laughter.
"You are starting to sound like me."
"I am starting to love you."
Sansa turned away stunned, her cheeks blushing with the thoughts that were
racing through her mind. She wasn't sure why she had said it, or if she even
had.
For a moment there was silence, she just stared at the bed in front of her,
walking towards it, wishing that he would say something, anything. She dare not
look back. The silence grew longer. I’m so stupid. Why did I say…The door shut.
Her heart dropped. He's gone. 
But suddenly she felt him move close behind her, his footsteps creaking heavily
along the floor. He stopped, though never touching her, just standing inches
from her back. She could feel his presence. Feel how close he was. If she
strained to listen she could hear his slow deep breaths inhale just above her
ear. The anticipation for him to touch her left her aching with desire, she
closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing under control, but it scarcely
seemed to help at all. What am I doing? 
Finally a large hand came to meet her side, rubbing her gently up then slowly
down. His fingers wrapped around her waist. She felt him pull her closer; so
she tilted backwards, brushing against his torso. She felt his breath tickle
the side of her neck, and tilted her head away inviting him to kiss there like
he had before. She found herself feeling dizzy, longing for his touch, her
senses heightened. The faintest brush of his lips ran across the soft skin just
behind her ear, yet it was too much for her to handle. Her stomach knotted with
something between fear and desire. Time seemed to stand still if only for a
moment, as she felt the hairs of his beard brush over her skin. What am I
doing? She asked herself again. She felt the slight wetness from his lip. He
seemed to mouth a word against her ear, yet she could not make out what he had
said. The silence only added to the ever-growing tension between them, so she
shut her eyes, praying he would touch her. He brushed his face against her neck
and spun her around so fast she had to grab his arms to steady herself.
Sansa could barely look up at him but he lifted her face with his hand. She was
terrified, terrified and bewildered. "Little Bird." He rasped. 
He stared deeply at her, his grey eyes mesmerising her. She found herself
pulling herself towards him, so their stomachs pressed together tightly. The
metal of his armour digged into her skin. She reached out for his other hand
and guided it towards her. A flurry of words darted about her mind. I want you
to touch me. I want you to kiss me like you did before. I want you to share my
bed with me and never leave this room again. I want you to love me. But her
throat was dry and the words would not come. 
Instead he kissed her passionately, hands on both of her painted cheeks. His
fingers ran through her hair as their foreheads pressed together, staring deep
into her eyes. She lost herself in him completely. The Hound then took her by
surprise, pushing her down onto the bed behind them, submerging her in furs and
silks. She looked up at the man stood before her, eyes wide. He gave her a
wicked grin. Sansa licked her lips in anticipation, her heart beating wildly in
her chest. He began to remove his gleaming white cuirass, tearing at the straps
on the sides. He moved with precise haste, removing piece by piece. The final
part clattered onto the floor. She gasped as he let out a deep growl of a laugh
as he moved closer to the bed. Someone will hear - but the thought was far
away. He looks..beautiful. It was an odd word to use to describe Sandor
Clegane, but there in that moment, it seemed the only thing that would do.
He pulled at the neck of his jerkin to loosen it, unthreading the leather
straps that tightened it along the front.
"We'll get caught." He said.
"I don't care…"
"They'll kill us both." He was still ripping off his clothes.
"I don't care…" She felt her legs move seductively in the furs, revealing part
of her calf. She wanted him so badly. She could feel the blood rushing between
her legs. He looked so handsome. His piercing eyes were looking down at her
through a mass of black hair. "I want you." She wriggled her legs among the
furs, needing his embrace. Soon he crawled over her, slowly, not breaking his
intense stare. The linen shirt he wore underneath hung off his muscular torso
loosely, revealing a scared shoulder and brawny chest. 
“I’m going to fuck you.” He had a wicked smile. Hearing him say the words made
Sansa's heart jump right out of her chest, the aching feeling inside of her
calling out for his touch once more. 
“Let me see you” He rasped, his voice deep and demanding. Sansa was quick to
obey but her fingers were so clumsy she struggled to unfasten her dress. He
pulled a dagger from the sword belt by his feet and held it up sharp against
her chest. She could feel the point twisting gently on the skin and he began to
smirk, revealing a chipped tooth she had never noticed before. Sansa felt a
pang of fear, fear that she had no control over this man on top of her, he
could do whatever he wished. Fear that someone would catch them and cut off
their heads. Fear that he would hurt her. He's The Hound. Her stomach was
knotting. She was completely helpless. Please don’t hurt me. Doubt flashed
through her mind, what am I doing? I shouldn’t, I cant.
He reached up to her breast and grabbed at the fabric, then slashed open the
bodice with one swoop of the blade. The remains of her dress slid off her body,
reveling her chest right down to her navel. He stopped for a moment and looked
at her, his breathing hitching slightly. He smiled. Soon he grabbed a breast,
then the other, while he bent down on his knees and kissed her neck. He was on
top of her. On his knees. His mouth and tongue sucked at her skin, slowly
tracing down from her neck to her breasts. His teeth closed around her nipple,
so hard it made her moan. He rolled his tongue over it and looked up at her.
Suddenly all of the doubt had left her mind. She was aching. She wanted him.
And there was no turning back now, Sansa knew, but she didn't care. She wanted
him. All of him. Gingerly she wrapped her hands around his muscular arms as he
kissed away at her. He is so strong.So rough yet so gentle.
He ran his big hands over her and pulled away the rest of the fabric, grabbing
at her thighs pulling them apart. Suddenly she felt so exposed, like there was
no hiding from him as he drank in her sight. The sensation caused Sansa to let
out a soft little moan, that only seemed to encourage him further. For a moment
he just knelt transfixed looking at her, up and down. She covered her face,
shy. His body was thick with muscle. His chest broad and hairy, smattered with
scars. Veins weaved down each arm, around each tendon. His hand was running
down her stomach, until he finally reached down between her legs, were he
stopped, gently brushing his fingers over the hair. He slipped his fingers
down, rubbing gently over the little mound of flesh that sent sparks flying
through her body when he touched it. A finger slowly slipped between her wet
folds, sending Sansa into a frenzy of building pleasure. He was kissing her
passionately, though she could feel him smiling at the wetness he had created
there.
The stubble of his beard was rubbing at her face, scratching at the skin on her
chin. He took away his hand and his kisses became rougher, biting at the skin
as he worked his way down over her stomach. I want him to touch me there
again. The kisses became sucks until slowly he reached the place between her
legs. Sansa looked down at him licking there, an image that made her let out a
quiet squeal of pleasure and enticement. She felt a naughty smile creep up on
her face, seeing him there, between her legs. His tongue was rolling over the
little pink bit of flesh, pressing on it slightly, then between her folds until
it felt like his tongue was entering her.
Sandor looked up at her as he done it, his gleaming grey eyes meeting hers,
half of his face covered with auburn hair. Soon it was too much for her; she
threw back her head as he pressed on the little ball of flesh one last time
releasing her with waves of pleasure that sent chills throughout her entire
body. She felt herself rocking her hips against his mouth, his hands grabbing
hold of her buttocks, squeezing hard with calloused fingertips. She threw her
own hands around the back of his neck, her fingernails digging into his flesh,
urging him to press harder. The feeling seemed to last forever, like she had
just fell apart, right there in his hands. He pulled himself up on top of her,
placing each hand on either side of her head, his knees pushing her legs even
further apart. Sansa was rolling her head in the pillows, breathing
uncontrollably, desperate for him to touch her again.
“Look at me.” Sandor growled, his voice low and forceful. She opened her eyes
obediently, to be met with his intense stare. He was fumbling around with his
breeches, his torso pressed against her own. She could feel the warmness of his
chiseled stomach against her own. Then she felt his manhood press against her
too. Oh my. He pulled it down and pressed it over the wetness between her legs,
rubbing it back and forth causing her to moan again. As he pushed back her legs
Sansa glanced down and caught a glimpse of his length, and girth...guiding it
towards to her. Her eyes grew wide. 
“You sure you want this girl?” He rasped. Her neck was so tight she could
scarcely nod. She watched him as he guided his cock over her wetness again,
rubbing it teasingly over, back and forth. His body was so big and strong, his
torso was covered in scars. He looked like a true warrior. Two deep muscualr
lines on his hips went downwards, as if directing her eyes there. He pulled
himself closer again and kissed her neck, before whispering 'Little bird' into
her ear. The raspy tone alone made her heart skip a beat and her hands grabbed
a fistful of furs on the bed. He slammed down deep inside of her slowly, with a
single thrust. Pain seared inside her for a brief moment and she groaned
loudly. He too let out a deep harsh moan into her ear. The feeling of making a
man like Sandor Clegane moan made her stomach clench and her heart stop.
Sansa’s eyes grew wide as she placed her hands on his forearms, digging her
nails into his skin. He is inside me. She wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him on the head. I feel so full. He paused for a moment, staying still
inside of her. The feeling was overwhelming. She was sure her heart was about
to burst.
He closed his eyes and thrust into her again, then again. He shifted onto his
elbows, his weight on Sansa, pinning her down onto the bed. He moved slowly at
first, easing himself in and out of her, only to pound into her harder and
faster each time. Sansa bit her lip so hard she was sure she could taste the
metallic taste of blood. She let out another moan.
"I'm not hurting you am I girl?!" He rasped, stopping the motion. She shook her
head vigorously. Quite the opposite. She was so wet, her nipples hard. Her body
began to quiver like it had before. I didn’t know it could feel like this, I
didn’t know it could feel this good. She found herself feeling as though he and
her were the only two people in the world at that very moment, like nothing
else even seemed to matter. They were the only two people in the Seven
Kingdoms, in the World. The building sensation made her rock her hips against
his as she met each thrust. She wrapped her legs around his muscular back,
bringing herself as close to him as she possibly could. He was rougher with her
now, sliding in and out of her with ever building passion. Sansa could feel how
wet she had become. It felt so good. He sucked her nipple as he fucked her
harder and faster each time, causing Sansa to moan louder and louder with
pleasure.
He pushed her legs up higher, over his shoulders and clamped his palm hard over
her mouth. She looked down at him inside of her. His black hair against her
own. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he thrust into her over and over again.
She was bouncing herself against his hips. The feeling was amazing. He grabbed
the back of her head and kissed her hard on the mouth. Soon her body convulsed
around him once more. Sandor followed with three more sharp powerful thrusts,
pouring himself into her as he found his own release. He collapsed on top of
her, his face burrowed in her auburn hair. “Little bird.” He breathed again.
***** Smiling eyes. *****
 SANDOR
Fuck.
The man they called The Hound swung his legs down from the bed, his calloused
palms rubbing his eyes. Had he dreamt it?
He looked back at her over his shoulder, a naked mass of pale skin and red
curly locks. He slowly ran his index finger along the soft warm calf of her
leg, just to make sure she was real. It made her moan quietly as she shifted
anoungst the silks. It was no dream.
Sandor watched the goosebumps rise along her skin where he had touched her. I
should not have…Her skin was so soft and smooth, pale and perfect. For a moment
he watched her chest rise and fall as she took each breath, her lips parted
slightly. Fuck. Sandor Clegane rested his head, heavy in his hands. What have I
done?He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. But what is my life if not a string of
regrets?  He laughed at himself. Fumbling on his shirt, Sandor began the
process of becoming The Hound again. He slowly donned his armour, yanking it on
piece by piece. He struggled with the straps, as he always had. His hands were
too damn big.
She is just a girl.
Spotting a flagon of wine on her side, he necked it desperately, only to
realise it was heavily watered. A soft moan came from the silks. Had he hurt
her? Fuck. He spotted the ruin that was his face in her looking glass, it
caught him off guard. He did not care to be reminded of the monster his brother
had made him. The monster he was was. What the fuck have I done? He looked to
the window, he was lucky. It was still nightfall. 
As he reached her door, he heard her call out for him.
Wine.He thought recklessly.I need some wine.
And he left, silently, off to drink away the pain.
 
SANSA
She woke well before dawn, the sky was still dark - full of tiny luminous
stars. Her chambers were silent, other than the breeze against her window. He
left me. Did she truly expect otherwise? He could never have stayed.. even if
he wanted too,she told herself. Sansa rolled onto her back, suddenly aware of
how sore she felt between her legs. Queerly, it made her smile. Running her
hand over the bed, she caressed the silks where he had lay just hours before.
She closed her eyes to remember his touch, his smell. The leathery, earthy musk
that clung to his body. She pictured his face, not a simple vision, but every
single detail. Every eyelash, every twisted piece of scar, slick across his
cheek, every misshapen lump of skin, every strand of thick black hair. The way
he had looked at her. The way he had kissed her. Suddenly it seemed that every
single part of him was handsome, and not this scary beast that had frightened
her so much before. She wrapped her arms around herself.I love him. She blushed
at the thought. I wonder if he is thinking of me?
When morning came, she tried her best to hide her unease to her handmaidens.
She sipped some honeyed water but only pushed the berries around her plate.
When questioned about not breaking her fast, she simply said "There is to be
another seventy-seven courses today, I do not wish to fill up so early on." 
In truth she was too nervous too eat. Too giddy. The Hound had came to her room
and took her, and she wanted him to do it again and again. How could she eat
with thoughts such as those swirling around her head?
Sansa choose to wear a demure dress of pale green samite, one that flowed down
elegantly into a long trail. The bodice was covered in tiny pearls, trimmed
with cloth of silver. Shae plaited her hair on the crown of her head, and let
the rest fall down into loose ringlets. When she looked at herself she smiled,
though the darkness under her eyes told of little sleep.
Podrick Payne was the first to knock upon her door that morning, looking
awkward and red faced. He wore a burgandy leather jerkin that looked far too
big for him, his shoulders seemed to be pushed up to his ears. When she opened
the door there was a moment when she thought he had forgotten what he was mean
to say, but he quickly cleared his throat.
"Good morning, My Lady. I come on behalf of Lord Tyrion, he wishes to apologise
for his behaviour last night. It seems he was quite drunk. He hopes that
perhaps you can join him in the gardens before the Royal wedding this
afternoon?"
Sansa had almost forgotten about her new husband, it made her scoff out a laugh
to which Podrick seemed utterly aghast. Oh yes, of course. My husband. I am a
Lannister aren't I? How silly of me.The truth of it was that her mind was so
full of Sandor Clegane, she had not spared a second to think of anything
else.I'm married.She shook her head. ...to the imp. And I had forgotten! The
hysterical giggling just wouldn't stop, it burst from her lips. 
"Are you quite well, My Lady?"  Podrick asked, clearly confused. 
"Yes, yes. quite well." Her cheeks had begun to hurt. "Tell my Lord husband I
will visit him as soon as I am properly dressed."
He gave a forced little bow and went on his way, leaving Sansa in her door way
trying to hold back her grin.
"Was M'ladys wedding night really so funny?" Shae asked, eyes narrowed.
"It was never consummated, thankfully. Tyrion was far too drunk."
Sansa sat back down to rub more perfumed ointments on her chest.
Shae smiled, which Sansa found odd. Until she said...
"But for how long?" 
It was true. All of the wedding guests knew it was not consummated, they saw
the state of him.They saw me leave to my chamber and never return…and he must
have been carried to his own. I wonder if he is embarrassed?
Sansa chose a selection of moonstone and emerald rings from her jewellery box.
She took turns holding them up against her dress to see which suited it better.
What if Joffery makes usdo the deed tonight? She could not bare the thought.
Plus, she was too sore. She cringed, the thought made her feel odd and slightly
sick. Suddenly the laughing had stopped, the grinning gone. It was Sandor
Clegane she wanted, no one else. Not a lannister. Certainly not the imp. What
am I to do? Sandor wouldn't let me lay with him…would he?
The new bride was almost ready to leave when another much louder knock landed
on her door. It was the future Lord of the Vale, wearing a smile that was on
his mouth, but not his eyes.
"Lord Baelish, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was a little shaky. 
"I hope I am not intruding Lady Sansa, but I have a matter of great importance
to discuss."
Curious, she nodded. 
"Of course."
He looked to Shae and the others with distaste.
"Alone, if possible."
Raising an eyebrow, she nodded again.
The handmaidens left quickly, closing the door quickly behind them.
"Thankyou, I am sorry to come to you like this, but I needed to make sure I was
the first."
Sansa could feel her belly filling with dread.
"What is it, My Lord?"
Peyter Baelish opened his mouth as if to speak, but chose not to say the words.
Instead he smiled.
"Lord Baelish..?"
He adjusted the mockingbird pin clasped around his neck before he spoke again.
"Forgive my saying so My Lady, but you look awfully tired. Perhaps you did not
get much sleep?"
Sansa could do nothing to hide the blush that crept up from her neck to her
cheeks. 
She quickly went to sit back by her dressing table, trying to hide her telling
face from him.
"No…no I could not." 
A hint of a smile lifted in the corner of his mouth. He walked very slowly past
her, dragging a finger along the edge of her dresser. It was ominous, and she
found herself holding her breath.
"Me either, not with all the noise."
He stopped behind her. A quiet creak told her his hand was resting on the back
of her chair.
"Noise, My Lord?"
"The Hounds. Barking. Kept me awake for quite some time."
Lord Baelish lent towards her, much closer than she would have liked him too.
She could feel his breath in her ear, it sent a shiver down her spine. His
voice was nothing but a whisper.
"Dogs should be kept in kennels at night, Sansa. It is worrisome what they
could get up too, else wise."
Panic filled her insides. An invisible hand seemed to cover her mouth. She
couldn't inflate her lungs, she couldn't breathe. Something had an iron lock
around them. He Knows. He knows. He knows…
He sighed loudly and pulled away, in a manner that filled her with dread.
"Dogs and wolves, similar creatures. But then... also, so very different."
Sansas heart was in her mouth. She could not even gather her thoughts to say a
word. Lord Baelish continued..
"It is curious how fast news can travel around this castle, My Lady. Should it
fall into the wrong hands…"
Someone saw us? They saw him leaving? They know!
The following words tumbled out of her mouth in a muddle.
"Please, Lord Baelish. I…I beg you. I'll do anything…"
"My dear, do not panic. This is no threat. I do not threaten my friends. I only
wish to help them." He walked around the table in front of her and took a seat,
reaching out to hold her hand tightly in his own. His palms were much softer
than she imagined they would be.
"It was a very dangerous thing to do Sansa. I can call you Sansa can't I?"
She wasn't even sure if she nodded, she was shaking so much.
"I am so very sorry to bring you this news Sansa, I really am. I had hoped that
with the help of my trusted friend Ser Dontos I could have helped you much
sooner…"
"Ser Dontos?!"
She was confused. And scared. Tears were creeping into the corners of her eyes.
"But…then..The Hound saw to that.." He took a moment to look down at the table
between them, as if in memory.
…"Alas here I am, too late. And I am afraid The King already knows of your
little plan. Or should I say, The Hound's little plan."
"P..plan?"
His voice lowered again.
"He meant to take you during the wedding feast."
Sansa's eyes grew wide.
"But He will not.."
Lord Baelish pressed his lips together "..What The King has in mind for you
both, I can only imagine. His own loyal trusted dog, stealing his beautiful
first wife, right from under his nose. Betraying him like that..breaking his
trust. Gods, oh the bards will write so many songs. Aren't dogs supposed to be
loyal?"
He stroked his hand over the back of her own, then lifted it to her chin to
take a look at her face as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was terribly
awkward, she found herself flinching away.
"Beauty….and the beast." he said softly.
Lord Baelish shook his head, smiling. 
"Now…anyway, mayhaps you would like to be elsewhere before we find out what the
King thinks of all this?"
Her neck was so stiff with fear she could barely nod. 
"You are lucky, however. It seems our good king slept well, and knows nothing
of dogs and their barking. Only that one wishes to escape...with a prize that
is much loved and special to him."
He pushed his hand back through his hair. Sansa noticed for the first time the
threads of grey running through it.
"What the King does not know, is that his prize wanted to leave willingly with
his mad dog, and that she shared her bed with him..... But… that news I cannot
stop from reaching his ears eventually." Baelish rubbed his fingers softly over
hers.
She could not get the words out of her mouth.
"He….he already knows….Where..where is…?"
Sansa Stark could not bring herself to speak his name. The tears were already
falling down her cheeks one after the other.
"It is too late for The Hound, I am afraid. The King already has him. I saw Ser
Meryn and the others drag him off not long ago. I am sorry, Sansa. Truly I am.
Love can be such a cruel thing."
There were no words. The Seven Kingdoms, everything and everyone within them
collapsed all around her at once. It stung so deep within her chest she was
sure her heart would stop. It is too late.. The words rung in her mind. It is
too late…it is too late….he is...dead... Sansa let out a hysterical cry. Seeing
her despair and leaving his seat, the future Lord of the Vale knelt before her
and offered his arms for a tight embrace. She sobbed into the satin of his
shoulder, gasping in lavender scented breaths. 
"Shhhh.." He whispered, rubbing the small of her back.
"Please, Lord baelish. Tell me what to do…Tell me when…" Her voice was
trembling, the panic was racing around every inch of her body.
He took her face in his hands, rubbing each thumb on her flushed cheeks.
"Stay calm, Sansa. I will help you. But you must trust me. I hope you know that
I am your friend."
She nodded desperately, no longer even trying to hold back the sobs.
"Good. Now be Strong, like your mother. You mustn't let anyone know ought is a
miss."
He wiped away a tear.
"Now, not under any circumstances, will you mention the Hounds disappearance.
You knew nothing of him planning to kidnapp you, remember."
Sansa nodded.
"You will still attend the wedding, smile and wish your congratulations to the
new royal couple. You know nothing of what I just told you. Do you understand?"
Sansa nodded fiercely. Hanging on his every word.
"Good. For now, I must leave you…"
She let out a gasp.
"I am sorry I must be so brief. I am awaiting on an assignment, if it goes
well. You can leave with me, tonight. But It would be wise for you to be ready
at a moments notice."
She nodded, still lost for words.
"Thankyou, Lord Baelish. Thankyou."
"Please, call me Peyter.
Sansa nodded, her hands covering her mouth to control the cries.
"Another thing my dear, make sure to wear this necklace."
His long delicate fingers were running over the purple gems that Ser Dontos had
given her.
"You need gems to match your beauty. Especially on a day such as this. "
Lord Baelish smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes, and left her alone in her
golden prison, distraught.
 
***** For love. *****
SANDOR
 
 
Fuck fucking weddings. He thought grimly. I can recite that shit as well as the
High Septon now I should think. Seven this, seven that. He rolled his eyes. No
one gives seven fucks.
He was sat at a trencher table facing the wall, tearing the meat off a chicken
leg. The wedding was to take place within the hour, the rest of the
Kingsguard had began to gather outside to arrange the litter for the King and
his new bride. Sandor Clegane was late as it was, but with all the commotion he
reckoned no one would notice, or miss him much. He broke his fast with the
grooms and stable boys, much preferring their company to those of the
Kingsguard. The food he preferred too, not these jams and fucking pastries they
had in the white sword tower.
Instead, he chose to devour a whole chicken, some roasted beets and then washed
it down with half a cup of dark ale. He sat mulling over it for some time,
swirling the liquid around until it formed a little hurricane of bubbles in the
centre. He sat in silence, listening to the others jabber about all the things
they would like to do to the new Queen if it was their wedding night. He
couldn't help but smirk when a pimple faced stable boy went on to act out the
motions over the edge of the table, his scrawny arse thrusting into the air.
But the howls of laughter came to an abrupt end when the master of horse came
in to send them off to their duties. Sandor was the last one to finish - which
was most unlike him - something was slowing him down.
The girl. He had not seen her yet, not since.. Seven hells. He pulled at the
collar under his gorget. What a fucking mess. Sandor Clegane had been cursing
himself since he had woke that morning - it was a stupid fucking thing to do -
no matter how much he had wanted it. And oh how he had wanted it. Gone mad by a
pretty face.He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. If a single person
gets wind of what happened.. No woman was worth that, not even the little bird.
It was a miracle no one had seen him leave in the morning, he was sure he was
going to have to slit the throats of a handmaiden or two. No one must know.He
told himself over and over again, no matter who I have to kill for silence. 
Sandor had laid there for hours that morning, watching her. Not quite believing
that she was real. Wondering what he had done to deserve such a thing - If he
was wise to do such a thing. Trying to understand if it was guilt he could feel
in the pit of his stomach, or something much more. He wasn't certain, but there
in the warm of her bed, beneath the furs, her naked body pressed against his
own, he did not care an inch. Instead he smiled and ran his fingers down the
soft velvety skin of her cheek.
But when the sun had risen, and he slipped away - alone - into the cold, crisp
dawn light, he felt something quite different. Was it regret? He didn't know.
But whatever it was he didn't want to face it, so the dark smokey kitchens had
suited him just fine. A few battered pieces of wood and rusty
nails disconnecting him from the rest of the world outside that door.
He tried his best to clear his head, but the thoughts came crashing down, like
waves over a rock. What the fuck have I done? He simply couldn't stop himself.
She wanted me. She asked me to stay. Any man would have done the same. He
necked the last of his ale.But I am not any man, I am the Kings dog.He found
his hands tightening into fists. Blood was pumping through his body, pulsing
through his veins. 
All she had to do was ask, and I came running like the fucking dog that I am.
The frustration of wanting her so very badly, but not ever being able to have
her, it wrapped itself around his skull, mocking him. It had done since the
moment that they met. Half of him wanted all the little Lords and Ladies to
know. The burned half. He wanted them to know that someone like him had someone
like her. She was everything that he wasn't, and yet...everything he used to
be.
As a boy, all Sandor had ever dreamed of was being a knight. Honour. Glory. HA!
Lies. For years, he had watched his older brother grow into a promising and
impressive squire. At thirteen, he towered over enough men to be given the name
'The Mountain'. Sandor would stand and watch him as he trained in the yard,
putting boy after boy on their arse in the dirt. He grew envious of his size,
his strength. There was a time when he wanted to be just like him. Cunt. The
Hound snorted and spat on the floor. Let me tell you what makes a knight.
Killing and cock sucking.Then, with Lord Tywin and his fathers influence,
Prince Rhagear Targaryen kindly anointed Ser Gregor personally. A great honour
for his family, they said.
Their was no honour in Gregor. No honour in the things he did. Sandor thought
of the sister he once had. Of Eila Martell and her young children. Of playing
with his brothers wooden horse in front of the open hearth. A flash of anger
saved him. Fuck. She'll see soon, that this world is not the way we think it
is. 
He pushed away his plate.
I am a monster, a dog, no little Lady would ever want me. But this one had, the
little bird wanted me. She wanted me to fuck her all night and wake up and fuck
her some more. It made him feel strange, and made his cock stir.
That morning, when he had returned to his chamber from her own, he had lay on
his bed with a flagon of the strongest dornish red he could find. Yet for the
first time, in a very long time, he did not drink it. Instead, he sat and
watched the candle by his bed burn lower and lower, his fingers stroking the
hilt of his sword. It was quite plain, no fancy carvings or garish jewels like
these other Sershad.Just good polished steel and a black leather bound grip.
The pommel was bronze, a circular plate, like a shiny new copper. He wondered
how many men it had carved itself through. Then how many of those men Joffery
had ordered him to kill...
He was sick of following orders, sick of never questioning anything. The little
bird had made him question such a lot. He took a long hard gulp of wine, but
when it hit his stomach, it did not comfort him as it usually did. It sat in is
belly, thick and hot and uncomfortable.
Something had changed.
He had drowned these feelings with wine and ale for long enough. It never done
him any use, not really. For years he had used it to try and numb the thoughts
from entering his mind, but they still haunted him regardless - and how he
hated it. It made him resentful and bitter, sour and miserable like an old
crone. Rage constantly simmered under the surface of his very soul, frustration
and hatred oozing out of him. It wasn't the drink that done it, but rather the
place he had somehow found himself in. He thought it better once his brother
had left the keep to fight in the war. Cunt. At least he wouldn't have to see
his face and be reminded of the self loathing bubbling inside of him. It was
odd, how a single face constantly reminded him of how much he hated the world.
The only people he has ever loved had betrayed him, burned him, lied to him.
The hate still followed him around like a pimple faced squire, clawing at his
back for glory and gold.
He was sick of having no control over his own bloody life. Sick of doing the
killing of these fucking Lords and Sers. Sick of watching them kill each other
over that bloody iron chair. He was stuck in a perpetual state of misery and
frustration. Most of all he was sick of watching them hurt her. That wasn't the
man he was, nor wanted to be.
I'm sick of bloody feeling like this. He had tried so very hard to become
empty, like an iron shell, with strong arms and sharp steel, that simply done
as he was bid. And for a time, he had. It was safe, easy. Over the years he had
built himself his very own castle wall, much thicker than the Red keeps, to
protect him - and to keep anyone out. But the girl had gotten in, somehow.
Flown over the top and shat on my head. He felt for her, he knew it, no matter
how much he had willed it no. And now I must protect her. Or the same will
happen to her. Or worse.
He never wanted to be part of the game, yet here he was amongst them, playing
it, just like her.Not even that though am I? I'm a fucking pawn. Sandor pushed
open the shutters that barred his window, throwing a thick plume of dust back
into his face. It made a loud creaking sound as he did, they had not been
opened in years. The sun was beginning to rise, the sky an orangey yellow. He
breathed in the dewy morning air. Kings Landing came to life beneath him,
stinking and crumbling as far as he could see. He knew it like the back of his
hands, every shit filled alley way and flea ridden whore house. Home, he
grumbled.
Nearby a pigeon was cooing. Sandor sighed loudly, scaring it so it flapped its
wings wildly away.I don't want to die in this shit city. And dying is what will
happen soon if they find out. The girl had made him senseless. He could have
got them both killed. My head should be on a spike. With my cock stuffed in my
mouth. He rubbed away the thought with the back of his hand. Fuck only knows
what they would have done with her. He was angry at himself for being so
reckless. He had wanted her so badly, it had taken away his wits. But fuck it
was worth it. He grinned like a boy. The neither of them could stay there a
second longer though, it was far far too dangerous. He has never run from
anything before in his life, but now for her sake, it might be best.  
But if I leave with her, she'll only cause me trouble. Every cunt wanting a
pocket full of gold will be looking for her. Besides, he had asked her once
before and she had refused, why the fuck should I ask again? She had her
chance. The memory still hurt him.
He argued with himself, until all was overshadowed by a voice from the very
back of his mind. She wanted me. I did not take her. Not like before, when I
wanted too. His jaw clenched. She was the one who asked me into her bed. The
realisation gave him a surge of power, if I cannot protect her, who the fuck
can. I can't leave her here in the lions den on her own. Shes been through
enough. He couldn't let the Imp have her, she was his. His and no one elses. He
couldn't go through walking her to his bed everynight as he had Joffery. He
would never make that mistake again. Fuck the Imp. Fuck the Lannisters. Fuck
the King.
Im taking her.
And there in the quiet stillness of his chamber, he made a silent oath to
himself. He didn't swear it by the seven, nor the old Gods or the New. He
didn't swear it like another he had made - one promised years ago - the one to
kill his brother. No, that was for revenge, for hate. This… well this oath was
different. This was one for... love. And so he did, he swore to protect her,
now, and for the rest of his days.  
Back in the kitchens he sucked the last of the meat from the bone.
Tonight is the night. He was ready, everything had been prepared just as he had
planned. He had spent the morning racing around the city arranging everything
he deemed necessary. Their provisions were hidden in the stables, easy for him
to straddle to Stranger before they left. Passage for a man and his daughter
had been bought across the narrow sea. A black dye bought from a Bravosi
merchant was to colour her auburn hair. His coin belt was fit to bursting, his
sword sharpened to a lethal edge. I'll take her when they start the bedding.
He pushed his plate away. I must get going, Ive hidden here long enough  It had
been a cloudy and busy morning. He needed a drink. Hells. No. Sandor had
promised himself he would keep a clear head for the night before them, but he
needed one just to calm his nerves. Just one.He thought again, rubbing his
beard.Just one won't hurt.
When he reached the cellar in the kitchens, there was already a barrel out on
the side, a tankard set next to it.Must be for the wedding.The tap had dripped
out onto the table. A sweet Arbour Gold by the looks of it, he dipped his
finger in the pool to taste it.
It tasted strong, but sort of odd, though he was so thirsty he did not care
much. Half of the wine in the kitchen was piss water, least no one would miss a
shitty one like this. He quickly poured himself a cup and gulped down half of
it down before letting out a belch. That'll do. He thought. It left a kind of
metallic taste on his tongue. I should get back, I need to see her before she
leaves. Make sure she'll be ready.He was still unsure whether or not to tell
her, or simply grab her while no one else was looking. What if she screams?
She'll only fuck it up. No, no i'll tell her only when its time. 
He found himself nervous about seeing her again, he couldn't stop thinking
about the face she made when he put his cock inside her for the first time. She
wanted it, she wanted.. me. His cock began to throb hard just thinking about
it. Maybe I could stick my cock in her again now.. Wrap my hand around her
throat and push her face into the furs. His blood was getting up. He imagined
running his tongue over her breasts again. Fuck. I need to see her. 
When he stood, his knees went weak, his head all light and dizzy. Sandor had to
slam his hands down on the table to steady himself. He grunted, all the bloods
rushed from my head to my cock.He started laughing.
But when he went to take another pull of wine he couldn't seem to push his lips
apart to take a sip.
He frowned. No. Somethings wrong.
The Hounds body felt strange, heavy and slow. He slumped back down into the
chair, trying to speak but unable to move his mouth. The only thing he could
hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. As his body went numb he fell hard
onto the floor, his head cracking on the stone. Seconds passed as he lay there,
gasping shallow, short breaths. Slowly blackness took the edges of his eyes,
What the fuck is happening?...
until eventually, it filled into complete darkness.
Little Bird….
 
 
 
SANSA
 
His absence was crippling her every thought.
Its true, its true, its true. 
He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.
The despair inside her was unimaginable, she could not stop herself from
trembling. Fear engulfed her body as soon as Lord Baelish had left her
chamber. In seconds she was curled tight in her bed, her only movement the
shaking of her limbs and salty tears darkening her sleeves. Panic sparked tiny
clusters inside her stomach, growing the tension in her limbs. They know. The
lump in her throat bubbled as she thought it. They will murder me. Murder me in
front of everyone, just like they did my father.
Yet when she had finally gotten the courage to leave her golden cage, it was as
though nothing had happened. It felt eerie. Nothing was said. She was never
summoned, nor dragged out of her room by her hair. Her head was not taken from
her shoulders, nor was she hung from her neck. It was a normal day, other than
the excitement for the Royal wedding of course, but nothing seemed a miss.
She had left with her handmaidens and Ser Preston Greenfield, who had escorted
them to her litter. She recieved the same false smiles, and half curtseys she
always had. No one gave her so much as a second glance - except a couple of
side eyes and those whispered comments about how awful she had looked. Yet this
was not something anyone would find questionable, she had looked that way for
most of her marriage to the King.
Sansa had spent all morning in a fit of hysterical crying, she laid on her bed
debating wether or not she should simply fling herself from her balcony. It was
not surprising when Lady Tander and her daughter asked if she was well. Though,
she just could not understand it. How did he know? Why isn't my head on a
spike?
As everyone gathered outside the Sept in the midday sun, she first saw The King
as she stepped out from her litter. He looked quite majestic, in a splendid
gold doublet with a purple velvet sash draped from one shoulder. His sword -
widows wail - was gleaming, the jewels on the pommel twinkling as he turned.
But Joffery had paid her no mind…much to her relief. All of the eyes were fixed
firmly on the new beautiful Queen, as were his own. The bride was lovely in
ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts dusky rose and decorated with floral
patterns, picked out in seed pearls. As Renly's widow, she might have worn the
Baratheon colors, gold and black, yet she came to them a Tyrell, in a maiden's
cloak made of a hundred cloth-of-gold roses sewn to green velvet. Sansa found
herself staring, the way no lady should, feeling something you might call
jealousy. 
None of that mattered now. It was Sandor Clegane she wanted to see, her stomach
had knotted just thinking his name. He is still no where to be seen. She knew
she would have spotted his tall ominous frame by now, but her eyes refused to
stop searching every corner of the Sept. Her eyes darted from face to face as
they entered, praying to the Gods that one would be his. 
It had all happened so suddenly that morning, some part of her had almost
believed that Lord Baelish's words were just some cruel jape - at least she had
wanted them to be. But with every turning second she knew it more and more to
be true, what other reason would there be for him not attending? A prickling
pang of fear went up the back of her neck as she knew it to all be true, and
she must have let out a  sigh a little too loudly.
"My Lady, are you sure you are well?" Her imp husband spoke up to her as they
took there spot in crowd. She had hardly taken any notice of him, other than a
forced smile as she knelt for him to kiss her cheek outside. 
Sansa nodded stiffly, never once looking down at him. There was a long and
awkward silence, they both stared ahead at the new royal pair stepping up onto
the marble plaza.
"My Lady, I had hoped we may have spoken this morning, I wanted only to
apologise for my behaviour, our wedding night. I trust Podrick relayed my
message to you?"
She took a breath, careful of her response.
"He did, My Lord. Though, I am afraid I was feeling quite unwell when I woke
this morning."
She thought of Peter Baelish and the way he had held her hand across the table,
it made her stomach churn. He took pleasure in it. He took pleasure in telling
me that The Hound was as good as dead. She could see it in the way his eyes had
sparkled. She had seen the way he had looked at her, eyes learing at her from
afar. He had wanted her for himself. 'It is all these bloody men want, King or
Beggar. It clouds there already tiny minds. Remember that and use it as a
weapon, my dear.' It was something Lady Olenna had once told her, words that
had stuck firmly in her mind. Those words were not unlike Cersei Lannister's,
"Tears are not a woman's only weapon, the best one is between your legs." At
the time Sansa supposed she had been too young to truly understand them, but
now, now she had thought it one of the most honest pieces of advice she had
ever received. Mayhaps this is why he plans to help me? Her eyes narrowed,
wondering wether or not she could truly trust this man as her mother once had.
Sansa had looked for Lord Baelish too, desperately. But still, neither man was
to be seen. 
"Ah. No matter. Well..My Lady. It would please me greatly if we could speak
together soon?" 
"Yes, my Lord. As you wish."
She turned to her Lord husband finally, flashing a hard smile, and returned her
gaze to The King.
Mace Tyrell removed his daughter's maiden cloak tenderly, while Joffrey
accepted the folded bride's cloak from his brother Tommen and shook it out with
a flourish. Joffery was as tall at thirteen as his bride was at sixteen; he
would not require Sandor to lift him as Tyrion had. The thought made her
shudder with embarrassment. She remembered how Sandor had lifted him up like a
child. Sandor. If what Lord Baelish says is true, surely he must have a
trial? He must be being kept somewhere. In the dungeons. Sansa found herself
thinking to find him. I am not even sure where they are or how to get to
them.But none of that mattered, she refused to believe he was dead. As soon as
the feast finishes i'll slip away and find him.
Sansa wore her curtsey as thick as iron armour throughout the whole long and
tedious wedding ceremony. Though if asked, she could not say much of what had
happened there, her mind was too clouded with worry. She only knew it was over
when Joffery pulled Lady Margery close for a kiss to seal their marriage. The
room roared with applause and cheers from the spectators. She is loved.Sansa
could see clearly. Some of the ladies had even shed a tear, clutching at their
handkerchiefs.
"Margery, Queen Margery! Hail the new Queen!"You could hear them shouting
outside the walls of the sept, cheers rising up into the air.She will make a
much better Queen than I…Sansa thought, following the wedding guests back
outside. She can have that pleasure.  
She was wearing Ser Dontos' necklace, as Lord Baelish had suggested. Yet she
still found it a very odd thing to say at such a time. She reached up to touch
it to make sure it was still around her neck - strangely it gave her strength. 
Joffrey and Margaery stood surrounded by Kingsguard atop the steps that fronted
on the broad marble plaza. Ser Addam and his gold cloaks held back the crowd,
while the statue of King Baelor the Blessed gazed down on them benevolently.
Sansa and her dawf husband had no choice but to queue up with the rest to offer
their congratulations. She kissed Margaery's fingers and wished her every
happiness, as did Tyrion. Thankfully, there were others behind them waiting
their turn, so they did not need to linger long.
Good, at least that is over and done with.She thought climbing back into the
stuffy litter. It had been sitting in the sun and inside had gotten awfully
hot. As the carriage lurched into motion she waited for her new husband to make
awkward conversation.
"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to
Casterly Rock. Far from Joffrey and my sister. It would please me to show you
the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and
I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in."
She raised her eyes to meet his own mismatched ones.
I shall go wherever my lord husband wishes."

"I had hoped it might please you, my lady."

"It will please me to please my lord."

His mouth tightened.
Needless to say the rest of the journey was much quieter, which pleased her
greatly. She was trying to gather her thoughts. I need to make a plan. I need
to know whats happening. When Sansa had returned to her chambers to dress for
the feast, she sat and stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering when
she had become this woman that was sat in front of her. 
I'll wait until the bedding, She thought. When everyone is good and drunk.
Thats when i'll go and find him. Thats when i'll go and find Sandor. I must
know the truth.
 
  
***** A feast for all. *****
Chapter Summary
     Im sorry this has taken so long, I must have rewritten it a million
     times. Still not entirely happy with it but hey, I want to start the
     next bit because its getting gooooood. Also, Ive re-written a lot of
     the previous chapters. Nothing plot changing - just in my opinion -
     they are done much better, especially some of the earlier chapters I
     wrote a couple years back. So if you fancy a re-read, go for it.
     Thanks for all the feedback too guys! Your awesome.
SANDOR
 
"There was enough in there to kill a fuckin' horse."
"A hundred fucking horses."
"Well.. what do we do now?"
"Finish the job."
"But the point was to poison him. So it wouldn't leave a trace."
There was a pause, someone was shuffling around.
"Here, try pour some more down his neck."
"Your having a fuckin' laugh int ya? He's still alive."
"He can't move, you idiot."
Again, they paused. He felt a boot kick at his thigh. 
"Still...."
"Hahaaha...Scared are we Harry?"
"Shhh!! Shut up!"
He was laughing, sniggering like a child.
"whats wrong eh?"
"Don't...don't say my name! Your'll give us all away..."
"Ha! Look at him mate. He ain't gonna be blabberin' to anyone is he?"
"You do it."
"No."
"Just do it."
"Fuck off."
"He's the Hound..."
"Exactly, quick before someone comes..."
He felt two clammy hands push down on his forearms, then a pair of knees press
down on his thighs. The soft sweaty skin stuck to the hairs that trailed along
his wrist.
"Just do it! I've got him.."
Then, something cold touched his lip. He could smell something almost like tar.
It stung his nose. 
When the cool liquid touched his lip, The Hound gave neither boy a chance. He
sprung up from the floor like a lion pounces on a baby deer. With what little
strength he could muster, he grabbed the first boys throat between his
fingers and snapped his neck. The crunchy clicking sound made him snarl a
smile. 
The second boy froze, eyes wide in terror as his friend fell lifeless beside
him. He tried to get up to run, but it was too late. The Hounds heavy
gauntleted hand wrapped tight around his neck and squeezed the life out of his
lungs.
As he loosened his grip, the boy fell with a heavy thump, next to his pal on
the ground. Scrawny little things. One still had his eyes open. Sandor
recognised their faces, young boys, maybe on their thirteenth name day. Kitchen
boys, stables boys. It made no matter. He knew those faces. They had no reason
to kill him, they dared not. Who had paid them? That was the question. Who
wanted him dead?
He pushed himself up just enough to see them properly, but collapsed back onto
the hard stone floor. They had moved him. Somewhere. It was dark and dank.
Small. A tunnel? He tried to get up again but couldn't move. His legs lay
useless underneath him, numb. He could taste something that might have been
blood. His ears were ringing. 
What the fuck...
Sandor tried to speak, but instead let out a spit fuelled grunt.
They know.  Not Joffery. No, the little cunt would have paraded me about
and tortured me first. 
He desperately tried to push himself up off of the floor but his arms couldn't
bare the weight. 
Fuck.
The room was spinning, he couldn't see. It was blurry again. Then dark. So very
dark.
 
SANSA 
 
She let her Lord husband take her by the arm and escort her from her chambers
to join the river of silk, satin, and velvet flowing toward the throne room.
Some guests had gone inside to find their places on the benches already, but
others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of
the afternoon. Tyrion had led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary
courtesies -Or lies, as she preferred to call them.
She told Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding much better, then complimented
Elinor Tyrell on her gown, she questioned Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in
the Summer Isles and kissed the fingers of Cersei's hand. All wearing a
beautifully constructed smile while the heart inside her chest was breaking
with every breath. My skin is porcelain, ivory, steel.She said it over and over
in her mind, almost like a chant. Joffery was near, she could feel his eyes
devouring her. He cannot know. Be brave.
"Have you been crying again?" Joff sneered at her, as her lips left his ringed
finger. "You look dreadful. All puffy around your eyes."
"Only tears of joy, my King. It was such a beautiful ceremony. Much better than
our own, if I may say so."
"Yes. Yes it was." He shifted his eyes to Tyrion and narrowed them warily. 
"You were too drunk to do the deed then I take it, Uncle?"
"Forgive me my King, you are quite right. I am just a drunken little monkey."
Her husband beamed.
"Better than you deserve, anyway. My unwanted leftovers." Joffery leeched his
eyes up and down her body.
"...You can bed her or no, I keep telling my Grandfather she's baron, as much
as he insists she is not."
"I do hope you bless Queen Margery with a son before the night is out, your
Grace."
Lord Tyrion seemed to stand a little taller.
"Of course I will." He spat, much like a child. "I am The King."
"And let us pray that there will soon be many little Joffery's running around
the castle, dear nephew. A thought to behold." 
Much to her relief his presence quickly left them, as his new bride urged them
both inside.
"Don't listen to that boy. You look quite exquisite, child, if a little out of
sorts." Lady Olenna Tyrell told her when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-
gold gown that must have weighed more than she did.
"The wind has been at your hair, though." The little old woman reached up and
fussed at the loose strands, tucking them back into place and straightening
Sansa's necklace.
"I was very sorry to hear about your losses," she said as she tugged and
fiddled.
"Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at
weddings they'll be even more frightened of marriage than they are presently.
There, that's better." Lady Olenna smiled. "I am pleased to say I shall be
leaving for High garden the day after next. I have had quite enough of this
smelly city, thank you. Perhaps you would like to accompany me for a little
visit, whilst the men are off having their war? I shall miss my Margaery so
dreadfully, and all her lovely ladies. Your company would be such sweet
solace."

"You are too kind, my lady." said Sansa, turning to Tyrion. "But my place is
with my lord husband."
Both Lord Tyrion and Lady Olenna gave a forced smile. 
They are much to smart to believe such lies. She placed a hand on Lord Tyrions
shoulder for effect. Sansa would have much preferred to slip a hand in the nook
of his arm, but her dress would have wrinkled with all the bending.
"Of course it is dear, such a good wife you will make. Count your blessings
little lord, she's quite splendid this one. I do hope you don't plan on keeping
her locked away as her first husband did. Such a beautiful face should see more
of the world. The offer will always stand, my dear." She looked at Tyrion and
raised her wrinkled brows.
Her imp husband shuffled uncomfortably. Whether he was at a loss for words or
simply holding his tongue, she was not sure. Perhaps he was thinking of some
witty, well constructed reply. Most like. Perhaps he was not lost for words
after all. When has Lord Tyrion ever been lost for words?
"If you will excuse us, Lady Olenna, it is time we were in our places." He
gestured her away, with a hard stare. 
"Forgive a silly old woman, my lord, I did not mean to steal your lovely wife.
Of course, you pair were only wed last night. I'm certain that you simply
cannot keep your hands off each other. Dragged from your bed, I imagine. Ah, to
be a newlywed, and so in love again." 
She did not try to hide the sarcasm.
"Yes. Yes. So in love." He reiterated, with a smile that looked almost painful.
"It has dawned on me however, it must be rather difficult."
"Difficult how? My lady."
"All the little Lannister - Stark baby making. The girl is rather tall for her
age. Will you have to fetch some sort of stool beforehand? "
A blush crept up Sansa's neck.
The look they gave one another lasted far longer than it should have.
"The Gods give with one hand, and take with the other. " Is all he said. Lord
Tyrion done little to hide is anger.
"Now as I said, My Lady, we must press on..."
This time her husband successfully led them away and into the enormous throne
room where the feast would be held. The already grand hall had been absolutely
transformed. Inside was quite magnificent, each wall a multitude of silk drapes
and gilded flowers. From the high ceiling, long silk streamers of Baratheon
gold, Lannister crimson, and Tyrell green rippled gently as the breeze blew in
from the open door. Along each side stood all manner of musicians; drummers and
pipers and fiddlers, strings and horns and skins. They were playing softly,
Sansa had to strain her ears to hear the tune over all the chatter. The room
was so large that everything seemed to echo. As she slowly walked the length of
the hall, her feet were kissed by rose petals and lavender, scattered across
the floor. When they reached the dais, Cersei embraced Margaery and kissed her
cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. Joffrey
received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Ser
Loras and Ser Garlan. As they took their seats next to Lord Tywin, Cersei, and
Tommen, Tyrion clearly still annoyed, muttered about whether or not Lord Luther
Tyrell had indeed ridden off that cliff intentionally. 
As everyone settled into their seats, Sansa took another moment to search for
Sandor and Peyter among the swarm of faces before her. This is useless. She
thought. Nethertheless, she persisted. If they were there, she was sure she
would have spotted them by now, every candle in the castle seemed to have been
brought out into the hall. At the other end, the outside daylight was
dwindling, but within, fire lit up the faces of every man, woman and child. It
was beautiful, and again much grander than her own wedding. She supposed this
was due to the Tyrell's generous input. It was clear it had become somewhat of
a contest between them both, which family has the most gold.
Sansa looked over at all of the Tyrell family stood chattering together, smiles
stretched across their faces. Jewelled fingers and fabulous gowns.How pleasant
it must be, to still have all those you hold dear. With Father, Mother and Robb
dead, she had started to believe that she was the only Stark left. Her whole
family extinct. Joffery had her believe Theon killed Bran and little Rickon,
set fire to their bodies and hung them up outside Winterfell, for all to see.
She could not believe he would do such a thing. He was almost a brother to her.
I cannot believe it. I musn't. I cannot give up hope. Though, it gave her a
heavy heart. She smoothed her skirts.
Heralds called out all the High Lords and Ladies names, gesturing to
their whereabouts. Still, Lord Baelish's name was not mentioned, which she
found awfully odd. It is not as though he is missing, but as though they knew
he would not be here. I wonder if the same is for the Hound?
Then, when the King and Queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to
lead a prayer.
"let the cups be filled! And a feast for all!!!" King Joffery proclaimed,
beaming from ear to ear.
As they waited for the first dish to come out, the Tyrells fool - Moon boy -
attempted a cartwheel and fell flat on his face. Sansa watched Lady Margery on
the high table giggle softly, then whisper in Joffery's ear. The King proceeded
to throw several pitted dates at him, cackling as he did.
Sansa watched with a forced smile. It had started to make her cheeks ache. She
thought of Her Florian, Ser Dontos. Oh, how the Gods do take pleasure in
mocking me. I pray for a knight and they send me a fool. Still she had heard
nothing from him. She supposed he was dead, the rumour was true. Dead like
everyone else.She fought down the hard lump rising in her throat. I was stupid
to think a man like him could save me.
The Hound was right, only strong arms and sharp steel could do such a
thing. She imagined his torso, thick with muscle, pressed hard against her
chest. She had never felt so safe, as she did in that moment. His arms wrapped
around her tight, forcing her to look at him. A prickle of nerves trailed up
her neck.It is ever so warm in here. She thought, shifting in her seat. She
could not think of the night they had shared, it filled her with a flurry of
emotions, joy and fear. She must not let the mask slip, not now. She clapped
softly in her lap as Moon boy juggled the dates on one leg.
The first dish was a small slab of pork, smothered in a sweet apple sauce and
sprinkled with chopped almonds. It was a little chewy, but she supposed it must
be quite a challenge to cook so many dishes at one time. Still, she pushed down
several small mouthfuls before laying her gilded spoon back down upon the
table. Sansa side eyed her husband, chewing loudly and mopping up every morsel
with a loaf of bread, as if he had not eaten properly in weeks. She could not
help but find him grotesque. 
Grey-bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would preform 'for the ears of
Gods and men', a song near everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would have heard
before. His fingers moved gracefully along the strings of the high harp, and
filled the throne room with such sweet sound.
Much to Sansa's joy, the hall went quiet to listen as he played for quite some
time. She looked around at the familiar faces beside her, at the groups of
pretty painted faced women chattering in hushed tones, husbands kissing the
necks of their wives, old fat Lords slapping some poor serving girls bum. So
many faces. So many names. It came apparent to her just how disconnected she
felt from every other person in that room. She wondered if The Hound ever feels
the same. Or whether he chooses to feel that way.
Shortly after, out came some skewered blood sausage, buttered pease and roasted
parsnips, displayed beautifully on a silver plate. While cutting into her
sausage, they watched four pyromancers conjure up a beautiful purple flame that
danced in swirls, high into the rafters. She watched it unfold with wide eyes.
Next was slivers of swan, poached in saffron and peaches. Sansa tried to force
down another bite, but her nerves were tightening her tummy. There were several
dogs circling the tables, begging for scraps. Perhaps I could try and slip one
my plate without anyone seeing.The next course of beef broth and honey'd wine
was enough to make her retch.
But Sansa smiled and nodded, just as she was bid, and watched the long line of
entertainers jump and sing and dance across the dais. Soon it was full night
outside the windows, and the guests had become increasingly drunk. Even with
all the entertainment, Sansa was watching, but not really seeing. The array of
musicians and instruments, the same. Hearing but not particularly
listening. Out came a spiced pear porridge. A horrendous dish that Sansa had
tried once before, and could only push around her plate.
"You look pale, My Lady?" Tyrion asked with heavy eyes, trying to take her
hand. She squirmed away.
"I am quite well, thank you for asking, My Lord."
The Question caught the attention of the King.
"I need more wine, Uncle, care to fill my cup? We can make it a Lannister
wedding tradition."
Joffery sniggered, along with Cersei behind a jewelled hand.
"Such an honour as that was your Grace, this is a new doublet. It would be a
terrible shame to stain it."
The rest of the guests laughed uncontrollably.
Suddenly, Moonboy marched over to the dais, picked up Ser Kevan's goblet of
wine and dumped it right over his own head, making the hall roar with
hysterical laughter.
"Hahaha...Even better Uncle. Why don't you be my fool?" 
The hall grew quiet with anticipation, eager for another embarrassing spectacle
for her husband to withstand.
"Alas, I am already a fool. Be it not a very funny one."
"Of course you are. Just look at that funny face!"
Joffery looked to his new bride with a gloating grin.
Your such a child. Sansa thought. Saying nasty things to impress your lady
wife. Making everyone else feel less, so you can feel more. 
"The Gods could not make us all so fair as you, your Grace."
"Spare me your compliments Uncle. I want to see you dance."
"Gladly, your grace." 
Tyrion stood, turning to Sansa, meaning for her to take his hand. Embarrassed
and unsure, she hesitated to take it. 
"No, I meant dance as my fool. Butterbumps, give my Uncle your motley. I want
him to wear it."
Moon boy and Butterbumps both stripped as naked as the day they were born, much
to the delight and shock of the guests. One took his clothes above his head and
swung it around while doing a little dance, revealing a fat jiggling belly and
a little pink thing, dangling between his legs. Sansa quickly averted her eyes.
Again the hall grew full of giggles and snorts, one of the ladies fainted. When
Sansa returned her gaze to the King, she saw that the pink and green motley
trousers were hanging over Lord Tyrion's face, with the entire throne room
screaming in merriment.
"Put it on."
Margaery placed a gentle hand on his arm, in a futile attempt to stop him going
further.
"Did you mishear me Uncle? Put the fools clothes on."
There was a long and still silence, so tense the air could have been cut with a
butter knife. Don't do it.
Finally the dwarf pulled on the green and pink silk, drowning his tiny body and
nearly tripping on the hem.
"Come out here then, lets have a look at you."
Submissively he waddled out from behind the table and in front of the guests.
The laughter only grew louder and more hysterical.
"The fit is a little off...perhaps you should take off your doublet first."
She saw her husbands jaw clench as his teeth gritted together. After a time, he
tugged and wriggled underneath his new costume, struggling to remove it.
"Take the motley off first Uncle, come on. Don't be shy!"
Several people far away were cackling with laughter, it bounced off the walls
and rung in her ears. He was asking him to strip naked, in front of - what
might as well been - the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. Her husband removed
the motley quickly, clearly happy to be rid of it. Then...He cannot. She saw
his tiny fat fingers slowly raise to his collar, and gingerly start to undo the
first button of his shirt. She shut her eyes. 
No..You can't. Tell him no...
She began to pray for the mother to take pity on him.
"My love, LOOK! THE PIE!!!" Margaery shrieked, clapping her hands together in a
frenzy.
Joffery took his Queen by the hand, seemingly distracted. The guests stood,
shouting and applauding and smashing their cups together as the great pie made
its way through the hall. It was wheeled in on a cart, by several serving men
and proud cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown. Sansa had
never see anything quite like it.
Perhaps one of Margaery's brothers will be in there, She tried her best not to
picture Robbs rotting cheeks. Maybe he'll make her eat it.
Tyrion scuttled away and pulled himself back into his chair with a look of
sheer relief. 
"Little bastard..." He whispered in her ear.
"That was ill done." Jaime Lannister lent forward to say, in a notably hushed
tone. 
"Thank you so much for vouching that, brother."
Joffery and Maragery joined hands again in front of the dais to lift his
glistening sword, widows wail, and swung it down together in a golden arc. When
the crust broke, it scattered pastry everywhere, bursting forth a dozen doves
swirling white feathers in all directions. The King took his Queen in his arms
and whirled her around merrily.
A serving girl placed a slice of steaming hot pidgeon pie in front of them, and
covered it with a spoon of lemon cream. 
Joffery and his Queen fed each other a mouthful off their golden forks. Sansa
suddenly found herself feeling quite sick.
"Uncle, we need some entertainment for this course. Do carry on! I wish to see
you in this beautiful garb."
She felt Tyrion look to her aid, though she ignored him. You truly are a fool
if you think I will help you.
"More wine." Joff spluttered, filling his mouth with another piece of pie. 
He drank deep, sending little red rivers dripping down his chin and onto his
velvet chest.
 Kof, kof. "Its a little dry." Kof.
As he spoke he spat out lumps of food onto the floor in front them.
Margaery looked at him in concern. "Your Grace?"
"Its, kof, nothing, just..." He broke off into a fit of crazed coughing and
spluttering. 
"Uncle. The motley...kof...put it on. Kof, kof, kof.."
Lord Tywin rose to his feet. "Your Grace, are you well?"
"Its, kof, the pie, kof kof..." He took another drink, but all the wine came
spewing back out, as it had that night in his chamber.
"He's choking!" Queen Margaery screamed, her Grandmother quickly moving to her
side.
Joffery dropped his plate, crashing it down into pieces on the floor.
"Help the poor boy!" The Queen of Thornes screeched, in a voice much bigger
than her size.
"I can't, kof, bre- kof kof kof kof ...."
"Help him! Help your King!"
Ser Osmund Kettleblack ripped open The Kings collar.
A terrible shrieking noise came from his throat, he fell hard onto the floor.
Ser jaime stopped his head from cracking open, clutching him in his arms.
"Water! Give him water!" someone shouted frantically.
Ser Garlen rushed to his aid and flipped him on his front, pounding a fist on
his back, over and over again. The crowd forming around them both yelled
useless advice at each other from across the room. Grand Maester Pycelle was
shouting for someone to gather his potions for him. Kof Kof Kof. Ser Meryn put
The King on his back and tried to stick his fingers down his throat. Kof Kof
Kof Kof. His face was turning a peculiar shade of purple. Kof Kof. Joffery
began to claw at his neck with his nails, tearing bloody gouges in the flesh.
Sansa's stomach lurched at the sight.I can't watch.She suddenly felt light
headed and faint. The Throne room seemed to tilt sideways. He is dying.She
realised, stunned. 
In the chaos, she cannot remember getting to her feet, but she was walking,
running even. Dogs were barking, children were screaming and the guests were
shoving one another to get a better look. Others were trying to get away,
pushing at each other to fit through the great iron door. Someone else had
fainted, she remembered stepping over their skirts. 'He's dead!' she heard
someone cry.
Suddenly a strong hand was around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. Then
the other clasped over her mouth, hard. Someone was pulling her from behind,
dragging her from her feet.
"Come with me if you want to go home." They said.
She was being lifted up.
No.She thought, terrified.
The Hound, I must find the Hound.
  
 
 
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