If I ran away, I'd never have the strength
To go very far
How would they hear the beating of my heart
Will it grow cold
The secret that I hide, will I grow old
How will they hear
When will they learn
How will they know
My place is in King's Landing I repeat myself every night. My pain, my sorrow belongs to this Palace of dust. There is no one here to help me. I am the lone wolf lost in unknown woods. The cold is burning my blood and the loneliness could never ease the noise of those empty souls around me.
My skin is covered by bruises, my face is still pale but my eyes turned to a dark blue I had never seen before. "You have now the Stark look" Joffrey once told me. No. I have the Tully look. My mother's. The trout is roaring in the water and no one outside can hear it. They do not understand my fear and my bravery. They wait for me to give up to this life. But I will never, not as long as I am alive.
I am a wolf and a trout. And they do not fear the angry lion for they are stronger and cleverer.
In the Red Keep I am silent, but within those walls I cannot hide my emotions. My arms are full with Joffrey's attentions but with mine too. My nails on my arms, digging to find blood, the evidence of my beating heart.
No one knows about this I believe. And if they did would they care?
The old dog barks at my door
"Little Bird. Leave this room. He wants you."
He wants to punish me. Is it his way to make him feel alive? I hurt myself, he hurts others.
Maybe he's not as happy as he pretends. He is no fool, he knows he is a King without powers.
I see Cersei next to him, and the knights of the Kingsguard. They are all here, the blind witnesses of my agony. Sandor puts his hand on my shoulder. His touch is rough but the skin is light. Like velvet.
"Sansa Stark, I heard you like to wander in the Godswoods at night. I expected another behavior from you Sansa… But you keep disappoint me it seems. Ser Meryn."
Joffrey was offering me a painful kiss. It didn't last long this time. Sandor took me back to my room without a word.
"Don't hurt yourself Little Bird."
"Sandor."
"Yes Little Bird?"
"I do not hate you."
The man was damaged, broken. One could never say if his joy would turn to anger or grief once you hurt him. But with me I knew there was no anger. Harshness in his words only.
Sandor Clegane is no man of words. Good for I am sick of empty languages and he speaks to me in his mother tongue: despair.
Italic sentence -Live to tell by Madonna (yeah I know this is not a Shakespeare quote)