A/N: I don't own Game of Thrones. If I did, Sansa would be older and she and the Hound would be off somewhere having sexy time. As it is, she is not older and HBO refuses to let that minor detail go. After Blackwater, I decided that I wanted to do something from both character's POV and change the storyline a little because these two are just perfect for each other. Btw, I love people who R&R Just an fyi.

Warning: Sansa is technically "underage" in our world; in the GoT world, she isn't. And since this story takes place in an alternate universe within an alternate universe, I say that just about all bets are off. But if you get offended easily... don't read this story.

Chapter 1: The Little Bird Learns to Bite

Sandor Clegane had been watching his Little Bird get beaten for over an hour in front of the entire court. It angered him that Joffrey had taken his temper out on her. The foolish prick had been beaten by an enemy and instead of facing it like a man, he reacted like a spoiled child (which he was) and struck out at a helpless girl who was engaged to him. Sandor repressed a snort: engaged. Sansa was a beautiful flower that had livened up the darkened halls of King's Landing. And Joffrey was crushing her. He would never let anyone know that he had fallen hard for the girl – mostly because he was disgusted by it. She was a child but at the same time, she wasn't. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to see her become a woman and blossom into the breathtaking creature he knew she was well on her way to becoming; on the other, he knew the moment she bled, Joff would marry her and she would be his to the day she died. He would never admit that he had no idea what to do when it came to Sansa Stark. The girl brought out these things that everyone called feelings, but the only emotion he had ever known had been anger.

A cry echoed off the walls from Sansa and it snapped him out of his reverie. "Enough," he hissed at the king. Had Joffrey been a man like Robert, the Hound might have spoken respectfully, but Joff was no Robert – his father would never beat a woman. Ever.

"No!" the blonde idiot yelled. "She must pay! Meryn, she looks a tad overdressed, does she not?"

"Yes, Your Grace," the knight replied.

"Unburden her."

Sandor felt his throat tighten as Meryn ripped the redhead's dress. A quick flash of her breast and one of the most feared men in the Seven Kingdoms felt sick to his stomach. He had seen naked women – fucked countless of them in fact – but Sansa was no whore. Not only was she a highborn, she was a lady. He wanted to go and tell her that it was going to be okay. As long as he was around, she would never have to fear anyone ever again. But that wasn't true. He had told her once that a hound would die for you but never lie to you. If it ever came to that, Sansa would be the only person in his life he would gladly lay down his life for; but he would also never lie to her; fill her head back up with romantic notions about honorable knights. He was neither honorable, nor a knight. And she had just begun to understand this.

"What is the meaning of this?" A large shadow came over the room as the Imp walked through the crowd. "What kind of a knight beats a helpless girl?" he snapped at Meryn.

"One who serves the King, Imp."

Tyrion's sellsword replied for him. "Careful now. You wouldn't want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak."

Sandor's grey eyes moved to the front and saw Sansa covering herself as best she could while Bronn hovered over her, ready to strike at whoever came near her. Jealousy shot straight through him and the urge to protect her became overwhelming, which was nearly enough to make him wonder what the hell he was thinking. He had been jealous once in his lifetime and that was when another killed a man that he was aiming for. The sensation felt strange and he didn't like it. He heard Tyrion call out for someone to give her something to cover herself with and without a missing a beat, Sandor offered her his cloak. The look she gave him tore at his heart, but he never let it show. Instead, he gently placed the heavy material around her shoulders and went back to his spot. Sansa's delicate hands gripped the white cloak and hugged it around her. He tuned out Tyrion's lecture about the Mad King and continued to stare at his Little Bird on the floor. Her eyes were red and puffy; her lips were still trembling. Rage surged through him again as he saw Meryn out of the corner of his eye. He was going to make him pay for these beatings. He watched with resentful eyes as Tyrion led his bird away. But at least Tyrion wouldn't harm her. The imp might have been a Lannister, but at least he was able to tame the King's temper. His presence had reduced the beatings on the Stark girl, something that almost made Sandor believe in the gods.

The King nearly threw another tantrum after being embarrassed at court. He hated that Robb was winning, but he hated that his pride had been wounded by his uncle even more. "That Stark girl better bleed soon!" he vented. "I'm getting tired of waiting."

The Hound watched the boy as they walked to his chambers. "Yes, Your Grace." Inside, he was thoroughly disgusted. When Sansa finally did become a woman, Joffrey would never take her gently. And his Little Bird deserved her first time to be gentle. That was another reason he could never let her know how he felt. He was not only a killer; the word "gentle" would never be used to describe any part of him. Whores could take him because they were used to harsh men in King's Landing. No. He needed to squash any feeling that arose until she bled. After that, he could deal with them because at least she would be a woman.

"Dog," Joff called.

"Your Grace?"

"See to it that my lady has new maids by tomorrow. I think they are trying to make her look ugly."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Joffrey opened his door and saw two whores by his bed. He smirked over his shoulder at the Hound. "Away with you, dog."

Sansa stared at her handmaids as they filled the tub with roses. The steam from the hot water filled the room, settling on her bruised skin. As Sansa watched the maids flutter across the room through the mirror, Shae was gently brushing her red hair. Sansa had a terrible headache from all the crying she had been doing lately and the brushes bristles were starting to scratch at her scalp. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what milady?" Shae asked quietly.

"For how I treated you when you first came to me. I was rude."

"It's okay," Shae smiled. "I understand."

The two shared a moment before a knock at the door interrupted them. "Come in," Sansa called.

The Hound pushed the door opened and everyone stopped. The stares didn't seem to bother him as he bent his head slightly toward the redhead. "My lady," he addressed.

Sansa stared at him through the mirror. "What does the King want now?" She knew her words were dangerous, but she knew the Hound wouldn't say anything. She knew he hated Joff as much as she did.

"Get out," he barked at the women. "All of you."

"But," one of them stammered. "We are supposed to help bathe the lady."

He took a step forward and the women instinctively backed up. He enjoyed scaring the little idiots. "Out."

Sansa let a tiny smirk graze her lips as she saw what one word from the Hound did. The women dropped the linens and ran from the room. "What was that for?" she demanded.

Sandor let his eyes fall on Shae. "You too." This time, his tone wasn't so cutting. He had seen the brunette exchange some looks with Tyrion. Obviously, she was going to be sticking around. He'd never say a word about it because frankly, he was kind of going through the same thing (though he was far more cautious with his glances). That and Sansa seemed to take to the foreign beauty.

Shae glanced down at Sansa, waiting for confirmation. "It's okay," Sansa assured. She grabbed the brush from her maiden's hand and waited until the door shut before turning to the Hound. It was clear that he wanted to say something more. The Hound never stayed anywhere longer than he had to. "What do you want?"

He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Little Bird needs something to dry her eyes with." In Sandor-speak, that was a lot. He just hoped she would realize that. Sansa stood and walked to him. She was so close that he could smell the dried blood from her open wounds.

"Thank you," she said softly. Her clear blue eyes flew up to meet his. There was something in his eyes that made her feel strange. A fire went through her as their skin touched. He snapped his hand back and she felt embarrassed at the image that went through her mind. "This is the second time you've given me something."

"Don't be thinking anything about it, girl," he spat. "It's a cloth, not a marriage proposal."

"Good," she retorted. "I need the cloth; I don't want the proposal."

A little pride came over Sandor at her declaration. "The Little Bird's begun to bite," he sneered.

"Why did Joffrey dismiss my maids?"

"He thinks they're jealous of you."

"Are they?"

He regarded her for a moment. There was no piety or arrogance in her voice. He suspected that her self esteem had taken a beating also. "You make men want to kill for you. Of course they're jealous." With that, he walked out, leaving Sansa with a stunned expression.

"Milady?" Shae said after the Hound left. "Are you all right?"

Sansa wasn't sure she had heard him clearly. "Y-yes," she stammered.

Shae followed her lady's gaze toward the door where the Hound had just come from. Something happened; she just couldn't put her finger on it. "Come, let us get you clean."

"I can do it," Sansa said politely. "I'm sure you have things you want to do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You're dismissed." After Shae left, Sansa stripped down and carefully placed her pale body in the water. Her body was changing, that much she could see. Her breasts were becoming fuller and they hurt; her hips had begun to widen; and her childlike face had started to sharpen, showing off her soft cheekbones. Her lips had already become plump and her waist started taking its shape. Boys had always noticed her beauty, but now that she was becoming a woman, it was men who were starting to look. She wasn't sure she was ready for that. The only thing left to do was to bleed – something she was not looking forward to. The moment she did, Joffrey would own her for life. She already felt alone, but at least she could always escape to her chambers and talk to Shae. Her chamber, or "cage" as the Hound called it, was both her sanctuary and her prison. The moment her father's head had come off, her innocence had been lost. Joffrey didn't love her and the noble knights that she had dreamt of meeting were nothing more than glorified bullies. The only one who had never hurt her was the Hound. A strange thought went to Sansa's head at that moment: why had the Hound never struck her? In fact, when she was getting beaten this last time, he actually stuck up for her. That had never happened before. "Why would he do that?" she asked the air. A strange flutter came into her stomach and stayed there until the man's face came into view. She shuddered at the thought of kissing the burnt flesh. 'Kiss? Where did that come from?' she thought. Dunking under the water, she held her breath. Things would be so much easier if she just stayed there. No one would miss her. There would be no more beatings, no more having to call her family "traitors" just to pacify Joff, no lies she would have to hear, no more Cersei, Meryn, or gossiping maids. Suddenly, her body was lifted from the bathtub and she gasped from the sharp intake of air.

"What are you doing?" the Hound bellowed.

Sansa was so blindsided by the action, she wasn't able to think. The Hound kept shaking her, trying to get her to speak, but she was too surprised. "I-I was taking a bath."

"You were trying to kill yourself!"

Sansa's torso began to shake from the cold air that was giving her goose-bumps as she stared into the Hound's eyes. His tone was angry, but his expression was one of panic. "I was not! And stop it! You're hurting me!"

He released his hold immediately and took a step back. She was naked as a newborn baby but that was the last thing on his mind. "Then why were you under the water?"

"I was trying to relax!" She stomped her foot at his lack of understanding. She let out a sharp huff as he handed her a towel. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was sent by the King's Hand," he replied. He turned his back as she wrapped the tiny cloth around her body, which had blossomed recently he noticed. "He wants to speak to you."

"Why?"

"I did not ask," he growled.

Sansa winced at the acidic tone. "Tell him I shall be there shortly." He left without another word and by time she was ready, he was back at her door. "Why aren't you with the King?" she asked as they walked down the hall.

"Little Bird is worried about her betrothed?" he mocked. When a very un-Sansa like snort came from in front of him, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the wall. His voice was menacing as he loomed over her. "You should be more careful, girl. If I were anyone else, that noise could get you killed."

"But you aren't like anyone else," she said hotly. "You're an honorable man."

A bitter laugh escaped from deep inside him. "I am neither honorable nor a man, girl."

"Then what are you?"

"A dog," he said in a low tone. "The sooner you open your eyes to the fact that no one in this place is honest, the better off you'll be." He shoved her gently toward Tyrion's room and let her inside. After the imp dismissed him, he leaned against the closed door and sighed heavily. That girl would never be his. Not only was she a lady and he a dog, but King's Landing was no place for romance, love, or anything worth having. It was a poisonous home, sucking the life from the only thing that stirred emotions in his cold heart. A short time later, Sansa's voice near the door made him straighten up and assume his natural, intimidating stature.

"Thank you, my lord," she said sweetly to Tyrion. "But I am content with being King Joffrey's betrothed. He is my one true love." Sandor knew her words were simple repetition of the same song she had been forced to learn. That thought did nothing to settle the bile that threatened to rise at the sound of those words.

The door opened and Tyrion led her out. "Of course, milady. I shall see you at court." He turned his face to Sandor and said, "Make sure she gets back safely."

Sandor bowed slightly as he escorted Sansa back through the halls. Even though they rarely walked side by side, he was grateful for the time they got together. It was the only time he felt human. Her presence calmed the constant storm in him; his anger ebbed when he thought of her sweet face and soothing voice.

"Thank you, ser," she said politely when they reached her door.

"How many times do I have to tell you, girl," he sneered. "I am no 'ser'."

"Then what shall I call you? Dog is simply not acceptable and neither is Hound. You have a name, I intend to use it."

"Sandor then," he acquiesced. "But you shouldn't call me that unless we are alone."

"We are never alone."

"The little bird is learning," he smiled roughly. He pushed open the door and closed it in her face the moment she stepped inside. He hated being so cruel to her considering she was getting that from everyone, but it was the only way for her to learn fast. She would never survive if she continued the way she was going. He growled in frustration and stalked out of the castle to the nearest barkeep to drown out his thoughts and these stupid, useless feelings in wine.

Shae knew something was going on with her lady. Sansa was even more distant than usual. "Milady?"

"Hm?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Hm? Oh yes. Everything...Shae?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course."

Sansa had no idea how to begin this conversation. She should be having it with her mother, but that wasn't an option and there was no way she was going to Cersei. "How do you know if you really like a man?"

Shae put the brush to Sansa's red hair and slowly stroked the soft strands. "You just do," she replied.

"What do you feel when you like a man?" she directed at the brunette. "How did you know you liked someone?"

"I wanted to be around him all the time. Whenever we were together, my heart would beat fast and I would get really nervous. Butterflies filled my belly and all I wanted to do was kiss and-" she paused when she saw Sansa looking at her, "kiss him."

"What if he's ugly?" The Hound's scarred face came into her mind and it made her shiver.

"If you really like him," she cooed, "his looks won't matter."

Sansa couldn't ever see how she could get past Sandor's face. His wounds weren't exactly subtle. But it was only a short time ago that she thought Joffrey was perfect because he was handsome and he turned out to be the son of evil; the Hound, as ugly as he was, had more honor than a thousand knights. "You really think so?"

"No matter the man, you will always be beautiful for the both of you."

Even Sansa didn't think she was that beautiful. "I hope so."

"Milady has her eye on someone?" When Sansa only stared at her, Shae took action. "Milady," she whispered. "You must not be thinking such things. If the King were to find out..."

"You won't tell him will you?" Sansa panicked. Of course, no one in their right mind, or mad for that matter, would suspect the Hound in a million winters.

"No," the brunette replied sharply. "But this secret should never leave your head again. The King would have your head, as well as the other man's."

'Not Sandor's.' Sansa smirked at the idea, but Shae was serious. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise milady."

A horrible thought came over Sansa. If Joffrey were to suspect the idea she was attracted to another, he would probably have Sandor beat her within an inch of her life. The irony would be too bitter to find funny.