Whoo! Okay, so I am HUUUUUGELY engrossed in Game of Thrones. I have see the complete first two seasons, and I am currently reading the first book. I LOOOOOOOVE it! So, if there are inconsistencies with things I must apologize. I have not read the whole series. I do NOT know what happens in the end. So, this is all speculation and wishful thinking on my part. I am a die hard Sansan fan and Gendrya, along with Jorah/Dany. xD This is my first Game of Thrones fanfic ever! yay! I should stop typing and go to bed already. It's 3:50 AM people!GAH! *dies* Ive pretty much become completely nocturnal now that it's summer and I have no classes. . Oh, and for those who may be wondering I plan to write a companion chapter to go with this one. So, I'm hoping to write one more chapter. But it will probably just be the two. *le gasp!* Popcorngoo actually planned something! Doesn't she just usually write all willy-nilly and whatever cockamaymee shite that enters into her little head! Yes. Usually that is the case. lol. xD

Chapter 1

Sansa Stark walked silently through the halls of the castle at King's Landing. It was a warm day, despite the fact that winter was coming, and she just wanted to get a breath of fresh air. It was so stifling in the throne room with Joffrey and the King's guard. Sansa always seemed to feel stifled nowadays. Life had not been how she had dreamt it to be at Joffrey's side. As soon as she came to fully realize this Sansa found little comfort in much of anything. But every now and then she would take a stroll through the grounds, or the halls, or pretty much anywhere. 'That way it would be harder for Joffrey or his followers to find her', she thought to herself with a small grin.

Sansa was about to turn a corner when she heard voices coming from the other side. Suddenly she was struck with panic. She did not want another encounter with the Queen or someone equally as distasteful…like her son. Quickly and as quietly as she could she hid behind an expensive looking tapestry. The voices were getting louder now. Two males. Sansa gulped and hid as much of her body as she could behind the royal red cloth. Her feet might have been poking out, but she had no time to worry about that as the voices were upon her now. It was Sandor Clegane and another guard.

She couldn't really make out what they were saying. Both men had dull, gravelly voices that were so low her ears could not pick up exact words. They seemed to be talking pleasantly enough, although pleasant and Sandor were not words Sansa would have thought to put together in the same sentence before. She almost giggled to herself before she realized how that would have alerted them to her location.

As they drew closer, Sansa did not even dare to breathe. Although, if she were found by the Hound it would not be so bad, but she did not wish to explain her reason for hiding in the first place. The man already thought she was a stupid little girl. She didn't want to give him any more ammunition against her.

They seemed to stop for a minute. Sansa held her breath anxiously. They were right in front of her now. She could see their silhouette's through the cloth. Sandor's towering frame was turned. His head seemed to move in her direction for a second. Then he gave a bit of a snort. It could have been Sansa's imagination, but she thought that might have been Sandor's own code for amusement.

Then the two were off again, striding quickly down the hallway and away from Sansa. She finally breathed a sigh of relief after she could not hear their footsteps any more. Cautiously she peered her head out from behind the curtain. Seeing no one either left or right she demurely crept from behind her hiding place. Sansa straightened her dress and fixed her hair, pretending that she had not been hiding like a little child just a few seconds ago. She continued on her walk with all the grace of a lady, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred after that.

Between attending meals, royal occasions, Joffrey's excruciating presence, and the much more pleasant company of Jeyne, Sansa had been going on her little walks quite a bit more than usual. There were few things that Sansa found comfort in while in King's Landing, but the solitude of a stroll was definitely one of them. And, to her surprise, she had bumped into the ever cheerful Sandor Clegane more often than not. He may have been the King's dog, but he was not by his side at every moment of the day it seemed.

Actually, she found herself seeking him out, hopeful to try and catch him off guard, since the day she hid in the tapestry. He never commented on the incident, but she knew he knew. And it had turned into a sort of game, at least for her, to sneak around the halls and spy on Sandor. He knew she was there of course, he always knew. He would not be Joffrey's trusted dog without being the best at being vigilant. When he caught her he would snarl at her, but most times he just ignored her. Sansa couldn't explain why this game of hers was so fascinating, but she found little enjoyment in much else that she would not deny herself little amusements.

So, one day when she was out in the gardens, seeking out her target, she came upon him sitting on a stone bench. She grinned to herself, having spotted him quite a ways off she slowly, quietly crept closer. She was mindful to stay low and close to the bushes. Inwardly she thought how silly she must have looked. 'A lady does not spy on people!' she reminded herself harshly, but found that she could not stop now. She had found her prey after all and it was too late to go back now.

As she drew closer she debated how close she could get before the hound sniffed out her presence. Her feet continued their slow forward movement until she could make out the details of his form. He was sitting on that dreadfully uncomfortable looking stone bench, slightly slumped to the side. His dog helmet was at his side and lay staring accusingly at Sansa. From her angle, she could see the front of him, and the good side of his face with a portion of burned skin on his forehead and chin. He wore his usual garb, chest plate, armor, greaves and all the accoutrements of a guard of high station. Black was his usual choice of color. His hair, a dark chestnut brown, seemed stringy and a bit greasy. The curls framing his face could do with a bit of washing, and Sansa thought, 'His curls would be just as glorious as Ser Loras's own curly mane'. She didn't know why she thought that, but she did all the same. Her eyes moved up his form and to his face. With a start she realized he was asleep. A flagon of wine still clutched in his large hand seemed to be the culprit.

A thought occurred to her that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She had spied Sandor Clegane, infamous Hound of the King, asleep out in the open. She took the time to study his features. Sansa did not normally like to gaze upon the face of Sandor. He scared her. But it wasn't so much his face that frightened her, as it was his piercing eyes. They held such cruelty within them that she could not stand to look at him for long. So, in this instance with him asleep, she eagerly took in his face. His beard was scruffy. It was not long or bushy, simply unkempt, but it seemed to suit him just fine. The dark whiskers added character to his features and Sansa could not imagine him without them. She moved onto his nose. It was a fine, strong nose. Or it would have been had it not looked broken. There was a bit of a bump in the middle, but it did not detract from his features. It was just something else to take note of. His eyes were closed, but he had long dark eyelashes. Sansa was actually a bit envious of them. Hers were short and fair colored, and did nothing to frame her eyes. His cheekbones were not sharp or defined. They were high and manly looking as they curved into the side of his jaw. His brows were thick and definitive. Often they were drawn down, wrinkling his forehead. But in sleep they were more relaxed than Sansa had ever seen them. She did not think it possible, but he actually looked peaceful this way. She smiled a small smile to herself at this. Her gaze moved downward toward his lips. Half of them were burned and chapped. Her smile turned sad at this. His mouth was parted slightly as snores escaped his mouth. They were full lips, plump and thin in all the right places. Sansa would not describe him as attractive, but Sandor was not an ugly man. 'If not for that dreadful burn of his, he could have found a nice wife I'm sure.' The burn totally malformed the other side of his face. His skin was red and puckered grotesquely. The skin around his eye drooped. His mouth was twisted into a perpetual frown. And part of his jaw bone could be seen poking out. Sansa shuddered to herself. It was definitely not a pretty sight. She could not help but feel immense pity towards the man even if he did not want it.

Unwittingly, Sansa must have taken a wrong step for in the next moment Sandor startled awake with a great jump. His whole body flinched and he let out a quick growl which turned into a groan as he held his head, no doubt still drunk and dealing with a hangover. He cursed quite loudly and profusely. Something about buggering hell, and what not. Sansa froze. She was close enough that she could touch him if she desired to do so, but she was hoping the brush of the bush would cloak her presence to him. Now that he was awake however she did not feel that she could remain hidden. Sandor had a knack for finding her, even when she did not want to be found.

He continued to grumble to himself for a few moments, wiping his mouth and tucking his helmet and wine into the crook of his arm. He stood with a creak of stiff limbs, and stretched his back languorously. A few pops sounded and he let out a low groan. Sansa blushed as the sound permeated her ears. 'A lady should not think of such things!' She reminded herself quickly. She shook her head to clear it of the impure thoughts floating about. And, as if alerted by her minute movement, Sandor looked in her direction. Sansa gulped.

He snorted and said, "What are you doing down there little bird?"

Sansa, knowing there would be no use hiding anymore stood reluctantly. She awkwardly played with an errant curl of hair and blushed.

"H-hello my lord." She looked up at him, then quickly darted her eyes away.

Sandor frowned and rasped out, "I. am. Not. A. lord. What do I have to do to get that through your stupid little head?" With each word spoken he stepped closer. He towered over her, barely a foot away. He was trying to intimidate her. She knew it. But that didn't stop it from working.

"I-I am sorry." She quietly mumbled out timidly. This man scared the wits right out of her head! He smelled of wine, and a drunken Sandor was never a good thing.

He sighed and glared at her. "What are you doing out here? A bird's place is in its cage."

Sansa didn't really like his crude remarks about her intelligence, but 'little bird' had ended up almost sounding like an endearment coming from him. And she grew used to his nickname for her; even if it was because he thought she was stupid.

"I was just out for a stroll when I happened upon you here. I had not meant to intrude." She replied demurely, all the while keeping her eyes on his chest. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.

He growled, deep and low in his chest, reminiscent of a dog snarling. His large, callused hand roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her face to stare at his own.

"Look. At. Me." He rumbled darkly. His voice was thick with emotion. Anger, she saw, in his eyes. His eyes were a cold, dark gray. But they held such aggression, even under the influence of wine. They sparked and glinted with restrained intensity. His grip was tight and unrelenting on her jaw. He would not let her go until he had made sure she had a good, long look. He fingers dug into the soft flesh of her pale cheeks.

Sansa was scared, and trembling. She could do not do a thing, but look. She searched his eyes even though she did not want to. The sight of them, so focused and angry on her own eyes made her lip quiver fretfully. One eye dark, normal, and the other deformed and sunken into the blistered flesh. Her chest heaved with fright, pity, and sadness. She had a deep sadness for all the horrors this man had to endure in his life.

Sandor yanked his hand away from her. He turned from her, not wishing to look upon her face and her pity a moment longer.

"Go. Little bird. And do not stray far from your cage."

Sansa wanted to run from that spot immediately and do as he said, but something about his tone made her curious. She wanted to see what expression he wore, and the reason behind it. She hesitated, lingering a moment.

"Go!" he barked at her.

Sansa jumped and let out a tiny squeak. She flew past him and out of the gardens. Her long ginger hair billowing behind her as she sped away from Sandor and his strange outbursts.

She stopped trying to find him in the castle after that. She figured she had gotten close enough, and did not want to tempt fate and get bitten by the Hound.

I hope that was okay. If characters are OOC I would love a heads up. Please tell me how to improve. I felt like Sandor's personality was harder for me to grasp than Sansa's. I think to myself, "What would this character say in this situation?" And it was a bit difficult in Sandor's case. Idk. Any input at all is totally welcome! ^^