Hey Guys! This is the first time I've written any fanfiction in forever! I used to when I was much younger, but hopefully my writing has gotten a lot better. In any case, this story is about Sandor and an original character, but trust me when I say there will be some interesting interactions with lots of characters, especially with Sansa. While this is not a Sansa/Sandor fic, they are my favourites. Please let me know if there are any discrepancies and feedback is always appreciated!
Alaynne woke slowly, her body and mind still aching to remain in bed. Dawn had not yet broken, and the world outside her tiny window was still dark. Internally, however, she know it was time to start her day. She glanced around the room she now shared with Sansa's newest handmaiden, Shae. She was not there, of course. She rarely was. Shae did not like Alaynne, did not seem to like anyone, but Alaynne thought she should at least be happy she was not rooming with a Lannister spy. Alaynne considered herself to be loyal only to Sansa, although she was careful not to make it too obvious.
Yawning and stretching, she placed her feet on the ground and shuddered at the cold. She quickly set about heating up water for a quick bath, knowing Sansa liked her entourage to smell clean, at the very least. Luckily for Sansa, Alaynne's only luxury in life was the care she took with her personal hygiene. Lowering herself into the bath, Alaynne shivered with pleasure as the warmth engulfed her. She scrubbed at her body, removing the previous day's filth and grime, and then gingerly placed a tiny amount of rose oil in her palm, massaging it through her newly clean hair and over her body. Sansa always said she smelled lovely.
Alaynne smiled at the thought. Sansa's life had become so bleak and ugly, and the girl loved beautiful things, that Alaynne was glad to bring her any type of happiness. While she was only ten and eight years herself, she felt almost motherly towards the Young Wolf. Alaynne had been in King's Landing for barely a year when the Starks arrived, and she was assigned to be Sansa's handmaiden straight away, probably because she had allowed the Queen to think she was stupid. It was much safer to be stupid and unnoticeable in King's Landing, she had learned quickly. Since then, she had seen Sansa go through innumerable hardships and liked to think that they had become friends of some sort.
Alaynne realized she had spent far too much time in her bath, and hurried about the room. She poured the water down the little drain in the corner and quickly dressed in her plain, grey dress. Her hair had never been something she could manage, so she simply braided it so it would be out of her way, and went about her chores. She was hurrying to the kitchen to start preparing Sansa's morning tea and bath water, when she saw the great hulking form on the ground. Cautiously, she approached, although she soon came to realize that the mass could only belong to one man.
Sandor Clegane.
'Again...' she thought, exasperated. In the past few months, Clegane had taken his drinking even more seriously than usual, and she had found him like this, passed out in front of his room, innumerable times. She sighed. The stench of wine was noticeable even from this distance.
Alaynne walked over to him. There was a bit of drool on the unscarred side of his face that almost made her giggle. As her gaze moved to his scars, however, she sobered. She knew many others recoiled from his face, and she knew that it was gruesome. The taut, angry red skin and the thinning hair. Yet, in her village, she often tended to gruesome illnesses and wounds when the maester was away. Clegane's wounds simply made her sad. She knew his rage and hatred of everything stemmed from these scars, although she had never known for certain what caused them. There were rumours of his brother, yes, but it was difficult for her to imagine anyone being so cruel, especially to a young child. She found herself wondering how different he could have been on nights like this, when he was so calm and still.
Sighing, Alaynne bent down closer to his face, and nudged his shoulder with her fist.
"Clegane." she whispered harshly, and smacked his shoulder again. His eyes barely fluttered open before he grunted slightly and started to push himself up. Alaynne tried her best to help steady him, eventually wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She wasn't sure how much she helped, as her head barely reached the bottom of his massive ribcage. Clegane always made her aware of the insignificance of her body.
"Don't need your help, girl." Clegane muttered, but followed her into his room anyways. Alaynne rolled her eyes and helped him to his bed.
The force with which he fell upon it dragged her down with him, so that she ended up half laying upon him. Alaynne blushed, and tried to scramble away. He pulled her tighter, however, and she felt him breathe in the scent of her hair.
"Roses..." he whispered, and Alaynne began struggling again to get away.
"Sansa..." he breathed out, and Alaynne froze. He seemed to have finally found sleep again, and his grip loosened, allowing her to pull away. Once outside his room, she drew a shaky breath. Alaynne had suspicions about Clegane's feelings towards Sansa, the way he looked at her, but she always assumed that he had the good sense to suppress it. Her heart was racing as she imagined the ramifications of someone else hearing him whisper the Lady's name. There was also a twinge of sadness there, for Alaynne could never imagine his feelings being reciprocated. Besides his class and the fact that the Lannisters would never allow it, Sansa was still someone who admired beauty. While she may respect and fear the Hound, she could never love anything that reminded her of King's Landing. Alaynne knew that even she fell into that category. Shaking her head, she pushed on to the kitchens.