A/N: I had this idea for a Christmas fic, that somehow morphed into something a lot more angsty than I first envisioned, because apparently I cannot write fanfiction with no-canon-attached. So it became a post-AFFC Modern Christmas AU, with a bit of fluff at the end.
Unbeta'd. The story will have three chapters. I am not an experienced writer, and that will probably show. English is not my first language. If you spot any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me via review or PM, concrit of the story is of course also heartily welcomed. Or if you just wanna express the feelings this fic stirred, be it love or hate or boredom, let me know :3
All rights belong to George R.R. Martin
1.
"I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, Baby, all I want for Christmas is you. All I want for Christmas is you!" they sang, ending the chorus and the Christmas song on a unison drawn-out loud note.
"Very lovely, ladies," the old man on the threshold said radiantly, as he let slip some coins into the bag Margaery dangled in front of him. He gave them one last smile as he closed the door, ornamented on the front with a glowing star and a miniature plastic Santa Claus that was swinging because of the motion.
They were walking arm-in-arm and laughing as they continued through the slush on the sidewalk, while the daylight rapidly faded and the Christmas lights decorating the suburban houses started to glitter.
Margaery jingled with the silky red bag, which had a cartoonish reindeer stitched upon it. "I think we're up to at least seventy, eighty golden dragons, after that last street."
"I wonder how Dany and the others are doing," Myranda said, toying with the plush white end of her Christmas hat, which swayed over her shoulders. "They were going to walk up to Visenya's Hill, where all the posh people live."
Sansa had swaddled most of her face with a grey woolen scarf and a matching knitted bonnet against the biting wind, but her cheeks and nose and ears had colored a scarlet red all the same. "Does it matter if they're collecting more money than us?" she puffed as the cold turned her breath to white mist.
"Yes, it does," Myranda responded smugly. "Anything to get the Khaleesi off her high horse."
"Your incorrigible, Randa," Sansa chided her, good-humored.
"How can they beat us," Margaery joined in, smiling, " when we've got Sansa 'heavenly voice' Stark at our side?"
"You and Randa sing just as nice," Sansa mumbled in response to the compliment. If she hadn't already been red-faced, her blush would've revealed her embarrassment.
"Yeah, like two crows beside a nightingale," Myranda laughed. "Anyway, my throat is getting parched again, and we ran out of coffee." She jogged the canteen she was holding to punctuate her words, which produced the sound of faint sloshing.
"Maybe it's time to get back," Sansa said.
"What, we're half an hour away from the nearest pub or cafe, lost in suburbia. I say we make the next house our last and put on the charm afterwards for some free drinks."
Margaery agreed to Myranda's plan, and Sansa gave a reluctant 'okay'. She didn't like the idea of intruding into some stranger's house, but kept that thought unspoken, and berated herself for her irrational fear. Hadn't she found out the hard way that danger was far more likely to come from the people you thought you knew?
They turned up the driveway to the next residence, a rather small one-story brick house, and conspicuously undecorated. "Maybe we should hit the next one?" Margaery queried her friends. "This place isn't exactly displaying…festivity."
Myranda pulled them forward. "They don't participate in the Christmas spirit, doesn't mean they'll say no to charity. Or an honestly and with puppy eyes delivered request."
"I don't know, Randa-" Sansa was saying as her eyes darted to the dark windows of the house, but her friend went on unconcerned, and pushed the buzzer.
For a few moments the world was silent after the muffled buzz behind the door died down, and Sansa's ears rung with her fluttering heartbeat. She hoped no one would answer the bell, and they could move on to a more inviting place.
"Well, seems like no one's home-" Margaery began, when they heard faint noises signaling life.
"Gods, I can't believe you two are such scaredy-cats," Randa said. "I'll do the introduction, alright?"
Sansa shuffled beside her friend, crossing her arms and tucking her gloved hands underneath for warmth. After another minute or so, they heard footsteps coming toward the door.
When it finally sidled open, they collectively looked up as a huge figure peaked out, his face hidden by darkness and tendrils of dark hair alike. "What is it you want?" the man asked with a rough voice.
Despite the rude welcome, Randa launched unperturbed into the talk. "Good evening and happy holidays, mister! I and my friends here are going round singing Christmas carols for the benefit of the King's Landing Orphan Trust. We perform an extended list of Christmas songs you might like, evergreens and golden oldies, or something more recent if that's more your thing. We only ask for a free monetary gift, that goes toward the care and education of the orphans of the Good Queen Alysanne Home. If you need proof of our good intentions, we have an official certificate from the Trust for your inspection…"
Sansa knew who was standing in the porch as soon as she heard his voice. Sandor Clegane. A quiver ran down her spine. I haven't seen him since...
She stood fazed as Myranda chattered on. She tried to persuade herself that he wasn't staring at her, that he couldn't have recognized her in this darkness, standing on the only front yard in a mile radius that had no form of Christmas lights. But he did. He had spotted her just as she had him.
What must he think? It's been four years… no, I'm not the one who should feel embarrassed. He should. He mocked me, threatened me…Yet he was also the only one who seemed like he cared…
"-if you're not interested in a personal serenade, we would very much and deeply appreciate a small gift nonetheless." Randa finished. She and Margaery looked expectantly at the man in the doorway, who had completely filled the frame. Now that light from the hall inside came through, his features were cast in ghastly shadows.
He turned his head towards her. "Hello, Sansa," he said softly, confirming her observation.
She heard Myranda suck in what probably was the high-pitched squeal 'you know each other?! How? When? Where?', the reaction she always had at the ready whenever she ferreted out some new information about her friends and acquaintances, and Sansa felt grateful for her restraint. Margaery kept her calm composure without the slightest ripple in posture or face, a trait she had inherited from her grandmother.
"Hi, S-Sandor," she said, stumbling over his name, the first time she ever let it roll off her tongue. Desperate to get a grip on the situation, Sansa decided to act like nothing special had happened. "Would you like me, I mean us, to sing a Christmas carol for you?" She almost bit her tongue because of the lapsus.