Hello readers! This is my new Sansan fanfic that I've been developing for quite a while now. In this story, both Sansa and Sandor are still at Kings Landing;Sansa is still a prisoner of Joffreys. Romance and emotional escape are to follow. Main characters, locations, etc are all property of the genius George R.R. Martin; new characters are mine. Please read and review! If I get enough feedback, Ill update again this week. :)
Enjoy!
The air was warm against her ivory skin, making her fiery hair dance along with the wind. Her eyes were closed as she envisioned the cold of Winterfell instead of the hot breeze. It was useless, however. She held in her tears, just like most days.
The balcony stood above Kings Landing like a gem above the golden city. Beautiful fauna surrounded the castle, reaching her alcove overlooking the capital. Sansa's favorite roses flourished in her tower. Grand birds made their home in these wondrous plants, singing along until the late hours of the summer days.
Sansa had tried to see the beauty of this place, but she would be reminded of her true surroundings by the tender bruises on her arms and torso. The King would remind her any day if she needed it.
She was no Lady in Kings Landing. Sansa was a prisoner.
Now seventeen years of age, Sansa had long passed her time to marry the King. She could remember the days she would blush at the mere mention of Joffrey, but she had been stupid. That is what she would tell herself now. She had been naïve.
Lady Sansa was no longer of much importance. She was used for the King's entertainment once in the while. The other days, the Lady would serve as a beautiful statue, giving pleasure to the eyes of the court. Other times, Sansa would stay in her tower and find something to pass the long days. Her mind would take her to faraway places; she would soar until finding the winter, finding the place she knew was blood of the wolf.
Yet, this was her life now. Her life was empty.
"Lady Sansa, is everything all right…?", her maid called out to her, standing near Sansa.
The Lady opened her blue eyes, light flickering in her irises. A sigh escaped her mouth.
"Yes. Everything's fine."
Erith, her personal maid, was familiar with that lifeless voice. She left Sansa alone; any more questions were unserviceable.
Loud clanking echoed through the large alcove. Sansa turned around, knowing too well what was coming. It was the king's Knights, the wicked Ser Meryn and the younger knight, Sir Lorthan. They had arrived to accompany her to the King's throne room for the feast's adjustments.
"Lady Sansa."
The knights bowed down respectfully. Sansa stood and nodded curtly. She never forgot her manners.
"The King would like you in the courtroom promptly, my Lady," Sir Lorthan stated. Sir Meryn crossed his arms menacingly.
Sansa never had much choice. She knew there was going to be grand feast tonight, but that was the extent of her knowledge.
She followed the knights through her chamber and down the stone stairs to the large foyer. Her cerulean silk gown trailed down the passage, passing countless of servants and knights. Her lungs took in a deep breath as she entered the bright throne room, taking in the beautiful glass windows. The lively afternoon sun showered in.
Lady Sansa glanced at the ominous figure sitting on the Iron throne, surveying her from the altar. King Joffrey did not have his usual grin on his young face. He seemed annoyed at something unknown.
Her eyes surveyed the Kings surroundings, noticing the large figure to Joffrey's left.
The dark grey eyes stared back, his burn twitching as his mouth curved into a snarl. The King's main unknighted guard, Sandor Clegane, stood like an obedient dog near his master. He stood like a sword, ready to strike on command.
Lady Sansa caught his eye; there it was again. There was not that usual disdain or hate in that grey abyss. She could remember the times Ser Clegane would show kindness towards her.
On occasion, Sansa would relive those moments. It made her feel as if she was not alone. These moments were sparse and trivial, but surreptitiously vital to her.
She stood in front of the King, her heart fluttering in her chest.
"Ah Lady Sansa, what a…pleasant sight", Joffrey stated mockingly. He was growing ever so tired of her presence. If it was not for the Queen, he would have killed her and tossed her body to the streets.
"My King," Sansa proclaimed solemnly. She was never truly ready for the beating.
"Spare me, traitor. I am in need of you at the feast tonight. My agenda was going to be quite entertaining yet…well, anyway, I need you for tonight."
He looked straight at her, his Lannister-red garb moving wickedly.
"Ser Meryn will not be enjoying himself, unfortunately. Nor will I. But do not get your hopes up. I have something quite special planned for another day."
Sansa tried not to shake in her dress, trying to appear strong against this dragon. There was not much strength left in her, however.
The King shifted into a more comfortable position, as his grimace turned into an evil grin.
"I want this feast to be extraordinary. The reason? None. I feel like having quite a long and fun evening, don't you think?"
Sansa nodded briefly once again, looking down unto the stone floor. She was thankful for a break from Joffrey's sadistic activities. Yet, she now had to stand hours for his amusement.
The guests will not bother to try and converse with me, Sansa thought to herself. I was the enemy. That would not change no matter what gown I was dressed in or what I discussed. This would be a long evening.
The King did not notice her sighing. He was too exciting to drink and flirt with the other young girls of the court. He was even more exciting for some deeply vicious jousts that he had in mind.
"The feast will be held in the outer grounds of the castle. You will get ready now. Everyone will see the women I can possess…"
The King ceased talking for a moment in order to peer into Sansa again. His eyes seemed to bore pure malice into soul.
Be strong, Sansa. Be a wolf. Remember, Sansa reminded herself.
"And how damn merciful I am with my enemies. I could have killed you a long while ago...but you will be useful to me. I will find a greater way."
Joffrey smiled at himself. The surrounding servants cowered on their feet. Ser Clegane shifted slightly in his stance, more out of annoyance than anything.
"Now, go get prepared. Look your best, oh! And Lady Sansa…"
Sansa lifted her head to meet his malevolent eyes.
"Enjoy the night."
Joffrey's laugh echoed in the throneroom. Sansa's heart sank deeper into hell.
It was near sunset; the air was growing chillier, while the birds were sound asleep. The last rays of sunlight touched Sansa's delicate cheek.
She looked like a queen tonight. Her long maroon dress dipped seductively in a v-shaped neckline embroidered in burgundy, intricate jewels. Complex curves and flowers adorned the gentle fabric. Her long hair was pulled into a set of braids, while her longer curls flowed down her backside.
Although she was the definition of pure beauty, her eyes shown untainted sorrow.
A knock echoed in her chamber.
It is time. Breath. Walk, Sansa. That's it.
"You may enter," Sansa proclaimed, trying to seem in control of her voice.
The large wooden door creaked open, revealing a large figure clad in silver armor. A cloth adorned with the Lannister lion hung on the knight's neck, trailing down behind him heroically. His large muscle tensed beneath the metal. The man's height itself inflicted fear into his enemies.
The burn on his rough face ruined the heroic image, spreading unto half of his face. The gray eye was barely noticeable under the tarred flesh.
His deep, coarse voice, nevertheless, was comforting.
"'Evening, Little Bird."
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