Lemoncakes Part 1

Sandor

I never thought I'd find peaceful pleasure in the Godswood, of all fucking places. And yet, here I was, sitting against a tree with my arms folded across my chest, keeping a watchful eye on Sansa Stark.

My presence was supposed to be intimidating, frightening even, so I could scare her into praying for King Joffrey's victory in the upcoming battle rather than anyone else's. But of course, the little bird wasn't afraid of me. Two weeks of doing this had made her comfortable enough with me to bring us at least a little closer.

I still thought she was a daft little thing with nothing but silly songs, but I had a feeling that they weren't the ones about knights and flowers anymore. Not after the way Joffrey has treated her. I, however, tried to give back some hope to the little bird with a few gallant acts of my own.

Like this morning, when the stupid bastard king suggested that "Ser" Meryn give her a beating like no other, to "put her in her place" and to "show her who has real power." I tensed, then laughed loud enough for it to echo through the halls.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny, dog?" Joffrey asked.

I smirked. "You want to strike fear in her with this fool? It won't last very long, Your Grace."

Joffrey sneered. "What do you suggest we do, then? Shove her traitor father's head in her face?"

"She doesn't seem to like me very much, Your Grace. Why don't I meet her in the Godswood every day? I'm sure she'll think twice before betraying you again." I said. "If she'll pray, she'll only pray for me to leave."

The inbred laughed hysterically. "Good dog! Tell me everything she does! Make her squirm! I'm sure she'll just adore you!"

I had saved her, if only for the moment. When I met Sansa in the Godswood the next day, she gasped, and then flashed a small, polite smile at me. I nodded to her and gestured to her silly god trees and she kneeled in prayer. I sat back and waited until she was done to take her back to rooms.

She tried making conversation over the next few days, but I wasn't used to actual conversation, so I just blurted out the first things that came to my head.

Fucking halfwit, I told myself.

But after seeing her face fall time after time, I decided to make up for it in whatever way I could. The thing is, I didn't know how.

Until, finally, the castle had a feast, for one stupid reason or another.

Sansa sat up on the dais with his royal fucking highness beside her. I watched her peck at her food awkwardly, and then dessert was served. She smiled at the sight of her beloved lemoncakes and reached for one, but then Joffrey smacked the tray out of the servant's hands.

"Traitors should not be allowed such luxuries." he said, sneering with his little worm lips. "You should be lucky that I am not feeding you peasant food."

Sansa looked down at her hands and mumbled her apologies, told that he was right and whatever else he wanted to hear. As punishment for her stupidity, the king forbade her from having lemoncakes ever again. Sansa nodded and graciously accepted her punishment, like the perfect little lady that she was.

I felt pity for the poor girl. The next morning I went down to the kitchens and packed away a dozen stolen lemoncakes in a satchel and brought them to the Godswood for her.

I'd never seen her so happy, never heard her thank someone so much.

"Always so courteous…" I grumbled. I was glad that I could make her happy for a while, so she could forget the true misery of her life here. The little bird was much prettier with a smile on her face rather than tears.

After that day, talk came easier for us both and I felt her growing more attached to me. I would often catch her watching me in the training yard, or feel her eyes on me in court. I admit, I did look forward to seeing her everyday, even though her hair looked strange. I brought more cakes for her and she thanked me everyday like it was that first time all over again.

She was a bit wary; I was supposed to be spying on her, after all.

"You're committing treason," she told me, like I didn't already know. "Is… Is Joffrey telling you to—"

"Just eat the damn cakes, girl." I said. "The King's a little shit, do you think I care if he throws a tantrum?"

She stifled a giggle. "Speaking ill of him is also treason. Even if he is a… a little shit."

I had to laugh, and she joined me. "Lady Sansa, what would your mother say?"

"The same thing."

The little bird was getting brave, I noted. She looks me in the eye when she speaks to me.

And now the little bird sits closer to me than she probably should. She looked radiant; the sun made her hair shine like real fire. I could reach out just a little and run my fingers through it, but I didn't, for fear of being burned.

She nibbled at her cakes and admired the clear blue skies, as blue as her eyes. She turned to me then, swallowing the last of her snack.

"Are you sure you're not trying to fatten me up, my lord? Does the king plan on serving me for dinner soon?" she asked with a light giggle, brushing the crumbs away from her mouth.

If he was, I'd hope to be the first to get a taste of you, I thought.

"Even if you were putting on any weight, you'd still be pretty as you'd be plump." I said, and she blushed. I was getting too comfortable. I added, "And I'm no lord, girl, I've told you." just to balance it out.

She frowned. "I can't call you the Hound, you're not an animal."

"You may find this hard to believe, girl, but I have an actual name."

She tested it. "Sandor. Sandor Clegane."

I grimaced. "It's not Kleegane, its just Clegane."

"Clegane. Clegane." Sansa smiled. "Surnames are strange, don't you think?" When she saw my blank expression, she sat closer, full of excitement. "For instance, what if I had my mother's family name? Sansa Tully. Or the queen's. Sansa Lannister. I could never picture myself with that name!"

I chuckled. "What if I was Sandor Targaryen? Or Sandor Martell."

Sansa laughed. "What if you had mine? Sandor Stark." She mulled it over in her mind for a bit. "Our names are quite similar, so I suppose it doesn't sound too strange."

"Sansa Clegane." I said with a laugh. She laughed with me, but then I realized that I quite liked the sound of it.

Sansa Clegane.

I imagined her, the pretty little bird trading in a grey cloak for a yellow one with three black dogs sewed upon it. The pretty little bird wearing my cloak and my name.

Sansa Clegane…

I shook my head. No, I told myself sternly. Get that out of your head now, stupid dog, it'll never happen. She's the king's betrothed, she's a highborn, for fuck's sake, she's Sansa fucking Cle—NO!

Fuck. Fuck. What have I done? What in the seven fucking hells have I done to myself? Now I'll never forget how sweet her name sounds with mine attached. For fuck's sake, picturing her breasts beneath my hands was one thing, but this? As my wife? What the hell was wrong with me?!

Fuck, what if she suddenly knew exactly what I was thinking?

No, stop it, you're being stupid!

I tried to relax as I downed the rest of my wine, then I stood and asked the little bird if she was ready to go. She looked disappointed, but said yes. We cleaned up, she dusted off her dress, and we were on our way.

It was after sunset, so it was hard to see as we made our way through the trees together. Sansa held my arm to keep herself balanced and let me guide her through the darkness. I could feel her pulse and warmth of her hands through my tunic. She was so close to me. I could turn my head now and ki—

"Sandor?"

Fuck, why did my name sound so lovely when she said it?

"Yes, little bird?" I grumbled.

She let go of my arm and took a step away from me. I was both relieved and disappointed, but she was still at my side.

Her eyes were downcast, watching her hands as she played with a piece of cloth. "I just… wanted to thank you for making me feel… better. Happy, even if only for a few moments."

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and continued to lead her to her chambers. At the door, Sansa held my hand and gave it a light squeeze. She smiled and vanished behind her door, leaving me nothing but a flash of red hair. Her scent lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of summerwine and lemoncakes.

I looked at my hand. She had given me the cloth she was playing with. I opened it to see the whole thing and was pleasantly surprised to see that she had sewn me a new handkerchief, with my house sigil in the corner.

I smiled and walked to my room, running my thumb along the edges of my gift.

Sansa Clegane.