"I´m honest. It´s the world that´s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I´m sick of you peeping at me." Wordless, she fled.
George R.R. Martin – A Clash of Kings
She fled down the stairs she just had climbed, her heart and mind racing madly, her eyes burning traitorously. She hurried trough abandoned hallways until she reached her chambers, slamming the door after her. When she almost collided with a startled Shae, Sansa stopped dead in her tracks and took the first deep breath since her encounter with Sandor Clegane on the roof. Her hands trembled slightly and she felt cold sweat on her neck and upper back. Combined with her burning hot cheeks and some loose red tendrils, which had escaped her braid, she must have been a disturbing sight.
"Gods child, what happened to you?" Shae whispered, her brows furrowed in sorrow. The handmaiden quickly put some gowns she had been folding aside and hurried closer. Her gaze swept critically over Sansa, seemingly searching for wounds or bruises, Sansa noted with a sting of guilt.
As a lady born and bred, Sansa wasn´t one to trow a fit easily. Usually, she was on her best behavior, always polite and obedient, as was expected of a lady in her social position. But she had just survived a raging mob, and felt like a bundle of nerves since. She hadn´t told Shae, but the nightmares of her father´s beheading had only gotten worse after what happened at the bred-riot. The last two days, she hardly found sleep and ate only when forced to. As if that wasn´t enough, every single day in court felt like running the gauntlet. Stares and whispers accompanied her wherever she went. Sometimes, they didn´t even bother if she heard them. Nobody seemed to have a kind word for her. People who couldn´t wait to befriend Sansa a moon ago now shunned her openly. Some looked at her with pity rather than malice, but they wouldn´t risk to be associated with the 'traitor´s spawn'. It hurt. A lot. The scene with Clegane was only the last straw to broke the camel´s back.
All of her pent-up frustration unloaded at once. "Oh, he is just so AWFUL! I mean really, how can someone be so... so... so... urgh!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, at loss for words.
"Who is he? Joffrey?" Shae asked further, seemingly getting annoyed by her behavior.
"No, not him, for once. The Hound!" Sansa bristled with anger. With an unladylike snort, she flopped onto her bed, and gathered some pillows under her head. Gods, she knew she behaved childishly, but she just felt like pouting. Her eyes still stung from anger and frustration, and she swore her cheeks had never burned hotter.
A slap on her wrist finally directed her attention back to Shae. "Oh for the love of all the gods old and new, pull yourself together! It´s very much unlike you to throw such a temper tantrum, and frankly, it doesn´t suit you. Now stop fussing around and tell me what happened."
Startled, Sansa considered her for a brief moment with her big Tully–blue eyes, then sighed in defeat. Granted, she knew Shae was right. Throwing a fit would bring her nowhere. Bad enough she had failed horribly in her argument with the kings dog. No need to make a fool of herself in front of the only woman she felt she could trust in this godforsaken city.
And so she calmed herself and began, bit by bit, to retell the incident with the oh-so ingrate Hound. How he had caught her wandering on the roof and nearly scared her to death. She left out the part, were she nearly fell off the battlements, because gods knew Shae would reproach her, if she did. Instead, she recounted how the Hound had mocked her for her inability to look at his face and remembered her `she was happy enough` to see it when the mob ranted and raved at her. That she had tried to thank him and how brusquely he had denied her. And then, because she was unable to stop, she also told her about the handkerchief, the cloak, the advice and the lie the hound had given her.
„... you see? I just wanted to thank him and he mocked and lectured me as if I was a dumb little child! He is so shockingly brute..." Sansa lamented, but came to a sudden stop, when Shae´s eyes flashed. Had the handmaiden just rolled her eyes at her?
Overall, Shae didn´t seem surprised at all about the Hounds brutish behavior, and Sansa wondered why.
Of course, Sansa couldn´t know what her handmaiden knew, sweet little thing that she was. But Shae had a fairly good idea, which kind of man Sandor Clegane was. She had spent most of her time with warriors, sellswords, even some knights... and with their whores.
The Hound was a lonesome man with few joys in life. A brute with no more manners than necessary, a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, a loyal dog to his king, a man you better not glance at too long and, if truth was be told, the best sort of customer a prostitute could have. The whores feared his burns and his gruff manners, but it was said that he was gentle enough, well-groomed and that he gave adequate payment. Not like some of his knightly colleagues like Ser Meryn Trant, whose sexual preferences gave even Shae goosebumps or Ser Arys Oakheart, who was known for trying to beat down the price, even to bilk, despite the fact that he liked to demand extra efforts from the girls he took to his chambers.
In short, Sansa was the Hounds opposite in every way possible.
„The only shocking thing is, that you expected any other outcome. You are lucky he didn´t rip your head off! He is not some knight out of a song, who slays dragons to saves fair maidens. They don´t call him 'the Hound' for nothing. So the main question should be: Why does it bother you?" Shae stated matter-of-factly, her tone bored, almost mocking.
Astounded, Sansa blinked at Shae, her lips slightly agape and eyes wide, as she tried to grasp the handmaidens words. Sansa had expected more compassion in her favour, and felt shocked by the fact Shae did not side with her.
As she answered, her voice sounded touchy even to her own ears.
"I just wanted to thank him, simple as that. What´s so hard about accepting some honest gratitude?" she argued her point.
At that, Shae quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that depends. Was it honest gratitude?"
Indignant now, Sansa shot back. "Of course! He saved my life!"
"And that´s why you did not went straight to him, but waited till you meet him randomly, days later?" Shae drawled, smiling smugly.
Before Sansa could even give that point a further thought, the handmaiden continued quietly.
"Did you know he was the only one, who could have saved you? Boros and Trant refused to leave the Red Keep when Lord Hand Tyrion ordered them to search for you. Clegane could have just saved himself, even only by foot. Joffrey told his noble knights to leave you behind, coward that he is. The Hound really took a risk when saving you. Meanwhile, the other kingsguards and goldcloaks pissed themselves behind the gates. And you lack the bravery to at least look at him? He saved you from rape and probably even death. Don´t you think he deserves you face him? You don´t avoid Trants face, do you? Or Blounts? They´ve done worse to you than being a little gruff. How honest do you think gratitude appears, when the one expressing it does not even look you directly in the eye?"
A short silence stretched between the two women. Sansas mind clattered, as she processed Shae´s forceful monologue. The words 'the only one who could save you' replayed over and over in her head. Had she really sunk so low in Joffreys esteem, he didn´t deem her worthy of saving? And why did the Hound bother to do it anyway? He didn´t even like her... right? Did he view it as a chance to prove himself? Maybe, he just did it because he liked killing those people. But Sansa had a feeling that was far form the truth. Finally, she shook her head in defeat. Whatever motivated him would remain a mystery. But even if only half of what Shae had said were true, her handmaiden was right. The Hound deserved that she looked upon his face, more than anyone else, no matter those rage–filled eyes.
"Ehh... probably... notveryhonest. …. I... I... didn´t know... no one told me... and... it´s not the burns.. not anymore... he is just always so... well, angry." the girl mumbled slowly as she averted her gaze. Now that she truly thought about it, she had been fatuous. The Hound had put his life on the line to save her, and she behaved as if it was an honor for him to do so, as if he had to be grateful, when she decided to praise him with her thanks. And she even had the gall to be angry at him for not playing along.
Another thought flashed trough, and unable to let the matter rest, she added: "But you know I am not free to wander through the castle. And I don´t even know where his chambers are! Besides, to go there would have been highly improper... " She knew she had a point at that, but she also knew, if she wanted to, she would have found a way. She could have written a letter or send a handmaiden for him. But she had done nothing, and for that, she felt truly ungrateful.
"Though, I could have tried, at least..," she concluded bashfully.
Shae seemed to sense she had set the ball rolling, and thankfully refrained from pressing the matter further. Instead, the handmaidens slightly patted Sansas arm and let herself fall next to her on the luxurious feather-bed.
"Well, don´t break your pretty head about it. Next time, you know. Next time, you try better. You certainly didn´t break his heart, if he even has one. And besides: do you think Cersei or Joffrey ever bothered to thank him? At least, you noticed. However, it´s time for your bath now, young lady. Let´s get you out of that dress!"
And with that, Shae started to pull and push on the garbs, while Sansa got lost in her thoughts, feeling a knot forming in her stomach. Oh mother, maiden and crone! She had thought herself better than Cersei and Joffrey, but it seemed as if she, in her shock and self pity, had acted with the same ignorance as them. That truly bothered her, more than the gruff words of the Hound, which she started to feel, as if she deserved them. Not all of them. He needn´t remind her of her fathers beheading, but she supposed he´d just lashed out at her, as he did at all others.
She had to set this right! After all, next to Shae and Tyrion, he was the only person in whole Kings Landing who ever showed her kindness, who gave her more than courtesy and pretty, meaningless words.
Later, Sansa sat brooding in the steaming tub, her mind circling and reflecting. Now that she thought about it, she suddenly couldn´t unsee it: all those little gestures, words and moments... the pictures came flooding back, mingling in her mind with Shaes words, puzzling themselves together. The way he gently dabbed at her split lip, moments after she tried to push Joffrey off the battlement. She knew that he knew she attempted to kill the golden boy king in a moment of blind fury. But he covered up for her, instead of giving Joffrey the reason he needed to take off her head as well. 'Save yourself same pain, girl. Give him what he wants.' Was that sadness in his voice, when she attempted to give him back his handkerchief? 'You´ll be needing that again.'
More and more surfaced from the depths of her subconscious. That day when she had – for the slightest moment – believed him to be her father... and the way his face grew stony, emotionless, when Joffrey send him away moments later. "And you, dog, away with you, you're scaring my betrothed." She felt oddly ashamed of her and Joffreys insensitive behavior, and quenched the impulse to smack her head against the back of the tub. The next memory swam before her inner eye: the vulnerability in the air, when he told her how he got his scars, the day he won her fathers tourney. And how he threatened to kill her, should she tell a single soul about it. It didn´t feel like a real threat, more as if he was surprised by himself he told her about it, and wanted to cut his losses. It was probably the only way to socialize he knew, she realized suddenly. He received his burns at such a young age...
Sansa couldn´t help but wonder. Had anyone protected him against revilement and his brother when he was a boy? Someone who genuinely cherished him and treated him like the person he was, not the sword he would become? Was there someone who showed him kindness and did not shy away from his disfigurement? Aside from his cruel brother, he didn´t seem to have family. At least Sansa had never heard of anyone. Also, Sansa had never seen him with a woman on his arm. Technically, the kingsguards were not allowed to marry, but that didn´t mean they lived chaste. Jaime Lannister was possibly the biggest flirt in Westeros, and everyone knew the rest of the kingsguard frequently visited brothels. But even Sansa was aware those women didn´t offer the kind of comfort she had in mind. Granted, they might satiate the most basic needs and make a man forget, maybe even feel wanted. At the end of the day though, they would leave as soon as their affections had been paid for. What a lonely life that must be.
In summary, it was probably no surprise he kept no gods and was ill-tempered, hateful and bitter.
She tried to imagine what would have become of her, if she had been burned like him. Could she handle the disgust of everyone around, for the rest of her days? Deal with the helplessness she would be judged for something she couldn´t help nor change? Would anyone try to reach out for her and see what was behind her disfigurement? How often could she take the rejection of any man she took an interest in, before she cracked? To the autocracy, she would be worthless, unfit to marry Joffrey or anyone else. She´d have never made it to Kings Landing. But at least her family would love her, if nobody else. She´d most likely become a septa, forced to watch her siblings marry and raise their children, whilst being denied that experience herself. To a family-person like her, it would be only a slightly better fate than marring Joffrey.
Sansa finished her bath, donned small clothes and a robe and seated herself before her beautiful silver mirror, starring at the reflecting surface, but not really seeing herself. Whilst she untangled her mane, she kept brooding, her mind busy reviewing certain incidents over and over again.
When Shae came back a while later to assist her, Sansa decided to seek her help.
"Oh Shae. What am I going to do? The Hound will only be harder on me after today! How could I be so blind to his efforts?"
Suddenly, she felt like crying. What would she give to see her mother now! She wanted to ask her so many things, not all of them concerning Sandor Clegane. Catelyn Stark would know what to do, give her advice with that unfailing wisdom of a woman, who had born and raised five children in the grim cold of the north. But it seemed as if Sansa had to figure everything out on her own. Well, better start step by step, then. She could not approach the Hound and win him over with a fiery speech. Her father had been good with words, but diplomacy was lost on the Hound and he would probably just laugh until he died of a heart attack.
"Don´t think there´s much you can do. I would avoid him as long as he is in a mood." Shae answered dismissively.
When Sansas eyes got a lost look, the dark haired beauty sighed. Sansa detected some sympathy in her words, when she started to explain. "You remember his horse, that big, black beast? It was badly injured during the riot. When he found it, it was more dead than alive. The folks were so crazy about food, they tried to butcher it. What I heard today, it survived, but the veterinary is not sure if he will ever heal fully and be able to carry a rider again. The stable-master told the Hound to slaughter him, but he would have none of it."
A small smile pulled one end of Shaes full lips up. "Who would have thought he could be attached to anything, let alone a horse? But maybe, it´s just because Stannis is coming closer and closer and horses are rare. Not a nice perspective, fighting in the battle by foot, I guess. However, he is in an extra foul mood because of that, it seems. I heard he almost killed Ser Boros in the training yard today. Gave him some cracked rips and a broken nose!" Shae giggled lightly. "I heard they call him 'Ser Bulldog' now."
Sansa smirked softly at that, but her mind was already occupied. She felt very sorry for him and his horse. After all, she had witnessed herself what the starving were capable off. The young woman knew it was not her fault the horse was injured (Joffrey had ordered the Hound to dismount in the middle on a riot, not her, she would not take the blame for that), but she felt empathy for the Hound. She had lost her familiar and could tell how much it hurt. The day she lost Lady was one of the worst she had ever lived through. A piece of herself had died that day.
"Oh no, poor Stranger!" she peeped without much thought, earning a bewildered look from Shae.
"That´s the name of his horse... Stranger. I heard it when we rode from Winterfell to Kings Landing. He really is a beast, no one but the Hound can handle him. One evening, some of the young lads got drunk and tried to steal and ride him as a dare... it didn´t end well." the girl hurried to explain, a shy smile on her lips at the memory. It was said they did not even came as close as to bridle the infamous destrier. Furthermore, the fearsome Hound had refrained from punishing the young men, as he declared that his horse had done a particular good job on teaching them a thing or two.
And suddenly, Sansa was struck by an idea. An idea so bold, it was nearly ridiculous. But also, it could be the kind of gesture that... Well, it could become a striking success or the very reverse. The more she thought about it... if a wolf could not befriend a dog...
Kill him with kindness. That she would do. She would shower him with kindness until he fawned!
Sansa grabbed Shaes arm in excitement and sat up abruptly. "I got it! I know how I can make it up... well... maybe. But I can´t do it on my own. Most certainly, I would have to speak to Joffrey or Cersei... " She worried her lower lip, brooding. Shae felt Sansas bravery die away, as quickly as it came, at the thought of being at the mercy of the spoken ones again, but the Lorathi was not one to be intimidated easily.
"Well, tell me. Maybe I can make myself useful." she encouraged the younger girl, obviously thrilled her lecture had made the girl use her pretty head. Sansa doubted Shae would be able to help, but started to explain nonetheless. She grew more eager, when Shae made no move to brush her idea aside and instead, listened attentively. When she ended, the dark haired woman was quiet for some seconds, then flashed Sansa a genuine smile.
"That´s far better than I expected. I can´t make any promises, but I think I know the right person to put this into practice!"
