The 1st Time
Sandor
The Hound was drunk. Ridiculously so.
He had always enjoyed to drink and being the size he was, he could out drink most of the Kingsguard without even trying. Having said that ,he rarely drank to this degree, preferring to remain in control save those evenings where he had a need to celebrate a victory, whether it be in a Tourney or in a battle.
As he made his way back to his chamber he found himself having to support himself against the walls of the corridor. When the other members of the Kingsguard were this drunk, one of their brothers would support them and help them back to their rooms in the eastern tower. That would never happen to him. Regardless of what the cloak he wore stood for, he was not one of them and never would be. He was happy with his small room at the end of a long dark corridor in a barely used part of the castle. It didn't bother him that he wasn't seen as good enough to fully be one of this, he despised Knights and everything they supposedly stood for.
Men of honour. What a joke. The way they beat the Stark girl was wrong, no matter if the king ordered it. They weren't Knights; they were barely men in his eyes.
'Little Bird' he found himself whispering aloud before he could stop himself. Recently he had found that thinking about her, no matter how fleetingly stirred something within him.
When he first became aware of her during the Lannister's visit to Winterfell he had barely noticed her. She was a stupid child, giggling away with her friend, trying to ingratiate herself with Joffrey and the Lannisters with her smiles.
It was only when she had journeyed to Kings Landing and her father was accused of being a traitor that he started to notice her. At first she had annoyed him admittedly that was nothing new, everyone annoyed him. She constantly looked like she would burst into tears and frequently did. Worse than that, was her stupidity and naivety, that really irritated him.
Surely no one could be that stupid, it was like she expected her life to live out like a song.
Despite the fact she couldn't look him in the eye and more or less froze in fear when she saw him, she had always been courteous to him. That angered him most of all, he had done nothing to want or deserve her courtesies yet she bestowed them on him time and again, even when he had all but threatened her not to call him 'ser'.
But recently something had changed within him. He didn't find himself getting quite so angry with her anymore. He still thought she acted stupidly, without thinking and her naivety was truly shocking. But he couldn't understand what had caused the change in the way he thought of her. The only thing he could think was that his estimation of her went up when she moved towards Joffrey with the intention of pushing him off the bridge. She had shown she had balls that he didn't know she was possible of possessing. He tried to convince himself he stopped her because it was his job, he was Joffrey's sworn shield after all, but deep down he knew that was the moment when he started to protect her.
Protect her he thought laughing aloud to himself. How had he protected her today when Ser Meryn had punched her repeatedly in the stomach for not addressing the King in the right way. He felt sick every time he heard her breath being punched out of her, initially she had cried quiet sobs to herself but by the end she had been screaming in agony until Joffrey decided she had learnt her lesson.
A voice in his head had been screaming at him to stop them, to help her. He knew he could, he could fight them off, all of them, even now in his drunken state, he would relish the opportunity to release his anger on them but he didn't. He couldn't. He was Joffrey's dog, here to obey and carry out whatever sick perverse task he required. As much as he wished he could be, he wasn't the Little Bird's protector.
He helped her where he could, he had given her some advice, admittedly it wasn't friendly advice but he wanted her to toughen up, wisen up to this game of thrones she had sound herself in the middle of.
When Joffrey and the other members of the Kingsguard had left her in a heap on the floor, unable to even stand, he had left too, knowing his place. He had got half way down the corridor with them before he found some excuse for him to be excused. He doubled back without anyone seeing him and found her in the same position, whimpering in agony as she tried to straighten her body enough to allow her to stand.
'Little Bird' he had said, aiming to be as gentle as he could, however by the way she spun around he guessed his voice had still sounded as harsh and course as it normally did. He wasn't prepared for her response; he wasn't expecting her to look him straight in the eyes, seeing all of his monstrous face. He was expecting her to shudder and draw back in fear; he wasn't expecting her to smile softly at him.
He had lifted her with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed and carried her towards her chambers, using corridors he knew would be empty. She didn't speak, and neither did he. He wasn't one to offer comfort and condolences, he never would be. He always gave her the truth, told her how stupid she had been, hoping she would learn from her mistakes but today he hadn't even had the heart to do that.
As they finally turned into the corridor housing her chambers she had wrapped her arms around his neck and remained there, burying her head into his shoulder. He had felt on fire, like the heat of her would consume him. But her fire didn't scare him, it wasn't the stuff of his nightmares, it was more like what he had heard her singing about in those ridiculous songs of hers.
He hadn't known what to do or say so he simply carried on, opening the door to the chamber and gently laying her down on the bed. Forcing himself not to look at her he had turned to leave but she had grabbed his hand, making him turn towards her and laid the full force of her eyes to his saying 'Thank you ser' He stood still for a fraction of a second, frozen by how startling blue her eyes were before slightly nodding his head and leaving.
As soon as he was outside the room he found himself almost breathless, like he couldn't get enough of the stuff inside him. And no matter what he tried he couldn't shake that feeling of fire when she had wrapped her arms around him.
He could still feel it now, despite the vast amount of wine he had drunk.
He lay back fully clothed on his bed and closed his eyes, hoping for once that instead of the fire that had claimed half of his face and the rest of his life, he could dream of the fire he had felt when she touched him.
Remembering the stirring he had felt deep in his stomach and beyond when she had him trapped him with those eyes of hers, he finally passed out.
Sansa
Sansa tries not to whimper as Shae helps her out of the bath and assists her in drying her body and dressing her in a lightweight night dress.
As the girl helps her to lie back on her bed, making every effort to make her comfortable Sansa takes her hands 'Thank you Shae, for everything, I couldn't get through days like this without you' Shae squeezes her hand lightly before gently mocking her with a 'M'lady' and a terrible courtesy. It makes Sansa laugh and cry from pain simultaneously.
Shae bids her good night and shuts the door behind her leaving Sansa feeling desperately alone. She knows she is lucky to have Shae. She has given Sansa every reason to trust her, she knows to keep things to herself and she tries to give Sansa advice and counsel to help her cope in these difficult times. She has even started to open Sansa's naïve eyes as to what can be expected from her when her maidenhead is finally claimed.
She is like the Hound in that regard, her advice and truth can be brutal, course even, but they are the only people to give it to her.
Shae has even gone so far as to steal a servants cloak with a deep shapeless hood and shoes for Sansa to wear. At first she was horrified when Shae presented her with the gift, unable to comprehend why she would ever think Sansa would need them. But when the hour grew late and the castle grew quiet, Shae came to her room, dressed Sansa in the cloak and shoes and took her outside to the gardens.
Sansa had been terrified but Shae told her what to do and not to do and she found herself passing through the castle in complete anonymity. It felt breathtaking, it was a sense of freedom that she had not experienced for so long. Usually there was always someone watching her, keeping tabs on her, ready to report back to Joffrey the slightest thing that make put Sansa in a bad night, give him cause to beat or humiliate her.
Twice now Shae had smuggled her into the fresh evening air and allowed her to feel, if only fleetingly, that she was still alive. For that Sansa would be eternally grateful.
Trying to recall those brief feelings of happiness Sansa coaxes her aching body into slumber.
She wakes hot and sweaty and sobbing, her dreams filled with pain and torture, denying her the restful peace her body needs to heal.
She feels bereft; she misses the warmth of Lady, her brothers laughter, even Arya and her wilful ways . She misses her mother's gentleness but most of all she misses her father's protectiveness. She would do anything to feel his arms around her. To feel the comfort of safety from just being near him to make her feel, even if only for a night, that no one will ever hurt her again.
She thinks back to the torture laid upon her today at the hands of her betrothed and his honourable Knights and a manic sort of laughter emanates from her but soon the pain of the injuries takes over and she gently tries to coax her aching body out of bed in the vain hope that she may be able to walk off the some of the pain.
She has stopped trying to understand Joffrey and his vicious wicked ways, she has stopped caring at how betrayed she feels from the supposed Knights, who she had always believed to be so honourable.
Instead she tries to focus on the Hound, she tries to remember how gentle he was with her in his arms, how he tries to help her when he can. How despite his gruffness and sometimes frightening delivery when he does speak to her, everything he says makes sense.
She remembers the heat she felt when she wrapped her arms around his neck and leant into him. She tries to ignore the part of her body that was aflame and instead focuses again on that feeling of safety and protectiveness that previously she had only known from her father.
The pain and lack of sleep must be making her lose her mind because before she knows it she has somehow, despite the agony, managed to dress in the cloak and shoes from Shae and is carefully working her way through the corridors of the Keep, praying she won't bump into anyone.
Part of her is proud she knows where she is going, this is something else she has learnt from Shae. How to gain information without ever asking for it. Shae tells Sansa regularly that her innocence is beautiful but it won't keep her alive, Shae tells her she has to learn to play the game. So that's what she has tried to do.
Sansa never wants to be like Cersei or Lord Varys, their level of deceit and deception is unacceptable to her but she has learnt without having to actually ask anyone, where he is and secretly she is immensely proud of herself. This is where she finds herself on route to.
It takes her longer than expected to get there, but she is relieved that in the middle of the night, the Keep is so quiet. Her body aches and throbs in ways she never thought possible, but it isn't her body she is looking to heal tonight. She is seeking a fragment of peace to counteract the sorrow tugging at her heart.
She knocks lightly but there is no answer, she can see a light under the door so she knows he is there. She slowly tries the handle and finds the door unlocked. Saying a silent prayer to the gods she enters the room.
She can see his massive form lying on the bed. She wants to say something but his constant derision of her manners and her addresses leaves her unsure what to say so she settles on whispering 'are you awake'
He does not respond and she is frozen to the spot but after what seems like minutes he finally exhales a large breath confirming he is asleep lying flat on his back.
Now she is here she doesn't know what to do, she doesn't want to wake him, he will be frightfully angry at her. She knows she shouldn't be here, she knows how dangerous it is for both of them. Her heart, body and soul is so weary she can't bear the thought of finding her way back to her empty chambers.
She decides she will take the comfort and solace she can while he sleeps and leave before he wakes.
She carefully tries to climb onto bed next to him, hoping she won't wake him, knowing it won't end well.
She takes her time, suppressing the whimpers that try to emerge as she puts her body through more torture. She is finally in a position where she can lie next to him, she intends to curl towards the wall keeping away from him so she won't disturb him. She is about to let her body lie when she catches a glance of his face.
She hadn't realised before but there is a tragic beauty to him, her warrior protector and she is reminded of that burning feeling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She can't stop herself from lightly brushing his hair away from his eye on his scarred side. All fear that she held since first setting sight on him at Winterfell is gone, now she feels oddly protective of him, she never wants anyone to hurt him like his brother did. Her heart aches at the thought of what he went through as a child.
She finally stops looking at him and gently lowers herself to the bed and within minutes she is in the soundest sleep she has had for a long time.
Sandor
'SEVEN HELLS' he yells out startling her into consciousness. For a second he sees fright in her eyes when they initially focus on the dagger inches from her neck but as soon as they settle on him they almost seem to sparkle.
He had woken from a dream but had found it hard to claw himself back to consciousness; he knew it was probably down to the wine he had drunk the night before.
He had been dreaming of her, Little Bird, dreaming that she had sought him out for comfort, that she had looked into his monstrous face and smiled at him, stroking his hair lightly. When he woke he felt reality tear at his heart, he was alone, she would never look at him like that or touch him in that way.
But something doesn't feel right. His senses tell him he isn't alone. He reaches for his dagger without thinking, without even knowing what the danger is. By the time it is in his hand he knows to look left.
Ready to pounce, to unleash his power and anger he turns and his right arm flings out the dagger.
By the time his eyes focus he can make out what looks like a body curled up in a cloak on his bed facing away from him. He holds the dagger inches away and pulls back the hood.
The shock of seeing the unblemished porcelain skin and the fire read hair leave his body frozen but he shouts out.
Her eyes fly open any fear he initially sees in them evaporates when she sees him. He stares at her as she softly says 'oh' his eyes are fixated on the formation of her full soft lips as she speaks.
When he does not speak or move she simply says 'Ser' moving her eyes to the dagger .
He quickly pulls the dagger back and moves off the bed. Still staring, still unable to form words. His mind was awash with emotions he can't get a control on, anger, shock, fear – fear of what had he done last night. He can't ignore the sense of relief to know he is fully clothed.
She slowly climbs off the bed, taking care not to rush the painful process. When she finally speaks she fixes her eyes on his again and he can't help but think despite her obvious discomfort she looks more rested than she has in weeks.
'I apologise for startling you, I had hoped to wake and leave before you rose. I can't really explain other than I was scared and I needed to feel safe'
'Here? You came here to feel safe? I am a killer child, there is nothing safe about me' he says shaking the dagger at her as his anger takes over. Does she not realise how stupid she has been, if she had been caught, if anyone finds her with him it will be both their heads up on spikes and that is if they are lucky.
Even when he yells at her, even when he shakes the dagger, she does not take her eyes off his face, his whole face.
When he calms a little, she walks forward, lightly takes hold of his hand a gently brushes her lips to his knuckles. He wants to draw away to show her his anger at her recklessness but he is powerless to stop her, utterly mesmerised by her he cannot not deny her anything. The girl that sets the Hound alight.
She approaches the door and is about to leave but something makes her stop, she turns back to him, and speaks in a such a controlled way he has trouble believing it is in fact his Little Bird standing in front of him.
'Thank you for last night, for what you gave me.'
She lifts her hood back over her hair but he can still make out her face. His voice finally decided to return to him.
'What… What did I give you?' he rasps cautiously
She sighs contentedly ' A moment of peace' She flashes him the most beautiful genuine smile he has ever seen light her face and leaves him alone in his chamber feeling utterly shocked, confused and a little bit overwhelmed of his Little Bird.