Sansa ran back to her room, a wraith running through the halls of the Red Keep. The room suddenly seemed so small, the smell of smoke hanging thick in the air. Smoke from fires, smoke from wildfire, smoke from burning men. The whole castle seemed to be full of smoke, and blood and screams. She could smell the blood, leaving a metal taste in her mouth. I don't want this, I don't want to be here. She threw herself down on her bed, huddling small and holding her aching belly. The doll her father had gave her, that she had hated all those days ago, was tucked under her pillow. She could feel it, curling her fingers around it.
"It won't bring him back." A voice rasped from the shadows. Sansa gave a little squeak, jerking up to a sitting position. He was lit all in green, and orange and yellow that danced over his face. They caressed where they had melted once, whispered where they had roared. His plate was stained, blood crusted and rust red. He stood, and Sansa was reminded of how tall he was. "He's gone. Just like me."
"You're not, you're standing here." Sansa whispered, hugging the doll closer.
"I will be soon enough. Had enough of this damn fire, those fucking burning men. No fire god is going to get me." He stood, walking to the bed. "I could take you with me. I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me, no one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them."
"You can just leave? But, the battle..." Sansa looked up at him.
"I've had enough of fighting the Lannister's battles. They gave me this damn cloak," He shook the white cloak that hung behind him, pink now, and scarlet and singed. "It will get me out, and then it can go fuck itself." She looked at his face, the way the scars rippled as he talked. It was a harsh spectacle, a morbid one. "And you can go with me, little bird. It'll be easier if you want it, harder if you don't. I'm taking you either way."
"Why?"
"Because one day that bastard Joffrey won't be satisfied with beating you, he'll use you for other acts. I won't let that happen."
Sansa looked up at him, and she was struck by what he was saying. But really, what did she expect? Any bit of kindness, and shred of humanity that had found its way to her in King's Landing, had been from him. He watched over her, protecting her in his way. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice when he brushed his mailed hand against her hair, resting it on her shoulder. She looked blankly at it before responding. "Please, please take me with you."
"Then grab your little doll, but don't think I'll carry it for you." Sandor Clegane growled, turning around. His arm snaked around though, pushing her in front of him. He didn't stop for much, snarling when he spotted shadows against a far wall. The only place he stopped was the kitchen, grabbing a sack from some wall. Sansa watched as he pushed loaves of bread, cheese, smoked meat and skins of wine and water into the bag. The cooks had long since abandoned the kitchens, running to their families or for their lives. He pushed the sack into her hands, and when she protested at its weight he growled. "Can't swing my sword if I'm carrying that."
From the kitchens they went to the stables, where Sansa wanted to drop the sack and press her hands over her ears. All she could hear was the screaming of horses, horses driven mad by the smoke and the fire. It was deserted, horses not needed for the defense of the wall. But still, they screamed all the same. The Hound was unaffected, making his way to a stall and bringing out a large black courser. The horse was rolling its eyes, and she could see the whites, but it seemed more interested in leaving. As soon as the saddle was on, the Hound lifted her up, then clambered up behind her.
"Easy, Stranger." He whispered, calming the horse. Stranger quickly took off at a lope out of King's Landing, and as Sansa felt the rolling muscles of the horse underneath her, it finally struck her. She was leaving, she was fleeing King's Landing. The knight who rescued her wasn't some kind of hero, but she had learned there weren't any heroes. There were just men, and more men were bad than good. She leaned back slightly, feeling the solid metal behind her, the strong arms on either side. The horse beneath her seemed to fly, leaving the city through a gate and turning towards the wood.
They flew, and left the fire behind.