Chapter 2: Meeting Sandor Clegane

Seeing Sandor Clegane standing in the same room as her after all these months brought it all back to Sansa in the blink of an eye. Her attempts at trying to forget the past disappeared with s single look at him. He´s bringing it all back, she thought in despair, rooted to the spot. From the time when I was little to my current mockery of a life.

It didn't even matter that she hadn't met him until she was four and ten. Before she knew it, memories of Sansa's whole life were rushing through her mind this morning in which she was due to set sail to America on the R.M.S. Titanic.

Those recollections overwhelmed her, for Sansa had not been born into this particular claustrophobic life were wealth and the expectations and limitations of what a young woman could do ruled over one's every day thoughts and choices…

Sansa Stark had once been a happy girl with hope in her heart. She had been born in the winter of 1895 at the Stark's vast estate in Yorkshire, and had lived all her childhood protected behind the great walls of Winterfell. I was so sheltered back then, Sansa sometimes thought nowadays with dull resentment.

But she could not find it in her to blame her parents for that. Eddard Stark and his wife Catelyn had never been too fond of the city, so Sansa's earliest years had taken place in the wild moors, far from London. She had been loved and cared for by her parents and all the people at Winterfell, and had grown up to be a girl everyone described as sweet, delicate and kind. A girl who wanted only for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the fairy tales and songs her mother used to read to her every night before she fell asleep.

But when she was eight her mother had died as she tried to give birth to her second child, and the following years had been quite hard for Sansa and Eddard. She loved her father dearly, but it was never the same after Catelyn passed away. The subsequent years following the most tragic event she had known were rather uneventful.

She remained living with her father at Winterfell, spending her days being tutored on various lessons, and in between her teachings Sansa would play with her dog called Lady, and her other dearest friend, Podrick Payne, the orphaned nephew of her father's butler, Ilyn Payne. Pod had been the only other child close to Sansa in age, and had dreamed only of one day becoming a houseboy at the "big house", making his uncle proud.

Old Uncle Jon had been one of Eddard Stark's oldest friends, and the husband of Lysa, Catelyn Stark´s sister, and it hadn't been until the elderly gentleman had died, and Sansa and her father went to Scotland to pay their respects to the bereft family, that her tranquil idyllic life finally started to change.

That trip to the Highlands had been the first time Sansa had met her mother´s sister and her sickly little cousin, Robert. Even if she hadn't grown particularly fond of either of them once she had met them, (though she did keep until recently a current correspondence with Sweetrobin, as little Robert liked to be called), Sansa had rushed to throw her arms around her aunt's neck and had kissed her cheek once her father had told her what her aunt had done for her.

Some days after their arrival at The Eyrie, her aunt and her father had conversed about Sansa's future, and she could only imagine that Aunt Lysa must have explicitly expressed of what a vital importance it was for Sansa to be tutored abroad if she wanted to be presented into the best circles of society in some years time, to the point where Eddard had finally relented to Lysa's pleas and agreed to be separated from his daughter for a time.

Sansa had both beamed with happiness when she learned she was to go to a boarding school in the Continent and had felt a little scared at the prospect of leaving her father and the life she had known at Winterfell, but the promises of what this new chapter would bring had been too alluring and great to really cast a shadow over Sansa's soaring spirits.

So when she was barely eleven Sansa had gone away to the prestigious Mademoiselle Mordane's Acádemie in the outskirts of Paris. She had parted from her father with a heavy heart, but the following years at her French finishing school had been where some of the most wonderful memories Sansa had ever known had taken place.

She had been a brilliant pupil who excelled in almost all of her lessons, and had made many friends whom Sansa could only recall with fondness. The dearest girls had been Jeyne Poole, Mya Snow and Myranda Royce, and due to the years of living without any true female companions by her side, Sansa ended up treasuring those girls as much as if they had been her true sisters.

Her friends had all possessed quite different personalities, but all of them had been taught to be good girls who would never rise up against their parents, their future husbands, or the strict rules society had inflicted upon women of their station. Sansa had been content at that time with being brought up to believe and behave in just the same way as the other girls, for all of them were children and did not know any better.

She could still laugh at the memories of countless afternoons eating on the tower steps that led to the bedroom she shared with her friends. They would all giggle and gossip and share secrets and Sansa would always go to bed on those nights thankful to have met such nice people.

Then one day when Sansa was four and ten her time at Miss Mordane's Academy was done, so her father travelled back to France to fetch her. Despite Sansa's fondness for the school itself, for her tutors and for her friends, she had been as excited to leave it as she had once been to join it, for now that her education was over her life was truly about to start, and Sansa had nothing if not great expectations for her future.

As soon as her studies were finished, Eddard introduced her to as much of Paris´ society as he could. The pageantry of the parties, its men and women in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with its people- all of it had helped to make those days the most magical time of Sansa's whole life, and yet there had been so much she had not seen or done!

I thought my song was beginning the day that father came to pick me up at the academy, but it was almost done, Sansa mused sullenly, for in Paris, not three days after she left school, her father had ran into his oldest friend Robert Baratheon, whom he had not seen for over a decade, and Sansa's fate had thus been sealed forever.

Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had met in Switzerland when they were nine years old, and ever since they had become the best of friends, and neither the passing of time nor the Atlantic Ocean had managed to change this for Ned or for the American he thought of as a brother.

Robert Baratheon, a steel magnate, had been a member of a well-established family, prosperous in the manufacturing industry, who owned the largest fortune in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It hadn't been until a year after meeting him that Sansa learned that Mr. Baratheon had once in his youth wished to marry her father's sister, Lyanna. Sansa's aunt had died quite young though, putting an end to the good match that would have not only made Robert and Eddard brothers for true, but given the former the irrefutable social entrance into European society.

In the end Robert had married Cersei of the California Lannisters, a daughter to one of the most prominent families in America, ever since Cersei's grandfather had thrived in the mining world during the California Gold Rush. Cersei had also happened to be the only daughter of Tywin Lannister, a man who was as rich as Croesus, and who was known as The Great Lion.

Robert Baratheon had therefore married the heir to quite a vast fortune, for even if Cersei had two brothers, neither had ever married or sired children, which meant that his offspring would receive an overwhelming inheritance, particularly for their firstborn son.

Cersei and Robert had shared an estranged marriage since the start, but all Sansa could see when she first met them was how nice, big, loud Uncle Robert was to her and to her father. And even if Sansa had grown up hearing about her father's childhood friend, it was really his family the ones to have dazzled her, particularly her fashionable aunt, who had the brightest smile she had ever seen, and of course their eldest son.

The Baratheons had three children. Joffrey was the eldest, and from the moment of their first introduction, Sansa had been swept off her feet. It didn't even matter that she was just four and ten and he was already quite old at twenty three. Joff was simply the handsomest young man Sansa had ever set eyes upon, with the golden hair and green eyes of the Lannisters, and the impeccable manners of a gentleman that could not fail to impress her.

He had finished his education at Harvard earlier that year, and had been taking the Grand Tour with his parents and younger brother when Sansa first met him. And even though she didn´t really know him yet, Sansa had already fancied herself in love with him, for Joffrey was all she ever dreamt her husband should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hair like gold.

After Joffrey, his mother had given birth to Myrcella and then to Tommen, but Sansa had never met the former since Joffrey's sister- who was about three years younger than Sansa- had been left behind in the United States at Sunspear, her finishing school, run by the fabled socialite Arianne Martell.

Tommen, who had been almost nine when Sansa had first seen him, was a sweet kind boy who unfortunately had a distant relationship with his father and brother, and was not that much loved by his mother, for the apple of Cersei's eyes was her eldest son.

The Baratheons had accompanied Sansa and her father during the remaining days of their stay in France, and Sansa could not have been more pleased. It hurt her to recall what a foolish little girl she turned out to be- so glad when their new friends announced that they would be accompanying the Starks back to England for a short visit, before they resumed their European tour.

Once both families had crossed the Channel, they only stayed for a week in London before Robert Baratheon invited himself and his family to Winterfell, pointing out that it had been more than two decades since he had set foot upon the legendary residence where Ned like to hide himself from the rest of the world.

Oh, to have them at Winterfell! Sansa had simply beamed, gazing at Joffrey worshipfully. She had never felt more proud of her ancestral home as she did on the day the Starks showed the Lannisters the grandeur of Winterfell, which could be seen in every corner of the estate.

It had been during that stay at Winterfell that Sansa had first learned of Joffrey's fondness for sports. Polo, rowing, yachting, and cricket; tennis, golf, cycling, motoring and football, he excelled in them all. And of course each sport required its own set of clothing. Knits, flannel and tweeds in white to knickerbockers and plus-fours (a sort of loose knee-breeches fastened at the knee with a band), as well as knit sweaters in navy. Sansa had proclaimed him the living personification of a shinning knight the first time she saw him in his polo outfit.

If Sansa had not found Joff attractive when they first met, she certainly would have by the time he had spent a week with her at her home, for he behaved like the most gallant of princes. It was unfortunate that about three and a half years ago, Sansa had been too captivated by the attractive picture Joff made in a Norfolk shooting jacket with front and back pleats, with knickerbockers in loud tweeds, to realize how much he liked killing- for it was shooting and hunting the sports Joff liked best, and he was a good shooter and rider.

Yet if she was honest with herself, it was not due to Joffrey or his family that Sansa could recall so vividly that visit by the Baratheons at Winterfell. It was actually due to Sandor Clegane that Sansa knew she could never forget those two weeks from long ago, for it had been during that fortnight that she had learned the truth about how exactly had Mr. Clegane acquired the burn scars on his face.

Sansa had first seen Clegane three days after meeting the Baratheon party in France. She had gone with her father and their Americans friends to see "Faust" at the Garnier Palace, a place populated by men in ties and tails, and women in exquisite gowns.

She had been so captivated by the Love Duet that Sansa didn't even realize afterwards in her distraction that as they all descended the Grand Staircase once the performance had ended, she had separated herself from her father and the Baratheons. At the bottom of the steps she´d begun searching for her father, but the Palace Garnier had been as crowded as any market at midday.

As Sansa searched for a familiar face with a slight sense of anxiety, at one point she had stumbled backwards and bumped into someone. Strong hands had grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa had breathed in relief thinking she had found her father. But when she turned around it had been the burned face of a stranger looking down on her, with his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile.

"You are shaking, girl," the stranger had said in a strong American accent, his voice rasping. "Do I frighten you so much?"

He did, and had for weeks afterwards. Sansa had learned moments later that night that the stranger who towered over everyone around them was actually Sandor Clegane, a bodyguard who worked for Tywin Lannister, and whom Mr. Baratheon had brought along to guard him and his family as they travelled overseas, among other things.

He had accompanied the Baratheons to Winterfell, but would usually work on some secret errand, (and was sometimes even sent to other countries on some mysterious task), that took him away for long periods of time, and Sansa therefore rarely ever saw him.

But near the conclusion of that early and only visit of the Baratheons at Winterfell, Sansa Stark had shared yet another memorable encounter with Mr. Clegane- the second time they had ever conversed since that awkward introduction at the Paris Opera House.

Towards the end of their stay, Sansa's father had hosted a grand hunt in honour of Robert and his family's departure, cordially inviting all of their neighbours over for the outgoing. Sansa had spent quite an agreeable morning with the ladies, and had enjoyed herself immensely during the afternoon talking to Joffrey once the men had returned from the hunt. He´d been the soul of courtesy, for he´d talked to Sansa all night, showering her with compliments, trying to make her laugh, sharing little bits of gossip and explaining japes.

At one point though, Sansa had looked around and noticing that Uncle Robert was nowhere nearby, she had asked Joff where she thought his fathers was out of simple curiosity.

Joffrey had only shrugged and replied, "Father is probably scolding our dog for disappearing for a few days."

"I didn´t know you had a dog…"

"Clegane," he explained, laughing. "Everyone calls him The Hound. We got word from Grandfather back in London that his elder and only brother died last month, and when Father told Clegane, the man disappeared without any notice. He appeared at Winterfell's entrance about two hours ago, offering no excuse. The brothers didn´t really like each other, so it beats me why would Sandor be upset about it. He´s never done anything unpredictable before."

Sansa had stared at Joffrey open mouthed.

"He is my Grandfather's dog in truth," Joffrey went on, oblivious to her shock. "I like him, and his devotion to our family is unquestioned, so hopefully that will make up for this disappearance. His brother, who was his only family, was known as The Mountain that Rides. From what I´ve heard of him, I think I would have liked to have met him..."

She had failed to hear the rest of Joffrey's words, as surprised to learn that Sandor Clegane was called "dog", as she had been to hear the way Joffrey could dismissive such a delicate matter as that of losing a brother.

Sansa had already began to feel very sorry for Mr. Clegane, and had even fallen silent after that conversation, thinking back upon the sibling she had been so close to having had her mother only survived a second delivery, before Joff started engaging her in a more cheerful conversation.

As the event hosted in the grounds of Winterfell evolved into an elegant dinner held outside in a fraction of the gardens, Sansa thought no more of Clegane, for Joffrey made sure she had a wonderful time. Dinner was a marvellous affair, and cups were filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no spirits. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with excitement, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life.

By the time dessert was being served in that charming night, just when Sansa had started to think that if only she had had Myranda and Jeyne and Mya with her to show them what a handsome boy she had by her side- a young man who was paying her every courtesy and attention- everything would be perfect- the evening took a surprising turn of events.

Uncle Robert and Aunt Cersei had started arguing loudly before everyone, and it was quite clear to Sansa that Mr. Baratheon was intoxicated. He had stormed away after Mrs. Lannister gave him the coldest look Sansa had ever since in all her life, and then Sansa's own father had strode after his friend, to make sure he did no more harm to someone else or to his own dignity. Dinner had ended abruptly after that.

Sansa at fourteen knew that it was quite improper to remain alone in Joffrey's company after dusk, but all the ladies around her had already vanished in the night in the arms of their husbands, friends or relatives. If only she could discover a servant or a maid nearby, she would have asked them to lead her back home.

But there had been no other choice for Sansa than to ask Joff if he could escort her back to the house, secretly wondering if she should allow him to take the liberty of kissing her or not now that she found herself in such a situation.

Yet when she turned around to speak, Sansa had noticed Joffrey looking at his mother with a queer look on his face, and before she could even blink, he was saying, "It's quite late and you must be tired."

"Indeed," Sansa had agreed, glad that Joff had spared her the need to ask him herself to escort her back. "The way is so dark. I should be glad for some protection."

Moments later Sansa found out to her great surprise that it hadn't been his own protection that Joffrey had been offering her, but that of Sandor Clegane. The tall man had seemed to take form out of the night, so quickly had he appear after Joff called for him. The light of the lamps that had been set up earlier had made his burned face shine a dull red.

Sansa had stared with eyes wide as pigeon eggs at Joffrey's retreating back as he walked over to his mother, unable to say anything once her golden gallant suitor ordered Clegane to escort her back to the house.

Her disappointment must have been easy to notice, for the tall man had rasped, "Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?" He'd laughed and Sansa had thought that he had a laugh like the snarling of dogs in a pit. "Small chance of that."

He had pulled her unresisting to her feet. "Come, you're not the only one who needs sleep. I'm drunk as a dog, damn me."

He'd laughed again, and though Sansa had been terrified she had followed nonetheless, close behind Mr. Clegane with her eyes lowered, watching where she placed her feet. She recalled that night so well. The ground was rocky and uneven; the flickering light of his lantern made it seem to shift and move beneath her.

But finally the silence weighted heavier with every step. Sansa had not been able to bear the sight of him, for he frightened her so, yet she had finally recalled that she had been raised in all the ways and matters of courtesy and should therefore say something.

"Joffrey told me about your brother, Mr. Clegane. I am truly sorry to hear of his passing. I am sure he must have been a good man. Joffrey said his grandfather esteemed his services greatly. My condolences, sir."

Sandor Clegane snarled at her. "Spare me your empty little condolences, girl... and your sirs. I am no gentleman. I'm the Lannister's dog, and if I told you some of the good deeds my fucking brother committed in his time to young girls like you, you´d not get any sleep ever again without pissing your bed every night."

Sansa never knew why she did not remain silent after those rough words. Maybe it was because she fancied that she could hear a measure of pain in Clegane's voice as he spoke, or maybe it had been because she had wondered then and there if there hadn't been anyone to console him after the news of his brother's death.

Whatever the case, and without realizing what she was doing, Sansa heard herself say in a tremulous, confused voice, "I- I am sorry. I beg pardon if I upset you, Mr. Clegane. But- but your brother is at peace now. Surely that is of some comfort?"

She had meant to sound kind and had spoken truthfully, for when her own mother died, it was at least to some degree more bear here passing if Sansa recalled that she was in Heaven. But right there and then Sansa realized she was must be a poor judge of character if she was silly enough to even consider that what could bring her comfort, could also bring peace to Clegane's troubled soul. He had stopped suddenly in the middle of the dark and empty grounds snorting loudly, and Sansa had had no choice but to stop beside him.

"Someone trained you well," Clegane remarked in that drunken rasp of a voice. "You're like one of those birds from Africa or South America, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite."

"That's unkind." Sansa had felt her heart fluttering in her chest. "You're frightening me. I want to go now."

"Esteemed his services greatly," Clegane snarled, not even really hearing her. "That's truth enough. If there was one man Tywin Lannister could count on always doing the dirty work for him, it was Gregor. And he sure enjoyed it. That boy back in Memphis the week before I left home for San Francisco, not yet fifteen, oh, that was a pretty bit of business. Fool boy, he had no business meddling with the lions, even if it was just The Imp. Look at me. Look at me!"

Sansa had been staring at her feet, not understanding much of what she was hearing but for the momentary mention of Joffrey's second uncle, Tyrion as she hoped that her father would suddenly appear and save her. But Eddard Stark had been busy elsewhere. Instead, Sandor Clegane had put a huge hand under her chin and forced Sansa's face up. He squatted in front of her, and moved the lantern close.

"There's a pretty for you. Take a good long stare. You know you want to. I've watched you turning away ever since Paris. Piss on that. Take your look."

His fingers held her jaw as hard as an iron trap. His eyes watched hers. Drunken eyes, sullen with anger. She had to look. The right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a grey eye beneath a heavy brow. His nose was large and hooked, his hair thin, dark. He wore it long and brushed it sideways, because no hair grew on the other side of that face.

The left side was the cruel result of skin that had once been sear away. Even his ear had been burned to the point were there was nothing left but a hole. His eye was still good, but all around it was a twisted mass of scar, slick dark flesh hard as leather, pocked with craters and fissured by deep cracks that gleamed red and wet when he moved. Sansa had begun to cry. Sandor Clegane had let go of her then, as he placed the lantern on the ground.

"No pretty words for that, girl? None of the little compliment they've taught you?" When there was no answer, he continued. "Most of them, they think it was a burning building, an accident on a train. One fool asked if it was due to an explosion."

His laugh was softer this time, but just as bitter. "I'll tell you what it was, girl," he said, a voice from the night, a shadow leaning so close now that she could smell the sour stench of wine on his breath. "I was six, maybe seven. A woodcarver set up shop in the town near my father's farm, and to buy favour he sent us gifts. The old man made marvellous toys. I don't remember what I got, but it was Gregor's gift I wanted.

"A wooden cowboy of the west, all painted up, every joint pegged separate and fixed with strings, so you could make him fight. Gregor is five years older than me; the toy was nothing to him. He was already near six foot tall and muscled like an ox, and was in talks of entering the Lannister's services.

"So I took his toy, but there was no joy to it, I tell you. I was scared all the while, and true enough, he found me. There was a brazier in the room. Gregor never said a word, just picked me up under his arm and shoved the side of my face down in the burning coals and held me there while I screamed and screamed.

"He was stronger than me. Even then, it took three grown men to drag him off me. Pastors and priests preach about Hell. What do they know? Only a man who's been burned knows what Hell is truly like. My father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, and the town's doctor gave me ointments. Ointments! Gregor got fifty dollars for his first job a week later. A fortune just for doing The Great Lion a service."

The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before Sansa, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. She could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. In all her life she had never dreamed or at least heard of something so horrible happening to someone she knew, and though Sansa had no previous experience to teach her how to behave in a moment like this, somehow, at some point, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that Sansa began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for Clegane now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand.

"He was no true gentleman," she whispered to him.

Mr. Clegane had thrown back his head and roared. Sansa stumbled back, away from him, but he'd caught her arm.

"No," he growled at her, "no, little bird, he was no true gentleman."

The rest of the way to the house, Sandor Clegane said not a word. He led her all the way to an open door at the back of the house, and stepped in after her. They walked in silence through her home, his burned face twitching and his eyes brooding, and he was one step behind her as she reached the stairs that would take her directly to her bedroom in the upper landing, and finally stopped. Sansa had no desire to talk to the guests by that point to bid them all good night, but neither was she about to go upstairs with a grown man beside her.

"Thank you," Sansa said meekly, hoping he´d understand he was being dismissed.

Clegane had caught her by the arm and leaned close, once he had made sure no one was nearby.

"The things I told you tonight," he'd said, his voice sounding even rougher than usual. "If you ever tell Joffrey... your father, any of them..."

"I won't," Sansa had whispered. "I promise."

It was not enough.

"If you ever tell anyone," Clegane finished, "I'll kill you."

That night had happened about two years ago, and Sansa had never told anyone, just as she had promised. The matter had never been discussed between her and Sandor Clegane either. Sometimes Sansa even wondered if he even remembered in the first place that he had told her his deepest secret in a drunken spell.

Not even on the night when she had last exchanged words with him, after that fateful argument with Joffrey some months back that completely tore at last the blindfold from Sansa´s eyes regarding what kind of a man her betrothed had the potential of becoming.

After that momentous night at Winterfell, it had only been a matter of days before the Lannisters finally bid Sansa's father and her goodbye, since there were still many countries schedule for them to visit in Joff's Grand Tour. Eddard Stark had told Sansa afterwards that he was not happy to learn Joffrey took more after the Lannisters than the Baratheons, but had nonetheless given his consent for a correspondence to start between her and Joff.

In the months that followed Sansa spent many nights falling asleep with the memory of how Joffrey had smiled and kissed her hand when they parted at the silver fountain in the gardens of Winterfell, handsome and gallant, taking over her mind and her heart.

Sansa didn't see the Lannisters or her Uncle Robert again until she was fifteen years old, when they returned to England from their travels through the Continent. They had left Tommen in Denmark to be tutored at one of the best schools the Lannister gold and Baratheon steel could afford.

During the long months that had passed since she had last seen Joffrey and his family, certain things had already changed in Sansa's life. For one, since the season in which she would host her coming out ball was fast approaching, she found herself travelling to London more and more often, and that was quite exciting. Several suitors gathered around her quickly, and Sansa was even lucky enough to meet her friend Jeyne Poole again for a couple of days as she travelled with her parents back to Wales.

About a week before her debutante ball took place, Joff re-entered Sansa's life, and it only took him a fortnight before he proposed to Sansa, saying that he had run the idea by her father (and his own), and they had both approved. Over the past months, Joffrey and Sansa had exchanged several letters, and when she first heard of his return, Sansa found herself already building castles in the air regarding her future with him.

It wouldn't be until many weeks later, once she had reflected back upon this time, that Sansa could see clearly what a mistake she had committed in thinking she knew Joffrey well enough to call him her betrothed with just the short amount of knowledge of his past and character that she had possessed.

But even though Sansa had always considered marrying into the aristocratic upper class, to the heir to a baronetcy for example, so that the Starks could elevate from their "nouveau riche" style, Sansa couldn't dismiss Joffrey as a suitable suitor.

Putting aside the fact that their fathers loved each other like brothers, American tycoons were practically considered royalty, and the fact that Sansa's lack of title didn't seem to bother Joffrey, all served as contributed factors to her acceptance of Joff's proposal.

Later, it would be of some small comfort to recall that at least Joffrey hadn't been the first man she'd kissed. That honour had been bestowed to the handsome French boy who used to bring the post at Miss Mordane's Academy, but her fiancé never knew about that.

Time seemed to quicken after the proposal. The very night in which the Starks and the Baratheons privately celebrated the future union of their two families, Sansa's father had taken her aside from the others at one point in the evening so he could have a word with her.

He told her that he had discussed some issues with Joffrey and his father, and he had agreed that they would wait until Sansa was seventeen before their wedding could finally happen. It was not Sansa's place to question her father's decisions, so she had nodded in agreement and kissed him on the cheek, smiling and happy at the prospect that she would have about a year and a half to plan that very special celebration that would see her tie her fate to Joffrey's forever.

Though there was still some time before Sansa began overseeing her wedding preparations, there were still matters of great importance that she and Joff had to discuss. Mainly, where would the wedding take place and where would they live. Sansa had seen many photographs of America before, and while she didn't object at living there, the prospect of moving to another country was quite daunting. Still, it was unpractical to suppose that the heir to the Baratheon steel empire should live in England when his business was in America, so Sansa quickly made up her mind of considering Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania her new home.

During the first months of their engagement Sansa had no cause to complain about the man who was to be her lord and husband. They went out on excursions and tennis outgoings, and Sansa's father even allowed her to let Joff drive her around the country in his open motorcar. Sansa had been excited not only due to the thought of an afternoon with her fiancé, but at the opportunity of finally wearing her automobile bonnet, with goggles to keep the dust from her eyes, as well as the lovely wide chiffon vale that was about three feet in length, and draped around her hat and tied around her chin.

Yet one day, when it all seemed to good to be true, Joffrey finally began to unfortunately behave in a way that made doubts and hesitations arise in Sansa's heart, making her question her own feelings for him for the first time due to her inability to ignore Joff's attitude in particular situations.

It had all started on a summer day in which the air had been warm and heavy with the scent of flowers, and the woods in Winterfell's grounds had a gentle beauty that Sansa had seen in her home many times before. At first glance it was obvious it was a day for adventures, yet by dusk it turned into a disaster.

Joffrey and Sansa had spent an hour riding near the riverbank, and when they had returned to the main house by the stables they had encountered some of Sansa's old childhood friends, among them Podrick Payne, as they wrestled in play, with the hounds barking all around them. Pod had been cheering on their friends when she caught sight of him, and realizing that she hadn't yet properly introduced her betrothed to him, Sansa had called Pod and the others over to her to remedy that, only to regret it forever.

Joff had apologized that night to her after his dreadful behaviour, and though Sansa had finally assured her fiancé that she would let the matter go in the end, it was never the same after that summer day. The seed of doubt had taken root in her mind about just how perfect where she and Joffrey matched for each other, and the more Sansa asked herself that question, the more fear began to gnaw at her heart.

She couldn't help it. Gone was the image of the charming and gallant young man whom Sansa had once thought herself in love with, for every time she saw Joffrey afterwards, his manner and words came out as false to Sansa, to the point where she realized that she thought of him as nothing else than an arrogant, handsome spoiled boy who just happened to be rich beyond meaning.

After that first encounter with Joffrey's true nature, Sansa started to consider the possibility of breaking off her engagement with him, and then it was only a matter of days before she began to look for a way out from her complicated situation. That had been the beginning of the end, though Sansa had not known it back then. At first the only sour memory of that time was that it had occurred during what would become the last days Sansa and Ned ever spent at Winterfell.

Some short weeks later when she met Joff again after she´d settled in London due to her father's growing involvement in business with Uncle Robert, Sansa decided to focus carefully on any detail that may give away Joffrey's true self to her again, and it didn't take her long to find many.

Among them were the fact Joff's views in matters regarding their future together started to slowly change now that he was her fiancé. Now the very rebellious notions uttered by Sansa that had once seemed to impress Joff, where dismissed as silly thoughts or passing fancies.

But by then whenever Sansa thought of telling her father she wanted to break off her engagement, with a crestfallen heart she had realized that she did not have it in her to do that, due to reasons she knew nothing about other that things were not going as well as he would like with Uncle Robert at work. So, bearing that in mind, Sansa decided to wait just a little longer, silently praying that everything will be settled soon for Eddard and her to maybe go away to the Continent, escaping their troubles for good.

But then the end of life as she knew it arrived about a week later with the sudden death of Robert Baratheon in an automobile accident as he drove back from Brighton to London. Sansa had been quite shocked by the news, since despite his many flaws Joff's father had still been relatively young, and full of life and spirit. Her betrothed hadn't gotten along very well with his sire, but Uncle Robert had always been very kind to her.

Her father had been greatly affected by his best friend's demise, yet Sansa had been witness to how little time was Ned able to properly mourn Robert, before solicitors started knocking on their door, demanding meetings with Eddard. Sansa was kept in the dark about all the work her father and Joff's father did together, but she knew they were partners in more than one business, and the day after Mr. Baratheon had died many legal transactions arrived, pressuring an already tired Eddard.

Still, when Sansa's mother-in-law-to-be sent an invitation for her future daughter in law to accompany her in her grief, Eddard could not object to Sansa's going, despite the recent disagreements with Joffrey at work. Sansa herself had written back to Mrs. Baratheon with a heavy heart, due to not only Robert's death, or her father's grief, but because she had realized that she would have to postpone breaking off the engagement with Joff yet again, for who knew how long now this time.

I can't be so cruel as to desert Joffrey so soon after his father's death, Sansa had told herself, as she bid her father good-bye one morning, and vowed to herself that the next time she saw Eddard again she would finally come to him with the truth.

"Be careful Sansa, my sweet child," had been the last words her father told Sansa, after he had made it clear that she could write to him if anything bad happened, and he would go to the Red Keep and fetch her himself.

"I will, Father," she'd promised, not knowing how soon she would need to start truly doing just that.

"I love you, daughter."

"I love you, too," Sansa said, kissing him on the cheek after they had shared a hug.

Sansa had then turned around, straightened her shoulders, and walked towards the motorcar that would take her to the Red Keep, the name of the large country house the Lannisters had moved into temporarily in one of the nicest neighbourhood of London.

It all went downhill from then on. Living alone in the same house as a mourning Aunt Cersei was not something Sansa enjoyed. With every day something would happen to make the charm Sansa had once felt for Robert Baratheon's widow fade away, to the point where she felt that the day when she would finally be able to leave the Red Keep could not come soon enough.

Sansa was never meant to get her wish though, for barely three weeks after her uncle Robert was killed on the road, the most terrible blow Sansa could have envisioned came, and in the most shocking of ways. Sansa's father, the honourable Eddard Stark, had killed himself.

Those times seemed like a memory from another age now, even if they had only happened about a year ago, since everything was and felt so different to Sansa. Those days were like a mix of dreams and nightmares that had happened to another person that was not her, for not only where Uncle Robert and her father dead now, but Joffrey and Cersei and Sansa had changed into quite different people from the once they had first been introduced to in France.

Why, even Sandor Clegane had changed! Even if she hadn't seen him in almost a year, and even if the change had not been too drastic, Sansa was certain of it. It did not even matter that she had not known him for long prior to the death of his horrible brother. Over the last couple of years, Sansa had at times observed the way Clegane behaved and talked, and somehow it looked as if the change, at least in him, was for the better.

I hope you enjoyed this backstory! Next chapter will see the plot moving forward from Sandor´s POV ;)