Chapter 2

Sansa

Sansa felt herself go faint. She was to marry the hound.

Her freedom was snapped away from her within a second, before she could even savour the feeling.

He won't hurt you like Joffery.

It was only when she realised the Hound would be a better fit that the world started to come back around her, only then did she become aware of Joffery's twisted laughter and Cersei's expression of absolute rage. "My king, surely you know of someone much more suited for our sweet Lady Sansa." Cersei could barely muster up a trace of her usually flawless, graceful voice, Cersei was furious. "Mother, I believe my match to be ideal" Joffery flashed his usual malicious grin whilst waving his mother off. Her face turning a brilliant shade of magenta in the process.

"Are you not going to thank your king for his kindness, Sansa?" Joffery leaned forward in his throne, smiling with some form of satisfaction as he awaited her response.

"I can only apologise your grace, I was so overwhelmed with such happiness to my new betrothal, I am ever so grateful." Sansa slowly bowed, feeling the hounds own eyes burning into the back of her head as she spoke.

Joffery wasn't happy with her response, clearly he wished she would burst into tears and run off from the court room in disgrace, Joffery's brow creased as his vicious gaze burnt into her face.

"Fine." He spoke curtly as he leaned in his throne whilst interlocking his fingers together. "You shall be married on the morrow." Joffery eagerly waited for her response to that one. As did the hound.

"Thank you, your grace, I shall be ever so happy when I am joined with my betrothed." Sansa bowed gracefully, her lips forced into a gracious smile as she once again cut Joffery down.

He didn't hold back.

"Ah, And then there will be the bedding, I'm sure you shall be looking forward to such a union with your precious dog." Joffery's lips curved into a wide smirk as Sansa's cheeks heated with a blush.

She couldn't reply to that one, It seemed this effected the Hound to, as she heard him suppress his usual violent snarl and shift to his other foot.

"Thank-you for your kindness your grace." Sansa quickly bowed, trying to take her exit of the court without breaking into a run.

She felt her hands shaking, body trembling as the realisation of the situation hit her.

Married to The Hound. She convinced herself that it wasn't too bad, infact the idea of being married to Joffery seemed to shake her more, The hound has been kind to her, surely there could be worse matchings for a lone wolf surrounded by hateful lions.

Sansa felt a steel grip upon her shoulder, forcing her to turn and face The Hound.

"You don't want this, do you little bird?" The Hound looked rather solemn as he rasped, his voice as gentle as he could produce.

"I-..I don't know" Sansa could barely speak to him, her stomach tying up in knots as she looked upon his face, it wasn't fear, she knew. She didn't know what it was, perhaps anxiety to what would come?

"We'll have to go through with this, little bird." The Hound shift awkwardly as he stood in her gaze, It was the first time she had ever seen him remotely uncomfortable around her."I will be a good wife." The hound's lips twitched at her dutiful response "I know little bird, I know."

Sandor.

Sandor could only watch as the little bird got flustered and fled to her nest.

Poor girl, married to a mutt like me.

Sandor decided to act on his usual philosophy of drowning himself in dornish red.

As he finished his second skin of wine, he felt his shoulders loosen up.

Fucking Joffery, I'll rip the little shits throat out.

His thoughts grew more intense and detailed as he started his third skin.

The little bird caught in a cage with an ugly mutt. She touched your face, once.

Sweet little bird, She didn't deserve this.

As he continued to drain his third skin of wine, a tavern wench came forward, her lips curved in a lewd smirk and her eyes locked upon him. His coin, more like.

"Are you alone M'lord?" She stepped forward with slight hesitation, her chest pushed out to try and tempt him to purchase the goods on offer. "I can always give ya' company." Once again, the wench stepped forward – her presence seemed to aggravate him.

"I don't want what you're offering, wench." His rasp a near snarl as he glared upon the woman.

She couldn't been older than twenty, rather young for a whore.

Her face showed promise of slight beauty, but in her current condition she looked dirty and plain.

"No need t'be mean, I was only...-" He snarled once again, sending the young woman on her way without a second of thought. Bitch.

Sandor waved his hand, getting yet another skin of wine. What about your wedding?

Shit on the wedding, he didn't want it, nor did she, why should he have to condemn her to a life of violence, why should he have to suffer her loathing every day of his miserable life.

Fucking Joffery.

Just as he seemed to be drinking his way into a calm slumber, the local gossiping in the tavern reached his ears.

"The stark girl Is ta' wed the hound I 'ere, terrible isn't it?" The wenches voice a mere whisper.

"Poor girl, she must be terrified." The second woman didn't bother with such efforts of masking her voice. "Then again" she continued "Can't 'elp but wonder what the dog is like in bed, such a big man, maybe in more than one way" The group of girls, more than the two he heard, giggled openly, a new voice chipped in "Still, she'll be protected enough" to which the first wench retorted "Still, having to sleep with that monster – I'd rather be dead."

That was when whatever was keeping him calm snapped, so he stood, hands balled into such tight fists his knuckles went a pale white, his face a furious red it was as if his face was once again on fire. "I can make that happen, wench." The girls huddled around the table went a deathly pale, the one who had been open with her tongue backed into her seat, a shade paler than her friends.

"And, wench – A monster like me wouldn't fucking touch you with a stick, so pipe down." He grunted as the girl turned bright red.

It was time he left, this he knew for certain – the whole tavern had stopped their merriment and drinking, turning all their focus upon him with a curious and expecting inquisition.

They hoped he'd make more of a scene.

Fuck them all.

Sandor paid what was owed to the barkeep, taking his quick leave of the tavern.

He had to get rest, for he was to be wed on the morrow.

Seven have mercy.

Sansa

Sansa could barely sleep, in fact, she didn't sleep at all, she was to be married today. Married to the hound
Her handmaiden attended to her, showing her the dress with a gasp of approval "Such fine silk, you shall look like a princess today dear."
Sansa smiled as if she agreed, though the material of the stupid thing didn't bother her now, it would have.
Back in her land of fairy tales and songs, she would have praised the silk and even praised right down to every minute detail.
The dress didn't phase her now, it looked horrible to her - the dress in which she would be wed to a man who didn't want her.

He didn't, at least she knew than having to live a lie, her dreams of the perfect knight, in love with her - protecting her seemed far away now. He did protect you. But he hasn't spoke to her since they learnt their fate, she would have expected him to spend some time with her, they were to be married after all, even if it were against their will surely he would stay with.
But he didn't.

As he drunk his way into oblivion on his favourite dornish red, which was his way when things didn't go to plan, Sansa learnt Cersei's true plans - She wanted her married to Tyroin Lannister, The Imp.
Married to the Imp!

For all the kindness the Imp had shown her, She still couldn't bare even the thought of marrige with him, with the hound it was different, they were different. She held the hound close to her heart, she didn't know how close though.

And that worried her.

Sansa lazily looked upon her form before her, if it wasn't for her nerves she would've taken pride in her majestic appearance, she looked like she belonged in kings landing with the deceitful lions. Maybe the hound will think her pretty.
The thought of the hound looking upon her with approval, him thinking of her more than his little bird gave her some excitement.
Once they were married, she assumed that their relationship would change, she would love him, she thought of him
dearly now, perhaps like her own mother and father their relationship would grow, and with it, they would be strong.

Sansa felt her nerves on edge as she began her journey to her wedding ceremony, after this she would be Sansa Clegane, wife of The Lannister's hound. She should be scared, maybe she was in shock?

Her nerves were further shaken by the sight of Joffery, dressed in his gallant finery, waiting for her.
"I shall be your father today, Sansa" He took joy in that.
"You will never be my father." Sansa spoke rather calmly, though under the facade she was boiling away, ready to burst.
"Even so, I hope you enjoy your wedding, I'm sure after all the wine he can drink the hound will really enjoy what follows."
Joffery laughed as he took her arm, clearly enjoying her expression of shock as he led her to the ceremony.
He leaned towards her before they progressed further "If he doesn't please you, my lady, you need not worry, for I shall always be of service when the hound doesn't bark, I'm sure I'll manage to make a little wolf bitch howl." Joffery spoke in a sinister, sly voice, his lips twitching into a coy grin as he dragged her through to the hall - leaving her no time to conceal her disgust of his words as she looked directly at the hound.