Flickering Flame

The last time Sansa had hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep, it named the end to her old life and the fragmentation of her family. Terrorised by the cruelties of reality, she was certain, destroyed the strength of her brothers and sister, her father and mother. How she missed them. Sansa had forgotten what it was to love and to be loved but exceptionally, safety was now a long lost dream. As The Hound tore her through the fire lit corridors, the clashing of armour and fabric together, they reached her chamber. The action spoke of a hideous mirroring of that fateful day, she had faced ugliness she never thought existed but as The Hound brought her through the doorway and lit carefully the lantern by her bedside, she realised as she gazed upon his face, shadowed by darkness and haunted by the flame past and present, that he was the most beautiful she had come across in her life at King's Landing.

The Hound's brow was always furrowed, yet even with half his face melted away, she could see softness as he glanced down at her. Sansa's gaze flickered around her room, a room of luxury ,as the Hound had bluntly announced, and it did indeed meant nothing to her.

"Why are you so angry, My Lord?" She hesitated, afraid of breaking the silence and incurring his wrath. He didn't give any indication of answering, the dark depth of his eyes swallowed whatever words she would have continued with. He took a step closer, as delicately as he could and Sansa tried her best not to shrink away. He reached out then, his gloved hand hovering above her hair a the side of her face. He seemed conflicted about something, his eyes betraying a secret and hidden story and Sansa realised the Hound was lost in a memory long past.

"I don't understand?" She offered quietly. He turned away then, his broad and powerful back blocking any light from the window.

"You know of my plight with fire, girl. Of Gregor?" He asked. She felt afraid once more, but for the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her fear and it's consequence on someone else.

"Yes... Lord Baelish told me of the tale of the Mountain and the Hound."

He took a step closer still, unconsciously bracing for the unknown, Sansa tensed but kept her eyes locked with his. His hand went to her hair once again, his other hand went to her arm and slowly, he dragged her red hair through his thumb and forefinger, down the strands, just as the hand at her arm drifted he length of her arm to her wrist.

"Your hair." He gruffly stated, his voice deep loud in the room as it rumbled across the cold stone walls.

"Like fire." He continued, looking back at her face. She was confused by the intensity of his gaze and the comment.

"He said no Knight in the whole of the king's guard would protect me, if you were ever to know that I knew of the origins of your face." She shifted uncomfortably, her voice wavering, her eyes and throat burned with emotion and un-shed tears.

"Do not ever offer me pity, Little Bird, if you knew what I had done, who I have killed, you would not be so trusting of me. Never forget who I am, girl. I am a dog and you are the King's Bird."

"You are no dog to me." She said confidently, raising her chin slightly.

"What is your name?" She asked, curiously. His scarred face twitched, jaw clenching.

"Clegane. Sandor Clegane." Sansa felt a smile break, the muscles in her face aching at the strange motion. She thought she could see the corner of his mouth turn upwards, but in a moment it was gone, the shadows were flickering illusions.

"Sandor.." She tested, his name unusual on her lips. His head tilted to the side slightly, his hair falling in-front of his face. She watched him for a moment longer, before reaching up and moving the thick cluster of hair from his eyes. He grasped her wrist as her fingertips brushed the twisted side of his face, her wrist tiny in his hand, unintentionally crushing it in a bruising grip. She gasped at the speed and the pain. He instantly let go and hastened from the room.