Once King Eddard had discovered that the cause of Sansa's outburst was her sworn shield, Sandor was called in to join the pair in the King's solar.
The little bird sat sheepishly in front of her father's desk, kicking her feet lightly and sniffling. With great apprehension, Sandor took the ebony chair offered, next to her, and faced King Eddard, who graced him with a stern and somber expression. The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms looked to be at his wit's end. No doubt his perfect daughter wailing the Lannister boy in the face had just been the icing on the cake for a terrible week. His beard was shot through with bits of gray, but he still maintained the overbearing presence of a man to be respected.
"Clegane."
"Your Grace," Sandor responded respectfully, bowing his head. He felt the little bird's eyes on him, so he snuck a glance. She blushed and frowned, turning her gaze back to her hands.
The King sighed. "Tell me again what happened. Sansa has been less than forthcoming with this little tale, and Lady Cersei seems ready to burn this city to the ground in vengeance."
Sandor cleared his throat awkwardly, not quite sure where to begin. The manners required to speak to queens and kings had never been his strong point, and the princess was used to his rough ways, so he had not guarded his tongue in a long time. "They were taking a stroll in the gardens, and I was trailing behind. The Baratheon boy said something offensive to Princess Sansa and then she..." he tried not to smile at the warm memory of the girl's fist colliding with the brat's nose. "She struck him, Your Grace."
King Eddard looked skeptical. "Offensive, you say. Yes, she said the same. What I am curious about, is what this offensive statement was. It would have to be quite the insult for her to act so much like Arya." He glared at Sansa then, but she would not look up, nervously smoothing her red gown over and over again. "And my daughter will not reveal to me what was said. Perhaps you could enlighten me, Clegane."
Now the sworn shield was under the full weight of the gray-eyed stare and wished he could be anywhere but in the spacious solar. For the first time in his life, he was utterly conflicted on whether to lie. Telling the truth had never been hard for Sandor - he found that brute honesty got things moving quicker. Yet how would the King react if he knew the little bird was protecting him, instead of the other way around like it should be?
Bugger me, I'm a shit liar. "The boy...ah...the boy insulted...well the boy insulted me."
Next to him, Princess Sansa exhaled a large breath, shoulders slumping in defeat, resigned to her fate.
"Insulted you?" King Eddard questioned, leaning forward now in interest.
"Yes, Your Grace," Sandor confirmed. Just end the interrogation there, please.
He drummed his fingers on the table. "Joffrey insulted you, and then my daughter punched him. That's what you're telling me."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"My daughter punched her betrothed in the nose because Joff was rude to you, Sandor Clegane, her sworn shield." The King's face was heavy with bewilderment.
Once again, Sandor winced and answered, "Yes, Your Grace."
"I do not want to marry Joffrey!" Sansa cried then, eyes wide and begging, glancing between her father and her sworn shield. "He's mean." Sandor almost laughed at that, recalling how just that morning she swore that Joff was the love of her life. How fickle the affections of a child are.
"Well sweetling," her father sighed, "Lady Cersei has already ended the engagement, due to her son's injury. Apparently she feels as though you are abusive." The King laughed incredulously at that, throwing his hands in the air in an unusual display of frustration. "So it seems you will get your wish."
Though her face was still red from embarrassment, the little bird couldn't help a small smile at her father's words. She peaked at her guard from under red lashes and Sandor couldn't help but grin at the silly little bird turned little wolf. She had certainly taken control of her future in the gardens, and Sandor was undeniably proud.
"Which of course leaves the crown and the second most powerful house in Westeros in a tense position, with tense being an understatement." Stark pinched the bridge of his nose and Sandor realized the seriousness of the situation. He tried to care about the delicate balance of politics, he really did, but all Sandor could see was the red-haired wolf turning her claws on the arrogant lion.
And that memory would be enough to see him happy for the rest of his days, he was convinced.
"But that is none of your concern. Sansa, go. Your mother wishes to see you. Together you will apologize to Joffrey."
The girl pouted but stood to follow his instructions. Without a thought, Sandor stood as well and turned to follow her, but was halted with a stern, "Not you, Clegane. I'd like a word."
Princess Sansa looked concerned, but Sandor sent her on with a nod. She left the room with a frown and the sworn shield sat back down to face the girl's father.
...
...
...
He found the little bird some time later, bare feet dipped into the cool pool of the Godswood, flopped on the grass, red hair spread out underneath her like a flame. One of her handmaidens was sewing on a bench nearby, but other than her the secluded wood was empty. The trees shadowed the small clearing of grass, and caused the sun to cast leaf shadows on the blue water. The princess looked as though she was born out of the wood - her hair matching the color of the leaves so truly.
Taking a seat on the ground next to Sansa, his armor clanking, Sandor asked, "How is the hand, little bird?"
She opened her eyes at his inquiry and sat up. He noticed the direwolf then, as it stalked out from the shadows of the trees to keep watch. "It hurts a bit." Sansa replied, and held out her fist for his inspection. He saw the beginning discoloration of a bruise.
"It's going to bruise, girl. You really gave that bastard a hard hit huh?"
"Sandor," she scolded. "You should not use that word." Yet the corners of her mouth upturned slightly at his praise and ran her fingertips over the darkening skin of her knuckles. "I did not mean to hit him. I mean, I did not think about it before I did it." She looked up at him then, a hint of shame coloring her cheeks. "I was just angry."
Sandor knew a lot about acting out of anger, so he was in no place to reprimand the princess. Though he had never had someone act out of anger to protect him, and he still wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"Have you told your sister what you did?" The sworn shield asked.
Princess Sansa nodded meekly. "Mother told Robb, and Robb told Arya. She laughed and then asked if she could hit him too. That made Mother very cross, and she said absolutely not!"
"And did you apologize?"
"Yes," she grumbled. "Joffrey refused to see me, so I spoke to Lady Cersei instead. She said I was a rude, spoiled young lady, and other mean things."
"Lady Cersei fucks her own brother, what the hell would she know about courtesy?" The little girl looked so shocked, Sandor could not help but chuckle. Deciding not to explain any further for fear of ruining her innocence, he continued. "Well, you know I won't give you a speech about acting with grace, or why it's wrong to break your beloved's nose -"
"I do not love him!" Her brow furrowed in discontent and she scrunched up her mouth.
Sandor continued, undeterred. "But Sansa, it is my duty to shield you, not the other way around. It is...not proper," he echoed the words of King Eddard that had been spoken to him. "You must not do that again. No matter what...is said of me." He paused, then added: "Though do not think that I didn't enjoy watching the boy sob for his mother."
"But Sandor," she whined, grabbing his large hands with her small ones. "It's not fair if you watch out for me, and nobody watches out for you!"
He sat straighter then, looking down on the small girl, and growled. "Does it look like I need protecting to you?"
She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "Lady is stronger than me too, but I still protect her! I make sure she doesn't have to sleep in the cold. That's the same thing. We're a pack, Sandor." The direwolf's ears perked up at the mention of her name and she slunk over to her mistress, allowing Sansa to run her hands through her thick, gray fur.
"So you will save me from sleeping outside then, little bird?" He teased.
Though Sandor had joked in an effort to keep the conversation light, Sansa's response reiterated everything King Eddard had drilled into him: their relationship had become too close for their class differences. With great blue eyes, little Sansa implored, "I protect you from people who don't know you like I do. If they knew you, they would love you too, I know it."
The sworn shield knew he should not encourage these odd declarations of love, nor allow her to act in such a way again. He should listen to his king, the one that told him his relationship with Princess Sansa needed to drift back into that of a guard and his charge, rather than a little girl with a devoted Hound at her heels. But Sansa's heart was too gentle to break.
So instead, he merely muttered his consent. "Whatever you say, foolish girl."
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Wow, thank all of you so much for all of the kind words and encouragements! They are all so sweet, and I'm glad that people have found a few smiles here :)
So here's another one. Lord knows when I'll be able to stop writing these haha. Reviews are most certainly welcomed!