Beta Reader: Another massive thank you to Weshallflyaway for taking time out of her crazy schedule to go over this for me! You are amazing that is all!
Warning/Triggers: none to speak of save for Sandor's foul mouth.
Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it. Some quotes have been taken directly from the novels because of the scene this chapter is taken from. Just a reminder I own nothing, not even this prompt is mine! XD
It was evening when Sansa cornered him in one of the Red Keep's many hallways. Sandor had just finished his duties and was intent on visiting one of the many local wine sinks. With his name spoken so sweetly on her full lips and a smile so radiant that it held him captive, she presented him with the blue ribbon. 'It is for you,' she kindly chirped. The little bird was even better motley than the Queen.
Often Sandor would witness the rich and powerful unleashing their perverse mockeries on the pitiful and the poor. It was a common source of entertainment for those who had far too many titles, dragons, and wine to do with. It was years since he had been the victim of such games; the last one who tried did not live to see the morn. It had not been his first kill, and certainly was not his last either. The rich and powerful feared the Hound nearly as much as they feared his wretched brother. Clearly, the girl had not heard the rumours or tales of his ferocity. Why else would the little bird continue to play as though she were besotted with him? He did not know what infuriated him more, the fact she would not let the game end, or the fact some part of him almost wished it were real.
'What's this for?' he rasped staring at the ribbon as though it were a weapon, not a prize to be held.
'It's my hair ribbon, I want you to have it…to wear as a favour,' Sansa stammered, struggling to meet his gaze, as her porcelain cheeks flushed a rosy red.
As a boy he used to dream of such a moment; him as some regal noble knight receiving the favour of a pretty maiden whose heart he held and cherished. That was a lifetime ago, before Gregor burned away all his dreams and hopes for the future, before he learned the truth about knights and their noble ways. The young man knew the truth and he could take it no longer.
'Seven bloody hells! Who put you up to this, girl?' he growled. Stunned by his outburst, she gave him a look of confusion that was so well done, Sandor almost believed it to be sincere. 'Answer me!' he demanded in rage. The young maiden shrank back, her blue eyes filling with unshed tears. Yet she did not run away.
'No one, Ser, I swear by the old gods and the new!' she pleaded, the blue ribbon shaking between her trembling fingers.
'I already told you, fuck your Sers. I'm no more a knight than I am a lord. Do I need to beat that into you?' he threatened, despite knowing he would never intentionally hurt her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, as she glared up at him with indignation and hurt in her blue eyes.
'Why must you be so hateful? I only wanted for you to wear my favour in the tourney tomorrow, for luck,' she stammered. 'A simple refusal would have sufficed!' she quipped before turning heel and departing back the way she had come.
Sansa was either a very good motley, or she was as blind as new-born pup.