Chapter 10: Long May Your Innocence Reign
(*Title is taken from a line of the song "Be Still" by The Killers*)
When Eddard Stark died, his daughter had given herself to darkness. She didn´t come out of her room at the Lannister´s manor in London, and the whole household knew that she spent her days sleeping. Servants took her meals, but the dishes returned to the kitchen, untouched and spoiling.
Sandor had witnessed it all with a stony expression, longing to at least see the little bird once, but he kept his distance. Not out of fear from the lions, but ignorant as to how the fuck he could bring Sansa Stark comfort.
"Sometimes my sleep was leaden and dreamless, and I would wake up from it more tired than when I had closed my eyes…" Sansa was telling him now as they sat on a bench on the poop deck of Titanic, remembering and smoking. For the first time, she was pouring it all out.
They had been sitting there for some time, but thankfully no one had come and interrupted them. Sandor knew that the little bird by now was calm enough to allow him to escort her back to their staterooms, but he wouldn´t have moved from this spot even if the ship´s sodding Master-at-arms had come personally to arrest him.
He had saved Sansa from throwing herself off the vessel, and Sandor knew that what she needed now to feel better was to unburden herself. And sitting there and just listening to her, no matter how angry it made him at moments, was something he not only could do, but also wanted to do.
"…Yet those were the best times," the little bird continued, occasionally hiccupping, a far away look on her beautiful face as she stared off into the horizon. "For when I dreamed, I dreamt of my father. Waking or sleeping, I could not stop wondering what he must have been feeling and enduring to make him pull the trigger. Of course now I understand, but losing him, and in such a way, had been the worst thing I´d ever experienced, up until that point. "
Sandor shifted uncomfortably on his seat, debating for the hundredth time whether or no he should keep silent on that matter. He hated to keep quiet, yet he feared now more than ever what Sansa would do if she knew the whole truth about the way Ned Stark had met his end. He was considering whether or not it was a good idea to speak out, when the bird´s next words stopped him.
"When Trudy tried to talk to me, I never answered her," Sansa went on. "And when Doctor Pycelle saw me and prescribed me medicine, I swallowed it all in one drink, thankful it made me sleepy… Joffrey went to see me every day for a fortnight, but I was always either asleep or pretending to be. I had already decided not to marry him since that horrible misunderstanding with my friend Podrick back in Winterfell, before Uncle Robert died. I told myself that as soon as I felt better I would break off our engagement. But I couldn´t face going back to Winterfell on my own, so I decided to go to Scotland and stay with my aunt and cousin."
She stopped to take a deep breath as Sandor threw the butt of his cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot. Sansa watched his movements before continuing.
"As you probably know by now, I was corresponding with my aunt to arrange my passage up North; because after her son got sick, she was unable to attend father´s funeral… But Cersei decided to read my mail and we both know what happened afterwards."
Sandor nodded, the memories still fresh in his mind. He remembered that night as if it had been yesterday. After the Lannister bitch told Joffrey that his betrothed was planning on getting as far away from him as possible, he had ordered Sandor to go fetch Sansa in her bedroom and bring her to him.
"And I don´t care if she is sleeping! Wake her up and drag her from the bed if you must," he´d ordered him. It had been near midnight, but when Sandor had knocked on the door, announcing his presence outside in the hallway, the little bird had mercifully opened the door quickly.
She´d had been wearing a robe over her nightgown, and he´d been shocked speechless by the sight of her after almost three weeks of keeping to her bedroom. She was thin and pale, and there were shadows under her eyes. Her gaunt face had still been beautiful, but in a ghostly sort of way.
"He wants to see you," he´d informed her roughly, hoping she wouldn´t protest.
She must have seen the warning look in his face, for she´d stepped outside quick enough. After a moment of walking down the hallway though, Sansa chirped, "What is this about?"
"Planning any trips to the Highlands soon?" he´d barked, preparing her.
Noticing the shock and sudden defeat that his words had caused her, Sandor had conducted the little bird down the flight of stairs in silence. When they reached the living room, Sansa had cringed away from the closed door, backing into Sandor.
"Do it, girl," he´d told her, pushing her before him. "The longer we keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you, and he´ll have you inside no matter what, so give him what he wants."
Once she was inside, Joffrey had closed the door to the room, but thankfully he had forgotten to dismiss Sandor for the night. So he´d stuck around, knowing things would probably turn ugly for the little bird. And unfortunately he´d had been right. Soon enough the yelling and name-calling inside the living room had began, and when Sandor could bear no more the sound of Sansa´s screaming, he had intervened.
"Despite suspecting that Joffrey was not at all the charming man I had thought him to be at first, for a moment I felt safe as I entered the living room," Sansa confessed, shifting around on the bench so she could truly face him, "Closing the door, he smiled at me, and for a heartbeat he´d been my knight in shinning armour again. But then the first words he spoke revealed how foolish I was. He asked me when had been the last time I had taken a bath, coldly observing that I stank…"
Sandor didn´t feel like listening to the details of what had gone on inside the living room before he intervened. Having heard it all as it happened had sometimes compelled him to wake up abruptly in the dead of night, shaken. But Sansa needed to unburden herself, so he didn´t stop her.
"I don´t know to this day if it was a good thing or a bad one that he wasn´t even drunk that night…" Sansa admitted, looking down at her hands. "Not even waiting for me to reply, Joffrey went on to ask what was I thinking planning to go stay with Aunt Lysa when my place was with him. I tried to calmly explain to him that I felt it would be easier to mourn my father away from the city, but when he outright forbid me to go, I realized that the only way for him to let me go was to break off our engagement right then and there. I did so, explaining to him that it hadn´t been until he came along that I had ever been unhappy."
A cold wind made Sansa shiver, but she only wrapped Sandor´s jacket closer around her and kept on talking.
"I told him that I had stopped loving him for a long time now, and had only remained with him because Uncle Robert had died, and I didn´t want to hurt him in such a moment… His anger grew with every word I said, and when I was done he just informed me that I was never to mock him like that again, for a true wife had to obey her husband at all times."
Sansa´s voiced was hardening as the memories overtook her. Her tears had long ago dried up, though the streaks they´d left on her cheeks were still visible.
"Something in the way Joffrey just stood there looking at me took the breath out of me. I backed away from him in horror, seeing him fully for the first time. I assured him that I was leaving him no matter how he felt, but he only replied that I was to obey him… And then the argument really began. I can´t recall much of what we yelled at each other, but I imagine you probably overheard us in any case. At one point I turned towards the door sensing I had to get away before things got worse, and then the next thing I knew, he was on me..."
Sansa´s gaze was now fixed on the floor as she told Sandor everything, her voice almost impersonal. As if it had all happened to someone other than herself.
"…He yanked back the hand I had raised to try and shield my face, and a moment later he had backhanded me across the ear with his fist. I don´t remember falling, but the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on one knee, my head ringing. Joff was standing before me, with blood on his knuckles. My ear felt numb, and when I touched it, my fingertips came away wet and red."
Reminding himself to be calm, Sandor clenched and unclenched his fists. He had known what had happened; he had overheard it and seen the aftermath of it, but it was something else entirely to hear it being told by no other than the little bird.
"I had never been more stunned in all my life. Not even when they told me about Father. I felt as if I were in a nightmare. Before I could realize what I was doing, I whispered to Joffrey that he was a monster and I hated him. His response was to pull me back on my feet roughly, and this time he grasped me beneath the jaw and held my head still as he struck me. He hit me twice this time, left to right, and harder, right to left. And then he had grabbed me by the hair before shoving a meaty hand down the front of my nightgown. He gave a hard yank and the silk came tearing away, baring my corset to the waist. As he let me go, I stumbled to my knees, my arms crossed over my chest, tears welling in my eyes. Then he was on me again, forcing me down onto the floor. I screamed and screamed, hoping someone would hear, but when no one came, I tried to tell myself that it was all going to be over soon... But then you saved me."
His mouth twitching, Sandor returned the little bird´s gaze. It had been one of the hardest things he´d ever done, listening outside in the empty hallway to the sounds of Sansa screaming. But when she finally started yelling at Joffrey to stop, begging him to leave her alone, Sandor had snapped. Wrenching open the door, he had rasped, "Enough!"
His voice had crackled the air like a whip, and a moment later Sansa was free as Joff got off of her. Not a moment too soon, Sandor reflected, remembering he´d been about to throw himself on the golden little shit in order to stop him. But Joffrey had stood up quickly, looking dazed, breathing heavily. He had thrown Sandor a venomous look before turning around to look down at Sansa.
Sandor had followed suit. Even now, he remembered all too well the sight of Sansa´s split lip, and the way the blood ran down her chin, mingling with the salt of her tears, the little bird had been breathing heavily as she lay on the ground with her knees spread out, shocked, scared and embarrassed.
Without a second thought, Sandor had taken off his jacket and tossed it to her. Clutching it against her chest gratefully, Sansa´s fists had bunched hard in the dark wool.
"Stop crying," Joffrey had snapped at her, annoyed. "You´re prettier when you smile and laugh."
Sansa had made herself smile then, clearly afraid that he would hit her again if she did not; but it was no good, for Joff still shook his head. "Wipe off the blood, you´re all messy."
Sandor had stared at Joff, wide-eyed with disgust, the thought of killing the sick fucker right there and now flashing through his mind. But as Joffrey turned away from Sansa to leave the room, the sight of the little bird´s face had distracted Sandor. He recognized that hard stare in her eyes, for that was the way many men looked when they were about to shoot someone.
Bloody hells! Sandor had thought, snapping into action as Sansa reached out for the fire poker beside her. A moment later he was kneeling before her, placing himself between her and Joffrey. With a delicacy that surprised even himself, Sandor had rasped, "Here, girl," before dabbing at the blood welling from Sansa´s broken lip with his handkerchief.
With utter relief, he saw that the moment was gone. The little bird, lowering her eyes and remembering her courtesies, thanked him. But hearing those two words had felt just as if two knives had been thrust into him. He´d stared at her swollen face, his hands shaking in impotent fury.
"Clegane," Joffrey had said, before he left the room. "Take care of her. I´m going to bed."
Without a backward glance, the fucking son of a bitch had left the living room. The moment the sound of his retreating footsteps had begun to fade, Sandor had scooped Sansa around the waist, lifting her as gently as he could off the ground. When his eyes were then drawn to the sight of the top of Sansa´s breasts and her corset, Sandor had quickly averted his gaze, the scowl on his face deepening.
"Don´t worry, little bird. I won´t hurt you," he´d snarled, heading in the direction of the kitchen; as Sansa, sensing the direction of his stare, quickly covered herself with his jacket. "But you´re bleeding. Let´s go see to that cut."
Without another word, Sandor had searched for some ice to reduce the swelling and the bruising on her face and lip, while Sansa waited for him out into the garden, now wearing his coat. Some moments later, longing to have some further advice to give her, Sandor had followed the little bird outside.
"Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants," he had rasped at her the moment he reached her.
She had been looking up at the night skies, crying hard, but at his words she turned to him and asked, "What… what does he want? Please, tell me."
"He wants you to smile and smell sweet and be his lady love. He wants to hear you recite all your pretty little words the way you´ve been taught at finishing school. He wants you to love him… and fear him."
After that, they had fallen silent, each staring out into the dark grounds of the Lannister´s London house. Sansa occasionally winced as she rested the ice against her bruised face. At one point, Sandor had felt the need for a smoke, and taking one out, he had looked at it for a brief moment before offering it to the little bird. She had seemed startled that he would even think of sharing one with her.
"I- I don´t know how," she´d finally chirped.
"It´s not that hard. Here, let me show you. Try it, and if you don´t like it, you can give it back."
So the bird had tried it, and had choked the first time she´d inhaled the smoke. But after a moment or two, she seemed to find it soothing, for she finished it without complaint, and even asked him for another. When he had escorted her back to her chamber a short while later, she made no motion to return his jacket. But she did try to give him back his handkerchief.
Looking at it, Sandor had snorted, growling bitterly, "Keep it. You´ll be needing it again."
He had taken a long look at her face as she opened her mouth to thank him again, but before she could do so, Sandor had turned around and strode away. By dawn Joff had sent him word that he was to leave for Italy on a very important errand as soon as possible, which meant that Sandor had not been able to see Sansa one last time; then almost a year had passed before they met again at the South Western Hotel back in Southampton, almost three days ago.
"And then you were gone," Sansa said softly, and for a moment Sandor wondered if he was imagining the reproach in her eyes. "But I lived with your advice for a year," Sansa informed him, crossing her arms before her as they sat on the bench at the poop deck of the Titanic. "Each day, whenever things got too hard, I heard the cold rasp of your voice, metal on stone, saying: Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants… But of late it has been harder to remember exactly why I should go to such trouble."
Sandor ground his teeth in fury as a new thought occurred to him. "Has he hit you again?" he rasped with narrowed eyes, and the sound of his voice sounded raw.
"No, he has not. As long as I don´t upset his perfect plans, he can be play gentleman." She stopped, hesitating as to whether or not she should elaborate, and when Sandor fixed her with a piercing stare, she gazed at her hands and continued. "But of late it has become harder to be in my best behaviour around him. Did you hear what I said yesterday to Mr. Ismay?"
You mean, what you didn´t tell me when I asked you what was wrong? Sandor wanted to growl at her; but instead he only nodded, a feeling of dread plummeting in the pit of his stomach and wishing for the first time in many months that he could drain an entire bottle of wine in one long drink.
"Well, yesterday we had an argument and he threw me against a wall and I hit my head."
"May he burn in seven hells!" he cursed, wishing he could dip him in horseshit and cook him. Or tickle him till the moon turned black. "I swear that one of these days I'm going to kill him!"
"So it is all right for you to kill him, but when I tried to on that night you stopped me, remember?" Sansa noted, tilting her head to one side in confusion.
Despite everything, Sandor was surprised to see she was addressing the fact that he knew that once she´d wanted to kill her fiancé. Unsure as to how to respond, his head became full of memories of that fateful night that had unfettered the events that had led Sansa to attempt suicide tonight. But seeing as he had been away for about a year, there were many blank holes that needed filling.
After a moment of hesitation, Sandor asked Sansa what had happened with Joffrey the morning when he´d left for Europe. The little bird stiffened at the memory, but gone were the days when she would hesitate to tell him something. A new level of trust had been born between them during the past hour, and at once she answered him.
"He came to my bedroom around midday, casually asking me if I was better, as if he had not beaten me bloody only some hours past. He did not so much as glance at the bruise he had left, and after he realized that I wasn´t going to answer, he went on to propose a deal.
"He said that my father had made Cersei my legal ward before he died, and that I was going to sign the deeds to Winterfell and my inheritance over to him, because seeing as he was to become my husband, he wanted to have complete access and control of my money. Joffrey told me that if I refused to do so and carry on with our engagement as if nothing had happened, he would sell Winterfell, financially ruin Aunt Lysa, and send me off to an asylum, claiming that grief over my father had unhinged me."
That was too much for Sandor. Cursing loudly, shaking, he stood up and hit his forehead in rage. He strode back and forth across the ship´s stern deck, all the while aware that Sansa was staring at him. But disregarding his reaction, she just went on in in a voice with no emotion.
"I wanted to rage and hurt him as he had hurt me, but I didn´t. I wanted to scare him by threatening to tell him off to the authorities, but I didn´t. You know how powerful the Lannisters are, and in the eyes of the law I belonged with them. When I met the trustees of the Stark Estate to include Joffrey in my will, they showed me proof that I was Cersei´s legal ward.
"I was left me with no options or means to do anything without their help, and in the eyes of society Joff was my gallant shinning knight, saving me and the Stark name, despite the disgrace my father´s bankruptcy and suicide. Who would believe me? After all, hadn´t he and Father had a public falling out just days before the suicide, and yet here Joff was, loving me despite everything. I had no one to turn to, and nowhere to go."
The sound of his footsteps upon the floor was loud and heavy, but Sandor didn´t stop moving. Occasionally he would throw an angry glance in Sansa´s direction, but for the most part he was cursing Joffrey to burn in seven hells under his breath.
"In the end I remembered your words and told Joffrey that I would do whatever he asked. When he saw that he had won, in the blink of an eye he was before me, but this time he began asking me to forgive me. Not for hitting me, but for trying to take advantage of me before you stopped him. He promised he would not touch me until our wedding night. I think that´s why he wanted you to share a room with him during this trip. Too much of a temptation to have me sleeping next door…
"From that day on we´ve been as you´ve witnessed us. Soon after that morning he went away to Europe, leaving me with Cersei... It was during that time that I first began considering that dying was not such a terrible thing after all. Once I even tried to fling myself from the balcony in order to put an end to my suffering, but in the end my courage left me."
The way she spoke those last words chilled Sandor´s blood. He had suspected it was quite bad, and everything he had just heard had confirmed it, but to think that the little bird had been considering committing suicide for a while now left him feeling numb. Suddenly, she surprised Sandor by laughing bitterly.
"I´m sorry," she told him, passing a tired hand over her face. "You must think I´m such a coward. Here I am trying to end my life, when there are people who suffer worse than I do and yet go on living… You, for example. When you were only a child you had already suffered more than I have, and by the hand of your brother."
Had a man approached Sandor and told him that, he would have knocked him down or put a bullet through their head. But although he was surprised that she had dared to bring that up, he wasn´t as annoyed as he once would have believed. After all, even though I was drunk, wasn´t I the one who told her about my scars in the first place? And he didn´t regret it. With a smirk he wondered if some part of Sansa wasn´t telling him everything because she had been a bit drunk earlier tonight. If that was true, he could only hope she wouldn´t regret it either.
With a deep sigh, Sandor shook his head and sat back down next to her. "That´s not what I was thinking, Sansa."
They stared at each other for a long moment, until the shadow of a smile appeared on the little bird´s face. Hesitating for a moment, she finally said, "Thank you for listening to me, and for being honest. It really means a lot to me."
Sandor was aware that she hadn´t thanked him for stopping her from killing herself. So with a poor attempt at returning her smile, Sandor stretched tight the burns on his face and rasped, "Just promise me you won´t try taking your life again, little bird."
Her eyes widened, and Sandor saw that she was blushing. She bit her lip and lowered her head in shame. The sight was too much for Sandor. He needed to hear her promise him, or else he didn´t know what he would do.
"Sansa?" he prompted, lifting her chin with his knuckle.
"I don´t see why it would be so bad," she confessed, finally meeting his eyes. "My father did it when his world shattered beneath him. I can´t judge him. Not now that I know what life is really like."
Sandor´s hand dropped onto the bench between them, as comprehension dawned on him. Bloody hells! Sandor had hated himself for keeping it from her all this time, and now once again the debate as to whether or not he should tell her about Ned Stark´s death ran through his mind. If he told her what he knew, he ran the risk of strengthening her desire to be free of the lions by any means… but after what she had just said, perhaps Sansa would think differently about suicide if she knew the truth.
He knew in the back of his mind that the little bird was staring intently, waiting for his reaction, and his frown must have given him away, for suddenly she chirped, "What is it?"
His mouth twitching, Sandor looked at her again, taking in every feature of her lovely face. Sighing deeply, reasoning that she had been kept in the dark for far too long, and yet still not completely sure that this was the right moment for it, Sandor snarled, "Little bird, there´s something I should have told you a long time ago, but I´m scared of what you will do once you know."
She stilled beside him, and it took her a moment to compose herself. She gripped the edge of the bench, and whispered, "Is it about Father?"
Nodding, he growled, "Your father didn´t kill himself. I wasn´t there the night when he died, but Joffrey was, along with some of his men. They paid your father a visit and in less than an hour made it appear as if he´d put a bullet through his head. I know because I overheard some of them talking about it."
Sansa´s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in surprise. She gazed at up him in astonishment, not even taking the trouble to breathe, seating perfectly still. Sandor hadn´t known what reaction to expect, only that he feared it would finally drive her over the edge. He sat wary and alert, waiting.
After a long moment of looking stunned, her voice broke as she asked him, "Did Joffrey kill him?"
"I don't know if he pulled the trigger," he answered carefully, truthfully. "But I´m suspecting your father signed you over to the lion´s clutches under some kind of threat before he was killed. That´s why your Cersei´s ward."
Once again, time stood still between them, and then, in the blink of an eye, Sansa dashed across the deck to the rail before them. Sandor had followed her, cursing himself for being unable to stop her from getting off the bench in the first place, but with relief he saw that rather than throwing herself overboard again, Sansa was retching into the Atlantic.
Still not completely sure she wouldn´t attempt anything else, Sandor stopped and patiently waited for her to finish, wishing he could will himself to go over and rub her back in comfort. After some minutes, the little bird finally straightened up and said, "I must have known all along somewhere deep inside me."
She turned around as though sleepwalking, and went back to sit on the bench. Gripping his jacket closer, she huddled inside it, shivering. Sansa wasn´t crying though, and Sandor didn´t know if that was a bag or a good thing. Then, she actually apologized for getting sick and even thanked him for looking out for her.
"For fuck´s sake, there´s nothing to be sorry for or to thank me for," he told her, striding over to her, not in the right humour to stand her courtesies.
"I´m glad you told me," she answered, resting her back on the bench. "Somehow it makes me feel better to know neither of us killed ourselves."
Looking down at her, Sandor stood before her and realized that this was the only reaction he was going to get out of her tonight regarding her father´s murder. She had been too emotionally strained and tested in a single night to do more than just sit there, taking it all in, trying to make sense of her life.
"Promise me that you won´t try to hurt yourself," he insisted again. She has to hear herself say the words, more than I do, he knew. "If you need someone to talk to, you just come to me."
And finally Sansa looked him straight in the face and said, "I promise."
"Good," he rasped, breathing easier. Sandor took out his metal pocket watch. If they didn´t return soon, then the lions would find out that both of them were missing.
"Feeling better?" he asked Sansa. "It´s time we went back. You have to try and get some rest."
The little bird closed her eyes, but nodded eventually. Sandor was somehow certain that at least for tonight she would not try to harm herself again. As she stood up, Sandor remarked that he had been a fool for keeping her out here in the cold for so long.
"If you get a cold we won´t be able to do as the Lannister bitch told us and spend tomorrow together," he rasped lightly, hoping that the prospect would cheer her up some. And I will keep a closer eye on you tomorrow.
A moment later his lip curled at that, for he was angry at the world for putting a girl like Sansa Stark in a situation where spending a whole day with the Hound would seem like a safe haven. A part of him was happy to see Sansa smiling as she took in the meaning behind his words, but another part was raging at having her gladly accept such compensation. She has to go back to the man who killed her father because I made her, and still she looks comforted by the thought of having me for company.
"Ready?" he questioned as they stood before each other, the little bird looking up at him with so much trust and thankfulness that he shifted uncomfortable on the spot.
Sansa nodded nervously, hugging herself to keep from shaking, and followed him, unresisting. By the time they reached the well deck, they had fallen into a deep silence. They walked across the Titanic and took the lift down to B-Deck, and when they got out, they saw Meryn Trant striding towards them.
Fuck! Sandor thought, sparing a quick glance in the little bird´s direction. She looked so dishevelled that Trant was bound to stop them for no other reason than that. He ought to have thought of an alibi in case they met someone. Sansa was probably thinking the same as she flinched away, scared.
Laying a heavy hand on her shoulder, Sandor rasped, "That one is nothing to fear, bird. Paint stripes on a toad, he does not become a tiger."
He knew she had heard him, but she still looked about uncertainly. As the man reached them he stopped, taking in the sight of Sansa wearing Sandor´s jacket, her hair wild and loose, her eyes red from crying.
"Clegane, where-?" the man began to ask, but Sandor cut him short.
"Fuck off, Trant."
Shooting him a venomous look at him, Trant then turned to Sansa. "You left the door to your stateroom open, Miss Stark. Mr. Baratheon asked me to go and look for you since his dog was nowhere to be found. How is it that you are not in your room at this hour?"
By that statement Sandor knew that Joffrey was still in the smoke room, clearly not as troubled as Meryn claimed, or else the bastard would have been looking for the little bird himself.
"Miss Stark wanted some fresh air, so Mr. Baratheon´s dog did his duty and looked out for her."
"You didn't do a very good job by the looks of her," Trant remarked, turning to Sansa with contempt. "It is not seemly for you to be out of your room at this hour."
"I did not meant to, but I´m afraid I had an accident," the little bird chirped in. "I wanted to see the propellers, but I slipped. And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Clegane saved me just in time. He almost went over himself in the process."
That´s good, Sandor thought. The lie sounded true enough. Meryn regarded Clegane briefly before settling his unblinking stare on Sansa. "What a pity that he didn´t…"
Barking at the idiot that Miss Stark needed to go to sleep, he then ordered Trant to go inform his master that he had found Sansa. The moment Meryn Trant disappeared inside the lift, the little bird asked him, "Why do you let people call you a dog?"
Sandor considered the question before answering, "I like dogs better than people. My grandfather was kennel master at Casterly Rock. One autumn year, Tytos Lannister came between a bobcat and her prey. The bitch tore into Tyto´s horse and would have done for him too, but my grandfather came up with the hounds. Three of his dogs died running her off. My grandfather lost a leg, so Lannister compensated him for it with lands and a small ranch, and took his son into the family business."
They had reached the door to Sansa´s bedroom as they talked, and making sure no one was around, Sandor cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin. "A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he´ll look you straight in the face. And that´s more than little birds can do, isn´t it?"
Regarding him with those piercing blue eyes of her, shinning bright in the hallway lightning, Sansa answered, "Once, maybe. But not now, Sandor."
He released her, all the while pretending not to be moved by the emotion in her voice and the use of his given name. "Do you want me to go fetch that maid of yours to help you clean up?"
"Oh no, I can manage," Sansa assured him quickly with a hesitant smile. "But thank you for the offer, and for lending me your jacket."
She took it off and gave it back to him. Sandor nodded, telling her that he would be in the living room until she had used the bathroom they had to share along with Joffrey, though she could call for him if she needed to. With a grateful smile the little bird thanked him and slipped into her darkened bedchamber.
Before she closed the door though, Sandor stopped Sansa to ask her one more time if she was really feeling all right. With a nod she assured him that she was, and then he saw the little bird switch on the electric lights before disappearing behind the closed door.