Hey!

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: You will like this then! As always, I thank you that you actually take the time to review!

So I hurried up and finished this chapter just now. Next one will take two or three days again, though, for I have exams to study for.

Please tell me how you like it! I was quite unsure whether I should go this far with her and Joff but I thought that one pure maiden is enough and that role is clearly Sansa's.

So, yes, please let me know what you think!


King's Landing, Tyrion and Sansa's Wedding Day, 299AC

Aliena

Aliena had taken care with her wardrobe as not to overshadow the bride. But she wouldn't have had to be so careful, for Sansa looked more beautiful in her wedding gown than she herself ever had. The girl was a woman now and that was plain to see, although her face was pale and her eyes full of un-wept tears.

Aliena wore green velvet and cloth of gold, a necklace of emerald leaves that Joffrey had given her once. The Tyrells were not present for the wedding itself, but they would be there later for the feast. They were no better friends to her than I am. And still, she needed them as they needed her...for now. Margaery was quick, lively and good-hearted, her grandmother on the other hand, was just as ruthless as Lord Tywin although she hid it better. Aliena and Margaery had hunted together, had visited Flea Bottom together although it was obvious that Margaery was not used to this kind of charity, she did her best to hide her shock and disgust. Many men had returned from the battle wounded and broken and the blood drew fleas and flies, even in autumn. But Aliena honestly liked Joffrey's betrothed, something she herself would not have thought possible. She was not fool enough to trust them, though. They showed their true colours now: All of Sansa's green friends had deserted her like a pack of cowardly sheep.

Sansa had been shocked speechless when she had grasped the truth, the reason for her new between Mother and Father, and next to her short, ugly bridegroom, she was crying, too, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. They were a court of well trained parrots and cowards, so nobody noticed the bride's distress. Sometimes, rarely, Aliena allowed herself to loathe the royal court -and herself, in the process. Mother would not have stood here like a mute fool and watched. She would have spoken up. At least, Aliena thought that was what her mother would have done. She had not known her so well after all. Is this what I am? Are we what we do? Or are we what we want to be? Or do our intentions show who we truly are? It was all so complicated but there were a few things she was sure of.

Sandor stood behind Joffrey in his pale armour and Aliena could not openly look at him without turning her head. He wore his helmet anyway but she would have bet that he clenched his jaws at the sight of Sansa's obvious misery. Cersei stood next to Aliena, Tommen in front of her, holding her hand, her father between her and her eldest son. The royal family occupied the first row, while Ser Kevan stood behind his brother with other courtiers. A crowd to witness this act of cruelty, this forced marriage.

Aliena had never liked the vows and prayers and songs. It was a tedious, pretentious affair at best, stiff and loveless and this particular ceremony was not improved by the crying bride or the ashamed bridegroom. Finally, the time came for the bride to change her colours. Joffrey loved this part and once again, Aliena saw clear what she shut out most of the time. He was on the brink of manhood, and the man would be even crueller than the boy. Maybe I have done a good deed when I told the truth. Maybe the Queen of Thorns will do what sould be done, for the good of all. Varys was always in favour of doing this for the good of the realm although ultimately, of course it was him who decided what was good and what was bad. The eunuch stood on the other side of the sept, with Lady Tanda and her daughters, and a dozen others. They all witness the Northern girl's unwillingness to bend the knee for a Lannister. Your brother did the same, girl. And I have a bad feeling about his future. Robb Stark's days were numbered, she knew that much. Whispers reached her, through Varys, she had no doubt. And although they were all vague, they all told the same story: Tywin was certain that the Young Wolf no longer posed a threat.

Tywin's son was red as the cloak he had finally managed to wrap around his bride's shoulders. Aliena was of course no expert, but she thought this an ill omen for their union. The worst part for her was over, though. There would be only a small feast, nothing grand. But for Sansa, the worst part was yet to come, she feared.

Sandor

The little bird and her dwarf of husband had retreated. Most of the ladies had gone to bed by now, too, she had left with the little Tyrell and her crone of a grandmother. The Queen remained, a cup of wine in her hand, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shiny.

The boy king had drunken too much, too. Sandor had seen him leer at the little bird and at his cousin, had seen him squeeze the bride's teat and pinch Aliena's waist during the dance.

"Escort His Grace to his chambers." Tywin Lannister commanded and Sandor, glad to leave the feast, took the boy to the Holdfast. They had almost reached the royal quarters when the king stopped.

"I will visit my cousin." he announced. "Come Dog, you might be of use." The boy king staggered slightly, his cheeks were flushed and his speech a little slurred. He wants her.

"She will be asleep. Tomorrow." Sandor said and knew how dangerous these words were.

"Tomorrow? I think not. Now." The boy was surprisingly quick on his feet. They reached her door and Joffrey pushed it open. The girl wore only a nightgown, her hair was loose and apparently, she had just taken off her jewelry.

She sank into a curtsy.

"Your Grace. To what do I owe this surprising pleasure?"

"You cannot marry my uncle anymore so everything we decided on is now invalid." Joffrey stated. "I will have you now."

Aliena saw just as much as Sandor had that this was not just a fit of desire. That words would not help her anymore.

She tried nonetheless: "Your Grace, I will if that is your wish. But as you know it would be my first time, and I ask you to give me a day, to prepare myself."

"I said: Now." Joffrey was not to be swayed.

"I beg you, my king. You said you would be kind." He does not remember, girl. Sandor knew what was about to happen. And he couldn't let him. I stood and watched him beat the Stark girl...but I cannot stand and watch this.

"Dog, seize her, drag her to my rooms. She refuses my command."

Sandor did move towards her. But then he put himself in the king's way, his hand on his sword hilt. Before Joffrey could grasp the situation, Aliena stood at his elbow, smiling.

"My beloved", she laid a hand on Joffrey's arm."I do not have to be dragged. I will come with you happily. This is what I have longed for for so long - though I expected it to be different."

She protects me. It was all wrong. He was supposed to protect her. This boy, he had no business- but her gaze met his and she shook her head, ever so slightly. Do not intervene.

"I think your service is no longer needed tonight, Clegane." Go away. Leave me to him. She was more foolish than she was brave.

"No, my dog shall come with us." The king decreed. It was an odd procession that made its way through the holdfast. Sandor was about to knock down the king, take her and run, run to the stables and be gone before anyone could notice. But she would never come with him. I could just force her to. She stood no chance against him. She would hate me for it. He was forced to stand and watch … The royal quarters were guarded even in the king's absence. Thankfully, it was neither Blount nor Trant, but the swan's cousin and the Queen's most recent pet, a man of strong built with black coarse hair and a common sense of humour. They made no comment as the king entered with his cousin, dressed only in a nightgown. Sandor entered without so much as a look but he felt Swann's eyes in his back. He loves her. The white knight was not hard to look upon, kind, honourable, integer...a perfect knight, all in all. But he said nothing, did not step in front of her. The king went ahead but Aliena lingered in front of the royal bedchamber door.

"If you think about risking your head for me, I'll kill you." she hissed.

"Shall I stand here and listen-"

"Yes. I would sooner you didn't. Go away, sleep, drink...he won't notice."

Did she really suggest that? He was angry all of a sudden.

"If you think I do that, you can bloody well think again."

The king was impatient. "Aliena, come now. What are you whispering anyway?"

She turned around. "I just asked him to be a good dog and not let anyone in. We do not want to be disturbed." Stay outside. Do not come in. No matter what you hear. That was what she meant.

The last thing he saw were her eyes, and there was no fear in them, only determination.

How was he supposed to save her when she wanted to be some sort of tragic hero? How was he supposed to protect her if she refused to be protected? How should she ever want him after he stood outside and did nothing while she was - He heard muffled voices, her laugh. Has there ever been a better mummer? He was never sure whether what he saw was just another mask, another charade. Sandor liked to think that it was not.

He stood outside the bedchamber door for about the quarter of an hour when a page came in. He saw Sandor and lowered his gaze automatically.

"My-my lord, it's the Queen." he stuttered. "I shall ask, 'Is her niece with the king?' "

"The king's with his cousin and they do not want to be disturbed, so bugger off." he told the boy, snarling but the boy did not scurry away.

"It's the queen's command, my lord, she says that afterwards, a guard is to stay with the lady. All night."

"So I shall play wet-nurse?" he forced himself to say. There had been ears in the corridor tonight, and someone had run to tell the Queen. No one should know about his ...interest in her.

"O-or one of your brothers, my lor-"

"Brothers." There was no way he would ever let one of that lot stay in her room. From that he could protect her, after all. My brother tried to take her, too. How was it possible that he had been able to protect her from Gregor but not from the little shit he called king? If there were Gods, they had a strange sense of humour and Sandor did not find it funny.

"Run, boy, and tell the Queen. But tell her that it is too late for chaperons now, anyway."

Perhaps the woman would show sense for once and tell her father. That would keep the little swan safe in the future although her wings were already clipped by now, he feared. Safest would be a sword between his ribs.

Sandor did not know how long he stood there. Once, he heard a muffled cry of pain and his knuckles went white around his sword hilt but he stood outside, waiting, anxious. He should go in. If the boy killed her- but then, he heard her voice again, perhaps even a laugh. She gives me a sign. For once, he wondered whether this was how that Prince-knight had felt, when he had stood guard outside the chamber in which the king fucked the woman he loved. You are a wretched fool. Songs and tales. Sandor snorted. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She is braver than you, you pathetic figure. He squared his shoulders. She would come out of the king's chamber at some point, and then he would be there. Perhaps he could give her comfort. He did not quite know how. But he would try. She will be scarred. That saddened him the most. But it is not the first scar she takes here. She was stronger than any other woman Sandor knew. Stronger than most men, too, in all honesty.

He heard something on the other side of the door and took a step back. He heard her laugh but something was wrong.

"Sleep here." he heard the boy say and clenched his teeth.

"I cannot, Your Grace. The rumours…" The door was opened. She was lovely as dawn, pale with two red spots on her cheeks, her hair a mess of dark curls. Her nightgown was torn though, he saw, and there was blood on it, between her legs. The boy wore only a robe of heavy red and gold brocade and Sandor would have loved to cut him open from throat to guts.

"Good night, my king." she smiled but this time, she could not work her magic. The smile did not reach her eyes.

Joffrey touched her shoulder and Sandor saw her stiffen for the blink of an eye.
"Good night, my lady. You have pleased me tonight. That will not be forgotten. I shall be loyal to you. Forever." He kissed her, a moist kiss on the lips.

"Be gone now, Hound. See that my lady gets into bed safely."

Sandor nodded curtly. The girl walked upright at his side, she did not cry, she did not speak. Her face was carved from stone.

She bid the two Kingsguards good night, and both replied courteously enough, although they were baffled.

"We better hurry before anyone sees me in this state." she said quietly to Sandor, her voice was calm and steady. Does it not affect her at all? She was like a well guarded castle, he had no idea what was going on behind her smooth forehead, which feelings her cool eyes hid.

But she was right. One sleeve of her nightgown was torn and there was a tear at the hem as well that reached up to her knee. Yet, she walked with her head held high. Even in this state, she looks regal. Dignified. Not for the first time did he think that a lot would be better if she had been crowned instead of that Lannister bastard.

Once inside her chambers, he noticed how her walls slipped, though. She shivered and there were tears in her eyes although they did not fall. A woman waited inside, hair brown streaked with grey, in a blue servant's dress.

"My lady." She rose from the stool at the foot of Aliena's bed but interrupted herself when she saw him.

"You should leave, Ser. My lady needs to rest now."

Sandor was about to snarl a reply when Aliena put a hand on his arm.

"It is alright, Kenna." she said, wearily. "I would like to take a bath now. If you could-"

"It is all prepared. Shall I add another bucket of hot water, my lady? It is just there on the fire." She was a diligent servant.

But Aliena shook her head. "No. I don't like to be cooked in my bathtub." She managed a weary, unconvincing smile.

"I will just add the oils then, my lady."
The maidservant scurried away but left the door ajar, Sandor noticed.

"You're bleeding." he remarked. This time, the smile did reach her eyes but it was full of unease.

"I am not an expert, I fear, but I heard that it is quite natural for a maiden to bleed during her first bedding."

Apparently, his surprise was plain on his face. She laughed. "What did you think?" she asked, bewildered. "That I have given it to the stable boy when I was thirteen?" she shook her head. "No, he has not made me bleed in any other way than this. I would have expected it to be worse." She gave him a wry smile. As she bent down for her bedrobe, her torn sleeve slipped down and he saw her naked shoulder. It was bruised.

"Don't look at me like that." she had noticed his stare. "Sansa looked worse a lot of times." He did not take from her what he took from you. With you it's different.

"My lady, the bath is ready."

Aliena took her robe and smiled at him.

"Good night." And before he could tell her that he would stay, she disappeared in her dressing chamber. She closed the door properly, though.

Sandor felt uneasy. He had spent a night in her bedchamber before, when he she had been a little girl. He had almost strangled her, he remembered with unease, and she had suffered for him. Sandor had told her about his scars back then, in the darkest hour of the night, with curtains between them. She cares for me somehow. But I do not understand why. He remembered the bruise on her throat, how it had gone from red, to purple, to blue-green and then faded to yellow. He remembered the guilt that had been heavy as a rock in his stomach, had not been dulled by wine or whores or gambling. He had sworn himself to never hurt her, to protect her from harm. But he had failed, bitterly failed.

Sandor set down his helmet on a dresser by the door. Aliena's maidservant came out of the dressing room, saw him standing there - but made no remark. Aliena's hair was wet but even for the night, she was more lavishly dressed than most others were on Father's Day.

She wore a white nightgown under a red taffeta bedrobe with brocade sleeves and a silken sash. She had changed her slippers, too, these were of plush red velvet.

"You should go to bed, really. I have kept you up long enough." she said, to both of them.

The maidservant shot Sandor an appraising look but then she made for the door.

"As you wish, my lady. Just ring the bell when you have need of me." She bowed.

"Good night, Kenna." Her voice was warm. The woman closed the door behind her.

"You must forgive her distrustfulness. She served my mother before me and tries to protect me from harm." The laugh that followed was joyless.

"You should leave, too." She smiled. "You had a most uncomfortable night, I fear."

Sandor gave a barking laugh. "Bet mine was better than yours."

Then he shook his head. "The Queen wants a guard in your room, swan."

That seemed to surprise her.
"In my room? It is not about Joff then." She furrowed her brow. "Does she expect me to jump out of the window?" she asked, apparently baffled.

"I would never. I would never kill myself. I am no coward. Women cannot hold swords and fight battles...but women can have courage, too."

That made Sandor laugh, though it was a wry, cynical laugh.

"No one can look at you and believe the opposite, swan." That made her smile, really smile. Her eyes were warmer, too, but apparently, she wasn't. She shivered.

"You're cold." he observed. She looked at him strangely hurt.

"I fear I am. All the warmth I had left with my maiden's blood." What?

"No. I meant you're shivering, you fool." he corrected her.

"Oh." she laughed, giggling like a girl. "Did you just call me a fool?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Might have." he retorted. "What if I did?"

"I guess you would be right then", she said, and suddenly, the boy was back again, blond and cruel, almost physically present between them.

"I should have-", he started, knowing that all sentences that started like this were followed by pathetic excuses. Should have, would have, could have...She looked up, surprised.

"No." Her wet hair flew when she shook her head. "I made my bed. I made my bed over the last years and now I had to lie in it. How often did I have the chance to leave? I lost count. I am a swan in a lion's den, and I stubbornly refused to leave. The moth that flies too close to the candle burns its wings. This is mine own fault. And I will never let anyone risk their lives to get me out of the pit I digged myself. No one should suffer just because I miscalculated. Because I was too stubborn and too sure of myself."

He liked her. A great deal too much.

"Takes a lot to admit that." he nodded.

"I noticed it a while ago, but by then it was already too late." She shrugged. "I knew this would be inevitable. I am not the first to lose my maidenhead under uncomfortable circumstances. Sansa suffers the same fate, perhaps. If Tyrion is more loyal son than kind husband."

He had forgotten about the little bird by now. She does have the kinder fate indeed.

"You should go to bed. It's cold." he said, an awkward attempt to be kind that she countered with a smile.

"I will just put another log on the fire."

She did not throw the log in like Sandor did whenever he had to. Carefully, she lay it on top of the burning pile, yellow flames only inches from her fingers. Sandor felt nervous despite himself.

She stood up. "I am not tired. And as you have to spend your night here anyway...Play with me. Cards, I mean. You said you would give me a chance to get even."

She was afraid of sleep. Nightmares. Sandor rarely had nightmares now but he remembered days in his father's keep when it had been different.

"You have a deck?" was all he asked.

The cards she produced were new, he noticed, the corners still clean-cut and without dog-ears. She bought them to practice for this. Somehow he found that endearing. The numbers and pictures were carefully drawn and coloured, the queens were all smiling grace, the knights handsome, the kings imposing. Songs and card decks are the greatest liars.

"You give." he said, as they sat down at her table on the dainty wooden chairs. Somehow he felt anxious but did not know what for. Did he want to win? Did he want her to win? What would he ask of her if he won? The truth. What happened. That was what he wanted to know. A kiss, an embrace...That was what he wanted, at least a part of him. Tell me you care, at least a bit. That was what he wanted to hear. All of it was pathetic.

"Play properly this time. I can tell when you let me win." she warned as she poured them each a cup of wine. There were two flagons, one held a heavy dark red, the other a light golden one, not something Sandor would drink, normally. She poured the red for him without asking, he noticed.

Then she gave out cards, seven for each, put the rest on a neat pile between them.

She won the first round, took his golden dragon with a silver seven-pointed star.

He won the second, saved his motley fool until the end and took her golden king. He heard her curse for the first time.

"Whoever made the rule that fools can take a king must have been a bloody fool himself."

"A wise fool at that. I shall be thankful," he grinned, though not for long.

She drew all the high cards from his hands early on and slammed her black stag on top of his red queen.

In the end, they each had three.

She put all dragons, stars, roses and stags away and shuffled the remaining cards. Four kings, four queens, four knights, and two fools. Seven cards for each. The fool was sometimes discarded, for many thought it disrespectful that he could beat a golden king, a silver queen and a black knight. He liked to include it, though, it was more of a challenge that way.

Sandor took up his cards. They were not bad. He had a golden king, a card that could only be taken with a fool, a silver knight or the red queen, the queen of love and beauty. He also had a silver knight, though, which meant that she had only one card against his king in the last round.

A fool could not end the game, so it must be played early on. The best part about this last round was that one knew the cards of the opponent if one had the wits the Gods gave a turnip. That was why Sandor had won against Boros Blount so often, the fat fool always lost out to him in the seventh round, no matter how drunk Sandor was. Blount had finally decided not to play against him which was unsuspectedly wise of him, but a pity indded for the pompous knight had been a secure source of gold.

Aliena played her first card. This time, she had given herself the red knight and sought to get it off her hand. Sandor took it with a red king. She was better now, without the boy drooling into her his calculations were correct, she had the red queen. And if she knew that he had a golden king...He would play it in the second last round, he decided. Her red queen by herself was useless, then.

When they had only two cards left, he played his golden king. She looked at him with surprise. Then she smiled.

"That was clever." she smiled. "But I play this game of kings for a long time now." Almost tenderly did she lay her red queen on top of his king.

Quickly, Sandor tried to remember which card she still had. He had thought she had expected him to play his king as his final card. But maybe she hadn't.

He put his last card on the table. When she smiled, he knew he had lost. It did not trouble him much. He wouldn't have been sure what to ask from her anyway.

Her golden Queen defeated his black Knight.

He smiled now. "I am not used to opponents who can still use their wits."

"I admit it freely, I had hoped you'd fall for the wine. Thank Gods I noticed halfway through that you were trying to trick me." She shook her head. "That was not very gallant at all."

"I'll trick you better next time." he grinned. "Now, what do you want?" Somehow, his heart raced in his chest as if he had just fought a battle not a card game.

She looked as if she felt the same, waited for a long moment, weighing her options. Then she said: "I want the truth from you."

Sandor was both disappointed and relieved.

"You might not like it." he warned.

She smiled, uneasily. Then she drank down her cup, her fourth, he thought, and got up. Wandered through the room. Gathered courage. She stood in front of him now,held his gaze. Sandor had to look up to her for once, a different perspective. Her face was soft in the candlelight, her eyes were bright and no wine phantoms dulled them. It struck him once again how beautiful she was, with her small nose, the impressive eyes that captured many with their shape and colour, with her full lips, the dark hair that was almost dry by now and fell to the small of her back in uneven natural waves.

She cleared her throat.

"Do I disgust you now?"

It was absurd. So absurd that he started to laugh but caught himself when he saw the expression on her face.

Sandor stood up, pinned her between himself and the table. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, his fingers lingered there, he brushed over her cheekbone with his thumb, then his fingers wandered, touched the soft, tender flesh under her earlobe until his brushed against the silken collar of her nightgown.

She looked at him all the time, attentive and anxious. Her eyes were such an odd mix of blue and green and a hint of grey. For the first time, he noticed that they were greener around the black centre, or maybe that was the candlelight.

"Never." he replied. And did what he should have done a while ago.

Her lips taste differently tonight, of sweet wine but also of roses from her bath, and of beeswax mixed with honey. They were still soft and full though, and his body remembered the feeling well. This time was different. There was no fear, no fury in him and he could focus on her. She cupped his cheek, clean shaven and without a trace of blood and tears, and lay a hand on his upper arm, the gentlest of touches. Sandor wove his fingers through her hair, touched her neck, her face, her waist, her back. He had paid for all the kisses he ever received and now, he wanted his gold back. Had he known...Now, she parted her lips for him, her tongue found his and he no longer thought about anything else but this. He wanted to feel more of her but was aware at the same time that that would ruin this moment entirely. He savoured it, the intimacy, but then he broke the kiss. Took a step backwards. He did not know how long it had lasted, because it felt like an hour but at the same time, he felt as if he had closed eyes just a moment ago. Aliena smiled, her left hand still on his cheek, the other one on his shoulder.

"He would have your head for this. Our heads."

"He would be more creative." Sandor snorted and that made he grin.

But they both knew what she meant to say. This was a one-off. She did not want him to risk his head for her...and she wanted to keep hers as well. Sandor, again, had no choice. He would have left, left these buggering fools to themselves, the king he grew to despise, the gargoyle he loathed, all them buggering liars. But she would not and he knew that he could not convince her...and he knew he would not leave without her.

"You should sleep now, girl", he rasped, suddenly sober again. Dawn would soon come and he could go without sleep for a day but she couldn't.

"Don't call me 'girl'." Her mouth was unsmiling but her eyes betrayed her.

"Swan, then." he suggested.

"You may." She smiled. "Although I am a stag as well."

Sandor took his post by the door again, she brought him a cup of wine. And another kiss, merely a peck on the lips.

"Good night." There was regret in her eyes. This night was special but their days belonged to the king - and her nights, too, from now on, he remembered with dismay. Maybe he could convince her to leave this behind. He would think on it.

She slipped into bed in her thin nightgown and for a moment, Sandor felt desire so strong in his loins that he was almost tempted to give in. But then the moment was gone and he scolded himself for it. Bloody fool. You think that's what she wants after that monster of a bastard forced himself upon her?

She did not close her curtains and soon enough, he heard her even breath and knew that was asleep. Their short night was over and after a wave of disappointment, Sandor also felt relieved. He was not one for intimacy, for whispered words of affection and love letters and all that nonsense. And neither was she. They knew what they needed to know for now. She cared for him, somehow. And he was beyond all hope when it came to her. Strangely, he did not mind anymore.