Defyra
Many people were hungover the morning after the feast, including the Royals. Defyra was on her way to the gardens to drink tea to help with her headache when she came upon Lord Tyrion in a hallway.
"My Lady," he greeted with a jovial smile. "Mind if I join you for a moment to talk?"
"Of course, my Lord." She gestured to a nearby bench by an open archway and they sat. "What is it that you need to talk about?"
"About that moment at the feast last night." As if on cue, Defyra's face warmed. "I just thought that you should know that even though you seemed too embarrassed to face our table for the rest of the night, your friend the Hound couldn't keep his eyes off of you." Tyrion grinned a teasing grin that very much made him look like his dreaded nickname, the Imp.
Defyra scoffed. "Are you and Lady Grace conspiring to matchmake me and Lord Sandor?"
"To be fair, Lady Grace and I are not conspiring. We just seem to have the same opinion about the matter. I've discussed with Lord Sandor last night that his countenance and overall mood has improved greatly since he got his vindication. I think such a positive change in his life, such as attention from a certain Lady, will be for the better."
"That is kind of you to say, my Lord. To think, a few days ago I was being warned to not associate with him."
"Of course. My sister. Yet now, with his newfound status, she really has no reason to have such an opinion anymore." He paused to think. "I don't think the gruffness of the Hound will ever fully leave him, but lordship should help him spread his wings a bit."
"In all honesty, it was his gruffness that interested me. He tells it as it is and is a breath of fresh air in a sea of fake court politeness," said Defyra. "I'm not interested in stuffy gentlemen that sniff into their kerchiefs."
"Ah, yes. You'll find that both of his most genuine qualities are gruffness and honesty," said Tyrion. "As for the word gentleman...it could be applied to him, very loosely." She laughed.
He peered down the corridor. "Ah, right on time." Defyra curiously turned to see Sandor and Jaime escorting Princes Joffrey and Tommen to their target lessons. As they approached, she stood and curtsied to the princes. Tyrion stepped forward."Lord Clegane. I thought I'd walk with my nephews and my brother as he escorts them to their lessons. I can relieve you for a few moments if you don't mind." Sandor nodded to him.
"I will be there shortly. I would like to speak with Lady Defyra," said Sandor, looking as if he might bolt at any moment. Tyrion nodded and he and his relatives set off down the corridor, but not before all four of them peered back curiously. Sandor went to stand in front of her, his normally dark eyes a lighter brown in the daylight. He was still patched up from his injuries and left arm still in a sling. He stood stiffly as if he were a soldier under inspection as he looked at her, unsure. She offered him a gentle smile that she hoped would offer comfort.
"It's good to see you again, Lord Sandor," she said quietly. She watched his eyes study her face and her smile widened seeing his insecurity fade away.
"I'm glad to see you well this morning, my Lady. I've thought about what you said last night and I would offer to court you, if you'll accept." She let out a small gasp of surprise.
"I-I accept." A blush slid across her face. "I'm flattered that I managed to persuade you."
"Word around here is that you are set in your ways to snare a rich Lord. But it's to my understanding that you are seeking to branch out from your family's main winery and make something of your own. I now have land, but no family. Court gossip says I am strong-arming my way to marrying you for your status."
"I haven't heard it yet. Although, I wouldn't mind watching you use your strong arms." Sandor actually looked rather amused.
"You don't need to flatter me, my Lady." She got lost in studying his eyes for a moment. The sunlight coming in through the archway brought out the sparse honey-colored flecks in his irises. She tilted her head, leaning a bit closer.
"No? But what if I'd like to see your face turn red?" She teased. He shifted closer by just a hair.
"Such a feat is impossible. Getting your face to turn red would be much easier and a more pleasant sight to the eye," he responded, reaching out to stroke a finger gently back and forth along her cheek. "The redness makes your green eyes more noticeable as well. Especially when they're wide with embarrassment." Defyra snorted in amusement, her cheeks reddening despite herself. Silence hung in the air between them for a moment as they gazed at one another.
Footsteps and voices sounded in the corridor headed their way. Sandor boldly kept on stroking her cheek, making wider arcs, his eyes showing his mirth as her cheeks turned a deeper red. They were passed by a small group of ladies, all gawking, with Grace and Bethany walking at the rear. They made eye contact with Defyra and shot her matching grins. After the ladies had gone, he averted his touch to her lips, tracing her cupid's bow. She gazed at him through her lashes as she softly puckered her lips and kissed his fingertip. He froze, slack-jawed, watching her raptly as she placed another kiss along his finger, planning on making a trail down the length of the digit.
"For fuck's sake," he murmured, gently freeing his finger from her affections. "I need to return to the princes, and you, Sweet Red, are about to make that incredibly fucking difficult."
She smirked at the apparent new nickname. She was proud of herself that she could cause such a reaction in him.
"I had been on my way to drink tea for my headache, but you've already made me feel so much better." She puckered her lips at him.
"Oh, no you don't. Keep those lips to yourself." His voice had gained a deep rumble that she found she liked hearing.
"For now," she said with a wink. He snorted. "I shouldn't keep you from the princes for too long. Will I see you again today, my Lord?"
"I'll fetch you this evening. Perhaps we could take a stroll in the gardens. I do mean to discuss more with you, my Lady." It was only for a few seconds, but she glimpsed a troubled expression on his face.
"I look forward to it." He bowed while she curtsied, and they headed in opposite directions down the corridor.
"Have a nice nuzzle with your Hound?" teased Lady Grace as she sat at their normal table on the patio. She noted that they were joined by a slightly older married woman named Clarissa, who had stayed behind from the group of ladies from earlier.
"A nuzzle? Nay, that is much too bold," joked Defyra, pretending to swoon.
"Not too bold for your Hound," said Lady Clarissa. "He's a regular patron of Lord Baelish's establishments."
"How would you know that, my Lady?" Asked Lady Grace, although her smile faltered a bit when looking upon Lady Clarissa.
"I have my ways." The three regular friends exchanged glances with one another.
"Surely your husband isn't a regular patron as well?" Blurted Defyra, careful to make her face look concerned. Lady Clarissa could only splutter as she glared at Defyra, red-faced. Lady Grace and Lady Bethany both hid their faces, their shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"My husband has no need for such establishments," hissed Lady Clarissa. "He is high-born, unlike your unworthy lech--"
"--Choose your words wisely, Lady Clarissa," spoke Defyra coolly, her teacup poised in front of her. All signs of laughter stopped abruptly as the tension made itself known.
"I meant no offense," said Lady Clarissa, her voice taking on a fake saccharine tone. "I'm simply warning you so that he can't break your heart, dear."
"I...appreciate your concern, but I'm sure you did not miss our display of affection in the hallway. He has no need to seek that elsewhere while with me."
"If you can even call that a display. Mere puppy love. Although, you are dallying with the Hound..." The woman let out a rather cruel sounding giggle.
"My dear Lady, surely you do not expect us to make love out in the open!" Defyra sounded out a demure giggle.
Lady Clarissa stood.
"If that is where your mind went, clearly I am in vulgar company."
"Lady Clarissa…" Lady Bethany attempted to make peace but Defyra interrupted with her comeback.
"Oh, well," said Defyra, setting down her teacup. "Perhaps you can go back to keeping track of Lord Baelish's clientele." Lady Clarissa turned on her heel and stomped off without another word.
"I pray her manor is finished being built soon so that she and her creepy husband can get the hell out of King's Landing," quipped Lady Bethany.
"I wholeheartedly agree," said Lady Grace. "I think he enjoys staring at other women in court...so much that white bubbles of saliva form on the corners of his mouth."
"That is an excellent description of him, and I am also finished with dipping my fruit in cream after that visual," said Defyra. The other two giggled.
A loud cheer from the lawn brought their attention to the princes' target practice. From the looks of it, Joffrey had hit the bullseye from a fairly larger distance than usual. Tyrion stood between Jaime and Sandor, and although Sandor seemed to want to scoot further away from the two Lannisters, both of them casually stepped along and continued speaking with Sandor.
"It's somewhat unusual seeing the three of them talk together," said Lady Grace. She sighed dreamily as she watched Jaime laugh at something Sandor was grumbling about.
"Now that it's just us here, I have something we three can talk together about," said Defyra, turning her head to look across the lawn at Sandor. "He's asked to court me."
"YES!" squealed Lady Bethany, so loud that the males across the lawn turned to look. All three ladies waved sheepishly while giggling. Jaime and Tyrion waved and smiled back while Sandor looked like he wanted to melt into the ground. He eventually looked their way and held up a hand. Defyra blew him a kiss and watched him glare when Tyrion pretended to 'catch' it. He barked something harshly at Tyrion, who shrugged in an exaggerated manner as he responded.
"My, my, he is so angry that Tyrion caught your kiss instead of him!" laughed Lady Bethany.
"Imagine Sandor, catching my kisses while wearing that glare," giggled Defyra, turning away from the spectacle to sip her tea.
"Imagine Sandor demanding kisses close up!" said Lady Grace, still looking out towards the lawn, her smile widening considerably. Defyra blushed.
"I don't think we've quite reached that point yet," said Defyra, suddenly bashful.
"You may be surprised!" squealed Lady Bethany, swatting at Lady Grace's arm in excitement.
"Wh--"
"Defyra." She was startled by the sound of Sandor's voice behind her and turned to see him standing just on the other side of the railing.
"Sandor?" She stood and walked over to where he stood, nearly eye level as she was on a raised patio. Further off she glimpsed the princes packing away their crossbows.
"I thought I'd greet you again for a moment. I won't see you again until tonight." He reached for her hand and she gave it to him, watching him lay a kiss upon her knuckles.
"Until tonight, then," she said, smiling as she squeezed his hand before letting go.
"Until tonight."
Sandor had met her at her chamber door that evening and they walked to the gardens together. The sun was low in the sky but not yet setting. A few other couples were strolling as well, but Sandor purposefully steered their walk so that they wouldn't cross paths. Blossom petals drifted in the soft breeze around them. They had been walking in silence for quite some time. She idly caught blossom petals as they drifted by and softly ran her fingers over them before letting them go again. Sandor looked as if he were mentally debating himself and she didn't want to interrupt.
"I've been thinking," said Sandor, finally breaking the silence. She turned to him eagerly. "if we are to make new beginnings, I need to tell you about my past." She considered his serious demeanor and nodded.
"Of course. I'll listen to all you want to tell me."
He stopped them in front of a flowery stone alcove that had the statue of The Warrior. His eyes were trained on it as he spoke.
"My story started when I was very young. Until then I had adored knights. My brother had a toy, a small figure of a knight. I took it one day. Not to steal it. Just to play with it. My brother came upon me playing with it. I didn't even have a warning when suddenly my face was getting shoved into the coals of the fireplace. He never got in trouble for it. He never had any guilt for what he did to me."
Defyra stared at his side profile in silent shock.
"And then...years later he murdered what was left of our family." Unable to hold back, she lightly grasped his elbow in comfort. He glanced down at where she held him and then continued to speak. "I barely remember our sister, but the servants would whisper that Gregor killed her during one of his fits of rage, which happened often during his teenage years. And our father. He and Gregor had gone on a hunting trip and our father had an apparent accident. Fuck all of it. Every fucked up act was swept under the rug. Too many cunts were afraid of him. And then the big fucker got knighted. And he kept it! After murdering and raping the family of the King who fucking--" He stopped himself short. His voice had raised considerably and Defyra had squeezed his elbow to catch his attention. He barked out a mirthless laugh. "I can't imagine what you think of me now."
He lightly shrugged out of her grasp and continued walking down the pathway lined with statues dedicated to the Seven. She took a breath and followed him.
"I think that you are not Gregor Clegane, but Sandor Clegane. I can only judge you by your own deeds. Not his."
He turned to her, his face solemn. "Then know this. I have blood on my hands as well. I have taken lives. Innocent and wretched alike. And I've enjoyed it."
"You were acting under the crown. Ask any servant with a sword and they would say they've killed someone before."
"You've glossed over the fact that I like to kill people."
"Sandor," said Defyra softly. "While you were growing up, what were you doing while Gregor went on fits of rampage?"
"Training. I wanted to surpass him. To be stronger. To be greater than him."
"Did you kill anyone then?"
"Not until I became a sworn shield."
"Now here you stand, having defeated him." She peered up at him. "What would you like people to think about you?"
"Fuck what people think. I only care what you think. Considering what I've told you, what are your thoughts?"
"I've only known you for a little while. Yet still, you've given me no reason to doubt you. I don't care about your brother's past. I care about yours, and you've definitely been wronged. But still, you put forth your best effort in your duties, no matter how bloody." She paused and glanced into his eyes, noting his pensive expression. "We already seem to have a physical attraction, and I trust that we will come to know one another more through this courtship. You are correct that a goal in mind is to start a vineyard on the land in hopes of new enterprise. The only way I'd have second thoughts is if the soil was infertile. But even then, I wouldn't give up."
"I will have to take leave to have the land surveyed… and the Keep renovated," said Sandor. "I don't want any traces of him left."
Defyra nodded approvingly. "Right. Take it back for yourself."
"And for you. It would be yours as well." He carefully snatched a blossom petal out of her hair, an unmistakable fond expression on his face.
She smiled at him. "Yours and mine. I like the sound of that."
"I still find it hard to grasp that a woman like you would even give me the time of day."
"A woman like me...what do you know about me?"
"I know that you are Lord Redwyne's only daughter and that he trained you from a young age to handle business. You were granted your choice of who to marry. You can choose any man with a lot more wealth and land than the piss acres of Clegane's fucking Keep. But still, somehow you stay smitten by me and my fucking ugly face, which is beyond my understanding. But I will stay with you as long as you need me."
"My father had me work literally from the ground up as I was growing up. My brother and I tended to the grapes when we were young. We learned how they grow, how to keep pests away, how to know when they were ripe. We found out how the location the grapes are grown affects the type of wine made. Eventually my duties grew as I did, but I always remembered where it all began." She turned to him and reached out to place a hand over his heart. He looked down at her hand and then to her, curious.
"I could find an established Lord with lots of land, money, and a legacy of his own, but he would want to control it all, to add to his great name. All of the men I talked to before you were unsettled with the idea of me handling business affairs. The day that we met, you didn't react like they did. There were no snide comments about 'what a woman was worrying about inventory for.' I would rather have you, a man with a strong heartbeat, gruff wit, new land, and clean slate, than any of the stuffy Lords of the westerlands."
"There could always be a worse fate for me than a beautiful woman tying herself to me because she needs my land." The hand on his chest grew tense, her slim fingers bunching on his shirt. At first he thought he had angered her, until he looked and saw a smirk upon her face.
"Your land isn't the only thing I want," she whispered, biting her bottom lip. His brows rose in interest.
"I am more than willing to perform that duty when the time comes," he said, adding a growl to his voice that visibly made her shiver and bite her bottom lip harder. It took her a minute to recover. His dark eyes roamed over her face, waiting on her response.
"So you accept...to be my champion on my Name Day tourney." He stared at her for a moment until the smallest hint of a smile appeared on his features.
"You little minx. Of course." He gently took her hand from his shirt, holding it in his as he walked them back towards the Keep as darkness fell.