Hi guys! I know it's been a very long time since I have updated this story and I deeply apologize. College and things in my personal life have been crazy and rough over the last two years. I had a few chapters of this story written when I first decided to upload chapter one and over time I became frustrated with how it sounded and lost motivation for awhile. Lately I've been rewatching GoT with a friend of mine who has never seen it and I was finally given some inspiration to pull this story out from its cobwebs. Again, I apologize that it's been so long.
There's a few things that I need to say about this chapter before you read it. This story is strictly based off the HBO show, with loose connections to the books here and there. That means that every character I mention in this story is portrayed as how they look in the show, not how they were written to look in the books. Furthermore, I forgot to mention in chapter one is the age difference between Sansa and Sandor. I have loved this pair since day 1 and I adore the actors that play them in the show. However, I am not a complete fan of the significant age difference between them. Therefore, I am making Sandor's age based off how old he was in the books, which puts him somewhere in his 30s in season 8. In this case, he will be 33 and Sansa 22.
As always, read and review. I love feedback!
Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R.R. Martin
Chapter 2: Good Riddance to the Dragon Queen
Lying awake in her chambers, Sansa stared at the ceiling, listening to the dying embers of the fire as they hissed and crackled. She had been awake for the better part of a few hours thinking.
She reached up, her fingers ghosting over her swollen lips.
Sansa didn't know what came over her to do something as rash as kissing Sandor Clegane. It was like she had been in some sort of trance when she acted on a whim. After it was done, she had fled from the balcony before either of them could say another word to each other.
She had surprised herself by how bold she had been, especially around a man like Sandor. They had both changed over the years, both adapting to the torment that had constantly dragged them down over the years. They had grown and Sansa liked to think that it was for the better. The kiss she had shared with Sandor had shown harbored feelings that she had left unspoken, feelings that she had held onto for the latter part of her lifetime in hopes of seeing him again.
For a long time she had thought him dead. Arya had told her she left him to die on an escarpment near the Vale of Arryn. The emptiness she had felt in her heart afterwards had scarred her, for the Hound had protected her when no one else dared to. She remembered when Jon had written to her before he returned home from the Wall, relaying to her that he was coming home and that the Hound was with him. The relief that had sparked and the emotions that had stirred in her belly at the news had given her hope- hope that she might one day see him again.
Even if the kiss they shared had meant nothing, that the conversation they shared alone on that balcony meant nothing, Sansa needed Sandor to know how she felt. He deserved to know the truth and she needed him to know that he would always have her in his corner, no matter the circumstances. Whatever his feelings were and whatever emotion she managed to stir up in him during their intimate moment, they didn't matter.
He would leave, she knew, and there was nothing she could say or do to change his mind.
Stuffing her feelings down and pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, she sighed.
There was much that needed to be done and she would get nowhere if she stayed in bed all day.
Throwing the furs she had enveloping her aside, she slipped out of bed until her feet touched the cold stone flooring. Wrapping her nightdress further around herself, she padded over to the fire and stoked it with the poker to keep it going. Adding another chunk of wood to it, she watched as the flames roared to life, enveloping the room in warmth.
As she relished in the heat, a knock sounded on the door. "Who is it?"
"It's Lorenah, milady," her handmaiden replied.
"Come in."
The door opened then as her handmaiden stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She kept a respectable distance, folding her hands in front of her, looking up to meet Sansa's gaze. "I'm here to help you dress for the day."
~GoT~
The sound of a door creaking and latching shut stirred her awake.
Shifting underneath the sheets, Brienne slowly peeled her eyes open, allowing them time to adjust to the lighting. Instinctively, she reached beside her, feeling nothing but cold sheets under her fingertips. With eyes better adjusted, she looked beside her.
Jaime was gone and so were his clothes.
Swallowing, she laid her head back on her pillow. A swarm of thoughts invaded her mind, worry pitting deep within her stomach. While she had enjoyed what had transpired between her and Jaime, she feared that he did not feel the same. He hadn't woken her when he left and by the abrupt nature of his exit, Brienne worried that Jaime regretted what they had done.
Her head throbbed the more she thought about it, her hangover from last night messing with her head.
Deciding on a warm bath to soothe her headache, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bath. Relishing in the warmth the water had to provide, she scrubbed her skin clean. Satisfied, she dried and got dressed, putting on her armor and attaching her sword to her belt. Finally ready for the day, she added more wood to the fire before leaving her room.
Brienne walked down the castle's corridors in long but equal strides as she made her way to Sansa's chambers. Chatter was coming from the gallery where their feast had been held the night prior. She spotted Jaime and Tyrion inside as she walked by, the brothers talking with one another while eating breakfast. Stopping just down the hall from the gallery, she pondered whether or not she should bid them good morning. Deciding that there was still time before she had to accompany Lady Stark, she took a detour.
"Good morning, Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime." she greeted as she entered the room, bowing her head respectfully to the two of them. She barely gave Tyrion a second glance.
Both Lannisters returned her greeting. She turned to look at Jaime. "May I speak with you?"
Jaime gave her a soft smile while Tyrion glanced between the two of them, trying to figure them out. "Of course, if you'd excuse me."
Standing from his seat, he followed Brienne out of the gallery and into the hallway. A few of the castle's servants were walking down the corridor as they pulled off to the side, giving them small greetings as they passed. Once the servants were gone and they were away from prying ears, Jaime broke the silence.
"I hope you slept well?" he asked, still wearing his smile.
"You left this morning without saying goodbye. Why?" Brienne asked, jumping straight to the point.
She needed to know what Jaime wanted and what he hoped could come from whatever unspoken relationship they had. Brienne needed to know if what happened between them was something coincidental based on high emotions from winning a war that they had had little chance of winning or if what they had done meant something more. The last thing she wanted was to read too much into things and end up with her heart broken.
Jaime, confused by her question, stared at her with furrowed brows. "Why does it matter whether or not I said goodbye before I left?"
"Just answer the question." Brienne replied, leaving no room for argument. "Why'd you do it?"
"You were still sleeping, I didn't want to wake you."
"You could've woken me and I would've been fine. Instead you left me alone without saying a word." She paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She didn't want to yell at him. Meeting his gaze, she continued. "I'm having a hard time trying to understand. Are you embarrassed to be near me after last night? I thought that you enjoyed it-"
"Brienne, what are you talking about?" he asked her, preventing her from saying anything more. He could see the pain in her eyes and it was enough to make his heart sink.
"Do you regret what happened last night?"
Calmly, Jaime took her gloved hand within his own and squeezed it reassuringly. He shook his head. "Of course not. Brienne, I don't regret a single thing about last night. Last night was incredible- you were incredible."
Still hesitant, she swallowed. "Are you sure?"
Jaime smiled. "I'm sure. You don't have to worry, I'm not going anywhere. You have my word."
She nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Okay."
A guard passed by and Brienne removed her hand from Jaime's, straightening her posture and resting her hand comfortably on the hilt of her sword. "I have to go, I'm needed elsewhere. I'll see you later."
Jaime watched her turn the corner before he just smiled and shook his head. Walking back into the gallery, he retook his seat next to his brother. He popped another grape in his mouth and took a drink of water from his cup. From his periphery, he noticed Tyrion staring at him with a smirk on his face.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Tyrion leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. He was still smirking. "Nothing."
Jaime nodded silently, taking a grape off his plate and popping it into his mouth while his brother watched him. "But I am curious, what was she like?"
"Who?"
"Who do you think, Jaime?" Tyrion asked, making Jaime's face flush out of embarrassment. "Go on, tell me. What was it like having sex with such a large woman?"
Jaime nearly choked on his water as the question fell from Tyrion's lips. Coughing, he set his cup back on the table. "I don't see how that's any of your fucking business."
"Come on Jaime. Give me the details!" Tyrion pressed. "I haven't been with a woman in years- I want to remember what it's like! Please!"
Jaime shook his head. "Not going to happen little brother."
The younger Lannister belted out a laugh, causing Jaime to stare at his brother until he stopped. Once Tyrion had stifled his laughter, he met his brother's gaze. "I'm just teasing, I'm happy for you. This is the first time I've seen you happy, actually happy."
"Thank you Tyrion. That means a lot," Jaime replied, his words sincere.
"You deserve to be happy, Jaime, and I'm glad you were able to find it." Tyrion said, standing from his seat. He gave his brother a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before leaving the gallery.
~GoT~
"Good morning Lady Sansa." Brienne greeted, giving a short bow to her Lady.
Sansa gave a soft smile in the taller woman's direction. "Good morning,"
"Did you sleep well?" she asked as the two of them began walking down the corridor. There was a hint of suggestiveness in her tone.
"Yes, quite well actually. Are you trying to imply something milady?"
Sansa gave the older woman a small smirk. "Perhaps. I saw you leave the celebration early last night with Jaime Lannister not far behind. Did something happen between the two of you?"
Brienne could feel her cheeks burn up at her Lady's question. She came to an abrupt halt in the corridor, just before the door that stepped outside into the courtyard. By how red her face was, Sansa knew she was spot on. Sansa stopped momentarily, watching Brienne curiously before she eventually continued walking.
"It's alright Brienne, you do not have to explain yourself to me." she said, dismissing her previous question.
"Milady, if I may ask, how did you know?" The knight asked, taking longer strides until she was once again in step with Sansa.
She merely chuckled. "I'm not blind, Ser. I see the way you look at him just like I see the way he looks at you. You're both fond of each other- it was bound to happen eventually."
Brienne stopped again. She lowered her head to face the ground, feeling ashamed at what she had done. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint the one person she had been charged by her mother to protect.
"Then I most humbly apologize Lady Sansa. I know of your great distaste towards Ser Jaime and-" Brienne apologized, her words dying in her throat as Sansa held up a hand to silence her.
"There's no need to be sorry. While Jaime Lannister has done horrible things to many people in his lifetime— my family included— he evidently betrayed his sister to aid us in battle and for that I will always be grateful. I think I have you to thank for that. You've changed him in more ways than one and I like to think that he's a better man because of it. So thank you,"
Once again, Brienne was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. So instead, she nodded, appreciating the kind words. Sansa passed her a small smile before turning on her heel and continuing on towards the courtyard.
"Where are we heading Lady Sansa?" Brienne asked as the two of them entered the courtyard.
"To find Daenerys Targaryen. I must speak with her before she leaves for Dragonstone."
~GoT~
"Easy Stranger." Sandor soothed as he stroked his horse's neck.
The black warhorse snorted, stomping across the frozen ground as he pulled at his Master's reins. Stranger had been rather agitated since arriving in Winterfell from the Quiet Isle a short time ago. Sandor guessed his agitation was due in part to the lack of being used while the other part had to do with his stallion's inexperience with the cold.
Stilling Stranger with one pull to the reins, Sandor retrieved an apple he had snagged from the kitchens out of his pocket. Holding out his palm, he watched as Stranger plucked it from his hand and ate it. He patted his stallion's neck.
"Just a few more days and we'll go back to the South where it's warmer. I promise,"
Stranger neighed softly, pushing his nose into his owner's chest wanting attention. A faint smile ghosted over Sandor's lips as he pet Stranger's nose. He knew his stallion was growing restless being cooped up in the stables but in a few days time, they would leave the North and nothing would matter anymore.
A flash of red caught his eye as he worked at detangling his horse's mane. Turning his head, he spotted Sansa walking across the courtyard, Brienne— her sworn shield— hot on her heels. As if she knew she was being watched, Sansa looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes softening as they landed on his face. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips before she averted her gaze and went on her way.
Sandor watched as she ascended the stone steps to the upper level balcony bridge between the Great Keep and the Armory where they had been last night. He still remembered the kiss they shared. Her lips had been soft and tasted of something sweet. Her very touch still lingered, making his cock twitch in his trousers.
Sandor couldn't fathom what came over Sansa or what possessed her to kiss him like she did. Whatever her reason, he wasn't complaining. He had always cared for Sansa and always done his best to protect her. Even so, Sandor couldn't help but feel that he failed her. The little bird— as he so fondly called her— had a special place in his heart and he would give anything to see that she was safe.
"I thought you said you hated gingers." Tormund's voice rang in the Hound's ears as the wildling approached behind him.
Sandor's jaw tightened out of habit, not even sparing Tormund a glance. "I do."
"Don't deny it Clegane. I see the way you look at her." Tormund commented, a smirk tugging at his lips. He walked around Stranger to stand beside Sandor, nearly getting nipped by the stallion in the process.
"Who?" Sandor retorted, annoyed.
"Jon's sister. What's her name again?" he asked, slinging his arm boldly around his shoulders. "Oh right- Sansa."
Sandor growled. "Get your fucking arm off me before I tear it off you miserable little shit. Go find someone else to bother, I'm not in the mood."
Tormund released Sandor, raising his arms in the air as a gesture of truce. "Alright, fair enough. But I'm not wrong, you know."
"Oh yeah?" Sandor challenged, turning to look at Tormund's smug face. Oh did he want to rip that look off his face and shove it up his ass. "What makes you so certain of that fact?"
"As I told you before, gingers are beautiful because they were kissed by fire. You were burned by it. You say you fear fire, but yet, you're attracted to its red and orange flames like they will somehow save you from yourself."
"What are you getting at shithead?"
Tormund paused, gesturing at Sansa on the balcony. "That woman up there, she's a Phoenix. She was kissed by fire and rose from the ashes of those who tormented her and turned into something beautiful. She is your redemption Clegane and you know it."
Sandor stood there silently, mulling over Tormund's words, drinking in their meaning. For a crazy fucker that used to live beyond the wall, he was quite wise.
"If you're finished with your little speech, you can fuck off." he grumbled, smoothing out Strager's mane.
"As you wish. You should see her before you go Clegane- say goodbye. You'll only hurt her if you don't."
Bristling as Tormund left him, Sandor cleaned out Stranger's hooves before leading him back to his stall. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Tormund was right. He needed to say goodbye to Sansa before leaving for King's Landing. He owed her at least that much.
Taking the bridle off Stranger, he passed it off to the stable-boy to put away, latching the stall door shut behind him.
~GoT~
Walking up the stone steps that led up to the bridge between the Armory and the Great Keep, Sansa eyed Daenerys like the wolf she was, trying to read her. The Targaryen Queen was speaking with Tyrion, her Hand, giving nothing away. Exiting the stairwell, Sansa went to cross the bridge towards Daenerys when two spears blocked her path, preventing her from going further. Impassive, Sansa eyed the two Unsullied that stood before her before glancing ahead at Daenerys who was watching them.
"It's alright, let them through." Daenerys ordered.
The two guards moved their spears and stepped aside, allowing her through. As she crossed the bridge towards Daenerys, Brienne remained behind her, keeping her hand on the hilt of her sword just in case. Stopping when she reached the Queen's side, Sansa turned her eyes ahead, looking out over the courtyard.
"You have caught me at a good time. My men are finalizing their preparations- we should be heading back to Dragonstone tomorrow." Daenerys spoke first, her eyes scanning over Sansa.
"All is as it should be then." Sansa replied. "Will my brother be going with you?"
"That is for your brother to decide." Daenerys answered. "He swore an oath to me but I will not force him to come with me if he is not ready. I know he will accompany me in his own time."
"He swore an oath to you that wasn't his to give."
"Excuse me?"
Sansa flicked her eyes over her shoulder to look at Daenerys, her gaze icy. "The North declared Jon as their King. He left Winterfell, met you, and then bent the knee without saying a word to anyone. He gave you— a Queen who knows nothing of the North— his crown, one that was never his to give in the first place."
Dany's nose twitched and her jaw clenched, giving way to her agitation. Her eyes locked on Sansa, she spoke. "Leave us."
Tyrion and the guards nodded, walking to either end of the bridge to leave the two women alone. Sansa glanced at Brienne and gave the knight a short nod, dismissing her as well. Once the two women were alone, Daenerys spoke, an untamable fire in her eyes.
"I did not force your brother to bend the knee- he did it of his own accord. I had already pledged my forces to him when he decided to give his crown to me."
"Even so, you would have asked for his crown after defeating the Night King. You want no one standing in your way when you claim the Iron Throne." Sansa countered.
"Are you saying that you would revoke my claim to the Iron Throne and rebel against me?"
"No. I have no interest in removing you from the Iron Throne once Cersei is gone. As far as I'm concerned, the South is yours. The North, however, is not."
"If I may remind you Lady Sansa, I risked everything to aid the North in defeating the dead. Your brother pledged his loyalty to me and as the Iron Throne is mine by birthright, so is the North. I owe the North nothing. You owe me everything." Daenerys hissed, venom lacing her words.
Even so, Sansa held her ground. Impassive, her eyes flicked over the Dragon Queen. "And if I may remind you, Your Grace, that the North was an independent kingdom long before Aegon Targaryen brought the Seven Kingdoms under his rule. My family has been in Winterfell for eight thousand years- we built the North. Jon may have bent the knee and swore his loyalty to you but I did not and neither did my bannermen. We never will either,"
Bristling, Daenerys glared. "What you speak of is high treason, punishable by execution."
"Is it?" Sansa asked rhetorically. A small smirk tugged at her lips. "I suppose I'll have to take my chances then."
Stepping away from Daenerys, Sansa began making her way towards the stairwell where Brienne was waiting for her. "I bid you safe travel back to Dragonstone. Give Cersei my regards. Your Grace,"
With those final dismissing words, Sansa disappeared into the stairwell, leaving a fuming Daenerys behind.
