Note: I had to play around with the timeline in order for this to work. This story begins a few months before the Greyjoy Rebllion with a Sansa who is six year old and a Sandor who is ten.
A Protector from the Past
Chapter One: Origins
Sansa watched with wide-eyed delight as rolling green hills and winding rivers passed by the window of their moving carriage. The Westerlands were very beautiful, and so different from her own home up north; Sansa felt like she was in one of her beautifully-illustrated storybooks. She could see in her mind's eye a beautiful maiden wandering through these lush fields, weaving flower crowns and singing to herself. A passing prince would hear the singing and, intrigued, follow it until he set eyes on the beautiful maiden and fell in love at first sight. Sansa gave a heartfelt sigh of longing.
A mommy and a baby deer appeared in the nearby field, and she turned to her father excitedly, intending to point it out to him, but changed her mind upon seeing his tired frown and pinched look. A little worm of guilt squirmed in her tummy over how much she was enjoying herself when her father was so clearly stressed and worried about the need for this journey. Still, Sansa reminded herself, she was helping her father by coming with him.
Her parents hadn't told her much about why she needed to travel to Casterly Rock with her father; they thought she was too young to understand. Sansa, however, knew more than her parents suspected. She read a lot of books, after all, and books made one knowledgeable. She knew that the trip was caused by information that her father had received by raven and had made him look very grim after reading it. She also knew it had to do with someone called 'Greyjoy'.
"We need to get the drop on Greyjoy," she had heard her father tell her mother the day the journey was decided upon. "Balon can't know that we have prior information regarding his plans, or we will lose the element of surprise. A visit with my close friend Robert, accompanied by Sansa, and with the rumors of a possible betrothal will raise his suspicions far less than an urgent ride to King's Landing accompanied only by soldiers. If we are to keep him complacent, we must-"
He had stopped speaking then, having noticed Sansa listening, but it had been enough for Sansa to understand everything: Her clever father going to outwit Greyjoy like the knight Roland had outwitted the evil dragon who had kidnapped Princess Elda. If Sansa came along with her father, Greyjoy wouldn't be able to guess that her father was planning a battle, because girls did not participate in wars.
Sansa had been happy to accompany her father on this journey, and even happier when informed that she was to meet a real prince once they reached Casterly Rock, where the royal family was vacationing. She spent the rest of the morning speculating happily on what the prince would look like and if she would rather he have dark or blonde hair, and was so absorbed in her thoughts that she was surprised when the carriage jerked to a halt.
"Are we there?" Sansa asked her father excitedly.
He gave her a tired but warm smile. "Not quite yet. This is Clegane land. We are close, but not close enough to make it there before nightfall. We will sleep here and proceed in the morning. I'm going to go help supervise as they set up camp. You may leave the carriage if you like, but don't wander far off, and don't get into any trouble."
That last part was a joke. Sansa never got into any trouble. She was the most obedient child of all her siblings, which was why it was decided that Septa Mordane would stay in Winterfell with them rather than accompany Sansa on the journey. Sansa was trusted to be obedient and keep out of trouble all on her own, and it made her very proud.
As her father got out and began calling out orders and helping to unload the wagon, Sansa headed over to a nearby patch of wildflowers and began picking them to weave a crown. A patch further away, with vibrant yellow colors caught her eye, and she wandered even further, singing to herself, and utterly absorbed in the beauty around her.
She had reached a shady little clump of trees when she heard a meow.
"Kitty?" asked Sansa excitedly, looking around for the source of the sound. The meow sounded again, and there was something pitiful about it. Maybe the kitty was in distress, and Sansa could rescue it and then it would become her friend!
She headed towards the source of the sound, and when she walked around a big tree, she saw someone.
The meow sounded again, but when Sansa looked in the direction it came from, all she could see was a brown tied-up sack. "Kitty?" she asked uncertainly, and at the sound of her voice, the person, who had been crouched over a pile of kindling, starting a fire, straightened up and turned around to look at her.
It was a very big boy, who looked to be in his teens. He smiled when he spotted Sansa, and something about that smile made Sansa feel frightened.
"Well, well, well," the boy smirked. "A stupid little girl. What are you doing here, little girl?"
"I- I thought I heard a kitty, I was curious," Sansa mumbled, avoiding the boy's narrowed eyes. "I'll go now."
She turned around, but her wrist was caught by the boy.
"Don't go yet," he said, smiling even wider. "Don't you want to see what happens to curious little girls?"
The hand around her wrist tightened, and Sansa whimpered in pain. "No, I don't. Please, let me go!"
The big boy laughed, and opened his mouth to say something, but was distracted by a cry. "Leave her alone!"
A second boy had come running up behind them, and was glaring hatefully at the boy holding Sansa.
The big boy let go of Sansa's wrist to turn around and face the other boy. For a moment, Sansa's eyes met her savior's grey ones. "Run!" he told her.
Sansa didn't need telling twice. She sprinted back the way she came as fast as she could. The boy who had rescued her had been tall and broad, but he was dwarfed by the scary boy, who was clearly some years his senior. He didn't stand a chance against the big boy, and Sansa knew in her bones that something bad was about to happen. Fighting to ignore the stitch in her chest, Sansa picked up speed.
From behind her, Sansa heard a bloodcurdling scream of unmistakable agony. She did what she thought would have been impossible a second ago and ran even faster, tears blurring her vision as what felt like a knife stabbed at her lungs. She didn't remember having wandered so far from the camp! Oh, where were they?
Then, she saw them. "Help!" she yelled, running towards them at full sprint, "Please! Help!"
A second later a group of men was crowding around her, and amidst rib-shattering sobs and desperate gasps for air, Sansa managed to say "A boy...Attacked me... Another boy there... He's hurting him... I heard him screaming... Over there."
"Come with me!" Jory yelled at the men around him, and they set off at a sprint towards the direction in which Sansa had pointed. Being able to run much faster than Sansa on her little legs, they were gone almost immediately.
More people, who had heard the commotion gathered around to hear what the noise was about, but Sansa was crying almost too hard to speak anymore. She merely shook her head at the men around her, eyes streaming. Then, her father pushed through, and Sansa leaped into his arms.
"What is it, sweetling?" he asked her tenderly. "Tell me what happened."
Sansa made herself be very brave, took a deep breath, and related everything to her father, including how Jory and some men had gone to help. "He was screaming so loud," Sansa sobbed at the end of her story. "I know that boy did something ho-horrible to him."
Her father looked very grim.
"Rorick," he said, turning to a man by his side. "I need you to saddle up a horse and prepare to take the boy; he will probably be injured. We must take him to a maester with the utmost speed. The nearest one will be at Clegane Keep, on that hill yonder." He pointed out the building to Rorick, who nodded, and rushed off immediately. "Take Wind!" her father called after him. "He's our fastest horse!"
Rorick shouted back an agreement as he ran towards the horses.
At that moment, Jory and the others returned. Two of them were carrying the boy, and Sansa could hear from afar his shrieks and sobs of agony. She tried to come closer and see what had happened to him, but her father had grabbed her head and buried it in his stomach, not allowing her to look. Sansa trembled at the sounds coming from him, but only when the boy had been passed off to Rorick and they had ridden off did her father let go of Sansa and allow her to look around.
"Jory!" her father called. "I want you to ride after them. Make sure the boy is getting proper care. It must be made clear to the maester that no expenses are to be spared in caring for this boy. His is doubtlessly one of the commoners from the village; his parents might not be able to pay the fee for his medicines. Tell the maester that the expenses for his treatment are to be covered entirely by me. Additionally, I want a message to be left for the boy, as we will not have time to linger here until the boy is well enough for me to speak to personally. Leave it with the maester; he will be able to read it to the boy if the boy cannot read. Write that if the boy wishes to squire for house Stark I will arrange for it. If there is any other service or favor I can preform for him it will be done, he need only ask. This boy saved my daughter, I will see him rewarded."
"Yes, my lord," Jory nodded. "I will see it done."
"Good," said Ned. "Now, what of the attacker? Did you apprehend him?"
"Aye. It took three of our men to pull him off the boy, and another to subdue him. I have them watching over him now, and another of the men is bringing rope. Once he is restrained, they will bring him to camp."
"No!" said her father, sounding angry. "He will not come anywhere near my daughter. Have him brought to Clegane Keep as well. As this incident occurred on his land, it is Clegane's job to administer justice. I trust he will see the boy appropriately punished."
"I will see to it immediately," Jory replied, and he set off.
The next few hours were a miserable blur, as Sansa followed her father around the camp, not daring to let him out of her sight, and sobbing and sniffling intermittently. It was only after night fell and Sansa retired with her father to the tent that Jory returned.
"What news?" asked Ned, as Jory entered the tent.
"Will the boy who saved me be alright?" asked Sansa.
"The maester has reason to believe that the boy will survive," Jory replied delicately.
Sansa was not stupid. She knew that if it had to be stated that the boy had a chance of surviving, his injuries had been bad enough to put him in danger of death. "What happened to him?" she asked fearfully. "What did that other boy do?"
Jory cast her a hesitant look, and then looked to her father meaningfully.
"Sansa, step out of the tent for a moment," her father commanded her.
"I want to know!" Sansa declared, stomping her foot.
"Now, Sansa!" her father barked, and she deflated at his sternness, walking out quietly. She was still a good girl, after all.
A few minutes later, Jory and her father emerged from the tent, and before Sansa could say anything, her father had gathered her up in his arms. For a strange moment, it felt to Sansa like he was shaking.
"My precious Sansa," he whispered into her hair. "My sweet, sweet girl. You're alright. You're safe."
Sansa thought she felt a wetness at the top of her head, but couldn't think where it might have come from.
So... This is the first story I've posted in a while without having most of it written already. What are your thoughts? Worth continuing?