Sansa

'Come on, girls! Faster!'

Sansa groaned. She hated P.E.. She hated running, she hated relays and most of all she hated Miss Tarth. That woman was all leg, built for running. Sansa was built to sit around and read. Beside the running track, some senior boys were playing football for Mr Lannister. Half the girls were watching them play, but she felt they were all screaming at her.

'Sansa, you're nearly there!'

Sansa pulled a huge breath into her lungs and urged her legs to move faster. Her hand was tight and sweating around the baton. In the not-near-enough distance Jeyne was waiting to take it, and so far they would come second unless someone overtook Sansa at the last minu-

'Come on, Margaery!' she heard someone scream.

Crap, she thought. Margaery Tyrell was the best runner in their class, and Sansa had flown from her marker the second the baton had slipped into her hand, so she would stand a fighting chance. Now her state of grace was over. She heard the girls cheering and a brief, desperate pant escaped her mouth. She knew she was slower than Margaery, but by god she'd give her a fight.

In-one-two-out-three-in-one-two-out-three

Over the shouts of the girls she heard Margaery's feet pounding the asphalt close behind her. The girl ran like a professional, head down and long legs stretching easily. Sansa started to flag. Jeyne was now less than 30 metres away and Sansa was closing in rapidly, but even this small distance seemed too far.

Come on, Sansa. Come o-

BLAM

Something hard struck the side of her head. Sansa fell heavily onto the ground, skinning her knee and elbow. The sharp pain of the cuts added to the instant headache she incurred from the impact. She flopped over on her side, and through slitted eyes she saw a football bounce away. The girls were shrieking, alarmed now, and she could vaguely see Margaery jogging back towards her. There was also a ruckus over at the boy's area. She heard Mr Lannister trying to shut them up.

'Oh my god, Sansa! Are you OK?' This was Margaery. From the proximity of her voice, Sansa guessed she had knelt beside her. She felt hair fall over her own face – Margaery was checking her breathing. Sansa wanted to reply, wanted to tell her she felt fine but the throbbing in her head made it difficult to form sentences. She closed her eyes.

'Hey, is she alright?' A new voice. A familiar voice.

'Clegane, get back over there!' Sansa recognised Mr Lannister.

'Not until I know she's alright!' His voice was like thunder. Sansa summoned all of her will and opened her eyes. The glimpse she got before her eyelids closed again was of Sandor Clegane standing over her, the sun behind him creating a vast silhouette against the sky.

'What's going on? Is Sansa OK, Margaery?' Miss Tarth had arrived.

'I think she's been knocked unconscious, Miss Tarth.' Margaery said.

'She's bleeding, too,' Sandor interjected. 'I'm going to kill that little fucking prick.' Sansa heard a quick scuffle, followed by Mr Lannister's roar:

'Clegane! Principal's office, now!'

'How about you make sure she's OK before dealing with the problem student?' she heard Sandor snarl.

Sansa heard nothing then for a few seconds, and darkness threatened to take her completely.

'Do something!' Sandor yelled suddenly, and her eyes flew open. He was standing beside her, turned towards Miss Tarth and Mr. Lannister.

'We can't,' said Miss Tarth. 'It's against regulations. Normally I'd get a few of the students to carry her, but the boys don't look like they're in a co-operating mood.'

'Oh, for god's... Blount!' Sansa watched Mr Lannister stride away, and closed her eyes again. Her head was throbbing.

'Fucking useless.' She heard Sandor mutter. The next thing she knew, he knelt beside her and was scooping her into his arms. There was a quick swoop that told her he had stood up, cradling her firmly against his chest. She heard a faint giggle, and blushed. Even in her pain she felt embarrassment at the situation.

'Margaery, run to the nurse's office and tell them she's coming,' Miss Tarth ordered. Sansa heard the sound of feet patter swiftly by them and recede into the distance. Sandor started walking.

'I'll dismiss the girls, then follow you.' Tarth called. Sansa's mind was becoming more focused. She stirred just a little, and Sandor stopped walking.

'Try not to move,' he muttered. 'Else I'll drop you.'

'Sandor,' With supreme effort, she opened her eyes. The unscarred side of her face was turned towards her, and Sansa wondered whether he'd picked her up that way on purpose.

'Jesus,' he said, resuming his stride, 'for a second I thought you were knocked out.'

Sansa murmured a no, before stretching her arms to lock around his neck and secure herself more firmly. A muscle beside his mouth twitched. The giggles got louder. Any movement, however slight, caused a stab of pain to go through Sansa's head, so she refrained from looking around. I wonder where Joffrey is, she thought.

'Thank you,' she said. Sandor grunted.

'How precious!'

Sansa groaned. There he was. The flash of hate she'd felt on the bus returned, this time swelling into a pool of fire in her stomach. Don't, she thought. He's just jealous Sandor got there first.

'Look at the brave prince carrying the lady away! Or is it the beast dragging away the beauty?' Joffrey sneered from the pitch. 'Shouldn't someone call the police?'

Sandor stopped, and Sansa felt his muscles clench around her. She glanced up to see his face had gone tight with barely-suppressed rage.

'Go on, dog!' Joffrey called. The other boys sniggered. A sound that was like nothing human escaped Sandor's mouth. He does sort of sound like a dog, Sansa thought.

'Sandor,' she said. 'Don't.'

His mouth twisted in a hateful grimace, and his fingers dug into her side.

'I mean,' she added. 'He's not worth it.'

Sandor took a deep breath and began walking again. His grip relaxed a little. The sounds of Joffrey's catcalls soon fell away.

'I can't believe you're going to the graduation dance with that shit-stain.' he said.

'Please,' she murmured. Her head began to swim again. She hoped they were nearly at the nurse's office.

'He did this to you.'

'What? No, I fell, he didn't push me.' Sansa told him.

He snarled again. 'He got Meryn to kick that fucking football at your head, dimwit. That made you fall.'

'Don't call me a dimwit.'

He stopped. Sansa winced, and for a frightening second she thought he meant to throw her onto the ground. Instead he sighed, and shifted his hold on her.

'Don't be afraid of me,' he said.

Sandor began to walk again while Sansa absorbed what he'd said.

'Joffrey wanted to hurt me?' she said, puzzling at the words coming out of her mouth.

'Hurt you, humiliate you,' A slight movement indicated a shrug. 'I can't understand that guy's twisted little head any more than you can.'

They passed into the coolness of the school building. The nurse's office wasn't far from the entrance, and after a few steps Sandor slowed. Gently, taking care not to jostle her any more than necessary, he lowered her onto a chair inside the small room. Sansa's head was feeling much better; even the bright lights of the little office didn't hurt her eyes.

Sandor looked her over quickly, and Sansa was allowed a full view of his scars. It was still a shock to her system, especially since she'd only seen his unhurt side on the way. But this exposure helped her understand what he looked like under the disfigurement. He would have been quite handsome, in a way. Sandor frowned at her appraisal. A strange emotion flickered in his eyes before he turned away.

'She's cut,' he told the nurse. 'And she got whacked on the head. Miss Tarth's on her way.'

'Let's see then, Miss Stark,' the nurse, Melisandre, gently turned Sansa's arm to get a better look at the cut on her elbow. 'Oh, dear.'

Melisandre disinfected Sansa's cuts with an ointment that burned and made Sansa hiss in discomfort. Sandor waited beside her until Miss Tarth showed up, then made to leave.

'Where are you going?' Brienne and Sansa asked, at practically the same time. Sandor scowled.

'The principal's office.' he replied.

'I think you can consider yourself forgiven for cutting class,' said Miss Tarth. 'You were helping another teacher.'

Sandor sneered. 'And you think Joffrey will just forget I was about to punch his lights out? I've already got a week's detention. I may as well go before Ms Lannister starts calling for my blood.' He turned towards the hallway again.

'Sandor,' Sansa called. 'Thank you.'

A faint smile crossed his face. 'Any time, Sansa.'