Sandor's fingers were lightly placed along her side as she lay curled into him. He had fallen asleep some time ago but Sansa refused to let her dreams separate her from this moment for she knew she would have to return to her cage soon enough. Back to the reality of the world she lived in. But for now, she could lay with him in her escape where Joffrey would never find her.
Her head was placed in the crook of his arm and she listened attentively to his steady breathing. His deep breaths calmed her and she felt herself curl closer into him. He was so warm against her cold skin. She found herself running her fingers absentmindedly through the abundant and course hair that covered his muscled chest. Her fingers worked as a way to keep her tethered to the ground, to him. The consequences of what they had done had yet to truly wash over her. All she knew what that she was not ready to leave him and face reality just yet. She was not entirely sure she would be able to.
Yet what she had experienced with Sandor had made every moment of her torture under Joffrey's hands surprisingly irrelevant. She let out a small puff of air, amused that the man before her had once terrified her. Sandor Clegane wasn't the Hound with her, not anymore.
Watching him sleep, he wore the most peaceful expression. His usual frown was hidden from sight and Sansa reached out a finger and lightly let it travel down his good cheek, marveling at how rough his skin felt under hers. She wished she could see him better but darkness had spread through the room. She was not sure how long they had been there. It could have been hours or minutes, she would not have been able to know. She would ask to see his scars the next time, how he had gotten them, why they painted his body. She wondered if the scars on her body intrigued him the same way. Most likely not, Sandor had been in and out of battle since he was a boy.
As light from the sunrise slowly seeped through his small window, she knew she had to leave. She carefully untangled herself from him and watched him momentarily in the faint daylight. She admired his strong body and the muscles that flexed as he reached for the body that had once been beside him. He let out a deep groan at the loss but thankfully, remained asleep. Sansa let out a deep breath as he drifted back into a peaceful slumber. She was relieved she had not woken him, she was not sure how he would treat her once awake. A deep part of her feared he would become distant and unkind to her as he had before. He had placed some sort of block around himself from others, one that he used especially against her.
She dressed in silence, and quietly unbarred the door. She prayed to the seven that no one would be wandering the halls so early in the morning before she quickly maneuvered through the cracked door and shut it once more behind her.
Sansa kept her head lowered as she walked back to her room. If anyone found her, she would speak the truth. She had become restless and had decided on a trip to the godswood to pray for the safety of her beloved Joffrey in his upcoming battles. No one would question the whims of the King's silly bride.
Just as she reached her chambers, a small noise startled her and she stopped mid-step. She had been sure it had come from behind her yet peering down the corridor, she could see no one there, only the flickering torches that lined the hallway. Sansa opened her door and with a shake of her head closed it firmly behind her. She was sure it had only been her imagination.
Sansa had been avoiding Shae's skeptical looks that morning. Sansa was more aware of the way she walked than she had ever been before and noticed the way it must appear to others. She couldn't help walking strange on their morning stroll through the gardens. Her womansplace felt sore and her legs felt stiff as if she had stretched all the muscles that held her up.
But she kept walking. The Queen had insisted that Sansa take walks every morning to keep her body fit and as a way to maintain her womanly curves. Joffrey would not wed a fat bride, the Queen had insisted eyeing her up and down. Sansa had stuffed lemon cakes into her mouth after the Queen had departed but had upheld her orders as each morning she and Shae take walks in order to avoid any suspicion of Sansa's devoted love for the King.
That morning had been no different than any other, yet Sansa found herself desiring to walk the rest of the way by herself. She had turned to dismiss Shae, ignoring the confused expression that spread along her handmaiden's face. But she had followed her orders and turned to walk back to the Red Keep. Sansa continued on by herself.
Sansa stopped before a particular flower admiring the way the vibrant colors had caught her eye in the sun's gaze. She drew her finger lightly over the soft petal, admiring how different it looked among the others. It's color matched the crimson of her hair compared to the yellow of those in it's bunch. She felt herself oddly drawn to it before a voice spoke from behind her, startling her in it's presence.
"Golden begonias, my lady. Although it seems that a red intruder has found itself among them." A creep travelled up her spine as she knew the voice before she even had to turn around. She had thought Petyr Baelish to have left King's Landing days ago.
Sansa's eyes remained on the red flower she had been admiring. He walked closer to her until he stood at her side, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers with each breath he took. He took her hand from her side and brought his lips toward the back of her palm placing a light kiss on her skin. She fought the impulse to snatch her wrist back from his unwelcome touch. Something about Lord Baelish did not sit well inside of Sansa.
"Lady Sansa." He straightened his posture bringing his head level to hers. As she had grown, she noticed the subtle height difference between her and Lord Baelish. He stood shorter to her now and Sansa found herself adjusting her spine so she could maintain this small superiority to him.
"Lord Baelish, what a pleasure to see you on such a lovely day." Sansa feared Lord Baelish. He was one of the only ones who could see through her exterior. He seemed to be searching her expression for something, she was unsure what.
Much to Sansa's disgust, Littlefinger picked the flower she had admiring from the bunch and held it out to her. Sansa could have sworn the color dulled slightly in his fingers. His eyes reflected a shimmer of mischief and something she had seen in Sandor's eyes once before. Collecting herself, she would be rude not to collect his strange gift. She accepted it gracefully clutching it to her chest as she smiled politely toward him.
"Thank you, my lord." She pretended to further enjoy the flower in her fingers but all beauty had been destroyed as soon as Lord Baelish had reached for it.
"Tell me Sansa, are you attending the King's feast tonight?" Joffrey had thrown four feasts in a sennight. Ever since Lord Tyrion had insisted that the crown was under a great debt to the Iron Bank, Joffrey had argued that the King should have every right he wanted. For the moment, Joffrey wanted feasts.
Sansa allowed her smile to widen on her face before speaking. "Yes, my King has so graciously called his loyal subjects to dine with him once more in the great hall." Sansa knew Lord Baelish had every intention to ask her to accompany him to the feast and Sansa knew it would be improper to decline.
"You must accompany me then, my lady."
"I would be honored, my lord. You must excuse me though, as I must get ready." She could hear her voice momentarily waver and his suddenly rigid stance proved that he had as well.
She turned to leave before his palm came to a rest on her shoulder, halting her movements. "My lady, we must be careful of who we trust. It is so very easy to place trust in the wrong person's hands, even if you believe them to be well intended." She wasn't sure if he meant his words as a threat but Sansa could feel the way he spoke. His fingers had tightened on her shoulder into an uncomfortable grip before releasing altogether. He smiled at her once more before bowing and leaving her to think in the gardens.
Lord Baelish knew something, that was certain. As Sansa made her way back to her chambers, she could not shake his words from her mind. Their meaning was rattling inside of her. If he were to know about her and Sandor she supposed he would not tell Joffrey about it if he hadn't already. No, Lord Baelish was too clever to give up valuable information. But what he did want, she had a feeling that she already knew.
Shae had been insistent about getting Sansa dressed in time. Shae was not one to worry about proprieties and Sansa found herself wondering what had sparked the strange behavior. Did everyone know what had happened between her and Sandor? She figured that it was just her guilty conscious instructing her thoughts. Shae had insisted that Sansa wear a golden gown but Sansa knew better than that. Joffrey would find something wrong with her wearing his colors therefore, turning all of his attention toward her. She decided on a light brown gown with faint traces of purple embroidered into the seams. Sansa desired nothing more than to sit in the far back and blend in with the crowd. Although this would never happen, she was thankful that she would not be sitting next to Joffrey but in the table in front of his.
Sansa decided to leave her hair down in the northern fashion with only a small clip pinning the hairs that framed her face to the back of her head. Joffrey had little care for fashion and she hoped that she could slide by with this small nod to her family name.
Lord Baelish had come to collect Sansa from her chambers and to escort her to the feast. Shae seemed very displeased with this arrangement but with a slight smile toward her handmaiden, Sansa watched her visibly relax a slight amount. He held out his arm for her and Sansa reluctantly latched on. He escorted her to the dining hall whispering compliments, sweet nothings, into her ear.
As they rounded the corner, she could see the feast had started well before she had arrived. There were lords and ladies adorning the hall. Each one smiled and laughed as they discussed amongst themselves. Joffrey appeared to be enjoying himself greatly as Ser Dontos, Joffrey's new fool, pranced around the King dropping his hat in the exchange. Sansa watched him bend over to pick up the fallen item when Joffrey placed his boot on Ser Dontos's backside giving a hard kick. Joffrey practically fell over with laughter as Ser Dontos lay stretched along the floor.
Her eyes drifted to the right of the King where Sandor stood. Heat flushed to her cheeks as she realized he had watched her enter into the hall with Littlefinger. Sandor stood staring at her with fire in his eyes that seemed to scorch her entire being even from across the room. His gaze then flicked to Littlefinger who was busy admiring the feast paying no attention to the angry man eyeing him from afar. Sansa tried to catch his eyes once more in an attempt to explain but before she could, he returned his gaze lazily in front of him. Sandor was once more erased of any emotion.
Before she could pay any more attention his way, Littlefinger led her to her seat in the dining area. She perfectly overlooked Sandor but he still refused to meet her eyes. As she had continued watching him, Joffrey seemed to have sensed her presence for he stood and walked toward her, clapping his hands together in a noise that echoed through the hall. His movement sent silence in it's wake and soon the only noise that could be heard was the sound of his boot hitting the pavement.
"Lady Sansa, would you honor me with a dance?" Joffrey stood in front of her and held out his hand. She hadn't expected this to happen but she quickly smiled at his affections and placed her hand in his clammy grip. He yanked her from her seat much to her dismay and Sansa struggled momentarily, quick to find her balance.
He led her to the center of the room and with a simple nod of his head, music suddenly filled the chamber. She moved halfheartedly with him as he began to spin her around. She kept the smile that appeared to radiate from her firm on her face. He continued to lead her, the hand that was once on her hip was resting inappropriately on her backside. Still, Sansa maintained the composure of a lady. Her smile still lit her face and she hoped to all those around her that it seemed one of a lovestruck maiden. Joffrey, however, seemed displeased as he leaned toward her.
"You do not seem to enjoy dancing with me, my lady." His grip on her backside tightened and Sansa fought the urge to grimace at his unkind touch. He was visibly irritated by the lack of fear that Sansa was exhibiting. If it were up to him, he would have her screaming and begging for her life at his feet in front of everyone in the dining hall. Sansa would not give him that enjoyment. No, she much rather enjoyed watching him appear more like a boy in front of her, one who was clearly about to throw a temper tantrum.
"Forgive me, your grace. I do so enjoy the pleasure of dancing with your grace." Sansa spoke her words with a straightened posture. She would play her part in this game. Joffrey seemed momentarily stunned by her composure but he continued to dance with her, his movements faulting slightly. Suddenly, Joffrey's eyes lit up causing Sansa's stomach to rise in her throat. Whatever idea had flashed in his mind was one that greatly amused him.
He stopped dancing and pulled away from her. The music stopped and quiet murmurs filled the vacant silence of the room. It appeared she was not the only one unsure of Joffrey's next moves.
"Perhaps," His voice rang through the room, "Perhaps you will be more inclined to dance with a different partner. HOUND!"
