The murmurs that had filled the room died suddenly at Joffrey's unexpected words. The gasp that slipped from Sansa's mouth occupied the silence he had created. It seemed that Joffrey had found the one thing that could evoke emotion from Sansa without her control. Joffrey peered at her through pleased eyes, mischief gleaming from his heavy gaze.
Sandor had yet to budge, his stiff frame remained stoic as he stared absentmindedly in front of him. Sansa could barely breathe but Sandor appeared uncaring and distant from everybody, including her.
"My lady, I think my dog should take a turn with you. A king always bestows his play things on his loyal servants." He stepped close enough so only she could hear, "Better get used to pleasing my men, Sansa. I will let them fuck you until you bleed, after I am done with you of course."
Sansa was to be queen. Could this truly happen to her? Of course it could. Joffrey would never stop trying to hurt her and if that meant being brutally raped by every one of his soldiers, he would allow it to happen.
"Come, dog." Sandor remained still. Hushed whispers fell over the crowd and Joffrey spoke louder, "Your master is calling you!"
Only then did Sandor's eyes find the King's. Sansa could only compare his gaze to that of a man with a crazed blood-thirst, one that seemed focused on Joffrey. His eyes alone were enough to make any man shiver in his boots and it appeared that Joffrey wasn't immune in his finely leathered ones. In a desperate attempt to regain control over his hound, he opened his mouth once more only to shut it quickly as Sandor finally made his way toward them.
Sansa released a large breath of air. She was unaware if she had been holding her breath for her or for Sandor but it seemed that Sandor knew just as well as she did that their lives were resting on compliance. Joffrey would surely kill Sandor if he did not dance with her. She did not even want to consider what would happen to her next.
Soon enough Sandor stood in front of Sansa, he appeared vacant but she knew what she was supposed to do and that was whatever Joffrey wished of her in that moment. She raised her arm in an attempt to settle on his body so they could dance. Sandor pulled back at her touch and Sansa felt herself blush like a fool at his obvious reluctance to be with her. She couldn't help it, it was not as if she was the one who had forced him to dance, she could not understand where this sudden hostility toward her had stemmed from. He seemed almost embarrassed as his eyes flicked from side to side. Could he even dance? Perhaps this dance was not meant to only embarrass her but to also embarrass Joffrey's beloved dog.
Sansa raised her arm once more to rest on his shoulder. He allowed her this time. Due to her height, their placement was barely awkward at all. In fact, it almost seemed as if their height difference complimented their appearance together. She could feel his large hand trail her body momentarily before curling on her waist. Her skin prickled under his touch and Sansa found herself remembering what his hands had done to her before, she reddened furiously. Sansa hoped to any onlooker it would look like the blush of a maiden dancing with a knight, even though he was not a knight. She was sure no one would suspect their act of deviance.
"Dance!" Joffrey commanded. Sandor moved her suddenly and Sansa stumbled slightly, struggling to find her footing. They began to slowly move in rhythm to the hum of the harp. Sansa tried to pay no mind to Joffrey who had been circling them and closely observing the way they hung to each other. It appeared that he was searching for something and Sansa hoped with all her heart that he would not find what he was looking for.
In an attempt to collect herself, Sansa willed away the perverse thoughts that filled her mind and focused on her smile. She would smile as she had with Joffrey and she would dance as she had with Joffrey. She would appear as a puppet, following the strict instructions of the puppeteer. Sandor had not looked at her once, his eyes remained distant and his face appeared expressionless. He danced with agile and precise movements, Sansa had been surprised. He certainly wasn't the best dancer in the seven kingdoms but he moved much more gracefully than she had anticipated.
Sansa had shifted her gaze accidentally to Joffrey who stood just to the side of them, carefully watching her. She smiled brightly and he scowled, he was not happy. She quickly turned her gaze back to Sandor who still refused to look at her. Without her knowing, Sansa's fingernails had dug into the skin by Sandor's neck that was not covered by armor. She quickly relaxed her grip and as she did, his eyes snapped to hers.
Sansa was transfixed by what his stare held and she continued to dance. She was unsure if their intensity was what had caused her to clutch to him more fervently but she was sure that in that moment, the only thing that was holding her up were the dark brown eyes of Sandor Clegane. Her movements became more fluid as they continued to dance, their gaze never parting. She was unsure when the song had ended but Sandor seemed very aware as he immediately let her go and turned toward Joffrey, awaiting his next instruction by his master.
Sansa faced Joffrey to see how her beloved King had reacted to the dance. To her surprise, he was smiling, a smile that reflected in his eyes. Sansa felt sweat pool at the back of her neck.
"My lady, you do appear enthused to have served as the Hound's dance partner." He spoke loudly, provoking laughter through the hall. She locked her eyes on the floor in an attempt to ignore the laughter that filled the hall because of her.
Sansa smiled as a lady should and spoke, "Thank you, your grace. Although, not nearly as much as I enjoy your grace as my dance partner."
He grunted in response before returning quickly to his seat next to his mother, Sandor following closely behind. Cersei was smiling warmly as Joffrey sat but as soon as her eyes settled on Sansa, they reflected the true woman who hid behind the crown. Joffrey's mood quickly turned joyous as his personal fool, Ser Dontos, began to attempt to juggle.
Sansa had returned to her spot besides Littlefinger. As soon as she had sat, he leaned toward her and brushed his knuckles lightly against her cloth-covered shoulder. "You danced beautifully, my lady, even with such a horrendous dance partner." His breath tickled her earlobe and she felt the sudden urge to purge her empty stomach on the dinner table. Sansa knew that Littlefinger had been infatuated with her lady mother since before Sansa had been born. With her mother gone and Sansa here, Littlefinger seemed to be turning his attentions to her instead. It was revolting.
"Thank you, my lord." She used the excuse of reaching for her spoon to escape his uncomfortable caress. Tasting the soup, she swallowed it down quickly. She had not eaten today besides a cup of tea that had been brought to her chambers by an overly fearful maid earlier in the morning. It had been much bitter than she was used to. She had tried to send it back but her maid had been very insistent that she drink all of it.
Sandor stood still next to Joffrey, she internally willed him to look her way. Yet he kept his eyes trained on the party before him. Sansa was interrupted in her thoughts by Littlefinger who abruptly spoke, "Tell me, Sansa. Are you happy here?" Sansa could barely keep from choking on her soup. She thanked the loud music and cheering that distracted from her unladylike recovery. Thankfully, Joffrey was no longer concerned with her.
"Of course, my lord. No place could make me happier than being with my beloved Joffrey." Sansa searched the faces of the people near her but no one seemed to be paying attention to her strange conversation with Littlefinger. She could not understand why he would ever possibly choose to talk to her about this in public. If he were offering to help her escape, his head would be on a spike just next to hers if they were caught.
"Yes, my lady. How foolish of me, I do beg your forgiveness." He leaned back into his seat, seemingly forgetting the inappropriate matter they had been speaking of. Until he brought forward a different subject, "Sansa, I do love strolling through the gardens at midnight. The flowers under the moonlight are just breathtaking. You should take a walk one night yourself. Tonight, there is a full moon."
Sansa picked up her goblet and took a long swallow. She was unsure if Littlefinger was setting up a proposition for a late night meeting between them. "Perhaps I will, my lord. Thank you for the advice."
He placed his slightly wrinkled hand atop hers on the tablecloth prompting her to look at him once more, "Anything for you, Sansa. Anything." Sansa's mouth parted on it's own and his gaze flicked to her lips before standing from the table and walking off to converse with the Queen Regent.
Sansa was unsure what her conversation with Littlefinger meant. She knew he was faithful to her mother and she wondered if that faithfulness applied to her as well. Perhaps, Littlefinger was doing this in a way to somehow earn her mother's approval. Whatever prompted his betrayal to the crown, she could not decide if she should trust him. Would he actually help get her home to her mother and brothers? Or to find Arya? Not the first time she found herself wondering where Arya was, if she was even still alive. One thing she knew for certain was that Joffrey and Cersei had no knowledge of where she had disappeared to. She knew she had never gotten along with her sister very well but she cared little for the past. She would give anything to see Arya again.
Whatever Littlefinger offered to Sansa tonight, she knew she could not leave King's Landing just yet. Sansa would not leave the capitol without putting an end to Joffrey's reign once and for all.
The rest of the banquet passed without any more attention being placed on her. Sansa resided the rest of the night in her seat, becoming increasingly intoxicated as she drank her fill of wine. The taste was disgusting but Sansa found that it numbed every other part of her. Even as she continued to drink, she was relieved Joffrey did not further embarrass her that night. She surely would have given him something to laugh about at her drunken behavior.
Sansa had been laying in her chambers for over three hours waiting for the moon to rise at it's fullest. She had decided to meet Littlefinger and hear whatever he planned to offer her. When it finally had, she pulled on a dark colored cloak and cautiously made her way through the halls. There had been a few close encounters but most everyone she came across was drunk and no one paid any mind to a cloaked figure roaming through the night.
Sansa crept through the gardens and decided she would wait where Littlefinger had encountered her earlier. The begonias she had seen before looked dull to her eye yet, she still looked for the misplaced red one despite her knowledge that it had been plucked from the bush by none other than the man she had agreed to meet.
"Sansa" Her name was spoken with a breathy sigh. Littlefinger stood by her side once more and she drew her eyes down to look him head on.
"Lord Baelish." Her voice sounded drawl even to her ears but she couldn't help it. He appeared to overlook her tone of voice and drew out his hand to place on her shoulder.
"Sansa, I wish to help you." Sansa could feel her eyebrows tighten. How could he ever help her? They would surely never make it out of King's Landing alive. "I will help you in your escape from King's Landing. I have a boat waiting to depart as soon as I command. Come with me, sweetling. I can take you away from this life and give you the life you deserve."
"You would return me to my family?" She was very aware he had not mentioned Winterfell once in his speech or her family. But she could not help but become excited at the very prospect of turning away from King's Landing and never looking back.
"Whatever you wish, my sweetling." He began to knead his thumb into her shoulder and brought his other hand to her cheek. He appeared to be leaning in and before Sansa could even register what was happening, he placed his cold wormy lips against hers. She stood unmoving, too surprised to do anything. But before she could respond, two large hands wrapped around her midsection and yanked her away from Littlefinger. Sansa could recognize the growl that filled the empty night from anywhere.
Sandor stood in front of her now and from what she could see under the moonlight, the fire she had seen earlier in his eyes when she had walked into the banquet with Littlefinger had now consumed his entire being. He stood taut as a bowstring and appeared to be in an attempt to reel himself back. Anything that could set him off would result in Littlefinger's death, she was sure of it.
"You fucking cunt, I have been waiting for you to fuck up, Baelish. By tomorrow, you won't have the cock you had planned to fuck her with." Sandor seemed to be holding himself back and Sansa placed her hand lightly on the chain that coated his arm. He pulled back immediately, a sour look overtaking his features as if he was truly disgusted by her touch. Sansa backed away from him, it appeared that Sandor could not control the anger that threatened to overtake him.
"You won't do anything, Clegane." Sandor's eyes snapped to Littlefinger.
Sandor had moved so quickly she had barely seen him go. All of a sudden, Sandor stood above Littlefinger with his large hand wrapped so tightly around his throat, Sansa was sure he would kill him.
"Oh, really?" He sneered. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't just squeeze, Baelish."
Littlefinger could barely get any words out but he managed to choke out, "If I die, she dies too." Sandor loosened his grip at that. He seemed to take in Littlefinger's words, their consequences visibly rattling through his brain. Sansa could not figure out what Littlefinger could have possibly meant by that. "You know what happens—" Littlefinger started, in an attempt to continue.
"If any more words come pouring from your cunt mouth, I will cut your throat just to stop the noise." Sandor's hands were tightening around his neck. Littlefinger was in the process of turning purple.
Suddenly, Sandor released him altogether causing Littlefinger to fall forward, his knees slamming painfully on to the walkway. Sansa watched in shock as he tried to pull his breathing in check. His fingers lightly stroked the red marks that Sandor had left behind on his throat. Sansa found her own breathing shallow as she watched Sandor in front of her. Her own heavy breathing caused Sandor to snap his attention to her. "Go!" He gave her a shove forward.
Sandor seemed to be waiting for her to begin walking back to the keep but her legs would not budge. She couldn't understand how he could possibly expect her to remember how to even use her legs!. "Move, girl!" She still didn't go.
"For fuck's sake." He breathed out before he picked her up and slung her over his shoulders. She let out a surprised gasp before her fists wrapped tightly into his tunic. He started his walk back to her chambers.
