A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews I got for the first chapter! They mean a lot and it always gives me a case of the "Yay! Someone likes it!" That goes to the alerts and favorites that I got as well I hope y'all continue to like it. Don't forget: Review comes after reading:) I can't help but beg. It makes me feel good and helps me to write a little faster.

Chapter 2: An Alliance is Forged

Sansa was in her room crying at the thought of losing her virginity to Joffrey and having to sleep with him. The idea made her hate being a woman. She had finally bled and within hours, her marriage to Joffrey was planned. The cool air had nipped at her near sheer nightgown, making her shake from the breeze.

"Winter is coming," a rough voice said from the doorway.

Sansa recognized the voice immediately as she continued to stare out the window. Her house words made sense tonight. "It's been coming for a while hasn't it?" She felt Sandor move to stand behind her and his presence started to warm her. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him and saw that he didn't have the burnt skin anymore. "What happened to your face?"

"Do you like it, Little Bird?" he asked.

"No." She was surprised at the answer she gave him, but was even more surprised to find that she meant it.

"No?"

"No. I like your other face better."

"Why, girl? You can finally look at me now."

"I could always look," she snapped. "You seem...different."

"Do I?"

"Yes. I don't like it." His grey eyes stared into hers, giving her confidence to ask, "What did you mean by I make men want to kill for me?"

"Any man would kill to have you look at him."

"Even you?"

"Aye, even me."

"I'm looking at you now."

"That you are, Little Bird. That you are."

"Do you ever look at me?"

"All the time."

Sansa bolted upright, giving Shae a fright. The brunette ran to the girl's side immediately. "Milady, are you okay?"

No, she was definitely not all right. "I had a dream," she croaked out.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"No. It should have been, but it wasn't. What do you think that means?"

"I am no good with dreams, milady. But it was only that – a dream." Sansa let out a sigh and fell back on to her pillows. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I dreamt of the – a man."

"That doesn't sound so horrible."

"It wasn't. It was wonderful actually. I wasn't afraid of him."

"That's good." A knock drew Shae to the door. She moved aside to let Ser Meryn in.

"Lady Stark, your attendance is requested by the King," he stated.

Sansa was much more careful to hide her emotions this time. "Tell his Grace that I will be there as soon as I can." Ser Meryn bowed slightly and left in a hurry. Sansa was slightly disappointed that it wasn't Sandor who came but she knew as the King's sworn shield, most of his time would be with Joffrey. There was another reason for her to hate the little prick. "Pick something pretty," Sansa declared to Shae.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What is taking her so long?" Joffrey demanded.

"Your Grace, perfection takes time," Tyrion replied. He sent a worried glance toward the Hound who seemed to echo his sentiment. Sansa was never late. "Hound, go see what it is taking so long."

Sandor bowed slightly and carried himself with aloofness until he turned the corner. He quickened his pace until he reached Sansa's door. For the first time in his life, he felt afraid that he would find a dead body. When he knocked on the door, Shae answered and without preamble, Sandor pushed his way inside to see where Sansa was. "Where is she?" he barked. The door to Sansa's bathroom opened and there stood his little bird. Her face looked as though she had seen a ghost and then a deep red blush came over her cheeks when her eyes landed on him. Both Sandor and Shae noticed the odd behavior from the Stark girl. Sansa had always had an air of grace about her so to see her so put off was jolting. In fact, the way her blush crept up made Sandor uncomfortable in all sorts of ways. "You best come with me, girl," he said. "The King is losing patience."

Sansa didn't say a word; she just grabbed her shawl and walked out without a word. Shae and Sandor exchanged a confused glance before he followed her out. He noticed as they walked that she put as much distance between them as courtesy would allow. What happened to make her so different this morning? Finally, he couldn't stand it and he grasped her shoulder gently to swivel her around. "What is the matter, little bird?"

"I beg pardon?" Her eyes never left the floor.

"Don't play that with me, girl," he snapped roughly. "Did something happen?"

Her cheeks burned again with the touch of his hand on her shoulder. "I-I- I don't – No. Nothing's happened."

He let his hand stay for a moment longer before releasing her. "Go or see both our heads removed."

Though it was half ugly, Sansa decided that she liked his head right where it was. She hastened her pace until she came to Joffrey's side. "I apologize for my tardiness Your Grace," she said timidly.

The Hound watched as Joffrey raked his green eyes over Sansa's body. Her dress was tight across her body, letting the top of her breasts gleam against the collar. It flattered her figure and Joffrey seemed to be pacified for the moment. Sandor had to agree with Tyrion: perfection did take time.

"That's all right, my lady," Joffrey replied. Obviously, he appreciated the extra effort she put in her appearance today. "I like that color on you. Dog doesn't my lady look fetching in that color?"

Sandor had to think of the time Gregor mutilated some kittens in order to keep his thoughts in check. The deep green dress contrasted beautifully against Sansa's red hair and pale skin; her blue eyes, though dulled by recent events, still sparkled involuntarily. Her hair had been pulled back by two small braids and hung loose around her shoulders. Sandor liked her hair better this way; the other way she would wear it, which was popular in King's Landing, looked stupid in his opinion. Just because she was a little bird didn't mean she had to have a nest on her head. "Yes, Your Grace," his rough voice replied.

"I want three more dresses in that color by the end of the day."

"Yes, Your Grace." Sandor actually agreed with the prick's decision.

"Come, Sansa," Joffrey called. "I want to show you something."

Sansa watched as Tyrion received a letter from a messenger. His face darkened and he had a hard time swallowing. He dismissed himself and nearly ran down the hall. "What's the matter with him?"

"Who cares?" Joffrey snorted. "Come."

Sansa was brought into a chamber that housed an enormous bed. The window was wide and overlooked the sea as well as the city. It was a breathtaking view. "It's beautiful, Your Grace."

"This is where we will live," the King stated. "You will conceive sons."

"What if there are only girls?" Sansa retorted.

Joffrey shot her a cold look. He sauntered up to her and looked hard into her eyes. "Then your life will be forfeit. I have no use for girls. Girls cannot run a kingdom." She didn't say anything so Joffrey continued. "Besides, my mother said you have son bearing hips. I think four will suffice. What do you think?"

She wasn't sure what came over her, but her eyes flittered over his shoulders and landed on Sandor. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to bear your children," she declared firmly.

Joffrey assumed she was looking at him and smiled. "See dog, women are such simple minded creatures."

Sansa was deeply offended. At least when Sandor said it, he wasn't meaning it to be malicious; he said it at first to be mocking, but now his nickname was more a show of affection. "You're right, Your Grace. I am here for your pleasure."

"What was that?" Joffrey asked, obviously noting her smart ass answer. "What did you say?"

"I said I am here for your pleasure," Sansa reiterated, this time more sincerely. All she had to do was think of Sandor and the words came out in a convincing manner. Speaking of Sandor, he looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. Had she managed to take one of the most feared men by surprise? That was quite accomplishment in her book.

"Yes you are," Joffrey snapped. "And you would do well to not forget it."

Lancel Lannister strode into the bedroom and bowed deeply at Joffrey. "Your Grace," he huffed. "I have important news regarding Renly Baratheon."

Joffrey looked bored and annoyed at the same time. Sansa and Sandor both wondered at the same time if that's what happened when you have shit for brains. "What does he want?"

"He's dead, Your Grace. By the hand of..." Lancel glanced at Sansa and finished, " Lady Catelyn Stark."

There was an awkward pause as everyone's eyes fell on Sansa, who stood frozen in place with her mouth open. "What did you say?" Joffrey asked, still surprised by the news.

"Lady Stark and Lord Baratheon's sworn shield are believed to have murdered Lord Renly."

Joffrey's angry eyes bore into Sansa. "Once again, the Starks have proved to be traitors." As he walked out he called back, "Dog, you know what to do."

Sansa was still reeling from the news that her mother had actually murdered someone, especially Renly. The last she thought, they were allies. A movement caught her eye and her figure came under the Hound's shadow. He looked as though he were conflicted. "Do it," she said softly. Nothing. "Do it," she said, a tad louder. Still, the Hound stayed his hand. Sansa knew that if he didn't, Joffrey would know something was amiss – or at least Cersei would – and the Hound would pay for it. "Do it!" she commanded.

His hit was not gentle. Though, coming from a man like him, she hadn't expected it to be. But he had held back. If he had cared nothing about her at all, he could have easily caused irreparable damage. This offered her little comfort however as a second hit came across her stomach. Joffrey didn't like her face disturbed. She hadn't the strength to stand on her own after double hits and the news about her mother so ever so carefully, Sandor scooped her in his arms and slowly made his way back to her chambers. The guilt felt heavy on his shoulders as she lied limp in his arms. People stared, but to Sandor, it was a good thing. If everyone was convinced the Hound had beaten her severely, Joffrey might lay off for a while, securing both their positions.

The door to her room opened and he gently laid her on the bed. She didn't move a muscle but rather just stared at the wall. He checked the other rooms before returning to close the door. "Little Bird," he whispered. She moved her eyes over to his form and stared. He had no idea what to say next. But he knew this was getting to be a dangerous game for them both.

Sansa didn't blink as he searched for something to say. After a while, she moved her eyes back to the wall, ignoring his presence and blocking everything out. The door was slammed so hard that she could feel the vibration through the bed. He was angrier than usual. She realized now just how precarious her situation was. These feelings for Sandor had to be gotten rid of before someone noticed. He would be ordered to beat her even when she had done nothing wrong and she would grow to resent him for it. It was better to lay low and talk only when necessary. That's what he always did so why couldn't she?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandor ordered enough wine to drown the city. He had hit her. Sansa Stark, who had only been kind to him, tried to encourage him, and wasn't disgusted when he told her about how his face had been burned. Sure, he was ugly and she still had a hard time looking at him, but she was always polite. And what does he do? He hits her. He should've said no. He should've taken Joffrey's head and smashed it against the wall. It wasn't fair to the poor girl. When she had answered Joffrey's statement about children, she looked right at him and said she would be happy to have his children. It was disconcerting and for a split moment, his breath had escaped. She had managed to shock the hell out of him. Children! Not even he could see himself holding a baby in his arms and rocking it to sleep. That took a certain kind of gentle, one that he knew he didn't have. He didn't want children; but Sansa did. A different kind of pain spread through his body as he pictured Sansa having another man's child. No man would be worthy of her, especially him. "Why did she have to go and do that?" he slurred at the painting on the wall. He took another swig from the jug and slammed it down hard on his table. He wondered what she was doing right at that moment. When he left, she had been staring at the wall – into oblivion. Was she sad? Angry? She had justifiable reasons for both. She trusted him. "You're not like anyone else" she had stated. But now he was. He was in the same league as Meryn. His anger at the situation – Joffrey, Meryn, his feelings for Sansa – all came back in a flood and he threw the pot that held the wine into the wall as hard as he could. The crash bounced off the walls and into his pounding head. He couldn't take these damned feelings anymore! He would never be good or good enough for her. Death, killing, war: those were the things he excelled at. Love, gentleness, and romance: none of these were in him. One day, she would find a man worthy of her that had them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"When you're old enough, I'll make you a match with someone who's worthy of you: someone who is brave, gentle, and strong."

Sansa turned her father's words around in her head for hours. The sun had begun to set and she hadn't moved in an inch. She missed her father. She missed all of her family of course, but her father especially. She needed him now not just to protect her, but to guide her. Hold her as she cried and tell her everything was going to be okay because he was here and as long as he was around, no one would harm her. What a stupid girl she had been, believing she loved Joffrey! If she had only obeyed her father's request to go back to Winterfell she wouldn't be in this prison. She wouldn't be beaten and she wouldn't be betrothed to a monster; a monster who wouldn't even hit her himself. He used other, stronger men to do his dirty work. She wasn't entirely sure how one could be both a coward and a monster, but Joffrey managed to make it work.

"Milady?" Shae asked gently. The maid sat next to Sansa and rested her hand on the girl's thigh. "Milady, you need to eat."

Sansa simply stared at the same spot on the wall. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of pretending. She was tired of being a little bird, constantly repeating words that had been instilled in her. The Hound had been more right than he probably intended by giving her that nickname. A deep sigh escaped as she thought about Sandor. The man obviously felt guilty for obeying the command, but she understood. It wasn't fair to either of them to have to continue this charade of trying to be something they're not. She felt a rub on her thigh as Shae tried to comfort her, but it was no use. The only person who she wanted around was probably drunk and cursing up a storm while fucking a whore into the seven hells. Plus, he had been the one to put her in this position to begin with. He was already a self loathing man but to put guilt on top of that didn't make for a good combination.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shae was walking back toward her chambers when a shadow stopped her. The Hound emerged, his breath smelt heavily of wine. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"How is she?"

"How do you think?" she snapped. "She gets beaten nearly every day while men stand by and do nothing." A cloud came over the large man and it made Shae think. "Why do you care?" she whispered, knowing that one of Littlefinger or Varys's spies could be lurking around.

"I don't," was the mechanical reply.

"You men," she mocked. "So brave and tough with a sword in your hand and yet when faced with a woman, you back away as though she were a disease."

Sandor's reflexes worked faster than his blurred mind and he rammed her into the wall. "Careful, woman," he warned. His voice was tough as he put as much hate as he could muster into it. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't? Then tell me this: why do you rush to her aid when no one else does?" Sandor squeezed Shae's neck roughly. "You can kill me, but that won't change what you feel for her."

Both their voices were barely audible as well as their movements. "What do you know of what I feel? A dog has no feelings."

"I know more about it than you think. And I can help you."

"I don't need help."

"You aren't exactly doing things to make the situation better now are you?"

He released his hold but kept close to her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then why would you do this?"

"Because I know what it's like to have to keep a secret in this place."

He didn't say it, but then again, he didn't have to. "If you breathe a word about this to anyone-"

"I won't. That would mean my head too and I like my head, thank you very much." They didn't say anything for a while, but eventually, she added, "She isn't eating."

That didn't surprise him. "Okay."

"You asked how she was," she reminded him. "Her stomach is bruised and she just stares at the wall."

"It must be a very pretty wall."

Shae snorted in annoyance. "Perhaps you could limit your intake of wine. Constant drunkness is not a trait women admire."

"Then what am I supposed to drink?"

"You could try water."

A bark of laughter echoed through the dark hall. "Water. What good does water do to make me forget?"

"What would you be forgetting?"

He leaned in close and whispered, "Everything."

Shae pushed him back and smiled. "Some things aren't worth forgetting."

"Milady," Tyrion's voice called out. The dwarf walked cautiously up to where they were standing. "Is the Hound bothering you?"

"Not all my milord," she replied pleasantly. "I thought I heard a noise come from down the hall of my milady's room. He was helping me look."

Tyrion knew when someone was lying. "And have you found the source of your trouble?"

"We have."

"Good. May I ask how Lady Stark is? I heard she was injured today." He noticed the minute change in Sandor's eyes when he asked the question.

"She is not well, milord."

"Give her my regards if you please."

"I will. Good night, milord."

"Good night, Sheila."

"Shae," the brunette clipped.

"Right, sorry."

Though the exchange had been common enough, Sandor could tell Tyrion had taken to her. She never would have dismissed herself first if it had been anyone else. Oh yes, Shae was definitely having to hide her relationship too. Maybe the foreign girl would prove to be a useful ally considering she was involved with the Lannister – the only one of the lot who had a shred of decency in him.