A/N: Thank you for the reviews. As always, it makes me do a happy dance. I hope y'all like this new chapter. I know I'm updating this story really fast but since midterms are coming up, I'm afraid I'll have to slow it down to maybe two chapters a week. Just a warning should you notice a lack of everyday updates lol. Happy reading!

Chapter 4: A Little Bit of Wine Goes a Long Way

"He's going to kill me," Sansa joked between giggles. She had no idea what prompted the fit of laughter, but she relished the feeling of her stomach aching from it rather than a punch.

Shae had a look of admiration on her face. "You were brave," she encouraged. "Not many soldiers would have the courage to do that to the Hound."

Sansa bit her lip to repress another smile. She was giddy. She wondered what else she could get away with doing to Sandor. A tease? A hug? 'A hug,' she thought. 'I wonder what that would be like with him.'

Shae was just about to leave when she heard a noise outside. She quickly opened the door and saw the Hound standing there. How long had he waited? "What do you want?" she snipped.

"The Hand would like to speak to you," he called out to Sansa. "Now."

Sansa quickly wrapped a shawl around her and walked out with Shae by her side. The Hound lingered behind and watched as the two girls exchanged funny glances. He felt as though maybe he were being the butt of a joke, but wasn't quite sure. Either way, he didn't appreciate it. He knocked on the imp's door above their heads and waited until it was opened.

"Ah, Lady Stark. So good of you to come. Please, come inside. The rest of you as well. We don't anybody seeing the king's bodyguard and the lady's handmaid outside the Hand's office."

Sandor bowed his head slightly so that he wouldn't bang his head on the doorway. He took his place next to the doorway and leaned against the wall as he watched Sansa take a seat. Shae stood between her and Sandor. He glared at the back of her head as the dwarf started speaking.

"My lady," Tyrion said. He offered her some fruit, but she politely declined. "I heard you wanted to speak to me."

"I did," Sansa started. "But now, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why ever not?"

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble."

Sandor accidentally let out a snort, causing Shae and Tyrion to give him looks. Sansa ignored the sound.

"I understand," Tyrion replied. "Rest assure that if I thought either of these two would say a word, I would not have let them come in." Normally, Tyrion didn't trust anyone, including himself. But he knew the Hound had a soft spot for the Stark girl and Shae...well, he knew he was the only person Shae talked to besides Sansa. No one ever talked to the Hound unless ordered to and he never spoke unless commanded – and even then, the man could lie almost better than any high borne.

Sansa shifted uncomfortable for a moment before asking, "I was wondering if you've heard anything about my family."

Her voice was so soft, had Tyrion been any smaller, he wouldn't have heard it. "No, my lady. I have not." He spoke gently, not wanting to make her upset. "I know you must be lonely here, but I can tell you this: you do have allies. I would like nothing more than to see you get home safely and in one piece. But I'm afraid this war has become bigger than anyone anticipated. Until your brother releases my brother and we can trade, I am deeply sorry to say that you must remain here."

"What about Arya?"

Now it was Tyrion's turn to be uncomfortable. "We have not been able to locate her."

"I would give up trying," Sansa said confidently. It was hard to discern which attitude was more prominent: defiance or surrender. "If Arya doesn't want to be found, then she will do everything she can to hide."

He knew better than to admit it, but Tyrion knew she was right. Arya was the most wanted girl in the seven kingdoms. And she had disappeared without a trace. "I hope you're right," he said mysteriously.

A sudden rush of sisterly pride came over Sansa. "I know I am." She looked back at Shae and Sandor with hesitancy before asking, "Would it be okay if I spoke to you in private?"

"Of course, my lady." He looked up at the two behind Sansa and ordered them out. When the door had shut, he turned his attention back to the redhead. "What is on your mind?"

"I was thinking about your offer the other day – the one where you wanted to know if I desired to end the engagement." She took a deep breath to gather herself and continued. "What happens if I do? What will happen to me?"

"Probably the same as if you were married to him," Tyrion replied bluntly. A look of alarm came over Sansa's face and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl. "Have I shocked you?"

Even though she shook her head, she took a cup of Tyrion's wine and gulped it down much like she did when she dined with Cersei and her children. "Will he continue to have me beaten?"

"Most likely. And when you bleed, he will take you without mercy." He watched Sansa gulp down another mouthful. "I am not proud of my nephew. I wish with all my heart that he would be the man you want."

Sansa almost said that it didn't matter if Joffrey had every good quality under the sun. He would have only fed into her fantasy about honorable knights, charming princes, and fairytales. She may have wanted that before; but she needed something else entirely now. Someone rough on the outside but had a gentle heart when necessary. Someone who taught her that life isn't fair and things don't always turn out the way you want, but would comfort her anyway. Someone who knew what it was like to feel unloved. Someone like Sandor.

"My Lady?"

Tyrion's voice brought her out of her inner thoughts. He had a worried expression on his face so Sansa took one last large drink of the sour wine and stood up. She swayed slightly having never had that much before. "Thank you for your time, Lord Tyrion," she said sincerely.

Tyrion opened the door and called for the Hound. Both men stared at her glazed expression, though Sandor was thoroughly amused. "Make sure she doesn't hit her head on her way back," he commanded.

Sandor did as told and stalked behind her. Shae had lingered behind, probably for the rest night he figured. Sansa tripped on her shoe and started giggling uncontrollably as he caught her just in time before her head hit the ground. "Watch yourself, little bird," he teased. She busted into another fit of laughter. "What's so funny, girl?"

"My father would be furious if he saw me right now," she snickered.

"Yes," Sandor smiled roughly. "I'm sure he'd be shocked to see his little princess drunk and coming from the Hand's room."

Sansa spit out a raspberry at his tone. "That's not what I meant, Sandor." He had to stop for a moment at the use of his given name. "Besides, I would never give myself to that man. I think he slept with all the whores in Winterfell when he came."

For the second time in five minutes, Sandor was left speechless. Sansa Stark – princess of Winterfell, who acted with grace and virtue even when being beaten – had just said the most unkind sentence he'd ever heard her say. "Do you have any idea what you just said?"

"Of course I do," she defended. She whirled around and faced him. Her cheeks burned and her body felt flushed. "I don't feel so well."

"How many cups did you have?" he asked, bringing his hand to her head.

She pushed it away roughly. "I feel funny when you do that," she blurted out. "And I only had one."

Another snort came from him. "One?"

"I hate that sound," she snapped. "It makes me feel like a child."

"You are a child." He turned her around and they started walking again.

"Just until I get my blood. Then what are you going to call me?"

He hadn't thought about that. "That depends on if you still sing the pretty songs they've taught you."

Sansa scoffed at his words. "Liar. You know you'd call me a woman."

"If that's how you act, then yes."

"What about how I look?"

His hand on her shoulder stiffened. "What do you mean, girl?"

"I mean," she blinked innocently. "I don't look like a girl. The queen says I'm filling out nicely."

Sandor swallowed hard. "Then the king will be pleased." He instantly regretted his words as Sansa paled. She looked as though she might faint. "Little bird?"

"Don't call me that," she said morosely. "You can't call me that after you say such horrible things. It isn't nice."

Sandor's stomach dropped. She wasn't crying and she wasn't upset; she was...disappointed. He shook his head violently. Seven hells, what was this girl doing to him? "I'm sorry." Good gods, that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sansa let her blue eyes focus on his face. She remembered her dream from a few nights ago and said without thinking, "Don't change your face."

"What would I be changing it to, little bird?"

"Something you think looks better."

"You like my scars, little bird?" he mocked. He couldn't help but scorn her. It was a defense mechanism.

"I do," she replied.

"You don't know what you're saying, little bird." He led her down the rest of the way to her chambers, where she leaned against the door.

"I don't feel good," she moaned.

"It'll pass."

"It's not the wine," she groaned. "It's my stomach." She put her hand on her lower belly and pressed. The pain was intense and it nearly crippled her.

Sandor reached out and scooped her up. She had doubled over when his hand went to her waist. His one solace was that at least she wasn't pregnant. "We're almost there," he said gently. He carefully placed her on the bed and filled a cup with water. He took a sniff of it and grimaced. Wine smelt better. "Drink this, girl."

Sansa placed the cup to her lips and fell back on her pillow. She watched as Sandor headed for the door and said, "Thank you."

He nodded once and closed the door softly, leaving her alone. The pain subsided for the time being, but she felt weird.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

During Sansa's talk with Tyrion, Sandor stood outside with Shae.

"I wonder what they're talking about," she mused.

"I'm sure you'll find out later on," he said gruffly. He began to pace back and forth down the hall.

"I think it must be her asking for a way out of the marriage," she whispered to herself.

Sandor stopped his pacing and stared at her. "What do you mean? She wants out?"

Shae rolled her dark eyes at him. Men. "Of course she does. No woman in their right mind would want to marry that boy."

Sandor shook his head at Sansa. Her naivety was starting to show. "That girl is a pup in the midst of the lion's den," he stated sadly. Shae nodded in agreement. The girl was smart in the way of knowing how to act in public; in private, she was careless. She still didn't seem to understand that everyone eventually heard everything in King's Landing. Once in a while someone got away with something for a little bit, but it would always come back to bite them in the ass. Sansa, as valuable as she was at the moment, wouldn't be the moment she was traded. Once the Lannister's had the Kingslayer back, Sansa wouldn't get three miles before they killed her, especially since Joffrey was on the throne.

"We have to protect her."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

"You are in a better position than I am."

"You can't be that stupid, woman," he spat. "I'm the king's sworn shield; I can't just up and leave my post whenever I want to. I can't be around her every minute of the day." That didn't mean he didn't want to be...

"Well, I am only her handmaid," Shae defended. "It will be suspicious if I go with her everywhere."

The two had come to an impasse. "What about that sellsword?"

Shae shook her head. "I don't know. I could ask... but he's in the same position as you. He can't be around her too much – no man can."

She was right. Cersei or one her men would find it strange that at least one of the king's guard was around Sansa more than need be, especially if the two men were the Hound and the captain of the guard. "Nor a woman." Again, Shae agreed. His little bird was going to have be alone sometimes. And that thought did not sit well with him.

"What are we going to do about tomorrow?" Shae sighed.

"Tomorrow?"

"The princess is being sent to Dorne," she whispered. "The preparations have been made and she sails tomorrow."

Sandor had forgotten about that. "The dwarf tells you more than he should."

"He is not my only source," she smirked mischievously.

The door swung open and Sandor saw Sansa's expression. He looked to Tyrion for an explanation. "Make sure she doesn't hit her head on her way back."

The entire way back to her chambers, Sandor repressed a chuckle. He had to keep a firm hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn't bump into the walls. She tripped on something and he rushed to catch her before she landed. He was thrown off by her laughing; it had been a long time since she'd done it. "What's so funny, girl?"

"My father would be furious if he saw me right now."

Her slurred snicker made him smile out of pure amusement. "Yes," Sandor smiled roughly. "I'm sure he'd be shocked to see his little princess drunk and coming from the Hand's room." His lips twitched into a wry smile at her response.

"That's not what I meant, Sandor."

He stopped and looked solemnly at her. She had never used his name before. He decided it was the only time he liked someone calling him by his given name.

"Besides, I would never give myself to that man. I think he slept with all the whores in Winterfell when he came," she continued.

Sandor remembered that trip well. The dwarf had indeed fucked nearly every whore in the brothel and then woke up next to goats. "Do you have any idea what you just said?" he asked in awe. He was quite proud of her boldness. Their talk went along fine until she talked about her looks. Sandor had never been good with compliments. He tried his best to steer the conversation into safe territory, but it seemed she was determined to resist. When he made the remark about the king, her eyes dulled and she became withdrawn. His apology seemed to pacify her; even it was painful to do. But just when he thought he was safe again, she blurted out something about his face. Her strange answers to his questions made him think it was the wine talking. Suddenly, she collapsed and he knew she was in pain. It seemed to be pretty bad judging from her groans. After he placed her on the bed, he poured some water for her. The pain seemed to ebb the more she drank so he started to take his leave. He heard a thank you from across the room and nodded.

Afterward, he walked down to where his room was located and almost poured himself a drink. Sansa's face came into view and he released the laugh that he held inside. He had never laughed at something because it was simply funny. He laughed when people would run from him or try to fight him, but never because of something so simple. He poured the cup and saluted in the direction of Sansa's room. "Here's to you, little bird." One day, he'd have a cup with her. And maybe he'd teach her how to hold her wine a bit better. He took off his armor and climbed into bed. Before he knew it, he was asleep. But unlike his usual nightmares with only Gregor, this time there was a guest.

"You like my scars, girl?" Sandor mocked.

"I do."

Sandor stood in the hall, watching her walk away. He had turned to go to his room when he heard a scream. Running as fast as he could, he kicked in the door to Sansa's room and drew his sword. His eyes were drawn to her bed as he saw his brother on top of Sansa. The girl was fighting him as best she could, but it was no use. Gregor was called the Mountain for a reason. Sandor pushed Gregor away and brought Sansa to stand behind him.

"Run," he hissed.

"No. I want to stay with you."

"Run, now. Or I'll kill you myself." There was no motion, so he turned around and gave her all the spite he could muster. "Now, you stupid girl!" Sansa fled and Sandor heard his brother laughing.

"You think a pretty thing like that wants anything to do with you?" he laughed.

"Shut up."

"Or what? What will you do? I can still burn you, you know. This time, I won't use fire."

"You come near her and I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try. And after you fail trying, I'm going to kill you. And then I'll rape your little cunt until she can't walk."

Sandor woke up to his shirt drenched in sweat. He knew it was only a dream, but it felt so real. He gulped down the wine straight from the pitcher, not bothering with a cup. His hands were shaking and his breath was coming short. "Get a hold of yourself, Clegane," he told himself. He looked out the window and guess that it was just before dawn. Sansa wouldn't up be for another couple of hours. He had noted a while back when he first took watch over her chambers that she preferred to sleep in. Still, the dream had shaken him so he put on his clothes and headed for her room. No one was up but the servants in the kitchen so he was able to walk without people seeing him. He opened the door slightly and saw Sansa lying asleep in her bed. Her chest was rising and falling heavily due to the deep sleep induced by the wine. He poked his head in long enough to glance around the room and make sure no one was in there.

"Sandor."

His gaze flew back to the bed and for a horrifying moment, he thought she had woken. But instead, she just mumbled his name over and over again. He wanted to go to her and tell her that he was here. Nothing was going to happen. But if he did and one of her new handmaids came in and saw it, he'd either be killed or he would have to kill her. He didn't have a problem with the latter except he had a feeling that Sansa would not like that. Instead, he simply backed out and quietly shut the door to head back to his chambers. The king would be up soon and today was the day that Princess Myrcella sailed for Dorne.