Chapter 7: The Wolf Bites the Dog

Sandor made his way back to Sansa's room to relieve the present guard on duty. "Anything happen?"

"Yeah, she opened the door, looked at me, and then closed it."

Sandor peered over the other man's head at the door. "Did she say anything?"

"Just that everything was fine. She looked scared though."

That was nothing new. Sansa was scared of her own shadow at times. "Go." The other man left without another word and scrambled down the hallway. Sandor leaned against the wall and cracked a walnut he had grabbed on his way up. Suddenly, he heard a scream and burst into the room only to find Sansa still asleep. Confused, he walked around her room and then sniffed her cup of water. He took a sip and found that nothing was off. "Little bird?" he whispered.

Sansa's head was turning from side to side violently and the covers had been kicked down to the edge of the bed. She was mumbling something but he couldn't understand what it was. He lowered his head down near her lips.

"No," she whispered.

Sandor pulled himself away and tried to leave but the more she repeated the word, the more useless he felt. It took him a minute but he put his best foot forward and went to her side. His mind had drawn a blank. He literally could not think of anything to say. Instead, he gently pulled her covers up and made his way back to the other side of the door where he proceeded to bang his head against the stone wall. He was mad to think about her in any other way other than a child. Gregor used to look at younger girls with such an intense hatred (or lust. One never really knew with Gregor) that they never came around any of the Cleganes unless it was vital. Not that they would anyway. He wasn't a particularly cute kid when he was younger nor would he have been a handsome man even without the burns on his face. At least now he looked the part of a dangerous man. And dangerous men don't belong with highborn girls. It was a stupid thing to even consider. He had stood by and watched her father get beheaded so despite what she might feel now, eventually he knew she would think about that day and how he stood idle.

Nope. Sansa Stark was not even woman so she officially off limits to him. Though, he would be lying if he said he never thought about her waking up in his bed after a night of passion, bright eyed, hair all messed, and a genuine smile playing on her lips – when she was older of course. He knew she had it in her. Her little snippet to Joffrey after he threatened to put Robb's head on a spike proved there was a wolf somewhere in her. He chuckled slightly to himself as he remembered how furious the tiny king was when she threatened him right back. She had taken them all by surprise and showed that she was capable of saying her own words when provoked. And then she nearly pushed him off the edge! His little bird would have fallen too, hence why he really stopped her. He didn't care about the king. Hell, he had the urge to do it a few times a day; everyone did. But she was the only one who was going to actually do something about it.

The sound of footsteps made him snap from his reverie. But it was only Shae. He nodded slightly to her as she walked toward him. "Still asleep."

"I know." Shae shut the door gently as she disappeared inside.

He could hear shuffles and soft footsteps walking around inside. Had this been for anyone else, Sandor would have died from sheer boredom – and that's saying a lot considering his job consisted of standing around until ordered to do something. The door opened again and Shae came out with a dress. "Where are you going with that?"

"I have to get it mended. Is that okay by you?"

He glared at her and straightened back into position. What Tyrion saw in that one he would never know. Still, Sansa took the foreign woman so for her sake, he put up with the brunette's lip.

"Oi! Hound!" a voice cried.

Sandor turned and saw one of the kingsguard motioning for him down the hall. He cursed under breath and made his way over. "What?" he asked roughly.

"Some of the men caught this thief trying to steal some food from the kitchen."

"Bring him to the king." What a fucking idiot, Sandor thought. He turned his eyes to the small child who looked as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. "I hope you liked your hands, little boy. You won't be seeing them again if the king has anything to say about it."

The guards left but Sandor couldn't help but feel some pity for the kid. He was starving and the king didn't like to share. If he could have, he would have helped the child, but with all the guards around, it just wasn't going to work. He turned and started back to Sansa's room. He saw Shae enter the room again and a few seconds later, another one followed. But then something happened. The other maid came back out and so did Shae. The brunette looked angry so Sandor walked into the room to see what happened.

Sansa was holding a knife in her hand, frozen in an awkward position. She looked petrified as her eyes landed on him. Her face drained of any color it held. It was then he noticed the blood on the bed. Oh...shit, he thought. The two stared at each other until he moved forward to where she was standing. She backed up slightly as though a mouse scared by a noise. He took the knife from her hand and she collapsed on the seat in front of the bed. Tears rushed out and her shoulders shook while he stood next to the bloodied sheets. She was devastated and in a way, so was he. Shae rushed back into the room but stopped abruptly when she saw him. He avoided the look in her eye by looking back at Sansa. Shae showed what he was feeling, which was a hell of a lot of emotions in just a few short seconds.

"What are you going to do?" Sansa squeaked out.

He didn't answer at first. He was too busy thinking about how they could cover this up; but he realized it was no use. That other maid had obviously seen it which is why she left the room. That meant that the queen would find out no matter what. "I have to tell the queen," he replied dismally.

The words struggled to come out as the three let the silence say everything for them. Sandor couldn't look at Sansa but he could feel the heat of her glare. But it wasn't a glare of hate – he could deal with that. It was disappointment.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Let it never be said that Tyrion Lannister never had a heart for others beyond his house. Shae had come to him immediately after the Hound had ushered Sansa to the Queen's chambers. Now they were both waiting for Sandor to return. When he did, Tyrion poured him a large glass of wine.

"I'm assuming my sister had you watch for her bleeding, yes?"

"Aye," Sandor replied. "She commanded me to."

"What are we going to do?" Shae remarked sadly. "She is at the mercy of that monster."

"We can't do anything," Tyrion answered.

"He'll show no mercy."

Both looked to the Hound and saw him being seemingly indifferent about what just happened. That is until he let out a harsh chuckle.

"Is something amusing?" Tyrion asked.

Sandor smiled bitterly at the little lord. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You told me not to worry because she was just a girl. Now she's a woman." And the time had come for him to deal with his feelings. "And the king will have her."

Neither Shae nor Tyrion dared to say anything. Even now they stared as he drank the cup of wine. There was something awful about the way he was reacting. It is always uncomfortable when a brutish man becomes sad. It's almost as dangerous as when he's angry. But Sandor wasn't looking for sympathy or anything of the sort, which made him difficult to deal with. So instead of saying empty words that held no promise, Tyrion just refilled his cup. "Where is she now? Still with my sister?"

Shae replied with a simple "Yes."

"Is she alone?"

Shae nodded slowly. "The queen demanded it."

"That's never good."

"You think she'll still have to marry the king?"

"Unless there have been any new offers of kings wanting to punish their daughters by sending them here, then yes, she'll have to."

Sandor let out a bitter chuckle as he put the wine on a table. "Fuck me."

"I'd rather not," Tyrion replied languidly. "You're not really my type."

"When did everything go to hell?" Sandor remarked. "None of this was supposed to happen."

Tyrion walked closer to Sandor and waited until he was sure it was safe to speak. "Maybe not. But that doesn't take away the fact that it has."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa opened the door to exit the Queen's chambers. Cersei had been little help and zero comfort. Still, she didn't miss that for the first time in a long time, the queen had been nice to her. Cersei acknowledged that Joffrey was difficult and Sansa fully believed that the queen understood why she didn't want to marry him.

The Hound had returned a few moments earlier before they finished talking to walk her back but the queen wasn't quite through her.

"Oh Sansa," Cersei called out.

"Yes, my queen?"

"What I said – it doesn't matter. You will marry Joffrey."

Even Sansa heard the threat inflicted by her tone. "Of course, my queen. Joffrey is my one true love."

"That's a good little dove. Now fly away."

The door slammed in both the Hound and Sansa's faces.

"If only I could," Sansa whispered to herself. She turned and faced Sandor only to see that he was looking angrier than usual. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, girl. Move."

Sansa watched him stare straight ahead. "Is there some reason you refuse to talk to me?"

"Does the lady wish me to speak?"

"The lady wishes you to look at her while she's talking to you."

Sandor moved his head in a way that reminded Sansa of when Arya had to watch their mother while being scolded : forced.

"Never mind," she snapped. "If you want to be nothing more than a brooding hulk of depression, I can walk back on my own. I know the way. You can go back to your sulking."

Sandor grabbed her arm so hard that she thought it would break. "You think because you bleed for a few days that you're tough? You are as stupid as ever. If the queen had heard you say that, you would have beaten within an inch of your life. Gods, you're stupid."

"You know what I think?"

"You don't think," he sneered. "You do. Just like a little bird chirping away pretty hymns for pretty people. Not daring to look at someone so ugly that they would force you to have an opinion of your own for once."

"So that's what's wrong? You're upset because you don't think I look at you. How ironic that the man who prefers the shadows would desire that a little chirping bird pay attention to him. Who's the stupid one now?" She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "My house symbol is a direwolf; yours is a dog. If anything, I should regret that my affections went so low as to care about you."

Once again, Sandor was stunned by Sansa's words. His nickname for her came about because he thought she was trained to say the right thing at the right time. But he was wrong. She didn't need the training. Sansa had hit him where it hurt with her own words. He watched as she walked down the hallway with the same grace as she always did.

For her part, Sansa managed to make it around the corner before she burst into silent tears. She didn't mean to say those things. Except she did, but not at Sandor. Or maybe she did. Frustrated, Sansa ran back to her room and collapsed on the bed. Crying into her pillow, she had never felt as guilty about anything in her life. But she was so angry! And he was there, deliberately trying to provoke her. "Why does he always have to do that!" she growled at the wall. "Gods, he's so...so...infuriating!"

"Milady?"

Sansa shot straight into the air at the sound of Shae's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"The Hound implied that you were upset. Was it something the queen said?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she whined. Shae nodded and started for the door when Sansa cried out for her. "I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Is it always this difficult when you become a woman?"

Shae smiled sympathetically. "Yes."

"I'm just so sad. And angry." She got off her bed and headed for the chair so that Shae could brush out her hair.

"Some women are. You've been through a lot, milady. Maybe you just need to let some of it out."

"He didn't deserve that."

"He's a man. Chances are he did."

"He just kept pushing me until I exploded." A horrible thought crossed her mind. She grabbed Shae roughly and stopped her in the middle of a brush. "Is he mad at me? Did he seem upset when you saw him?"

"He always looks mad."

Sansa sighed out of frustration. "That's true."

There was a long pause before the brunette continued. "Milady, maybe he pushed you away because he's afraid."

"Afraid?" Confusion flittered across her delicate features as she turned Shae's words in her mind. "The Hound isn't afraid of anything." Except fire...

"Every man is afraid something. For him, it may be you; how you make him feel when he is around you. A hard man like that isn't used to those feelings."

"I'm not either but you don't see me going around all moody," Sansa defended hotly.

"You're young and have a loving family; he's never had that. He has no idea what to do and for a man like him, that's the worst thing imaginable."

"Why can't he talk to me about it?"

"Because that kind of talk can lead to death. You know that."

Sansa sighed heavily and began to pout as Shae resumed the brushing. "Men," she grumbled.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Women," Sandor bit out.

Bronn whipped his head to look at the Hound. "What about them?"

"They're just so..."

A topless whore walked by the men and Bronn let his eyes wander freely. "I know what you mean. You can't decide if you love 'em or hate 'em. Or both. Me? I just want to fuck 'em."

Sandor rolled his eyes at the sellsword. But then he studied him closer. "How women you been with?"

"Too many to count," Bronn grinned. "You?"

"Same."

"You remember any of 'em?" Sandor shook his head and for a split second, Bronn saw the tiniest hint of regret in the gray eyes. "That's a shame. The best ones are worth a place in the back of your mind."

"How would you know?"

"I don't. I picked up one of those book things and that's what the hero said in it."

Sandor downed another gulp of the wine he had been nursing for the past few hours. "Must have been Sansa's."

"Actually, I think it was. How did you know?"

"She's a stupid girl."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Then you're even more stupid than she is. That girl knows how to survive. I'd take her with me everywhere."

Sandor narrowed his eyes at the man. "Why's that? Because she's pretty?"

"Aye, that too. But she knows what to say and how to say it. That's useful when it comes to dangerous situations. Take Tyrion for example. I can't tell you how many things he's talked his way out of in the time I've known him. I probably would have been dead by now if he hadn't been around."

"Where is the little lord anyway?"

"Hell if I know. Something to do with the queen I think. Well, hello." Bronn let a whore sit on his lap and smiled widely at Sandor. "I think he's a little down. You got a friend he can have?"

Sandor glanced up at the whore. She was pretty, but in a common way.

"Bairella," the whore called out. Her girlish tone set Sandor on edge. "This man needs some company."

Sandor didn't even look up. Instead, he threw a coin on the table and walked out with a jug of wine. He wasn't in the mood for some random whore that was probably dirty inside. On the other hand, he was extremely horny from his fight with Sansa. Every time he thought about it, he felt himself go stiff as her jaw clenched in anger and a fire burned in her eyes. The way she looked at him - he could see the hunger. It was the same kind of look he got when she came around.

"Can I help you, Hound?" a woman asked.

Sandor hadn't even realized that he walked to Littlefinger's establishment. But as long as he was here..."Where's the redhead? He asked roughly.

"We have many redheads."

"The one with the big tits," he clarified. The woman still looked dumbfounded. "Seven hells, you're stupid," he spat. "The one who fucked the Lannister in Winterfell."

Roz appeared from around the corner at the name of her hometown. She remembered stories about the man from Tyrion. "What would you like, Hound?"

"You."

"I'm sorry, we don't cater to your kind. Only lords come here," the woman said.

Sandor brandished his knife and held it to her throat.

"I'm sure we can accommodate Clegane," Roz excused. She held out her hand to show him the way. "Come on then."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm not going to stand for it," Sansa declared. She was completely alone as it was already past midnight, but she had been unable to sleep. She grabbed a robe from the bed's stool and quickly hurried past the sleeping guard stationed at her door. She was going to fix this thing with Sandor once and for all. Tell him that he can be a man and tell her how he feels and whether he crushes her spirit or lifts her to unimaginable heights was in his hands – his rough, manly, experienced hands.

There were some guards about so she used a shawl to cover her head to hide the red hair. She quietly knocked on Sandor's door, but there was no answer.

"You lookin' for the Hound?" a man echoed the corridor.

Sansa cleared her throat to make it sound different. "Yes, do you know where I might find him- I mean, where is he at?" she corrected. Trying to sound like a commoner was more difficult than she anticipated.

"You missed him a few hours ago. I saw him at Littlefinger's place on my way back. If you get there in time, you might be able to still catch him getting ready for another round."

Bile welled up in Sansa's throat. "Thank you, ser." She didn't bother to stick around for the man's reply but he seemed to be shouting something urgent. Her head was down and she was trying to wipe the tears away, which is why she smacked right into him. She hit his chest so hard that she stumbled backward and landed on her bottom.

"Watch where you're – Sansa?"

Sansa's blue eyes flew up into his. He looked utterly confused and she was sure her cheeks were flaming red with embarrassment. "N-no. You're mistaken, ser." She tried to leave but he grasped her wrist in an iron hold. "Let me go."

Sandor threw the shawl off her head and snorted. "That's a stupid disguise."

"Let me go," she demanded.

"No. What were you doing here?"

"I came to apologize for what I said okay? I felt bad for saying it so I risked a run to see you, which was a fruitless adventure considering you were out with some questionable women."

"Always so polite even when you're trying not to be," he mocked. "You don't have to be like them when you're around me."

"I don't want to be anything around you. Now let me go."

"No. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"Tell me."

"What do you care?" she fired loudly. She took a deep breath and found that she was actually shaking she was so upset. His gray bore into hers as she tried to calm her nerves. "It doesn't matter now. It's late and I hear the kind of activity you have been doing requires rest. If you'll excuse me..."

She was crying because he had been with another woman. 'Shit!' Sandor thought. She was looking at him with that disappointed look again. "What do you want from me, Sansa? You're just a girl."

"And you're just a hound. See? Now we're both liars." She realized that he had let of her wrist a few minutes ago. So why was she still standing here? "Why did you tell the queen about my flowering?"

"She ordered me to watch for it," he replied in a barely audible whisper.

Sansa's heart dropped. "You were spying on me."

Sandor nodded slowly.

"In that case, good night, Ser Clegane." She turned and walked as demurely as she could back to her room, where the night guard was still snoring outside her door. She wasted no time in getting back to bed and crying herself to sleep.

A/N: I know this was kind of an angsty, angry chapter, but I really felt like it was necessary for the whole "what goes up, must come down" kind of thing in terms of a relationship (any kind). Sansa has a wolf in her deep down and she's shown that if she's pushed, she can let it out. Who better and safer to do that with than Sandor?