A/N: Holy crap, y'all flooded my inbox LOL (I got more messages than reviews!). I am infinitely sorry about the time it's taken me to write this chapter, but the truth is that I got a little lost in the middle and hated what I had written so I redid it. Also I had mini surgery and house sat a house that had no internet. Seriously. Overall, it's just been one of those crazy weeks. And since the last chapter was a bit emo-ish, I thought I'd lighten the mood this time.

Chapter 8: The Empty Dream

Sandor felt dirty. For a man like him that was saying quite a bit. Not a good dirty either, but the kind of dirty that can only come with having sex with someone other than the person you really want to be with. He had watched her grow up in the three minutes it took for their fragile relationship to burst. He was angry at himself for letting her in and he was angry at her for wanting him. Who did she think she was? Just because she was a highborn did not mean she had the right to simply walk in his life and claim it as her own. But fuck the seven hells, that is exactly what she did. From the time she talked to him, he knew she was different. She was naïve yes, but what did he expect really? She had spent all her life in the north, separated from any other kind of society. There, everything depended on honor and the Starks ruled with a strict, but fair thumb. King's Landing was a hotbed of conspiracy and corrupted houses each vying for their own agenda. The families here would take every advantage they could to stab you in the back while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. That was a lesson she learned first-hand. Contrary to what she might have believed, he did actually sympathize with her. When he was a young boy, he had wanted to be a knight more than anything in the world. The prestige of being a kingsguard with the gold cloak hanging proudly from his shoulders; his longsword ready for action at any moment, and watching the games of the iron throne from a safe distance all conspired to give him dreams of grandeur. Until that fucking fire melted his face. It was just as hard for him as it was for Sansa to accept the reality of what a knight truly was: a monster with a mask of chivalry. For Sansa, she had dreams of marrying a handsome knight like Ser Loras with a beautiful, intact face and pretty sigil to bestow on her children's clothes. But her world had been crushed on the wheel of reality just as his had been. Oh yes, he could sympathize with Sansa more than she knew. They could have had something special – not romantic maybe if she didn't want that, but a friendship that few would understand. She always saw through the anger and bitterness and tried to help, but he had to go and ruin it. But why was he even upset about this? He was a man for gods' sake! He didn't have to answer to a barely there woman! He could come and go as he pleased on his time off. He didn't go out of his way to see her when she was upset did he? No. He probably should have now that he was thinking about it, but there were so many problems with that option: namely, he was never what someone thought of when they wanted to be comforted. Chances were that she wanted some of that now after he called her stupid, which in hindsight wasn't the smartest thing he could have said to her. Hell, she came to his room: he might have been able to do something - anything - to let her know that she was better than anyone he had been with and will ever meet. He may have gotten some sort of kiss too. Of course, with that train of thought, maybe it was a good thing things went the way they did.

Dirty. Just plain dirty.

He ripped his shirt over his head and washed himself quickly before slipping into his hard bed. He still smelt of sex with that whore. He began to think about who had been there before him – countless men and probably women too knowing Littlefinger and his establishment. And he hadn't even enjoyed it! All he could think about was Sansa looking at him with such disappointment and that kind of memory didn't help him stay hard for long. At least she was a redhead. But that seemed to make everything worse because every time Ros looked at him, the fantasy was gone. He finally had to take her from behind but she was so loose, Sandor wondered if she could even feel anything anymore. Naturally, that thought led to rabbit trails about how big he was. Eventually, he settled for her mouth. That seemed to work since that was the only hole in her that wasn't permanently stretched. Regardless of the circumstances, he got his release and she got her money. He would have been fine with that. After all, nearly every man in the north had slept with the whore as though it was a rite of passage so why couldn't he?

Sandor growled into his pillow. "Sansa."

That damn girl – woman – was gonna be the death of him.

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Sansa ran down the hallway at full speed. Behind her, the Hound was relentless in his chase of the redhead. Even though she was running fast, it wasn't enough. Somehow he had gotten hold of her and they both fell, tumbling down the flight of stairs in front of them.

Sansa felt him pull both of her hands above her head and hold it there with just one of his. "Let me go!"

He didn't say anything as he nuzzled his face against her neck. His hot breath on her skin made her body react in the worst way – or maybe it was the best? She struggled against his grip but put as little effort as possible into it. Her limbs were crying out to wrap themselves around him and her flesh ached for his touch. The fire that surged through her veins when he let his hand roam over her stomach made her moan.

"Do you still want me to let you go?" he said in deep, rich voice.

Sansa could barely understand what he was saying she was so lost in the moment. He smiled as he tested the waters by grinding his hips against her. Just like he expected, she responded fiercely. He kept her hands in place but her legs wrapped themselves around him on their own accord. Her chest rose up to meet his and he could feel how turned on she was just by the erratic breathing. Yet he could still feel her holding back.

"Let go, little bird," he cooed. "Let go."

It was still dark out when Sansa woke from her dream. She was sweating profusely and she felt something sticky on her legs. When she checked, she was horrified to see some sort of liquid running down her inner thighs. It smelt funny to her. Was this normal for a woman to experience? Was it from her bleeding? It didn't look like it. Whatever it was, she was determined to get rid of it in case someone came in and saw it. She didn't need another encounter like the morning of her first flowering. That was all kinds of embarrassing to have Sandor there at that moment.

She gathered the sheets up and noticed that whatever was coming out of her hadn't seeped through and it didn't leave any dark marks. "Thank the gods," she breathed.

Next she poured her own bath, which was actually rather easy she thought. Carefully, she poured some fresh rose petals in the warm water to make her smell good. She played with a few of them before closing her eyes. Fully relaxed, she breathed in the rosy scent and labored her breathing.

When she opened her eyes again it was sunny. Her body was prune like from sitting in the water, which had turned cold hours earlier. She heard some shuffling in the next room and wrapped a towel around her. Emerging from the bathing room, she saw Shae and another maid putting fresh sheets on her bed.

"Milady," Shae announced.

Sansa returned the greeting with a smile and sat at her chair. Shae began to brush her hair while the other maid finished the final touches on her bed. "You're dismissed," she declared. The maid curtsied and left. "Shae?"

"Yes, milady?"

Sansa had no idea how to even begin asking for information. "When, uh, when you have your flowering, do you experience anything other than blood?"

Shae stopped brushing and looked at her mistress intently. The redhead did seem flustered and more than a little bashful. "That depends. What did you experience?"

"I had this dream last night and when I woke up, I was sweating and there was something sticky on my legs. But it wasn't blood. Is that bad?"

Shae chuckled lightly at Sansa's lady like blush. "No, milady. What kind of a dream was it?"

"I was running but a man caught me. We fell down and he started kissing me and...and...stuff."

"That's when you woke up?" Sansa nodded shyly. "What you experienced during that dream wasn't bad. What happened after you woke up isn't bad either. It's just your body's way of reminding you that being a woman can come with some nice experiences."

"Like what?"

Now it was Shae's turn to feel uncomfortable. She had never given a sex talk to anyone let alone a highborn. "Did your mother ever tell you how children come into the world?"

"No. She wanted me to get my blood first."

"Of course," Shae muttered. "I know this is going to seem unrelated, but I need to you tell me what you felt during your dream."

"During the dream I felt...something strange. I couldn't breathe or even think. Everything became hazy and I thought I was floating out of my body. But then this burning came from deep inside and I thought I was going to be burned alive."

"And these feelings happened when the man touched you?"

Sansa nodded. "Is that normal?"

"Definitely," Shae smiled. Her reassurance seemed to calm Sansa "What did you feel after you woke up?"

Sansa thought for a moment. "Empty. It was as though something inside of me had left. Is that bad? It sounds bad."

"Don't worry about that. That's normal. Now, you said your mother had never told you about where children come from." Again, Sansa nodded. "What happened in your dream – the man and the fire and the haziness – that's a portion of what happens when two people love each other. They come together and become intimate."

"How do they do that?"

'Curse this girl for being curious!' Shae thought. But she couldn't say no to someone like Sansa, who was probably scared out of her wits about her own body. "What happens is," Shae cleared her throat and continued; "the man puts his...member into a woman's...body."

"Where does it go?"

Shae took a deep breath and tried hard not to scare Sansa with the details, but since she was still engaged to the king, she would find out eventually and be totally unprepared. At least this way she'd know what was supposed to happen. But she couldn't just flat out say it. "Come with me." Shae grabbed one of Sansa's lone mirrors and led her to the bathroom. "You really want to know about what happens?"

"Yes."

Shae thrust the mirror into Sansa's hands. "Pull your dress up, put the mirror between your legs, and take a look. I know it's strange, but trust me, it will help. Every woman should know her body. If you still have questions after you're done, then I'll be able to explain everything better."

"Okay," came the shaky reply. Sansa watched as Shae closed the door. She glanced down at the mirror, which was bulky and had sharp edges and wondered what Shae was thinking. But she was in a bind and Shae obviously knew what she was talking about. Besides, it was either this or the queen. Shuddering at the thought, Sansa hiked her dress up to her waist and stuck the mirror where Shae said to. She wasn't sure what she'd find, but she did it anyway. Her blue eyes found the object in the mirror and she gasped. Then she studied it a little more. Shae was right: she should know her body.

Shae waited patiently by Sansa's bed. She heard a tiny gasp and chuckled lightly to herself. Against all odds, the highborn had woven a special place in her heart. She never dreamed she'd have to take the role of a friend, confidant, and now mother when Tyrion placed her in Sansa's care.

"Where is she?"

Startled, Shae nearly fell on to the bed. "What are you doing here? Has the king called for her?"

Sandor moved further inside. Something was off. The woman was skittish today and the air felt tense. "That's no concern of yours and no, he hasn't. Where is she?"

"She's... busy."

Sandor gave her a wary once over. "Doing what?"

"Shae, how many holes are there?" Sansa's innocent but curious voice rang from the other room.

Shae smiled nervously as Sandor's face seem to become incredibly confused.

"There's so much I can't see! How does the man know which one is which?"

Hanging her head in both exasperation and amusement, Shae let out a stifled laugh. Sandor on the other hand, had a mixture of emotions rolling inside him.

"Milady, I – I think you should stop talking," Shae called out.

"You said you'd help me," Sansa replied, confused. "I'm looking at it but I don't see how this explains anything about my dream. If I ever see San-" Sansa opened the door and stopped midsentence. An apple red blush burned her cheeks at the sight of the Hound not a few feet away. Without thinking, she slammed the door shut and hid behind it. "What's he doing here?"

Sandor cleared his throat loudly. "I – uh, I came to speak with the lady."

Sansa shut her eyes and banged her head lightly against the thick door. Last night's dream clouded her present thoughts and she shook her head to get rid of them. "I don't believe I have anything to say to you."

A warm feeling came over her just then as Sandor grabbed the door handle and shook it.

"Open the door, Sansa."

"No." She heard him back up and knew what was coming. She got out of the way just in time as his foot made the door swing on its hinge. "I don't want to see you."

Sandor glanced at the mirror in her hand and smiled wryly. "Oh, I have a feeling you do."

Sansa realized he was looking at the mirror and then back at her. "That- that conversation has nothing to do with you."

"I never said it did. I'm sure there a dozen men whose names start with 'San' that you're having dreams about."

"Oh, you have no idea. I- I –I dream about a lot of them."

"Really?" he said devishly. "What kind of dreams? I mean, besides the kind that requires questions about your body and a mirror."

"That's none of your business." Sansa was trying her best to remain composed but the truth was that she was frightened – not of the Hound of course, but what would happen if she did end up telling him what she dreamt. He would only mock and scorn her for being silly.

"I could help you answer some of those questions you have."

"You're not a woman."

"Sometimes you need a man to tell you about a woman's body. We tend to know every inch of them."

He moved so close to Sansa that she was having trouble breathing again. The deep ache to feel his touch was back again and she felt her body responding. 'Kiss me,' she thought. 'Just kiss me, please.'

"Careful little bird," he remarked quietly. "You're thinking so loud I can hear your thoughts." His eyes roamed over her blossomed figure and a pang of lust hit him. She was a woman now.

"I can hear yours too," she threw out.

"Let me explain."

Sansa sighed heavily. "There's nothing to explain. You paid someone to have sex with you. I may only be a recent woman, but I'm not ignorant about everything. Just because I don't talk about it or want to hear it doesn't mean I don't know about it." Of course, that was exactly the case, but he didn't need to know that. "What you do in your life is none of my concern."

"You came to apologize last night for what you said."

"I did."

"I want to hear it now."

"Why?"

"I just do."

"No. Now please leave."

Sandor's arms landed on the wall behind her, entrapping her between them and forcing her to be close. "Not until I get my apology."

"I decided you don't deserve one." She ducked under his arms and started walking but he grabbed a bicep and pulled her back. "You're hurting me."

Sandor immediately loosened his grasp but still kept her arm in his hand. "You owe me an apology."

It was so hard for her to not just grab his face and press her lips against his. It was the only thing she wanted to do and her refusal was literally painful. But she thought about what everyone had been telling her: love can't survive in King's Landing. Instead, they both needed to push each other away and that was exactly what she was going to do. "I don't owe you anything. You are not my equal. I do not respond to your commands; nor do I care about what you think you are entitled to. Now please leave."

His legendary anger was back in a flash. "I hope you liked being protected because those days are gone."

Sansa watched him skulk out of her chambers and fell onto her bed. Shae joined her and tried to comfort the girl. "It's back."

"What is?"

"That empty feeling."

"Do you get that a lot?"

"Only when he leaves."

Shae envied Sansa. She had lived longer and been with several men, but she had never felt anything like what Sansa described. "Then we must get your mind back on task. What did you think when you looked in the mirror?"

That seemed to do the trick since Sansa was chattering away again. "I didn't think it would look like that. It looks complicated."

"Only for a man who doesn't know what he's doing," Shae grinned.

"So where does it go?"

"Don't worry about that. You'll find out one day."

"Joffrey won't know what he's doing."

"Maybe it won't be Joffrey."

Sansa's eyes flittered wide. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm merely suggesting that things don't always go as planned. After all, Stannis' ships are coming. There will be a battle and if he wins, you would be free."

"I could go home."

"Maybe. Is that what you want?"

Sansa didn't know how to answer that. On one hand, she most definitely did. She missed Winterfell and her family; on the other, that would mean she wouldn't see Sandor anymore. Unless he came with her... "I have no home. Theon's captured it."

"Get it back."

"With me and what army?"

"Not all battles are fought with soldiers and a field. Take King's Landing for instance: there are no battlefields but people have died in the throne room based on a word from the king; there are no soldiers fighting each other but friends betray friends; there are no weapons but there are strategies being woven everywhere by brilliant people who know what to say and how to say it."

"I couldn't take Winterfell back even if I possessed friends and strategies. I'm to marry the king and we both know how he takes to people disobeying him."

That was true. Joffrey may have been young, but he was a vicious little bastard - literally. "Well," Shae sighed airily, "we can only pray that the gods have mercy."

"Pray," Sansa repeated to herself. "It's been a long time since I've done that."

"Such kindness in these times is not easily forgotten," the brunette remarked. "I'm sure the gods remember every word you have said."

"I hope so. I hope they hear my family." She didn't even know if her family prayed anymore. Her parents had been devoted to the gods and that had rubbed off on Sansa, but after seeing her father executed and the brutality of the king, her once solid faith had been shaken. Then again, what was the point of believing in the gods if the only time you believed in them was when everything was going your way?

"Maybe you can take a walk later and visit the godswood," Shae suggested.

"Maybe I will."

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She did just that. As soon as there was a space between court and imprisonment in her own room, Sansa snuck out to the godswood. No one else was around but then again, she didn't expect to see anyone either. In King's Landing, everyone spoke about the gods but they never worshipped them.

The godswood looked very old and unused. Moss was growing over limbs that once held religious kings and queens – obviously not during the Mad King's reign. The air felt stifled as though it had been trapped in there for too long. Sansa felt a little awkward as she took a seat that she was sure belonged to one of the Targaryen kings. She closed her eyes and let herself get caught up in her prayers. She prayed for everything, but most of all she prayed for her family. No word had come about Arya, or about her mother and Robb, and there had been no news from Winterfell. The last bit was especially worrying since it was her youngest brothers at the mercy of the Greyjoys and Ramsay Snow. She refused to call him Ramsay Bolton – he didn't deserve the title of lord. She had heard whispers in court today that Winterfell's raven must have been killed since Varys could not reach his spiders. She didn't know what to believe anymore and she wasn't even sure the gods were listening when she said her prayers. But she had to try. If only one of them listened and took mercy, she would be eternally grateful. Sandor would laugh if he saw her now. A small smile played on her lips but her eyes remained sad. That man inflicted such pain and happiness on her that was impossible for her to leave him out.

"Let him be happy," she whispered. It was the final touch to a long and meaningful plea. A snapped twig caught her ear. She jumped to her feet and retreated further into the godswood. "W-Who's there?" she squeaked out.

"I-It-It's me, my lady."

"Ser Dontos?" Sansa peeked out through a hanging branch and saw the chubby fool standing in the middle of the wood. She revealed herself but kept a careful eye out for anyone else. "I was just about to leave so you can have some privacy."

"Oh no," he smiled weakly. "I have come to see you."

"Me? What for?"

"I have a proposition for you."

Her interest peaked, she came closer. "What is it?"

"I have a way for you to leave here," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Stannis' ships will be here in little more than a day. During the battle, we could sneak you out and put on a hidden road to Winterfell."

Sansa was stunned. "I would be able to leave?"

"Yes, my lady. But it must happen during the battle."

Without thinking, Sansa blurted out a solid "Yes! I'll do it."

"Excellent," Dontos smiled.

He turned to leave but she grabbed him. "Wait! Who's 'we'?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said, 'we could sneak you out.' Who's 'we'?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my accomplice. Trust me, it's for your own good."

"If it's so dangerous, why are you doing it?"

"You saved my life. I would like to repay it."

Sansa smiled at the thick man and watched him leave clumsily. "Thank you," she said to the trees. Perhaps one of the gods was listening after all.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandor paced around by Sansa's room completely drunk. The wine had hit him hard tonight as he tried to forget the little bird. But as soon as he would close his eyes and succumb to the emptiness inside him, her face would appear and he would lose what sleep he managed to get. It was infuriating and he wasn't going to take it anymore.

When he heard light footsteps coming up the stairs, he ran to meet her.

"Sansa," he growled. He had scared her when he appeared and she almost fell down the stairs. He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. She smelled of the awful flowers from the godswood. "Where have you been?"

"I was praying," she explained. "I would ask where you've been but judging from the flask in your hand and the stench of your breath I'm going to assume you've been drinking at the brothel."

"Praying," he sneered. "What a joke."

"I could say the same about drinking," she fired back. "Why do you care where I've been anyway?"

"I don't," he said, completely flustered. "I was assigned to your room so it's my duty."

"You're drinking on duty? I don't think so."

"It doesn't matter what I do on duty so long as the king thinks I'm doing my job."

"And does that job include drinking yourself into a stupor?"

"I can still fight."

"How could you possibly help me if you're too busy hanging on to your wine?"

"Because I'm the best."

"I thought Jamie Lannister was the best."

"Psht," he rasped. "Jamie Lannister wins fights because he's the son of Tywin."

"What about your brother?"

Sandor lowered his face so that it was even to hers. "Don't. Talk. About. Him. Do you hear me, girl? On your life, never talk about him. I'll cut out your tongue if you ever say his name."

Sansa gasped slightly, but still she didn't move. "Do it. I dare you."

Taken back, Sandor straightened himself to his full height. "Don't play with me, girl. You'll lose."

"I'm not playing. Do it."

Sandor grabbed her face roughly and brought her so close he could see her eyes. The two didn't say a word but instead just stared at each other. "One day," he said, finally loosening his grasp into nothing more than a soft touch. "I'll have your tongue."

"But not tonight," Sansa whispered gently. She cupped his hand in hers and kept them there, letting the fire wash over both of them.

"No, little bird. Not tonight."

It struck both of them how odd their conversations always seemed to be. He pulled his hand away slowly as he heard another person coming up the stairs. It was another guard that Sansa wasn't familiar with.

"What's going on?" the guard demanded. "Why isn't she asleep?"

"You expect her to sleep with all this noise going on outside? I can barely hear myself think."

Sansa hadn't even noticed the commotion at the front gates she had been so consumed with her own thoughts. She wanted to ask what happened, but Sandor seemed to be talking for her. Even drunk the man managed to intimidate other guards.

"What's happening outside?" she asked once Sandor ordered the other guard away.

"A riot. The people are hungry and we have food. Now get to your room and stay there."

Sansa was led by the arm roughly until he twirled her inside. "What about you?"

Another swig of wine sloshed in his mouth as he went to shut the door. "I'll be right out here."

Sansa got ready for bed slowly. She was scared that if the people were anything like they were the day Myrcella sailed, there would be some serious trouble. But Sandor said he was going to stay outside so she felt somewhat safe. She'd feel better if he wasn't drunk though. Her thoughts soon left the idea of the castle being overrun and rested on her encounter with Ser Dontos. It had been a strange turn of events and his offer had come unexpectedly. She wasn't entirely sure she could trust him, but he seemed genuinely willing to help.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After his argument with Sansa in the bathroom, Sandor slinked back to his guard duties. He stood behind the king as always and watched more people get punished simply because they were starving enough to try and steal. He snuck a few gazes over to where Sansa was, noticing her vacant expression. She had that look most of the time now while she was at court. Finally, Joffrey hung up his crown and slithered to his chambers. Sandor accompanied him for a short time until the queen showed up and demanded (gently) that Joffrey lend his favorite guard to her.

"I want you to get someone for me," she said. "A whore named Ros. She lives in Littlefinger's brothel. I believe you are acquainted with her are you not?"

Sandor said nothing but only nodded once. He didn't like where she was going with this.

"She is from Winterfell, correct?"

Again, he only nodded.

"Good. I am having dinner with my brother tonight. I do believe that after all he's done, he deserves a present. I want her brought to me."

Sandor did as commanded but he had a terrible feeling that it wasn't going to end well for Ros. The queen was anything but a gentle person who was capable of inflicting great damage to those she didn't like. And it was well known within the Keep that Tyrion was constantly at odds with her.

"Hello," the queen greeted.

"My queen," Ros curtsied.

"Hound, give her some room to breathe. We want my brother's whore to be comfortable."

"I beg pardon?" Ros asked politely.

For Sandor, he already knew where this would lead. The queen was only nice when she had something horrible up her incestuous sleeves.

"You have slept with my brother, the imp, have you not?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"You are from Winterfell and yet you chose to come to King's Landing," the queen mused. "Why?"

"Better paying customers," Ros explained.

Cersei smiled and Sandor fought the urge to vomit. She was such an ugly queen – at least in his eyes. "I'm sure. How do you like it here?"

"It's very pleasant, Your Grace."

"Good. Now, how many times has my brother been to see you?"

"Just once in Winterfell. It was the day your caravan arrived."

"I don't like liars," Cersei snapped. "Don't tell me that after my brother paid for your services, you just happened to come to King's Landing shortly after we arrived. My brother wanted you to come didn't he?"

Her accusatory tone had put Ros off balanced. "No, Your Grace. I came on my own."

"I don't believe you," the queen seethed. "Hound!"

"Your Grace," Sandor replied.

"See to it that she gets punished accordingly."

"For what?" Ros cried.

"For lying to your queen!"

The rest of the guards held on to the whore while Cersei sipped on her wine. Sandor never struck the whore since she was getting it from the rest of the men but he didn't stop it either. They were obeying orders and at the moment, the only reason why he could get away with it is because Joffrey liked him and he was the Hound. Normally, he wouldn't have cared about striking a woman. Hell, he had killed plenty of them. But she was being beaten for no other reason than she had been picked out by Tyrion months ago. 'Sansa would be begging for them to stop,' he thought dismally. Her heart would break at the sight of an innocent person being punished and she would be ashamed that he wasn't doing anything to prevent it.

"All right," he barked. "That's enough."

The men moved away and he saw Ros lying on the floor clutching her stomach. Her face was bruised and her lip had split, but she was able to stand up on her own.

"Don't help her," Cersei snapped at the Hound.

Sandor didn't waste his energy listening to the queen and helped the injured woman anyway. He could hear the queen's impatient huff as he went back to his spot.

"Take her away until I tell you to get her. She will be my brother's gift tonight."

Sandor finished the rest of his shift in a haze. He hated King's Landing with every fiber of his being. The highborns were cruel despite being called "honorable." It sickened him. Sansa would say that the men's actions tonight were anything but knightly. And she would be right. That's why he refused to become one.

He went to the brothel to distract him, but every time he would look at one of the whores, Sansa's face would appear and all he could see was the horrified expression she had when she realized where he had been. And even though she had apologized that night, it was clear that she had been deeply hurt by his actions. That alone had been his sole reason for going to her room that morning. He wanted to explain himself better. But things got interesting pretty damn fast once he reached his destination.

The first thing he had noticed was that Shae was doing nothing. She was usually doing something, whether straightening up or making sure everything was clean, she was rarely idle when he saw her. Lately, she had become more of a pillow for Sansa to cry on, but his point still stood. So when he saw her standing next to the bed and twirling a piece of hair, he could tell something was going on. He scared her when he spoke, but she recovered quickly. Her answer to his question about where Sansa was further fueled his suspicions. He was about to shake the maid when Sansa's feminine voice floated from the next room.

The following conversation was eye opening for him. It was clear just from the theme of her questions that Sansa had begun to really explore her body and that sent all kinds of lusty thoughts to his nether regions. The more she talked, the more restricting his pants had become.

'Dead kittens, Gregor, Cersei, that boygirl Lancel.' This became his mantra as he tried his best to reign in his lascivious fantasies about what Sansa was doing in the next room. To be honest, he had barely heard anything she was saying. That is until he word the word "dream." He stood a little straighter as Sansa opened the door but stopped midsentence. It was obviously his name on her lips but for some reason, she refused to finish it. Instead, she slammed the door shut.

Sandor threw Shae an exasperated look which the maid found amusing. He had to admit that he did too.

When he finally kicked the door in, there was his little bird, huddling just in front of the wall. She looked both terrified and exhilarated at the sight of him. He could smell her desire from where he was standing and it urged him on. But she refused to even entertain him and she took back her apology. He understood why she did it; after all, he was the one who pushed her away first. She was pushing back. But it also frustrated him to his core that they couldn't escape this stupid game.

But now that the confrontation was over, he just wanted to get her off his mind and if he couldn't fuck her out, he'd drink her out. He drank until he could barely see straight and then he drank some more. It was obvious early on that she wasn't going to go anywhere though. And he figured that if he had to be miserable because of her, the least he should get out of it was her company. So when he had returned to the Keep, he threatened the guard at her door that if he didn't leave, his punishment would be far worse than any the king or queen would have for him. It worked, except Sansa wasn't in her room. That worried him since there was a large crowd outside and they had begun to get louder. He walked around searching for her until the large crowd turned into a full riot. Joffrey was out on his balcony, shooting his subjects. Because nothing says "I love my people" more than shooting them. Regardless of what he thought, Sandor stayed away from the rowdy crowd until he saw his little bird flittering inside quietly. He stalked her pathway until he was able to meet up with her at the stairs.

He hadn't meant to frighten her, but she looked skittish even before he came into her view. He managed to grab hold of her just before she slipped down the stairs. He could feel her skin under the dress and it made him long for a different life: one that was far away from King's Landing and the brutal reign of the Lannisters.

Their conversation was short since a guard had interrupted them. He went ahead and lied for Sansa since he knew she was terrible at it. With his luck, she'd end up blurting out the truth and have both their heads taken off.

When he mentioned the riot, Sansa got a fearful look in her eyes. He assured her that he wasn't going anywhere though she looked doubtful because of his present state. But she didn't understand that it was her life on the line tonight. He cared nothing for his but nothing in the world would harm her, not while he was on duty. Tossing the wine flask away, Sandor stood guard at the door. He checked on her from time to time to see if she was asleep or having another "dream." A smile played on his lips as he thought about Sansa having a sex dream, especially about him. He knew that she was coming into her own but no one could help her, not like he could. He had meant what he said about her tongue being his one day. And maybe, after they survived this bloody war and barbaric city, he'd be able to take her body and soul.