The Hound and the Bird

by boozy von chugaton

Sandor and Sansa try to fight their growing feelings for each other as King's Landing descends into chaos. Together, they find soft moments in a harsh place. *contains dialogue from both the books and the show. Rated M for later. R&R:

9. Kill Them All

A/N: So this chapter took a tremendous amount of time to write lol. It's longer than usual but that's because it's pretty intense.

Remember to review please with a cherry on top. Those little buggers make me write better and faster

Chapter 9: Kill Them All

It was his fault. There was no point in denying it. He watched Ros limp out of the queen's chambers with a load of guilt on his shoulders. It didn't matter that she was a whore or he was a killer. What mattered is that she was actually a nice person and his association with her that night led her to being beaten. The queen showed her stupidity tonight by thinking that Tyrion was in love with Ros, but Sandor knew better. Deep down, he knew that it was because of his feelings for Sansa that he went to her that night. It was a matter of synergy: Tyrion's tryst with her in Winterfell and Sandor's feelings for another redhead led them to this incident.

He stayed in the shadows as she was escorted roughly by the other guards. Joffrey had let him off early after literally picking the wings off flies...and birds. The little king was brutal and nothing satisfied his bloodlust so Sandor didn't stay in his way. Joffrey had grown bored of Sansa and her whimpering; that, and Tyrion forbade him to beat the girl. Once, Joffrey had ordered the Hound to beat her but he staunchly refused to lift a finger. He was the only one in the seven kingdoms who had the balls to stand up to the blonde tyrant. Joffrey let it go of course because for some reason, the boy favored him above everyone else. He had a feeling that it was due to his own anger and insatiable appetite for violence. But these days, his appetite had veered off the main road and onto the beaten path. But just when he thought everything could be all right, tonight reminded him that no place was safe. And despite his words to her, he would do everything in his power to keep her out of unnecessary danger, even if it killed him to be so far from her. She was everything bright in his dark world and he would keep that light going for as long as he could.

But she was running head first into trouble faster than she knew. He saw the tiny flicker of hope come across her face every time Dontos came around. It was brief, but there nevertheless. He didn't trust the disgraced knight so every chance he could, Sandor had followed him around. He was more than a little surprised and more than jealous when he realized why Sansa was going to the godswood so often.

A scuffling down the hall broke his reverie. He turned and saw the heavy fool look around skittishly before resuming his path. Sandor let out a little growl involuntary and followed behind at a decent length. Stealth was not his strong suit, but he managed to get along as best he could. If his armor made any noise, Dontos didn't notice. Then again, that wasn't a huge surprise considering he wasn't the most observant person in the world.

Down the serpentine they went, across the drawbridge, and into the godswood until Dontos disappeared through the outer layer of trees. He hesitated for a slight moment. Anything could be behind that tree line. But if his gut was right, there would only be Sansa. He went forward and followed the large footsteps. He didn't have to go very far to meet up with his target. There was a lantern by the base of a tree where Sansa was sitting. His curiosity peaked; he carefully situated himself close to the ground and watched as his little bird hugged the former knight. Jealousy almost took over until he saw that she stepped backward a few steps. He didn't seriously entertain the thought that she was interested in Dontos like that; although she did have a knack for ugly things.

He was struck by how beautiful she was in the light. The lantern and moonlight conspired to make her skin glow in the most glorious way. It looked soft and smooth. He couldn't wait to taste every inch of it.

"Ser Dontos," Sansa smiled. She had been waiting at the godswood for over an hour, making sure that no one had followed her. She kept herself busy by praying for everything that came to her head. Shae had encouraged her to get out of the Keep as much as possible and the best way was to go to the godswood. It was the only place of true solitude in the whole kingdom because no one ever went there. The brunette had also warned her that even though it was known she was religious, the queen might send some spies to see what she was up to so no matter what, she had look as though she were deep in prayer. That wasn't hard for the redhead considering what all she had to pray for. For her help, Sansa had let Shae off early and headed off to her sanctuary.

"My lady," Dontos bowed. He was caught off guard when she hugged him. It was brief, but welcomed nonetheless. "I have news."

"Are you sure no one followed you?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Please, continue. Won't you sit?"

"Thank you, my lady." He sat himself down on the branches while Sansa hovered above looking anxious. "We will have to delay your escape until after the battle. There would be much confusion and the queen will most likely have you close to her for its duration. But he says there will be a boat ready to take us to our destination when it is time."

"How sure is he that he will be able to come? What if they're late?"

"They won't be, my lady. I received a raven and he assures me that they have already left Harrenhal."

Sansa let out a relieved breath. "What must I pay him for his services?"

"He has not told me, my lady."

That worried her. Everything has its price, especially if it was coming from Littlefinger. But on the other hand, he was her mother's friend from many years past. Surely, he could be counted on to help her. "Thank you, Ser. I appreciate your doing this. It's very brave of you."

"You're the brave one, my lady."

Sansa let a small smile out before he rose to leave. "Ser Dontos," she called. "Please be careful."

"You too, my lady."

She watched him leave the same way he came in. As much as she wanted to, she was going to have to wait a while. It would look suspicious to any passerby if she came out so quickly after he did. Stretching her muscles, she raised her hands above her head and bent backwards. A twig snapped and it made her jump. "Who's there?"

Sandor cursed his large size for being so clumsy. He didn't make a sound but a small rabbit did run by him. He saw her face light up just the tiniest bit when the creature hopped in her direction. The sound was attributed to the animal and she bent down to pick it up. He could see a hint of her cleavage and he had to turn his eyes before he let out a groan. She had indeed become a woman. Her body had certainly blossomed over the past few weeks. Her clothes had started to stretch over the areas he most wanted to explore and it made him angry that he couldn't just rip them to shreds and have his way with her. As he watched her closely, a smile came to his lips at the thoughts that ran through his mind. The things he wanted do to his little bird would make a whore blush.

But for now he was content to watch her have this happiness. It had been so long since he had seen her genuine smile and he felt slightly bad for intruding on what she thought was a private moment. He couldn't leave now though. He'd make a lot of noise and he doubted that there was an army of bunnies nearby.

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Sansa knew he was watching her. His armor gave him away. But if he didn't want to come out and talk to her then who was she to disturb his peeping? She knew it wasn't proper or even polite of him to spy on her, but Sandor was none of those things on his best day. He wasn't exactly silent either. In fact, she had been aware of his presence since she hugged Ser Dontos. There had been a feeling she hadn't been able to identify but it reminded her of when she would catch him looking at her. It made her feel safe. So she settled for the little bunny that was keeping her company. Her mind was full from fantasies that ranged from leaving the Keep to staying just so she could be close to him. If she left, she would miss him – terribly so. She wasn't sure she could even survive without him. Despite their arguments, she knew he cared about her and she was in the same boat.

She gently put the rabbit down and made her way back to the Keep. Just as she reached the top of the serpentine, he caught her by the wrist and flung her into a darkened corner. Her breath caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them. A guard walked by but since they were so hidden, he didn't see them.

"You must be more careful," he said roughly. "Being around Dontos is a sure way to ensure the queen's curiosity is trained on you."

He was so close. She could feel he was only a few inches from her face. If she stepped on her tip toes she could kiss him. "How do you know about Ser Dontos?"

"He isn't a ser," he sneered.

"He is to me."

"That's a romantic notion. One that could get you killed."

"He wants to help me. What's wrong with that?"

"He doesn't want to help you. Littlefinger does. That's a big difference, little bird."

"He wants nothing in return."

"You would trust a man who betrayed your father?"

"As opposed to you who stood by and did nothing? You saw what was happening. You knew my father was right and yet you let him die."

Ouch. He knew she'd bring that up eventually. "I did my job. It wasn't my fault your father was too honorable to play the game."

"What game?"

"The game," he huffed. As much as he loved her innocence, her naivety could be frustrating. "It's what Littlefinger, Varys, the queen, Tyrion and everyone else at court plays. They're using you, little bird and you're playing right into their hands. Littlefinger doesn't want to help you out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn't have one!"

"What would you have me do? I won't stay a prisoner and become Joffrey's wife. I can't."

He could sense her fear at the thought. "Use that head of yours and don't trust anyone."

Sansa was released from his grasp and he disappeared just as quickly as he came. She ran as quickly as she could to her room and locked the door. He had been so close! Her heart was still skipping its beats from the experience. She had heard what he said, but her body was dying for another touch. Something had awoken in that little moment and she felt an urgency inside her that rivaled any dream she had before.

"Every woman should know their body."

Damn it, that's just what she was going to do. Whatever this feeling was, it was bringing out her primal instincts. It was both frightening and exhilarating. She collapsed on her bed and laid there for a moment, remembering his hands on her shoulders and his hot breath so close to her own mouth. She let out a moan and her snaked down her body on its own accord. It kept going until she cupped herself. Her eyes flittered open at the sensation. She hadn't realized that was where the feeling was coming from. She pressed even harder and her eyes closed tight. It felt good and it was relieving the tension. Her clothes felt bothersome and irritated her sensitive skin. With quick hands, she removed them and tossed them away. The cool air formed tiny goose bumps as she resumed her actions. Closing her eyes again, she delved deep into her most unlady-like fantasies.

Her legs parted as she thought about Sandor between them. Images of his black hair crawling down her stomach and his lips on her skin drove her to push a finger inside herself. At first she was horrified that she did it. It wasn't proper and it certainly wasn't what a lady was supposed to do. But something kept urging her forward, seeking a relief to the building pressure. She had no idea what to do so she let instincts take over. Soon, she was panting hard as her finger worked its way inside her. Without warning, a strong wave of pleasure overcame her and she let out a deep moan at the feeling. Pulling out the digit, she found it was soaked with the same liquid that accompanied her dream. She quickly wiped it clean and did the same with her legs. The feeling was gone, but instead of being relieved, she once again felt hollow. Something was missing.

Across the castle, Sandor wasn't fairing much better. He had sought his relief of course but he too felt something was missing. But unlike Sansa, he knew exactly what it was. It had been a while since he had actually been with a woman. Joffrey had become paranoid ever since the riot when Myrcella sailed; but every spare moment, Sandor could think of nothing save for Sansa. It was driving him near his breaking point that he was so close to her, especially this last time, and could do nothing about it. He wasn't even sure she heard what he saying. Her desire was evident even in the dark. It took every ounce of his will to stop himself from kissing her. It would have been easy. She wanted it just as much as he did. But he knew that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop and he couldn't do that to her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next afternoon, everything was different. People were far more tense than usual and even the queen was more spiteful than her normal self. Sansa noticed it right away with Tyrion. He genuinely seemed worried for what was coming. Shae had told her that Stannis' army would be in the bay in just a few short hours and the battle would begin.

"Does this mean he would fight?"

"Yes," Shae said sadly. Her man would fight too and it worried her.

Sansa's breath caught in her throat and she tried to put on a mask of aloofness. "He's bred for this sort of thing. The only man in the kingdoms that could match him is his brother so he should be fine. Right?"

"Let us pray for it to be so."

Sansa had an overwhelming desire to see her non-knight come back alive. "Shae? Can you find me someone?"

"Of course, milady."

A sparkle of hope came to Sansa's blue eyes. "Good. Once you find him, please bring him to the godswood. I shall be there waiting." Sansa told her the name and Shae smiled.

"Oh, I know exactly where he is."

Sansa quickly made her way down to the godswood again, this time being absolutely sure that Sandor was nowhere nearby. The wait was considerably shorter than she expected.

"Milady," Bronn called out. He bowed slightly before her but she dismissed it.

"Please, I don't want to be so formal. Not with the request I have."

Bronn looked utterly confused. "What is it?"

"Stannis is coming and the men are to fight."

"That's usually what happens in a battle."

"I need you to keep an eye out for someone - but you can't let him know! If word gets to him that I asked this...well, it wouldn't be very pretty."

"Who is it?"

"The Hound."

The silent scoff from Bronn deflated Sansa. "What do you think goes on in a battle? The only person you think about in that situation is yourself because you don't have time to think about anyone else. Besides, that's one man who can take care of himself."

"I know he can," she defended gently. "And I know I've never seen a battle, but I beg of you to make sure he comes back. I will forever be in your debt if you do."

Bronn suddenly clued in to her intentions. "Why him? There are thousands of other men who have families who wish that someone could keep an eye out for them."

"I know," she said sadly. "And I feel guilty for even thinking about it, but none of those men are mine."

Bronn raised an eyebrow. He had to give her credit for courage to love a man like Clegane. "Does he know?"

"I'm not sure. I just want him to come back. I don't care if we're granted a blessing and are able to be together. I just need him alive."

"You really love him huh?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. "But he can't know that either. And neither can the king."

"He won't hear it from my lips," Bronn said casually. "To be honest, I'm not even sure I'll be in the same vicinity as him."

"I understand," Sansa replied, defeat evident in her voice.

Bronn took a long look at the lady in front of him. She was young, beautiful – the most beautiful he had seen in all his years if he were honest – and desperate for his help. He took a sniff and declared, "All right. I'll see what I can do."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm not making any promises, you understand," he clarified in his thick accent.

"I understand. Oh, thank you!" Sansa flung herself at Bronn and unlike Dontos, he responded. It wasn't a hearty response, but he grabbed her waist with one hand while she hugged him with both. She pressed a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you so much! I'm always in your debt."

Bronn smiled at her. "It's on the house. I haven't been kissed by a beautiful woman in a while."

Sansa let out a bright smile. "I hope you know that I wish for your safe return as well."

"Thank you, milady."

They said their goodbyes shortly afterward with Sansa feeling better than she had in days. At least she tried her best to make sure Sandor would come back. It gave her a little bit of hope. She knew Sandor could take care of himself and she also knew that he would probably be furious if he knew that she treated him like a weakling. He was strong and she understood that a man like him got their confidence from being the strongest. But his pride would get him killed and she couldn't take that chance.

"How was your little moment with Bronn?"

Sansa flew around to see Sandor leaning against the wall. He looked beyond irate. "What?"

"Don't act like that," he spat. "I saw you and him in the godswood."

"How-"

"Tell me; did you flirt with me just for the protection against the king?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then why did you kiss him!"

"Sandor, it's not what you think."

"How long have you been meeting him?" When she didn't respond, he punched the wall with his fist. "How long?!" he bellowed.

Sansa didn't move despite her fear. "Stop acting like a jealous brute!"

"Jealous?" he laughed. "Why should I be jealous? You're nothing but a stupid girl."

It was hard for her to swallow his insults, but she knew the reason he was angry. "I'm not the one who is stupid in this instance. If you would allow me to explain-"

"Why? So you could lie and tell me what I want to hear like those other dullards at court?"

"No."

"Yes you would. It's what you do. I guess I was wrong: you were playing the game."

"I wasn't. For the gods' sakes, will you just be quiet for half a moment, please!" She saw him lean back against the wall again and decided this was her opening. "I can't tell you why he was there, but I don't have any feelings for Bronn."

"Then why did you kiss him?"

"It was just a peck," she sighed. "It didn't mean anything."

"You don't really expect me to believe that do you?"

Her patience had run out. "You know what? Believe whatever you want. I'm through talking to an immature ogre who has nothing better to do than take everything I say and do out of context. Good luck, Ser Sandor." She didn't want to leave him with such a spiteful conversation so she turned around and quietly said, "And do what you must to come back alive."

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Sandor watched as she walked demurely back to her room. He was so angry; he wasn't sure what he would have done if she had stayed. 'Fuck her sentiments,' he thought. He growled at her back and headed off to his own destination, which was currently the armory to prepare for the battle.

His armor was getting hammered back into place and polished for the upcoming invasion. But as Sandor looked around, he noticed a good deal of the Lannister men were nowhere to be seen.

"Where is everyone?" he asked the blacksmith.

"The Captain of the guard took them to a brothel to boost their morale for tonight."

'Figures,' Sandor thought. "Is the king's armor ready?"

"It's here." The blacksmith held up the red and gold breastplate.

Sandor let an eyebrow go up. "Lannister colors?"

"That's what the queen ordered. I thought it was strange too. Gives credence to those rumors, doesn't it?"

A grunt was Sandor's reply. Of course he knew that the little shit was a bastard, but it was obvious that Cersei wasn't trying her hardest to hide that fact. He saw another breastplate beside it and picked it up. "What's this? Did the king grow tits?"

"No," the blacksmith smirked. "That's for the queen."

"Is she planning to fight?"

"Maybe. She's invited Lady Sansa to Maegor's Holdfast so I think there might be a battle of a different kind brewing for her."

That caught Sandor's attention. "What do you mean?"

The blacksmith swallowed hard at his slip of the tongue. "N-Nothing." Sandor's hand flew to the man's throat and squeezed. "The queen loathes the Stark girl. She plans on having her killed if the city is sacked."

Sandor released the man. "Who else knows this?"

"I'm not sure. I overheard it when the queen was talking to Maester Pycelle the day she ordered her own armor."

'That bitch!' he yelled to himself. "You're sure that's what she said."

"I'm certain."

"Why would she say that when you were within earshot?" Cersei was usually far more careful.

"You know how it is with highborns: they think we're deaf, dumb and blind to everything they do."

"Did she say how?"

"No," the man shook his head. "But I heard that Sir Ilyn would be their guard."

"The royal executioner." Now it made sense. He wanted to warn Sansa but there was literally no spare moment that he could.

He gathered his armor and went back to his room, stopping on the way at Tyrion's room. He knew the little lord would be in there. He banged on the door with force.

"Come in, Clegane," Tyrion called.

"My lord," Sandor addressed. "I have something to ask of you."

Tyrion glanced up at the Hound. He was thoroughly interested in what the man had to say. He motioned for Sandor to sit. "What can I do for the king's sworn shield?"

"I have heard from a trusted source that your sister plans on killing Sansa should the battle go awry."

Tyrion looked bothered. "You have sources? Since when?"

"It doesn't matter. They heard it from the queen herself."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Anything you can."

The truth was that Tyrion had already known Cersei's plan courtesy of Varys. "I cannot help her when I am on the battlefield."

"Then what's the point of you being around?"

"I'm going to let that go for two reasons: one, you're much bigger than me and can cut me in half; and two, you are in love. And a man who is in love is desperate."

"I don't love."

"Oh, Clegane," Tyrion sighed. "Don't miss out on something grand just because of your insecurities. I'll do what I can but I'm afraid Sansa must fend for herself if the time comes. Now, I believe we have just enough time for a drink before the battle. Would you care to join me?" Sandor huffed loudly and stalked out of the room. "I guess not."

By nightfall, the atmosphere had reached fever pitched. People were wound tightly as they tried to carry on as usual while preparing for the worst. Stannis' ships were sailing toward them as Sansa stood out on her balcony. Her mind was racing with the different scenarios that could happen tonight. She prayed that Stannis would win but at the same time, she worried that he would kill everyone who associated with the Lannister – including Sandor. She couldn't have that. On the other hand, if the Lannisters won, she would have to stay here. And she certainly didn't want that. She didn't even know Stannis all that well. It was her father that he was fond of.

Peering down below, she saw a large shape walking out of the Keep and instantly recognized it as Sandor. She had half hoped that he would come to her tonight so they could settle things between them. But even from her room she could see he was angry. He had taken things so out of context earlier and frankly, she was a little perturbed at the way he acted. It was cute to her though how jealous he was. But to think she would even entertain thoughts about Bronn in that way was insulting. Did he really have such little faith in her?

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Sandor cursed under his breath. He could hear that little asshole singing in the brothel. That was good. He would exact his revenge on Bronn in public for doing...whatever it was that he did in order to get Sansa to kiss him. As he walked in, he saw a naked whore on Bronn's lap. That didn't surprise him in the least.

"Welcome friends," Bronn exclaimed. The Hound went to a table and without blinking its former occupants fled the scene. "This round's on me." Even to Bronn, the man appeared angrier than usual. If the Hound could shoot daggers through his eyes, he'd be dead ten times over. Even his voice annoyed Sandor. The man whose seat he was taking gave him his drink. Bronn looked at the man next to him. There was something off the Hound tonight - like he was itching for a fight. And the Hound's eyes were set on him with severe determination. The whore on his lap shuddered a little as did the room. "I don't think he likes me," Bronn whispered to the woman.

Sandor took a long drink of the wine. He stared at Bronn but to his chagrin, the man just seemed amused. "You think you're a hard man?" he said.

"Oh," Bronn chuckled. "I know it." The rest of the men laughed but one look from the Hound had them shutting up. Sandor looked disgusted. Bronn was amazed that someone like Sansa had such affection for a man like Sandor. 'What does that girl see in him?' he thought. "It's warm in here. We've got beautiful women and good brown ale; plenty for everyone. And all you want to do is put one of us in the cold ground with no women to keep us company."

"Oh there's women in the ground," Sandor stated. "I put some there myself." A flash of him in the godswood with Sansa flew into his mind. "So have you." Finally, there was a reaction from Bronn. "You like fucking, drinking, and singing" – he put as much acid in his voice for that last item. It reminded him of Sansa's songs – "but killing, killing's the thing you love. You're just like me. Only smaller."

Bronn honestly had no idea what the Hound's problem was. The man stood and walked toward him like he was an executioner. "And quicker, eh?" he retorted. He thought it was funny, but no one else did, especially not Sandor. Obviously, the man didn't get his sense of humor – if he had one to begin with.

Sandor had enough. "Your lord imp's going to miss you."

Bronn saw that nothing was going to defer the Hound's aim. Clearly, the man wanted his head. "Aye." He put the whore off his knee and stood. "I expect he will someday."

The two men stared at each other. Sandor wanted nothing more than to stick his sword through Bronn's fucking head; Bronn was ready to defend himself. He didn't want to kill the Hound because what good was his word to Sansa if he broke it by killing the man himself? He was a sellsword, not a politician. Besides, he liked Sansa and he figured she'd been through too much already for a girl her age.

Suddenly, the bells rang. The men looked defeated already as they took their last gulps – some for the very last. As the others went to their posts, Sandor and Bronn continued to look at each other.

"One more drink before the war? Shall we?" Bronn offered. The Hound merely pursed his lips and turned to a table. The men sat and refilled their cups. "Now, what was that about?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I don't."

Sandor took another drink. "I saw you and the Stark girl in the godswood."

"So?" Bronn shrugged.

"She kissed you."

"As a thank you."

"For what?"

"I promised the lady I wouldn't tell."

Another gulp. "What'd she want?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business. But since you asked so politely, she wanted me to tell you that she will be praying for your safe return." That was a safe lie. It was close enough to the truth anyway.

"Why'd she tell you that?"

"Probably because she likes me."

"Do you like her?"

"I admire her, yeah. But I can see it in your face that you're jealous and you shouldn't be. Trust me on this one. That girl is head over heels for someone else, though only the gods know why."

"Who?" Sandor asked, trying hard to not put too much curiosity in his voice.

"Seven hells, man," Bronn scoffed. He took a long drink of his ale before putting some coins on the table. "Tell you what: you survive tonight and I have a feeling you'll find out soon enough."

Sandor watched the man leave, laughing and shaking his head. He hadn't dared to actually think that it was true. All the months of arguing, insulting, and pushing away hadn't deterred her at all. But he couldn't get his hopes up. Not after what he accused her of earlier.

"Hound," a boy cried. "The king needs you."

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Joffrey's armor was lavish for sure, though everyone who knew him rolled their eyes whenever he would speak about riding out to meet Stannis. They all knew not a drop of blood would be on that armor by the end of the night.

"Make sure it's tight," the blonde king yelped. "Ah! Too tight!" he smacked the squire's head hard and shifted his breastplate. "Dog, fetch someone to bring Sansa. I wish for her to see me off."

Sandor bowed slightly before grabbing Shae out of the corridor. "The king wants Sansa."

"But why? We are supposed to go to the Holdfast before the battle. The queen demanded it."

"King trumps queen," Sandor said roughly. "Make sure she looks well. It might give the other men a lasting impression of what they're fighting for."

"Them or you?"

"Just get her," he snapped. He stopped for a moment to really listen to the bells. It seemed liked time had stopped for a just a fraction of a second. The air was eerily calm, allowing the bells ringing to reverberate throughout the Keep. Then he was on his way again.

When he walked back to Joffrey's room, the child king was getting to leave. He pulled out his sword and held it to the light. "Look, dog. Is this not the sword of a king?"

"It is, Your Grace," Sandor droned.

"Is my betrothed coming?"

"She's arriving now."

"Excellent." He started for the throne room with several men behind him. Sandor heard him cry out, "Sansa! Sansa, come here!"

Sandor was struck by how mature the Stark girl looked. Gone was the shy, naïve girl. It had left to make way for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She looked beautiful, graceful. She looked like a woman.

"Your king rides to battle," Joffrey boasted. "You should see him off with a kiss." Sandor hoped to the seven hells he wouldn't have stand there and watch Sansa kiss that idiot. Instead, he watched Joffrey pull out his sword. "My new blade. Hearteater, I've named it." There was a slight pause before he commanded, "Kiss it."

Sansa was sure she looked self-conscious as she bent down and pressed her lips to the sword.

"You'll kiss it again when I return," the king declared. He sheathed the sword hard. "Taste my uncle's blood."

Sansa seriously doubted that but she never let it show. Instead, she put it in her voice. "Will you slay him yourself?"

Just as she suspected, Joffrey was caught off guard. "If Stannis is fool enough to come near me."

"So you'll be outside the gates, fighting the vanguard?" she challenged in a subtle way.

Joffrey was put off. Sandor suspected he was slightly embarrassed at being questioned in front of his men. "A king doesn't discuss battle plans with stupid girls."

Sandor narrowed his eyes. Sansa was far from stupid. In fact, at the present moment, she was making him look like the stupid one.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace; you're right. I'm stupid," Sansa stated. "Of course you'll be in the vanguard. They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest. And he's only a pretender." It pained her to say the last part. But she had rattled Joffrey's cage, which was her small reward.

"Your brother's turn will come," Joffrey warned. "Then you can lick his blood off Hearteater too."

Sansa wanted smack the blonde right off his head. She watched as the king walked away and then joined Shae.

"Some of those boys will never come back," the brunette said.

"Joffrey will. The worst ones always live."

"Shh," Shae warned quietly. "Come, my lady."

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The men outside were restless. Sandor let the boy king walk ahead even though it was clear he didn't know what to do. They mounted their positions with Tyrion high above the water. But instead of seeing a bay full of ships, there was nothing but the water to look at.

"Where's our fleet?" Lancel screeched. At least he asked. Sandor was wondering the same thing but he wasn't stupid enough to ask.

"Away." It was Tyrion's only reply. It was obvious that the half man had a plan and a great deal on his mind.

"Why isn't it here now? They're coming," Joffrey bleated. Tyrion ignored the question. "Hound, tell the Hand that his king has asked him a question."

Was he serious? With a roll of his eyes, Sandor said, "The king has asked you a question." The boredom in his voice was evident to everyone except for Joffrey.

"Lancel, tell the Hound to tell the king that the Hand is extremely busy."

Sandor thought Lancel looked just as put out as him - only more anxious. But whether it was from the impending battle or the immature conversation, he didn't know. "The Hand of the King would like me to tell you to tell the king that-"

"If I tell the Hound to cut you in half, he'll do it without a second thought," Joffrey declared.

"That would make me the Quarter Man and it just doesn't have the same ring to it," Tyrion quipped. Sandor could have chuckled had it not been for the torch of flame that just appeared next to his face. "Cut me in half and I won't be able to give the signal. No signal, no plan. No plan and Stannis Baratheon sacks this city, takes the Iron Throne, puts your pidgin little head atop a gate somewhere. It might be quite amusing – except my head will be up there too. I much like my head and don't want to see it removed just yet."

Sandor had to give it Tyrion. But there was fire everywhere and he himself was getting more anxious the more they lit everything. Why, out of everything that was at the imp's disposal, did he have to choose fire? It was a barbaric way to die; and an even worse fate to suffer should you live through it. He prayed to whatever gods there were that he wouldn't have to fight in it. 'Anything but fire,' he pleaded silently.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa and Shae were escorted into the bunker where several other highborn ladies and their maids were waiting. There was no sign of Cersei so Sansa took a seat and Shae did the same. Neither of them could talk about what was really on their minds so they settled for silence.

Finally, the queen arrived, looking ridiculous with a gold plated corset over her gown. Tommen was in tow and Sansa couldn't help but feel sorry for the young boy. "I don't know why she wants me here," she whispered to Shae. "She's always saying how stupid I am; she hates me."

"Maybe she hates you less than she hates everyone else," Shae suggested.

"I doubt it."

"Maybe she's jealous of you." That definitely seemed a more plausible explanation.

Sansa looked confused. The queen had everything. "Why would she be jealous?"

"Sansa," the queen called. Sansa walked to the seat. "I was wondering where our little dove had flown. You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?"

That was an awkward way to start a conversation in Sansa's opinion. "Yes."

"Fitting isn't it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed in here." She grabbed a cup from the table. "Pour Lady Sansa some wine."

One minute around Cersei and Sansa was already sick. "I'm not thirsty, Your Grace."

"So? I didn't offer you water."

Sansa took the cup and noticed Ilyn Payne standing off to the side. She loathed that man. "What's he doing here?"

"Ser Ilyn? He's here to defend us. When the axes smash those doors, you may be glad to have him."

Sansa trusted only one man in that regard. "But we have guards to defend us."

"Guards that are paid," Cersei explained. She had a way of making Sansa feel like a child. "Should the city fall, they'll be the first ones out the doors."

While Sansa tried to wrap her head around that truth, a man came in and announced that people had been caught stealing. The queen demanded that they be executed as a warning. Cersei told offered her a piece of advice – something about people learning to fear her more than the enemy. It struck Sansa for the first time just how cruel Cersei really was. The men in the North weren't loyal to the Starks out of fear. Those men would have gladly given their lives to spare her father's out their love for him. In Sansa's opinion, that's why the Starks had a strong army even before the war while the Lannisters had to pay for theirs. No Northern man would run away if a Stark was in danger; the Lannister men would. "You said he was here to protect us," she said, referring to Ilyn.

"He is. Traitors are a danger to us all." The queen held her cup out. "More wine."

'Maybe if they loved you, you wouldn't have to worry about that,' Sansa thought.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was still save for puffs of breath from the men. The eerie quiet lingered through the noise of last minute details being put into place. Every man on the wall was keeping watch for any sign of life on the water.

"There," Joffrey pointed.

Sure enough, there were the sails of Stannis' ships as they emerged from the fog. It reminded Sandor of the pirates in tales his father used to tell him long ago.

"Archers to the mark," ordered Tyrion. His command was repeated down the line. With those four simple words – words that no one ever paid attention to when used separately – the full blast of what was about to happen hit the army. The archers pulled their arrows out. "Hold fast."

Again, the order was repeated.

"What are you doing," Joffrey squealed. "We need to attack them!"

"Hold fast," Tyrion repeated firmly.

A lone ship appeared on the water from their side. "There's only one ship," Joffrey stated, as if no one else could see it. "Where are the rest of them?" Tyrion once more ignored the question. "Where are the rest of them?!"

The sound of Stannis' drums pierced through the endless mist that settled on the water.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sandor saw the pyromancer Hallyne creep up the stairs. He stood a few feet away from everyone but the glint in his eye could be seen by all. His glee when he handed Tyrion a torch made Sandor sick, not because of the impending outcome but because any man who enjoys handling fire the way Hallyne did, disturbed him.

Tyrion noticed the Hound's flinch when the torch came close but he was too busy with his task. He flung the torch over the side when it was the right moment and prayed Bronn knew what he was doing.

In the distance, Sandor saw a single flame at the edge of the bay where the ships were coming in. It soared through the air until it landed on the water. But before anyone could say anything, a giant ball of green flames skipped across a trail before sending a massive explosion that was felt all the way back to the Keep. Green flames licked the blackened sky as screams from Stannis' men were heard.

Sandor was speechless. He had never such a massive fire before. The screams and images that his imagination (and experience) came up with were sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Tyrion glanced at his nephew and was disgusted to find that the boy looked as joyful as Hallyne. But the Hound...his face was anything but good.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa had gathered a few women into a circle and began to pray. She had an overwhelming urge to do so no more than a few minutes ago. She prayed hard for the innocent men and Sandor and Tyrion as well. She was more than a little annoyed when the queen called for her yet again. Even as she walked up she could tell the queen was in a mocking mood. "My Queen."

"What are you doing?" Cersei said with feigned interest.

"Praying."

"You're perfect aren't you? Praying." she spat. There was such resentment in her voice. "What are you praying?"

"For the gods to have mercy on us all."

"Oh. On all of us?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Sansa wondered where she was going with this.

"Even me?" the queen teased.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Cersei's face turned sour. "Even Joffrey?"

Uh oh. Sansa tried hard to find it in her to lie. "Joffrey is my one-"

"Oh shut up, you little fool. Praying to the gods to have mercy on us all," she ridiculed in a high, feminine voice. "The gods have no mercy, that's why they're gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died, you see and I didn't really understand the concept of death – the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed very, very hard the gods would return my mother to me. I was a fool."

"Your father doesn't believe in the gods?" Sansa asked, bewildered. Granted, Sandor didn't believe them either and mocked her belief in them but still.

"He believes in them, he just doesn't like them very much." She grabbed another cup and held it out. "One for her." After the maid poured the drink, Sansa took it. "Here. Sit. Drink." Cersei got irritated with Sansa's demureness. "Not like that. Drink, girl."

Sansa reluctantly took a bigger gulp. She didn't want to sit here with the queen. She'd much rather be back with the other ladies or with Shae. But she firmly believed that the queen was lonely in order to call on Sansa. Even though all she did was mock and insult her, Cersei still kept her around to talk to.

"I should have been born a man," Cersei remarked, drawing Sansa from her thoughts. "I'd rather face a thousand swords than be shut up inside with this flock of frightened hens."

Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing. "They're your guests, under your protection. You asked them here." Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"It was expected of me as it will be of you if you ever become Joffrey's queen," Cersei scorned. "If my wretched brother should somehow prevail, these hens will return to their cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits."

It amazed Sansa how one woman could be so selfish. "And if the city should fall?"

Cersei glared at her. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" Sansa wasn't even going to try and answer that one. "The Red Keep should hold for a time; long enough for me to go to the walls and yield to Lord Stannis in person. If it were anyone else outside those gates, I might have hoped for a private audience but this is Stannis Baratheon: I'd have a better chance of seducing his horse." Sansa was stunned. It seemed to amuse Cersei. "Have I shocked you, little dove? Tears aren't a woman's only weapon. The best one's between your legs. Learn how to use it. Drink."

Sansa's hands were shaking. She was disgusted by the queen's words. She had only very recently really started to explore her body. How could Cersei just throw hers at whichever man comes by?

"Do you have any notion of what happens when a city is sacked?" the queen continued. "No, you wouldn't. If the city falls, these fine women should be in for a bit of rape. Half of them will have bastards in their bellies come morning. You'll be glad for your red flower then. When a man's blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you would look very, very good – a slice of cake just waiting to be eaten."

The worst part for Sansa was knowing that the queen was right. It wasn't kind of her to say it, but that didn't diminish the fact that it was true. She took a large drink at the thought of some large, sweaty man chasing her down and raping her, just like the day of the riot when Myrcella sailed. She remembered how petrified she was at what was about to happen. Now, that scenario could be done a dozen times and there would be no one there to help her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandor could see the longboats rowing to shore and he knew his time was coming when he would have to go out there. As much as he loved killing, his fear of fire negated any benefits that would afford him the pleasure of ripping a man's life from this world. Stannis' sword gleamed from the moonlight, signaling the incoming attack.

"He's a serious man, Stannis Baratheon," Tyrion mused out loud.

"They're coming ashore," Joffrey announced. Again, like it wasn't obvious to everyone who had a pair of working eyes.

"Rain fire on them," Tyrion ordered calmly.

"There are too many," Joffrey bleated.

"Hound, form a welcoming party for any Baratheon troop that manages to touch solid ground," the little lord ordered.

Sandor sucked in a sharp breath. Tyrion wanted him to fight with flaming arrows raining down around him? "Let's go," he barked to his men. "Stannis is bringing us fresh meat." That boy-girl Lancel just happened to be in the way. "You too." Sandor thrust a helmet at the blonde. Being in an unforgiving mood, he walked over to the archery master. "If any of those flaming fucking arrows come near me, I'll strangle you with your own guts," he promised.

The noise from the armor rattling just outside the gates rose like music to Sandor's ears. "If any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" he bellowed. He had barely gotten the words out when he cut down one of the Baratheon men.

But they were sorely outnumbered. He could see that as plain as day. It made him even angrier. He swung hard at an approaching man and with one swing, cut him in half. But they had underestimated the Baratheon troops. They knew their strength lied in their numbers and they easily cut through a significant amount of Sandor's own force.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa was dreading every word the queen was saying. Why couldn't Cersei just leave her alone? She had heard tales of the queen's childhood, her mother, her father, days of the Mad King, and now she was onto her brother, Jamie. But then she made such a strange comment about Robert Baratheon.

"You were Robert's queen," Sansa stated.

"And you will be Joffrey's," Cersei retorted. "Enjoy."

Had Robert Baratheon truly been that bad of a husband? He didn't seem like it. Of course, Joffrey didn't seem like a monster when she had first him and now look where they stood.

"I don't think I know this one," Cersei said, gesturing to Shae. She stood and walked to where the brunette was sitting. "Pretty." The woman tried to curtsey but it was so bad that it was funny. "That's the worst curtsey I've ever seen," Cersei chuckled. "Here, it's not difficult; I mastered it when I was four."

Sansa watched the queen teach Shae how to do a proper curtsey. It had never occurred to her that Shae didn't know how to do it. Otherwise, she would have taught the maid herself. Shae copied the queen's movements.

"Better. You learn fast," Cersei said. "How long have you been in Lady Sansa's service?"

"A few weeks, Your Grace."

Cersei reclaimed her seat. There was something off about this particular maid. "When did you leave Lorath?" Shae seemed confused as to how she knew her accent. "I had a Baratheon handmaid once. But she was a nobleman's daughter. You're not." Shae glared as much as she dared at the queen. "When did you come to Westeros?"

"Ten years ago, Your Grace," Shae bit out.

"From a Lorathe commoner to the Red Keep – in ten years; all without learning how to curtesy? I imagine that's a very interesting story. What's your name?"

"Shae, Your Grace."

Sansa didn't like her friend being questioned. Cersei seemed to really have it out for her and she knew that when the queen set her eyes on something, she was determined to see it through. Although she did have a point about a commoner from a foreign land making her way through the ranks until she was a lady's handmaid and never learning to curtsey. That was rather unique, if not suspicious.

"Tell us a story, Shae," the queen challenged.

She hesitated slightly. "When I was thirteen, I-"

Thankfully, Lancel had burst the door, saving both Sansa and Shae's neck from further scrutiny. While Sansa listened to Lancel give the queen an update on the battle, Shae took the opportunity to slip away. She didn't want to be in the line of fire any more than was necessary.

Sansa eavesdropped on the queen and Lancel's conversation. She hadn't heard anything about the Hound so she assumed he was still alive. Joffrey's sworn shield dying would have been a major blow to the king. She silently thanked the gods for keeping him safe. Then she heard Cersei demand that Joffrey be brought back inside. Sansa controlled the urge to denounce Cersei herself as little more than a coward. Sansa may not have been knowledgeable in warfare, but she knew that any king worth his salt stayed with his men.

"When I told you about Sir Ilyn earlier, I lied," Cersei confessed. "You want to hear the truth? You want to know why he's really here? He's here for us. Stannis may take the city, he may take the throne, but he will not take us alive."

There was a firm resolution to Cersei's voice that Sansa hadn't heard this whole night. When she glanced over at Ser Ilyn, his ugly face couldn't conceal the inevitable sadness that was in them. It was a look that Sansa learned well from the men at court whenever she was beaten by one of Joffrey's men. She hated Ser Ilyn, but in that moment, he was more human than she had ever seen him be before.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the natural born rage that kept Sandor going. He fielded over a dozen men as waves of enemies approached. He saw his men cut down and maimed from their own fights. No one was left untouched by the assault.

Out of nowhere, a man on fire charged, screaming like a bloodthirsty animal. Sandor froze in his steps. The fire was coming closer and all he could do was remember the feeling of his flesh being melted. His skin tingled at the memory that was a constant presence in his mind.

Closer...closer...the fire jumped from the man's clothes even as he waved his weapon around. Still, Sandor's body wouldn't move. It couldn't. His death was running toward him and he was doing nothing.

Then, there was nothing. The man fell before he put his other foot down. An arrow was stuck in his eye. Sandor looked up and saw Bronn with a wide smirk. Then the sellsword took out two other men. That's when Sandor noticed just how lost this cause was. He saw over half his men lying on the ground. Their red and gold armor masked their bodily wounds but their faces were still unrecognizable. And the fire was everywhere, slowly creeping its way up to him as though they were old friends.

He slowly retreated backward. He heard another man call for the remaining survivors to fall back. The gate slammed shut behind them, but Sandor barely registered the noise. Everyone was rushing around and orders were being given for more arrows.

"Someone bring me a drink," Sandor demanded. Some page boy brought him a skinned flask of water. He quickly spit out. "Fuck the water. Bring me wine." The cool liquid instantly soothed his frayed nerves, but did nothing for the enormous fear he was experiencing.

"Can I get you a nice bowl of raspberries, too?" Tyrion said.

Sandor hadn't heard the first part, but the second put him in an even fouler mood. "Eat shit, dwarf."

Tyrion huffed slightly at the insult. "You're on the wrong side of the wall."

'What the hell does he know about fighting a battle?' Sandor thought. "I lost half my men. The Blackwater's on fire." He desperately hoped the only smart Lannister would pick up on what he was trying to say.

Tyrion did. Joffrey however didn't. "Dog, I command you to go out and fight," Joffrey screeched.

The king's voice grated on the only last nerve Sandor had. But he was too much into his thoughts to pay attention. Instead, he simply shook his head. He couldn't do it.

Tyrion understood what was happening and tried to reason with the man. Yes, the Hound was terrified of fire, but there was something more important at stake than King's Landing. Unfortunately, he couldn't just come out and say it with Joffrey standing right behind him. "You're King's guard, Clegane. You must beat them back."

Sandor took another gulp. Tyrion could see talking to him about the city, the guard, and especially the king wouldn't move him. So he carefully hurried down the stairs until he was close enough to smell the blood on the Hound's armor. "If you don't fight, another will pay for it." Finally, a flicker of something else other than defeat stirred in the Hound's eyes. Tyrion took a deep breath and thanked the gods that he played the right card. "If you won't go back out, help me plan another way."

They heard a battering ram slam into the gate.

"What do you have in mind?" Sandor asked roughly.

"Your Grace," Lancel cried. He was holding his side like he had been wounded. "The queen has sent me to bring you back to the Red Keep."

Neither Tyrion nor Sandor could believe what Cersei was asking the king – the leader of the army sent to protect the city – to do.

"If you won't defend your own city, why should they?" Tyrion challenged.

Joffrey looked torn. "What would you have me do?"

For the first time since he was born, Tyrion felt like an uncle. His nephew was lost, confused. Instead of being a total coward, he was reaching out for help. "Lead," Tyrion urged. "Get down there and lead your people against the invaders who want to kill them."

"What did my mother say exactly? Did she have urgent business with me?" Joffrey asked.

Tyrion knew it was false hope that Joffrey would step up. Even Lancel looked slightly disgusted at the king's cowardice. "She did not say, Your Grace."

Joffrey still looked lost. "Ser Boros, Ser Meryn, stay with my uncle and represent the king on the field of battle."

Tyrion heard the men's disapproval and their moral sinking as Joffrey left. Who could blame them? Their king had embraced his cowardice and left his men to do the fighting on their own. The rest of the men were starting to waver as they gathered around the stairs where their leader should be. Tyrion glanced down and saw his faithful squire, Podrik, running back to him. The boy had such loyalty in his eyes that it sent a wave of courage through Tyrion. "I'll do the attack," he said quietly.

"What?" Sandor scoffed.

"I'll lead the attack!" Tyrion shouted. The men stopped their mumblings and listened. "Pod, my helmet."

Sandor saw the men start to shake their heads and leave. But Tyrion was determined. His speech was captivating and stirred everyone to hope that they might survive this night. But Sandor wasn't interested in speeches. His one and only concern was making sure none of the fuckers outside the gates touched his little bird. He would kill them all to ensure that she was safe. He caught Tyrion's eye and smirked.

"There are brave men knocking on our door. Let's go kill them!"

Sandor chuckled slightly at the little lord before joining him to cut behind the Baratheon army.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa heard Lancel come back in.

"The battle is lost, Your Grace. Stannis' troops are at the gates. When the goldcloaks saw the king leaving, they lost all heart." The repulsion of what Joffrey did was apparent in the man-child's voice.

"Where is my son?" the queen asked.

Sansa was appalled at how cowardly and selfish Cersei was being. It shamed her to know that this woman was basically running the kingdom.

"I want to escort him back to the battle," Lancel demanded in a soft way.

But Cersei had no pity for softness. "Why do I care what you want?"

"Now listen to me," Lancel commanded. But the queen punched her own cousin in his wound before fleeing from her guests.

Sansa felt sympathy for the poor man writhing in pain on the floor. He only wanted to do the right thing. The women were being to panic. "Don't be afraid," she called out. "The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place we can be. Joffrey's not hurt, he's fighting bravely." She wasn't sure how she managed to lie that well, but she did it. She knew Sandor would be so proud if he heard her now. "His knights are running behind him. They will save the city." That seemed to ease the tension slightly. "Shall we sing a hymn?"

The women joined in while she started in on the first verse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Hound was impressed with Tyrion's leadership. They had taken the Baratheon men by surprise and overturned their battering ram. There was still fire everywhere, but Sandor refused to get distracted by it while he channeled his fear into his sword.

When the men started cheering "Half-man", Sandor opted out. He wasn't the cheering kind. He did however give a slight nod to the man. But then he saw Tyrion's face fall.

A whole other wave of Baratheon troops pounced on the small Lannister force. Several men were caught off guard, the Hound included. A man was able to cut him just above the shoulder where there was a weak point in his armor. Sandor thrust his sword into the man's face and pulled it back before swinging it another man. Once he killed three more, he scanned the shoreline for Tyrion. He found him but not before he saw one of the kings guards strike a blow. Tyrion peddled backward, dumbfounded at what just happened. Sandor tried to get to the little man, but his squire got there first. He saw the boy plunge a spear through the back of the guard's head. Podrick swung the broken lance at Sandor but he caught it with his hand. The boy had a look of utter fear on his face when he saw who was holding it. Sandor simply tossed it away and Pod went to hold his master.

"Tyrion?" Sandor called. "Can you hear me?" The Lannister looked ghostly as blood started to drip from his face and nose.

"My lord," Podrick said. "Look."

All three men saw a horde of men on horseback. "Fuck me," Sandor said.

"Wait," Podrick called out. "Look at the banner!"

The red and gold armor of more Lannister men came through the fog. They started cutting down the rest of Stannis' army as Tyrion passed out. A large white horse galloped through and Sandor saw that it was Tywin along with some of the Tyrell men.

"The battle is won!" Tywin bellowed. A loud cacophony rose as the last Baratheon man on the shore fell and Stannis was being dragged back to his ships.

Sandor clasped Podrick on the shoulder and in a rare moment of kindness said, "Good job, boy."

Podrick smiled tightly as he helped Tyrion into the Hound's arms. Sandor walked as quickly as he could through the gates. Several physicians came to the scene as Sandor gently laid his cargo down. They escorted everyone out of the room. Now that the battle was won, everyone was in complete chaos. Podrick refused to leave Tyrion's side so Sandor went back out to the gates where the survivors were hollering for joy and the rest were making sure the enemy was dead.

No one was sure what to do now that they weren't busy trying to kill. They all scattered to their own dwellings or a brothel or to their women that they fought so hard to keep safe. Tywin marched straight through the crowd and into the gate, presumably to tell Cersei and the women that they had won.

"Sansa," Sandor muttered. He raced where he could, careful to avoid Tywin's troops who would no doubt stop to ask him questions. He knew the women were in the Holdfast but he had to wait until Tywin came back out to go in. But the patriarch looked angry as he went in and promptly came back out. Undeterred, Sandor marched through the hall until he stopped, seeing Shae waiting in an isolated corner. He whistled and her black hair parted when she turned around.

Shae ran to where the Hound was standing. Blood covered his armor and sweat was dripping from his forehead. "We've won?"

He nodded curtly. "Where is she?"

Shae smiled brightly. "I sent her to her room. I was afraid Ser Ilyn would kill her if he had the chance."

Sandor turned on his heel but Shae caught him. "What about Tyrion?"

"He's alive." It was the truth. Last time, he saw the little man he was breathing. He didn't say anything else as he covered as much ground as possible. He had to see her.

Xxxxxxxxx

Sansa stared out from her balcony. Shae had made sure she got out of the Holdfast shortly after the queen. She was grateful for it too since the executioner wouldn't hesitate to take her head on behalf of a dying request from a Lannister.

She could see the men still whooping and hollering from pure happiness. They had won. But there was no sign of Sandor anywhere. She gazed intently at the areas she could see. She saw Bronn but no one else she recognized. "Please let him be alive," she prayed.

Suddenly her door burst open and she heard the familiar shuffling of armor. She was almost afraid to turn for fear that it would be a trick of the mind.

"Sansa," his gravely voice called out.

Without warning, Sansa flung herself onto him with every ounce of strength. She held on tight with her arms wrapped around his neck secure in the feeling of his arms around her. She didn't care about the blood, the stench of sweat, or the fact that her face was resting against his burnt side. "You're alive," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"Yes, little bird, I'm alive." He felt her lips on his twisted skin. She was kissing him repeatedly, covering a different spot every time.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry for every mean thing I said. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. I'm so sorry."

Sandor let out a grin at her apology that was punctuated with kisses. "I'm sorry too." Gods, that left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could smell the lavender in her hair and it made him happier than he had ever been in his life. He buried his face into her neck, absorbing her lovely frangrance. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

Sansa laughed lightly and squeezed his neck. She brought her lips to his skin again. "I'm so glad you're alive. I thought I would never see you again."

He set her back down on the stone floor and saw that she was crying. He gently put his thumb to her cheek and wiped it away. "No tears, little bird. I'm not going anywhere."

"They're happy tears," she smiled. She grasped his hand and brought her lips to it. It was so rough against her smooth lips. "I love you."

He stepped back at her proclamation. His cold heart that he was sure would never beat again jumped at those three words. He brought her face to his in a searing kiss. It took his breath away having this flawless creature in his arms. Looking at her now, so mature and womanly, it brought back vivid memories of how he felt every moment of every day. Tyrion was right: he was completely in love with Sansa Stark.

"Are you sure?" He smiled at her giggle before she kissed him again.

"I love you more than anything, Sandor Clegane."

Hearing his name come from her lips was a song he didn't even know he had been dying to hear. "I love you too, little bird." It felt strange to say that. But the feeling was forgotten as she brought his face close again.

Their moment was brief since his absence was required. He was still the king's sworn shield after all. But things had changed indefinitely and neither of them would have changed that for the world.

A/N2: I hope y'all like the AU!