A/N: So there's another note at the end of this because 1) it explains things better as to why I wrote the chapter the way I did and it wouldn't make much sense to say at the beginning; and 2) I just want you to read the dang chapter already. Go ahead. Read. And then review. Because that's what people with souls do.

Chapter 10: Mine

Sansa watched from her place above the throne as Tywin Lannister and the Tyrell army piled into the throne room. Today was the day Joffrey was to give out the rewards for the battle. From here, she had a clear view of the event and more specifically, the man she loved. He hadn't looked at her the whole time, but she didn't expect him to. She had the advantage in this instance since Sandor was directly beside Joffrey so if she gazed that way, anyone would think she was looking at her betrothed.

They didn't get much time last night to themselves since Joffrey had things to attend to immediately after the arrival of his grandfather and new allies. Despite his defiance, Sandor was still fondly thought of by the king. It both irked and amazed him. But they also knew this newfound revelation of their feelings would make things much trickier. They had agreed that only Shae would be let in since she pretty much knew everything already and they needed someone who could cast doubt should suspicions arise. Of course Sandor knew that Shae had her own secret but both he and the handmaid decided not to let Sansa in on it should she be questioned.

Sandor could hardly believe he was standing here listening to Joffrey hand out rewards to people who had done approximately two and a half seconds of fighting. There wasn't even a mention of Tyrion and the imp was the one who saved the fucking city in the first place! A woman caught his eyes in the front line. She was wearing a low cut gown that was obviously meant to showcase her cleavage.

He wasn't impressed. Sansa's was perkier, ivory, and just all around beautiful – as far as he could tell anyway. But he quirked an eyebrow as she sent him a flirty look. He noted the feature he liked least were her lips. They were squished together as though she were trying to be innocent. 'What a hag,' Sandor thought. He let his eyes shift slightly to his right where he saw the only person that he did like. Now there was a beauty.

Joffrey awarded Littlefinger Harrenhal, which Sandor thought fitting considering it was a place of ruin. But then Loras Tyrell was called up. Remembering how Sansa had fawned over him, the Hound sent a glare to the pretty boy.

"My sister is innocent," declared the pretty one.

Sandor had to repress a snort. One look at that woman and he knew there was nothing innocent about her. As the boy droned on about uniting their houses, it became clear what the Tyrells wanted: Margaery to wed Joffrey. He glanced over to the king and saw that Joffrey was already in lust with the woman but was trying hard to hold on to his favorite toy – Sansa.

"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" Joffrey asked.

"With all my heart, Your Grace. I have come to love you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears; and those tales have taken root deep inside of me."

Sansa repressed an urge to smile while Sandor was trying not to vomit. Out of the most ridiculous things in that statement, he loathed the implication that Joffrey was brave. Half his men that were buried in the cold ground would bear witness to his cowardice.

"I too have heard tales of your beauty and grace," Joffrey replied. "Tales do not do you justice my lady. It would be an honor to return your love. But I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."

For the first time since she came to King's Landing (and her life), Sansa prayed that someone would hate her enough to try and fight his claim. She was shocked to hear Cersei of all people pushing for Joffrey to end the engagement. Sansa tried to look devastated at the news as the court took turns staring at her. But it was clear what the queen was saying wasn't what the council actually wanted. Finally, after reassurance from Pycelle, Sansa heard Joffrey say that their engagement was invalid and he was to wed the Tyrell girl.

She was so happy she wanted to cry. Her replacement gave her a glance that held both triumph and sympathy; but Sansa wasn't interested in the latter. She would have gladly given her blessing had she been asked for it. If Margaery Tyrell wanted to be wed to a cowardly monster lion man that was her choice. Feeling a burst of joy come over her, Sansa turned and started walking away. She thanked the gods for their infinite mercy and let a huge smile grace her lips. A deep sigh of relief came from deep inside her bones as she continued on her way. She would celebrate later with Sandor. Right now, she wanted to a moment to relish in the happiness of being free.

"My lady," Petyr Baelish called out. Sansa quickly hid her delight behind a pitiful pout. "My sincerest condolences."

"They're right; I'm not good enough for him," she said quietly. She saw him take another step closer. He was getting too close for comfort.

"You shouldn't say that. You'll be good enough for many things. He'll still enjoy beating you; and now that you're a woman, he'll be able to enjoy in other ways as well."

'Oh gods,' Sansa thought. The thought of it turned her stomach. "But if he's not marrying me-"

"He'll let you go home?" Petyr scoffed with sympathy as he realized that Sansa didn't fully comprehend the situation. "Joffrey's not the sort of boy who gives away his toys." He placed a gentle hand on her arm. "You have a tender heart – just like your mother did at your age. I see so much of her in you. She was like a sister to me. For her sake, I'll help get you home."

Sansa had grown increasingly uncomfortable with Littlefinger. There was something about him that wasn't right. "King's Landing is my home now."

Petyr let out a small snicker. "Look around you. We're all liars here. And every one of us is better than you." When she didn't say anything he added, "Despite your reservations about Dontos, I can get you out."

"Thank you, my lord. I shall think over your offer," Sansa said politely. He gave a small nod and returned to the floor. She felt physically sick at what just happened. She watched Littlefinger walk around talking as though he owned the place. He caught her eye and for a moment, there was a hint of empathy in them. A large figure moved at the edge of her vision and she saw that it was the Hound.

Sandor could Sansa going pale. He wondered just what the fuck Littlefinger said to make her like that. He saw how relieved she was to be free of the king not a minute ago, but now that was gone.

"Dog," Joffrey called. Sandor quickly returned to the king's side. "Meryn, see to it that my beloved has the best room. Hound, come with me." They walked back around the throne and down into the chambers where Joffrey had gotten dressed the night before. "Boros, grab some blood and smear it on my breastplate." The king wound his way up the stairs until he reached his inner chambers. He sat on a long-chair while a servant poured him some wine. After some minutes, he gestured to the Hound. "What do you think of my new lady?"

"She's very pretty, Your Grace."

"She is, isn't she?" he smiled wickedly. "Her body is far more luscious than Sansa's, don't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know Your Grace." That was the gods' honest truth.

"Still," Joffrey continued. "I would not have Sansa leaving the Keep. I want her around should Lady Margaery prove to be a disappointment."

Sandor glared at the prick's head. It would look so much better mounted on a spike. "As you wish, Your Grace."

"Is Sansa still on her moon blood?"

"I wouldn't know, Your Grace."

Joffrey huffed impatiently. "That girl is going to drive me mad. She is so close but I can't have her – not yet anyway. Mother says I must wait until I make my commitment official to the Tyrells and then I can do whatever I want to the Stark girl. Do you think she's tight?"

Thinking about how tight Sansa might be was stirring some dangerous emotions inside Sandor. "I couldn't say, Your Grace."

"I bet she is. She's wound so tight that were she a bow, one pluck would snap her. I'll find out soon enough. Till then, make sure to keep interested parties away. She may be free of our nuptials, but she is still mine in any other way I choose."

"Yes Your Grace."

Joffrey picked up his crossbow and stared at it a while. "Dog, bring me some whores. I'm bored."

Sandor did as commanded. He had several of Littlefinger's whores trailing behind him when he reentered the castle. To make sure none of the Tyrells saw, he snuck them the back way through the darker hallways. "Good luck," he warned.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa flew on her bed. She missed Shae today but after being interrogated by the queen, Sansa thought the handmaid deserved the day off. The memory of the night rang fresh in her mind and it made her wonder about the brunette. Cersei did have some interesting points during that conversation. She twirled around on her stomach and hugged a pillow to her while she stared out.

Gods she missed Sandor! That kiss had rattled her frame from the pure fire that emerged when their lips touched. Her heart still fluttered as she remembered how he had said those three little words back. It was still hard to believe. It was also hard to believe that she said it first! A lady never did that! But she honestly thought she would never see him again. There were so many Baratheon troops on that shore. Hearing his voice, seeing his face (all of it!), and smelling him had overpowered her manners as he squeezed her tight. She could barely breathe but whether it was from the shock of seeing him alive or the intensity of his strength around her was an answer she didn't know, nor did she care. The point was that he was here and he was alive and he loved her. She never thought it was possible that they would get to that moment.

But they did. She bit her lip to stop herself from squealing in delight at the thought. Yesterday had been torment for her and today was the complete opposite. Littlefinger's words still bothered her, but she could dwell on that later. For now, she wanted to revel in happiness. An overwhelming urge to jump was rising and this time, Sansa fully embraced it. She quickly stood on her bed and started jumping around like she was a child. As her body went up and down, she felt the air move her hair around her face and beneath her arms.

"Little bird wants to fly," Sandor said from the doorway.

Sansa collapsed on her bed when she heard his voice. She didn't want him to mock her for acting childish. "Every bird wants freedom."

Sandor kicked the door shut with his foot. He let his eyes roam over her body, unabashed at letting her see him staring. She was glowing with joy and her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "Do you want to leave?"

He moved to sit so she scooted to her left to accommodate him and sat on her knees. "I don't know. I thought I did."

"But?"

"But things have changed."

"Not that much."

"We...said...words. Words that mattered." When he didn't make any gestures, her stomach fell to her feet. "At least to me."

Sandor narrowed his gray eyes at her. "They mattered to me too, little bird. I don't go around saying those things to just anyone."

Sansa blushed slightly. His lips were right there. All she had to do was reach down and she would touch them. Kissing was definitely her favorite thing to do with him. She wondered if he felt the same. Her mouth opened, but right when she was about to ask, she closed it. He would think her silly and she certainly didn't want to give the impression that she felt like a princess swooning over her prince charming all the time, despite that being the exact feeling she had.

"What?" he asked roughly.

She shook her head slightly. "Nothing."

It bugged Sandor that she didn't want to say what was on her mind. "You were going to say something. What was it?"

"I- I –I was just thinking how you feel about still guarding Joffrey."

"Still not a good liar," he snorted.

"Yes, that's what Lord Baelish said earlier," she muttered.

He snapped to attention. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing much."

"Sansa," he huffed impatiently.

"He said that Joffrey won't let me go home and that he can still have his way with me."

"I won't let him," Sandor replied fiercely. He brought his hands to her face, making her look him in the eyes. "You are mine now."

Sansa's stomach flipped at his words. Her smile was back. "Do you have duty tonight?"

"Not until later," he smirked back.

Sansa reached the distance between them. Being around him emboldened her in ways she never thought possible. "Good."

He wanted to touch her so bad. It almost felt like a dream he was having with her pulling him down on the bed. She wasn't ready for as much as she thought she was, but he was going to be damned if his newfound morals made him skip this opportunity.

His tongue ran along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, granting him access. Going slow, he began to encourage her to open up and embrace her instincts. It didn't take her very long as he knew it wouldn't.

It felt surreal to Sansa that anything in the world could be so natural. She wasn't sure how to do anything so she let him lead. The more she let him in, the more blissful she became. A year ago if someone had told her that the Hound of all people was going to be roaming his hands up and down her body and sucking on her lip, she would have laughed and said only handsome princes were allowed to do that. Grabbing his head with both her hands, she pulled him up so that she could really take him in. She wasn't frightened by the ghastly scars anymore. They were what made him become the person he was. 'If you really like him, his looks won't matter.' Sansa smiled to herself. Looked like Shae was right after all.

"Are you okay?" Sandor asked, breathless. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" she said a little too quickly. Her reaction brought a rough smile across his lips. It boggled her senses how one man with such a gruesome reputation could be so gentle when he chose to be. He was by no means handsome, but he was a better man than any man she'd come across in King's Landing. His glistening lips made her smile as she brought him in for another deep kiss. It was as though he were a drink she didn't even know she craved.

Sandor could see she was thinking something. At first he was slightly worried that she was coming to her sense and telling him that she wasn't interested anymore. But then he saw that unmistakable glint of lust in her eyes before she let him kiss her again.

His hand traveled down her side till it reached the hem of her dress. A tiny breath hitched in her throat as her dressed moved along with his hand. It didn't stop him as he moved closer to her thigh. Sansa moved her legs so that he could settle between them. It scared her how natural her body reacted to his touch on her skin. She was growing hotter with the movement of his lips against hers. Soon, her own hands began to explore his body. Carefully, she placed them on his outer arms and let them move down his chest before bringing them up again. She let them roam on their own accord. Inside his tunic they went, exploring every muscle and caressing every scar under her fingertips. Around his back they slid until they reached the top of his breeches and then they brought themselves back up. Sansa realized then that she may be the more beautiful one in their relationship, but he was definitely the sexiest. She didn't think bodies like his existed outside of fairytales: so much muscle forged from years of hard service and battles. She wondered how many women had seen him like this.

When he moved his lips down to her neck, she took that as her opportunity. "Sandor?"

"Hm?"

"How many women have you been with?"

She asked it innocently enough, but that didn't make it any better sounding. Sandor stopped kissing her neck and sighed. "You want to talk about this now?"

"It's just a question."

Pulling himself away he rolled on to his back and stared at her. She propped herself up on an elbow and stared right back. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious."

"I can't remember," he said truthfully.

"Why not?"

There was that frustrating naivety again. "Because I didn't count them."

Finally, understanding hit her. Sansa's eyebrows rose at his declaration. "That many?"

"Unfortunately."

Her hand snaked across his chest as she admired the sliver skin that rose underneath. She felt intense jealousy against those other women. "Did they...see you without your armor?"

"Most of them saw me naked, yes."

More jealousy. Her hand roamed even broader around his torso. She didn't like that thought all. Sandor was hers. "Why?"

"That's usually what happens when two people have sex," he snorted.

"Oh," she blushed.

"What's this?" he mused. "Is my little bird jealous?"

"Yes," Sansa replied flatly. He wasn't the only one who could be blunt.

As she pouted, Sandor let out a bark of laughter. "You needn't be. I don't remember anything about them."

"That's comforting I suppose. Do you think you'll remember me?"

"I'll always remember you. I love you."

Sansa's face lit up with joy. She lifted herself from her position and sat back on her knees so she could look at him. "It isn't fair."

"What?"

"Well, you know I'm jealous of them. Are you ever jealous?"

"All the fucking time."

"Really?"

"Really. It's not easy acting like I'm not interested."

"I know what you mean. Every time someone asks me about Joffrey, I have to think of you in order to make it sound plausible."

Sandor was extremely elated to hear her say that, though he never showed it. "Speaking of, do you remember when Joffrey showed you where you two were going to live?"

How could she forget? "Yes."

"When he brought up the subject of children, you looked right at me. Why?"

"Because I meant what I said and it's polite to look at people when you talk to them."

Nothing would give Sandor more pleasure than to be with Sansa in every way, but children? Those were not his forte. Children ran from him. "I'm not the fatherly type," he warned.

"Have you ever had one?"

"No."

"Then how can you say that you won't be any good at it? And before you accuse me of putting words in your mouth, I know that's what you were implying."

"Trust me; the men that come from my line are not the kind that should be reproducing. Besides, I'm not a lord nor do I want to be. But you, you're a Stark of Winterfell. You're from a line thousands of years in the making and the North would never support a child who is from such a despicable line as the Cleganes. What is a dog compared to a wolf?"

"It's a good thing those three dogs on your sigil didn't think that when they went after that lion," she retorted.

"Those were the ones that died."

"That's not the point. You're so concerned about the North and what they'll think but they're loyal enough to support whoever I marry – unless it's a Lannister. And you talk as if I'm going to be Queen of the North when I'm not. Winterfell is Robb's and after he defeats the Lannisters, he's going to kill Theon for taking it."

He smiled at the ruthlessness in her tone. "You can be quite the wolf when you want to be."

A small, but prideful blush colored her cheeks. "Well, it's true."

"You should be queen."

"Of what?"

"Westeros."

Sansa laughed lightly. "Now there's a fantasy that I have no problem letting go of. I could never be queen."

"I could see it though. You on the Iron Throne, beloved by your people."

"How on earth do you know that I would be beloved?"

"Because you already are. Why do you think the queen kept the marriage arrangement between you and Joffrey?"

"But my family is considered to be traitors."

"No one believes that," Sandor scoffed.

"They believed it when Joffrey ordered his head," she snapped.

Sandor closed his mouth at her ferocious reply. He could see it in her eyes that that topic would always be off limits for a variety of reasons. For his sake, he hoped that she would never find out exactly what happened in the throne that day. She might understand why he didn't interfere at the Sept of Baelor, but she would never forgive him if she found out that he had cut down her father's men – men that she had known all her life. If that day ever came, he had a feeling that she would embrace every aspect of the wolf inside, reducing him to nothing more than a rejected dog.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said after a long silence. "Joffrey is the most hated king Westeros has ever had. I'm surprised no one's tried to kill him yet."

"How can someone be so cruel?"

"He's the result of incest. What do you expect?"

"But Myrcella isn't like that and neither is Tommen."

"Have you ever heard the saying about the Targaryens? Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. Some come out mad, the others come out normal."

"But that's from generations of marrying brothers and sisters."

"The point still stands."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm glad I don't have to marry it." Sandor gave a tiny smirk before a soft knock on Sansa's door interrupted them. Sandor quickly jumped into the adjoining room while Sansa straightened herself. "Enter," she called out.

A maid Sansa didn't know opened the door and curtsied. "Beg pardon, milady, but the Lady Margaery would like to see you."

Sansa was more than a little surprised. But she was a lady and refusing to answer Margaery's call would just downright rude. The maid stood watch as Sansa readied herself. It was almost unbearable for her since Sandor was behind one of the doors in his tunic and if Joffrey were to find out, it would send him into a fit of rage and since she had just broken free of him this morning, that would be taking a major leap backward. So with no other alternative, Sansa managed to put on her manners and left without saying goodbye.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandor hated this arrangement already and they hadn't even been together a whole fucking day. This was going to be tricky. Between his duties and hers, he doubted that there would be time to get their clothes off before she was summoned to do something and he was commanded to babysit the king. Why did they think this was going to work in the first place? It was a stupid, romantic notion that they could carry on. Eventually, someone would notice and then they'd be in a shitload of trouble.

He heard the door close and decided to wait a few minutes before leaving. He had a certain itch that was begging to be scratched ever since his lips came into contact with Sansa's. But he didn't want to frighten his little bird and then the topic of her father somehow came up and that pretty much made him go limp instantly. But he had never seen her snap like that, not even at Joffrey. He made a mental note to never bring up anything of that sort again. Sansa had her own anger to deal with at what life had thrown at her and he had a feeling that she could cause more damage to someone with those pretty words than he could with a thousand swords. And you know what? He liked that about her – as long as he wasn't on the receiving end.

A/N2: Just so I don't get any PM's and/or reviews about the lack of sex so far, I want to explain my reason for taking this route (which was extremely tough to do btw). I always read fanfics that have these two going at it like crazy and while those are fun to read, I never could imagine them just jumping into that part of their relationship that fast. Even if you only watch the show, Sansa is not like that and to a certain extent, neither is Sandor. I could do a time jump, but I really want to explore the early days of their relationship as it happens in King's Landing and how different their approaches to love and sex are and how Sandor learns to separate those two while Sansa learns how to combine them.

Now you can write that review:)