Author's Notes: This is the second chapter of this story - this is still going to be a short ditty, just an extension to the original 500-word prompt fic... One more chapter to go I think! Thank you for the lovely reviews, thank you so much!

For the longest time the Hound said nothing and Sansa was too nervous to start so the two of them only stared at each other in silence. She had taken him to the first place she could think of that would provide them with a smidgen of privacy; an enclosed courtyard behind the Great Hall. Overgrown weeds had taken hold in its shaded corners but enough of beautiful rose bushes had remained to suffuse the air with their scent.

Not having paid much attention to the rules read aloud by the auctioneer at the start of the event Sansa now tried to wreck her brain for any snippets that she might have caught. Were the knights supposed to start their service on the morrow of the following day? And be relieved at the end of the day? Or by the morning of the next day? She couldn't remember. And the payment… she suppressed an involuntary gasp. Where am I going to get fifty gold dragons!? The sum was supposed to be paid to the court clerk by the end of the auction day, if she recalled correctly. All the collected coin was then to be used for feeding the poor as dictated by Lady Margaery, a notion almost as unheard of in the Baratheon court as was the auction itself.

Sansa rued herself for making such extravagant bid when probably one coin would have been enough to secure the deal. And yet… it would have been an insult to him – just like Joffrey had intended.

And suddenly the amount of coin didn't seem so bad after all.

Nothing escaped the hard eyes that scrutinised her.

"What it is now, girl? You have the coin? It is a poor bargain you got yourself and hells if I know what prompted you to it." He spoke roughly but his voice was not filled with anger as so many times before. Sansa took it as a good sign, but it didn't do much to ease her concerns.

"I…I don't exactly have the coin on me now. But I have jewellery I can sell." Yes, she was not totally destitute. And she would be happy to get rid of some of Joffrey's gifts, to be honest.

A rumbling laugh rising deep from his chest was as unexpected as it was rare – Sansa couldn't remember ever seeing him as much as smile, not to mention laugh outright.

"Bloody hells! This is better than I thought!"

Tears of embarrassment and humiliation welled in the corners of Sansa's eyes but she tried to suppress them. Why ever had she bothered to feel sorry for him when he returned it with callousness? To hide her discomfort she walked to the other end of the walled enclosure but the Hound followed, his intimidating form blocking the feeble light streaming through the leaves.

Whether it was because he discerned her distress or for no reason at all the laughter stopped and Hound became serious again.

"Do not fret about the coin, little bird. I have plenty left from my tourney winnings. I will take it to whoever collects the spoils of this ridiculous affair ere the evening is over. That'll be my first task under your indenture."

Gathering her dignity Sansa whispered softly, "Thank you. I will pay it back, rest assured."

"Don't even think about it." His dismissive wave whirled past her face and Sansa flinched, involuntarily. The Hound saw it and his mouth pressed into a hard line. "It was my hide you saved out there, so it'll be my coin too. And that's all there is to it."

Sansa nodded. She hadn't planned for this, but it made sense.

"So what happens next?" The Hound seemed to be focussed on assessing the situation from a practical point of view; he must have had even shoddier grasp of what was expected of him than Sansa. And no wonder – he hadn't exactly volunteered for the task.

"I believe we part for now and tomorrow is the day when the services are supposed to be rendered. But do not worry about it, I will not expect anything from you," Sansa hastily added. What on earth would she do with a knight – not a knight – for a day? She had absolutely nothing for him. Surely that was not truly needed and she could grant him the day to do as he wished?

"I will come to you in the morning and will do whatever you bid me. I can honour my part of the bargain, no matter how it was not my doing that it came about." Bitterness in his tone was unmistakable and Sansa couldn't blame him for it. Joffrey had been cruel and vindictive and they both knew that without Sansa's interference he would have been left there to face the humiliation of being passed on as unsaleable goods, rejected by all and sundry. Sansa knew that he wouldn't have cared about it, not truly, but the pettiness of it was still enough to make anyone's blood boil.

"No, truly, there is no need. I have no task to give to you, I'm afraid."

"I'll be there the first thing in the morning nonetheless."

A stiff bow and he turned towards the heavy wooden door leading back to the keep. "I better see about the coin."

And then he was gone and Sansa was left alone amongst the weeds and flowers to wonder what assignment could a young maiden and a prisoner of the crown to think for a warrior of his renown to undertake.

Sansa heard Lady Margaery before she saw her.

"Lady Sansa! What an unexpected turn of events!" Soft steps hurried behind Sansa and she had no choice but to stop and turn around to face her. Margaery was followed by a flock of young ladies as always, but she signalled them to stay behind as she caught up and clasped Sansa's hand on her own.

"What a daring bid! People will talk about for weeks, that's certain," she gushed all smiling and friendly, clasping Sansa's arm tightly and tugging at her to follow as she continued walking. The corridor was empty and with her ladies out of earshot the exchange was only between the two of them.

Yet Sansa was careful and only muttered something vague about the auction being quite eventful by itself.

"Tell me, did you do it to provoke the king? Why would you do such thing?" Margaery's smile was bright but it didn't reach her eyes which were hard. Panic started to well inside Sansa when she realised that she had done exactly that - spoiled Joffrey's fun – although quite unintentionally. She hadn't even thought of it before, being so overwhelmed by her actions and facing the Hound.

"No! I mean…no, that was not my intention at all! Please, you have to believe me, Lady Margaery!" Sansa shivered thinking what Joffrey could do to those who came between him and his pleasure. Without realising it she squeezed Margaery's hand so hard that she let out a small gasp.

"Dear Lady Sansa, I do believe you – no need to be quite so forceful about it!" After extracting her hand and placing it on Sansa's arm instead Margaery smiled again, her expression this time tinged with curiosity. "Why then, pray tell? I didn't think you would do such a bold thing as to bid for a man like that. He is big and impressive, it is true, but not exactly a maiden's dream. And he is so sullen and brooding!"

Sansa didn't know what to say so she opted for as close to truth as she felt safe.

"I felt sorry for him, my lady."

Margaery's eyebrows raised in astonishment and she let out a small laugh, clear and chiming as spring water rushing down the stream. "Sorry? For the Hound? Dear me, you are full of surprises!" Another laughter and squeeze of her arm told Sansa that the king's betrothed was genuinely amused.

"I know he is a hard man but it must have been difficult for him to be put on the spot like that, without a warning. He has served the King well in the past and I thought it prudent…"

"Oh Sansa – may I call you Sansa? - I have heard about your kind heart but I didn't know it is large enough to include stray dogs and deserters. It speaks well of you, even though I am afraid that your kind gesture is wasted on the likes of him. Joffrey doesn't think very highly of the Hound right now – as I am sure you have figured out." The matter-of-fact way how Margaery talked about the king seemed very bold for Sansa – but then again, she was not a traitor's daughter but that of a man who had just saved Joffrey's kingdoms for him.

"I really didn't mean it as an insult to the king, I swear. Maybe I should seek an audience and explain it to him?"

"Oh, do not worry. Leave Joffrey to me, I will think of something. I might point out how big a fool you made of yourself in front of the whole court, and how well matched you two traitors are – not that I think of you as traitor, of course. We daughters of high lords have to do as our lord fathers tell us, no shame in it."

From the corner of her eyes Sansa saw Margaery looking at her, her smile unwavering. If she could indeed settle Joffrey's displeasure, it would be one less worry for her. But why would she?

"I would appreciate it very much, Lady Margaery. I know that you can see the sincerity of my actions, being in the possession of kind heart yourself." Little flattery harms no-one, Sansa thought.

"Dearest Sansa, we are going to be greatest of friends, I know it! And friends do aid each other, don't they? Of course I will do all I can to help you in this matter!" Sansa turned her head to look at her companion, surprised to find such warmth in the court so far so lacking in it. Large brown eyes twinkled and bore into hers while feather-light fingertips brushed down her arm, lazily, almost caressing, reaching her wrist and squeezing it gently.

As relieved and happy as Sansa was about this rare manifestation of friendship she couldn't help an uneasy feeling. The Hound had told her that people in the court were all liars and every one of them was better than her. Could Margaery be one of them?

Well, it is not like have much choice in people claiming to want to help me.

Sansa smiled back at her new friend as they stopped, Margaery taking both of her hands into a soft grasp. Her touch was gentle and her thumbs rubbed Sansa's palms back and forth soothingly.

"Greatest of friends," she whispered huskily and cocked her head. The air of confidence and sincerity surrounded her and Sansa wanted to believe her more than anything – and yet she wavered.

Still she nodded. "Yes, greatest of friends."

True to his word it was hardly past sunrise when there was a knock on Sansa's door indicating the Hound's arrival to do his duty. She was prepared and despite her nervousness she thought she hid it well enough as they walked through the busy keep, gathering sideways looks and tittering from the people they passed.

Gods, this is going to be a long day.

Sansa broke her fast in the hall, the Hound's looming presence behind her seat. It made her nervous and she had to force herself to eat her meal of soft-boiled eggs and freshly baked bread as quickly as she could. She tried feebly to offer some to her erstwhile guard, who however declined.

Sansa tried to send him away once more, but still he refused. Was it a matter of pride or something else that kept him on her side, Sansa didn't know, but it made her apprehensive nonetheless.

Should she pretend that the night of the battle had not happened? He hadn't referred to it and so Sansa decided not to do it either. Maybe he had indeed been so drunk that he didn't remember – and if so, no point in reminding him.

Not knowing what else to do Sansa decided to head towards the Godswood. Surely he would have to honour her privacy during her prayers and the awkwardness between them would be avoided at least for that time?

The way there led them past the royal stables and as they approached them a dog, one of many kept by for hunting or breeding or purely for company, approached Sansa curiously. It was a fine dog although small in stature, the type used for hunting prey that furrowed in the ground. Its bright eyes were intelligent and after sniffing Sansa's outstretched hand curiously it rewarded her with a lick. It tickled and Sansa gave a little giggle.

"Do you like dogs?" The question surprised her, but its tone was earnest so she replied him in the same vein.

"Yes I do. We always had dogs in Winterfell; big dogs, small dogs, all kinds of dogs. Some were used for hunting, some for ratting and some were just for the pleasure of their company."

"Did you ever have one of your own?"

That made Sansa swallow a hard clump that had already started to form in her throat at the thought of another trusting animal who had used to lick her hands.

"No, not really. I was friendly with many, but I never had one all for myself before…"

A silence fell over them. Sansa continued to scratch behind the ear of the dog, who lapped the attention eagerly. It was a bitch, the skin of its belly loose and its teats showing signs of fierce suckling. It had whelped not that long ago.

"I remember. The wolf of yours. It was well behaved and a true lady, like its mistress."

Lady. Sansa closed her eyes momentarily and allowed herself to remember her. She had loved her so… but she hadn't been able to protect her. 'Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it,' King Robert had told her father. If only…

"This one has a litter inside the stables. Hungry mob they are, all fine pups."

Sansa was surprised about the Hound knowing such insignificant details of the life of the keep. Weren't such matters above the sworn shield – ex-sworn shield of the king? The dog was sniffing at her legs now and poking its wet nose into the folds of her skirt. Sansa didn't stop her scratching – it was easier to concentrate on the little bitch than to think of Lady.

"Would you like to have one?"

That made her lift her head and stare at the Hound, astounded.

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to have one of the puppies? I think them to be ready for weaning. I don't believe all are spoken for, and it is going to be easy enough to ask the master of the stables."

Sansa continued staring at him, then the bitch at her feet, then at the Hound again. Could I?

"I am not sure what the king would say to it. If I would be allowed."

The Hound snorted. "Don't think he cares. Out of sight, out of mind. He has his hands full of the bothersome Tyrells for now."

Even as she still tried to think of reasons why the notion was ridiculous and unattainable Sansa's heart started to beat faster of excitement. A puppy of her own! Someone she could hold and love and who would love her back! Could she?

Her thoughts must have been plain on her face as without further ado the Hound pushed the door of the stable open and waved her to follow.

Sansa looked at the squirming pile of stubby legs, flapping ears and pink tongues lolling from yapping mouths. The puppies were the cutest things she had seen for a long, long time and she couldn't help laughing at their antics and chasing them around the stall that had been assigned for the bitch and its litter. She caught one, a white thing with a brown patch on its side and squeezed it tight against her chest.

"You little rascal! Tried to give me a run-around, did you?" The pup replied by sticking its tongue up her nose and she sneezed.

The Hound came back from exchanging words with a solemnly dressed man, presumably the master of the stables.

"It is all settled. They are ready to go to their new masters, just pick one."

Sansa looked up, the pup wriggling in her lap.

"But I don't know which one to pick! They are all so cute."

The corner of the Hound's mouth quirked upward and he bent down to her, settling on his haunches. He took the puppy from her and it almost disappeared inside his huge palm.

"This one is lively, aye, but you'd be wanting a bitch rather than a dog."

He handled the pup expertly, it settling in his grip but being soon enough released to join its littermates.

"That one there, the brown-faced, is a bitch and a brave one. Look how she is approaching you straight on rather than trying to hide behind the others."

The pup in question was indeed inching its way towards Sansa. She held out a hand and the pup pressed its nose in it, sniffing. It tickled.

"I like her," Sansa admitted, admiring its silky soft ears flapping back and forth as it pressed deeper into her palm.

The Hound lifted the pup and examined it all over from the top of its tail to the pink of its nose. Apparently it passed the inspection as he grunted approvingly and handed it back to Sansa.

"She'll do."

"But…what shall I do? What does she eat? Where shall she sleep?"

"You really know nothing, little bird. What about your wolf, who looked after her?"

Sansa had to admit that although Lady had been in her care, her food and bed had been provided to her by others. The Hounded laughed again, and even she couldn't help smiling broadly at her past self, spoiled and cosseted, not even feeding her own wolf. The second time his laugh was not such a surprise – and besides, Sansa had a distinctive and not altogether unpleasant feeling that he didn't laugh at her but with her.

The prospects of the day she had dreaded suddenly seemed infinitively brighter.