Author's Notes: Just a short dribble this time... Also, I have neglected to mention it before, but this is (obviously) deviation from the canon, as far as also in regards to Sansa's age. It is not specified, and she is young, but not quite as young as in the canon. Maybe somewhere in the vicinity as to what the TV-series portrayed her.


Sandor & Arya

"Can I hold it?"

"Gods, is there no way to get rid of you? I saw you gawking out there while we were training, but I thought by now you had enough good sense not to follow me. And what do you mean anyway; hold what?"

"Your sword – can I hold it?"

"The girl wants to hold a sword that is taller than she is! You probably couldn't even keep it upright without falling down."

"You never know if you don't let me try."

"Why would I care? But if you are keen to humiliate yourself, there you go. Don't let it fall, I don't want any more nicks in the blade."

"Look, I can hold it fine!"

"Hmmph!"

"Will you teach me? To fight with a sword?"

"Are you out of your mind, girl? Even if you could actually lift that sword – which I doubt very much – there is no way I would teach a highborn's get. I have better things to do. And you hold it all wrong anyway – it is not a bloody spear."

"But what if I would use a wooden practice sword? Bran and Rickon started that way when they were young."

"A wooden sword? You expect the Hound to practice with a wooden sword?"

"Nothing wrong with that. It's not like you were practicing. And surely you did that with Prince Joffrey when he was young?"

"With Joffrey? Do you think he cares to practice himself when he can order other men to fight his battles?"

"He is a coward! And stupid!"

"No argument from me there. It doesn't mean that I'd start training with you with a wooden sword."

"But what if I would get a real sword of my own size?"

"I can bloody well imagine Lord Eddard giving you a sword! Just what a fine little lady needs."

"Don't laugh!"

"Bloody hells, this is too good! That'll be the day when a lady like you would even need to know anything about swordplay. Cosseted and protected, you or your pretty sister never have to worry about anything. Life is too easy for you and your kind."

"Ladies of the Bear Island have swords and know how to use them."

"Aye, the she-bears. You fancy to be one of them? You look ugly enough."

"Girl, no need to sulk. Looks are overrated. I should know."

"I am not sulking. I just…"

"Very well, if you by some fucking miracle get a sword of your own size, I may show you some moves. If you promise to get hell out of my back."


Sansa

The next morning when Sansa met Prince Joffrey and Queen Cersei at breakfast she was able to act quite normally. The Queen was as lovely as always in her cool and somewhat detached way, but Sansa didn't begrudge her for it. It must be lonely work to be the first lady of the realm, especially by the side of a king like King Robert. Sansa knew him to be one of her father's closest friends but it didn't make her blind to his obvious shortcomings as a husband and a father,

And they were right. The crown has to think of its dignity.

After exchanging pleasantries Sansa would have been almost ready to forget the whole sorry incident hadn't it been for the Hound.

He didn't say anything – of course not, that would have been too forward. He didn't have to. Sansa could feel his scorn across from where he was standing behind Joffrey's seat. And curiously for the very first time Sansa thought she could understand him a bit.

She didn't let any of that show. It had been bad enough that the Hound had been there to witness her humiliation, there was no point in making the incident any bigger.

Later that evening when the big hall was emptying from diners, Sansa too started to make her way to her mother's solar. She had taken a habit to sit and sew and talk with her mother about the preparations of the upcoming journey. Without even realising that she was not alone she heard a too familiar voice behind her.

"Planning a visit to your future good-family tonight?"

Sansa tensed but didn't halt her progress.

"As it happens I will not. I have other things to do," she said in a low voice without turning to look at him. That he followed her, with long languid strides, she knew already.

"That's a shame. I was almost looking forward to catch you again."

Sansa gasped. Had it been anyone else she might have thought it to be a flirtatious throw-away, a flattering remark with a purpose of complimenting the lady to whom it was said – but with the Hound it was none of those things. His tone was sombre and the thought of being caught by him again, in that dark corridor, nobody knowing that she was there with him, was frightening. And yet also… oddly exciting.

Sansa increased her pace almost to a run and stopped only when she was in the safety of her mother's rooms. Her breathing was more laboured than the short distance would have warranted but she didn't stop to wonder why.