He supposed liking his charge was a bonus when it came to his job. As a member of the Kings Guard Protection Agency, he and his brother Gregor, had always been in high demand. Their reputation preceded them. Known to be efficient, aggressive and without remorse the richest families in the country wanted them on their payroll protecting their most prized possession. And sometimes their most prized possessions weren't even human.
The rich were crazy when it came to what they wanted safeguarded. He had protected everything from fucking jewelry, to prized poodles to their fucking spoilt as shit kids.
And it was always him or his brother they wanted. The Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Targaryen's, the Starks. All families that ruled their side of the world with their golden iron fists.
And because he had worked for each and every one of them he could honestly say that the first three families - were definitely on the bat shit side of crazy.
Rumored incest, proven infidelity and a strong thread of insanity running through three families had Sandor thanking the gods that he was no longer working for any them. It had been such a mind fuck that there were times when he thought he was going to be as crazy as them.
Especially the fucking Baratheons slash Lannisters. Crazy marrying into crazy left the world with one demented little shit called Joffrey Baratheon. And there was no client he ever had previously and since, that Sandor hated more than that little shit.
He thanked the gods that he had been replaced by his brother. He didn't know what he had done or why it happened but it had been the first time Sandor was glad he had been passed over for his brother.
Let Gregor protect the deranged little shit. Because a moment longer in that little shit's presence, Sandor would've most definitely killed him. And killing your client did not look good on your resume.
Although that little shit did finally get what was coming to him. No matter how rich his family was didn't stop him from going to jail. No one deserved it more than him.
But his latest client, however, was the only one he had in a hell of a long time where he could actually say he liked.
Little Miss Arya Lyanna Stark. A five foot something fire-ball, with slate gray eyes, inky dark hair and one hell of a left hook.
He had initially been assigned to the eldest daughters detail but she had taken one look at his face and outright refused to be seen with him. Sandor was man enough to admit that that dented his ego just a little. When he had been taking care of that little shit Joffrey, Sansa had been the only one of the boy's friends who was at least pleasant to him. Now she didn't want to be anywhere near him. And he couldn't say why that bothered him.
Arya however had shrugged stared at him a little smirk hovering on her lips and stated at least people would think twice before fucking with her. It had taken all Sandor had not to laugh at her statement or the resigned look on her mother's face as she shook her head at her youngest daughter.
The youngest Stark girl – who he had nicknamed 'Little Wolf' because she reminded him of one - was definitely a different sort of client to what he was used to. She had a caustic wit that he appreciated. Didn't treat him like the hired help nor did she try and involve him with inane chatter about who was hotter than who.
And to Sandor's surprise he found out that she had some serious fighting skills.
He had initially thought it was those brothers of hers that had taught her. But he had seen them in a fight. All brute force with no finesse or skill. He even thought that it had been that oversized boyfriend of hers. But no. Again brute strength with little skill. Little Arya Stark though. That was all skill. Deadly skill. Skill that he was somewhat proud to say that he had cultivated over the few years he had been with her.
He had found out she had been sent to Syrio Forell – a martial arts expert – to try and control that hair trigger temper of hers. And she had been taught well. And because Sandor liked the little wolf, he – honed her skill. Probably a bit too much, he thought ruefully rubbing his aching jaw. Last night's sparring session had turned into a crowing session for the little wolf and with him an aching jaw.
So over the few years of constantly being in the little wolf's presence he had gotten to know her moods and her expressions pretty well.
Probably not as well as that oversized boyfriend of hers nor as well as that bastard cousin, but pretty well. And that look on the little wolf's face as she stormed from the hospital room that housed Theon Greyjoy, did not bode well for anyone.
"Arya –"Sansa ran after her shorter sister, halting as soon as she saw his large frame lounging in those tiny little hospital chairs. Jaqen H'ghar, Sansa's detail stood making his way over to Sansa's side.
"Stay here, Sansa." Arya ordered like the little general she was. Sandor would've loved to see her on the battlefield, barking out orders, with death and destruction around her. Even Jaqen had a little smile for the little wolf.
"Please let's just think this through –"Sansa pleaded.
"I have thought this through, Sansa." Arya said softly, one brow raised. "I in fact have thought this through a lot." She shrugged. "Just a little quirk of mine. The ability to think coherently when everything else is going to shit."
"Theon wouldn't –"
"Theon would've been the first one out of this hospital hours ago, hunting for Ramsey Bolton's head and we both know it." Arya told her archly. "In fact, when it was you in that hospital bed, Gendry had to physically sit on him at mother's request - to stop him from going out and finding Joffrey and killing him."
Sansa flinched at the reminder causing Arya to sigh in apology. The sister's relationship had changed much over the years. Ever since what the family termed as the 'Joffrey' incident, Sansa and Arya had become very close.
Arya had said that as kids that fought like any other siblings but they were different as day and night. Sansa the perfect image of their mother, prim, proper feminine. Whereas Arya wore her wild-child, tomboy mantle proudly. So even though they were sisters, they were way too different to ever be close. But that was until the 'Joffrey Incident'.
"Arya please." Sansa whispered. "Ramsey's unstable."
"It will be fine." Little Wolf reassured her sister, waving her hand. "I promise that I will not kill the fucker." she paused before shooting her sister a cold smile. "Tonight."
"And that you won't get Sandor to kill him tonight either." Sansa insisted, looking at him. Sandor shot her a dark little grin that had her flushing and turning away from him. She never looked at him for long. Probably couldn't handle the deformity of his face.
Arya sighed, placing her hands on her hips.
"And I promise not to get Sandor to kill the little fucker either tonight." Again Arya raised a brow. "Finished?"
Sansa closed her eyes rushing forward to hug the smaller woman causing the little wolf to freeze, panicked eyes going to him.
Rolling his eyes he scowled, shrugging his shoulders. How the hell was he supposed to know what to do? He was about as useless with emotions as she was.
Jaqen shook his head at the both of them, patting a hand on Sansa's back.
"One must let the lovely young girl do what she must, Sansa." He told the red-head softly, drawing her away. "A girl must listen to what her inner wolf says."
Sandor frowned wondering if the man could act any stranger. He always spoke in riddles making Sandor's head hurt as he tried to figure out exactly what he meant.
But he seemed to have a special soft spot for Arya. Which bugged the shit out of the little wolf's oversize boyfriend like no one's business.
Sighing Arya cupped Sansa's face, showing tenderness that Sandor was almost positive she didn't have.
"I promise not to do anything tonight." She told her sister softly. "On my honor as a Stark." She finished.
Sansa gave her sister a watery smile squeezing her hands.
"Okay." She took a deep watery breath, looking away and composing herself.
"Tell mom and dad I'll be back by midnight." She told her sister, meeting Sandor's gaze and moving towards the doors.
"Arya. Be careful. Please."
Arya smiled sweetly at her sister.
"Of course sister dear. Of course." She replied turning and making her way out the doors.
"Sandor." Sansa called out, halting his movements to go after her sister. "Look after my sister please?"
Sandor gave her a tight lipped smile.
"Believe me little bird; it isn't your sister you have to worry about."
