Sansa awoke to the stream of morning light barging through the heavy burgundy curtains. She turned over and opened her eyes. Another day in this place. She took a breath and sat up slowly. A throbbing pain in the back of her head made its presence known. Too much wine.
A blush crept up her neck as she recalled the events leading up to falling asleep. Joffrey's spectacle was unfortunately no surprise. What was surprising were her actions towards The Hound. She remembered drinking more than she was used to, for she had yet to acquire a taste for the red drink everyone seemed to favor so much in Kings Landing. It helped calm her nerves, but the spinning and twirling seemed to aid the wine in clouding her senses, which was the only explanation she had for her behavior with Joffrey's sworn shield. She didn't remember everything that was said, however she did recall tripping over her shoe, but not falling. She remembered the smells. A scent that was better than any perfume or lemon cake she smelled before. She remembered being so lost in reminiscing that she ended up resting her head against his shoulder. She quickly pushed that memory out of her mind, for it was too humiliating to think about. Surely he knew I was not fully myself, she hoped. She then replayed the end of the night in her mind. Slamming her door shut on The Hound's face, only to come back out to yell at him. Gods. She ran her hands through her hair. I really am the foolish girl he calls me. She wished she had someone to talk about this with. She thought of her mother and what wise words she would say. Mother did not raise me a foolish girl. I shall not sucum to his perception of me. I am a Tully and a Stark and we are not a foolish house!
Bursting with her mother's courage Sansa decided she would no longer allow anyone to think her a girl whose head is only full of songs. She unburdened herself of the fur blankets and shuffled over to the steel bowl full of water. She dipped her hands into the bowl and watched as the clear liquid drowned them. She bent over and splashed some on her face, instantly feeling less groggy. She cupped her hands and dipped them in again, this time bringing her mouth to the water.
She straightened, patting her face dry with a white wash cloth and made her way to the balcony. With a loud whoosh, she swung the curtains apart and welcomed the sun into her chamber. The breeze from the vast ocean ahead felt cool on her freshly washed face. Her fingers traveled to her hair as she undid her plait, sending red curls free to fly in the wind. She cupped her hands around her eyes, blocking the view of her balcony, and the city below so that she could see only the water and nothing else, pretending she was free. A soft knock on the door interrupted her day dream. She walked back inside and took her silk rode off its hook and wrapped it around herself.
"Come in," she ordered. Her heart beat fast. She prayed it was not Joffrey or Cersei. It's too early for whatever cruel game they want to play today. The door opened and Sansa's eyes widened before trying to conceal her surprise...and interest. A raven haired beauty entered the chamber closing the door behind her. The same one she saw Tyrion making eyes with at the feast last night. The woman was again dressed in a subtle yellow hand maiden's dress with a thin golden belt tied around at the waist showing off her curves. The woman bowed. "Good morning my lady," she started with a thick accent, though Sansa could not place from where. She guessed either from Bravvos or Lorath.
"Good morning," Sansa replied dryly with her chin held high, acting how she imagined her mother would if she were in her shoes.
"I am your new hand maiden," the girl said, breaking the awkward silence between them.
"I already have four," Sansa replied coldly, clutching her robe. She knew the girls who served her were spies of the Queen, and assumed this one was no different.
"I am new to the city and in my search for work I found I could only please old men, or please you my lady," she said openly. "I hope having five hand maidens will only make things easier for you."
Sansa was appalled at her crudeness. No one ever dared speak to her like that. Even when her septa taught her about having her maidenhood taken, she was not so vivid. She replaced body parts with types of flowers, and compared a man's release to a tall waterfall. It all sounded so pleasant. The foreigner stared at her, and it was obvious she did not understand how her words shocked Sansa. Perhaps, Sansa wondered, it is because she is not from here...
"You said you are new to the city." The girl nodded. "Where did you come from?" Sansa asked.
"Lorath," the girl answered truthfully. A free city. Sansa marveled at the idea of living in a place like that.
"And why come here? What promise does the Seven Kingdoms have for you that Lorath did not?" Sansa asked.
Shae eyed Sansa, as if deciding whether or not to tell the truth or make something up. "I'm from a small farming village. We had no wealth or things of value. We lived a quiet life, me, my mother, and father. One night men from a neighboring village raided our home. They killed my father, raped me and my mother, and then burned our home to the ground. They took me and my mother as slaves to work for them. The older woman were sent to work in the kitchens, and the younger women..." Shae stopped after seeing Sansa's horrified face. "My mother became sick, and was unable to work. We knew they were going to kill her once she was of no use to them. She told me to run, for she didn't have to strength to come with me. Once I was dried up, they'd kill me too. I had to leave her." Shae trailed off.
"How did you escape?" Sansa asked.
"I slit the throat of a man when he was most vulnerable." It took Sansa a moment, but she realized what Shae meant. Waterfall. "I snuck out of his room and ran. I didn't know where I was, or which direction to go. I must have walked for three days until an old woman found me. She took me in her home, and didn't ask questions. Only gave me food. After sleeping for what felt like a week, I gathered enough strength to tell her my tale. She said I could no longer stay in her home, for surely the men would come looking for me. She said I must travel to the Seven Kingdoms, that I could find work here. She had enough pity on me to teach me the language, and a few weeks later I hid under the decks of a ship carrying huge barrels of something that smelled awful, like acid. When I arrived here, a thin man dressed in black with devious eyes approached me and asked if I was looking for work. He took me to his place of business, a place a lady like you should never hear about. When I was there for two hours before a half man saw me and talked me into coming here."
Tyrion... Sansa didn't know of any other half-men, so that must be who she spoke of. She heard the rumors of Tyrion's taste for working women, and knew first hand him to be kind, but why would he take such an interest in this foreign girl? It didn't matter, it's not like she had a say in who was to serve her. They were all Cersei's spies. Remember your lady mother. Do as she would."
"Very well." Sansa said firmly. She turned gracefully, and sat in the chair facing her vanity. "You may start by brushing my hair." Shae bowed and walked toward her, picking up the brush.
"I want to wear it down today." Sansa smiled at herself.
Sandor woke up with a start. He sat up in his bed, drenched with sweat. Another nightmare of Gregor. He reached down on the side of his bed and lifted a leather wine skin to his lips. After a few large gulps he breathed easier. He never slept soundly in this place. Nightmares were as common to him as dreams to princesses. Some were easier to handle than others. The only thing that helped was the wine. Rays of the early morning sun shone against his walls in slits, due to him taking out his drunken rage with his sword on the curtains one night. He never bothered to fix them. He didn't care. His bedroom was sparse. No fancy decor like the rooms guests slept in. He was offered better accommodations many times but declined. What use would he have for a balcony, or a mirror surrounded by a golden frame. Why would he want to look at himself? He had a warm bed, a small fireplace, a place to put his armor, and a chair to sharpen his sword. And his room was a short walk from the kitchens, which served well when he was drunk and in need of more wine.
He took one more swig, emptying the skin and tossing it back on the floor before getting up. He put his hands on his lower back and stretched until he heard the traveling cracks in his spine. He tilted his head to the right crack and to the left crack. He didn't bother changing the tunic he slept in, as he was about to head to sword practice and was going to get it dirty anyway. He put his armor on with difficulty, the men usually had their armor carried to practice and help putting it on. Cunts. He growled. If a man thinks he is good enough to practice with me then he can bloody well put on his own damn armor. Sandor thought as he struggled with the buckle on his shoulder piece. "Fuck!" He cursed.
Armed with his sword in it's scabbard, Sandor stormed down the open corridor that led to the training ground. Men, bright eyed and bushy tailed surrounded the field, polishing their armor, drinking morning brew, served on trays by young woman. One of them approached Sandor.
"Drink, Ser?" She asked, avoiding the burned side of his face. He could see the repulsion in her eyes. "Fill this with wine girl." He shoved the wine skin on the tray, knocking over the cups of morning brew. The girl stepped back but it was too late, the drink spilled all over the bottom of her dress. Sandor laughed and walked towards the men. Most looked away with fear.
Sandor took a seat by himself one of of the benches and began sharpening his sword.
"Clegane!" Sandor continued polishing his steel. This task was relaxing to him and he did not like being interrupted. The footsteps of three men approached. "Clegane." The voice called again.
Shouldn't you be in your big bed with your whores eating breakfast sausage out of their cunts?" He mocked and continued polishing. A laugh escaped Bronn's lips.
"Perhaps for dinner. I have something important to discuss with you, quickly before unwanted ears hear." Tyrion said with urgency.
"I don't feel like talking until I've had my wine." Sandor rasped.
"Podrick, give Clegane my skin." Tyrion ordered.
Podrick, a young mushy boy unclasped Tyrion's skin from his belt and handed it to Sandor as one would hold out a piece of meat for a lion. Sandor grabbed it, took a few swigs, and then lifted his head.
"What do you want?" He grumbled.
Tyrion stepped closer, Bronn and Podrick looked a the men around them making sure none heard the conversation.
"I need you to look after the Stark girl." Tyrion muttered. Now he had Sandor's attention. "After everything that's happened I need eyes on her at all times. There are people here I do not trust, I want to know who's talking to her. I want to make sure she's safe. I already have someone working close to her, but I need another...intimidating presence around her." He added.
After last night, Sandor tried to force the flamed haired beauty out of his mind. She was drunk and you were there, she did not rest her head on your arm out of affection you fool! As he entered his bedroom after making sure she was safely in her nest, he paced and punched the wall. Stupid girl! Shouldn't go around doing that! If it had been someone else who walked her to her room and they saw how the alcohol made her act, who knows what could've happened. It's a big castle, even if she screamed, there's a chance no one would hear. No one would help. The little bird is much too trusting. He could barely control himself when she walked that close to him. Her hair smelled as sweet as it looked. Like lavender, or flowers. You cunt. The girl pays a little bit of attention to you and now you're thinking about flowers! He shook the thoughts from his mind.
"Why do you ask me? There are knights who would happily stand by the little bird as she flutters around all day." Ones prettier to look at than me. Sandor asked before taking another gulp.
"It is for that exact reason I ask you Clegane. I trust you have no interest in taking advantage of Lady Stark."
"What makes you think that?" He asked, his voice as deep as the Narrow Sea.
Tyrion leaned in, speaking so quiet not even Bronn or Podrick could hear. "There are not many men who would be so quick to cover the girl the brat prince was trying to strip in front of a room full of the kings guard."
Enraged, Sandor stood tall, towering over Tyrion. Bronn's hand went to the handle of his sword and Podrick starred in terror. Tyrion did not move, he kept his eyes on Sandor's.
Sandor finished off Tyrion's wine and tossed is to Podrick who clumsily caught it. "I want gold and wine brought to my room before the sky turns dark. If it's not enough, you'll know, dwarf." Sandor finished, walking past the three men.
Tyrion smiled, as he watched the beast tear across the field, grabbing another wineskin out of a serving girls hands before disappearing back into the castle.
After breaking her fast with Cersei and Tommen, it wasn't half day and Sansa already felt exhausted. A morning of sitting up straight, listening to Cersei's tales about how corrupt the Stark's were, and her "advice" about womanhood. How freely she spoke of private matters in front of poor Tommen.
Sansa tried to make conversation with the young prince, who's face reminded her so much of the Kingslayer. He was sweet and laughed at her attempted jokes, but Sansa could see that he was a sad child. His sister was his best friend, but now that she was gone living a new life in Dorne, he didn't have anyone except for the suffocating love of his mother.
Not only was it a long breakfast, but Sansa's stomach had become so upset, she could barely concentrate. Perhaps it was spoiled milk. She thought. She entertained the idea that Cersei has poisoned her. Out of all the gowns, jewels,and status Cersei had given her, that would have been the finest gift to receive. She chuckled to herself as she walked down the hall. She decided she would go to the Godswood to pray and seek answers. She needed guidance more than ever. She stopped short as she looked ahead.
At the other end of the hall, the Hound approached. He hadn't seen her yet. His grey eyes were fixed on the floor, his hand on the handle of his sword. He looked as if he was muttering to himself. Sansa swallowed and tried to stay confident. It was too late to turn and walk the other way. As she got closer to him, he stayed looking down at the floor. She thought of the woman in her favorite story. She was kind even to the sourest of people, and the Hound had not hurt her. In fact, it was she that forgot her manners last night. I must apologize. She didn't have time to ready herself, for he was about to pass her.
"Ser!" She said much louder than she anticipated, startling both of them. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her.
"I thought I told you bird, do not call me that. I am no ser." He spoke calmly.
"Then what am I to call you?" Sansa questioned.
"What I am, a dog." He replied.
"You're not a dog, you are a man." Sansa said. "A warrior."
Sandor laughed under his breath. "And you are a little bird, too afraid to fly."
"I wasn't afraid to fly. If you remember, it was you who stopped me from flying." She argued.
He was impressed with the fact that she stood up for herself and spoke truthfully for once, but angered at the memory she spoke of. He recognized the look she had in her eyes that day. He watched as she stepped towards Joffrey, he almost wanted to let her do it. To push the little shit off the balcony, but she would have gone down with him.
He grabbed her chin hard. "I didn't stop you from flying, I stopped you from leaving a mess I would have been stuck cleaning up." He lied. He kept his hand on her face, his grey eyes boring into her winter blue ones.
"Why are you always so hateful?" She whispered.
Taken aback, he withdrew his hand from her chin and stepped away from her. "You'll be glad of the hateful things I do someday, when you're Queen and I'm all that stands between you and your beloved king."
She had nothing to retaliate with. She had forgotten the reason she stopped him in the first place. Tears made themselves home in her eyes and she walked away before he could see what he had once again caused. She clutched her stomach and headed for the Godswood.
Sandor watched Sansa hurry down the hall. He saw the water well up in her eyes and almost followed her, but did not. Good. He thought. It will be easier to guard her if she hates me. I won't have to worry about her constant chirping.
Sandor decided he needed to rid himself of the stress this morning had brought, and taking his black warhorse, Stranger for a ride would be just the thing to clear his head. He walked back the way he came, towards the stables, the scent of lavender clung to the air.