Hello my wonderful readers! I apologize for not updating sooner. It's that time of year for peppermint latte's, Christmas music, and the flu... I'm finally feeling a little better and decided you deserved a nice long chapter for waiting so patiently. I shall be updating frequently and posting the winning one-shots tomorrow. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Joffrey waltzed down the corridor, proudly dressed in Lannister red and gold. Sandor acted as his shadow, his eyes on the back of his head. I want to take it and smash it against the wall. He suppressed a smile at the thought of Joffrey bleeding out on the cold floor.
They approached the small council room, the guards on either side bowed and opened the door. Joffrey entered the room. Tyrion, the hand of the king, the lord commander of the kings guard, the master of coin, the master of laws, the master of whisperers, the master of ships, and the grand maester were all present and seated. It looked like the meeting had started hours ago by the way maps and small ships and horses were scattered around the table.
"My king, what are you doing here?" Tyrion asked, annoyance rang clear in his tone.
Joffrey walked by the table, all those he passed tensed up, hoping not to be the next toy in whatever game he felt like playing. He grabbed one of the small ships and fidgeted with it. "I am the King, why should I not be here uncle?" He asked innocently as he made his way to the head of the table where Tyion sat. Joffrey stared him down until Tyrion left the chair and took the empty one next to it so Joffrey could sit front and center.
"You're right, my King. There is no reason for you not to be here, but what of Clegane?" Tyrion eyed Sandor and leaned in closer to Joffrey. "We cannot be too careful."
Joffrey spat out a laugh. "Which is why I shan't go anywhere without him, like you said, I cannot be too careful." He sneered at Tyrion.
"Very well." Tyrion cleared his throat. "I need that." He held out his hand for the small ship Joffrey held. He rolled his eyes with offense and dropped it in Tyrion's small hand. "Thank you... now, where were we?"
Sandor took his place near the entrance of the room and stood still as a statue. Normally he didn't listen to whatever meetings he got stuck standing in the room for. Money, food, peasants, if it didn't affect his well being, it didn't interest him, but he took in every word that was said in this meeting. He listened as they went over the weaponry, other areas in the realm that they called upon for help, where they would keep the highborn woman, on what grounds they would surrender, what they would do if Stannis attacked from the North, instead of the sea. Joffrey slumped in his chair, bored as they went over every little detail. If Stannis were to overthrow the lions, it could change the game completely, and he wasn't sure if it would be good or bad for him.
"We have enough steel for hundreds more, but there aren't enough men." The master of laws observed.
Tyrion sat for a moment. "Lower the draft age to four and ten. We need all the men we can get. If Stannis's army is as big as the rumors say, we will be outnumbered even if our woman fight."
"Four and ten? Lower the age to if they can speak, they can fight." Joffrey demanded.
"Your grace, we cannot take boys as young as five. We will gain nothing from them except more of a mess to clean up in the morning." Tyrion dismissed, which only enraged Joffrey.
"If I remember correctly, it is I who makes the rules, not you!" He grew red in he face.
"And I am here to advise you and do what's in the best interest of King's Landing. A crown does not give you brains. Do you realize that if we were to call on all young boys, as soon as the battle began, the men whose sons you sent to slaughter will aim their weapons not at Stannis' men, but at you? Do you not remember the riots, how quickly they turn when they're unhappy? Trust me when I say that is not in your best interest." Tyrion finished and sank back in his chair.
The room was silent. Everyone waited for Joffrey to explode and berate Tyrion. Sandor was impressed with the imp. He was the black sheep of the Lannister family, which should be a good thing. He didn't seem to have that evil gleam in his eyes the others did. They hated him, especially his sister and his father. Sandor wasn't sure about Joffrey's feelings toward Tyrion. He yelled and embarrassed him constantly but do what he threatened. The silence was interrupted as Joffrey spoke.
"Perhaps, if there are not enough men, we can make a trade..." Joffrey started.
"What kind of trade? We barely have enough resources to feed our own people." Tyrion stated.
"Not resources, a person." Joffrey smirked, knowing he had the rooms attention and curiosity.
Tyion swallowed hard, he knew this was not going anywhere good.
"Stannis is our enemy, therefore he is friends with our enemies. He wouldn't dare let any harm come to the Stark girl." Joffrey began.
Now Sandor tensed up. His shoulders and neck went stiff, and his fists clenched.
"Now wait a mi-" Tyrion interrupted but was cut off.
"I'm not finished." Joffrey screeched. "He wouldn't let any harm come to her, if he did, he wouldn't have any chance of becoming allies with the North. If we were to threaten her, bring her out in the middle of the fight along with Ser Meryn, surely he would have to stop his men."
"Let's say on the off chance, we did that. Bring out a poor innocent highborn girl to be raped in front of two armies, because that's what civilized people do. Say we did that, and he didn't stop his men. Then we lose the Stark girl, and any chance of Jamie coming home safely." Tyrion snapped.
Joffrey snorted. "It's war uncle. All men must die, some sooner than others." He stood, sending the legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor, and began walking out. "I'll have preparations made, Ser Illyn Payne will stand guard in the high tower and bring Sansa out when it's time."
Tyrion clenched his jaw, there was nothing he could say. How does one reason with madness?
Joffrey spun around on his toes. "And don't think this conversation shall be forgotten. Next time you will think twice before speaking like you have authority over me." With a wormy smile, Joffrey turned and the guards opened the doors for him. "Come, dog."
Sandor followed him, never breaking the cold expression he wore on his face. His heart was beating like mad. A battle field is no place for a little bird, and he knew Stannis would protect Sansa, but he wouldn't risk losing control of King's Landing for her. He wasn't viscous like Joffrey, but with the red woman in his ear, it would be just as difficult to reason with him.
"I feel like having some fun before dinner. Send for the red haired whore and bring her to my chambers." Joffrey commanded before disappearing into his rooms.
Sandor bowed and headed to Baelish's whore house. He knew of the girl Joffrey spoke of. Roz was her name. She had a large bosom, and flaming hair, that was dulled by her lifestyle. It had been quite some time since Sandor had been there. He didn't feel like having any woman as of late. It wasn't like he had a lot before, but as a man, he had cravings that needed to be satisfied. He tried to remember when he was there last...It was before Lord Eddard Stark was executed, he realized.
He looked in through the window as he passed the stables, making sure his warhorse hadn't trampled any stable boys that got too close. Inside he saw Stranger munching on hay, and a young lad in the corner playing with small wooden knights... just like the ones he played with as a child. He decided against scolding the boy, for he seemed fine in Stranger's company. They both sat alone, minding their own business, but alright with the fact the other was there.
He walked through the wet streets outside the whorehouse and was about to enter when he smelled a rat in the air.
"Sandor Clegane!" Petyr announced. "How good of you to come, we've missed your business."
"Aye, I'm sure your girls have really missed me." Sandor chortled and spit on the ground.
Petyr looked him up and down with disgust. "Yes well, your coin is as good as anyone's."
"You won't be getting any of mine today. I'm here on orders from the King." Sandor snarled.
"Since when are you his errand boy?" Petyr smirked.
"Watch your tongue there, I think the Seven Kingdoms would benefit if you weren't able to speak anymore." Sandor threatened.
"And what does our King want from a place like this?" Petyr mused, ignoring his threats. He knew the Hound did not say things he wouldn't do, so it was best for him to move past it rather than provoke the beast inside him.
"A girl you cunt, not a box of chocolates." Sandor spat.
Petyr knew Joffrey like to play sick games with his women. They often came back in tears with cuts and bruises all over their bodies. Petyr didn't care. If they wanted to leave, he could easily find a new girl, a younger girl eager for coin and a place to live. "Very well," he agreed. "I'll give him one of my best."
"He requested the best. I think you know which one that is." Sandor said.
Sandor's words interested Petyr very much. Girls kissed with fire were few and far between in Westeros. An acquired taste. The fact that Joffrey wanted a whore with flamed hair meant his interest in Sansa was growing. He didn't like that. The King's feelings for the girl had been predictable as of late. Petyr knew where he stood, but this new development left him with questions. He did not like having things left unanswered. It might interfere with his plans. "Roz?" Petyr asked...already knowing the answer.
"Yes rat man, I don't have all day." Sandor
"Then lets not keep you waiting." Petyr snapped his fingers, and a brunette girl came running out. The golden bracelets that covered her arms clanged together with every step. He whispered something Sandor could not hear in her ear. She nodded and ran back inside. While they waited, Petyr stepped closer to Sandor. Although he felt uncomfortable with the little man so close, his feet stayed planted where they were.
"The Stark girl will play a big part in this war. She holds the key to the North. Make sure she stays safe." Baelish said. Sandor didn't like the possessive tone in his voice.
"What's it to you if she lives or dies? And why do you think you can ask anything of me?" Sandor asked.
"It is easy to die in the game of thrones. To stay in the game, well that's tricky. I do not like having my pieces played with, and I will pay you a substantial amount to watch the girl. I know you don't like the way she's treated, Hound. Nor do I."
Sandor grabbed him by the collar. "Don't speak of what you don't know Littlefinger. You keep your eyes off me, or I'll gut you right here." Sandor's eyes were so full of rage, he could barely see Petyr shaking beneath him.
"All I'm saying is, I know you see the same madness in Joffrey that everyone else does. I want to return her safely to he mother."
Sandor let go of Petyr's collar and threw his head back in laughter. "So that's what this is about. You think now Ned Stark is dead, if you bring their daughter back, you'll have a chance with Catelyn Stark?"
Petyr was not amused at Sandor's laughing. The brunette girl walked back out, her arm looped through Roz's.
"Aw, the most beautiful girl for our King." Petyr exclaimed with a devilish grin.
I've seen the most beautiful girl and this is not her, Sandor thought.
Roz wore a dark blue traveling cloak, and an overnight bag. She looked at Sandor the way someone looks at a crippled, curiously but only for a moment, not wanting to make eye contact. She held out her bag for him to hold, but like Petyr, only received a laugh and nothing more.
"She's not safe, Clegane. Look out for her." Petyr hissed before heading back into his brothel.
Roz furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering if he was talking about her. Sandor clenched his jaw and headed back towards the castle.
Sansa replayed her conversation with Cersei that morning over and over. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. When she first arrived in King's Landing, Sansa wanted nothing more than to be like the golden queen. The way she floated around with her nose up, exuding confidence and beauty made it easy for Sansa, and everyone else to adore her. Recent events have drastically changed her mind, and she did not trust one words out of the lioness' mouth. She learned not to trust those who came off kind, but Cersei's words struck true.
Jon's black mane popped into her head. He endured cruelties from her mother, for he was bastard born, but stuck around because he loved the Stark's. Sansa had always been cold to him. When you're that young, you're not able to see the good and bad for yourself. If your mother hates someone, why not trust it? In a child's eyes, your mother and father could do no wrong.
Older and wiser due to tragedy, Sansa looked back and cringed at the memories. She decided if she ever saw Jon again, she would apologize and make and treat him as her own brother. He always treated me like a sister...
Sansa had to decide if it was better to love, and in return be less capable of making rash decisions, or to be cold to others, and make decisions that will help her live, but live alone. Isn't it possible to have both? Sansa wondered. She knelt down beside her bed and prayed to the mother for answers. When she was done, her mind still wasn't clear so she decided to read and get lost in another world.
She must have only been two pages in when her mind started to wander. Why had I been so bold as to ask Sandor to accompany me to the Godswood? She thought more about the things he told her, trying not to let her own beliefs cloud it. His upbringing was different to say the least. Why should he believe in the Gods, when life was not good to him? She felt sorry for him and wondered if he ever experienced happiness.
She felt a blush on the back of her neck when she remembered giving him the flower. She hadn't planned on doing that, it just felt right. Natural. if she gave it any thought before it happened, she never would have gone through with it. She was shocked when he didn't laugh at her. Instead, he watched as she stuck it in his armor. When she dared look at him, she saw a glimmer of a smile in his dark eyes that gave her a feeling she never felt before. Her heart beat fast, and she had chills all over. His scent made her dizzy. Earth and wine. She experienced a real moment in a place where they did not usually exist. Everything was calculated and planned carefully, but this felt...normal.
"What are you thinking about, my lady?" Sansa heard Shae's unmistakable Lorathi voice ask, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"What?" Sansa asked quizzically.
"You're blushing." Shae teased.
Sansa closed her book. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Long enough to recognize that look on your face." Shae smiled. "Who is he?"
"What do you mean who is it? Joffrey, my one true love of course." Sansa lied.
Shae titled her head to the side and made a face. She reached out and grabbed a piece of Sansa's hair, running her fingers through the silky tresses. "We both know that isn't true. You can tell me!"
Sansa thought for a moment. She couldn't trust anyone in King's Landing, but Shae had helped her that morning, True colors are revealed in desperate times, and Shae showed her she was a friend, not foe. Perhaps she could ask questions with out revealing too much.
"What does it mean, when you get a sick feeling in your stomach every time you see someone?" Sansa cooed.
Shae took her question as a sign that she wanted to talk. She took a seat beside Sansa on her soft bed. "What do you mean sick? Like you're going to throw up, or butterflies?" Shae asked.
"Butterflies. I feel nervous, and very aware of myself around him." Sansa admitted.
Shae smiled. "That means you like him." Shae's excited tone got Sansa excited.
She liked the Hound? Gods! Sansa didn't know what came over her, surely that couldn't be true. He didn't look like any knights in the paintings she used to look at as a girl, and he certainly didn't act like one. "I can't like him..." Sansa breathed.
"Doesn't that make it all the more fun?" Shae smirked and arched her eyebrow.
Sansa couldn't help but laugh at that. She swatted Shae on her arm. "He's just, I can't like him, Shae. Not only because of Joffrey but-"
Shae interrupted. "You can't help who you're attracted too. You're growing up Sansa. You're learning what you thought life would be as a child is different than your reality. You poor girl, you've been manipulated and lied to by the people you thought were supposed to be good." Sansa's head fell. She lifted her chin up, the way he did. "If after all that, there's someone who makes you feel safe, and you know in your heart is good and true, don't be afraid of that feeling."
Sansa let out a small smile at that. He did make her feel safe, and she knew he hated lying. He once told her "A dog will die for you, but never lie to you." She believed him. Some people had eyes that seemed blank, but he did not. His eyes were so easy for her to read and she knew he may not be considered a gentlemen, but he did what he believed was right.
"Come on, lets get you ready for dinner." Shae got up and held her hands out. Sansa grabbed them and Shae lifted her from the bed. "You don't have to tell me who he is, but will he be at dinner tonight?"
"Yes." Sansa blushed.
"Perfect." Shae said with a smile before opening Sansa's wardrobe. She pulled out a deep purple dress with a tight bodice and plunging neckline. "This morning, you became a woman. It's time you look like one." The girls giggled as they got Sansa ready for dinner.
Sandor knocked on Sansa's door, announcing it was time to walk to the dining hall. Sansa stood in the middle of her room, trying not to fidget as Shae opened her door. When Sandor saw her, he froze.
Sansa looked beautiful. The deep purple fabric complemented her ivory skin, and brought out the fire in her hair. Her hair was down, the front sections pulled back revealing her sharp cheekbones. Shae rubbed a grey charcoal on her eyelids which brought out the blue in her eyes. Sansa never wore eye makeup before, and it made her feel dangerous. The neckline pointed down below her chest, and the bodice was so tight, it pushed her full breasts up a bit, and they peaked out of the dress.
Sandor looked her up and down, not hungrily but slowly. Like he wanted to memorize how she looked standing in her candlelit room.
Sansa wasn't sure how long they stood there staring at each other. Shae cleared her throat, sending them both out of the moment.
"Come on girl, it's best you don't keep your hosts waiting." Sandor warned.
Sansa put a matching shawl over her shoulders and followed him out the door. As she passed Shae, she saw her suppressing a giggle and felt like a girl again, trying not to laugh while her father lectured her and her sister.
The walk to the dining hall was silent. There was a tension in the air, like they both wanted to say something, but couldn't. Sansa didn't fully understand her feelings toward Sandor, but Shae was right. He did make her feel safe. Even when they were in the presence of Cersei and Joffrey. Just knowing he was there eased her mind.
"Little bird, there's something important I-" Sandor finally spoke but was cut short by Lord Bealish.
"Lady Stark." He said, bowing to her.
"Lord Baelish." She replied.
"Please..." He started, holding his arm out for her to take. "May I have the privilege of walking you to dinner?" He grinned.
"You may." Sansa said as she gracefully intertwined her arm with his. As much as she wanted to say no. she couldn't. They only person she could be honest with was Sandor, who glared at Littlefinger. He walked close behind them. The sound of his armor with each step reassured her.
"You look beautiful tonight, Lady Stark." Petyr said, his eyes violating her. "So much like your mother."
"Thank you, Ser." Sansa stated plainly. She wanted to avoid as much conversation with this man as she could.
"I hear circumstances have changed and it won't be long now before you marry." He said.
Sansa blushed with embarrassment. Did everyone know about her first bleeding?
"Don't be embarrassed, sweetling. It's perfectly natural. How are you feeling?" He asked with false concern.
"Fine, thank you." Sansa answered.
"You don't have to be coy with me. I know your happiness is out of these walls." He started. Sansa couldn't tell where he was going with this.
"I am happy here, Ser." She said, hoping that would be the end of it.
"Your mother is a good woman," Petyr persisted. "But her attention is with Robb. There isn't a chance of her coming to save you until the war is over. Who knows how long that could be." He finished. Sansa already knew this to be true. He was only reminding her of the upsetting truth. "Your mother helped me through many hard times, Sansa. I see this as an opportunity to repay her kindness. I can help you."
Sansa's heart started to beat nervously. She no longer hung onto false hope and didn't want to be part of another trick. "I don't need your help, Ser. I'm happy here with my one true love, Joffrey."
Petyr didn't by it. "I see how your spirit is dwindling. Your mother's heart would break if she saw what they were doing to you, and it's only going to get worse. Once you marry Joffrey, there will be no chance of escape."
They stopped in front of the dining hall doors. Sansa took Petyr's words into consideration. She knew he and her mother were long time friends, maybe he really did want to help. She would think of his offer. She did want to go home, more than anything, but had to stay cold for now, she couldn't let anyone in before she gave him an answer. She straightened her back and exuded as much confidence as she could muster. "Thank you, Lord Baelish, you would make my mother very happy, but my happiness does not lie outside these walls. It lies where it is needed."
"Very well, Lady Stark." He bowed.
The guards opened the doors. The warm glow from the candles and chandeliers hit them. The sound of chatter surrounded them. She smiled at Petyr before making her way inside, followed by Sandor. Littlefinger placed his hand on Sandor's chest, stopping him. Sandor immediately grabbed his wrist and threw it back at him.
"You'll find plenty of coin in your rooms when you return." Petyr hissed.
"If it's still in there when I return, you won't see the light of tomorrow." Sandor whispered. His voice like steel against stone. "I'm not your puppet." He finished before walking inside, not giving Littlefinger the pleasure of having the last word.
Sandor took a huge bite out of his turkey leg and downed it with sour red. He sat at a table off to the side of the royal families long wooden table. Joffrey sat in the middle, sticking his fingers in his food complaining it wasn't hot enough. Cersei sat in front of her plate, which was still full. The decanter next to the plate was almost empty. She tilted her head back and downed the last sips of wine in her goblet. She snapped her fingers and a thin blonde servant boy refilled it. Sansa sat on the other side of Joffrey. She held her fork in her hands and moved her food around her plate. Her eyes were no longer puffy, but smoldering thanks to the charcoal she wore on her eyes. He watched her chest move softly up and down with every breath. It was hypnotizing, She finally lifted food onto her fork and took a bite, locking eyes with him as she looked up. He looked away and went back to his turkey leg.
The news from the small council meeting that morning still hung around his mind. He had to warn her, he was just trying to think of the best way without frightening her. Thanks to Littlefinger's ambush, he had to be more careful. He was going to while escorting her to dinner, but when Tyrion's whore opened the door and he saw her his throat went dry. He could barely swallow let alone speak. She looked like a woman grown. The way her tiny waist spread into the soft curve of her hips was enough to drive any sane man mad.
He couldn't look at her as he escorted her to dinner. He smell intoxicated him and kept him drunk until they turned to corner closest to the hall, reminding him he only had so little time to tell her of Joffrey's plans when Stannis attacked. He started to before the rat interrupted them. He wanted to finish him off right there. He walked behind them close enough to hear the conversation. Littlefinger was smart, and kept his voice low, but Sansa spoke loud enough for him to hear. Her usually soft voice sounded a little too loud, as if she was doing it on purpose. From what he could make out, Littlefinger was planting a seed in her mind. He wanted to "help" her escape from this place, using her mother as a way through the wall she learned to put up. Sick fuck.
Sandor wasn't sure how long he had until Stannis' army attacked, but he now had to race against Littlefinger for time to convince the little bird she needed to leave. The thought of Joffrey bringing her out in the middle of a battlefield to be raped made him feel sick. Surrounded by hot blooded men who were driven to such an animalistic state of mind from the fighting, wouldn't have the sense to help her. They would kill each other to try and get a piece of her. He would fight through all of them to save her, but there would be no way to make it out of King's Landing in a war zone.
Joffrey leaned over to Sansa and whispered something in her ear. He snickered as a new plate was placed in front of him. He ate, ignoring Sansa as she quickly wiped her tears away. Sandor wanted to choke him until his eyes bulged out of his skull.
"Easy there, don't want anyone to catch you staring." A voice sang.
"It's my job to guard him. I have to stare you twat." Sandor rasped.
"I mean at her." The voice sang again.
Sandor's hand moved with great speed and grabbed Bronn's chin. He glared into his eyes before letting him go. He stood and made his way to the doors.
"Dog!" The voice that called for him silenced the room. "Where are you going?" All eyes were on them.
"To polish my sword." He winked. Joffrey loved his crudeness. It always helped when he wanted to avoid trouble with the brat.
Joffrey threw a piece of bread at him and Sandor caught it in his mouth. "I can't wait to hear about it in the morning, Dog. See that he has a new flagon of wine!" A skittish servant approached the Hound, presenting him with a new flagon filled to the brim. Sandor took it and raised it to Joffrey before taking a sip.
He chanced a look at Sansa who's eyes looked like they were begging him not to leave. He looked away and left, hoping she knew he would wait for her once she was done.
He sat along one of the walls in the long hall that overlooked the sea. Sandor always loved swimming. On particularly hot days. he would ride Stranger all the way to the sea and spend the day there. Stranger would sleep on the warm sand and Sandor would swim as far as he could. Once he went so far, he had to squint to see the top of the castle. He wondered what it would be like to swim away from this place forever. He looked away from the sea and brought his gaze closer to the castle. He saw men putting bags of sand behind the walls, and positioning the catapults preparing for the upcoming battle. It was coming...soon.
He heard footsteps and rose to his feet. Down the hall he saw Bronn walking alongside Sansa. Although Bronn annoyed him, he would rather have him escort to her rooms rather than Ser Meryn Trant.
"I can take the lady from here." He said to Bronn, who stepped back from Sansa and nodded.
Sansa brushed passed Sandor and continued down the hall. Sandor gave an accusatory look at Bronn who held his hands up innocently. "Women act strange during their blood."
Sandor scoffed at Bronn, thenran after the bird. Once out of Bronn's sight he grabbed her elbow. "Why are you running back to your cage girl?" He asked.
"Let go of me!" She cried. He could tell by the crack of her voice she was crying. She stopped walking, but kept her back to Sandor. He stood behind her, dumbfounded.
"Did Tyrion's pet do something to you, girl?" He guessed.
"No!" Sansa retorted.
"Was it something Joffrey said?' He asked again.
Sansa turned around. Grey makeup spilled down her red cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away.
"Why are you here?" Sansa cried.
"I was waiting outside for you. I needed fresh air." He said honestly.
"Just because I'm highborn doesn't mean I didn't understand what you and Joffrey meant. You went to that brothel!" She sucked the air in like it was water.
Sandor grew angry. "You know damn well that was a lie."
"You said you'd never lie!" She fired back.
"I didn't lie. Let Joffrey take my words and make of them what he will." He stepped close to her. "I needed a quiet place to think."
His soft tone got her attention. "About what?" Her curiosity got the best of her. Her shoulders relaxed as some of the tension left her body.
"You know I would never lie to you, right?' He asked.
Sansa thought for a moment, then nodded.
He told her about the meeting he witnessed that morning. Stannis was coming, and if King's Landing was to fall, what Joffrey meant to do with her. Her faced turned to horror.
"But Stannis wouldn't let that happen. He'd keep me safe." Sansa said to herself.
"No little bird." Sandor leaned down, and put his hand on her shoulder. "One highborn girl is not worth losing the iron throne over. There are still other Stark's out there. Winterfell is not up for grabs yet. If you were the last Stark, maybe... you have to flee."
Sansa let the information sink in. Sandor took her face in his hands, she looked up at him. The closeness along with the wine on his breath made her feel dizzy. "Will you go with me?" She whispered.
Sandor's world was spinning. He was so close to her sweet lips, he wondered what would happen if he lost control and kissed her. She looked at him with eyes full of sadness, and a shimmer of hope at the thought of escaping. He wanted to say yes, but he listed the negatives of doing so. He would lose his home. He didn't mind sleeping in the forest, and did so many times before, but for years? King's Landing was a honey hole for gossip. He could keep a eye on Gregor's where abouts. Going with Sansa, he would lose all that. Maybe one day after he killed Gregor, he could find her and take her somewhere safe. "Littlebird..." He started.
Sansa could tell he was going to say no. Her eyes filled with tears and she pushed him away. "You're just trying to trick me, like Lord Baelish!"
Her comparing him to that snake made his blood boil. "Sansa, listen-"
"No!" She screamed. "You're all after something here! No one actually wants to help me!"
"Get a hold of yourself, girl!" Sandor ordered, looking around. He grabbed her, and pulled her close to him. He breathed in the lavender perfume she wore. It drove him mad. "You know I want to help you."
" Let me go!" Se squirmed under him but he didn't loosen his grip. He had to make her understand. "You're just like the rest of them!"
He had no words, he hadn't expected the conversation to go here. He should have thought it through more. Why didn't he think she would ask him to go. She stopped struggling, waiting for him to say something. No words came out.
"Don't speak to me again." She whispered and pushed herself off him. He let go and watched as she ran to her chambers and slammed the door on his face.
She threw herself on herself on her bed. How could she be so stupid? How could she let her feelings blind her from doing her duties. She couldn't flee! Especially not with the Hound. She represented Winterfell here. She had to be strong. The tears came again when she thought of Joffrey's plans for her. That can't be true! It just can't! She searched for answers. She didn't know what to do. Finally, exhaustion took over and she fell asleep as early morning light crept in through her curtains.
Sandor never left her door that night.