Hello, hello readers! So, not so funny story, I finished this chapter Friday, and was going to edit and post Saturday. When I opened my computer yesterday, guess what? The document was gone! I went to the geek squad and they couldn't recover it. So I had to start over. I apologize for the wait, but I'm really happy with this chapter and hope you like it. Also, in my search for Christmas presents, I came across a Sansa Stark perfume on etsy and had to buy it for myself. The sampler size was only 6 dollars and it smells amazing. When I smell it on myself throughout the day, I get secretly excited thinking of san/san. Ugh I just love it and highly recommend it. They have a bunch of other scents too. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and again sorry for the wait. Here's a link to the perfume.

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Sansa hurried down the corridor to her chambers, wishing she had something more comfortable than the jeweled shoes she wore. Her feet ached, but she didn't dare stop. Bronn followed close behind, and she was thankful he did not try to make conversation, for her mind was still lingering on one she had with Sandor just moments ago.

The night before, she told him not to speak to her again, but something would not let her stay quiet. Mayhaps it was the stubbornness of the wolves in her blood? When he asked her about Littlefinger she realized he was watching her. Not guarding, but spying. Why would he want to spend his day watching me? She wondered. He thinks me a foolish, naive girl. Surely he would rather spend his time elsewhere. She couldn't ignore the warm feeling she got knowing he was following her though...

When he warned her about Lord Baelish, he grabbed her wrist tightly. Something changed in his eyes in that moment. They went from rage, to fear. Fear for her. He did not move his hand away, and something natural took over inside her, making her step closer. His grey eyes looked down at her open mouth, hungrily. She did the same and noticed Sandor's lips were different than Joffrey's and Pety's. Their's were thin and dry. Sandor's were fuller, and she liked the way the corners of his mouth turned down. She could smell plums and blackberries from the wine on his breath and felt an urge to taste him. The privacy of the garden balcony made the moment feel all the more intimate. The sea was at her back, and he in front of her, blocking her from the view of the castle. She pretended for a moment they were somewhere else.

When he possessively told her she couldn't go with Littlefinger, she responded by whispering she would leave with whoever would take her away from this place, hoping he understood the secret message in her words. The longing in his eyes left, and he tore his hand from hers. She left before he could insult her anymore.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Bronn asked.

Sansa shook her head, ridding herself of her thoughts, and saw they had arrived at her chamber door. She turned around and smiled at Bronn.

"I am well." She reassured. "Thank you, Bronn." Although he did not know how to act in front of a lady, Sansa found that she rather enjoyed his company. She turned to go inside but he stopped her.

"If I may, my lady?" He asked. Sansa turned back around, nodding in approval. He looked down both ends of the corridor, making sure no one was near. Satisfied with the privacy, he spoke lower. "I wouldn't trust Lord Baelish. He's a snake, and wants you to take control of the North." He whispered. "Trust the Hound."

Her eyes went as wide as saucers. Oh Gods, he knows. Goose pimples appeared on Sansa's arms.

"You need not worry Lady Stark. Unlike so many here, I am able to hold my tongue." Bronn winked at her, and for whatever reasons, Sansa trusted him.

Just then, her chamber door swung open and her hand maiden, Shae stood there with one hand behind her back. "Is everything alright, my lady?" She asked, glaring at Bronn.

"I think she may be getting tired of having to answer that question." Bronn joked. Sansa laughed politely, but Shae didn't move.

"Thank you again, Bronn." Sansa smiled. "I shall see you before dinner." He bowed, and Sansa disappeared into her chambers. Shae closed the door behind her. As Sansa walked to her bed, Shae tucked her dagger back into its sheath.

Tired from the lack of sleep, and eventful day, Sansa sat on her soft bed and closed her eyes taking deep breaths. Shae's silence was distracting, and Sansa opened one eye quizzically and found her friend standing by the door, smirking.

"What?" Sansa asked.

"Was that him?" Shae smiled excitedly.

"Who?" Sansa had both eyes open now. Her red brows furrowed.

Shae made her way to the bed. Her golden bracelets jingled with each step "The man you like?" She plopped down next to Sansa with a huge grin.

"Bronn?" Sansa cried. "Gods no!"

The girls burst into a fit of giggles. Sansa couldn't remember the last time she laughed so hard. It was a wonder that even after all she'd been through she could still laugh. Once they caught their breath, Shae shifted further away so she could face Sansa. She took her hands and held them on her lap.

"Do you want to talk about this morning, my lady?" Shae asked softly.

Sansa looked down at their hands. "Lord Baelish met with me in the gardens today." She admitted.

"He seems to be doing that a lot." Shae sneered.

"He's offered to take me to-" Sansa stopped herself. Shae was her friend, but even still, she did not want to give her plans away. Lord Baelish told her he would take her to her Aunt Lysa in the Eerie. Sansa had only met her odd Aunt once. She remembered Arya making fun of her nonsensical manners. "Away from here. He said if I want to go, he'll take me."

Shae let out a breath. "And he is your only way out?"

Shae's question was one Sansa had been trying to find the answer to. Mayhaps the Gods could give her answers. Too exhausted to walk to the Godswood, Sansa decided to go to the sept in the castle. She figured even if she prayed to her Old Gods in there, they would listen.

"I think I feel like sitting in the sept for a while." Sansa decided out loud. She stood and smoothed her dress.

"I'll go with you. You shouldn't be alone right now." Shae stood, smiling.

Sansa wanted to be alone, but she was grateful for Shae's company and too polite to refuse her.

"I would like that." Sansa smiled.

The girls made there way down the corridor arm in arm. A cool end of Summer breeze swept through the open walls sending a chill down Sansa's spine. She wondered how Shae was not cold. The handmaiden's attire dress was not very practical. She noticed Shae's nipples peeking out and quickly turned back ahead. Sansa had grown a lot during her time in the Red Keep. The stares from men grew everyday, but she never really looked at herself. When she was younger, she imagined what it would be like to have the body of a woman, to look at her self in a mirror and see things only her husband would be allowed to. Since her body went through its change, things in King's Landing had worsened, and staring at her nude self was the last of her concerns, but that didn't stop her from wondering if Sandor thought of her as a woman.

Their footsteps in the shallow halls were silenced by the sound of men's voices. "Look!" Shae pointed outside. The girls rushed to the wall, and peaked their heads out, getting a better view of the lower level. Men in Lannister red an gold uniforms set up one of many catapults along the wall walk. Other were placing clusters of arrows in thin buckets against the wall. Winter wasn't the only thing coming. War was near. The girls watched the men silently from above. Sansa remembered her father telling her stories of his battles, but they were just stories to her. Now that war was upon them, and she would be caught in the middle of it, she was terrified. I wonder if my father felt this same terror.

"What are you doing you cunts?" The raspy voice was unmistakable. Sandor. He stormed over to the men and picked up one of the arrows. "If they're sticking out above the wall the stags can crush them!" The men cowered. "Do you hens want to be with out weapons when they come?" He shoved the arrow at one of the men. "Lay them down flat!" The men scrambled and did as the Hound ordered. Sansa and Shae watched the men fix their mistakes, but Sansa's eyes went back to Sandor. He was so tall and powerful. His very height commanded the respect of the men. He watched the men, making sure they finished their duties. As if he felt her eyes on him, his back stiffened. He turned around and before Sansa could hide, he looked right at her. She gasped and pushed herself back from the window, out of his sight.

"My lady?" Shae asked, concerned.

Sansa began walking. "I-I just want to make sure I have enough time to pray before dinner." Sansa kept her eyes down, for she knew they would give her away.

"Is that why you're blushing?" Shae followed, hiding a smile.

"I don't know what you mean." Sansa controlled her shaking voice as much as she could. She held her chin high and tried to walk ahead of Shae so she couldn't see her embarrassment.

Sansa had never been inside the sept, for she always went to the Godswood to pray. Like everything else in King's Landing, it was beautiful. Colors streamed in through the high ceiling, which was decorated in stained glass. The marble floor was covere in the middle by a long red rug that went down the center of the room. Long mahogany benches sat on either side of the walkway. They were kept so clean, Sansa could almost see her reflection in the wood. The walls were covered with old paintings. Sansa spun around slowly, trying to decipher the story they told.

They took a seat in the second row. Sansa looked at Shae and watched her marvel at the beauty of the room. In that moment, Sansa was glad she came along. A soft silence filled the air and Sansa closed her eyes. She began her prayers to the father, for Stannis to have victory. The mother, to watch over her lady mother, and brother, Robb, in their cause, and her sister, wherever she might be. The maiden, to lead her on a path without danger or harm. Lastly, she prayed to the warrior, to watch over Sandor. Though he was a most fearsome killer, he was not immortal. She learned that when he father was beheaded. She finished her prayers, and they sat quietly in the peaceful room. Shae did not try to make conversation. Sansa didn't know what faith she belonged to, but her silence told her she had her own worries and hopes to think on. It wasn't until the light from the ceiling darkened that they decided to leave.

Refreshed from her afternoon in the sept, the girls headed back to Sansa's chambers to get her ready for dinner. They passed through the open corridor where the men were setting up catapults. Sansa did not look back outside in case Sandor was still there. He may have spent his day watching her, but she would not let him catch her watching him again.

Sansa always felt better after praying, and as she tapped her finger against her lip while she looked at her wardrobe, one gown caught her eye. It was not like her other preferred dresses that were either deep greens, purples, or blues, or very light pinks and creams. This dress was grey with a white trim, her house colors. The neckline was not delicate, but squared. The sleeves not flowing, but stiff. The bodice squeezed her waist tightly, lifting her bosom up high. Sansa looked at herself in the vanity and smiled. She looked powerful. She looked like her mother.

Bronn came to the door and informed her dinner would be served a bit late because Joffrey and Tyrion were still in the small council room. Shae busied herself by tiding the chamber, and Sansa went to sit on the balcony with a book. The calming sound of the waves distracted her from her reading, and she stared at the vast blackness. She imagined what it would be like to swim far, far away from this place. No games to play, no appearances to keep up, or people to please, just her and the sea. She would swim until her lungs gave out. The only thing left to do would be to float on her back and let death wrap its arms around her, reuniting her with her father in peaceful bliss. Although the water looked freezing, she imagined death would feel like laying underneath a high summer sun.

"My lady." Sansa awoke to Shae shaking her shoulder. She must have been so tired, she fell asleep. "It's time for dinner."

Sansa did not know why Shae's tone was so solemn, but when she went to her door to meet Bronn, she understood why. "Lord Baelish." Sansa gasped. He stood in her doorway, dressed in his usual black and grey long coat. His silver hair combed back neatly.

"Lady Stark." He grinned at her. Even though he never broke his stare from her eyes, she felt as if he took in her entire body. "I thought I would escort you to dinner so that we might finish our conversation.

Shae handed Sansa a grey shawl. She never liked wearing them, but she gladly took it, thankful to have something to cover herself in the company of Littlefinger. She smiled at Shae, who was glaring at Lord Baelish. He did not seem to notice her angry glare, but Sansa knew he saw. He saw everything.

They exchanged empty pleasantries as they walked to the dining hall. As the got closer, Sansa felt him tense up.

"Have you thought more about my offer?" He asked, stopping his steps.

"I'm afraid not, ser." Sansa swallowed. She followed his lead and stood beside him "I spent my afternoon in the sept, praying."

"Praying?"

"Yes, ser. War is coming and I pray for the safety or those I love."

Petyr took in her words. "Prayer is false, Sansa. Tell me, is it prayer that is giving you a way out, or me? It is the worst poison of all. It makes those who do nothing feel like they're taking part in decisions bigger than them. When the outcome is good, they rejoice, and when it is bad, they curse the very Gods they asked for help. Prayer is unreliable. Why put your fate in those you cannot see, when you can control your own life?"

Sansa had to bite her tongue. She wanted to defend her Gods, but didn't dare insult the man who might very well be her only chance at escape. Her father's stubbornness took over, not letting it go completely. "I pray for strength to do what I must to survive. Even if that mean trusting those I do not think wise to trust."

His beady eyes bore into hers and he stepped closer. "You may believe in your father's old Gods." His fingers stroked a loose strand of her hair. "But you have your mother's spirit, Sweetling."

Everyone seemed to have their nickname for her. Cersei called her, Little Dove, and Petyr called her Sweetling. Mayhaps by calling her those things, instead of what she truly was, a highborn princess of the North, it made it easier for them to torture her. Even Sandor had one for her, Littlebird...but that she did not mind. Petyr removed his hand from her hair, and offered his arm. She reluctantly took it and they continued down the corridor.

When they entered the dining hall, Sansa spotted Sandor right away. His towering presence made it hard not to. He broke his stoic expression and glared at her and Petyr's intertwined arms. He escorted her all the way to her seat, passing her off from one monster to the next, her betrothed Joffrey.

Sansa picked at her pork and noticed Joffrey was not acting like his usual self. There was no fool dancing in front of him, and he was not gossiping with his mother. He sat in silence staring ahead. It was unnerving.

"Are you feeling well, your grace?" Sansa asked.

It seemed to break Joffrey out of the spell he was under, and he turned to her. "Yes. Quite well. How was your day my lady?"

His question was calm and...normal. It was not like Joffrey to speak to her so plainly. She straightened her back, readying herself from any of his blows. "Relaxing. I spent my morning in the gardens, and afternoon in the sept." Sansa smiled. Joffrey clenched his jaw and turned back to his food. "Is something the matter?"

"Do you want to know how I spent my day?" He started. "While you were prancing around the gardens like a fool, I was making strategies, and going over weaponry. Making sure we are preparing as much as we can to win this battle." His face reddened and he started to raise his voice. "Your King, is doing all that he can to make sure we stay on the iron throne and you, my soon to be wife, dare to come in here wearing your house colors!" The room was silent. All eyes were on the mad king.

Sansa stared up wt him, eyes wide as saucers. "It's just a dress. I-"

"Enough!" Joffrey shrieked.

"Joffrey, please not now-" Cersei pleaded

"I said enough!" Cersei slumped back in her seat and Joffrey returned his unwanted attention to Sansa. "Get up!" He grabbed her by her arm and dragged her to the middle of the room, throwing her on the ground. Petyr stayed seated, even he didn't want to feel the wrath of the Baratheron brat. Sansa saw Sandor had moved from his post by the wall and was now standing closer. His fingers gripped tightly around the handle of his sword.

"Your father was a traitor!" Joffrey spat, circling her. "Are you a traitor like him?"

Sansa held her tears. "No."

"So you admit he was a traitor." Joffrey laughed.

"Yes." Sansa lied. She kept her head down, not wanting to see the satisfaction in his eyes.

"Say it." He commanded.

"He was a traitor."

"Who?"

"My father was a-"

"Say his name!" Joffrey yelled.

Sansa looked up at Cersei, who looked back without an ounce of pity. "My father, Lord Eddard Stark was a traitor..."

He stopped circling her and now stood right in front of her. "Say it again."

Sansa took a breath. "My father, Lord Eddard Stark was a traitor."

"Again!" His said joyfully.

Sansa could feel her eyes burning. "My father, Lord Eddard Stark was a traitor."

"Again!" Joffrey shreiked.

"My father, Lord Eddard Stark was a traitor!" Sansa screamed. She looked up at him. Tears began to stream down her red cheeks. Joffrey knelt down in front of her.

"And as future Queen of this city, you will do your duties, by any means necessary, to make sure we are victorious?" He sneered.

Sansa knew of the actions he spoke of. There was no question about trusting Littlefinger now, she had to leave. She nodded at his question.

"Say it." He said through his teeth.

"I will do whatever is asked of me to help win the battle, your grace." Sansa whimpered.

Her sobs were the only sound in the room. It was said it's better to be feared, than loved, and Joffrey was indeed feared by all. Pleased with her answer he stood, and without

offering her a hand up, he waltzed back to his seat. "Take her back to her rooms, I don't want to look at her anymore."

The familiar sound of Sandor's armor made it's way to her. He held out his large hand, and helped her up. Sansa bowed to the royal table and walked to the door. "And burn the dress." Joffrey ordered after her.

Sandor followed close behind as Sansa rushed to her chambers. He did not talk, or mock her, just walked behind her. Each step reminding her of his presence, and she felt safe. When they made it to her room. Sansa tried to say thank you, but no words came out. She knew if she turned around to look at him, his eyes would make her burst into tears. Any sign of comfort would set her off. She remembered when she was a little girl, any time one of her siblings upset her, as soon as her mother or father embraced her she would start crying. She hoped she would grow out of that. With out one word or glance, Sansa opened her door and closed it behind her, shutting out Sandor, and the rest of the world.

Her handmaidens helped her change out of the grey dress, and into her white nightgown. Shae offered to stay a little while longer, but this time Sansa denied her company. Shae understood, and with a small smile, she left with Sansa's dress in hand. Finally, Sansa was alone. She blew out the only lit candle, allowing the darkness to swallow her. Curled underneath the safety of the blankets, she let everything out. She didn't feel safe with Petyr, but what choice did she have? Joffrey was getting worse, and she knew Sandor's warning was true. Oh Sandor... she sobbed. Why can't he be the one to take me away? She thought. Exhausted, and out of tears, Sansa let sleep claim her.

BOOM! Sansa sat up with a start. It was still dark, she must have only been asleep for a few hours. She leaped out of bed and ran to her balcony, expecting to see hundreds of men, and fire, but no. She looked down below her and saw three men, dressed in Lannister colors laughing next to a catapult. They were just practicing. Oh Gods. Sansa put her hand over her heart and caught her breath. Stannis wasn't here yet. She slumped back to her bed, and sat on the edge of the soft matress. The light from the moon reflection off the vanity. She stared at it, taking herself back in time to Winterfell. When the full moon came, her and her siblings direwolves would disappear into the forest for three nights. Sansa would sleep with her window open so she could listen to them howl. Her youngest brother, Rickon hated it, but she loved the sound. It made her feel safe, imagining the direwolves keeping watch in the forest, making sure no evil came to the castle. She remembered another who made her feel that way and he was standing right outside her door.

Sansa got up from her bed and tip toed to the door. She pressed her ear against the wood, listening for a sign of him. She heard nothing but silence for a few moments, then the sound of his armor rang through the door as he shifted his stance. She slowly opened the large wooden door, letting the torch light from the hall spill into her room. He stood tall and proud. She could only see a little of his face, for his back was to the door, but it eased her beating heart.

"Sandor..." She whispered.

He turned around. "What are you doing, Littlebird." He whispered, looking around making sure no one was near. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't." Sansa caressed the door handle with her fingers. "The noise woke me up. They're practicing."

"Aye, and they'll be dead by tomorrow night for doing so at this hour."

"Mayhaps they're just frightened." Sansa looked up at him. "Are you?"

She watched his throat move as he swallowed. "Aye, Littlebird. I'm afraid."

They were silent for a moment. "I meant to thank you, for tonight. I saw you, put your hand on your sword..."

She moved her eyes back on her fingers, not wanting to meet his gaze, but she felt his stare burn through her scalp. "You couldn't have waited until daylight to do so?" He rasped in a low whisper.

Sansa took a breath and looked up at him with an open mouth. A loose curl hung in front of her face. Sandor slowly lifted his hand, as one would to a timid animal. He moved the curl away from her cheek, his finger grazed her skin and it made her feel lightheaded. The sound of three men's footsteps echoed in the halls, breaking her out of the trance Sandor put her in. With a heavy hand, he shoved her back into her rooms and shut the door behind them.

They stood by the door, with their palms against it in case the men tried to get in.

"Where's the dog?" One of them drunkenly asked the others.

"Probably getting more ale." Another man chimed in. "She doesn't need guarding with what our King has planned for her." He laughed.

The footsteps became quieter and quieter, and they listened until they were certain the men were gone. Sansa moved a little and she felt Sandor's hand right next to hers. The darkness gave her bravery, and she gently slid her fingers over his large rough hand. Sandor didn't move. Sansa was suddenly aware that she was alone with a man in her chambers, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. She imagined the fit her old septa would have if she knew of her behavior. A cold breeze came in through the balcony, and caused her nipples to peak out of her nightgown the way Shae's did earlier that afternoon.

Sansa took her hand off his and turned her body so that she faced him, putting them in the same position they were in this morning in the gardens. She wanted to show him she was a woman grown, able to make her own decisions. Mayhaps he didn't want to take me, because he thinks I still fear him, she wondered. I will just have to show him I'm not afraid.

She stepped closer to him, closer than he had this morning. Her chest pressed against his armor, and he stayed completely still. Mayhaps he's the one who's afraid, she smiled. She brought her left hand to the right side of his face, the side where the burns covered his flesh with twisted scars. The first time she saw them, she averted her eyes, not wanting to stare. No such fear lived inside her now. She looked deep within his eyes, and held his face in her hand, unafraid. She felt his heart quicken and he brought his hand up to hers. It was so big, it covered hers completely. He looked down at her lips, just like he had this morning, desire filled in his stare. Unimaginable tension surrounded them. In showing him her lack of fear, she brought new feelings to herself. Strange urges took over and she could barely stand. Gods, what was happening to her?

"Sandor..." She breathed his name uncontrollably.

He must have been asking himself the same question, for he tore her hand from his face, and took a few steps back. For the second time today, he denied her touch. Before Sansa could say anything, he opened her door and left her room, leaving her breathless.