After Shae left Sansa's chambers, Sansa stood on the balcony for a little while, hoping, praying he was still going to come. After she watched the moon rise up, casting a glow on the sea, she went to her door. She pressed her ear against the wood, listening for a sign of him. A heavy sign, his armor clanking as he re positioned himself, anything. Sansa was not one to give up. She had her father's stubbornness, but after hours of waiting, she decided it was time to go to sleep. She crawled into bed, still wearing her traveling dress, holding on to the last bit of hope he would still come. He never did.
She opened her eyes slowly. Early morning light streamed in through the slim opening in between her curtains. She did not sleep well, nightmares plagued her all night. Memories of the previous day crashed through her mind like a canon hitting a brick wall. Her stomach dropped, and she felt like she swallowed her heart whole. She reached for the pitcher of water by her bed and poured it into a tall glass, and drank the whole thing in a matter of seconds, coughing as she put the glass back on the golden stand.
She sat up and breathed deeply. Please, let this be the right decision. Please keep me safe on the long journey home. Please don't let Lord Baelish hurt me. She prayed to the Gods. Please, let my father's spirit protect me and the other's. She let her thoughts wandering for awhile before continuing. And please, watch over Sandor Clegane. See that he makes it out of this battle alive. Sansa finished. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes. "I am a Stark, and I can be brave." She said out loud. She would not let her fears get in the way of what she had to accomplish today.
She was not sure when they were going to make their escape, but she was packed and ready to go at a moments notice. Her handmaidens came in with tea, and drew her a bath. While Shae was styling Sansa's hair, and the other handmaiden, Raina was holding up dresses for her to choose from, there was a knock at the door.
Raina went to open it. She looked at the guest, then turned back to Sansa. "It's Lord Baelish, my lady."
Sansa looked at Shae's reflection in the vanity, and she gave a comforting smile, laced with pity. She stood, and wrapped her robe tightly around her, making sure she was decent. "Let him in."
Raina nidded and opened the door. Petyr walked in. Dressed in his knee length wrap coat, in black with grey detail. He looked Sansa in the eyes, but she felt like his eyes were roaming her entire body. She crossed her arms in front of her.
He bowed slightly. "Good morning, Lady Sansa."
"Good morning Lord Baelish." She politely repeated his greeting.
He looked at Shae and Raina. "Might I speak to Lady Sansa alone?" He asked, but it sounded more like a command.
The girls looked at Sansa for confirmation. She nodded, and they left the room. Shae took one last sorry glance at Sansa before closing the door behind her.
Sansa stood where she was, but Petyr walking closer. "You look tired, my lady. Did you not sleep?" He asked with false concern.
"I did not, Lord Baelish. I was nervous." It was not entirely untrue, but she didn't feel the need to inform him of her previous arrangements.
"You have nothing to be nervous about, sweetling." His pet name for her sent a shiver down her spine. She hated it, it was too intimate of a word for him to call her. "I would never go back on my word." A twinkle of possessiveness gleamed in his eyes. "If I say I am going to take you, then I mean it." What she supposed was meant to sound comforting did nothing but put fear into her heart.
No Sansa, be brave, she told herself. "I appreciate your persistence, Lord Baelish." She said coldly, not wanting him to think she was excited about their travels.
"You're all packed, I trust?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Good." He stepped closer to her, looking into her eyes, as if he was trying to see someone else. "You truly are growing up to be a fine lady."
"Thank you, ser." She cleared her throat, all too aware she was still only dresses in her robe.
"I imagine you are curious as to when we're leaving..." He lowered his voice.
"I am."
"I'm afraid it will not be until tonight. The chaos of the battle will help us in our escape."
Sansa's heart dropped. "We are waiting until the battle begins? But, Lord Baelish, that is when Joffrey means to-"
Petyr took Sansa's face in his cold hands. It caught her off guard and she froze. "You must trust me." He widened his eyes as if trying to manipulate her. "There are guards everywhere right now, standing still, waiting for anything that moves. During the battle, I will send for you. Cersei is sure to keep you in the high tower with her and the other ladies. You will be safe, but we must wait for the right moment." He let go of her face. "Do you trust me, sweetling?"
That name, that awful name, I hate it. "Yes." She answered. She would do anything to get back to her family. "I trust you."
With a smile that stretched his face in a way that told her he rarely did, he bowed and turned to the door. The tension of the room left with him
Shae and Raina returned. They believed her to be one of Cersei's spies, so Shae could not ask if Sansa was alright in her presence. Sansa gave Shae a smile, silently answering her concerns. As she sat back down, readying herself for Shae to finish her hair, there was another knock on the door. Raina went to answer it, and Sansa prayed it was not Lord Baelish again.
As soon as Raina opened the door, she bowed. "Your grace."
Sansa stood, and when she looked up at her guest, she met the icy stare of Cersei Lannister. "Your grace." She bowed.
Cersei wore her signature smirk and waltzed over to Sansa. Two handmaidens followed her into the room carrying something Sansa could not see.
"Litte dove, I see you're up early." As she spoke, the scent of white wine trailed off her tongue.
"Yes, your grace. It is a big day." Sansa prayed she did not see Lord Baelish leave her chambers.
"Indeed." Cersei looked her up and down. She snapped her fingers and the handmaidens rushed to her side. Sansa could now see what they were holding. An exquisite gown made of light purple silk, with dark purple velvet floral detail. The long sleeves flowed down to the knees. The neckline was shaped in a "v" and the chest was embellished with thick gold plates. It almost looked like armor. It was an exact replica of the maroon dress Cersei wore.
"It's beautiful." Sansa admired.
"You will wear it today." Cersei commanded. "Before the King and his guards go into battle, there is to be a ceremony in the throne room which you are to attend."
"Yes, your grace." Her orders worried Sansa. She did not want to be anywhere near Joffrey or Ser Meryn today, but she had no choice. You must do as she says, she calmed herself. Lord Baelish said the chaos of the battle will be your best chance. You have to trust him right now.
"You will then accompany me to the high tower." Cersei added.
Sansa nodded. "I would be happy to."
Cersei sneered at her. "Don't start your perfect words already. It's going to be a long day and it's much too early."
"I apologize, your grace." Sansa bowed, and with a snicker, Cersei and her ladies left Sansa's chamber. Sansa let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding in. Yes, she thought, it is going to be a long day indeed.
Seven buggering hells. Sandor woke up to a throbbing headache. He lifted his arm to rub his forehead but it wouldn't move. He opened his eyes, his lids weighing down heavily, and looked at his left arm.
"What the fuck!" He barked. His arms and legs were tied to his bed posts. His memory from last night was clear until after he went to check on Stranger. As it all came back to him, his fists clenched. Littlefinger. The sodding cunt poisoned me!
Enraged, Sandor let out a roar that would startle even the most ferocious of beasts, and pulled his arms until his headboard broke off the bed. He crisscrossed his forearms, and with another loud yell, the headboard broke in half on his back. He let out a breath. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was not used to such exertion right after waking up.
He untied the rope from his wrists, and rubbed the raw skin around his wrists. A horrible feeling boiled in his stomach. He quickly bent over the bed and vomited on the floor, spitting as the last of it came out.
The little snake, he thought. He pushed himself back up and wiped his mouth. I'm going to gut him and choke him with his own insides, he fantasized as he untied the ropes from his ankles. He threw the ropes to the ground, and rubbed his forehead. The pain was worse than any long night of drinking had ever given him. Visions of dancing with the flamed haired beauty rushed through his mind, and his eyes shot open. Sansa... The Littlebird probably waited for him all night. He had to see her, to explain and figure out a way to take her away before Littlefinger does. Not before I kill him, he thought.
He bolted out of bed, and ran to his wardrobe. He opened the drawers so violently, they popped out of the dresser and fell to the floor. He changed into a fresh cream colored tunic with brown laces at the collar, and clean brown trousers. He put on his boots, and wrapped his scabbard around his waist. He thought about putting on his armor, he felt naked without it, but since he didn't want squire's helping him dress, it took awhile on his own, and he didn't have the time to waste. He walked passed the cracked mirror that hung on his wall, where he usually combed his hair over to the right side of his face, and stormed out the door.
His thunderous footsteps echoed through the corridors as he made his way to Sansa's chamber. Anger and terror swarmed inside him. Littlefinger said he was leaving today, but he didn't know when. What if he already left. What if she's gone and thinks I abandoned her? He picked up his pace, the thin hair surrounding his face flew back, revealing his scars that covered his scalp to his neck. He was a monstrous sight.
The closer he got, the more desperate he became. As he turned the last corner, he ran down the hall and banged on her door, not caring if he startled her. He waited for what felt like hours, but no one answered. When the silence became too much, he banged again, and the door swung open.
Tyrion's raven haired foreign whore opened the door, and to no surprise, did not hide her disgust from him. "What are you doing?"
"Where is she?" He breathed.
Shae crossed her arms over her waist, causing her breasts to push together. "Why do you care."
Sandor did not have time for her games. Tyrion may like it, but it made him want to ring her neck. He pushed her out of his way and forced himself into the chamber. He looked around, checked the balcony, checked everywhere. The only sign of her was the lingering scent of lavender that hung ever so sweetly in the air.
"She's not here." Shae informed.
Sandor breathed heavily, starring at the Littlebird's bed. It was at least twice the size of his. He turned to Shae, but the whore didn't back down from his burning stare. "Where?"
"Breakfast."
Sandor exhaled deeply. She's still in the castle, there's still time.
"She waited all night for you." Shae glared. "Why didn't you come?"
"You already know too much." Sandor growled. He didn't like the way this whore was speaking to him, "I'd keep your mouth shut." He started out the door, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"He came to see her this morning."
"Who?"
Shae raised her eyebrows, and Sandor understood "He made me leave the room, I don't know what he said." Sandor nodded. "Get her out of here, before he does."
Her foreboding tone added to the severity of the situation. She let go of his arm and he left the Littlebird's chamber, not sire of how he was going to get her alone. He schemed as he made his way back to his chamber to get his armor, but was stopped by one of the King's guard.
"There you are, Hound." Ser Boros sang. "His grace is looking for you."
"I was just about to go to the dining hall." Sandor rasped.
"Right, I'll go with you." Ser Boros walked alongside him.
"Piss off." Sandor shoved him against the wall, and walked away, the sound of Boros cursing faded with each large stride.
Before going to face Sansa, Sandor stopped in his room to put his armor on. He decided the time spent putting it was worth spending, in case of another surprise attack from Littlefinger. He buckled the last strap of his shoulder plate and re-wrapped his scabbard around his waist. Catching his reflection in the cracked mirror, Sandor huffed. His hair was parted away from the burns, and to him, it was a hideous sight. He finger combed his hair back over his scars, though he was never completely satisfied with his appearance, it was better.
As he left his room, he hoped it was the last time he would ever do so.
The tension is the dining hall was undeniable. The royal family, the Kingsgaurd, and esteemed guests of the red keep ate in silence. All wondering if they were going to live to see tomorrow.
Sansa had no appellate, but made sure to eat every last bite of her eggs and sausage. She did not doubt there would be plenty of food on the road with Littlefinger, but she was going to take every precaution she could think of. If something happens, and I have to run from him, I must be able to survive on my own, she thought.
"Hungry?" Joffrey mocked. He wore a sapphire wrap around coat, with gold detail. She wanted to laugh, as it was almost as pretty as some of the dresses she wore, but stopped herself.
"Yes, your grace. All that dancing last night made me hungry."
"Did you like dancing with the Hound?"
His question sent caused a mixture of emotions to build inside her. She was frightened Joffrey suspected something, and she was angry, and hurt Sandor did not come for her. "His dancing was most agreeable, your grace." She answered, not wanting to provoke him.
"Agreeable?" He scoffed. "So you enjoy dancing with other men when you are betrothed to me?"
Sansa didn't answer, she prayed if she stayed quiet long enough, he would forget she was there, but he did not. It was as if the Gods didn't exist in King's Landing. Nothing she wished or hoped for ever came true.
"You're no better than a common whore." He spat. Say it.
"I'm a whore." Sansa whispered. She should be shocked by his statement, but after everything he put her through, there was nothing left that could surprise her.
"Say it to everyone." He commanded.
Sansa gripped her fork. She hated him, how could anyone get so much pleasure out of humiliating people? His overbearing stare didn't let up. Sansa took a breath and stood.
Just as she was about to say what he ordered her to, the doors of the dining hall burst open and the man who haunted her nightmares came through.
He stopped in front of Joffrey and bowed. "You were looking for me?" Sandor rasped.
Joffrey held up his hand. "One moment dog. My lady was about to say something." He slumped in his chair and looked up at Sansa with amusement.
Sansa avoided Sandor and focused straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room. "I-" She started, her voice was shaking. Everyone looked up from their plates. "I-"
"Out with it!" Joffrey squealed.
"I'm a whore." She quickly sat back in her seat and kept her head down. She heard the gasps and chatter, and even some laughter from the other's in the room. She recognized Ser Meryn's cackle instantly.
Once Joffrey's obnoxious laughter subsided, he brought his attentions back to Sandor. "Yes, Hound. Where were you this morning?"
"I slept in. Didn't know I was needed so early."
"All the men in my service were required to meet in the throne room at sunrise to be blessed and given new armor."
"I like my armor just fine." He rasped. "And I don't need any blessing to cut a man down." Sansa admired they way Sandor spoke so freely to Joffrey. He truly does not fear death, she marveled, if only I could be so brave.
"You see!" Joffrey spoke to the men in his Kingsguard. "This is what a warrior looks like! If only all of you could command the respect my dog does." He looked back at Sandor, not realizing the irony of his words. He shewed Sandor away with the wave of his hand. "Go. Eat."
Sandor bowed and took his place at the table among the other Kingsgaurd. Sansa noticed the way Lord Baelish's eyes followed him. It made her uneasy.
Sandor was served his breakfast, and once Joffrey went back to picking at his food, Sansa worked up the courage to look at Sandor. While the men around him talked and waved their arms around, telling stories of previous battles, Sandor ate quickly and silently. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and threw his napkin on his plate, almost knocking his chair over as he stood.
"Might I be excused?" He asked.
"For what? There is work to be done, preparations to be made."
"I have to take a shit, and I oversaw the preparations yesterday. Everything's in order."
Joffrey laughed. "Well I don't want you soiling yourself on the battlefield. Go."
Sandor bowed, and the fearful guards opened the doors for him. As he left the room, he took Sansa's heart with him.
I was mistaken to let him in. To trust him. I won't let myself do that again. She swallowed hard.
When breakfast was finished, Joffrey announced all would meet in the throne room an hour before dusk for the ceremony. Everyone waited for the royal family to leave first.
"Ser Boros!" Joffrey called. "See my lady back to her chambers."
Ser Boros ran over to them and bowed. "Yes, your grace."
Joffrey grabbed Sansa and pulled her close. "Don't forget your promise to do whatever it takes to ensure our victory." He hissed in her ear.
She nodded, but had no intention of doing so. I will be long gone before that happens.
Ser Boros didn't try to make conversation on the journey back to her chamber, for which she was thankful. Sansa looked through the arched opening on the side of the corridor and saw hundreds of Baratheon soldiers sharpening their arrows, and swinging their swords at each other, practicing. Twenty men stood side by side and passed large rocks down the line, setting them down by the catapults. Some men started chanting an old battle hymn, as the song progressed, other's joined in, letting it ignite them.
"In flaming fight when man his man is facing,
And down the line ten thousand madly cheer.
When through the veins the blood goes hotly racing,
Then death forgotten loses all its fear,
But let the strife through months of anguish lengthen,
And all be silence save our lonely sigh.
Be with us, Gods, our frightened souls to strengthen
'Twas so the King taught us how to die."
They finished their song and cheered. She supposed they had to sing silly songs in order to distract themselves from the horrors that were to come. She pitied them. These poor men, who receive no respect from the King, not even food, are forced to fight and possibly die for him. The thought made her feel sick. While she cursed being born a woman at times, born only to please her husband, and give birth to his children with out a say in the matter, she would rather carry that burden than fight a bloody battle.
With Ser Boros close behind, Sansa made her way up the stairs. There were no open corridors in that part of the castle. The only light came from the torches that burned every few feet. Sansa noticed how Ser Boros's armor clanked with each step he took. Somehow, it sounded different than Sandor's. It was not comforting, but simply, just a sound.
Sansa wondered if her father and his men sang before battle to ease their racing hearts.
"Omph!" The moan tore Sansa from her thoughts. She turned and could not believe what she saw. Ser Boros was on the floor, unconscious. Above him, stood the man she least expected. Sandor Clegane.
"He's not dead." He reassured. He stepped closer to Sansa, but she backed away, and he halted. "Littlebird-"
"Don't call me that!" Sansa spat.
"Last night, I-"
"No! I do not care, nor do I want to hear what you have to say." Tears threatened to stream down her cheeks, but she held them in. The sadness in his grey eyes made her knees shake. Do not open up to him again.
"Lady Sansa, I-" He started, but Sansa would not let up.
"I said I don't want to hear you speak!" She yelled, quickly inhaling, hoping no one heard her. "You filled my heart with hope, and then ripped it out of my chest." She whispered. Her body trembled.
Sandor was not good at comforting people, he never had the desire to, but seeing the Littlebird, wounded and shaking in front of him made him want to wrap his arms around her and take her away now, killing anyone who got in his way. He brought his hand to her chin and lifted her face. She gave in to the intimate touch. Her eyes closed, and she let the tears fall. Sandor wanted to bring his thumb up to touch her full pink lips. He remembered how the curve on her waist felt under his hand last night while they danced. How her breathing quickened that night they were alone in her chamber. How she begged him to take her away. He felt her start to pull away, but he did not let go. He pushed her against the wall, his arms creating a barrier around her so she couldn't get away.
Her eyes widened, but she did not scream. "Let me go." Her voice was as soft as a warm breeze in Summer. It was maddening, he wanted her to yell at him. The delicacy of her voice meant she had given up on him. Rage filled him, and he punched the wall behind her. She did not flinch. She just looked at him with those blue innocent eyes. Those damn eyes. Their faces were so close, and they both seemed to fall under the same spell that enchanted them a few nights ago in her chamber. His eyes went to her perfect lips. Her eyes trailed across his scars, but she no longer saw the burns, only the lonely man with a heart as cold as winter.
"I was going to come last night." He rasped. "I will still take you away."
"No." She breathed.
"You'd rather leave with that snake? Do you want to know what he did to me last night?" He didn't wait for her answer. "He put poison in my drink."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"He knew I meant to take you away." He tried to get under her skin. "I still do."
Sansa was trying to wrap her head around Lord Baelish poisoning Sandor. He wouldn't do that, would he? "If he poisoned you, you would be dead."
"There are different kinds of poisons, girl. Your septa didn't teach you these things?" He attempted to joke, to ease the tension, but it didn't work. "He is a monster."
"I will travel with the foulest creature if it means getting back to my family."
Sandor didn't know what to say. For the first time since his sister and grandfather passed, he cared for someone other than himself. It took him long enough to realize it, and he sure as hell didn't know how to show it. Trying to find to right words, he barely noticed Sansa's hand on his forearm. She pushed down, lowering his arm so she could free herself from his barrier. He would not take part in imprisoning her anymore, so he let her go.
He watched as she slowly walked away from him, but stopped and turned back around. Her eyes never leaving the floor.
"I will pray for your safety tonight." She promised. Her voice cracked, but she never gave in to the tears. She walked back to him and grabbed his hand, stuffing something inside before leaving.
The train of her dress was the last thing he saw as she disappeared inside her chambers, locking the door behind her. He opened his hand and saw she gave him a white handkerchief with a small drop of dried blood. It was the one he used to wipe her lip after Ser Meryn hit her. He wanted to kick the door down and grab her under his arm. That's a good way to get you both killed. Littlefinger is sure to escape during battle, he thought. He's smart, he knows that'll be the best time to do it. Sandor had until then to come up with a plan.
He stuffed the handkerchief in his breastplate, and turned back the way he came, and headed to the stables. He had to feed Stranger, and make sure his belongings weren't discovered. He passed Ser Boros, still on the floor, and walked down the stairs. Down the long open corridor he went. He could hear the men's harmonious songs as they continued their work. Sandor growled and stuck his head out of the arched opening. "If you sodding cunts don't shut up, I'll make sure I slit all your throats before any of Stannis' scum!" The men looked up at him, and stopped their singing.
Sandor spit, and watched it land on the ground beside the men, before he continued down the hall. He turned a corner and saw the man who's throat he really wanted to slit.
"Hello, Clegane." Littlefinger greeted. "Feeling better?" He asked smugly.
Nothing could calm to rage that boiled inside Sandor. He unsheathed one of his daggers and ran to him. Ten guards came out of nowhere and rushed between the enemies. Sandor broke the neck of the first man, and stabbed the second one, but as the guards started to surround him, it was too much for Sandor. It took four men to hold his arms behind his back and keep him still. A fifth man held a knife to his throat. Sandor head butted him and he fell to the ground.
"If you don't let me go, I'm going to rape all your wives while you watch, then kill you!" He threatened the guards who held him.
"They've all been payed handsomely for their help, and silence in this matter." Littlefinger's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Your empty threats won't save you. I'm afraid we shall not meet again, for as you know, I'm leaving tonight. I will be sure to give our mutual friend your regards." He smiled. "Take him to the dungeon. I'll inform the King he was trying to escape with his tail between his legs."
"You fucking coward!" Sandor barked, trying to break free of the guards hold. They forcefully pushed him, making their way to the dungeon. As Sandor passed Littlefinger he spat in his face. "I'm going to fucking kill you."
Littlefinger delicately wiped the saliva from his face, and smiled. "Good bye, Clegane."
He watched Sandor try to break free of the guards as they took him down to the dungeon.