Sansa stood on the balcony of her chamber. Looking down below, she could see soldiers, dressed in Lannister red and gold proudly walking around, checking catapults, stocking weapons, making sure everything was in order. The cloud of forboding strayed over Kings Landing, and all could sense the storm that was coming.
Sansa fidgeted with her fingers, telling herself over and over she made the right decision. Sandor let me down too many times, I couldn't say yes. I couldn't risk staying here. Her thoughts troubled her, but she did not give in to the tears. I have shed enough tears for Sandor Clegane. Closing her eyes, Sansa began to say a prayer for him. Though he mocked the her beliefs and faith in the Gods, Sansa prayed for him above all others on this night. He was a warrior, and had the scars to prove it, but he was still just a man. One that bleeds like the rest.
"Please, dear mother..." She whispered. "Watch over Sandor Clegane tonight. See to it he is not harmed. I have seen the good that lives inside of him." And she had. He saved her countless times, and made her feel less lonely during her time in the red keep. Mayhaps, one day, when I'm back home, I can see him again, and the rage inside him will have died. But that was an idea for dreamers, if there's anything Sansa learned in King's Landing, it was not to dream.
A chill in the air came over the balcony, and Sansa went back inside, crossing her arms over her chest. Since she had packed her belongings, she did not want to allow any of the hand maidens other than Shae inside, but it proved difficult on this day. They were constantly buzzing in and out of her chamber, Sansa was certain it was Cersei who ordered them to do so.
When one that she did not recognize came in asking if she needed anything, Shae had enough. "The lady is fine! I am here if she needs anything, I suggest you leave." She spat.
The handmaiden shrunk away and left the room.
Sansa couldn't help but laugh. "Gods Shae, I'm glad I'm on your good side."
Shae sat on the bed next to Sansa. "I hate this war. It's making everyone crazier than they already are."
"I know..." Sansa sighed. She didn't tell Shae about her interaction with Sandor in the halls. Shae made her thoughts on Lord Baelish clear, and Sansa didn't want her words affecting the decision she already made. She looked over at her friend and frowned when she saw the bags under her eyes, Her usually perfect complexion looked dull.
"I must thank you again for waiting up with me last night." Sansa said.
"I've had later nights." Shae winked at her. "Next time I see that man I'll-"
"Shae, don't." Sansa muttered. She put her head down. "He did his best."
"But, my lady, he-"
Sansa put her hand up. "I know." When she put her hand down, she took Shae's. "Thank you."
Shae nodded. "On a day like this, looks are least important, but you look like a Queen in that dress."
Sansa smiled. She stood and walked to her vanity, taking in her reflection. She could not deny the dress Cersei forced her to wear was beautiful. Her hair was styled in a halo braided updo, making her neck appear even longer than it already was. I look like my mother, she smiled at herself, pretending for a moment, it was her mother smiling back at her.
When the warm amber lights of sunset painted the walls of Sansa's chambers, her nerves heightened. It would be any moment now someone would escort her to the throne room for the ceremony...than the battle would begin. Gods, what madness this is, she thought. None of her books prepared her for this. They described war and battles, and it all seemed terribly exciting, but Sansa was anything but. She picked at her nails with worry.
The knock at her door broke the long silence, and she immediately stood. Shae put her fingers on the handle, and looked at Sansa one last time before opening the door.
"My lady." Bronn bowed. As he straightened, Sansa saw the solemn look in his eyes.
"Come in."
He walked in, smiling at Shae as he passed her. "I was sent to escort the Lady to the throne room."
"Shae, would you give us a moment alone please?" Sansa asked.
"Of course." She nodded. 'I'll be right outside." Her words were directed at Bronn.
When the door closed, they stood uncomfortably foe a few moments before Sansa spoke. "You look like a true knight." She complimented.
Bronn looked down at his armor. His usual brown, dirty attire was now glittering silver armor with a new chainmail shirt underneath. His long hair was combed back and tied at the nape of his neck, as to not get in his eyes during battle. "Thank you, though I don't I don't think armor suits me as well as it does you."
Sansa let out a laugh, something she thought she was now incapable of doing.
"What are you still doing here?" Bronn said in a hushed tone.
Sansa sighed and looked down. "He did not come."
"I can see that." Anger filled his eyes, and Sansa could tell he was biting his tongue.
"I am still leaving." She whispered.
"With the snake." He clenched his jaw.
"I'd rather try to avoid the bite a snake than a lion." She attempted to make him smile, but he did not. She hesitantly put her hand on his arm, and he brought his eyes up to hers. "You have shown me great kindness. I thank you." Her words were true.
"You are the only one here worth showing any to."
His words almost brought tears to her eyes. "You have kept secrets for me, and protected me, I'm afraid I must ask one more thing of you."
"Out with it." He smiled.
"I need you to watch over Sandor in the battle." She looked down. "Please."
"My lady, I imagine he will be the one protecting all of us tonight." Bronn let out a laugh, but seeing Sansa's worried expression did not soften, he added, "But I will do what I can."
A small smile grew on Sansa's face. "Thank you." She whispered.
Bronn held out his arm for her, and before he opened the door, in their last moment alone together, he added. "Don't forget, you have the sharp bite of a wolf."
His words gave her strength, and together, they walked through the corridors to the throne room. Sansa was relieved it was not Sandor who escorted her, but part of her wished it was. So she could talk to him one last time. After she left, chances are she would never see him again. He clearly had no desire to travel to Winterfell, and had his own troubles to deal with, like Gregor. Bronn stuck his elbow out so Sansa could rest her arm on his. It didn't send her heart racing when Bronn touched her, but she felt comforted all the same.
The throne room was decorated in lavish decor. It reminded Sansa of the night the Baratheon family came to Winterfell. They had taken extra time in making sure the room looked like another world. Hundreds of candles were lite and placed around the room. Red drapes with golden lions stitched into the fabric hung from the walls. The men of the small council stood to the left of the iron throne, and the men of the Kingsguard stood to the right. A group of little girls, who were clearly from the lower city, since they were covered in dirt stood in the middle of the room singing a soft hymn. It was beautiful. Sansa smiled at them as she passed by, and Bronn walked her up the stairs so she could take her place by the iron throne. Cersei, Tommen, and Tyrion, along with their guards stood with her.
The scene in front of her looked so festive, though the room was tense. For some of these men knew, it would be their last night alive. She looked at everyone one of their faces. The girl's who sang the gentle hymn, innocence spread on their joyous faces, so excited to be singing for the royal court, oblivious to what was about to happen. The small council stood with their hands nervously clasped together, concerned with the outcome of the battle, for if Stannis won, they would be stripped of their titles, or worse, killed. The Kingsgaurd stood proud and ready to fight. Joffrey had done a good job of seeing to it only the most blood thirsty men were in his guard. They looked like rabid dogs impatiently waiting to be let off their leash.
The doors burst open, and Joffrey walked in. The singing stopped, and everyone straightened as he took his place on the iron throne, escorted by Ser Meryn Trant, who gave Sansa a grin. She ignored him, and fixed her gaze on the girls, and tried to remember what it was like to be that young and carefree. How foolish she had been, wishing to be where she was now. As the room settled, and the ceremony began, Sansa couldn't help but notice someone was missing...
Sandor's armor clanked as Littlefinger's men threw him down in the cell. He immediately stood and grabbed one of the men, but the other was quick enough to leave the cell and lock the door behind him. Sandor held his dagger to the mans's throat.
"Go ahead, Clegane." Littlefinger smirked as he stepped into the torch light just outside the cell. "Kill him."
The guard struggled in Sandor's arms, but he kept a firm grip and pressed his dagger deeper into his neck.
"Kill him." Littlefinger pressed. "His will be the only life you take tonight."
"If I only take one, it'll be yours." He rasped.
Littlefinger wrapped his hand around the bars. "This is Bravvosi steel." He gave them a shake. "You're not getting out of here."
Sandor laughed at his attempted threat. He let the guard go, who cowered on the other side of the cell. Sandor walked over to the bars, feeling them with his large hands. "You're right. These are Bravoosi made bars." He looked at Littlefinger. "Cheaply made by boys who haven't grown chest hair yet."
"Joffrey will take care of you in the morning." Excitement gleamed in his beady eyes. "He likes you, so he probably won't kill you. It won't matter to me though, I'll be long gone...with your prize."
Rage filled Sandor's veins. He slammed against the bars, causing Littlefinger to back away. "I know these roads better than a woman's body. It won't be long before I find you."
"Try if you must, Clegane." He sneered. "I will be traveling with more guards than you can fight off." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Even if you do manage to find her, I will poison her mind, so that the next time she sees you, you'll be nothing but another monster from her past, and I, her hero."
"You'll never be anything more than the man who still hasn't gotten over her mother. You're not half the man Eddard Stark was. He was a fool, but not a snake. Catelyn saw that, and she'll never see anything else when she looks at you."
"You might be right. Except when I return her beloved daughter, she will have to thank me somehow, and we both know what my price will be. Your Littlebird." He smiled, knowing he was getting under Sandor's skin.
Sandor tightened his grip around the bars. "Your words will only save you for so long. Eventually, you're going to shit on enough people, no amount of guards can protect you."
Littlefinger stepped away from the bars, and straightened his long coat. "I wish you luck in the morning, Clegane, that is if you survive the night." As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, "I hear King's Landing will burn." His guards followed him, disappearing into the dark, damp corridor.
His words haunted Sandor. King's Landing will burn?" What the fuck does that mean?" As Sandor turned around, the guard in his cell scurried as far away from him as he could. Sandor stormed over to him. The guard yelped and put his hand in front of his face.
"So this is who Littlefinger arms himself with? Cowards." He spat. Littlefinger filled him with rage, that he could only get out by killing a man. He wanted to stick his blade into the guards stomach, and tear his guts out, but stopped himself. He would have plenty of time to satisfy his blood lust later. Now, he needed to be smart and figure out how to get out of the cell with out giving in to the madness. "If you want to live to see another miserable day, you're going to help me get out of here." The guard shook under his grip. Sandor brought him up to his face. "Do you hear me?"
The guard nodded. "Y-yes."
Sandor let him fall to the floor and stood. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath. "Tell me everything you know."
The guard sat up, still nervously shaking. "I don't know much, ser. Only that he means to leave tonight." He swallowed hard. "I was supposed to go with him, but now-"
"He left you behind, and don't ever call me ser." Sandor looked around the cell. "What else?"
"That's all I know. He payed me in gold, and promised my family would be looked after if I helped him, and that I wouldn't have to fight in the battle. That sounded good to me."
"I wouldn't say that out loud boy. Men don't take kindly to deserting cunts like you." Sandor sat on a stack on hay that was in the corner of the room. He held his dagger to the torch light, thinking. He had limited time to figure this out, and his rage was slowly turning into nerves. He suppressed those feelings. If he gave in, he would lose it.
I can't let her leave with him, even if I die in doing so, he told himself. Sandor did not fear death. If it came, he would leave this maddening place gladly, but he wouldn't feel right leaving the Littlebird in the lion's den, or a snake pit.
He squeezed the dagger in his hand, drawing blood. The temporary pain relieved him for a moment, and cleared his mind. I'm coming, Littlebird.
After Joffrey made what he thought to be an inspiring speech about slaughtering the enemy, he slumped in the throne and watched as each member of the Kingsguard was presented with a new white cloak. The girl's continued their singing, and it would've brought a tear to Sansa's eyes, but she was distracted. Where is he, she wondered. She knew he couldn't have left, but there was no where else he would be. He was Joffrey's guard, part of the Kingsguard.
"I am sad to see you are still here, my lady." Tyrion said softly.
He stood next to her, and over the choir of girls, no one else heard him. Without breaking her gaze from the Kingsguard, Sansa responded. "You need not worry. It won't be long now." She stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating of whether or not to ask Tyrion the question she so desperately wanted to know the answer to. I have nothing else to lose, she thought. "Do you know where Sandor is?"
"I was wondering the same thing, my lady." He looked around. "I will find out, and let you know if I can."
Once all members of the Kingsguard were draped with their new cloaks, the song ended, and everyone in the room applauded. "But do not wait for my answer. If you have the chance to get out, do so." He warned.
Though she did not want to leave with out knowing if Sandor was alright, she knew he was right. "Thank you for all the kindness you have shown me." She whispered, as she clapped for the girl's song.
As the applause died down, the guards opened the doors, and Lord Baelish came through. His eyes met Sansa's, causing a shiver to run down her spine. The fact that such a punctual man was late to an important ceremony, and another who should be here, but was not struck her as too much of a coincidence.
She opened her mouth, to say something to Tyrion but he spoke first.
"Yes, my lady. I believe we are thinking the same thing."
Lord Baelish took his place with the rest of the small council.
Joffrey stood from the throne, dressed in the same armor as the Kingsguard, only his was gold. Sansa thought it silly, to have such expensive armor made, when he probably wasn't even going to fight.
"You are dismissed." He waved his hands at the group of girls.
"If I may, your grace." An old septa stepped out of the crowd, and in front of the girls. "These girl's were promised safety if they left their homes to sing for you."
"Ah yes." Joffrey sneered. "A King always keeps his word. Ser Boros, see to it the girls are taken to the stables."
Ser Boros nodded and walked over to them, but the septa protested. "Your grace, the stables are not safe!"
"They're safer than out on the battlefield, which is exactly where I'll put them if you don't shut your mouth!" He yelled.
The septa bowed, and stepped back. Ser Boros's black eye did not go unnoticed. "Turn around." Joffrey commanded. "Already fighting before the battle?" Joffrey laughed.
"This was done by the hand of your dog, your grace."
"The Hound?" Joffrey looked around. "Where is he?"
Petyr stepped forward, raising his finger. "If I might interject, your grace." Joffrey nodded. Sansa's stomach turned. "On my way here, my men and I came across the Hound, trying to escape, which is why I was late. We saw to it he was taken to the dungeons."
Oh Gods, Sansa's heart raced. Like everything that came out of Petyr's mouth, she knew it was a lie.
"The Hound tried to escape?" Even Joffrey seemed like he had a hard time believing it.
"Yes, your grace, I believe his exact words were, fuck the city, fuck the King, as he tried to make a run for it. I imagine if you check his horse, you'll find he packed bags of food, water, and clothes." He finished, masking his glee with his usual intense stare. "Ser Boros, while you take them to the stables, check the Hound's horse."
Ser Boros bowed, and herded the girl's out of the throne room.
"If you are right in your accusations, I thank you for your swift justice, Lord Baelish. You shall be rewarded handsomely."
Lord Baelish bowed, and stepped back, taking his place among the small council. Sansa chanced a glance at him, and was disheartened to see he was glaring at her. She quickly looked away. She knew he had something to do with it. If Ser Boros did find anything in the stables, Sandor would be considered a deserter and killed. Knowing Joffrey, he would be tortured long before he was allowed to die.
Sansa was screaming inside. She didn't know what to do, she knew Lord Baelish was very capable of manipulation, he even did so to Joffrey, but his actions frightened her. If he was able to tame the Hound, what could he do to her?
"You may stay in here until the battle begins. Sharpen your swords, and ready your arrows men!" Joffrey yelled.
The men let out a rowdy cheer, and Sansa took the opportunity to whisper one more thing to Tyrion. "Help him."
"You must follow my mother to the high tower." Joffrey said to Sansa.
"Yes, your grace." She bowed.
He unsheathed his sword and held it out in front of her. "Do you like it?"
"It is very beautiful."
"I named it Hearteater...Kiss it." Something evil twinkled in his eyes.
Sansa reluctantly bent over and placed her lips on the blade of his sword.
"You can lick the blood off it when I return."
"Will you be fighting, your grace?" She knew it was a loaded question, but wanted to make him feel as stupid as he did her. "My brother Robb always fought on the front lines with his men."
Joffrey stepped closer, intimidating Sansa. "What a stupid thing to say. Of course I'll be fighting with my men." He put his sword back in its sheath. "And when we fight your brother's army, you can lick his blood off Hearteater too." He smiled. "If all goes well, I shall see you upon my return. If not, I'll see you on the battlefield." He went over to Ser Meryn, not giving Sansa a chance to fire back.
Good thing I won't be here, she thought to herself.
As she turned to follow Cersei, and the rest of the ladies of the high court, She looked over at Tyrion who gave her a wink. She smiled in return, hoping even if she couldn't see the Hound again, Tyrion would be able to save his life.
Cersei, who was already drunk walked ahead of her with her ladies chirping away. As Sansa followed, Lord Baelish snuck up from behind and grabbed her arm. "Lord Baelish!" She gasped.
"Quiet, sweetling. I must make this fast. I will have someone fetch your things, and get you when the time is right."
"Sandor did not try to run." She clenched her jaw and tore her arm from his grasp.
"No, he did not. He was trying to stop me from taking you out of here. He was going to get in the way of you returning to your family. He is a bad man."
"I am not a fool, Lord Baelish, and I do not forget."
"Now is not the time to start standing up for yourself, Littlebird..."
With out thinking, in the privacy of the corridor, Sansa slapped him, retracting her hand in shock at what she did.
"Do not call me that."
"Do you know what will happen if I don't take you away? You will be ruined, in front of all those men. No one will want you, no one will marry you. Joffrey will have no more use for you, so all that will be left to do is kill you. I will still take you away from this place, but know this." He stepped closer to her, grabbed a handful of her fiery hair and whispered in her ear. "I do not forget either. We have a long journey ahead of us, it's best we get along."
"Littledove?" Cersei called from down the hall. Sansa wiggled out of Lord Baelish's arms and hurried to the lioness.
The dungeons were silent. All the guards were armed and ready, waiting for Stannis' army to come. Sandor paced back and forth, and Littlefinger's guard sat in the corner biting his nails.
"Fight's going to start soon."
"If you speak again I'll cut out your tongue." Sandor threatened. The guards words caused his heart to quicken. He knew he was right. Time to escape the cell was running out if he wanted to make it to Sansa before the battle, and he didn't need any reminders. The thought of her leaving with that cunt Littlefinger made him feel sicker than when he drank too much wine. What made him feel worse was the thought of Littlefinger failing in his plan, and Sansa being raped by Trant in front of both Baratheon armies. The thoughts plagued his mind, and the only way he could release some of his frustration was to punch one of the hard stone walls in the cell.
He looked at the back of his hand, blood smeared over his knuckles. He shook out the pain. At least it's not my sword hand, he thought. He went over to the bars and slide his hand down one of them, trying to feel for a weakness.
"Bravoosi steal." He laughed to himself. The most powerful place in all the Seven Kingdoms uses steel from Bravoos to hold their prisoners? If the bars were made of Valyrian steel, they would be impossible to break, but these Bravoosi bars gave him a good chance. He rattled each of the bars, trying to judge which one felt the loosest. He knew he wasn't the first prisoner to try and escape, and was sure some of them had loosened the bars. Justice was not something one found in King's Landing. All of the prisoners before him were either left in their cells to rot, killed, or forced into slavery.
"Come here." Sandor ordered as he shook one of the bars. The nervous guard pulled himself up and walked over to Sandor, keeping his distance. "We're going to lift this bar up. As soon as you see the edge of it, pull it towards you."
"P-promise, if I help you, you won't kill me." The guard trembled.
Sandor let go of the bar, and closed the distance between him and the guard. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands. Aye?"
The guard nodded. "Y-yes, ser-I mean, yes...sorry."
Sandor looked him up and down before gripping the bar again. "Are you going to help me, or are you going to shit yourself
first?"
The guard hurried over and knelt down, grabbing the bottom of the bar with both hands. Both men groaned as they pulled up down the bar as hard as they could. Beads of sweat formed on Sandor's forehead. It would be easier with out his armor, but he didn't dare take it off.
After a few straight minutes of lifting, the took a break. Both men breathing hard. Sandor wiped his clammy hands on his trousers. "Again." He rasped.
The guard nodded. Once their hands were on the bar, Sandor said "Now," and they lifted. Sandor's muscles started shaking and he drove the top of the pole into the ceiling. He didn't give into the relief of letting go. If the Littlebird is raped because I couldn't push for a little longer, I'm no better than my brother, he told himself, and with a loud yell, he lifted the pole with all his might.
"Just a little more!" The guard shouted over Sandor's yelling. "It's working!"
Sandor pushed the pain out of his mind, and focused on the Littlebird's face. The way her eyes looked at him with disappointment during their last encounter. He would not disappoint her again.
"Almost!" The guard shouted excitedly.
With one last back breaking lift, Sandor drove the bar into the ceiling, and the guard pulled the bottom out of it's hole, throwing it to the ground with a loud clank. Both men stood breathless.
"We did it." The guard smiled.
Before he could blink, Sandor took his dagger from its sheath and slit the guards throat. The guard writhed on the ground, looking up at Sandor.
"I'm sorry." He breathed. Sandor couldn't risk one of Littlefinger's men telling him he had escaped. The more time he had out of the cell with out Littlefinger knowing, the better.
Sandor took the guards sword, and squeezed through the bars. He started down the damp corridor of the dungeons, scattered torches on the walls lite various spots of the long hall. Through darkness and fire light, Sandor kept on. All was silent, until he heard footsteps approach from down the corridor. He turned a corner, and stood with his back pressed against the wall, and his sword ready. When the footsteps got closer, Sandor ambushed the man, knocking him against the wall, pressing his sword to his throat.
"It's me you, oaf!" The familiar voice spat. Sandor grabbed the man and brought him closer to the fire. Bronn...
"What are you doing down here?" Sandor pushed him away, and Bronn steadied himself, feeling the back of his head. He looked at his hand. "You're lucky I'm not bleeding."
"Or what, you'd kill me?" Sandor said, amused.
Bronn jingled keys in front of Sandor's face. "I came down here to get you, on Tyrion's orders."
Sandor wanted to ask how they knew he was down here, but didn't have the luxury of time. He hurried down the hall, and Bronn followed. "So no thank you, then?"
"I'll thank you when she's safe."
A loud boom echoed through the corridors. The walls shook, and pieces of stone fell from the ceiling. "What was that?" Bronn yelled over the noise.
"Stannis." Sandor said to himself. "Come on!" He yelled, and together, the ran through the dungeons.