I apologise for how late this chapter is! I was all prepared for a week void of any prior commitments and then I literally get bombed by an outrageous amount of work. This chapter is a sort of bridge, I needed to connect the last chapter to the one that follows this one. The next chapter will hold the start of the tourney so give me some ideas guys as I'm kinda at a loose end. I have a idea which I hope that you will greatly enjoy! As always feedback is welcomed, so please tell me what you think.

Slightlynerdy.

Wolves and Hounds.

Chapter 19

"So you have decided to return to us," Her father's voice was quiet and betrayed no traces of emotion.

She nodded mutely, "Father I…"

"If the next word is an apology then save your breath, you and I both know that you would do it again if you got given the chance. All my children are the same, strong willed and unpredictable at best. Are you trying to alienate yourself from the others? People have already begun to talk Tarynn, comments on how a highborn woman shouldn't be speaking the languages of the heathens, how you should have been married of as soon as you were old enough in order to cull these thoughts and ideas of adventure. Even the king himself is imploring me to marry you to Renly so that you might have stability…"

Her father hadn't turned around, he was still gazing out of the large window in his solar, the one with the view that encompassed almost the entire city of King's Landing. His hands were clasped behind his back, which was rigid. She didn't know what to say, they had been in the city for little over a week she knew that she had made an impact, but she hadn't realised that so many people scorned her for it as well.

"I just wanted some time to myself, that's all."

"You left your sister and your guards and rode off into a city that you don't know anything about. You could have been hurt, or worse killed."

"But I'm not, am I? Father I am not a little girl anymore please stop trying to treat me as one!"

"I think I know that, you haven't been a little girl since the first day you ran up showing me your essay on the anatomy of humans… I should have had you betrothed sooner. Your mother wanted me to, she wanted me to make sure that you had a future, that you wouldn't turn into your Aunt Lysa, she wanted you to be married young and to someone your own age. Renly is close enough, Theon was even closer. You still have not reconsidered taking Theon as your husband? I would be able to send you back to Winterfell..."

Tarynn clenched her fist, her mind was screaming at her to tell him how Theon had tried to rape her but her heart was still trying to compel her to not worry her father with it. But still it left her deeply scarred, she wondered if she would ever truly get over the ordeal that Theon had attempted to put her through.

"Father I'm adamant that I do not want Theon, I refuse to move to the Iron Islands when the time comes, besides his smiles always unnerved me. He is also too free with his affections."

Her father turned to face her, his eyes searched over her person, no doubt to make sure that she was not harmed in any way.

"True Theon has a way with women… But perhaps with marriage he would…"

She laughed hollowly and a flash of anger went through her father's eyes, "Theon loves women," She shrugged, "One woman, I, would not have satisfied his needs."

"Then Renly."

Her father's tone was so final and uncompromisal that Tarynn's heart seemed to sink in her chest. Her father would not forgive her if she destroyed yet another marriage proposal. However she let the subject drop, the afternoon was already late and she had to change and make herself pretty for the feast that was to commence shortly. Tonight's feast was the first one of the tourney season.

"We need not discuss it now father,"She moved forward and kissed her father on the cheek, he suprisingly allowed her.

"What am I going to do with you Tarynn," He smiled sadly as he looked down at her, "No more running off, I won't have you being a blemish on this house any longer." His remark was faintly threatening but she let it slide. Her father seemed to grow more haggard with everyday that passed, something was troubling him. "Now off with you, you have to be ready for the feast. And please, make yourself... Beautiful."

She nodded and withdrew from her father's study, floating down the hallway in search of Tilana or Bronte, she needed to decide on what dress to wear but before that she wanted to pen a letter to Winterfell.

She had been writing to her mother and family every chance she got, commenting on the weather, on the activities that they had taken part in that day, on father's, Sansa's and Arya's health. Anything that she thought would interest she scribbled it in before passing it to Bronte to hand to Maester Pycelle. The Grandmaester unnerved her, having been so use to Luwin's soft ways and neatness, Maester Pycelle was an unwelcomed change. He gave her draughts though, but she had a feeling that he was adding milk of the poppy to it as well for whenever she took them she started to get immediately drowsy, she would have to investigate it.

She bumped into Bronte as she came up the stairs; her arms piled high with towels.

"Bronte," She took off the top few towels from the pile, clasping them to her chest.

"Oh Tarynn, I didn't know you were back. Tilana is readying your dresses, you have to choose one."

"I will be there shortly, I was hoping that you would be able to find me more parchment, I used my last piece last night."

"I will once I've put these towels in Lady Sansa's and Lady Arya's rooms."

"Here let me help you."

Bronte gave her instructions to take the towels to Sansa's rooms, and to leave them with Sansa's handmaid. Tarynn nodded, it was relaxing just doing a simple chore. When she reached Sansa's quarters she could hear quiet murmurings behind the door, she knocked once before letting herself in. Sansa sat on her bed and Jeyne Poole stood near the window. The two had been talking but when Tarynn stepped into the room they quietened.

Sansa squealed, jumping off the bed and moving towards her sister. Tarynn placed the towels on top of a dresser and gave her sister a hug.

"Father said that you had gone missing, oh Tarynn I prayed to the Seven to return you to us and they listened. I don't know what I would have done if I had been left with Arya as my only sister."

"Don't fret San, I just needed some time to myself." She chastely kissed her sister on the top of her head, "So what are you wearing tonight?"

Jeyne politely departed from the room, allowing the two sisters to spend some time together. Sansa babbled on about Joffrey and how nice Queen Cersei was being towards her.

"She told me that Joff will surely love me even more when I wear this dress Tarynn, isn't it beautiful?"

Sansa unfurled a gown of gold and crimson, on the bodice were tiny gemstones that shimmered whenever the dress was moved. Every inch of the dress screamed Lannister and Baratheon.

"It is." Tarynn's mind wracked with worry, Sansa was falling head over heels in love with Joffrey but there was something about the boy that turned the blood in Tarynn's veins to ice.

Tarynn had just sat down to braid Sansa's hair when there was a knock on the door, Sansa called out; "Come in."

Bronte stepped in, spying Tarynn, "Lady Tarynn, a man, Ser Sandor Clegane wishes to speak with you."

"What does Joff's Hound want to do with you?" Sansa's voice shook a little, she was scared of Sandor.

"He was the one who found me San, perhaps he wishes a thank you or a token of my gratitude." Her mind started racing about what it could be, "The man is not a ser, where is he Bronte?" She hoped her tone of contempt sounded realistic.

"Well, um, he is…" Bronte looked up and Sandor loomed into view, huge and monstrous behind the skinny Bronte.

Tarynn looked Sandor up and down, her heart beating a little faster, "I see, would you be so kind as to escort Sandor Clegane into my quarters, await me there please."

She nodded, as did Sandor, his grey eyes lingering on her figure before he followed little Bronte.

When the door closed Sansa spoke, "He scares me."

"He scares me too." And that was only half true.

Sandor was standing beside her bedside table when she entered, in his hand was one of her vials. He held it up to her when she walked in, "What's this?"

"A sleeping draught, I get these nightmares when I don't take it. It's like I'm not myself in them, hard to explain, I used to get them a lot when I was younger, I used to wake my parents up near every night so they commissioned Maester Luwin to create a remedy. So far…" She made a motion across her chest, crossing her heart, "It works."

He put it back down, "Does it knock you out?"

"For some reason the one that Grandmaester Pycelle creates for me does, I have a feeling he's putting milk of the poppy in it, I was going to confront him after I find evidence."

"And how were you going to find that?"

"Oh simple, just separate the ingredients, you know steam out the water, chase away the other bits and pieces and you should have milk of the poppy left over. Very easy."

He smiled, that terrible but endearing half smile, "Maybe you should have become a maester."

"If you haven't noticed yet but I have breasts, only men can become maesters."

His grin grew wider, "Oh I have noticed," his voice grew husky, "Trust me."

She shuddered and distracted the growing tingling sensation growing between her legs by moving to the wardrobe and flinging it open, "So why have you decided to risk my father's wrath and visit me today?"

She pulled out a couple of evening dresses and laid them down on her bed, she wouldn't change in front of him but she could decide on what she was going to wear. Tilana had already gone through them and matched them to various shoes and accessories anyway, so it was really just a matter of choosing what combination she like best. She stood there gazing at the dresses, fiddling with the three pendants that hung around her neck whilst Sandor answered her question.

"I… Had something to ask you."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific then that." She glanced up at him and then noticed her satchel on the small table that he stood beside. She moved towards it, picking up the supple leather bag and opening it, withdrawing the book and the small shard of dragonglass from its depths. She left the book on the window sill, it seemed to hum with some sort of imperceptible energy. But she took the dragonglass with her, rolling the shard in her hand.

"I…" He seemed to tense up, and she had no idea what he wanted to ask her, his eyes betrayed nothing, his stature was stoic. She laid her hand on his arm and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"You don't have to ask me it until you are ready Sandor, true you have peaked my curiosity, but I am patient… Do you wear a pendent around your neck?"

His eyes seemed to clear and he looked down at her, "No."

"No matter, I should have a spare piece of leather somewhere." She searched a small pot of bits and bobs before she found what she was looking for, a long strip of leather. She fastened the leather through the small rusted hoop, tying it into a knot before tying another so that the leather became a necklace. She held it up and the glass caught the light of the setting sun, shimmering and glimmering. She held it up to Sandor, "I brought this for you." She went to him, moving his long hair to the side and slid the pendent over his head, lifting up his hair so that the pendent fell against the collar bit of his breastplate. She kissed the glass, "A good luck charm." She touched her own piece of glass and she was sure that she felt some sort of connection between the two shards.

Sandor cupped her face, pressing a searing kiss to her lips, his fingers tangling in her hair. When they pulled apart he leant his forehead against hers, "I should go, you have to get ready for the first Tourney feast. I'll save you a seat." His smile was faintly sad, the comment had been in jest but she knew that he would have saved her a seat if it had been allowed.

She kissed the tip of his crooked nose, "You better." She laughed, "Now go, before my maids see us in this rather compromising situation."

He pecked her cheek before departing from her rooms and leaving her to her thoughts.

*Sandor*

Something had stopped him from asking her, no telling her, that he wished to pursue her. That he wanted and was going to attempt to ask her father for her hand in marriage. Maybe it had been the stupidity of such a want, he couldn't compete against the likes of Renly Baratheon, or even that Theon boy who had tried to rape her in Winterfell. Rumour had it that Lord Stark had also written to the Tyrells, offering Tarynn to their oldest son.

A cripple no less, if Lord stick-up-his-arse wanted Tarynn to marry a cripple then why doesn't he just throw her to me.

He wasn't a cripple in the traditional sense, but society treated him as of he was one. He stood outside her door, listening to her rummage around in her belongings but when he heard footsteps and her maids whispers he pushed himself from off the door and stalked out of the tower of the Hand and its adjoining corridors. How Tarynn could stand to live in that place was beyond him, considering how every previous Hand that moved to King's Landing never saw their homes again.

He took the steps that spun down towards the ground, his mind throbbing and his skin ached. The scars annoyed him, especially when he was suffering from a headache. When he exited the tower he was greeted by the bright sunshine which temporarily blinded him. He raised his arm shading himself from the sun's rays. The yard was empty, most people would no doubt be readying themselves for the first of the many feasts that were being held in the Hand's honour, which reminded him, he too had to dress in suitable attire. He owned only a smattering of nice doublets, and a couple of nice trousers. He was hard pressed for choice.

He walked out into the sun, the hot weather always made him feel drowsy, coupled with the heavy amounts of wine he was practically lethargic. As he stumbled into his room and threw himself on his bed, his mind wandered and he began to dream and plan about what a future with Tarynn would be like.

*Tarynn*

Sansa sat in Tarynn's desk chair, watching as Tilana tightened up Tarynn's corset. The dress that Tarynn had chosen was a dark grey with cream lace and small black gemstones, the Stark colours, it fell to the floor straight. And was slightly cinched around the waist. Her long brown hair was piled into a bun, with two braids running into it on both sides of her head.

"Will I have to wear a corset Tarynn?"

Tarynn looked at her little sister through the looking glass, her auburn hair had been neatly braided, the style reminiscent of the way Queen Cersei wore hers. "You'll have to when you start developing your breasts San…"

"But it looks so painful." Quite unintended Tarynn grunted as Tilana pulled it in incredibly tight. "See. It must hurt."

Tarynn smiled sourly, "That is the price of beauty, and father wants me to look extra pretty tonight."

Sansa gasped, a smile coming to her lips, "Are you to be courted? Do you have a suitor. Oh I bet its Renly. Isn't he handsome? Just think we'll both be married to Baratheons! How exciting!"

"You know how I feel about marriage."

"But Storm's End is supposed to be beautiful! Oh Tarynn you'll be so happy."

Despite herself Tarynn smiled, she admired Sansa's innocence and simple thoughts; she thought that everything was perfect, fairy-tale like.

"Sometimes happiness doesn't come from a large castle and children. There are other factors that affect it as well." Tilana was now helping her put on her dress, sliding it carefully over her hair when there was a knock at the door. "Enter."

A servant that Tarynn didn't recognised cleared her throat, "Beg your pardon my Lady, but Lord Renly Bartheon sent me to send for you. He is waiting in Council room."

Tarynn nodded, "Thank you." And the girl disappeared from the doorway, closing the door softly on her departure.

"Renly wants to see you? He must really like you Ta."

Tarynn cursed quietly under her breath, and smoothed down her skirts. She inspected her image in the mirror. Her face was dusted with some light powder due to the fact that a few pimples had shown up on her forehead, they were hardly noticeable however. Her eyes were dark, almost sultry. Her bosom was pushed up making it look like she had perfectly round breasts and a few wisps of hair curled delicately framing her face. The city was turning her into something she wasn't. And yet she had to admit that she did look quite nice.

"I'm sure its just some council business, perhaps he needs me to translate another missive." Ever since she had sat in on that first council meeting, people had started turning to her for translations. She was happy to oblige, it gave her practice after all. "I'm sure it's nothing of great import."

Tilana sprayed her with some sort of flower fragrance before speaking to her in her thick accent, "There you are my lady you will be the belle of the ball."

"Thank you Tilana, I appreciate it. Now go, spend some time with your daughter." She touched Tilana gently on the arm and smiled, Tilana bowed her head before leaving on silent feet. "You too Sansa, go see Arya, make sure she is wearing that dress I told her to wear."

Sansa stood, "Have fun with Renly."

When she was alone Tarynn opened the Book of Valyrian Letters, it's pages felt warm to touch. She turned a couple of pages when something slid out. This page was not part of the original book, the text was in a colour that seemed to change whenever you tilted the parchement, it was filled with tiny Valyrian script. She set it down on top of the book, she would have to look at it later, she was running late as it was. The page made her uneasy anyway. She swept from the room in a flurry of fragrance.

He stood near the council table, his fingers idly tapping the surface of the smooth, varnished wood. When she entered, Renly turned, his eyes sweeping over her figure.

"Lady Tarynn… You look stunning as ever." She acknowledged his compliment but that didn't settle her nerves. She needed some of Sandor's strong wine that always seemed to calm her.

"You requested my presence Lord Renly?"

"Please, call me Renly. And yes I did, I have something quite important to ask you."

He looked away from her, an absent minded expression crossing his face, she noticed that on his lapel he wore a golden stag pin with a ruby for its eye, but beside it was a jade green rose, the symbol of Highgarden; the Tyrells.

I knew there was something going on between Renly and Loras.

She focused on his face again, he was handsome, no doubt, with his jet black hair, sparkling green eyes and slightly tanned skin. He would make any maiden blush and swoon, but she did not feel the spark that she got from Sandor. She felt nothing for Renly Baratheon.

"Please, I am all ears." She forced herself to smile, to act demure and innocent, but in the back of her mind a little voice whispered, pre-warning her of what was to come.

"As you know, your father has offered me your hand in marriage…" He looked back at her, and moved steadily forward until he was just a hair's breadth away, he knelt, "And I wish to accept his offer," He reached for her hand, "Will you Lady Tarynn of House Stark, marry me?"

A knot seemed to form in her stomach and she gulped, trying to keep away the tears. He had staged it so romantically, so perfectly and yet she was abhorred by the very thought of having to marry him.

Father knew he was going to ask me, he knew, he told me to make myself beautiful and this was the reason.

She felt betrayed and trapped, if she was to refuse Renly her father would never be able to forgive her, it would also make facing Renly painful. She looked at his kind and generous face and for a split second in morphed into the scarred hook-nosed face of Sandor Clegane. Her heart clenched and the tears began to flow. She couldn't do it.

She tore her hand away from Renly's, holding her hand to her nose as she ran from the room, her chest heaving with each sob. She didn't look back, even as Renly called after her.

She didn't look back.

Her father found her huddled in the corner of the Keep's library, somewhere between the histories of the Free Cities and classic Westorosi Literature. He knelt beside her, taking her weeping figure into his arms.

He stroked her hair, "Now, now. Calm yourself."

She buried her face into her father's soft doublet, "I can't… Please… Don't make me… I… Don't want to be married to him."

He sighed, his voice quietly authoritive, "You haven't the choice, you've already destroyed one betrothal, I can't allow this connection to slip through my fingers. Your mother has sent her blessing…"

She stood, pushing herself away from him, "Oh as if that makes any difference!" She turned away from him, furiously wiping away the tears, "Can't you see I don't love him?!"

"I never loved your mother until you were born; ours was an arranged marriage too. I never saw Catelyn before our wedding day."

She sniffed, "But you don't need me as a connection to the Baratheons, you have Sansa."

"I had hoped you would have been happy with this! Renly is much closer to your age then Willas Tyrell or any of the other suitable suitors. Theon Greyjoy…"

"Can you please stop going on about Theon!" Her scream echoed through the library, she collapsed on the floor again, she hugged her knees, "Please father, just leave me be for a few moments."

Her father touched her head gently, "You can't keep doing this Tarynn, I'm afraid if you don't accept Renly then I will have no choice but to send you back to Winterfell to wed Theon. It's your decision." He left her with that heart breaking ultimatum; the tears flowed down her cheeks as she knelt between the bookcases. Her thoughts turned to Sandor, they could run away, start a new life in one of the Free Cities, she could become a translator and a writer, he could find jobs as a mercenary or maybe a trainer to soldiers or something. The thought seemed perfectly idyllic and unfeasible.

She had to make a decision, but how could she chose between two things that both ripped her heart out and shredded it?