Hi all! First, thank you for all of the reviews! They are VERY much appreciated and for anyone who hasn't reviewed yet or wants to leave another one...I won't argue with it if you do ;)
So, normally I'm *way* better about updating my fics fairly quickly, but real life has unfortunately been a bit overwhelming and on top of that I wanted to finish my SanSan/Lady & the Tramp mashup because it was for a charity auction and someone bid on it. So it took precedence over this one. I can't promise that updates will start coming a LOT faster (especially as I'm about to go out of town for over a week, with no internet access) but this fic isn't done yet and I will continue it, promise! I'm actually not quite sure how long it will be, but at the very shortest I'm thinking at least in the 8-10 chapter range.
I hope you continue to enjoy and thanks again for reading!
He'd been so wrapped up in watching the little bird, in trying to figure out her relationship with the damned Imp, that he'd forgotten he was supposed to be reporting back to Joffrey. The very idea of doing so sent a sick sort of feeling pulsing through him, and yet...what choice did he have? It wasn't as if there was much to say...at least not at first. He'd let Joffrey ask the questions and Sandor had grunted his answers. "So far as I know, your uncle hasn't had her yet. Yes, Your Grace, they both seem miserable. No, they don't argue. They barely speak at all. They spend as little time together as possible. No, I'm not sure what they do when they're apart."
"Find out," Joffrey had ordered, in that firm and nasty tone that would brook no argument...even if Sandor had cared to give one. And his chance to "find out" what Sansa did during her free time had come up quite soon.
Though how Sandor would ever face Joffrey now, to tell him of Sansa's trips to the godswood, was beyond him. She kissed me. She kissed me, and I kissed her back, and it was more than that and she appeared to want it... The whole situation baffled him; just remembering her lips on his and then her tongue in his mouth and the way she'd pressed herself against him made his cock twitch with arousal. How does the little bird even know to kiss like that? he wondered.
He couldn't help but smile at the knowledge that Tyrion Lannister certainly didn't know how Sansa Stark kissed.
This is a dangerous game you're playing, dog. He would never for a moment forget that he'd had to be the one to pull away, to break their embrace, and now it seemed as if they were constantly missing each others' glances. On purpose.
At least on his part.
Eventually Sandor couldn't avoid Joffrey any longer and forced himself to responded to the king's summons. "Well, do you have anything new to tell me, dog?" the little shit asked.
Sandor shrugged. "Haven't had time to figure out what your uncle is up to. Lady Sansa seems to spend most of her time in the godswood. Praying," he added stupidly.
"I know what one does in a godswood," Joffrey spat. "Though if anything it's more stupid to pray to a bunch of trees than to seven ugly little statues. Not that I'm surprised; my good-aunt certainly is stupid herself." Sandor bristled at this but knew better than to say anything or to disagree with Joffrey; the boy was obviously in one of his moods. "Go on, then, and unless my ugly little uncle decides to finally fuck the girl, or unless you figure out that he does something more interesting than go to a godswood, don't bother coming back anytime soon." Sandor took this at face value, nodded obediently and strode out of the king's solar. He was fairly shaking with anger - again. Ever since he'd met the little bird, this family that he'd once served almost thoughtlessly had seemed to do nothing but piss Sandor off. Joffrey had said that he knew what one did in a godswood, but on revisiting the boy's comment Sandor had to hold back a chuckle.
He could think of at least one other thing to do in a godswood - something Joffrey would certainly never come up with.
In fact, Sandor could think of quite a few things to do in a godswood...with the proper company.
He shook his head, wishing that the gesture would clear it and knowing it would do no good. He'd avoided the little bird the rest of the previous evening and all day today as well, but perhaps...
Perhaps what? Do you think she wants you, dog, truly wants you? Whatever Sansa Stark had been thinking when she'd kissed him, it couldn't have been anything he would have wanted to know. Well, and what do you want from her? Another song, another gentle caress on your cheek?
The answer was that he wanted those things, and another kiss, and...more. He wanted her, all of her, strange little woman-child that she was. But what could the little bird know of a man's wants, a man's needs? She shared a marriage bed with the Imp, but not her maiden's gift.
Yet you were the one to break the kiss, Sandor reminded himself yet again. Far from flinching when his cock had gone hard against her, Sansa had pressed herself closer to him and sighed into his mouth, a wanton reaction that he had not expected...and thinking about it now...
Sandor had made up his mind. He headed straight for the Imp and the little bird's apartments, though the only thing he could think was to ask if she would like him to accompany her to the godswood again. When he arrived, though, Tyrion Lannister was sitting in their solar, eying the bedchamber door with trepidation. From behind it Sandor could hear a soft, sad sound that made his heart clench in his chest, and before he even knew what he was saying the words had left his mouth: "What did you do to her?" he growled menacingly, his hand clenched over his sword hilt.
The Imp narrowed his eyes at Sandor but otherwise appeared nonplussed. "I had to give her news of her brother's and mother's deaths, Clegane. Be thankful it was me who told the tale and not my little shit of a nephew." He paused and glanced at the door again, and when he closed his eyes and sighed Sandor wanted to hate him for it...yet somehow couldn't. "She took it well...at first. Like a true lady .But now..." Tyrion gestured helplessly at the door. Sandor could see that the Imp wanted to go to her, but apparently knew that it would not be a good idea to do so. He wondered if he would be received better, and took a tentative step toward the door, only stopping when he realized that Tyrion was looking at him again.
"Perhaps...she would like to go to the godswood," Sandor mumbled. "She seems to..." He stopped, unsure what else to say.
"By all means, make the offer," Tyrion replied. "Go with her, in fact. I don't want her chancing into Joffrey. Or even my sister or...or my father. But if she won't have it, you leave her alone, you hear?" Their eyes met and though there was a nasty reply on Sandor's tongue, he held it in and only nodded, before moving to the bedchamber door and rapping on it as softly as he could. For several long moments he waited; though he did not hear the little bird speak, Sandor imagined that the sobbing quieted a bit. Just a bit.He knocked again.
"Please...I...I am indisposed," Sansa Stark finally called out, her voice thick with emotion and tears.
"Litt - " Sandor stopped himself and glanced over his shoulder. The Imp was still sitting there, still watching him. Sandor stared back, willing the little arse to leave...and finally Tyrion Lannister stood to do just that, throwing up his hands in frustration.
"Best of luck to you," the Imp said sarcastically. "Just remember what I said about leaving her alone."
Sandor quickly turned away so that Tyrion wouldn't see him roll his eyes, then waited until he heard the little arse's retreating footsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing before leaning against the door to the bedchamber and rasping, "Little bird. I've come to see if you'd like to go to the godswood." He paused for a moment, and then for some reason felt the need to clarify, "To pray. For...for your family."
He was met with a silence that stretched for such a long time that he began to think she meant to refuse but not say as much, when suddenly the door swung open and there she stood, dressed and cloaked and apparently ready to take him up on his offer. Sandor could hardly bear to look at her face, so pale and stricken with grief, eyes red-rimmed and nose swollen from crying. "Thank you," she said, so softly that he almost didn't hear the words, and Sandor felt compelled to offer his arm...for what could only be support.
Is this how it feels to be...kind?
They walked in silence, and when they entered the godswood her hand slipped from his arm as she made for her favorite tree. There was no Ser Dontos to remove tonight, thank...well, thank whatever gods exist, if any of them do at all. Sandor stepped aside and found a tree to lean against, then dutifully turned away from the little bird, trying his best not to listen to her hoarsely whispered words or to the occasional sobs that punctuated them.
Finally Sansa Stark slid her knees out from under her, adjusting her skirts so that she could sit fully on the ground. "Will you come sit by me?" she requested, her palm flat on the expanse of moss just beside her. Sandor jerked his head in agreement and moved to her side, lowering his almost ungainly large body slowly and deliberately. Why is it that I can move so quickly in a fight, but with her I feel that everything has to be slow and deliberate? he mused with something like mirth.
The little bird was silent again for quite some time, and Sandor began to wonder just why she had wanted him to sit with her - until without warning she pushed his arm out of her way and crawled into his lap, curling up like a child - she is still something of a child, you arse - and burying her head in his chest. "You're warm," she mumbled.
"Aye," he said, stupidly. Part of him wanted to tell her to move. This was too intimate by far, and not just because he could feel himself getting hard at the sensation of her soft body, so womanly for her age, pressed against him. "Little bird - "
"I like that you call me that," she said suddenly, interrupting him. "I know you do it to tease me, but no one has ever given me a name like that before. I've always been just...Sansa."
"You've never been just Sansa," he heard himself reply, and when she turned her head up and he saw how beautiful she was - despite her red eyes and nose, despite that her face was pinched with sadness - he knew that he was going to kiss her again.