A/N: Almost done with this story, which means I should probably get back to work on the next one. After some one-shots probably because I finally saw Phantom of the Opera live and it was the most amazing experience, and I can feel a SanSan AU coming on. Anyway, go ahead and read since that's what you're here for. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Specifically, Malborn and Delphine's dialogue in this is mostly pulled from the game, with some revisions.
Rating: M for some language, a bunch of drinking, and references to rape and violence.
As Sandor slept, he dreamed not of his escape once more, but of Sansa. In the fantasy of his unconscious, he had ridden to Windhelm, leaving Daenerys to her fate, and his blade had found its rightful place in Ulfric's heart. He saw her before him then, scarred and beautiful and when he woke he thought for a brief moment that it had been reality. When he looked across the room, however, the sight of Dany absently combing through her long silver hair reminded him that he was still far from his love. He rose with a sigh.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked cheerily, though he could tell by the way she said it that she herself hadn't.
He grunted in reply and got to his feet, starting the laborious process of fitting his armor on over his tunic and trousers. His young companion was idly staring at the wall behind him as he finished and strapped his sword about his waist, and when he cleared his throat, she rose.
In the end, their contact was easy to find, for Malborn was the only Bosmer drinking so early in the Winking Skeever. He sat at a table big enough for four, so after purchasing a meager breakfast from the innkeeper, they joined him. Dany gave him a friendly smile as she took a bite of her apple, and though he looked suspicious, he returned her smile.
As she finished her food, she nodded slightly to Sandor and he shifted to block the two of them from view with his broad shoulders.
"We come here at the bidding of our...mutual friend," Dany said quietly, and Malborn's eyes grew wide.
He eyed her for a moment before speaking. "Really? You're the one she sent?" He sounded nervous rather than condescending, and not for the first time, Sandor wondered what it was exactly that Delphine was sending Daenerys into the middle of. "I hope she knows what she's doing."
Sandor snorted at that, completely in agreement, and doubting that the moonlighting innkeeper truly did.
With a sigh, Malborn continued, but not after glancing around the tavern. "Well, I can smuggle some equipment into the Thalmor Embassy for you. Don't plan on walking in with anything else. The Thalmor take their security very seriously. Give me what you can't live without and I'll make sure that it gets into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."
Dany nodded in understanding and then stood. "Follow me."
Nervously, the Wood Elf followed them back to the room they had purchased, looking over his shoulder with every step.
Once inside, Sandor closed the door. Dany looked about for a moment with a frown on her face, and when her companion spoke, she nodded and sprang into action. "Armor and weapons, girl."
With Sandor's help, they were able to fit Malborn into Dany's mismatched and incomplete set of armor, and after strapping her bow and quiver across his shoulders, he nodded.
"Alright. I'll get this inside the Embassy for you."
"Thank you," Dany replied. "Your help is greatly appreciated."
The Wood Elf laughed somewhat bitterly at that and turned to the door. "I need to get out of here before anyone gets suspicious, but I'll find you at the party, don't worry. Your job is to get in without being fingered as a spy. Leave everything else to me."
The two companions nodded and he departed, leaving them alone once more. With a sigh, Dany sank onto the bed.
"I don't suppose Delphine is at the stables already?"
Sandor chuckled. "Unless she ran on foot straight from Riverwood to Solitude without stopping, I wouldn't think so. We can bide our time for a couple of days, and when we hear word, we'll meet up with her again."
Although Daenerys wasn't particularly patient as they waited for Delphine to reappear, they didn't have to wait long, for it was only two short days later that a courier knocked on their door.
Dany was reading on the bed as Sandor sharpened his sword in the corner, but at the sound, she leapt up and hurried to the door. The young courier looked slightly taken aback by her excitement, but he withdrew a letter nonetheless.
"Daenerys Targaryen?"
When she nodded, he handed it over and then gave her a parting smile. "Have a pleasant day, my lady."
She barely acknowledged the statement before tearing open the envelope, and after scanning the words inside, she tossed the letter aside and hurried out, leaving Sandor to sigh heavily, rise to his feet, and follow.
Delphine was waiting for them beside the windmill that belonged to the small farm adjoining the stables. Sandor stopped for a moment to greet Stranger and feed him a bit of apple from his pocket before joining Daenerys at the innkeeper's side.
"Have you given Malborn the equipment that you want with you in the Embassy?" she was asking as he approached. When Dany nodded, Delphine returned the gesture, seemingly pleased. "Good. I have your invitation to the party." She handed over a thick piece of parchment, and Sandor caught a glimpse of gold lettering inside.
As Dany read it, she began to frown. When she had finished, she passed it back to Sandor and spoke petulantly to the older woman. "It's on the 19th, that's nearly a fortnight from now."
Delphine nodded, her gaze not one of amusement. "Yes. These things take time. I can't have the Dragonborn rushing into the Thalmor Embassy unprepared. Especially since she is still quite evidently a child."
Dany at least had the decency to blush at her underhanded comment, and she withdrew slightly, taking a moment before responding. "What is it that we must do?"
The Blade cast a brief sympathetic glance at Sandor before looking back to the young woman between them. "Well, to begin, you can't go into the Thalmor Embassy dressed like that. Go get fitted for a gown at the Radiant Raiment and then bide your time until the day comes. The morning of the party, you will meet me here again and from here you will travel to the Embassy. Once there…only the gods can help you."
Though the Altmer sisters that ran the Radiant Raiment were rude and condescending, they knew their trade. Sandor watched quietly from the corner as they flitted about Daenerys, measuring every inch of her and muttering comments to each other as they went. When they finally left, his coin purse was five hundred septims lighter, but he reminded himself that the right outfit could mean the difference between life and death for his young employer.
As the day approached, the streets of Solitude bustled with activity. There had been confirmed sightings of the Stormcloak army marching on the city with Ulfric at its head and so Imperial soldiers hurried about, gruffly dismissing any citizen who came to them with tales of stolen sweetrolls and sending them to the city guards. The guards, for their part, were equally frazzled, forced to deal with the paranoid nobles coming in for Elenwen's party and assure them that Solitude's beggars would not cause any trouble.
Initially, Sandor was resistant to allowing Dany to wander the city, but when she had reminded him that her older brother had forced her to stay within the walls of Riften for most of her life, he conceded. The only real threats to her safety were the Legion soldiers, and they had far more to worry about than a nineteen-year-old girl.
He had, however, begun to hear rumors about the Dragonborn. For the moment, she was being reported as a woman with blazing red eyes and a pair of wings with which she could fly, so Dany was safe, but it was only a matter of time before people began to recognize her. Once that happened, he only hoped that he could still protect her.
He was drinking in the Winking Skeever one evening when he heard something that troubled him. The old man at the bar, Octieve San, according to the innkeeper, was well into his third tankard of ale when he began to speak in a whisper far too loud to be truly conspiratorial.
"I've heard that the Dragonborn is jusht a child. A girl with hair shpun from silver and the blood of a dragon. My son is a guard in Whiterun and he saw her kill one of those beashts with his own eyes. Said she's traveling with some shellsword, a big bashtard, he says." The old man downed his drink, hiccupped, and then cast a sideways glance at Sandor. "A bit like you I would imagine."
When he noticed that no one was listening to his story, he sighed and turned to face Sandor. The sellsword remained facing the bar, his massive hands wrapped tightly around the base of his tankard.
"You know the one truth I've learned in all my years, shon?" Octieve asked drunkenly, waving about his own drink. "Life's too hard to face shober."
At that, Sandor chuckled slightly, and he moved his tankard to clink against the old man's before replying. "I can drink to that."
Glad to have someone finally listening to his ramblings, Octieve didn't stop there, continuing to offer his advice to the younger man. "Don't ever gamble either, my good fellow," he slurred, belching loudly. "That gods damned Irnskar has me in debt up to my eyesh." He sighed heavily. "Too many drinking games, too many betsh...and now I'm too old to ever raise the coin on my own."
Seeing his opportunity to silence the old man, Sandor raised his eyebrow and turned to face Octieve. "What if I talked to Irnskar for you?"
"Why would you do that?" Octieve asked, his expression bordering on suspicion. "You don't know me."
"I was taught to respect my elders," Sandor replied easily. When the old man didn't respond, he clapped a hand on his shoulder and stood up from the bar. "Tell the barkeep that your next flagon's on me."
Octieve San mumbled his thanks, and hastily, Sandor left the inn. If the old man was as grateful as Sandor hoped, then he would be able to keep Daenerys safe, at least for a little while longer.
He found Irnskar Ironhand in the Radiant Raiment, standing at the side of Solitude's Thane. The Thane waited patiently for his fitting with the shop's sisters, for at the moment, they were busy with a pair of well-dressed gentlemen, a tall light-skinned Redguard and a rather antsy Khajiit.
Sandor cleared his throat as he approached, and all eyes turned in his direction for a moment. Suddenly, he was grateful that Dany had ordered him to keep his helmet on, lest he be noticed and recognized.
"I'm here to talk to Irnskar," he blurted somewhat awkwardly, cursing himself for drawing even further attention to himself.
"Robbing Solitude's fine citizens of their gold again are we, Irnskar?" The Redguard jested, obediently lifting his arms as Taarie pinned together the tunic with which he was being fitted.
"Dar'Jazha believes it is these sisters that are doing the robbing, yes..." The Khajiit growled, flicking his grey tail when Endarie stuck him with her pin and baring his teeth.
The Khajiit's name seemed almost familiar, but Sandor chose to ignore them, speaking to Irnskar instead. "I'm here to ask for Octieve San's debt to be forgiven."
The Nord snorted at that and crossed his arms over his chest. "A debt's a debt, man. Either he pays it or his kind does. He has a daughter that will pay me soon enough."
Sandor glanced briefly at the other men present before leaning in toward Irnskar and placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Lay off the old man. Now."
Ironhand hesitated for a moment before thinking better of fighting the large sellsword. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, taking a step back. "Have it your way. Tell Octieve to forget about the debt."
Satisfied, Sandor left the nobles to their primping and returned to the Winking Skeever. Octieve San was still at the bar, though Sandor was glad to see that he had finally stopped drinking.
"Your debt is forgotten," he said as he approached, leaning against the bar beside him.
The old man looked up, his eyes wide and filled with confusion and relief. "Truly? Why, boy? Why would you do this for me?"
"I have my own reasons," Sandor answered cryptically, before gripping his arm and regaining his attention. "I need something from you though."
"Of coursh," Octieve hiccupped. "Anything."
"Don't speak of the Dragonborn," Sandor said gravely, tightening his grip. "Whatever you do, do not speak of her again."
Though he still looked confused, the old man nodded and gave his word before slipping into a drunken stupor at the bar. If he did end up keeping his oath, then Daenerys would be safe, for at least a little while longer.
The young woman herself walked back into the inn nearly an hour later and joined Sandor at the bar, ordering a glass of sweet wine for herself. She looked tired, and they sat in silence as they drank, listening to the voices around them.
One man spoke of the Stormcloaks' imminent attack, but it was what his companion said that caught Sandor's attention.
"Have you heard the news from Windhelm?" The man asked in a conspiratorial whisper. "Stormcloak's wife is with child. Ulfric sent a courier to every town in Skyrim with news of the Stormcloak heir."
As the words sank in, Sandor's stomach churned unpleasantly and his breathing grew suddenly labored. Sansa…she's… The man's words faded beneath the throbbing of his temples and he lurched unsteadily to his feet, slamming a handful of septims on the bar and grabbing a whole bottle of wine from behind it before retreating to their rented room.
Once inside, he pounded his fist against the door, ignoring the pain that swelled in his knuckles. "Gods damn it!"
He knew it would happen eventually, of course, but not so soon. The thought of his little bird growing big with another man's child brought a surge of anger to his chest and he took a swig of wine to wash the sour taste from his mouth.
He wanted to believe that she was happy about it, but he knew that Ulfric bloody Stormcloak had gotten his heir through rape. Every man in Skyrim had heard the rumours of their wedding night: reports from the guards who had been there, from those who heard her screams, and those who had seen the bruises afterwards.
Sandor threw the wine bottle at the wall and swore loudly as it shattered and sprayed its contents across the floor. Even death would've been better than the hell he was living away from her. It's not as if he could've stolen away his little bird when her brother released him, but her life was certainly no better for his being alive, and now the Young Wolf was dead as well, so she had no one left to protect her.
The door opened quietly as he hung his head between his knees and after surveying the damage for a moment, Dany spoke. "I'm so sorry."
At the look of genuine pain and sympathy in her eyes, and for the first time since Gregor had forced him onto the coals that had scarred him, Sandor Clegane began to cry.
When the morning of the party arrived and Dany returned from the Radiant Raiment, even Sandor was impressed by the result. Her gown was made of deep black silk and a blood red dragon wound its way up the skirt and along the bodice, resting its head against her shoulder, an emerald shimmering from within its narrow threaded eye. Though he knew it was a representation of House Targaryen, its design was terribly close to a truth that would be dangerous in the hands of the Thalmor.
"I haven't felt like a true lady for a long time," Dany said quietly as she spun the skirt around her ankles, a slight blush rising to her features. For a brief moment, she seemed her age, and Sandor was reminded of the sister he once had, who had died far too young. He was determined to see that Daenerys would not meet the same fate.
"Well you certainly look the part," he responded, buckling his sword belt around his waist. "Delphine should be pleased. Unless the damned Blade inside of her sees that beast on your shoulder as a threat and slashes the gown to pieces."
Dany laughed at that, truly laughed, and even Sandor couldn't help but crack a smile at the thought. When her mirth had subsided, she gathered her few belongings and followed him from the inn. They had no doubt that Delphine was already waiting.
The streets of Solitude were deathly quiet as they walked to the gates, and the bows on the battlements were raised and nocked, prepared for battle. All about, barricades blocked the doors of shops and homes, for the sound of a hundred boots in the distance could be heard throughout the city: proof of the impending attack for those too frightened or foolish to believe the reports.
The Stormcloak men were approaching the farms just beyond Solitude's gates as Dany and Sandor passed. For a moment, a young woman at Ulfric's side glanced their way, but her gaze returned to the road just as quickly. Delphine was watching the soldiers pass as they approached, but her eyes shifted as she looked at Dany.
"Well," she said, obviously impressed. "You may fit in at the Embassy after all. When Dany nodded her thanks, she continued. "Give Clegane the rest of your belongings before you go to the carriage. He'll be waiting for you in Dragon Bridge when you return, for if he stayed in Solitude his life would surely be in danger." Almost as an afterthought, and with a pointed look at Sandor, she added, "As would Ulfric Stormcloak's, I believe."
Ignoring the jibe, Sandor took Dany's knapsack and slung it over his shoulder. At Dany's hesitation, Delphine spoke once more.
"Don't worry, it will all be waiting for you when you get back, as will we. Just make sure you get out of there alive and with the information we need." She gestured for the carriage waiting nearby and then took her leave with hardly a parting glance. "Good luck."
Her task now before her, Daenerys looked nervous and Sandor shrugged at her slightly as the carriage approached. "Don't die in there, girl. Skyrim needs you."
With a weak smile, she climbed up, and as the carriage disappeared from view, Sandor watched, hoping that if they truly existed, the gods would be with her.