Hey guys, this chapter is something that I have been working on since the very beginning. I originally was going to have it as a stand along fic but later turned it into the multi-chapter ficlet that we all know and love. This chapter of BB is Sandor centered with a mentions of the royal family. I will warn you now that The Hound is only going to be there slightly as the real (at least in my opinion) Sandor Clegane is very present. He will be pretty OOC in this chapter but it will get better now that we have reached the point of the story that i have been dying to get to. Please enjoy this VERY LONG chapter and tell me how you liked it? May the Fiction be with you!
Chapter Ten
The private jet was high in the sky and experiencing terrible turbulence leaving the man sitting in the aisle seat on edge. Sandor Clegane was not afraid of many things but flying was one of them. Fire was still at the top of his list but flying was a close second. A large hand palmed at the magazine that rested on his thigh. Princess Myrcella offered it to him when she sat in the seat in front of him. Her and Prince Tommen took it upon themselves to step away from their golden haired cunt of a brother after the son of a bitch tried to stab his brothers hand with a plastic fork when Robbert and their bitch mother weren't looking, but he saw it. Even though Sandor couldn't do anything about it now, he would punish him later when it was time to train him.
The trainings were relatively new. The King ordered The Hound to begin training his oldest son after word of an overseas terrorist group began to send threats to the crown of Westeros. These messages were mostly videos that consisted of gore and torture. Threats that even made a hardened man like The Hound cringe for the sorry bastard that had been captured.
Another reason for the order was the recent death of The Hand. Jon Arryn was a man of many years but he had been in relatively good health when he passed. It wasn't made public that he had died until just a few days ago, his family requesting a proper amount of time to grieve before paparazzi began to hoard around their home looking for some sort of fowl play to sell to the highest bidder.
"It'll be alright Mr. Clegane," the young princess tried to sooth him "the co-pilot says that we'll be landing in about an hour". Her sweet smile calmed him a little before another jostle of the plane made him turn to stone. "Try to think of something that makes you happy. Surely there is something that could distract you."
"Thank you your highness but 'm perfectly fine." he couldn't let them know that he was feeling weak. He couldn't take the chance of the King and Queen finding out and possibly firing him. Sandor would never admit it but he liked his job. He enjoyed barking orders to his highly trained staff, the power he finally had in his life was a good feeling but he was never a tyrant. Clegane also enjoyed watching over the two younger Baratheons' as they always spoke to him without fear and had nothing but kindness. They were still children, Princess Myrcella being ten and six while her little brother just celebrated his tenth name day. These two were sweet and Sandor swore to himself that if he ever had children of his own, he prayed to the Gods that abandoned him that they wouldn't turn out to be little bastards like Joffery.
Sandor never thought he would actually have children, considering no woman would touch him with a ten foot pole, but that all began to change after meeting the Little River. Sandor found himself, for the first time in his miserable life, hoping for a future. If it was with Jane then he would be happy, if not, at least she had shown him a kindness that he could get used to. No matter what happened from here on out, Sandor had a confidence in himself that there was more for him out there in a world hellbent on destroying all that is good. He also hoped that this dream he was living in wouldn't end. Sandor found himself not wanting this relationship with the blonde beauty to come to a conclusion. If she ever came to her senses he would be crushed but he would understand and would willing let her go if she chose. For him, her happiness was more important than his.
The Hound was falling fast for this enigma of a woman but he didn't mind it in the slightest. Jane was everything that he wasn't; kind, good-natured, and had a hope for humanity that could rival that of the Princess that sat right across from him. However, there were still similarities between the two that were notable. They both had a love for the simple things in life, understood beauty in the finer things. Their taste in music was practically parallel and even though it wasn't a lot that was incommon, Sandor new that they could grow together and find things that they both could enjoy, after all, they had only known each other for three short yet blissful months. For now, he would let her set the pace and see where she wants to take things.
Still thinking of the young woman, he hoped that she was feeling better. They had practically stayed glued to each other the days leading up to her departure and every second they shared was either spent in bed where things always ended up with their clothes on the floor or in the bathroom while she heaved up whatever contents had been in her stomach. Sandor was well aware that he could catch whatever was ailling her but he simply couldn't bring himself to care.
He had been so enamored with his thoughts of Jane that he barely noticed the pilot addressing to the royal family and limited number of kingsguards that they were going to land in a matter of minutes.
It had been years since he had visited the capital of the North but that was a time before the Kingsguard. It seemed that not a single fucking thing had changed in the last twenty years save for the actual private airport that he was currently standing in. He and his men surrounded the King and his golden haired family as they made their way to their awaiting and warm cars. Since Sandor was a personal guard he would have the unwanted pleasure of riding with the now bickering family. The bitch Queen was making jabs at Robbert while Joffrey attempted to torment Tommen, his usual target.
The ride was relatively peaceful, usually if it was this quiet it would concern Sandor but the people here in the North were quiet folk. They hadn't caused trouble in centuries, not since the war of the Long Night had finally ended. Still keeping a sharp mind now that he was on solid ground, Sandor didn't allow anything to escape his attention. Just because the only hell to experience was in the crowded vehicle, didn't mean that his senses should be dulled.
"Dog!" did that cunt really have to shout?
"What is it your highness?" his tone was leveled and may or may not have had a slight edge to it but this was just who he was.
"How much longer? I want to get out of this stupid car and stretch" Joffrey whined.
Glancing into the rearview mirror he could see Myrcella roll her eyes so hard that it must have hurt if the wince she gave was any indication. "We are about twenty minutes from Stark Manor."
The boy was displeased with this information but allowed the issue to rest. Sandor continued to gaze at the black car in front of him through the bulletproof window. Snow covered trees completely surrounded the road, encasing it in a welcoming view. The family wouldn't be entering through the official gates of the manor, instead they would come in from the back to better keep them from prying eyes. Not many people outside of the Red Keep knew of the Baratheon departure and that's exactly how Sandor liked it. The less people knew, the better he could protect the preferred Baratheon children.
"Mr. Clegane?"
"Yes Prince Tommen?"
"When we get there," the young lad hesitated, "d-do you think you could take me to see the Gods Wood? I-I've heard that their leaves are incredibly red this time o-of year."
"If it is alright with the King and Queen," he looked back into the rearview mirror to see Cersei and Robbert staring right back at him, giving curt nods in approval. "We'll have you unpack and then we can go with two other men. Princess, would you like to go as well?"
Her green eyes seemed to light up at his question and nodded in earnest. Giving a slight huff of amusement he returned his attention back to the road as the driver continued down the path. Soon, he realized, he'd be able to see Jane again.
"Perhaps a friend of mine could accompany us. She knows quite a bit about the Gods Wood. She could be a guide of sorts for you're inquiring minds."
"Who is this girl you speak of Hound?" the Queens tone was filled with skepticism and venom, though he had no idea why she would have such a reaction to the statement. Cersei was well aware that Sandor wouldn't put her neglected children in harm's way.
"Her name is Jane Waters my Queen. She is a ward of Lord and Lady Stark."
"And how exactly have you come to know such a woman of high importance?"
"She lives in King's Landing and works as a nurse my Queen. I trust her."
It seemed like it was efficient enough of an answer because all questions stopped.
Stark Manor was a dreary sight to see with its grey stone and hibernating gardens but the interior was a sight to behold. It wasn't gaudy like the Keep but it had an air of elegance and sophistication all of its own. Most of the stone that was used to build the home of the ancient house of Stark is repurposed stone from the original castle of Winterfell. The castle had stood for Centuries but eventually time caught up to it and decay and destruction of war eventually left it in ruins. Jane had told Sandor that the land had been cleaned up and soon after turned into a construction site to build the very manor that the current two generations of Starks resided in.
"Bronn Stark the Architect took it upon himself to build a home that suited the Stark family but wanted them to also remember the importance of the past. When his grandson was born, he set things in motion for the Manor to be finished being built by the year-" she stopped suddenly, her cheeks aflame.
"What is it?" he asked softly from his side of the bed.
"I'm rambling aren't I?" the embarrassment was evident in her soft voice.
"Do you hear me complaining?" kissing her softly.
Sandor was immediately torn from the memory as he took notice of all of the main Stark family members line up in the front of the back entrance to the home. Taking notice that Jane was nowhere to be seen. A little disheartened, the man placed on his mask once again, becoming The Hound that the King and Queen hired.
"Ned you old dog! How have you been?" the king exclaimed as he walked towards the Warden of the North. "It's been years since we last saw each other."
"Aye it has my King," he voice was strong yet yielding in the presence of the most powerful man in all of Westeros. The Starks were an odd mixed bunch but each of them were intriguing in their own way. Most of the children had their Mothers' Tully red hair. The oldest, Sandor knew, was Robb Stark. When the time came, he would become the new Warden of the North. Next to him stood a man with raven black hair and had a few noticeable scars upon his face. He was tall and fit, he had a brooding glare made up his features, more than likely a permanent expression. Sandor would have to be introduced to him later.
The young girls were next. One stood tall and willowy with long auburn hair that was done up in a high ponytail, blue tully eyes peered straight at the Hound in wonder and disgust. Sandor refrained himself from rolling his eyes at the noble girl, continuing his examination of the Stark children. Next was another young lass probably about the same age as Princess Myrcella but nowhere near her beauty. This Stark girl was pretty, he would admit, her heart shaped face was slightly elongated and chocolate brown eyes shone with a spark of adventure within. Her hair was a muted brown that fell at her shoulders. She seemed thin but there was something about her that gave off a sense of strength. Sandor knew he was going to like this one.
The last two were boys, both to be around Prince Tommen's age. The older looking of the two sat in a wheelchair. His best guess would be that this was Brandon Stark. Sandor had heard about an incident that this boy was in during the last visit that the king and queen had made to the North. Somehow he had fallen from the still standing tower from the site of the Winterfell Castle. Brandon's brother stood behind him, hands braced on the handles of the wheelchair. The light of the evening sky caught both of their heads turning their red hair into bright flames, their Tully eyes shining with more than just light. In them held knowledge and wisdom. These were things that no child should have and yet it made it all the better.
"These are my children and my nephew," the warden of the North began to name them all, each either giving a bow or a curtsy out of respect and manners. "I apologize, my oldest daughter is inside resting. Jane will join us for breakfast in the morning."
Worry gripped his heart but Sandor knew his place. Thankfully the King had asked what he was wanting to ask the greying man before them.
"She's perfectly fine, she is just fatigued from work. Jane has been resting since she arrived three days ago. I'm sure that my daughter will be better after tonight." A small smile was given as he ushered everyone into the warm and welcoming home.
The hound stayed behind everyone to get one last look at their surroundings. The moment he stepped one foot through the door he felt a strong hand grip his elbow. It was Snow. "Jane is having you stay in her room, bring your things to the second floor down the hall on the left. Her bedroom is the first door on the right." Jon released his hold so fast it was as if his hand had been burned.
Dinner had been a quiet affair with his men, much to his enjoyment. It had been nice to get away from the fake smiles and whispered threats at happiness from the Golden Family. Now Sandor just wanted to lay in bed with his beautiful river. Hearing that she was still under the weather concerned him a great deal. This had been going on for weeks now, she had confessed during their time together that she had been feeling ill for a while. 'A stomach bug that I can't shake,' was the only explanation she could give.
As he walked towards the room they would be sharing, he thought back to all the times she had thrown up, the causes for the bile to churn in her stomach. He was trying this best at mentally diagnose Jane's condition but nothing added up in his mind.
Before he knew it, an oak door was presented in front of him. Sandor gently rapped on the door. When no answer was given, he simply turned the bronze handle and pushed the door open just enough to peek his head thru. A familiar clenching of his heart took place as he saw Jane sleeping soundly on a large bed with heavy blankets. She was almost child like when she slept, a sense of peace almost always fell over her, her skin paled to a healthy shade and cheeks turned rosey when she was warm enough. To Sandor, Jane was angelic.
The room darkened some as he shut the door behind him, only a soft light emitted from the sky light that sat directly above the bed. Crouching next to her sleeping form Sandor placed a loving hand against her warm cheek, stroking stray hairs from her beautiful face. Icy Blue eyes fluttered to meet the stormy grey of Sandor.
Her lips curled into a small smile at the realization of who was in front of her. "Hey you," her eyes shut again as she quietly greeted her lover. Inching closer the large man, he met her half way to rest his forehead against hers, earning him a quiet purr of approval.
She is always adorable when she first wakes, was his only thought before she promptly sat up.
"Sandor, I know you just arrived but," she stopped and looked at him expectantly, "there is something that we need to discuss."
"What's happened Little River?"
Jane was hesitating, had he done something wrong? He knew that he hadn't contacted her since the day she left for Winterfell but he wanted her to have time to spend with her family, it had been important that she did.
"What are we?" Jane's voice was shaking and it put The Hound on edge, "I know that we are dating but am I allowed to say that we are exclusive to one another?"
A growl escaped from his lips before he responded with, "I am whatever you want me to be Jane. Their hasn't been anyone else but you since just before we met."
Jane had shied away at that, a blush painting her already pink cheeks. "Before I decide on what I would like us to be, I need to know one thing." The poor woman was practically trembling from whatever she was about to ask. Sandor took the initiative and scooped her delicate hand into his own large and rough ones. Applying a firm pressure to them seemed to give her some reassurance but he hadn't exactly thought that this would have been the question that was making her shaken. "H-how do you feel about children? Would you ever consider having a family of your own?"
A smile tugged at his lips as his only eyebrow knitted against a scarred forehead in confusion. "Jane," he seldom used her name, only when he was being serious, "I'll admit tha' i havn' alaways been too keen on children but I don't hate them."
"Yes, but would you want any?" her voice had't lost its tension and her eyes were pleading with his own.
"What's gotten into you? Are you pregnant or something?" that had been an attempt at humour, as poor as it was, but it caused Jane to tense. Sandors half burnt brow furrowed even more before she single handedly made the world stop.
Yes had been the only word that made time slow to a stop. The silence that followed was deafening, leaving Sandor to run a million questions through his tired mind. Slowly, as if a blurry image was begining to clear, everything began to make sense. The brute knew exactly when this child had been conceived considering it was the only time that they had actually gone all the way,but it didn't make sense. For all Sandor knew was that Jane was on birth control when they had had sex that night. Jane herself even confirmed that they had also used condoms, which had been a relief at the time. However, now it didn't matter, here she was, sitting in front of him in her childhood bed calling his name as he sat on the floor staring up at her now tear stained face.
Her blue eyes held sorrow and it confused the man even further. Why was she crying? Did she believe that he was angry with her? How could she think that? Perhaps him sitting there blankly staring wasn't helping her mentality about the situation. The next move Sandor made ended up being the best one.
Placing both hands on the sides of her rounded face, he gently brought her head towards his own. When their lips met Sandor put as much passion as he could possibly muster to make the mother of his unborn child understand that he wasn't angry. For the first time in his miserable existence, Sandor "The Hound" Clegane was terrified. It was easily overshadowed by the unadulterated happiness that almost consumed his darkened and battle scarred heart.