Sandor

He huffed to himself as he followed Joffrey through the throng of people crammed into the small ballroom and drawing room of the Poole home. They had been invited here for yet another ball. Sandor was sick to his back teeth of these functions; snobby upper class families parading their daughters to other's pompous sons while their fathers got drunk and their mothers gossiped about the hem of dresses and the stray curl of one's bloody hair.

They had arrived, been greeted, Joffrey had bowed here and smiled there and been his usual charming self. So they saw anyway.

Now they made their way through the suffocating crown of people. Joffrey led the way and Sandor followed like the loyal dog he was. He knew what it was Joffrey was seeking – or rather who.

A glint of red out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and there he saw Joffrey's prey.

She stood with the Jeyne girl – daughter of the man who had thrown tonight's ball – and the Tyrell girl who showed more teats than face.

"Ah, there she is. Mother wants me to dance with her again. Such a dull wench Sansa is. One more dance with her and I'll stab my own eyes out with a fork."

Sandor cleared his throat as he glanced at a fork sitting on the table next to him and found himself nearly offering it to the golden haired brat beside him.

Joffrey was a little spoiled shit and he pitied the Stark girl for being completely blind to his cruelty. The boy put on a very well crafted mask, Sandor would give him that. But even that mask had cracks; the boy had sick tastes and lost his temper too easily and when he did things never went well.

But if the little bird was stupid enough to be charmed by his false words and sickly sweet compliments she was welcome to him. The girl needed a good wakening to the real world and its cruelties. But like many before her – those in families as high as hers and those she kept company with very rarely ever did descend from their golden clouds to the dirty reality of the world around them.

Sandor hated them. And he envied them.

But still he followed Joffrey to the Stark girl's side.

"I would be honored if my beautiful lady would dance with me." His words were thick and sweet like honey dripping from his mouth. He bowed and kissed her hand and Sandor watched in disgust as she lapped it all up; blushing and smiling and accepting.

He led her away and Sandor noted how she turned away from him; shying towards Joffrey as they passed, turning her back on him as discreetly as she could. But he noticed nonetheless.

He didn't feel any kind of rejection from her – he knew more or less why she did it, remembering their first encounter when he had gripped her small slender wrist and squeezed as he spat drunken words to her. The fear in her eyes had only spurred him on – making him angrier though he could not say why. It hadn't truly bothered him whenever someone avoided looking upon his scarred face. But when she had kept her eyes lowered and her words short, it had stirred something in him.

He snapped out of his brooding thoughts to find the Tyrell girl staring up at him curiously. She opened her mouth to say something to him but he turned and walked away. Conversation was not his skill and it would be the end of the bloody world before anything that girl had to say interested him.

Sandor spied the Imp sitting at one of the tables far to the back of the hall. As usual Tyrion was slouched; pissed drunk and avoiding everyone while still remaining present.

Sandor joined him at the table, taking the seat opposite and took a mug of wine from a passing servant.

Tyrion looked up at the man with a flushed face and glazed eyes.

"Ah, it's the loyal Dog."

"Enjoying yourself, Dwarf?"

Tyrion smiled and closed his eyes momentarily as he swayed in his seat. "Immensely, god knows I live and breathe for these functions!"

Sandor chuckled and drank his wine. He always enjoyed Tyrion's company – the imp being one of the very few whom he could stand to be around for a prolonged amount of time. They had developed an odd friendship over the years Sandor had been with the Lannister family.

"And why is the Dog without his master? Where is my darling nephew?"

"playing with his new toy" Sandor replied, nodding in the direction of the dance floor.

Tyrion shifted in his seat to look at the forms of Sansa and Joffrey as they moved through the dance.

Sandor drank deep from his mug of wine as he watched them. She was perfection itself; smiling here, nodding there, blushing prettily and speaking her sweet words. He felt his nose twitch in disgust and he took another long drink of the sour red liquid.

"Such a pity," Tyrion spoke after a while, his voice quiet and somber. "she seems such a lovely girl."

Sandor found himself agreeing with the Imp, but he knew his sympathy was weak. The little bird was foolish. She was just like those girls she surrounded herself with; heads filled with handsome princes and sweet promises of love. If she chose to believe Joffrey and all his perfect lies then she was welcome to him. They would well suit each other, he decided; her with her beauty and courtesies to please him - him with his looks and manners. But sooner or later she would find out what he was truly like. She would feel the pain as he took his sick pleasure from her as he was known by few to do. And no one could save the little bird then.

But he noticed her eyes; those sky blue depths that glanced towards him every now and then but quickly looked away when she found him staring. Joffrey was speaking to her still and a small voice in the back of his head told him the words coming out of that brat's mouth were about him.

He couldn't care less what the little golden haired twat was saying about him. He had a bad enough reputation as it was and nothing else could stain it further.

But still he watched her, frowning when his eyes refused to leave her slender frame as she danced around the room; her fiery red hair moving around her shoulders and down her back with every movement, the light of the thousands of candles in the room illuminating her pale, perfect skin. He was almost hypnotized by the slight sway of her hips as she moved in the intricate dance, her smile soft and sweet. He felt a strange warmth in his chest and blamed it on the wine he took another swig from.

When the dance was done Joffrey led her back to where he sat.

"Ah, there you are uncle, I was beginning to miss you" Joffrey called out to Tyrion as they neared, his voice mocking.

Tyrion wisely ignored his nephew and straightened in his seat, addressing the little bird. "Good evening, Miss Stark. May I say you look very lovely tonight." His words were slurred slightly but his words were sincere and his voice gentle.

She smiled stiffly at him and bowed her head, "Thank you, sir, you are most kind."

Sandor suppressed a smirk when she did not return the compliment to the Imp. Though the latter did not seem to mind as he was now too busy signaling a servant for more wine.

"Why do you not dance, Clegane?" Joffrey spoke up suddenly, his eyes sparkling in mischief. "I am sure my lady would not mind stepping upon the floor with you."

Sandor never danced, and Joffrey knew that as he smirked at the little bird, presenting the challenge to her. Sandor found himself unable to refuse as he would normally; make a rude remark and leave. But there he stood – silent and waiting, waiting for her to shape her pretty words into an adequate rejection for him.

But she said nothing. She looked at Joffrey in alarm then her eyes slowly turned to look at him – he could see it took some effort on her part – but all he saw in her face was a disgust she was struggling to suppress.

He frowned, the anger building in him quickly. She blinked rapidly and curtsied, muttering an apology to Joffrey then spun and off she went. Sandor watched her red head as it moved through the crown and out of the ballroom into the drawing room.

"Ha! She is scared of you, Dog! That was good fun, wasn't it?" the idiot beside him cried gleefully.

Sandor ignored him, his eyes still glued to where she had disappeared. He tried pushing away the feeling of rejection he was surprised to feel and drank the rest of his wine.