Sansa
Sansa's heart thudded in her chest and she felt her hair begin to stick to the back of her neck as a sweat slowly crept upon her. Her hands shook in her lap and her breathing was ragged.
Her eyes were wide as they watched Joffrey Baratheon slowly make his way towards her through the swarm of people. His eyes bore into her in a way that made her feel naked and abused before him. His mouth was twisted in that smirk that once made her heart skip for an entirely different reason. Her mouth was dry and she felt that she could retch at any moment. She was frozen in her seat, and still he prowled towards her like the lion he was come to rip more feathers from the little terrified bird.
She dropped her gaze and readied herself, willing herself not to cry.
She studied the floor before her. She had returned from upstairs after the incident, Sandor Clegane returning her to the bottom of the stairs then leaving her lest anyone should make assumptions about them being upstairs alone.
Joffrey had been watching her for the hour or so after that. He had sobered up some – only to the extent that he wasn't staggering about anymore. But he seemed to have grown more confidence in being down here and Clegane now being nowhere in sight.
Her eyes found a pair of boots that stepped into her gaze. She followed the sight of those boots up a pair of long, muscled legs. She frowned realizing those legs were too long and broad for the scrawny lion that she hid from. Her eyes flew up and saw the face of her savior.
By the time Joffrey reached her, he found that with the pass of a body in front of her. The chair that she had occupied only seconds before was empty.
Sansa gazed up into those hard grey eyes and found she calmed. His hands were around her; large, strong and warm, one around her back, the other holding her small trembling hand in his own.
He moved with a grace surprising to her, stepping with her to the music perfectly. She glanced past his eyes to Joffrey standing beside her chair, green eyes fiery and furious. His hands clenched by his sides at losing his prey to a Hound.
She returned her gaze to those gray eyes in that scarred face. She found herself letting her gaze wander over that twisted, burned flesh. She was surprised to find no revulsion, it being replaced with a mild fascination and curiosity.
"The little bird has grown a backbone to look upon my face, but not to avoid the lion. Seems you wanted to be his prey." His voice was a low growl so only to reach her ears, but she heard the quiet strain of anger in it. "Mayhaps I should return you to him, since you seemed to have no thought of running."
He stepped deliberately and her stomach jolted in fear as she realized he was waltzing her closer to where Joffrey stood.
Her hands clutched to him tightly, her nails digging into his hand and shoulder, her eyes widening in fear.
"Please no. I was too scared I didn't…I couldn't…please…"
Almost before the words had left her stuttering mouth he was leading her away from him again. She didn't miss his hands holding her slightly closer, his eyes softening and the corner of his mouth twitching so slightly.
"You need to be more careful; fear will get you nowhere but trouble."
She said nothing. Instead she focused on how safe she felt in his arms. The man many feared and even hated. A quick glance around confirmed that many of those around her were shocked to see them together. And dancing a waltz! Traditionally seen as a lover's dance; where those in courtship or marriage danced together. But it was only to save her from Joffrey she told herself. She wished she could tell them too as she felt her parent's worried gaze upon her. They knew this dance had been claimed by Joffrey and now stolen by Sandor.
"Are you ashamed to dance with me?" she heard him rasp, his voice bitter.
She looked to him, "no, of course not!"
"Really?" he mocked, "the pretty little bird dancing with a dog. Wouldn't you prefer the arms of that beautiful fop over there?" he jerked his chin in the direction of Loras who stood close with Renly, they were watching them as were almost everyone in the room.
Sansa frowned and turned away from them, looking back into those grey eyes that oddly comforted her.
"No." she said firmly.
He raised his eyebrows at her but his tone still mocked, "Haven't you heard the stories about me, little bird? The Hound who whores and drinks and gambles and even has killed? What of my scars? Would you like to know how I got them? Not many know."
She couldn't look away. His eyes were not guarded. His voice was full of anger and his hands gripped her not painfully but strong. But she could see the vulnerability in those grey depths. She could hear the desperate plead in his voice. Deep under that angry exterior he wanted her to understand. And she needed more than anything to find out the truth.
"My brother shoved my face into the fire when he found me playing with his favorite toy. He grew and killed my sister. He killed our parents for our inheritance and there he stayed. The day he died was the sweetest day of my life."
He said it all so fast and without emotion, like he was simply commenting on the weather.
"This is the truth?" she asked.
"A dog will die for you, but never lie to you" he said then.
They had stopped dancing. They stood in the middle of the floor, dancers whirling around them, people gossiping and watching them but Sansa couldn't hear them. Couldn't see them. All she knew was this man before her. This twisted man.
Instinct took over and he hissed in surprise when her hand gently found his burned cheek. She stroked there with her fingers, a touch of soft feathers scared to hurt him more, but she needed to show him.
"You won't hurt me" she said almost in a whisper.
His eyes widened in surprise and after what seemed like forever she felt him lean into her touch slightly.
"No little bird, I won't hurt you" his voice was low, scratchy with emotion.
Her words had been so simple. So simple and sweet but she had told him all. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. He was gruff and angry and so honest his words cut like a blade. But he wouldn't hurt her. She could feel it, feel it like she hadn't with Joffrey. She realized that now.
He wasn't Joffrey.
She smiled at him and her hand moved from his cheek to his shoulder again, her other slipping back into his hand. They danced as one around the room, nothing existing but the music and them. Her eyes never left his and she felt that she was drowning in them. His smell surrounded her and she felt her body light, as if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders.
It ended too soon and he tucked her hand under his arm and delivered her back to her parents. She sighed in relief inwardly to find Joffrey absent. Sandor bowed to her and quickly disappeared into the throng of people.
The music played and people danced but it seemed the room was completely silent; all eyes on her.
She kept her gaze upon her hand clasped in her lap; she could still feel his burned skin under her fingertips and she smiled softly to herself.
V
Later that night, when Arya crept into her bed with a single candle, Sansa told her all that had happened at the ball. She told him of all Littlefinger had said, of what Joffrey had tried to do to her, of Mr Clegane saving her, and of all he had told her.
The younger girl had listened silent and wide eyed, not speaking for a while after the tale was told.
"well at least now we know the truth. If it is the truth."
Snasa sighed and leaned back against the headboard of her bed, "Gods, it must be. Littlefinger told almost the exact same story. And Joffrey…" she shuddered at the thought of him, "…I see him now for who he really is and I wouldn't believe anything he says."
"so what now? You must tell father, they think you are still to marry him."
"I can't, Joffrey comes from a family much wealthier than us. They wouldn't believe such a highborn son would do any of the things I say he has."
"Mother and father would believe you!"
"But, Arya, think of it, if I tell them they will bring it before Mr Baratheon and his wife, and it would be the same outcome. They could break off any thought of marriage but that would not stop Joffrey."
Arya was silent after that.
"What about Clegane?"
Sansa looked to her sister, confused, "what about him?"
"Think about all the times he has stepped in to help you – at the Baratheon ball, at the Tyrells and then twice tonight! And he had told you his past, something those closest to him don't even know fully. Why?"
Sansa thought about when they danced together, he had spoken to her like an equal. His words were gruff but she knew it was his way. She frowned, remembering how safe she had felt with him. The man just over a week ago she had thought to be the worst person imaginable. But now, now things were different.
"Maybe he really is a nice person."
"He always helps you. And at the parties and whatever else he always watches you."
Sansa was surprised at her sister's words, but she also felt…happy. It was a strange feeling of happiness that he watched her. She shook her head wondering where all these thoughts were coming from.
"I can't talk about this anymore. My mind is too full of everything that has happened."
Arya laughed at her sister, "yeah ok let's sleep. God knows too much has happened these past few weeks."
Sansa found sleep quickly, snuggled back to back with Arya in the warm bed. And her dreams were calm and untroubled, dreaming of grey eyes.
V