Sandor

Sandor was fighting very hard to hide the smile that was determined to slip across his lips when hee saw Joffrey pacing before the fire, fists and jaw clenched in anger at losing his play thing.

He had burst in to the room where Tyrion had been sitting with Father Pycell, demanding that they return Sansa – Sandor had been listening from the shadowed first floor landing, under the guise that he was making love to his beloved bride.

Sandor heard Mr. Stark's voice then, speaking quiet and calm so Sandor couldn't make out what he was saying. Tyrion had sent for a servant not long after to fetch Mr. Clegane from his bridal chamber.

Now Sandor stood watching Joffrey prowl about and Mr. Stark sit in a chair silently digesting the tale, brow furrowed and eyes far away.

They had played their parts well; Tyrion excusing his part in it as being the sympathetic soft heart, helping the two young lovers in need when they found an elopement their only way to continue their love. Oh how good an actor he was.

Sandor had explained it all calmly; that he had fallen in love with the little bird and she with him, that they knew a marriage between them would never be approved so they had eloped, seeking out the help of Sandor's dear friend. Pycell had been asleep most of the time, prodded awake by Tyrion to mumble confirmation that they had indeed married and thrusted the marriage certificate into Stark's hand before falling back into a slumber.

Joffrey was seething and he pointed a finger accusingly at Sandor, "We can annul this sickening thing. It will be as if you never married, I will marry her and be done with you. You forced her into this I know it -"

"- I forced her to do nothing. She came of her own will. Besides the marriage has been consummated, you will not take her," he growled back.

Stark's gaze turned to Sandor. He had said nothing all the while Joffrey raged and they told their tale. He looked now to Sandor with solemn gray eyes, the certificate bearing his beloved daughter's signature still in his hands. His eyes bore into Sandor's a long time. Just as he began to worry the man was searching his soul, stripping away the lies to find the truth - he dropped his gaze.

"Let my daughter come down here. I want to hear it from her. I won't believe anything until I speak to her."

The room was silent for a while save for Pycell's light snoring and Joffrey's heavy breathing. Then Tyrion summoned a servant to fetch the little bird and some strong whiskey.

It seemed an age that they all were there in silence before the soft sound of bare feet padding on marble floor reached him.

"Sandor?"

All eyes went to the door through which slipped the little bird.

Sandor's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.

Her auburn hair glowed red of blood in the light of the fire, tumbling around her shoulders messy and wild. Her cheeks held a rosy glow and her lips red and plump. Her hands held close his dressing gown that swamped her small body over her white underclothes. She looked every bit a woman in the glow of love, a woman that had just been held and kissed and brought to ecstasy by one who loved her. She was clever, that little bird.

Her eyes sparkled as she turned from the sight of her father and moved to Sandor's side.

His arm automatically went to her, surprising himself who had always flinched from the touches of others. But now she stood, tucked under his arm, cuddled into his side like the loving wife she was pretending to be.

"Sansa…so it is true"

He felt her stiffen beside him at her father's soft voice. His fingers moved of their own accord and rubbed small circles on her skin where they rested against her small arm.

She felt her relax slightly but her fingers clung to him tighter, "yes, father. I have married him."

"He forced her to it!" Joffrey wailed like a child robbed of his favorite play thing.

Sandor's eyes narrowed and would it not be for the little bird pressing a hand to his he would have punched that stupid golden haired twat right in the face.

"Sansa."

Her father reached for her and Sansa moved forwards, letting him take his her in his own.

"I love him, father. I married him in secret for I knew you and mother could never approve. I know he has a reputation, but if you knew him as I do – he is the best man there is. I love him and have lain with him for he is my husband."

Sandor could think of nothing to say. Until now he had concentrated upon the lie, keeping it believable. But there she stood, speaking her words of silk and love until even he could have believed her.

And her father did. His eyes sparkled and his brow creased but he nodded.

"I do not agree with this match. I do not agree with the secrecy – we are your family, Sansa, we would listen to you no matter what. I am hurt by all this. But I know I will not persuade you otherwise. And obviously an annulment is out of the question. Your mother will take time to be comfortable with all this. But I see there is nothing I can do."

Sandor saw her nod and her arm reached out to hug her father. The man's eyes looked to Sandor's over her head as he held his daughter close. He said nothing but those gray depths held promise – promise that should any harm come to the little bird…Sandor didn't want to imagine what would happen to him. He nodded in reply and breathed deeply as Sansa's warm body returned to his side, smelling sweet with something he couldn't' place.

"We will take our leave, come, Joffrey" Ned Stark left the room quickly but Joffrey remained staring at them, eyes full of fire and promise.

Only when their carriage disappeared from sight through the window did the little bird's mask crack. His hands fisted as he watched her weep, but she stayed quiet. Her tears falling silent and thick but he didn't comfort her.

With the first tear the spell was broken and he remembered.

V

She left when her tears were spent. Whispering an apology but accepting his handkerchief, dabbing her face delicately then smiling softly when he told her to keep it. He knew she would cry herself to sleep.

He gave her his chambers for the night, keeping to his promise. He sat alone with a glass of strong wine – Tyrion retiring after Pycell left. He didn't sleep very well that night, drinking deep into his wine until the room spun in the dark and his demons came back to him. But he smiled to himself when the thought came to him of that sweet smell of her that lingered.

Lemons. She smelled of lemons.

V