Sansa
Seeing her family again was wonderful. Sansa had missed them so much and even though she enjoyed college, there was no place quite like home, even if their home had been in the South for a few years.
She was swept into their arms, laughing and talking loudly over one another, and eventually they made their way to the luggage claim. Everyone had come to see her, and Sansa felt she was bursting with happiness. Even Arya hugged her and started telling her about stuff she had missed while being away. Bran almost dropped both his crutches in his eagerness to give his older sister a hug.
They picked up her bags and headed out to the parking lot. King's Landing rested on the Georgia-Florida line, but winter had been particularly cold this year and Sansa was not surprised to feel the chill in the air, and was thankful she had put her coat on before de-boarding the plane. Their breaths frosting like dragon's smoke, the Starks piled into the silver Escalade and headed for home. Sansa squeezed in the middle row between Arya and Rickon and Bran, while Jon, Robb, and Theon, their adopted brother, rough-housed in the back. Ned and Catelyn looked tired but cheerful, holding hands in the front seat. It was so perfect that Sansa was able to, for a while, forget that she was going to have to face Joffrey sooner or later.
"How was the plane ride, Sansa?" her mother asked. She hesitated. Should she mention Sandor? Why not? "It was fine. You'll never believe who I sat next to." "Who?" Arya asked, adjusting her seatbelt. "Sandor Clegane." Her mother gasped, and the boys quieted down. Ned looked concernedly at her in the mirror. "The Hound?" Arya said, disgusted. "What was he doing on your plane?" Robb asked, leaning forward from the back. "I bet Joffrey sent him to stalk her," Arya quipped. Sansa shook her head. "No, no, it was purely by coincidence. He was in the North doing some business for the Lannisters and just happened to be on the same flight," she said. Catelyn turned in her seat, a worried expression on her face. "He's a terrible man. Was he rude to you, Sansa?" "Oh no! Actually…" Sansa trailed off, trying to find the right words. Her family would never understand the strange connection she had with the Hound; she didn't even understand it herself. "It wasn't bad. He was very reasonable," she finished lamely. Images of his dark grey eyes gazing at her hungrily flashed through her mind, as well as how nice his shoulder had felt when she fell asleep on him. She was glad it was dark in the car so no one could see her flushed face.
"Reasonable?" Arya huffed, rolling her eyes. "He's a mad dog." "Don't call him that, it's rude," Sansa admonished, wishing she had never brought the subject up. "Why do you care," Arya grumbled. She saw her parents share a glance, but nothing else was said about it, much to her relief. Sansa couldn't deny that she felt some sort of attraction for the scarred man; in fact he had often popped into her mind while she was away. Seeing him on the plane, and being able to converse with him without the overbearing and watchfulness of the Lannisters, Sansa knew something was different. He was different, yet the same. Perhaps being away from the Lannisters, even for a short trip, lessened the anger and hostility he usually carried around his person like a black cloud. She decided she would think about it later.
The Stark house was old, built with red brick and white eaves on every window, complete with a wrap-around porch. It was not entirely unlike their old home in Winterfell, and Sansa had fallen in love with it soon after they moved. Arya discovered every secret nook and cranny, from the basement to the attic. As they pulled up the gravel drive-way lined with oak trees, Sansa could see that Christmas lights had already been put up. "You decorated without me?" she asked, half-pouting. "We saved the Christmas tree for you," Bran said with a smile, and Sansa threw her arm around him. Good old Bran. He seemed to be doing well, Sansa thought happily. He had been able to move from his wheelchair to crutches, and though the process was slow, he was certainly improving in regaining his walking.
The inside of the house smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin pie. Sansa barely had time to look around before she was knocked over by Nymeria, Greywind, Shaggydog, Ghost, and Summer, all wagging their tails and wriggling and barking. She laughed as they licked her face, and her siblings tried to pull them away. "They've missed you," Ned commented, helping his daughter up. "I've missed them," she said, attempting to pat each of them equally, as an old pang nipped at her heart. Lady. Then she walked up the stairs to her room, Robb carrying her bags as the rest of the family dispersed throughout the house.
Sansa loved her room. She called it the tower, since it was rounded in shape with large bay windows and a high ceiling. It seemed strange to be in it after living in a smaller room with another girl for the past few months.
"Thank you, Robb," she said as her brother plopped her bags on her bed. "Sure thing, sis." He grabbed her up in a giant hug. "It's good to have you home again, Sansa." Her heart swelled and she hugged him back. "It's good to see everyone, too. Tell them I'll be down in a minute. I want to change." Robb nodded and left.
After a moment, Sansa walked to her dresser, pulling open the second drawer and lifting out a pair of comfy sweat pants that she had left behind. From one of her bags she dug out a sweatshirt with the name of the university printed across it, and added some fuzzy purple socks. She would finish unpacking later. Sansa wanted to relax and enjoy the evening. She glanced around her room, noting how everything had remained the way she left it. The walls were still a light blue, and the long window seat held the same cushions and blankets she liked to snuggle up with while she read. Her eyes rested on the bulletin board and saw a picture of her and Joffrey together, taken at a party last summer. With a grimace, she took the tack out of it and walked to the trash can. Joffrey's smile looked smug and arrogant, as always, and she…she had the look of someone who smiled to hide their misery.
She dropped the picture into the wastebasket, then left her room to head downstairs, where the rest of the family was making hot chocolate and arguing over which Christmas movie to watch.
Sandor
Bugger this buggering cold, Sandor thought as he pulled up in front of the Baratheon's giant mansion. The bare minimum of Christmas decorations and lights hung from the eaves and windows, seeming out of place. They were symbols of joy and peace, two things the Lannisters were in short supply of, and it sucked whatever festive mood would have usually surrounded a Baratheon home. Unless it was Stannis' home. If Santa Clause was real, Sandor had no doubt that the man would receive coal in his stocking on Christmas morning. The thought made him chuckle dryly.
Leaving his bag in the car, Sandor trudged to the front door and let himself in. The calm and pristine interior of the house greeted him, all a farce to cover the true ugliness of what went on in there. After spending so much time in the pure company of Sansa, Sandor suddenly wished to leave as soon as possible. Like you aren't tainted enough already, dog. He could hear voices floating from upstairs, so he decided to go to Robert's study, to check-in, hoping the big man was actually in there for once. It would mean he wouldn't have to see Cersei, at least not tonight.
On the second floor he knocked at Robert's office door, and discovered no answer. Figures. Sandor sighed, then turned to walk down the hallways towards Cersei's study. He would have to report to her anyways, might as well do it now.
Cersei was indeed in her office, along with Myrcella, who looked less than pleased about something when he walked in. "Myrcella, we will talk about this later," Cersei said, her green eyes cutting to Sandor. The blond girl left the room silently, closing the door. Cersei gave Sandor a prim smile and made her way to the bar, where glass decanters filled with drinks stood waiting to be poured. "A drink, Sandor? You must be cold," Cersei offered, pouring him a glass before he answered. He accepted it with a nod of his head, swirling the contents before taking a sip.
The blond haired woman leaned against her desk, studying him and sipping her own drink. "Tell me, Sandor, is everything in place as it should be?" Sandor nodded, allowing his face to betray nothing. This was business. "It is, Mrs. Baratheon. The plans are in motion and await only the right moment." She gave him a tight-lipped smile and nearly drained all the liquid in her glass. "You have done well, Sandor. You may have the rest of the night off. Joffrey is at a party with Meryn. I'm sure he will not require your services until tomorrow." "My thanks." Her words were a relief. The last thing Sandor wanted was to see Joffrey at this moment. He finished his drink and set it back on the bar. "If that is all, Mrs. Baratheon, I will leave now." Cersei gave him a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes far away and clouded.
Sandor exited the office, shutting the door behind him, and as he turned he saw Myrcella sitting on a chair in the hallway. At fourteen, the girl was as pretty as her mother, but more delicate and lacked the venomous streak the other Lannisters seemed gifted with. Sandor was actually a little fond of her and Tommen. They were good children, despite their parentage and the world they grew up in. Sandor figured it would only be a matter of time though before they too were polluted.
Myrcella gave him a weak smile, trying to hide her obvious frustration about whatever subject she and Cersei had been discussing earlier. Sandor gave her a nod and softened his look slightly, not that it would make his face any less hideous. Even Myrcella, grown up around him, had a hard time looking him the eye. The girl seemed to appreciate his efforts though, and offered a polite, "Merry Christmas", as he trudged down the hall back to the stairs, eager to go home and sleep, to be alone so that his thoughts could be filled with the memories of the little bird and her sweet smiles, a welcome escape from the poisonous Lannisters.
He drove to his apartment, which was not far from the mansion and in a fairly decent neighborhood, not that Sandor really cared. It was a place to sleep and keep his few belongings, a place for practical purposes. He had no use for worthless ornaments or frivolous décor. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before selecting the right one, and slid it into the lock. The apartment was as he had left it. To the right was his kitchen, and he tossed the contents of his pockets on the counter, but keeping the phone. His living room was combined with the dining room, holding a simple table and two chairs at one end and a large, over-stuffed couch at the other end. He pulled off his coat, yawning loudly as he made for the hallway to his room, which was also simply furnished, holding a large bed and dresser. A few articles of clothing were strewed on the floor, along with various weights that he used when working out.
He left the phone on his bedside table and went to the bathroom, going through the motions of taking a hot shower with his mind barely focused on the task. Once clean, he donned a pair of boxers and ran the towel over his shaggy hair. He glanced around the floor and found a bottle of whiskey that still had several swallows left in it. With a grunt, he lay on the bed and tipped his head back to revel in the liquid and the burning sensation it left down his throat, settling into his belly with a warm feeling. His hand closed over his phone and he plugged it in to charge before checking it for messages, then he entered his pictures file again.
He drank until the pictures of Sansa blurred and he lolled off to sleep.
A/N: Sorry this was really short. Life has suddenly become very difficult and I don't have much heart or energy for writing, so updates may take longer for a while. Hope you enjoyed it though.