Sorry for the long wait, guys, I'm a terrible person. The truth is, first I had no inspiration, then I thought that this fic was lame and didn't want to continue it. I'm still not happy with it. I'm literally writing this for you lovely people, as a way to thank you for your support. So, feel free to leave any recommendations on what should happen next in your reviews!

Sansa could not remember a time when she was as down in the dumps as she was now. She hadn't been like that even when her sister stained her beautiful, brand new dress a few years ago.

She had been depressed, all right. After the Joffrey incident. Her parents didn't know the whole truth. Joffrey had tried to make her his on multiple occasions during high school, but her best friend Jeyne Poole had always come to the rescue.

But now Jeyne had vanished from Sansa's life. She had fallen in love with an older man named Beric Dondarrion, Sansa knew, but somehow she doubted that this was the reason for her friend's absence. She would have sent one text after another about her bae, but instead there had been nothing.

So, Sansa had started college life all by herself, with no friends and a haunting past. And yet, the gods had smiled on her for once, and she was now friends with Margaery and Loras. That was enough to make her forget the way that sometimes one of her teachers, Petyr Baelish, would look at her. He was merely looking after her because he was her mother's friend, she kept telling herself; however, Margaery would never leave her alone with him, and she was actually grateful for that.

But Margaery could not help her this time. Sandor, the only good man in her life apart from her father, wanted nothing to do with her. It was all one terrible misunderstanding, but Sansa could not explain to him because she did not have his phone number. She doubted that he would listen to her anyway.

"I had the most delicious dream last night," Margaery said over her cup of coffee. "I dreamed that I was in Shame and Michael Fassbender - well, Michael Fassbender's character - fucked my brains out."

"That's great," Sansa commented, sounding as alive as a corpse.

Margaery sighed. "Listen, I know you're down, but I'm trying to cheer you up here. I hate seeing you like this."

Sansa knew that and appreciated it. She hadn't felt like going out for coffee, but her friend had told her that some fresh air would do her good. She supposed that it was better than mopping around in the flat, but she didn't feel a lot better.

"I'm sorry," she said and offered a small smile. "I know you're trying, and thank you for that - but...it's a bit too soon for me to just get over all this."

Margaery looked at her with great concern. She had never been in a serious relationship, so she didn't know what Sansa was going through first hand, but she could imagine. She had comforted her brother after his rare fights with Renly, so it wasn't that hard for her to understand. Sure, Sansa hadn't really been in a relationship with the Hound, but it was obvious that there had been feelings there - and not just from her side. Margaery was certain that the Hound did not treat all women like that.

She didn't give up. She dragged her auburn-haired friend to bars, they had their nails done - but nothing. Sansa's laughter was a hollow sound, and her smile was forced most of the times.

Sansa would tell her friend to go out and leave her behind, but Margaery would have none of it. Sansa was pleasantly surprised actually; she had expected that her friend would go out by herself even for a couple of hours in order to flirt with random guys and get free drinks. However, she did not. And that meant the world to Sansa.

And that was why she hated herself for forgetting Marg's approaching birthday. She had decided to focus on nothing apart from her studies, so she had completely lost track of time. She often was not aware of what day it was.

Fortunately, Loras came to the rescue. He reminded her of the big day with a phone call.

"So, I was thinking about throwing her a surprise party," Loras was saying over the other line. "What do you think?"

"I think it would be great!" Sansa replied enthusiastically, hoping that her voice had not given away the fact that she hadn't made any plans for her friend's birthday because she had completely forgot about it.

"Cool. Hey, can we meet at Starbucks in about fifteen minutes to talk about this? We can't organise this by the phone."

"Sure, see you there."

After hanging up, Sansa felt something close to excited. She finally had a purpose. She finally had something to do. And she would make sure that the party would be abso-fucking-lutely awesome; she owed as much to Margaery.

But first she had to lie to her.

"I'm going out for a walk. Get some fresh air, you know."

Margaery looked up from the magazine she had been leafing. "Okay," she said, "if that's what you want."

Sansa hated lying to Marg. She had told that girl everything. And she had done so much for Sansa. Not being honest with her felt so wrong, but it was for a good cause.

Sansa entered the much loved coffee shop, ready to come up with totally amazing for the surprise party. Loras spotted her and waved at her, so she walked to his table. And there she was met with a surprise.

Loras was not alone. There was a man sitting opposite him. He had his back on her, but Sansa was certain of one thing: he was not Renly. That man was broader, his hair was longer, he was dressed in black...No, it couldn't be.

The moment that Sansa finally reached the table - she felt as though she had been walking towards it for hours - Loras stood up. "Hey, Sansa," he greeted her with a big smile on his youthful, handsome face. "Um, I'll leave you two alone."

And with that, he got his Caramel Macchiato in his hand and left.

Sansa didn't know what to do. What was going on? She should run after Loras, asking him for an explanation.

Then, the man turned his head. "Sit, little bird."

Her heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him after all. He was just like she remembered, with his shoulder-length black hair, grey eyes, and burn scars. There was something different, though: he looked sad. Big man though he was, at the moment he looked like a lost puppy.

She wanted to sit with him. She wanted to talk to him, to explain everything. She wanted to make him understand and have things back to the way they used to be.

And yet...What that really a wise choice? She had tried hard to stop thinking about him; she didn't want another fight. What if she told him everything but he believed nothing? And how exactly could she tell him everything, how could she make it clear to him that nothing would ever happen between her and Loras without betraying her friend's secret?

"Please," he added.

The tone of his voice and the look on his face made her make up her mind - that, and that one word. She was sure that he didn't use it often. She sat across from him, right where Loras had been. She found a cup there, with her name on it. She looked at it quizzically.

"The Tyrell boy ordered it for you," Sandor explained. "Cinnamon something."

"Cinnamon Dolce Latte," Sansa said and felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. She hadn't had one in a while. She loved that beverage; and with soy milk and no whip, it wasn't that bad for her figure - about 200 calories per tall cup.

She took a sip to collect her thoughts. All this time she had wanted an opportunity to make things right; but now that she had it, she didn't really know what to say. She hadn't prepared what she would say. No words came out of her mouth for her rescue; she felt like everything she could say was stuck on her throat.

In the end, it was Sandor who spoke first. "He told me everything."

Sansa blinked rapidly in surprise. "What?"

"The Tyrell boy - he told me the truth. I thought that his sister was the only flower in the family. Guess I was wrong."

Sansa was too taken aback to tell him that he shouldn't refer to Loras like that. What had her friend done? Had he really spilled the beans to Sandor? Had he seriously risked everything so that Sansa could have a second chance with the Hound?

"He...he actually told you?"

"Aye. Didn't believe one bit of his story at first...but he convinced me in the end."

Sansa was still in shock. Loras had literally sacrificed himself for her happiness. She was overwhelmed. Nothing she ever did would be enough to repay him, to show him how much this meant to her.

"So, do you believe me now?"

"Aye...but..."

One word, three letters - and yet it could hurt someone so much. "But what?"

"But I was right, wasn't I? He's your type, that's the sort of men you're attracted to."

Sansa was in turmoil. She wanted to tell him the sweetest things that came to her mind, caress his cheek and hold his hand. On the other hand, she also wanted to scream at him for being so dense. How could he still not see it?

"I'm not going to lie to you," she said calmly, even though she was afraid of how he might take her words. "I had a crush on Loras. I guess you could say that he's my type. But most of the guys that are 'my type' are either vain and arrogant or...or unkind." She thought of Joffrey and added: "Or both...I hadn't dated in quite a while before you. I was scared if you at first. But...you're nice to me. You make me feel safe. That's my type now. I want someone who makes me feel good. I want you."

Maybe she had said too much, she thought. The two of them barely even had a thing, and there she was, saying that she wanted him. Maybe she should take a generous sip of her Cinnamon Dolce Latte and hope that she would choke on it.

"Do you mean that?" he asked her. He sounded so uncertain, so vulnerable. She was certain that he hadn't had much luck with the fair sex throughout the years, and that made her sad. She didn't feel sorry for him; she knew that he would hate being pitied. She would too.

"Yes," she said.

He nodded and cleared his throat. Apparently, after saying 'please', he would say something else he didn't say often. Sansa felt special.

"I'm sorry," he said, "for how I behaved that night. I was just..."

Jealous. Sansa would love to hear that word, because don't get jealous if they do not care. Nevertheless, he knew that admitting to it wouldn't be easy for him. She couldn't ask that of him. He had pleaded with her, apologised to her, revealed his insecurity to her; he had already done more than enough.

"It's okay," she said, filling the silence. "Just as long as you understand it's you I want to be with."

He nodded but said nothing. She knew that her words had not turned him into a confident man over the passage of a few seconds, but she hoped that he understood now. She really did want to be with him. It was crazy, too early, too soon - but it was also the truth. And she couldn't hide from the truth.

"Come on, let's get a proper drink."

All of a sudden, as if waking from a trance, she noticed their surroundings. She doubted that Sandor would ever be caught dead having a Caramel Apple Cider or a White Chocolate Mocha. A giggle erupted from her mouth, but she managed to stifle it behind her palm.

"Okay," she said with a smile on her beautiful face. This one was not forced.