I updated faster than I thought I would! I finished my finals, so I had plenty of time today ^^

Sorry that the story is going slowly, but it has to be like this. A lot of things will happen soon, I promise ;)

Enjoy, and please, leave a review! :)

He could hear them yelling. He had no idea how the fight started, but it had been going on for quite a while now. He did know that Joffrey had been the one that started it, that was for sure. Since he met her, he'd always noticed that Sansa was very quiet around Joffrey and very much the pacifist. But clearly that night something happened that upset both of them.

It wasn't the first fight that Sandor overheard between his boss and Sansa. The first time he heard them yelling like that at bedtime, he'd been concerned, thinking that something very bad had happened, but it turned out that it had only been a disagreement. They seemed to disagree a lot, and so Sandor had grown accustomed to their fighting, along with the rest of the household.

But that night was the worst that he'd ever heard. Usually it was just Joffrey yelling at Sansa until he got tired and went to sleep. This time, however, Sansa was yelling back at the top of her lungs. Sandor didn't know if it was a good thing that the girl was fighting back, or horribly bad.

...Probably the latter.

He couldn't really hear what they were yelling about. He just heard their voices all the way on the other side of the mansion. They were being so loud that Sandor doubted that anyone in the Red Keep was able to sleep. He certainly wasn't, and he kept turning over in bed, trying to sleep, but his eyes remained wide open. He wasn't sure if the reason he was still awake was because of the noise or because, deep down, he was concerned... He knew what a bad temper Joffrey could have with Sansa, he had seen it. Sandor had to admit that, at first, he hadn't liked the girl... He had never liked fancy people who had everything so fucking easy in life and that were so fucking perfect in every way, but he had managed to get to know her a little better over the little amount of time they had spent together, and he had to admit that the young woman wasn't that bad after all. Her life definitely wasn't perfect because she had a future husband that was a little shit and treated her in the worst way possible. Why Sansa put up with that, Sandor still didn't know. But whatever the reasons might be, Sansa didn't deserve that.

He tried to listen, wanting to know what it was that they were arguing about. It was probably about her brother again, Governor Stark. With each day that passed, Joffrey was more pissed off about his opposition in the campaign, and he took it out on his fiancée. As if she had anything to do with that!

He managed to hear some random words that they shouted, but it wasn't enough to figure out what the fight was about. They seemed to go on and on forever, until Joffrey yelled again, and suddenly everything was silent.

Sandor waited, thinking that they would start yelling all over again... But no. Apparently, the fight was over. He felt a crushing sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he had no idea why, but suddenly he felt anxious. He sat up in his bed and stared at the door of his room, feeling the urge to stand up and walk out, but he didn't... Not until he heard someone going down the stairs of the Red Keep. He frowned, moved the bed sheets out of his way, and stood up from the bed. He walked straight to the door, not bothering to put slippers on, and he walked out into the hall in only his pajama pants and a white t-shirt. The floor was cold, but he didn't mind, so he walked towards the staircase and went to the first floor. Everything was so silent now that when someone made noise in the kitchen, he could hear it from where he was. He went to the kitchen and saw no light, even though there was clearly someone inside messing with the kitchen drawers. Sandor stopped at the doorway and turned the light on, suddenly illuminating the room.

Sansa jumped, startled by the sudden light, and turned around to face him. First she looked shocked, but then she sighed with relief.

"Sorry," she said, apologizing for having been startled. Sandor thought that apologizing for that was ridiculous. "I thought that you were-"

"Joffrey?" Sandor finished for her, and raised an eyebrow. Sansa looked a little embarrassed, and then she nodded slightly.

"Yes..."

"I could hear you from the other side of the fucking mansion," Sandor growled, and Sansa gritted her teeth, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," she said again, lowering her gaze. Sandor scoffed.

"Stop apologizing."

He half expected her to apologize again, but she didn't. She just stood there in silence. Sandor took that moment of stillness and silence to take a good look at her. She was wearing normal pajamas, pink and white, and she was barefoot as well. Her hair was a mess, and it fell covering half her face. She looked very tired, and about to cry. That was when Sandor noticed the kitchen drawer that she'd opened before he came in and he frowned when he saw that it was the one that had all the medicines and pills inside.

"What are you doing...?" he slowly rasped, looking at the open kitchen drawer and then at her with suspicious eyes. He really hoped that she hadn't been thinking of doing something really stupid.

"I was looking for some sleeping tablets," she said, hardly meeting his eyes. "And some painkillers..."

"Why?"

"My... I have... cramps," she whispered, and Sandor could tell right away that she was lying. It was so fucking obvious when she lied that it kind of made him mad. He was about to ask her again what the real reason she wanted those pills was, but she turned her face away from him. She was still avoiding his eyes, and she was hugging herself, shaking.

He took a few steps towards her, very slowly. Normally he didn't give a fuck about those things, but he didn't want to scare her at that moment. When he was standing in front of her he took her chin in his hand with a gentleness that he didn't even know he was capable of, and he carefully moved her face so that she would look at him. With his other hand he brushed her hair away from her face, and then he saw it: a red, swollen mark of the size and shape of Joffrey's hand. Her eye, now fully visible, was turning black. Sandor's fingers had just barely touched Sansa's skin, but nevertheless she had a pained expression in her face.

Sandor felt that now familiar anger burning away at his insides.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath.

Sansa really did look like she was about to cry then, but she didn't. She was strong, and Sandor had to admit that she amazed him. And at the same time, she confused him. Why was she putting up with all this shit?

He didn't ask. As much as he wanted to get a fucking answer to that question, he did not want to upset her more than she already was. He didn't say a word as he looked away from her beautiful, tear-filled, swollen bright blue eyes, and reached into the open drawer to look for the painkillers. He figured that she was really in pain. He took two of them (they were small doses) and he took a glass, filled it with water, and brought it to her. He still didn't say a word, and neither did she, but he could see the appreciation in her eyes. Sansa put the pills inside her mouth and washed them down with the glass of water, and then Sandor crossed the kitchen to the freezer. He opened it and found some ice cubes in a bucket. He took them out, grabbed a piece of kitchen paper and wrapped the ice cubes in it, and walked back to Sansa.

"This is going to hurt a bit," he rasped, and he pressed the improvised ice pack against her swollen face.

"Ouch," Sansa hissed, and a bit of the pained expression took over her features again, but she didn't complain anymore.

Sandor kept pressing the ice against her face, and both of them just stood there in silence, looking each other in the eyes. Instead of feeling uncomfortable or awkward, Sandor felt a confusing mix of sensations. He felt calm, and rage, and a funny thing in his stomach that he couldn't quite recognize. He didn't see the repulsion that other people had when they looked at his face in Sansa's eyes. He saw sadness, and at the same time, happiness.

Sansa Stark was, without a doubt, a disconcerting creature.

"What happened?" he asked then, finally breaking the silence. Sansa grimaced.

"Joffrey got mad..."

"I think I already knew that," he rasped, taking the ice away a bit to see if the swelling was going down or not. It seemed to be getting better, but there was nothing to really stop her eye from turning black.

"It's... It was nothig, really. It was just stupid," Sansa said, feeling uncomfortable once again. She didn't want to tell Sandor the real reason for her fight with Joffrey, but the bodyguard insisted.

"This doesn't look like nothing," he barked, looking at the spot where Joffrey had slapped her. "You were yelling at each other for a fucking long time. And don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "I'm not saying that it was your fault, if that's what you think."

"But maybe it was my fault..."

"Bullshit. No man should ever hit a defenseless woman, much less his future wife," he barked, feeling really upset about it.

Sansa looked puzzled. She always had that same expression every single fucking time that he did something nice for her. When he rescued her from the crazy mob of fans that almost crushed her, when he bought food when she was hungry, and now when he was helping and defending her in the only way that he could, even if it wasn't much. He wondered if Sansa still believed, just as everyone else did, that he was some kind of monster.

The scars in your face are to blame for that, a bitter voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"I refused to sleep with him," she whispered then, and her face turned dark red. Sandor froze, and he stared at her in disbelief.

"Sleep with him? As in..."

"Yes."

"And he hit you. Because of that." Sandor said between gritted teeth. It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.

"Yes," she nodded. "We started arguing. One thing led to the other and soon we were fighting over everything and... Well, you can see what happened next."

She laughed, probably as a better alternative than crying. His hands curled into fists, and he crushed the ice that he was holding.

"Has he ever forced you?" he asked, knowing that if the answer was yes, he would climb the stairs right then and there to beat Joffrey into a bloody pulp. Sandor could tolerate many things, but he couldn't tolerate that. To his relief, Sansa shook her head, and he could tell that she was telling the truth.

"No. But once we're married, he... will want sons, I suppose."

Sandor was about to tell her to break up with Joffrey, but he didn't. Why bother? He'd already tried to convince her before, and she hadn't listened to him, so he wasn't going to waste his time trying again. He chose to remain silent, pressing the now crushed ice against her face, which wasn't so badly swollen anymore.

"You're going to have a black eye in the morning," he told her, knowing that she wouldn't be happy about it. He hoped that she didn't have any public events to attend in the next few days, or she was screwed. There was no way that she could properly excuse her appearance without people being suspicious of Joffrey and what had really happened.

Sansa whimpered. She was a strong woman, but she did not want to have a black eye, and it would still hurt in the next couple of days.

"I'll give you something for it, don't worry," Sandor told her then, amazing himself with the amount of care that he was displaying that night, when he usually was a brute to everybody. But there was something in Sansa Stark that simply did not allow him to act the same way around her as with everyone else.

A little smile appeared in the corner of Sansa's mouth. Sandor was confused by that little smile, not sure where it came from. Once again, silence reigned over them as he kept the ice on the side of her face and they looked at each other in the eye. Once again, Sandor was amazed at the lack of fear in Sansa's eyes. He didn't see sadness there anymore; now they shone with a certain spark... Sandor wasn't sure what to think of it. He usually had no problem reading people, but at that moment he was having trouble reading her.

"You surprise me, Sandor Clegane," Sansa said then. It was barely a whisper, and somehow it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He stared at her and frowned.

"Is that so?"

"Yes..."

"Why?" he rasped.

"When I first saw you, you scared me. You had this... rage in your eyes. It was horrible, and it made me feel so afraid... But now I understand. It's all just a pose. You are rough and rude to maintain that "tough guy" position to scare people off and intimidate them."

If anyone else had said that, it would have angered Sandor to a point where he would have beat that poor idiot until all his teeth fell out. But it had been Sansa, and he just stood there like a statue, not knowing how to react, still holding the crushed ice against her face. It was melting inside his big, calloused hand, and some drops were falling to the kitchen floor, making a small pool there.

He would have given anything, paid anything, to be able to know what was going through the young woman's mind at that moment. He wanted to know exactly what she was thinking, and why she was saying those things. Sandor didn't fully understand her, but he wanted to. It angered him to not being able to understand her completely.

"Is that what you think?" he finally asked, and she nodded.

"Yes..."

"So what am I really?" he rasped, wanting to know what she really thought of him. On any other occasion, he might have laughed off her previous statement. She was mistaken, it wasn't a pose, he didn't want to scare people off. He was who he was, and there was no changing it. People got scared of him on their own, because of his face. They would always be scared of him and hate him. But he wasn't going to laugh at the girl that night. He just wasn't. And he really wanted to fucking know what all that was about, what she thought of him now...

She surprised him yet again by placing her small, delicate porcelain hand over the hand that held the ice against her face.

"You're a good man," she said.

He scoffed under his breath. "I am not."

"Yes, you are. You try to hide it, even from yourself, but you can't fool me, not anymore."

"If you really think that, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought."

"Am I really?" she asked. There was still a small smile on her face. "You have taken better care of me than anyone else has since my father was killed. You are the only one that doesn't want to use me, you speak to me with the truth, you say what you really think, you don't lie... And you... care for me. In your own way."

"Even if what you're saying is true, how would you know it?"

"By the way you act," she said. "Every time that you do something to help me, you do it fully knowing that it will make Joffrey, your own boss, angry. And no one wants to make Joffrey angry."

"Joffrey can go and fuck himself," he rasped.

"See what I mean?" Sansa said, raising her eyebrows. "You always help me when he hurts me. Everyone else just... looks the other way and pretends that nothing is happening. And then they just leave."

"I never help you while he's hurting you. I never stop him when he strikes you, or when he yells at you, or when he goes around the city humiliating you, parading his lover around," Sandor barked.

"Well, I don't intend you to perform miracles," Sansa whispered. "But what you're doing now means a lot to me. Thank you very much, Sandor. Really."

He didn't say anything; he just stared at her in silence. A few moments later, he was glad that he hadn't said anything because they heard a voice that came from the doorway.

"Sansa?"

Sandor turned around immediately, mentally cursing when he saw Joffrey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at them with narrowed eyes. Sansa had immediately removed her hand from his and she was as still as a statue looking at her fiancé, but there wasn't any emotion on her face. No fear, no anxiety... Her eyes were just empty all of a sudden. Sandor looked at her and then back at his boss, waiting for him to say something. For what seemed like an endless eternity, Joffrey just stood there in his pajamas and his robe, staring at them with a dark shadow covering his green eyes...

His gaze flitted back and forth between his bodyguard and his fiancée with interest, studying them both. Sandor could feel Sansa getting tense, and he himself didn't like the look on Joffrey's face. Who knew what the fuck was going on through his mind, and he didn't want to get Sansa into any more trouble that night. Joffrey finally decided to speak.

"Sansa, love..." he said with fake sweetness, "go back to bed. It's very late, you must be exhausted."

Sansa didn't protest. She just glanced at Sandor for half a second before leaving his side. She walked out the door without even looking at Joffrey, and disappeared from sight. Sandor expected Joffrey to go after her, but he didn't. The young Governor was still standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was thinking, staring at his bodyguard with inquisitive eyes.

"What was going on in here?" he asked. His voice was a cold hiss.

Sandor shrugged. "I came down here to get a glass of water," he lied. He didn't like liars, but he was good at it. "She was here, that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Sandor knew that Joffrey didn't believe him. He could see the suspicion in his eyes. However, his young boss didn't say anything on the matter. He just nodded his head slightly.

"Alright then," he said, his expression back to normal. He didn't even say good bye as he left the kitchen to go back to bed, and Sandor didn't care. He threw the ice away, dried his hands, and left the kitchen, turning the lights off as he made his way out.

He climbed the stairs, but he didn't go straight to his room. Instead, he went to the next floor. He needed to make sure that everything was alright.

He hated to admit it, but Sansa Stark had been right about him before. As strange and confusing as it was, he did care for her, and he was concerned after learning why Joffrey had hit her earlier. He knew where the girl's room was, so he walked very quietly towards her door. It was closed, but he could see the light coming out in the space between it and the floor. He heard footsteps, and then the lights went off and everything was silent. Sansa was alone in her room, and she was alright.

Sandor didn't linger: he just turned around and went back to his own room, still unable to get rid of that crushing sensation that he'd had in his chest when he first heard Joffrey and Sansa fighting.