Hello people!
Here's another chapter. I wanted to write it sooner, but when I started it my writing was interrupted by an unexpected health problem. And then that problem was followed by another health problem! But now I'm fine, and the chapter is finished. I just hope it turned out fine and that you like it!
I tried to proof read it and I think that I fixed all the mistakes, but my phone can be a jerk, so I wouldn't be surprised if some mistakes pop up around the chapter.
Oh, a guest review from the previous chapter left me a bit worried. I suppose some of you mistook the meaning of Sandor's words at the end of the chapter and you might think that he wants to protect Joffrey. He doesn't want to, but he had a duty. Anyways, what Sandor meant at the end of the chapter was something like "so, I have to do my job and protect this little shit because I can't just go and stop being his bodyguard because that would be suspicious, and I know that Arya wants to kill him, so I'll keep being his bodyguard but I kind of want him dead because of what he did to the woman I love but I can't do much about it, so if you try to kill him be careful and don't do anything that puts me in a position that forces me to stop you because I really don't fucking want to stop you from shooting him." Understood? I hope yes! ^^
I have decided to start putting chapter titles. I haven't decided on titles for all of the previous chapters, but I will soon. oh, and first Sansa POV! Yay!
ENJOY! And please, review? :D
18. Go Back To Sleep.
"Sansa, get out of here!" her father's voice shouted.
She turned around to flee, but two arms much stronger that her grabbed her and held her in place. She screamed and kicked, screamed and bit, but Meryn wouldn't let her go. As she struggled she could hear another fight going on a few feet away from her, she heard punched and painful groans. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his father shouting in pain and she turned her head to see what was happening, only to see that Boros had beaten up her father and was now holding him in place for Joffrey. Blood was running down her father's chin, and there was a bad cut in his forehead. He doubled over in pain, probably having a broken rib from Boros's punches.
"Stop!" she screamed, trying to get rid of Meryn again, unsuccessfully. That didn't stop her from screaming at Joffrey. "Joffrey, please! Stop!"
Her fiancé wasn't looking at her, he wasn't even listening to her. He was staring at Ned Stark with a deadly glare and gritted teeth; his expression had never been more furious. He looked like a true maniac.
"You are going to be sorry for this, Stark!" he spat.
"You are the one that's going to be sorry, Joffrey," Eddard Stark murmured in a weak voice. "The police will know what you have done."
No, don't provoke him!,Sansa screamed in her mind, desperate but unable to say anything. She was trying really hard not to cry. She just wanted Meryn to let go of her and walk out of that place with her father safe and sound and forget about everything.
"Joffrey..." she murmured, trying to get her fiancé's attention and turn it away from her father. "Please... let us go. I will be good. I will be a good wife, I'll do anything you ask... But let my father leave, please. Nothing will have happened here, I swear..."
She started sobbing then, even though nothing had happened yet, but Joffrey's eyes were scaring her. He had finally turned his face towards her, and his twisted grin turned his features into something that would appear in her darkest nightmares.
Joffrey observed her and ran his eyes all over her, making her feel filthy and powerless. She wanted to struggle against Meryn again to try and free herself, but she couldn't because she wanted Joffrey to believe what she was saying; that she would be good, that she would obey. She would be his slave, if only he let her father go unharmed.
For a second there, she had hope. But that hope was shattered as soon as she heard Joffrey's cruel laugh. He was looking at her while he laughed; that sound was making horrible chins run down her spine and made her really want to cry, but she held back her tears. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down...
"Meryn," Joffrey said then, and suddenly the bodyguard put on of his hands on her face and held her head in place, pulling her eyelids open to make sure she saw whatever Joffrey wanted her to see. Her first reaction was to let out a loud cry, but she bit her tongue to be silent.
I will not let him see me cry... He can beat me all he wants, I don't care, she thought. But please, let my father go, he shouldn't have come here...
All of a sudden, Joffrey pulled a knife from one of the inside pockets of his jackets. Sansa froze, thinking that he was going to cut her.
Oh my God...
"No..." she mumbled, unable to stop herself. She did not want him to cut her with a knife!
Her father had also seen the blade. His eyes were wide as plates and his face was terribly pale; he tried to fight against Boros but his strength was no match to the bodyguard's.
"Joffrey!" he hissed. "Let her go!"
But Joffrey wasn't about to do that...
He lifted the knife, showing the sharp blade to Sansa so that she could see it. She gasped and tried to move away from it, unaware that Joffrey wasn't trying to hurt her. At least not in that way...
"This is for you, my love," Joffrey said.
Before Sansa could say anything, Joffrey turned around, grabbed Ned Stark's shoulder with his free hand, and buried the knife in his stomach. Ned Stark shouted in pain while Joffrey laughed like a psychopath and blood spurted out of the wound, staining Joffrey's face and the concrete floor under they feet. Joffrey pulled the knife out and stabbed my he Vice President again.
"DAD!" Sansa screamed.
Strong hands that shook her in the middle of the night awoke her from her nightmare, and she found that she had been screaming for real.
"Little bird! Sansa, wake up!" a raspy voice exclaimed at her side, alarmed and worried.
She opened her eyes all of a sudden and sat up on the bed startled. She was covered in cold sweat and she was panting, nearly unable to breath. She felt like she was suffocating, like two cold iron hands were wrapped tight around her neck and wouldn't let the air come into her lungs.
Sandor sat up on the bed as well and he turned just for a second to turn on the light on the lamp in the nightstand. After the bedroom was illuminated her turned towards Sansa again and he held her shaking shoulders. His touch was burning hot compared to her skin covered in ice-cold sweat.
"Seven hells, Sansa, what's wrong?" Sandor asked, alarmed by her state and greatly concerned. He gently pulled her closer to him until she was leaning against his broad chest, covered only in a white undershirt, and when her head was resting against his body she broke down in tears. That alarmed Sandor even more.
"Sshh, sshh, little bird" he tried to soothe her, wiping her tears away with his fingers carefully. "What's wrong, Sansa? Why are you crying?"
He was really trying to help her even though he wasn't any good at it, or at least that's what he thought due to his lack of experience, and she knew he really cared about her and was genuinely worried. But she was so upset that she couldn't form proper words. Her mouth was trembling just as the rest of her body and was incapable of forming proper words. The only thing that she could do was cry, so she held on to Sandor's undershirt and cried her eyes out.
Sandor wasn't stupid, though. In a few seconds he knew perfectly fine what was wrong with her. After all, he had discovered everything just hours ago. He wrapped her body with his arms in a protective way and cradled her.
"It's okay, little bird... You are okay... Nothing is going to happen to you."
She knew that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her, he had promised her and Sandor Clegane was a man of his word. But Sansa couldn't stop crying or feeling like a thousand knives in fire had stabbed her because the real damage was already done.
"I saw it, I saw it all again..." she sobbed against Sandor's chest. She tried to control her sobbing and stop crying, but it was one of the hardest things to do. "I saw my Dad... And Joffrey..."
Sandor kept silence, not really knowing how to soothe her pain on that matter. What do you say to a girl who saw her father murdered by her fiancé and had just relived that terrible moment in her dreams?
Because he couldn't find any proper words to say to her, he did the next best thing that occurred to him and that was cup her face with one hand and kiss the hair at the top of her head. It wasn't just a peck; his lips lingered in that area of her head, transmitting through them to her everything that he did not know how to tell her. He wasn't good with words, had never been, probably never would.
However, Sansa understood him. Yes, of course she understood him. She had understood him from long ago, and that moment was just another confirmation of what she already knew. That, even though he would have to eventually let go, she could always be safe with him. If he could he would erase the pain that was killing her soul, but he couldn't. He was a bodyguard and a man, not a god...
"Come back to sleep," he murmured then against her head, and she shook her head. She was crying anymore, but her face was damp and Sandor's undershirt was wet with her tears.
"I don't want to sleep," she murmured, terrified of going back to sleep. "The nightmares will come again."
"I'll be by your side, I'll scare them off," Sandor assured her, and then he gave her a soft smile. He wasn't a man that was used to smiling, but when he really meant it it was a real gift for Sansa to see his expression like that instead of the usual moody emotionless expression that was so terrifying sometimes. "I'll wake you up if I have to."
"You are not going to be able to sleep..." she murmured, suddenly feeling bad that she was keeping him awake with that, but Sandor shook his head.
"Bullshit. Now come, little bird. You need to sleep, it's been a long and tiring day."
It was true. The morning and the afternoon and evening had been pretty normal, but around midnight and a few hours after that everything had changed. Sansa had been able to see Arya, whom for a period of time she had believed to be dead after she disappeared. Seeing her alive and well was the biggest relief that could have happened to Sansa, though she was worried about the mess that Arya was getting herself into. She was worried that something bad was going to happen to her, but Arya seems dead set in her goals and Sansa wasn't in any position to stop her. The walk back to the mansion had been very tiring and difficult, and Sansa had been terrified of being caught at the last moment, but Sandor had managed to get her in the same way that he had gotten her out. She realized that he had risked a lot to make her happy that night.
She was sobbing very quietly, still upset about her dream, but she was already used to those. She didn't cry as much as she used to the first days, nor did she scream her father's name at the top of her lungs. Now she just cried, and let the pain slowly go away.
Sandor out a hand in her forehead, still covered in ice-cold sweat. He cursed under his breath.
"You are not well," he rasped.
"I am fine," she lied.
"No, you are not, let me get you something."
He tried to get out of the bed, but Sansa kept her arms tightly wrapped around his middle and wouldn't let him go.
"Stay with me!" she said, almost crying. Gods, she felt stupid. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help it. If Sandor left her when would feel alone, vulnerable, unprotected, not safe... She was afraid her nightmares would become real again and torment her for as long as he was away.
"Little bird, everything will be alright..."
"Stay!" she said. Her voice was stronger, and it sounded like an order. Sandor sighed and stayed inside the bed, and he surrounded Sansa with his arms again while he caressed her soft cheek with his fingers.
They laid like that in bed for more than twenty minutes, engulfed by the darkness of the night and in complete silence. Sansa had stopped sobbing and she entertained herself with the sound of Sandor's deep breathing and with the movement of his chest, which she found incredibly soothing. She had her eyes wide open; no matter how much she wanted to go back to sleep and try to rest some, sleep wouldn't come to her. She wondered if Sandor had already fell asleep when suddenly she heard his low raspy voice.
"I'm sorry."
She frowned when she heard those words leaving his lips, and for a second she wondered if she had heard wrong or if maybe she was asleep and she didn't know and was dreaming odd things. She hadn't known the man for a long time, but in the short time that she had actually been talking to him it had become very clear to her that Sandor Clegane wasn't a man that apologized easily. Sansa moved her head to she she could look at him, and a bit of moonlight allowed her to see that his eyes were open as well and looking at her.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because of what I said earlier, to your sister. That I would have to... protect Joffrey," he explained. As soon as he said that, Sansa understood and shook her head.
"I understand," she assured him. "You can't just stop doing what you've been doing for 23 years, many things would be at risk then. I get it, it's fine. I know you didn't mean it."
"But what I told to your sister is true. I will let her keep trying, I won't do anything to stop her... unless I have to. Besides, she wants to kill Joffrey herself, doesn't she? If anyone else attacks him, I think it's better that I do something about it."
"Doesn't it bother you?" Sansa asked then, and that time it was Sandor the one that frowned. "I mean... you have been taking care of him for almost his whole life, after all. It wouldn't really surprise me of you were angry that there are people plotting to get rid of him."
That was another one of the things that had scared her at first when she had met him for the first time. He was Joffrey's bodyguard, the man who had been at his life for more than two decades. Surely he must be very close to Joffrey, care about him, be his friend or confidant. Sansa had thought at first that Sandor might be just as much of a dangerous person as Joffrey, but it had taken her little time to see how different the two men actually were. Sandor was dangerous, yes, but in a way that was as different from Joffrey's kind of dangerous as white is different from black.
"No," was Sandor's response. Sansa couldn't lie, she felt relieved when she heard that word. "Because I have been watching over him for such a long time I can understand that he is not the best person in the world. I knew he was capable of things, bad things... But what I have found out tonight, or even what I've been discovering over the past months... It's too fucking much. Your sister could stick a bomb up his arse and make him blow up from the inside out and I wouldn't give a fuck. I never liked him anyways, he was always a nasty little shit."
"Do you think my sister can succeed? Killing him, I mean," Sansa had never wished anything bad for anyone in her life, but her fiancé was the clear exception. Every time she closed her eyes, nightmares came back to her. Every couple of weeks she had a new bruise to remind her of the hell that her life was bound to be from then on. She wished Joffrey to go to hell and never come back.
"It's difficult," Sandor sighed, "but she did a pretty good darn job in the city square. She was damn close to killing him. But now, because of me, security will be skyrocketing around Joff."
"But it's not impossible?"
"No. She's with the Faceless Men after all, and I've told you, those guys are fucking nuts. When I was over in Europe they were making some shit happen, killing corrupt politicians all over the place."
Sansa shuddered. She couldn't imagine her younger sister, with whom she had memories of petty fights over stupid things and pleasing summer afternoons and evenings with her family in Winterfell during winter mornings, doing those horrible things.
"I don't like it. I don't like that my sister is with those people."
"She seemed to be getting well enough with them. She's surviving in her way, joining those crazy buggers. You are surviving in you own way too, staying in the snake pit."
"At least I have someone that cares for me," she said smiling slightly. It was the first time that she smiled that night since she got back from the cave. She ran the tips of her fingers over Sandor's powerful chest, and in return Sandor caressed her back.
"Go to sleep, little bird. The nightmares won't come now. And if they do, just wake me up."
She smiled gratefully, and after cuddling against his body and placing her head comfortably on his chest she fell asleep holding him tight. Just as Sandor had said, the nightmares didn't come back, and the night went on peacefully. The hours of darkness passed and were gone, and soon the sun rose in the horizon and lit the sky.
Sandor awoke with the first rays of sunlight as usual, but he waited for Sansa, lying down in bed and holding her until a couple hours later her eyes opened as well.
It was a normal morning for them, as if nothing had changed since last night. Both of them figured that would be the best thing to do for both of them, acting like everything was normal and going on with their day as they had been doing since they arrived at Tarth. Sandor had breakfast ready for both of them in a heartbeat and Sansa joined him dressed with her pajamas and a silk robe. They had breakfast in silence; Sansa drank her tea and Sandor drank his coffee, and she smeared some jam on the toasts for both of them while he peeled an orange for her. It was a quiet and peaceful morning, and both of them were grateful for that; last night had been adventurous enough for both of then, and now they just needed to rest.
Sansa tried some small talk, mentioning excitedly her plans for her next album, and Sandor listened to her. He enjoyed seeing how her face lit up whenever she mentioned music. He had seen her sing and dance the other day with the music at the highest volume, and he could count with the fingers of one hand the times that he had seen her so happy. Sansa said that the only reason why she would ever want to leave that island was to continue her career. She had been on your not long ago, and she couldn't wait to go on another one again. Sandor could see why she would love that so much: it was an escape.
When they were finished they cleaned up after themselves, and Sansa went upstairs to have a shower. She went into the immense bathroom that was in the master bedroom, all luxury and marble, and she quickly discarded her robe and her pajamas on the floor. She filled the enormous bathtub with hot water and foam, and she added some bath salts, she needed them. When her bath was ready she quickly stepped into the water before she could catch a cold, and the welcomed the warm and relaxing feeling that invaded her when she sat on the tub and she had water up to her chin. Her auburn hair floated around her, and she loved not feeling dirty anymore. Neither she nor Sandor had had a chance to bathe last night when they returned to the mansion from their little trip, and the water from the waterfall had left them with and odd smell and an uncomfortable feeling. Sandor might be more used to being unclean, due to his careless nature and his time at war, but Sansa hated being filthy with a passion.
She laid down on the tub, relaxed, and closed her eyes while she left the warm water and the bath salts do their job. She stayed like that for around ten minutes, simply thinking of nothing, until she heard some footsteps approaching and Sandor knocked on the door.
"Come in!" she said, and Sandor opened the door and walked inside the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her like that in the foam bath, and she could she in his face that he appreciated what he saw. That made her smile. "What? Do you want to join me?"
"That would be a very good idea..." Sandor murmured with eyes full of fire and his raspy voice sounded full of desire. No matter how bad the night had been, the flame between them seemed to not be able to disappear. Although Sansa was feeling exhausted, she thought that maybe it would really be a good idea for Sandor to strip and join her, but she was disappointed when he said: "Unfortunately, I have to go to town."
"Why?"
"Those buggers that came yesterday forgot to bring some stuff I really need. If I don't go now I won't arrive in time before they close the stores. Besides... you know who called. He wants me to do something."
"Oh... Ok..."
"But-" he said, pointing a playful finger at her, "I expect the offer to be up at some other time?"
"You can count on it," she assured him with a sweet smile.
Sandor returned her smile, making the burned side of his face twist in an strange way but neither one of them cared about it, and he took a few steps towards the tub.
"Are you going to be alright while I'm gone?" he asked, concerned. He didn't like leaving her alone there one bit.
She nodded. "Yes, I'll be fine. It won't be much different than being in a hotel room, and I have experience with that."
"I won't be gone for long," he assured her.
"It's alright, I'll just be watching TV or reading or something. I might use this time to learn the script," she said. Maybe it wasn't bad to have a little bit of alone time after all, she would finally be able to do stuff. She could never concentrate when Sandor was around.
"Good. In that case, see you later, little bird."
"See you later."
He kneeled next to the tub and leaned in to briefly kiss Sansa goodbye on the lips. It was a short but sweet kiss, and it left a big smile on Sansa's lips after Sandor walked outside the bathroom to the leave the mansion. She stared at the door of the bathroom until she heard the main door closing downstairs.
Sansa stared at the ceiling for a few moment with her mind in blank, moving her hands around in the water and playing with the bubbles. Then the void in her mind was filled with thoughts about everything that had been happening lately in her life. It was all a mess. A bad mess overall, but in some aspects it was a good mess. Sandor had become that good part of the mess.
Not in a thousand years would she had ever thought that she would have an affair, but there she was. She was engaged to a terrible man, a man that had murdered her father and threatened her with slaughtering the rest of her family and her if she ever dared defy him, and she was sleeping with his own bodyguard. The irony of the whole situation made her laugh.
No, she wasn't just sleeping with Sandor. What they had, what had happened during those days that they had been in the mansion in the island... it wasn't just two people simply sleeping with each other. It was so much more.
Sansa cared about Sandor. She cared about him much more than she could have thought in a beginning. Within one small week she had found herself needing him like she needed the air she breathed.
She laid back and let the water raise up to her chin while she thought about how that had come to happen. She had stopped being afraid of Sandor when he so gently carried her to her room after Joffrey's sudden and unexpected burst of rage when he read the news about Robb going against him in the campaign. She had learned that he could trust him with all the little details that came after that every other day. Whenever she needed him, he was there for her. Along the way, she had started genuinely caring for him, and she couldn't give less of a damn about his scars or how incredibly rude and annoying he was most of the time.
Sandor was the best thing that had happened to her inside that hellhole. Her whole world had crumbled down to ashes in a blink of an eye more than a year ago: her fiancé had revealed his true colors, the monster that he was underneath the perfect man mask. She had found herself completely alone in a place full of enemies, and now the only help that she had that came from outside was her sister... and a group of assassins.
Why couldn't I just have a normal, peaceful, happy life? she wondered.
It wasn't so bad now, there in Tarth. But she would have to leave the Sapphire Isle, and then she would be in for a world of pain again. For starters, her dreaded wedding to Joffrey was approaching faster than what she would have liked.
Time flew by as she thought of those things, and suddenly she realized that she had spent almost an hour in the tub and the water was already turning cold. Sansa quickly grabbed a sponge and put some soap on it to wash herself. She also washed her hair, and after she was done she stepped out of the tub and let the water go.
Sansa wrapped a white towel around herself, covering her body all the way down to her thighs. She stepped in front of the huge mirror and combed her hair to take all the knots out. It felt good to feel her hair clean again, and it smelled of lemons because of the shampoo she had used. She loved lemons, and she smiled in front of the mirror.
She heard the door of the bedroom outside opening, and she looked at the closed door of the bathroom with curiosity. She also heard heavy footsteps walking slowly around the bedroom. Had Sandor already come back? It had been over an hour since he left.
"Sandor?" she asked then, hoping to hear his voice answering her. However, there was only silence. Maybe he hadn't heard her. "Are you back already?"
Again, no answer. For a second Sansa thought of dropping her towel and go outside to meet Sandor with a surprise, and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, but something told her not to do it. If Sandor wanted the towel off her, he could take it off her himself.
Sansa turned around and headed for the bathroom door, opening it an stepping outside into the bedroom.
"Sandor!" she called him in a sing-song voice. "I thought you'll be gone longer!"
"You were right. Sandor is not coming back yet," a voice responded.
Sansa almost screamed, but her voice caught in her throat and she only managed to gasp instead. She almost dropped the towel because of the shock, but her hands somehow managed to keep holding the towel and covering her nakedness.
There was a tall man standing in the bedroom, a man much taller than Sandor. He was huge. He was inspecting the contents on one of Sansa's drawers, and he had his back turned to Sansa, but still she knew immediately who he was, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest with dread. She had been afraid of the man the first time that he had seen him, but now that she knew the terrible things that he had done to his family she was terrified of him, and disgusted by him.
Gregor Clegane turned around and stared at her with a smirk on his face. Sansa felt sick by the sight of him. That was the man that had hurt Sandor so terribly, so cruelly. And now he was there alone in a room with her, while she was almost naked. She wanted to cry, to scream, to run away, but she couldn't done any of those things.
Gregor tilted his head to the side. His grey eyes were incredibly similar to Sandor's, but much darker, and filed with a cruel nature that wasn't present in his younger brother's. As he looked at her he licked his lips.
"You are a pretty thing. Does the Governor know that you are so..." as he searched for a word, his eyes roamed all over her, making her cringe, "...friendly with my brother?"
Sansa blushed furiously, and she felt her face burning and turning bright red. Her hands shook a little, and she made an effort to keep holding Gregor's gaze.
"I-I don't know what you are talking about..." she mumbled, and Gregor laughed.
"Not many pretty girls like you walk around my brother half naked and so happy," he said, giving her a knowing look and taking a step forward. Sansa reacted by taking a step back, and another, and another, until she back into the wall. "I wonder if your fiancé will be happy with that."
"I didn't know you were inside the room. I heard noises and I thought Sandor was downstairs. I just wanted to know."
"Are you always so happy when that dog comes home?"
When she heard Gregor Clegane referring like that about his younger brother, Sansa forgot for a second how terrified she was of the man and that fear was replaced by anger.
"That's none of your business," she hissed.
"But it is!" Gregor exclaimed, raising his voice and making Sansa almost jump with a start. Gregor got even closer to her, and she was trapped between him and the wall and had nowhere to go. The fear was back. She knew that that man was a monster, and there was no one there to safe her from whatever he wanted to do with her.
"You don't work for Joffrey. Why are you here?"
"He had no one else to send here, so I volunteered. I thought it could be fun. It was a wise decision... You are so much prettier up close than at a distance... And the lack of clothes suits you," he said with a lascivious look on his face. The tone in his voice was sickening. He reached with his hand and touched Sansa's naked arm, making her whimper.
"Go away!" she exclaimed, trying to he bold and brave. It only made Gregor laugh again.
"Or what? You will call for your loyal dog? He's far away, I don't think he can hear you."
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," rasped a voice that suddenly came out of nowhere.
Both Sansa and Gregor turned their heads to the side to look to the door, where the voice had suddenly come from. Sansa sighed with immense relief when she saw Sandor standing there, but she froze when he saw the murderous expression on his face which twisted his scars in a terrifying way, and that he was holding his gun up and pointing it at his brother's head.
"Sandor," Gregor said. His voice was much serious now, and from the corner of her eye Sansa could see the way in which his expression transformed from amusement to being annoyed; however, the cruelty was still present in him. "We weren't expecting you."
"Get the fuck out of Miss Stark's room, Gregor," Sandor barked, not lowering his gun. Gregor raised his eyebrows.
"Will you shoot me in front of the lady, little brother?"
"You know I fucking will. Get out. Now!"
For a moment Sansa genuinely believed that Sandor was going to pull the trigger. She would understand him if he did it; after what he had told her the other day she knew how much Sandor had suffered because of his brother, and she wouldn't blame him if he decided to make Gregor's brains fly all the way across the bedroom. She waited for it to happen, but it never did. Sandor just stood there pointing the gun at his brother, but the threat was real in his eyes. Sansa could see that he would really shoot if Gregor didn't let go of her.
Gregor let go of her arm, not before squeezing it in gently and hurting her. She hissed and looked down at her tender skin, knowing that she would most likely have a bruise there because of that brute. The massive monster took a few steps away from her and towards Sandor, who didn't lower the gun. Sansa thought that was smart, because in a fair fight Gregor looked like he could crush any man with his little finger, and he was certainly even stronger than Sandor. Sansa was afraid then of what could happen between the two brothers, she was afraid that Gregor would attack Sandor and she would be forced to stand aside powerless and watch. Luckily for her, that didn't happen. Instead of being hostile, Gregor decided to laugh under his breath. His laugh sounded like it could be the cause of Sansa's future nightmares.
"Relax, brother..." he said. A cruel and sadistic delight was present in his voice. "I have come on your boss's orders. You can lower your gun now."
"What the fuck do you want?" Sandor barked, lowering the gun just a bit but still pointing it at the older Clegane.
"He wants you to bring his fiancée back. Her family is finally back in the fucking North. Pack your bags, I'm taking you back to King's Landing right now."
Then Gregor walked past his brother and left the room, but not before turning his head back towards Sansa and winking at her. The sole feature made her feel sick again. Something that would seem so harmless, had anyone else done it, looked like the worse kind of threat to her coming from that man. Everything that he did or said same to be tainted with evil. His sole presence in a room inspired terror.
Only when the huge man disappeared downstairs did Sandor lower his gun. He stayed in the doorframe looking towards the staircase to make sure that his brother wasn't coming back, and then he put the gun away and took a step inside the room. He looked at Sansa, and she tried to keep a serene expression despite the distress she suddenly felt. Sansa could see in Sandor's gray eyes that he was sorry; sorry for not having been there before Gregor appeared, sorry for not having known that he was coming. Sorry for the fact that now he had to take her back. Sorry because her little bubble of safety had been burst in the air without notice.
Sansa wanted to cry. She didn't want to go back to King's Landing, not after having known peace there in Tarth. Going back meant many horrible things for her, for them! She wouldn't see Sandor every hour of the day. She wouldn't enjoy time with him. She wouldn't be able to kiss his lips, or sleep by his side at night, sharing her bed with him. She would have to go back to a life of misery, of suffering and crying and pain and lies. She would have to go back to her job, back to pretending that she was the happiest woman in the world when in reality she was screaming inside, silently begging for anyone to come and save her. She would have to get married to that monster that once she so naively had believed that would make her happy.
Sansa could see in Sandor's face that he was thinking similar, if not the same, things that she was. She wanted Sandor to tell her that everything would be okay. She wanted him to pick her up in his arms and take her away and be her knight in shining armor and save her from that hell, even though she knew that was impossible; she had accepted it long ago.
...She wanted him to hold her and kiss her one last time. Just one more time before having to leave that little paradise of theirs.
Sandor didn't say nor do anything. He just cursed under his breath before turning around looking devastated and leaving her alone in her room, which had been theirs till moments ago, so that she could get ready.
Just like that, her little moment of happiness that she had experienced in the last days was gone.
They couldn't stay in paradise forever, could they? :(
Ah, Gregor! Needless to say, this is the "sweet" (cough cough) side of him... I wouldn't like to meet him angry.