21. Forever.

Sansa had barely just woken up when someone knocked on her door. She was still in bed, tired after a restless night full of nightmares, and part of her wanted to ignore however was knocking. But the person that was knocking insisted, and after seeing that Sansa saying anything, the person spoke from behind the door:

"Miss Stark?" it was one of the maids. "Mr Baratheon says there is a call for you downstairs, from your mother."

As soon as she heard that Sansa kicked the bedsheets out of her way and jumped out of bed. She hurried to put on her pink silk robe because she didn't have time to put some normal clothes on, and she also put on her slippers and she combed her hair quickly with her fingers before rushing to open the door. The maid was still there and she gasped when Sansa opened the door so suddenly.

"Sorry!" Sansa excused herself and ran past the maid and down the hall. She reached the stairs and went down and walked over to Joffrey's office. There she picked up the phone, where her mother was waiting for her.

"Mom?"

"Sansa! Hello sweetie, how are you?"

She smiled when she heard her mother's voice over the phone. She had missed her very much; the last time Sansa saw her had been the day that they bought her wedding dress, a month ago. Joffrey didn't usually allow her to make phone calls and her Mother wasn't one to use the phone very often, so talking to her at that moment was a welcome surprise.

"Hi Mom," she said with a smile. She sat down on one of the armchairs in front of Joffrey's desk, trying to be comfortable while she spoke on the phone with her mother. "I'm fine. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes, everything is okay... Things are very busy here, you know, Robb always has things to do for the campaign... But I suppose you already know that, Joffrey must be the same."

"Yes, he is very busy," Sansa admitted.

Thank God, she thought to herself. Like that I don't have to see him for the better part of the day and he leaves me alone.

"I saw you on TV!" her Mother continued saying. "You were absolutely stunning… I am so sorry I couldn't call you earlier to congratulate you, but Winterfell has been chaotic the last weeks…"

"It's okay, Mom," Sansa smiled. Her eyes focused on the window then, and she saw a couple of birds that flew in front of the glass and settled on a branch of the tree in front of the window. The sun was shinning and the sky was blue. It was a beautiful day, one of the last days of summer. Fall would be coming soon...

"Well, Sansa, I'll repeat it. You were stunning. And congratulations for your awards! I am so proud of you."

"Thank you Mom," Sansa said, still smiling. She was glad and happy that her mother had been able to see her that night, even though it was only through a screen and not in person, but it was still more than what they usually saw of each other.

"And that performance… But the dress, everyone is talking about the dress here in the North."

Sansa thought that that was a bit of interesting news. She hadn't heard or read anything of what they were saying of here in Westeros.

"Oh really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and looking away from the gardens of the Red Keep. "What do they say? Is it good or…?"

"People love it!" her mother giggled, obviously feeling excited. "They are all commenting about how it was very... Stark. Silver, white... Everybody expected you to wear crimson or black or gold, but I already told you that. It's so silky, trying to get politics into every single little aspect of life. Talking about politics because of an Oscar dress..."

"Wait, Mom, what?"

"You know! People here are saying that the dress was too Stark. The wolf is the symbol of your brother in the political campaign, don't forget that. People are suggesting that you were sending a message of your true alliance. So silly, alliances in the Oscars... It was a coincidence, was it not, Sansa?"

Sansa could hear the worry that suddenly invaded her mother's voice. She was sure that her mother hadn't believed what the people were saying in the North about her because of what she had worn, but they were right. She was trying to send a message, and she had succeeded. She wasn't a Lannister or a Baratheon, she was a Stark. But after Sansa's long silence, Catelyn was beginning to doubt; Sansa could sense that. She could also sense that the fact that the rumors might be true worried Catelyn.

"Sansa..."

"Yes?"

"You haven't given me an answer."

"Right. Yes, it was a coincidence," she lied. She had become a very good actress in the past few years, but that lie wasn't one of her best ones.

"Sansa..."

"I wore that dress because it was my favorite, and it was beautiful and different and I wanted to wear it," Sansa said again. She wasn't lying then, not completely, and she sounded very genuine. She remembered then how her sister Arya had warned her back in Tarth about her phone having a bug inside, and maybe that phone had a listening device as well. People could be listening to that conversation. Joffrey could be listening to that conversation if he wanted to. She needed to change the conversation and drift it away from her and politics and the dress before any of them said anything that could infuriate her fiancé again. "Now stop listening to those people who won't stop talking about conspiracies..."

"It's the North, it's hard to stop listening to them, but King's Landing must be so much worse."

"It is," Sansa admitted.

She had been back from Los Angeles for about two weeks already, and everything that people only talked about in that place was politics. Politics, politics, politics. Her only break from all that had been Los Angeles, and she had had an amazing time there even after the Oscars were over. She had known that she would be quite possibly facing Joffrey's wrath after it because of the not-so-subtle message that her dress have away, but the young man had been wiser than that. He knew that he couldn't lay a hand on her right after that event and while they were both still in the United States, he would be doomed if her did. So Sansa celebrated that she was free of him for one night while she went to the after party and had a good time without having to worry about Joffrey. That night was the only one she had had free if Joffrey and free of politics though.

"I'm surrounded by politicians here," she sighed.

"Your Father was a politician. Your brother is a politician. Your uncle and your grandfather too," Catelyn pointed out. "You should be used by now."

"Father and Robb did not spend the entire dinner talking about it," Sansa protested, though she made an effort to sound indifferent. "Anyways. I'm going to go away from King's Landing a few days. I have two concerts in Highgarden and Sunspear."

"You have two concerts now? I thought you were done with that for the moment, now that you are getting married!"

"I was, but I wanted to do it. Since in not going to give any more concerts until way after the elections..."

"But you have a wedding to prepare, and you are going to go away now?"

"It's just a few days," Sansa insisted. "And the wedding is in a month."

There was silence for a few seconds...

"You will come to the wedding, won't you?" Sansa asked then, noticing how her voice broke a little bit. She fought back the tears that suddenly wanted to come out of her eyes, and waited for her mother's response. She wanted Catelyn by her side the day of the wedding; she wasn't sure that she would be strong enough otherwise.

"But of course, Sansa!" Catelym answered, surprised that her daughter would ask such a question in the first place. "I wouldn't miss that day for anything in the world. It's the must important day of your life and I am your mother."

"Thank you, Mom."

"Sansa..." Catelyn murmured. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes... I have to go now, Mom, sorry."

"Ok sweetheart. Have fun in your concerts."

Sansa said goodbye and hung up the phone with with trembling fingers. She sat there on the armchair for a good five minutes staring at the phone, now doing anything, not even moving an inch of her body. Her mind was racing, going over thoughts of her family and her friends, the life she had left behind, the life she had now and the life that was awaiting for her a mere month from that day. She wanted to scream and yell and kick and cry, but she did none of that. She wanted to rebel, but she couldn't.

Instead she quietly stood up from the armchair and made sure she was leaving everything in order before leaving Joffrey's office and going back to her room. She had to get ready for a long trip, and for her last few days of freedom.

The bodyguards were having breakfast together in the kitchen, some of them talking and some of them just sitting there quietly while they ate. Sandor was drinking his coffee in silence, tint caring to engage in conversation with any of those morons. He tried to ignore the two bodyguards that were sitting in front of him talking about sports; they were brothers, the Kettlebacks, and they were Sansa's new bodyguards, the ones that Joffrey had hired for her. Sandor didn't like them. Months ago he would have laughed at them because their duty was to take care of the singer; now he envied them and wanted their job more than anything.

"You okay, Clegane?" one of them asked then. His name was Osmund.

"Why do you care?" Sandor grunted, annoyed by the question.

Osmund Kettleback shrugged. "You don't look good."

At the other end of the table, Meryn Trant laughed.

"Does he ever look good?" he mocked, but he shut up as soon as Sandor glared at him.

Sandor finished his coffee and stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting. He walked over to the coffee machine and poured himself another cup. Then he took a sip while he looked around, making sure that no one was looking his way. Once he made sure that no one was looking at him he took a small plastic bag out of his pocket and quickly poured the powder that it contained inside the coffee machine, mixing the powder with the drink.

He returned to the table to sit down while he finished his second cup of coffee, and as he drank he watched the three bodyguards standing up to get more coffee just like he had done.

Yes, drink it you fuckers...

He watched with satisfaction as all three of them drank the coffee, but he tried to maintains his expression blank the whole time. As soon as he was done drinking he left his mug in the sink and left the kitchen.

Minutes passed and he went to the Red Keep's gym, just like he always did whenever he had absolutely nothing to do. He grunted with discontent when he found Joffrey already in the gym in the company of some of the other bodyguards, training in the boxing ring with his personal trainer. Joffrey liked to fight, he liked hitting things and people. Many days he went to the ring and fought with his trainer, and sometimes even with his bodyguards, including Sandor.

Sandor was about to leave the gym, already having lost all interest in being there after seeing that Joffrey was there, but his boos had already seen him.

"Sandor!" Joffrey called him, ceasing to fight with his trainer. The other bodyguards turned their heads to look at Sandor, who was now standing near the door. "Come here!"

He didn't want to, but he didn't protest. He walked towards the ring, and as he approached it Joffrey told his trainer to get out.

"Give him a pair of gloves," he ordered.

Sandor shook his head. "There's no need."

"Why? Are you going to fight with your bare fists?"

"I'm not going to fight," Sandor rasped.

"Of course you are! I command it!"

Sandor did a great effort not to roll his eyes. There was no point in arguing with Joffrey. The trainer brought him a pair of red boxing gloves, and Sandor took his jacket off before putting them on. Then he inside the ring without much enthusiasm. He looked at Joffrey unamused; his boss was wearing yellow boxing gloves, and he was shirtless and sweaty from having been fighting for some time already. He didn't look like he had been hit during the training, but his trainer did have a quickly-swelling purple mark in his eye.

He probably didn't have the guts to hit the Governor back, Sandor thought.

Joffrey got ready to fight. He was for and strong, but nothing compared to Sandor.

"C'mon Clegane, you are the only one that always puts up a decent fight!"

Sandor sighed, not feeling like boxing with Joffrey. The twat always though that he was the best, and fought with an arrogance that made the bodyguard punch him in the face as hard as possible and break his jaw. Joffrey seemed to not be capable to erase the smug smile from his face. He got in position in front of Sandor, ready to attack or defend himself.

"Come on, dog!" he exclaimed. "What? Have you turned soft?"

Some of the other bodyguards whistled and shouted for Joffrey to hit Sandor. They also shouted for Sandor to fight. He ignored them all but he got in position nevertheless, making Joffrey smile even more. He was like a little boy playing his favorite game.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sandor asked. He wasn't concerned about Joffrey's well-being, he just didn't want any trouble if he gave his boss a black eye.

As a response to that, Joffrey attacked first. He threw a jab that Sandor ducked. The bodyguard then got in a stance while waiting for Joffrey to attack again, and everyone else got close to the ring to see better. Joffrey threw another jab and Sandor ducked again, but then he tried to throw a right hook and Sandor blocked it. Joffrey's arm hit his own, and for the first time Sandor noticed that his boss was actually quite strong. Not nearly as strong as his bodyguards, but still pretty strong after all the training and exercise. Realizing that got Sandor thinking about the times he had seen Joffrey hitting Sansa and being violent with her. Joffrey wasn't one to hold back when raising his hand and striking, and Sansa was suffering his wrath and his strength...

Sandor clenched his jaw. For a moment he saw red, and the distraction that his fury provoked him almost got him hit by Joffrey's fist; he dodged the blow in time, but the other men had started cheering in Joffrey's favor.

"You are getting old, Clegane!" he heard Boros shout. Sandor would have given him the finger in another passion, but that time he ignored the prick.

"Good gods, what's going on here?" a female voice asked from the door. Cersei Lannister had entered the gym. She was followed by Myrcella, Tommen, and Sansa.

Sandor stared at Sansa for a brief second before he tried to focus again. Joffrey ignored his mother's question and was waiting for the opportunity of trying to hit Sandor.

"Joffrey," Cersei insisted.

"We are just training, Mother."

"Joffrey, Sansa needs to leave now, and there had been a problem..."

"It can wait."

"It can't," Sansa muttered then, talking before Cersei did. "i have to leave now to catch my flight in time, but-"

When he heard her talk, Joffrey looked away from Sandor and turned around to stare at Sansa. He raised one eyebrow and looked at her with an annoyed expression.

"It can wait if I say it can wait," he hissed, grimacing in an unpleasant way. "You don't leave this place until I say so, understand?"

The tone of voice in which he spoke to her was more bitter than usual. Normally at least Joffrey pretended to put up the show of the loving couple, he pretended to be a good and caring boyfriend and spoke sweetly to her whenever there were more people present. Now, however, he talked to her like he was spitting poison out of his mouth, and the coldness in his voice made Sansa take a step back and cringe.

Little shit... Sandor thought while looking at Joffrey at that moment.

His boss smirked while he stared at his fiancé, and after he satisfied himself with the view of her cringing in front of him he returned his attention back to boxing. His smug smirk was back on his face, but it was even worse now than before.

"C'mon, Sandor!" he exclaimed. "You can do better than that! Hit me!"

Indeed he could. In a second Sandor's fist was flying towards Joffrey's face. Joffrey was too slow to stop it, but before he could even trying to dodge it Sandor's powerful fist collided with his face with all his strength.

There was an awful cracking noise, and Joffrey yelled in pain. He took several steps away from Sandor and turned around away from him, and then he covered his face with his hands still with the gloves on. Everyone in the gym gasped, Cersei and Sansa the loudest.

"Joffrey!" Cersei shouted, panicked, and ran to the ring to aid her son. Some drops of blood were falling to the floor from Joffrey's nose.

Did I break it? Good, Sandor thought to himself.

Two of the bodyguards and the trainer and Cersei were in the ring surrounding Joffrey, trying to see how bad was the damage. More drops of blood fell to the floor, and when they took Joffrey's hands away from his face Sandor saw that blood was pouring out of his nose. He had never felt as much satisfaction after hitting someone as be was feeling in that moment.

They tried to touch Joffrey's face but he screamed whenever any fingers touched his nose of the bloodied skin near it. He slapped and punched their hands away from him and covered his face again with his own hands.

Sandor enjoyed the spectacle for a few more seconds before turning his eyes away from that scene and focusing them on Sansa. She was still were she was standing before Sandor hit Joffrey, with Tommen and Myrcella by her side. Her eyes were round as plates and her mouth was wide open in aye. She slowly turned her eyes to return Sandor's stare and she raised her eyebrows in what he interpreted as surprise and approval. He fought back the urge to smirk. He knew that the little bird wasn't a cruel person, but even she couldn't deny herself feeling pleasure over what she had just witnessed.

Sandor stopped staring at her before someone could catch them and raise suspicion, and he looked at Joffrey again. He was groaning in pain, bt he wasn't telling anymore. Cersei then looked at Sandor and hissed infuriated.

"You!" she shrieked. "We should fire you right this instant! Get your things and-!"

"No," Joffrey groaned. He had his eyes closed in pain and he had taken off his gloves, so now he was covering his nose with his bare hands. His voice sounded off and funny. "No... We were... boxing."

"Joffrey!" Cersei protested.

"I told him to fight!" Joffrey insisted, hissing instead of talking. Then he groaned. "But... Clegane..."

"Aye?" Sandor asked.

"Get... the fuck... out... of my sight," Joffrey hissed in pain and not bothering to hide the anger in his voice at that moment. He didn't want to fire Sandor, but that didn't mean he wasn't angry.

Not wanting to push his luck on that matter, Sandor only nodded and obeyed. He took off his gloves and left the ring without saying so much as goodbye or sorry, he never said those things no matter what he did. As he made his way his way towards the exit of the gym he walked past Sansa. Their eyes met again, and he was able to see the shadow of internal laughter in her blue eyes. Now that he had his back turned against everyone and they couldn't see his face, he finally smirked. Sansa covered her mouth, feigning horror for what had happened, but she was really biting on her hand to stop herself from laughing loud and merrily.

Sandor's arm brushed softly when he walked by her side, and then he left the gym. He could still hear Joffrey's groans of pain from there, but he stopped hearing her as he walked down the hallway.

You deserve a lot more, Sandor muttered in his mind, but he was content with having ruined a little bit the prick's face. He wouldn't be so pretty now, and hopefully not so fucking cocky either.

He arrived at the main entrance of the Red Keep, where he found on the floor next to the door some suitcases that he recognized as Sansa's. He wasn't surprised to see them there, he knew that the girl was leaving that morning to go to Highgarden for one of her two last concerts that year. The butler was also standing there next to the door, probably waiting for Sansa to get there so that they could leave. Sandor wondered when that would happen and suddenly he heard footsteps approaching behind him and he turned around to find Sansa walking towards him alone.

"Miss Stark," he said politely, just like every time that they were being watched. "I thought you were with Joffrey..."

"Joffrey is fine," Sansa said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand as to take importance off the matter. She tried to hide the joy in her voice, and coughed softly before speaking again. "It was an accident..."

"Of course," Sandor nodded. He was thankful that he had his back turned to the butler, otherwise the man would be able to see the huge smirk in his face. Sansa almost smiled the same way, but she managed to keep her face straight.

"I'm surprised Joffrey is taking it so well, to be honest," Sansa continued saying. "He always complains more, but maybe he's just not surprised that this happened. I mean, he did tell you to hit him."

"He did," Sandor nodded. It hadn't been the first time that he had hit Joffrey, it always ended happening whenever the prick asked him to train in the ring with him. This time had been the first time he had seriously hit him seriously, though. Sandor guessed that Joffrey was taking better than expected because it wasn't the first time that he had been bested in the ring by his personal bodyguard, and if so, he was lucky. As much as he was hating his job lately, he Sandor did not wish to be fired.

"They are going to the hospital to see if his nose is broken, but I am not going with them, I have to go to the airport," Sansa told him then, pointing to her suitcases in the floor next to the door. "I, umm... My bodyguards got sick. All of them. The breakfast must have had something bad in it, it's like some kind of stomach flu."

"Really?" Sandor inquired, raising his eyebrow. His expression gave him away again immediately.

Sansa looked at him puzzled, and then there was realization in her expression. For one second she stared at him with her mouth wide open until she remembered that there was someone else there watching both her and Sandor, and she returned the serious expression to her face. She coughed softly again.

"Yes. So you see, I need a new bodyguard, and Joffrey does not want to see you in a few days, so..."

"So I will be your bodyguard again," Sandor finished the sentence for her, and Sansa smiled and nodded.

"Yes."

"Alright then," he turned around and faced the butler, who was still standing next to the door like a statue. Sandor grunted. "What the fuck are you doing? Get the suitcases and move!" he barked, rude as ever.

Sandor went back to his room to pack a single suitcase with clothes for him, he couldn't stay in the same black suit forever. He packed enough extra white shirts, an extra suit, and everything else that he needed. He also packed pajamas, of course. After closing his suitcase he went back downstairs and joined Sansa in the limo, where she was already waiting for him. He noticed that one of Joffrey's cars was gone; he must have been already on his way to the hospital to have his nose checked out by a doctor.

An hour later they were in the airport, ready to fly away from King's Landing. Sandor noticed the whole time the little bird' excitement at the hour of leaving that damn city behind and staying away from it for at least some days. She was once again the completely different person that she was whenever she was away from her fiancé, happy and smily and joyful; the contrast with the sad, worried and miserable girl that she was in the Red Keep was outstanding. Sandor liked to see her in a good mood, she seemed to glow with her own inner personal light, and it somehow made him feel in a better mood as well. Sandor wanted to speak with Sansa while on the flight, but he couldn't because there were other people around them and he did not want to risk eavesdropping ears. Instead he read the newspaper, pretending to be interested in what it had to say, and from time to time he checked on Sansa. She had fallen asleep with her headphones on and her head was resting on the window. Her hair looked like fire again because the sunlight came through the window and illuminated her in a breathtaking way. It was cold in the plane, so Sandor grabbed a blanket and put it over her, being careful so that he wouldn't wake her up. Sansa continued sleeping, but a small smile appeared in the corner of her lips and she sighed softly. Perhaps she was dreaming of something nice, and Sandor wondered what it could be.

Her home in Winterfell, most likely, he guessed. He had come to know her well enough to know that was all she wished; to return back to the North.

He confirmed that guess when, almost three hours later, they were about to land in Highgarden's airport. Sansa was still asleep, so Sandor woke her up by putting his hand in her leg and shaking her a bit. Sansa woke up because of it and blinked a few times before looking at Sandor and taking off her headphones. She smiled in a nostalgic way.

"Hey..." she said, changing her position in her seat to be more comfortable.

"Where you dreaming?" Sandor asked then, thinking it was funny how sleepy she looked still. Sansa sighed an nodded. "Of what?"

"Snow," she whispered, and that was all that Sandor needed to know that she really meant Winterfell indeed.

A black Mercedes was waiting for them in the airport, and they were taken to the five star hotel where they were going to stay during the time Sansa spent in the city while she wasn't doing any concerts. A man carried their luggage for them and and showed them the way to Sansa's suite. She had reservations for the presidential suite, of course, given who she was. Sandor had seen more presidential suits in his life than he could count, and he had always considered them to be extremely over the top for a place in which you were only going to sleep for a couple of days and that was it. However, he guessed that it was better that Sansa stayed in a nice place instead of in a sad, simple tiny bedroom.

Sandor had a much smaller room, right next to Sansa's suite. He wasn't going to exactly use it a lot, because he was her bodyguard and what he had to do was guard her and make sure that no one tried to harm her during her stay there. He would sleep perhaps a couple of hours so that he wouldn't be exhausted, but that would be it.

He went inside Sansa's suite to make sure everything was in order, and he watched her as she unpacked after their were left alone in the suite. The place was enormous, with a big living room with views to the city, and extremely luxurious. It had a balcony that had views to the most beautiful part of the city. Sandor had been in Highgarden many times; he didn't particularly enjoy the city. It had too many colors, too many scents, and too many damn flowers everywhere. He supposed that Sansa would enjoy that, though. It was a much nicer city than King's Landing.

"If you want, I'll take you to a place where they serve good from all around the world," he told Sansa then. "You don't have a concert until tomorrow, and I bet you don't want to stay all the fucking day locked up here."

"Oh, that would be great!" Sansa exclaimed, delighted. Sandor was still looking outside the glass door of the balcony, staring into the city, but he could sense and hear her walking around the suite putting her stuff in different places. "I've been in Highgarden a few times before, but I never had a chance to see the city."

"Fucking flowers as gardens everywhere," Sandor rasped. "You will like it. The food is good though. You can try everything you want."

"Let's go then!" Sansa exclaimed and she giggled. Sandor turned around just in time to see her disappear into the bedroom. "What's your favorite food there?"

"Spanish," he answered without hesitation.

"Really? Why?"

"Have you ever been in Spain, little bird?"

"Once or twice when I was on tour, but I had to leave immediately after the concerts," she said, disappointed. "I had a very tight schedule. What did I miss?"

"The best fucking food in the world," Sandor said with complete honesty. "Spaniards have great parties, great good, and my favorite wine. Much better than Arbor Gold or Dornish Red."

"I suppose I'll have to try a little," Sansa said enthusiastically, and then she walked out of the bedroom. She had changed from her traveling clothes to a simple pair of blue skin-tight jeans, a black top, and sandals. She was wearing only a small pendant and her engagement ring instead of the more sophisticated jewelry that she liked, and she had put her hair up in a bun which she later covered with a hat. She was holding her sunglasses in her hands and she put them on.

Sandor raised an eyebrow and looked at her with interest. Sansa looked completely different from how she always did, but even in that casual clothing she looked beautiful.

Sansa noticed Sandor staring at her and shrugged.

"There's paparazzi everywhere, hopefully they won't spot me if I look like this," she explained. "Maybe you should change too, you look... too much like a bodyguard. They will definitely recognize me if they see you like that."

Sandor agreed with her, so he went to his room to change quickly. Luckily for him, he had also packed a pair of dark jeans and a white T-shirt and sneakers; he usually packed those in case he ever needed them. He changed out of his black bodyguard suit and into those casual clothes, and then he out in sunglasses on. He wished he had a hat that could perhaps help him find a little bit his scars, but he hadn't packed that.

They left the hotel and ventured into the streets of Highgarden so that Sansa could her only free day before she had the first concert the following day. As they walked down the streets Sandor constantly checked that everything was safe and that there weren't any paparazzi stalking Sansa, but thankfully he didn't see anything out of order.

Just as he had guessed, Sansa was amazed with the city. She hadn't had any chances to properly do some tourism around the capital of the Reach before, and she was enjoying the colorful buildings, the wide streets, and everything else. Highgarden was a mix of city and nature; every street had a different type of tree played along the sidewalks, and there were squares all around the city that were surrounded by gardens of the most colorful flowers both common and exotic. Sansa stopped every single time that they walked near the gardens to smell the flowers, and she was delighted.

When Sansa took out her iPhone and started taking pictures of every single corner of the city, Sandor groaned exasperated.

"You can google pictures if you want them!" he rasped. He was hungry, and he wanted to get to that restaurant place that he had told her about as soon as possible.

"Sshh! It's not the same!" Sansa said, and then she took a couple of selfies in front of the gardens. She ignored the way in which Sandor looked at her while she did that, and when she was done she continued walking by his side down the colorful and illuminated and lively streets, following him.

It took them twenty more minutes to get to that place. It was a small street in which all the establishments were restaurants. Every restaurant served food from different countries of all around the world. There was a Chinese restaurant, a Japanese restaurant, Indian, Russian, Italian, French, Mexican... They had decided earlier that they were going to the Spanish one, and so Sandor took Sansa inside that one. It would be a son to allow her to walk away from there without trying that food.

The cooks were native from Spain, so they weren't some buggering fools trying to copy good food and ruining it. Sandor ordered told Sansa to try some tapas: Spanish potato omelet, Serrano ham, tumaca bread, fried squid, shrimp with garlic, olives, cheese, and a sandwich called Montaíto. There were so many more things that were delicious, but Sansa couldn't eat anything else. She asked for a clarita to drink (beer mixed with tonic,) and she was delighted when the food was served to her.

Sandor asked for boquerones en vinagre (anchovies,) and a glass of red wine from La Rioja.

They are in the most hidden table in a corner of the restaurant, away from curious eyes, and enjoyed their good. Sansa was either very hungry, or she was really liking her food, because she was devouring everything.

"This is amazing!" she exclaimed after finishing the potato omelet.

"I told you," he said, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"Why isn't there one of these in King's Landing? There must be one of this!"

"There isn't."

"That is absurd!"

Sandor laughed under his breath because of Sansa's indignation. She looked adorable, eating her food so happily and frowning like she was concentrating in memorizing every single little detail about all the flavors. Sitting there, in that table in the corner of the restaurant, created the feeling that they were a real, normal couple, enjoying a meal together. But was a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. And fantasies were for fools that sooner or later would get hurt. After that thought creeped into Sandor's mind, the wine tasted bitter in his mouth when he drank it. He felt miserable for a moment, and it must have been showing in his face because Sansa noticed it.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little bit concerned because of how quickly his expression had changed.

He nodded, but he didn't say anything. He continued eating his food, and Sansa did the same.

"Thank you," she whispered then." "You have done it again."

Sandor lifted his gaze from his plate of anchovies and frowned, confused by her words. Why was she thanking him? He hadn't done anything. Or maybe he had done something bad, and she was being sarcastic...

"You always manage to make me feel like I'm living a normal life," Sansa explained, playing with her olives with a toothpick, and she sighed. "You take me away, and suddenly I'm happy again."

She locked eyes with him, and he saw sincerity in her amazing blue eyes. She was genuinely thanking him, and she was really feeling happy. That knowledge made him feel hot inside, because for once he was doing something good and he was doing it for her. However. It also made him feel like he was chocking, and that was a miserable feeling.

"This will be just like the last time," he said, referring to the days when he had taken her to Tarth. Only the gods knew how many fucking times he had dreamed about that island and what happened then, how many times he revived those nights in his mind and wished that he could go back and relive them again. "I will have to take you back to your golden cage."

"It begins to feel like it is worth it," she murmured, leaving him unable to come up with any sensible thoughts.

They are the rest of their food in silence. Sandor didn't want to, but Sansa was the one that ended up having to pay the check so that it wouldn't be suspicious. Joffrey administered Sansa's money, and he would find it suspicious if Sandor was suddenly paying her checks.

They went back into the street again, and walked through the streets to see a little more of the city. Their steps eventually room them to the street market, where they sold all kinds of merchandise. Sansa looked at all the pretty dresses made of smooth, beautiful fabrics, and she also took a look at some jewelry. There was a necklace made with black amethysts that she took in her hands and observed for quite some time.

"Black amethysts from Asshai," the old woman that was the owner of the place told her. "They have magic! Powerful magic!"

Sansa smiled at the woman and excused herself before putting the necklace back in it's place. Then she continued looking around, and after they left the market, Sandor and Sansa went to see some famous and ancient buildings around the city. When it was already time to go back to the hotel so that Sansa could rest before the big and busy day that followed, they took a way that led to a bridge that crossed over the Mander river.

They had been out all day, so the scenery was beautiful. From the bridge they could see the sun setting in the horizon, far away from the city. The strong light bathed the fields of golden roses that surrounded the city, making it feel as if they were surrounded by pure gold everywhere, and the waters of the river below them were also golden, reflecting the light. They stopped in the middle of the bridge to observe the sunset for a little bit, and while Sandor was distracted staring I to the horizon, Sansa shilly looked at him.

She hadn't been this near since even before the Oscars, since they left Tarth. She had missed that closeness, that familiarly, that... intimacy. She missed the sense of safety that being close to Sandor gave her.

She shivered when she looked at him, feeling a chill run down her spine. She wanted to hold him there, despite all the people that could see them. Oh, how she wanted to hold his hand and entwine her finger with his... But she couldn't.

She missed him. All of him. Hi touch, his warmth, his kisses... She hated that all that had been taken away from her.

She looked away from him just seconds before he looked at her and the same thought formed in his mind. Sandor had to hold himself back from lifting his hand and caressing Sansa's soft cheek right then and there. He knew how dangerous that would be, and he knew that Sansa's safety was more important than his own selfish desire.

Lost in their thoughts, they didn't notice the dark cloud coming at them from the East. The storm caught up with them, and all of a sudden it started pouring. They were soaked wet in a matter of seconds, and Sandor grunted annoyed. Sansa, on the other hand, squealed and ran off, trying to get away from the rain as fast as she could. Sandor didn't hesitate and he ran after the little bird, following her to the hotel.

When they arrived in the hotel, they were soaked to their bones. They ran through the lobby and into the elevator, and for some reason Sansa spent the entire way to her suite giggling. Sandor followed her without thinking, even though he should probably have gone to his own room to change into his dry bodyguard uniform.

Sansa continued giggling for a little bit after Sandor closed the door of the suite. She was as much happy as she was soaked.

"I had so much fun today!" she exclaimed sincerely.

She lost her footing then and tripped. She almost fell to the floor, but Sandor quickly caught her in his arms. Sansa stepped on her feet again, and she looked up at Sandor. Her blue eyes were staring at him with such intensity that it was breathtaking. A heavy silence fell on them, and all they could hear was the sound of the falling rain and thunder outside. Sandor's hands still held Sansa's waist, and her hands held on to his muscular arms. Slowly, she moved her hands away from his arms and rested them on his chest. Sandor's breathing beams more heavy. He looked at Sansa's eyes, her full and slightly parted lips... Desire filled very inch of him.

He wasn't alone in that aspect. Sansa looked at Sandor, and soon her eyes fell to his lips. She felt his rapidly beating heart underneath her palms; his skin was burning hot, even underneath the cold and soaked T-shirt. Because it was white, the eater made it transparent, and she could see his body. She wanted to take the T-shirt off him and wrap her arms around his strong and powerful torso, feel his warmth against her skin. She wanted her hands on his body, and his hands on her body, and their lips on each other.

But even that wouldn't be enough. Sansa wanted more, just as Sandor wanted more. Their desire had long ago stopped being carnal (if it had even ever been just carnal.) they needed more than just that. They needed all of each other, body and soul.

Given the circumstances in which they both lived, that was impossible. However, satisfying just one part of their need was good enough for the moment.

Sansa parted her lips a little bit more in an inviting way, and Sandor took the chance immediately. With one hand he moved Sansa's auburn and soaked hair away from her face, and withheld placed the other hand on her back, and then he leaned in and kissed her mouth.

Something inside of Sansa exploded, and she moaned against his mouth. It had been long, so long since Sandor had kissed her. It had been only a month, but for her it had been an eternity. Who would have ever told her that her need for that man kissing her in that moment would be so immense?

Sansa kissed Sandor back and she lifted her hand to cup his face gently...

...And then, all of a sudden, she stopped the kiss and pulled away from Sandor. He opened his eyes and frowned, confused and stunned by that. Sansa avoided looking him in the eyes.

She felt guilty. She couldn't do that to him. She wasn't stupid, she knew that Sandor had very string feelings for her even though he never actually said it out loud. It wasn't exactly like he was free to say them out loud even if he wanted to, and neither was she free to tell him who she truly felt deep in her heart. That was precisely the reason why she couldn't do that to him. It would be cruel to continue with that situation, when they could never be together. She would only end up hurt even more, and was was worse, she would hurt Sandor as well. He didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve that. That was why she had to stop the kiss, even if it felt like a cold dark hand was ripping her heart out of her chest.

"I... I'm going to go... take a shower," she mumbled numbly, all the time avoiding his eyes. She turned around and walked away from him, leaving him standing there petrified.

She went inside the huge bathroom, but she didn't lock the door, she just closed it. Without even taking a second to look around her, she took all of her clothes off and threw them to the floor. She felt a little better after she went inside the shower and the warm water fell on her. The shower of that hotel wasn't like any other normal shower: the water came through holes in the ceiling, falling down on the entire length of the shower like warm rain. Sansa closed her eyes and lifted her face so that the water hit her face. She felt good then,Nike the water was cleansing her inside, taking out away part of the pain and leaving a numb feeling inside of her instead. She tried not to think about Sandor after having left him standing there alone and confused in the living room of the suite. What would he be thinking, how would he be feeling? Was he hurt too? Did he know why she had done it, did he understand her? Or did he think that she had run away cause she didn't desire him anymore? Was he gone? She felt a pang in her chest provoked by that thought, and she almost cried out loud.

Big and strong hands appeared from behind her all of a sudden and held her hips, and Sansa gasped. She didn't scream, though. She didn't need to open her eyes and look to know it was him behind of her.

She melted with his touch, and gave up in her pathetic attempt to distance herself from him. She was strong enough to try and walk away from him, but she wasn't strong enough to push him away from her when he came to her. Deep inside Sansa wondered if she had even tried at all to walk away.

She threw he head back a little more, exposing her neck, and Sandor pulled her towards him. She gasped again when she felt his strong and naked body against her, and she shivered. Sandor put one of his arms around her and with his other hand he caressed her neck with desire, sending bolts of pleasure all over Sansa's body. It was amazing what Sandor's touch, so rough and so gentle at the same time, could do to her.

"Sandor..." she whispered.

"Don't, little bird," Sandor cut her off with a rough rasp. "I know what you were thinking. Don't even ask me to try."

Sansa gave up then, and she let her head rest against Sandor's chest. She threw her arms back to touch his face, and she shivered once again when Sandor's hands started roaming her body. The hand that had previously been around her moved down her thigh, and his other hand caressed her left side. Sansa panted, feeling bewitched by his touch, and when both of Sandor's hands moved to her torso and cupped her breasts she started panting. He squeezed, and she moaned.

"Sandor, please..." she begged, but she was useless. She couldn't send him away, and she didn't want him to go. She became lost in her senses and in the burning sensation of her skin as Sandor touched her and caressed her everywhere he could reach. He leaned in towards her and kissed her neck, making her moan again softly. Then he bit her carefully, trying not leave a mark, and then he also bit her ear in a teasing way.

"Do you want me to go, Sansa?" he asked in her ear. "Truly?"

How can he even ask that? He already knows the answer.

"No," she gasped.

She turned around then, facing him, and she opened her eyes. There he was, inside her shower, standing before her completely naked. He towered over her, and the water shocked him and ran down his body in the most exquisite way. Sansa wanted to touch him and kiss him and caress him and try an see if she remembered every inch of his body as well as she thought she did. She put her arms on his chest; as soon as she locked eyes with him, they kissed.

It was a soft kiss at first. It wasn't chaste, but it was delicate. Sandor's lips caressed and massaged Sansa's lips in a caring and loving way. Once again he was holding her hips, and she was cupping his face. But then she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her entire naked body against him, and passion erupted. Sandor groaned deep in the back of his throat, shivering just as hard as Sansa was, victims of the deep desire and insatiable hunger that he felt for her. He pulled her closer to him, and Sansa felt his hardness pressing against her belly. She felt butterflies in her stomach. She felt a tickling sensation all over her skin, but she didn't know if it was due to the water that fell hard in both of them from the shower or due to her craving for Sandor's touches and kisses. Probably the latter.

"Sandor, please..." she begged. She had begged that before too, but now it had a completely different meaning; the compete opposite, actually. Before she wanted him away, now she wanted him closer.

Sandor understood, and he complied. He held Sansa up in his arms, lifting her from the shower floor. As carefully as he could nagas to be at that moment, he pressed her back against the cold tiled wall of the shower, making her hiss, but he immediately pressed his own body against her, giving her his warmth. He put her legs around him while still holding them with his hands; the position in which they were in made his hard manhood graze her entrance, making her moan and cry out loud.

"Sandor..." she half whispered and half moaned. She opened her eyes once again, and saw Sandor looking like he was in some kind of trance. It was a good trance, though.

Sansa ran her hands through his black and wet hair, and she then cupped his face again and pulled him closer to her so that she could kiss him. Their tongues met inside their mouths, starting a both dangerous and sensual erotic dance inside their mouths. At one point, Sansa playfully bit Sandor's lower lip, making him groan.

"Sansa..." he sighed.

He buried his face in her neck, and then he pushed himself inside her. Sansa cried out loud in pleasure. She held on to Sandor, trying to control the blissful waves of pleasure that invaded her. Sandor pulled out and again entered her, at first slowly and then gradually going faster, until their moans and groans of pleasure became cries. In fear that Sansa might become too loud, Sandor covered her mouth with his hand. Sansa want able to resist it and bit down on it every time that Sandor thrust into her. She didn't stand that for long though, and she moved away from his hand and instead kissed his mouth, wanting to silence her cries of pleasure with a passionate kiss. Sandor returned the kiss; he kissed her as if his life depended on it.

They both cried in unison when their pleasure reached their peak, but they muffled each other's cries with their mouths and lips. Sansa buried her nails in Sandor's back, making him hiss, and his grip on her became so right that she was sure that she would have a few marks on her body the next day on her waist and legs.

Sandor pulled out of her, and she felt his warm seed running down the inside of her thighs alongside the water of the shower. Their passion didn't die then, however.

Still holding Sansa in his arms and still kissing her, Sandor turned off the shower and stepped out of it, carrying Sansa with him. They were both soaked and they were both cold, but that didn't matter one bit. Sandor took Sansa to the suite's bedroom and threw her on her back in the enormous bed. Sansa laughed merrily, and Sandor grinned mischievously. Now that his desire and hunger (and hers also,) was more satisfied than before, he could take more time to pay attention to her.

Sansa was still lying in her back in the bed, and when Sandor climbed in too of her she parted her legs for him. He leaned in to kiss her and she surrounded him with her arms, holding him as close as he could. When their lips parted, Sandor went back to kissing her neck. Then his mouth travelled down to her collarbone, and then to her breasts. Sansa writhed underneath him when he took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked on it hard, making her moan again. While he did that he squeezed and caressed the other breast with his hand, paying equal attention to both. Then he took her other nipple in his mouth, and caressed the other breast.

She was delicious, and he wished that he was free to do that to her every single night of their lives. He wanted to make her his and make her scream his name. He wanted to always be hers, and stay by her side in bed at night.

She wanted the same. Was it too much to ask? Apparently yes.

Sandor then kissed his way down Sansa's torso, down her stomach and belly, until he found her sweet, sweet, sweet woman's place.

In the dark and solitude of that hotel suite miles away from all their enemies, Sandor made Sansa scream his name.

They were lying together on the bed afterwards, with their arms around each other. Sansa's head rested on Sandor's chest, and she surrounded his waist with her arm. They were both still naked, and Sandor gently caressed Sansa's back. They were both in silence, maybe believing that the other one was asleep when in reality they were both with their eyes open in the dark, thinking about what had just happened. Finally Sandor figured out that Sansa was just as awake as he was, and he decided to break the silence.

"Don't marry him."

Sansa froze. It wasn't exactly what she was expecting to hear at that moment, but she understood Sandor's sudden urge to beg her that. If only if were that easy..

She placed a loving and tender kiss on his chest.

"You know I can't..." she whispered. Her eyes were lost in the darkness. "I wish I could. I want to be like this forever."

"Then run away with me."

He didn't even know where those words had come from, he just blurted them out. He didn't regret saying them, however.

Sansa smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"And go where?"

"Anywhere. Wherever you want, I will take you. Anywhere in Essos, or America... Hell, I'll take you to fucking Europe! Spain, France, England, Russia, Italy, Greece... You name it, Sansa, and I'll take you there. I'll keep you safe, I swear it."

She knew he meant it. She knew that she just had to say the words right then and there, and Sandor would leave everything behind, his whole life, and he would take her as far away as he could. And she also knew that if someone attempted to hurt her then, that someone would be a dead man.

She wanted to run away with him, she desired more than anything... Go to some little cute city or town in Europe and get lost there forever and be happy... It was too dangerous, though. She wasn't willing to risk his life for any reason, and neither was she willing to risk the lives of those she loved.

"He would kill my family. You know he would."

"I'll call that crazy sister of yours. I'll look the other way while she puts a bullet in his brain."

"Is it that easy?"

She was right, it wasn't. But the alternative was just too painful to withstand.

"I can't stand there in the church and watch you marry him," he rasped, shaking his head. "I can't."

But I will, he thought then, much to his sorrow. If that's the only way in which I can help her that day, then I will be there...

The moment of separation came soon after. Sandor had already spent too much time inside the suite, and he needed to leave before anyone would notice. He got out of the bed and put on his clothes, now dry, quickly. He walked towards the door of the bedroom and was about to leave when Sansa's voice stopped him.

"Sandor?"

"Yes?" he asked. He could see her in the dark now. She was sitting on the bed with the bedsheets wrapped around her naked body. Sansa stared at him for a couple of seconds before saying:

"I love you."

Sandor's breath caught in his chest. No one had ever said that to him in his life. And now those words were coming out of Sansa's mouth, and he knew that it was the biggest truth that she had ever spoken.

He wasn't good with words, he had never been. He didn't know how to correctly express himself with them, so he replied in the way in which he did know how to: with actions. He walked back to the bed and took Sansa in his arms, and he kissed her for the thousandth time that night. The kiss was simple, lips to lips only, but was so much more than that. He was spilling his very soul into that kiss, and Sansa took it gladly. Sandor wanted her to know that he wouldn't abandon her. It was his own wordless way of saying "I love you." Sansa already knew.

I hope you liked it! Please, review? :)

There might be typos. I really hope not.

Next chapter features Arya Stark. A lot of her.