53. Now There's Hell to Pay.
They had been in the party for only an hour and Sansa already felt like she couldn't handle it anymore. Her in-laws were making her suffer through one of Cersei Lannister's famous fundraisers, and Sansa felt that she was already tired of it as soon as the party started. She didn't even know the reason for the fundraiser, all she knew was that it was one of her mother-in-law's many attempts to appear like a role model in the eyes of Westerosi society, and people were foolish enough to believe in the image that she wanted to give of herself. Sansa knew the truth well enough, though, but she had to shut up about it (as always) and smile during the party and pretend to be having the time of her life.
Usually she was more than capable of putting on the perfect mask and smile for the crowd at her husband's command, but that night it was proving to be a particularly difficult task. It wasn't only that she was sick and tired, she was also extremely nervous. She felt like her stomach was tied into a tight and messy knot, because at that moment her brother and nephew must have been flying over the Pacific Ocean with Gendry towards the east. So far she knew that everything was going according to the plan, or at least she hoped so. So far nothing had happened to make her believe that anything had gone wrong. However, she couldn't stop being nervous. Getting on that plane was only the first part of the escape; later they would be flying over the United States of America towards New York, and from there they would take a second flight to London, from where they would travel to wherever it was that Gendry wanted to take Ned and Bran. Sansa hadn't asked. The less she knew, the better.
Apart from being nervous and mentally tired of those events, she was also physically tired. Her pregnancy didn't allow her to endure parties and social events as well as before, and she found herself exhausted soon because of the weight if her baby in her womb and the tedious activity of the night. She was thankful that she was wearing flat shoes; it would have been a tragedy if she had had to love through that horrible fundraiser with killer heels, which she had sonde quite often in the past.
Even though her belly was big and round, Sansa was conscious that she was very beautiful and that people glanced at her with admiration and approval, specially men. She even caught some old and fat politicians looking at her with a poorly hidden shadow of desire in their eyes, and she had to make a big effort not to roll her eyes with annoyance. The only person that had made her happy with his compliments was Sandor when he had existed her from her bedroom to the mansion's enormous and magnificent ballroom. Sansa was wearing a long midnight blue evening gown with some crystals sown on the bodice, making it look like shining stars on a midnight sky. The dress was loose enough so that it would fall elegantly over Sansa's pregnant belly, but at the same time it accentuated her beauty. She was wearing her hair up in a complicated but elegant updo; her hair color contrasted beautifully with that of the dress, and her eyes looked bluer that ever. She was also wearing a small and elegant sapphire and diamond necklace and tiny diamond earrings. She had the sapphire earrings that her mother had given to her for her twenty-sixth birthday, which combined perfectly with the dress and the necklace, but she didn't want to wear them. She wanted to wear them on special occasions, not events like the one she was in at the moment.
Cersei Lannister was expecting to raise around five million Westerosi dragons at the fundraiser that night. The Lannisters had billions, they could just give it to her for whatever charity she wanted to donate the money to, but Sansa knew that Cersei would never spend her own money in a charity. If she ever spent five million dragons all at once it would be on herself. In the past Sansa would have loved the event that was happening that night. Everybody who was somebody was there. There were prestigious politicians, wealthy businessmen, world-wide known celebrities... Sansa personally knew quite a few of them, and she chatted with them when they approached her but avoided them as soon as she found an opportunity. She didn't feel like talking to anyone that night.
She had one small comfort, and it was that Joffrey was being kept very entertained and didn't have time to go bother her. He was spending the night talking to all the politicians and other people that he needed as allies and that could maybe help fund his campaign for the next elections. Sansa had feared at first that he would require her presence by his side, but he didn't, and she was extremely glad. She walked around the place, looking at the people in the fundraiser with a distant look in her eyes, trying to hide how annoyed and nervous she was. She was sure that she would be able to hit somebody to get her hands on an alcoholic beverage, but she was pregnant so she couldn't soothe her nerves with a drink.
She spotted her brother Rickon in the other side of the ballroom, but she didn't approach him because she saw that he was happily talking to Myrcella. Sansa couldn't help but think that they looked cute together, but deep down she hoped that they never became a couple. Myrcella wasn't guilty of her brother's crimes and shouldn't have to be punished or judged because of them, but Sansa didn't want the Starks to be even more tied to the Baratheon/Lannister family any more than they already were. Rickon understood her reasons, which was why he hadn't asked Myrcella out already. Sansa knew that it bothered him even though Rickon hadn't protested at all, and she felt sorry for him. Suddenly Rickon looked her way from where he stood and saw her looking at him, and he smiled at her. Sansa smiled back.
She turned around when she hear someone clearing his throat behind her. She was surprised to see Tyrion Lannister standing there.
"Good evening, Sansa," Tyrion greeted her politely, and she replied with a small and gentle smile. She liked Tyrion, he wasn't like the other members of his family.
"Good evening, Tyrion," she said. "Are you enjoying your sister's fundraiser?"
"More than you, I bet," Tyrion said with sarcasm, and he grinned when he saw Sansa frown. "It's obvious from miles away that you do not want to be here."
"I'm just tired," she said, though she knew that Tyrion didn't believe her excuse. She didn't care.
"You should be resting," he said then, and he took a sip from the champagne glass that he was holding in his hand. He shot a quick glance at Sansa's big belly. "I'm sure the little lad needs it as well."
"Yes, he does. I'll be going soon," Sansa said, smiling and resting her hands on her belly. She noticed a spark of curiosity in Tyrion's eyes, and Sansa was sure that it was because of her pregnancy. The whole Lannister family knew that the child was Joffrey's, but no one had asked her who the father was. She could sense that that was the question in Tyrion's mind at that moment, and it was confirmed when he spoke to her again.
"I wonder who he will look like," he murmured, tilting his head to the side a little. "I hope he looks like you."
Sansa knew exactly what that meant. "I hope you are lucky he doesn't look like his real father because if not Joffrey will find the poor bastard and kill him" was what Tyrion was really saying. Sansa had already thought about it several times before; if her child was born with black hair and grey eyes Joffrey (and everyone else, for that matter) would put two and two together and realize the truth immediately. If her baby had Sandor's grey eyes and we red hair the situation wouldn't be so bad, though; she could always pretend like he had the Stark eyes.
"I hope so too, that would be lovely," she said to Tyrion.
There was an outburst of laugher all of a sudden, and she looked away to see that the people that Joffrey was with were laughing at something that he had just said, probably a joke. Joffrey was doing a good job at winning those people to his side, and Sansa almost rolled her eyes. She was glad that she didn't, because at that moment Joffrey looked in her direction and saw her. Before Sansa could look away Joffrey had already excused himself from the company of those people and was walking across the ballroom towards Sansa.
"Uncle, they want to meet you," Jofftey said as soon as he got to Sansa and Tyrion's side. He made a quick movement of his head, pointing like that to the group of people that he had just left and that were now talking among them.
"Lucky me," Tyrion said, again with sarcasm in his voice. He smiled briefly at Sansa before leaving without saying a single word to his nephew. Sansa wanted to leave too, but Joffrey reached his hand out and held her arm, pulling her closer to him.
"You have been avoiding me," he commented in such a casual tone that one might think that he was discussing the weather. "I don't think I like it."
"Well, too bad," Sansa said in an icy tone that just came out of the deepest part of her soul. She didn't even try to please Joffrey anymore, she was done. "Because it's what I intend to keep doing all night long."
If Joffrey was surprised by her answer he didn't show it in his expression. Sansa did notice his grip on her arm becoming tighter, though.
"You are my wife, the First Lady. You are supposed to be by my side. You are making me look bad, people are wondering why you are so distant."
"Look at my face and see if I care," she hissed, staring at him with a black expression. She was surprising herself with her own boldness, and she knew that that was probably not the smart thing to do, but she couldn't help it. Her emotions were skyrocketing and they were more difficult to contain with each passing day.
Joffrey glared at her that time, but he didn't say anything in response to his wife's words. Sansa thought that he was going to let her go, but as always that wasn't the case. Joffrey realized that he was holding on to her arm to tightly and took a deep breath, releasing her arm and taking her hand instead in an attempt to make it look like a loving gesture. Then he let his gaze wander around the place, and suddenly he frowned.
"Where's your brother? I haven't seen him in quite some time."
Sansa fell her heart almost stopping. That was it, she couldn't keep the truth hidden much longer.
"He's right there, talking to your sister," she said, pointing towards Rickon and pretending to be clueless.
"Your other brother."
Her heartbeat was racing. She thought that her heart would tear through the flesh of her chest and come pumping out, but she took a deep and slow breath to calm down.
Bran and Ned and very far away, he can't harm them. It's okay, she reminded herself before staring at her husband once again. Her gaze became hard and bold, full of defiance, and she could see the expression in Joffrey's eyes quickly changing from confusion to realization, followed by disbelief which changed during one brief second to anger.
Joffrey didn't say a word, he just started walking towards the exit of the the mansion's ballroom dragging Sansa behind him. Some of the guests that were standing near the exit looked at them a bit confused, but Joffrey smiled politely and quickly lied, saying that he was accompanying Sansa outside to let her rest, and then proceeded to drag Sansa outside and towards the staircase. She looked back right before leaving the ballroom, trying to meet somebody's gaze and silently ask ask them to rescue her from Joffrey's claws.
Help! her expression begged, but no one saw her. They were all laughing and talking to each other, ignoring what was going on not far from them, ignoring what was to come. She tried to see if she could spot anyone among the crowd her brother Rickon, or Sandor, or Tyriob, or anyone that would go to help her, but she didn't see them, and then she was too far away from the ballroom to keep trying. She was being taken upstairs by Joffrey, and he wouldn't let her go.
Maybe I could scream, they would come then, she thought.
She was about to do it. She was about to open her mouth and scream at the top of her lungs, scream until her throat was sore and her voice gone. She did open her mouth, but no sound came from it; she was frozen, unable to scream or fight back. She started regaining her voice a few moments later, but she had only managed to let out an exclamation before Joffrey pushed her inside their bedroom. He slammed the door, but it didn't close properly and it remained open for only a few inches. Joffrey ignored it and glared at Sansa with pure hatred in his green eyes. He was a wild, savage, bloodthirsty beast, and Sansa took a step back towards the wall upon seeing his hateful gaze set in her.
"You little bitch!" Joffrey yelled at her, startling her. "Where are they?"
Sansa didn't answer, and Joffrey took a step towards her, backing her against the wall.
"I said, where are they?!"
Joffrey was being so loud that Sansa was sure that at least some of the guests in the party downstairs where being able to hear his shouts over the music.
Let them hear him, Sansa thought. Then someone will come to help me.
"WHERE ARE THEY?!"
"I don't know..." she whispered.
"Don't lie!"
"I said, I don't know," she repeated, louder this time. "I don't know where they are. You will never find them."
Joffrey's green eyes widened for a second, and immediately after he narrowed them, piercing Sansa with his hateful glare.
"Do you think you have defeated me? Is that it?" he sneered. "You dumb bitch. Your cripple brother and that little orphan brat might have gotten away for now, but you haven't won. You are still here, I still own you. You, and your brother Rickon, and that filthy little bastard that you are carrying inside you."
At the mention of her unborn child Sansa reacted completely by pure instinct, and before she knew what she was doing she had raised her hand and slapped Joffrey hard across the face. There was a loud noise, and Joffrey's head turned to the side and he took a step back.
"You are never touching my child!" she yelled at him. "And you are not touching my brother either, or me! I have had enough of you! You think you own me and my family, that you can control me, but you are mistaken if you think that I will ever let you harm my family ever again! Open your eyes, Joffrey! You can't keep doing this forever! People are already starting to see your true colors..." she lowered her voice in that last sentence, feeling breathless. She hadn't lied, she would keep fighting until the end to keep the remainder of her family alive, no matter what the cost. Joffrey could keep her locked in that mansion by his side and have her as some kind of trophy, but she knew that he couldn't hurt her, not really. Too many bad things had happened already, and too many people were already suspicious. If Joffrey did anything drastic he would be digging his own grave.
But apparently at that moment Joffrey was too angry with her to realize that...
"You whore," he hissed, and without previous notice he slapped Sansa. She gasped in pain, too surprised to raise her voice any louder, and was thrown against the wall. She could feel her cheek burning and swelling; she seriously believed that that was the most painful slap that she had ever received from Joffrey.
Joffrey his hand with the full intention of hitting her again. Sansa closed her eyes and braced herself for the strike...
...which never came. Sansa opened her eyes, and what she saw made her gasp.
Right before Joffrey's hand could collide against her face, the door of the bedroom had been kicked open with so much fury that it was almost kicked down, and Sandor had entered the bedroom and thrown himself over Joffrey with so much rage that it seemed that he was possessed. Before Joffrey could react, Sandor had already punched him in the face with so much strength that the young man was thrown on his back to the floor, yelling in pain. But Sandor didn't stop there. Sansa gasped and covered her gaping mouth with her hands while she witnessed how Joffrey struggled to stand up again and Sandor grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him closer to him. Blood was running out of Joffrey's nose. He looked at Sandor with his eyes wide open, confused and surprised and not understanding what was happening. He opened his mouth to protest, but Sandor punched him again. His grip on Joffrey's shirt stopped the man from falling to the floor again. Sandor's expression at that moment was like that of a wild beast, showing his teeth and with his eyes narrowed and full of hate and bloodlust.
"I have been standing aside for three years..." he snarled while he punched Joffrey again. Blood fell to the floor, staining the carpet of the bedroom, "watching you turn her life into hell over and over and mistreating and abusing her."
His closed fist collided against Joffrey's face again, making the President of Westeros scream that time. Sandor let go of his shirt and Joffrey fell to the floor, but instead of leaving him alone Sandor kneeled at his side and turned him around so that Joffrey was lying on his back and facing him. Sansa was still standing a few feet away from them, covering her mouth with her hands and watching with eyes wide as plates how Sandor mercilessly punched Joffrey over and over again on the floor. Joffrey was trying to fight back and threw a few punches at Sandor, the majority of which the bodyguard just dodged and the ones that he didn't did not harm him, either because he was too furious to actually fell anything or because Joffrey was too weak to hurt him.
"I won't stand aside and watch ever again!" Sandor yelled in Joffrey's face. Joffrey mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but Sandor ignored him. He raised his fist and crashed it against Joffrey's nose. There was an awful breaking sound and Joffrey yelled in pain. "I will kill you, you fucking son of a bitch!"
He was hitting Joffrey everywhere now; in the face, in the chest, in the stomach... Joffrey kept grunting and yelling in pain, but Sandor didn't stop. It didn't look like he had any intention of stopping anytime soon, and Joffrey just looked worse and worse as seconds went by.
"Sandor, stop," Sansa said, but her words didn't come out as more than a whisper. She was only asking him to stop because what he was doing was going to probably have a catastrophic outcome. But the truth was that she didn't want Sandor to stop. She wanted to see Joffrey suffer, and so she remained silent while Sandor continued beating Joffrey mercilessly.
Joffrey somehow managed to kick Sandor hard enough to make the bodyguard fall back, and he used that moment to try to crawl on all fours away from there. Joffrey tried to stand up but he tripped on his own feet and almost fell back face-first on the floor. He gasped for air and moaned in pain, and he gasped once again when Sandor reached out with his hand to grab him. Sansa had never seen Joffrey like that, and she wasn't sure of how to react at what she was witnessing at the moment. Watching Sandor and Joffrey at that moment was like watching a mighty tiger hunt a wordless little scared rat. Joffrey felt Sandor almost grabbing him and he reacted by instinct, kicking Sandor once more to get him away. Sandor cursed under his breath when Joffrey's foot almost hit him in the face. Joffrey was almost out of breath; he crawled as fast as he could away from Sandor and he tried to hold onto the bed and the furniture to stand up on his feet again. While he was doing that, Sandor reached out once again and managed to grab Joffrey's ankle and pulled from it, making Joffrey fall flat on the floor. Joffrey yelled while he was being dragged on the floor towards Sandor; the bodyguard turned him around and Joffrey tried to cover up his face with his arms to protect himself, but it was of no use. The look on his eyes right before Sandor's fist collided against his face once again was that of pure terror, like the expression that a rabbit has right before a fox buried its teeth into its flesh.
He's going to kill him, Sansa realized when she saw the state in which Joffrey was already.
Sansa waited for it to happen, for Sandor to punch Joffrey one more time or two or three until the life escaped his beaten body. Could it really be that easy? Could Sansa be finally witnessing the end of her torment? Her heart skipped a beat, and she wanted it to happen. She forgot about all the problems that would follow, because the idea of Joffrey being gone for good was too sweet, too tempting...
But that didn't happen. Three people ran into the bedroom all of a sudden and threw themselves on Sandor, grabbing him and pulling him away from Joffrey. Sansa identified Meryn, Boros, and Gregor Clegane, and the horror returned to her face. Sandor fought against them, trying to rid himself of them so that he could resume beating Joffrey to a bloody pulp, but three people (one of them being his monstrous and gigantic brother) were too many for him and they held him in place. A fourth person followed the three bodyguards into the room, and Sansa almost cried when she saw that it was Tywin Lannister, who looked absolutely rabid.
"What the hells is going on in here?!" he hissed angrily while he let his gaze run all over the bedroom, Sandor, Sansa, and his grandson.
Joffrey tried to stand up on his own, but he fell back on the floor with a grunt full of pain. His grandfather went to help him up, and Joffrey managed to stand on his feet again, though he could not stand straight. His face was a bloody mess; blood ran out of his very probably broken nose, his lips were spilt, and he spat blood. His face was swollen and definitely no longer handsome, with cuts and bruises, and his eye was black. It was a pitiful sight. Sansa would have enjoyed it immensely if the circumstances had been a bit different and there weren't three people holding Sandor back and if Tywin Lannister wasn't in the room. Everything was going downhill as a speed that made Sansa dizzy and that made her want to cry and throw up.
"Don't touch me!" Joffrey bellowed, pushing his grandfather away. He was breathing heavily and whimpering in pain. He touched his face and winced. When he looked at his hand and saw all the blood there the color drained from his face. He stared at it for a long time, as if the sight of his own blood had paralyzed him. Sandor was still struggling with the three men.
"Let go, you sons of whores!" he barked. He managed to make Boros trip and elbow Meryn in the stomach, but his brother punched him fiercely in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.
Joffrey looked away from his bloodied hand and set his gaze on Sandor then. There wasn't rage in his eyes, which was curious. There was only... amazement, and something that Sansa believed to be betrayal. She was perplex at that, and she thought about what Joffrey must have been thinking. He was just been beaten up by the man that had known him his whole life, who protected him since he was nine years old. Putting it like that, Sansa found it obvious that Joffrey was reacting in such way.
Then Joffrey looked at her, and Sansa froze. She thought that he would suddenly take out all of his anger on her, but he didn't. Instead he just glared back and forth her and Sandor.
"You..." he muttered in such a cold and deadly tone that Sansa felt her bones and blood freezing. Joffrey spat blood on the floor before continuing to speak. The beating that he had taken made it difficult and painful for him to speak. "I should have known... I should have known all along!"
Sansa closed her eyes and felt a year rolling down her cheek. Joffrey knew. Joffrey knew... There was nothing to do now.
Oh, Sandor, she lamented in her mind. You didn't have to come and rescue me... You have doomed yourself...
"I suspected it some time ago!" Joffrey continued saying, raising his voice as he spoke. His words had a strange tone to it, like an accent, due to the awkward way in which his swollen jaw moved and because of the blood in his mouth. "I couldn't help but wonder... but I thought that it couldn't be! It couldn't be, because I never thought you capable of being so stupid, dog! You...! You could just have fucked her and be done with it, you didn't have to fall in love with her!"
There was so much hate in Joffrey's words that the way in which he said that last part of his sentence sounded as it he was spitting bitter venom. His whole body was shaking, both because of the beating that had weakened him and because of the wrath that burned his insides. Sansa had often imagined how it would be like of Joffrey ever found out about her and Sandor... She had seen Joffrey reacting in all kinds of ways to different situations; she had seen him exploding with anger and turning violent, she had seen him reacting with ice-cold smiles and polite and soft words and conspiring silently... She had thought that if the truth ever came out Joffrey would simply stage an accident to dispose of them, or maybe he would coldly execute them by shooting them, or maybe he would take all his anger on her like he always did... She wasn't surprised by the way in which he was shouting like a madman, but he was surprised by the different emotions that he sensed in them. It almost seemed to her as if Joffrey didn't really know how to properly react.
"What was it, huh?! Was it her pretty face?! Was it her fame, her money?! Was it her body, or the way she fucked you?!" Joffrey continued yelling while his face turned dark red. "Tell me, you idiot, what was it?!"
"It was just her," Sandor angrily growled between gritted teeth. "I was able to see her for who she really is and value her, unlike you, you pathetic little shit!"
As soon as Sandor said that, Joffrey laughed. Everyone else in the room was deadly silent.
"I see. The Hound found his lady..." Joffrey scoffed, and he spat more blood on the floor. He and Sandor glared at each other, and the bodyguard tried once more to get rid of the three men that held him but it was in vain. Joffrey looked away from him then and decided to turn his attention on Sansa. Even though a silent tear had rolled down her cheek earlier, she wasn't crying. She was too terrified to actually cry. Joffrey took a step towards her, looking at her with an expression that Sansa did not know whether to describe as incredibly angry or amused. Could it be possible that Joffrey was really actually enjoying that moment? Of he knew how terrified Sansa was (and surely how scared Sandor must be as well) then he was surely enjoying it, even though that enjoyment was mostly eclipsed by his anger at the fact that his most trusted bodyguard and his wife, his prisoner, had managed to carry an affair right under his nose for so long. "But the question is... does she reciprocate your feelings? Tell me, wife... Do you love my bodyguard as much as he claims to love you? Surely not, look at him..." Joffrey sneered, pointing at Sandor with one hand. "He's just a nobody. A disfigured, ugly, poor nobody. Though maybe you thought that he was your means to escape this place? That he was your gallant knight in white armor?" He mocked.
Sansa didn't answer. Of course she loved Sandor, she loved him more than she had ever loved a anybody in her whole life! She couldn't imagine where she would be without him... Dead, probably. But she was afraid of the consequences if she told that to Joffrey. Maybe he would do terrible things to Sandor just to torture her for her betrayal.
Annoyed by her silence, Joffrey closed the distance between them and grabbed her chin, making her gasp and forcing her to look at him in the eye. "Answer me."
"I love him." The words slipped through her lips so suddenly that she didn't even realize that she was saying them. It didn't even feel like she was saying them, it was as if she was hearing somebody else saying them... But they were the biggest truth that had ever come out of her mouth, a truth that she had kept hidden from the rest of the world for far too long and that were now acting as a bomb. That's what they were, really; a bomb that exploded with the force of a thousand supernovas and hit everything that was around. She had feared for years that that truth would come out, and though she had said it because there was no point in trying to keep the lie alive, she suddenly felt so... relieved. She wasn't terrified anymore, not even scared. She just felt like the weight of the entire world had been lifted from her shoulders the moment that she said those words to Joffrey.
She could feel the tension that suddenly filled the room. She took her gaze away from Joffrey's for a second to obverse the reactions of the other people in the room. The closest person to them was Tywin Lannister; Sansa had never in her life seen that man at such a loss of words. Governor Lannister was always so stern, so calm and cold as ice in a way that made him a very intimidating man that it was rather unsettling to see him so caught off guard, but at the same time it was the most satisfying thing in the world. Next to him was Sandor being held by his brother and Boros and Meryn. Sandor was looking at Sansa with his grey eyes wide open and full of fear and shock. Maybe he had hoped to only doom himself with his confession and was expecting her to lie and save herself with some farce, but Sansa would never do that. She gave him a look that told him as much, and although Sandor looked defeated he also looked calm, like she was feeling at the moment. There was an incredible peace to be found at moments of such danger where everything was at stake. Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline but for a few seconds they shared a moment of relief. They knew it wouldn't last for long, though.
"I love him," she repeated, staring into Joffrey's hateful eyes again. Her tone was one of defiance. If the truth was finally out and she had to speak about it she would let him know that she wasn't ashamed or that she regretted anything, because she didn't. "I have loved him for years and I will keep loving him all my life. You say that he is a nobody, but he is ten thousand times a better man that you can ever hope to be," she hissed. She didn't even wince when Joffrey lifted his arm and grabbed her hair with his hand. From the corner of her eye she could see Sandor struggling once again to free himself, but Joffrey didn't do anything to her.
Sansa didn't miss the reactions of the other three men when she looked away from Joffrey again. Boros and Meryn had dropped their jaws to the floor and were gaping like fishes out of the water. They stared at Sandor and Sansa with wide eyes full of amazement, and even envy. Sansa almost scoffed. She knew that that envy was because they wanted what Sandor had, she hadn't missed the lewd stares that she often got from them and the other men that worked for Joffrey. As if she would ever look at them... What unsettled her once again and took her out of her state of relief over the fact that she wouldn't have to lie and hide anymore was the expression on Gregor Clegane's face. There wasn't surprise or shock in the giant man's face, of course, because he already knew (or at least had suspected very much) the relationship that existed between his younger brother and the First Lady of Westeros. What unsettled Sansa when she looked at him was the way in which he was smirking with eyes full of malice, and that was when she realized... He knew what was coming. He knew what was coming for his brother and Sansa, he was imagining it in his head, and he was enjoying it very much...
All the relief and the calmness were swept away in a second, and she looked again into Joffrey's furious green eyes.
"You dumb slut," he hissed so lowly that maybe Sansa was the only one who could hear him. He pulled a little from her hair, making her head move back and her neck arch in an uncomfortable way. "You Starks are so stupid, you all tied the noose around your neck yourselves without realizing it. You never think about the consequences, do you? Do you, bitch?"
There was some loud shouting all of a sudden and a lot of noise, and when both of them looked to see what was going on they saw that Sandor had managed to push Meryn and kick Boros away from him, and he had thrown a punch to his brother's stomach and then to his neck and choked him, which gave Sandor a few available seconds to be able to act. He was about to throw himself of Joffrey to grab him and break his neck, but Joffrey was faster. Even though he was still extremely hurt from the beating he moved fast now that he had been able to catch a break, and he pushed Sansa away from him, making her fall between himself and Sandor. For a moment Sandor forgot all about Joffrey and went immediately to help Sansa stand up and check that she was alright and that she hadn't hit her belly, which she hadn't. He turned his attention back to Joffrey then, but it was too late; Joffrey had already reached the bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a gun from inside it and was now aiming it at Sandor's head, making him freeze.
"No!" Sansa cried, terrified for a moment that Joffrey would pull the trigger and kill Sandor right there in front of her eyes. She looked around her with pleading eyes, but no one in that room had any intention to stop Joffrey from shooting Sandor.
HELP ME! she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs to make someone come, though it would be of no use. No one could ever stop Joffrey.
"Joffrey, please!" she cried, but her husband wasn't looking at her anymore. His attention was fixed solely on Sandor, who stared back at him with a solemn look in his fierce eyes. Sandor wasn't afraid of Joffrey pointing a gun at him, the only fear that he could fear in that situation was for Sansa.
Joffrey didn't shoot. He was still breathing hard, and his hand was shaking so badly that everyone wondered how he managed to keep holding the gun and not let it fall down to the floor at his feet. Sansa recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same look that there was in them when he killed her father. But there was something different that time... Hesitation. It was stopping Joffrey from pulling the trigger...
"Come on, Joffrey," Sandor rasped, and he straightened his back to stand as talk as he could in front of the man holding the gun. He even opened his arms slightly, as if in a gesture of invitation. "Shoot me."
"Sandor!" Sansa cried, louder than before. She took a step forward wanting to stand by his side or in front of him as a shield, but Gregor Clegane grabbed her arm and stopped her. "No! Let me go!"
"Shoot me," Sandor repeated, daring Joffrey. Joffrey still didn't shoot, and his hand shook even more than before. "Kill me like you kill everybody else. Come on. Everyone will hear you, and you won't be able to hide anymore. They will discover the monster you are and you will lose everything. Some come on, Joffrey, shoot me!"
For a moment it seemed that Joffrey was going to do it, that he was about to shoot and put a bullet between Sandor's eyes. Sansa felt a scream about to form in her throat, but she remained silent because Joffrey never pulled the trigger. She saw his face contorting into an ugly and furious grimace, and then he cursed and lowered the gun.
He was about to say something when two more people suddenly arrived and walked into the room; Cersei Lannister and Rickon.
"What is happening here?" Cersei asked before she had the chance to take a good look around and see what was happening. "Lower your voice! We could hear you all the way from downstairs, the guests are- oh my God, Joffrey!" she exclaimed when she saw the bloodied face of her eldest son.
"Sansa," Rickon walked to his sister's side and hugged her protectively, and she leaned against him like a scared child, glad to have someone at her side at that moment.
Cersei was about to go to her son's side as well, but she froze when she saw the gun in his hands. She didn't appear to be horrified, though, she just looked like she was trying to figure out what had led to that situation. After she took a good look at Joffrey's face, Sandor's burst knuckles and the was in which he was once again being held by the other three bodyguards, and Sansa, it all made sense to her. The woman shot her daughter-in-law the most hateful and disgusted look that she had ever received in her whole life, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Sandor wasn't hurt.
"Get out," Joffrey murmured then. He was shaking so much and he spoke with so much tension that his words were hard to hear. When he saw that no one was moving or doing anything he became angrier. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my house, Clegane! OUT!"
Sandor didn't even move an inch, not willingly. He only started moving away from where he had been standing because the other three men pushed him towards the door.
"Take him out the back door, I don't want anyone to see him," Joffrey said. "You know what to do."
"No, Sandor," Sansa gasped. What were they going to do with him? Where were they taking him?! She tried to move away from her brother to go towards Sandor, but Rickon stopped her. "Sandor!"
"I'll come back, little bird," he said in a deep voice while he looked at her, and she knew that it was a promise.
"Come back here..." Joffrey hissed deadly, "and I'll send you your son in a box."
Sandor didn't have a chance to reply to the threat, for he was taken away from the room at that moment. That was the last that Sansa saw of him, but he did manage to get one last glimpse of his face, of his rough expression and his grey eyes that shine with the dark determination of keeping his promise to her. She believed him when he had said that he would be back, and she trusted him, but that didn't make her any less afraid.
After the bodyguards had taken Sandor away Joffrey dropped the gun to the floor. There was still anger on his face, but there was a lot of pain in it, and exhaustion. The beating had been worse than it looked at first sight. He took two very small and clumsy steps towards Sansa, and she flinched and backed into her brother's arms. Rickon moved her to the side and he stepped forward to stand between her and Joffrey. Joffrey ignored his brother-in-law and glared at Sansa.
"You will-" he started saying while he pointed at her with a menacing finger, but Rickon interrupted him before he could finish his threat.
"Stay away from her."
Joffrey was about to say something to Rickon, but no words came out of his mouth. He started coughing a lot and he took a few steps back until he was sitting down on the bed, bent over in pain. Cersei immediately went to help her son, though there was not much that she could do.
"Call a doctor," she told her father. "And keep the guests entertained. Tell them that Joffrey had an emergency or whatever you want, but we mustn't let this night become a scandal."
"They already heard the shouting," Tywin's tone was low and harsh.
"Tell them anything you want, but do something!" Normally Cersei would never talk to her father in that way and Tywin Lannistsr wouldn't tolerate it either, but that occasion was extraordinary and no one really knew how to act. Suddenly Cersei glared at Sansa. "And get her out of my sight!"
Sansa didn't have to be told twice. Rickon accompanied her out of the room and went with her towards her old bedroom, holding her as they walked. Only then did Sansa notice how much she was shaking. She was in shock. She couldn't believe that in five minutes all that had happened. Sandor had been kicked out of the Red Keep mansion, what were they going to do now?! Would she see him again? She didn't know how that would be possible now, and the thought of not seeing him ever again was killing her.
"Don't worry," Rickon said when he sensed her anxiety. "We'll fix this."
"I don't know how we are going to get out if this one, Rickon..." she murmured, feeling numb. She really didn't see a way out. All she saw was a never-ending dark tunnel in front of her, and she had already entered it and there was no way out.
"We are. Trust me."
And, for some reason that she still didn't understand, Sansa trusted her brother.
Rickon knew that he had to act quickly. Any second that he wasted would decrease his chances of succeeding, and he couldn't risk that, not after what had just happened earlier. He had just left his sister in her bedroom and had told her to lock her door and to stay in there while he did what he had to do. She had asked what it was that he wanted to do, but he didn't tell her, there would be time for that later.
Everybody was busy in the mansion at that moment, so it was the perfect moment to act. The party was still going on (cancelling it all of a sudden would only make the guests nervous and very suspicious that something bad had happened, and no one wanted that,) so everyone was in it and wouldn't be walking around the mansion, and those that were not in the party were with Joffrey while they waited for the doctor to heal his wounds. If Rickon was lucky no one would find him. He just needed a couple of minutes…
He remembered what Sandor had told him about his plan to get the dagger out of the safe behind the portrait. They still hadn't had any luck with that, but maybe, just maybe, that would be their lucky day. Sandor was gone now, and Rickon had to take over.
He went to his room and grabbed the blacklight that Sandor had given him in case he ever needed it and he ran into the hallway to get to Joffrey's office as fast as he could. His heart was racing inside his ribcage and rivers of adrenaline flowed through his veins. If they caught him after having caught Sandor that same day he didn't want to think about the consequences.
He arrived at Joffrey's office and found the door open. Thanking all the gods above, Rickon entered the office and closed the door behind him while being careful to not make any noise that might attract anyone nearby, and then he walked towards the portrait on the wall. He grabbed it with both hands and got it off the wall and then he carefully put in of the floor by his side. He took the blacklight out of his pocket and looked at the keyboard on the safe. For a few seconds he prayed all the prayers that he knew to all the gods old and new and foreign so that that time would finally be the time… They needed that dagger, now more than ever…
His palms were sweaty, making it difficult to hold the blacklight in his hand. He took a deep breath and turned on the blacklight…
He almost shouted with happiness when he looked down at the keyboard illuminated by the blacklight and saw the phosphorescent blue fingerprints in three of the keys that had numbers on it. 2, 5, 0. Those numbers made up the password that opened the safe that very possibly contained the proof that they needed to finally defeat Joffrey once and for all…
Now he had to find out the order in which he had to put the numbers. At first he was confused that there were three numbers, until he realized that one of them must be repeated, because the password had to have four digits. Sandor and he had never talked about what they would do once they had the numbers or letters that made up the password, they were too worried trying to simply get them. Rickon sighed and thought about the possible combinations. 0025, 0250, 0052, 5520, 0525, 2250… There were too many! How was he ever going to get through all of them?! He didn't have time to try all of them out, and what if he screwed up real bad if he put on the incorrect password? He couldn't allow himself to make any mistakes!
And suddenly it hit him. 2005. The year in which the Civil War had started and ended, the year in which the Targaryen dictator was defeated and Westeros became once again a democratic country with Robert Baratheon as its President. Rickon had known Joffrey for long enough to know how proud the man was with his father's involvement in the war and its outcome.
With trembling fingers and hoping that he wasn't wrong, Rickon clicked the numbers on the keyboard…
There was a soft 'click', and the safe opened, revealing its contents to Rickon. Unable to believe his eyes, Rickon took out two plastic surgeon globes from his pocket and put them on before picking up the box inside the safe. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears…
He opened the box. There, covered in blood since the night the crime was committed to preserve it as some kind of macabre trophy, was the dagger.
Sandor had never fucked up so badly like he had fucked up that day ever in his life. He had had massive self-control during those years, he had managed to make it look like he didn't care for so long, and now all of a sudden it had all gone to hell. It had been for a good reason, though. When he saw Joffrey grabbing Sansa and dragging her out of the party he had immediately known that something was very wrong, specially since he also knew that that had been the day in which Bran and Ned had escaped with Gendry. Joffrey never held back when he was angry, and Sandor sensed that at that moment he was furious, so he had followed them. And thank God that he had done that, because Joffrey was getting ready to give Sansa a good beating if there was nobody there to stop him. Sandor hadn't given a fuck that the whole truth would come out. He had seen red when when had seen that Joffrey had already slapped Sansa once before he arrived, and he hadn't given it a second thought before unleashing all his fury on the man that had been his boss for so many years. Sandor had promised that he wouldn't stand aside and let Joffrey hurt Sansa again, not anymore, and this time he had also been defending their child.
But of course, by trying to save them he had also got them into more trouble. He could have been dead right at that very moment if it hadn't been because Joffrey hadn't pulled the trigger. Really Sandor's punishment had been very merciful compared to what could have happened, but the worse punishment for him was being separated from Sansa. He should have killed Joffrey and taken Sansa away before the others arrived.
His brother hadn't let him go so easily. After the other bodyguards had snorted him out like Joffrey had ordered, Meryn and Boros had left, but Gregor had stayed with him. During a brief moment in which Sandor had turned his back to his brother he had been hit hard in the back of the head, which had made him see stars. Gregor had forced him inside one of the black SUVs and he had driven him away from the Red Keep. Gregor had eventually left him in an empty street in King's Landing, had punched him a couple times really hard (courtesy of Joffrey) and then he had left. It hadn't been a real fight, but it had been enough for Sandor to have to go to the hospital to get some stitches right above his left eyebrow.
Now he was alone, desperate, and disoriented. He didn't know where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do now. He had been left on the street hurt, homeless and penniless with nowhere to go. He hadn't just lost Sansa, he had lost everything.
He sat in some steps that were nearby and groaned because of the soreness in his body. Gregor hadn't beaten him up, it had only been a couple of punches, and Sandor was sure that it was because his brother knew that nothing could be worse for him than being away from the Red Keep mansion unable of doing anything to get to Sansa and being conscious of it. A beating would have only caused him physical pain, and that didn't last. It would even be a welcome distraction from the real pain and the real problem...
He touched the wound above his eyebrow and then looked at his fingers and the red blood on them. His knuckles were also bleeding from the beating that he had given Joffrey. He didn't know how he had felt while his fist hit his boss's face again and again and again. He had always thought that he would feel amazing if that day ever came, that he would feel liberated or that he would feel a great sense of satisfaction for being finally able to do what he had anted to do for so long. But it hadn't felt good. Really, the only thing that he had felt while he hit Joffrry was that he couldn't stop, he had to keep going, for Sansa... And then all had been rage and anger and bloodthirst, and he had felt like an animal. He had hated it, but it had been necessary.
He searched his pockets to see if he at least had something valuable in them, but he didn't even have a little bit of money. He had his phone in there, and he looked at the contact list. If only there was anyone that he could call to help him sort out that mess, but he had no friends. In the phone he only had the numbers of the people he used to work with and for, and Sansa's number. He obviously couldn't call any of them. He also had Varys's numbers, but Varys would only help if he gave him the dagger that he has asked for months ago, and Sandor had left the mansion without finding it. He cursed under his breath, and then he found her contact number: Michele, his sister.
I can't call her! a voice protested in his mind. I haven't spoken to her in months, and I can't drag her into this mess!
But he was desperate, and he saw no other option. He dialed the number and waited for his sister to respond.
His sister wasn't angry with him when she picket up the phone. He had expected her to be at least upset; after all he had forgotten all about her in those months and he had just called her now that he needed her, but he could explain. He was surprised when his sister said hi to him over the phone in a happy tone and asked how he was doing. Sandor sighed and started with telling the simple but important things first; he had just been fired. Before he could say one more word Michele had already asked him if he had any place to stay, and when he said no she asked him where he was. Sandor gave her the address, and in ten minutes Michelle was pulling her car over by the sidewalk that he was in, and ten minutes after that they were in her apartment and she was stitching him up.
"What happened to you?" she asked while she closed his wound.
"Gregor did it to me."
"Did you two fight? That's why you were fired?"
"No, he did this to me because I was fired," he rasped. It has been a long night that he just wanted to forget, but he knew that he owed Michele an explanation. He has called her, after all. "I... I had a fight with the President. That's how I got this," he said, showing her his knuckles.
"What?!" Michele exclaimed. "You fought with the President?!"
He nodded. "I beat him up to a bloody pulp. Then I got in trouble..."
"Why did you beat up the President of Westeros?!" Michele wasn't shouting, she was just exclaiming really loudly, but it was normal since not everyday a person found out that their brother had gotten the leader of the nation a new face by punching him. Sandor hesitated before answering, because that was when things were going to start to get complicated to explain. He decided that he wouldn't tell Michele the whole story, or at least not yet. He would just tell her they part that had actually led to the fight and him being fired from his job and kicked out.
"The child that the First Lady is expecting..." he murmured, and Michele looked at him with anticipation, wanting to know what he was going to say. She must have realized that it was something very serious. "It's not the President's..."
"Oh wow," Michele murmured, with realization and shock all over her features. Her reaction surprised Sandor, because she wasn't horrified or scandalized or anything. She was just amazed by what she had just heard, and then she raised her eyebrows and smirked in a way that seemed to be saying 'good for you, big brother!'. But that was just because she only knew part of the story...
"There have been many problems inside that mansion," he told her. "I need to get Sansa back. I just don't know how..."
"You'll figure out a way," Michele assured him, and she gave him a little smile. Of course she was only saying that because she didn't know what Sandor really meant by 'problems' but he was not willing to tell her everything. Maybe it would be better for her if she just ignored the mess in which he was in. "And while you do that and get another job and everything you can stay here if you want," she said. "The apartment is too big for me alone, and it would be nice to have a roommate, specially if he is my long-lost brother!" she smiled to him.
He was so surprised that he didn't even have time to respond before Michele stood up and left his side to take the things that she had been healing him with to the kitchen to trow them away and clean up a little bit. He looked at her as she walked away, and then he looked around to the apartment. True, it was big enough for the two of them to live comfortable in it, and he didn't have anywhere else to go. He didn't want to bother anyone with his presence, and he didn't want anyone to help him out of pity, but when he saw his sister's expression again he realized that she wasn't bothered and that she wasn't doing it out of pity. She was helping him because she considered him her family already.
"Thank you," he murmured, and Michele simply replied with a smile.
Things were looking a bit better now. At least now he didn't have to worry about how to survive until he managed to get Sansa out of the Red Keep mansion. He couldn't wait anymore, it had to be done as soon as possible. But how?!
I'm so sorry, Sansa, he thought, feeling miserable. I have failed you again...
His phone started ringing inside his pocket then, and he frowned. Who could be calling him after what had happened? He took the phone out of his pocket, hoping that it would be Sansa (even though he knew that that wouldn't be the case because she would be watched all the time from now on), and he was surprised when he read Rickon Stark's name on the screen.
"Hello?" he said as soon as he picked up the call.
"Sandor! Thank God, I thought you wouldn't pick up," Sansa's youngest brother exclaimed. Sandor thought that it sounded as if Rickon was driving a car. "Where are you? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine… How's your sister?"
"She's ok. She's a bit scared and very nervous, but she's fine. Joffrey is the one that is not looking good, believe me" Rickon chuckled. "I had to leave Sansa back at the mansion, but she will be fine. Where are you? I need to see you now."
"I'm at my sister's, why?"
"I have it!"
Sandor frowned. Had it? Had what? He couldn't mean...
"He finally opened it!" Rickon exclaimed on the other side of the line. "I have the dagger, Sandor! We did it!"
Sandor couldn't believe it. After all that time, precisely that night when everything seemed to be about to go to hell, they finally got their hands on the one thing that could rid them from Joffrey once and for all. He felt as if he could jump into the air and sing and dance if he had been the kind of person that celebrated that way and if he hadn't been so altered from the past events of the day.
"Come here and meet me now," he said, and he gave the address to Rickon. "Be careful, we can't fuck up now."
"Tell that to yourself, I'm the only one that hasn't fucked up anything yet!" Rickon retorted before ending the call.
Immediately after Rickon hung up, Sandor called Varys. He was so nervous that his hands shook so much that he almost dropped the phone, but he managed to hold it tightly while he waited for the man to pick up. Sandor felt as it bolts of electricity were roaming all over his body, making him unable to stay still for even a second. They did it. They had the dagger... After all that time...
If there was a God, Sandor thanked him right before Varys answered the call.
"Clegane?"
"I have the proof you wanted," Sandor said. He didn't have time to explain anything, he wanted to go straight to the point. "We'll meet in the same place as last time and I will give it to you."
"Excellent!" Varys exclaimed excitedly, like a child that had just been told that he was going to have a new toy. "Well done, Clegane, well done."
"What do we do now?"
"Now?" Varys repeated. His voice was full of satisfaction, and Sandor knew that that was a good thing. If Varys was happy then it meant that Joffrey would be ruined. If Joffrey was ruined then Sansa would be saved. "Now we wait."