Chapter Text
Sansa had been worried for Sandor Clegane ever since the fire at the Crossroads Inn. She doesn't know why he is never far from her thoughts, especially now when she rarely sees him at the Red Keep, but somehow he is there, the non-knight who rescued her.
She had never seen her father seem so humble and serious as when he thanked Sandor the next day for saving his daughters from the fire, even offering him a place at his table if ever he needed it. The king had seen fit to reward him with a handsome amount of gold dragons, praising him for saving the Hand's daughters in front of everyone. But Sansa had seen the distaste in the Queen's eyes, the way she held her mouth. Sandor had kept his distance from her that day on.
"Sansa," she's surprised to hear her sister call for her, coming into her chamber this morning.
"Arya?" She asks.
"Father said we could go see the tourney grounds. Hurry and get ready."
"But the tourney isn't until tomorrow."
"Some knights will be practicing. Come on, you really want to just stay in here another day?"
"Father said you have to go with me?"
"And our wolves."
"But we have to stay together I'm sure he said."
"Sansa," Arya whines.
"I'm sure Septa Mordane will accompany us."
"Jory is already getting our horses saddled to ride out though."
Sansa looks at her sister, "We aren't in Winterfell anymore. Don't wander." She knows Arya cannot abide the septa.
Arya sighs, shrugging.
"I'll call for my handmaiden."
"What's wrong with what you're wearing? Just put on your boots."
"But my hair."
"It's not the day of the tourney, Sansa. Come on."
She pins her hair back herself quickly, pulls on her boots, and smooths down her blue dress in the mirror before she leaves with Arya. She is rather relieved to get out of her chambers, feel a little bit of freedom. She's been so looking forward to her first tourney.
Lady and Nymeria follow them out to the tourney grounds, with an escort from her father's guards. Lady has grown so much, but she still minds her unlike how wild Arya has let Nymeria become. If it weren't for father's position, she's almost certain the wolves wouldn't be allowed in the keep.
"Try to keep Nymeria to you," she whispers to Arya after they dismount. "She scares people."
"She's a direwolf."
"And your pet. We aren't in the wilds."
"Would be better if we were."
All she can do is roll her eyes at her sister. There are more people here than she expected so early, many working on last minute additions for more seating and the like. They head towards the joust first, seeing a few men she does not recognize testing their horses.
Arya and her watch from where the commoners will be tomorrow. Her sister asks her, "Who do you think will win? Most say Ser Jaime. I wish father would put him in the dirt. Of course, there's Ser Loras Tyrell and even Ser Barristan. He's a great fighter it is said. I've never seen a joust though so..."
"What about the Hound? Is he in the tourney?"
"I believe so. Have you seen the destrier he got? I was there when he brought him to the Red Keep. Stranger they say he named him."
"After the Stranger?" Sansa says, shocked.
"Is there another?" Arya laughs. "Spirited horse, nearly bit the fingers off a stable boy."
"I think he could win it."
"The Hound?" Arya says, puzzled. She visibly thinks about it. "Maybe the melee. His brother they say will be in the tourney though."
"He didn't say much about him."
Arya looks at her strangely.
"I took that ride with him and got to know him a little."
"You're odd, sister."
"He is nice, and he has saved me twice."
"Maybe you should give him your favor then," Arya snickers. "If he weren't so hideous, I would think you like him as much as those songs you always sing."
"Don't be ridiculous, Arya."
"Let's see what else is here," Arya says, taking off. Sansa quickly picks up her skirts to trail after her. They see the field for the melee and then the archery, and then the girls meander through the tents being set up. Lady is always at Sanaa's side, but the same could not be said of Nymeria. She sees more sigils than she can even recall learning, some must be hedge knights.
Heading back, they come upon some of the larger tents, and that is when to Sansa's bewilderment Lady leaves her side to go into one of them.
"Lady!" She exclaims.
Her eyes go wide to see Sandor Clegane step out with her direwolf on his side, licking his hand.
"Lady Sansa," he says, and she feels caught when her eyes meet his.
"Sansa," her sister tries to get her attention, tugging on her sleeve. "I'm going to find Nymeria, stay here."
"Wait," she turns, but Arya's already off.
"What are you two doing wandering around alone?" She hears him say, coming to her side.
"We have our wolves, and my father's guards escorted us here."
He sighs, looking around.
"It's good to see you," she says. He looks down at her, questioning.
"Are you looking forward to the tourney?" She asks.
He runs a hand over his face, shrugging, as he looks to the side.
Something in her starts to burn with shame that this is the man she thinks of and he has nothing to say to her. "Lady," she says, getting her direwolf's attention, and then stalks off in Arya's direction.
"Little bird," he is quick to say, following after her. "Where are you going?" He grabs her arm to stop her.
"Sandor," she says, frustrated, and she looks up to stop any tears.
"What is wrong?"
She looks at him, seemingly so concerned now, wondering how he really feels. "Why don't I ever see you?"
His brow scrunched, clearly not expecting that. She tries to twist out of his grasp, but he won't let her.
"Clegane?" A voice calls from the direction of the tent.
Sansa turns to the voice to see Ser Jaime Lannister galking at them. Sandor releases her abruptly.
"Ser Jaime," she curtseys.
"Lady Sansa," he bows his head.
"One minute, Jaime, I've got to make sure she..."
Just then Arya returns with Nymeria, and the wolf glides past them right up to Ser Jaime, sniffing and then startling them with a low growl.
"Arya," Sansa exclaims, taking hold of Lady who is now on alert.
"Nymeria," Arya repeats as she gets her wolf to back away from the queen's brother.
"I will see you." Sansa is startled to hear Sandor say in her ear before he strides to Ser Jaime.
"Not shit yourself, I hope," he says to Ser Jaime before they head on.
She doesn't realize she's watching him till he turns back and nods at her.
"Let's go, Arya," she tells her sister.
Back in her chambers, she welcomes the comfort of her sewing needle and Jeyne's company over Arya's. Still, her mind replays this little snippet of time she was with him, giving her no peace. When will he see her? What did he mean?
Jeyne speaks up, "I'm so anxious for tomorrow. I envy you getting to see the grounds this morning."
"Yes, tomorrow will be wonderful."
"You sound troubled though?"
"It is nothing."
"Are you nervous to see the prince?"
"That must be it," she gives Jeyne a small smile.
"Do you think you will still give him a favor?"
"Perhaps." She hates to admit she's been thinking if she sees Sandor before the tourney, perhaps he would like a favor rather. It's the least she could do for him after everything.
She's surprised when her handmaiden comes in bearing a note. "This was left for you, m'lady."
She opens it quickly, reads "godswood," and understands immediately. "Jeyne, I'm afraid I must go."
"What has happened?"
"I will tell you at a later time."
"Of course."
Sansa spies some grey ribbon and quickly snatches it before she leaves her chambers with Jeyne and Lady.
After parting with Jeyne, she makes her way to the godswood, noting the pink entering the dusk sky. She ends up following after Lady who makes her way to a far corner where she encounters Sandor.
"You shouldn't have come here." He says when he sees her.
"Why?" She says, getting closer to him.
"Because you're alone with me." Something about the rasp of his deep voice and the way he looks at her, just sets her heart beating faster as he says this to her.
"But I've wanted to see you."
"You've come to a dangerous place, Sansa. People will think things of you meeting alone with the Hound. Things that could ruin you."
"I just..."
"What is this?" He says, and Sansa realizes she's been toying with the ribbon in her hand.
"A ribbon."
"I can see that."
"I was going to give it to you. To wear in the tourney."
"A bloody favor," he looks at her, incredulous.
"Why do you mock me?" She whispers, shutting her eyelids to the tears.
"Sansa," he sighs. "I'm not the kind of man maidens give favors to." He says softer.
"But you rescued me," she says, opening her eyes and reaching out for his hand.
"Your head is full of songs, girl."
She looks down again, but he pats her hand on his arm.
"Men who take favors from maidens, often take things other than ribbons, too. If you were..."
"Like a kiss?" She interrupts.
"Uh... yes, little bird."
"Can we sit for a minute, Sandor?" She asks him before he can continue.
He looks suspiciously at her for a second before finding a spot for them. Lady curls up at her feet, and she can't help but feel right. She looks up at Sandor with a smile.
"Remember when you helped me ride again at the Crossroads?"
"Yes, little bird."
"That was a lovely day."
"Aye."
"I heard you got another horse."
"I did. Mean bastard."
"I hope he will serve you well in the joust."
"He should."
"Are you nervous?"
"No. Are you sure you want me putting all those pretty knights in the dirt?"
"I really hope you win."
"Want me to buy you a new dress, little bird, with the gold?" He smirks at her.
"No, I just think you're the best," she gives him her best smile, moving closer to his side.
He snorts. "Too pretty to say those things, little bird."
"Why not?"
"You don't want me touching you."
"I don't mind, Sandor." She hopes she isn't blushing too much as she says those words.
"Sansa," he says, frustrated with her, she can tell. "You're too innocent, girl. I try to tell you these things. I don't want you meeting men in the godswood and giving them favors. They could take advantage of you."
"Why would I meet any other men?"
"You're here with me now. How many others are there?"
"Only you."
He sighs. "What about Joffrey?"
"Joffrey seems to have little interest in me."
"And you in him?"
"I used to think I did, but I don't think of him now. I regret asking Father for me to marry him."
"You're smart in that, little bird."
"I mean, it's because of you."
"Me?"
"Yes." Why did she say that? She feels so taut, admitting this to him.
"How?"
"I don't know. Just something happened when you took care of me. Just seemed like you really cared. And to think I might not have been saved in the fire. I owe you a lot."
"You owe me nothing."
"My father was sincere in granting you a place at his table."
"But his daughter?" Sandor reaches to cup her face in his hand, making her tingle as her heart beats faster. "How would he feel about that?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, Sansa." His hand moves over into her hair, combing through the tresses. "Like silk," he says.
"Please, Sandor," she voices, not sure what's she's asking for but more of this feeling.
"Careful, girl. Those are dangerous words." He touches her neck then with his thumb. "Your blood is pumping, little bird. Are you afraid?"
"Not of you."
"You should be."
"You wouldn't hurt me."
They look at each other in the fading light, as Sandor runs his fingers through her hair.
"Sandor?" She asks.
"Yes?"
"Will you please take my favor?"
He takes a deep breath and nods. He takes the ribbon then.
"And would you have a kiss?"
"Little bird, you don't have to."
"If you don't want it..."
"Only if you give it."
She takes a deep breath and steels herself, it can't be that hard. She sits up, looks at his lips, puts a hand on his shoulder as she tilts her head to meet his lips. Her eyes close as she makes contact. Before she can react though, she feels Sandor's arms enclose her and soon she's in his lap as he takes over their kiss. Her arms go around his neck as he presses her against him.
He stops suddenly, pulling back, and she's surprised they're now both breathless. She lays her head against him, and he wraps an arm around her, softly touching her. They don't say a word, but she knows things are different now. It was just a kiss, she had thought.
"You need to get back," he says, as the sky gets darker after they've sat for a few minutes.
He helps her off his lap, and then Sansa turns to him, "When will I see you again?"
He takes her hands in his, "You will, just be patient."
"I will cheer for you in the tourney." She smiles to him.
"And I'll win it for you, little bird."