Chapter Text
Sandor had never like littlefinger. Sandor never liked anyone he met at Kings Landing. Well, with one exception. Littlefinger toyed with her just as everyone else had. Yet while Sandor enjoyed her presence Littlefinger always enjoyed more. In a way that Sandor knew he was trying to find exploits in the girl. Ones he could use against her and hurt her with.
The thoughts send him deeper. Everyone in King’s Landing was the same way, but Finger was the best at the game. Games were not fun for the hound. Especially the games Littlefinger plays. That even now his little bird plays as well.
Yet he was not angry. It was when the door did not close that Sandor's temper grewa. “What do you want?” He asks brusquely, while kicking off some of the dirt from the bottom of his boots.
“To talk.” Wrong person to show up.
“As you did with Sansa?” Sandor turns on the man. Choosing to use his height to try and scare the unwanted guest a little. Intimidation had always worked as a close second to killing.
“Sansa? Are you so close to her that you need not use her title? She is making friends in very low places, that Sansa.”
Sandor laughs. “Say your piece. Before I decide to kick you out.”
“Why are you guarding Lady Stark?” Petyr questions.
“Is she a Stark? Last time I checked being a widow does not mean the returning of one’s maiden name.” Sandor comments as his fingers carelessly wrap around the pommel of his blade. The hound would not use it. The gesture was only meant to draw Petyr's attention to the sword in case he forget who he was dealing with. Sandor was no pushover unlike the other honorable knights Petyr knew.
Petyr’s jaw tightens. He keeps on the same slimy smile he always used with the Lannisters. “That is her choice. Not ours to question. Now as for your answer.”
“Because she is paying me.” The hound answers honestly. He truly hates the man standing before him. Petyr Baelish had sold Sansa Stark to the Boltons. On some level he even believed Cersei Lannister may have convinced him to. Both of them were wicked enough for the idea to have crossed their minds. Yet Baelish carried it out.
“That is all it takes to earn your loyalty? I seem to remember the king paying you as well. Yet you ran from a battle stating, 'fuck the king'. Will you not do the same to the Lady of the North?”
Petyr was testing him. Trying to see if there was another reason behind Sandor’s motives. He had already questioned Sansa earlier over Sandor’s position. The lady told him that he was her newest guard. He would also be her closest in the absence of Brienne. Petyr had stared him down as he tried to convince Sansa to choose otherwise. Her words made Sandor proud. ‘The Hound had watched over me well enough in Kings landing. I trust him to watch over me here.’ To that Petyr had no rebuttal. If he did he did not share it with the Lady at least.’
“The wardeness of the north knows what she’s doing. Unlike your cunt self.” Sandor responds. He walks closer to Petyr causing the man to take a step back towards the door. Sandor smirks. He gestures with his head towards the door. “Go. Before I decide to ignore the wardeness’ orders and take your head myself.”
“This is not done Ser Clegane.” Petyr sounds as if he is certain. Sandor does not think the man is use to losing. “Eventually the wardeness will wed and I do not her husband would appreciating such a threatening man around his wife.”
“Did I threaten the imaginary man myself?” Clegane asks as Petyr steps out.
“You might have.”
Sandor laughs heartily. “You think she will marry you? The man who sold her to the Boltons?”
“I didn’t know,”
“What? You didn’t know that the men who aided in killing her mother, and brother wouldn’t treat her as anything less then a lady? We both know that’s a lie.” Joffery was a cruel cunt, but the people who worked directly under him were worse. Petyr and Sandor were some of the worst around. Sandor was willing to kill or injure anyone the king wanted him to. Petyr, well Baelish was always a sneaky man. Sandor was sure that he had done things to people the guard could never imagine.
“And if it wasn’t for the fact that Ramsey is already dead I would have killed you both at the same time.”
“I’m an ally to the lady. I don’t think she would appreciate you treating her allies this way.”
Sandor rolls his eyes. “I don’t really care what the wardeness wants. As long as she’s alive and breathing she can be displeased with me.” With that Sandor slams his door shut and clambers over to his bed. Sandor Clegane tosses off his boots and holds his sword a little closer to his body. This was not done. Baelish would not stop until he was wed, or dead.