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“Pleeeaaase, Daddy?” Minisa whined at her humungous father as he rose from his seat beside her on her fluffy twin-size bed all covered in unicorns and rainbows.
“It’s time for bed, love,” Sandor hummed with a smile at his beautiful little girl, “Mommy will be here any minute to tuck you in.” He ruffed her unruly coal-black ringlets with his massive hand. Before Sandor could retract said hand, his daughter latched onto his wrist.
“Just one more story?” Minisa begged. Her most pitiful pout locked and loaded, she batted her sky-blue eyes at him, her heart-shaped mouth poised into the most artfully posed look of misery. “A story that you made up this time?”
Sandor knew that he was doomed from the start. It really took all his resolve to refuse her at times like these.
“Alright, fine,” he chuckled as he seated himself next to Minisa once again, widening his left arm so she could cuddle up against his massive form. “One more story and then it’s bedtime for you, missy.” As she pressed her cheek against her father’s chest, grabbing a fistful of his faded black t-shirt, Sandor gazed downward into her inquisitive, bright eyes. God save him but she favored her mother, hair color not included.
Taking a deep breath, Sandor was at a loss where to begin. He sucked at telling stories, a painful irony for a courtroom litigator. Typically, when pressed into servitude as such, Sandor blasted at break-neck speed through some over-told fairy tale that he’d heard ages ago and called it a night. Minisa, however, longed for creative tales of beautiful princesses riding pink-winged horses and of brave, handsome knights defeating ghastly dragons. All Sandor could ever seem to manage was a rehash of some cheesy Disney flick.
Unexpectedly, he had a flash of inspiration.
“Once upon a time - ” Sandor started, stopping before he made it any further as Minisa interrupted him.
“Why do adults always begin a story like that?” she interjected, her tiny dark brows furrowed together in wonder.
“Because all of the best stories start like that,” Sandor sniffed, pretending to be annoyed yet failing miserably as his daughter blinked at him in return. “As I was saying,” he continued, “Once upon a time, a fair young maiden named Buttercup lived in a far-away land called Florin - ”
“Wait a second,” Minisa butted in yet again, narrowing her eyes as she scowled up into her father’s scarred countenance, “That’s the The Princess Bride, Daddy! You stole that!”
“Do you want to hear my story or not?” Sandor spoke tersely, hoping that for once Minisa might actually be intimidated by him.
And of course, she wasn’t.
“Humph,” Minisa snorted while shooting Sandor one painfully narrow glare. “You cheated.”
Clearing his throat, Sandor pulled his bottom lip under his teeth, impressed as always at just how damn smart his little girl really was. She favored her mother on that front as well. “Uh…well, Florin is a terribly large country, so perhaps this story occurred there as well?”
Minisa just stared at him without any trace of emotion other than irritation.
“OK, fine…” Sandor rolled his silver eyes, “You win.”
Minisa’s whole face beamed with glee. “Yeah! I really want to hear a story that you made up, Daddy!”
Sandor took another deep breath. He absolutely hated trying to come up with stories off the cuff. He was a lawyer, not some raconteur, for fuck’s sake. Ask him to pen a lengthy brief in five minutes flat or to skewer some ass-munch defendant on the witness stand. Those skills came easily to Sandor. Spawning a fanciful account of fairies dancing in the moonlight or other such nonsense that would manage to entertain a highly precocious kid…that was assuredly not Sandor’s forte. Yet for Minisa, he would do absolutely anything to make her happy, even if it meant trying to whip up a yarn right on the spot.
“Let’s see…once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a fair young maiden named Sansa who lived in a kingdom called Winterfell…” Sandor began, pausing momentarily as the wheels inside his head began to churn and sputter like a Model T. A look of amazement danced wildly across his young daughter’s face upon hearing her mother’s name and their city inserted in the story.
“Now, this maiden was no ordinary lass, mind you,” Sandor smirked, knowing that he had captured Minisa’s attention. “She was a princess; a highborn lady; the most breathtakingly beautiful young woman in all of the realms. Her parents had trained her in all the proper protocols of court and had given her an education fit for a princess like she was. Lady Sansa was a kind, obedient lass who always minded her courtesies, striving to be pleasant and polite to all those around her. She possessed a true, kind heart, and all the people of Winterfell adored her.
“When not busy at court, Sansa spent her free time daydreaming of knights and tourneys and one day becoming a queen. Because of her renowned beauty, all the lords and knights throughout the lands sought her hand in marriage, yet her father refused them all. It wasn’t until Prince Joffrey, the future king, asked for Lady Sansa’s hand that her father finally relented, giving his assent to his daughter’s betrothal to the handsome young prince.”
“What does ‘betrothal’ mean?” Mini asked curiously.
Sandor reached up to scratch his dark beard as he thought of how to respond. “It’s sort of like a ‘pinky promise’ between a man and woman when she agrees to marry him one day.”
“Wow, that’s serious!” Minisa breathed out in a whoosh, “You can never break a ‘pinky promise!’”
Sandor smiled at his daughter, but before he could reply, Minisa suddenly looked sad.
“What’s wrong, love?” Sandor inquired, softly stroking her cheek with his callused hand.
“But Daddy,” she whined, “You’re supposed to be Mommy’s handsome prince.”
Bloody hell. Now Sandor had definitely not seen that coming.
“Just be patient, yeah?” he soothed his daughter before she could become upset, stooping down to plant a tender kiss on top of her head. “Trust me.”
“OK,” she replied with a sniff, edging herself even impossibly closer to her enormous father, burrowing against his side as if she were about to hibernate for the winter.
“Now where was I…ah, yes. So, upon Lady Sansa’s betrothal to Prince Joffrey,” Sandor continued, “Her father, Lord Eddard, travelled with Lady Sansa and Lady Arya, her younger sister, from their castle in Winterfell all the way to King’s Landing where Prince Joffrey and the royal family lived.”
Minisa giggled furiously at hearing her grandfather and aunt’s names mentioned in the story.
“After a fortnight spent in King’s Landing while the arrangements for the wedding were being made,” Sandor added, his voice suddenly lower and more serious while weaving his tale, “Lord Eddard quickly realized that Prince Joffrey and his family were evil, greedy people who only sought an alliance between their families so the king and queen could gain more lands for their growing kingdom. When Lord Eddard demanded that the Prince Joffrey release Lady Sansa from her betrothal, the evil prince and his equally evil mother, Queen Cersei, seized Lord Eddard and threw him into the dungeon.”
Sandor paused for dramatic effect, his daughter’s face showing all the signs of a girl enraptured with the tale at hand.
“Immediately, Prince Joffrey ordered Lady Sansa to be locked away inside the tallest tower of his castle to prevent her escape,” Sandor all but whispered. “As for Lady Arya, well, the prince had grown weary of her unladylike behavior and proclivity to speak her mind, so Prince Joffrey ordered his guards to throw her into the dungeon along with Lord Eddard. However, when the king’s guards rushed Lady Arya to seize her, the sly princess managed to elude her captors by whacking her way through the knights with her small sword that she had hidden inside her trunk. Before fleeing on foot, Lady Arya cut off her long hair and dressed in some stolen servant boy’s clothes to escape and to make her way back home to Winterfell.”
“That sounds like Aunt Arya,” Minisa giggled furiously.
“Now all alone and afraid in the tall tower,” Sandor all but whispered, “Lady Sansa threw herself on the bed, weeping and praying to the old gods for help in rescuing her and her family. Yet, no help came. Instead, as the days and nights passed by her, Lady Sansa was repeatedly dragged before the court to stand before Prince Joffrey, who took great delight in mocking her and threatening her and her father’s life each and every time she refused to marry him.
“After many weeks, Lady Sansa had given up all hope that she would ever be freed. Then, one night while languishing in the tower, she suddenly heard the sounds of men screaming and swords clashing on the ground below her. Rushing to the lone window in her room, Lady Sansa realized that the castle was under siege! Many boats filled the harbor, all ablaze while countless knights on land fought and shouted as they battled to the death. Lady Sansa was certain that she would not see tomorrow as she watched the terrible scene unfold. Then, without warning, she heard a soft rapping at her chamber door.”
“Who is it?” Sansa spoke nervously as she creeped slowly toward the massive wooden door.
“Who was it?” Minisa gulped, the panic obvious in her tiny voice.
Sandor grinned as he proceeded with his tale.
“The Hound,” a deep voice rang out from the other side of the bolted door.
“Is he a nice guy?” Minisa gasped.
“Sometimes,” Sandor snorted at his inside joke. “The Hound was one of most fearsome not-a-knights in all the land.”
“Not-a-knight?” Minisa pondered.
“That’s right,” Sandor continued. “The Hound was the sworn shield of Prince Joffrey, pledged to do the young prince’s bidding, no matter what the wicked prince commanded. Yet even though The Hound was fiercely loyal, the soldier had not taken the knight’s oath as a lad. It made no difference, really, since The Hound was as obedient as a true dog.”
“What did he look like?” Minisa asked softly.
“Well…” Sandor said as he narrowed his silver eyes, “He was super-tall. A virtual giant.”
“As tall as you, Daddy?”
“Yeah, he was about as tall as me.”
“Was he as big as you are, too?” Minisa grinned, squeezing one of her father’s impressive biceps which rivaled her waist in circumference.
“Absolutely,” Sandor laughed aloud. “So, when Lady Sansa heard The Hound’s voice outside her chambers late that night, she was scared. For you see, at the beginning of her imprisonment, The Hound had teased her and taunted her when escorting her from the tower to see the prince, calling her “Little Bird” and making fun of her for the way she chirped her superficial, diplomatic courtesies at court. Over the weeks, however, Lady Sansa had done the impossible. She had impressed The Hound with her strength and resilience. Hardened by years of battles and wars, The Hound had never seen such a beautiful young lady manage to hold her ground against the likes of Prince Joffrey and his clan.
“What do you want?” Lady Sansa asked, her ear pressed to the cool wood of her chamber door. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to take you home,” The Hound spoke firmly.
“Home?” Lady Sansa gasped, jerking the bolt from the door and wrenching it ajar. “But how? And my father? What will become of -”
“I’ve already released him,” The Hound barked roughly as he burst into her chambers, “He’s on a horse on his way to Winterfell as we speak.”
“I don’t understand,” Lady Sansa muttered. Standing in the doorway, her brain was galloping like a noble steed. Unable to process what was happening, she merely stood still as The Hound ransacked her room, tossing her few personal effects into an oversized knapsack. It was when he crossed the pathway of the moonlight trickling into her chamber from the window that she noticed how disheveled her rescuer appeared. The Hound’s long hair was matted with sweat, his formerly polished armor now dirty and covered with signs that he had defeated many men in the ensuing melee before he had snuck away to her chamber.
“You don’t have to understand, girl,” The Hound rasped, eschewing the formality of titles as always. “Just get your cloak. We need to leave. Now!” With that command, he stomped hurriedly toward her, grasping her by her thin arm, yanking her hand into the air and shoving a small round bottle filled with some murky liquid into her palm.
“What is this?” she asked, the coolness of the glass making her shiver.
“A potion,” he stated bluntly. “Take it. After you take it, I want you to flee as fast as you can to the woods. I’ll head to the stables for my horse. Stay hidden until I can meet you.”
“Are you mad?” Lady Sansa puzzled loudly while staring at the bottle. “You are making no sense whatsoever! How can I escape to the woods on my - ”
“We don’t have time for questions!” The Hound commanded. “Drink it now; it’s the only way out of here for you!” And with that warning, The Hound released her, stepping back to wait for her to do as he said.
Lady Sansa did not know what to do. Inside her chambers stood the most formidable soldier in all the realms, while outside her window raged a war that she wasn’t sure which side would win. Looking at the bottle still poised in her palm, Lady Sansa blinked hard. Should she take the potion? Could she trust The Hound?
“Yes!” Minisa squealed with delight, “Trust him, Lady Sansa! Take the potion!”
“What will happen to me if I refuse?” Lady Sansa inquired, her bright blue eyes narrowing as she studied the bottle, pulling the cork out forcefully.
“You don’t want to know,” The Hound replied as he shot a glance out the window.
“And if I take it?” the princess wondered as she sniffed the foul-smelling liquid.
“You don’t want to know,” The Hound replied again, this time locking eyes with her.
Just as Sandor was about to tell Minisa what happened next, their story time was halted by the entrance of one intrigued yet flustered redhead.
“Sorry, I had a hard time settling Rickon down,” Sansa smiled as she surveyed the situation at hand. "He didn’t want to go to sleep.” Casting a smirk toward her husband, Sansa added, “I thought you’d be gone already.”
“Nah, I promised Minisa another story,” Sandor grinned at his beautiful wife.
“Well, it’s her bedtime, so you’ll have to finish it - ” Sansa started.
“Just give us a couple more minutes?” Sandor pled. His gaze drifted from Sansa to Minisa, who had sat up from her spot next to her father and had clasped her hands together as if she were begging for mercy.
Shaking her head as she laughed softly, Sansa sighed. “Alright, you two. Five more minutes. Finish up quickly, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am!” both Sandor and Minisa agreed in unison.
As Sansa exited the bedroom, Minisa positioned herself snugly against her father once again. “What happened next, Daddy? Did Lady Sansa take the potion?”
Wetting his lips, Sandor nodded his head. “She did.”
“What happened to her?” his daughter eagerly inquired.
“Well, after she drank the potion, Lady Sansa transformed into a wolf with bat wings!”
“Really?” Minisa squealed in awe.
“She sure did,” Sandor smiled, “And once transformed, Lady Sansa snarled at The Hound, running with all her might, jumping out her small window and flying off into the darkness of the night.”
Minisa’s eyes were the size of dinner plates now. “What happened to The Hound, Daddy? Did he escape, too?”
“Well, you see,” Sandor continued, “After Lady Sansa escaped, The Hound raced from her chambers all the way through the castle to the stables. He loaded his knapsack full of Lady Sansa’s belongings onto his war horse, whispering in the steed’s ears to meet him and the princess in the woods. And so, The Hound slapped the horse on the rump and sent it off into the night as well.”
“But how could The Hound escape if he sent his horse away?” Minisa asked.
“The Hound had his own bottle of potion,” Sandor lowered his voice, “And he drank it while hidden in the stables.”
Minisa gasped in both surprise and excitement as she released Sandor and sat up in her bed. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in giddiness. And just as quickly as she had riled herself up into a fury, the young girl froze in place.
“What was the horsey’s name?” the captivated young girl asked.
“Uh…Stranger, I believe,” Sandor fumbled slightly before naming the fictional horse after his childhood dog.
“The Hound sounds very smart,” Minisa declared with an air of omnipotent authority.
“Indeed, he does,” Sandor chuckled.
“So where did The Hound get the potion?” Minisa asked in a whoosh of air as she climbed into her father’s lap.
“Ah, well,” Sandor continued, quickly checking Minisa’s unicorn-shaped alarm clock to make sure he had time to wrap up his tale, “The Hound, you see, had purchased the magic potion from a witch in the woods whom he had visited a few days earlier. He had asked the witch to concoct something that would help him rescue Lady Sansa."
“Did he turn into an animal, too?” Minisa wondered.
Sandor nodded his head, smirking at his pending description, “He did. He transformed into a giant, black beast of a hound with sharp, white teeth and beady gray eyes.”
“I wouldn’t have been scared of him,” Minisa boldly stated.
“No, love, I don’t think you would’ve been,” Sandor agreed, stroking her hair while smiling into her pleased face.
“And did they ever turn back into people again?” Minisa asked.
“Well, you see, as the battle outside of the castle raged in a fury, many witnesses later claimed to have seen a winged red wolf and a humungous black hound running together from the gates of the fortress, howling and crying out as they fled into the night. To this day, no one knows for sure what became of the princess and her rescuer, but legend has it that they eluded capture and somehow managed to make their way to Winterfell where they returned to their human form and later wed.”
“Wait,” Minisa paused, poking her thin index finger into her father’s massive chest, “You said that The Hound met Lady Sansa in the woods.”
Caught by his inconsistency, Sandor thought quickly on his feet, using his finely-honed cross-examination skills as if he were in the middle of a courtroom inquiry and the witness had just thrown him a curve ball. “Ah, yes, that. Well, Lady Sansa was a bit of a stubborn lass, so she didn’t directly flee to the woods as The Hound has instructed her. Instead, she had waited for him behind the stables, and when he emerged in the form of a hound, Lady Sansa bit him on the bottom and chased him right out of the courtyard, she was that mad at him for turning her into a wolf. That’s why they were making all that racket when they fled.”
“Bedtime, you two,” Sansa interrupted as she breeched the doorway. She folded her arms in front of her chest, leaning against the doorframe as she smiled at her husband and their daughter who was cackling hysterically at her father’s description of how Lady Sansa had handled The Hound. “That’s quite a fable you have there, mister.”
“It’s not a fable, Mommy,” Minisa corrected, “Is it, Daddy?”
“That’s right, love,” Sandor laughed heartily as he rose from his spot beside his daughter, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, “It’s the true story of the princess and the very potent potion.” With that jest, he shot his daughter a knowing wink, who in turn winked right back at him.
As Sandor walked toward the bedroom door, fully intent on leaving so Sansa could go through her bedtime routine with Minisa, his wife suddenly grabbed his muscular forearm, leaning in closely and standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his good ear. “You’re such a wonderful father,” Sansa purred softly, giving his arm a little squeeze for added emphasis, “And for the record, I’d like to have a taste of your very potent potion later, just as soon as I get Brandon tucked in. Maybe I’ll even bite your bottom, too.”
Fucking hell. If Sandor had known that telling tall tales to his children would have this effect on his gorgeous spouse, he would have done so years ago.