Chapter Text
He stayed. He stayed. For me.
She stood in court the day after the Blackwater burned and watched as punishments and rewards were doled out in turns. As he had entered the grand hall with a large group of soldiers, she saw him immediately and her heart nearly burst out of her chest. The realization dawning on her that he did, in fact, care about her.
He had come to her in the middle of the night while the Blackwater was lit in a green blaze. It was the fire. The fire had scared him out of battle and he wanted to run, even wanted her to run with him. She might have gone with him too, if he hadn’t been so drunk. She had never seen him that drunk before. When she turned down his offer to leave with him, he held a knife to her throat demanding a song. It was odd - though her body trembled, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She sang the first song that came to her mind. The Mother’s Hymn. Then he wept on top of her before getting up and beginning to storm out of her chambers.
Wait. Don’t go. Stay. Stay for me, please. She had begged him. He turned to look at her for a moment, an unknown look in his stormy grey eyes, before tearing off his cloak and walking away. She thought for sure that she would never see him again.
In such a wreck of emotion, she curled in a ball on the floor, covering herself in the cloak he had left behind in his wake. White, blood stained. Smelling of war and death and something else, something just so him. It was then, after he had left and with the thought of never seeing him again, that she realized the depths of her feelings for him.
Sandor was no knight, of that she was certain, but he had saved her all the same. Many times. And every time she walked the halls of the keep or stood in court, it was those steel grey eyes that she sought out. Though his words were often harsh, he was also gentle and he was the only one who had never hurt her – even on Joffrey’s order, he refused.
Standing in court that day, she decided she needed to know, needed to hear from him, how much he cared about her. But how will I get him to do so? A million thoughts crossed through her mind when all of a sudden, she heard her name. Calm at first, then repeated with all the contempt her beloved could hold.
Joffrey’s cruelty was kept in check, thanks to the presence of his grandfather, Tywin, as he informed her that she was no longer his betrothed and that he would instead be betrothed to Margaery Tyrell. It took everything in her to feign devastation at the news.
Her internal elation was halted when a little while later it was Sandor who was called to the front. She found out then that he had returned to battle after disappearing for a short while, spewing some rather treasonous comments upon his initial exit. I wonder what he could have said. He was certainly angry at that time. Oh dear, they don’t know he came to my chambers, do they?
Joffrey wants him punished. I can see it in his eyes. She wanted to scream out, faint, do anything to create a scene and allow him to run. She was just about to do so when Tywin leaned in to Joffrey’s ear & she watched the blood leave the horrible king’s face. He was angry, not going to get his way, but he had no choice but to follow his grandfather’s orders.
“Dog. Though I think you should lose your head for your treasonous words, my grandfather insists that you went above and beyond your duty in battle. That you saved my uncle, the Hand, from being sliced in two.” Joffrey sneered at that. He obviously didn’t care that Sandor saved the imp, but it was celebrated only because of his title. “As well as almost single-handedly keeping Stannis’ troops at bay until my grandfather and the strength of Casterly Rock and Highgarden arrived to finish them. For this, you may keep your head. And your position on the Kingsguard. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
Sansa’s heart, which had completely stopped and fallen to the pit of her stomach upon his name being called, began it’s beating again at this and she knew the gods were on her side today. She would be sure to go to both the sept and godswood to give her thanks to both the old gods and the new, just as soon as she could get away from court.
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She was in the godswood almost every day since that first day in court after the battle. It was quiet there, no one else cared about the old gods, and she found it the best place to think.
There was a particular stone bench in the clearing, still canopied under the forest of trees – letting just enough light in to fill the air without causing her to squint at the light at the sun’s height. This was where she came to clear her mind and let her thoughts roam free.
It had been near a full moon’s turn and she still had no idea what her grand plan to get Sandor to admit his affections would be.
Luckily for her, since Joffrey seemed adamant about not being alone with his dog ever since the battle, Sandor was often assigned to her guard. “A traitorous dog for a traitor’s daughter” seemed to be his favorite chant these days.
She found herself seeking little ways in which he could help her as often as she could, just so he would be nearer to her or forced to interact with her. He was always so stoic otherwise. “Can you help me get this down, I can’t reach that high.” Was her favorite. Didn’t even matter what she was making him reach for. Watching his arms reach out above her head, his body so close behind her that her back nearly rested on his torso, never ceased to make her feel dizzy.
Let’s see. What do I know? He is always quick to help me when I’m in need. He gets annoyed when I chirp about incessantly. He never quite knows how to act with me when I’m upset. How can I use this knowledge? That was the million dollar question.
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Apart from her time thinking in the godswood, she decided to listen intently to the conversations around her. Particularly those of Lord Tywin. She knew he controlled Joffrey, Cersei, Tyrion, and everyone else in the keep for that matter. Something that awful Petyr had said to her seemed to stick in her mind: “Always keep your foes confused.” So she played the stupid little girl with her head in the clouds, as she listened intently to the schemes of others.
One day, Lord Tywin was commenting on Gregor Clegane. Even if she hadn’t been eavesdropping already, that name would have surely perked her ears up. He was speaking about how Gregor had killed another wife before she was able to bear children. Sansa couldn’t help herself, she spoke out of turn, though her words were carefully crafted. “It would be such a shame to not have any more loyal Clegane fighters, if neither brother were to ever produce heirs. Apologies, Lord Tywin, I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.” And with that, she left the man and his council to return back to her chambers.