A song of Ice and Fire 1. Chapter 1

**The 1****st**** Time **

**Sandor**

The Hound was drunk. Ridiculously so.

He had always enjoyed to drink and being the size he was, he could out drink most of the Kingsguard without even trying. Having said that ,he rarely drank to this degree, preferring to remain in control save those evenings where he had a need to celebrate a victory, whether it be in a Tourney or in a battle.

As he made his way back to his chamber he found himself having to support himself against the walls of the corridor. When the other members of the Kingsguard were this drunk, one of their brothers would support them and help them back to their rooms in the eastern tower. That would never happen to him. Regardless of what the cloak he wore stood for, he was not one of them and never would be. He was happy with his small room at the end of a long dark corridor in a barely used part of the castle. It didn't bother him that he wasn't seen as good enough to fully be one of this, he despised Knights and everything they supposedly stood for.

Men of honour. What a joke. The way they beat the Stark girl was wrong, no matter if the king ordered it. They weren't Knights; they were barely men in his eyes.

'Little Bird' he found himself whispering aloud before he could stop himself. Recently he had found that thinking about her, no matter how fleetingly stirred something within him.

When he first became aware of her during the Lannister's visit to Winterfell he had barely noticed her. She was a stupid child, giggling away with her friend, trying to ingratiate herself with Joffrey and the Lannisters with her smiles.

It was only when she had journeyed to Kings Landing and her father was accused of being a traitor that he started to notice her. At first she had annoyed him admittedly that was nothing new, everyone annoyed him. She constantly looked like she would burst into tears and frequently did. Worse than that, was her stupidity and naivety, that really irritated him.

Surely no one could be that stupid, it was like she expected her life to live out like a song.

Despite the fact she couldn't look him in the eye and more or less froze in fear when she saw him, she had always been courteous to him. That angered him most of all, he had done nothing to want or deserve her courtesies yet she bestowed them on him time and again, even when he had all but threatened her not to call him 'ser'.

But recently something had changed within him. He didn't find himself getting quite so angry with her anymore. He still thought she acted stupidly, without thinking and her naivety was truly shocking. But he couldn't understand what had caused the change in the way he thought of her. The only thing he could think was that his estimation of her went up when she moved towards Joffrey with the intention of pushing him off the bridge. She had shown she had balls that he didn't know she was possible of possessing. He tried to convince himself he stopped her because it was his job, he was Joffrey's sworn shield after all, but deep down he knew that was the moment when he started to protect her.

_Protect her_ he thought laughing aloud to himself. How had he protected her today when Ser Meryn had punched her repeatedly in the stomach for not addressing the King in the right way. He felt sick every time he heard her breath being punched out of her, initially she had cried quiet sobs to herself but by the end she had been screaming in agony until Joffrey decided she had learnt her lesson.

A voice in his head had been screaming at him to stop them, to help her. He knew he could, he could fight them off, all of them, even now in his drunken state, he would relish the opportunity to release his anger on them but he didn't. He couldn't. He was Joffrey's dog, here to obey and carry out whatever sick perverse task he required. As much as he wished he could be, he wasn't the Little Bird's protector.

He helped her where he could, he had given her some advice, admittedly it wasn't friendly advice but he wanted her to toughen up, _wisen up_ to this game of thrones she had sound herself in the middle of.

When Joffrey and the other members of the Kingsguard had left her in a heap on the floor, unable to even stand, he had left too, knowing his place. He had got half way down the corridor with them before he found some excuse for him to be excused. He doubled back without anyone seeing him and found her in the same position, whimpering in agony as she tried to straighten her body enough to allow her to stand.

'Little Bird' he had said, aiming to be as gentle as he could, however by the way she spun around he guessed his voice had still sounded as harsh and course as it normally did. He wasn't prepared for her response; he wasn't expecting her to look him straight in the eyes, seeing all of his monstrous face. He was expecting her to shudder and draw back in fear; he wasn't expecting her to smile softly at him.

He had lifted her with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed and carried her towards her chambers, using corridors he knew would be empty. She didn't speak, and neither did he. He wasn't one to offer comfort and condolences, he never would be. He always gave her the truth, told her how stupid she had been, hoping she would learn from her mistakes but today he hadn't even had the heart to do that.

As they finally turned into the corridor housing her chambers she had wrapped her arms around his neck and remained there, burying her head into his shoulder. He had felt on fire, like the heat of her would consume him. But her fire didn't scare him, it wasn't the stuff of his nightmares, it was more like what he had heard her singing about in those ridiculous songs of hers.

He hadn't known what to do or say so he simply carried on, opening the door to the chamber and gently laying her down on the bed. Forcing himself not to look at her he had turned to leave but she had grabbed his hand, making him turn towards her and laid the full force of her eyes to his saying 'Thank you ser' He stood still for a fraction of a second, frozen by how startling blue her eyes were before slightly nodding his head and leaving.

As soon as he was outside the room he found himself almost breathless, like he couldn't get enough of the stuff inside him. And no matter what he tried he couldn't shake that feeling of fire when she had wrapped her arms around him.

He could still feel it now, despite the vast amount of wine he had drunk.

He lay back fully clothed on his bed and closed his eyes, hoping for once that instead of the fire that had claimed half of his face and the rest of his life, he could dream of the fire he had felt when she touched him.

Remembering the stirring he had felt deep in his stomach and beyond when she had him trapped him with those eyes of hers, he finally passed out.

**Sansa**

Sansa tries not to whimper as Shae helps her out of the bath and assists her in drying her body and dressing her in a lightweight night dress.

As the girl helps her to lie back on her bed, making every effort to make her comfortable Sansa takes her hands 'Thank you Shae, for everything, I couldn't get through days like this without you' Shae squeezes her hand lightly before gently mocking her with a 'M'lady' and a terrible courtesy. It makes Sansa laugh and cry from pain simultaneously.

Shae bids her good night and shuts the door behind her leaving Sansa feeling desperately alone. She knows she is lucky to have Shae. She has given Sansa every reason to trust her, she knows to keep things to herself and she tries to give Sansa advice and counsel to help her cope in these difficult times. She has even started to open Sansa's naïve eyes as to what can be expected from her when her maidenhead is finally claimed.

She is like the Hound in that regard, her advice and truth can be brutal, course even, but they are the only people to give it to her.

Shae has even gone so far as to steal a servants cloak with a deep shapeless hood and shoes for Sansa to wear. At first she was horrified when Shae presented her with the gift, unable to comprehend why she would ever think Sansa would need them. But when the hour grew late and the castle grew quiet, Shae came to her room, dressed Sansa in the cloak and shoes and took her outside to the gardens.

Sansa had been terrified but Shae told her what to do and not to do and she found herself passing through the castle in complete anonymity. It felt breathtaking, it was a sense of freedom that she had not experienced for so long. Usually there was always someone watching her, keeping tabs on her, ready to report back to Joffrey the slightest thing that make put Sansa in a bad night, give him cause to beat or humiliate her.

Twice now Shae had smuggled her into the fresh evening air and allowed her to feel, if only fleetingly, that she was still alive. For that Sansa would be eternally grateful.

Trying to recall those brief feelings of happiness Sansa coaxes her aching body into slumber.

She wakes hot and sweaty and sobbing, her dreams filled with pain and torture, denying her the restful peace her body needs to heal.

She feels bereft; she misses the warmth of Lady, her brothers laughter, even Arya and her wilful ways . She misses her mother's gentleness but most of all she misses her father's protectiveness. She would do anything to feel his arms around her. To feel the comfort of safety from just being near him to make her feel, even if only for a night, that no one will ever hurt her again.

She thinks back to the torture laid upon her today at the hands of her betrothed and his honourable Knights and a manic sort of laughter emanates from her but soon the pain of the injuries takes over and she gently tries to coax her aching body out of bed in the vain hope that she may be able to walk off the some of the pain.

She has stopped trying to understand Joffrey and his vicious wicked ways, she has stopped caring at how betrayed she feels from the supposed Knights, who she had always believed to be so honourable.

Instead she tries to focus on the Hound, she tries to remember how gentle he was with her in his arms, how he tries to help her when he can. How despite his gruffness and sometimes frightening delivery when he does speak to her, everything he says makes sense.

She remembers the heat she felt when she wrapped her arms around his neck and leant into him. She tries to ignore the part of her body that was aflame and instead focuses again on that feeling of safety and protectiveness that previously she had only known from her father.

The pain and lack of sleep must be making her lose her mind because before she knows it she has somehow, despite the agony, managed to dress in the cloak and shoes from Shae and is carefully working her way through the corridors of the Keep, praying she won't bump into anyone.

Part of her is proud she knows where she is going, this is something else she has learnt from Shae. How to gain information without ever asking for it. Shae tells Sansa regularly that her innocence is beautiful but it won't keep her alive, Shae tells her she has to learn to play the game. So that's what she has tried to do.

Sansa never wants to be like Cersei or Lord Varys, their level of deceit and deception is unacceptable to her but she has learnt without having to actually ask anyone, where he is and secretly she is immensely proud of herself. This is where she finds herself on route to.

It takes her longer than expected to get there, but she is relieved that in the middle of the night, the Keep is so quiet. Her body aches and throbs in ways she never thought possible, but it isn't her body she is looking to heal tonight. She is seeking a fragment of peace to counteract the sorrow tugging at her heart.

She knocks lightly but there is no answer, she can see a light under the door so she knows he is there. She slowly tries the handle and finds the door unlocked. Saying a silent prayer to the gods she enters the room.

She can see his massive form lying on the bed. She wants to say something but his constant derision of her manners and her addresses leaves her unsure what to say so she settles on whispering 'are you awake'

He does not respond and she is frozen to the spot but after what seems like minutes he finally exhales a large breath confirming he is asleep lying flat on his back.

Now she is here she doesn't know what to do, she doesn't want to wake him, he will be frightfully angry at her. She knows she shouldn't be here, she knows how dangerous it is for both of them. Her heart, body and soul is so weary she can't bear the thought of finding her way back to her empty chambers.

She decides she will take the comfort and solace she can while he sleeps and leave before he wakes.

She carefully tries to climb onto bed next to him, hoping she won't wake him, knowing it won't end well.

She takes her time, suppressing the whimpers that try to emerge as she puts her body through more torture. She is finally in a position where she can lie next to him, she intends to curl towards the wall keeping away from him so she won't disturb him. She is about to let her body lie when she catches a glance of his face.

She hadn't realised before but there is a tragic beauty to him, her warrior protector and she is reminded of that burning feeling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She can't stop herself from lightly brushing his hair away from his eye on his scarred side. All fear that she held since first setting sight on him at Winterfell is gone, now she feels oddly protective of him, she never wants anyone to hurt him like his brother did. Her heart aches at the thought of what he went through as a child.

She finally stops looking at him and gently lowers herself to the bed and within minutes she is in the soundest sleep she has had for a long time.

**Sandor **

'SEVEN HELLS' he yells out startling her into consciousness. For a second he sees fright in her eyes when they initially focus on the dagger inches from her neck but as soon as they settle on him they almost seem to sparkle.

He had woken from a dream but had found it hard to claw himself back to consciousness; he knew it was probably down to the wine he had drunk the night before.

He had been dreaming of her, Little Bird, dreaming that she had sought him out for comfort, that she had looked into his monstrous face and smiled at him, stroking his hair lightly. When he woke he felt reality tear at his heart, he was alone, she would never look at him like that or touch him in that way.

But something doesn't feel right. His senses tell him he isn't alone. He reaches for his dagger without thinking, without even knowing what the danger is. By the time it is in his hand he knows to look left.

Ready to pounce, to unleash his power and anger he turns and his right arm flings out the dagger.

By the time his eyes focus he can make out what looks like a body curled up in a cloak on his bed facing away from him. He holds the dagger inches away and pulls back the hood.

The shock of seeing the unblemished porcelain skin and the fire read hair leave his body frozen but he shouts out.

Her eyes fly open any fear he initially sees in them evaporates when she sees him. He stares at her as she softly says 'oh' his eyes are fixated on the formation of her full soft lips as she speaks.

When he does not speak or move she simply says 'Ser' moving her eyes to the dagger .

He quickly pulls the dagger back and moves off the bed. Still staring, still unable to form words. His mind was awash with emotions he can't get a control on, anger, shock, fear – fear of what had he done last night. He can't ignore the sense of relief to know he is fully clothed.

She slowly climbs off the bed, taking care not to rush the painful process. When she finally speaks she fixes her eyes on his again and he can't help but think despite her obvious discomfort she looks more rested than she has in weeks.

'I apologise for startling you, I had hoped to wake and leave before you rose. I can't really explain other than I was scared and I needed to feel safe'

'Here? You came here to feel safe? I am a killer child, there is nothing safe about me' he says shaking the dagger at her as his anger takes over. Does she not realise how stupid she has been, if she had been caught, if anyone finds her with him it will be both their heads up on spikes and that is if they are lucky.

Even when he yells at her, even when he shakes the dagger, she does not take her eyes off his face, his whole face.

When he calms a little, she walks forward, lightly takes hold of his hand a gently brushes her lips to his knuckles. He wants to draw away to show her his anger at her recklessness but he is powerless to stop her, utterly mesmerised by her he cannot not deny her anything. The girl that sets the Hound alight.

She approaches the door and is about to leave but something makes her stop, she turns back to him, and speaks in a such a controlled way he has trouble believing it is in fact his Little Bird standing in front of him.

'Thank you for last night, for what you gave me.'

She lifts her hood back over her hair but he can still make out her face. His voice finally decided to return to him.

'What… What did I give you?' he rasps cautiously

She sighs contentedly ' A moment of peace' She flashes him the most beautiful genuine smile he has ever seen light her face and leaves him alone in his chamber feeling utterly shocked, confused and a little bit overwhelmed of his Little Bird.


	2. Chapter 2

**The 2****nd**** Time**

**Sansa **

'Enough' she had heard him rasp in between the waves of pain and nausea she heard his voice. Ser Boros had hit her over and over on the back of her thighs with his sword and the force was enough to make her think he would snap her in two. Hearing his voice gave her strength to carry on. She still screamed, the pain was immense and it was what Joff wanted, there was no point denying him. But hearing _his_ voice had given her a new form of strength, not something physical, not something she would ever be able to show, but for a fraction of a second it lifted her broken heart.

Until the king ordered Boros to make her naked. She was in court and was surrounded by people watching, laughing and now leering at her. As Boros has ripped the top of her dress away she had been fully exposed to everyone. As quickly as she could she covered her chest, praying _he _hadn't seen. She couldn't bear to look at him and see pity there so she kept her eyes down, bracing herself for Boros to 'beat her bloody' as king had commanded.

Before any blows came she could hear voices shouting and was suddenly faced with Tyrion Lannister. He was a strange form of saviour, but a saviour none the less. He commanded someone give her something to cover herself with and it had been _him_ who had unfastened his cloak and thrown it to her.

Tyrion and Joffrey had had an argument but in truth she had heard none of it, it was as if she was in a dream like state, the pain winning out leaving her unable to think clearly. Without even realising where she was going she had found herself in the Tower of the Hand being cared for by maids gently bathing her, cleaning her hair and tending to the welts on her thighs. They dressed her and she was given a drink to ease her to sleep. She hadn't wanted to sleep but the pain had been so fierce she had found herself gulping it down.

She didn't know how long she had slept but when she awoke it was very late and a maid led to Tyrion. She didn't trust him, he was a Lannister after all but he did seem to want to help her, even offering to help her out of her engagement. She refused, of course, despite Joffrey calling her stupid, she was learning no one could be trusted….well almost no one.

When Tyrion had asked if there was anything he could do to help make her time here pass easier, she had stopped and thought before telling him she would love to be able to ride. Joffrey had bought her a horse when she first came to Kings Landing and she had barely ridden it, scared that her limited ability would infuriate him more. When she explained her predicament to Tyrion he told her he often took Tommen out riding and would happily include her in these outings if she wanted.

Despite the late hour, when she returned to her room, She found Shae waiting for her. She had tried to send her away, insisting she could undress herself but Shae wouldn't leave.

As she helped her ease into bed Shae sat next to her, took her hand gently and sang her the most beautiful song she had ever heard. She couldn't understand what Shae was singing of, she didn't know the language, but it didn't stop her finding comfort in the song.

When Shae had gone Sansa felt over whelmed by her sadness. Part of her had wanted to ask Shae to stay with her, to tell her how she was frightened to sleep. She wished she could have stayed and sung her to sleep like her mother used to when she was little.

As the night wore on Sansa became more and more frightened and she didn't know why, no one had ever come for in the night. Despite knowing how angry he would be with her, she soon enough found herself in her shabby cloak and shoes lightly knocking on his door. Her fingers went down to the handle and started to push it when the door was wrenched open.

He stood looming over her, he looked angry, not furious, but still angry and his grey eyes searched hers. He wrapped his fingers round her wrist and pulled her sharply into the room. He shut the door behind her and barred it.

'What are you doing here Little Bird? He said the anger clear in his voice.

'I…I don't…' but before she could start to form a proper sentence the tears that had been threatening to fall for hours start to pool at her eyes.

'Hush, no need for that' he rasped as he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her in what she guessed was the only way he knew. He was not a father; he wasn't even a brother, not really. He didn't know the best way to comfort someone was to hold them she thought to herself.

She blinked back the tears and locked her eyes with his 'please don't send me away'

He looked agonised then, she knew it was like he was facing an inner conflict, she could see it in his eyes. Part of him wanted to send her away, the angry Hound, the other part of him seemed to want to give in to her, that was the part of him she was hoping would win, that was her favourite part of him. She imagined that was truly Sandor.

Eventually he spoke 'come child' and she took a shaky breath, waiting for him to exile her from his chambers. Instead he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her calves, lifted her as if she weighed nothing and placed her on the innermost side of the bed. In that brief moment when she was in his arms, the desire to wrap her arms around him and never let go was so overpowering that when his body was longer in contact with hers, her heart ached with sorrow.

She shuffled carefully on the bed until her back was against the wall and she was facing him, he lay down and mirrored her movements so they were now face to face.

Before she could stop herself her hand flew out and made contact with his face, it wasn't what she expected, despite the roughness of his beard she found there was softness to his skin as she gently caressed it. He had frozen at first but as her hand cupped his face she could have sworn that he ever so slightly leaned his face into her hand, if only for a second.

'You must never try to speak up for me again' she said in determined voice ' Little Bird…' he had started to respond but she had cut him off, locking her eyes on his. She didn't know why, but somehow by making eye contact with him, she had learned he seemed to listen to her more.

'You must never do that again, never, it is too…. too dangerous…I ..I couldn't cope if he….' She trailed off, unable to find the words to express what she feared most she just quietly mumbled 'I'm tired now' and closed her eyes hoping she would find enough peace to sleep.

**Sandor **

He woke with the urge to slap something off his face, he raised his hand automatically, expecting a fly, only to realise it was the little bird's hand still resting on his cheek. Somehow he managed to stop himself from making contact.

As he blinked away sleep he remembered the humiliation she had been subjected to yesterday. As as his memory went over the events the sound of her screams haunted him. He had tried to stop it, but no one had listening, if anything he had made things worse for her.

Joffrey had been in a particularly evil mood and he had found himself seriously fearing for her safety. He almost let out a sigh of relief when Tyrion put an end to it. But the instant hatred towards the halfman for being the one to save her overrode his feelings of relief. It should have been _me_ had thought to himself over and over again. The only thing he was able to do was take of his cloak and throw it to her, he was too ashamed to look her in the eye.

He had found an excuse to visit her chambers later so he could check on her, tell her he was sorry for not helping her but she had not been there, her handmaiden had said she had not returned all day. His worry for her was starting to drive him mad. His first instinct had been to drink but somehow he had managed to ignore that, knowing he'd just end up doing something reckless. He had returned to his room and spent hours pacing back and worth wondering where she was, wondering if more harm come to her.

As it grew late and the Keep effectively shut down for the night he started to wonder if she would come to him. He found the more he paced the more he wanted it, he felt desperation at not knowing where she was or if she was ok. All the other times she had been hurt or abused, he had been the one to take her back to her rooms, to try and offer some form of comfort with his rough but well-meant words.

He had all but driven himself mad with his thoughts of jealousy, anger and anxiety before he heard her light knock on the door. At first he thought he had imagined it until he saw the handle slowly moving.

He had meant to be calm, but he ended up wrenching the door open and he could tell by the way she looked at him, startled and frightened, that despite his best efforts he must have looked angry.

He looked into her eyes, searching her face for any sign of where she had been and then wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her into the room before shutting the door and barring it.

'What are you doing here Little Bird?' he had asked, again with the anger. What was wrong with him! Why couldn't he just speak to her normally, he thought chastising himself.

She had stumbled over her words, then the tears had started to form. He felt terrible but he had no idea how to make them stop.

'Hush now child' he had said, placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, he had no concept of how to comfort a woman, only how to take one and even then it wasn't gently. In time her tears stopped. She fixed those perfect sapphires on him and he felt his heart beat quicken as she said 'please don't send me away'

He was torn, it was so dangerous for her to be here, for both of them. Despite living a life dedicated to obeying his master, there was a selfish side to him that usually only came out during a fight, when his bloodlust took over. But tonight he found himself being selfish in not wanting to let her go, even if his head told him to send her away he was pretty sure his selfish heart would stop beating just to punish him if he let her walk away. The way he saw it, he was dead either way.

'Come child' he had finally said trying not to frighten her again. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, carrying her before lying her down as gently as he could. He had wanted to pull her to him, take in her scent, feel her heart beating next to his, saviour the feeling of her but he couldn't, he just watched as she manoeuvred herself very carefully so she was on her right side.

He lay down next to her so they ended up face to face. Her eyes scanned his then suddenly her hand was touching his face. He froze at her touch, his body becoming tense at the strange feeling of someone caressing him, The Hound, so gently. When she had cupped her tiny hand around his face he couldn't resist leaning into it slightly, if only for the briefest of moments.

'You must never try to speak up for me again' she said in determined voice, he thought maybe she was angry, because he had let her down, because he hadn't been able to help her like the Imp had, he had only made things worse for her.

' Little Bird…' he had started to respond but she had cut him off. The devastation he felt was like nothing he had experienced. Worse than when his mother had run from the room in tears having set her eyes upon his burnt face for the first time.

When she locked her eyes on his he was unable to look away, no matter how ashamed he felt.

'You must never do that again, never, it is too…. too dangerous…I ..I couldn't cope if he….' She trailed off. His heart had started hammering in his chest, was she not angry with him? Was she _concerned_ for him? So many questions were spinning round his head that he barely heard her say 'I'm tired now' before her eyes fluttered shut.

He had waited for her to remove her hand, but she hadn't, she had left it there. He had wanted to stay awake all night and watch her sleep but eventually he gave into the fire from her touch and he found himself lulled into the most peaceful sleep.

He looked at her now, she was so fucking beautiful it hurt. He lightly raised his hand and gently sat it over hers. He felt the strangest sensation in his stomach, like something was moving around in there. After watching her for a few minutes he knew he had to wake her, he used his hand to take hers before lying it on the bed in front of her. 'Little Bird' he said shaking her shoulder as lightly as he could.

Her eyes fluttered open as she tried to blink away the last of her sleep and he felt his cock twitch at the sight of her smile.

'is it time?' she asked and he thought he detected a note of sorrow in her voice, imagined it more like he thought bitterly to himself.

She sat up and looked expectantly at him for a moment, before he realised she wanted him to lift her off the bed. Gently as he could, he took her in his arms and set her on her feet. She winced in pain and reached out to hold his hand to steady herself, her grip stronger than he thought she was capable of.

When she felt steady enough she loosened her grip but still kept hold of his hand. She raised it to her mouth and lightly kissed his knuckles before curtsying and in an almost mocking tone saying 'thank you ser'

He unbarred the door and checked that no one was about outside before holding it open for her. She walked out the door, raising her hood and smiling at him before she walked away.

He shut the door, lay back on his bed and placed his hand on his cheek, where he swore he could still feel her touch.


End file.
