Chapter Text
Gods, how she blushed every time she recalled kissing Sandor the night of the feast. The wine had given her the courage to do it, though deep down she thought he'd wanted it as well…and after all, he hadn't pushed her away. No, when she'd pressed her lips to his there had been only a moment's hesitation on Sandor's part before he'd wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him, brushing his tongue across her mouth, inviting her to open for him...and she had, and though at first the kiss was a bit awkward - likely he knew as little about the act as she did - soon enough their tongues were moving in unison, and she found herself leaning into him and wondering...wanting...
No. Not here. Not like this, Sansa had realized, and she had broken away from Sandor then, both of them breathing raggedly in the wake of their passionate embrace. "I think I should go to my chambers now," she mumbled, averting her eyes.
"What, the little bird doesn't want to play anymore?" Sandor had snarled, but she'd heard the hurt beneath the cruelty in his voice.
Sansa wasn't quite sure how to answer him. "That's not...I...this isn't...proper," she had finished lamely. Sandor's laugh had been a loud, harsh bark, but when she had finally glared up at him something in his eyes had seemed to soften.
"So you want this to be 'proper'?" he'd asked, and when Sansa had forced herself to nod, he'd taken her hand and tucked it back into the crook of his arm. Sandor had left her at the door to her bedchamber, but not before she'd extracted a promise that he would call on her the following day.
Unfortunately, when he arrived it was not long after Jon had dismissed her with news of Dany's not feeling well, and Sansa found herself worried for her friend and Queen and also a bit frustrated with Jon's attitude. "Just Sansa," she muttered to herself several times that day. Jaime and Brienne eyed her strangely, but Sandor seemed content to sit and listen while she practiced the high harp in hopes of alleviating her fears and annoyance. As it would not have been seemly to dismiss her guards every time she saw him, that first day with Sandor was one of quiet companionship - yet Sansa found that she liked that. Very much.
The following day, however, she didn't do quite as good of a job at hiding her chagrin over being denied seeing Queen Daenerys a second time. Had Jon or Dany just given Sansa a reason for not wanting her company, she knew she would have felt much better...but they did no such thing, and this day Jaime and Brienne did not keep their concern for her to themselves.
"Lady Sansa, is something wrong?" Brienne asked when Sansa returned from the royal chambers, downtrodden and quiet.
"Aye, tell us, Sansa. If someone has been mistreating you..." Jaime didn't need to finish his threat.
"Oh, no, Ser Jaime. It's something I've done, I guess..."
"You?" was Brienne's shocked response.
"It must be...Jon and Dany...they're acting so..."
"The Queen and the King Consort?"
"Hush, Brienne. Now Sansa, get on with the details."
She told them of going to visit Dany and of Jon's dismissal the morning before. "'Just Sansa', he said. He's never talked of me like that before..."
"I wouldn't worry about that, Sansa. They're only human, after all. Perhaps the Queen isn't feeling well, and your cousin is just worried about her."
"Yes, but then today I thought to walk with Dany, as we have been doing as of late...and she dismissed me just as Jon did yesterday."
Jaime and Brienne exchanged a look. "Now, Sansa, don't take it too seriously. After all, at a time like this..."
"Why, yes. You see, Lady Sansa," Brienne interrupted, "We've...heard something."
"Heard something?" Sansa inquired.
"You don't know? Well, then, uh..."
"What Brienne is trying to say, Sansa, is that we've heard that the Queen may be expecting."
"Expecting?"
"A baby, Lady Sansa," Brienne finished for Jaime.
"A baby?" Sansa heard herself ask in wonder. "Are you certain?"
"Certain?" Brienne repeated. "Well, not quite...but the servants overhear things..."
"And we overhear them," Jaime said with a chuckle. "So you see, it's nothing you've done. Perhaps they'll announce it soon, and you can share in their joy."
"Joy?" Sandor rasped from the doorway. He was leaning against the lintel, his mouth quirked up into an ugly smirk. "Trouble, more like."
"Who are you to barge in?" Brienne said, obviously affronted.
"The voice of experience, wench. If the Dragon Queen is with child, she'll not have time for the little bird here. Not like before. And it will be worse when the babe comes, mark my words."
Sansa didn't like Sandor's words just then, didn't want to mark them...but he'd always been so truthful with her before. Too much so, said a niggling little voice in her head, but she ignored it.
"Sansa has no need for dogs and their radical ideas," Jaime snapped.
"All right, Kingslayer."
"Ser Jaime to you," Jaime replied menacingly.
"All right, all right. But remember this, little bird," Sandor warned, "Kings and Queens only have so much room for affection."
"Enough," Sansa sighed. "Jaime, Brienne, please leave us." And to hell with propriety. Her guards reluctantly left the room, and when Sandor stepped aside to let them go Sansa stood and shut the door behind them. Sandor moved as if to take up the chair he'd occupied the day before, but Sansa turned and laid a hand on his arm. If this news was true, if Queen Daenerys really was with child, Sansa didn't belong here. Sandor had said he would stay in King's Landing with her, and he had not specified any short length of time. Would he perhaps return to Winterfell with her as well?
He has a home of his own now, she suddenly remembered. Clegane Keep is his. She knew from his brief mentions of the place that he meant to rebuild it, as well.
She could not ask him to come to Winterfell with her.