Chapter Text
Sansa had always feared the Hound even before she knew him. As her family prepared to welcome the king and his family, she had heard the tittering’s of the servants about the prince's bodyguard; a horrid man inside and out. She hadn't gotten many details, just that he was not a knight and he killed for pleasure. It was not hard to spot him as the king's company marched into Winterfell. She stood straight, rolling her eyes as Arya simply could not remain still, her family bracketing her on both sides. She was looking forward to meeting Joffrey, and she hoped he was as handsome and elegant as she had heard but when she saw HIM, her thoughts of Joffrey momentarily disappeared. He rode a huge black stallion, larger than any other horse. It did not look like a friendly horse, its head down and not looking around like the others; not curious in the least. Its rider was similar, sitting ramrod straight with his eyes forward, not flinching. She couldn't see his face; it was marred by a horrible hound helmet. He was menacing even without his face though, he was a large man. Taller and bigger than any other in their company and even with his armor on, she knew he could break her in two without breaking a sweat. She hoped Joffrey knew how to get away from him when they finally got to talk, she did not want to see him if she could help it.
The king appeared and they all said their hellos, Sansa smiled and bowed demurely, making eyes at Joffrey as was her duty. He was handsome, just as she had been told. So why were her eyes continually darting to the large man who had dismounted as the company had come to a stop? He had pulled his helmet off, holding it at his side with the snarling mouth still facing toward her. She felt like it was staring at her or maybe that was just its owner. The man was as horrid as she had heard. Half his face was gone, marred with hideous burn scars. His dark brown eyes were mean and his long hair fell everywhere as if it had never been brushed. His mouth turned down in a snarl as his eyes roamed. She had been sneaking a glance when his eyes had stopped on her.
He must have known she was looking because his eyes were roaming the opposite way when suddenly they flicked to her. Or had his eyes been flicking to her like hers kept flicking to him? Their eyes met and Sansa's heart stopped. There was something menacing in his eyes but also something deeper, though she couldn't begin to understand what. Her eyes flicked away quickly and she did her best not to look at him again.
She lay in her bed that night smiling, Joffrey had spent the entire day with her and he was just as charming as she had hoped. She held in a squeal, she was going to marry him, she knew it! And she would be queen, just like Cersei. Sansa's mind skipped everywhere as she tried her best to ignore the shadow that was in the background of all of her memories today. Why was the Hound so horrifying? Why did she feel like he had been staring at her all day?
Suddenly, her doors opened and she sat up with a gasp. When she had been younger, Arya used to sneak into her room and they would giggle and stay up all night. That was before, before she had decided to be a lady and do her duty and Arya had decided to do the exact opposite.
"Arya?" she whispered into the darkness.
All she heard in response was a deep, dark laugh. Sansa's whole body turned cold and she was about to scream when her bed dipped and someone gripped her hair, yanking her head back. She felt something cold and sharp against the skin of her neck and she became completely still.
"I won't hurt you." The voice was deep and gravelly, an adult male but she didn't know who. She didn't think she had ever heard this voice before, "You won't scream. You won't fight. You won't ever tell anyone and you will remain intact. Do you understand?"
No! No, she did not understand! What was happening? Who was this? How did he get in? What did he want? Sansa nodded just barely as tears rolled down her cheeks. The knife disappeared, as did the hand in her hair and the bed shifted again. She could feel that he was still on the bed but he had changed position. Was he lying down?
"Lie down, girl." his rough voice made her jump.
Shaking, Sansa laid on her back, her body completely taught.
Nothing happened. Sansa listened to his rough breathing even out. He was asleep? Should she run or yell now? But, he hadn't done anything.
Sansa stayed awake all night; until just the first wisps of dawn appeared outside her window. She could see him now. The Hound. It was the Hound! Asleep and lying next to her in plain clothes. She had been right; he was by far the largest man she had ever seen. He lay on his side, the burned part of his face all that was visible. He was horrifying to look at.
She stared, wide eyed as he rolled, wiping his eyes and looking around. He glanced at her before grunting and standing. She refused to look below his face. She didn't know if he wore pants.
"Remember the rules." He growled as he turned without looking at her and spun a blade in his hand.
Sansa was in a state of shock through breakfast. Her maids had come in this morning and hadn't known anything. Her mother, Arya and Robb all asked her what was wrong but she shrugged and looked away. She didn't tell. She didn't know why but she didn't. She saw him, always standing guard behind Joffrey. She never saw him look at her but she swore she felt it sometimes. What did he want? Why had he slept in her bed last night? Would he return tonight? The horror rolled through her stomach. At least she thought it was horror. But he hadn't done anything, should she be scared?
He didn't come that night. She stayed awake half the night before finally relaxing into sleep.
When she went to breakfast the next day, she suddenly understood. Another guard, she hadn't learned his name but he was shorter, fatter and gave her lascivious looks that made her skin crawl, stood behind Joffrey. The Hound must have been on guard through the night. Of course, he had different duties on different days.
She lit a candle that night. She wanted to see if he came and she hoped the fire may scare him. When the night had gotten dark and Winterfell was silent, Sansa began to nod off to sleep. Maybe it was a dream but just as she was on the brink of sleep, her door creaked. She lay on her side, facing away from the door. She cursed herself inwardly, torn between turning to see him and staying frozen. She heard him huff and the candle went out. Sansa stiffened.
He didn't speak as he climbed into bed behind her, throwing an arm around her stomach gently. She flinched but didn't move. He didn't move either.
His breathing evened out and she focused on the hand on her side. His hand was massive, nearly spanning from her ribs to her hip and it was hot! Past the point of warm and she didn't know how he walked around that hot all day.
After a few breaths, she reached for the hand, his skin was rough but not so rough it was repulsive, interesting. She felt hair, coarse and sparring, she felt the veins, soft even over the rough skin, but mostly, she felt the strength. She took a deep breath and attempted to shove the hand away. It didn’t move. She felt anger and at her next attempt she let out a grunt.
His chuckle was deep and it ran through her like ice. She felt his breath on her neck and froze, her hand still atop his, “Leave it, Little Bird. It’s just a hand. That’s all.”
She was exhausted from her three nights of bad sleep and she was frustrated by her own lack of understanding. She snapped, “Why are you here!?”
He was quiet for a moment, she wondered if she had surprised him. Finally he seemed to readjust or maybe he shrugged, “I don’t know.” His voice was nearly a whisper.
Sansa surprised herself by falling asleep. When she awoke, he was gone.
She was surprised to find that they had fell into a routine. She never looked at him during the day nor at night but he was always there. By day he shadowed Joffrey and by extension her, as they were often together. And every other night, he’d find his way to her bed. He never did anything. His hand rested on her side but his besides that they did not touch. And they slept. Sansa was loathe to admit that on the nights he did not come, she found that she had to fold up a blanket or pillow and lay it on her side to mimic his weight in order to sleep. It was all very confusing.
But it didn’t matter, because they were traveling to Kings Landing in two days’ time and she would be in a tent with Arya. He could not be there.