make ASPECtacle

“My Lord,” you called, though it barely came out as a whisper drowned out by the music and festivities. Tyrion hadn’t heard a thing. You repeated yourself, forcing your voice to come out louder.

“Yes, wife?” Tyrion slurred, his pupils blown wide and wine dripping down his hand. “You seem distraught.”

“I am not feeling very well. May I retire to my chambers?” 

Tyrion only smiled ear to ear, as if he detested the fact that you felt the need to ask permission to leave. “Go wherever your heart desires, my dear!”

You offered him a sheepish grin in return as you excused yourself and headed towards the corridor, your heels clacking against the stony floors of the Red Keep. You walked briskly, unable to chase away the unnerving feeling that nothing good could come of you being alone in the hall. When Joffrey appeared in your path like a terrible omen you knew you cursed yourself for having been right. 

“Taking off so soon?” he taunted you just as he had done when you were promised to him. You had hoped his recent engagement to Margaery would have taken his attention off of you. But it seemed he had no shortage of cruelty to dedicate to you. “Are you not worried about offending your king?”

Would he not rest? He had stripped you of your family, taken you from your home and caged you like a bird and still he tormented you further. “Forgive me but I have better things to worry about than what a wicked boy king thinks of me.” you said, a quiet fury burning behind your eyes. “Why do you not concern yourself with the opinion of your fair maiden instead?”

Joffrey’s ice blue eyes widened with shock and indignity. He began to sputter nonsense about him being the king and you nothing but a mangy wolf amongst lions. “I shall have your head on a spike for speaking to me this way!”

“You’ll have to get through me first.” His voice cut through the air like a blade, rough and brimming with the promise of violence. “She’s had too much wine, no doubt. Now go run off to your mother. Some king you are threatening a defenseless little girl.”

Joffrey tried to muster an insult or threat to fling the Hound’s way, but when he noted the way he towered over his frame like an armored wall, he shrunk back into himself. 

“This is far from over, Stark.” he spat the surname as if it were an insult before stomping off back to the party. You barely had time to catch your breath before a large hand cloaked in chainmail rested delicately on your shoulder.

“Come, little bird,” cooed the Hound, “I’ll escort you to your chambers.”

You dared not protest, a chill settling into the very marrow of your bones as your mind ran wild thinking of what would happen once Joffrey had time to plan your next form of torture. The Hound trailed behind you like a shadow as you weaved your way through the winding halls. Only candles lit the dim castle corridors, the air growing cold and thick with every terrible thing that had befallen you and your family from the moment you left Winterfell.

“Your teeth are growing sharper.” you heard the Hound say. 

You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I heard how you spoke to him.” Something akin to pride bloomed on his face as he said it. “You’re learning to fight back. You will be a fearsome woman to behold soon, little bird.”

“And will you still be calling me ‘little bird’ then?” you teased, your lip curling into a smirk. “Doesn’t sound very fearsome, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” he admitted with a chuckle; a rare sight, the Hound laughing, “but I will call you it regardless.”

You fancied yourself the only person in King’s Landing and possibly in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms with the privilege of seeing Sandor Clegane in this state, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Yes, he was a rough, brutish asshole, but at times he would afford you with glimpses into a softer side of him that he reserved for only you. He was not the dog he thought himself to be, no doubt convinced of his worthlessness by the degrading way in which all those in the capital spoke of him. But those same hands that spilled men’s blood for sport, those same hands carried you back to safety whenever you found yourself in peril. 

“You’d be wise not to be looking at me like that, Lady Stark.” Sandor said huskily under his breath, his voice laced with an edge even sharper than usual. You’d been so lost in thought, you hadn’t realized you were staring. You dared to meet his eyes, finding there an undecipherable mix of emotions you could not name. 

“Very well, Ser Sandor.” you nodded, suddenly feeling bold. “Would you prefer it if I did not look at you at all?” At that he sucked in a breath, his lips drawing into a tight line. 

“You know the answer to that.” he managed to say. You spared a sidelong glance in either direction before gingerly resting your hand on his ironclad forearm. His gaze seemed to soften at that, transfixed by the delicate touch. “And you know better than that, little bird.”

“I do not care about what I know,” you said, determination swelling in your chest, “what about what I want?” 

He shook his head, visibly wrestling with his own dark thoughts. 

“You show me too much kindness.” he sighed, disapproving yet reveling in your actions. “If you keep this up you will find yourself with a dog howling at your door every other night. You can’t afford that; don’t deserve it either. Now, go off to bed, girl.”

You were sick and tired of being lectured about what you could or could not have. For the longest time you had wanted this, wanted him. Now you were older and strong enough to deal with whatever consequences may come of your indulgence. It seemed a small price to pay for the man you knew deep down you loved and who in turn loved you tenfold.

“You are not a dog, Sandor. You may very well be the only person in this rotten place who deserves even a sliver of my kindness. I would gladly give it all to you.” you confessed. “Do you deny me, Ser Sandor?”

At this the Hound offered only a meek shake of his head. “Do not let me in with no intention to keep me, little bird.” His voice cracked with an air of finality, as if this was his last warning to you before he surrendered fully to the gentleness of your touch. 

“I have every intention of keeping you.” you replied with equal resolve, your willpower solidifying as you finally gave voice to the desire that had been brewing within you for years. You let your hand travel as if of its own accord, coming to rest atop his heart. 

“Kiss me, Clegane.” you demanded.

A low growl left Sandor before whatever had been holding him in line snapped within him, and suddenly you found yourself pressed up against the cool stone wall, his paw of a hand slipping behind your skull to protect your head. His mouth found its place on the column of your throat, leaving a trail of uncharacteristically tender kisses where he went. Then he was clasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb, drawing you into him as he kissed you dizzy. It was everything you had imagined it would be, except for the fact that it was ending far too soon. You let your hands get lost in the tangled mess of his hair, gently tugging him back towards you but it was of no use.

“You mean to kill me, do you?” he smirked at you as he smoothed the framing pieces of your hair which had broken free of the braids they had been woven into. “I want to do this right with you, little bird. That’ll do for tonight.” He placed a ginger kiss atop the crown of your head, his hands still buried in your locks.

You shot him a wicked grin as you pushed open the heavy door to your chamber, drinking in the sight of him under the warm glow of the torchlight. “Dream of me tonight, Ser.”

He only cocked his head at you, a mischievous look about him. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

Then he turned on his heel, his massive frame growing smaller as he made his way down the hall. You were not sure what force of nature possessed you to do it, but you found yourself running after him. He turned in one swift motion, instinctively catching you when you leapt into his embrace.

“Promise to come back?” you asked, your brow lined with worry and your toes barely touching the ground.

His eyes were full of fondness and longing and something else you dared not name as he craned down to whisper in your ear: “Like a dog at your door, little bird.”