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You Get What You Want (It's Not Enough)	By : Redcandle17 Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire Views: 16167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-You Get What You Want (It's Not Enough)
- 1
Sandor Clegane had entered tourneys for the satisfaction of dumping arrogant knights on their arses, the money had only ever been a bonus. But he was no better than a hedge knight now, a common sellsword, and tourney winnings were too attractive a prospect to pass up. He'd won forty thousand gold coins in his last tourney, and what had not been spent on wine and whores and wasted on gambling had been stolen by the outlaws who called themselves the Brotherhood Without Banners. The Lord Protector of the Eyrie was not offering as great a prize as Robert Baratheon had; the winner of the jousting here would receive only ten thousand dragons. Still, it was a fortune. And he had a very good chance of winning too. He'd fallen to Jaime Lannister or old Barristan Selmy in most tourneys but neither of them would be here. And I hear the little bird's mother chopped off Jaime's hand. She must have heard of the beatings his son gave her daughter. Even if some lesser rider got lucky or there was some exceptional new youth like Loras Tyrell and he did not win the jousting, there was still a fair amount to be earned from the ransoms of the knights he unhorsed.

He supposed he ought to feel lucky that no lord had decided to chop off his head and send it to the queen. The lords were content to allow one stray dog to roam the Vale if it meant Cersei would twist her smallclothes in a knot. Littlefinger might have declared loyalty to the Iron Throne, but the lords hadn't forgotten that the Lannisters had murdered Jon Arryn. It was risky coming here but Sandor was willing to chance it. There was nothing Cersei could give Baelish for his head that he didn't already have and Littlefinger was not a man to do something for nothing. Even this tourney was less about celebrating his stepson's name day and more about gaining the good will of House Arryn's bannermen.

~

She could scarcely believe it when the herald announced Sandor Clegane. That terrible snarling dog's head helm was the most welcome sight she had seen in years. When little Robert asked why she was smiling, she told him she was happy so many great knights had come to joust in his honor. Her father was not as easily fooled. His lips smiled at her but the look in his eyes was cold.

~

His first joust was against a knight whose shield bore the red castle of House Redfort. Sandor easily unhorsed him in the first tilt. His second foeman was a better rider. It took a second tilt to dump him on his arse. He was an older hedge knight and none too prosperous from the looks of him. Sandor almost felt guilty about taking his gold when he came to ransom his horse but it was the old man's own fault for risking it. He entered the lists for the same reason you did. He needs the money. You'll be like him one day. Still wandering from place to place with no home and no gold. The thought made Sandor angry and the anger distracted him enough that Bronze Yohn Royce nearly unhorsed him. He only just managed to stay in his saddle. Maybe you're slipping already. He broke three lances before he finally knocked Royce off his horse.

He happened to glance where Littlefinger was sitting with little Lord Robert Arryn and received the shock of his life. The little bird was with them. She was older and her hair was dark but he recognized her. He would never forget that face. He blamed her for the fact that his attention was not on the knight riding at him. He tried to move but he was too late and he found himself on the ground. Sandor got to his feet cursing. There was a prize for coming second and there was still the melee but the defeat rankled him. He could have won if he had not been distracted.

~

Would it be too forward to go to him? Would he want to see her? He had left her in King's Landing after all. True, he had asked if she would go with him but he hadn't waited for her answer before leaving. He was here now though. Maybe he had come to rescue her like a true knight from a song. Petyr had taught her that the songs were lies and Sandor Clegane himself had mocked her for believing in them. But perhaps if she went to him, he would offer to protect her again.

~

The rest of games would take place tomorrow. The sun would soon set and it would be time for the feast. Sandor couldn't bear the thought of being around people who stared at him only to look away when he turned to them, people who whispered about him behind his back. He'd rather have cold salt beef than their roasted aurochs. He grabbed Stranger's halter and led the horse back to their camp a short distance away from the castle. He removed his armor and left it in a pile. He'd clean it later, first he had to see to his horse. The big stallion stood patiently as Sandor tended him. Sandor patted his head roughly. My only friend. He chuckled bitterly. Well, he doesn't lie or call me a coward when he thinks I can't hear. There were footsteps and the sound of someone pushing pass the bushes that formed a rough natural enclosure. He knew who it was before he saw her. He should ignore her, wait for her to leave. But Sansa Stark had always made him made him weak. Sandor turned around.

She was beautiful. She’d been a pretty little girl and now she was a beautiful woman. He’d noticed that when he’d first seen her in the stands, but now he took in the details: longer legs, fuller breasts, a thinner face. The pretty auburn hair he remembered was dark brown, probably as part of an attempt to disguise her identity. The biggest difference was her eyes though. They were no longer guileless.

“You rode well today,” she said, the unspoken ser hanging in the air.

“Not gallantly?”

There was that same mix of embarrassment, confusion, and fear he remembered so well. She’d always worn that look when he rebuffed her courtesies. But it was accompanied by something new, a small smile. “I did not think you would like me to use that word.”

He might have returned her smile if he had not remembered her smiling beside Littlefinger. “So this is where you've been all this time. I suppose it’s an improvement over the Imp.”

“Petyr has been very kind.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. He boasted of fucking your mother to the court and put a dagger to your father's back, but I’m sure he’s been kind to you.”

She flinched. “Why must you be unpleasant? I was happy to see you.”

He turned away from her and resumed grooming Stranger. “Because I was so kind to you?”

“Are you angry with me, my lord? I didn’t tell anyone any of the things you told me. I never told them I saw you the night of the battle.”

Never told she saw him drunk and crying before he fled in terror. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to go with him. Littlefinger would have been sober and composed and likely even charming when he helped her to kill Joffrey and flee the Imp.

“I understand,” she was saying. “The fires scared me too and I’ve never been burnt.”

He didn’t point out that he had been one of the bloody Kingsguards and expected to be more courageous than a twelve year old girl. “They say I’m half a man so what does that make you?” taunted the Imp inside his head. His hand tightened on the grooming brush until it hurt and he flung it across the clearing. It hit a tree trunk and bounced away to land on the ground.

Sansa gasped. Sandor turned to see her still standing in that same spot, one hand clasped to her chest. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He could have told her what was wrong: he was a coward, the Imp had tried to send him into the fires then gone himself and proved a braver man; the Imp had had her and then Littlefinger and he’d spent the years hiding in a hellhole of a village. Instead he strode towards her, grasped her shoulders, and kissed her. He expected her to struggle (she'd always tried to pull away when he touched her before) but she didn’t. She even opened her mouth to him and moved her arms to embrace him. She was tall for a woman but he was much taller and it was uncomfortable to bend like that. He started to lift her up, then he thought better of it and lowered her to the grass.
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You Get What You Want (It's Not Enough)