Author: Icky Boodles PM
A/U from Season 2 finale focused on a sinister proposition, observable passion, smooth expanses of naked flesh, a promise of pain, enslavement and suffering with the slightest misstep. Many character appearances but I promise a sweet, passionate and lovely SanSan saga. This is the first story I have ever written a fic from a fellow SanSan lover, Penelope's peas. Please enjoy, xoxoRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Sandor C. & Sansa S. - Chapters: 17 - Words: 37,692 - Reviews: 76 - Favs: 53 - Follows: 57 - Updated: 10-22-12 - Published: 08-20-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8450193
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"I will dance my lord, I swear I will please you" Sansa whispered in a desperate and furtive tone.
"I know you will Sansa. You are my obedient little flower" Littlefinger said in factual authority and pressed his dry lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss before leaving the room without another word.
"You will please everyone" Ros quickly said in the quiet seconds immediately after Littlefinger's abrupt entrance and departure, meaning to reassure the young girl.
Sansa nodded to Ros as she prayed to herself to the old and new gods that when she looked out into the wealthy audience she was supposed to please that Sandor would be there. A frown creased her smooth skin at his absence now that she was not being housed at the castle. Her thoughts moved to his scarred scowl and grey eyes that could fill with fearsome battlefield prowess and masculine rage.
She wondered when she would see him again away from the dusty and congested streets that surrounded Lord Baelish's pleasure house, when they could share a scarce moment of privacy. While Sansa repeated her litany of desperate prayers to gods that were invented by men, in the castle in the queen regent's royal chambers Cersei had crawled back into bed and was drifting off into a light nap when she felt the knight's cool fingers brush against her pale cheek. She opened her eyes and let a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth, her lips froze in mid-motion when she saw his hand wrapped around the gleaming dull handle of a steel dagger.
"Wait" she stated with a fair of amount of force and still managed to untangle herself from the bed linen and stand with stoic grace.
"Share a glass of wine with me first" she said with a gentler tone and crossed to a carafe of wine set apart from the others. She poured a healthy glass for the man who reminded her so much of her beloved Jamie.
She held the glass out to him and waited until he drank from his mug before she raised her own cup to her lips. Her eyes narrowed above the rim of her glass as she watched him swallow the entirety of the cup's contents.
She finished her own cup and set it aside, "grant me one more request, please?" she implored of the knight.
He lowered the hand that clutched the dagger and instead of answering in words, she brushed past him and returned to the side of her bed. He watched on as she held him locked in paralyzing stasis while she removed every last bit of her clothing and slid back between the cool to the touch linen.
He returned the dagger to its worn sheath and joined the queen regent, ready to thrust between her thighs before he took her life. She gave him an unreadable expression as he fumbled at the laces of his breeches, his hands froze at a knot in his laces as a sharp pain started low in his belly. He winced and felt his rigid manhood glow flaccid in his hand and become useless as shooting pain rippled across his entire abdomen.
He coughed hard until tears sprang to his eyes and didn't notice that Cersei was also cradling her hands against her bare belly.
She was smiling through her pain up at him, her brilliant white teeth flashed in her mouth as blood leaked from her nose and tear ducts.
"Jamie" she whispered as a dull sensation filled her abdominal cavity and deep shock set in, taking her pain away like the searching fingers of the tide.
He couldn't form words through the blood that bubbled up his throat, letting only wet gurgles fall from between his lips. His strength evaporated and he collapsed on top of her and she wrapped her arms around him, whispering soothing sounds as their bodies struggled to staunch the hemorrhaging that was way past the point of no return.
"I took the wine from Joffrey's room" she whispered as his heart began to slow permanently. "The same wine that killed our son" she managed to say before a weak cough nearly ended her life. The knight was already dead by the time Cersei spoke her last words.
"I've loved only you, my beloved Jamie."
While Cersei and the young knight whom she had never called by his given name laid in the royal linen waiting to be discovered, Shae returned to the map room to inform Sandor that she had located a wooden cart with wobbly wheels that should manage the trip to Flea Bottom.
Sandor grunted an approval of sorts and hefted Tywin's cooling corpse over a broad shoulder. He followed Shae through a series of barely used stone hallways that held a year round perpetually dank aroma.
Sandor's instincts were on high alert and he was ready to dump Tywin's body to the floor and draw his sword on any unlucky fuck who decided to question him or bar his progression through the castle. Shae walked a few steps ahead, always peeking around corners and down stairwells before she would signal if it was clear to continue to where she had the wooden cart brought to a halt.
While Sandor and Shae traversed the last part of the castle to reach the sliver ridden and poorly crafted cart, Margery was at the opposite of the castle attempting to draw no attention as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. When the knight had looked back over his shoulder at her after claiming her innocence she knew he would not return, or if he did he would be flanked by other Kingsguard's or even Cersei. Margery dropped her eyes and let her shoulders slump as she shuffled out of the castle gates, she was glad she had taken the time to rub clods of dirt into her cloak. To the guards she passed on the way out of the castle before she disappeared into the crowd, she was a dirt crusted hag clutching her world possessions close to her chest in a threadbare bag. They labeled her irrelevant and paid her no attention as she shuffled past.
As Lady Margery Tyrell walked in one direction, Sandor and Shae secured Tywin's shrouded corpse into the cart under a moth eaten wool blanket that Shae had found in a filthy wad as she had returned from the cesspool of filth Flea Bottom.
After Tywin was as well hidden as could be managed, Shae checked the harness that attached the cart to the sturdy mare that waited in patience with her head dropped as she nibbled on a few shoots of green that grew despite the hard ground.
Sandor climbed up into the bench seat that had been crudely constructed and nodded his gratitude towards Shae who watched him steer the horse and cart out of the castle and head for Flea Bottom where Tywin would be a relatively fresh accoutrement for the bowl o' brown that varied between being packed with avian, reptilian or rodent meat. He let his thoughts wander to his little bird in Littlefinger's house of wanton lust and naked perversion, eager to unload the coat with the Lannister body and to a tavern for his fill of ale and then wine or wine followed by ale.
While Sandor made the trip to Flea Bottom, Sansa was standing on a small bench as the tailor clucked around her lithe limbs, holding up various bolts of fabric before draping her body in swaths of silken cloth. Ros sat across from Sansa and would pitch in with a thought or two as she nursed a glass of honeyed ale.
The tailor had demanded privacy to perfect his craft but had allowed Ros to stay when Sansa didn't want to be alone with the man with the greasy pencil thin mustache and rapidly blinking eyes. She remembered her taught courtesies though and was always ready with a smile or cordial comment as the tailor's eyes stopped blinking enough when he found a bolt of pale peach fabric that was close to sheer. Ros smiled her approval as Sansa's creamy skin shone through the thin cloth and brought a seductive warmth to the fabric.
While the tailor took more measurements before departing, Sandor arrived at Flea Bottom and made his way to a sagging tavern and found the aging owner and squat wife who would have agreed to anything the man with the twisted features stated. Sandor pressed a couple gold dragons into the tavern owner's palm, he nearly laughed at how large their eyes grew when looking at the gleaming gold. He had found the gold in a small pouch inside of Tywin's tunic, he led the couple to the cart and the obscured corpse and unhitched the horse. He left the couple with the corpse and headed back to drink until he lost track of time.
Shae had continued to watch Sandor lead the docile mare away carting her relatively fresh kill, she had felt some rush of pride when he complimented her. She watched his broad shoulders and back as he disappeared into the throng of people haggling with merchants, butchering swine or getting sloshing drunk and vomiting in the alleyways if they could make it that far. She had returned to Tyrion's chambers and was still there as Sandor took an empty seat in the tavern that held the persistent and pungent odor of hard labor, cheap ale and manure caked boot heels.
Sandor finished the first mug of ale that carried a bitter aftertaste and quickly worked through several more mugs before he staggered out of the tavern. He paused as a grubby child with dirt streaked cheeks and a split lip that was healing, who barely stood as tall as his hips but was waving a paper with enthusiasm.
Sandor ripped the paper from the boy and started to growl out a sharp barb but stopped when his eyes caught a few words from the rough fibered paper.
Sandor's eyes skimmed the paper and clenched his hands into fists and let the paper fold up and die under his grip. He tossed the boy a coin and practically mowed people out of the way as he stomped back through the castle courtyard and never slowed until he pounded on Tyrion's chamber doors before pushing it opening without pausing for an invitation.
Shae jumped up from the bed where she had been reclining next to Tyrion, she relaxed somewhat when she saw that it was Sandor barging in and not accusations of murder and her head on a spike.
Anger rolled off Sandor in waves that nearly scalded as he threw the crumpled announcement to fall onto Tyrion's blanket covered.
"Something troubling you Clegane?," Tyrion smirked as he unfolded and smoothed the announcement until it was again legible.
"Fuck off," Sandor growled and waited as Tyrion read the entire announcement.
"Well, it seems you will be getting to visit Lady Sansa. Soon," he added rereading the announcement.
Sandor glared at Tyrion until his usual impermeable façade began to shake a bit at the foundations. "You will have gold Clegane," Tyrion said in a tone that held more seriousness over sarcasm.
Sandor nodded and curled his fingers into fists at having to spend another day knowing Sansa was sharing a roof with the slimy Littlefinger. He turned towards the door and was a few feet down the stone hallway when Shae called for him. He didn't slow his pace and she took two steps for each of his as she spoke in a low and quick tone, "I can deliver Sansa a message from you."
Sandor continued to stare straight ahead as Shae waited for a reply, he stopped short which she hadn't expected and turned his full gaze on her upturned face.
"Come with me," he said trying to keep a commanding tone out of his words. She followed him through the halls until they reached his chambers. He left Shae in the hall and returned moments later with the bird figurine he had found in the market.
Shae accepted the red bird gingerly from Sandor that held a bright glaze and large blue painted eyes, she slipped the figure into the folds of her gown and again ventured through the castle at a casual pace until she was soon outside Lord Baelish's pleasure house. She squinted at the brothel not sure of which room Sansa was staying in or which if any of the open windows were hers.
She walked away from the brothel when the doors opened and she could hear Littlefinger laughing with a few wealthy merchants who were hoping to buy Sansa's innocence. She wandered to a shopkeeper that had billowing gowns, shawls and veils for sale. Shae deposited a few coins in the shopkeeper's palm and wrapped a gorgeous ruby shawl around her head, neck and shoulders which kept her face nearly obscured.
Shae walked back towards the doors of the pleasure house and saw Littlefinger still talking to his rich friends, he didn't glance twice when she slipped in the entrance and began a quick search for Sansa.
While Shae maneuvered her way through the pleasure house trying to be discreet, she kept her ears open and alert for Sansa's musical voice. As she ascended a flight of stairs still searching, Sandor slumped in a nondescript chair and drank from a bloated wine skin that threatened to burst at the seams.
"Gods be damned" he shouted and threw the skin across the room where it burst against the wall and hemorrhaged wine. He upended the small table that he had just been resting his hand on, the table didn't break enough to his satisfaction and he kicked and stomped on it until his anger was somewhat sated in the splintered pile.
As he sat down heavily on his bed, Shae found Sansa in the room she shared with Ros. Sansa was singing in a gentle tone as Ros brushed her long locks.
Shae cleared her throat and Sansa's eyes grew round and she nearly squealed as she ran to Shae and gave her an unembarrassed hug. Ros excused herself to give them privacy and soon Sansa was asking a million questions.
"I don't have much time my lady, I have a gift from someone," she whispered as she drew the bird figurine from her gown. She passed the bauble to Sansa whose large Tully blue eyes filled with tears at knowing who sent this without any prompting from Shae.
"He will be here the night of the banquet" Shae continued to whisper before the silence was shattered by an unwanted voice.
"How did you get in here?" came Littlefinger's voice from the doorway. Sansa stifled a gasp and was quick to slip the delicate figurine behind a plush satin pillow.
Shae turned and spun, her shawl slipping as Littlefinger's eyes narrowed.
"Did you come here to beg me to take you into my employment my dear?" Littlefinger asked in a revolting tone.
"I came to visit lady Sansa" she replied with a low tone as she moved to the center of the room and returned his stare.
"All visits need to be arranged through me," he started to say. "I'll let this one time slide but the next time will carry a different outcome," he said as he advanced on Shae.
Sansa covered her mouth again when she thought Littlefinger was about to hurt Shae but her worry evaporated and she almost giggled from behind her hand when Shae pulled her dagger and had it pointed at the front of Littlefinger's breeches as his hand closed around her upper arm.
"You will remove your hand from me or I will cut off your cock," she threatened in an icy tone. She nearly added that she would take said amputated cock to Flea Bottom but thought her original statement was more than effective as his hand fell away as though she were on fire.
"You are not welcome back," Littlefinger stated trying to give strength to his words, he failed. Shae smirked and half turned to Sansa and pulled her into a half hug, "he'll get you out of here, stay strong my lady," she whispered into her ear.
Littlefinger gave Shae a wide berth as she left Sansa and Ros's room, after she had left he turned cold eyes to Sansa. "What did she say to you?" he asked not bothering to be cordial.
Sansa swallowed hard and hoped the lie she spoke didn't rise to her eyes. She reached to her side and lifted a violet shawl that Shae had purchased along with the ruby colored one, "she wanted to give me this."
"Give it to me," he ordered and held out his hand until Sansa passed him the folded square of violet fabric. "Go to sleep, you'll need your rest."
Sansa flinched as he slammed the door and slid between the linen pulling the bird statue from under the pillow and cradling it under her chin. She pressed her lips against the cold painted surface before tucking it back out of sight.
That night the sun set as the unwashed masses that inhabited Flea Bottom gathered around the large pot that was bubbling over a wood fire. Dirt and grime crusted hands held out worn bowls for a ladleful of the bowl o' brown which had the addition of royal meat.