Having the little bird asleep on his chest made Sandor feel safe, at home, like he didn't always have to be on guard. She had fallen asleep first, exhausted from her ordeal even though she said she wasn't tired. Her rhythmic breathing soothed the rage he still harbored. I could spend every day like this... but then I'd get as fat as Robert. Sandor chuckled and closed his eyes, softly stroking Sansa's arm with his thumb until he fell asleep, too.
Sansa slept soundly, though her dreams were vivid and unpleasant. She dreamed of the mob and of Joffrey, Cersei and Margaery, and running, running away from all of them. She could see her family, her mother and Arya, her father and Lady and Robb and Jon and Bran and Little Rickon, but they only seemed to move farther away the faster she ran. Joffrey was gaining on her, and her lungs were burning. She was sure she would fall soon when a rapping at the door made cry out and sit straight up her bed.
Sandor put his hand on his wife's arm. She's frightened. "It's all right, little bird." He squeezed her arm softly. He walked with heavy steps to the door and flung it open. "What?" he growled angrily, but it was just two serving girls with plates full of food. Sandor was immediately grateful. He hadn't eaten yet, and it was well past midday. "The desk," he said and pointed. He saw the girls glance at his wife. They probably think her ill. Better than the truth.
Sansa smiled graciously. "Thank you," She noticed they brought several flagons of wine with them. I wonder if Sandor requested those specifically…
"Is there anything else we can bring you, my lord? My lady?"
Sansa shook her head. "No. You may leave."
Sansa and Sandor began eating, an awkward silence hanging between them. "Did you sleep well, Sandor?" Sansa asked, unfailingly polite, sipping the wine Sandor had insisted would make her feel better.
Sandor nodded. "Yes, little bird, I did. I had a nice dream about Joffrey." The unblemished side of his mouth curled upward in a wicked grin.
Sanas grinned, though she tried not to. He would kill the King if I asked it of him. "Now, Sandor, we must be careful how we talk of His Grace. He might hear of it. He will be angry enough that I struck him earlier," she said.
This time Sandor's smile was full and gleeful. "You hit him? Well done." He met her eyes. She's smiling, too. She's proud of herself. She knows she has the wolf in her.
Sansa laughed. This was the most normal interaction she'd had with her husband since they'd been married. Just a husband and wife sharing a meal and talking. Sansa was happy and content, though she couldn't help thinking they would be happier once they left King's Landing. Sansa feared she would never really escape the Lannisters. Their influence reached far throughout Westeros. There were few places where their gold wasn't spent and their influence wasn't felt. I have to try. Maybe one day I can stop running.
Sandor cleared his throat. "Tomorrow I will see about begging an audience with the Queen to tell her we're leaving the city."
Sansa was happy, but apprehensive. "What will we say is our reasoning? I do not wish for her to know what happened here today." Though she may already know by then.
Sandor sighed. "Hopefully she will not ask for one, Sansa, though if she does," I wish I could tell her it's none of her bloody business. "I plan on telling her I need you to produce an heir soon and you should be at home. King's Landing is too stressful for you."
Sansa choked on her wine, although she was glad she had drunk it. The flush from the wine would hopefully disguise the one that was now crawling up her cheeks.
Sandor chuckled. "Please do not blush like that when tell that to the Queen."
"I will try not to," she said, covering one side of her face with her hand and smiling. "I've had too much wine," she said, feeling dizzy.
"You're just embarrassed. You were embarrassed after you discovered you liked bedding me, too." Sandor loved seeing her blush.
Sansa met his eyes. "I do like bedding you," she said boldly. It's true, isn't it? I did enjoy it… I enjoyed bedding The Hound. Her hand flew to her mouth. Joffrey gave me to him to punish me. What a fool he is. He can't hurt me anymore. I have Sandor.
Sandor smirked. "I know, little bird. I could taste it." Sansa's blush deepened, and he could feel himself growing hard. "Maybe I will again."