A Lady Never Dies

A Lady Never Dies

Summary: Short time after arriving in King’s Landing, Sansa is still grieving over her lost Lady. The Hound notices her grieving; he tries to cheer her up. A Sansa/The Hound fanfic.

Sansa was staring at the burning hearth in the Hand’s Tower. Knowing that the only passion she had was her anger towards her father for the death of Lady. Lady completed Sansa, after Lady’s death, it felt like her whole being died with her.

Except, Sansa still had to live. For she was going to be betrothed to the love of her life, Prince Joffrey Baratheon. Sansa loved the way he looked at her with his emerald eyes, they reminded her of bravery, and everything she had heard about in songs; like the knight coming to rescue the princess, or the handsome prince who would end up with the most fairest lady of them all; Sansa desired to be the fairest lady of all of King’s Landing. She wanted to be the beautiful girl that all of the ladies would be jealous of. She would wear the most beautiful dresses, accompanied with the most beautiful jewelry and headpieces.

However, in all of Sansa’s daydreams appeared her beloved lost direwolf. Lady was always by her side, well groomed and all. Lady was the most desired wolf among dogs. Lady had never misbehaved, neither in her dreams nor reality.

Suddenly, a door closed without Sansa’s knowing. She glanced over seeing her father standing in front of the closed door. Sansa stood up and greeted her father numbly, “Hello, Father.”

Ned Stark sighed, “Sansa, we need to talk about what happened on the way here.”

“There’s nothing to say. You’ve said so much already with what you did to Lady!” Sansa retorted.

“I did it for the best interest of the kingdom.” replied Ned.

“The kingdom! It was Nymeria who bit Joffrey! Not Lady. It was never her! Why should Lady have to die in Nymeria’s place?!” Sansa choked.

Ned sat down and ushered Sansa to sit next to him, “Little one, sometimes we all have to make choices for the greater good. Believe me Sansa; I didn’t want to kill Lady. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I refused the King’s orders. You do realize that, that is a crime, yes?”

Sansa nodded, noticing herself inching closer to her father for comfort. Sansa couldn’t fight back her tears any longer. She found herself crying silently in her father’s arms, listening to his steady breathing had become soothing to her; soon enough she fell asleep.

As Sansa awoke from her slumber, she noticed her father had left her side. Entering her room, Sansa decided to put a new dress on, and wander around King’s Landing. Sansa chose a dress that was brilliant in color; it was deep emerald green with golden lace. Undoing her hair, she couldn’t figure out how she should style her hair in the dress, so she merely put on a delicate golden hair net that matched the lacing on her dress.

Sansa had found herself in the courtyard staring at the beautiful fountain and observing those who were also in the courtyard.

“Does my lady often walk on her own?” a voice chirped.

Wheeling around Sansa saw her betrothed, Joffrey, “Why, I felt like stretching my legs, so I decided to wander about the castle . . . my lord.”

Joffrey offered his hand to Sansa, accepting Sansa was led around the castle; listening to Joffrey speak, “My mother said that in time my hand will scar. Scar. Can you believe that? A king should never have scars. His skin should be flawless, just like a beautiful gem.”

“Perhaps, my lord. However, I think that scars show bravery and strength.” Sansa whispered.

Joffrey suddenly stopped in place, forced Sansa’s hand off of his,  “Funny. I don’t remember asking your opinion my lady.”

A deep sinister fire had started to emerge within Sansa. Remembering what her father had told her about his decision with Lady; Sansa replied, “You are right, my lord. Please, forgive me; for I have spoken out of turn.” The words choked out of Sansa, but she knew she had to apologize, for this was the boy she is to marry, and be his Queen.

It didn’t stop at Joffrey’s retort however. Without a signal, Sansa felt a hard smack across her face, and she fell to the ground in shock. She somehow lost her ability to breathe; her hand instinctively went to her cheek. She looked up at Joffrey, dumbfounded.

Joffrey looked down on her, “I don’t expect just an apology. I expect hands and feet on the ground, begging for forgiveness. However, I’ll let you go with just a slap this time.” With the threat fresh in Sansa’s mind, Joffrey stomped off, leaving Sansa on the ground.

“That is not very lordly of the young prince now is it?” rasped a voice. A voice that Sansa had begun to fear.

Sansa looked up seeing The Hound, “No . . . it isn’t ser.”

The Hound scoffed, “I’m no knight my lady.”

The title “lady” echoed in her head. However, it wasn’t as a title, she saw her Lady, her friend.

“Lady” Sansa murmured.

“That indeed you are.” The Hound said sarcastically. “Perhaps, I could help the lady up, as she is still sitting on the ground?” He offered her his hand.

Sansa stared at him, “Why yes. That’s very generous of you . . . “ she was going to give him a title, but The Hound could sense that she was, and glared at her.

When Sansa had her feet on the ground, The Hound asked, “Is my lady all right?”

Sansa just stared at him, “Please use no formalities with me, since you won’t let me. I despise the word lady.”

The Hound stared at her in shock, “Bugger that then. Why do you dislike the word ‘lady’ so much? You sound like the runt.”

Sansa didn’t understand who ‘the runt’ was until she realized The Hound was talking about her younger sister, Arya. Sansa knew she couldn’t leave him waiting in a question that he wanted answered, “Lady was my direwolf. She was so kind and-“

“Bugger that. I’m sorry I asked.” The Hound interrupted. As he was about to leave, he felt a hand grab a piece of his clothing, as if it were a child not wanting their parent to leave their side. Wheeling around, he noticed that Sansa looked straight into his eyes, something that she rarely ever does.

“Please. No one understands what I’m going through.” Sansa pleaded.

The Hound sighed, “No one understands me neither. I guess we got somethin’ in common, eh?”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “I wish to talk to you somewhere more private. Somewhere no one would expect me to go.”

“Perhaps we could go to the brothel? No, Baelish owns most of ‘em. There’s this tree, it’s dead, including everything around it. It’s in the poor area, but no one would ever expect a Stark to be there. Don’t wear anythin’ too fancy. You’ll stick out.” The Hound explained.

Night had approached King’s Landing, everyone was going home, eating dinner with their families, and quieting down; to sleep. However, Sansa was preparing to meet The Hound. She put on a simple brown dress, with a hood over her head to hide her identity.

Sansa had found it easy sneaking out of the Hand’s Tower; almost too easy. “So this is how Arya feels, she can get around with breeze disguised as a poor girl . . . well boy in her case.” Sansa concluded. No one ever gave a glance her way, as she passed by. It was almost as if she were invisible.

Upon reaching the dead tree Sansa had noticed that The Hound was already there. However, he was asleep in his drunken stupor. Sansa didn’t know what to do with the sleeping drunk. She was afraid that if she wakens him from his sleep, then he would kill her. Sansa decided on sitting next to him, she gagged upon smelling him, he smelled of all sorts of alcohol.

The silence didn’t last long though. Soon enough The Hound woke up, slightly drunk, “Little bird, sing measong.” His words still seemed slurred, although Sansa was still able to slightly understand him.

Sansa looked at him with her soft eyes, “I shan’t sing you a song. However, I shall tell you tale. A tale about Lady.”

The Hound rolled his drunken head to look at her, “Alady?”

“No, Lady. The nicest direwolf that lived.” Sansa corrected.

 

She had told him the tale of her beloved direwolf, and how she was unlike her littermates, and all Lady ever wanted to do was to be beside Sansa. Some points in the story The Hound would appear to be displeased with Sansa’s story, nonetheless, he still listened. Listened, and understood her pain in losing something. He listened when no one else did.

Even after The Hound had listened to Sansa’s tale, he still sat there. Then, he did something that Sansa didn’t refuse, their lips met; it was almost as if they needed no direction. It happened so fast, but to them, it felt like a lifetime.

After the kiss had ended, The Hound sighed, “Lit’l birdlets look atthe stars.”

Ignoring her newfound love’s drunken slurs, Sansa looked up at the stars, staring at all of the constellations, and she suddenly felt something. Looking over at her shoulder, she noticed that The Hound had passed out drunk, resting his head on her shoulder.

Smiling gently, Sansa went back to looking at the stars. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was a familiar shape; it was someone who she had been longing to see. “Lady,” Sansa whispered. Sansa silently cursed about how she was trapped where she was due to The Hound’s head resting on her shoulder. Sansa could only watch Lady’s ghost.

Sansa breathed in, “A lady never dies. Lady, please-“

Before Sansa could even finish her sentence, Lady disappeared, as well as The Hound’s drunkenness. The Hound woke up, “Whom were you talking to?”

Sansa looked at him, “No one, it was just a ghost. A ghost of the past.”