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The Red Keep was crowded with people. The Greyjoy Rebellion had been crushed by King Robert, with the help of his friend, Lord Eddard Stark.
Sandor had seen the stern Warden of the North looking uncomfortable earlier, when Robert, already drunk, had opened the feast.
After news arrived that Balon Greyjoy had finally bent the knee to the Stag and the Wolf, ravens had flown to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms asking for the families of the Houses who had fought against the Ironborn to attend the celebrations for their victory.
Even Lord Stark’s family had arrived earlier today; or so Sandor had heard, at least. He hadn’t yet seen the wife of the Wolf; nor their pups, either, for that matter.
They had spent the whole day with the wife of Lord Hand Arryn, out of sight of the court and the Queen.
Maybe Lord Stark’s wife is as crazy as Jon Arryn’s, Sandor thought, amused.
Sandor hated all of the festivities. All these puffed-up knights who were boasting about their deeds during the attack on the Iron Islands, only to get between the legs of as many wenches as possible.
And where had Sandor been during the war?
Stuck here in King’s Landing, being the Sworn Shield of the Old Lion of Lannister’s daughter and her little cub.
It was a rather dull affair and he would have much preferred to plunge his blade into the guts of some fucking Ironborn.
Now though, he was standing a little offside of the feast watching over the crowd, who were drinking and celebrating freely.
The Queen had given him this evening off, but he still watched over her and how she was sitting next to her twin brother and some other Lords.
The Old Lion would not want him to forget his duty, after all.
Not that Sandor didn’t already know that Cersei would, at some point, sneak off from the feast to go fuck her brother, just like she has done for years now.
Sandor would never make the huge mistake of asking questions he knew he shouldn’t ask, of course.
His head wasn’t the prettiest, but he would still like to keep it for a few more years. At least long enough to kill his brother, someday.
Sandor hoped Cersei would decide to sneak away from the feast, soon. Robert probably wouldn’t miss her. After all, he had already left the feast with the daughter of some Lord from the Crownlands that would warm his bed tonight, hoping that if she could conceive a royal bastard, then her family might get some influence or prestige from him.
But, if Cersei left soon, he would then be free to tell anyone who asked that he had no idea where she went. Then, he might have time to find himself a wineskin of Dornish Red, and mayhap, even find a kitchen wench who would spread her legs for a quick rut behind some wine barrels.
Suddenly, Sandor felt somebody tugging on the hem of his tunic.
He looked down and starred into the huge blue eyes of a little auburn haired girl. She couldn’t be older than three or four, and her hair was braided into two little braids.
Sandor was surprised to see this young girl, in her little yellow dress, here so late at night. He had been too far away from the table where the children of the Royal Family and other Nobles, had sat with their Septas and wetnurses during the feast, but he knew that Prince Joffrey had been carried to bed by his Septa, at least an hour ago.
Sandor knelt down to the girl and she shyly looked up at him. She will probably start screaming and run away in terror at any moment; once she sees my ruined face so close, anyway, Sandor thought, bitterly.
“What are you doing here, girl?” he asked, trying not to scare her with his roaring voice. “Shouldn’t you be in bed or with your Septa?”
“I… I was on the way to our rooms with my Septa and brother,” the girl chirped. “But… but I stopped for a moment to watch the dancing, and when I turned around, my Septa was gone.”
She already speaks well mannered, Sandor thought. Like a little bird chirping her courtesies.
“I… I couldn’t find her, so I came back here to find my parents,” she said and suddenly tears welled up in her huge eyes. “But, I can’t find them, either,” she sobbed.
“Can you help me, Ser?” she asked, her huge blue eyes focusing on him, her lower lip quivering.
Usually, he hated being called a Ser. His brother was a bloody knight, and he had murdered princess Elia and her children, after being knighted not even a year earlier by the princess´own husband.
Knights were just killers, like everyone else; only their atrocities were covered up by bloody lies about knighthood.
But, this little girl had no idea about the world, and certainly not about how cruel it could be.
“I am no knight, Little Bird; but, I will help you find your parents,” Sandor said and picked her up.
By now, she has noticed his scars that he tries to keep hidden under his hair.
“Ser, what happened to your face?” she shyly asked.
Nobody had ever asked him what had actually happened to his face; most people simply stared at him in disgust. Of course, he could hardly tell this little girl that his very own brother had tried to murder him in cold blood.
“What do you think happened, Little Bird?” he asked, curious as to what she would answer with.
“You probably did something brave to save someone; like the knights in the stories my mother reads to me,” she said and Sandor chuckled.
“You are right Little Bird. I got them, while I saved an innocent maiden from a bad black dragon.”
“I knew it,” she declared happily with a dreamy sigh.
Sandor looked over the crowd of people still drinking, eating, dancing, and celebrating in the Great Hall.
“Where were you parents the last time you saw them?” he asked.
“Father was with the King and mother was with my Aunt, I think,” she said looking around the crowd.
“What is your name, Little Bird?” he asked, hoping he might get to know who her parents are by her name.
“I am Sansa Stark,” she said happily. “And what’s your name, Ser?”
“Wait… Stark as in Stark of Winterfell?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“My father is the Lord of Winterfell and friend of the King,” she said.
“Then you are the daughter of Eddard Stark.”
“Yes, that’s my papa.”
Of course, Sandor thought, the Tully hair. He should have noticed.
Sandor looked through the crowd and finally spotted the Warden of the North sitting next to his wife, just as a Septa walked up to them.
“I see your parents, Little Bird,” he said walking over to them.
As he came closer, he could already hear the wife of Lord Stark yelling at the Septa.
“What do you mean you ‘lost her’?” Lady Stark asked.
“From one moment to the next, Lady Sansa was gone, my Lady. I looked everywhere for her, but I can’t find her,” the Septa desperately said.
“Lord Stark,” Sandor interrupted. “I found someone, here, who was looking for you.” Lord Eddard Stark sighed in relief at seeing his precious daughter being returned to him.
“Sansa, never run off again like this; Septa Mordane, your mother, and I were afraid for you,” he said as Sandor handed Sansa over into the arms of her father.
“I am sorry father. I tried to find you, but I couldn’t after I lost Septa Mordane,” Sansa said ruefully.
“Thank you, Ser…?” Lord Stark asked.
“Not a Ser, Lord Stark. Simply Sandor Clegane, my Lord,” Sandor said causing Lord Stark to raise his brow. After all, the Clegane name was basically only known for brutal crimes and the murder of the late Queen and her children.
“Thank you, Clegane,” Lady Stark said. Sandor could only think that little Lady Sansa looked like a miniature version of her mother.
“Come Sansa. Say ‘thank you’ to Clegane, and then it is more than time for bed, darling,” Lady Stark said.
“Thank you, Ser Sandor,” Sansa said smiling, her eyes sparkling like he was her knight in shining armor.
“You’re welcome, Little Bird. Sleep well,” he rasped as kindly as he could.
Lady Stark left with the Septa in tow; Sansa safely nestled in her mother’s arms.
“Thank you, again, Clegane,” Lord Stark said. “Is there anything I can give you to show my gratitude?”
“No, Lord Stark, no need to thank me,” he said as both men watched Lady Stark and little Lady Sansa leaving the Great Hall. “Just keep the Little Bird safe. It’s a cruel world, out there; especially for someone as kindhearted as your daughter.”