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literenTitle: Beauty and the Hound
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Sansa/Sandor, cameos from minor characters including but not limited to Joffrey, Melisandre, Theon, Walder Frey and every Stark ever
Words: ~13,000
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: blatant rip-off from several fairy tales and Disney stories, breaking the fourth wall, frequent asides, run-on sentences, questionable usage of commas, futile attempts at being funny, talking wolves, swearwords, sad moments, silly moments, pointless moments, happy endings and whatnot.
Summary: Disney-induced, crack-filled retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Sansa Stark wants to marry a prince, but when the only prince around is that jerk Joffrey it's time to learn that fairy tales aren't all they're cracked up to be.
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peyton07
Notes: Written for a charity auction;redcandle17 asked for SanSan and gave me carte blanche for the setting. Obviously, my mind immediately went to crack-induced Disney AUs. Then the story kind of took over, and instead of delivering a 2,000-words story in February I have... this thing... now.
Prologue
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.
So the prince said, "Dog, this old crone annoys me. Get her out of my sight."
The prince's sworn shield, the Hound, glanced at the old woman. She looked frail and harmless, which only confirmed his worst suspicions. Either the woman was soft in the head or she had some secret reason for showing up in the throne room as she had. Sandor remembered a story that his sister had told him, years ago, about an enchantress cursing a prince. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Are you sure?" Sandor asked. He didn't dare mentioning a nursery tale to the prince.
The prince, who wasn't genre savvy at all, didn't realize the danger he was in. "Of course I'm sure," he snapped. "I want her out of here. Not even all the roses in Highgarden would be enough compensation for having to look at her ugly face for another second."
As soon as he'd spoken, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful red-headed enchantress.
"Neat trick," the prince said, clapping slowly. "Now that you're looking hot and shaggable, I'll let you stay... in my bed," he added with a snigger. (By the way, in case this wasn't clear: he's not the protagonist of this story.)
The red enchantress raised her arms in a way that was probably meant to be dramatic, or something like that. In reality, it only showed off her boobs. "I see you're just as big a twat as everyone was saying," she exclaimed. "For your cold heart, you will be punished in the name of R'hllor!"
As she started to cast her spell, Sandor jumped in front of her and shoved the prince aside. As much as he'd always wanted to give the boy a good beating himself, Sandor didn't like the idea of getting cursed along with the rest of the castle, which seemed to be the standard protocol whenever a member of the royalty upset an enchantress. She probably would have made him fall asleep for a hundred years or turned him into a piece of furniture or something equally horrible.
Joffrey shrieked in a high-pitched voice as he stumbled off his throne and on the floor. The jet of flames from the enchantress' hands missed him and hit Sandor instead, searing the flesh of his face.
All the noise and confusion had finally attracted the attention of the other castle guards, who were rushing into the throne room. (Well, not exactly rushing. They'd figured out that it would be a poor life choice to go against an enchantress, so they were more like running calmly. Or maybe walking. Or lurking behind pillars. It wasn't as if they particularly liked Prince Joffrey anyway.)
Joffrey glared at the enchantress. "I will have revenge for this," he exclaimed, and it would have sounded a lot more impressive if he hadn't been crouching behind his throne. Then he signaled a tactical retreat, meaning that he ran for his life and the guards followed suit.
The throne room remained empty save for the enchantress and Sandor, who was still on the floor clutching at his scarred face.
"What the fuck?" he yelled as soon as he could regain control of his vocal chords. "I thought you were going to curse him. I could have died! Did you want to kill someone?"
"Yeah, that was the general idea," the enchantress replied. "You see, curses take a lot of effort, what with constant maintenance and providing magical roses and other items. R'hllor finds that burning people alive is much more cost-effective."
She gave him one last condescending look and started walking out of the throne room and, in fact, out of the story. Her job of smiting the heathens while at the same time providing an excuse for the plot was done.
"Aren't you going to cackle in an evil way and then disappear in a puff of smoke?" Sandor called after her. He felt as if fairy tales had been lying for him all of these years. He also felt as if half his face had been burned off. Also, it looked as if his prince had left him behind in his haste to get as far from the enchantress as possible.
All in all, Sandor felt he was entitled to the role of brooding tragic hero.
Sansa
Meanwhile, in a quiet village not far from the castle, little Sansa Stark felt anything but grumpy.
(It might be worth it to point out that, no matter how young or childish Sansa might look, she was sixteen. This is because all girls in stories are sixteen. For legal reasons, you're not allowed to attend the ball in a pumpkin carriage, touch a cursed spinning wheel, dance with your prince charming or go on an epic quest to save the world until you turn sixteen. You can start early with dwarves and poisoned apples if you've got a signed permission slip, which is hard to get given that your average protagonist is an orphan. Sansa still had both her parents, but she didn't much like apples and had decided to stick with lemoncakes, for which you don't need any permission slips.)
Sansa was a very beautiful girl, with soft auburn hair and a pretty smile and graceful movements. She looked just like a princess, and she had her heart set on becoming one. Ever since she was very little, Sansa had known that the only way for her dream to come true was if she married a prince.
Unfortunately, the only prince in all of the land was the aforementioned Prince Joffrey, who wasn't exactly a contender for Future Husband Of The Year, but Sansa was willing to overlook several awful character flaws for the sake of the pretty silver tiara that came with the royal title.
Despite what everyone said about Prince Joffrey, Sansa was sure that if he proposed she would have accepted in a heartbeat. On the day after the evil enchantress of R'hllor had showed up, Sansa was walking towards the castle with her direwolf Lady at her side, hoping to meet with the prince and talk about their future blonde children.
"You should see how he treats his dogs, like they're nothing to him," Lady complained for what was probably the hundredth time. (Yes, Sansa's pet direwolf is talking in this story. If I had any skill with rhyming, she might even had broken into song.) "And he treats humans just the same."
"But he's so pretty," Sansa replied with a pout. " Besides, he's always been so nice to me." Lady snorted, but since direwolves don't have an equivalent for 'just wants to get into your knickers', what with not wearing knickers in the first place, she couldn't find a suitable reply and the conversation stalled.
Just then, Prince Joffrey appeared on the horizon. (If this story were in any way, shape or form realistic, maybe he wouldn't have appeared immediately. Maybe he'd have shown up after ten minutes or so, which would have translated to ten paragraphs of describing Sansa's hair or the color of the leaves on the trees or the songs of the birds. But that would have been boring, and I'm not that desperate for word padding, and anyway we already kissed realism goodbye when we introduced the talking wolf. So, Joffrey just has impeccable timing. Hooray!)
Joffrey appeared on the horizon, riding the fastest horse from his stables and followed by all of his guards and servants on slightly slower but still very fast horses. All horses had suddenly decided that it would be a very bad idea to stay near the castle, in case they got turned into servants or carriages and sent to the ball.
"Sansa!" the prince exclaimed as he saw her. "Good timing! A crazy evil enchantress has just taken over my castle. You should have seen her! She had huge boobs. Oh, and she also killed my dog."
"That's... terrible," Sansa replied, choosing to ignore the boob comment. "If you're not a prince, I can't be a princess. Surely there must be something you can do to regain your rightful throne?"
At those words, Joffrey had an idea. "Let's get married," he said. "So your father and his men will have to come to my aid and together we will take back the castle from the evil sorceress."
Since she hadn't had much character development yet, Sansa beamed. "Yes, yes, I accept your proposal!" she said immediately.
"It was more of an order than a proposal," the jerkass prince replied. "But whatever. The sooner we get married, the sooner we can start with the baby-making. We'll have at least a dozen beautiful babies and they'll all be blonde like me and beautiful like me."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Lady said. There was a convenient puddle of mud nearby and, since Sansa didn't seem inclined to do anything apart from standing there and beaming, Lady jumped at Joffrey and headbutted him.
He fell from his horse, screaming his usual high-pitched scream, and Lady watched with satisfaction as he tumbled headfirst into the mud.
"Treachery!" Joffrey shouted amidst mouthfuls of mud. "Guards, seize that dog! It tried to kill me!"
Lady scoffed. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," she said. "And anyway, this is a bowdlerized adaptation of the original story so nobody gets killed."
However Joffrey didn't seem very inclined to listen to her because he kept shouting orders and drew his sword. Or tried to draw his sword, at least. It got tangled in his belt, and when he struggled with it he slipped and fell in the mud again. (The scene would have been more entertaining if this were a movie, there could have been background music and a funny noise as Joffrey fell on his arse and a chorus of laughter from the guards.)
"What have you done?" Sansa asked Lady, her eyes going wide. She stared at Joffrey and debated the benefits of helping him out of the mud versus the hazard of getting mud on her dress.
When she finally gathered enough courage to extend her hand towards Joffrey, he slapped it away brusquely. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, crawling away. "Guards, arrest this girl and her dog. They tried to kill me."
Lady nudged Sansa away from him. "I told you he was trouble," she said, doing the canine equivalent of shaking her head and sighing.
Before Sansa could reply, the guards had closed in around her and Lady. They stopped at a safe distance, giving Lady worried looks, but Joffrey kept yelling at them and it was just a matter of time before one of them would attempt to grab Sansa.
With a growl, Lady jumped at the nearest guard. "What are you doing?" Sansa screamed.
"Run, Sansa!" Lady yelled without turning back. "Run!"
"But I haven't done anything wrong," Sansa protested as the other guards drew their swords. Finally, she took the first good decision in this story: she hitched up her skirt and ran for it.
Have you ever tried running into a forest? It's not exactly easy even if you're wearing comfy shoes and a tracksuit and staying on the path. Sansa was wearing a gown and her shoes were anything but sensible and she wasn't exactly the athletic type. But somehow, even though her hair and clothes got tangled in branches on a regular basis, she managed to outrun all of her pursuers.
This could be due to the fact that the guards weren't in any hurry to catch her because it would have meant going back to Prince Joffrey, and the direwolf was still circling around Prince Joffrey, and the guards were very attached to their jugulars and would have liked to keep them, thank you very much. Or it could be just because the story required Sansa to get away.
Either way, thanks to Lady's heroic sacrifice, Sansa managed to escape from Joffrey's evil clutches and therefore proceeded to do what every other princess would do in her situation: she got completely and utterly lost.
Unfortunately, there was no group of friendly woodland animals who could come to her rescue, so she wandered alone in the forest until nightfall. It was winter, by the way, in case you had forgotten. So by the time Sansa reached the castle, all she wanted to do was get inside and away from the freezing night wind.
Her fingers felt stiff and clumsy as they pushed a small side door open. Sansa peered inside and saw no signs of evil, big-breasted enchantresses, so she closed the door behind her and proceed to scour the castle for lemoncakes.
The first place she checked was, of course, the castle's huge dining hall. She was a proper princess-in-training, not like those wannabes who moonlighted as maids or seamstresses or whatnot. She had no idea of where the kitchens would be, let alone the pantry.
Luckily for her (and for our story), the evil enchantress had arrived just before a banquet. There was a fire roaring at one end of the hall and the long tables were already laden with soups and roast boar, now gone cold and unappetizing. But, to Sansa's delight, the desserts were still fresh and delicious. She picked up a tray full of meringues and started eating.
Okay, actually, before eating she carried the meringues to the table on the raised dais, sat down in a chair that she felt was appropriate to her birth, smoothed her gown, wished she could have washed her hands before her meal, searched her pockets for a handkerchief, didn't find any, wondered if Arya had been stealing her handkerchiefs again, surreptitiously wiped her hands on a corner of the table cloth and then started eating. Sansa felt that, even though she was alone in an empty castle, she shouldn't skimp on table manners.
When she finished her meal (meringues with a side of biscuits, Septa Mordane would have been horrified) Sansa cleaned her hands once more on the tablecloth and wondered what to do. She wished there was some servant around, so she could order them to put more wood in the fireplace, because she was still feeling chilly after her long trek to the forest. She was also feeling sleepy, which totally wouldn't do, because it made her think that back at home her sister and her brothers were probably about to go to bed.
This made her terribly homesick because it was the first time she had to spend the night away from her family. Sansa didn't know when she'd be able to go back home. She would have to apologize to Joffrey, and who knew if he'd forgive her? He'd been so angry!
To stop herself from thinking any more sad thoughts, Sansa started singing to herself. It felt a little silly, hearing her voice echo in the empty hall, but it was better than the eerie silence from before. And, if she occasionally forgot the words of the song, it didn't matter. There was no one listening or pointing out that she was getting too old to sing nursery rhymes.
Sandor
As it turned out, there was someone listening to Sansa's song. The fact that the castle wasn't completely empty might come as no surprise since I've already mentioned the Hound, and anyway he's in the title, but Sansa didn't have the benefit of knowing the title of her story. And even if she had known, she wouldn't have thought much of it. She hardly remembered the name of Joffrey's sworn shield, who wasn't even a proper knight.
When Sandor heard the first snatches of song echoing through the corridors, Sandor's first thought was that perhaps the evil enchantress had returned. He grabbed the sword and carefully made his way towards the mysterious singer, stopping just outside of the hall's double doors. Before barging in, he wanted to see what was going on.
Sandor remembered Sansa very well and recognized her at first glance. He had always thought that she was a very pretty girl, and also a very stupid one, not very different from the dozens of empty-headed girls who showed up at the castle every week hoping to marry Prince Joffrey.
He had no idea why Sansa would be here, and reflected that perhaps she had come to meet with Joffrey without knowing that the brat and everyone else had left the castle. She looked just like the kind of stupid girl who would hang around in an empty hall, waiting for Joffrey and singing nonsense and rending flower petals.
"What are you doing here?" Sandor demanded, stepping into the room, and immediately cursed himself for being a fool. Not only he'd interrupted the song, which was quite possibly the only nice thing that had happened all day, his sudden appearance had startled Sansa.
The girl jumped to her feet with a small gasp, looking around nervously. "I'm Sansa Stark," she said in a small voice.
"I know that, little bird," Sandor said in his best reassuring voice. Judging from the way Sansa started looking for escape routes, he hadn't sounded reassuring at all. "Why are you in the castle, though?" he asked. "Your prince isn't here. He ran away and won't be coming back any time soon."
She didn't look very surprised by that news, as far as Sandor could tell. (He was still hovering next to the entrance, not wanting to scare her into actually running away.) "Yes, I know that," she said. "He told me he had a confrontation with an evil sorceress."
Sandor doubted that hiding behind the throne counted as a confrontation, but Sansa's words weren't hesitant anymore, so he let her talk.
"I met the prince in the woods next to my family's manor," Sansa explained. "But then there was an incident... My wolf ran away," she added after barely a pause. "Yes, that's what happened, Lady ran away. I went looking for her, but I didn't find her, and it got dark so very quickly. I didn't know where to go, so when I saw the castle I decided to come in. That's all right though, because I'm your prince's future wife, isn't it, ser?"
He shrugged at those words, surprised that anyone would want to marry Prince Joffrey without being forced into it. Then he realized that he was standing away from the light cast by the fire and she probably couldn't see him very well, so he said out loud, "I'm no ser."
She pouted a little, as if trying to remember who Sandor might be. "I don't recognize you," she said. "Could you step closer?"
"You wouldn't like that," he said, letting out a harsh laughter that made the girl wince.
"I'd like to know who I am talking to," she said, though she made no move to approach Sandor herself. "Please, will you step into the light?"
Sandor shrugged again, then decided that since the girl insisted he might as well show himself. He stepped into the circle of light, and Sansa gave out a soft cry as she saw the terrible burns on his face. Sandor couldn't blame her. Earlier, when he had seen his own reflection for the first time, he had smashed the mirror in a fit of fury. He had never been handsome, but now he was positively hideous.
"Sandor Clegane?" she asked after what seemed like an eternity.
He nodded curtly. It pained him to see Sansa turn away her face in fear, as if Sandor was some kind of monster about to attack her. "Now you've seen me," he snarled, stopping right in front of the girl and crossing his arms. "Are you happy?"
Sansa had gone pale. "Maybe it's better if I go back," she said. "Joffrey must be worried about me."
Sandor wasn't precisely thrilled at the thought that anyone in their right mind would go back to that whiny, spoiled, arrogant princeling rather than look him in the face. But, quite aside from the hurt feelings, it was night and there was a cold wind howling outside the castle walls. It would be unreasonable for Sansa to go outside before dawn.
"You're not leaving in the middle of the night," he said. "You'd just freeze to death."
He thought that maybe he could find her a cape or something to put over her silly frilly dress, since she looked a tad pale, and was startled when she started sobbing.
Sandor was wary of women crying. They made him uncomfortable and he didn't know how to handle it, so he usually walked away very quickly at any sign of tears. Which in turn meant he really had no idea of what to do now. "What's wrong?" he asked after a whole minute of sobs had gone by. He had some vague notion about hugs cheering up people and hoped they weren't required, especially since when he tried to approach Sansa she shuffled further away from him.
"Please, just let me go," Sansa wailed. "I've done nothing wrong, don't hurt me, please."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Sandor replied, and then he realized that he meant it. He'd done some very bad things in his life, but he drew the line at assaulting scared, sobbing girls who wandered into empty castles and sang nursery rhymes and liked stupid princes because they didn't know any better.
(So it was a very specific line. But you had to draw some lines somewhere. Unless you were Gregor, but that was a touchy subject for Sandor so we won't go there either. Anyway, Sandor figured his karma was already bad enough, and with all the random fairytale-like events that had been happening lately, he didn't want to chance it.)
"It's for your own safety," Sandor insisted, in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. "I'm not going to keep you prisoner or anything..."
Sansa gave a particularly high-pitched wail.
"Look, I am Joffrey's sworn shield," Sandor tried again. In all fairness, he wasn't sure he still was, but he would have said anything to make Sansa stop crying. "So, er, I'll protect you. You can trust me."
This speech did very little to reassure Sansa. "But you're not a knight," she said between sobs. "How can I trust what you say? I wish my Joffrey was here, he would protect me."
Sandor snorted. "Yes, he's brave like that," he said, remembering how quickly Joffrey had left him behind when he thought his royal arse was in danger. "Did he bravely offer to escort you into the forest?" He was unable to hold back a smirk when he saw her flinching at his words. "I'm sure his royal snottiness is sitting somewhere nice and warm and doesn't give a crap that you could be catching your death..."
"Don't talk about him like that," Sansa wailed. "He's brave and noble and..."
"Seriously?" Sandor asked. "You've met Joffrey, you know he's the worst prince ever. Do you think just because he's a prince he's automatically better than all other men?"
"Yes!" Sansa exclaimed.
In the face of such blatant stupidity, Sandor's short supply of temper ran out. "Fine!" he growled. He made an angry motion. "Go, run off to your precious little prince if you want!"
She cried out at this sudden outburst, tripping over her feet in her haste to back away. Then she hitched up her skirt and ran from the room as quickly as she could.
Sandor watched Sansa leave. "And don't you come back!" he yelled after her.
Sansa
As soon as she stepped out of the castle, Sansa realized that this wasn't such a good idea after all. It was dark and cold and unpleasant, and she was instantly reminded of all the reasons why she had sought shelter in the castle to begin with. Sansa wanted nothing better than to go back and curl in front of the fire, but the Hound had looked so scary!
Sansa wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She had been right in not trusting him. His outburst proved without any doubt that he was a dangerous man. Who knew what he had done to get such a hideous scarred face? It was better for her to have nothing to do with the likes of him.
It started snowing again. The snow piled on the ground and on the trees. Sansa thought it would have looked very pretty in the morning, but right now it just felt damp and cold whenever she stepped into a mound of fresh snow. Her shoes were soaked through and probably already ruined, if they hadn't been already from her earlier walk. Never mind that, her feet were going numb.
However, returning to the castle was out of question. Mainly because she was already lost and couldn't find her way in the snowstorm, but Sansa told herself that she wouldn't have wanted to go back even if she had known where to go. Even if Sandor allowed her to return, there was no way she could have slept under the same roof as him.
Sansa kept telling herself that it was quite fortunate that she had left the castle when she had, because all sorts of rumors could have cropped up about her and Sandor. She wasn't sure of what kind of rumors exactly, because Sex Ed in Westeros was mostly synonymous with whores, which isn't exactly an appropriate subject to discuss with a young girl of gentle birth. But she was sure that they were very bad rumors and she was glad there wouldn't be any rumors about her.
Unless she ended up dying in the snow. Then, people would end up talking about her, and how she'd gone and died in the snow, and how her dress was completely ruined. That would have been awful too, so Sansa resolved not to die.
She hadn't been walking for a long time when she heard the wolves. Usually, when a young and defenseless girl is lost in the woods and she hears the howling of wolves, it means that she's about to be attacked and her valiant prince will swoop in to save her in the nick of time, showing his bravery and conquering the fair maiden's heart. Or something like that. However, in this story, the wolf saves the girl from the evil prince, so Sansa sighed with relief.
"Lady!" she called, even though she could barely hear her own voice over the howling of the wind. "Lady, where are you? I'm so glad you're okay, you had me scared..."
Sansa couldn't see anything between the trees but snow and darkness, but she immediately rushed towards her wolf. She was terrified that Lady might not hear her, that she would walk away and be lost forever.
Luckily she found Lady very soon. Even more luckily, since wolves can talk, she finally understood what Lady was saying in between her howls. Unluckily, what Lady was saying was: "Run, Sansa, he's coming for you!"
Sansa froze as she heard those words, but it was too late. Prince Joffrey and his men jumped on the path in front of her and quickly surrounded her.
"Hah," Joffrey sneered. "Did you really think you could escape from me? Your rabid wolf is my prisoner, and now you are my prisoner too. Maybe I should keep you in chains too," he added, pointing to the back of his party, where two burly knights were holding the ends of the chains restraining Sansa's direwolf.
"Lady hasn't got rabies, don't hurt her!" Sansa replied, to no avail. "Please!"
However, just as Joffrey reached down from his horse to grab Sansa's arm, Sandor ran out of the trees, with his sword raised. "Let go of the girl," he screamed.
Joffrey yelped and immediately withdrew his hand to avoid having his arm cut off. "My knights, to me!" he yelled. "Protect your prince!"
The knights had already given a lot of thoughts to the pros and cons of serving Joffrey. Namely, getting an unspecified amount of gold versus risking their neck battling witches with large boobs, being savaged by angry wolves and generally following Joffrey's orders. However, not being very smart, they were still thinking that serving Joffrey was the life-affirming choice here. Their loss.
So the knights charged on Sandor like a bunch of knights who were angry, cold, tired, hungry, have had a very bad day and would just like to get this over with quickly so they could go home. A dozen knights following the orders of an evil prince, charging a single man protecting a hapless maiden. The conclusion was clear.
If this story was in any way, shape or form realistic, Sandor would have been slaughtered and Joffrey would have ridden back to his place with Sansa and done very bad things to her. Luckily this story isn't, and the Law of Conservation of Ninjutsu is fully in effect. Sandor faced all of Joffrey's knights and fended them off easily, while Joffrey grew progressively annoyed, concerned, and finally very, very scared as he realized in exactly how much trouble he was.
As Sandor dispatched the last knight still standing, Joffrey's horse proved itself to be smarter than the knights by throwing its rider from the saddle. Joffrey landed in a pile on the muddy ground and watched in horror as his horse galloped away.
Joffrey scrambled to his feet and grabbed Sansa's arm. "If you want her," he yelled to Sandor, "you'll have to pass over my dead body!"
Sandor looked down at him. "Seriously?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because that can be easily arranged. I've seen toddlers who look more threatening than you. Let go of the girl."
Enraged, Joffrey draw a dagger from his belt. "Then nobody will have her," he said, raising his arm. Sansa's eyes went wide and she screamed, trying to free herself from Joffrey's grip, but that only served to make the prince more furious. He brought the dagger down in a swooping arc.
Sandor lunged forward but he was too far to stop Joffrey. However Lady managed to free herself from her captors and jumped forward, shielding Sansa with her body.
"No!" Sansa cried as the dagger hit Lady in the chest. Lady slumped to the ground and the dagger, stuck in the wound, slid from Joffrey's hand. (Okay, so I said there would be no deaths, but it was a lie. Sometimes Disney movies have dramatic deaths, and they're always tearjerkers. I don't know Lady's death is going to be a tearjerker like Mufasa's, but at any rate Sansa didn't take it well.)
"Lady," Sansa sobbed, crouching down on the frozen ground to hug the limp form of her direwolf. Then she turned to Joffrey, who was weaponless and knightless and covered in mud and looked nothing at all like a fairytale prince. "Why did you that? Lady was good, why would you want to kill her? Why would you want to kill me?"
She jumped, startled, when Sandor tugged her to her feet. "Hurry, little bird, it won't be long before the knights come around," he said. "We need to leave."
Sansa barely heard his words. She watched in a daze as Sandor lifted Lady's body and hauled it on the back of his horse, then she grabbed the hand that he was holding out to her. Sansa climbed on the saddle in front of Sandor and they rode away from the clearing without turning back until the wind covered Joffrey's screams of rage.
Second part
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Sansa/Sandor, cameos from minor characters including but not limited to Joffrey, Melisandre, Theon, Walder Frey and every Stark ever
Words: ~13,000
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: blatant rip-off from several fairy tales and Disney stories, breaking the fourth wall, frequent asides, run-on sentences, questionable usage of commas, futile attempts at being funny, talking wolves, swearwords, sad moments, silly moments, pointless moments, happy endings and whatnot.
Summary: Disney-induced, crack-filled retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Sansa Stark wants to marry a prince, but when the only prince around is that jerk Joffrey it's time to learn that fairy tales aren't all they're cracked up to be.
Beta:
peyton07Notes: Written for a charity auction;
redcandle17 asked for SanSan and gave me carte blanche for the setting. Obviously, my mind immediately went to crack-induced Disney AUs. Then the story kind of took over, and instead of delivering a 2,000-words story in February I have... this thing... now.Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.
So the prince said, "Dog, this old crone annoys me. Get her out of my sight."
The prince's sworn shield, the Hound, glanced at the old woman. She looked frail and harmless, which only confirmed his worst suspicions. Either the woman was soft in the head or she had some secret reason for showing up in the throne room as she had. Sandor remembered a story that his sister had told him, years ago, about an enchantress cursing a prince. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Are you sure?" Sandor asked. He didn't dare mentioning a nursery tale to the prince.
The prince, who wasn't genre savvy at all, didn't realize the danger he was in. "Of course I'm sure," he snapped. "I want her out of here. Not even all the roses in Highgarden would be enough compensation for having to look at her ugly face for another second."
As soon as he'd spoken, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful red-headed enchantress.
"Neat trick," the prince said, clapping slowly. "Now that you're looking hot and shaggable, I'll let you stay... in my bed," he added with a snigger. (By the way, in case this wasn't clear: he's not the protagonist of this story.)
The red enchantress raised her arms in a way that was probably meant to be dramatic, or something like that. In reality, it only showed off her boobs. "I see you're just as big a twat as everyone was saying," she exclaimed. "For your cold heart, you will be punished in the name of R'hllor!"
As she started to cast her spell, Sandor jumped in front of her and shoved the prince aside. As much as he'd always wanted to give the boy a good beating himself, Sandor didn't like the idea of getting cursed along with the rest of the castle, which seemed to be the standard protocol whenever a member of the royalty upset an enchantress. She probably would have made him fall asleep for a hundred years or turned him into a piece of furniture or something equally horrible.
Joffrey shrieked in a high-pitched voice as he stumbled off his throne and on the floor. The jet of flames from the enchantress' hands missed him and hit Sandor instead, searing the flesh of his face.
All the noise and confusion had finally attracted the attention of the other castle guards, who were rushing into the throne room. (Well, not exactly rushing. They'd figured out that it would be a poor life choice to go against an enchantress, so they were more like running calmly. Or maybe walking. Or lurking behind pillars. It wasn't as if they particularly liked Prince Joffrey anyway.)
Joffrey glared at the enchantress. "I will have revenge for this," he exclaimed, and it would have sounded a lot more impressive if he hadn't been crouching behind his throne. Then he signaled a tactical retreat, meaning that he ran for his life and the guards followed suit.
The throne room remained empty save for the enchantress and Sandor, who was still on the floor clutching at his scarred face.
"What the fuck?" he yelled as soon as he could regain control of his vocal chords. "I thought you were going to curse him. I could have died! Did you want to kill someone?"
"Yeah, that was the general idea," the enchantress replied. "You see, curses take a lot of effort, what with constant maintenance and providing magical roses and other items. R'hllor finds that burning people alive is much more cost-effective."
She gave him one last condescending look and started walking out of the throne room and, in fact, out of the story. Her job of smiting the heathens while at the same time providing an excuse for the plot was done.
"Aren't you going to cackle in an evil way and then disappear in a puff of smoke?" Sandor called after her. He felt as if fairy tales had been lying for him all of these years. He also felt as if half his face had been burned off. Also, it looked as if his prince had left him behind in his haste to get as far from the enchantress as possible.
All in all, Sandor felt he was entitled to the role of brooding tragic hero.
Meanwhile, in a quiet village not far from the castle, little Sansa Stark felt anything but grumpy.
(It might be worth it to point out that, no matter how young or childish Sansa might look, she was sixteen. This is because all girls in stories are sixteen. For legal reasons, you're not allowed to attend the ball in a pumpkin carriage, touch a cursed spinning wheel, dance with your prince charming or go on an epic quest to save the world until you turn sixteen. You can start early with dwarves and poisoned apples if you've got a signed permission slip, which is hard to get given that your average protagonist is an orphan. Sansa still had both her parents, but she didn't much like apples and had decided to stick with lemoncakes, for which you don't need any permission slips.)
Sansa was a very beautiful girl, with soft auburn hair and a pretty smile and graceful movements. She looked just like a princess, and she had her heart set on becoming one. Ever since she was very little, Sansa had known that the only way for her dream to come true was if she married a prince.
Unfortunately, the only prince in all of the land was the aforementioned Prince Joffrey, who wasn't exactly a contender for Future Husband Of The Year, but Sansa was willing to overlook several awful character flaws for the sake of the pretty silver tiara that came with the royal title.
Despite what everyone said about Prince Joffrey, Sansa was sure that if he proposed she would have accepted in a heartbeat. On the day after the evil enchantress of R'hllor had showed up, Sansa was walking towards the castle with her direwolf Lady at her side, hoping to meet with the prince and talk about their future blonde children.
"You should see how he treats his dogs, like they're nothing to him," Lady complained for what was probably the hundredth time. (Yes, Sansa's pet direwolf is talking in this story. If I had any skill with rhyming, she might even had broken into song.) "And he treats humans just the same."
"But he's so pretty," Sansa replied with a pout. " Besides, he's always been so nice to me." Lady snorted, but since direwolves don't have an equivalent for 'just wants to get into your knickers', what with not wearing knickers in the first place, she couldn't find a suitable reply and the conversation stalled.
Just then, Prince Joffrey appeared on the horizon. (If this story were in any way, shape or form realistic, maybe he wouldn't have appeared immediately. Maybe he'd have shown up after ten minutes or so, which would have translated to ten paragraphs of describing Sansa's hair or the color of the leaves on the trees or the songs of the birds. But that would have been boring, and I'm not that desperate for word padding, and anyway we already kissed realism goodbye when we introduced the talking wolf. So, Joffrey just has impeccable timing. Hooray!)
Joffrey appeared on the horizon, riding the fastest horse from his stables and followed by all of his guards and servants on slightly slower but still very fast horses. All horses had suddenly decided that it would be a very bad idea to stay near the castle, in case they got turned into servants or carriages and sent to the ball.
"Sansa!" the prince exclaimed as he saw her. "Good timing! A crazy evil enchantress has just taken over my castle. You should have seen her! She had huge boobs. Oh, and she also killed my dog."
"That's... terrible," Sansa replied, choosing to ignore the boob comment. "If you're not a prince, I can't be a princess. Surely there must be something you can do to regain your rightful throne?"
At those words, Joffrey had an idea. "Let's get married," he said. "So your father and his men will have to come to my aid and together we will take back the castle from the evil sorceress."
Since she hadn't had much character development yet, Sansa beamed. "Yes, yes, I accept your proposal!" she said immediately.
"It was more of an order than a proposal," the jerkass prince replied. "But whatever. The sooner we get married, the sooner we can start with the baby-making. We'll have at least a dozen beautiful babies and they'll all be blonde like me and beautiful like me."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Lady said. There was a convenient puddle of mud nearby and, since Sansa didn't seem inclined to do anything apart from standing there and beaming, Lady jumped at Joffrey and headbutted him.
He fell from his horse, screaming his usual high-pitched scream, and Lady watched with satisfaction as he tumbled headfirst into the mud.
"Treachery!" Joffrey shouted amidst mouthfuls of mud. "Guards, seize that dog! It tried to kill me!"
Lady scoffed. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," she said. "And anyway, this is a bowdlerized adaptation of the original story so nobody gets killed."
However Joffrey didn't seem very inclined to listen to her because he kept shouting orders and drew his sword. Or tried to draw his sword, at least. It got tangled in his belt, and when he struggled with it he slipped and fell in the mud again. (The scene would have been more entertaining if this were a movie, there could have been background music and a funny noise as Joffrey fell on his arse and a chorus of laughter from the guards.)
"What have you done?" Sansa asked Lady, her eyes going wide. She stared at Joffrey and debated the benefits of helping him out of the mud versus the hazard of getting mud on her dress.
When she finally gathered enough courage to extend her hand towards Joffrey, he slapped it away brusquely. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, crawling away. "Guards, arrest this girl and her dog. They tried to kill me."
Lady nudged Sansa away from him. "I told you he was trouble," she said, doing the canine equivalent of shaking her head and sighing.
Before Sansa could reply, the guards had closed in around her and Lady. They stopped at a safe distance, giving Lady worried looks, but Joffrey kept yelling at them and it was just a matter of time before one of them would attempt to grab Sansa.
With a growl, Lady jumped at the nearest guard. "What are you doing?" Sansa screamed.
"Run, Sansa!" Lady yelled without turning back. "Run!"
"But I haven't done anything wrong," Sansa protested as the other guards drew their swords. Finally, she took the first good decision in this story: she hitched up her skirt and ran for it.
Have you ever tried running into a forest? It's not exactly easy even if you're wearing comfy shoes and a tracksuit and staying on the path. Sansa was wearing a gown and her shoes were anything but sensible and she wasn't exactly the athletic type. But somehow, even though her hair and clothes got tangled in branches on a regular basis, she managed to outrun all of her pursuers.
This could be due to the fact that the guards weren't in any hurry to catch her because it would have meant going back to Prince Joffrey, and the direwolf was still circling around Prince Joffrey, and the guards were very attached to their jugulars and would have liked to keep them, thank you very much. Or it could be just because the story required Sansa to get away.
Either way, thanks to Lady's heroic sacrifice, Sansa managed to escape from Joffrey's evil clutches and therefore proceeded to do what every other princess would do in her situation: she got completely and utterly lost.
Unfortunately, there was no group of friendly woodland animals who could come to her rescue, so she wandered alone in the forest until nightfall. It was winter, by the way, in case you had forgotten. So by the time Sansa reached the castle, all she wanted to do was get inside and away from the freezing night wind.
Her fingers felt stiff and clumsy as they pushed a small side door open. Sansa peered inside and saw no signs of evil, big-breasted enchantresses, so she closed the door behind her and proceed to scour the castle for lemoncakes.
The first place she checked was, of course, the castle's huge dining hall. She was a proper princess-in-training, not like those wannabes who moonlighted as maids or seamstresses or whatnot. She had no idea of where the kitchens would be, let alone the pantry.
Luckily for her (and for our story), the evil enchantress had arrived just before a banquet. There was a fire roaring at one end of the hall and the long tables were already laden with soups and roast boar, now gone cold and unappetizing. But, to Sansa's delight, the desserts were still fresh and delicious. She picked up a tray full of meringues and started eating.
Okay, actually, before eating she carried the meringues to the table on the raised dais, sat down in a chair that she felt was appropriate to her birth, smoothed her gown, wished she could have washed her hands before her meal, searched her pockets for a handkerchief, didn't find any, wondered if Arya had been stealing her handkerchiefs again, surreptitiously wiped her hands on a corner of the table cloth and then started eating. Sansa felt that, even though she was alone in an empty castle, she shouldn't skimp on table manners.
When she finished her meal (meringues with a side of biscuits, Septa Mordane would have been horrified) Sansa cleaned her hands once more on the tablecloth and wondered what to do. She wished there was some servant around, so she could order them to put more wood in the fireplace, because she was still feeling chilly after her long trek to the forest. She was also feeling sleepy, which totally wouldn't do, because it made her think that back at home her sister and her brothers were probably about to go to bed.
This made her terribly homesick because it was the first time she had to spend the night away from her family. Sansa didn't know when she'd be able to go back home. She would have to apologize to Joffrey, and who knew if he'd forgive her? He'd been so angry!
To stop herself from thinking any more sad thoughts, Sansa started singing to herself. It felt a little silly, hearing her voice echo in the empty hall, but it was better than the eerie silence from before. And, if she occasionally forgot the words of the song, it didn't matter. There was no one listening or pointing out that she was getting too old to sing nursery rhymes.
As it turned out, there was someone listening to Sansa's song. The fact that the castle wasn't completely empty might come as no surprise since I've already mentioned the Hound, and anyway he's in the title, but Sansa didn't have the benefit of knowing the title of her story. And even if she had known, she wouldn't have thought much of it. She hardly remembered the name of Joffrey's sworn shield, who wasn't even a proper knight.
When Sandor heard the first snatches of song echoing through the corridors, Sandor's first thought was that perhaps the evil enchantress had returned. He grabbed the sword and carefully made his way towards the mysterious singer, stopping just outside of the hall's double doors. Before barging in, he wanted to see what was going on.
Sandor remembered Sansa very well and recognized her at first glance. He had always thought that she was a very pretty girl, and also a very stupid one, not very different from the dozens of empty-headed girls who showed up at the castle every week hoping to marry Prince Joffrey.
He had no idea why Sansa would be here, and reflected that perhaps she had come to meet with Joffrey without knowing that the brat and everyone else had left the castle. She looked just like the kind of stupid girl who would hang around in an empty hall, waiting for Joffrey and singing nonsense and rending flower petals.
"What are you doing here?" Sandor demanded, stepping into the room, and immediately cursed himself for being a fool. Not only he'd interrupted the song, which was quite possibly the only nice thing that had happened all day, his sudden appearance had startled Sansa.
The girl jumped to her feet with a small gasp, looking around nervously. "I'm Sansa Stark," she said in a small voice.
"I know that, little bird," Sandor said in his best reassuring voice. Judging from the way Sansa started looking for escape routes, he hadn't sounded reassuring at all. "Why are you in the castle, though?" he asked. "Your prince isn't here. He ran away and won't be coming back any time soon."
She didn't look very surprised by that news, as far as Sandor could tell. (He was still hovering next to the entrance, not wanting to scare her into actually running away.) "Yes, I know that," she said. "He told me he had a confrontation with an evil sorceress."
Sandor doubted that hiding behind the throne counted as a confrontation, but Sansa's words weren't hesitant anymore, so he let her talk.
"I met the prince in the woods next to my family's manor," Sansa explained. "But then there was an incident... My wolf ran away," she added after barely a pause. "Yes, that's what happened, Lady ran away. I went looking for her, but I didn't find her, and it got dark so very quickly. I didn't know where to go, so when I saw the castle I decided to come in. That's all right though, because I'm your prince's future wife, isn't it, ser?"
He shrugged at those words, surprised that anyone would want to marry Prince Joffrey without being forced into it. Then he realized that he was standing away from the light cast by the fire and she probably couldn't see him very well, so he said out loud, "I'm no ser."
She pouted a little, as if trying to remember who Sandor might be. "I don't recognize you," she said. "Could you step closer?"
"You wouldn't like that," he said, letting out a harsh laughter that made the girl wince.
"I'd like to know who I am talking to," she said, though she made no move to approach Sandor herself. "Please, will you step into the light?"
Sandor shrugged again, then decided that since the girl insisted he might as well show himself. He stepped into the circle of light, and Sansa gave out a soft cry as she saw the terrible burns on his face. Sandor couldn't blame her. Earlier, when he had seen his own reflection for the first time, he had smashed the mirror in a fit of fury. He had never been handsome, but now he was positively hideous.
"Sandor Clegane?" she asked after what seemed like an eternity.
He nodded curtly. It pained him to see Sansa turn away her face in fear, as if Sandor was some kind of monster about to attack her. "Now you've seen me," he snarled, stopping right in front of the girl and crossing his arms. "Are you happy?"
Sansa had gone pale. "Maybe it's better if I go back," she said. "Joffrey must be worried about me."
Sandor wasn't precisely thrilled at the thought that anyone in their right mind would go back to that whiny, spoiled, arrogant princeling rather than look him in the face. But, quite aside from the hurt feelings, it was night and there was a cold wind howling outside the castle walls. It would be unreasonable for Sansa to go outside before dawn.
"You're not leaving in the middle of the night," he said. "You'd just freeze to death."
He thought that maybe he could find her a cape or something to put over her silly frilly dress, since she looked a tad pale, and was startled when she started sobbing.
Sandor was wary of women crying. They made him uncomfortable and he didn't know how to handle it, so he usually walked away very quickly at any sign of tears. Which in turn meant he really had no idea of what to do now. "What's wrong?" he asked after a whole minute of sobs had gone by. He had some vague notion about hugs cheering up people and hoped they weren't required, especially since when he tried to approach Sansa she shuffled further away from him.
"Please, just let me go," Sansa wailed. "I've done nothing wrong, don't hurt me, please."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Sandor replied, and then he realized that he meant it. He'd done some very bad things in his life, but he drew the line at assaulting scared, sobbing girls who wandered into empty castles and sang nursery rhymes and liked stupid princes because they didn't know any better.
(So it was a very specific line. But you had to draw some lines somewhere. Unless you were Gregor, but that was a touchy subject for Sandor so we won't go there either. Anyway, Sandor figured his karma was already bad enough, and with all the random fairytale-like events that had been happening lately, he didn't want to chance it.)
"It's for your own safety," Sandor insisted, in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. "I'm not going to keep you prisoner or anything..."
Sansa gave a particularly high-pitched wail.
"Look, I am Joffrey's sworn shield," Sandor tried again. In all fairness, he wasn't sure he still was, but he would have said anything to make Sansa stop crying. "So, er, I'll protect you. You can trust me."
This speech did very little to reassure Sansa. "But you're not a knight," she said between sobs. "How can I trust what you say? I wish my Joffrey was here, he would protect me."
Sandor snorted. "Yes, he's brave like that," he said, remembering how quickly Joffrey had left him behind when he thought his royal arse was in danger. "Did he bravely offer to escort you into the forest?" He was unable to hold back a smirk when he saw her flinching at his words. "I'm sure his royal snottiness is sitting somewhere nice and warm and doesn't give a crap that you could be catching your death..."
"Don't talk about him like that," Sansa wailed. "He's brave and noble and..."
"Seriously?" Sandor asked. "You've met Joffrey, you know he's the worst prince ever. Do you think just because he's a prince he's automatically better than all other men?"
"Yes!" Sansa exclaimed.
In the face of such blatant stupidity, Sandor's short supply of temper ran out. "Fine!" he growled. He made an angry motion. "Go, run off to your precious little prince if you want!"
She cried out at this sudden outburst, tripping over her feet in her haste to back away. Then she hitched up her skirt and ran from the room as quickly as she could.
Sandor watched Sansa leave. "And don't you come back!" he yelled after her.
As soon as she stepped out of the castle, Sansa realized that this wasn't such a good idea after all. It was dark and cold and unpleasant, and she was instantly reminded of all the reasons why she had sought shelter in the castle to begin with. Sansa wanted nothing better than to go back and curl in front of the fire, but the Hound had looked so scary!
Sansa wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She had been right in not trusting him. His outburst proved without any doubt that he was a dangerous man. Who knew what he had done to get such a hideous scarred face? It was better for her to have nothing to do with the likes of him.
It started snowing again. The snow piled on the ground and on the trees. Sansa thought it would have looked very pretty in the morning, but right now it just felt damp and cold whenever she stepped into a mound of fresh snow. Her shoes were soaked through and probably already ruined, if they hadn't been already from her earlier walk. Never mind that, her feet were going numb.
However, returning to the castle was out of question. Mainly because she was already lost and couldn't find her way in the snowstorm, but Sansa told herself that she wouldn't have wanted to go back even if she had known where to go. Even if Sandor allowed her to return, there was no way she could have slept under the same roof as him.
Sansa kept telling herself that it was quite fortunate that she had left the castle when she had, because all sorts of rumors could have cropped up about her and Sandor. She wasn't sure of what kind of rumors exactly, because Sex Ed in Westeros was mostly synonymous with whores, which isn't exactly an appropriate subject to discuss with a young girl of gentle birth. But she was sure that they were very bad rumors and she was glad there wouldn't be any rumors about her.
Unless she ended up dying in the snow. Then, people would end up talking about her, and how she'd gone and died in the snow, and how her dress was completely ruined. That would have been awful too, so Sansa resolved not to die.
She hadn't been walking for a long time when she heard the wolves. Usually, when a young and defenseless girl is lost in the woods and she hears the howling of wolves, it means that she's about to be attacked and her valiant prince will swoop in to save her in the nick of time, showing his bravery and conquering the fair maiden's heart. Or something like that. However, in this story, the wolf saves the girl from the evil prince, so Sansa sighed with relief.
"Lady!" she called, even though she could barely hear her own voice over the howling of the wind. "Lady, where are you? I'm so glad you're okay, you had me scared..."
Sansa couldn't see anything between the trees but snow and darkness, but she immediately rushed towards her wolf. She was terrified that Lady might not hear her, that she would walk away and be lost forever.
Luckily she found Lady very soon. Even more luckily, since wolves can talk, she finally understood what Lady was saying in between her howls. Unluckily, what Lady was saying was: "Run, Sansa, he's coming for you!"
Sansa froze as she heard those words, but it was too late. Prince Joffrey and his men jumped on the path in front of her and quickly surrounded her.
"Hah," Joffrey sneered. "Did you really think you could escape from me? Your rabid wolf is my prisoner, and now you are my prisoner too. Maybe I should keep you in chains too," he added, pointing to the back of his party, where two burly knights were holding the ends of the chains restraining Sansa's direwolf.
"Lady hasn't got rabies, don't hurt her!" Sansa replied, to no avail. "Please!"
However, just as Joffrey reached down from his horse to grab Sansa's arm, Sandor ran out of the trees, with his sword raised. "Let go of the girl," he screamed.
Joffrey yelped and immediately withdrew his hand to avoid having his arm cut off. "My knights, to me!" he yelled. "Protect your prince!"
The knights had already given a lot of thoughts to the pros and cons of serving Joffrey. Namely, getting an unspecified amount of gold versus risking their neck battling witches with large boobs, being savaged by angry wolves and generally following Joffrey's orders. However, not being very smart, they were still thinking that serving Joffrey was the life-affirming choice here. Their loss.
So the knights charged on Sandor like a bunch of knights who were angry, cold, tired, hungry, have had a very bad day and would just like to get this over with quickly so they could go home. A dozen knights following the orders of an evil prince, charging a single man protecting a hapless maiden. The conclusion was clear.
If this story was in any way, shape or form realistic, Sandor would have been slaughtered and Joffrey would have ridden back to his place with Sansa and done very bad things to her. Luckily this story isn't, and the Law of Conservation of Ninjutsu is fully in effect. Sandor faced all of Joffrey's knights and fended them off easily, while Joffrey grew progressively annoyed, concerned, and finally very, very scared as he realized in exactly how much trouble he was.
As Sandor dispatched the last knight still standing, Joffrey's horse proved itself to be smarter than the knights by throwing its rider from the saddle. Joffrey landed in a pile on the muddy ground and watched in horror as his horse galloped away.
Joffrey scrambled to his feet and grabbed Sansa's arm. "If you want her," he yelled to Sandor, "you'll have to pass over my dead body!"
Sandor looked down at him. "Seriously?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because that can be easily arranged. I've seen toddlers who look more threatening than you. Let go of the girl."
Enraged, Joffrey draw a dagger from his belt. "Then nobody will have her," he said, raising his arm. Sansa's eyes went wide and she screamed, trying to free herself from Joffrey's grip, but that only served to make the prince more furious. He brought the dagger down in a swooping arc.
Sandor lunged forward but he was too far to stop Joffrey. However Lady managed to free herself from her captors and jumped forward, shielding Sansa with her body.
"No!" Sansa cried as the dagger hit Lady in the chest. Lady slumped to the ground and the dagger, stuck in the wound, slid from Joffrey's hand. (Okay, so I said there would be no deaths, but it was a lie. Sometimes Disney movies have dramatic deaths, and they're always tearjerkers. I don't know Lady's death is going to be a tearjerker like Mufasa's, but at any rate Sansa didn't take it well.)
"Lady," Sansa sobbed, crouching down on the frozen ground to hug the limp form of her direwolf. Then she turned to Joffrey, who was weaponless and knightless and covered in mud and looked nothing at all like a fairytale prince. "Why did you that? Lady was good, why would you want to kill her? Why would you want to kill me?"
She jumped, startled, when Sandor tugged her to her feet. "Hurry, little bird, it won't be long before the knights come around," he said. "We need to leave."
Sansa barely heard his words. She watched in a daze as Sandor lifted Lady's body and hauled it on the back of his horse, then she grabbed the hand that he was holding out to her. Sansa climbed on the saddle in front of Sandor and they rode away from the clearing without turning back until the wind covered Joffrey's screams of rage.
Second part
