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He was stupid, aye, that he was. But every goddamn time he closed his eyes he saw her wide terror filled eyes, pale face and gaping mouth. Those sweet plump lips stretched in horror as she glanced down at her handiwork. There was already bruise forming against her eye, swelling her tender flesh. Her dress torn in the front, her bodice revealing a tempting display – the tops of the sweetest tits he’d probably ever see. Her hair was mused from whatever had happened to her, the intricate southern style – one of many he’d never fucking understand – in ruin.
It was only after his inspection of her that his eyes had fallen to the floor. There lay the little shit, sprawled on his back, red slowly oozing down the side of his head. He couldn’t help but smirk, the little bird had killed the bastard. She was more wolf than she thought. He’d been the first to arrive, and so he threw his cursed white cloak around the shaking girl’s shoulders – the second time now. She gripped it without glancing away from the fallen king and covered those sweet tits from his view. It was a shame, but they wouldn’t be alone much longer.
He hunkered down on the floor and moved the boy’s head back and forth, and checked for a pulse. Dead. He couldn’t help the grin on his face, the little shit deserved it. He cleared his throat and looked up at the beautiful lady shivering in fear and shock, “He deserved it Little Bird. Though don’t tell a soul I said that. They’ll be wanting my head for this.” He rose again as the she turned to look at him.
“T-They’ll be wanting my head s-ser…” She stuttered weakly.
“He’d been drinking Little Bird, and was walking when he tripped on his own feet, he grabbed you for support but took half your pretty dress with him and pulled you both down. But he’s the one who slammed his head. I’ll be your witness.” He spat out his plan slowly and softly as the girl’s eyes widened.
“B-But you said… A h-hound will die f-for you, but nev… never lie to you.” Her soft blue eyes looked up at him, even they were trembling as much as she was.
“Didn’t say I wouldn’t lie for you, just not to you.” A wicked smirk formed on his lips.
“W-Why would you help me?” Good, he thought, the lass was suspicious.
“Tell me, do you think he was a good King, lass?” He raised his one good eyebrow and watched the girl bite her lip and quickly shake her head. “Well there you have it. You would have been dead as soon as you gave him an heir that could claim the bloody north.” He headed for the door. “Now remind me what happened?”
“J-Joffrey… he was drinking… he stumbled and tried grasping me for support but w-we both fell….” He grinned at the girl once more.
“Good girl.” She offered a weak smile in response that made him feel something odd… He shrugged it from his shoulders as he went to open the door. “Now scream.” He whispered hoarsely across the room. Her eyes widened and it took her a second to understand…
“OH GODS JOFFREY! JOFFREY!” She screamed loudly as she fell to her knees and tried to cradle the dead King’s head in her lap, earning a red stain on her favorite blue dress.
“THE KING’S FALLEN AND HIT HIS DAMN HEAD! YOU SHOULDN’T GIVE A BOY SUCH STRONG FUCKING WINE!” He yelled down the hallway before quickly rushing beside Lady Sansa and the corpse so his cloak wouldn’t look odd on her. Guards streamed in one by one, and soon the Queen Regent did as well, pushing the girl away to hold her own son close.
“What happened?!” The lioness hissed. “Who was on duty?!” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around.
“Your son fucking drunk too much and thought he could steady himself on the lass.” Sandor grunted motioning towards Sansa’s ruined dress. He’d never lied to her before, and she had no reason to expect him to, but she turned to Sansa anyways.
“Is this true, Sansa?” Her words were as cold as ice, as was the look she gave the young woman. As cold as those damn snow storms the north had.
“Y-Yes my lady… he d-drugged me down w-with him but he only ripped my d-dress and kn-knocked me in the face.” The girl was crying now, though it was probably from happiness or joy rather than grief, or perhaps nervousness in the case she might be found out.
“Leave me with my son. R-Ring the damned bells. Spread the news. J-Just leave me with my son.” He helped the girl up and roughly handled her as he led her towards the door. “If you’ve lied to me, you both will pay.” Cersei Lannister vowed to them.
“You pay me too fucking much for me to fucking ruin that.” Sandor spat back and she seemed appeased, as much as she could while cradling her son.
“Let me grieve my son in peace.” She hissed, tears beginning to roll down her face, and he pushed the girl out of the room and closed the door.
Aye, Sandor was stupid, but it had worked, hadn’t it? Now he had the favor of a very pretty lass and for her he might do anything…