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A Burn So Sweet
A Burn So Sweet
http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/4360157.
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Explicit
Underage
F/M
Game of Thrones (TV), SanSan - Fandom
Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, sansa - Relationship
Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane
sansan, Sansa Stark - Freeform, Sandor Clegane - Freeform, Sandor
- Freeform, Sansa - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious
Consent, dubcon, Smut, Sex, Smutty, Angst, Sexual Content, Sexual,
Game of Thrones - Freeform, GoT, Game of - Freeform
Published: 2015-07-17 Updated: 2016-05-02 Chapters: 6/? Words:
5528
A Burn So Sweet
by besosdecanela
Summary
Sansa Stark has given up, the hell around her carving out her soul. It does not matter to her
if she lives or dies. Sandor Clegane has a 'death' to promise.
Notes
Hey fellow readers. This is an idea that sort of popped into my head today; I don't know
really where im going with this yet, but I want to explore it.
In this game of thrones AU, Sansa is still in Kings Landing and has been suffering there
for a few years. I've labeled this as dub-con also, since the argument can be easily made
she is no state of mind to consent.
I'm pretty sure this will be both smutty and very angsty, as you will see with this first
chapter. Warning to all. Let me know what you think?
Thank you~
Chapter 1
She sat on her bed, completely bare. Her gorgeous cascade of fiery auburn hair hung behind her,
falling on the luxurious soft mattress.
Her night shift had been laid ready for her by the maids, yet Sansa Stark just sat there, her mind
blank. She didn't want to sleep. She couldn't.
It was late in the night, Kings Landings usual bustling noise down to a soft whisper among the
city's lanterns. The Red Keep was silent.
This was another night. This was another solitary night where Sansa would fill her thoughts with
what little still made her smile.
At this point, there was not much.
She had taken her usual bath, dismissing her maids kindly. Sansa knew there was no point in
lashing out at them. They weren't the ones to blame.
It didn't matter now. King Joffrey was away in his chambers, tranquil and at peace.
As long as she was held prisoner here in this beautiful hell, Sansa would never sleep soundly
again.
Her icy blue eyes looked down at her clothes. Some lady she was, naked on her bed, her ivory
skin glistening like a gem.
The worst part was that she did not care.
"A little bird like you doesn't know shit. You have no idea what you do to a man."
His lips curled in a strange mix of anger and desire.
"Perchance a man like you should teach me."
He grew silent.
Suddenly, his armored arms grabbed her small shoulders. The man shook her hard.
"What is wrong with you...Answer me!?"
Her lips parted, a few tears accumulating on her eyelashes. She knew she was being stupid, yet
she wouldn't take anything back.
"I....I just don't care."
Sansa answered, her voice quivering. She realized this was true.
Sandor looked upon the Stark princess, her beauty shining in despair. Her cheeks were naturally
red, yet they looked pale. She had lost her color long ago with her innocence.
It was well known throughout the Keep that the Stark girl was still pure, being kept as a prisoner
of war during Joffreys reign. She was entertainment, beatings and whippings the regular fun. The
Queen, however, had advised the young King to keep the Stark girls purity in tact.
She was more valuable in that way.
Sandor knew all of this. He was her personal guard and had seen her change. The change started
gradually, and now....
He looked upon her, towering above her.
The warrior was a like a giant compared to the young woman.
Sandor knew all of this. He had wanted to take her since the moment he laid eyes on her.
This seemed unreal.
Wrong, wicked, unreal.
Sansas lips parted in anticipation. She had grown. She was aware of what Sandor felt.
Sansa was alone. She didn't want to be alone anymore.
He shook her once more, his hands tighter on her frame.
Her head titled back, the curve of her neck reflecting the dim light.
Sandor looked behind him, the hallway empty. He opened the wooden door silently and pushed
her in.
Chapter 2
Chapter Notes
Hey readers!
First I wanted to thank all of you for the kudos, comments and for the reads. I really
appreciate it; I didn't know anyone would even read this so I'm just really thankful for
everything!
Here's chapter 2. I really don't know where this is going but I have a few ideas
perhaps.
A note on this story: Sansa is aged up, and her mental state has been affected quite
significantly during the years at the Keep. It doesn't really follow the canon GoT
storyline, either. Angsty smut ahead!
Again thanks so much! Let me know of any feedback. Chapter 3 coming up soon~
As his rough tongue licked at the soft skin near her ear, Sansa was silent, eyes closed. She thought
she should at least be terrified as the Hound was devouring her skin.
Despite knowing very clearly who was doing such an act, Sansa was not afraid.
Her once-bright eyes bolted opened: she realized she was enjoying his touch.
Is this what the handmaidens discussed? The feel of a man? Is this the warmth women looked for?
Sansa was a woman, far beyond the usual child-bearing age; she should have been wed and
happy elsewhere, surrounded by little wolf children of her own.
And yet, here she was, rotting away high in a tower.
She wasn't stupid.
Whatever the Hound would do tonight would be found out soon enough.
Knowing the thick hate surrounding her everywhere she walked, Sansa would be killed.
Her rose cheeks flushed as she smiled emptily.
Then, by Gods, she would enjoy her last night.
"You have no damn clue..."
His low voice purred in her ear. Sandor lapped and smelled like the dog he was known as.
One large hand supported his weight, while the other held her hands above the young woman.
She smelled of oils and citrus, a sweet wine on its own.
He wasn't stupid either.
Sandor pulled himself off of her rapidly without another thought. Sansa sensed the sudden
emptiness above her.
She lifted herself up from the bed slowly, her sleeve off of her shoulder.
He had pulled away, standing a bit from the mattress.
"I know what you want..."
He said viciously.
She was silent, feeling her wetness over her most sensitive part. Sansa could hear the Hounds
breathing becoming uneven.
Did this satisfy him? Could just looking at her grow such pleasure?
Her legs were growing tense, the pleasure between her thighs growing. Although it did feel
guiltily indulgent, she missed his hand.
"Gods....look at you. That beautiful little cunt is wet for me, isn't it?"
The harshness of his words weren't false.
She moved over her folds, as his hand sped faster, running over his large shaft.
Sansa felt a surge of power. She was making a grown man bend over in ecstasy and he wasn't
even inside her.
This was power.
A thought occurred to her.
She stopped moving her hands between her legs, her thighs still open to him.
Sandor eyed her in the dark; why had she stopped?
Sansa raised her graceful fingers to her shoulders, the sleeves of her night shift falling down
beyond her chest. Her breasts peaked in the cold air, revealing themselves to the Hound.
He hadn't stopped moving his hand.
His grey eyes grew wide as he moved faster, groaning lowly.
A shining thick liquid appeared in his hand. His panting filled the room.
His lips were parted. He was silent. Sansa didn't understand the look in his eyes.
Quickly, he held his belt and armor together and bolted out of the room. The wooden door shut
without a sound.
Sansa was left alone, the candle flickering in and out of her quarters.
She looked down at her legs, her hands.
What had she done to him?
The moon was coming out of the sea, low in the horizon. The night was still young; could she
even sleep after what had occurred?
Her hands felt the familiar moistness between her thighs.
She stopped before she could continue.
Sansa knew it wouldn't feel the same.
Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
Thank you for the kudos and comments! I'll respond to them soon!
This chapter has a bit more story than smut, but I kind of wanted to flesh out what
they were both thinking a bit. I wanted to show a bit of their inner conflict within
themselves. But, no worries, next chapter will have quite a lot of smut.
Thanks for everything guys! More to come soon~
The main hall was full of the usual spectators and gossipers of the court. Joffrey was busy judging
a innocent merchant accused of theft; his screeching voice echoed against the old stained glass
windows.
In the balcony, behind lower ladies and lords, stood Sansa, hidden from view.
Her auburn hair was loose in the Northern style, her pale yet lovely cerulean gown falling behind
her. She was the most beautiful lady in the court, yet invisible to all.
Three days had passed since that infamous night between the Stark princess and the Hound, the
most fearsome of the Kings Guard. It had been on Sansas mind restlessly.
She saw him now, right beside the King. His golden armor was stained with dents and grazes, yet
adding to his fearsome countenance. His dark hair was swept into the right side of his face, his
scorched cheek twitching unconsciously. Sansa looked through the taller Ladies to see him, on the
tip of her toes.
A few memories drew breath in her mind. She could remember when she first came to Kings
Landing; one look from him and she was shaking.
Rapidly, she looked down, yet not from fear. The blush in her cheeks intensified. What she had
done could never be spoken of.
She glanced at him again, everything else a droning noise.
A lady such as her had let a man like the Hound push her into her quarters and....
The rest she couldn't put into words. He had used her.
However, hasn't she used him also?
Loneliness, touch, death...? She had wanted him to fix everything.
She smiled absentmindedly. What she had done was foolish, but, with her growing disdain, she
did not care much for her past actions.
The past was just that.
Everything was moving around her. The Kings session had ended, the court dismissed. The King
was the first to leave, the Hound treading right behind the young man.
She kept his eye on him.
Suddenly, the Hound glanced directly in her direction.
A flash of conscious thought, a second of eye contact.
A strike of desire.
....
The day passed dully. The only thing Sansa saw behind her eyelids were his eyes, dark and
pondering.
Hours passed slowly, away in her quarters. She barely left anymore, except for the few days
Joffrey wanted to torture the young woman, physically or mentally. These moments had
dwindled, however; Joffrey had grown a bit bored with her, and had decided to keep her locked
away for a bit.
A toss of bread and stew, some sunshine, and air for a few hours. A perfect jail.
It was a moonless night, the clouds hiding the stars. It was beyond midnight.
Sansa combed her hair on the veranda, something she did regularly. It reminded her of something
once sweet and kind.
A few roses had started to blossom winding around the columns. The young woman had lighted a
few candles, dancing on the petals and vines.
She had grown to prefer a bit of darkness.
There was silence amongst her. It was uncomfortable. It was suffocating. She couldn't hear the
usual bustling noise of the Keep.
Perhaps she was going mad.
And there it was. A blessing. A knock at the door. One single knock.
She found herself hurrying to the wooden door; she knew who it was, and suddenly, she stopped.
What would this lead to? Would she let him do whatever he wanted? Should she ignore it, like the
Lady she was, or rather, she used to be?
She breathed deeply; her hands betrayed her thoughts.
Sansa was a contradiction.
The door opened, the winding serpentine steps illuminated by the single lantern.
She did not see anyone immediately, so her slippered feet led her down a few steps.
And there he was, leaning against the stone hallway. Sandor seemed to be hurrying down, in a
rush. He wouldn't stay.
"Sir...what are..."
Sansas meek voice echoed in the humid air.
She tried sounding strong but her voice faltered.
He looked at her with the same direct gaze, his eyes fierce in the night. The Hound sighed, his
breath audible.
He had to leave, before he did anything regrettable. Sandor had made a mistake the other night,
and he couldn't repeat again.
He could get them both to lose their heads. Perhaps he didn't care much for his own, but the girl
wouldn't die. He wouldn't have her blood on his hands.
Yet, there she was, her long waving hair behind her like silk. She was wearing a thin dress over
her nightshift; Sandor was thankful for that. He didn't know if he could control himself if he saw
her bare again.
"I'm not staying, Little Bird. I came....to tell...."
He looked at her again. Her lips were parted, waiting for him.
Why had he come? To warn her?
To curse her once and for all?
Gods, his forsaken body wouldn't listen to his mind. He had to leave, leave her for a while;
Sandor couldn't keep a being a damn fool. He was letting a young girl control him, seduce him
whether she even understood what that meant.
A flash of her skin, her inner folds wet for him clear in his mind.
"Fuck...", he cursed under his breath.
He stepped closer to her, his head leveled with her chest.
Sandor stared at her, as intensely as that night.
"Does your foolish little heart know what you've started?"
He asked,his voice strangely gentle.
It was of no use. They were both damned.
She thought deeply.
Sansa stepped down, closer.
"I am no fool."
....
Chapter 4
Chapter Notes
Wow guys thanks for all the kudos reads and comments! I really appreciate it,
readers.
Well....as promised. Here's the start of a little smut, accompanied with conflicting
feelings and forbidden actions (I really don't even know). I've always wanted to
explore an affair with these two.
But lmk what you think! Mores to come soon~
His breathing became coarse, aroused by the sudden short distance between them. Sandor stepped
closer until he could smell her scent again, spiking his nostrils.
Gods, he was a fool. He had been trying to convince himself otherwise, trying to save her in the
process.
But deep down in his mind, the Hound knew this couldn't be prevented. The fact that he hadn't
tried to touch her in the past four years seemed false.
But he was an honest man. He had wanted to her; that was clear. He wanted her still, and he
would want to her for the rest of his damned life.
And what of the little bird? Standing with an air of assurance against the humid stone walls, Sansa
looked at him as if she finally understood it all.
The young woman had spent all of her childhood looking for a beautiful prince to carry her away
to their own paradise. She had wanted someone perfect, someone kind and gentle.
That didn't exist. She had seen it with Joffrey and the other Knights. They all saw her as meat,
ready to be plucked and seasoned.
The man in armor before her wanted to same. Yet, he had never tried.
He was frightening, of cruel words and strong demeanor.
But he had never hurt her.
Only when she had allowed it had the Hound come into her quarters.
She had been the puppeteer. The Hound was a puppet.
But she didn't want to pull the strings. She wanted him to kiss her, to make her feel as if this
wasn't real. She wanted to escape, whether it was true or in her mind.
Sansa wanted to feel like Lady again, with true power.
She knew they were damned. But perhaps that didn't matter anymore, either.
She was a woman that needed touch.
"Have you always wanted this...?", Sansa asked quietly, silence around them. She was unafraid.
He was now on the same stone step as the young woman. Sandor pushed her against the walls
soundlessly, a breath escaping her lips. His hands held her curves, bending down to smell her hair.
"Every day and every night...", he whispered against her hair.
His lips met hers again, her lips trying to keep up with his seemingly experienced mouth.
His muscled arms wrapped her up as if she were merely a lamb, small and needing protection.
His lips trailed down to her collarbone, lapping at her protruding bone. His other hand took her
nightshift and pulled it down, revealing her breasts.
Sandor eyed them hungrily.
"I'll make you never want anyone else...", he whispered, the Hound a jealous man.
He kneaded her left breast in his calloused fingers. The Hound took a nipple into his mouth,
sucking on the flesh as if he hadn't eaten anything in days. His lips passed the skin over and over,
making the young lady's breath stagger.
He sucked endlessly, the taste sweeter than wine.
He took the other breast and devoured it, careful to avoid his teeth on her skin.
Sansa was being left without breath. Her mind was reeling with more pleasure that she could
imagine.
"S...Sandor..."
A surge of power. A surge of bravery.
He obeyed.
He was before her in seconds, his face inches away from hers.
Her hands met his face, touching the scarred cheek with care. She was surprised to find it soft and
supple, like new skin.
"How much have you wanted me?", she asked, honestly. This was an innocent question, not
seeping with want or play. Sansa was curious.
She whispered against his mouth.
This caught him off guard.
How much does he want his Little Bird? How much has he wanted to be the only man in her
arms? How much has his manhood wanted to delve into her?
How much has he loved her?
Sandor looked down; those were foolish thoughts. He wouldn't ponder that.
Bugger that, and every feeling inside him.
His hand found the moisture between her legs, making Sansa buckle slightly. Her lips parted,
moaning softly.
His mouth was leading down, leaving a trail of his saliva down her navel.
Sandors muscled arms tensed; he grabbed at her slim hips and opened her legs. He could smell her
moisture, a pungent smell more wonderful that he could have imagined. He would drink tonight.
He kissed her curled hairs, smelling the centre of her being.
"This much.", he finally answered, taking her sensitive clit into his mouth and tasting the young
she-wolf once and for all.
Chapter 5
Chapter Notes
Hello readers~
Yes it's been a while, and I wanted to apologize for that. But I haven't given up on
this story, no worries. College as you know takes up my life during the semester. But
I've got some time now :)
Here's a short chapter but it's me trying to get back into it. More to come!
She did not know much about the acts she was committing. She was not experienced. She was
barely a young woman.
Yet, there was one thing she knew. Sansa was close.
Close to something, anyway. Her mind was empty.
All the pain had melted away; she knew it was in the back of her mind, yes. But she wanted to
keep living this moment, over and over until it became the only reality she knew.
The man at her lower half was a man she used to fear, used to turn away from his scarred face.
And now.
His tongue rubbed and sucked over and over, breathing seemingly unnecessary. Sandor held the
slim legs apart gently, his broad back bent lowly. He looked at the young woman below him, her
usual cerulean eyes now closed in ecstasy. Her entire beautiful body flushed in crimson.
The folds were becoming even more wet against his ongoing tongue.
Everything was what he wanted. Everything was what he needed and yearned for.
It happened in a second.
The cluster of noise from the window, a warning perhaps from the outside.
Sandor stopped his actions. His breath was in his throat.
He was moving like lighting.
It took a few seconds for Sansa to wake from her dreary state. Her eyes opened slowly, seeing
Sandor move deftly above her.
Panic started rising inside her. Something was wrong.
His armor was on quickly. The man moved silently, his eyes involuntary avoiding contact with the
young woman's.
"Si-...Sandor...?"
Her voice was meek, not knowing what she had done for him to stop, to want to leave so
suddenly.
And then she heard it, also. The clutter of armor from down the Keep.
She did not know if it was coming closer or not, yet her heart was already beating madly.
She fell into the bed. It mainly smelled like it usually did, fresh and with a hint of citrus and
lavender.
Yet, there it was. He was there, among the softness and sweetness. She could smell it, as the tears
fell silently into the sheets.
She did not think she would ever be truly happy again.
Chapter 6
Chapter Notes
Hello readers~
It has been quite a while since my last update, and I apologize for that. College does
that a lot, but summer vacation is ahead! I'll try updating way more frequently now.
Thanks to all the comments and kudos on this fic; really appreciate any feedback.
Here's a new chapter; I'm trying to get back into this fic so I might be rusty. More to
come tho.
Let me know what you think?
<3
Three weeks passed painfully. They were slow, like rain falling on a scorching day, waiting for
the air to cool slowly. It was more than painful, it made Sansa anxious of every step heard, of
every whisper.
Perhaps the Keep had found out about the Hound and the Stark girl, a strange and rather
gruesome sight. A rough example of a knight and a hated princess? A jest, a terrible rumor.
But the weeks passed. Sansa was treated normally, with passing, apathetic glances. The maids
brought her meals, a few bored knights stood guard at the bottom of the serpentine steps every
night.
However, no word from Sandor.
She had seen him, once, guarding the king. He hadn't even looked at her.
Another day passed for Stark girl, quiet days in her thoughts. The tired, uncaring side of the young
woman once again took over. Another day looking out over Kings landing with small interest.
The city seemed slightly more peaceful. Joffrey and his men were visiting Dorne, mostly an
attempt of intimidation on his part.
Sansa was thankful for this. She had some time to breath, and her skin had time to heal.
Though she was not afraid of him any longer, Sansa much rather not go through another of
Joffreys tantrums.
But heart was heavy. She missed Him. She was truly missing him.
At night, as she thought of the Hound, the air around her became warm. Her skin was prickling in
anticipation. But no touch came, no strong, scent of a man filled her nostrils.
Sansa found her hands crawling toward the inside of her soft thighs. She touched herself, but it
was not the same. It felt dull, as if she was trying to fill the emptiness with an inexperienced
caress.
She missed him.
Not just that , her body answered. She longed for him.
Yet, if he died, if he was killed in battle or perhaps, if he disappeared forever ....would she mourn
him? Would she shed tears again for the only man who protected her in Kings Landing?
Sansa did not know if she had many tears left.
She decided to leave some, just for Him.
...
The night was falling. The Keep was ablaze, mostly because of the Kings return. No one really
wanted him to return, but this meant his constant guards could have a gleeful night among the
city's streets, doing what they will.
Sansa had gone to bed, or better put, awake for hours staring at a passing dark cloud or perhaps a
flower that grew on the veranda. Her hands were playing absentmindedly with a piece of her
nightgown, lace intertwining through her delicate fingers. Her bright eyes danced with the light of
the candle on the wooden table.
The night was warm, but tonight, she felt utterly cold. Would this feeling go away? Or would it
get worse, if she saw him again?
Her beautiful face flinched, a crease in her brow.
Perhaps she had been wrong, perhaps the small amount of hope that he had given her was a lie.
Pretty little bird, a pretty, foolish bird.
This was punishment. She had let down her guard, the defense she had built in years. She
deserved the disappointment.
She desBut there it was. A faint noise at the door. Her eyes found the door, waiting, her lips in a perfect
oval. A mere faint clink of armor, there, at the door.
It was gone quickly, but Sansa had heard it. She was not imagining things, was she?
The young woman ran toward the door, careful not to make any sounds of her own.
She placed her ear against the wood. Silence.
A few moments passed. The urge to open the door was too great.
She unlatched the opening as quietly as she could.
The serpentine steps were empty.
The pit in her stomach burned painfully.
As she closed the door, Sansa caught something on the edge of vision.
A piece of cloth had been placed down on the first step, seemingly ripped off of a larger dirty
mantle or cloak. Sansa took a few steps towards the strange,little object.
As she looked down upon it, a sense of nostalgia flooded her being.
It had been carefully shaped into what looked like flower.
Sansa picked it up with the utmost care. She felt like a child again, dreaming of such gifts of
sweetness, of innocence and love. They seemed liked so long ago.
This was unlike him. This was not like the evil world she lived in.
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