"Why?" Robert asked, narrowing his eyes at Renly. "Because we can, dear brother!" he replied with a smile. Robert wasn't impressed. "And because it's mine and Y/N's nameday." You rolled your eyes at Renly. He knew exactly how to convince Robert to do anything. Pull you into it. As the only Baratheon sister, you were beloved and protected by all your brothers. They even called you and Renly "twins" even though you were taken in by the late Lord Baratheon as a young child and not his natural daughter. You and Renly had the same nameday.
"Fine, but I want no part in it," Robert decreed. Renly didn't seem to care as he beamed and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room. "Thank you, Robert," you called over your shoulder. People moved out of the way as you passed them, but you made a point to stop and smile at Sandor Clegane when he came into your line of sight.
You'd had a soft spot for the large man from the moment you'd met him. He was treated horribly by your nephew and not much better by your brother. You didn't think anyone should be subjected to that kind of treatment, so you always made sure to greet him with a friendly smile and talk to him whenever you had a chance. It had taken a while, but over time, he had eventually opened up to you, making your feelings for him change from those of friendship to something more. Little did you know, he felt the same way.
"What was Uncle so excited about, Father?" Joffrey asked as he approached the throne with Sandor at his heels, as always. "He's throwing a ball for his and your aunt's nameday celebration. A grand affair if he had anything to say about it. Everyone will be invited. That includes you, Clegane."
Sandor's brows furrowed. A ball? A ball he was actually invited to? Normally, Sandor didn't care much about those things, but this was a ball for you. You, with your kind eyes, gentle smile, and fierce personality. You, who made Sandor a flustered mess whenever you spoke to him. He hid it well, but he was enchanted by you. One moment, you were this sweet and proper young lady and the next, you were ready to jump right into the middle of scuffle to protect those you cared about.
It was safe to say that Sandor Clegane was a man in love. He would never admit it. No lady would ever want to be with him, no matter how kind and friendly she was. But that didn't keep Sandor from holding onto the tiny bit of hope you instilled in him when you sat and talked with him when no one else would or when you left small touches to his arms as you passed by him. Memories of those strengthened his resolve. He had never been a coward and he wasn't about to start now. He was going to ask to escort you to your ball.
Once Sandor had been relieved of his duties for the day, he found himself outside your chamber door. He knew he should have waited until the morning, when it would be more proper, but he didn't want to be around others if you rejected him. Raising a hand, he knocked quickly on the door, opening it when he heard your voice bidding him to enter.
"Oh, Sandor!" you exclaimed and Sandor was hopeful at the tone of your voice, "What can I do for you?" You stood from your chair and approached him slowly, as one would a frightened animal. Sandor looked into your (e/c) eyes and, before he could form the words properly, he barked out, "Go to the ball with me!"
You jumped a little, but cocked your head to the side. "Excuse me?" Sandor took a deep breath and tried again. "Allow me to escort you to the ball...please." You let a small smile form on your lips as Sandor continued, if only to try and save face. He didn't handle being embarrassed very well and he didn't want you to be on the wrong end of his temper. "As your guard for the evening," he finished and your smile fell.
"No." That was it. That one little word falling from your lips sounded so curt. So final. Sandor had been expecting it, but he hadn't been expecting it to hurt quite so much. "I want you at the ball, Sandor, but not as my guard. No. I will only accept your offer if you agree to escort me as my-" you paused for a moment to consider your next words before continuing on, "As my companion. Don't you know by now that you mean so much more to me than a sworn shield?"
Sandor was reeling now. You wanted his company? You wanted to be his friend. His companion. Even if that wasn't all Sandor hoped for from you, it was better than the rejection that he was waiting for. Before he could reply, however, you spoke again. "You mean more to me than even a friend," you said softly, avoiding his gaze now, "I think I love you, Sandor."
You let your eyes come back to his as you gave him a shaky smile. "It's alright. I don't expect you to say it. Nor do I expect your invitation to escort me to the ball still stands now that you know." You turned to walk away, but he caught your arm gently. "It still stands," he muttered and you gently reached up and gave his arm a squeeze. "Then, I accept."
On the night of the ball, you walked on Sandor's arm. Jaws dropped and tongues began wagging, as they often did. But Sandor couldn't have cared less. He had you with him. He loved you and you loved him and nothing anyone said or did was going to change that for him.