Warnings: Language. Mere suggestion of smut. Death and blood.

Sandor eyed Cersei's new protector with suspicion; he, like everyone else knew of the woman's reputation. Taken at birth by an ancient order, trained to kill from the day she could swing a sword, she could take a life as easy as breathing. Sandor had no idea how Cersei had been able to acquire her services; the assassins were known to have only one master and that was the order, but he knew how persuasive the Queen regent could be and how much gold talked, even to a group such as the order.

The woman reputation proceeded her throughout the Seven Kingdoms, it wasn't known how many she had killed, and the stories that were circling King's Landing varied depending on who you were talking to. It also wasn't known what the woman under the screaming skull helmet looked like, as anyone that might possibly have seen her features was probably slaughtered afterwards. Rumours had it that the face underneath the mask was horribly disfigured, scarred and terrifying to see; but Sandor knew that rumours were one thing, and the truth was usually completely different.

As Sandor looked on, it was more than obvious that Cersei was happy with the warrior that stood rigidly behind her. If Cersei's own reputation wasn't fearsome enough, now with the assassin by her side, everyone now knew not to mess with the Queen.

Sandor had first seen the assassin not by the Queen's side but in the practice ring; he'd watched on silently as she fought some of the strongest and most skilled men that the Kings guard had to offer. Her every movement was perfect, so well ingrained that it was as natural as breathing; she looked as though she was dancing on air as she moved, her weapon an extension of her arm, as much a part of her as her own limb. He couldn't help but find himself smiling as each man fell to their knees, blood flowing from their broken noses, others on their back's unconscious. He had walked down to the ring as the practice had finished noting that the woman was breathing evenly and steady, after such a fight any normal person would be breathing heavily, trying to calm their burning muscles; even he himself would have been gasping for breath, but here was this smaller woman looking as though she had done nothing more strenuous than go for a walk in the gardens.

Leaning against the wall he tried to get her attention.

"Ya fight well for a woman." Sandor said, his lips forming into a smirk.

She said nothing, just continuing to wipe blood and sweat from her hands and the handle of the sword. Sandor beginning to grow irritated by the woman ignoring him.

"Oi, don't ya ignore me woman." Sandor said angrily.

The woman simply sighed, throwing the bloody cloth onto the table as she walked past Sandor and exited the ring, pushing into him as she passed.

Sandor turned around and grabbed the woman by the wrist, feeling her muscles tense under his grip. "Who the fuck do ya think ya are woman? Ya think ya betta than me? Ya as much of a dog as I am." He grunted, gripping onto her tighter.

The woman spun around, and all Sandor could see was a pair of perfect vivid eyes staring out from behind the blackness of her mask, he felt himself lost momentarily, his grip around her wrist loosening.

"DON'T. YOU. EVER. TOUCH. ME. AGAIN." She almost roared, as she tore her arm away from his hand.

Recovering himself, Sandor reached down to his sword only to find a blade pointed right at his throat. "If you even think about drawing your blade on me again, I will take great delight in making the left side of your face as pretty as your right." The woman said, digging the blade further into his fresh.

"STOP!" The sound of the voice causing both the warriors to look up. The Queen's eyes angrily looked down at the pair.

"Your duties are to protect my son and myself, not stand out here like two drunken commoners threatening to kill one another." Cersei yelled.

"Assassin, you will come with me, I have a job for you." The woman dropped the blade from Sandor's throat, and bowed to the Queen.

She took one final look at the Hound. "You and I still have things to settle. Don't go getting yourself hurt before I can kill you." The woman ordered as she walked off to find the Queen regent.

                                                              >>--------------------------------<<

That first meeting had been many moons ago now; after that the two actively tried to avoid one another, but when they did meet their arguments were the stuff of legend, usually ending up with one or both of them threatening to kill the other.

Once again Sandor found himself back at the practice ring watching on as the assassin made the King's guard look like untrained children.

Joffrey scoffed. "These fools are useless, beaten by a woman; how can they call themselves my guards if they can't beat a simple woman?"

Sandor just looked down at the idiot child that dared call himself a king, inwardly he shook his head. Surely not even Joffrey could be foolish enough to think that this was just some simple woman off the streets of the capital. He couldn't be deaf to the rumours that circulated around the palace about the assassin, about his own mother's gushing compliments for the woman that protected her. Sandor knew deep down that if the woman wanted them dead, they would all be in the cold hard ground by now and her heart wouldn't even miss a beat, presuming the assassin had a heart that was.

"Get in there dog and show this upstart of a woman how a real man fights." Joffrey ordered staring up at the big man.

"But your Grace, the assassin is ya mother's guard, she won't be pleased if I hurt er." Sandor tried to explain.

"I don't care, you take my orders not my mother's; I want you to teach her a lesson with real swords not practice ones." Joffrey commanded.

Sandor made his way into the practice ring, pushing past the injured Kings guard. "You and me woman, we're fighting. Now!"

The assassin crossed her arms over her chest. "Come to be embarrassed like the rest of these men have you dog? And the Queen has already made it more than clear that you and I are not to fight, so unless you want to go against her orders I'd turn yourself around and go back where you came from before I make a fool of you in front of everyone."

Sandor huffed and walked over to the woman, two swords in his hand. He stood directly in front of her, his form towering over hers. "The king has ordered that we fight." Sandor said pushing one of the swords into her hand.

"I don't take orders from that little shit." She said dropping the sword on the floor.

"Fuck woman, you've been after killing me since we first met, and now I'm giving you the opportunity ya not gonna take it. Now pick up the sword and fight or that little shit will probably have both our heads on spikes."

The assassin glared up at the king, seeing the evil grin that played on his lips. With a sigh she bent over picking up the sword in one hand and some sand from the floor in the other, glancing up briefly to make sure that Sandor didn't see.

"Well, we seem to have drawn a crowd." The woman said as she looked at the throng that seemed to have formed to watch what would happen.

"I think we should have a bet." The woman said as she looked up at the big man.

Sandor grumbled. "Wat ya talkin about now woman?"

"Its quite simple, if I beat you, you owe me something; if you beat me, I owe you something." Sandor was sure that he could hear the smirk in her voice.

Sandor thought for a moment before an idea came into his head. "Aye, ya on. May the best man win."

"Don't worry I will." She said as she took her stance.

As the fight started Sandor was blinded as the woman threw the sand into his face. As he tried to get the grit out of his eyes, he felt himself struck by the flat of her blade.

"Are you beaten so easily big man? Brought down by a handful of sand, I could have killed you several times over already."

Sandor growled. "Ya cheated."

He heard her laugh as his eyesight slowly came back to normal. "It's not cheating, I am merely using the surroundings to my advantage; you'd know that if you had been trained properly."

Sandor rushed forward as the sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air, the eyes of the crowd never leaving the pair as the assassin dodged every swing of Sandor's sword. Whatever the assassin lacked in size and strength she made up for in speed and agility; Sandor was becoming more and more frustrated; catching her was like trying to catch lightening with his hands.

He let out a roar as the flat of his sword hit the side of her helm, knocking it from her head and her to the floor, the crowd let out a gasp as Sandor brought up his sword to strike. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the face of the woman before him; she was younger than he had expected, her midnight black short hair was in contrast to her smooth alabaster skin. To say she was beautiful would be the ultimate understatement; Sandor's eyes stared into hers, his world stopped as the only thing he could think of was sweeping her up in his arms and taking her away from the prying eyes of the mob. Before he could move, she swung out her legs, knocking his from underneath him making him drop on to his back, his sword flying from his hand. She sprang to her feet and clutching her sword in her hand she pointed it at his throat.

"It looks like I win! You should never let an opponent distract you Sandor, that is how you lose your head."

With that she threw her sword to the side, picking up her helmet she placed it back over her head and walked out of the ring.

                                                             >>----------------------------------<<

Sandor had been pacing outside the woman's chamber for what seemed like hours, after what had happened, he had to speak to her. How could he be like this? The look of a pretty face had never made him feel like this before; he had only seen her for a few brief moments and here he was, his stomach in knots and his palms sweating.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. He heard a rush of activity behind the closed door before it slowly creaked open revealing the masked assassin.

"Fuck off!" She said as she tried to shut the door, only for it to be blocked by his foot.

He could hear her take a deep breath, and sigh heavily.

"What do you want Clegane?"

"I've come ta make sure ya alright, and I still owe you for the bet."

"You don't owe me anything, just leave me alone." She said before she stomped on his foot heavily and slammed the door.

Sandor hopped on one foot holding the other she just stood on. 'Damn stubborn woman's gonna be the death of me,' he thought to himself.

This time he hammered on the door, the wood looking as though it would splinted with every fist fall.

"WHAT!" She growled as she threw open the door.

Sandor took the opportunity and pushed his way into her chamber. The room was as unostentatious as his, no fancy frippery just a simple warm and cosy room with furs on the bed, and a glowing fire in the hearth. He could see that it suited her, despite the armour and helm she wore, everything else about her always seemed simple and understated, the sort of woman that in different circumstances would probably melt into the background; but maybe that's what made her so good at her job, the fact that she could be anyone and anywhere and no one would notice.

Sandor poured himself a goblet of wine and slumped down in one of the chairs next to the fire.

"Make yourself at home why don't you." The assassin hissed as she poured herself some wine and sat in the seat opposite him.

"Ya can take off the helmet ya know, its not like I ain't seen ya face now." Sandor said, with an air of hope in his voice. He wanted to see that face one more time, be able to study it in greater detail than he had before.

He watched as she thought, he could see the tension in her shoulders grow at the idea of removing one of the walls that protected her. With a heavy sigh her hands reached up and slowly took off her helm. Once again Sandor felt stunned to silence as a fringe of jet-black hair fell over her features, slowly she raised her head, and her beautiful eyes met his.

"Ya a damn fine looking woman under that mask ya know?" Sandor said after regaining his composure.

"Does that pass as a compliment where you come from? Because I can assure you that it will take more than that to get into my pants Sandor." She said and brought the goblet up to her lips and drank, a wicked sparkle dancing in her eyes.

Sandor spluttered nearly choking on his wine; he hadn't expected to get that kind of response, but he had to admit to himself that the idea of seeing what was under the tight material that clung to her body was making his cock hard.

"So, what kind of compliment would it take?" Sandor asked, looking over the rim of his goblet.

The woman laughed, and Sandor found himself intoxicated by the sound.

She rose from her seat, placing her goblet on the table before she walked over to him, placing her hands on the arms of his chair.

"Tell me that I'm a better fighter than the great and feared Sandor Clegane." She said seductively as she leaned in closer, their lips only inches apart.

Sandor jumped slightly as he felt one of her hands on his thigh, his cock twitching as her fingers crept closer to his crotch.

"You're better." He said, gulping as her hand finally began rubbing against his throbbing manhood.

Smiling, she sat down, straddling his lap.

"Tell me that again, then take me to bed." She hummed into his ear, her teeth grazing over his earlobe.

Sandor growled, as he stood up holding her in his arms, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

"You're better." He said again, as he threw her on to the bed.

                                                        >>----------------------------------------<<

Sandor didn't know what time it was as his eyes fluttered open; but the only light in the room was the glow from the dying embers of the fire. He was warm and comfortable, not because of the furs that covered him but because of the body curled up next to him. He chuckled to himself as she stirred in her sleep, her arm gripping tighter around his waist, her head nuzzling deeper into his chest.

He couldn't help but muse over his current situation; the most feared assassin in the Seven Kingdoms had gone from wanting to kill him to taking him to her bed. Everything felt so alien but still felt so right.

He was used to bedding whores, but once he had finished fucking them, they were off not wanting to be near the scarred man, and anything they ever did was only for the coin in his pockets; the woman next to him was different, she was not afraid of him, she didn't judge him for his past or the marks on his skin. She challenged him, fought with him tooth and nail, yet here she was holding onto him tightly and had asked for nothing in return but still giving him her all.

"I can hear you thinking." A warm tired voice said softly, cutting through the silence of the room.

"I bet you didn't think I could." Sandor scoffed as she raised her hand and put it on his face, rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone.

She let out a quiet chuckle as she pulled herself up the bed so that she could rest her forehead on his.

"You know you still owe me for our bet don't you."

Sandor pulled her over so that her body was on top of his.

"And what would ya be wanting?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as a smirk spread across her lips.

She leant down and whispered in his ear, causing a deep rumbling laugh to fill the chamber.

"If I'd have known that ya wanted that I'd a lost on purpose."

Instantly she had been spun around so that her stomach was on the mattress, with Sandor behind her. She felt his fingers grip into her flesh as he pulled her backside up into the air.

"I ain't gonna be gentle." He growled out as he lined himself up.

"I was hoping you wouldn't be." She purred as he pushed himself into her.

                                                           >>--------------------------------<<

Sandor waited at the usual spot in the garden, not much longer and the Queen would dismiss her, and she would be there. He was surprised that their relationship had managed to remain a secret for as long as it had; not that anyone would believe that the Hound would ever have a woman that loved him, and were even less likely to believe that that woman would be the Queen regents assassin.

As far as the rest of the court were concerned the pair still had nothing but disdain for one another; she still took great delight in disagreeing with him, and the ferocity of their fights in the practice ring always drew a curious crowd. But away from prying eyes the two would exchange wanton glances, her hand would brush against his as they passed in the halls, and their nights would be spent in one another's arms, bodies entwined in a loving embrace.

Sandor felt an arm slowly slither over his shoulder, and a pair of soft lips caress his scarred cheek.

"Hello, my love, fancy meeting you here."

He took her hand and pulled her round so she sat on his lap.

"How did I get so lucky?" He said softly as his head rested on her shoulder. If anyone saw the exchange, they wouldn't believe it, Sandor Clegane, the Hound, the feared scarred man, had a gentle heart.

"Because under all that bluff and gruff you are a good man, a moral man with a big heart, and you deserve to be loved no matter what you think." She said as she combed her fingers through his hair.

"Ya know if the King or his mother find out about us, we'll probably lose our heads?" Sandor said, his grip around her waist getting tighter.

She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Let them try love, let them try."

                                                    >>------------------------------------------<<

Sandor watched as the assassin stood behind the cowering man; he had been beaten and tortured for weeks by the King's guards for a crime that everyone in the court knew he was innocent of.

"Assassin, get that scum to his feet." The Queen regent ordered; her eyes fixed on the poor creature on the floor.

Sandor saw his woman hesitate; it was the first time that he had ever witnessed such a thing in her; he could see the brief glint of her eyes as she looked towards him. Slowly and almost reluctantly she reached down, grabbing the sobbing man by the throat and pulling him to his feet.

"You have confessed to the offence of treason, attempting to overthrow your King is a crime punishable by death. Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?" Cersei's eyes glowed with rage as she waited for the man to dare to speak, to dare contradict her.

Feebly the poor man shook his head.

"Good. Assassin, you may carry out the sentence." Cersei said nonchalantly.

Slowly the assassin pulled a dagger from her belt and placed it to the throat of the man.

"I'm sorry, I know your innocent." She whispered in the condemned man's ear.

"Thank you." Was all she heard in reply as she quickly pulled the blade across his throat and the body fell to the floor, crimson pooling around the lifeless form.

Sandor watched as she stood over the dead man, an uneasiness settling in his stomach; he may not be an expert on women, but he was an expert on death, and he could tell that this one didn't sit well with the assassin.

She had said nothing at all the rest of that day, there were no fleeting glances, no discrete touches and now she had not turned up in the gardens. Sandor made his way to her chamber concerned at what he might find; his worry only heightened when he found the door to her room ajar.

He pushed his way in, hand on sword ready to face anything that may meet him; but there was one thing that he could not be prepared for and that was his woman in tears. Her helmet and armour had been thrown against the wall, and she sat with her head in her hands sobbing quietly, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Sandor was good at many things but knowing how to comfort a woman was not one of them, and what made it worse was that the woman crying was his.

"Lass, what's wrong with ya."

"There is no honour in what I did today." She said, her voice muffled by her hands.

When Sandor didn't speak, she looked up. He was shocked to see vulnerability in her face, a softness that he had never seen before.

"When I was an assassin, I had honour, I was respected by the others and by the order. I was feared for what I could do, but none of the things I did were without good reason, my victims had been judged wicked, the crimes they committed warranted their deaths; but that man today was innocent, and everyone knows it. There was no honour in what I did today, I no longer have the right to call myself an assassin, I am nothing more than a common murderer."

Sandor knelt down, taking one of her tear soaked hands in his. "Ya not a murderer, ya did what ya had ta do. If ya hadn't obeyed Cersei's order it would probably have you been dead on that floor. Self-preservation isn't a crime, and it doesn't mean that ya any less than ya were before."

Sandor could feel a slight tremble in her hand as her grip became a little tighter.

"Sandor. I want to leave, I don't want to be in Kings Landing anymore, I don't want to protect that bitch anymore. I want to do something honourable again, something worthwhile, and I want to do it with you by my side." Her eyes stared into his, hoping beyond hope that he would go with her.

"But where would we go? They will probably send people after us if we left." Sandor said, as he moved to sit next to her.

"I don't care where we go Sandor; anywhere is better than here, better than this life. And I don't care if they send people after us, let them; as long as we are together that's all that's important."

Sandor had to admit that he had had enough of protecting a snivelling little brat like Joffrey; the so called king was a coward, a bully, and not in his right mind, twisted beyond belief. He never agreed with Joffrey and had regretted most things that he had been made to do, even though he'd never show it; and his woman was right, there was no honour in what he, they, were doing.

Sandor rose suddenly to his feet, pulling the assassin into his arms. "Get whatever ya need lass, if we are gonna do this we do it now."

"I don't need anything other than you love, I'm an assassin, I travel light." She said as she pulled him down, her lips meeting his.

                                                            >>-------------------------------------<<

The night was the blackest it had ever been as a black stallion with a large hound and a smaller assassin atop its back rode out of Kings Landing. Neither rider knew where they were going, or what they would do, but wherever it was and whatever it was, as long as the two were together they would face the future with honour.