A/N: Good evening. This piece here marks the beginning of a series of SanSan one-shots, not called the Hound and the Little Bird. Nothing against that title, it's just been a little overused. So anyway, this one is a medieval AU, in some unnamed kingdom, at a masquerade ball. Because it's an AU, I took a few liberties with this particular version of Sandor and Sansa. He's less of a grump and she's a little more feisty. I hope that doesn't bother anyone. Thank you to my sister GrowlingPeanut, for playing jaunty medieval music for inspiration while I wrote this. I will take requests by review or PM if you feel so inclined.

Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire and its characters belong to George R. R. Martin, not me.

The masquerade ball was being held in honor of Joffrey Baratheon's eighteenth nameday. As the heir to the throne of most of the country's southern provinces, it was a large and well-attended affair. At the request of his mother, every eligible young woman in the neighboring kingdoms had been invited and at the end of the night, a proposal would be announced, much to the delight of the flamboyant and gaudily dressed guests.

As rich imported wine was served to the hundreds of eager subjects, Joffrey sat at the head of the table, his posture belying the boredom that his golden lion mask concealed. His father sat to his right, finishing his third goblet of wine and pouring a fourth. His mother stood proudly to his left, raising her glass in a toast.

"To my son, Joffrey Baratheon, the future king!"

"To the king!" Came the echoing roar of approval as scores of ornate goblets were lifted to painted lips of every color.

And with that, the festivities began.

Sansa Stark stood quietly at the back of crowd, sipping her wine and peering at the tittering young women around her from behind her jeweled bird mask. It seemed that the ladies of the neighboring kingdoms had chosen to ignore Joffrey's penchant for beating his whores.

With a toast from the queen and a cheer from the crowd, the dancing and drinking began, both in equal measure.

Determined to enjoy her evening as much as she could before it was her turn with the prince, she set aside her wine and twirled happily into a crowd of dancers, laughing as her thick woolen skirt brushed against her bare ankles. Heaven forbid Catelyn find out that she had foregone stockings for the long night of dancing.

As she moved her feet to the music, people paused to watch, impressed by the talent of the young Northerner. She had always enjoyed the modest balls that her father had held at their keep and as such had learned a variety of complex dances that never failed to draw attention.

It wasn't long before a pale, well-manicured hand extended in her direction and she raised her gaze to meet the glittering emerald eyes behind the fearsome lion mask. "May I have this dance, my lady?" Flushed and breathless, she managed a nod and took his hand, gasping as he pulled her tightly against his slender frame.

"Might I have the honor of your name, my lady?" He was charming, she could give him that.

"Sansa Stark."

Joffrey's thin eyebrows emerged from beneath the mask. "Ah. Lady Sansa. Eldest daughter of Eddard Stark, warden of the North. Tales of your beauty have reached as far as the Southern Isles, my lady. I'm eager to see if they are true." His hand moved past the small of her back and Sansa yanked it back to her waist with an unladylike huff that would've made her sister proud.

"With all due respect, your highness," she managed through her grimace, "I'm sure there are ladies here far more beautiful than I. Surely they are more worthy of your attention."

The implication of her words did not escape his notice and his grip on her tightened for a moment before he relaxed and smiled charmingly, a dangerous glint in his eyes betraying his true thoughts. "If you say so, my lady." Gratefully, she moved to pull away, and he whispered lowly beside her ear as she escaped his grip. "I won't forget that, Lady Stark. I enjoy it when they fight back."

Her stomach soured at the threat and she turned swiftly, disappearing into a crowd of dancers to avoid the prince. Perhaps that hadn't been her wisest decision.

She sighed and began making her way back to her wine glass when a deep voice made her falter. "I wouldn't if I were you, milady. One of his highness' men slipped something in it while you were dancing."

Eyes wide, she turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a full-face snarling dog mask leaning casually against the nearby wall, drinking heartily from a wine goblet.

"My lord, I—"

"Not a lord."

She frowned and began again. "Ser—"

She could almost see his scowl. "Not a knight either. Just Hound will do." He bowed at the waist then straightened up and belched loudly as he finished his wine. Sansa wrinkled her nose and averted her gaze, making him chuckle darkly. "What's a pretty little bird like you doing here amongst all these…" His steely gray eyes scanned the crowd with evident disdain. "Peacocks?"

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "The same thing that a dog is amongst the lions and wolves I suppose," she countered, "trying to avoid notice."

He seemed to be enjoying their easy banter, his lips curving into a smirk beneath the ebony snout. "What, haven't you heard? Joffrey Baratheon is the most handsome and charming man in the kingdoms."

Sansa couldn't help the unattractive snort that his jest incited, and he laughed loudly in response. Shaking her head, she laughed with him before holding out a hand. "A dance, ser?"

An eyebrow rose, but he took the extended hand and led her back into the crowd nonetheless. "Have I been knighted in the course of our conversation, little bird?" He sounded less irritated at the mistake this time; merely reinforcing his earlier statement.

She ignored him, flushing beneath the high collar of her dress as he took her in his strong arms and moved clumsily to the music. After the third time stepping on her foot, he cleared his throat and pulled away, murmuring his apologies. "I'm not much of a dancer, milady. Perhaps you should find a partner more suited to your skills."

Smiling gently, she took his hand again and guided him in amongst a mass of sweaty drunken guests. "Nonsense. Just let me lead."

He acquiesced silently as Sansa covertly glanced to where Joffrey was dancing nearby, his grip far below the proper level on his partner's hips. Of course, the young lady's elaborately decorated gown practically left her breasts exposed to his hungry gaze and did little to dissuade the roaming of his hands. As though aware of her gaze, Joffrey's eyes shifted and then narrowed when they met hers, a sly smirk gracing his thin lips as he admired her figure. It was obvious that her rudeness hadn't put him off as much as she had hoped. If anything, her resistance had made her even more alluring.

Disgusted, Sansa shifted so that her mysterious companion was between them and flashed him a grateful smile when he nodded in understanding and subtly tightened his hold on her waist.

As the festivities continued, the sun sank down below the horizon, and the wine flowed freely. The tempo of the music increased and Sansa found herself on display once again as she flawlessly executed a stunning display of speed and agility, her delicate feet moving swiftly to keep up as she lifted her skirts and whirled about, laughing gaily at the looks of surprise and delight on her observer's masked faces.

When the musicians finally slowed to rest their calloused fingers, she staggered, dizzy, into the waiting arms of the tall, masked stranger. He caught her willingly and bent down to her ear when she squirmed breathlessly in his steadying grip. "Is it just me, or are your legs bare beneath that dress, little bird?"

Flushing a deep red in embarrassment, she met his gaze, startled by the intensity that she found there, her chagrin quickly fading as it was replaced with a feeling she didn't quite recognize.

His hands fell slowly to rest on the curve of her hips and he studied her in silence for a moment before tilting his head slightly and leaning almost imperceptibly towards her. Her heart fluttered and for a moment, she thought that he meant to kiss her, but before he could do so, or anything else, the delicate clink of a silver utensil on spun glass broke them apart.

His breathing seemed labored as he turned to face Cersei Lannister and Sansa tried desperately to quash the sensation that was bubbling in her stomach.

"As you know," the queen began, smiling widely beneath the curve of her golden mask, "Tonight is Prince Joffrey's eighteenth nameday, and as such, tonight is the night that he will choose our future queen." She paused for applause and the drunken revelers did not disappoint. Her smile growing, she cast a look of adoration at her eldest son and raised a slender eyebrow. "Joffrey?"

The prince stepped forward, blocking his mother from view, and cast a brilliant smile out over the crowd as he removed his mask. An awed gasp followed the unveiling of his sculpted features and he basked in the admiration for a moment before letting his gaze fall to the group of young women huddled together before him, whispering nervously amongst themselves.

"What my mother says is true," he conceded, his smile softening in mock sympathy at the sight of their anxiety. "All of the ladies present tonight are here for a reason, and never before have I had the honor of being in the presence of such beauty." A collective sigh followed his flattering admission and even Sansa couldn't help the short surge of pride that bloomed in her breast.

Beside her, the hound grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"My chosen bride is a particular beauty amongst these jewels, a woman known across the land for her grace and poise as well as her fairness."

His eyes were searching the crowd, and a slight frown tugged at his lips as he appeared unable to find the woman in mention. Before Sansa could think to realize that she was the only one standing away from the other ladies, her partner for the evening had his hand at her elbow and his mouth at her ear.

"Say the word and we can be gone, little bird. You'll never have to see the bastard again. I can have you safely back with your family before he can find you."

Her heart leapt to her throat as she realized what was about to happen and she looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. "How? If he wants me, he won't stop at my father's walls."

He shielded her with his massive frame as Joffrey stalled and knelt before her, tilting her chin so she could meet his gaze. "I have an idea, but only if you're willing. There is a way to ensure that you aren't his bride..."

Her eyes widened in realization. Of course. But only if she was betrothed to another before he reached the Stark keep. Her heart pounding in her chest, she carefully removed her mask and gave him a nervous smile. "Can I at least know your name first?"

At that, he laughed, his half-burnt lips curving into an amused smile as his disguise fell discarded to the ballroom floor. "Clegane. Sandor Clegane."