Chapter Text
Sansa was annoyed and, at the same time, angry with herself.
She couldn’t understand how she’d managed to get herself into such an awkward situation after everything that had happened to her with Joff.
Some days earlier
She’d graduated from the University of King’s Landing with a degree in Fine Arts, and, thanks to the connections of her father’s friend, Robert Baratheon, she’d landed a job at the capital’s Museum of Contemporary Art as a consultant – which wasn’t a bad start to her career at all.
Her university friend, the charming Margaery Tyrell, had invited her to spend a few days at Highgarden, but Sansa decided to leave it for later.
She had sensed the interest shown by Willas, Margaery’s brother, whom she had met at the farewell ball. But she wasn’t particularly interested in Willas, however well-mannered the young man might be, and so she told Marge she would come and visit her a little later, towards the end of summer.
She didn’t want any serious relationship for the time being, after what had happened in early spring.
She had been seeing Joff for a while, the son of Robert Baratheon and his wife, Cersei, known as the Golden Lioness of the West, daughter of the famous and ruthless billionaire, Lord Tywin Lannister, who, according to rumours in certain high-society circles, was a shadow adviser to the government, highly influential thanks to his immense fortune.
Despite warnings from Marge and other friends, such as Jeyne Poole, and her family’s disapproval, she continued to see Joff, even though on some occasions he had been rude and even somewhat violent if something wasn’t to his liking.
But the last time was the last straw.
They went to his family’s country house to spend the weekend, when Joff became really violent.
They were sitting on the terrace having a drink when Joffrey, already half-drunk, started taking off his trousers.
“Stop being such a prude, Sansa, and do for me what so many girls do for their boyfriends!”
With a twisted smile, he pulled down his red silk underpants, took out his cock and, without further ado, grabbed Sansa by the arm, throwing her onto the carpet in front of him.
“Put that pretty little mouth to work. It’s about time you taste my cock!”
Sansa, outraged, tried to get up, but Joff yanked her hair with surprising force.
Alarmed, Sansa let out a shriek and pushed Joffrey, who, in turn, grabbed her and tore her dress.
Things could have turned very ugly, but, luckily, Joffrey’s bodyguard, Sandor, came running and pulled her away from Joffrey, getting her out of there.
The two families decided to keep this awful incident under wraps, on condition that Joffrey attended a compulsory re-education programme for people with violent tendencies, to avoid being sent to prison, although his mother, Catelyn, doubted that it would do any good with someone like Joff.
However Sansa was devastated.
She spent over a week practically locked away in the attic her family owned in the city.
She then took a month’s holiday to which she was entitled, plus an additional month of her own accord, which was granted to her without any problem.
And she would still be withdrawn into herself were it not for Shae, Tyrion Lannister’s girlfriend, whom she had met on that fateful night, when, alerted by Sandor, Tyrion turned up at the mansion and took Sansa, who was in a state of shock, to his own residence outside the capital, where she was looked after by Shae, who helped her take a bath with aromatic salts to relieve the stress caused by Joffrey’s brutal behaviour.
A mutual liking developed between the two of them and they kept in touch.
As Sansa later learnt, Shae had previously been an exotic dancer, but, after meeting Tyrion—the rebellious son of Lord Tywin, who openly despised him—she gave up her profession and went to live with Tyrion, devoting herself to developing a range of exotic perfumes, which was going rather well for her.
Seeing Sansa so melancholy and withdrawn, one afternoon, whilst the two of them were in her penthouse, sitting on the balcony and watching the sun set over Blackwater Bay, Shae, after mixing a pina colada for herself and a cherry daiquiri for Sansa, murmured:
“You can’t go on like this any longer, Sansa!
You’ve got to get out and cheer yourself up!”
“I’m going out, I’m off to work!” Sansa protested.
“Well, I’m currently on holiday …”
“Yeah, right! A holiday where you’re practically shut away in your house!
Besides, from what you’ve told me, you spend most of your time buried in the museum’s archives!
That 's no life!”
“Well, for me it’s better than finding someone like Joffrey,” Sansa said, taking a sip of her cocktail, putting her feet up on the sofa she was sitting on and wrapping her arms round her knees.
Shae, picking up her own glass, lowered her voice:
“But you could try something different, for a change.”
“What are you on about?”
“Well… I know of an exclusive dating agency that organises meetings in complete secrecy.”
Sansa set her glass down on the polished tabletop:
“What do you mean by that? I don’t understand.”
“Well… you can only join that agency on the recommendation of someone important.
And then they arrange a date for you at an exclusive venue… in the dark, and in the morning you leave without ever seeing that person again, without even knowing who he was.”
“That sounds strange,” Sansa murmured.
“And what does ‘in the dark’ mean?”
“Well, that’s the most intriguing part of the whole encounter.
You fill in a form specifying your preferences, and they choose someone based on those preferences.
But in the dark.
You’ll only be able to see his silhouette.
But all these men - they are really important people”.
“And why on earth would anyone want to have a date like that?” Sansa still didn’t understand.
“Well… in our modern world, some people, fed up with everything, prefer to spend a night with someone… how shall I put it… on a blind date, but with certain safety measures in place.
And with no strings attached.
But it’s exciting… just one night… think about it…
There are people who do far stranger things.”
“And who would recommend me?”
“Who do you think?” Shae smirked.
“Tyrion, of course!”
“Of course!” Sansa laughed and thought she must have guessed right.
Tyrion had a reputation for visiting certain places of dubious reputation, at least until he met Shae.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Well, of course!” Shae laughed.
“I’ll send you a summary of how that agency works to your email.
Read it and think about it.”
~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~
Later, alone in her bed, Sansa read about that peculiar agency. At first it seemed silly to her, a bit over the top and nonsensical.
However, as the days went by, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head.
Another weekend, she met up with Margaery, who had invited her to a trendy restaurant.
After ordering some food, they filled their glasses with Arbour Gold and Sansa, despite having some reservations, tentatively asked Margaery:
“Hey, Marge, may I ask your opinion on something?”
“Of course, Sans!”
“You see, I… I was reading a book and there was this girl on a blind date with a man and…” – and Sansa told her the whole story, leaving out no detail.
Margaery, tasting the spicy chicken with rice brought to her by the waiter, looked curiously at her friend:
“What an interesting book you were reading! Can you tell me the title?
I’d love to read it too.”
Chiding herself for not having thought of an answer to such an obvious question beforehand, Sansa pretended to try to remember the book’s title and then attempted to give a more or less suitable answer:
“You see, Marg, I read that book a few weeks ago; someone lent it to me to read, but only for a short while, and, try as I might, I can’t quite remember the exact title now.
I think it was something like ‘Secret Love Affairs’
If you want, I could ask about the title.”
Margaery, with a knowing smile, waved her hand dismissively:
“Never mind, Sans!
But it sounds really exciting!
I’d have given it a go!
“And” - Marge winked at her,
I’d have put on something suggestive—it wouldn’t have mattered if it’d happened in the dark— a silk set with knickers, you know… the sort with a slit down the front. And an exotic perfume!
I’ve got one. If you’d like to try it…”
“Marge!” exclaimed Sansa.
“I was just telling you about a book and my thoughts on it!”
“And I was just talking about perfumes, that is all! Do you remember when you lent me yours that smelled of freesia?
Well, now I’ll return the favour.
It’s jasmine and roses from Dorne.”
Although she suddenly didn’t want to discuss the matter any further with Margaery – who turned out to be more astute – Sansa pretended to take an interest in perfume and steered the conversation towards the scents they both liked best, following on from the rose plantations of Highgarden and of Dorne, and which were best suited to perfume production.
Margaery, of course, praised her own, for which she was the representative.
In the end, after eating their dessert – flambéed cake – they said their goodbyes.
As it was a pleasant summer’s evening and the full moon was lighting up the gardens near the restaurant, Sansa decided to walk home, enjoying the cool night air.
A light breeze was blowing and Sansa ventured into the gardens that stretched along the Blackwater Bay promenade.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the arm and Sansa, startled, saw a tall, broad-shouldered and burly man, his face hidden by the hood of his tracksuit, who growled in a hoarse voice:
“What’s a girl like you doing wandering around these gardens at night? Don’t you know you could get mugged or something worse?”
Sansa shuddered, and as if summoned by the man’s words, two men with menacing looks appeared at the end of the alley.
One of them, a man with a thick black beard, shouted:
“Hey, Clegane! Leave that little chick to us! With that disfigured face of yours, all you can do is go and buy the cheapest whore at Chataya’s brothel!”
Stepping away from Sansa, the man whom the other had called Clegane urged her:
“Get out of here, quickly!”
Sansa wanted to run away, but her feet refused to move.
She watched in anguish as the man
drew a long knife and turned towards the other:
“Watch your step, Trant! Perhaps you’re the one who ought to go and find a whore, if Chataya’ll even let you in there after you broke one of her girls’ arms and split the other one's lip!”
Trant, furious, advanced towards Clegane, his companion following close behind:
“What did you say, Hound?”
At that moment the moon, breaking through the clouds, illuminated the face of the man they called Clegane – and Sansa recognised him – it was the very man who had rescued her from Joff - his bodyguard, Sandor Clegane.
Snapping out of her daze, Sansa was able to move, but instead of running, she hid behind the thick trunk of an oak tree and watched, alarmed, as the two men faced off against one another, with Sandor Clegane currently gaining the upper hand in that peculiar battle.
Suddenly, Sansa saw the other burly man draw a knife and approach from behind to stab Sandor in the back, and she shouted:
“Watch out!”
Sandor turned and struck the other man hard, knocking him to the ground:
“I see you are here, Blount! Son of bitch!”
However, Trant, who’d had a moment to catch his breath, delivered a hard blow to Sandor’s groin, causing him to cry out in pain.
Turning towards Sansa, Trant grinned, revealing yellowed teeth:
“Now I’ll have you all to myself, little chick!”
Sansa, terrified, tried to run away, when Trant caught up with her, grabbing her by the shoulder.
Desperate, Sansa tried to break free, but Trant shook her hard:
“Keep still, or it’ll be worse for you!”
At that moment, a tall man appeared at the end of the path, wearing a burgundy suede jacket, accompanied by several armed men.
“What’s going on here?!” he demanded in an authoritative voice.
Upon seeing the man, Trant reluctantly let go of Sansa and hurried back into the shade of the trees.
However, the man wasn’t going to make things easy for Trant and the other two and ordered the three of them to be arrested.
Approaching Sansa, he looked at her with his green eyes:
“Have they hurt you, young lady?”
“No! That man, Trant, tried to do something indecent and his… companion was going to help him, but the other one, Ser Clegane, defended me.”
“Very well”
Lifting her chin with a finger, the man looked at her intently:
“You shouldn’t be wandering about in such lonely places!”
Sansa shuddered and, at the same time, felt a strange attraction to this man, who possessed an aura of supreme authority, the air of a man who was accustomed to giving orders.
“Addam”—green eyed man shouted an order to one of his bodyguards,
“Escort the young lady home.”
Turning to the other man, he issued another order:
“And you, Jerrod, take those two to the police station, and the other one, Clegane, as well, as a witness.”
“Let’s go, young lady, I’ll take you home”—Ser Addam took her by the arm.
As they walked away, Sansa looked back to see the tall man disappearing at the end of the promenade and sighed.
When they finally reached the building where she lived, Sansa took her keys out of her handbag:
“Thank you for walking me home, Ser Addam.
Might I ask who your… boss is?”
Ser Addam, showing no surprise, replied laconically:
“Lord Tywin Lannister.”
Sansa couldn’t help but let out a startled:
“Lord Tywin?!”
Ser Addam nodded and, after wishing her a peaceful night, left.
Taking the lift up to the penthouse where she lived, Sansa tried to process the information but felt emotionally exhausted after everything that had happened.
After having a shower, she made herself a cup of linden blossom tea and, whilst scrolling through the latest news on her tablet, fell asleep.
The morning dawned cold and rainy.
After making a latte, Sansa sat on the balcony with her cup of coffee, watching the raindrops patter against the glass.
She didn’t feel like going anywhere, especially after what had happened the night before.
It occurred to her that she might be called in to give evidence at the police station, but she hoped Sandor Clegane’s testimony would be enough.
To take her mind off things, Sansa reread what Shae had sent her about that peculiar agency.
The more she thought about it while reading, the more appealing it became.
“Why not?” she asked herself.
“What did I have to lose?”
In the end, after a light breakfast, she called a taxi and set off for Shae and Tyrion’s home, which Tyrion had on the outskirts of King’s Landing – a lovely villa with a swimming pool, nestled amongst a pine forest.
Shae welcomed her with open arms and offered to make them both a drink, but Sansa said she had a headache and would prefer a cup of tea with milk.
They sat on the sofa in front of the lit fireplace, as it was rather chilly, and Sansa, after taking a painkiller for her headache, suddenly told Shae everything that had happened the previous day.
Shae, as always very emotional, muttered a few swear words.
“What did you say the man’s name was who tried to assault you? Trant? I think I know him.”
Just then they saw Tyrion appear; he was returning from meeting up with old university friends.
Spotting Sansa, he greeted her and kissed Shae, who hurried to pour him a glass of whisky and tonic, known for its peculiar flavour, imported from Bear Island.
Sitting in his favourite armchair, Tyrion listened to Sansa’s account with a sombre expression.
“That Trant is a bastard – pardon my language.
He was a member of the Kingsguard but was expelled after a few violent incidents, when he seriously injured several girls at Chataya.
I won’t go into the details, but it was truly disgusting.
And Blount is another degenerate – though not quite as bad as Trant – but he was also involved in various shady dealings and was expelled as well.
From what I’ve heard, they’re now involved in gambling and drug dealing.
I’m glad they’ve been caught.
I seriously doubt my father will let them off so easily now.”
Shae nodded and added, her voice full of fury:
“I knew a girl who used to do exotic dancing at Chataya’s place, and what that bastard did to her was terrible!”
Tyrion grumbled:
“I’m glad you’ve given up those dances, and I’m very pleased that you’re now dancing just for me.”
For a moment, a smile lit up Shae’s face, but she quickly became serious. “I hope they lock him and Blount up for a long time this time,” she said.
“We’ll see”—despite everything, Tyrion wasn’t so sure.
Seeing Sansa’s pale face, Shae decided to change the subject:
“Why don’t you stay and have dinner with us?
We’ve got marinated ribs and sautéed asparagus.
Afterwards, we can watch a film.”
Glancing outside, where the rain had turned into a heavy downpour, Shae added:
“You can stay here until tomorrow.
On such a rainy day, you really don’t feel like going out at all.”
Sansa, somewhat hesitant, finally agreed to stay for dinner.
After dinner, whilst they were in the living room watching a recent film about *A Dance with Dragons*, Sansa, emboldened, asked Tyrion:
“I’d like to ask you about that rather peculiar agency Shae recommended to me the other day.”
Shae, with a laugh, was quick to set the record straight:
“That blind date agency, Tyrion!
I recommended it to Sansa so she could have some new experiences and get over that nasty encounter … you know, with Joff.”
“Blimey!” exclaimed Tyrion, picking a grape from the fruit bowl and popping it into his mouth.
“Do you want to try it?”
“Is it safe?” Sansa looked concerned.
“Absolutely!” Tyrion assured her.
“You’ve already read about it, so you must have a pretty clear idea of how it works.
It’s an exclusive dating agency and everyone who signs up is important and trustworthy, so you don’t need to worry. And if you’re going to do it, you’ll need to provide a health certificate.”
Sansa, feeling a little uncomfortable, nodded.
Shae, noticing this, hastened to reassure her:
“It’s just to make sure there aren’t any nasty surprises – you know what I’m talking about.”
“I understand”—Sansa now seemed to feel less worried.
Tyrion, to give her more details, told her a few more things and eventually Sansa agreed to stay the night at their house. Later, after a light meal, Sansa stood in front of a glass wall in her bedroom overlooking the garden at night, which was now being lashed by the rain.
Lost in thought, she sat down on a cushion she’d placed on the carpet in front of the glass wall and read about the agency again.
Finally, having made up her mind, she began to fill in the form, the image of a certain person coming to mind.
After filling it in, she signed it and, without a second thought, sent it off.
Now all she had to do was wait for a reply...