Canines and Canaries

Just Looking for a Protector, God Never Reached Out in Time

hello everyone! apologies for the delay in this chapter, university work and a certain virus made it difficult for me to focus on writing over the last few months but finally, chapter five is here (and on the anniversary of the first chapter upload date!)

i also wanted to mention that due to some plot decisions, i've replaced the oc baratheon princess with princess myrcella who has been aged up to a teenager, so robb's wife in this is myrcella!

happy reading!

p.s: this chapter is dedicated to my good friend, emma, as a belated birthday gift. thank you for being such a wonderful and supportive friend and for always being there to talk about sandor with me! i love you! ♡

Sandor

The bells of King's Landing rang loudly as the new king took his seat on the Iron Throne.

Robert Baratheon was dead.

Upon Joffrey's head lay a gleaming crown, adorned with rubies the colour of blood. Blood was better suited to a sword than a coronet in Sandor's opinion, yet it encircled Joffrey's head all the same. Likely his father's blood. His lips were twisted into a smug smile, not far off the expression his mother often wore. Sandor had seen that smile on Cersei's face enough times to know what it meant. They had wasted no time in crowning Joffrey and removing all memory of the fat king, and the throne room seemed bare without King Robert's favoured wretched tapestries on the walls. It wouldn't be long before golden lions replaced them, Sandor knew.

He stood stationed beside the throne on the dais, the hilt of his sword as hard as ice under his armoured hand. The dark shadow his helm cast over his face obscured him in darkness. The men of the City Watch lined the walls, a rigid line of gold, while twenty men in Lannister red stood behind the throne. At the foot of the throne, the men of the Kingsguard formed a crescent in front of Joffrey, ready to defend their new king with their life.

To the other side of the throne, the Queen Regent watched her son, but there was something amiss about Cersei Lannister. Her face was stone as ever, but an abundance of glee danced in her green eyes where mourning should have been. Sandor knew that she bore little love for Robert Baratheon, but he had thought she would have known to pretend better. Though there wasn't much use of that anymore, he figured.

As the vast doors opened, the attention of the court was drawn to Lord Eddard Stark. The thud of his cane against the floor echoed through the silent hall as he walked forward. The miserable northman looked around the Great Hall, but the looks that were returned held no warmth. A northman like him should be used to the cold.

The royal steward's call suspended the silence. "All hail his Grace, Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

King of the Cunts, more like.

"I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation," the boy king said, "I wish to be crowned within the fortnight." His voice rang sharp and authoritative, but Sandor heard the familiar whine like Joffrey was asking for his horse to be re-saddled. Although his father had only just passed, Joffrey hastened to don the crown and mount the Iron Throne like it was a plaything. "Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors."

Lord Stark spoke, but it was not an oath of fealty. "Ser Barristan."

The boy king straightened up, his eyes on the Stark man. The entire council and court watched, waiting for the northman to speak. When he moved to retrieve something, Sandor's grasp tightened around the hilt of his sword, but relaxed again when he saw only a paper scroll within Lord Stark's hand.