Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Stranger & Maiden
In the five years of their relationship, Sandor could say that as far as couples went, he and his girl, Sansa, were not necessarily competitive. They weren’t competitive with other couples, not Arya and Gendry who always seemed to be going on some adventure or another, not Margaery and Bronn who were extremely open about their sexual escapades. They weren’t competitive with each other either. For five years, since the day Sansa wandered into his garage, while Sandor had always seen himself as the dominant one in their relationship, they were still a team. Went grocery shopping together, shared friends, shared a bank account even. This was true every day but one: Valentines Day.
Valentines Day brought out the competitive spirit in them. Each year, the couple tried their best to outdo one another. Generally, their gifts would coincidentally turn out to be complimentary. One year Sandor booked a trip to Dorne for them, while Sansa reserved a week in the far North, at an isolated cabin where it was just the two of them, a fireplace, a kitchen, and a bed. (Sandor actually thought Sansa might have won that year.) Another year, Sansa bought him a new leather motorcycle jacket, while he supplied her with a “cute” (her words, not his) helmet to wear when she rode with him. The helmet was pink with an intricate design of flowers and a tiny little bird. There was a year where they forwent presents and put the money into redoing the bathroom of their cozy apartment above the garage, before deciding to make use of the larger space above the flower shop, and expand the apartment across the whole top floor. But the year that beat them all, the year to end all years, was the third Valentines Day they spent together, when they truly gave one another the most perfect gifts.
Sandor and Sansa had both grown up with dogs. And when Sansa had first hinted she thought they should get a dog, the wheels in Sandor’s head begin to spin. A dog could be useful, he thought. Could protect Sansa when she was alone at the flower shop. So he knew exactly what he was getting Sansa for Valentines Day. The only part he struggled with was what kind of dog to get her. He and Sansa had grown up in different parts of Westeros: Sansa in the North, Sandor in the Westerlands. The Northern dog of choice was something like a Husky or St. Bernard, something sturdy and accustomed to the snow. The Westerland dog of choice was something bred for fear and efficiency in attack, something like a Rottweiler or a Doberman Pinscher. Now, though, they lived in White Harbor, which was technically North but not similar to the North of the Starks’ homeland. Sandor also had a soft spot for abandoned for lost dogs, and he scoured the North for just the right dog for them before finding a female Australian Husky mix in a shelter near Barrowtown. It was the right size with just enough intimidation to balance out the cute factor. He made the short road trip, picked up the dog, and kept it at the Starks’ until Valentines Day.
Imagine his surprise when he walked the dog into their apartment only to see Sansa standing in the kitchen holding a small dog in her arms. “What the hell is that?” Sandor asked.
She held up the little creature. “It’s a Puggle. He’s a pug-beagle mix. He was at the shelter and Jojen called and we’ve been talking about getting a dog, and I thought it would be the perfect gift for you for Valentines Day, and Jojen said he’s just the sweetest thing but, well…” Sansa paused. “People are kind of scared of him.”
“People are scared of that?!” Sandor asked as he pointed at the canine.
“Yeah,” she answered, putting the dog down, but then realizing Sandor had his own leash. “Wait, did you?” Sandor was too preoccupied with the idea that anyone would be scared of that thing. “Awww! Sandor, who is this?” Sansa asked as she knelt down to pet the Ausky.
Sandor shook his head. “No, wait, explain,” his voice a little harsher than he meant it to be.
“Well, Jojen says they found him at the Dreadfort,” Sansa explains.
Everyone knew that the ruins of the Dreadfort were haunted. Once the seat of the notorious Bolton crime family, partly destroyed in a fire that killed everyone inside, the place held terrible memories and everyone, from the North to Pentos, knew to stay away from it because nothing good could come from such a horrific place.
“Fuck,” Sandor whispered while giving the dog another look.
“Yeah, I thought, well, I thought if there was anyone who could love him and teach him to be good, it’s us. We’ve both been in terrible places and had terrible things happen but we love each other, so why can’t we do that for him?” Sansa asked him, finally standing and putting her hand on his ruined cheek.
She was right, of course. Sansa had survived a terrible relationship with Joffrey Baratheon, had dealt with the Lannister family and the creepy advances of her mom’s family friend, Petyr Baelish. Sandor, himself, had seen things in the military and within his own family that he knew exactly what she meant. She also wasn’t wrong that the thing was pretty cute.
Sandor knelt down now and whistled the little dog over, surprised it trotted towards him and sniffed his hand. “Dreadfort, huh? Creeping around like the Stranger.” He picked up the dog and held it to his chest. “Scaring everyone like the Stranger. That’s what we’re going to call you, Stranger.” The Ausky wasn’t to be outdone and walked to sit in front of him, at full attention. Suddenly he realized that they had gone from having no dogs to having two dogs. The bright blue eyes blinked up at him, ironically reminding him a little bit of Sansa’s. “Aren’t you just a little lady?”
Sansa smiled and bent down again to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “She is, but I think, since we’re already blaspheming and since it’s Her special day, maybe we should call her Maiden.”
That was the day Maiden and Stranger joined their family and went down in history as the best Valentines Day ever for Sansa and Sandor.
That is, until this year. The story of this year’s Valentines Day starts during the busiest time of the year for a florist: Wedding Season.
