Chapter One
Enjoy! This story will most likely be updated every few days, but at least once a week. Of course, it all depends on the readers and if you all want more, then I will give you more!
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"Fuck the Kingsguard. Fuck the City. Fuck the King."
When he'd said it the Hound had been fueled by wine, adrenaline and rage. "You're Kingsguard, Clegane." The Imp had said. But Sandor knew the truth of what he was, a vicious dog with a need to bite. He'd been in enough battles to know when to regroup and when he had retreated the little fuck of an Imp had questioned him. Hope that he's dead. Sandor didn't hold anything against the half-man on a personal level, Sandor just hated everyone.
Except her.
He had gone to her rooms find her. She'd come bursting through the door less than ten minutes later with her skirts bunched in her hands and a look of fear on her face. Sandor couldn't be sure of what she held more fear, he or the battle. He'd lost the adrenaline and the anger at the sight of her, but the wine still held its influence. He'd offered to keep her safe, to take her away. He knew she wouldn't agree to come but he had to offer. He'd grown attached to the Little Bird.
Sandor took another swig of his wine to drive the memories of the battle and of her from his mind. He'd left her there to her fate as he made his way out of the city. He'd ridden Stranger through the night and next day before he came across an inn with a room. He threw his clothes away, still smelling the smoke on them, for his own safety. He was as good as a deserter now. He was glad to have found an inn with a large store of wine. He was going to need it.
Looking around the inn he saw the lively group of patrons all enjoying their own drinks, most of them with a whore on their arm. The Hound spotted a girl, blonde like a Lannister, being yelled at by the Innkeeper near the back corner of the room. She stared defiantly into the man's face not even blinking when he began to raise his hand to her. He saw flashes in his mind of Sansa being beaten while the little shit of a King watched, no, savored each strike. I should have stopped them. Little Bird didn't fucking deserve it. Sandor watched as the blonde girl, maybe a few years older than Sansa, was struck across the face.He saw her flinch the wrong way at first, as if expecting a strike from the other hand. Sandor felt no pity for the girl, assuming that she was just a whore he needed disciplining. Little Bird didn't do anything wrong and she was still disciplined. Fucking Lannisters.
Sandor couldn't hear what was being said to the girl but did notice when the Innkeeper pointed in his direction quickly before dropping his hand. The large innkeeper, well into his fortieth year, grabbed the girl with the arm and thrust her in Sandor's direction. He caught the eyes of the Innkeeper and thought that the man had mouthed 'a gift'. The Hound let out a bitter snort. Course he would have to beat the girl just to get her to fuck me.
As she came closer, Sandor took in the girl that was to be his gift this night. Her blonde hair was long, clean at least, and she wore it loose. There was something about a woman with her hair down loose that Sandor has always found arousing. He took another large gulp of wine from his cup as she continued to come closer. She trailed her finger tips along the tables on both of her sides, her hips swaying from side to side as she slowly made her way to him. Her body was curvier than what he usually found and fucked in the brothels, when he had enough wine to venture into one. She stopped more than five feet from him, a smile on her face despite the red mark on her cheek, and spoke in his direction.
"Do you require more wine, Milord?" Her voice was not soft like Sansa's, nor was it sickly sweet like the Queen's. Instead it held something within it that Sandor recognized as pain. He knew that tone well, for it could also be found within his own voice.
"Be gone, girl." It was as if she was waiting for him to speak to come closer. She walked closer to him and put her hands on the table in front of him. Her breasts were perfect height to be at his eye level. He stole a glance as the slightly exposed flash and she must have noticed. She spoke quieter now, trying to mask the pain in her voice with a seductive tone.
"A girl am I? I'd say that 'woman' better describes it." She again ran her fingertips along the table until they found his hand. He jumped at the soft touch, pulling his hand away with a sound like a growl. She pulled her hands away as well. Sandor looked at her face and saw that she would not meet his eyes. Paid whores and his Little Bird wouldn't look upon his face. He hated when they wouldn't look at him. He pushed to stand, the wine he had already ingested bringing his anger forth. He saw the noise startle the whore who stood before him. Good. She should be scared. When he was at his full height he noticed that this girl, while not being large, was not small framed. He always asked for the bigger ones at the brothels, not wanting to deal with preparing a woman. The small ones just couldn't handle a man of his size. This one may take your mind off the Little Bird. She thought he was going to leave, so she reached for him, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. It was a daring move for a frightened girl.
"What's a pretty one like you doing here? Come for a bit of cunt and wine, milord?" He roughly took hold of the girl's shoulders, causing a slight whimper of pain to escape her lips. He did not loosen his grip.
"You think yourself funny?" Sandor wouldn't stand there and let this whore openly mock his scars. How dare this girl. I could rip her in half with just my hands. He pulled her with him as he stormed to his room. The other patrons moved out of his way and the other whores gave the girl he drug behind him looks of pity, fear or a mixture of both. He didn't care. If this girl were to be his gift than he would use her and send her away so he could wallow in his drunken sorrows.
To her credit the girl did not struggle, this fact surprised Sandor. First she has the guts to mock my scarred face then she accepts her fate without protest. So much like the Little Bird. He shook the thoughts of Sansa from his mind and focused on the girl he would be bedding this night. He was mere feet from the room he was given when she twisted her arm from his grasp. He turned to chase after her but she did not run from him. She stood her ground and spoke with venom, despite looking towards the wall instead of him. They never look at me.
"Do my compliments offend you so much, Milord? I've been taught that men enjoy flattery and yet you take offense to it." Sandor gave off a bitter laugh before setting the girl straight.
"I am no Lord." She gave off a bitter laugh of her own before quickly responding to him.
"You may not be a Lord outside this Inn, but tonight you are my Lord and I am your gift, given to you in hopes that you will be satisfied and won't kill anyone." She extended her hand to him in hopes that he would lead her into his room. She continued to speak but with a more seductive tone. "You wouldn't want to waste your gift, Milord. Please. Take me to your bed." The Hound wished that, just once, a woman would speak to him like that without having to be paid or forced. He shook his sentimental thoughts away and took hold of the girl again. She noticed his grip was not as forceful this time.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Roanya. And yours, Milord?" She was surprised that he had asked of her name. Not many men who she was thrown at took the time to find out. They just took their pleasure from her and sent her on her way. She was used to men doing that to her and had grown accustomed to the routine, almost comforted by it. She did not expect this man to be any different. But he is. I can feel it. He's different. Sandor shut the door once they had gotten in his room for the night. He walked up behind her and barely heard her sharp intake of breath. He ignored her question and instead decided it was time for this gift he had received to perform her trade.
"Undress me." She turned around and brought her hands to his chest, opting to start with the ties on his shirt first. She paused for just a moment as he spoke. "And don't call me your Lord." He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, trying to relieve the tension in his neck that had started in the Battle of Blackwater. What a fucking disaster that was. Roanya took her time undoing each tie, running her hands down his chest as she made her way to the next one. Sandor enjoyed her hands on his body. Most of the whores would come in, rip his clothes off, too frightened to take their time and then get right to it.
She took the bottom of his shirt out from inside Sandor's breaches and ran her fingers along the edges until her hands rested on his shoulders. She slid the shirt down his muscular arms until it fell to the floor, and then trailed her fingers back up his arms to rest around his neck. She gave his neck a tug and slowly brought her lips to his, as his afraid she'd miss. Why does this whore even bother with this? Sandor had never had a whore kiss him before, he'd never had any woman kiss him before that he could remember.
Roanya felt the strange texture of his lips as she moved her own against them. It was as if his right side was deformed. She moved her left hand up and was just about to touch the right side of his face when the Hound reached up to stop her. He held her hand in an iron grip and pulled his face back from her's as he spoke.
"Don't touch me there." She was taken aback by the strange request. Roanya always was too curious for her own good, wanting to feel what others told her not to touch. Wanting to hear what others said she shouldn't hear. Wanting to smell what she knew she not be smelt.
"Why not?" Although her voice held nothing but curiosity, Sandor took it as her mocking him once more and his anger came on full force. She had lifted her eyes to his face but still did not meet his own eyes, fueling his rage that much more.
"Look at me! Can't you see why I don't want you to touch me there? Tell me what you see!" He shook her. "Tell me!" She looked into his eyes for the first time and he saw that her eyes were glazed. At first, in his still slightly drunken state, he mistook the glaze for tears. But when she spoke he understood what it truly was.
"NOTHING!" She all but screamed an answer to his question. She took a shaky breath and spoke to him a bit quieter. "I see nothing." She felt the tears leaving wet paths down her cheeks and heard her own whispered voice. "I'm blind."
The Hound released her body and backed away. She couldn't see him or his hideous scars. It wasn't his face she was frightened of right in that moment, it was the man. Me. It's me making her shake.
She ran to where she thought was the door, but instead met solid wall. Her hands felt around her frantically until she found the door. She was so embarrassed that she had let it slip out. She was scared that the Innkeeper would find out she had not slept with Sandor and then she would be beaten and maybe this time he would follow through with his threats and send her off on her own. As she ran from the room, she left him standing there, speechless.
Sandor didn't understand the uncomfortable feeling that settled over his body as he watched the girl run from his room. It had been nearly five minutes before Sandor made his way to the bed. He opted not to change his clothes and instead slept in just his shirt and breaches. As he drifted off into a wine-induced sleep, he hoped that in the morning he would forget Roanna and the events surrounding her so that he wouldn't have to deal with any of it. He had enough to worry about being a traitor that he didn't need any more problems.
But in the morning, Sandor would still remember.
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Sorry to those of you waiting for the update for "Bent, Not Broken". I promise you it will be up tomorrow sometime!