Arya Stark sat tall in her saddle, staring into the setting sun as she rode side by side with the Hound. They often rode in silence aside from the occasional jab or insult. It just seemed to work for them.
After all, they had been traveling companions for several years now. Arya was nearing 17.
The pair had travelled from the Twins to the Veil to Castle Black and now, they just went about, never lingering in one place too often. There was a price on the Hound's head and word of Arya's survival had reached King's Landing and it was rumored that she was traveling with the Hound.
Therefore, they just drifted. The plan was to wait out the war and hopefully be able to settle down before winter came. Settle down separately, of course. Both made it clear to the other that they could not wait to be rid of the other.
The Hound halted his horse. "We'll stop here for the night," he growled.
Arya didn't answer and merely stopped her own horse. They were at the edge of a thick forest and a fire would need to be made. The nights were getting much colder. She tied her horse to a low hanging branch and began gathering up brush. She knew of the Hound's aversion to fire and that was one thing she did not often tease him on. As much as she loved getting under his skin, there were some boundaries that shouldn't be crossed.
Meanwhile, the Hound was busying himself with laying out the bed mats and pulling some bread out of the saddle bags. He tore off two hunks and laid them down on the mats, stowing the rest away.
Arya had a fire crackling and she settled down on her mat, picking up the piece of bread. The Hound was across from her, staring into the fire and absentmindedly munching on his food. His eyes lifted up and met hers. "The fuck you lookin' at?" he growled. It was the first thing he had said to her since stopping to make camp.
She scowled at him. "Your ugly mug. That's what." She took an angry bite of bread and turned her face to stare off in to the woods.
He grumbled something in response and then resumed eating.
The two sat in what could almost have been companionable silence when a sound of hoofbeats in the distance startled them both.
The two exchanged a quick glance and the Hound leapt up, scooping up the mat and hissed "put the fire out! We need to go!"
The Hound had always considered himself a loner at heart, but it was times like these when he was grateful to have a travelling companion. As the wolf girl hastily put out the fire, he shoved their items in the saddle bags.
Soon enough, the two of them were on their way, travelling deeper into the woods.
"Who do you think that was?" Arya asked him, glancing over at him from her horse.
"How would I fucking know? Some cunt." He glared at her. Why would she ask such a dumb question. She was likely just talking to talk, as she often did. Likely to get on his nerves. She was a piece of work.
She glared back at him. "I hate you. One of these days I'm just going to let them kill you."
He elected not to answer. He knew deep down she likely wouldn't let that happen. She wanted to kill him for herself. He knew he was on her bloody list. She recited it every damn night, always leaving his name last. The wolf bitch would be dead before she even tried something. He wouldn't hesitate to break her pretty neck, would he?
Aye, she had become quite pretty. She was still quite slim, but her figure had filled out quite a bit. The light curve to her hips and her full breasts. Of course he had noticed - he wasn't blind! She had let her hair grow out and it fell to the middle of her back. It was usually tied back. Her lips were even full and inviting until she opened her mouth and talked. Then he would remember she was the wolf bitch and a major thorn in his side. He could not wait to be rid of her.
"What are you looking at?" she demanded suddenly, glaring at him once again from her horse.
"Nothing. Shut yer face. That cunt may be following us and I'll be damned if I'm dead because of that fuckin' mouth of yours." He tapped his reins, urging his horse, Stranger, on a little faster.
Arya urged hers forward as well, her eyes cast forward and refusing to glance back in his direction.
She was pissed at him. He could tell. He couldn't help but like how easy it was to get under her skin. She was a firecracker and he loved how easy it was to set her off. It was an unspoken game between the two of them, he was sure of it.
They had come to a river and had begun riding alongside the river, looking for a shallower part to cross. Growing impatient, the Hound finally murmured "Fuck it," and urged his horse to cross.
The water was deep and he felt his boots growing soaked as they dipped in the water. Nearly halfway across. It wasn't so bad besides being ice cold.
The wolf girl was having problems, it seemed. Her horse was reluctant to even cross and protested as she urged it forward. He finally began to cross for her, but lost his footing and reared back, sending Arya tumbling into the water.
Although she resurfaced a few seconds later, sputtering and coughing, the Hound was up off his horse and plunging into the icy water himself. He plucked her up and pulled her to the shore where the horses had finally crossed and were waiting obediently.
Arya was already shivering by the time they reached the shore. The Hound dropped her roughly to the ground.
"Now we're soaked, wolf bitch. Thanks a fuck ton." He didn't bother to ask her if she was alright. She was breathing after all.
She got up on her feet, still shaking. "I didn't ask you to jump in and grab me. I'm not a babe. I can swim. I certainly don't need you!" she spat.
He rolled his eyes. "Let's go a little further and make camp. And keep your bloody mouth shut."
They made camp quite quickly after the incident in the river. Arya was furious with the Hound. Who did he think he was? She didn't need his help.
She refused to speak to him as they set up camp. He had only told her that it was too risky to make a fire as they needed to travel further away. Just great. It was freezing. She was drenched. She couldn't stop shivering. He was soaked too, but did not seem to be plagued in the least. It made her furious.
She dug into the saddle bags which had miraculous stayed dry throughout the debacle at the river and pulled out a thin gown that would go underneath a dress. She slipped out of the camp briefly to shed the wet clothes and don the gown. She hated wearing anything, but she needed her damn clothes to dry. She made a mental note to steal another set of breeches next time her and the Hound ventured near a village.
She slipped back into the camp and slipped under the blanket on her mat. She wrapped it around herself tightly, but could not seem to get very warm at all. She was still shivering like crazy.
The Hound had settled onto his mat as well. He too had donned on another outfit that he had stashed in his bag and hung his wet clothes next to Arya's. He shot her an unreadable glance as he lay on his back.
She glared back and tried to stop the shivering and her teeth chattering. She was facing the outside of the camp as she began reciting her list. "Cersei... Walder Fr- fr- frey..." she found herself shaking even more. It was way too damn cold, but she would rather freeze to death than admit that to the bloody Hound.
She was a few names into her list when she heard the Hound curse softly and shift.
"Fuck it." He had risen and drug his mat over next to Arya's. He grabbed the blanket that was wrapped around her and roughly ripped it away from her.
"What the fuck -" Arya began, about to sit up.
"Shut the fuck up. I'm not going to get any sleep with you shivering your arse off all night and as much as I want to be rid of you, I don't want to be stuck burying a frozen girl in the morn." He laid down next to her and covered them both with her blanket and then his.
He grabbed her body and roughly pulled it against his such that they were spooning. "Get on with your fucking list and then get some sleep. We need to make a lot of ground tomorrow," he growled.
Arya was shocked. She stiffened at first as he pulled her against him, but was instantly feeling a little warmer. The Hound had a point. It didn't make her any happier to be in such close proximity to him. Still, it felt oddly safe to have him holding her, an arm draped over her.
She shook the thought out of her head and took a deep breath. She restarted her list, this time without the shivering and teeth chattering. As she got to the last name on her list, she knew how silly it would sound - to name a person currently holding her and keeping her safe and warm. Still, she would not make exceptions.
"The Hound," she finished.
She felt the hand around her tighten slightly and could feel his hot breath on her neck, so close. "I'd like to see you try," he growled.
She didn't respond and merely just closed her eyes, feeling warmer and suddenly quite sleepy. She drifted off quickly, feeling oddly content.
The Hound couldn't sleep for the longest time. He lay there in the campsite holding the wolf girl in his arms. She hadn't turned him away when he had laid down with her. He hadn't wanted to get near her, but he wouldn't have her freezing to death over night. The skinny bitch could hardly keep warm with her layers.
He could feel her hair tickling his nose. It was loose and splayed out behind her. He found himself brushing it away, tenderly so as not to wake her. He knew the moment she had fallen asleep as her breathing and slowed and grown steady.
He had never slept with another before. Of course he had fucked his share of whores at a brothel, but always returned to be alone for the night. It was a different feeling than what he was used to, having a woman snuggled up in his arms. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
She had snuggled even closer to him in her sleep, her buttocks pressed against his crotch and her left leg pushed in between his legs. She was murmuring something in her sleep and had started to fidget.
"No, no, no," she was whispering. "Yes I'm a girl, but I can still shoot better than Bran! Let me fight!"
The Hound felt himself smile a little bit at that. His wolf girl really was something else. His?
He tightened his grip around her, pulling her back flush to his back with his arm tucked over her ribs and under her on the ground. This seemed to calm her and her fidgeting stopped.
Damn she was so close to him. He could feel his body reacting and he cursed himself. The day he found himself pining for the damned wolf girl would be the day hell froze over.
Growling softly, he relaxed slightly and closed his eyes, finding himself drifting off to sleep as well.
Arya had dreamt of Winterfell that night and her brothers. It had been pleasant for the most part. She felt her eyes slowly flutter open and she remembered she was in a clearing. She noticed the sun peaking out between some of the trees.
She was warm and so comfortable. She shifted slightly and realized the Hound was still holding her. Ugh, the big lug. She softly rolled over so as not to disturb him so that she was facing him. He was still sound asleep, his eyes closed and his arms draped around her, holding her close. In her struggle to roll over, the skirt of her gown had ridden up and his big, meaty hand was resting on her bare thigh.
She ignored that, fascinated by the sleeping man in front of her. His scarred face was truly a sight to see. She was no longer repulsed by it. Scars were scars. She had many, although not on her face. She reached up and brushed a hand lightly on his cheek. She didn't know what possessed her to do such a thing. It wasn't often that she was able to look upon him without him glaring at her or telling her to "fuck off."
He stirred softly at the gentle touch of her hand, but did not awaken. His grip around her tightened though and he murmured something under his breath. The hand on her thigh softly caressed her, the big fingers just gently massaging the skin.
Arya felt her breath hitch and she stiffened slightly. She withdrew her hand and leaned her head in closer to his to try to make out what he was whispering. Her face was close to his and she could feel his breath on her lips when he spoke again.
"The fuck you think you're doing, wolf girl?" he snarled. His eyes had opened, heavily lidded. His face had twisted into a sneer and his hand now was gripping her leg slightly tighter.
Arya felt her face growing red. She scowled at him and shoved him roughly in the chest. "Let go of me," she growled.
He laughed cruelly. "You're so weak. Where's your bloody Needle when you need it?"
She glared and twisted around so that her back was flush against his chest. She reached out, her backside pushing into his legs a little more and she tried to grab Needle, which she always had within reach.
The Hound stiffened at her wriggling and drew in a deep breath. He laid there still for a moment, holding her to him. He then shoved her roughly away from him.
She had grabbed Needle and jumped up, turning to point it at him, but he had already gotten up to grab the clothes that had been hung to dry overnight, his back to her. "Just try," he growled, not turning to look around. "I told you girl, you have one shot and then I'll wring your neck."
She just rolled her eyes angrily and turned to grab her own clothes. "One day," she promised, stepping out of the clearing to slip into her breeches.
Gosh, it has been years since I have published a fanfic. I have had a few ideas, but none too pressing. However, I woke up the other day and thought, "Wow! Arya and Sandor would make a great couple." Yeah yeah, I know they are separate from each other in age, but still, the chemistry I imagine is just crazy. Not too many Arya x Sandor fanfics out there. Most of them are San/San, which I do enjoy and appreciate. However, this is my current focus. I'm uploading the next two chapters and hopefully will continue writing in the next few weeks. I am a grad student, so I don't have ample time. I will do my best. Sometimes you just have to write.
Happy reading and I apologize for any errors. I'm a little rusty. I was typing this quite fast. Reviews appreciated and may help inspire me to write quicker!
-Pawprynt