AN. Sorry I originally had a dumb moment and uploaded this onto my old account I no longer use. I have reuploaded on this one now so apologies for any confusion. Hope you enjoy, I am merely toying with the great character owned by George RR Martin. Please review if you can.

The night sometimes seemed the darkest place to find himself, he hated the day, the feel of the heat strong on his face. It reminded him of that time, the time that decided how he would always be. But the night, he liked that, but not ones that were too quiet, for quieter moments brought back too many memories. Sandor flexed his arm, it was stiff from wielding weapons in battle, such a strong, murderous arm even need rest sometimes. He sat by the dead fire, its embers emitting their final wisps of black smoke into the air and he contemplated. His mind wandered to Sansa and how she may be fairing, he had heard all that had befallen her brother Robb, these were bloody days indeed.

To ponder too long on not blood thirsty matters angered him for he did not know how to control or process compunctions that stemmed from them. To take a life was easier than to live one, to be a weapon was the only way to be. He rose from the fire, swearing to himself and determined to leave the confines and venture out into the crisp night air. He did so and the sky above him revealed its cold, glittering stars and the lonesome face of the moon, her shining disc snow white tonight rather than silver. The wind blew harsh on his cheek for a moment, picking up in drafts then offering another in respite. Sandor walked a little, his weapon by his side for a fool only ever walked unguarded. His huge frame did not feel the chill at first but soon it crept beneath his armour and scratched at his skin. It was a cool night indeed.

The mistress moon looked harsh upon him; she seemed disapproving tonight, taunting his barbarity and solitude. All around him were his familiars, Joffrey remained encased safely not far from where he walked and for that to remain he would not stray far. He looked up at the moon, growing resentful at her judgemental look and he wanted to spit up at her but such actions he knew were useless. His ears pricked up at the sound of a group of people heading in his direction, ever cautious he touched the handle of his weapon, ready to unleash deadly force in an instant. In truth he almost craved it, it was familiar and in a way, it was home.

Sandor waited and to be sure two men walked quickly and behind them were three women seemingly lead by rope pulled by the leaders of the group. Stepping forward he blocked their path and demanded their intent. One man held a torch and the light illuminated both Sandor's true face to their scrutiny and theirs to his. He observed the men were fairly well dressed, though slightly dishevelled from travelling but the women behind were in a somewhat worse state. Two were about his age, their hair slightly matted but forcibly plaited to the side of their faces. The other was much different, younger, her skin fairer and with large eyes shining a bright violet in the light of the flame. Her hair was half bundled onto the back of her head, whilst the rest flowed past her shoulders in deep scarlet waves. They all looked afraid, terrified and became more so when they saw Sandor's true appearance. The men were also hesitant but guessing their business, Sandor was unsurprised by their next words.

"We've these fine females for sale, all healthy, very obliging."

"They look unharmed." Sandor said, yanking the torch from the man and inspecting the women closer, the youngest did not back away, instead she bore a glassy expression and remained. The other two started as he neared them, one cried a little and this prompted the second man to pull hard on her roped making her cry all the more.

"You will find them all most obliging, most pleasing." The first man said in a syrupy tone that immediately made Sandor want to slice the lips clean off his face and yank out his tongue.

"These do not interest me though other men here may well." Sandor said gruffly but gesturing to the youngest he said. "I will have her."

The young woman's eyes focused on him now and he saw they were heavy and tired, examining her wrists he saw they were deeply chaffed from the rope.

"Very well, for what price."

Sandor palmed a few coins to the man and the rope tethering the young woman was handed to him. The first man with foul breath edged close to him and he whispered hoarsely.

"Here name is Andrein, she is barely touched… only Evestus here has had the pleasure, we wanted to keep her clean but she needed to know the ropes."

Without another word Sandor unleashed his blade and soon both men lay bloodied and slain on the floor with one stroke each. The older two women screamed in terror as their leashes were dropped. Sandor lunged to grip them and yanked the hysterical women to him but before he could act in anyway a hand rested on his arm. Out of reflex he pushed against it and soon saw Andrein fall to the floor and cry in pain. He had not realised how hard he had thrown her from him, she clearly wanted to cry but she bit down hard on her lip instead.

"Why do you not cry?" He asked harshly yet inside a part of him felt mortified.

"She has been taught not too." One of the other women answered shakily. Sandor let go of their binding ropes and brusquely told them to go. They hurried away little caring for the fate of their companion, she instead remained obediently silent, her lip bleeding from her attempt to stall her tears.

"You do not rise Andrein?" He asked sternly.

"I have not been bid." She stammered, her fear glowing in the torchlight bringing colour to her cheeks. Sandor for a moment grew impatient with her gauche actions but he decided to take a moment to pity her situation.

"Rise."

She did so but he saw that she clutched her arm protectively, her injury clearly hurt her. Andrein stood obediently awaiting his next instruction, not even taking the opportunity to wipe or lick away the trickle of blood running down her chin. Sandor disliked its appearance and bringing his rough hand he wiped it away in a graceless action. This girl looked fragile and he wasn't sure how to behave, she was not quite a young, regal innocent like Sansa, he had paid for her after all. He ignored the fact that he had both injured her and butchered her masters before her eyes and instead said.

"You will accompany me to my quarters, I will not hurt you but I have bought you for a purpose. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She answered normally, as though their situation was not that of slave and master but instead equals in all respects. He respected that she saw no benefit in being proud or teary, she was obviously a survivor. Dropping the torch to the floor he took advantage of the light before it expired. Taking her injured arm he felt her temporarily tense and a flash of pain fell across her face. He ran his other hand up it sensing no dislocation or breakage, he was relieved.

"Fire and shelter are what I can offer you, you need to sleep. You are no use to me faint from exhaustion."

"I am not faint sir, do with me as you please, you paid blood and coin for me."

"It is not my preference tonight Andrein, there's no more to be said." They looked at one another for a moment, her tired beauty burning strong despite the torchlight extinguishing. He untied her hands and saw deep, angry marks from her bindings, no woman deserved to be bound so. "Follow."

Andrein did as she was bid and Sandor led her to his quarters. She stood in the middle of his room as he stoked the fire and had it blooming again.

"Sit." He commanded gently and she did so, the embers allowing her cherry threads to gleam beautifully. "Unpin your hair and sleep."

Andrein acquiesced and the waves tumbled passed her shoulders like a shock of the fire it reflected and she gave her head a small shake. Sandor watched as she laid herself down on the animal skin she rested on and despite her obvious reservations she faced away from him towards the fire. This did not surprise Sandor for who would willingly look upon his face by choice, even with their eyes closed? He sat a while and drained a cup several times, all the while watching her sleep peacefully on. The envy in his bones almost reached out to her, he coveted her ability to sleep soundly. Yet she should sleep well tonight, for her duties would soon come tomorrow. Sandor would not be cruel but their situation could not ever be kind.