Author's Note: I am a firm believer in the Gravedigger theory, so in my mind this is AU. I was inspired by bubug's Strange Waters of the Trident and I just couldn't resist writing it. I also may have made myself cry...
The Wolf bitch had left him there to die. He begged her for mercy. Begged.
And cried
And she left him there, sparing him not a glance as she walked away.
He often saw himself in the Wolf bitch, she was a killer just like him. He watched as she became callous to death, to the lives she took, and deep down he was sorry for it. Sorry for the girl who would live a life similar to his own.
He grunted as a pain shot up his leg, when he first noticed the foul smelling pus leaking from the wound he knew he was done. But the damn Stark girl refused to give him salvation from his slow death. Maybe he deserved it.
The girl could not be any more different from his Little Bird, with her inherent kindness and empathy. She may not have been able to kill him but she would have stayed with him, done what she could to ease his pain. Maybe she would have looked him in the face without any fear and sung to him. Maybe even pray for his thrice damned soul. Sandor squeezed his eyes shut as two fresh tears slipped from between his lids.
The air was cooling around him and his entire body began to shiver, his teeth chattered loudly and he clutched his clock tighter against him.
Little Bird…
Sandor did not know when he fell asleep, but the moon was now rising in the sky. His body was weaker than it had been before, he could scarcely find the strength to raise an arm. His vision was blurred as he looked around, a soft noise drifted to him as if from some far off place.
"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day."
A shiver ran through him.
"Little Bird…?" He whispered.
His head swiveled at the sound of a twig cracking. He blinked his heavy eyes, once, twice, and his vision cleared.
His head spun at the sight of her standing before him with her long red hair blowing freely in the wind. Her eyes were large and sad as she smiled gently down at him.
"Gentle Mother, strength of women,
Help our daughters through this fray.
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder way."
As she sang she set on a large rock a few feet from him, he wished she would come closer. He wanted to look closely at her lovely face and hold her in his arms, a parting memory for if the Seven Hells were real that is surly where he would be going next. And the Seven Hells are no place for a Little Bird.
As if hearing his thought's she stood from her place perched on the rock and slowly walked towards him.
"Sansa." He croaked as she knelt down next to him, the sweet smell of her drifting to him.
"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
Save our sons from war, we pray.
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day."
As she sang she cupped his face in her hands, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He leant into her touch, choking on a sob as one of her hands drifted to his hair, her fingers running over his scalp and making him feel all the more tired.
He could no longer fight to keep his eyes open, and allowed them to slide shut. His breathing was becoming laboured, each breath rattled through his chest painfully.
"Sleep now, my true knight." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his burnt cheek.
Her name was on his lips as he exhaled his last breath.
Amazing art that inspired this story - art/strange-waters-of-the-Trident-317189407