A/N: This little cupcake was the winner of a SanSan writing prompt contest I hosted on Tumblr. The prompt was: "Rough and drunken Centaur!Sandor stumbles upon the lovely Dryad!Sansa in the godswood she tends". So here is the first part! There will be one more after it :)

"Buggering gods and hells," Sandor swore under his breath as he glared at the empty wineskin in his hand. It was the last of his supply and he would not be able to obtain more until that fool god of wine decided to visit the area once more. The thought of being without wine for possibly a good length time angered Sandor to no end and he stamped his back hoof into the dirt with a vengeance.

Now what was he supposed to do with nothing to satisfy the sweet craving for alcohol?

Centaurs were generally social creatures, though they tended to mingle with only their kind. Sandor, however, was considered an outcast, a loner. As a young centaur, the side of his face had been burned horribly by one of Hades' demons, and even with the healing gifts of his people, Sandor's face remained scarred and terrifying. Bitter, angry, and resentful, Sandor grew into a wrathful centaur that everyone else steered clear of. Eventually his bad behavior and tendency for fighting among other creatures led him to be, essentially, exiled from woods of the centaurs.

Sandor preferred to be alone, anyways. At least, that's what he tried to believe, as he wandered aimlessly across the realms, picking fights and staying almost continually in a drunken haze to dull his pain and the burning desire to destroy the one who had done this to him. Cursing the gods for their lack of involvement was also a favorite pastime of his.

The only higher being Sandor could remotely tolerate, and who tolerated him, was Tyrion, the god of wine. Though completely different in every aspect, they both shared one quality, and that was drinking the sweet, rich wine that could only have come from divine makings. Sometimes they would even drink together. But the god was now in the South, entertaining his friends by a crisp, clear pool or fountain. Probably surrounded with goddesses and nymphs, no doubt.

Muttering in desolation, Sandor moved through the forest without much direction, still grasping the wineskin tightly in his hand; perhaps by some magic, wine would refill in it.

His hoofs made soft clomping sounds on the ground. Sandor had never been this far North, and though the air was chillier than he was used to, he had to grudgingly admit that it was a beautiful land. The colors were rich and deep, and the trees were bigger and fuller than the ones he was used to. Perhaps the air here was healthier, being so far from the heavy heat.

A soft, musical voice reached him, and Sandor stopped abruptly, ears perked. The voice sounded again, a soft, sweet, lilting song. A strange tingling ran down Sandor's broad back and he moved forward carefully, searching for the source of such music.

Some trees parted before him, and on the other side he discovered a grove of strange white trees with crimson leaves. Faces were carved into the bark, the eyes bleeding with red sap. It was a godswood, a holy and revered place in the eyes of the North. Sandor was sure he was not meant to be here, but the voice was closer, and he could not resist discovering its owner.

Though centaurs were large creatures (and Sandor was a particularly large centaur) they could move quite deftly and quietly when they wished, offering no sound to alert their enemies. Sandor was able to utilize this skill better than any other, and he made good use of it now, stealing deeper into the godswood.

He could finally discern the words that the sweet voice was singing:

Oh Mother of the Woods, there must be something we can do

Although we heed your warning, know that we are not alone

We shall sing for the aid of our allies, Pixies, Sylphs and Elves

And Nymphs will come and turn the Trolls to stone

Singing for the dawn in the forest of the Dryads

At the coming nightfall we shall dance along the trees

Messengers of green, sentinels of woodland,

Bound to our magical oaks eternally, but forever we're free

The gentle, plucking notes of a harp accompanied the voice. Impatient, Sandor swept aside a clump of tall undergrowth and peered into a small clearing.

Surrounded by birds and other small forest animals was the most beautiful dryad Sandor had ever set his eyes on. She sat daintily on a stump, dressed only in leaves and an airy, floating fabric that left her shoulders, legs, and some of her stomach showing. Her white porcelain skin had an ethereal glow against the dim light of the godswood. She was young, that was clear, but that did not hide the soft curves of her lithe body.

But what attracted his attention the most was her hair and face.

Her face was white and pure, with just a subtle dash of freckles. Her mouth parted sweetly as she sang with full, pink lips.

Hair as red as the fire that haunted Sandor's dreams fell in thick waves around her shoulders, the longest locks reaching the small of her back. A crown of white and pink flowers rested on top of her head.

In her hands was a tiny golden harp, which she plucked with ease while she sang.

It took Sandor a moment to recover from the initial shock of having encountered so lovely a creature such as this, and he swallowed hard, staring at the girl with all his might and unsure of what he should do next. Dryads were very shy and easily startled, and if Sandor approached her the wrong way she might run away and disappear into the trees.

A yearning filled him as he watched her, filled with so much happiness and joy, things which he had been deprived of his whole life. This girl had likely never been out of the godswood before, being tied to one tree for life, so she would never have seen the monsters, the cruelty, the pain and bitterness that strangled the breath out of others. It irked and intrigued him, and the more Sandor watched the dryad, the more he wanted to know her.

The song ended, and the girl opened her eyes to reveal two deep blue orbs, shining against her pale face. With a giggle, she reached to pat a small rabbit that sniffed at her foot curiously. "Shall we sing some more?" her musical voice asked her companions, and Sandor almost forgot himself and answered her.

With another giggle, the girl stood gracefully, gathering some of her attire in her tiny hands, and began to hum another tune. She swayed, then moved into a light, twirling dance around the stump, sending a scattering of leaves and flowers as she went. Some of the rabbits followed her, looking clumsy in their hops compared to her fairy-light strides, and she laughed.

Without realizing it, Sandor had moved halfway out of his hiding spot, gazing at her in a stupor which broke when she finally laid eyes on him.

"Oh!"

Raising both hands to her mouth, Sansa stared in shock at the giant centaur who had suddenly appeared in her godswood. He much taller than herself. Thick, well-toned muscles chiseled his upper torso and arms, as was the norm for centaurs. The scattered chest hair matched the dark raven locks of his hair, which reached his shoulders, and his long tail.

The tan skin of his upper torso ended into the lower body of a horse, which was ebony in color, flowing down to powerful legs and hooves that Sansa knew could break her body into a thousand pieces with one kick. The only weapon he wore was a sword slung behind his shoulders and back, and he clutched a bag of some sort in his hand.

But the most distinguishing feature, the one that made Sansa gasp in fright, was his face. One side displayed sharp cheekbones, thick, drawn eyebrows, and a strong chin, but the other side was a mangled scarring of red, burnt flesh. The duality was startling.

Then she met his eyes. As dark and heavy and grey as Zeus' thunderclouds, boring into her own; it was they that made Sansa snap out of her surprised trance.

With a little cry, she stumbled backwards, seeking refuge behind one of the heart trees. The strange centaur-man opened his mouth and raised his free hand slightly, as if to persuade her not to leave, but he stopped and turned away, clenching his jaw. Some of his hair fell forward to weakly cover his scars.

He seemed torn between leaving or staying.

Sansa watched him from the tree, peering cautiously. Her initial fright had begun to ebb into something akin to curiosity. She had never seen a centaur before, they never really traveled this far North. Was he lost, perhaps? If so, then it wouldn't do for her to be inhospitable.

Slowly, she stepped back around to the side of the tree, twirling a lock of her hair nervously while gaging his reaction. He looked at her, surprise flitting across his face before it smoothed and became unreadable to her.

"I'm sorry…I…You startled me, sir," Sansa offered, unsure of how to address a centaur properly. His tail gave a little flick and his mouth twisted for a moment before he rasped out, "I'm no sir, girl."

She bit her lip and cast her eyes at the ground, landing on the flower crown that must have fallen from her hair when she ran away. The centaur saw it too, and after a moment he stepped forward, his hoofs making no sound on the soft grass. He reached down and picked the crown up, then held it out to her.

A peace offering, Sansa thought, and she drifted shyly from the shadows of the tree, taking the crown from him gently. His eyes did not seem so angry now, but they regarded her with a heat that Sansa did not understand, yet it made her feel tingly and a little flustered.

"Forgive me, I've been rude. It is only that I don't receive many visitors." Replacing her crown, she smiled at the centaur and motioned around with her hand. "My name is Sansa, and this is my godswood." She was quite proud of her little kingdom, and she hoped the centaur would be too.

He looked around for a moment before returning his heavy gaze on her face. "My name is Sandor." "Sandor…" she repeated with a smile. His tail flicked against his back haunches, and he stepped closer, still cautious.

"How did you come to be here, Sandor?" Sansa asked. The large centaur shrugged. "I heard you singing, like a little bird." "Oh! I do love to sing," she answered, blushing as a smirk crossed face. The scars twisted, but they did not seem so horrid the longer she looked at them.

"You have a very pretty voice," came his rumbling rasp as he drew closer, so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Thank you…" Was her face growing red? The centaur's smirk grew wider as he studied her closely.

"Gods, you're pretty all over. The loveliest dryad I've ever set eyes on, and I've seen quite a lot in the South." Sansa's mouth fell open and she was speechless. She had never been so flattered by anyone before. Her parents had told she was beautiful, but she had never heard it from someone like Sandor before.

"You are alone here?" Sandor asked. Sansa's shoulders drooped and she sadly regarded a flower petal in her hands. "Yes," she whispered. "A few moons ago, some terrible monsters invaded our godswood. They cut down my father and mother and brother's trees, and so they have passed on." She gestured behind, towards three white stumps. Every morning she made a crown out of red leaves and twigs and said a prayer to the gods for her lost family.

"I do not know why they left me alive," she sniffed. Unbidden, a single tear rolled down her cheek. As she raised a hand to wipe it away, a large finger brushed against her face, catching the tear instead.

"Monsters, you say?" Sandor asked, brushing her cheek with his finger. Distracted by his touch, Sansa could only nod wordlessly. "Tell me, little bird…what would you say if I were to kill these monsters for you, hmmm?"

Sansa gasped, raising her hands to her heart. "You can't! You will surely be killed! It is much to dangerous!" The large centaur threw back his head and gave a barking kind of laugh. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, girl. Centaurs are good warriors, and I'm the best of the best. Some cowardly monsters don't intimidate one such as I."

Wide-eyed, Sansa stared at him in a mixture of horror and fascination. "But…why? Why would you risk your life to avenge me? We've only just met. You don't even know me."

A strange grin quirked the corner of his mouth. "I'd like to know you much better, girl."

A/N: Hmmm, what is Sandor up to?

The song Sansa sings is from "Dryads and Trolls" by Elexorien