I. She's Hearing Voices

She's hearing voices call her

She's hearing voices warn her

She just can't sleep in her bed,

She just can't sleep

She's falling down the stairs

She's tearing out her hair

She's screaming my name, in the night

To keep her warm

Sometimes I see them at night, the men from the riot. I see them, feel them…tearing at my dress with those foul sneers on their faces. They were filthy, smelly, and hungry. Hungry for what should only happen between a woman and her lord husband's bed sheets. I get up and start pacing. What's another night with no sleep? I stop and stare at the mirror. There's a large greenish bruise on my collar, just only too high for my nightgown to cover. I touch it out of curiosity and flinch. It could have been worse. It could have been much worse.

My thoughts turn to my savior, not for the first time, and of how he looks in the mirror. The left side of his face was fair, maybe even handsome. But the right side… I wonder if it ever catches him by surprise, passing by a mirror. Or if his heavy steps were not merely due to armor.

Does he care at all?

I have to thank him.

I rush out of my chambers and to my surprise; see him immediately standing guard just outside the door.

I give a little peep of surprise and then remember what I was doing out here. "Ser-" I start. "I ain't no ser." He barks and looks me up and down "Little birds should be fast asleep in their cages, bad things always happen in the dark." He says, stepping closer and baring his teeth.

"My father got his head chopped off in broad daylight." I murmur, bristling. The Hound frowns at this, looking down almost guiltily.

I clear my throat and say, "I just wanted to thank you, for saving me, for stopping those men. You were very brave."

"A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats" Is his gruff reply. He turns to walk away but I shout after him, "Why can't you ever just be nice?" Faster than I can blink, it seems, he turns round and approaches until my back hits the stone wall by my chamber door. "Is that what you want? To see the gentility of your fucking storybook knights, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while they're thinking only of getting ya on your back, same as those alley rats." He breathes, dropping his head to your ear.

"Their lies may get you wet, but they don't change the rotten core of all men." His words tickled your ear, sending shivers up your spine. He's trying to shock me.

"Not all men are like that, you're not like that." I say softly. His rumbling chuckles are so rich I feel them in my bones. "Oh? I'm not, am I?" He pulls back and grabs your jaw firmly in his hand. "Why's that, huh? Because I'm your protector, your bloody savoir? That doesn't mean a fucking thing, little bird." He squeezes, and it hurts.

I'm sick of manipulation, and I'm sick of liars. "Prove it." I say, looking directly into his widening, dark brown eyes. I don't breathe until he drops the hand that was clutching my jaw. I feel disappointment rushing through me and it catches me off guard—Why?

"Look at me." His voice is so quiet that you thought you must of imagined it, but—"Look, little bird." I do; he is undeniably older than I am, though by how much I had no idea. His somewhat scraggly russet hair rests at his shoulder line and his facial hair is rough looking, but not long… Then his face—the left side was somehow left untouched by the hostility of The Mountain, the right side of his face was pocked, the skin puffy, rough—I imagine—and slightly warped, his left brow drooping slightly and his ear disfigured. It's not as bad as I thought; I'm such a baby sometimes. I feel a smile touch my lips.

I realize that Sandor is silent, and for a moment I'm afraid I've done something wrong. When I look up into his eyes, however, his expression is one of surprise. We stay like that, just staring for what seems like the longest time, but was likely only a mere moment. One large hand comes up to brush against my cheek, and he sighs and shakes his head. When his eyes look back up to mine, they are determined.

My heart skips a beat and I realize vaguely there's something he's going to walk away from, something between us—was this feeling what romance is like, real romance, not like in the storybooks? I steel myself, and decide that I want to find out. Before he can turn away, I grip the nape of his neck and pull him down further, so that his lips collide with mine. His body stiffens shortly but I don't give up, and with a groan, his lips begin moving against mine at a fevered pace. It feels different than I thought it would. Instead of feeling overwhelming love at his attentions, I feel something a bit too desperate to be love, I feel needy.

He pulls me closer and we are crushed together, his heavy body pinning me to the wall. His hands wander up and down my arms, my side, and suddenly he pulls away to look at me—"Someone could see us out here." His voice is hoarse, and it pulls at something deep within me, bringing an aching feeling. "My chambers" I mumble, and my voice is different too, huskier.

Our bodies simply slide into the door of my room—my cage—and we continue, with more fervor than before; traveling around the room, bumping into things, giggling and slamming right back into walls.

It's dangerous to be alone with a man. Mother always said so, and the thought gnaws at me, of what she would think. I pull away and it's hard to find my breath. "Sandor…" He's looking down at me, eyes glazed, breathing heavily, and it dawns on me just how unknowing I am of these things, of what I'm doing, of what he's doing.

"We shouldn't be doing this." I say putting my arms straight out against his chest, and to my horror, Sandor just laughs. "You've just now figured that out, have ya?" His eyes roam around the room and he spreads his arms, "This fucking room is the last place a mangy mutt should be. I know that, and I know that you fucking know that, but you didn't listen, did you?" He thundered. I don't understand why he's so angry. "I only wanted—" He interrupts me. "Silly little bird doesn't know what she wants." He says loudly, his voice dripping with malice. It startles me, and when I look up at his face his eyes are wild, he's exasperated. "You keep acting like a fool, and you'll end up like one of Littlefinger's whores."

Tears well up in my eyes and I'm shocked by how much his words hurt me. I'm trying, why can't he understand that I'm trying? "…Y-you're awful." I stammered. He shook his head. "I'm honest. It's the world that's awful."

Without another word he's gone out the door, leaving me alone to cry, and to think.

AN: This is my first fic, and I know it's a little-or a lottle-rough. I definitely need advice, reviewing and just all around response. This'll likely be edited heavily or possibly rewritten. To clear things up, this is an AU story that will contain vampirism and will likely end up going off of the show story line. Some lines may come from the show or the books, but I have no intention of rehashing already used scenes.

Also, I will be using song titles for chapter titles and song excerpts to introduce a chapter. If you want, I recommend finding the song online and listening while reading. Much love-Midden.