Sansa

Sansa was floating in a world made of clouds, where everything was white and full of light. Am I dead? she distantly wondered. Suddenly, she felt two strong arms lift her from wherever she was and memory started coming slowly back to her.I was lost, not far from home, but the streets were like a labyrinth to me. Soon I was in a dead end and a man attacked me. I was so scared. Oh! And he even ripped my dress open! And then… and then blood started to flow from his neck and his eyes became at once furious and scared before dying out completely. It was so frightening! I couldn't stand it and fainted.

Someone had saved her but Sansa had not seen who it was. She had no doubt it was a man, judging from the size of the arms that were holding her tight against a huge and muscled torso. Sansa was still feeling dizzy, yet she was curious to see who had saved her. Trying to open her eyelids, she started stirring in the man's hold but even that was too demanding. She was so sore; she was certain she was covered with bruises from head to toes and she felt stabs of pain piercing through her as she moved.

That's when Sansa heard the voice of her saviour for the first time. He was comforting her, telling her she was safe. The girl could feel his chest vibrate while he softly addressed her in a low voice. He sounded like no one she had ever known before; it was as if he rasped instead of talking, making each word sound as a thrust of steel sharpening itself on a whetstone. Sansa was used to that noise: her father was a smith who made and took care of swords and all sort of other blades for noblemen and sellswords. The abyss she had been in mere instants before was reclaiming her and since the massive body of the man that carried her felt so good and comforting, Sansa didn't even fight and allowed it to engulf her again. She felled back into the dreamy white world she had just left, wondering who she had to thank for her life. It must be a knight, a brave and gentle knight just like in the songs! Sansa had always loved those stories where valorous knights saved defenceless maidens. She would never have dared dream that one day, her wish might come true and that she would step inside of a song herself and be saved by such a man.

All notion of time was lost to Sansa for a moment at least and so when she felt something cold and wet brush on her forehead and brows, she was utterly lost. She wasn't extremely comfortable with her back painfully laid over some sort of wooden plank. All around her, she could hear people talking and a woman was exchanging words she did not understand with the rasping-voice man.I have to thank him. I owe him my life, she suddenly decided, stretching her body with difficulty while slowly opening her eyes. At first, all she saw was a confused blur surrounding her and she felt lost and light headed. It took a few seconds for her eyes to finally focus correctly and when they did at last, she saw the massive body of a man standing on one knee before her. Raising her gaze meet his, she was not prepared for the shock that went through her as she saw the appearance of her saviour's face.

The left side of his face was burned in the most terrifying manner, with twisted masses of flesh going all the way to his scalp and ear and his long black hair was brushed over the scars in a useless attempt to dissimulate them. His eyes were dark and shined with a cruel gleam and the gaunt features of the untouched side of his face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, were already to themselves giving him a fearsome aspect. He was the very portrait of a murderer, the kind of man Sansa would have been scared to death of if she had ever crossed path with him in the streets.

Gasping, she tried to move away from him but she was still laying down and her body was aching too much. But then, she abruptly recognised him and her fear only grew stronger as she did. The Hound! It's the Hound!The man was known all over the Seven Kingdoms. Even in the North from where she came, stories of his brutality and gruesome appearance were told by travelling freeriders and sellswords. She had herself even seen him once, although very shortly and from afar. It had been two weeks before, on the day Princess Myrcella had taken a ship to Dorne to rejoin her betrothed. She had been escorted by the whole court and Sansa had gone with her mother to try to get a glimpse of the King who was said to be very handsome. The Hound had been with him, towering over everyone that surrounded him. She had found him so gloomy; Sansa had wondered how the young King could stand being in the company of such a horrible-looking man.

But now, it was Sansa's turn to be in his company. Quickly though, she reminded herself that he had saved her. She knew she was being very rude by showing her fear to him as she was doing. Taking a deep breath, Sansa gathered her courage and decided she should tell him how grateful she was for what he had done for her.

"I would like to thank you, ser, for… for saving me." She was still on her back, but she had raised herself on her elbows, keeping her eyes politely lowered as she spoke. Smallfolk were not allowed to look at noblemen in the eyes and she was thankful for that; she was not certain she could have born staring at the Hound's scars for too long.

"You look more scared than thankful to me." His voice sounded disgusted and she felt herself begin to shiver.

"I'm very sorry, ser. I didn't mean to displease you. Only I was startled by… by…"

The man didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence. "By my ugly face, is that it?" he suggested, snorting.

"No, no! Of course not! I have no right to judge you, ser. I know my place. You were so brave to rescue me as you did. Without you, ser, I would surely be dead by now." Her voice was weak and unconfident as the one of a small child.

The hoarsest and most lugubrious laughter Sansa had ever heard then came from the Hound's throat. "You think me brave when all I did was chase off a buggering rat?" He snorted again. "And don't call me 'ser', I despise everything that's related to knighthood. Those buggers can all go burn in the seven hells as far as I'm concerned."

Sansa was so scared that tears were pealing in her eyes. She didn't know what to reply but she figured being polite and respectful was probably her only way out of this unbearable situation. "As it pleases you, my lord," was all she could think of saying.

"As it pleases me…" he repeated, making the words sound like curses. "Well it doesn't please me at all! Not many things pleases me, I'll bloody tell you that. Your chirping for one. It's fucking annoying. Your little courtesies are only pretty lies and I like looking at reality straight in the face." With that, the Hound pinched her chin with his large hand and raised her face, approaching his closer. Sansa's stare was still respectfully lowered and it seemed to annoy him.

"Look at me!" The aggressively in his rough voice made her heart jump in fear. She obeyed though and met him gaze with frightened eyes. His own eyes were filled with rage and the muscles of his face were tense, especially his jaw, his mouth twitching on its burned side.

"That's better." He paused for a moment before adding, more calmly: "You see, that's how the truth looks like. Not pretty, isn't it? You're really a little bird, aren't you? You think your chirping will get you anywhere? It won't. Did it help you when that bastard tried to rape you? He didn't give a shit about your pretty words. I thought you small folks were wiser than that. Never heard of something called street smart? It might've helped you fare better. You're not from this city, aren't you?"

"No, my lord, I'm from the North. My family has moved to King's Landing less than a year ago."

"It's bloody obvious, I'll tell you that. You better learn to adapt fast because believe my bloody words: this bugger won't be the last to try to rape you, especially if you keep hanging in these streets." He released her painful chin from his strong grip and Sansa lowered her gaze at once.

The Hound turned around and took a bowl that was set on the table next to him and approached it to her lips. "Here girl, drink some water, you must be thirsty."

She was and so Sansa brought her lips to it and let him pour the fresh liquid in her mouth. Some of the water went dripping along her cheeks down to her neck but she closed her eyes in pleasure as she felt the cold flow caressing the inside of her throat, a much needed healing balm for its sore and dry wall. She drank from his hand for what seemed to be an eternity.

"Thank you, my lord", she said shyly afterward.

The Hound was watching her with a strange gleam in his eyes. "You have a name, do you?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

"Yes, my lord."

"What is it?" His voice sounded softer now and it made her feel a little better.

"Sansa, my lord."

"Sansa," the Hound rasped lowly, the hoarse sound of his voice making her own name almost unrecognisable to her ears. As he uttered it, the man was staring at her with such a queer intensity that Sansa was starting to feel uneasy all over again. "You're a smith's daughter I've heard."

"Who told you that?" How does he know?

"The serving wench right there," he said, giving a nod in the direction of a woman just behind him.

Sansa raised herself more and glanced around her. She hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings yet. She recognised to serving wench as a woman living near her home and gave her a small smile before realising in what kind of establishment she was in. Oh! A tavern! This was no place for a maiden, her father would be so mad at her if he knew where she was! The Hound seemed to notice her discomfort and be amused by it, his lips slowly curving in the weirdest half-grin she had ever seen.

"Don't worry girl, I won't keep you here for longer than necessary. But first, you need to eat something," he told her, raising a hand and snapping his fingers to draw the attention of Sansa's neighbour. When he asked for a bowl of soup, the woman immediately went to the kitchen and left them on their own again.

Grasping her by the shoulders, the man pulled her up to help her sit completely and Sansa had to grip at the cloak that covered her nudity for it to stay correctly in place as he rose her. Is that his King's guard cloak? she wondered, glancing at it. She felt strangely comforted and honoured to be wrapped in such a strong and prestigious symbol.

Pulling himself a chair, the Hound sat in front of her at the other side of the table before taking the wineskin that was laid between them and raising it his mouth. After a long and greedy pull, he handed it to her.

"Some wine might do you some good, little bird. Here. Take it."

Obedient, she took it from him but only looked at it, wavering.

"You don't like wine?"

"No, it's just that… I'm not allowed to drink it…" she revealed, blushing deeply.

"Who says that? Your father, I wager? He's not here you know."

Sansa was still hesitant.

"How old are you to be still so afraid of your father? You're too old for that, aren't you?"

"I am four and ten, my lord."

His grin brusquely disappearing, the Hound snorted. "Still a child." His voice sounded even harsher than before and Sansa was confused as to why he seemed so displeased.

"Anyhow, you'll take a sip. Come on girl, do as I bid."

Sansa didn't dare disobey. The wine was stronger than the one her parents allowed her to drink on special occasions and she grimaced at its taste.

It made the Hound laugh. "Not to your liking, little bird? I'll keep it for myself then," he decided, reaching for the skin and taking a long swig out of it.

The kitchen door opened at that instant and the serving wench came in the common room with a bowl of steaming soup in her hands. After having set it down on the table in front of Sansa, she gave her a spoon and went away.

The delicious smell oozing from the bowl was making Sansa's stomach rumble in anticipation and she gazed in the Hound's direction, unsure if she should start eating or not. "Do you want some, my lord?" she asked.

"Not now. Eat."

The soup was good and warm and every spoonful made her feel a little better. Sansa ate fast, feeling the Hound's heavy stare on her as the man continued sipping on his wineskin, watching her as if she was some sort of oddity he had stumbled on and wasn't sure what to make of.

The bowl was soon empty and Sansa forced herself to look at her benefactor strait in the face, as he seemed to like her to do. "Thank you, my lord. That was very generous of you."

"What a good and well behaved little bird you are. If I didn't know any better, I'd take you for a bloody highborn maiden. I'll have to congratulate your parents when I'll see them later…"

Sansa gasped. Why would he meet my parents?

"You think I'd let you go back to your house on foot by yourself with that dress of yours looking more like a rag than anything else and only with that dirty cloak to cover yourself? Chances are, you'd be attacked all over again. I'll take you to your house. Are you feeling better now?"

Sansa nodded.

"Come on then," he rasped, standing up and grabbing her arm to help her rise to her feet.

After the Hound had given a few coins to the serving wench, they walked out of the tavern and went to the stable. A boy of about Sansa's age brought out a huge black stallion that looked fiercer than any other she had ever seen before.

The Hound eyes gleamed with amusement as he noticed how she moved back from the beast in apprehension. "Never saw a war horse before, little bird? His name is Stranger. You're right to keep your distances: he can be as deadly as his namesake when he feels like it."

"Stranger? That's blasphemous!" Sansa cried without thinking.

The Hound made a sound that might have been a laugh and circled her waist with his missives hands, lifting her from the ground and settling her on the back of the horse. He then swung himself behind her and Stranger started to move.

As he was holding the reins before her, the Hound's arms were leaning slightly against Sansa's sides and her back was touching his torso which made the girl blush as she remembered how she had quite enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms and chest against her as he had carried her sooner that evening.

"You live far from here, girl?" he demanded, his breath warm on the side of her face as he spoke.

"I'm not certain, my lord, I was lost when you found me. My house is on the Street of Steel."

The Hound snorted at that. "Fucking obvious, I'd say." Then he paused just an instant and added: "You know that I'm no lord, do you?"

"Yes… Members of the King's guards are not lords - I know that of course - but you-"

He didn't let her finish. "So you know who I am after all. Not too hard to figure, I'd reckon."

The rest of their way was filled with silence. Sansa was too nervous to try to entertain any sort of conversation. How would her parents react when they saw their daughter being escorted back to their home by the infamous Hound? Her anxiety was killing her.