Hello everyone!

For a number of reasons, the second chapter is already done. Don't get used to this pace though; it won't last.

Sansa

For a long and awkward moment, both Sansa and the Hound stayed silent and still. The only sound that could be heard in the gloom of the corridor was the dripping of moisture as it slowly seeped through the stone wall and ceiling and landed on the floor. Her whole body trembling in horror at what she had just done, Sansa kept her eyes lowered to the ground, too anxious to glance at Sandor Clegane.

"What exactly did you just offer me, girl?" the man suddenly asked, his voice betraying no emotion at all. "Did I really hear you right?"

Sansa was at a loss as to what she might answer. There was no point in denying her intentions as the Hound had clearly understood her meaning and was sure to read any lie she attempted to make him believe. Besides, she couldn't abandon her hopes, no matter how thin, of swaying him to help her flee King's Landing just yet and thereby, recanting her proposition was simply out of question. Still, the situation was so humiliating and nerve-racking that Sansa couldn't help but stare at the ground and stay as quiet as a frightened child.

Obviously displeased by her muteness, Sandor Clegane seized her jaw with tight fingers and lifted her face. "Look at me," he ordered flatly.

Slowly, Sansa raised her gaze and did as he bade her. Surprisingly, he didn't appear half as mad as she expected but still, everything about his stance was mocking and spiteful. As always, he had his ways of intimidating her without doing much and she barely managed not to avert her eyes.

"Did you truly just offer yourself to me, same as any bloody whore would?" the Hound asked sharply once he was certain he had her utmost attention.

The question was so harsh that Sansa felt her whole body turn red and burn from the moment she heard it. "It's not the same," she retorted meekly while lowering her gaze. "I don't want any gold from you," she whispered after a few seconds of silence in the same childlike voice. Then unexpectedly, some meagre courage overtook her and gave her the force she needed to meet his stare again. "What I want to gain from this exchange is my life," she added in a tone that sounded almost calm to her ears.

For a short instant, the Hound seemed taken aback by her response but his usual wry expression quickly reappeared on his ravaged face. "Perhaps. Still, why would I be interested in taking a woman that won't even look at me while I bed her?"

Breathing in deeply, Sansa raised her chin as high as possible in Sandor Clegane's steely grip. "I am looking at you now," she stated as convincingly as she could while fighting the impulse to turn her head around as she normally would have.

For the next minute or so, Sandor Clegane intently stared at her, right in the eyes, waiting and expecting her gaze to dart away from him. Obstinately, Sansa kept her own eyes locked on his, adamant in proving to him that he was mistaken - even though she knew in truth he wasn't.

In the end though, she thankfully did fool him.

"Seems like you've grown bold enough to look at me after all," he rasped lowly after a long moment. Although his tone was flat, Sansa read some surprise in it.

Removing his hand from her jaw, he tilted his head, studying her with narrowed eyes. "What exactly did you expect from this proposition of yours again?" he asked, while letting his stare travel over her face in such an odd way that Sansa had to fight a shiver. "Your maidenhead against my help bringing you to that bloody ship? You think your cunt's worth all that trouble to me?"

While his words were harsh, Sansa sensed he was more interested in the trade than he was willing to make it appear and the awareness emboldened her. "These would be the terms," she murmured with a nod. "It wouldn't be much risk to you though. You'd only need to secure a place for myself on the ship and help me escape from the castle once the time comes," she continued, speaking in total ignorance while hoping her words weren't too far from the truth.

"And how could you be certain that I wouldn't take you and forgo my part of the deal once I'm done with you?" the Hound sneered after having drunk a long gulp of wine. "You'd have no one to complain to afterwards if I were not honest."

"You're right, of course… but I trust you. I know you're no liar," Sansa whispered softly. "Am I right?" she asked, praying the gods that she was not mistaken, while timidly glancing at him.

Glaring down at her, Sandor Clegane waited a few long seconds but then he snorted and looked away. "Aye, you are," he grunted almost reluctantly. "I'll keep my word… if I agree, that is."

Trembling equally from fear that he would refuse and fright that he would accept, Sansa kept her unassured gaze on him. "And… do you?" she demanded hesitantly.

Clenching his jaw, the Hound began turning around as if he was considering leaving but then, he cocked his head and smirked tightly, all the while never meeting Sansa's gaze. "Perhaps you're not as blind and clueless as you make it appear. After all, you chose your target pretty damned well," he rasped lowly before facing her once more. Grinning in an almost menacing way, Sandor Clegane laughed dryly and looked at her with eyes dark and gleaming. "I do want you. Let me in your bed tonight and you can count on me with your escape."

For an instant, Sansa was too dumbstruck to react. Had her stratagem truly worked? The Hound would help her flee? It was too good to be true. She almost grinned at that instant, but then she remembered what his agreement involved. I'll be giving myself to him in moments! she realised with sudden dread. Simultaneously, the man's admission sank in and Sansa's heart began pounding fiercely as she grasped the meaning of his words. Sandor Clegane was indeed trulyattracted to her. Although she had already suspected it and even counted on that supposition, to hear it so openly from his own lips was utterly unsettling.

When the Hound noticed how tense she had grown, he snorted with something like irritation and glowered down at her. "Regretting this already?" he growled, the burned corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Sansa was as scared and nervous as a bird caught in a cat's mouth, however there was not a chance in all of Westeros that she'd let this opportunity fly away so easily. Swiftly, she took the last step that separated her from Sandor Clegane and laid a hand over his upper arm. "No!" she cried, staring at him with imploring eyes. "Please follow me, my lord," she said in a broken but determined voice before turning around and heading to her door.

An eye blink later, Sansa had stepped inside and the man was locking the door behind him. That's it! The Hound is going to take my maiden's gift! she thought as a new surge of panic overwhelmed her. There was no complaining though; that was exactly what she had asked for after all. Besides, thanks to the sacrifice she was about to make, her feet would touch northern ground in less than a moon's turn and that was all that truly mattered in the end. With that in mind, Sansa steadied her breathing and tried to calm herself. It wouldn't do for Sandor Clegane to notice how totally petrified she was if she didn't wish for him to abruptly change his mind. He wanted her to look at him; he had told her so only minutes earlier and Sansa would give him what he desired as best she could. Gathering her courage, the girl went straight to her bed in a trance-like state and sat on its edge. The sooner they were done with it, the better it would be, she tried to convince herself.

Looking unexpectedly uneasy, Sandor Clegane was sweeping his gaze around the chamber when Sansa looked at him again. After what appeared to her as a very long moment, he sighed, settled his now empty wineskin on the table and began unbuckling his sword belt, all the while not even sparing a single glance in her direction. Once he was done, he settled his weapon in the corner of the room and sat on a chair not far from her. Sansa was watching him out of the corner of her eye, her back straight and stiff and her sweaty hands demurely set over her lap in an attempt to keep them from trembling.

"I said I agreed to your terms," the Hound rasped as he started undoing the laces of his boots, his eyes still averted from her. "But I also want you to promise me something first."

Unwilling to refuse him anything at this point, Sansa compliantly nodded as soon as she heard his words.

"This is the last time you'll ever offer yourself like this. Once is fine, but you won't get used to it. Say it," he demanded roughly, almost snarling the last words.

Slightly disconcerted, Sansa gulped but nonetheless immediately agreed to his terms. "I promise. This is the last time I'll ever do such a thing."

"Good," the man growled as he kicked his boots off. "I don't want you becoming like one of those buggering luxury whores that crowds the Red Keep," he said, raising his stare. Eyes narrowed at her, the Hound stood and took a step toward the bed. "For all that, I'd be a fool to refuse your offer. Especially now that I know I'll be the last man to whom you'll ever propose anything similar," he added with a smirk.

Biting at her bottom lip, Sansa kept wide eyes fixed on him for some time, feeling the speed of her pulse increase with every passing second. It took her a long moment to realise that Sandor Clegane was probably expecting her to do something. The problem was Sansa had no clue what that might be. Perhaps… I should undress, she mused, totally abashed at the prospect. Still, her hands rose to her collar of their own accord and unclasped the brooch of her cloak before letting the large piece of cloth fall over the bed.

The Hound gave her a wry half-smile at that. "That's a start," he rasped sardonically.

A small fire was burning in the hearth and its orange glow was reflecting over the man's burned face, making his scars appear even more gruesome than they actually were – if that was possible. Fighting against her every instinct, Sansa forced herself to look at him and behold the fearsome sight he made with his cruel, gaunt features, long black hair and gloomy demeanour. He was a maiden's nightmare, a giant closer in appearance to an ogre than to the handsome knights Sansa fancied and beyond that, he was so tall and broad that he would surely crush her under his weight while they… they… Oh gods, what did I get myself into?!

"Calm down, little bird," the Hound's rough voice interrupted her troubled thoughts.

I have to gain control over myself, the girl tried to reason, shaking herself. Was the man annoyed with her for her agitation?

"I've never had a maiden before," Sandor Clegane told her nonchalantly while taking the last step that separated him from the bed. "Nevertheless, only a deaf man has never heard of how sensitive you females can be at first. You need not worry; I'll be careful with you as much as I can."

Sansa wasn't certain if his words were supposed to reassure her but at least naught in his attitude indicated her obvious trepidation bothered him in any way. The awareness eased the frantic beating of her heart to a somewhat more regular rhythm but the respite only lasted a few breaths for Sandor Clegane shortly kneeled his imposing body before her. The enormity of him was perhaps even more impressive crouched on the floor than it had been a mere instant before while he stood at his full height and Sansa felt uncomfortably small and fragile next to him. What is he doing? she wondered anxiously while instinctively turning her head around and shutting her eyes. Just as she was doing so, the girl felt the Hound's large hand settle over her cheek. Against her will, she flinched at the contact - exactly as she had promised herself she wouldn't do.

Burying his other hand in her hair, Sandor Clegane began softly caressing her face. "Shhh," he whispered hoarsely. "Calm those bird nerves of yours, there's nothing healthy in being so tense."

The feel of the Hound's fingers stroking over her face was rough, as could be expected from the hands of such a man, but his touch was also unexpectedly gentle. Slowly, he let his thumb and forefinger trace the line of her jaw and the shape of her cheekbone and Sansa began to relax – if only slightly – but still, she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Yet even in the darkness she voluntarily kept herself in, she could sense how hungrily the man was staring at her and she was beginning to doubt she'd ever find the courage to contemplate his lust in truth.

Steadily, the Hound's warm breath brushed against the side of her face, however its heat couldn't stop Sansa from shivering at the proximity they were in. "Could you truly be cold with that fire burning in the hearth… or are you trembling from fright?" Sandor Clegane asked in a dry but queerly not ungentle tone. Softly, he lowered his hand over Sansa's neck and caressed it lightly with his knuckles. "Tell me, little bird. What scares you most? Losing your maidenhead or lying with me?"

For an instant, Sansa couldn't find her voice. What was she supposed to reply to such a question? There was no point in lying to the Hound! He had probably already guessed the answer for all she knew anyhow. She would need to find a way to tell the truth while not saying it in such a fashion that she risked displeasing him.

"Both daunt me equally," Sansa breathed after a few seconds of awkward silence. "I'm a maiden after all… and you… are an intimidating man."

At that, the Hound chuckled as softly as his gruff voice allowed. "Fair enough. I've heard it said often enough not to blame you for it."

Circling his hand over her throat, his face approached Sansa's neck and he settled his mouth on its side, his lips warm and wet against her smooth skin. At the contact, the girl instantly gasped in surprise, eyes popping open when she felt the man's tongue lazily trail over the softness that lay there. In a heartbeat, the queerest sensation Sansa had ever known rose from the center of her being and spread all over the rest of her body with the same intensity and speed of a flash of lighting cutting through the sky.

Confused by her own reaction, Sansa inhaled deeply, hopeful that the action might allow her to tame her rebellious core, but then the Hound bit at the tender skin and the same strange sensation once more flowed over her. This time, Sansa couldn't hold back a soft moan from escaping her lips. What is happening to me? she wondered in a mix of confusion, fear and… something else – mysterious and strange - that she couldn't quite figure out.

Author's note: I know I'm a bad person for writing this story but I'm not sorry.