Sandor Clegane

It was a fine morning and it promised to shape the rest of his day. The sun was shining, the bird were chirping, the wine was... well, there was wine and the whore was doing some pretty weird things with her tongue. Not that he was complaining. It was well over three years since he had a lay and he was going to enjoy every single second of it, weird ass tongue swirling included.

He opened his eyes to enjoy the view of a head of black tresses bobbing up and down on his cock. She was a pretty thing, with soft curves, long hair soft to the touch between his grasping fingers, black eyes closed in concentration and those lips... wrapped snugly against his manhood. It really was a fine morning.

The woman stopped. She took him in her hand and looked up at him with her big eyes, fluttering her eyelids. "Shall we take this to the bed?" she asked, and all he could give her was a grunt of agreement.

What could he say? She wasreallygood at her job.

She rose from her kneeing position on the floor, took his hand and proceeded to drag him from the chair that he was seating on toward the rickety bed in the room. A small thing, that screeched with every move and he'd bet it was actually less comfortable than the floor.

When they reached it, the little cunt proceeded to push him on it, straddle his hips and started kissing every single part of his skin her little mouth could reach. She dragged her teeth to his good ear; he shuddered and gripped her sides. She then rose on her knees and sank on him. If he would have been a lesser man, he would have come then and there.

After a couple of minutes of the chit gyrating and moving up and down and generally doing a great job of making him lose his mind, she brought her mouth to his ear again. "Eileen," she whispered.

"What?"

"My name. It's Eileen. I want you to call my name when you come."

Demanding bitch, wasn't she? Still he did not answer her, only watched at her with a look that she took for blind agreement, but really it was only one of intense concentration not to spill his entire being inside of her. And gods, he was getting closer. A few more thrusts and he was done for.

He opened his eyes, not remembering closing them and when he did, he went as stiff as a board, because the black haired beauty before him was replaced by a red haired goddess. He blinked and the whore was back. She slowed down, eventually stopped and looked at him, questions in her eyes.

"The fuck are you stopping for?" he snapped and the woman resumed her motions, only now he could feel the pleasure in his loins decreasing and he couldn't have that. Not now, when he was so close to the end.

In a desperate act he grabbed Eileen and flipped them over so that he was the one on top and he started pumping vigorously and with little regard for the pleasure of the one beneath him. He looked down at her face and again he saw someone he hadn't seen in a long time. But he didn't stop this time because he could feel himself coming to a close again, staring into her beautiful blue eyes and her heart shaped face. "Sansa..." he whispered.

"My name is Eileen." she forced out, and the spell was broken and the beautiful goddess from before was replaced again by the face of the common whore. And maybe he was losing his mind, but wasn't Eileen pretty too? Because she wasn't any more; and not in the sense of I've-seen-a-greater-beauty and-this-one-now-pales-in-comparison kind of way, but more like how-drunk-must-I've-been-to-even-consider-this. He stopped completely, erection deflated and no pleasure achieved, and stared at Eileen's face as it became even uglier; her hair bristled, her skin wrinkled, and on her face pimples of great variety started popping into existence.

The whore smiled in an attempt to besiege him to continue what they had began, and by doing that she revealed rotting teeth and a foul breath. He jumped as if burned out of the bed, stalked to his clothing and started to get dressed with great urgency, because, really, if he stayed in the same room with that, he will be sick.

What the fucking fuck? He made some bad decisions in his life, and the alcohol made him make even worse decisions, but he never woke up to one of the ugliest women in Westeros.

And he doesn't want to sound like a hypocrite. He knows he's not much to look at either, but at least half his face is in good standing condition. He looked back at Eileen as he was buckling his belt to see her coming to him with a look of disappointment on her face and he really must losing his minds because she was pretty again.

"Come now, I wasn't so bad, was I?" she said with a forceful smile.

Awkward silence, that seemingly stretched infinitely, filled the room, with him looking at her with baiting breath to see the change happening again and her looking at as if he gone insane because what kind of sound minded man would stop fucking such a good piece of ass moments before completion?

"No, you were as good as the money I gave you." He finally said with a grimace.

She glided closer, satisfied by his answer. "Then what say you to get undressed again," her left hand touched the shirt on his shoulders then drifted down on his chest, almost touching the skin, "and finish what we started."

Huh. It seemed his cock didn't mind one bit and what the hell? He paid for it for crying out loud. "You better make it good." He told her and her face lit with a victorious smile.

She brought her hands up to undo the few buttons of his shirt he managed fasten. He was ready to forget whatever happened a few minutes ago, for her face promised a lay he won't soon forget. She really was quite the beauty. Her knuckles touched the skin of his chest and oh dear Gods, she was not a beauty at all!

He jumped out of her reach and she was pretty again. He carefully watched her unblemished skin for any imperfections but all he could see on her face was extreme irritation. "This is ridiculous." She snapped, hands on her hips. "If you don't like my services perhaps you should go to this Sansa of yours!" she huffed, crossing her hands. The fuck was she getting jealous for? She was getting paid do this kind of thing. It's not like he owed her something. But she did have a good point. He really should go find Sansa.

"Yeah, I think I'll leave." And in a daze he started dressing again. Sansa; it's been a while since he last saw her. Almost five years. She ought to become quite a woman by now for she was beautiful even as a child and now, he was sure she must be having the eyes of every man she passed following her every move.

He supposed he was a bit jealous. After all, what sane man wouldn't want to posses such a woman and call her his?

And now that the thought entered his mind his whole body sang with new purpose. He would make Sansa his and he will cut down anyone who stands in his way.

He finished lacing his boots with a smile on his face. He straightened up, took his coat from the back of the chair he sat before, when he received one of the best blowjobs in his life. He faltered for a moment, then, I'm sure Sansa can suck even better the any other woman in the world and if she doesn't, I'll teach her!

Wicked smile on his face, he made for the door when Eileen voice interrupted him. "My money!"

"What?" he asked confused and turned to see her seated with her back facing him at her vanity table, brushing her long hair, watching him with guarded eyes through the mirror.

"You only gave me half of price. You said you'll give me the other half after we finish."

"Well I didn't finish." He snapped back.

"It's not my fault you have performance issues. "

What? He can perform very well, thank you very much. "It's not my fucking fault you're a turn off."

That seemed to make her angry, for she slammed her hands on the table and turned on her chair, eyes sparking furiously. "Listen! I don't have time to play semantics with you, so you better pay up or I'll call Brutus!"

Shit. That beast was even bigger than himself and he didn't have time to fight the mammoth of a man when heneeded to find Sansa.

He dug into his pockets and fished a few coppers and a dragon. He made to pocket the dragon back when a thought flashed in his mind: what if the chit will go around spreading rumors about his lacking performance? And not that he gave two shits about what the people thought about him but, what if the rumors reached Sansa's ears? He couldn't handle thatembarrassment.

"Fine," he said, "here." He deposited the coppers on the chair. He then held the dragon for her to see. "I trust that this will hold your silence about whatever the fuck happened here?" His voice was foreboding.

Her eyes shone. "Aye," she agreed. "I won't breathe a word."

"Good." He dropped the dragon on the pile of coppers and then he left her room.

The brothel's hallways were empty but for a few girls moving about. He passed a few doors behind which men were entertained very well, if the sound of moans and grunts was anything to go by. He saw the exit and made for it when a pretty young thing with brown tress appeared in his way. She blinked seductively at him and approached, pouty lips stretch into smile that promised release of the sweetest kind. He really didn't have time for this shit. He had to find Sansa and make sweet love to her. The whore approached him and dragged her finger over the now buttoned up shirt. "Hello, handsome..."

He didn't let her finish what would have surely been an invitation for him to sample her wares. He grabbed the hand that was gliding over his shirt with the intention to tell her to piss off and then released her it, just as quickly as he grabbed it because for a moment there she transformed into a thing of nightmares.

Well, fuck him. His touch did this.

"Well, I hope you'll change your mind." She said with a sigh and turned to leave.

"Wait." He said. She stopped her steps, watched him questionably and he grabbed her hand again, this time watching curiously for the changes that were happening right in front of his eyes.

"So you do want to take this upstairs." She smiled. "That'll be 50 coppers." Didn't shefeel her skin filling with sores and ready to explode pimples? Or was it just him? Was it something wrong with his eyes?

And then the answer came.Yes. They were made to gaze upon a true goddess of beauty, not whores with painted faces. Sansa... oh, how he wished to see her again.

He released the whore's hand. "No, piss off." And with that he left the brothel, the girls face, beautiful and unblemished, watching him leave with confusion.

Outside, the city of Gulltown was buzzing with life. Merchants shouting their wares for all the world to hear, dogs barking rabidly, people laughing and discussing and...- he jumped out of the way as a pair of drunk people came crashing down through the window of an inn, furiously punching each other's faces into unrecognizable pulps - ...and generally getting along.

Sansa wouldn't like it here, he thought; too many unwashed curs and not enough knights and flowers.No, this place wasn't for her. She belonged in a castle, with servants to see to her every need, to be surrounded by all the fine things a girl like her would want and have all the boys and men falling over themselves to capture her attention.

All the boys and men? He crashed that thought with a vicious snarl. No one will be touching his little bird. No one will be worthy of that honor. And he will make sure it stays that way.

Determined now beyond belief, he entered the inn and bought enough provisions to see him to Winterfell. It cost all the money he had left and a dire threat at the innkeeper's life for she'd better give him those wineskins, or else!

With food and drink in a bag, he found Stranger and made for Winterfell, encouraging his horse to speed up as if his life depended on it, dust rising and settling behind him.