Sandor
There had been no mistaking her for anyone else when he had seen her that afternoon. Her hair was different and she had been wearing simpler clothing than befitted her rank, but it would take more than that to fool a bloody dog like him.
After moons of recovering from his physical injuries while nearly dying of boredom, Sandor had finally left the Quiet Isle some time ago and was now wandering from village to village with no particular goal apart from getting drunk as often as he could manage. His name had been sullied by some fucker who was raping and killing his way across the Riverlands while wearing Sandor's lost snarling dog helmet.
What kind of buggering fool is that coward, to cravenly use someone else's identity to do his fucking dirty work? If you want to kill, kill, but don't hide yourself behind anyone and let them take the blame of your bloody actions. No matter how many wenches this bastard has raped, he's no real man to me. Given this new unfounded addition to his already bad reputation, Sandor had to play the holy man in order to avoid being recognised. If ever he were, hordes of enraged smallfolk and knights would be likely to line up just to get a try at killing the terrible mad dog of the Saltpans. This disguise didn't prevent people from noticing him though; septons and holy brothers of his height and build were extremely uncommon and the roughspun of his robe did nothing to muffle the jingle of the armour that he wore underneath it. Innkeepers were always suspicious of him whenever he came to their inn for a few drinks of wine or a proper bed, but they never enquired further as he had the gold to pay and didn't give them any trouble. The elder brother had given him a pouch filled with coins before he left the island and Sandor was grateful for that. He owed a lot to that man.
Crossing the Narrow Sea and starting a new life in one of the free cities appeared to be the more logical thing to do as there was no way that Sandor could hope to find work if he stayed in Westeros, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the Seven Kingdoms so soon. Stupid dog! You'll never find her, she's long gone, she might even be dead for all you know, he had often thought angrily but still, he had stayed.
As he was riding Stranger toward the Gates of the Moon, Sandor was congratulating himself for having lingered around the Riverlands longer than logic would have recommended. He had been thunderstruck when he had glimpsed the girl a few hours past; his heart had missed a beat but he had acted hastily and followed her from afar, determined not to lose track of her this time. The pretty little bird had flown all the way from King's Landing to the Vale and landed right on his path by total chance. My luck has definitely turned around, he had mused while incredulously staring at the girl.
Thankfully, neither the little bird nor her escort - a busty wench and a useless guard - had realised that they were followed while Sandor had admired her almost openly. The little bird had grown, Sandor had immediately noticed. Her body was still lean and graceful but she was undoubtedly taller and curvier.
How in the Seven Hells has this girl ever come to escape from the Lannisters to appear this far from her cage? he had wondered, although he had already known a part of the answer. It had been fucking obvious from the start to Sandor that Sansa of House Stark, former betrothed to the damned king, had been helped somewhere along the way and had found a new protector here in the Vale. Discovering who exactly the bugger was had been an easy task: when Sandor had asked him about the identity of the young woman, a man that sold goods at the market had appeared pleased to inform him that the maiden was the bastard daughter of the Protector of the Vale, Lord Petyr Baelish. Sandor had felt his mouth twitch instantly at the idea that this piece of shit had his little bird for himself. As much as he had not wanted her to stay in the lion pit forever, Sandor couldn't bear the thought that someone other than him had saved her, especially this fucker. He had never liked the man, but now he hated him.
There was no bloody way that Sandor would let the little bird go this time. On the night of the Battle of the Blackwater, he had been drunk and scared by the fires when he had sought her out. Stupidly, he had expected that she would compliantly follow him out of the Red Keep but the girl had not been interested in his proposition. The rage caused by the little bird's rejection combined with the gallons of wine he had drunk had numbed Sandor's senses and prevented him from thinking straight. If the little bird preferred to stay with Joffrey, it was her choice, he had reflected, but he would not leave empty-handed. He'd have something to remember her, a nice bloody souvenir and the oh so noble and proper Sansa Stark would never forget him either, a good thing since he had never been able to stand the feeling of being invisible in her eyes. The frightened but sweet voice of the girl had stopped Sandor in his tracks just in time. Her singing had been so soft and innocent that he had realised that although he was unquestionably a monster, he could never bring himself to hurt his little bird. Disgusted with himself, he had fled from her but that had been another mistake, he had found out later. I should've taken her with me by force. I'm no worse than her damned Imp of a husband or than this fucking Littlefinger she's with now.
Sandor was well aware that he didn't deserve to be anywhere near such a pure and gentle creature and that if he seized her there was no buggering way that he would not try to get a taste of the girl sooner or later, but why should he be the only one acting honourably while both of those bastards had had their turn ruining the little bird? She was rid of the dwarf but Littlefinger was no friend of hers either. The girl was probably ignorant on the deceitful manner in which the bastard had betrayed her father but Sandor would be bloody glad to tell her all about it after he'd stolen her from him.
The Gates of the Moon were surrounded by a thick forest that offered plenty of decent shelter possibilities. After about an hour of searching, Sandor had located a nice clearing that would meet all the requirements for a basic camp. It was already dark when both he and Stranger had eaten and rested a bit.
With some difficulty, Sandor took off his armour as he preferred to avoid making noises that could be heard by the guards while he crept around the castle to get acquainted with the site. In order to build an efficient plan for the capture of the little bird, Sandor would have to study the fortress and find its weakness as well as learn about the habits of the inhabitants of the place. This procedure would probably take him days, even weeks, yet he was determinated not to fail and was prepared to invest as much time as would be necessary. Patience was usually not one of his qualities, however when his mind was set on something, Sandor could be relentless like no other. Hidden behind the forest's treeline, he would wait for the perfect moment to strike from dawn to twilight and through the night if needed, but he had no doubt that Sansa Stark would end up being his sooner or later.
It was a warm night for winter; Sandor was almost comfortable wearing only regular breeches, a tunic and a studded leather jerkin. His robe had stayed at the camp, folded inside a satchel since the damned piece of clothing was far too bulky and Sandor didn't need a fucking dress to stop him from moving as swiftly as he intended.
As he was getting closer to the walls of the castle, his eyes were drawn by a womanly shape standing alone on a balcony. Seven buggering hells! He was near enough to recognise her: it was the little bird all right! The girl was garbed in a nightgown and staring sadly at the horizon; she stayed there for a long moment before disappearing back into the castle. Sandor's heart was fluttering but a grin formed on his burned lips. Fool! You don't give such an accessible room to the most beautiful girl in the realm! The little bird's abduction would not have to wait after all and it would be fucking easier to steal her than he had originally planned. Proper little lady as she was, the girl was almost certainly in her own chamber since she was not suitably dressed in that nightgown to present herself in public… although, there was a possibility that could be in Littlefinger's suite, but if it was the case, Sandor would kill the bastard without a second thought when he got there.
At a quick but careful pace, Sandor returned to his camp. He went straight to where Stranger's saddlebag was settled on the ground and grabbed a long and solid rope that was stored inside one of its pouches. This will do to pass over the outside wall of the castle. Then, I'll climb up the other one easily without a rope using the big carved stones to get to the girl's room. Since the rope was very long, Sandor decided to cut some length of it with his dagger; he would use the second half to bind the girl if she resisted him. It might be a bit harder to come down with the little bird afterward if in fact she was reluctant to follow him and he needed to tie her up but he would manage it.
This time, he would not give her any option. No matter how she reacted at seeing him, he would not leave without her. Nothing would stop him, be they tears or pleas.
The outer wall was already behind him. It had been no trouble to climb it; Sandor had hitched a strong steel anchor at the end of his rope and had thrown it over the structure before going up it without difficulty. The way down had been even easier and he was now contemplating the wall of the castle while keeping an eye on his surroundings. The yard was quiet and Sandor had not even glimpsed a guard yet. He snorted at the utter carelessness of the Lord Protector of the Vale at leaving the little bird so unprotected. Any bugger could have broken into this place and stolen her from her bed at night. If there were any bloody gods in this damned world, they were to be thanked that Sandor had come to fetch her before anything bad might have happened.
The stones of the wall were old and cracked, offering Sandor many choices of holds for his hands and feet as he ascended to the little bird's third floor chamber. After a few minutes of effort, he arrived on the balcony and looked through the stained glass of the slightly opened door. The room was dim but there was still a brazier in the fireplace giving off enough light for him to discern the girl's sleeping form on a bed not far from it. He sighed in relief: there was no sign of Littlefinger. Although slashing through a man was everyday business to Sandor, he preferred for the little bird to be alone since he doubted that the little fucker would die quietly, without screaming for help and alerting the whole castle.
The girl would probably scream too when she saw him coming in. The best tactic would be for Sandor to hastily open the door and run to her; he would then immobilise her small body and silence her cries with a strong hand. I'd better go now before I get too fucking nervous and start shaking like a squire before his first battle.
After taking a deep breath, Sandor entered the room as fast as he could before jumping on the bed and getting on top of the girl while putting a huge hand on her mouth. He used his other hand to grab one of her wrists while his whole body was crushing her onto the bed. There was no way that she could move, her other hand was even trapped under Sandor's weight. The little bird squirmed for a second before her frightened eyes popped open; she then gasped in surprise and fear at seeing him. Sandor felt her muscles tense under him but she stopped wriggling as soon as she recognised him. For a long moment, the girl stared at her assailant in terror, but she didn't struggle to free herself nor try to scream. Is she too appalled to fight back? Sandor was gazing at her big blue eyes, his heart beating faster and faster as he was getting queerly aroused by their proximity. She was breathtaking, even scared to death as she was, Sandor mused, while marvelling at the softness of her milky skin against his calloused fingers.
After several seconds of awkward silence, Sandor finally spoke up. "Will you scream if I take my hand from that pretty mouth of yours?" he rasped, his face inches from hers.
She vigorously shook her head.
Very slowly, Sandor slid his hand from the plump lips of the stunning girl but kept it on her cheek and jaw. She stayed silent but her mouth was slightly open in an expression of shock and incomprehension.
"I saw you at the village today, little bird," was his only explanation.
"You did?" she whispered almost inaudibly, obviously baffled.
Sandor nodded before answering, "Aye, that's why I'm here. The Vale is no place for you, little bird. You're coming with me."
Her pretty eyes widened even more. "Where?"
"Away," Sandor said, while caressing her bottom lip with his thumb before adding, "The free cities maybe."
While he was expecting her to resist, protest and cry at the prospect of being abducted to a foreign continent by the likes of him, the girl's stillness confused Sandor. She didn't so much as shift or pronounce a word of reaction at hearing his intentions; the little bird just kept staring at him with a dumbstruck expression. Too damn scared to move, I wager. I'd better get on with it; I have no time to lose.
In an authoritative tone, Sandor asked the girl: "Now, will you obediently come with me like the good girl I know you are, or will I have to tie you up and carry you over my shoulder?"
The little bird took a deep breath and answered in a weak and nervous voice, "I'll follow you."
What in the seven hells?! Sandor was puzzled: why the fuck would Sansa Stark willingly cross the Narrow Sea with him? He had just crept inside her chamber in the dark of night and taken hold of her as any common rapist would. Exactly as I did on the night of the bloody Blackwater Battle, Sandor mused, annoyed with himself. Was the girl trying to play him? Was it a trap?
"And why would you want that?" he asked almost angrily.
The brutality of his retort appeared to frighten the poor girl but after biting her pink lip and closing her eyes tightly, she blushed and shyly murmured, "I don't know… but… I want to."
Was she mad? What the fuck had Littlefinger done to her? Sandor had not changed; he was still the same hideous brute he had been on their last encounter. Why in the seven bloody hells would she want to flee with him now? Littlefinger is probably using her as his own personal whore, but does she truly believe that I won't touch her too? As he was looking down at her, the little bird opened her stunning blue eyes and gazed up at him. She was obviously frightened but she also seemed overly shy. Shy! Why would any victim be shy with her attacker? Something was wrong, really wrong… but not in an unpleasant way, Sandor realised as he felt his cock grow hard.
In an irrational impulse, he decided to test the girl's limits and learn exactly how far she was willing to go in order to escape from that piece of shit that they called the Lord Protector of the Vale. Her full lips were the prettiest shade of pink and looked so delicious to Sandor; since they were still parted, his tongue slid easily inside of her mouth as he softly kissed her. After an instant, the girl's tender little tongue met his. As he felt it, the burned man instantly broke the kiss to look at her with suspicion. She tensed under his prying stare and although the room was dim, it was clear that her skin had turned scarlet but the girl kept her gaze on him anyway. Abashed and manifestly uneasy as she was, the little bird's gorgeous eyes were nonetheless shining with something that Sandor had never seen in them before, something so mysterious and appealing that he knew he had to push the girl further to provoke more of that new and arousing gleam.
The beast in him had definitely been awoken. In an instinctive movement, Sandor's head went down to kiss and bite the girl's neck and ear while his left hand slid down her body, firmly stroking her waist and hip before grabbing one full breast.
"Ooh…" the little bird softly moaned.
Is she really enjoying this? Sandor wondered, taken aback. He was no expert in women's behaviour, but from that sound, fuck him if she didn't. That was all the encouragement he needed and there would be no turning back from now on, no matter the change of heart that the girl might soon have.
As the ache of his swollen cock was getting almost unbearable, Sandor abruptly backed away from the little bird and went on his knees. The girl appeared confused and quickly raised herself on her elbows while eyeing him with eyes wide as saucers. As she saw Sandor reaching for his dagger, she curled up and gasped in fear.
"Relax, little bird," he said while slashing through the girl's nightgown and underclothes with the sharpened blade.
The little bird's small hands went to cover her teats but Sandor grabbed her wrists and pushed her arms aside. The sight of the roundness of her creamy breasts crowned by those cute little pink buds of hers almost made him completely lose his mind. The girl whimpered as Sandor's mouth went to suckle and lick them; her nipples were stiff and sweet under his tongue. This is madness. We should be gone by now, he mused, knowing very well that he had already reached the point of no return and that the only outcome of this situation would be to fuck the little bird hard and deep. I'll be quick with this, he decided as he unlaced his breeches. With strong but careful fingers, he began to rub the girl's folds; she was wetter than any whore had a right to be, Sandor realised with disbelieving amazement as he heard her breath catch in her throat. Sansa fucking Stark was wriggling and moaning under his touch with an unmistakable and wanton pleasure, and Sandor concluded that she was more than ready to be filled by his manhood.
Without warning, he thrust the entirety of his rock hard cock into to little bird's entrance. She screamed in pain so loudly that he had to muffle her cries with his hand.
"Shh! You don't want to wake the whole castle, do you?" he rasped in her ear in an annoyed tone.
Although Sandor had no doubt that his size was greater than that of the Imp or Littlefinger, the girl's reaction was a bit excessive; she even had tears in her eyes as if she was a maiden on her wedding night. Sensitive little bird, he thought, slightly irritated while continuing to fuck her with his hand still on her mouth. After a few moments, the girl appeared to start enjoying herself once again, but it was too late as Sandor had reached his limit and was soon spilling his seed inside of her while experiencing the strongest climax that he'd had in a long time. Out of breath, he rolled off the little bird, still astonished by the tightness of her sweet cunt. I just fucked Sansa Stark, was all he could think right then.