They rode through the night, on Strangers back, leaving the cursed green fire of the battlefield behind them quickly. It had been almost too easy to slip out of the Red Keep. One of the lesser known exits had only been guarded by one soldier. He was suspicious, and wouldn't let them through, but Sandor had cut his throat with a single slash of his dagger and they were free.

They had been riding for hours on end, and the soft pink of the upcoming sunrise was already dotting the horizon. Sansa hadn't complained once, not even when he had killed the soldier, which surprised him. He looked at her now, sitting in the saddle in front of him. He had his hand on her waist to steady her, but it was still difficult for her not to fall off. He would've pulled her close to him, but he was sure she wouldn't like that. She had gotten so close back in her cage, the tip of her nose almost touching his. He had seen the elegant curve of her dark lips, and the freckles that dusted her cheekbones. But she had thought she was dead. He had started to growl at her, he couldn't stand the idea of her being hurt, let alone be killed. He swore to himself he would never let that happen.

She would die happy, peacefully, of old age. He would make sure of that.

Well, he could make sure she would grow old. Not that she would be happy. She would have to find another man for that. Not that he didn't want her, but he didn't deserve her.

She shifted in the saddle again, and Sandor slowed down. It grew lighter still, they would have to find a place to get some rest. They could not ride by daylight, it was too much of a risk. As soon as Stranger had slowed to a trot, Sansa relaxed some. She leaned back, and her back almost touched his chest. His armour still covered his chest, but somehow her closeness intoxicated him. He saw her red flowing hair dance with Strangers movements, and felt the urge to stroke it, feel the softness of it under his rough fingers.

Sandor hadn't been watching where they were going, and suddenly they were moving up a slight hill. Sansa slid back in the saddle, now really touching him, completely at ease. He could feel her soft round arse pressing into his groin, and his body immediately responded. He was getting hard, so he did the one thing he could think off. He pushed her forward in the saddle roughly, and dismounted. Sansa looked down at him in confusion, but she gave a tiny little smile that made him think she knew. Stupid bird.

'It's getting lighter Little Bird,' he growled, 'and we need a place to rest.'

'I see,' she sighed, pouting her already plump lips. 'So you wanted to stay in that cave over there?' She pointed over his head, and he turned to look what she was talking about. There was indeed a small opening in the hill about twenty feet to their left. He didn't see it before, because big rocks hid the entrance. You would only be able to see it if you stopped exactly where they had. It was the perfect hideout. He felt outdone by her, because he hadn't seen it, but she had. He was supposed to be protecting her, goddammit, not the other way around.

'Yes, of course, girl! Or would you rather just lie down here?'

He almost shouted at her, and she lifted her eyebrows at him. She didn't turn red and embarrassed like she used to. Something about her had changed.

She just got off Strangers back, smoother than he expected her to, and walked away swiftly towards the cave entrance.

Maybe it was because she was no longer a prisoner. Maybe she finally had learned that her pretty little words weren't going to work on him. Or maybe Joffrey and his knights had finally broken her.

He watched her as she walked, hips swaying in her dark green dress. She threw her long hair over her shoulder, and she looked like a goddess as it shimmered in the upcoming light. His groin aced for her, his cock straining his breeches.

Bad dog, he thought. Bad, bad dog! She is not yours, and she never will be, so back off.

As she walked away over the rocky surface of the hill, she took extra care to sway her hips slightly more than was necessary, smiling to herself as she went. Of course, she had seen him looking at her in Kings Landing, and while riding she had thought about why he had come to save her. But she never would've thought he actually had feelings for her. Why would he? She was just a stupid Little Bird, now wasn't she?

No, not anymore, but he didn't know that. Yet.

So when she had felt his hardness press into her, she was surprised at first, but also very surprised at how it made her feel.

She felt like a woman.

She wasn't scared anymore, she was ready. She just hadn't wanted Joffrey. Not that she wanted the Hound either, but he was more attractive than the pathetic little boy that called himself King. Yes, he had his scars, but he was a man, brave and honest. Somehow she had gone from wanting a fairytale knight to wanting a man, no matter how rough, just as long as he was true.

He did not have feelings for her, except maybe pity, but his body had needs. And so did hers.

As Sandor was fussing over the cave she had spotted before him, a thought had formed. Maybe she would push him, just to see how far he would let himself go. He wouldn't hurt her, she was sure of that, so she could stop it every time she wanted.

And maybe he would let her feel like a woman instead of a child.

She threw her hair casually over her shoulder, and as she reached the cave, she sat on one of the large rocks that lay there. She leaned back on her hands, so that her chest was slightly pushed forward. She felt a spark of victory as she saw his eyes grow large.

'Are you coming?' she called out at him.

He shook his head as if to clear it and started to walk, pulling on Strangers reins, looking anywhere but at her.

She looked him over approvingly. He was only wearing armour on his upper body. His chest, shoulders and arms were completely covered. His lower body however, was just leather and boots. As she noted that, she also saw that his breeches were strained at his groin.

She couldn't help but smile at that. Her game might be cruel, but it was working already. It made her feel alive.

Luckily there were a couple of trees close to the cave, where he could hide Stranger. The horse had drunk along the way, but they hadn't. There wasn't any water here, so they would have to move on tomorrow. Stranger began eating the grass as Sandor stroked his shoulder. He was procrastinating, and he knew it. But it didn't help. The bulge in his pants stayed, so uncomfortably tight that it almost hurt.

Fucking Little Bird whipping her hair around.

Suddenly her voice was behind him.

'Are you exited?'

She smiled at him. He could only stare back. So she had seen his pants. He walked past her quickly, only grunting at her in response. He had no idea what to tell her, but he regretted his roughness immediately. Why couldn't he just be gentle to her?

He was just too embarrassed. She probably thought he was just like every other dog, just following his cock. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't like that, that he would be gentle and caring. He had fucked many whores, but she was different. Pure.

Telling her that would only frighten her, of course. And he would never get to make love to her, like she would want that. He would do anything for her.

'By the cave, I mean?' she called out, 'It is such good luck we found shelter.'

He whirled around at her. She was still smiling sweetly, walking towards him slowly.

Was she seriously only talking casualties? Her smile was soft and innocent, but those night blue eyes were wicked.

She came even closer, almost touching him now, looking up to meet his eyes. Somewhere, in the back of his head he noted that she wasn't avoiding his scars anymore.

He smelled roses and honey, and she placed her hands on his chest like she had done in the cage.

'Thank you, Sandor. For everything. For saving me not only this time, but all those times before. You were the only thing that kept me sane in Kings Landing.'

She didn't break eyecontact as she spoke, and in her eyes Sandor could see she spoke the truth. It warmed his chest in ways he couldn't explain. His crotch betrayed him, however.

She had been trailing her hands down his chest as she spoke, and suddenly her hands were at his hips, stroking the leather there. It was too close and his breeches once again stood painfully tight against his manhood.

He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to thank him for, that he did it gladly and that he would do it all over again if she asked him to.

'Save your pretty words for someone who believes them, Little Bird,' he heard himself say.

He turned around abruptly, and walked into the cave. Where she couldn't see him, he slammed a fist into the hard rock wall. He was such an idiot. He couldn't even say what he wanted to. But maybe it was better this way. Maybe, if he kept rejecting her sweet song long enough, it would become easy to do so. She would find a husband to protect her, and he would be free of her spell again.

As soon as he thought it, he knew he was just lying to himself. He would never leave her willingly. He would watch over her, make sure her husband was good to her, and he would only ever leave if she told him to.

When Sandor was finished, it had gotten completely light. He had swiped the cave floor clean with some branches, and had collected dead leafs and long grasses. Over this pile he had draped his cloak, so that she could sleep in comfort.

It was sweet, and she hadn't expected him to be so gentle. He was rough and grumpy, like he had been when she had roamed her hands over his hips.

She had been surprised how muscled he was. Sure, she knew he was muscled, that was impossible to miss, but his hips?

It had almost hurt her feelings when he had been rude to her, but she knew she was winning this game.

Now, he guided her into the cave, where it was almost completely dark despite the sunlight outside. It was obvious that the cave was small and not very deep. When she saw the makeshift bed, she realised just how tired she was. From the entire night of riding, but also from being constantly on her guard in Kings Landig, never truly being able to relax.

She lay down, and found that the bed was bigger and softer than it seemed. She looked up at Sandor, who was a big shadow with the only source of light at his back. She couldn't see his face. He was just standing there, swaying his big arms for a moment, before he grunted and sat down at the exit, his back to her. Sansa noticed that he had his sword in his lap. He was still protecting her.

But he had to be tired too.

'Sandor…'

'Go to sleep Little Bird,' he grunted without looking back at her, 'we are riding out again as soon as it gets dark.'

'Are you not tired?'

There was a short silence, a hesitation. She decided to use that.

'You can't stay wake forever, Sandor,' she whispered.

While he was silent at the front of the little cave, she idly wondered when she had started calling him by his first name. It felt natural after all the fake courtesies.

He looked over his shoulder suddenly.

'If I leave, I cannot protect you. So I'm staying here, like it or not. Don't worry, I wont come any closer, so nightmares are not necessary.'

His voice was low, and even though Sansa still couldn't see his face, she could hear the hurt. That was not what she meant.

She reached out towards him, pushing herself up on her elbow, and placed her hand on his back.

'No,' she whispered, 'I meant, this bed is way too big for me.'

It was a heartbeat before he understood. Then he got up and lay down beside her, back towards her, face to the entrance and sword at his side.

Sansa was too tired to talk, even though she wanted him closer, holding her. She couldn't put up the effort, and simply shifted closer to him, creeping her arm around his waist.

He froze for a moment, and then simply sighed.