Sansa's feet sank into the damp sand with each step. The strong winds blew the hood of her cloak off her head, and her hair was now completely wet. Storms in Landale were sudden, and fierce. The sky darkened so quickly, it was almost as if the day was already gone. She squinted, and put her hand in front of her face, trying to block the water flying into her eyes. The rain came down in the direction she walked, making it harder to push against the wind. The sea roared, as monstrous waves crashed against each other. Gods, how did Sandor survive out there?
Distracted by her thoughts, Sansa tripped over a rock covered by the sand, and fell. She caught herself with her hands, but that left her wrists weak. Somehow the rain felt heavier, and she struggled to get up. She heard a muffled call in the distance, but the sea was so loud, the voice was lost in the storm. She managed to lift herself, and she sat on her knees collecting the items that fell out of her velvet satchel. The muffled voice was closer now, and as she searched through the sand, something grabbed her left arm and lifted her up.
"What are you doing, girl?" He yelled through the rain.
"Wait!" Sansa reached for her book. It laid open, pages flying back and forth. She grabbed it and held it tightly against her chest to keep the words from smudging anymore. It was her favorite book. Sandor wrapped his arm around her, helping her walk against the wind. Even wounded, his strength was clear, and they walked the rest of the way to the cabin with ease.
Sansa ran inside, and Sandor slammed the door behind them. "Do they not have storms like this in the South?" Sansa breathed.
Sandor rested his body against the door, catching his breath. He let out a deep laugh. The back of his head was against the door and Sansa watched his neck move with his voice. It was now she realized, he was not wearing his tunic. Her eyes roamed his body. The muscles on his chest were covered with dark hair, and the rain water left glistening droplets falling down his stomach. "That shirt is the only one I have." He said with a mischievous grin. "I didn't want to get it wet."
Sansa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She was suddenly aware of her own clothes. Her cloak was soaked right through, and heavy on her shoulders. She moved one of the wooden chairs closer to the warm fire and unclasped her cloak, hanging it over the back of the chair. She felt her dress with her clammy hands. The front was wetter than the cloak from when she fell. She dusted as much sand off as she could, but it was no use.
"You'll catch cold if you don't take it off." Sandor noted. He looked almost as uncomfortable as she.
"I know..."
"Hang it by the fire, and cover yourself with the blankets." He said, turning his back to her.
Sansa watched him for a few moments, making sure he was not going to turn around. She reached for the back of her dress, but could barely move her arms. The wet fabric made it impossible for her to untie the bodice herself. "S-Sandor?" Sansa's chin shivered uncontrollably. "I-uhh..." She couldn't say the words. She was not brought up to ask a man to help her undress unless it was her husband, but as she looked out the window, the storm only seemed to worsen. It could last all day, and she couldn't sit in a wet dress for much longer.
He turned around and lucky for her, he didn't make her ask. "Come closer to the fire so I can see." He said in a low, hoarse tone.
She did as he asked, and silently wished he would put his tunic on. He sat in a chair, his height was so great, even sitting down, he was almost as tall as her. "I don't know how you women get into these complicated things." He mumbled.
Sansa couldn't help but smile. She adored her gowns. The rich fabrics, the detailed embroidery, the different styles, but sometimes, they were uncomfortable. The corsets dug into her sides, leaving red marks behind, the fabric was sometimes itchy, and she had to take oat baths to sooth her raw skin, and on special occasions, when she wore gowns that squeezed her waist, she could barely breath, and felt faint. "I wonder what the men would think if ladies started wearing loose tunics and britches." She teased, trying not to concentrate on her current situation.
As he began untying the bodice of her dress, the air came easier into her lungs. Neither spoke, both knowing how improper this was. The bodice came off, and Sansa started shivering uncontrollably. Her skin was still so wet, she could barely feel the warmth from the fire. Her stomach and arms tightened, craving the heat from the blankets.
"You're shaking, girl." Sandor observed. He put his hand on her side, and his touch seemed to burn through her skin, warming her. She wanted more, but she was aware she now stood in nothing but her skirts, leaving the top of her small clothes exposed.
"T-turn around." She trembled.
He did as she asked. She struggled step out of her skirts, but managed. She draped it over the chair, and pulled her small clothes over her head. Her skin was like ice, she was too cold to turn around and make sure he wasn't looking at her. As she bent down to pick them up, she collapsed.
Sandor heard her fall and turned around. She covered her parts with her shaking hands. "I'm going to lift you to the blankets, girl." He said, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. "I won't look at you."
She wanted to protest, but she didn't have the strength. His arms slid underneath her, and scooped her up. He held her close to his naked chest, the feeling reminded her of the first moments of a hot bath. She felt him wince a little. "Your rib..."
"Don't worry about me, Littlebird." He smiled. He knelt down and carefully set her down on the pile of blankets. He wrapped one over her and started rubbing her arm. She closed her eyes. "You can't fall asleep."
"Why do you call me that." She whispered. Her head rested in his lap.
"You're at the age where you will start flying from your nest. Not with out falling a few times first."
"I'm not allowed to fall..." She thought out loud. "
She clutched the blanket closer to her. Her body became less tense from the cold. "I did not mean to look away from your face." She admitted in her delirious state. He had been so kind in rescuing her from the storm, she felt it was only right she apologize for offending him. His body tightened underneath her, making it clear his scars were a sore subject.
"You think a girl as sweet as a summer's day could offend me?" He snarled.
She opened her eyes, looking right up at him. She saw in his, that although he would not admit it, her actions did hurt him. His body tensed, uncomfortable with her staring, so she turned her gaze to the fire. It hypnotized her, and she wasn't sure how long she stared. Once she felt her body come back to normal, she spoke again.
"Do you ever have dreams, that are so detailed, they seem real, like you're living another life, and then when you wake up, the memory is gone?"
"I don't remember." Sandor laughed.
Sansa let out a smile. "I feel like I...never mind"
Sandor looked down at her. "What?"
Sansa fidgeted nervously underneath the blankets. "I feel like I met you before. Perhaps in another life." She struggled, but managed to sit up, clutching the blankets around her. She wanted to see his face when she said this, to see if he found it silly. "I feel like, I knew you were coming here, like our paths were meant to cross..."
At first she couldn't read Sandor's face. He didn't move, didn't show any emotions. He just stared at her. "Do not tempt me, girl." His eyes darkened. "You do not know of what you speak."
Sansa's eyes widened as large as saucers. "I do not understand."
"Don't give me your polite words, you do not know me. You do not know of the horrors I've caused."
"I-" She started but was interrupted.
"I'm a killer. If you have brothers, they're killers, your father is a killer." His tone was firm, but not threatening. "The world was built by killers, and here you are, chirping your sweet words to one. You don't strike me as a fool, so don't act like one."
When he finished, Sansa realized how close their faces were. She was at a lose for words. She knew her father had killed men, he fought in many battles, but it was his duty. Same with her brothers. They didn't like it. Something changed in Sandor's eyes, the memories of fighting left him, and he was back in the present. He moved back a little, swallowing hard.
"Forgive me, girl." He started. "I am not used to being spoken to with honesty. In the Red Keep, lies are all that comes out of people's mouths. You need not be afraid, I won't hurt you."
"I am not afraid of you." Sansa whispered. "I am sorry for you. I'm sorry you feel that killing is the sweetest thing there is, for if you ever experienced happiness, you would feel differently."
"Tell me, what do you find to be the sweetest thing?"
Sansa though for a moment. She had never asked herself this question. There were things she enjoyed. Her family, reading on rainy days, needlepoint, making fun of her septa with her sister, Molly's lemon cakes, her direwolf, Lady. All these things she loved dearly, but she could not think of the thing she loved most. She would answer his question, but at another time.
"Would you like me to read to you?" She asked softly.
With out waiting for an answer, Sansa reached for her book. The leather cover was soaked through. As she flipped through the pages, she saw only a few were partially ruined. She had read this story so many times, she was certain she could recite those parts word for word. She shifted, getting more comfortable, and held the blanket around her with one hand. As she read, she never once looked up. she felt his eyes on her the whole time. At first, it made her uncomfortable, not because she was afraid of him, but because she was very aware of how she looked. Her hair had come undone in the storm, and it hung in messy wild curls. The strong winds turned her lips and cheeks red. She finished the first chapter of the story, and didn't remember reading it, for her mind was fixed on Sandor. She was sure he was not concentrating on the book either, so she closed it and held it tightly against her.
The silence that passed between them was deafening. Desperate to break it, Sansa said the first thing that came to her mind. "How are your stitches?"
Sandor turned his head and tried to get a good look at his shoulder. "It's sore, but doesn't look infected. I reckon your seaweed helped."
"There should be some more left." She nodded to her shelves.
Sandor got up and retrieved the small grey bowl off the top shelf. He set it down between them, and sat back down.
"Let me..." Sansa offered.
"I can manage." He protested. "You need to warm yourself." He dipped his fingers into the dark green mush and began painting it onto his shoulder.
Sansa looked at her clothes hanging on the chair. They were still so damp...There's no need for me to feel so embarrassed, she thought. It's only going to make this more uncomfortable. She scooted her body closer to the flames. "Don't get to close!"
His loud voice startled her. She whipped her head around and looked into his eyes. They were full of concern and, something she could only describe as fear. It was strange seeing a man as strong as him looked scared.
"I-I'm sorry." She muttered, scooting back closer to him. He looked like he wanted to apologize as well, but didn't. She couldn't help but notice yet again how the muscles in his arm looked when he moved.
"You stare a lot, girl." He observed. Sansa's breath caught in her throat. "Have you ever seen a man without his clothes?"
His question made her feel warmer than the blankets had the whole time she was wrapped in them. If he knew who he was speaking to, he'd have never asked such a thing. Her anger then turned to curiosity. "Besides my brothers, I have not." She answered as plainly as she could.
"So, you do not belong to anyone?"
She realized in his odd way, he was asking her if she had wed anyone. "I would not say belong is a word I would use to describe the union between two people, but no, I do not belong to anyone." She played with a loose thread in the blanket. "And, you?"
He let out a deep laugh. "Do you think any woman would want to marry me with this." He harshly pointed to his scarred face. "Even if I was as powerful as the Baratheons, or the Starks." She shuddered as he said her family name, It wouldn't be a terrible thing if he knew who she was, she just didn't want him to yet.
"If you were as powerful as either of those families, a woman wouldn't have a choice in marrying you or not." The scars were frightening at first glance, but they were not grotesque. She took in his features on the left side of his face. He had dark brown hair that touched his shoulders, a furrowed brow, deep grey eyes, a prominent nose, and down turned lips. He was unshaven, leaving dark brown hair covering the lower half of his face, but Sansa could still see his strong jaw. While she had never been to Helmsdale, he looked like he belonged in Landale.
"Is the Littlebird calling me handsome?" He smirked.
"Are you asking me to?" She fired back with half a smile. "Tell me what happened..." He looked away.
"Wouldn't you rather read that book of yours again?"
"I've read it countless times." She never broke her gaze. "Tell me your story, and I shall tell you one of mine."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her offer. "It is not one for the faint of heart." He warned.
"I do not have a weak heart." She said, proudly. Those born in the North were born strong.
Sandor took a breath, and began his sad tale. "I was six years of age. My older brother, Gregor, was not the kind any boy, or girl should have as one. He was cruel, I cannot remember a time when he displayed any sort of kindness. He took after my father, who was not cruel to me, but cold. My grandfather was the one who raised me. Upon his return, after one of his travels to the free city of Braavos, he brought both Gregor and I a set of wooden knights. Gregor never played with his." Sandor shifted uncomfortably. "One day, he was out with our father, and I was at home, playing with my toys. In my mind, there was a great battle, and I needed more wooden knights. I took his set from the chest in our room. He hadn't touched them once since my grandfather gave them to us." He took a breath. "When he came home, and caught me playing with his toys, he grabbed my hair, and put my face to the flames. I screamed, but my father did nothing...he told people my mattress caught fire."
His story left tears in her eyes. She couldn't imagine one of her brothers doing anything like that to her. Clutching the blankets around her. She doubted her words could comfort the pain he must constantly feel.
"Now for your story girl."
Sansa thought, the story she had in mind was nothing compared to his. She tried to think of another one to tell, without revealing who she was when a cry in the distance interrupted them.
"Lady Sansa!"
Oh Gods! Sansa immediately recognized the voice as Molly's. Sandor stood at looked out the window.
"Lady Sansa!" She called again.
"There's a plump woman looking for you...Lady Sansa."
She stood, keeping the blankets around her. "You must hide!" She pleaded. "Please, if my father knows about this, he will not listen to you when you say you came here to help our cause. All he will see is his daughter was alone with a man! Go!"
"Where? This hut is but one room." He looked around.
Sansa looked out the window, Molly was getting closer, and it looked like the rain had stopped. "Behind the shelf!" She pushed Sandor, and he knelt down on the opposite side of it. The dark sky helped in hiding him in the dark corner.
Sansa readied herself, and went to the door.
"Lady Sansa-" Molly was just about to knock, but Sansa opened the door before she could, causing her to almost hit her.
"Oh, my dear girl." Molly embraced her. "I was so afraid you would try to climb back up those stairs in this weather."
Sansa closed the door behind her, and led Molly to the fire. "And you climbed down them in this weather!"
Molly set her bag down and held her hands out to the flames. "I'm much more stable on my feet than you." She laughed, and looked Sansa up and down taking in her appearance. "You are a sight." She shook her head, and reached down for her bag. "I brought this, just in case." She pulled a simple light blue wool dress out of her satchel. "The rain stopped for now, we'd best hurry back or we'll have to sleep here all night."
All night? Sansa couldn't imagine Sandor having to hide all night. "You're always right Molly."
Molly stood, motioning for Sansa to take the blankets off so she could dress her. Sansa blushed a deep red. Sandor was right there! She thought. "What's the matter? I've seen you naked since the day you came into this world! No need to be shy now." Molly reached for her blankets, trying to tug them away, but Sansa resisted. Molly stepped back, and out both hands on her hips. "We do not have all day." She used a tone she usually only reserved for Arya. Sansa hated that tone, it made her feel like a child.
There was nothing she could do. Molly was as stubborn as a long Winter. Sansa just had to hope Sandor would not look. With a breath, she let the blankets fall to the floor. Used the the warmth the cocoon of blankets gave her, Sansa's nipples stuck out from the sudden chill in the air. For a moment, she thought she heard Sandor cough.
Molly held the dress open, and Sansa stepped in side it. Molly pulled it up her body, and began tying the back. Having no dry small clothes, Sansa found she quite liked the feeling of the soft wool against her bare skin. She felt better now that she was covered.
"We'll need to get you a hot bath as soon as we get to the castle. I'll make a nice batch of soup for ye'" Molly smiled.
Sansa's skin covered in goose pimples. Surely he knows who I am now...Sansa thought. I can not come back here unless I am ready to tell him the truth. "Thank you, Molly. That would be wonderful." She smiled.
Molly went to the chair and stuffed Sansa's wet clothes in her bag. "Alright child, you'll have to make due with out a cloak. There's no use in putting a wet one on." She fingered the damp material and stuffed it in her bag.
Sansa looked toward where Sandor was hiding, wanting to say something to him.
"What's that?" Her longing thoughts were interrupted by Molly.
Sansa looked in the direction Molly pointed. Oh Gods, Sandor's tunic. Sansa went over to it before Molly could.
"It's one of father's old tunics." She lied. "He must have left it here long ago, I like to keep it here because it smells like him." Sansa held it to her face and inhaled the scent. But it did not smell like her father. It smelled like the forests around her castle, the muskiness of fire wood, and something she could not place. She had never smelled this scent before, but something about it made he knees go weak.
Molly looked her up and down, but a loud crack of thunder stopped her from asking further questions. "Alright then child, we'd best be getting back." She held her arm out. "Come along."
Sansa picked her satchel up from the ground, tripping over the bowl of seaweed. The sound caught Molly's attention. She looked at the bowl, then at Sansa, waiting for an explanation.
"I-I was practicing making medicines. I read about it in my book and wanted to try it myself."
Molly looked at the contents of the bowl. "It takes a lot of strength to mash up seaweed that well."
Sansa could not think of a way out of this, so she started shivering and put on the most pathetic face she cold. "I'm so cold."
Molly's concerned nature took over. She took Sansa's arm and hurried her out the door.
They walked along the beach. Sansa noticed the waves had calmed since earlier. "It's beyond my why you like coming here." Molly observed their surrounding. "In the cold months, it's such a sad place."
Sansa looked around. There was an eerie feel to the beach under the grey skies, covered in mist, but something about it felt magical to Sansa. She held her satchel close, and realized she was still holding Sandor's tunic. A thought invaded her mind. She thought of smelling it again once she was alone in her chambers. She turned back to look at the cabin and saw a shadow move from the window.
