Sansa woke with a start at the sound of Sandor's call. The sun had made its journey across the sky and was close to its resting place toward the western horizon. She slept so heavily, for almost twelve hours only waking to shift her sleeping pose. Her body ached from the long ride, and the pine bough bed became rough in the end. She felt every branch beneath her as she slept throughout the day. As she moved to raise herself from the ground, the throbbing in her bottom protested loudly, and she dreaded returning back to the saddle again. Sandor worked hurriedly to pack the stow of fruit, and to dismember the lean to so that no one who came to the area knew that a structure of some kind was left there to trace. Next was the pine bedding, which he had strewn throughout the resting surrounding area haphazardly. Stranger's waste was pushed over the edge of the outcrop as well and their concealment was complete. Darkness and the cold drew around them quickly as the sun had set, and the long road ahead welcomed them. There was a different smell in the air, and the chill had come earlier this eve than ever. Sansa found the crispness of the air pleasing. It brought fond memories of her family to her, and all was as if her lands were calling her home. She wrapped the bloody cloak around herself and her memories of Winterfell surged her onward. Sandor noticed that she had a contented air about her and she almost seemed happy.
"Sleep well Little Bird?" he asked, watching the contented expression on her face as she readied to mount Stranger.
"No, but it was fair. When I woke up I smelled the air and it reminded me so much of home."
"Yes Little Bird. It feels like winter is coming."
The words reverberated in her core and warmed her from the inside out.
He said that for me. Suddenly a light in her glowed like a single candle and she felt a small drop of joy. Sansa froze and looked at him with endearment. Sandor grew uncomfortable with the way her eyes studied him and he immediately wanted her to stop looking at him that way.
"Please Sandor…..say it again." She missed those words. She needed those words.
Sandor did not want to be her father figure. Absolutely not.
Fuck the sorrow.
But deep down, he truly did feel sorry for her. Moreover, this was the first time she had really called him by his given name, the one his mother had chosen. For once in a long time he felt completely human and she was so easy to pity. But pity yields no reward in this world, and he would not let her begin to think that her weakness had a place on the long road ahead.
"Climb into the saddle." He said forcefully. She did as he said, but regarded him even more softly and barely took her eyes off of him. His discomfort grew by the second, and he hastened to get into the saddle behind her. As the eve crept in, so did the chill. The leaves were crisper here, and it felt like the warm breezes that wisped through King's Landing were a world away, but Sandor was not fooled. They would travel all night like before and take refuge in the day. On the outskirts of Maidenpool were taverns and inns dotted here and there, homely structures that many did not frequent so deep in the wood. Sandor made sure he would make it a point to rest at one the most inconspicuous, and give the girl some well- deserved comfort, though it be crude. That was all he could give her, for now.
The colors of the night were once again upon them as they blurred through the wood as fast as Stranger could carry them. Sansa began to notice her legs again, the dull ache returned with a vengeance on her stretched limbs. Her hands were sore from holding on to the saddle for so many hours. Pain coursed through her body and she could hear her heart beat in synch with Stranger's stride. She felt weak, but she knew she was in good hands and that no matter how she felt, Sandor would never allow them to catch her. No, she would see her enemies die before that ever happened.
He would kill them all for me. She let that thought carry her on without complaint for the rest of the journey north. Sandor forced his stallion to press onward with fervor. The more distance they gained the less likely they were to be found, and his Little Bird would soon be home. Winterfell was a fortress in a vast country, and seldom did southerners go there. The expanse would pose difficult for a newcomer's bones.
Tributaries sprung here and there throughout the wood as Sandor predicted. The springs that ran through were cold and clean. The trio stopped to relieve and refresh themselves in silence all the way. Sansa seemed different than the night before, as if the further away from her captors she flew the more at ease she became. Sandor noticed this and did not want her to allow her mind to float away on silly whims. She was a fugitive of sorts and the whole kingdom may have been looking for her. At the latest stop, she dared to wander some yards away from her protectors, and Sandor thought this was extremely foolish. She looked at the scenery, and felt the urge to stretch her legs a bit more than usual. Sandor's gaze was completely focused upon her, and an unexpected fear crept into him behind his eyes and he strained his sight in the dark night to make sure he never lost track of her step. The fear of not seeing her there in the blink of an eye was too much for him to bear. He silently walked upon her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She turned in an unaccustomed state, half in fear and half satisfied that her sentry would not dare chance her slipping away from him.
"You must remain on your guard Little Bird. Nasty things in the night." He grimaced and her boldness melted away. She would not try to test him again and immediately returned to Stranger's side. The river's banks were wet with mosses and stones. Before Sansa mounted the stallion, Sandor strode over to the river bank to gather handfuls of moss. He then brought Sansa in front of him and turned her to face away and her back was to him. He brushed the moss onto the bloody cloak she wore, making it appear dirtier than it had been. Immediately she began to protest and he quickly hushed her with his piercing voice.
"Within the hour we will come upon a small hamlet that has an inn at which we will stay. Tell no one your name, and act like a low born girl. In fact, do not speak unless I give your permission, do you understand? We have ridden a long way and we cannot risk discovery. Keep that cloak on. And if anyone asks, your name is Lania. Lania Flowers, a poor wench from Highgarden."
The sound of the name turned Sansa's face to a crimson hue. Everything in her wanted to object, but she knew that it was best she comply. To assume the alias as a bastard child was a pure insult, and a complete disgrace to her entire being. But she would take it for now, as Sandor did know best. She actually liked the name Lania. It sounded light and very pretty. She wondered how he could even think of a name as pretty as that, and wanted to insult him just to get even.
"I am familiar with the names of the bastards of Highgarden, my lord," she said quietly.
He understood her game and could not let her win. He was insulted at being challenged by this stupid Little Bird and would find a way to bring her just a bit lower. He roughly gripped her hand and shoved the clump of moss forcefully into her palm.
"Make sure you get that pretty face." He seethed through clenched teeth. This time, she not dare reply. She only looked down at the moss in her hand holding back tears. Pinching off a piece of it, she gently dabbed its muddy bottom randomly on her face. She did this slowly as she watched him bring something out of one of the satchels that Stranger was wearing. He thrust an old ugly cloth into her face.
"Cover your hair." He instructed. "If you don't there 'ent no way we'll pass you off as a southern girl. The Tully is screaming out or your damned head." He was serious and Sansa knew it. Her hair was her mother's hair, a Tully gift of distinguishing her family tree from the next; that would at this time be a curse if it were discovered. Although reluctantly, she did as she was told and she angrily fumed the entire time as they rode silently into the night.
Lights in the distance. The warm glow of candles inside of windowpanes enchanted her eyes as the stallion galloped from afar. The pace was uplifting to her as they drew nearer to the new resting place. Sansa's heart lightened as she imagined hot food, a soft bed, a basin of hot water so that she may clean herself. Anything in any measure would be an upgrade from her rock shelter of the day before. She smiled with delight as their distance closed in. But as they were closely upon the Swiftwater Inn, her smile turned into barely a grin. It was hours before morning, but the appearance of the inn looked staggeringly poor, and she thought the light of day would do it no justice. Sandor thought this was the perfect place, the exact place where they could keep a low profile and avoid getting discovered easily. All he cared for was secrecy, good wine and a good fuck to say the least.
"Stay behind me and keep your eyes down as much as possible," he gruffly whispered, and in they went.
The inn was dark, and lit sparingly with candles on the tables and along a great hearth toward the front of the shabby inn. The long planks were haphazardly laid and they slanted downward. Sansa was unsure of whether or not the inn would fall over someday. It smelled of old rotten wood, smoke and bitter wine. Quite a few people were there despite the inn's appearance, men and women, and some ladies who were a little too friendly towards the men, in her opinion. She hated everything about it, save the smile on the round woman's face who greeted them.
"Welcome travelers," she smiled. "welcome to the Swiftwater Inn. That's me husband Landau and I am Helena," a thin man waved his arm in a dull fashion. From the look on his face, Sansa could tell that his wife always spoke of the tavern as if it were a castle. She was amused.
"Its quite a time before the light hours of morning Ser. Can I get you something? Food or lodging for you and yer..um…" she looked at Sansa a bit confused. She looked dirty and tired, and she had no idea why she was with him.
"Wench." He said very rudely. "Aye, we'll take last night's supper and some bread. Water for the girl, wine for me." He barked.
Helena was used to his types, all business and no more than that. "Do have a seat where you please," and she rushed off into the kitchens. "Tall flask of wine for the Ser," she whispered to her husband as she went to the back.
Sandor spotted a table close to the corner of the inn where there wasn't much of a crowd. He ushered Sansa quite harshly and she sat down, wanting to flash an angry look at him, but keeping in step with the role play. He sat on the outer edge of the table, with his eyes facing the front of the tavern so he may survey every sight and sound. There were no familiar faces here, and he was well within earshot of the nearest conversation. Sansa looked shyly around, careful not to stare into anyone's face for more than a moment. She felt scared even with Sandor next to her. Two of the women who were a bit too friendly with the other men looked in Sandor's direction, and they leaned in towards one another and began to whisper. Sansa looked at them and thought that they were pretty in a rugged kind of way. When they talked they spoke with wide sultry eyes and graced their collar bones with their fingertips often. One of them had rounded large breasts that here barely held inside of her dress and corset she wore, and she leaned forward while talking, right into Sandor's view. Sansa thought of her own bosom, how slight and still budding it was, and wondered if it would ever grow any softer than it was now. She hoped that by the next red flower she would have a bit more to show. How she found that thought a delight. She continued to look on as the women laughed at mundane jests and made sure to connect with Sandor's eyes from time to time.
"Here we are," Helena bounded toward the table with two large bowls of stag and barley stew, crust bread and some hard cheese. Sansa's daydream of breasts was interrupted by the lovely smell of the stew. Presently, the cask of wine was placed on the table in front of Sandor, who gifted the inn keepers with a golden coin. The keepers' eyes lit up at the golden piece and were eager to give them whatever they wanted. Sandor had begun the order without them asking.
"Two rooms, hers next to mine at the end of the row. A basin of hot water for her." Sandor's eyes flashed to the two flirtatious ladies and came back to Helena. "An extra cask of wine for me."
"Certainly, Ser" she rushed to one of the ladies in the pair and whispered to her. Sansa watched as she drew a shawl around her and readied herself to leave when Sandor called at the larger woman with the soft bosom, "You too." She nodded and gave some terrible curtsey and lustful eyes. The two retreated up the stairs together. Sansa's look turned from intrigue to disbelief laced with intrigue.
Two ladies with him? What could possibly happen with them? Am I sleeping alone in this place? Who will protect me? Her mind wandered with uncertainty, and she forgot the hot meal before her.
"Eat girl." Sandor spoke in between mouthfuls of the hot soup and large gulps of the bitter wine. Sansa did remember how she wanted to eat and began to sip her meal slowly. The previous event slipped away from her as she savored the textures set before her. She was warmed by the soup and enjoyed its last drop, soaking it up with a piece of crusty bread before devouring it. The cheese was sharp and the pungent taste of it swirled over her tongue. The entire meal was satisfying. Sandor had quickly finished his eagerly and he wanted to waste no time before enjoying the last of his wine. As he drank, he honed in on a conversation a few tables over. A rugged man, who looked like a Northerner was sitting with his legs up on the table. His mate, a Riverlander sat next to him with a lady on his lap. As he spoke he stroked her bottom in a mischievous way.
"Me father told me of that old Frey. Damned two headed snake he is. Said a crow was sent by his cousin up north. That whole line was cursed, those Starks. Lord Ned took great care o'me famly up there too. The whole lot of em's been cursed. First Ned, then those two girls o'er in King's Landin, heard someone raped and killed the older one, found blood all o'er the room!"
"Bloody hell mate!" chimed in the other. That fuckin' Lord Frey. Sorry we's served his famly over the years. He burned our crop one year after we 'ent have enough to supply the Lord. But it 'ent nothin' compared to what he did to that Stark boy and his Mum!"
"Aye, Lady Stark 'ent do a thing ta deserve dyin' like that. The boy neither! Sewed the damned wolf's head on to his body! I'd ve chopped off me own hands fore I did that! Curses don't care how they take ya. They just do." And they slipped into silence and stared at their flasks of ale.
Sandor looked at Sansa. She was trembling, holding back the tears. It was time to usher her out.
"Come on Little Bird." he whispered to her with a gentle voice. Helen met them on their way to the stairs and she handed the keys to Sandor.
"Terrible tales from afar Ser," she said. There was a marked sadness in her voice and then she suddenly perked up as she snapped back into being a hostess. "An extra cask for the Ser and hot water for the lady. Top of the stairs, the only two up there." She looked at Sansa and saw tears streaming down her face. Helena looked at Sandor with pleading eyes. "A favor for the girl Ser?" Sandor nodded his approval and she reached into the front pocket of her apron and retrieved a small key. "The top level has a proper washroom, looks just like a closet. Just leave the key on the basin an' you can use it till you go." Helena smiled warmly at Sansa, who smiled back through a dirty, tear streaked face. Sandor took the key from her and placed another gold coin into the woman's palm.
"For your kindness," he said. There was an understanding between them both that also implied thanks for her silence as well. The two of them nodded their silent understanding, and as Sandor let Sansa up the creaky stair, the woman looked and saw a fiery red tendril beneath the scarf that bound the young girl's face.
A Lady in the guise of a lowly. There is hope for this realm after all.
She smiled to herself. Their secret was safe.
Sansa crashed into a pile on the floor of her room, and sobbed until the breaths of her sadness choked her. She coughed and gagged, and Sandor swiftly turned to lock the door behind them. Her grief flooded her entire body. All hope had left her and she knew for the first time that she was truly alone. Her whole family had been killed, one after the other. Who knows where Arya was, and Sansa supposed her dead. Sandor looked at her. She was completely broken and he felt her pain. Robb Stark would have been the best protector for her, and now he was out of options. Sure he could bring her to the Erye, but the whole of the kingdom knew that Lysa Tully had gone mad, and he would not risk placing her in the hands of a definite danger. All he could do was figure out a new plan, but that would have to wait.
He picked her up from the floor with strong yet gentle hands and carried her to her bed. He sat her there, and took a seat next to her. Her sobs shook her whole body again, and he reached around her and pulled her into his armor, trying to keep her still. Perhaps the armor could protect them both.
"Why Sandor? Why is the world filled with such hate? Did the gods ever have mercy upon me or my family?" she sobbed ever so loudly.
Sandor had his own feelings about both gods and men, but decided to keep them to himself.
"Of course they do Little Bird. Men did this to your family. Not the gods. You may not be able to ask them to bring your family back to you, but you may ask them for peace and to make your heart still."
She looked at him with red, tear-soaked eyes.
"Do not fear Little Bird. I will always be with you, despite what the world may bring. I will fight the hate and slay the nightmares. I am your sworn shield. I will stay by your side."
With those words, she cried hard, so much that she was exasperated. He wiped her tears and gave her the small key that Helena gave to him.
"Sit here while I take our belongings and put Stranger in the Stables." She sat on the bed and he locked the door on the way out of the room. Stranger was glad to see him. The horse knew his rider very well and had a sense of something awry. In truth, Sandor experiences a range of feelings, and mused over them as stranger was housed within the stalls at the inn. A fresh bale of grass and a large basin of water were there to greet him, along with some vegetable scraps from the day's cooking. Sandor looked on I appreciation as his stallion contentedly settled in. With the meager comforts of this place, and the simple kindness and sworn secrecy that Helena had shown, Sandor decided to extend their stay until he could map the road ahead from here. Thinking about the events sparked anger in him, but he had an outlet this time. Dessert was waiting in his room, and he rushed back to give Sansa her personal effects.
Upon entering the room she was found sitting as he had left her. He gave her the key to the room this time and walked with her down the hall. There were only three doors on the top level, their rooms side by side and then what looked like a little closet was across the hall. The small key unlocked the door, and they found a large and beautifully lit washroom. A large metal tub was all the way filled with water, on which lavender flowers were floating at the top. Candles lined the stone shelves and the entire room was fragrant. Dried flowers hung from lace netting here and there on the walls, and their petals infused the room with a floral, romantic flavor. On a bench near the tub were plenty of plush towels for her to use when her bath was done. Sansa set her traveling satchel down on the bench and turned to Sandor.
"This is beautiful," she said. He could see that a little of her sorrow had subsided, at least for now. He wondered at the lovely room and realized that the kind woman had intended it for her all along. Though a small basin was located within Sansa's room, there were no bathing implements as there were in here. It was obvious that this washroom was Helena's own private gem, probably something her husband had made for her as a symbol of love. He came to the conclusion that Helena knew who Sansa was all along, and he trusted her to keep it in confidence.
"Take all the time you need. You will be safe here," he said in a confident voice and turned and went out of the door.
Sansa undressed and lowered herself into the hot water. Slowly the pain was leaving her; the lavender washed it away.
As Sandor approached his room, he could hear the two whores conversing. He opened the door and on his bed sat the two women, both very different but equally beautiful in their own ways. The first one was completely bare with dark silky brown in her hair. She was the taller of the two, and she had long brown hair that cascaded down to her waist. "I am Willow Ser, I am here to serve you," she said with glassy eyes of wine and passion. "And I am Moreen. We are here to please you." The other was more fully figured, and wore a short petticoat that was raised up to her belly in an attempt to shield her plumpness. Her dark, almost black hair framed her shoulders, and her large breasts looked enticingly soft to Sandor. After clutching hard steel and reins for the past three months, he was ready to feel something soft and warm beneath his fingertips. He stiffened at the sight of her large areolas and wanted to taste them. His armor stopped him from reaching his full potential.
"Both of you get up and take this fucking armor off of me." He said with his voice deep and low. He was the Hound now, Sandor was nowhere to be found. "And take that fucking rag off of your waist! I want to see what I paid for." The ladies came up to him and began to untie his armor at all of his unreachable points. They stroked the unburned side of his face and gave soft moans of pleasure as he squeezed and groped them as they worked. When his armor was off, his manhood became as hard as ever and all of his length stood upward as he throbbed. But he would delay the plunge, as he wanted this to last. He removed his tunic to reveal a large barreled chest covered with thick dark hair from the top, at his collar bone over his stomach, leading a trail down below his navel. Scars of previous clashes and victories were embedded beneath the curly expanse, and deep, thick muscles showed through. His arms were like the boughs of a mighty oak, and brought the tall Willow close to him. Her body pressed up against him and he could feel that she was growing warm with desire. He grabbed her chin and forcibly pulled her toward him in a rough deep kiss. He opened his mouth after pressing his lips after some time and let his tongue explore her mouth. She returned the kiss and sucked on his tongue, moving her lips to and fro as if it were a shaft. Sandor let out a deep groan as his pleasure heightened and wanted more.
"Let us see what you can do with the real thing."
He broke away and forced Willow to her knees with the task of unlacing his breeches. He then pulled Moreen close to him now, kissing her deeply while kneading her breasts in both hands. He moved his hands in great circles, pulling and pinching her taut nipples with his large fingers and then with his teeth. He licked and sucked with fervor and she gasped in both pleasure and pain at his work. As he stepped out of his breeches, the women moved backward and retreated to the bed at what they saw. He straightened and stood in all of his male glory, quite proud of the reaction he saw as the women eyed his massive pike, heavily veined and throbbing, jutting upward in time with the wild beat of his heart. The two sat on the edge of the bed and he thrust his manhood between them and they worked the task at hand, embellishing kisses all over his massive shaft from the hilt to the tip, neither one of them being able to close their lips around him as eagerly as they tried. The Hound twisted his massive hands in the tow heads of hair, and moved back and forth, watching the women do the best they could with their lips and tongues. A slick drop of silken nectar oozed from the head of his stiffness and he could hold back no longer….
Sansa savored her last moments in the large metal tub. She had relaxed and every limb was thankful for being immersed in the hot water. She thought a lot, mostly about what would become of her now that her family had perished. Thoughts of her days in Winterfell filled her head, of the love her Mother and Father showed towards one another, watching her brothers grow up together and learning how to be men, of Old Nan and her scary stories that would keep her awake at night, her friends she had made. She missed them all and thought that if she hadn't wanted to be a queen so badly, that her family would still be alive. Her father never would have accepted being the hand of the king and her mother would be brushing her hair still, preparing her to marry a real man who was gentle and kind, willing to do everything he could to love and protect her. A man like Sandor.
Thinking of him made her hasten to end the bath for she wanted to be in bed and under his protection. Her hair and skin smelled of lavender and she was a lovely walking bouquet of fresh and gentle romance. She walked in front of a full length mirror to admire her reflection. She looked at her tall, slight body, the gentle sloping shoulders framing her small breasts, down to her lovely flat stomach which lay in between a small swell of hips below her waist. She thought of the other women she had seen earlier and compared herself to them. Her attention went to the silky red down that covered her center part, and thought of what music they would be making with Sandor. The thought of this made her a bit sad, but he did not belong to her. Not completely. She decided to dress into her shift, gathered her belongings and let the water out of the large tub, thankful for the little gem.
Making her way down the hall, laughter and moaning could be heard. She was embarrassed and quickly entered her room and closed the door swiftly. The sounds were only amplified as the adjoining wall left nothing to the imagination….
Willow lay on her back while Sandor squeezed in and out of her, filling her with every stroke of his length. Though she was experienced and had many kinds of men, she had never been touched by a man so large, and she ached with sweet pleasure and was breathless because of the pain all at once. Her sweet cries filled the room and surged the Hound onward, delivering full blows into her, driving her to the edge of ecstasy and tears. Moreen kneeled next to him, kissing him deeply with her writhing tongue as he squeezed her breasts hard.
Sansa could not bear keeping herself in the bed, and the sounds of pleasure in the next room forced to come and lay an ear on the wall to listen. A floorboard squeaked loudly as she tiptoed to the wall. She froze immediately and shifted her weight to the other foot and then quickly yet silently bounded to rest an ear on the pale divide. She listened intently as the sound of heavy breath and slapping skin filled her head. She could hear Sandor groan over and over, and the sound made butterflies stir in her belly. She enjoyed the sound of his growling very much and wanted to hear more.
He pulled out of Willow and motioned for Moreen to take her place, but this time he wanted her on all fours. He was a dog, ready to fuck his bitch and make her howl like she never had before. Moreen hesitated, the sopping wet pike looked ominous to her. The Hound reached down and turned her hips to flip her over stomach down, and pulled her ass toward him as he stood at the edge of the bed. Willow massaged him and ran her hands up and down his chest, exploring the mass of manly hair from his chest down to his abdomen. The Hound ran his fingers up and down the waiting entrance in front of him and buried himself deep down to the hilt of his massive length on the first stroke. A kill strike it was, and Moreen was filled deeper than she ever had been before. He reached into places she never knew were there and she closed her eyes tightly at the blinding pleasure that washed over her body. A loud moan escaped her, and the Hound began to fuck her long and hard. He tangled his fist in her hair with one and drove his fingers into Willow with the other. Both women were screaming with pleasure as he moved in and out of them so skillfully.
Sansa wondered what was happening as both women's cries climbed to what seemed like a deafening crescendo. Once again, a deep rumbling groan escaped from Sandor and the sound of it coursed a silken wetness to escape from Sansa's lower lips. The rush alarmed her, and she was unsure if her moon flow had come early. She touched the area to see if her red flower had bloomed, but all she could see was a silky dew that drew like honey when she pulled her thumb and forefinger apart. It was hot and she did not understand it. That would have to wait though, for she would not let her curiosity keep her from listening and she pressed her ear back to the wall to hear more.
The Hound was driven beyond immense pleasure. He deserved this. The smell of sex, sweat and wine perforated the room and his senses were sharper than ever as he was immersed in the body beneath him. He loved the way Moreen looked as he dominated her, the moans of pleasure intertwined with the grimacing pain of her beautifully twisted face. He pulled out large honey laced fingers from deep inside of his other whore. As he thrust the wet fingers into Willow's mouth the clean off her essence, her eyes and eagerness filled him with passion and he stroked Moreen's insides with increasing friction. He watched her breasts move in circles as he wildly drove into her. She arched and lowered her back onto the bed, clamped down on his iron sword. She writhed against him and her thighs trembled as the waves of bliss surged through her over and over again. The hot flood surrounded him like liquid gold, and his pleasure was thrown beyond its peak. He pulled out of her and quickly turned her around. His chest expanded and head threw back as he grabbed Willow by the neck pulling her close to his throbbing shaft. All of his anger, all the frustration and the fucking penned up rage that was in him was expulsed in a single moment as they enticed a roar of pleasure that came from the deep seat of his manhood and left streams of silver all over the faces and lips of the women. He groaned over and over again, sending shockwaves through Sansa's body, so deep that she had stopped breathing as she listened to her sentry. As his growls of pleasure died down, Sansa caught her breath and became very aware of her honey-coated thighs.