A/N: HEY GUYS! Here's another chapter for you to read!

This is mostly just a filler chapter that provides more clarity, or at least I would like to think so, on both Tarya and Sandor's inner thoughts and emotions. I know that Tarya lately has seemed a little similar to Sansa in terms of temperament, but this is mainly because of her trying to cope with the environment she's in even after she's been in it for five years. Honestly, I don't see anyone getting used to working in a brothel for any length of time.

Also, at the moment Tarya is about 21 years old and since this is a little over three years before the canon timeline, and because I'm using Rory McCann portrayal of Sandor ... I think I'm gonna make Sandor around 32 years old as of right now. So, he would be about 35 by the time the show started and about the same age as Ned Stark, maybe a bit younger.

Also, if you guys are wondering, I chose Aesha to be portrayed by Hayley Hasselhoff. Yes, as in David Hasselhoff's daughter. It was purely accidental at first before I made it official. Also, I'm seriously considering putting with Tyrion, but I'm not 100% sure either. Do you guys mind helping me out a little bit on it? OH! Before I forget, Aesha is only a few months older than Tarya, but is still 21 too. Hmm, okay I think I'm done for now.

I sure hope you all enjoy reading this next chapter of Touchable Flames :D!

Chapter III

It was yet another night at the brothel for most of the women. However, Tarya had been dismissed from her duties for the night while Aesha had taken up her shift. She was so thankful for a friend like her in this awful place. Especially one as genuine and bubbly as she is.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she weaved the needle and thread through the fabric she had bought the day before. It had been two days since she had last seen him and while he said that he wasn't sure on when he'd come back, it made her somewhat anxious. She couldn't explain the giddiness in her as she finished off a hem of the dress and then added a layer of sheer Myrish silk and lace to it. The same materials were used for the sleeves and she was very proud of her work. Though she would rather be reading or writing right now than sewing, she couldn't deny the results of her efforts.

There was a knock at her door causing her to accidentally prick herself with her needle. The yelp of surprise and pain was enough to get an angry curse out of her.

"Fuck that hurts! Who is it?"

"OH MY! Are you alright Tarya!?"

"I am now, Aesha. One moment please!"

She stuck the needle into the stitched area she was working on and placed her finger into her mouth before opening the door to see her shorter, and much plumper, friend.

"You pricked yourself again didn't you?"

"Mhm, you startled me. I was working on my dress."

"Again? Tarya, the tournament isn't for another four days."

"I'm not going to wear it then. I'm saving it for something else."

"Ohhhh, I see. Hehe. Speaking of which, Sir Clegane is here asking for you, sweetie. Do I send him up?"

"Oh! W-well, I suppose I'll go downstairs and meet him there. I just gotta clean up a bit."

Aesha nodded and smiled cheerily before skipping back downstairs in a burst of energy. It always amazed her at how Aesha can be so joyful even in conditions such as this. A giggle escaped her lips at the thought before she started to clean up her sewing supplies and put the mannequin holding her dress into her large wardrobe. Tarya huffed in annoyance at the state of her room. The bed was unmade and her vanity was cluttered while her table was littered with her books. A sigh escaped her mouth as she simply started to make up the bed. It wasn't perfect, but at least it was something. She was only going to mess it up when she gets back to bed anyway.

A knock sounded at her door and Tarya let out a deep breath before letting her thick curly hair fall from the messy updo she had it in. She combed through it using her fingers before heading out the door making her way down the stairs.

It was a typical night where almost all of the occupants were men and the women were the whores who lived and worked here in the brothel. Loud, rowdy, and full of debauchery. Tarya sighed and rolled her eyes before looking around trying to find the hulking man that was Sandor Clegane. Aesha said he was here and she definitely wasn't one to lie either. She stayed away from the crowds as much as possible not wanting to deal with them any more than necessary.

A rough yet gentle grip grabbed her arm startling the living dickens out of her and she looked up to see Ser Clegane looking at her with those stormy gray eyes of his. There was a twitch of his lips that showed hints of his hidden amusement before he gently guided her towards the table he used the night before last. No one dared go in that direction seemingly afraid of how the large man would react to such an intrusion.

Tarya followed him willingly and with little resistance due to many aspects. His mere presence made her safe and gave her a sense of calming security that was almost painful to feel. Her anxiety to leave the crowds of people and avoid the wandering drunken hands reaching for her arse and breasts. And also because she truly wanted his company for the night and was very curious about this soldier. This man that everyone treated with disrespect and degradation as though he was nothing but a beast. Though this curiosity is very dangerous and she must walk the fine line. King's Landing is nothing but a nest of vipers ready to strike and spread its poison at the sight of anything pure and honest.

They both sat down without a word in between them with a grunt from him and a sigh of relief from her as she relaxed. His intense eyes met her own dark green with an inquiring expression in their depths. She even saw traces of surprise and confusion as well, but the most visible one was a bit hard for her to decipher.

"It's nice to see you again m'lord."

"Fucking- … don't call me that. No sirs, no 'my lords', and most certainly don't call me a fucking knight either. I spit and piss on those vows."

Tarya had to blink owlishly as she processed all of that and looked at him both curiously and confused. She took in the tense and tightened muscles of his jaw, shoulders, and arms as he gripped his tankard in a vice grip. He was pissed. There was no other word for it other than pissed. She gulped and rubbed her fingers together in slight nervousness.

"If you don't want to be called that, then what would you like me to call you by?"

He looked at her as she looked at him with what she could only describe as an openly honest expression. Or at least, she had thought so, but couldn't say for sure if it was or not. However, by what she could observe from his calming state, it seemed to have worked just a bit. He exhaled deeply before looking at her with that intense look again. Why so intensely? She didn't know for sure. All that Tarya knew was that it made her heart race and left butterflies in her stomach while warming her up from the inside out.

"No! Stop it! It's only lust. Nothing more, nothing less … then why does it feel like I'm lying to myself?" She sighed mentally and gulped as she kept looking him straight in his face. Tarya honestly couldn't see what the fuss was about. It was very well tended to and while there was scarring, it wasn't as horrendous as most would make it out to be. It was noticeable, yes, but not enough to say that the scarring was ugly. These people were so vain it was a wonder how they managed to live here without biting each other's heads off.

Tarya noted his prolonged silence and tilted her head in curiosity. Why was he not speaking? Was there something on her face that she forgot to clean?

"Just call me Hound or … Sandor."

She practically felt herself beam a bit at the sound of his voice, and then blushed modestly, before nodding as she smiled.

"I don't think you would want a reminder of your day job. So, Sandor, it is then."

A refill of his tankard and one was placed in front of her with a wink and a teasingly mischievous smirk from Aesha. This got her friend a playful glare from Tarya and a giggle out of her own mouth as she skipped away before she was summoned over to wait on someone else.

"Must have had too many sweets."

"I wish that it was that but she's like that all the time."

"A friend of yours?"

"My best and only friend. She's the only one who is entirely genuine and has been with me through thick and thin."

"One such as that is extremely hard to come by. Hold onto her or you'll lose her faster than a horse would shit."

"Yes, I know, but thank you regardless." Tarya giggled at the comparison and smiled as she turned her gaze to her tankard, taking a small sip of the chilled raspberry tea in it. She absolutely loved raspberries. They were her favorites along with grapes, peaches, and pears along with the occasional orange or two. Sweet, crisp, and fresh. That, and she loved the taste and texture too.

A look of curiosity and interest rested on her face as she tilted her head to further convey it.

"What about you?"

A mixture between a scoff and a disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth as he shook his head. This did nothing but further entice her sense of curiosity and intrigue of this mystery man sitting across from her. His gloved fingers lightly brushed over the hair that served in covering some of the scarrings on the right side of his face. This left a pained sensation in her chest at the nonverbal message. Most were aversive due to his burn scars. This brought a sense of innate empathy out of her as it usually did.

Tarya couldn't help that her hand laid itself on top of the hand balled up into a fist on the table. This made him flinch a bit causing her to make her grip a bit more firm. She hoped that this was enough. Anything beyond this was considered inappropriate to society for a man and a woman who were not married or at the very least courting each other.

"I doubt that, besides you and your friend there are very, very few people who could handle staring at my ugly mug all damn day."

Her dark green eyes watched as he took a generous gulp of his Dornish red before setting it down on the table while squeezing her hand at the same time. Hearing him degrade himself in front of her made her as hot as the fire in her red hair and as angry too. She clenched her jaw in order to control her anger before saying exactly what she was thinking.

"Then they should go look at themselves in the looking glasses because they are the ugly ones. Fuck them and their vanity."

His large hand slowly lowered his tankard as a look of astonishment overcame his features. Sandor sure as hell wasn't expecting this sort of response. In fact, he was expecting her to agree and say that he was indeed ugly. Not say the total opposite. He could see that she was completely serious and honest about what was said. That is what surprised him that most.

Sandor had to be careful. Especially in a place like this. Yet he couldn't bring himself to stay away from her either. He had heard the butterball blonde girl call her by Tarya. A very strange name, very … unique. From her looks alone, Sandor would have thought her to be a Lannister if it weren't for her red hair. However, from what he had gathered about how she held herself, she's the total opposite in that alone.

He doesn't know if he should be baffled or relieved. For as long as he had been with the Lannisters (just the thought of them boils his blood), it had made him extremely cautious around this girl. He supposed that his demeanor had made her incredibly nervous, but not afraid. Not yet at least. Sandor was just waiting for her to come to her senses and become afraid of him, It was inevitable that she did.

"Are we going to sit in silence and have you stare at me like I'm a loon or are we going to talk like people?"

Ah, there's that tongue that he saw his first night here. Normally, it would have irritated him to hear it, especially if it came from the Imp, but with her teasing tones, it only served to amuse him. To think this timid girl had turned into this semi-confident woman. He supposed it was because of the environment of the brothel that had made her shrink into herself as a form of detachment.

Despite what others may think of him being a simple killing machine, and he was in a way, he was smart in his own way. 'Street-smart' is what they call it. He was enough of 'book-smart' to write and read, but that was the extent of it. Most who underestimate tend to die shortly afterward anyway.

Those thoughts were quickly discarded for now as he looked at her in amusement.

"What's there to talk about? We both know that King's Landing is not for those of blunt, honest words rather than the fancy chirping they spew out."

"We're talking right now, aren't we?"

He barked out a soft laugh before nodding in agreement.

"Aye, that we are. What do they call you girl?"

"Tarya. Tarya Rivers."

Rivers. So, it seems she was from the Riverlands then. That would explain some bit about her red hair and physical appearances. The only physical Lannister features he could see was her cheekbones, green eyes, and the arch of her brows. Everything else must have come from her father's side of the family.

"Riverlands then. Far from home aren't you?"

"Not far enough. My mother and I weren't on the best of terms growing up and it only got worse as I got older."

Sandor could relate to that all too well. Especially when it came to his father favoring his cunt, dumb fuck of a brother, Gregor, over telling the truth about how he had gotten his scars. While the man was still his father, and while he hated Gregor for killing him, among many other things, Sandor was fucking glad that the cowardly cunt was dead. His mother, being a woman of the North, was not used to the customs of the South even after so long. Sandor loved her very much along with his little sister, Alysa, and they were the only ones who he considered his true family. And his godsforsaken brother stripped their lives away as if it were as easy as breathing.

"It's also the reason I'm in this fucking shithole."

Seeing her nose scrunch in disgust and hearing her calm voice take on an angry tone somehow made him even more curious than before. He can only imagine what happened in her time here to break the veil of ignorance that was there when she arrived here if she still had it. She was still young versus himself and would know the world a lot less than he did. So, he just stayed silent and heard her out to gauge out just how much she actually knew. If she started spewing out things about knights and songs, he was leaving.

"My mother didn't know what to do with a 16 name-days old girl who couldn't get the stable-boy to be interested in her. So, she took me here to the tourney five years ago and that's when we were approached by Lord Baelish."

She sneered so expressively it was like seeing a lioness growling in her anger. Sandor could definitely see the Lannister in her then.

"He saw my red hair and instantly asked – more like demanded – that I could be one of the serving girls here. My mother couldn't refuse and pretty much shoved me on to the rat."

Sandor scoffed in his amusement and couldn't help but feel a bit relieved to see that this girl – no woman – was not like the rest.

"Why are you telling me this? You know that I work for the Crown."

"As the prince's sworn shield, yes. I know. I didn't recognize you at first because of being half-asleep, but I do know who you are."

"Still doesn't answer my question."

"For some reason, I feel safe enough around you to tell you that. Plus you did ask to begin with. I merely gave you a bit more than you asked for."

There was that Lannister wit and cunning that was usually associated with the Imp and Lord Tywin. Only with her, she meant no harm from it and was not mocking him. She was calm and relaxed. Unguarded by the looks of it. This would not do her any good around him or the Lannisters. They will tear her apart. Especially Cersei. That cunt doesn't know how to distinguish authenticity from deception half the time anyway, but that also makes her dangerous if the Imp or Tywin wasn't there to rein her in.

Despite all of those Lannister qualities, there is still the mystery behind that red hair of hers and her demeanor. If he didn't know any better, Sandor would have thought she was a Tully. She might be too, but there's also others in the Riverlands that may have fathered her as well.

"Be careful about who you trust here. This is no place to go spilling your guts."

"You don't think I know that? Have been here for five years. I know that there's murderers, thieves, and rapers at every corner in this section of the city. The city guards are shit as it is and it doesn't make me feel safer to be here but I don't have a choice. It's either live here in this fucking brothel as a serving girl or be found dead on the streets of Flea Bottom."

He now sees what was hidden underneath that calm tranquility. A turbulent bundle of fear and anxiety built up inside of her. With nowhere to go without having the possibility of being found dead or disfigured. This is the safest place she could be at the moment unless she was in the Red Keep and it was no better than Flea Bottom. The only difference was that the peasants lived in Flea Bottom while the nobility and army lived in the Keep.

The words of that blonde girl came to mind as he saw how she took another sip of whatever it is she was drinking.

"Tarya doesn't belong in a place like this. And she's the most sought out serving girl out of the ten that work here. Sooner or later, Baelish is going to make her a whore and I know how much she intrigues you. Please, if you're able, make sure she's taken care of and that no one else gets to her before you do."

He replayed those words over and over again amazed and impressed at how this girl, Tarya, is well looked after by her friend. Sandor, despite his caution, felt the same way with Tarya. He cursed his dog-like tendencies towards those who caught his interest. However, he couldn't help it either. She hadn't treated him with disdain or indifference. No, she was kind, patient, and knew when to talk and not to questions either. Even if she wasn't above not giving her opinion on the matter either.

"Can't say you'll ever get out of this place, little cub, but know that you've got people who look after you in this shithole."

The confused yet curious look that appeared on her face at the nickname he gave her. 'Little cub', because he was now sure that she had Lannister in her. As for the other half, that was up for debate. However, Sandor can honestly say that he would do his damnedest to make sure she stayed out of sight of the other Lannisters for as long as he possibly can. The gods, if there were any to begin with, only know what would happen if a sniff of this reached Tywin.

He supposed that he had begrudgingly found his new "master" outside of the royal family. No, not "master". Tarya was not one nor did she have it in her to act that way from what he could tell as of right now. She was his reason for these newfound instincts in him, these much deeper and intense instincts. Ones that wanted to do all sorts of … lustful and possessive things to her. Ones that he will ignore for as long as possible.

"'Little cub'? Hehe, that's a new one. Thank you for lending an ear, Sandor."

The way she said his name was making his own self-control waver just a tad before he gave a grunt as a response and took a drink of his wine to help quell the urges in him. The way she smiled was not helping either.

"Warrior give me the strength to not fuck this up, and the Crone to give me the foresight if it's bound to happen."