A werewolf. The woman was a fucking werewolf.
There wasn't a lot that could make Sandor speechless- he was used to gore and blood, and cruelty was nothing new to him- but right at this moment he could not make a fucking sound. Like he had bitten off and swallowed his own tongue, and gotten it stuck in his throat.
This was not what he'd expected when he followed her, but he didn't really know what he had been expecting. He'd managed to convince Joffrey that he wasn't in need of a bodyguard today and taken off after her through the streets. He became confused when she reached the forest. What business did she have in the woods at night with no weapons on her? At first Sandor thought that she was on her way to meat another man, but quickly dismissed the thought. She was an honest woman and they weren't sworn to each other in any way. If that was the case she would have told him so.
He was even more confused when she stopped in the middle of nowhere and took off all of her clothes. As far as he was concerned, she didn't know he was there, so it wasn't for his sake. When she stood there before him Sandor realized that he hadn't taken the time to truly look at her before. Now he saw that Leyla was covered in scars. Not like his, but battle scars, some bigger and more visible than others. A few of them looked like they had been very painful to receive and would probably have killed a lesser person. But not Leyla. Leyla was strong, he could see that now. Muscles that she had gained from the hard life in the wild rippled under her skin. She was a true warrior, and Sandor found it hard to look away, not just because she was naked but also because she was beautiful, no matter what she or anyone else said.
Her beauty wasn't conventional like the ladies of court, but more something that someone like him could appreciate, because he could stand next to her and not feel out of place. They were equal in many ways and for that he was glad. Had she been some pretty little thing like that sister of hers, Sandor would constantly have questioned himself and what he was doing with someone like her. With Leyla he felt comfortable, and that was more than any other woman (or person) had been able to give him before.
When she'd started to scream and convolve on the ground he was startled to say the least. Her limbs were jerking and her head was snapping from one side to the other. Looking back, Sandor could say that he'd went into shock from the horrifying sight. For it was truly gruesome. He would have interfered, but his feet became frozen to the ground when he saw the transformation begin. He heard what sounded like bones breaking and skin tearing. Within a minute she had grown about two feet and was now taller than his own brother.
What stood before him was a twisted version of a wolf. It was much uglier than a real one and about as big as a direwolf standing on its hind legs. The only thing that remained human about was the fact that it stood on two legs, its arms having extended and now reached to its knees, but that changed when it started running. It ran like it was a real wolf, but the steps it took were abnormal to make up for the length of its limbs.
Thankfully it ran away from him instead f towards him. He wasn't even sure if it had noticed him from the beginning, or if Leyla had. Were they even the same, or was it some other creature who borrowed her body once a month to make it its own?
Sandor stood there for a long time, not noticing time passing, pondering on what he'd just seen. The air was cold but he couldn't feel it. He could hear her howling and it sent a shill down his spine. Not many things frightened him, but what he had seen tonight would give him nightmares.
He was lost in thought and before he could notice time passing at all he saw it again. It had come back to the spot from which it began. Sandor took his sword hilt in a tight grip, ready to draw, thinking it had caught a whiff of him and was now coming to get him. But he was wrong.
It stood still for a short while, before it made similar noises and movement as it had earlier that night. It was obvious that it was in pain, but Sandor didn't want to get too close for the risk of angering it. This time the transformation was quicker. It didn't take long for the fur to disappear and the body parts to look human again, and before long Leyla was lying panting on the ground. She still twitched every now and then, but eventually that stopped as well.
With timid steps Sandor made his way towards her. One foot in front of the other; that's what he kept telling himself. Several times he wanted to stop and turn around, but he forced himself to keep going. In reality it was way too much to take in all at once. Not only did werewolves exist for real, not just in horror stories that parents told their children to scare them into obedience, but he had also fucked one, more than once.
He found that his hand was still resting on his sword, more as a reassurance than for protection. He trusted the Leyla wouldn't hurt him, but the creature inside her he wasn't so certain of.
She looked up and met his eyes. At first she actually looked afraid, but that faded fast and was replaced by a protected expression that didn't give anything away to how she really felt. To his great surprise she gave a sharp laugh.
"And people think you're a monster." He honestly didn't know how to respond.
Sandor still hadn't moved. Leyla was almost getting worried at this point. She imagined that is what she looked like when Jon told her he was joining the Night's Watch, only this was a bit more unexpected. She was waiting for him to move or say something, but when he didn't she reached for her clothed which were waiting on a rock next to her. She put on shirt, trousers and boots but didn't bother with the rest. Her running tonight had left her sweating like a pig and she didn't fancy putting on any more layers.
She patted the ground beside her. "Come, sit down." Repeating the first night they were together, he did what she said like a well-trained dog. He barely blinked and he hadn't taken his eyes off her for a single second. His mouth was slightly open and she looked to make sure that he was still breathing. He leaned his back against the rock, but was still stiff as a wooden pole.
She thought for a while about what she was going to say. She thought he'd have questions, but he remained quiet.
"It's alright if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I'd understand." She would, but it would still hurt of he left. Leyla liked him and didn't want to see him leave.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me I was fucking an animal, before I did it?" His voice was strained, like it took a lot of effort to get the words out.
Leyla huffed and raised her eyebrows. "You're hardly the person to judge someone for their appearance!"
"That's not what I said. Don't avoid the question. I said: why didn't you tell me?"
"Would you have believed me?" She sounded as tired as she felt. "Would you still have wanted to be with me, despite this?"
He didn't answer. His hands were fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. His eyes had left hers and were now darting from place to place, never staying still at one point, like he was having an inner panic attack. Instead of answering, he gave her a question of his own.
"How did this happen?"
This was one story she'd hoped to avoid. It wasn't exactly a happy memory, but she felt she had to do this, so to regain his trust. She didn't want to lose that to begin with, even though they hadn't known each other for long. They weren't even that great friends. They had just shared a few nights together, that's all. And yet, Leyla felt like he was one of the few people who would be judgemental of her, possibly because she felt the same way about him and his scars. To her, it was just a face. She had seen worse, most often in the mirror during a full moon. She wanted to tell him, if only to get it off her chest without worrying about him hating her for something she couldn't help. So she began to tell him her story.
"Eight years ago I was seventeen and I had travelled beyond the Wall with some friends. The people of my clan do that sometimes, just to get a sense of their roots and not to forget where they come from. There were six of us including me. We had only travelled a short distance from the Wall when it became dark, so we set up camp for the night. I was on watch when it attacked. It came out of nowhere, and it was big. I wonder now it could have been so big and noisy yet given us no warning at all of its attack. My companions were only half awake when it jumped on them and slaughtered them all. Sometimes I can still hear them scream in my head, still see their mangled corpses."
Tears had formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not let this man make a weakling out of her. Wildling don't cry, is what her mother always told her, and now she understood why. You can never show weakness, lest you want to go from predator to prey. Sandor's hand had moved closer towards hers, but didn't touch it. He must have had the same thoughts on weakness as she did.
"It must have thought I was dead, because it ignored me for the rest of the night while it ate two of my friends. It stayed around until morning and I saw it transform. You wouldn't believe the surprise I got! It turned into a small, old man. White hair, wrinkles on his face, not the least bit frightening. I knew who he was. His name is Craster, and he's well known beyond the Wall. He marries his own daughters, so they can give him more daughters for him to fuck."
Even someone like Sandor had to be bothered by something like that, and he was, judging by his facial expression. Leyla was ashamed that she had fallen prey for someone as pathetic as that leech of a man. She looked down so her hair fell in her face, in a way to hide her shame.
"He walked away without checking for survivors. I passed out from blood loss as soon as he was out of sight. When I came to, some of my people had found me and brought me back south of the Wall. They thought we'd been attacked by White Walkers, and I couldn't find it in me to correct them. Wildlings have enough troubles as it is and to ad werewolves to the mix…" She shook her head, looking defeated. "I was also frightened. I refused to sleep for days, thinking that he might know I survived and was coming for me. Remember that big scar I have? Right here," she pointed to the back of her thigh. When Sandor nodded she explained. "That's where he got me. That's where his claws infected me. Of course I didn't know that until the next full moon when I turned into a fucking wolf." She laughter bitterly, even though there was nothing to laugh at. But it was either that or to cry, and that was not an option.
The silence that lasted long after she spoke was deafening. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, yet none of them wanted to be the first one to speak. Sandor was trying to take in everything she had said and Leyla was waiting for a reaction to come out of him. She would have settled for anything by now, even rage or disgust, as long as he said anything at all. The silence was driving her insane. Thankfully he was brave enough to speak first.
"If this Craster is so well known, why haven't you gone after him?"
Not what she expected to here, but oh well. It would be logical if she was to take out revenge on the one who gave her this…thing, but she had her reasons.
"At first it was fear; he was stronger than me in his wolf shape and for a while I was too cowardly to consider that I might be stronger than him as a human. Then I didn't have the time. My mother died very sudden and I had to take over from her and establish my place as the new leader. Then it was just laziness I suppose. It's strange to say, but now I've become sort of…used to it. It doesn't seem like such a curse anymore, but something I can live with. I've learned to control it over the years and now it really is a part of me."
Leyla felt at peace to have admitted this out loud for the first time ever. Deep down she'd known it for a while, but she'd never spoke about it. Mainly because there was no one to speak with.
"Does anyone else know?" he asked, still not looking at her.
"My mother knew before she died. She was with me during my first transformation, and later on she made me tell my father. My brother Jon knows too. He found out almost just like you did. He was just a little boy and he followed me into the woods. I must have scarred the living daylight out of him, he wouldn't talk to me for a week after that." She laughed at the memory. Leyla gave Sandor a look. "I knew you were following me, Sandor. Maybe I should have stopped you, but what's done is done and I can't change the past. I didn't know Jon was following me back then. I was young and unexperienced. If I had known I would have stopped him."
"Why didn't you stop me?" He sounded confused.
Leyla was confused too. Why hadn't she stopped him? She should have, but she didn't. It was foolish to let it go this far. If Leyla hadn't been able to control the beast Sandor's life might have been at risk. If he chose to tell people her life might be at risk, depending at how those people would react. But she believed she hadn't stopped him because she didn't want to be alone anymore. She never really saw her father or brother, so they weren't that close. And now Jon was going off to the Wall, and even though she was going with Eddard to King's Landing, she wouldn't stay there forever. She knew that what she and Sandor had wouldn't last forever, be it friendship or their "romance", but she had never before met someone so equal to herself. It was a known trait of the Stark men to be gloomy. It might be nice to for once have someone know all of her and not only see the negativity. Sandor wasn't the most positive person in the world, but she thought that he might be able to see things the way she did. Of course, Leyla didn't tell him any of this.
"You're a grown man who can make his own decisions. If you wanted to run you could have, but you didn't, and I'm not questioning you about that."
He nodded understandingly, but would provide her with an answer as to why he didn't leave when he had the chance earlier. Maybe he was too shocked to move or maybe it was curiosity. Like she said, she wouldn't ask. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her in his own time.
"Do you have any other questions while we're at it?" she asked.
He shook his head, looking as defeated as she did. They were both exhausted, Leyla from her night of transformation and talking of thing she thought she'd never have to mention again, and Sandor from the shock of his discovery. He leaned his head back against the rock that supported his back and looked up at the sky. It was slowly brightening, but it would take a very long time for daylight to come, thanks to the fact that days were shorter up in the north and nights were longer.
The days before a transformation Leyla often had a shorter temper than usual. It built up until the moment of her change. In the other form it was easier to take it all out on whatever came in her way. On the morning afterwards it sipped right off her like water, leaving her feeling empty and tired. This is how she felt right now. There was something that she had to ask. She gripped his chin and turned his head, forcing him to look at her.
"Do you still want me? Or are you going to leave me for this?" Her tone was carefully neutral, like it wouldn't matter what his answer was. But she would be lying to herself if she said that she wouldn't care.
Sandor desperately wanted to turn his head, but the steady grip of her hand kept it in place. Without any warning he abruptly stood up to walk away. It was too much to think about in a too short amount of time. But before he could make to three steps Leyla dived for his legs. He fell down on the ground like a falling tree, landing with a thud. Leyla quickly crawled over his body and laid down on top of him, her face only an inch away from his. She pinned him down on the mossy forest floor, making sure he wouldn't move. He twisted around, trying to escape her weight, but lied still when he saw that it was pointless.
"You listen to me, Sandor Clegane," she growled through clenched teeth, "If you want to leave then there's nothing I can do to stop you. But I will not have you walk away without saying one word as to why! Be it this or something else, I deserve an explanation." He grimaced when she took a hold on his hair, nearly tearing it out with the roots. "And no matter what you chose to do, you will not tell anyone what you've seen. Is that understood?" She sounded calm, but underneath the surface she was fuming. It had been a bit much maybe, but there appeared to some anger still left in her, even though the full moon was now gone.
He would have nodded if he could move his head, but her grip on it remained. His voice was as aggressive as hers. "You daft woman, I'm not leaving you," he grumbled. "I'm used to monsters, I can handle one more."
Leyla was amazed at his response. She sat up in his lap and pulled him up with her. She wasn't the sentimental type, but it reminded her of their first night together.
"You think I'm such a fucking coward to run away just because you grow fur and fangs once a month?" Leyla had to laugh at his words. She wouldn't admit even to herself how relieved she was to hear this, but she truly was. The reason she had never talked about this with anyone was because she feared how they would react. But if only one person accepted her- and especially if that one person was Sandor- the whole process might get a little easier. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
"Are you going to let me up?" he asked.
"No," she said in a teasing tone, "At least not before I kiss you, you big boor."
He didn't get the chance to comment on the lightly spoken insult before their lips clashed. It was hard and with a lot of biting, just the way they liked it; affection with a mixture of violence.
They stayed like that for a long time, not seeing the sun coming up. The ground became warm beneath them, from the sun and from the fact that they hadn't moved for quite some time now. They came up for air when they needed it, but dived right back into each other's mouths once they had caught their breaths. To just kiss for such a long time was a new experience for both of them, but they enjoyed it greatly.
Leyla was the first one to pull away. "We need to start heading back. My family will start looking for me soon, and you have a prince to guard."
Sandor grumbled at the mention of that unpleasant child. Leyla didn't like it either, but knew they couldn't stay there all day long, no matter how much they wanted to.
When they stood up Leyla briefly took a hold of Sandor's hand. She gave it a squeeze and let go after a few seconds. She gave him a reassuring smile that said, I know you're not comfortable with that, and that's alright.
As she walked ahead of him through the woods, Sandor wondered if maybe he should have held on.
1. I know that Rory McCann is passed forty, but based on some calculations from the book, Sandor is twenty seven when the series begins, so that's the age I'm going with for him.
2. My idea on making Craster into a werewolf is this: He's just a little old man and his girls could more than likely have fended for themselves, as is shown later on. So why were they so afraid of him? Why did the Others find him special enough to take his sons? (Bear in mind that I've only read the first book and, to be honest, didn't pay much attention to scenes with Jon because I found others more interesting. I apologize if I've got anything wrong, but I'm going to change a few things to make it fit my story)
3. I am I hard-core SanSan shipper, but I thought of Leyla as a character before they became my OTP, and I really wanted to get her down on paper, which I'm doing now. Though I desperately want Sandor and Sansa to have their Happily Ever After, I'm changing their relationship for the sake of the story. Here it will be more like a father-daughter relationship (later), and also, Sandor sees how much Leyla loves Sansa and it reminds him of the sister he lost when he was younger. So she will serve as a sort of replacement for her. He will still be protective, but for a different reason.