After his abrupt departure, Sansa lay in bed, mulling over what could possibly have upset Sandor. She knew that by human standards she had taken liberties with him but he didn't seem to mind. Sansa was certain he would have told her if her behavior bothered him.

Sandor was no longer the open little boy she remembered but a fierce man who buried his feelings close to his heart. And who could blame him? Her beautiful Sandor had suffered much loss at a very young age.

After losing his family and being burned, the change was inevitable, but Sansa's heart ached for him just the same. Her mother had warned her that Sandor would not be an adult version of the boy she befriended long ago, but now that she had witnessed just how drastically he was affected it was most difficult for her to reconcile the two as the same person.

It seemed that when Sansa looked into his eyes, though, she saw a glimmer of the boy he once had been. For a moment, Sandor let his guard down, and something like hope transformed his countenance. At the mention of her returning to sea, however, things had taken a sharp turn for the worse and he reverted back into the guarded, hostile man Sandor had been with the soldiers.

Sandor admitted that he heard selkies will always leave their human mates and go back to the water at the first opportunity. He didn't give her a chance to explain that the reason for such behavior was they were held captive against their will when the men kept their skins, and once they had the means to escape, they took it. It was a far different matter when a selkie desired a human as a life mate and chose not return to sea of her own free will.

He must want me for a mate and he cannot stand the thought of me leaving him. The realization both thrilled and pained Sansa. The possibility of never seeing her family again saddened the young woman deeply, and although her father and Maester Luwin had explained the bond she shared with Sandor could never be broken, Sansa was fearful of any arrangement that would alienate her from the rest of the Stark clan. It seemed unnecessarily cruel, to deny her access to her family, and Sandor was anything but cruel to her. Perhaps he would not be so exacting in his requirements. Sansa longed to explain to him the wonderful, mystical bond that drew them together, for the more time she spent with Sandor, the more she longed to take him as her mate.

Would Sandor mock the idea of the old gods joining them together for a purpose? Sansa was not sure; he did not seem to keep any gods and after what he had experienced, she could hardly blame him. After much deliberation Sansa admitted to herself that it was too early yet to tell Sandor about the bond, let alone to take him as a mate; they had barely gotten reacquainted and there was much that needed to be said. It was the bond that was driving her emotions, nothing more, and she would not allow it to force an intimacy that he did not share.

Still, the idea that Sandor feared her abandoning him disturbed Sansa. He is very much mistaken about our people. I would be so very true to him, if only he would give me the chance. With a sad sigh, Sansa cleared her mind and began her daily ritual of praying to the old gods, after which she gingerly rose to her feet.

Getting out of bed proved more difficult for Sansa than she anticipated. Her side still throbbed painfully, but she found if she held onto it as she moved, it felt better. With Sandor gone, Sansa took the opportunity to explore Sandor's home.

Everything about the dwelling was very masculine and seemed mostly for utilitarian purposes. On a stand near the bed Sansa was distracted by the wide array of clothing Sandor had brought up for her. Delightedly she carefully looked over every article, fingering the soft material and admiring the many different colors and styles. It was all so very beautiful, and she was most eager to see how she looked wearing them, but Sansa had no idea how to put any of it on.

She wasn't sure she would like wearing clothes after all, no matter how pretty they might be. In fact, Sansa intensely disliked the only article of clothing she had ever worn, the cursed lace sleeping gown, for it was itchy and tangled in her legs as she slept. Worst of all, it prevented her skin from touching Sandor's as he held her, and that would never do.

When Sandor did not return, Sansa decided she would go out onto the balcony and take in the fresh air. The morning was warm and the sun filled chaise beckoned to her. Eagerly she stretched out to bathe as she waited.


Angrily Sandor yanked the buckets up from the well, sloshing water as he did so. How could you let yourself be so taken in with her? What are you thinking, trusting a woman you hardly know? After his initial rage subsided, Sandor had to admit that what he felt for Sansa went far deeper than physical attraction or nostalgia for his childhood friend; there was an undeniable connection between them. Still, it was commonly known selkies would always long for the sea and he was unwilling to give into his emotions just yet.

How would he ever allow himself to believe Sansa would truly choose to stay with him? Why would she do that-simply because she asked him to teach her how to be a proper woman and give her a place to stay? Bloody nonsense if he ever heard it. Setting the buckets down, he picked up an axe and angrily began chopping firewood until his skin and clothing was soaked with sweat and his fingers bled.

Jaime Lannister interrupted him. "Frustrated, are we?" The lion's mocking laugh came from behind.

Grunting, Sandor turned to face him. "Might be. Could be."

"Does this sudden enthusiasm for wood chopping have anything to do with a certain lovely young guest of yours?"

"Bugger off," Sandor angrily spat out, drying off his face and chest with his tunic. "Bugger you."

Jaime laughed and settled down to watch Sandor as he resumed hacking at a dry stump. "Did the clothes I sent over fit her?"

"I don't know," Sandor held the rest of his words in check; he couldn't tell Jaime she hadn't worn any clothing as of yet, save for the sleeping gown. "She's in too much pain for that and was still in her sleeping clothes when I left."

"Is that so?" Jaime raised an eyebrow at him. "A lucky man you are, Clegane; she's a beauty. I had Meryn take over for you with Joffrey so you can tend her."

"That's good of you." Sandor replied stiffly, averting his gaze.

"He and the king leave for the hunt today. With the boy gone you'll have nothing to do for a week at least," Jaime winked at him. "The maester said she was hurt worse than previously thought."

"Aye.

"Here, I brought you a book for her." Jaime sighed exasperatedly. "Most men would be thrilled to have such a woman in their company and yet you act like your dog died."

Sandor opened the book and snorted as he took in the liner art. "Ah, some buggering shit about knights and maidens; I'm sure she'll like it.

"It's the story of Florian and Jonquil; a classic tale."

"A fool and his cunt," Sandor snarled bitterly. "Nothing more."

Jaime laughed again. "Just like a Clegane to cut to the heart of any matter. Seriously, though, a bit of such reading can help you understand the fairer sex and get rid of that permanent scowl of yours."

Sandor spat at his feet. "Fuck off. I hate knights and spit on their vows-even the ones in the stories."

Shaking his head, Jaime patted him on the shoulder. "Nevertheless, the way Sansa looked at you yesterday said all to plainly that you are her Florian, despite your uncouth behavior. Good day, Clegane."

When Sandor returned to the villa, he found Sansa out on the balcony. She was as naked as her nameday stretched out on the chaise. She looked like a goddess, the Maiden made flesh, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. After his initial surprise, Sandor set down the buckets and hurried outside to her.

"Sansa, bloody hells!" He snarled a bit louder than he intended. "What are you doing?!" His eyes fell to the deep purple bruises blooming along her ribcage and upper thighs.

"I am bathing in the selkie way," Sansa began uncertainly, rubbing her hands over her sides. "What is wrong?"

After scanning their surroundings, Sandor hissed through gritted teeth, "Did anyone see you out here like this?"

Glancing around self-consciously, Sansa bit her lips and sheepishly replied, "I do not know. I did not look around before I came out. Are you expecting company?"

"No." Irritated, Sandor huffed out a sign and threw a blanket over her shoulders. "That is not how humans bathe. I showed you yesterday, remember? And I told you not to go out without clothing."

"The sun felt so good that I forgot." Sansa's lower lip began to tremble. Sandor longed to kiss her pouty mouth and wondered if she would welcome such attentions.

"Fuck, girl, it's nothing to cry over," Sandor rubbed his hand over his face. "You must wear clothing outside at all times. If any of these damned soldiers around here see you, there will be trouble."

"Oh, my mother and father both warned me of such!" Sansa recoiled in horror. "Is it true they force women into sexual relations?"

He scowled at her. "Aye it's true, and it's not sex, it's rape. It's violent and terrible, believe that."

"Human men are so very contrary; we have nothing to compare to it at sea." Sansa wrung her hands anxiously. "Please do not be angry; I do not wish to cause you trouble. I know that my nakedness is offensive."

"Never mind that. Promise me you will be careful."

"Oh I do, Sandor," she took his hand and held it against her bare breast. "I promise I will be more careful."

His body reacted to her instantly; swallowing hard, Sandor moved away from her. "I am not angry, damn it. I need you to be wary. You'll end up raped or worse if you don't watch yourself. We're in a dangerous place, lass." Sandor sat down beside her on the chaise and brushed a lock of hair from Sansa's face.

The look of absolute trust in her eyes nearly unmanned him as she met his gaze. "The sight of you naked is not distasteful, gods be damned; I only wish it were. You are beautiful and so bloody desirable I can hardly see straight. I'm not the only man to notice, either."

Sansa was deeply touched that he was so concerned about her wellbeing. Sandor must love me very much to worry so about me. Blushing, she shyly leaned toward him and brushed her lips across his jawline. "So then, you are worried about me, not angry?"

Sandor traced his thumb over her bottom lip. "Worried, aye," he rasped harshly. The sound reminded Sansa of the steel scraping against stone on the docks. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Sansa."

"I will be careful," she smiled tremulously at him. "Let us go in; I will take the human bath now, and then I wish to eat."

Shifting on his feet, Sandor cupped her face in his hands. "I shouldn't stay with you while you do, um, that."

"Must you go?" Sansa breathed out, overwhelmed by the wonderful thrill of his touch.

"It's just that I've got wood for the fireplace that needs bringing. There's going to be a storm later."

Slowly she rose to her feet and caressed his cheek. "You are not the only one with needs, Sandor. I am not a mindless animal, but a woman who loves and longs for you as well. You must not fear that I will abandon you."

Softly Sansa continued caressing his face as she tenderly regarded him. Deeply moved, Sandor swallowed hard with his jaw tightly clenched. "I-I'll help you into the tub, then."

Sansa began to speak when a sharp rapping on the door interrupted them. After settling her in the water, he closed the door to the bedchamber and hurried toward the main entrance.

"What the fuck is it?" Sandor snarled as he jerked the door open, his eyes narrowing at Prince Joffrey's trembling page.

"The prince, milord…" the young man gaped at Sandor's scars. "He wants to show you what he caught at sea before he goes on the hunt."

"Bloody hells, I don't care what he-"

"He said it would only take a minute. He wants you to take care of his catch while he is away."

"Take care of it? What in bloody hells does that mean? I'm no game keep."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I do not know the answer to your question. I was sent to bring you directly."

"Give me a minute," Sandor slammed the door in the page's face. "Sansa, the prince is calling for me. I'll return shortly."

"Alright, San-dor. I should be done by then." Sansa smiled so sweetly at him that Sandor almost forgot he had to leave her.

"I'll hurry back." Sandor tersely answered as he drew on his sword belt.


When Sandor entered the great hall, his eyes fell on an enormous copper tank filled with water. Sea water, Sandor mused as he caught the briny aroma. What the fuck is that fool boy up to now?

"Dog, look! Look what I caught!" The prince shrieked excitedly. His younger sister and grandfather stood nearby. Lord Varys, the so-called Master of Whisperers, knelt beside the tank, the man clearly mesmerized by the creatures inside.

Groaning inwardly, Sandor stepped forward and took a glance inside. "Seals, aye. What will you do with them?"

"Not just any seals, you fool! These are selkies!"

Sandor's heart dropped; carefully he schooled his face into an expression of passive interest. "No such thing, boy."

"You see?" Lord Tywin raised his brow. "Even a man of Clegane's meager birth can see that."

"Do you dare question the word of a prince?" The boy shrilly replied. "One day I will be KING!"

The Spider flinched at the prince's tone. "And no doubt you will be a just one at that. What shall you do with these selkies, your Grace?"

"I shall keep them, have them studied, mayhap. Kill them when I tire of them."

"Oh, no brother, please!" Myrcella clutched at his arm. "Not like the kittens! I will tell Father!"

"Shut up, girl!" Joffrey jerked away from her. Frowning, Lord Tywin drew the crying girl close to his chest and motioned toward Cersei.

Turning to Sandor, Joffrey smirked proudly. "What do you think, Dog? You're the fisherman; are they selkies or not?"

"It's not my place to question princes," Sandor shrugged casually, though his stomach lurched each time Joffrey repeated the word. "If you think so, boy."

"Do you know how to make them change into humans?"

Before Sandor could reply, Lord Tywin's interrupted, "Cersei, the prince is tired. See that he rests before he and the king leave for the hunt."

"I'm not tired!" Joffrey pounded his fist on the tank.

"Come, my love," Cersei held her hand out to him. "The creatures will be there after your rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

"Dog, see to it that nothing happens to them while I'm gone, understand?"

"As you wish." Sandor bowed low.

When the queen and prince left the room, Lord Tywin stepped closer to Sandor with Lord Varys in tow. "Clegane, I will not have these stinking creatures befouling the great hall of Casterly Rock, do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"When the prince leaves tomorrow, see to it that they are freed and then have the entire room scoured. I don't want to so much as catch the scent of sea water; do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, Lord Tywin."

"How is the girl you rescued?" Lord Varys asked. "I hear she was injured in the accident."

"Yes, she was," Sandor nodded, all the while wondering how Varys had heard about Sansa. "When I left her she was feeling somewhat better."

"You may take your ease after you leave," Tywin curtly answered and then turned to leave. "Varys, see him out."

Varys nodded. "Before you go, you should take a closer look at the animals, Clegane; they are quite magnificent."

Struggling to hide his annoyance, Sandor nodded and stepped closer. Inside there were two seals, one male and one female, staring warily back at him. Inexplicably, the young man felt drawn to them, and so he moved closer still for a better look.

The male was huge and gray and battle scarred, while the female was deep brown and quite small, still a pup. As the larger animal's gaze met his own, its eyes suddenly changed from brown to a deep gray color.

Gasping, Sandor stepped back as disbelief washed over him. Could it be Sansa's father? He looked up to see Varys watching him closely. "I see you have drawn the same conclusion as I have," the Spider whispered close to his ear. "I think it is time you and I have a discussion."

Fuck, what does the Spider suspect? "When?" Sandor finally rasped.

"Tomorrow, after the prince leaves. I will accompany you to release the animals. No one will hear us on the boat."

"Alright," Sandor weakly agreed. "We'll leave at dusk."

"Perhaps Lady Sansa would like to join us?"

"Aye, perhaps," Sandor abruptly turned and left the room.