Sansa

Sansa became mildly aware of the raspy voice bouncing off the confines of her mind. She forcefully scrunched up her eyes, attempting to ward off the evasive light trying to pry open her skull. As she rolled over, taking the rough spun blanket with her, the modest contents of her stomach swayed.

She let out an audible groan.

"Here little bird, drink." Sandor set the mug down on their shared bedside table with a resounding "thud." Making her groan again.

"Do you mind? You're so very loud!"

"This is what happens when one drinks their weight in alcohol." Sandor chuckled.

"I'll be downstairs eating breakfast. Gather your things when the pounding in that pretty little head of yours subsides a bit. We've got to move on."

Sansa laid in bed, eyes closed, willing the sickly feeling away. She heard the door gently click shut, signifying Sandor's exit. She figured she may as well get on with her day; Sansa knew Sandor didn't like staying at one place for prolonged periods of time.

She threw one leg from the bed, after garnering all her power she threw out the other. For a few moments she stayed in that awkward half-on half-off the bed position. Finally, she sat up; apparently much too fast because her head was swimming.

"Ughhh, how much did I drink?" She reached for the mug Sandor had set out for her, bringing the liquid to her parched lips she drank deeply. Sansa felt her stomach lurch once again. That's when she looked down at her stockinged feet. I don't even remember taking my boots off. She realized she didn't exactly remember getting back to their room either.

The last thing she remembered was Red playing that knife game. What was it, "five finger fillet?"

"OH GOD." She exclaimed as the night's events came back to her. Sandor had carried her up to the room after she had drunkenly volunteered her hand at the next game. That wasn't the worst part though. She remembered how her boots came to leave her feet. And what she did with those feet. And her mouth.

"OH GOD!" She screeched again, throwing her arm over her eyes.

All that alcohol had given her the courage, or stupidity, to act on the impulses she had been feeling for awhile. They had been getting on quite well she thought. Sandor rarely grumbled at her the past month for being a "stupid little bird;" he even went as far as listening to her input on important matters. Sansa wasn't naïve anymore; she had noticed Sandor's heady looks towards her when he thought her otherwise preoccupied.

There was an undeniable attraction between them.

Should I act like nothing happened last night? No. He hates liars. This is going to be dreadful.

She gathered her meager possessions. Well, quite a few more than she had started with. The few dresses from Allen. The binoculars she purchased with the money she won from Sandor. And her revolver. She gave their room a once over before closing the door on this part of their journey. She rounded down the stairs and saw that Sandor had presumably finished breakfast already.

Taking a deep breath, she mustered up her words of apology and turned to greet him.

"Sandor, I um, must say... I am extremely sorry for my conduct last night... I'm honestly abashed by the way I handled myself."

"Don't worry about it. I've dealt with my fair share of drunken people, myself included."

"No… really. I should not have, uh…"

"You should not have what? Rubbed my cock? Probably not."

Sansa's whole body became inflamed and her heart leapt into her throat. She must have been a sight in that moment; standing there looking like a wave of crimson had washed over her. Mouth agape. He was as crude and straight to the point as ever.

"You should close your mouth unless you intend to catch some of these barflies. You do have a sweet trap there." He smirked at her; and with that he left her there, motionless, to go saddle the horses.

Sansa grabbed some honeyed bread that would suffice as her meal; she figured it was the most her queasy stomach could take. She then followed Sandor's quick steps into the stables. They both tackled the few possessions they had to their name to the horses; she had grown used to this part of their campaign. She even relished in the normality of the action.

They were able to ride in comfortable companionship. Sometimes they'd share stories of their lives. Sansa would always talk about Winterfell and her family. He'd laugh at times or offer her solace when she would rehash a particularly depressing memory. She noticed he never talked of family; he never had since that first day when he shared that story about his brother. But Sansa enjoyed hearing about his travels all over North and South America.

The scattered dwellings became spaced further and further apart as they rode out of the small hamlet- until finally it was naught but her and Sandor. Sansa was unsure how long they had trodden along the beaten path that was carved in the landscape. The clouds were overcast in the sky, creating a shield for the usually harsh sun.

Sansa felt a slight breeze waft through her hair, trailing it's cool breath against her neck. Soon the skies would open up and cleanse the dry and cracked Earth. Sansa's eyes drifted closed, she could smell the oncoming storm in the air. Her eyes darted open as she heard a familiar tune.

She's only a bird in a gilded cage,

A beautiful sight to see,

You may think she's happy and free from care,

She's not, though she seems to be.

Sandor was quietly singing. Sansa had heard the song before. She started the next refrain, startling Sandor out of his trance.

For youth cannot mate with age,

And her beauty was sold,

For an old man's gold,

She's a bird in a gilded cage.

"Is this the little bird's beckoning call?" Sandor asked.

"I may be a little bird, but I left my gilded cage ages ago." Sansa answered with a smile.

"I guess you did. You flew the fucking coop, but were caught by the dog!" He laughed. The corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth.

Sansa rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Just then she felt a tiny raindrop on her cheek. In a matter of seconds the rain culminated and became torrential.

Sandor let out an annoyed wail. Now it was Sansa's turn to laugh. She held open her arms to welcome the rain.

"You're a crazy bird! Here let's keep going, I spot an overhang ahead. Night is about on us anyway."

They led their horses up the slight incline. Sansa watched as the collected water raced down the lands in a tapered trail.

As Sandor had said, there was an overhang just big enough for them to squeeze under. They dismounted from Stranger and Sugar, the name she had given her sweet mare, and unpacked a couple things. Thankfully both Stranger and Sugar seemed unperturbed by the sudden down pour.

Sansa made to rush under the overhang with their food items as Sandor unsaddled the horses.

When he finally joined her they were both drenched. He handed her one of the blankets, which was only partially damp.

She set to unfold it, her teeth chattering fiercely. Sandor kept his distance. He is probably embarrassed for me, perhaps he thinks me some slattern.

Sansa scooted closer to him, taking the blanket with her. He turned to scowl at her, and tried inching away. Oh this is how it's going to be? She just followed once again.

"What are you doing girl?" He shouted exasperated.

"I'm freezing, there is nothing to make a fire, so the least you can do is let me sit near you to keep me from icing over!"

He growled and pulled her towards him, throwing his arm around her so she was nestled in his side. Sansa was right, he was so very warm. She sat there with her knees under her chin, watching the rain come down. If she had been told months ago she would be traveling the desert with an ill-tempered man collecting bounties she would have laughed and said they had the wrong Stark girl. Though she definitely couldn't wait to return home, the weeks she had spent technically on the run she wouldn't trade for anything. Sansa had learned so much. She learned she wasn't anyone's property. She learned she had strength, she could adapt to what the world hurled at her. She had pleasantly surprised herself the past few weeks. And she knew some of that was due to Sandor.

Absentmindedly, she started tracing the crevices on Sandor's leather vest. The soft patter of the rain served as a natural relaxant. He grabbed the offending hand, which snapped her back to reality.

"Don't."

Sansa focused her eyes on his, and gave him a look of rebellion. Relinquishing her hand from his grasp she raised it to the burned side of his face. Stroking it tenderly. She knew it was a bold move. He could break her hands without a second thought. But she knew he would never.

She leaned over and placed her other hand on his opposite cheek. Without much forethought she brought her face close to his, she could feel his breath against her lips. Her eyes bore into the grey depths in front of her.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, she softly pressed her lips to his. He stayed unyielding. She pulled back to gauge his reaction and she took in his pained expression. She could sense the inner turmoil erupting in his psyche.

"I don't know what you want from me little bird. I'm not a good man. This can only end badly. For both of us."

"I just want the chance. You call yourself a bad man but I don't see it. Are you loud and sometimes rude? Yes. Do you have an aptitude for drinking a tad too much? Yeah. But you're honest. You're brave and strong. This is my choice. And I'm gladly choosing you. Please."

Sandor seemed to be digesting her words. Sansa sighed. He can be so stubborn.

"Just ki-" Her demand was cut short as he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her, confidently. There was no longer any hesitation present. She knew she had kissed him last night, but without the alcohol dulling her frame of mind this experience was wholly different. It was exhilarating. Sansa had never felt this before, not even before she knew about Joffrey's true nature.

She climbed onto Sandor's lap and threw her arms around his shoulders. He responded by tightening his arms around her slim waist.

She opened her mouth and brushed her tongue along his bottom lip seeking access. Flipping them so that Sansa was on her back with Sandor hovering over her, their kiss reached a level of desperation. As if this was their only time to get out all the tension that had built up. Their frenzied pace was accelerated further when Sansa started pulling at his tunic. Knowing what she wanted, he broke away to strip it off. She had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but right now the sight of his chiseled chest was increasing the strange pressure in her abdomen.

Sansa sat up, confusing Sandor, and started unfastening her wet dress. As she shrugged off the sleeves of her dress she also tugged off her shift- she no longer worn a corset since she had no one to lace her up anymore. She brushed her hair to one side, leaving her exposed. The cool air made her skin break out in goosebumps.

Her actions momentarily stilled Sandor; she wondered if he was rethinking everything.

Instead he crushed her to his imposing form, burying his face at the juncture of her throat. Sansa threw her head back, giving Sandor better access. He licked and nipped, and then sucked- marking her. Sansa squirmed in his lap, seeking any friction to relieve the persistent ache she felt. Much like the previous night, she came in contact with Sandor's arousal. She experimentally rocked her hips forward.

Sansa's gasp was drowned out as a crack of thunder boomed through the desolate lands, and lightening lit up the navy blue sky.

Stranger and Sugar nickered wildly, stomping their hooves into the moist ground.

"What do we have here? Is this some make-shift whorehouse?" A curt voice called out.

Sandor jumped up, pushing Sansa behind him. She fumbled to re-cloth her upper half. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the scene, granting both parties a more detailed view of each other.

That's when Sansa caught it. The man had a three headed dog sewn on his jacket. Her heart sank as she recalled Bran's words of warning.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't my dearest baby brother! And it looks like he found some gutter slut to suck his cock!"

Sansa became panicked. She could feel Sandor's body tense with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing out here? Last I heard you were pillaging west Texas you swineherd." Sandor spat.

"Now is that anyway to talk to your elders? Do I have to teach you another lesson? How about this- You give me a go with your red headed whore and I'll let you keep a few teeth?"

"Go. To. Hell."

Sandor lunged at his brother, knocking them both to the ground. Sansa heard a crack as Sandor's fist connected with Gregor's jaw. She didn't know what to do, she felt helpless all over again.

Right before her eyes was a struggle for dominance, one that would end in someone's death. She thought Sandor was large, but his brother was even larger.

Sandor had Gregor in a chokehold. Sansa could hear the man struggling for air. A well landed kick to Sandor's back loosened his hold on him. Gregor was now standing as Sandor was doubled over. The freakishly large man aimed another kick to Sandor's side, but he rolled away just in time.

He clambered to his feet and drew his pistol as Gregor drew his gun as well. They both stood in a standoff. Sandor cocked his weapon and pulled the trigger. Nothing.

"Forgot to load did you? You really are a worthless fucking moron. This should be fun." He laughed as he fired a round in Sandor's thigh. He instantly fell over, groaning. Gregor advanced upon him with a sadistic grin.

With shaking hands Sansa searched for her revolver, which she knew was still loaded. She felt the cold metal against her finger tips and grasped it.

Seemingly forgotten for the time being, Sansa moved swiftly coming up behind Gregor.

She cocked her revolver and fired. The bullet entered the man's skull. His life was forfeited immediately. Gregor's eyes were glossed over in death.

The realization of what just occurred slammed into Sansa. She got down on her knees and threw up. She had never killed anyone. Her erratic breathing started to make her dizzy.

"Shit!" Sansa looked up to see Sandor clumsily trying to create a tourniquet for his leg.

She got up and ran to him.

"What do I do? Oh god. There is a lot of blood!" She cried reaching for his face.

"Little bird, it doesn't look... promising." He breathed out calmly. Already weary from the blood loss.

"No, no don't say that! I can do something! Just tell me what!" Sansa screamed as tears flooded her eyes.

Sandor just stared at her, unresponsiveness aglow in his eyes.

"Sandor! Answer me!" She shook him violently.

"Sansa..."