Chapter 9
Weariness came over her: her cheerfulness had disappeared when she finally got up. For the first time, he had to tell her twice it was time to go, before she pushed back his cloak and stopped pretending she was asleep. She needs a better place to rest at night, not a stupid barn in those damn woods of the Riverlands. She needs good food and company; all he can't give her.
"Are you ill?" he asks with anxiety.
She shakes her head, avoiding his eyes as she gathers her things. He gets closer and seizes her shoulders, forcing her to turn to him, perhaps a little too briskly. An unreadable expression is set on her face, but she locks eyes with him. Her behavior changed right after she understood he may not stay with her in Riverrun; however it could be some coincidence. It must be something else. Ignoring what makes her suddenly distant will drive him mad: he has to know what's going on behind those blue eyes.
"What's wrong?" he rasps, his hands on her shoulders.
"I want you to come with me and stay in Riverrun."
"Why? What would you do with an old dog? You think your great uncle will allow a fucking deserter to serve him?"
"You're the only one I can rely on." Her tone is sad, nearly begging. "I trust people, unlike you. And I chose to trust you."
He rolls his eyes, wondering what he could say. She misunderstands his reaction and he hears her bitter laugh.
"You're the one who abducted me, then said I was free to go and now you make me beg you," she says with anger. "I remember that whenever I called you 'Ser' in King's Landing, just because I didn't want to give you one of your awful nicknames, you would answer back 'I'm no ser'. Well that's true: when you behave like you do, you're not a knight."
Infuriated, he tightens his grip on her.
"Is there someone so important for you in Essos that you want to leave me alone in Riverrun?" she asks in a challenging tone.
"No!" he shouts. "Of course not."
"Then, why?"
Her shoulders stiffen under his hands and he sees her face's muscles contract not to burst into tears. His normal self would ignore her and laugh, but he can't do that. Maybe he was right when he first got the instinct that she only could make him weak. He swallows hard.
"Let's say I change my mind and stay with you in Riverrun," he starts. "Welcoming a turncloak pisses your great uncle off, but you bug him for three days and he finally lets you do as you please. What's going to happen within six months?"
She shrugs, surprised by his question.
"He'll decide which bannerman makes a good husband for you!" he says as if it was obvious. "And when it's done, you think your husband will agree on letting me follow you as a pet dog? That's not likely. If I stay with you out there, it would be temporary. I would have to pack again soon. I'd rather cross the sea right now."
He lets go with her, almost proud of his self-control.
"My great uncle won't do that!" she protests. "He can't. I'm already married."
"Seven hells, you're too naive! As soon as he knows the Imp didn't..."
The words get stuck in his throat and she stares at him.
"As soon as you tell your great uncle about it, he'll find you a husband," he finally says, regaining his composure.
"I'll ask my lord and master to let you come with me," she says in a stubborn tone.
"For what fucking purpose?" he shouts. "It's time you wake up and understand you can't always get what you want."
When he notices she's fighting back tears, his voice softens and he cups her chin in his hands.
"I'm just saying it's not possible. I wish I could stay, but I can't. There's nothing you can do about it. You belong to Riverrun now."
"What about you?" she asks. "Where do you belong?"
"I'll find out. Sooner or later," he rasps.
Once again, she's very close and her presence makes him uneasy, as if she was dangerous for him. Even touching her face like he does is stupid: he crosses his arms. She sighs heavily.
"I'll make my best to find some inn," he says. "You could eat some hot food and have a good night's sleep."
"I couldn't care less," she answers. "That's not what I'm asking you."
She turns around and walk away before he can say anything.
They didn't exchange more than a few words during the day. Neither the clear sky nor Stranger's comforting presence relieved him from anxiety. "Where do you belong?" she said this morning, on an attempt to make him stay in Riverrun. That's a good question. When he planned her abduction, he could only think of the obstacles and troubles before stealing her from Baelish. He scarcely imagined what it would be like to cross the Vale and the Riverlands with her. In his fantasy, she was sat on a log, in front of him at dusk, and he could watch her, eye her greedily. Their arrival in Riverrun, the ransom or reward he would receive, what he would do next: all that seemed far off. But it could be within two days. What would he say to her when it's time to bid farewell? And where would he go? He pulls back the reins as if he wanted to slow down their advance; she overtakes him, frowning, and stops her mare.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
Her complexion is still very pale but she doesn't seem upset anymore. She's just disappointed with his reaction and sad because she soon will be surrounded by strangers. Once again. He dismounts, without knowing why he does so, and looks round. Behind oak trees, at some fifty feet from where he's standing, there's a clearing. Knee-high grass, herbs and fern give it different shades of green and brown. He comes up to the edge of the forest, holding Stranger's reins and she follows him silently. Still on horseback, she's so close to him when she stops that her skirts brush his forearm. He grits his teeth not to look at her legs and be overwhelmed by his need for her.
"This place is beautiful," she whispers. "Don't you think so?"
He nods.
"Are we lost?" she asks.
When he turns to her, he notices a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. She's almost smiling, for the first time in hours.
"Maybe we are," he rasps. "What do you think?"
"I think it's a beautiful clearing where we could spend the night."
He looks at the sky: night won't come before three hours. They should go on.
"I'm pretty sure there's a village in this direction. All we have to do is to follow the path. I promised I'll find a place where you could eat and sleep well..."
"I don't want to spend the night in a tavern. People could recognize us. Besides, I'm tired of following the path."
What is that supposed to mean?
"Can't you just pretend we're lost?" she asks, looking down at him. She's so close to him her knee strokes his ribs.
"We're lost," he says impulsively. "I'm positive. Better spend the night here and carry on tomorrow."
"Music to my ears," she whispers with a playful smile. "Can you help me?"
She opens her arms to him. An order I can't refuse to obey. He helps her dismount, restraining himself from eying her greedily. She doesn't look upset or ill-at-ease. Amused, she stares at him. She's teasing me. It's just as if she were asking him to play with her. He feels both anxious and excited as she makes her way in the knee-high grass.
Are Northern girls witches? He could easily believe it. After she had a close look around and gathered kindling, she sat in front of him, allowing him to watch her, just like in his fantasy. Lit by the fading sun, then by the fire, her face and hair took strange colors and he couldn't help scrutinize her fiery locks and pale skin. Her neck and its lines obsessed him more than the other days: he kept looking at it, imagining the smooth skin under his lips and her shivering if he dared to kiss her. Without any warning, she stands up and sits by his side. Glancing at him, she says she's cold and asks for a back rub. Neither teeth chattering nor goosebumps on her neck can be noticed; however he complies. Now that she's in his arms, her delicate cheek resting on the mail covering his chest, he feels apprehension. What is she going to do next? She suddenly sits up, surprising him.
"Thank you," she says. "I think I need a bath."
"You must be mistaking me for your maid," he rasps.
She looks at him, astonished, then bursts out laughing. When she calms down, she locks eyes with him.
"...says the man who doesn't know how to flirt," she mocks.
For the first time in his life, he feels witty.
"I wouldn't allow my maid to sleep in my bed," she adds, challenging him. "Your turn, now."
"I don't fucking know how to flirt," he answers. "Teach me."
He could blame it on the flames, but he's almost sure she's blushing.
"Well, you could say something like 'First of all, it's not a bed we're sleeping in' and..." she says.
"And I'm the one you picked you up that night and carried you to the place where I was sleeping. It's my bed."
Her look is both amused and charmed. He doesn't feel like the burnt and ugly man court women feared in King's Landing. They're just a boy and a girl playing some silly game. And this game she initiated is out of her control.
"It seems you don't need any lesson, Sandor," she points out.
"Why are you blushing?" he asks, taking her unawares.
"It's... Let's say that thinking of you as my maid is quite inappropriate."
"It is, m'lady."
His mocking tone make her laugh nervously. He's not a green boy anymore, he's a grown man facing a young girl wondering when he's going to kiss her. And he wants to take his time.
"So you want a bath," he says with a deliberate slowness.
She nods. "Are you going to tie me to a tree?" she dares to ask, still blushing.
"Don't think so. Maybe you should tie me. Or knock me out. Just in case."
Puzzled, she looks at her feet, then at him. He feels confident enough to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her onto his lap; she doesn't protest and looks up at him shyly. He bends over her to meet her lips. They're sweet under his and he's pleased to notice she raises a hand to his burnt cheek to make it more comfortable. He enjoys the sensation of kissing her and her smell for a few heartbeats then breaks with her. The blue eyes are locked to his and full of hesitation. She's asking herself if she should say or do something, without a doubt. The turmoil he can read on her face amuses him, especially when he understands she wants another kiss. As a dam too weak to resist the strong current suddenly gives way, he can't help kissing her again. Their first kiss was as tender as this one is fiery and almost desperate. Her mouth opens to him and he's so eager their teeth meet before he can even think of slowing down. The skin of his burnt cheek is almost painful as he presses his lips against hers, and he wraps one arm around her waist while his right palm brushes the neckline of her dress, making her shiver. They're both out of breath when he stops. He's aching for her and knows how dangerous it could be if he doesn't gain control of himself. She doesn't move and stares at him with much more confidence than he expected; he suddenly realizes she could take the initiative of another kiss, anytime. He's not sure he could restrict himself for a long time, so he gently puts her down on her feet.
"Why?" she asks. She seems to wonder what's wrong.
"Because I don't want to do something stupid."
She sits by his side, still trying to catch her breath. He glances at her, noticing the rise and fall of her chest. Behave yourself: she's a lady. All at once, he feels the urge to speak.
"Do you agree on staying in some inn tomorrow night?" he says, looking right in front of him.
"Well, yes," she answers after a few seconds. "But I thought sleeping in those places was risky, since people are looking for us."
He nods. "It could be."
"I guess it's not a problem as long as you stay with me." She puts her small hand on his, making him wonder if he can share his cloak with her this night without misbehaving. He swallows hard.
"Can we afford it?" she asks. "I mean... I still have my necklace and bracelets..."
She's just given him the pretext he needed to stand up and keep his distance. He walks towards Stranger, takes the bag behind his saddle and begins to look for his purse.
"What are you looking for?" she says. "It's dark. Bring your bag by the fire if you want to find something."
He sighs and removes the bag from its place. As he sits by the fire, she comes closer, kneels down and watches him searching. When he finally puts the hand on it, she stares wide-eyed.
"Did you take so much money with you when you left King's Landing?" she asks.
He feels the weight of the heavy leather purse, then answers "You don't want to know."
The merchant he met on the Red Fork not only gave him some information about her wedding but gave him a fair amount of money too. Against his will, maybe. But a man so talkative and curious about lady Sansa Stark would be pleased to know his dragons and stags will provide her a good bed. She smiles at him with a strange mix of emotions: worship and apprehension, as she perfectly understands what kind of thing he's able to do.
"What's this?" she asks. Before he could say a word, she picks up a dagger with a long thin blade that makes it look like an ice-pick.
"Careful with it," he answers as she peers at the weapon. "It's a misericorde dagger."
"Misericorde?" she repeats. "Is it used to... finish off someone?"
"Aye. Used for thrusting between chinks in armor. Very efficient. I won it on a tourney."
Despite his fear of shocking her, she doesn't seem upset. Only impressed by the weapon and what he can do with it. She glances at him, then hold out her hand to some other blade. Smiling at him, she takes a dagger out of his bag, ready to ask what it is and where does it come from. Her smile vanishes as soon as she sees the handle. It shows a bear, standing up and roaring.
"What did you do to him?" she asks, recognizing the hawker's weapon.
Telling the truth is the only choice left.
"I killed him," he says with coldness.
Now he can read terror on her face; she puts the dagger on the grass, looking at it for a moment.
"He had children!" she screams. "Albett was on his way home and you killed him!"
It sounds like giving him his own name makes his death nearly tangible.
"He knew who you are," he explains trying not to lose his temper. "He threatened me. He... he said I had to give him the horses and pay him to keep his mouth shut."
"And of course you chose another way of shutting his mouth," she says in a bitter tone. "How could you?"
He tries to reach her hand but she moves back instantly. "Don't touch me."
I did it for her: how can't she understand that? A hand on her mouth, she shakes her head as if she couldn't realize the hawker's murder.
"What was I supposed to do?" he asks in desperation.
"I don't know... You could talk to him, try to convince him..."
"That's not how it works. He was ready to tell anyone about us. I had to stop him."
"Why did you lie to me? You could have told me," she says.
Because I knew you would be looking at me like you do right now, my love.
"And the shawl?" she asks. "The ribbon I wear today? You stole them from him?"
"Seven hells, no! I bought them before..."
"...Before you murdered him!" she snaps.
She stands up and walks towards the place half-sheltered from the wind he showed her when they dismounted. She lays down, wrapped in her cloak. As he comes closer, she rolls on one side to avoid his eyes. His chest feels tight when he prepares himself to sleep. He tries to wrap his cloak around both of them but she turns down his offer. His normal self would shout or become violent, however sadness prevails over anger. He knows what it's like to be rejected, he experienced loneliness more than once, but this could make him burst into tears. Of course, the kisses they exchanged only minutes before have something to do with it. He tasted her lips, saw the same need as his in her eyes but suddenly he felt misunderstood and left behind. And even if she's so cruel to him, he can't help desire her. Waiting for the moment she will turn to him, he stays still, only allowing his eyes to caress her and to linger on her back, waist and hip, as if he wanted to map them. However, the faint hope she might huddle up against his chest because she's chilled to the bone vanishes when he hears her even breathing: she's asleep. He takes off his cloak and gently wraps her shoulders with it. Without making a sound, he moves towards the only thing that caused him as much pain as she did: fire.
Once more, thanks for reading, following or reviewing: it's good to have your opinion about the story and I always try to answer as quickly as I can. I hope you liked this chapter and I'm looking forward to your comments!
