This one goes out to a reviewer simply called "Loving it" who asked if the fact that I had three chapters written means I would update quickly. Well, if I had any brains I would drag it out a little…
But yes, that is exactly what it means : )
Sansa prayed that sleep would find her before Sandor came back. Her embarrassment would be clear as day on her face. That was…interesting. Alright, it was bloody fantastic. But she couldn't help feel that her dreams were even better than that. A sinking part of her knew that the frustration she felt in the morning would not stop. And now that Sandor knew what her dreams were…oh gods, could one die of shame?
Oh Sandor; but he had been right. She did enjoy that—immensely. Cersei had said that what lay between her legs was a weapon. 2 months ago she would have considered it a curse. Now she didn't know what to think. Her child was going to come from there in 5 months. And she had a wholly pleasurable experience not moments ago… Perhaps this was her way to reclaim her body as her own.
Sansa fell asleep with a small smile on her face at the thought.
But she woke up screaming. Not even what happened last night could keep her nightmares away, apparently. She was shaking and crying out as she reached for Sandor behind her…
He wasn't there.
Sansa sat bolt upright in a panic. Where was he? Had something happened to him? Did he leave her? He never left without saying goodbye in the morning. What in the hells had woken her?
Then she heard the knocking and a soft voice call, "Milady?"
Sansa jumped out of bed, checked herself quickly, and went to answer. A maid no older than Arya stood on the other side of the door, nervously looking at her through her thick eyelashes.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am. I was just cleaning the room next door and um…heard you. Thought you might need some help."
"I'm fine, child," Sansa breathed out. "Just a bad dream." The girl curtsied and turned to leave before she stopped her. "Pray, might you know where my husband is this morning?"
"Um…downstairs, milady." The girl answered a little sheepishly. What was he doing down there so early? The sun had barely begun to rise. Sansa put on her easiest dress to lace, braided her hair, and went downstairs.
The man behind the bar gave her a short nod and gestured to a table across the small room. Sansa found her husband sleeping soundly over the table, a jug of wine still clenched in one fist and the other slung down over his lap. I thought he was growing out of this.
She went over and gently smoothes his hair from his face, before taking his shoulder and giving it a small shake. He immediately woke, grabbing her wrist tightly in one hand and unsheathing his dagger with the other. He blinked a few times before seeing whom in was. He dropped her wrist as quickly as he could and stood up, putting some distance between them. What was wrong with him?
"What do you want, girl?"
She was taken aback at his harsh tone. "You were gone," she said simply. What did he think she wanted? "I had a nightmare" she elaborated, "I sought you out, but you weren't there. I was worried."
"And you needed your trusty dog to cuddle with in the morning?" His words stung, harshly.
"Are you laughing at me?" she said quietly. Last night he was so…not understanding, but as helpful as he could be. And really, no one else would be that brutally honest with her, enough to tell her the truth about those things. Why was he being so cruel now?
He flinched a little at her words, as though he felt badly. "No, little bird. I'm just sour from remnants of drinking." She raised her eyebrows; that was the closest thing to an apology she'd ever received from him. Probably the closest thing he'd ever delivered.
She approached him to take the wine away, and he stiffened as she did so. What on earth was wrong with him? She took the jug back to the bar and asked for water and food to break their fast. She joined him again, sitting at the table. "Why were you drinking?" He raised an eyebrow before joining her. "You haven't in some time."
He snorted, "great way to take your mind off things, Little Bird." She rolled her eyes at his cryptic response; let him keep his secrets. She changed the topic.
"Do you have any work to do in the village today?" He looked at her strangely before answering.
"No, I finished with the smith yesterday. I thought this would be our last night here." Sansa groaned inside. The last night in a village meant at least 3 days spent on the road to get to another town, which was far enough away so as not to draw suspicion.
"Well, if this is our last day here, I should like to actually see the village we've called home for week." Sandor immediately shook his head, but she interrupted before he could protest. "Sandor, riding was exhausting last week. I'll need my strength. My back is hurting from sitting all day. A simple walk will do me good." She was interrupted by the owner setting down food and water in front of them. Sansa gave him a thankful smile and immediately set to eating.
Sandor sat back and just watched her with his arms crossed over his chest and a bemused expression on his face. Sansa looked up at him with a mouth full of food.
"We should bring food with us as well." Sandor barked out a laugh and began eating as well. Sansa was done long before he was, and she looked up at him, wiped her mouth, and said, "You can join me on this walk or no, but I'm going."
"Little bird…"
Instead of waiting for him to finish, she simply stood up and walked towards the door. He caught up with her before she reached it and put a hand on her arm. "Fine, girl. Just let me get my sword." Sansa had to resist giggling like a little girl, but did flash him her brightest smile. He coughed and rubbed his neck awkwardly before retreating upstairs. Sansa waited a few moments before he returned with his sword and a cloak for her. She gratefully draped it around her shoulders and they set off.
Just behind the inn was a farm. The man working it, who looked very similar to the innkeeper, nodded at Sandor and continued to shovel out a pen. Sansa raised her eyes at him, and he shrugged. "His brother. Helped him out with something our first day here." Sansa smiled to herself as they walked farther. They passed a flower merchant who offered "the mother of beauty" a free rose. Sandor scowled at him and he quickly shrunk away. They passed a meat seller awhile later, and Sansa begged him for some smoked pork. He sighed and removed a coin from his satchel, getting it for her.
They sat under a tree eating while Sandor told her of the other people in the town, giggling at the small scandals he knew she'd enjoy. When she had finished, she looked at him curiously before asking, "and where is the smith?"
"Past that street over there, why?"
"I should like to see it," she said standing up. He rose as well and offered her his arm. When they reached the door he knocked gently, "never startle a man with red-hot tools," he joked.
"Enter!" Sandor pushed the door open. "Jon!" the man called jovially. "I thought our business concluded yesterday!" Catching a glimpse of Sansa he smiled even brighter. "And this must be that pretty wife you told me so much about! Sara, isn't it?"
Sansa smiled to herself as she came forward and took the hand he offered. She had chosen Sandor's name, as he had chosen hers. "It is, sir." He kissed her hand and chuckled. "Well dear, I see Jon wasn't exaggerating. You are every bit as beautiful as he said. Barely said a word for 2 days, I ask him a question about you and I feel like I already know you!" He laughed again. Sandor coughed awkwardly behind her, but Sansa liked this man; he had a good heart.
"We leaving tomorrow, and I just had to know what my husband had been doing these past few days" she said with a warm smile.
"Well come out back! Let me show you." He gave her his arm and led her out the back door. There stood a pen with several horses, all shoed and tied to the same chain. "Had to shoe and make lead chains for all the horses in town. Horses just don't like me, but Jon here has a knack for 'em."
"That he does," she said approaching a chocolate brown mare at the head of the herd. "Milady, I wouldn't…" the smith called out after her. But it was too late. The mare had already reared up onto its hind legs ready to kick her away. Sansa prepared herself for the inevitable blow, but instead found herself pulled backwards into strong arms.
She looked up into Sandor's eyes, both of them breathing hard. One hand was clenched tightly around her shoulders, the other covering her stomach.