Arya was incredibly pleased she was allowed to ride her own horse following the brawl at the inn a few days ago. She was even more cheerful about her reunion with her cherished Needle. She told Celeste it was a gift from her brother, Jon Snow, notoriously known as Ned Stark's bastard son. As they continued to travel to the Eyrie, food became scarce. There were no inns on the road and the plains that stretched their way to the Vale were vast and were not only unfit to grow trees bearing fruit but were also difficult to hunt in unless you were skilled with a bow or set elaborate traps. They didn't catch too many fish in the streams and the ones they did catch were incredibly tiny. At least they had fresh water every day and that kept them going.
"Where are we?" Arya asked as she picked the weeds off some sort of root vegetable she found. She handed a batch to Celeste as Sandor fastened his pants. He'd been taking a piss against a stone fence and took a second to think about where exactly they were, "Near Fairmarket, I think."
"You think?" Arya asked. "You don't have a map?"
"No, I don't have a map," he grunted as he stomped towards the horses. Celeste followed him down the small hill, and Arya did so as well, adding, "Maybe we should get one."
"Aye, just point out the next map shop you see, and I'll buy you one," he said sarcastically. Seeing as he wasn't in a cooperative mood—perhaps because he was starving—Arya turned to Celeste, "How far do you think it is to the Eyrie?"
"Quite far," Celeste ate the small root vegetable. It was bitter, but she'd eat anything at this point. Arya turned to Sandor again, "You're sure we're going the right way?"
"Believe me, girl, I want you there soon as I can," he filled a canteen with water from the stream. "Get my gold, be on my way."
"On your way where?" she asked. Celeste smiled softly at how exasperated Sandor looked from Arya's badgering. He snapped, "Why do you care?"
Arya shrugged. Celeste decided to speak, "She's right; where are we to go after we've left her with Lady Lysa?"
Sandor took a moment to consider before replying, "Might book passage across the Narrow Sea and fight as a sellsword; the Second Sons seems like a good fit for me."
"Essos would be nice to visit," Celeste looked up in thought. "I've heard Pentos is very beautiful."
"I'd like to see Braavos one day," Arya chimed in. Sandor raised a curious brow, "Why Braavos?"
"I have friends there," she said firmly. Sandor sniffled and blew his nose into the stream, the mucus flying out of his nostril like an arrowhead, "Doubt it."
As Celeste and Arya grimaced in disgust, a man's voice from above the stone wall greeted them, "Seven blessings to you."
"What do you want?" Sandor spat.
"What do I want? This is my land," he said. He sat on his horse-drawn wagon carrying hay alongside a little girl that was most likely his daughter.
"When I'm standing on it, it's my land," Sandor taunted. Arya stood quickly, "We were just watering the horses; we'll be on our way."
The man didn't look convinced, so Celeste decided to add her share, "My husband's poor attitude is his way of showing grief, sir. The war has been difficult, and he's been injured multiple times fighting in it."
"Our cottage burned down while he was gone," Arya added, gesturing at Celeste. "My mother and I managed to escape, but we couldn't save my brother."
"Which house did he fight for?" the man asked. This was a loaded question that Arya was witty enough to answer correctly, "The Tullys of Riverrun."
The smile on the man's face lit up the entire countryside, "There's a storm coming; you'll be wanting a roof tonight. There's fresh hay in the barn and Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mum used to do," he met Sandor's eyes, "We don't have much but any man that bled for House Tully is welcome to it."
Their cottage was small but cozy and was warmed perfectly by the blazing hearth. They all sat around a large pot of rabbit stew filled to the brim and a basket of bread. The farmer folded his hands and prayed to the Seven Gods, reciting the common dinner prayer. As much as Celeste appreciated his kind gesture, she really didn't care much for the Seven or any bloody god at the moment unless they walked into this hut with more food for them. Still, the farmer continued on and on, "We ask the Warrior to give us courage in these days of strife and turmoil. We ask the Maiden to protect Sally's virtue and keep her from the clutches of depravity—"
"You going to do all seven of the fuckers?" Sandor grumbled. Celeste smacked his arm as Arya cried out, "Father!"
The farmer was startled but continued, all the while Sandor, Arya, and Celeste eyed the stew longingly, "We ask the Smith to strengthen our hands and our backs, so we may finish the work required of us. We ask the Crone to guide us on our journey from darkness to darkness—"
Once again, Sandor interrupted, "And we ask the Stranger not to kill us in our beds for no damned reason at all."
Sandor grabbed the pot, poured himself the stew directly into the bowl and slammed it against the middle of the table. Arya followed suit and apologized briefly before doing the same. Celeste was shocked she did the same and the three of them began slurping their stews as if it was going to be snatched away from them. The farmer and his daughter eyed them in genuine shock and it was only after Celeste's hunger was finally settled did she realize how rude they were being. Arya beat her to the punch and smiled, "This is really good…"
They began to have a proper meal afterwards and the farmer asked if Sandor fought at the Twins, to which he replied very honestly by saying it was more like a slaughter of livestock. The farmer claimed they were calling it the Red Wedding.
"Walder Frey committed sacrilege that day; he shared bread and salt with the Starks," the farmer shook his head in contempt. "He offered them guest right."
"Guest right don't mean much these days," Sandor shrugged. "Got any ale?"
The farmer shook his head, "Afraid not."
"How can a man not keep ale in his own home?" Sandor scoffed in disbelief.
The farmer offered Sandor to stay on his farm, considering a warrior like him who could swing a sword would no doubt keep the bandits plundering his home away.
"What'll you pay?" Sandor asked after a moment. Celeste and Arya looked at him in shock. He was actually considering it?
"I don't have much, but I have hidden a bit of silver from the bandits," he smiled. "Fair wages for fair work?"
Sandor nodded, "Fair wages for fair work."
Celeste's jaw nearly hit the table. Perhaps he was considering staying here for a while to recuperate before starting to travel to the Eyrie again. She doubted he was going to toss aside the vast amount of gold Lysa Arryn would pay for her niece to help a farmer turn his crops.
They slept in the barn on soft hay, and after going so long without eating, Celeste was already feeling drowsy on a full stomach. Add Sandor's warmth at her side, and she fell asleep in a second. The next morning, however, she was startled awake by the scream of a little girl. Arya, who laid next to her on the hay, jumped awake as well. They eyed each other before they ran outside the barn and to the front of the farmhouse. There they saw the farmer's daughter cradling her father, his brow bloody and bruised while Sandor towered over them both with a coin purse in his hand.
"What did you do?" Arya cried.
"Get your horses saddled, both of you," he told them, counting the silver in the purse. Celeste was at a loss for words—she didn't think Sandor was capable of this. Sure, he was a brute and found pleasure in killing, but this was heartless.
"He took us in! He fed us!" Arya kept on. Sandor turned to them, "Aye, he took us in. He's a good man, and his daughter makes a nice stew, and they'll both be dead come winter."
"You don't know that, Sandor!" Celeste finally found her voice, her rage burning just below her skin. "You can't just rob him after he's been so generous! I thought you were more noble than this!"
"I'm not a fucking knight from those shit songs all the maidens sing," he growled, staring down at her. "He's weak and he can't protect himself! They'll both be dead come winter, and dead men don't need silver."
"You're the worst shit in the Seven Kingdoms!" Arya cried out.
"I just understand how things are," he sneered. "How many Starks they got to behead before you figure it out?"
"Stop it, Sandor!" Celeste called out. "All you do is insult her family when she stands up to your disgusting actions!"
"Aye, because that's the only way she'll fucking learn," Sandor scoffed. "Perhaps I should rape you bloody, so you learn a thing or two about the world!"
His words dug into her skin like razor sharp knives and her eyes burned with tears. She's always been just a bit afraid of him, but as he stood over her, threatening to do the vilest thing a man can do to a woman, she was terrified. Flashbacks of Lowell choking her and unbuckling his trousers ran through her mind and it made her body freeze and her stomach drop. She felt tiny and helpless in Sandor's shadow, and she knew she could do absolutely nothing. He was her husband, and he could do as he pleased with her and no one can tell him otherwise.
They saddled their horses and began traveling south towards the Eyrie. They traveled in complete silence; no friendly banter or teasing as was the norm between them. Celeste was fighting back her tears, Sandor's words still ringing in her ears as if he'd just barked them at her. She felt worthless, like something to be used and then discarded just as dismissively. She thought there was something good underneath Sandor's ruthless exterior, but she was wrong. He was just as nasty as everyone rumors him to be. He's probably as horrid as his brother if provoked.
When they stopped for the day, the fire was started and stoked for warmth. Arya lay asleep on her small sheet and Sandor was on his back using his saddle for a pillow. Celeste went for her satchel and pulled out her extra sheet, laying it near the fire. Before she could lay in it, Sandor's voice called out to her over the crackling of the fire, "Woman."
She didn't reply. She'd laid herself down when he called out to her again, more firmly this time, "Woman."
"What do you want?" she snapped, trying to keep her voice steady. There was a moment of silence before he replied, "I won't sleep without you."
"You will sleep alone tonight, and for the nights to come," Celeste seethed, astonished he was even asking her to sleep near him, "I hope your nightmares plague you for the rest of your life."
She heard him sigh before saying, "The only reason you're still alive and untouched is because I'm strong enough to protect us both. That farmer is weak and can't protect himself or his daughter—no amount of silver is going to save them—"
"I don't want to hear your voice, Sandor," Celeste spat. "Shut up and go to sleep, or don't—I don't care."
"Woman—"
"I said shut up!" she snapped.
Celeste didn't hear Sandor snore all night.