The Color Of Virtue

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: Annora Sutton does not have a dating life. She'd engaged in a brief romance, but then he went back to his hometown, leaving her with a going away present that had thrown her for a loop. Now that he was gone, her evenings were spent at home, watching movies, reading and playing games meant for teen girls on her phone. Then one night she is attacked by a man who's after more than her belongings. She cannot fight him off and the knife that she carries is in her purse. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man comes to her rescue, a huge, hulking man with scars covering the right side of his face. AU/present time

Disclaimer: I own no part of the book series, A Song Of Ice And Fire, by George R. R. Martin, or the HBO series, Game Of Thrones. The only things that belong to me are my OC, Annora, as well as everyone in her world that is not Sandor Clegane or any of the other characters that were created by George R. R. Martin. I should also mention that the title of this story is from a quote that supposedly came from Diogenes, "Blushing is the color of virtue".

Author's Note: I am a big fan of the "San/San" pairing and have read and loved numerous fanfictions that take that route, but I always like to put my own character into the mix. If you don't like Sandor with anyone else, I understand, but please do me the courtesy of not reading any further and leaving a nasty review if the person that I'm describing is you.

Rating Advisory: This work of fanfiction is rated M for violence, an attempted rape at the beginning of chapter one, a variety of curse words and eventual citrus, both limes and lemons.

Chapter One

Annora's POV

There were several things that came to my mind as I looked back and contemplated the walk from my car to the stairs. I should have been looking around more than I was, I should have been more aware of my surroundings, but I was too busy thinking of that bitch Cari who worked with me and how she was always kissing up to the boss to her face and talking about said boss' fat ass behind her back. I had my keys in my hand, but I usually put my knife where I could easily access it as well, but I'd left it in my purse, like a doofus.

There was a dark space near a bank of cars. The bulb that usually illuminated that area had broken at least a week ago, but it hadn't been replaced. I'd made a habit of carrying a small flashlight, to chase away the shadows, but I'd left the damned thing in my car and I didn't want to go back for it. This was also the behavior of a dumbass, the sort that made me wince when I thought about it, but what was done was done and there was no going back to change it.

On my days off, I liked to cook my own meals, but when I had been working all day I ordered my evening meal and had it brought to my door. I was trying to decide whether I wanted beef lo-mein with bean sprouts added into the mix or beef and broccoli. One way or the other, it was going to be beef tonight and the evil voice in my head, who sounded a hell of a lot like me, suggested that I could get both of them. It almost had me talked into the sinful gluttony that would ensue when someone rushed up behind me and grabbed me, slapping a hand over my mouth before I could scream as they dragged me into the shadows.

To say that I was scared was, of course, an understatement. My mind was so full of the screams that I couldn't release that it didn't have an opportunity to curse me for being so damned stupid. I had a light that I'd been too lazy to get, a knife that was in the purse that my attacker had just taken away from me and a fresh can of pepper spray up in my apartment. I may as well have been walking around with a huge neon arrow flashing over my head that drew the attention of every predator in the neighborhood.

The man threw me down on the ground and I managed to release half of a scream before his hand covered my mouth again. "If you make another peep, I'll slice your tongue, bitch, and if you bite my hand, I'll knock out every tooth in your fucking head. You go ahead and fight if you want to fight…I like it better when you fight."

Fear had already taken hold of me completely, but his words made my heart start pounding like a kettle drum. From what I could tell, he had half a foot on me in height and at least a fifty pounds in weight, so it was doubtful that I would be able to fight him off. I couldn't get a good look at his face, just a glimpse every now and then, and the last time I studied him he caught me and slapped my face, a backhand to each cheek.

"Don't even think about it, you stupid bitch," he said, tearing at my shirt and sending my nametag skittering beneath a car. "And if I catch you trying again, I'll cut out your eyes."

I felt a nearly overwhelming urge to cry, to plead, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing so much as a whimper from me. Not even when he cut off my bra, nicking my skin in the process, and started to paw at my breasts. He sat back on my legs and tore at the button and zipper of my jeans and opened them, pushing them down to my ankles. After that was done, he cut off my panties and immediately stuck his hand between my legs.

"You're old-fashioned, huh?" he said as he stuck his fingers inside of me. "Most bitches wax their shit these days."

In spite of my fear, I had things come to my mind, hateful things that I would have liked to have said to him, but I didn't dare say a word. I would have liked to have spit in his face, but my mouth was so dry that there was no way I could have done so. I had friends who'd been raped, family members as well, and I'd always feared that the day would come when I'd join their ranks.

He jabbed his fingers up inside of me, hard, then harder, hurting me, until I couldn't hold back a whimpering sound that, of course, made him laugh at me. "Just wait, bitch," he panted, prodding me with his fingers over and over again as he struggled to undo his pants. Once they were open, he pushed them and his underwear down and placed himself between my legs. "I got something here that's really going to make you moan."

I tried to push him off of me, I tried to close my legs. I was determined that I wouldn't just give in to him, but all that it took was a punch to the face, followed by the feel of his knife against my throat to convince me to lay still. He muttered a few more things about women and how stupid they were and then he positioned himself to enter me. I knew that he would get angry with me, but in the end I found that I didn't care what he did to me. I started to scratch his face, to roll away and make him fall off of me, but nothing worked.

There was something on my mind, something that was barely showing, and I was determined to live, to protect that tiny life that had just began to grow. I knew that mothers were fierce when it came to safeguarding their children, but who would have thought that an instinct like that would come alive while your child had only recently made its presence known?

When I thought of that little one, nestled within my womb, so tiny and fragile, I made up my mind that this son of a bitch wasn't going to hurt me, and he damn sure wasn't going to kill me. I freed my mouth and let loose a screech that would have put a banshee to shame. He cursed and started to hit me, but I dodged my head to the side at the last moment and his fist hit the cement floor instead of my face.

"Oh, you fucking bitch!" he hollered. "Now you're really going to wish that you had listened to me."

I closed my eyes, I was determined that I wouldn't whimper again, that I wouldn't make a sound, and just when he was about to shove himself inside of me, he was gone and I looked up and saw an enormous man holding him by the scruff of his neck, as if he was a puppy. The big man studied the would-be rapist for several moments, and then he headbutted him over and over again, until my attacker lost consciousness.

The big man tossed him down on the ground and turned his attention to me. "What in hell are you doing?" he growled, kneeling down and straightening my clothing, covering me quickly, but not roughly. "You need to go to your apartment and clean yourself up."

He reached down with one enormous hand and pulled me up on my feet. I had jelly legs for several moments and the big man held me up until I was able to stand steadily, even as I began to shake all over. "Which apartment is yours?" my rescuer asked gruffly.

"I live in E," I replied without hesitation, as if he was someone I knew, someone who could be trusted with my personal information. But then, he had saved my life, hadn't he? Surely he hadn't stopped my would-be rapist because he intended to rape me himself, had he?

"Don't speak to anyone, don't contact anyone, just go to your apartment and leave the window open a crack. Clean yourself up and once I've taken care of this cunt, I'll come by to check on you."

My mind racing and I wasn't processing what he was telling me to do. All that I could do was whimper, as tears rolled down my face, and shake uncontrollably, like a leaf in the wind. The huge man, who looked vaguely familiar to me, tolerated my hysteria for about thirty seconds, and then he took hold of my shoulders and shook me back and forth until I shut up and focused solely on him.

"Dammit, woman, you've got to listen to me, otherwise I can't help you," he growled, and the feel of his hands and the way that I had to crane my neck to look at his face proved how massive this man was…not to mention scary. I wasn't bothered by the scars that were on his face, they were just a sign that he'd survived something horrific, but as he shook me I realized that he could hurt me very badly, with no effort at all.

"Please stop shaking me," I moaned, clutching at the back of my head, which had bounced off of the ground when my would-be rapist threw me down. "I already hurt all over and you're making it worse."

He stopped at once and had a look on his face that suggested that he was sorry, though he did not offer an apology. He looked down and though he didn't blush at the sight of my exposed breasts and private parts, I could tell that he felt both embarrassed and enraged. I was the one who was blushing as I pulled my pants up with shaking hands and did my best to fasten my shirt, and then collected my bra and panties. At the last minute, I remembered my nametag and crawled beneath a car to fetch it.

The man who'd attacked me started to moan and my savior planted a huge foot wrapped in a black leather boot in his face and he immediately grew quiet once more. I studied the man who'd come to my rescue and it took me a moment to place him, but then I remembered that he was the one who'd held the door open for me when I was moving into the building a couple of months back.

"You live in B, don't you?" I asked tearfully, sniffling as he handed me my purse.

"Aye, but this is not the time for us to have a question-and-answer session," he grumbled. "Do as I told you, do you hear, Annora?"

I was taken aback by the fact that he knew my name, but I didn't ask him how he knew. I nodded instead and started to head to the stairs, then stopped and turned to look at him once more. "They'll find my DNA on him," I whispered, "they'll come looking for me."

He smiled, the sort of grin that is meant to convey malice and inspire terror. "They're not going to find any DNA…you have my word on that."

I should have been horrified but given what had happened and what would have happened if my neighbor hadn't rescued me, I couldn't work up any sympathy for the guy on the ground. As a matter of fact, once I knew that no DNA would be found, I went up to him and stomped on his nuts a few times, all the while sobbing like a baby.

The big man watched me for several moments and then he murmured, "Alright, that ought to do it." He checked the man on the ground, I suppose that he was checking to be sure that the guy was passed out and then he led me to the stairs. "Remember what I said, go straight to your apartment, take off all of your clothes and put them in a garbage bag, along with your bra, panties, nametag and purse. I'll get rid of everything later, but while I take care of him, I want you to take a shower. Don't talk to anyone, don't let anyone in your apartment. Leave the window by the fire escape open just a little bit, put the garbage bag outside. I'll take it and put it in the incinerator and then I'll come back, so leave the window open for me."

I suppose that people would say that I was a loon, listening to his instructions, squirreling them away with every intention of following each and every one, but he'd saved my life. He'd kept me from being raped and more than likely murdered and I was willing to do whatever he told me to, and I couldn't have cared less what he did to the bastard who was unconscious on the ground. Perhaps my actions would be considered criminal, but I was alive, I was mostly untouched, and I would go on living, and if that was a criminal act, I'd gladly take my punishment for choosing life over death.

Sandor's POV

It had been a long day, the sort of day that makes you want to beat someone, several someone's, to a bloody pulp. I worked for one of the most powerful families in the city and I was paid well to be a watchdog for that entitled little shit, Joffrey Baratheon, but all of the money in the world couldn't make up for the fact that I felt like giving the kid a smack time and time again as I went through each shift. His father was a drunken slob who spent most of his time at work fucking his secretary, that is, when he bothered to show up. His mother was a stone-cold bitch who always seemed to be on the verge of sliding a knife between your ribs and into your heart. There were two other children, a boy and a girl, and they seemed to be decent kids. I didn't know how in the hell that had happened, but maybe they would stay that way and not take the path of those who were always around them.

All that I'd wanted to do when I got home was enjoy my evening meal, followed by a night of drinking and lounging in my recliner, watching the boob tube until it was time to go to bed. I just wanted to unwind after putting up with eight hours of near constant bullshit, and I was usually able to do so because the building that I lived in was very small and everyone tended to mind their own business and keep quiet. I'd been certain that this night was going to be like all of the others. I'd made my way into my apartment, turned on the kitchen light, and removed my bulletproof vest, a Tactical Flexible Rifle Armor or FRAS , along with my weapons, a matched set of CZ 1911s, .45 ACP, with black aluminum frames. The box magazines held eight rounds and the barrel of each weapon was almost six inches in length…they were a couple of beauties that I carried in a black leather double shoulder holster. After that, I'd gone through a pile of crap mail and bills and was all set to open a can of soup when I'd heard a ruckus coming from the parking garage.

My first thought was that some little bastards were in the garage, trying to break into people's cars. I had a very nice phantom black Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat parked in that garage and if there was some punk kids who were even thinking of touching my baby, they were going to get my foot up their ass. I suppose that I could have gone out there and pulled a gun on them, that really would have scared the shit out of them, but sometimes it was more satisfying to use your height and, in my case, your scarred face to terrify those who needed a lesson in manners.

I had the ability to move very quietly, and things were pretty still when I made my way into the parking garage, but then I heard a woman's scream that was quickly muffled. Afterwards, I heard cursing and threats coming from a darkened corner of the garage and I knew what was going on. I didn't know who the woman was, or the man either, but it didn't matter. I had no tolerance for rapists and this one was going to wish that he'd never touched the woman that he was attacking.

I couldn't make out all of the details of who was on the ground, due to the semidarkness, but it was obvious by the way that the woman was struggling and whimpering that she was not there because she wanted to be. I felt a rush of fury and hauled the bastard off of her. I held him by the back of his neck and studied him, taking great pleasure in the fact that his cock was exposed, and it quickly shrank from something that wasn't bound to impress anyone to something that was almost miniscule in appearance. I made sure that he was terrified and then I headbutted him over and over again, until he lost consciousness and then I tossed him to the ground.

It was then that I recognized the woman who was still laying on the ground. She'd moved into the building a couple of months ago and had smiled and thanked me every time that I'd held the door open for her. Her name was Annora and I'd done enough recon to learn that she worked in a nice restaurant that had one of Petyr Baelish's pleasure dens in the basement. She never shuddered at the sight of my scarred face, she seemed to be a genuinely kind person, and now here she was, laying on the ground, nearly raped by some bastard that was breathing air that he didn't deserve.

I quickly assessed the situation and what would need to be done to make it right. Most people would have told the woman to call the police, to report the crime. I would have made a perfect witness, but men like me never admitted when we'd witnessed anything. We cleaned up scenes, we took care of evidence, and that was what I meant to do, but first I had to make sure that she was taken care of…and not in the way that I usually took care of things.

There were things that I could see, in spite of the darkness, and I felt like a lecher for noticing how full her breasts were. They were a size that would nicely fill my hands and I had no business looking at them. She was a short woman, with short legs, but they looked like they were shapely and at the center of her thighs it looked like she had a bed of curls covering her pussy, when so many women seemed determined to make themselves look like they hadn't gone through puberty by shaving or waxing themselves bare.

That was enough of that, I'd noticed a hell of a lot more than I needed to. I did my best to be gentle as I guided her through each step that she needed to perform. She did not have to worry about anyone trying to hurt her, not while I was there. I waited until she had hurried up the stairs, and then I turned my attention to the would-be rapist and opened the trunk of my car, placing him on the tarp that not only covered the bottom of the trunk, but the sides and top as well.

I drove to a deserted part of town, one that had a big bog right in the middle of the property and parked my car. I looked around, assessing the area out of habit, then I opened up the trunk. He was still asleep, looking very undignified with his bare ass sticking up in the air. The fact that he had not regained consciousness gave me the time that I needed to take my tool bag out of the car and decide which instruments would be appropriate for the pain and humiliation that he'd made her endure. I had all of the tools that I would need to ensure that he learned his lesson and he would learn it well before I sent him from this world.

He was moaning and that meant that it was time to begin. I reached into the trunk and bound his hands and feet with a couple of lengths of black nylon rope, then I picked him up and threw him on the ground. It was the rapist's back luck that he landed face first on the hard, unforgiving dirt on the ground. He sat up, cursing and tossing threats in my direction until he saw the knife that I was holding in my hand.

"Hey, man, there's no need for that," he said, trying to sound friendly, but the fear in his voice made it shake and crack. "Let's just pretend that this….."

"There's little in this world that I despise more than a rapist," I said, shutting him up as I slowly approached him with my knife. "I can work with a thief, an arsonist, a bomber…hell, I'd even share the company of a stone-cold killer over a rapist. There are those who defile and those who don't and what you were going to do signed your death warrant."

He was pissing himself and trying to keep from crying. "All I did was feel her up and stick my fingers in her cunt….."

He cried out when I punched him and kicked him in the balls. "Don't try to pretend that was all you were going to do," I told him. "Your pants were down, you were between her legs and your were about to put your cock in her, all while she tried to fight you off. That's why I'm going to do some alterations down low on you before I kill you."

He was sobbing by that time and telling me that he had very powerful people backing him, but I didn't give a damn. I made quick work of removing his masculine credentials and placed them in his hands, so he could look at them, to mourn the mutilation that I'd done to his body, as I drew my knife across his throat.

I threw the garbage bag that was filled with everything that I'd told her to place inside of it into the incinerator and watched it burn for several moments and then I climbed the fire escape to her window and let myself inside. A quick look around the place told me that she enjoyed comfort, that she was a homey sort of woman. Her home made me feel at ease, until I went into her bedroom and found her curled in a ball on her bed, crying softly as she stared at the wall.

I wasn't one for offering comfort, I didn't inspire people to feel better, to be happy, but when I sat on the side of her bed, she didn't say a word, she scooted over to me and seemed to find some measure of peace as I held her in my arms. I rocked her back and forth, as if this was something that I did all of the time…and then I remembered the cut that was by her breast.

"Do you have a first aid kit with the necessities to stich a wound?" I asked, stroking her shoulder as she got a look in her eyes that said she didn't want me to touch her wound. "I'll be as gentle as I can, and once it's sealed, there's less chance of infection developing."

She took a deep breath and unfastened the buttons on the front of her nightgown, blushing profusely as she bared her breast to me. I found the first aid kit, along with a sewing basket, and internally chastised myself as I went through the process of sterilizing the needle with rubbing alcohol. I had no business looking at her breast and thinking how wonderful it undoubtedly would feel in my hand. She'd already had one asshole messing with her boobs that night, she didn't need another one ogling them. It was my turn to take a deep breath as I threaded the needle and bit my lip as I made the first stitch. She managed to stay still as the needle pierced her flesh, but she still whimpered each time I had to slide it through her skin.

She quieted as I worked on her wound, then bandaged it, and I started to speak to her, but she was already fast asleep. I smiled at the sight of her face, relaxed and peaceful and placed her on the bed so her head was on the pillow, then covered her with a blanket and touched my forehead to hers and whispered goodnight. I went through her apartment and made sure that all of the windows were locked, and I locked the door on my way out. I smiled as it closed and held the doorknob for several moments, wondering when I would get to see her again, and hoping, like a lovesick moron, that it would be soon.