2. Starlit Ride
As the Hound saddled and bridled the horse, Sansa sat on a bale of hay, attempting to digest this plan he had proposed. If the hour had not been so desperate, she would have never agreed to such a concept. But what choice did she have? There was no turning back now.
"No other horses," the Hound grumbled as he worked. "If there had been another, I would have tied you on like a pack of grain and no one would have been any the wiser."
But now they were in this situation. It was not only the plan the worried her, in truth. The idea of being that close to him… Well, she had held on tight enough after the fighting in the street that day, after the departure of Princess Marcella. He had saved her then as well, pulling the cruel men away from her and lifting her up onto the horse. Somehow in that moment, it hadn't registered fully how gallant he had been in saving her. And also, that he had saved her at all. Why?
"It's ready," the Hound announced, glancing over at her.
Sansa stood but didn't move towards him at once. "Why-why are you doing this?" she blurted.
The Hound growled. "We don't have time to chat. Now get a move on."
Sansa held firm. "I'm not going with you if you're just going to-to rape me and leave me for dead." She said all this in a rush, astonished at how brazen it had sounded. But it was her true fear. How on earth could she trust this man?
The Hound ground his teeth. "If I wanted to rape you and kill you, Little Bird, I would have done it already," he grunted, and she knew that this at least was true.
"But then why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
"For me?" the Hound rasped, shaking his head as though she were simple. "You really think there isn't a fat pot of gold at the end of this road for my sake? I deliver the Stark princess home, safe and with her honor intact. I'm willing to bet there'll be some reward."
Sansa blinked. Yes of course that was the reason. Well, it might not be the pure-hearted rescue she had hoped for, but at this point Sansa would take any way out.
"Are you satisfied now? Can we move?" the Hound ground impatiently.
Sansa nodded anxiously and took a step forwards, wondering how this was going to work. The Hound mounted first, settling himself in the saddle and then drew his white cloak across the front of his body. He then motioned for her to come alongside his destrier. The beast snorted and laid its ears back at her approach and she wavered slightly. But before she could open her mouth to protest, he had seized her arm and was pulling her up just behind him. She landed ungainly, clutching his sides for support. Without waiting for any response, he drew his cloak back around the both of them, shielding her from view. She was so small in comparison to him that not even her legs or feet could be seen underneath. Sansa grasped the Hound around the waste without thinking as the horse snorted with aggravation at the added burden.
They started forwards, Sansa completely blind and unable to do anything but clutch at the Hound to steady herself as they moved. The very feeling of his body, though encapsulated in heavy armor, made her feel queasy, but she held him none the less. She could not have said how much time had passed before the Hound spoke just loud enough for her to make out.
"The gate is ahead. Don't make a noise or I'll make you wish you hadn't."
Sansa's throat tightened. Were there guards ahead? No sooner than she thought it did she hear a wild voice calling out, "halt, in the name of the King!"
So they were seen. Sansa's gripped tightened against the cold armor. The Hound did not answer but continued forwards at the same walking pace.
There came again the cry. "Halt, who goes there?"
It might have been the cloak that muffled the sound but Sansa though the voice sounded thin and alone.
"Let me pass," she heard the Hound order and their mount halted.
"What business do you have here Ser? The battle is beyond the mud gate."
"The battle is lost," she heard the Hound reply matter-of-factly. "And I am no Ser."
With that she felt him reach for his sword hilt and before she knew what was happening, the horse was charging forwards and she was holding on for dear life. She felt him lunge and slash and knew by the shriek of anguish that he had hit his mark. They bolted forwards, Sansa slipping and sliding behind the saddle, holding on for all her worth as they clattered along stone and then dirt and then stone again. Just as she was thinking that she might not be able to keep her seat a moment longer, the destrier slowed and reduced to a walk once more. Sansa breathed heavily, clutching at the armor and attempting to adjust into a more comfortable position. As instructed, she made no noise though she desired to ask what had befallen. He had killed the sentry, of that she had no doubt. But where were they now? There was no way of knowing. She had forgotten to ask what way they were to get out of the city.
After what seemed like hours of silence, but might have only been minutes, the Hound reached back and touched her leg, startling her so badly she nearly spilled from her seat.
"Hold on Little Bird, we must run for a while."
In response, Sansa tightened her grasp around his armored waist. There was an edge where she could curl her fingers under enough to get a decent grip, but the position was uncomfortable none the less. Sansa endured by the skin of her teeth as the galloped along. She had ridden enough horses to know that the Hound's mount was a good ride, or would have been if she had been in the saddle and not clinging to the skirts of it for all she was worth. She tried to distract herself as she bumped along behind him but all she could end up focusing on was her progressively sweaty hands, the stiff unyielding armor her face was pressed against and the smell of the man she gripped. He smelled of warm leather, though that was not so bad. The stench of wine lingered about him as well and something that Sansa was pretty sure was blood. He was covered in it, though none of it was his own. The heat and stench under his cloak was nearly unbearable but it helped to distract her from the discomfort of the ride. She couldn't tell where they were or even the direction of their travel, but she did hear and feel when they hit dirt and left the cobblestone behind for a while. They also moved in a straight direction, and the sounds of the battle became more distant, so they must have been moving east or north, she reasoned, away from the river.
At long last, they slowed to a halt and Sansa, so tired she could barely breath, released her grip on the chainmail and swayed dizzily. In a sudden panic, she felt herself slipping from the horse but the Hound grabbed her leg and hauled her back again.
"We're almost there. Don't fall yet, Little Bird. Keep quiet now."
Sansa struggled to obey. She kept still and quiet, though in her mind, she was crying with pain and fatigue. Wherever they were, she could feel the Hound's tension. Perhaps their escape was proving more challenging that he had thought.
"Hold up, stay your ground!" a sudden voice thundered from what sounded like above.
"State your business!" another voice called.
Sansa snaked her hands back around the Hound in fear. Surely they were captured now.
"I'm on the King's business!" the Hound hollered up to the guards, his voice sounding distant and strained.
"The battle is behind. Who goes there?"
"If you don't know me, then you're a fool," he shot and Sansa groaned inwardly. Why must he always be so brash? "I've the King's business, so open the gate."
"That cloak! He's of the King's Guard!" she heard one man exclaim.
"What business have you Ser?" another asked.
Sansa flinched. He hated to be referred to as a knight. Please, she prayed silently. Please let him prevail.
"I don't answer to anyone but King Joffrey. Let me pass, or you'll wish you had."
It was a desperate remark, so there must have been many men at the gate where they were, too many to challenge. There was a long silence.
"Do you swear on your honor as a knight, that you follow the King's will?" one man called down.
Sansa felt a sick sensation crawl into her stomach.
The Hound snorted. "You see this cloak, do ya? Why do you think I wear it? The King's will is my command. And the lives of him and his family besides."
Sansa stayed very still. An age seemed to pass then. Sansa was gripping the Hound harder then she had during the gallop, her blood pounding and heart racing. At long last, she heard the reply.
"You may pass, Ser."
There was a loud creaking of a gate being raised. Hardly daring to believe their luck, Sansa all but held her breath as they proceeded. The moment they were through, the Hound kicked his stead into a gallop again and they fled. Sansa pressed her body to his cold armor and felt tears slide down her cheeks. It was only after she began to hear their mount panting with the effort that Sandor slowed him and then pulled his cloak from around her. Sansa gasped at the fresh air and gazed around, her eyes so used to the dark that the night seemed brightened. They were on a road of some sort and behind…behind was King's Landing! They were beyond the city, out of the Red Keep and beyond the outer wall! Sansa gazed up at the sky then. It had been obscured by smoke all that night but beyond the city, she could make out the faint prick of stars.
Realizing that she was still hugging tight to the Hound, she quickly released her hands in embarrassment.
"Where did we come out?" she asked nervously.
"The Old Gate. It was guarded, but only by fools."
That had been clever, Sansa realized. The Old Gate was far from the Blackwater Bay, but not on the King's Road. Instead, they were positioned Northwest of King's Landing. She breathed in a sigh of relief. And then, for the first time, the full realization hit her. She was beyond Cersei's grasp and Joffrey's cruelty. She was free, or as free as a young girl born of nobility could be in a country where everyone wanted her dead or captured.
They were moving on at a walk now. Sansa found herself rather enjoying the pace and the cool freshness of the air, despite the company. She had become so used to the stench of King's Landing that being in untainted air felt like a luxury beyond her greatest dreams. She beamed at the feeling, even though all the destruction of a world loomed behind her. For this strange moment, Sansa was the happiest lady in all of Westeros.
"We should keep moving until morning." The Hound's rasp was low but discernable in front of her. No inns and warm beds for the Little Bird on this road."
Sansa swallowed hard. She had known this was to be the case. But still, physical discomfort was far better than terror and captivity.
"I understand," she said, trying to sound confident.
The Hound gave a soft snort at these words but didn't speak further. They walked on for what felt like hours. At one point, the Hound dismounted and led the destrier forwards with Sansa still aboard. She knew she was nodding off by the way a sudden jerk in the horse's stride would send her jolting awake again. She lost her sense of time. They must have walked for an hour at the least like that, she thought later on, and perhaps two or three. Suddenly, Sansa felt a falling sensation and to her dismay, she realized she must be slipping out of the saddle. There was not even time to utter a cry of alarm. Sansa merely slid to the side and then…arms encircled her out of nowhere. The Hound had reached out just in time and caught her. Tight in his grasp, Sansa gasped and instinctively grabbed his arm to secure herself.
"We've made it to a deep woodland," the Hound informed her, his voice echoing and distant. "We can stay here. Sleep now Little Bird."