Note to reader: Last chapter, Sandor really wasn't the man that was "adamantly devoted" to Sansa like we've seen so far. He made a huge mistake, and it almost costed the only thing he even cared about other than killing and pain. Sandor is an imperfect, damaged man who has had severe trauma in his life and he's never had anyone to show him how to deal with that trauma. He hides his sadness, depression, anxiety, etc. with anger, bitterness, resentment, and rage. This chapter may be a little dark, but depression is dark, and it's turned Sandor into who he is. Be mindful, I am NOT a psychiatrist, but I have seen the effects of how PTSD, depression, and anxiety can completely effect someone's life to the point they're unable to function in society like "normal". People with these conditions are not normally understood by others and the things these people do or say aren't normally understood by anyone other than a psychologist or maybe a very close friend or relative. This chapter attempts to explain how childhood trauma untreated properly can affect someone for the rest of their life.

Chapter 9

He was a fucking idiot… No, even worse, he was a selfish fucking idiot.

Once he had roused from his drink-infested stupor, he realized that he had almost done more harm to the Little Bird than anyone else ever had. He had self-loathed in his own misery so intensely that he hadn't even known how many hours had gone by. When the Little Bird's friend, Cara, had said he had been gone since the night before last, he had just laughed at her. The woman had been adamant though, and when Sandor got to thinking about it, he only had a vague memory of how he'd even gotten down there. Once he had left the Little Bird he had gone up to the upper deck to get some fresh air and to stop his racing heart. As he looked over the water and to the sun just peaking out of the horizon making its decent to sleep, something in Sandor had snapped. He had grabbed the railing with his hands and slumped down his head to stare at his white knuckles. He just stared at his hands for a long time with his mind racing from one thought to the next. He felt an overwhelming sense of panic and doom that seemed completely irrational to him even as it happened. His heart had been racing and he was sure it would beat out of his chest, and he had broken out in a cold sweat. Sandor wasn't sure what was happening to him, but what he did know is he didn't like the images flooding his mind. Images that he had been pushing down for a very long time. For some reason, in this place on the sea that was hundreds of miles away, his thoughts were plagued with Gregor. Why him? He couldn't understand why he kept seeing his eyes or his quirked mouth in his mind. Sandor squeezed is eyes shut then, and that's when he saw another face, one he hadn't pictured in his mind, other than the small portrait of her in he carried; it was the face of Eleanor, his little sister. It was a sweet face, one with light freckles speckling her nose and cheeks, and blue eyes that lit up when she looked at him. Her face was as clear in his mind as if she was standing right there in front of him. He almost felt endearment but then there was tightness in his chest as he saw another image… The one he never thought about. He hadn't allowed himself to think of that image for over twenty years. It was the image of her mutilated body.

Sandor had abruptly stormed away from the railing to get the image out of his mind. He had no idea why the image had come to him at the time, but he almost ran to the mess hall to get him something to drown out his thoughts. He hadn't drank much lately and especially not in the last week. He first started slowing down after the night when he had snapped at the Little Bird so viciously that made her cry. He had woken up late the next morning because he had been so drunk the night before and hadn't even heard her get up to leave the room. He realized then that if he were to keep her safe, he had to cut back on the drinking. It was a slow process but after a while, he didn't feel much desire for wine or ale. He almost stopped altogether since they began having dinner at the mess hall in order to keep his mind sharp.

Now though, he downed the wine and ale as if it was his salvation. He didn't pay any mind to the men around him, and had snarled and barked at anyone trying to approach him. He had drunk all night, even after all the other men had left. Pretty soon, his mind was too clouded to think much about anything at all. Early the next morning he had roused from sleep and realizing he was sleeping on one of the tables in the mess hall, he had become confused. Once he remembered why he was there, he had been horrified as the images came back to him with a vengeance. It didn't take long before he drowned himself in wine and ale again. Each time he awoke, the images would continue tormenting him. Eventually, he must have gone down to the lower decks and lost himself in drink. When Cara had woken him up with the bucket of cold water, he had been too shocked by the cold and the fact she was standing there for any images to plague his mind. He was also too proud to allow anyone to see him that way.

When he finally realized what he had done, he was filled with sorrow and an extreme sense of guilt. Mostly though, he just felt like a failure. When Cara explained the state the Little Bird had been in since he had left, he realized that he had broken a promise to her. He had promised he wouldn't ever abandon her again and he would keep her safe. He had broken that promise and completely failed her. What if someone had found out he was missing and saw their opportunity to violate her? He would have fallen on his sword if that had happened. He guessed in the back of his mind during his drunken state, her friend would have checked on her if she didn't see her during the day or at the very least, the Little Bird would have flown out of her cage. But she hadn't. She had promised him she would obey him and she had done just that. But not him. He had broken his promises to her by leaving her alone and defenseless.

When he had made it to her friend and her husband's cabin, he stopped outside the door to prepare himself for her disappointment in him. When he had entered though, the Little Bird was still in a deep sleep. He has squatted down beside the bed and just looked at her face for a few moments. She had dark circles under her eyes, and he felt even more torment in his chest. He quickly scooped her up and took her back to their room. He laid her on the bed gently and sat across from her thinking about what she must think of him now. He sat there staring at her face for what felt like hours then decided he had to give her an explanation. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell her. He didn't even know how to begin explaining to her what happened to him. Yes, her slapping him had been the start of it all but he knew the real blame was on him and his own fucking insecurities. When she stirred a bit then became still again, he had felt a sense of panic and decided he would get a bath. He needed a bath in the worst kind of way anyway as he smelled like a fucking goat, but he knew it was really just cowardness in having to face her. As he scrubbed the dirt and grime away, he was also trying to scrub away his worry and fear of the last two days. Fear. Only a week ago, he thought fear was a weakness in any man. He had been right again.

When he returned to their cabin, his hair still dripping wet and no tunic, the Little Bird had finally stirred when he entered. She snapped up and seemed to be trying to find her bearings when she looked up at him. She blinked at him a few times as if not believing he was standing there and he was for some reason rooted to the spot. He guessed he was waiting on her to scream at him or just turn away from him. Neither happened though. After several moments, she breathed his name in relief and sprung into his arms. She had her arms wrapped around his torso and was digging her fingers into his shoulder blades as she wept. He didn't like that he had caused her to cry, again, but he was relieved she hadn't immediately rejected him. He put his arms around her tiny frame, and they just stood there like that for what seemed to be hours. He started feeling an overwhelming emotion that caused a tightness in his chest but before it took root she had pulled away from him. Once she stood back and wiped her face, she looked up at him and seeing him shirtless, immediately blushed. Fuck. He quickly grabbed a fresh tunic and pulled it over his head. He had to admit he was little shamed he had been bear-hugging her without a tunic on, but he wasn't really all that sorry.

She looked up at him again and he saw the hurt behind her blue eyes. "Sandor, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. I don't know what came over me. I've never hit anyone in my whole life, but I was so angry at you, and I just snapped." Of course, she would be apologizing to him. All she ever did was chirp and give her apologies.

"I tend to bring out the worst in people, Little Bird. You don't have anything to apologize for." She was about to protest at that, but he stopped her. "I'm the one who should apologize to you, Little Bird." She seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but the words were suddenly stuck in his throat.

"You left."

He replied simply, "Aye."

She just stared at him for a moment, and he waited for the question he knew she would ask. "Why?"

He breathed heavy and ran his hand through his hair, not caring anymore how it accentuated his burns. He knew he was about to expose himself more now to her than he ever had with anyone before so some scars on his face didn't seem all that important anymore. He sat down heavily on his bed and was itching for some wine now, but he knew he'd probably never touch the stuff again. She sat down slowly, cautiously on her bed as if trying not to spook him, and he wondered if she knew how difficult this was for him. He couldn't meet her eye when he told her, "Because I'm a damaged man, Little Bird." She didn't say anything to that but from the corner of his eye he saw she nodded at him wanting him to continue. "I'm not sure I've been happy a day in my fucking life but being here, away from it all I almost felt a sense of contentment for once, even if this is some dank lowly merchant ship. It was a bit… refreshing to have the others not look at my face with fright or revulsion, or not be intimidated by my boorish ways. At first, it angered me like anything else would, but after a while I felt free to just be who I am without worrying about the dog getting beaten down like always. And you changed too, Little Bird." He looked at her in the eye then and she seemed to be absorbing everything he was saying. "It wasn't just that the light seemed to return to your eyes or that you smiled and laughed again knowing no one would try stopping you, but you changed how you looked at me and you stopped considering me as some beast that needed to me avoided so you wouldn't get bit. You started seeing me as a man, Sandor, not the Hound and after a while I started feeling less and less like the Hound as the days went by." She had some wetness in her eyes and he guessed she was relieved he was finally sharing his thoughts with her. He was relieved too. "When you hit me, aye I was angry. I was angrier in that moment than I had been in a long time, but then something in me had snapped. I'm not sure what it was but when you slapped me I felt like a boy again, before I was the beast. You've been the only woman I've ever known who seemed to be fond of me, or at the least not afraid of me, but when you hit me all I felt was your rejection… I felt the same feeling from when I was a boy after Gregor held my face in the fire. My own father didn't even want to look at me and all the women in the keep averted their eyes. Aye, it's true Clegane's Keep was never a fun and loving place for any child to grow up in but the women treated me well enough. My mother had died in childbirth and I never really knew her so the women of the keep became my mothers. Then all of a sudden, once I had the burns, they couldn't even look at me. I was seven fucking years old and the bastard that had done it to me was protected by my father and all the rest. They lied about what had happened to me, and they treated me as if I had done something to deserve it, and Gregor was treated like he was some fucking hero who was going to give the Clegane name honor and glory. All I did was play with some fucking toy knight and he ruined my whole fucking life!" He was just about screeching at her now and she had tears in her eyes. He stood up abruptly then with so much rage inside him. He wanted to kill someone then and instead kicked the table over holding the wash bin. It hit the floor hard and loud and water was all over the floor, but the Little Bird never made a sound behind him. He breathed deeply through his nostrils to calm himself. With his back turned to her, he sneered her with clenched teeth, "And you want to know the worst of it?" He turned to her then and she just shook her head slowly while she seemed to be breathing heavily as well. "They shielded him when he raped and killed my little sister."

She gasped then and raised her hand to her mouth in shock. She stared at him, wide-eyed in horror at his statement. He knew he could stop now, and it would be enough. He knew he'd shared enough to make her understand why he left her, but he wanted to continue. He needed to continue. He felt that same tightness in his chest thinking about her now as he did two nights ago but instead of squashing it down, he continued. "Her name was Eleanor. My mother had died giving birth to her and the little love or care my father had left in him died along with her. Eleanor was a sweet girl who everyone loved and adored. I loved her too. She was only two years my junior, so we were as thick as thieves. She followed me everywhere I went, and we would even share the same room most nights even if we weren't allowed to. When Gregor burned my face, she sat every day with me while I recovered. I had almost died those first few days, but she never left my side. I think now that she may have been the only reason I kept fighting to live. I couldn't leave her alone with a monster like Gregor roaming the Earth." He swallowed heavily then still looking at the Little Bird who had unshed tears in her eyes. He was surprised to feel his swallow felt heavy in his throat. "She was the only one who didn't treat me differently after he burned me. My burns didn't matter to her, she would even touch the outline of my scars because she somehow knew it would bring me comfort… Eleanor and I avoided Gregor any way we could after that. We were terrified of him. She was able to stay out of his reach for three years before he finally got her. He wasn't supposed to even be there that day. He was supposed to be almost ten leagues away at some fucking training yard for aspiring knights. If I had known he would have been there, we would have hidden away in some secret place like we always did. I hadn't seen her all day and when I saw Gregor in the dining hall talking with my father, he looked at me and smiled. He fucking smiled at me, Sansa! I looked everywhere for her, but I couldn't find her anywhere… I did eventually find her though. She lay in one of the empty stalls in the barn behind the keep. She was stripped almost completely naked from her torn dress. She had blood all the way from her face down to her ankles and she had straws of hay clumped up and suck on the blood on her body. I could barely even recognize her face from the beating he had given her… The bastard had beat her to death." He had to throw his back a bit and he looked to the wall above her head so he wouldn't have to keep looking at the Little Bird, who had tears running down her cheeks and looked in complete turmoil over what he had told her. "I didn't protect her, Sansa. She had been the only friend I'd had, the only person who cared a damn about me and I hadn't even protected her. And I hated her for so long after that. I hated her for leaving me in this world all fucking alone."

He suddenly felt the tightness in his chest creep up to the backs of his eyes and he tried forcing the feeling back. He took several slow, deep breaths threw his mouth and then clenched his teeth together until his jaw started to ache. Get it together, Dog.

He scuffed then to get himself back under control. He tried feeling something, anything else other than the pain. He looked to the Little Bird then, who looked too distraught to even speak. Now you've done it. He grunted then and rolled his shoulders a bit to get his bearings. He was suddenly able to squash the feeling he had down until he didn't feel anything at all. "She was a pretty thing, I suppose." She looked up at him then. "Gregor had always said so… My father and the others told everyone she had been trampled by some horse, and no one even questioned it." He scuffed at that. "Not even me. I didn't care about much of anything anymore after that. I killed my first man when I was twelve, only two years after her death, and the feeling it gave me was so great I just kept doing it, I needed it. Pretty soon it became the one thing that gave me any enjoyment and I knew once I delivered the hand of death to Gregor, I would finally feel the pleasure I've been searching for all this time." He gave her a quirked grin then as she seemed to look at him strangely. "I told you once, Little Bird. Killing is the sweetest thing there is in this world."

She looked at him then without giving any expression, but he could see she could see right through him now. Fuck. He moved over to sit next to her then still smirking at her. "What? Did my story upset the Little Bird so much she's speechless? Aren't you going to chirp your pretty words at me that your Septa taught you now?" For some reason, he felt panicky all of a sudden and he just relaxed his face as much as he could.

Very calmly she asked him, "How do you feel?"

He tried to appear aloof at that and shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "I feel fine, Little Bird."

She just kept looking at him stone-faced. What was she on about? "Really?" The tone in her voice told him she didn't believe him.

"Aye." He replied immediately. He tried relaxing his shoulders a bit as he continued looking at her, then sarcastically, he replied. "I mean, I'm relieved… Laundry is clean, ghosts out of the closet and I'm just…"

Before he could finish, she interrupted him abruptly. "You've really learned how to cover your pain haven't you?" The smile left his face then and suddenly he was in a panic. He knew he was looking at her fearfully. She took a deep breath and shook her head softly as if understanding exactly how he was feeling, and she was talking to a child who was about to be told the fairies weren't real. "You've been doing that all your life…" She whispered to him gently then, "But that seven-year-old boy is in a lot of pain."

Sandor suddenly felt the tightness in his chest return but this time it physically hurt. Oh, Gods not this. He couldn't lose it in front of her. He started breathing heavy and suddenly felt trapped. She grabbed his hand then as if predicting he might make a run for it. "Don't do this to me Sansa… Don't do this to me."

"I can feel your pain, Sandor." She stroked the back of his hand then reassuringly. "I feel it."

Sandor's pain in his chest seemed ready to burst. He's never felt this before and holding it in suddenly felt like the hardest battle he's ever fought. His face scrunched up and he barely thought he was breathing. "Let yourself feel it. It takes courage to feel the pain, Sandor. You can do it; you can handle it. Don't be afraid." Sandor didn't know what happened but he couldn't hold the pain in his chest back any longer and suddenly, he just lost it. He let out one sob and she immediately put her arms around his head and cradled him to her chest like a child. "You've kept it locked up for so long. Just let it go." He was sobbing like a child now and he couldn't even identify the source anymore as he felt the pain leave his chest through his sobs and tears. "Let it go. You have so much to cry about don't you. It's okay. It's alright." She seemed to be trying to hold back sobs herself. "Feel the pain, Sandor. Cry, you can handle it. Use it to heal yourself."

And he did just that.

Sansa held him like that all night, talking quietly to him and rocking him. He eventually fell asleep like that and as he drifted off he didn't see any of the images anymore, he only felt peace.