Chapter 2: The Box
"M'lord."
"M'lord."
"M'lord."
Sandor wreathed as he walked through the servant's hallway hearing them chant courtesies at him like they puppets they were trained to be. Seeing them duck quickly away from him made him more nervous and out of place. The fuck am I doing? He grabbed the chained necklace so tightly his hand got sweaty and his knuckles turned white. The hells do I say to her.
"M'lord." Another woman said passing him.
"I'm not your damned LORD." He spat back releasing his nervousness on the unsuspecting servant.
"I-I deeply apologize-sir" She cowered.
"Piss off!" He barked marching forward. He could begin to smell the scent of fresh bread and spices. Turning to his left he saw an array of workers running, kneading, stirring, and chopping in the grand room. This is a bad idea.
He cursed loudly. You're a man, not a boy who's just discovered his dick. Quit acting like an ass and forget that whore…after all she's beneath you. She's just a servant.
Feeling foolish, he turned around to walk away but found it was too late. She was now in the hallway with him taking her time strolling in his direction. She had changed into a long sheer gown that servers were required to impress their guests while taking meals to their masters. Even now he looked at her hourglass shape and a familiar hunger pulsed through his body. First she hadn't recognized him but standing still he could study her face which had turned to curiosity, to confusion, and lastly, slight panic. Gods kill me now.
"M'lord, is there something I can do for you?" She said tenderly keeping herself a few paces away. She hadn't had the sense to not look him in the eyes. They were large and disconcerting. He could sense that she was waiting for him to tell her she had done something wrong.
"I…was hungry." He lied. It sounded so stupid that he knew he had to embellish. "I was hungry and I enjoyed those little pastries. I want a large box of them." He knew it was shallow but it was what came to mind. Deciding he had to own it, he stood stony face with little emotion as the girl contemplated the excuse in her mind visibly on her pretty features.
"If it's your wish M'lord, I'll retire them to your room. Please let me have the time to make them?" She said desperately as though she was inconveniencing him.
"I don't have any money for your service but I do have this." He nonchalantly showed her the necklace from the marketplace. Dangling in the air the jade pendent swung between them.
"Really?!" The girl flashed a smile and it vanished off her face just as quickly-as though he was playing a cruel trick on her. "It's so pretty-" She tried to explain her startling reaction.
"It's yours, little flower." He nodded for her to take it. She put out her arm and briefly they touched as he transferred the necklace into her small soft hand.
"It's so pretty-" She said again hardly believing it belonged to her. She touched the smooth jade with her fingers and twirled the red ball in adoration. "Master, you are sure I can have this?" She said concerned.
"I gave it to you, did I not?" Sandor replied annoyed, but underneath he felt a twang of pleasure.
"Yes, M'lord." She said holding it to her heart. "I-I thank you. I'll make you all the pasties you want, sir." She smiled and ran quickly past him to start the task given to her.
She must think I'm such a fatass. He couldn't help but feel a little excited
Although she had already left he lingered. He had to be sure she had kept the trinket safe and it wasn't going to be taken from her. Sandor was a large man but given the circumstances he knew he could be stealthy. He saw her at a station near the mouth of the room and as the gods luck would have it there were no servants in the hallway. He leaned against the door and kept alert for her voice and any others. It's not spying if it's for her benefit. He decided.
"Where did you get that?" Another young voice gasped beyond the door.
"Oh-uh-m'lord gave it to me to make him pastries." The little flower quickly explained.
"A lord gave you a golden necklace so that you could give him pastries?" The other young voice laughed in awe. Sandor frowned slightly but stood still.
"Well-yes-he seems to like them a lot..." He could hear the uncertainty in her words.
"This lord is trying to get into your sex, love." The other servant spared no gentle explaining. "Which lord was it? Was it Baelish? He always had a thing for shapely young woman."
"No, actually-it was... I don't think he's trying to get into my sex." She remarked uneasy.
"Who is it?" The other servant urged her to spill.
"The...the Hound?"
The other servant laughed a little too loud and a little too long. Sandor clenched his fists and held his breath. "No really-who was it?"
"...uh..the Hound?" He could hear the embarrassment in her voice.
"Oh my gods- He really gave that to you?"
"I...I just told him I would make them for him." She sputtered.
"Stop it now, girl. Give it back to him-don't you dare keep it." he could feel heat rise up his neck like a raging fire as he laid still straining to hear his undoing.
"But it's so beautiful-"
"But you won't be after he's done with you. He's dangerous...he's killed his fair share of women and children with no thought. No thought! Do you hear me? Do you remember Aliah? Earlier this year she shared her bed with him and he woke up drunk. Pushed her straight down the stairs for not leaving his bed in a timely manner the morning after!"
That wasn't how he remembered it, but he knew he was damned by the rumor anyhow. Aliah had been a pretty face to fuck but she seemed to have a habit of going through his things. A thief didn't make a good servant so in his drunken rage he had pushed her down the stairs.
He heard his little flower gasp which in turn elicited a small groan from him. It was just as well, many of his deeds weren't noble but they were necessary. He had never claimed to be a saint. Her unwavering kindness towards him was based on pure ignorance and the lies of her youthful nature. You were a fool to think a tender hearted girl could love you after knowing what a monster you really are.
"Look, just make the pastries and give back the necklace. You can say that you aren't allowed to have it, that we all think you stole it. I'll go with you so that you're not alone with him."
"I-do you really think he wants me?"
Sandor closed his eyes. She still doubted his actions even though he went through great pains to show her otherwise. That hurt worse than the servant's truthful words. He worked up the nerve to glance around the corner at the two girls. The servant she was with was an attractive dark haired woman, her angled features twisted with concern. He could see his muse had her arms deep into flour which coated her skin reminding him of how his own looked in blood after battle. They were so different, but something about her gentle nature fully infatuated him. She was everything he wasn't, everything the harsh world wasn't.
"Of course he doesn't -want- you!" The other servant cruelly interjected. "He might want to fuck you-but he doesn't want you. You're not a virtuous intelligent lady and don't forget that he's a noble. One day when he's done killing his fair share of innocents he'll marry a proper woman and make little lords. He will probably kill them all too like his brother Ser Gregor."
"O-oh..." She was disappointed. It was more than he could stand. He swiftly moved away from the door unable to hear any sounds and felt a bit dizzy from anger. He stumbled his way up the corridor making way to his room. If I'm going to be rejected by this bitch I'm going to do it with what dignity I have.
It was getting late. Leaning against the headboard on his bed he could see the sun setting through an open window. Supper would be served soon. How long does it take to make some damned pastries? His stomach hurt, damn him.
She wasn't coming. It had been hours. She spurred your advances every chance she got and took your gold necklace willingly like a charmed fool. Sourly he shot up from the bed dressing himself for dinner. Waste of fucking time and effort….you're a dog, destined to roam these solitary lands forever.
Putting head in his hands he felt like crying for the first time in decades. The sting of her rejection cut through his tough exterior into a part of himself he forgot existed. It was the same part of him that shamed him as a boy; the part of him he worked hard to kill over the years of pitiful looks and hushed whispers. The part of him that was still vulnerable. I'm not a weeping woman. He pushed his feelings aside disconnecting himself.
Making his way down the corridor he entered the grand hall. It had been transformed into a lavish dining facility with lords and knights and ladies corroding the walkways between the tables. He spotted Gregor immediately on the far left corner and thought it wise to take himself to the right. Lively music polluted the air and a servant filled his goblet immediately. He kept mostly to himself, unable to look anyone in the eyes. Eating the roast pork he felt it taste like ash in his mouth swallowing every bite. The potatoes filled him and he felt slightly ill. It wasn't much to eat but it was all he desired to take in. Leaning back in the chair he glanced at his brother hearing his booming laughter. Drunk, just how he likes it. Servants quietly filled the goblets around the giant pleasing his company.
He peered closer and his heart stopped. Leaning against the wall was the servant girl. Holding her side she frowned looking out in the distance in total detachment. A deep red gash crossed her eyebrow and he saw her lip was split. A bruise decorated her cheekbone high on the left side. He found her difficultly holding up herself as was her duty.
The seven hells? On que, she took the pitcher and poured wine to Gregor's company beside him. In a quick movement Gregor clenched the girls arm which made her drop the pitcher on the table. He pulled her onto his lap and the Hound felt himself go sick. The Mountain took a gigantic hand and fondled her thinly veiled breast forcing his mouth upon her. Groping, he bit her damaged lip as she pulled away wincing. His other hand felt between her legs lifting the material on the side which had been ripped. He ground his middle into her refusing to relent.
"Your wetness feels ready for me to take you again." He barked in her ear. The soldiers around him laughed as a crazed hunger in Gregor's eyes grew.
The Hound clenched his teeth as he felt his supper boil up his esophagus.
Fuck. No. Gods no.
Sandor leaned over and allowed the sick to flow out of his body. He spat cleaning out the rest of it with a swing of wine. A servant to his left winced and got on her knees cleaning the sick. He recognized her dark hair immediately. "The fuck happened to that girl?" He demanded of her kicking her side slightly as she worked. The servant frowned not turning her head.
"What girl do you mean, m'lord?" She pulled the rag from the floor throwing it in a bucket behind her.
"Don't fuck with me." He snarled impatiently.
The servant thought better of it to test him. "We were wandering through the halls-she was bringing you a plate of food and Ser Gregor found us. I suppose he liked her look so he pushed me aside to watch as he beat and raped her on the floor. He took her back with him to a room and as far as I know she's been with him ever since that moment."
"Has he been sharing her?"
"No." She started to speak but hushed herself.
"Say it." He ordered, knowing her words would most likely be treasonous.
"You Cleganes. You take women like we're toys to be broken. You shatter our bones and break our wills and take our honor-then throw us away. That girl didn't deserve this, none of us do. And because we have no titles we are looked at like your play things. Let your brother fuck her to death. I hope it hurts knowing he took her first." She got off the floor and threw another rag of his spew on the table next to his plate. The stench made his blood crawl combined with the servant's disgust.
It was true.
A/N: Tension builds! How will Sandor save the girl? Will he even try? Will Gregor discard her or keep her to himself? Review!
