Sansa
They had been on the horse since they took it from the stables and though Sansa had always enjoyed riding, she was beginning to ache and chafe. She leaned backward into the Hound, trying to alleviate some of the pressure from her bottom and thighs but it did little good. When they had left the city had been in utter chaos and just as he had told her no one tried to stop them. The confusion was too great and with her body and face covered by his bloody white cloak no one recognized the valuable hostage that the Hound was stealing away. The stable boy who had innocently surrendered the Hound's horse with no questions asked said something to the Hound that made Sansa believe the boy thought the Hound was stealing a woman away from the city as a war prize. It made Sansa's stomach turn.
She had worn the bloody white cloak for a few miles out of the city, when they were in the most danger. She protested when the Hound slowed the horse and got onto the ground outside a little hovel. The people inside were hiding from the battle and terrified but that meant nothing to the Hound. Sansa called after him to stop when he knocked the flimsily door down with a single forceful punch of his hand. She was relieved when he came back with a brown peasant gown and a thick wool cloak.
"You are no longer Sansa Stark," he rasped as he grabbed her hips in powerful hands and took her from the horse. She gasped when he ripped the white cloak away from her and tossed it to the side. She yelped when he spun her around and ripped the lacing of her gown apart, stripping her down right there. He tossed her the peasant dress to put on and she did so quickly. When she was done, her face burning red, he cloaked her in the thick brown wool, tying the clasp around her neck protectively. He tossed her old clothing toward the gawking wide eyed family.
"Sell it," he said, ripping off his surcoat and adding it to the pile. "It'll be worth more than this stuff."
And Sansa had no doubt that was true. He may have knocked down their door and stolen the daughter's only spare dress and cloak, but he had left them with valuables they could sell to the Queen for a sack full of gold.
"But when they ask which way we went, you lie," he told them and they nodded. He spurred on the horse, first heading East. He changed his direction then, doubling back west.
"Why are we changing direction?" Sansa asked as her body heaved up and down on the horse. His armor hurt as she thudded against it, but she promised herself she would not cry out.
"Never trust anyone, little bird," he rasped, his grip on the reigns hard. "They will tell the Lannisters the truth when they come looking for us."
"Should we have given them the our clothing together? Won't they know we are together now?" she asked. She was not sure why but she thought they would be safer if the Lannisters did not know their disappearances were related. Now they would search for the pair of them. They were more distinguishable this way. But the hound did not seem to care.
"I want them to know," he replied gruffly. "I want the world to know. Now be silent."
Sansa was not sure why he wanted everyone to know, but she listened to him and fell quiet. When the sun began to rise he slowed his horse to a walk. Sometimes he would speed up to a canter, but the speed would cause Sansa's back to press against the studs in his armor and she would wince. She was sure her back was terribly bruised already the galloping the night before. Many times she thought she was going to fall, but she leaned closer to him, despite the pain, and wrapped tightened her legs around the horse. She had tried to sit side saddle when he first put her on the horse but he shook his head.
"It might hurt in a dress and small clothes, but you're less like to fall off," he told her when he forced her leg over the other side. She grimaced and squirmed in the saddle but did her best not to make a single peep. She did not want to hear the Hound's gruff response. She was not a little girl anymore. She was a woman grown. Flowered. She would act as such.
"When we are farther from the city," he said as she tried to raise her sore bottom from the hard saddle. "Then we can rest. Maybe in a night or so find an inn to sleep in. Get you a bed and a hot bath."
She nodded.
"Why aren't we going North?" she asked when she turned to see the rising sun on their backs.
"We need to be out of the way, little bird. Away from prying eyes," he told her.
"When will we turn North?"
"When I decide to," he rasped.
"When will you decide to?"
"Hush child. You test me with your prattle," he told her and she blushed.
"I am only curious," she said with some coolness in her voice.
"There will be time to talk when we are out of danger," he replied simply and she fell silent. He knew more about what they were doing than she, and she would just need to trust him for the time being. By evening she could hardly keep her seat. She was not used to riding for these long amounts of time and she squirmed endlessly. But she prided herself still. Not once did she complain. Not once did she make a sound. The Hound did though, and it made her feel better knowing he must be in pain too, because every time she would squirm against him he would let out a little grunt, a groan, or a breathy curse. She wondered why he refused to stop though if he was in as much pain as her. But then she remembered his face. He knew pain and he knew it well. It was nothing to him.
By dinner time she could take no more. They had no food, the Hound told her he would find something for them when they stopped for the night, and she was hungry, thirsty, tired, and in pain. When the Hound heard her sniffle he forced her face to the side so he could look at her. She kept her eyes closed but she felt the horse slow. When the horse stopped and he dismounted she felt his hands go to her hips and gently remove her from the animal.
"You never rode before?" the Hound asked gruffly as he put her on the ground. Sansa tried to stretch her legs but the pain was too much. Instead she sat down as he began collected firewood in his massive arms.
"Of course I have," she sniffled, wiping the coarse brown wool over her nose.
"I mean real riding," he replied when he dropped a bundle of wood onto the forest floor in front of her.
"That is for men," she replied curtly.
"Yes, knights and dogs, but not little birds," he said. Her fingers needed the sore muscles of her thighs, ignoring the worst areas where she had chafed on the saddle. "There will be more pain tomorrow, worse than today, but we must keep moving."
"How soon until we can rest?"
"We are resting now," he responded gruffly.
"You know that is not what I meant, d –"
Her words cut off in her throat when she realized in horror what she was about to say. Never had she considered referring to him in such a disrespectful way. It was just there, ready to spill from her lips. Calling him the Hound, or the King's dog, that was one thing, but using it in place of his name… she had better courtesies than that.
"Dog, you were going to say, little bird? Dog? Go on, say it. It's what I am. I know what I am. Say it, little bird, call me dog."
She could only stare at him.
"Go on, little bird, say it now. Say it. Say it. Say it."
"Stop it! You're frightening me!"
She yelped when he moved on her, over the unlit wood, knocking her from her seated position onto her back against the hard cold ground. His knees straddled her waist and he loomed over her, his face dangerously close to her. She tried to close her eyes and look away, her body trembling with fear, but one of his powerful calloused hands grabbed her by the chin and held her tight.
"Look at me," he rasped through gritted teeth. She refused and his finger's tightened. "Look. At. Me."
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, tears leaking out of her eyes. She suddenly felt like she had made a terrible mistake. She had left the safety of King's Landing and put herself at the mercy of this… this animal. She flinched when he raised his other hand and she thought he meant to hit her, but instead he flipped his long hair out of his face and to the side, revealing for the first time the full extent of his burns. Her eyes widened when she saw how far up his scalp it climbed, saw what was remaining of his mutilated ear.
"You should be frightened, little bird," he told her. His breath smelled like strong wine, though he had not drunk since the night before, and his body like sweat and the earth. "If you have forgotten I am not one of your little knights than please let me remind you. I am not your knight of the fucking flowers. I'm a dog. I have no honor."
"That's not true," she whispered. He paused and she felt his hand on one of her budding breasts.
"I could have you right here on the forest floor," he said softly, his finger tips circling the tip of her breast. "You are already ruined. It will make no difference the price I shall receive for you."
"The price?"
The question was cut off by the Hound's lips on hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. His hand tightened on a breast and he lowered his hips to brush hers. She felt the weight of him crush her to the ground as he lowered himself onto her, but she could feel the hardness pressing against her core. She brought her hands up to push him away, but instead she grabbed onto his arms, squeezing the mail with her weak hands.
She let out a weak moan into his mouth, but he swallowed it, crushing his lips down on hers like he was dying of thirst and she was his water. His hands yanked her dress up over her hips and she realized that he was going to take her right there. It was disgustingly exciting and she felt liquid pool between her legs. His lips left hers so he could lean back and place his knees between her legs, instead of over them. As he fumbled with his breeches her eyes were on his still uncovered burns. She suddenly saw him a little eight year old boy, sobbing and convulsing on the floor after his brother had ceased grinding his face into the hot coals. She wondered if he curled into a ball, or sprawled out, if he had tried to touch the terrible flesh or avoided it. If his parents cared what their older son had done to the younger. It made her heart break. What a cold, angry man it had turned him into. She blushed and looked away as he freed himself and she was thankful he did not make her look at it.
"Will you sing me another song?" he rasped and she gasped. His fingers slipped inside of her, his dirty, calloused fingers, and curled slightly. Bolts of pleasure shot through her and she mewed softly, bucking her hips automatically. "So pretty."
His thumb touched a little part of her down there that she had discovered around her twelfth name day. She remembered touching it while bathing and feeling a sudden shock run through her. She had been so terrified by it she never touched it again. But every time his thumb moved over her it brought more pleasure and she bit down on her tongue hard to keep quiet.
What if someone hears? She wanted to ask. Was this what the Hound meant when he said he wanted to the world to know? Is this what they would think they were doing, what he was doing to her? It made her shudder, but she did not know if it was out of complete disgust. There was something wicked in it that tempted Sansa.
He took her hard and fast, but there was no pain this time. Her thighs were coated with an odd smelling liquid that made his entrance easy. Even the pain in her bottom and legs were momentarily forgotten. He panted against her ear for a time, kissed her lips sometimes, and kissed her neck other times. She felt his teeth on her neck and cried out, but not in pain. She convulsed around him twice before he stopped, pulling out of her and spilling his seed onto her thighs.
"Would your knight of the flowers have done that?" he rasped when they were finished. He stood, leaving her there on the forest floor, her dress bunched up around her hips, her thighs glistening with both their fluids. He fastened his breeches as he looked down at her his eyes still hot. "I am not a good man, little bird, I'm a dog. Remember that."
She nodded, pulling down her gown as he walked away. She would remember it, but if it were true, why did it feel so good?
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A/N: Please Review!