Sandor

After he had slain the gold cloak he wanted nothing more than to drag his little bird up stairs and fuck her bloody. It had been an easy fight, but the gold cloak had been persistent. Any time he killed a man his blood was up and to have his little bird so close and so available was hard to resist. But they needed to leave and she had told him she no longer wanted his intentions. True she had not truly wanted him before, but those little sounds she had made… he had allowed himself to believe she wanted him for a little while. The moment she told him he was no longer permitted to touch her that fantasy had faded to dust.

He wiped the blood of the gold cloak onto his breeches and looked toward his little bird. She was looking at him with wide eyes, but he might have believed he saw relief in her bright blue eyes. He held out his hand to her, motioning for them to go with a jerk of his head. She ran over to him, her feet moving quickly across the floor. She grabbed onto his hand and he led her from the tavern.

"Stable boy!" he yelled. "Get my saddle!"

The boy ran to obey, eyes wide in confusion. Sandor grabbed the saddle from him and put it on Stranger, but the moment he saw the boy turn his lust filled eyes on his little bird and smiled he lashed out, landing a hard punch on the boy's jaw. He heard Sansa gasp as the boy hit the ground with a hard thump, his head slamming against the stall. He put the saddle on in a hurry and grabbed Sansa by the waist.

"Real riding again for the night," he rasped and she swung her leg around obediently. He led Stranger out of the stable on foot before mounting. He rode off to silence. No one from the tavern had dared follow him. They were far too frightened to dare try and stop him. He rode at a fast trot for an hour or so before slowing his pace. It would be days before the Queen would know what had happened and send a team after them. By then he planned on being far from that tavern.

"I was looking forward to a bed," Sansa said sadly.

"When we are farther North little bird," he told her. It had been a mistake to stop at that inn, but he had wanted to make his little bird smile.

"I'm tired," she told him as they rode off into the darkness.

"Sleep in the saddle," he said. "I will not let you fall."

"I know you won't," she whispered, leaning her back against him. He rode more gently as she fell to sleep, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. He closed his arms around her more firmly, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her against him. He knew she would not allow it were she awake, but the feel of her small body in his arms brought him an odd sense of peace. He felt purpose. For the first time in years, in his memory even, he felt like he was doing something good.

He lowered his head to the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Her body was giving off an enjoyable heat that felt nice against him, and she smelled sweet. He moved his head to the side of her face and inhaled again. He scarcely knew how he was going to let her go when he arrived at Riverrun. The feel of her body in his arms was too heavenly, too sweet. He wished he could just ride away, ride for the coast and sail to the free cities. Keep her with him, whether she wanted to stay or not. Eventually she would learn to tolerate him, give herself to him willingly.

His fingers stroked her side gently, feeling her growing curves. When she grew, became a real woman, she would be irresistible, and she would make some man, some knight or lord, very happy. He growled at the thought. He kept his head bent toward her so he could smell her. He didn't know when he made the decision, but he pressed his lips to her cheek. He pressed the side of his face to hers, his burnt flesh against her perfect. How could something so innocent be so trusting of someone like him? She let out a little noise, and she shifted against him. He pulled back, expecting her to awake, but she only pushed herself harder against him, seeking his warmth. He put some pressure on the arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

I would die for her, he realized.

"Don't worry, my little bird," he rasped softly. "I'll give you your wings back. I promise."

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Sandor fell asleep in his saddle as the sun began to rise but when he woke up Sansa was awake, the reigns of Stranger in her hands. He grunted, rubbed his good eye, and looked up to the sky. It was dark and cloudy, so he could not see the sun to tell what time it was, but he had a sense it was near mid day.

"I did not know where we were going," his little bird told him, putting the reigns back into his hands. "So I just kept us going straight. The horse stopped moving for a little bit but I eventually got him to keep going."

"You could have woken me," Sandor grunted.

"You had been up for a long while and if we need to fight you need to be well rested," she informed him and he laughed.

"If we need to fight?" he asked. "If we need to fight you need to learn to hold a knife."

He reached for his boot and pulled out a dagger.

"Here, get used to the feel of it in your hand, and try to imagine sliding it into someone's jugular," he told her. He could see her nose crinkle as she looked at it.

"I do not want to kill anybody."

"No? Not even Joffrey?"

She was silent and he had his answer.

"There is nothing more satisfying in this world that killing someone, little bird. You'll figure that out one day," he told her.

"I'm not a killer," she said firmly.

"Keep the knife anyway," he grunted. "Might be you'll need it."

"I need a moment of privacy," she said and he laughed in response.

"You'll get none out here," he replied but she turned her neck to look at him.

"No," she snapped at him. "I need… I need to…"

"Don't wander too far," Sandor said and got off the horse. She reached out for him out of habit, placing her gentle hands on his shoulders as he grabbed for her waist. When he lowered her to her feet he thought for a second that her hands lingered there, brushing against the hot skin of his neck. But once she was off and walking toward some thicker brush, he discarded the notion.

He leaned against a tree, his back in the direction his bird had went, and went about relieving himself. When he was finished he listened for any movement. Hearing none he called out her name, only to receive a very angry response that she needed to be left in peace. Hearing such he decided he might have enough time to do what must be done. He rapped his hand around his frustrated member, closing his eyes and remembering what her fragile body felt like in his arms last night, the way her hair smelled and her soft cheek felt against his rough lips. He did his best to keep quiet as he pumped his hand back and forth, and shuddered as he climaxed.

His little bird had still not returned when he finished placing his soft member back into his breeches, and so he went about giving Stranger some crab apples. He munched on them happily, snorting in pleasure as Sandor patted him. When Sansa came back she had a big red blush and a grimace on her face. Sandor bit back the urge to say something crude to her and lifted her back up on Stranger.

"I need to bathe," she informed him.

"Yes, you do," he replied, though she did not seem to understand it was meant as a joke. She replied haughtily and with unprovoked anger.

"And you think you don't? You smell vile and look like you scarcely know what a bath is."

"Manners, Lady Sansa," he replied coolly. "I can't return you to your mother a barbarian. She might not want you back otherwise, and I will have to keep you to myself. Perhaps, if that is the case, you can teach me to bathe adequately."

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop being so vulgar," she snapped.

"This is not vulgar, little bird. I can be vulgar if you want to know what it really sounds like."

"How could a man be more vulgar than suggesting a lady teach him how to bathe?" she asked and Sandor could see the blush creeping up her back and neck toward the top of her head.

"By telling you, rather than suggesting, that what I really want is your hands on my cock, my tongue in your mouth, and your little arse in my hands," he told her and felt her stiffen.

"Stop," she snapped.

"You wanted vulgarity, little bird," he rasped.

"I asked you to stop, not to become even more vulgar," she snapped again, but he could hear tears in the back of her throat.

"It is time you grew up," he said harshly, but did not continue his taunts. He did not want to see her cry. She was still seated side saddle and so it was easy for her to jump from the horse. She grunted as she hit the ground and her knees bent, but she pushed herself up. He cursed when she began running in the other direction. He wheeled Stranger around and hurried after her. He kept at a safe distance, telling her to stop her foolishness and get back on the horse but she continued to run. He followed her until she could run no longer, and when she slowed to a fitful walk he got off the horse.

"Stop following me!" she yelled, crying now and out of breath. "Leave me alone!"

"What are you going to do out here all alone, little bird? If you are not raped or killed you will be taken back to Joffrey, where you will be raped and killed," he said, pulling Stranger behind him.

"You are so cruel," she cried. "You are supposed to protect me."

"I am protecting you," Sandor told her, feeling slightly stung by the accusation in her voice.

"My feelings need protecting as well you know," she called back, wiping her nose with her hand. He was close enough now to reach out and grab her, and he swung her around by the shoulder. As she spun she moved toward him, but when he expected her to melt into him and sob, she began punching him hard in the chest. He felt little, his breastplate and leathers shielding him from her weak little blows, but her distress bothered him. He allowed her to punch at him with her fists, and even when he saw blood on her knuckles he allowed her to continue.

She wept, and cried, and sobbed, as she hit him. When she finally stopped, all her energy gone, her caught her before she fell to the ground in a puddle of tears. His little bird was only so strong it seemed, and he blamed himself for pushing her too far.

"Hush now, little bird, it's all right," he said softly, picked her up like she were a babe in his arms. After gently placing Sansa on the ground at the base of a large tree he hobbled Stranger. When he turned back to Sansa she was looking up at him with sad, wet eyes.

"Everything was supposed to be so good. I was going to marry Joffrey and be his queen. My father was there, my family… even Arya and Jon Snow… everything was supposed to be perfect," she told him as he stood there watching her. She cradled her bruised knuckled in her lap. He knelt down in front of her silently and took her hands in his. He was as gentle as he could be as he inspected the torn, swollen skin.

"At least we know my breastplate works," he said and though his voice was dark and raspy, his heart was lightened by the little smile she gave him. He felt her eye son him as he removed some of his armor. He cut off some of the fabric of his baggy tunic underneath, and gently rapped her knuckles.

"We will find the river again and wash the cuts out. They are superficial, so there is no risk of infection. All the same, a beautiful little bird needs clean hands," he told her. "We can bathe as well… separately of course…"

"You really don't smell all that bad," she whispered, looking at the fabric wrapped around her knuckles. He scooped her up and brought her over to Stranger. When he put her back on the horse he looked at her.

"Are you going to be jumping off again?" he asked. She shook her head shyly. He got up behind her and turned back north. They were off the road anyway and so he did not have to worry about making it back. North was north right now, and as long as they could avoid the gold cloaks, it mattered little. Sandor was in no real rush to return the little bird. Precaution was better than speed.

Only a few moments after they had resumed their ride he felt her leaned back into him. It was impulse that made him wrap his arm around her middle, as he had last night. He waited for her to push him away, to shout at him or burst into tears again but she remained silent. After a momentary stiffening of her muscles she raised her arm, laying her hand over his. It nearly brought a smile to his lips.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Let me know what you think!