Sandor & Arya

"I told you so."

"Don't let that fire die. I had a hell of a job to find enough dry moss to light it."

"She wanted to ride with you."

"She was only worried about breaking her neck. That's all."

"It is not, and you know it. Did she hold on to you as hard as earlier? Even when we were just walking?"

"Let it drop, I tell you. Just drop it. Now, hand me that bird. It is not much but it is fresh meat and saves our supplies."

"Why don't you want to believe she wants to be with you?"

"Why? WHY? Have you had a look at me lately, girl? Have I fucking transformed into a handsome knight and just haven't noticed it myself? She is a lady, she's a bloody princess – and those may suffer dogs well enough when they are useful, but they don't certainly like them."

"What will it take to convince you otherwise?"

"Give me that stick, over there."

"I know, we have three bedrolls, don't we? I'll set then down side by side, put your bags on one of them and then we can see which one she chooses as hers. If she picks the one next to you…"

"Well that I know already. She's a maid and she knows better than to lie next to a grown man. You, you wouldn't care."

"I'll do that and we'll see."

"Not hair off my arse whichever way you want to set the camp. Better that we don't spread out too much anyway. But choose the spot next to those big trees and put my bedroll furthest out and hers closest to the tree. I need to be free to move in case if anyone comes. Not that I expect it, but nonetheless."

"Very well. How long before we can eat?"

"I just put the bloody bird in the spit. Be patient."


Sansa

After the evening meal, cooked by her companions who had seemed to be arguing about something most of the time, Sansa walked to the bedrolls Arya had set out next to a big tree. She saw that Sandor's saddlebags rested on the one furthest out, and it made sense to her. He was their protector and the only one who actually knew what to do if anyone stumbled to their modest camp in the darkness of the night.

She dragged her own bundle next to his and fell on top of her bedding, exhausted. The long day at the saddle had worn her out completely.

Yet when Arya followed her soon after and laid down next to her, she roused herself. There was something on her mind, had been the whole day since their first break. She wanted to know why Sandor had been looking at her so oddly, and why at times Arya had seemed hardly able to hide her snickering when looking at them. Sansa knew she was not as able rider as Arya, and probably not the best companion on the road when escaping pursuers – but she had done her best, had not complained once, had done everything she had been told to do and had not fallen from the horse or done anything else stupid like that. So what was it? What had she done?

"Arya, you have to tell me what is the matter. Why have you been giving me those strange looks? Have I done something wrong?"

Arya turned on her side and rested her elbow on the ground, her head leaning against her hand. She appeared unusually contemplating.

"Do you like the Hound?" she suddenly blurted, quite out of the blue. Sansa flinched. Surely Arya could not know what even she had dared to contemplate only in the privacy of her own heart?

"Of course I like him. He has saved us both from the captivity of the crown. And he is not nearly as bad as is his reputation." Her reply was careful and cautious. Her realisation was still too new and too raw to be shared with anyone yet. Especially not Arya.

"I mean, do you really like him?"

As delighted as Sansa was to be united with her little sister, she was now reminded of how persistent and annoying she could be when she had something on her sights.

"Why do you want to know?" She responded to the interrogation with a defensive move.

Arya huffed. "He likes you. A lot."

Sansa remembered then their discussion from earlier that day, the one Sandor had interrupted. Arya had just been about to tell why she thought Sandor liked her. Her heart started hammering, fast.

"You said that earlier. But why do you think so? He didn't look very happy about the prospect of having to ride with me today."

"Aaah, that." Arya waved dismissively. "I know he cares about you. I saw how he was always looking at you even when we were back in Winterfell, and then on the road. And in King's Landing."

As excited as Sansa was hearing that, she was also disappointed.

"Many men liked to look at me, I know. I am not stupid; men do that when they see a pretty girl." Calling herself pretty didn't feel conceited but just stating a fact.

"No, it was more than that. And he talked about you a lot. Asked about you. And when he came to Leya's and saw Aline, he only wanted her, even though she was already taken. There were girls who were prettier than her; Myriah and Daria were the prettiest of them all and they were free, and he just stormed past them straight to Aline."

"Aline? Who is Aline?" Sansa didn't understand the word Arya was saying, trying to remember if she knew anyone called Aline. Or Myriah or Daria, for that matter. Arya didn't seem to register her question, only continuing.

"The girls said he never used to care with whom he went, taking any girl who happened to be free. But you see, Aline had red hair and blue eyes, and if one squinted one's eyes she looked a bit like you. I saw it when it happened, and as soon as he saw her, he went straight to her."

Suddenly Sansa realised, and covered her mouth with her hand in shock. What Arya had said earlier about the girls, Street of Silk… Oh!

"You were…in a house of ill repute?!" As soon as she asked that, another realisation pierced her. Sandor had been there, with some girl… Sansa felt something cold squeezing her heart. With a girl.

Arya stared at her, realising her blunder too late. She looked apologetic and tried to explain, but Sansa didn't pay attention to her words anymore.

"It was not bad, the girls were just doing their job, and they were clean and nice and Leya looked after the house very well. It was one of the best houses in the street, everybody said so."

Sansa stared right past her, an image of Sandor with another woman in her head…everybody knew what men looked for in those houses. She felt almost physically sick.

"Sansa, what is it? I am sorry, it came out all wrong! I only meant that he wanted a girl who looked like you, so it must mean that he really wants you. I asked him about it afterwards but he didn't want to talk about it. So I knew I must have hit close. And he didn't do it again."

Sansa raised her hand to make her stop. She was angry. "You tell me he likes me and that he went with another woman almost in the same sentence! How dare you!?"

Arya looked at her, clearly confused. "But…isn't it clear? I mean…"

Then another thought hit Sansa. Had it happened after they had embraced, when she had thought something had irrevocably changed between them? Had he left her arms and gone to the …brothel?

"When did it happen?" she interrupted Arya's spluttering explanations.

Arya wrinkled her nose and counted back in her head. "Well, it was the first time he came to see me. He told me he had to take care of his cover story; that it would raise questions if he came to visit that house just to see the cook's help. So it was about a week from when he took me there."

Sansa wasn't sure what to think of it. At least it had been well before their embrace. And Sandor's reasons were practical, even she had to admit it. Then yet another thing Arya had said caught her attention.

"What do you mean, 'he didn't do it again'? Did he go with one of those other girls?" She grimaced at the thought but she had to know. "And did he use to come there often?"

"He didn't come again. The next time I saw him he must have waited for me outside and follow me, as he stopped me at the markets where I had gone for some shopping. And so he did all the other times we saw after that. I asked him why he didn't come to the house again, and he said he didn't feel like it."

Sansa stared at her, waiting her to answer her second question. It didn't matter of course, it was all in the past, but still she had to know.

"I don't think he came there that often. All the girls were a bit wary of him, although he had never hurt any of them. So, maybe a few times a year. Usually when there were some big celebrations going on, one of the girls said when I asked."

For some reason that made Sansa feel better. She was not stupid, she knew that men had needs, and even members of the Kingsguard were known to visit brothels.

"I think you have told me quite enough, thank you," she said to Arya with her most regal tone. She didn't want to hear anything more and only wanted to curl inside her blankets, fall asleep and forget the horrible hollow feeling at the pit of her stomach. She purposefully turned her back to Arya and stared at the empty bedroll next to her.

Sandor would soon come and lay down next to her. Oh, how was she ever going to get any sleep now, being so close to him and imagining him holding a girl that looked like her but who wasn't her?

Sansa wanted to cry but forced her eyes closed instead. And so sleep eventually found her.