"This is fucking shit." Sandor grumbled.
Sansa held her open palm to the scarred side of his face lovingly and smiled at him. It no longer affected her in any way, it was merely a part of him, not all of him.
"We are free Sandor. There is no greater victory in this life than freedom. Let the others kill each other for the sake of their Iron Throne, I only want you." She told him as she kissed him gently. He gave her a small kiss on the hand and held her close.
The two had been out in the wilderness for almost a week. Food was scarce and the water from the river was so thick with dirt that it made their stomachs turn.
On their first night under the stars, Sandor had taken Sansa's maidenhead and she was pleasantly surprised by how careful and tender he was with her. They had made love every night since then and they spent their days simply talking and holding each other. They disscussed their pasts, what each of them wanted from the future and everything in between but the truth of their situation because of the choice they had made was slowly being realised.
They were enemies of the crown, if they came across any of Joffrey's men there was no telling what terrible fate would befall them. The King in the North, her beloved brother and her mother too, were gone and because of all of this the pair felt that they had nowhere to go.
"We have to leave this place little bird. We will die here if we don't." Sandor told her sullenly. Sansa used to hate the way he spat the name 'Little bird' in mockery of her politeness and belief in true knights. Things were different now though. When he called her 'Little bird' he said it with affection, as if she were a delicate and fragile little bird in need of his love and protection, love and protection that he gave to her fiercely and unreservedly.
"Where will we go?" Sansa asked.
"We need to sail to Essos." He replied bluntly.
Sansa was shocked. She never thought that she would go anywhere outside of Westeros, she had never particularly wanted to either. She didn't know much about the cultures of Essos and Sansa liked to be liked, there was no guarentee that she would fit into society there but then she no longer fitted into society here either did she? Her life had already taken a drastic turn. She and Sandor were alone in the world, escaping Westeros was their only hope and Sansa never gave up hope, that was afterall the reason why she was still here. That and Sandor of course.
"Ok." She whispered.
The pair rode north through the long grasses and scattered forests. They knew they could not sail from King's Landing, they would be killed on sight as naturally the place would be teeming with those loyal to the King. The only other port near to them was the port of Gulltown. They would have to ride past Harrenhall, The Vale and The Eyrie but so long as they stayed on the outskirts they should be able to avoid encountering anyone on their travels.
"Is it much further Sandor?" Sansa asked in pain. Her thighs were sore from riding, her back had stiffened and her hands were blistering from holding the reigns. She was so exhausted she was almost sure she could go no further.
Sandor haulted his horse and dismounted. He helped Sansa down from her mare and carried her in his arms to his horse. Without a word he lifted her onto his horse's back so that both of her legs hung off of one side and walked back to get her's. He tied the reigns to his own and climbed up with her. He took hold of his reigns with one hand and held her with the other. She lay with her head upon his chest and her arms around him.
"Rest now little bird." He told her sweetly. "I'll get us there one way or another."
Sansa sighed in comfort and relief, snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes. His own personal scent was all around her and lulled her peacefully into a long soft slumber.
When Sansa woke she was no longer in Sandor's big, strong and secure arms, much to her dissapointment. As her eyes flitted open, adjusting to the harsh daylight, she glanced around. The remnents of a campfire lay black beside her and she was wrapped up warm in Sandor's big, heavy cape. As she propped herself up she guessed she was somewhere deep in the Vale of Arryn. She sat up and looked around, there was no sign of Sandor.
"Sandor?" She called. There was no answer. She called louder, still no answer.
Sansa assumed that he had gone to find more firewood or water and slowly got up to make her way out to look for him. Not too far away Sansa heard a horrific sound. An animalistic wine and the sound of metal clashing upon a surface just as hard. Sansa ran toward the sound, there was no one around for miles, Sandor had to be in trouble.
"Fucking beast!" Sandor raged. An almighty Auroch was charging at him with his long sharp horns poised to snare. Sandor blocked the horn with his sword and swung around onto the animals back.
"Sandor!" Sansa yelled, terrified.
"Stay where you are Sansa!" He shouted back. "Don't come any closer!"
The Auroch bucked and twisted until Sandor fell from it's back. Again he blocked it's charging horn with his sword and climbed up onto it's back but everytime he had the opportunity to strike for the kill, the beast threw him clear again.
Sansa felt helpless, there was nothing she could do. She had spent her entire life so far being an innocent, gentle Lady. She was sick of it, she needed to save the only man she had ever truly loved but had no training or bravery to do so and she knew it. The Auroch threw Sandor down a final time, this time he lost his grip on his sword and it slid across the grass, landing poiniently at Sansa's feet. The beast rammed it's head into Sandor's gut and flung him into the air, he landed on the ground and clumsily climbed to his feet. The Auroch had the upper hand now and was ready to charge one last time.
Sansa felt a sudden surge of adrenalin through her veins. She could not and would not be a proper Lady anymore, she would not stand by and watch her hero get killed. She picked up the sword. It was cold and extremely heavy, she could barely lift it but she had to try. As the beast ran forward so too did Sansa. One more burst of adrenalin had her raising the sword above her head and screaming the frustration right out of her. Finally she swung the sword. It sliced through the Auroch's neck like a knife through butter, it's head hit the floor with a hollow thud and the bloody, messy sight was enough to make her faint, almost enough. Sansa ran to Sandor and helped him back to where they were camped. The most amazing feeling came over her, she felt as though she finally had a sense of purpose. She felt like she could do anything, she felt powerful, strong, brave and strangely, highly aroused. Sandor noticed the change in her and he recognised the feeling she was experiencing all too well.
"Didn't I once tell you little bird, killing is the sweetest thing there is." He reminded her.
At the time she had thought him crazy, that was a different time though and a different Sansa. Now she understood his words, she felt his words. When they arrived back at their campsite they made the most passionate, adrenalin fueld love that anyone could make. Sansa had begun her new life before she had even reached Essos and was now more than eager to see what the future had in store for her and her lover, The Hound.