Thanks again to littlebirdhound for her beta skills
All Characters Belong To GRRM
"What have I done?" Alayne whispered, as she struggled to get from under the Hound's heavy weight. He was indeed heavy and Alayne felt like she could not breath under him. His face was buried deep in the crook her neck and he was not moving. She pushed on his shoulders with all her strength and was finally able to roll him over onto his side. She sat up and peered down at his face.
Gods, it's still terrible, and he smirks even in death, she thought as she took in his mass of scars and the black stubble on his good cheek. His cloak was opened wide, and when she looked down to his chest, she gasped in horror, noticing the blood seeping through the worn, green tunic.
"No!" She cried, and reached over to push his tunic up over his chest, wincing when she spotted the jagged cut her dagger had made. Alayne took hold of the bottom tip of her cloak and tried to soak up the blood. Unknowingly, she started to cry, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
"Why did you have to scare me?" She cried. "Look what you made me do, you stupid man!"
Her eyes stung with tears, and in her sudden grief, she did not notice that Sandor had opened one eye, and was watching her with a look of concern, but also a slight hint of amusement.
When Alayne lifted the end of his cloak and looked at the gash, she realized something was not right. Yes, she had sliced him, but the wound, while bleeding heavily was not deep at all. Not enough to give a man, such as the Hound, instant death.
She pulled her hand away and looked at his face. It was then she noticed his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a mocking fit of laughter. Alayne scrambled back. She grabbed her dagger that was beside the Hound and held it up. Her genuine fear that she had killed him had vanished, and was replaced by something else; anger.
She glared at him as he opened his eyes to look at her. She noticed right away that the black hate she had always found there, was replaced by something else. Calm, she thought. She shook her head furiously. No, this is not right. She slowly backed away and watched him sit up. He looked as his chest and back at her.
"I see you've left your courteous, ladylike ways and have taken up a taste for killing, little bird," he said, his voice was raspy and hoarse as she remembered. He grinned at her angry expression and threw his head back to laugh, but stopped short and grunted in pain instead.
You deserve to feel pain for what you just did to me, she thought as she cautiously looked at him. She licked her lips nervously as she watched him inspect his wound and then looked away when he noticed her watching him. Why is he here? She mused trying to ignore his stare.
Finally, she looked at him. "Ser, what are you doing here?" She asked quietly.
"Don't you want a true knight to rescue you, little bird?" He asked, his lips twisting into a smile.
True Knights, she thought. "I am protected here. There is no one hurting me," she said. Then, as an afterthought, "Except you."
She watched as Sandor thought deeply. He dabbed the wound with his own tunic and the blood seemed to be slowing down. He needs be stitched up, she thought as she looked at the parted skin. She started to feel bad about what she had done, but shook the thought away, remembering that he had, in fact, chased her and pinned her to the ground.
"So, you're safe here? Seems that you're all alone right now with the likes of me. Your protectors, Sansa didn't do a good job…"
"Alayne," she interrupted. "My name is Alayne."
The Hound blinked several times. then snorted, shaking his head. "In fact, Alayne, he said with a sneer, I could steal you away right now, even with this impressive little wound you gave me, they could not stop me," he stated bluntly.
Mya! Lothor! Gods, I forgot!
She looked at Sandor, panicked. "You killed them? They did nothing wrong to me nor to you, and you killed them," she said accusingly. Her eyes filled with tears again. "Because of me they are dead, how could you?" She sobbed. "They were my friends, they never hurt me. Ser Lothor even saved me once when you were not here." His mouth twitched at that, she noticed. She sank to her knees in the snow and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "How could you?"
As she cried, Alayne did not notice Sandor struggle to his feet and stand until she heard the snow crunching beneath his feet as he came toward her. She looked up at his towering height and moved away from him on her knees. "Stay away from me," she cried out and brandished the dagger towards him. Sandor eased to his knees in front of her, his blood stained tunic covering his chest and his cloak hanging on his side. Alayne shrank from him and turned her head away. She stilled when she felt his rough hand gently cup her chin to face him. I cannot fight him, he is too strong, she thought sadly in defeat.
She flicked her eyes up and looked into his, expecting to see rage or blood lust. Instead, again, she was struck with the look of calm that had seemed to settle there. She felt like she knew who he was, but at the same time she had no idea who he had become since King's Landing. She was at a loss for words from his gentle touch and his stare.
"First off, little bird, if they were truly your friends, they wouldn't have left you alone out here in the woods. Second, might be Lothor saved you, but know this: If I was by your side, I'd keep you safe. I told you that if anyone ever hurt you again, I'd kill them. Third, look at my sword, girl. There is no blood, the only blood is mine, on me, on you," he motioned to her dress that was now stained red. "And your dagger is the one covered in blood. I never killed them, little bird. Truth is, it was an easy fight, barely a fight at all. I knocked your hero out with the heel of my sword and trussed them up together in a loving embrace. They'll be fine. Might be they'll have some explaining to do to your... father." He sneered. "But if he does find them, we'll be long gone. If you wish to leave, that is."
Alayne stared at him in shock. "They are still alive?" She asked in a quiet voice. She looked at Sandor's sword, now laying on the crisp snow. Not a drop of blood was on it. Of course. Why would he kill them? He knew if he did I would be angry with him.
"Yes, little bird, they're still breathing. Though, Lothor won't be feeling too well in the head when he wakes up. He went down like a lusting green boy." Sandor smirked. "His wench fought harder though."
"You did not hurt her, did you?" She asked, clenching her dagger tighter. It did not go unnoticed by Sandor.
"No, I didn't hurt her. Might be I was a little rough, and frightened her with my words, but she's fine," he rasped gently.
She looked up at him. "If I wish to leave, what makes you think I should go with you?" Alayne could not believe she was being so bold with him.
"You have not given me a reason to trust you. The last time I saw you, you held a dagger to my throat and forced a song from me."
She noticed he looked away when she mentioned that night of the green fire. He swallowed hard and she knew she needed to hear those words from him. She needed him to convince her that she could trust him. Alayne did not know who she could trust, especially when it came to men. They only seemed to want her for her claim to the north and were not shy about stating it; Joffrey with his threats and beatings, Tywin with the force of her marriage to the Imp, Littlefinger and his sly promises and minty kisses. Alayne knew none of these men cared for her. Yes, Littlefinger has kept me safe. I have not been beaten, but sometimes lies can be worse.
She watched Sandor struggle to speak. He does not seem weak, but a man like him could never speak apologies, could he?
Sandor gazed at her with a look she had never believed a man, such as he, could have. He looks remorseful, she silently observed. She went rigid when he took her hand still holding the dagger, and raised it up to his throat. Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?" She asked, her voice suddenly shaking.
"Little bird, there is nothing I can do to take back what I did to you that night. I could throw myself at your feet and beg forgiveness, but what would that do? It'll never make it right. Never," he stated simply, his voice cracking slightly.
"I am ashamed and will always be for threatening you and scaring you. But I'm here now, and I swear to you that I'll never hurt you again. I'd do anything to keep you safe, and if one day I can get you home to where you belong, I will. I'm loyal to only you. No one else."
He pulled her hand closer to his throat; his huge hand wrapped around her delicate long fingers, and she could not help but notice how warm they felt. The tip of the dagger was jabbed deep against his skin.
"If you want, you can kill me now; take your anger and hurt out on me, I deserve it. And you can go untie your friends in the cabin and leave me here. I've nothing left in this world. I never had anything to begin with, and if it gives you comfort to have me leave this world and burn in the seven hells; then by your hand, I'd accept it."
Alayne stared into his clear, grey eyes. They hid nothing and told her everything. He was not lying to her, his words were true and she with her other hand, she lowered the dagger away from him.
"How do I know I can trust you? How can we escape? Littlefinger will have every man, woman, and child looking for me." She questioned as she tucked her dagger away back into the leather sheath. She looked at him, point blank, and asked him, "What if you decide to get drunk? What then? How can you keep me safe from you?"
She stared up at him, he still towered over her even though they were both kneeling in the snow. She finally, really looked at him as she waited for his answer. His scars were still hideously craggy but they did not seem so weepy and wet as she remembered. His lank hair did nothing to help hide them. She noticed that he had not shaved his good side for a long time and his hair seemed to curl and flow from his face to his thick neck and disappear under his ripped, blood stained tunic. She could not help but notice the occasional grey hair that stood out against the soot black. But it was his eyes that kept her attention, she remembered how they frightened her most of all. The black rage that used to peer down at her was no longer there. She could not get over the fact that time had, indeed, quieted the rage in his eyes. But is the rage still in his heart? Can that ever be completely gone?
"You don't know if you can trust me," he said after a moment, "Might be I have to prove that you can. I don't drink myself into a stupor anymore. I used to, not going to deny it, but now I feel that I don't need to. I can't begin to describe the torment that lived inside me, and still does at times. My brother is dead, it helps to know that he is burning in the hells where he belongs. But enough of this talk, what say you? Do you want to leave and be Sansa Stark of Winterfell, or stay and be the Cunt Sellers bastard? Can you really put your trust in Littlefinger?" He shook his head. "It's your choice," Sandor said, his voice strong and sure. He stared down at her, a slight smile twisted his lips.
"I don't want to be a bastard anymore and I want to go home. And no I don't trust Littlefinger," she said quietly. "How is this going to work?"
She watched as a solemn look came over his face. He raised his hand and gently placed it on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "You must listen to everything I tell you to do. I won't make this sound pretty and a little bird such as yourself isn't going to like what needs to be done," he rasped cautiously. "But it might give you a chance to be lost for sometime and be forgotten until it's safe to return to Winterfell."
Alayne could feel herself getting nervous. "What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice trembling in hesitation. Her eyes grew wide with fear when she heard:
"You're going to help me kill Alayne Stone."
