Special thanks to my beta littlebirdhound
All characters belong to GRRM
Sandor looked down at her shocked expression. Good job, old dog, you just scared the little bird. He knew this was not going to be easy, but in end it just might work. He gave Sansa's shoulder a squeeze and stood up, reaching to take her hand to pull her up. He noticed, again, that she was very tall, her head almost reaching his shoulder. It was very rare to see a woman of this height. He liked it, though he would not admit it.
He looked down at her. "Your sure that this is what you want," he rasped, "It's not too late to change your mind."
He watched Sansa swallow hard and nod her head. "I am not going to change my mind. I want to go home. You will take me home, won't you?" She asked as she raised her eyes to his.
Sandor looked into her blue eyes, they seemed to have some sort of hope in them. "I'll do my best, but it won't be easy. Understand? You're going to have do some things that a lady such as yourself won't be privy to, but if you follow my lead you'll be safe enough."
Sandor watched her think over his words, brushing the snow off her dress and cloak. He shook his head at her.
"No sense in cleaning yourself up. Just going to get dirty anyway. Might be you should just take off the dress, you're not going to need it after I'm done." He chuckled when she gasped at him and clutched her cloak around her tightly.
"That is an improper request to ask a lady," she whispered, her eyes darting away from him.
"Look, I need something to clean this wolf bite you gave me," he rasped impatiently, gesturing to the gash on his chest. "The more blood I get on your clothes, the better. And I need to wrap it tight before we go any further," he added as he looked down at his tunic. "Come on, little bird, give me that pretty dress you have on." He turned around so as to give her some privacy and waited. He knew she was staring at his back in disbelief. We're just getting started. He heard her rustling around behind him, as she struggled to pull off her heavy dress while under the cloak.
"Here," she simply stated.
Sandor turned around and saw she was standing rigid, holding her cloak tightly closed. She outstretched her arm towards him, her blue dress in her hand. He grasped it and pulled it away from her tight clutch. The smooth blue material was soft and delicate; a contrast to the roughness of his hands, the threads catching on his callouses. He stared at it briefly, then looked at her. She had her head held high and her jaw clenched. She has a spine. Always knew she did.
With his dagger, Sandor sliced the dress in half and handed both pieces to Sansa before unclasping his cloak and laying it over the log. He took off his tunic, grimacing at the sting as he pulled at the material that clung to the wound. He knew it was going to be a hindrance. It was in an awkward spot and even with the slightest movement, he could feel it stretch and tear a little more. He knew it was going to need stitching. No time right now, it'll have to wait 'til nightfall.
He went to hand Sansa his tunic, but stopped short when he noticed her staring intently at his exposed chest. He smiled smugly, and as he reached his arm toward her, he purposely flexed his shoulders, ignoring the pain and watched her reaction. Might be his face was a maid's worse nightmare, but he knew that under their tunics, most men did not have what he had. The look she gave did not escape him and he could not stop the bark of laughter that startled her out of her gaze.
"Admiring your handiwork, girl? Think I'll keep this one as my favourite," he rasped, pointing to the open wound.
He noticed a flush come over her cheeks. Blushing like a maid. She can't compare this to her little husband. Sandor kept his thoughts to himself and took half of the dress, carefully wiping the blood from his chest before he bent down, scooped up a handful of snow and smoothed it over his skin.
"Bloody hells, that's cold," he swore as he rubbed it into his skin to wash off the blood. The heat from his chest melted the snow and made cleaning easier. The ripped dress was now soaked with his blood, turning the light blue into a shade of night. Good; the more blood, the better, he thought, and threw the stained piece down onto the snow.
He snatched the other half from Sansa's hand, and brought the material up to his ruined lips, gripping the edge with his teeth and tearing the rest into several strips. He handed them to Sansa and began wrapping a strip around his chest. He struggled as he tried to reach his arms around his back, but the movement caused him to wince as the jagged cut was pulled slightly more open. He glanced at Sansa. She's going to have to help.
"Little bird, since you did this, its only fair that you help this old dog out and bandage me up," he snapped roughly, frustrated that he wasn't able to take care of himself. "Come here and help me, girl. And be quick about it, we don't have time to be standing here. The sooner we get this done, the faster we can get away from this bloody place."
Sansa walked towards him, and he noticed that she was slightly hesitant and nervous. "I won't bite you, girl. Might be I'd take a nibble here and there if I'm tempted enough, but don't worry; I don't want to scare you off,' he said with a growly voice.
Sansa stepped behind him and grabbed the ends of the cloth strips, tying them in a secure knot. As she busied herself with her task, Sandor could feel the light brush of her fingertips on his back. He wrapped another around himself, and his hands briefly lingered on hers as she took the ends and tied another knot. He stilled, and could feel the warmth of her breath upon his back as Sansa tucked the ends into the layers wrapped around him. He felt a strange sensation creep up his back and over his shoulders, causing him to tremble. Suddenly, her hand went to his arm and touched the scarred flesh. He tensed, and turned around, quickly jerking his arm away. Sansa shrank back a bit, but then looked at him questioningly as if she wanted him to tell her where he got the burn from. Sandor gritted his teeth together and shook his head. There will be time soon enough to swap tales, he thought grimly.
Sansa stared at him briefly and shook her head, handing him his tunic that she had tucked under her arm, and turned around. Sandor frowned at her back and slipped his tunic on. He reached to his sword belt and untied the two wineskins that hung off his hip. He grasped Sansa's shoulder lightly and turned her towards him, handing her a skin.
"I am not thirsty, ser, and this is no time for you to start drinking," she said coldly as she took the skin from him. "You said yourself we have to move quickly."
Sandor peered down at her and shook his head.
"Might be I'd like a nice little drink now, but what's in here is not what I thirst for." He pulled the cork from the skin that was in his hand and poured a few drops into the snow, "And I am no ser." The pure white started to turn a dark ominous red. Sandor grunted when he heard Sansa gasp.
"Blood?" she questioned. "Where did you get it from," she added in a tone like she might not want to know the answer.
Sandor chuckled darkly. "I had to eat, so I hunted down a deer. Hung it up in a tree and let the blood trickle out. Thought it might come in use for my plan, so I filled them. And I have the hind quarters slung over Stranger. I'll use them too."
"What is your plan exactly?" Sansa questioned nervously as she looked at the wine skin in her hand.
"I'm going to get Stranger and some different clothes for you to wear. You looked too highborn to be posing as bastard in that dress." He gestured to her peice of ruined gown on the ground. He touched the blue material that was wrapped around his chest. "I am going to make you look as common as the poor lad that the clothes came from." He laughed, looking at her scandalous look. He paused, remembering the family who let him sleep in their stables in exchange for a few coins. They were just over a half days ride away. If we hurry up, we can get there after nightfall. They seemed indifferent to my face and for a few more coins they might lend their stable again.
"You just sit here on this log and wait for me. No running off, I won't chase you down. You said you want to be free, well you're going to have to do as I say in the meantime. Go sit," he ordered, and handed her the other wineskin. When he made his way towards the cabin, he did not turn to make sure she heeded. She will wait and not run, she wants her freedom. Sandor walked to where Stranger was waiting and guided him back to the bird.
As Sandor walked around the corner towards her, he slowed his steps, and watched Sansa as she sat waiting for him. She seemed nervous and was playing with the tassel on the side of one of the wine skins. As he came closer, she stood up to meet him. Sandor let the reins fall to the ground and he reached across the saddle to untie a small bundle of clothes. He stomped in the snow towards Sansa.
"Here, put these on, make sure to remove all your clothes. You can keep your boots; don't want your pretty toes to blacken and fall off," he muttered as if he was not happy with the situation. He grabbed his cloak off the log and held it up. "Here, I'll hold this up over my face and you can change behind it," he said quickly. He then noticed the alarmed look in her eyes. "Don't worry, little bird, I give you my word. No peeking," he rasped, amused at the reaction her eyes gave him. Her face, he noticed, was once again flushed.
"You're a brute," Sansa responded, but took the bundle of clothes from him after she set the wineskins down. "Then hold it up. And... you won't look, will you?" She questioned hesitantly.
"No, little bird, I won't take a peek. Just hurry up," he said impatiently.
Sandor held up the cloak and took a deep breath. It was agony knowing she was undressing on the other side, just inches away. I gave her my word, he thought regretfully. He could hear her removing garments and then he heard a loud sigh of frustration.
"Quickly, girl," he snarled impatiently, "We don't have all day. Move!"
"I can't," she whispered, "I just…"
Sandor frowned behind the cloak. "What do you mean you can't? Girl, just get undressed already!" he snapped.
"I am trying...it's just...I can't undo my laces. My handmaiden, she tightened them so tight that I can't possibly remove them. I have on the breeches, but I can't undo my...I...need help," she said, her voice shaky, defeated.
Sandor snorted and lowered the cloak. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. There, Sansa stood with her back to him; barefoot and shivering standing on her cloak. She had the breeches on under her shift, that was now bunched up about her waist, but they were too tight, he noticed right away, and he could not help but look at her firm arse. The breeches were also too short for her long, shapely legs and went halfway down her calves. As she struggled to loosen her corset, he could see the top of her back exposed with the sleeve of her shift slipping off of her shoulder. Fucking gods.
Sansa turned her head in his direction. Her eyes widened in shock and she wrapped her arms around her chest.
"You said you would not look! You gave your word!" she accused him, holding her arms tightly around herself.
Sandor dropped his cloak and stepped forward. His chest was almost touching her back. He noticed tiny bumps covering her skin and the occasional shiver. Looking down at her upturned face, he could not help but sweep a glance over her shoulder and briefly gaze at the mounds that were pushed up from her corset. He swallowed hard. He reached for his dagger and pushed her forward gently, his hand firmly holding her in place with his thumb slightly below the back of her neck, and his fingertips wrapping over her shoulder. He gripped his dagger and quickly sliced through the laces. Then the back of the shift, ignoring Sansa's gasps.
Sandor stood momentarily and gazed at the smooth skin on her back, freckles here and there. He lifted his hand off her shoulder and went to caress the exposed skin, but just as quick he flinched his hand back, curling his fingers back into his palm. He took a step back, sheathed his dagger, and picked up the cloak. He held it up again and looked up toward the sky, gritting his teeth in frustration as he felt himself stiffen. Fucking fool, of course she's grown. What, you thought she'd still be the child you threatened and left behind? His mind wandered, though not letting him forget the round firmness. He shook his head to rid his thoughts.
Have to find her different breeches soon enough.
