A special thanks to littlebirdhound for all her help.
Sorry it has taken so long for me to update. I am really busy and don't have much time to write. I borrowed the some of the lyrics from Symon Silvertonque's song Hands of Gold. I realize it is not a sansan song but I love the lyrics and they really worked well for something here in this chapter. Here is the link: watch?v=GzubIa7Gry0
Thank you for all the nice comments, you all are so sweet.
Sansa stood in front of the door and waited for Sandor to come back. Her heart pounded wildly and she felt a strange flutter in her tummy. She never felt this way before. When Petyr kissed me it made me feel ashamed- like it was wrong, but with Sandor, it was not that way. It was gentle, he meant this kiss; he wanted it, but he is afraid, I know he is. I was afraid, too, but when he kissed me for true, it was better than I had ever dreamed it could be. I realize now that he cares more deeply for me than what he says, and what he has done is not just to make things right. Shall I carry on as though nothing has happened? Do I speak to him on this matter? What would I say? I wish Myranda or Mya were here to help me. . .
When Sansa finally fell asleep, it was after a night of tossing and turning.
The morning brought nothing but silence and the occasional grunt from Sandor. He went to his stoic self once again and was rather cross with Jaime and Brienne, more than he needed to be. When they left to see if they could find a ship, Sandor had disappeared on his own as well, leaving Sansa free to wander the Isle. As she did on the night she had arrived, Sansa, again, found herself in the lichyard where she came upon the Elder Brother who was sitting on a rather large weathered smooth piece of driftwood.
He smiled kindly at her and beckoned her to come closer. "It's a beautiful day, my lady, though I fear this break in the weather will not last long."
Winter is coming.
She nodded as she walked up to him. "It is a beautiful day," she agreed.
"Lady Sansa, would you permit me to ask you some questions? What we discuss will be kept between you and me, and the Seven of course," he said gently.
He seems trustworthy and Sandor always speaks highly of him. Maybe he will be able to help me understand Sandor more. Sansa nodded her head. "You may ask me anything; I will try and answer, but there may be some things I may not be able to.
"Certainly, my lady."
They sat peacefully and looked out to the Bay of Crabs. The wind picked up slightly and Sansa nestled herself deeper into her cloak. She turned slightly as the Elder Brother cleared his throat.
"I have to ask," he started, "and please don't assume that I think badly of Sandor, but I must know, did you come with him willingly?"
"Yes, of course I did," Sansa reassured. "Though at first he did scare me and I cut him with my dagger before I realized who he was."
"Ah yes, the wound," he chuckled. "He's told me of that. He mentioned how you trembled at first, but with determination you stitched him up with great care. Not to worry, my dear, he will not scar too much. You did well."
"I'm glad to hear it. Before we left he apologized for certain things in the past and I forgave him. It's funny. . . I think I forgave him long ago. He was so troubled during the time I knew him in King's Landing, but I see that he seems. . . a changed man- I would dare say because of you?" Sansa offered with a small smile.
"Well, he was on the Stranger's door when I found him. It was a long journey along the Path of Faith with him barely able to stay atop that blasphemously named beast he calls a horse. I had to bribe the both of them, one with strong wine, the other with apples. It took four brothers to help guide the pair, three who broke their vows of silence when that horse tried biting them."
Sansa laughed quietly.
"We made it here and he was a bitter man, my lady. I thought there was no hope for him, but I did what I could. The Seven thought differently, however, and his leg healed, mayhaps leaving a limp as his reminder of his past ways."
"Sandor never told me what happened to him," said Sansa, "not really. He told me about my sister, of how he had found her and why she had left him. I often wondered what had happened to him. You must know how he took care of me in his own way in King's Landing?" she asked.
"Yes, he's told me many things about you, my lady," the Elder Brother stated with a small smile on his face.
Many things.
"Oh," Sansa replied in a small voice, feeling her face heat up.
"I will not tell his confidences, but as you might be aware he, in his own strange way, feels very strongly about you and what he does is just his way of setting things to rights. Did you know he used to sit here in this exact spot, every day, while his leg healed? I refused to let him sit in bed feeling sorry for himself and forced him outside," the Elder Brother said shaking his head.
"One day, he saw Brother Otto struggling to dig a grave for some lost soul and Sandor made his way over, grabbed the spade, and he never stopped digging. Not until news came that Lord Baelish had a bastard daughter, that is. He knew there was some looking for you. Lady Brienne, in fact, had come here previously asking about him as she had thought you might be travelling with him. At the time, I had told her that the Hound was dead, which was true; he buried that part of himself, but I am certain a small part of his former self will remain within. Time changes a man, as you can see, Lady Sansa. Sometimes for the worse, but for Sandor. . . I believe for the better."
A peaceful silence passed over them. She agreed that Sandor wanted to do right by her, but there was something more. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her and she felt it in their kiss. Never before had she possessed a feeling of such want. My dreams have not lead me astray, only telling me of what could be. If Sandor knew how my feelings for him were growing stronger every day, would it make a difference? Must I be the one to lead this? Sansa's thoughts were interrupted when the Elder Brother tugged gently on her arm. She looked over to where he pointed towards the shore. Jaime and Brienne were back.
Soon they were gathered in the Elder Brother's quarters, their conversation hidden under the dirt of the hill. Sandor, now donned in a clean tunic and breeches, was in the center of the room and warming his hands over the brazier. He stood hunched even though the ceiling was at the highest point there. He doesn't seem to fit anywhere, she mused, though he does look nice today.
"Well, what did you find?" he asked Jaime gruffly, pointedly not making eye contact with Sansa who stood before him on the other side.
He was avoiding her, Sansa realized. He is always so direct with me. She noticed his mouth was twitching and wondered if he, too, had given any thought to their kiss. Did he like it? Has he kissed many women? She felt a sort of sadness in her heart suddenly when he turned his head towards Jaime and she could see the his burns in the firelight. It no longer scared her as it once did, she realized, but she understood that he probably might never have had loving kisses. Oh Sandor, if only people could see past your scars. If father knew what you did for me and Arya, he would surely see the honor that is in you. She squeezed her hands together tightly to keep her emotions from getting the better of her, and tried to focus on the conversation at hand.
"We did find a ship that is set to sail to Braavos, with the high tide tomorrow evening," Jaime replied. "There is a problem however: there is only room for two and maybe room for one horse."
"Lady Sansa, I would sail with you," Brienne started. "Clegane and Jaime could find passage on another ship and follow us after-"
"No," Sansa interrupted with a forceful tone, "I will go only if Sandor is by my side. He is the only one that I feel safe with and I trust him." Sansa moved towards Sandor and stood beside him. "I won't go if he is not on that ship."
"My lady, it is not proper at all!" Brienne exclaimed. "Surely, you would prefer the company of another lady that can protect you just as well. What would people say?'"
"What people think does not concern me, besides no one will know I am Sansa Stark. I will pose as someone else if needs be. I have been doing it well for a long time now," Sansa replied with a bitter tone.
Sandor looked down at Sansa. "Don't worry, I wont be straying from your side. Make no mistake about that."
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. Of course he wouldn't. I have no doubt, but they could convince him... maybe.
"I'll be taking her across the sea. You two can follow or not. I don't care." Sandor said to Jaime and Brienne with a shrug. "I'll be taking my horse, too."
"Maybe it's for the best," the Elder Brother interjected quickly. "Lady Sansa seems perfectly safe with Sandor and he has not given us any reason to believe that she is in any sort of danger with him."
"Make no mistake, anyone tries to harm her will deal with the blade of my sword," Sandor rumbled, gripping the handle of his sword tightly.
"I have no doubt Clegane will protect her," Jaime replied calmly. "I know his strength is that of ten men, but is it her safety we need to be concerned about?"
"Watch yourself, Lannister," Sandor said threateningly as he slowly approached him, looming over him darkly.
"Look at you! A rabid dog over her. Why are you so protective? I have never seen you like this before. What is the power that she has over you?" Jamie asked with a smirk over his face. "You care for her..."
Sandor lunged and grabbed his throat. "You'll shut your bloody mouth, lion" he growled with a sneer. "Or next you'll be missing your tongue along with that stump of yours.
"Sandor, enough!" The Elder Brother interrupted. "Let him go."
Sandor snorted and did so, reluctantly.
Jaime grinned knowingly at Sandor. "Let him go with my good sister," he said as he rubbed his throat. "Just keep that temper in check, Clegane. There is always someone bigger out there and if you run your mouth, you'll put your little bird in danger."
He knows! Jaime knows that Sandor cares! Sansa realized, squeezing her hands together.
The rest of the day went by slowly with Brienne trying to convince Sansa to let her escort her. Sansa listened politely and gently explained that Sandor was the one that saved her many times and helped her and found her. She made Brienne tell her everything about her mother. Sansa weeped when Brienne described her mother's curdled look and the wounds that would not heal. When Brienne's voice started to falter, Sansa patted her arm and gently hugged her, ignoring her own sorrow. Finally when night came, Sansa was relieved to be alone in her quarters. She knew Sandor was just outside her door. She wanted to talk to him, but he had been so distant throughout the day and she did not know how to approach him. The kiss has changed everything. I know he is avoiding me but now we will be travelling alone once again. Everything that has happened in the past few days can't be for nothing. With a heavy sigh, Sansa turned away from the door, climbed into her pallet, and tossed and turned the night away.
The following morning, Jaime and Sandor spent most of the morning discussing what would happen once they got to the docks. When her mother's name was mentioned, Sansa could not help but approach them and ask what they were planning.
"Clegane here has an idea that might throw your mother off your trail and save my lovely travelling companion's neck as well as my own," Jaime explained.
Sansa tried not to cry as she squeezed her eyes shut. My mother. My mother is close by, but she is not my mother anymore. She felt a gentle but firm hand on her arm and she met Sandor's strangely concerned gaze.
"Let her avenge your family - your father, your brothers - Jaime and Brienne will see us off. They'll go back to her, let her know they heard Littlefinger might have you with him. They'll tell her what I told you, how he held the dagger to your father's throat. See what she does. Might be a way to keep her poxy men off our trail if they're looking. Besides, if Littlefinger thinks you're dead, and your mother thinks you're dead, vengeance will be all the sweeter for her," Sandor explained. He rubbed her arm gently for a moment, but let go when he noticed Sansa watch his hand move up and down. He cleared his throat roughly.
This is all too much. I feel overwhelmed with all this, I need to tell them.
Sansa twisted her hands together. "It wasn't just that," Sansa whispered. "The poison that killed Joffrey came from the hair net I wore to the wedding. The night I left King's Landing, Petyr told me that he and Lady Olenna had been talking and he suggested she would benefit from Joffrey's death to protect Margaery. They used me - used me to carry out their plan, to wear the hair net, and to have the blame of Joffrey's death fall on me and Tyrion. Petyr was not my friend, though I convinced myself at times he was," she said bitterly. "I am here because of him. Mother would want me safe I am sure of it, but she is gone. Brienne convinced me of this. Take this information, and seek justice for my father and mother, and my brothers. Do this in memory of my mother and the vow you made to her."
Sansa looked over at Jamie and then back to Sandor. It was quiet for several moments as she waited for Jaime to agree. Finally he nodded slowly.
"It is settled then," Sansa declared. "We leave today."
As everyone readied to depart, Sansa said her goodbyes to the Elder Brother, who gave her some herbs to put in water and help her tummy stay settled once they set sail. She smiled sadly waving back to him as they made their way to the mainland riding side-saddle on Stanger. She turned and looked down at Sandor who was leading Stranger and her eyes swept up and down his hulking form and noticed again how broad his shoulders were beneath the dark brown cloak he wore.
During their travels from the Vale, she had only seen him in worn tunics and torn cloaks. Now, he was was dressed in snug leathers, his soft brown breeches were tight and tall, laced boots replaced the dirty black ones he had worn, his dagger was strapped over his shoulder, and his sword was secure on his hip. When they had gathered in the common room for their last midday meal together, Sandor strode in and his attire had been the first thing she noticed. Sansa could not remember a time when she had thought a man could be so powerful as he. As he walked towards the table, she had felt a strange sort of heat bloom between her legs when he stared right at her with his grey eyes. No man had ever looked at her the way he did.
"What is it, little bird?" Sandor asked, interrupting her thoughts. He stopped Stranger and scowled up at her.
She quickly looked away when he turned his head, and realized he had caught her staring again.
"Nothing. I was just thinking that you might miss this place is all. It seems to have given you some comfort." Sandor just stared at her, his face unreadable. "I am sorry for taking you away from here, but a large part of me is grateful that you are coming with me. It brings me great comfort, Sandor," she confessed with a timid smile.
Sandor snorted and continued to lead his horse, and Sansa felt the sting of being ignored. He is awful. I should never had let him kiss me. I won't again. He does not deserve it. I must have lied to myself, though I felt something I have never felt before. No! He will not get any of my kisses. I have tried to please him and nothing will. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment to compose herself, trying to distract her mind with the surroundings and the anticipation of leaving. I am scared to leave in a way but I think I might be more scared to stay.
When they finally got to the dock, there were loads of people waiting to be rowed out to the ship. It was a flurry of yelling and pushing and Sansa was thankful to be atop Stranger. Jaime and Brienne led their horses beside her while Sandor walked along her other side. She was glad for the deep hood of the thick cloak that covered her and hid her face when the occasional beggar would come up and ask for coin. Her stomach was knotted in fear that she would be recognized and Littlefinger would find them. Sandor would never let me go. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
They made their way to a boat that looked as if would transport horses. Jaime quickly made his way over to the greasy looking men standing there, motioning towards Sandor as they conversed, and discreetly passing a small purse that looked to be filled with coin. From then on, everything happened so quickly - one moment she was sitting on Stranger, next Brienne was hugging her, and then she was sitting in the bow of the boat as Sandor tried to steady Stranger and keep him calm. The ferrymen rowed out to the ship that waited in the distance and Sansa's heart was pounding the whole time.
As they receded more and more from the docks, she realized that she had hardly any time to absorb all that had happened, to commit her last moments in Westeros to memory. She turned her head and looked back and saw Jaime and Brienne standing at the docks. She felt a twinge in her chest as she thought of the danger they were going to confront, risking their life for hers. If a part of my mother still lives she will spare them and one day I can repay the debt. It was strange to think that she would be indebted to a Lannister after everything they had done to her family. She waved to them all the same, sending a small prayer to the Warrior to give them courage and watch over them.
After they boarded and Sandor settled Stranger in the belly of the ship, they found their shared cabin. The small room smelled rank of sour vomit and damp mold. Six other people, milling around in various spaces, were staying in the room, too, from the look of it, with only the small bottom pallet of an old bunk reserved for the travelling pair. Sansa stood quietly in the doorway, her head bowed and face hidden as Sandor barked at the staring people, warning anyone who dared touch his wife, that he would throw them into the sea, but not before showing the rest of them how he would rip out their bowels from their backside .
He tossed their meager belongings, along with a sack of food that the Elder Brother had insisted they take, on the pallet and stuffed the saddle bags into the small compartment beneath. Grabbing a thin, worn linen blanket off the bed, Sandor tied it to the top bunk and had formed a sort of wall for privacy, and beckoned Sansa to get in inside. He squatted beside her and gently pinched her chin, while warning her that not for any reason, other than to use the tiny garderobe, was she to move from this spot or talk to anyone.
"You stay in this nest. No one will bother you," he said sternly. Sandor stood up and the blanket fall. Hidden away, all she had heard was his heavy footfalls as he walked out of the cabin.
Sansa spent that first night alone. For several hours, she had tried to keep herself relaxed, her mind occupied, as she could only listen to the dull conversation and the music that was being played quietly, sipping her water with herbs and yet, Sandor had not returned. She had become worried and hurt that Sandor had been so angry that he would have left her by herself. She lay awake shivering and crying as the ship swayed and rocked, until finally, she could no longer stay awake. When the morning sun slowly peeked through the small porthole beside her head, she chanced a peek out from behind the makeshift coverings, amongst the rest of her slumbering cabin mates. Still, Sandor had not returned.
Later that evening, Sansa stood at the stern of the ship watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon, the last few rays of sun peeking out from behind the clouds, the steady breeze and fresh air a welcome relief. It had been two days since they had set out, and the further they sailed away, the warmer it got. Winter seemed far away.
I may never come back, never see Winterfell again. Here I am on this strange ship, with even a stranger man.
Sansa's heart felt heavy while her tummy was full of butterflies. It was a confusion of feelings. As lost as she felt in that moment, she did feel slight relief to finally be out on the decks, to leave that cramped room and breathe in the fresh air.
I have not seen him since the day before. Sansa looked out to the sea ahead, the scent of the salt water heavy in the air, the mist covering her cloak. I don't care if I am not supposed to be out here. He is not in control of me, especially if he has no decency to stay by my side. He is terrible. As the darkness slowly crept closer swallowing the daylight she felt Sandor standing behind her. She turned around and saw him standing several feet behind her in the shadows. She watched him carefully as he sipped from his wineskin, looking past her into the nothing.
"I thought I told you to stay put," he muttered. "You're still a stupid girl aren't you, running around in the dark?" Gods he is so angry!
"Well, you left," she said calmly, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. "And I couldn't stay locked up on that bunk."
"Don't want to listen? You want to do it your way? How long do you think you'll last here on this ship?" Sansa shrank back as he finally met her eyes and stepped closer to her.
"I survived without you before-"
She was interrupted by a strong grip on her arm.
"Survived?" Sandor rasped angrily. "Is that all you want to do, girl? Survive? You got a chance to start over. Not many do. So when I tell you to stay put, you stay.
Sansa wrenched her arm away from him. "Why are you so angry with me?" She hissed loudly."Is it because we kissed? Was it so awful for you? It was the nicest kiss I ever had and you ruined it. Just go away," she said sadly turning away from him.
Just go away.
She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed it and then pulled her cloak tightly around her.
"Sansa-"
"No," she said firmly and hurried away.
Sansa walked quickly towards her shared cabin, ignoring the stares of the people along the way. This was all a mistake. No one will ever love me. It will never happen. She rounded the corner and leaned against the wooden planking trying to compose herself, clenching her jaw tightly and quickly wiping the tears that were falling down her face. I thought he cared. How could I have been so wrong? Sansa closed her eyes, trying to compose herself.
"Alayne?" a surprised voice asked.
Sansa's eyes flew open. "Mya!" she cried, bursting into tears at the familiar sight of bright blue eyes and black hair. "You are alive!" She threw her arms around her friend and embraced her tightly. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same," said Mya, hugging her back. She let go of Sansa and stepped back, her eyes gazed at her questioningly. "What happened to you? I thought you were dead!"
"I am well. I. . . it's rather a long story but I am sorry to have caused you distress," Sansa replied with a wan smile. "I am so happy to see you." She clutched Mya's hand in hers and waited for her to explain how she came to be on the ship.
"We were attacked by. . . some man, a beast of a man, and when I finally wiggled out of my bonds, you were gone. Was it he that took you?" She asked, gripping Sansa's shoulders. "Gods be good, Alayne, we thought you were dead." Mya pulled her close again and hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay, when we seen all that blood towards the river we thought the worst and ran."
She must truly care for me, she has never hugged me like this before. Sansa, all of a sudden, felt relieved that she had a friend here.
"What of Ser Lothor?" Sansa asked.
"He's here too. When you disappeared, Lothor and I had no choice but to leave as quick as possible. If Lord Baelish had found us he would have thrown us out the moon door for sure. We must have been close behind."
"Will you take me to him. I will explain everything straight away."
"He's resting in our cabin. The cold when we fled was not good and he caught a fever."
Ser Lothor is not going to be happy with Sandor. I will have to explain everything and make him understand why Sandor did what he did. Oh gods, Sandor. He is not going to like this.
Mya quickly took Sansa down to the cabins, and led her into a room that was only two doors down from where Sandor and Sansa were staying. The room seemed empty until Sansa spotted a large hulking figure sitting on one of the bottom bunks. It was Ser Lothor with his legs outstretched and his back propped up by a bundle of what looked to be cloaks.
"Ser," Sansa whispered excitedly, rushing over to him and kneeling at his side. She took his hand in hers and held it tightly.
Ser Lothor slowly opened his eyes. "My lady." He bolted up and hit his head on the bed above. He lay back down at once, rubbing his head with his other hand. "You're alive," he managed, as he looked between Mya and Sansa both, searching their faces for answers."Are you alright?" he asked warily as he squeezed her hand in return.
She smiled at him. "I am, ser. How are you feeling. Mya said you caught a fever." She took in his squashed face and grey hair and noticed he looked older than she remembered. The fever and journey has worn him out. "Has your fever broke yet?" She questioned him with concern.
"I am well enough, the fever broke yesterday. I thought the worst, that I failed you," he said, the regret resonating in his voice. "I am deeply sorry. How is it that you're here? On this ship?"
Sansa rose and sat gingerly on the edge of his bunk. "I must tell you both something first." She looked up at Mya who had a curious look, and back at Lothor and took a deep breath. "You have to swear to the Mother that you will never breath a word of this."
"My Lady Sansa, we know who you are," Ser Lothor interrupted. "I had known it was you the night you stepped onto Littlefinger's ship. I've told Mya when you were taken."
"You both knew?"
Sansa looked up to Mya's smirk. "Apparently, someone else knows who you really are, too. Who took you?"
The truth.
"When I was in King's Landing I had a friend of sorts," she explained. "He had kept me safe and he tried to make me see my surroundings through different eyes. Ser Lothor, I believe you know him."
Lothor looked puzzled. "Who would have dared to go against the king and speak to you behind closed doors besides Littlefinger?"
"It was never behind closed doors except once, when he offered to take me away from King's Landing." she explained quietly.
'I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again or I'd kill them.'
"Who is this knight?" Mya demanded.
Sansa looked up at her again and then turned to Lothor. "Not a knight," she whispered squeezing her hands tightly together.
Lothor looked sharply at her, and realization emerged, plain on his face. "The king's dog? But... he's rumored to have he sacked the Saltpans!"
"No, he never did, it is all lies, and in fact he is here with me on this ship. I am sorry if he frightened you Mya, and hurt you Ser Lothor. He thought I was in danger and he only wanted to protect me and keep me safe. I thought he had killed you at first, and I was devastated, but he reassured me that you were both alive. I am happy that you got away. Littlefinger must be so angry and mayhaps he thinks it was you both that killed me. I am sorry," she said remorsefully.
"The Hound," Lothor said roughly, looking her straight in the eyes, "He has not hurt you in any way, my lady, has he? He is not the sort of man to be in company with. He was rumoured to have raped a young girl in Saltpans…"
"No! It was not him! He has never hurt me." Firm but always oddly gentle. "He may have a way of being brutally truthful with his words and sometimes those words can be cruel, but he won't ever hurt me, ser. This I know."
"So he has fucked you then?" Mya stated matter factly. Sansa gasped loudly. "Alayne Stone, no, Sansa Stark of Winterfell has the fierce Hound of Westeros tied to her leash? Not such an innocent as you would have let us believe," she continued, grinning almost proudly at Sansa. "Get the meanest warrior in your bed, he'll do whatever you bid- under your dress and on the field. Good girl."
Sansa turned bright red. "I have not lain with any man," she said, affronted. Gods what must Lothor be thinking. "And the Hou- Sandor. . . is not tied to any leash." Her face was hot and she felt flushed all the way down to her tummy. Suddenly she wanted to leave the cabin.
At that moment, the door flew open with a loud crash that startled everyone with a sudden jump. Sansa stood up quickly and clutched her chest. Sandor took a step in, and halted immediately.
"What do we have here?" He asked, his coarse voice low and full of grit. He shut the door slowly behind him and unsheathed his sword from his side. "Looks pretty cozy in here. I'll say I'm surprised to see you, Brune," he stated with a sneer.
Sansa stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him from moving forward. Sandor glared down at her. This man, he is like a rabid beast. Mayhaps he does need to be tamed. She swallowed hard and held her stance.
"Sandor, they are alive and well. Isn't it wonderful?" She asked with tremulous voice.
"Wonderful?" He laughed sardonically. "Why not? I'll just grab some skins of wine and we can reminisce of days gone by. Or might be, I'll just keep it simple and throw them both over the side."
Sansa pushed him with both hands and glared up at him. In return she saw in his eyes how they could have bored holes through her if possible, but she also saw a slight weariness in them.
"No. . . no more of this from you, Sandor. You can't just threaten everyone we meet. They are my friends and you have no right to threaten them." She gulped hard but remained firm.
"Friends?" Sandor asked incredulously. "So friends leave you sitting on your arse with a target on your back while they go and fuck, is that it? He should have never let you out of his sight. What if it was not me that had come upon you?" He shook his head angrily. "No, there are no friends here. Let's go," he snapped, grabbing her arm, not waiting for her to answer and pulling her towards the door.
"Clegane, let her go!" Lothor ordered firmly, struggling to rise while he reached for his sword.
Sandor threw his head back and laughed, causing Sansa to shrink back. It was not a nice laugh. "And what are you going to do, Brune? Hobble off the bed? Fight me? Maybe you'll get your little plaything to do your fighting for you?" He spat. "Spare me. I've got no time for your false chivalry."
Sansa noticed movement in the corner of her eye and saw Mya produce a small object from her belt, loathing written all over her face. Before she could even react, Sansa watched in disbelief as Mya quickly lunged towards Sandor with a dagger.
"Mya, No!" she cried out.
Sandor, quick as a whip, pushed Sansa away and caught Mya's wrist, causing her to spin and slam backward into Sandor's armoured chest. While he restrained the girl, holding her against him with one hand, he gave her hand a little twist with the other. Mya winced with a grunt and the dagger clattered to the floor.
"I don't like to hurt foolish girls. You'd be wise not to test me. Go sit with your knight," he ordered, giving Mya a brusk shove towards Ser Lothor's pallet, who was now standing, bracing himself against the top bunk with sword in hand. Sandor kicked the dagger across the room and grabbed Sansa once again, and started towards the door.
"Let me go, Sandor!" Sansa demanded, jerking her arm away. She stepped away from him with a glare and turned to her friends.
"I'll speak with you both again in the morning," she reassured. "I need to have words with someone right now."
"Alayne... I mean Sansa, will you be alright?" Mya asked, the concern clear in her voice as she rubbed her wrist, eyeing her large companion.
"Yes, thank you, Mya. He won't hurt me. He swore he would not hurt me." Though maybe he needs some lessons on how to treat others. "I bid you two goodnight and in the morning we shall talk. I promise you." Sansa quickly walked over to Mya, ignoring Sandor's step behind her, and hugged her. "He means well," she whispered. She let go and gently patted Ser Lothor on the shoulder and sat beside him.
"Thank you for your concern. I know you mean well and did not wish me any harm. Thank you for being by my side in the Vale. You are a true knight, the truest knight I know and I won't forget what you did for me." She bent down and gently kissed his stubbled cheek. "Get some rest, ser."
She stood up and walked quickly past Sandor, pointedly ignoring the shocked look on his face.
That will teach you.
She walked out the door with her head held high and before she got four steps down the hall, Sansa heard the door slam behind her with Sandor right on her heels. She sped up her pace and opened the door to their cabin where there was someone playing a harp and a woman was singing quietly. The room went silent as all eyes turned on her, but Sansa ignored them. She ran to her bunk, climbed in, and pulled the makeshift curtain closed. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she sat with her back against the wooden planks, tucking her knees up under her chin. She heard Sandor's boots fall heavy on the floor, along with a few hushed gasps and murmurings, until they came to stop at the the side of the bunk. Sansa could see his shadow over her through the thinness of the blanket, making him seem more imposing than ever, and knew he was staring at her from the other side.
She watched, wide-eyed, as the curtain moved back, the soft glow of the lanterns blocked by Sandor's large frame. He said not a word but stared intently at her as he removed his sword and sheath from his belt. He leaned it against the pallet, the pommel reached above Sansa's head. He then removed his dagger as well and thrust it into the underside of the bed above her. Sansa furrowed her brow crossly as she tried to pretend he didn't exist. I won't let him intimidate me. He is in the wrong and putting weapons on display is not going to frighten me. She refused to break eye contact with him and for a second she thought she seen his eyebrow lift slightly as he never took his eyes off her. He is infuriating. After laying his cloak on the bed, he removed his leather brigandine and mail, shoved it under the bunk and sat down on the edge of the pallet, a loud creek emanating. Sansa let go of her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. What is he up to. She roamed her eyes over his broad shoulders. They are so big... nevermind that now. I am angry with him. Sandor looked over his shoulder at her, dark hair hanging over his burns, his eyes - a strange glitter to them.
So now he thinks he is going to sleep here, with me? Sansa glared before she turned her back to him, laying down rigid on the bed facing the wall.
"Spit it out, little bird. I can tell you have something to say. Just say it."
She was angry, but she could feel tears start to prickle behind her eyes. Deep inside she knew he cared deeply for her, yet he would hide it by being a brute. Does he not know how to show his true feelings?
"Sandor, you can't be so rude to Ser Lothor and Mya or to me," she blurted out, still facing the wall. She felt her voice start to get shaky and she pursed her lips together."You have no idea what happened during my time with Littlefinger."
"It's not like you've been a wealth of information, little bird," Sandor rasped.
He is right. I haven't told him much.
"Ser Lothor saved me from an awful man. A singer, he tried to. . . he almost. . . " Sansa was suddenly grateful that he could not see her face.
"Did he touch you?" he demanded. She felt Sandor's grip on her shoulder.
"He tried. He was drunk and he wanted my maidenhood. I told him no, but he became insistent and then Ser Lothor intervened. For a moment I hoped. . . I thought he was you."
She felt his grip loosen on her shoulder and he squeezed it gently. She felt tears prickle in her eyes and heard him swear quietly. She wanted to turn around and face him, to go into his arms. No I have to say this. He has to know about Lothor and Mya. He has to know that they are important to me.
"He never hurt me, Sandor. He looked out for me, so did Mya. Since you left, they were the only people I felt I could trust. Yes, he and Mya went into that cabin, but is it not better they did? What would have happened if he knew you were there? He would have fought to protect me and most likely would have died. I don't know if I could have forgiven you if you had cut them down.
For a long moment it was silent. She felt Sandor's hand leave her shoulder and gently rub down her arm. He sighed deeply and stood up. He leaves now? A shadow of doubt started to fall over her, then Sansa heard the clink of coin.
"Did your tongue fall out, woman?" She heard him say. "Put your eyes back in your head and sing your songs. Here's a coin. Sing about knights and fair maids for my wife."
Sansa's heart stirred. His wife. She listened as he unlaced his boots, letting them thud on floor after taking them off.
"And you, boy," Sandor said gruffly, "there'll be a coin for you too in the morning, if you sit watch outside the door. I need some sleep as well as my lady . Do right by us and you'll make some coin on this trip. Fail, and you'll be the first to taste the bite of my sword."
She heard the boy shuffle across the room and out the door. Finally, the harp started again and the woman's soft voice began to sing. Sansa did not know the song. It sounded sad, but pretty at the same time. The bed shifted with his weight, and with a long sigh he stretched out beside her. He is so warm. She could feel the length of his side touching the whole back. No, I am still mad at him. He has no right to talk to me the way he does or treat others so cruelly. Mya and Lothor are my friends and. . .
"I'm sorry for last night," Sandor said roughly.
Sansa lay still, not saying a word, the sound of the harp continue playing in the background.
"I don't know how to say the right words or treat you proper." Sandor turned towards her and his arm wrapped over her waist before gently pulling her closer to him as he buried his face into her hair and side of her neck. "I won't leave you alone again.
Sansa felt herself tremble and goosebumps rise on her flesh. It was not from the damp cold, she knew. His ragged breath in her ear and the soft voice of the woman singing was all Sansa could hear. The feel of his fingertips rubbing small circles on her hip through her thick wool skirts made her face burn and she felt a stirring in her most private area. She instinctively clenched her thighs together intensifying the feeling, her heart racing. This is highly improper. . . though. . . it feels nice. . . She lay still as the words of the song caught her ears.
For she was his secret treasure
She was his shame and his bliss
And a chain and a keep are nothing
Compared to a woman's kiss
This is all wrong. We should not be here lying so close, yet who is here to stop us. She sighed deeply when his hand moved up and gently grasped her chin, she gave in and turned her head back toward him and she parted her lips slightly at the hungry look in his eyes. What is he going to do? She shifted and turned her body towards him. The woman's voice got louder, sweeter, as the song went on.
For she was his greatest pleasure
She was his shame and his pride
And the view from a tower is nothing
Compared to a woman's eyes
Sandor pulled her closer, dragged his rough knuckles across her brow, and his eyes locked on hers. There were no words between them. We are going to kiss again. She could not help but shiver in anticipation.
Sansa closed her eyes as he softly brushed his lips across hers. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side as he placed a trail of kisses across her cheek and down her neck. Though his lips were dry, she could feel the heat from his mouth leave a slight mark. She felt a stirring between her legs and she instinctively clenched her thighs together, intensifying the feeling.
The song was over, but the soft music of the harp played on. She heard Sandor whisper something in her ear. It was the softest she ever heard his voice, as if she was hearing his thoughts and not his voice. "You're my secret treasure, little bird. Believe that." His hand moved up her waist, and rested on the side of her breast, the tips of his fingers glancing over the soft skin that was pushed up against the neckline of her bodice.
A soft sob broke from Sansa's mouth and she gripped his arms tightly. Sandor rolled her over onto her back holding off his weight, and trailed his hands down her arms before gathering them up to rest above her head. His hands enveloped hers and curled around holding them firmly. She felt his breath upon her face, his hair tickling her cheeks and neck. He hovered over her, staring down intently, the tight space of the bunk making him look even more imposing. It made her shiver. She almost looked away, but she knew she wanted to look him in the eye. Sansa licked her lip, his eyes followed the movement.
"Sandor," she whispered. "Please."
Sansa heard him groan and their lips met. This time, Sansa kissed him softly. She had kissed before, but not someone that she desired. Yes, I desire him. As a woman should feel towards the man she loves. She spread gentle kisses from the corner of his mouth, the rough edges a strange sensation, and moved down towards his neck, lifting herself off the bunk to press her body against him. Sandor let go of her hands and he braced her, holding her with one hand firmly spread across her back, his other propping himself up so he would not fall on her. Sansa ran her hands up and down his back, taking pleasure from the mere feel of his strong body against hers. She felt weak but not in a bad way. Her fingertips caught the bottom hem of his tunic and she knew she wanted to feel the warm skin underneath. Would he find me too unlady like? She let her fingers slide just under his tunic and across his back above his waistband. She could feel ridges under her fingertips. Scars. Sandor lowered himself slightly between her legs and she gasped sharply with a most unlady like noise when she felt something hard there.
"Bloody hells," Sandor swore.
He laid her back down on the bed, both of them breathing heavily and they had not even properly kissed yet. She swallowed hard as Sandor gazed at her as if she was his prey. She felt trapped, though, again, it was not in a bad way, she realized. Being with him in the confinement of the bunk seemed to heighten her senses. Her skin tingled to the barest of touches and she felt almost dizzy from the scent of him. Sweat, the faint smell of Stranger, and the sweet breath of wine warm across her face, was not something Sansa would have ever expected to make her feel so aroused, so womanly. If he was a beast I would want his scent marked on me. Her face burned at the animalistic thought. Proper ladies surely never think, let alone act, like this!
A shiver went through her as she threaded her hands through his lank hair and pulled Sandor's face closer to hers, raising her lips to his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and she felt him shudder above her as she shyly flicked her tongue over his. They clung to each other, heads tilting one way, then the other, never stopping. Sansa felt his hands running down her sides, gently squeezing at her hips, then up again. One large hand rested upon her breast and he flexed his fingers, the tips tugging the neckline of her dress just slightly lower. She slowly broke away from the kiss and looked down at his rough, hairy hands, a sharp contrast to the smooth clean skin of the tops of her breast. Sansa felt her nipples tighten as she watched his eyes fixate on her mouth while fingering the ties of her bodice.
"I want to see you," he rasped as he met her eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Sandor fervently swiped his tongue across her bottom lip before he caught it with his teeth, and gently pulled it.
She cried out softly and he kissed her deeper this time. She tried to keep up, but he was too demanding. Everything was too fast, too heady, too overwhelming. It's almost as if he is desperate, that I might reject him, and he is taking what he can.
Sansa pushed against his chest. He pulled away panting deeply, his eyes looked heavy. Sansa gulped and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Of course I want this. I want him, but I am not ready, am I?
"Sandor. . ."
She glanced down as he gently caressed her sides through her dress. One hand rose up and his palm cupped the side of her face, his thumb under her chin gently tilting her head up. Sandor softly kissed her mouth.
"Little bird, I'll only take what you offer. This, right now, if this all you give I won't complain. I'll tell you the truth of it, I want all of you, to taste all of you," he stated in a hoarse whisper as his hand stroked gently through her hair. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers.
I trust him. She nodded to him. "You can look," she whispered shyly, then feeling a bit confident she added, "if I can look too." She tugged at his tunic.
Sandor hastily pulled off his tunic in one swipe and hit his head on the top bunk. "Bugger," he muttered rubbing his head and tossed his tunic behind him.
Sansa gazed upon him and could not take her eyes off him. She timidly ran her hands across his chest, her fingers threading through the hair that covered it. She saw that his wound was healing nicely and gently traced along the scar with a fingertip. "I'm sorry," she murmured, looking up at Sandor's face. "If I had known it was you I would never have. . ."
"No matter, little bird. Like I told you, I'll keep this one as my favourite. Not many can say they took down the Hound and lived to tell about it." He smirked at her.
Suddenly she wanted to kiss him there, and timidly placed a kiss on his wound and up towards his neck, then scattered soft kisses along his adam's apple. She felt it move on her lips as he groaned.
Swiftly, Sandor rolled her over, bringing Sansa up to straddle him, keeping low to clear the bunk above. Her skirts rode up her legs, exposing her boots to the knees, and she felt him harden beneath her, sending a jolt through her. She braced her hands on his chest as he thrust up against her, raising her up slightly on her knees. Sandor gripped her hips firmly and brought her down again, keeping her in place.
"I won't go up your skirts little bird. Just sit there and let me look at you," he rasped roughly. "Let your hair down this once."
Sansa nodded and slowly began loosening her braid. As her curls escaped, Sandor reached up and tangled his hands in them, pulling Sansa down as he kissed her again, almost frantically. His tongue seemed to dance with hers and she felt a surge of something between her legs that she did not ever feel before. Then he pushed her up and reached for the ties on her bodice. Sansa noticed his hands shaking slightly as he pulled each lace through their holes. She slowly pulled her arms out of her sleeves and let it fall. Her shift was loose and with a quick brush of his finger it fell off her shoulders and down to her waist. Her face bloomed with a new heat as she watched Sandor watching her.
"Seven hells, woman," he whispered, his eyes roaming up and down in wonder.
Sansa smiled tremulously and took Sandor's hand in her own, kissing his knuckles, before placing it between her breasts. I am glad it's him. I don't care if it's proper or not. He makes me feel wanted and desired . For me, not my name, or position. She held his wrist and watched as his fingers stretched across her chest. Slowly she let go and his hands traced against her ribs and up where he massaged her breasts in the palms of his hand. His thumbs gently flicked over her nipples and she cried out softly.
"Fuck, little bird." he groaned. Sandor lifted his head, taking her nipple into his mouth, and gripped her hips tightly. He held her firmly over his lap as she rocked against him, and Sansa gasped loudly at the sudden pressure building within her woman's place. She clung to Sandor's broad shoulders as they started to move together. Sandor pulled Sansa's skirts up and out of the way, freeing her legs from the tangle of wool, and firmly grasped her hips again. He rocked up against her and kissed her breasts, licking the tips until she was squirming against him. The friction of Sandor's hardness rubbing against her sex through her small clothes was getting to be overwhelming and she braced herself against his chest with her hands. We have to stop. Gods. We have to stop or I will let him take me right here.
As she tried to calm herself, Sansa suddenly remembered that there was only a thin curtain separating them from the others. Oh gods! Had they been listening the whole time? Sansa froze and lifted herself off of him. She was breathing so hard she could not speak and shot a scandalized look at Sandor who looked as if he was in some sort of pain.
"Sandor, are you all right? Is it your chest?" Suddenly her lust turned to concern. She rolled off beside him, covering herself with her fabrics, as she tucked herself against the side of wall.
Sandor groaned loudly with his chest heaving hard as he reached down to unlace his breeches. Sansa shrank back, worried she had injured him. He cocked his eyebrow at her and stuck his hand inside his breeches while he adjusted himself.
"You're a maid for true who knows nothing of men and their cocks," he rasped with a half grin, laughing weakly. "My cock wants you so bad that my balls are like to burst."
She blushed, though deep inside she liked it when he talked to her like this. He is so foul-mouthed. Here I just about to let him make love to me and he is so crude. Was I about to give him my maidenhood?
"I'm sorry. I don't want to seem too wanton…"
Sandor snorted loudly. "Don't apologize. Be as wanton as you want, I'll not complain."
Sansa blushed deeply, suddenly feeling a bit shy. She rubbed her neck. "I forgot they were out there. What if they heard us?"
"Don't worry, little bird, it'll be fine. Even if they heard us, they'd know better not peep about it." He pulled back the blanket slightly and Sansa could see most of the cabin was now sleeping. The man playing the harp was quietly strumming in the corner, the woman who had been singing was laying on her side beside him. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.
Sandor chuckled, pulling her close and kissed the top of her head. She smiled into his chest and gently ran her fingertips across his back before lying back down again.
As they lay there, Sansa wondered what the couple's story was, if they, too, were running away. Mayhaps their love was not accepted. She tenderly ran her fingertips across Sandor's chest. She suddenly felt sad for them, and then for Mya, and Ser should all be free to love each other if that is what they wish. She lifted her head as Sandor turned slightly beside her, and she felt tears prickle in her eyes. I want to be free to love who I want.
"He loves Mya, I am sure of it," said Sansa, lost in thought. She caught him staring at her thoughtfully.
"What song do you have chirping in that pretty head of yours, little bird?" Sandor muttered tiredly.
Sansa sat up and pulled the straps of her shift back onto her shoulders, playfully swatting at Sandor's protesting hands as they tried to pull it down again. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she gave him a shy smile seeing how his hair was mess from her tugging at it. Sandor propped himself up on on his elbow, playing with the lace of her shift while Sansa wrung her hands together. I don't want to ruin this moment. It's not the best of time to discuss this but he has to know.
"I. . . would it be. . . I mean. . . I would like them to stay with us when we get to Braavos. I know you said not to trust anyone, but I trust them. She gripped his hand tightly as she noticed his frown.
"Little bird. . ."
"What do we have to lose?" She interrupted. "He is good with a sword and once he is better you could train with him. . . Mya is good with a dagger-"
"Look, you don't even know if they want to stay with you. What if they have some big plans?" Sandor retorted grumpily lying back down .
"We could ask them," Sansa said patiently. "If you could explain what happened to you, to me, I am sure Lothor would be happy to join up with us. Mya too." She let go of his hand and started unlacing her boots, slipping them off.
Sandor humphed. He grabbed her boots and pushed the curtain out of the way and jammed them under the bunk.
He frowned at her then shook his head. "We'll talk to them in the morning if it matters that much to you. Seeing how knightly and brave he was with you," he rasped almost in a sort of jealous tone.
She looked at Sandor and then leaned in to kiss him softly. "It matters," she stated simply with a smile. She lay beside him and tucked herself against his chest, pulling his arm around her. Hidden in the shadows of the bunk, she had never felt safer in her life.
