The hall glowed in warm amber hues. Torches stood aflame on either side of the walls leaving dark spots in between, where all the secrets of the castle and it's inhabitants lived. The drunken sounds of the feast disappeared more and more with each step. Sansa walked ahead, the Hound's footsteps stalked close behind as they made their way to her bed chambers.I must thank him for saving me. She thought. But where do I start? She did not even know how to address him. Calling him Ser or knight would only anger him, and being the only two souls in the halls, she did not want to risk that. She could not bring herself to call him the Hound, for that was the name of a treacherous, viscous killer. Which he was, yes...but not to her. Never to her. He was sharp with his tongue, and sometimes spoke cruelties, but everything he said turned out to be harsh truths. She did not fear him as much as she did the day Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell. She barely noticed him actually, her attention was on the yellow haired prince who exuded sophistication and power. Foolish girl.
So deep in thought, Sansa lost her footing and tripped over the long Southern gown Cersei chose for her. Before she could hit the cold floor, a large arm wrapped around her waist with immense speed causing her to lose her breath. The metal armor dug into her ribs.
"Did the pretty bird have too much wine?" Sandor rasped against the nape of her neck. The room was spinning, the flames turned the world before her into a dream like haze.
"Let me go." Sansa begged, desperation cracking in her voice. Sandor immediately did as he was asked and she stumbled away from him. His eyes glimmered with momentary guilt. "I'm fine." She said as reassurance, to him or herself she did not know.
"Oh your fine?" He mocked, closing the space between them. "You were fine being displayed as a young thoroughbred would to the highest bidder? Letting those men put their hands on you? What would you Lord father think?" He starred at her, waiting for a response. She kept her eyes fixed on the marble floor as they began welling up with tears. "Where's my dance, girl?"
She parted her lips to protest, but no sound came out. She was frozen. She could feel the heat from his state. There was nothing she could say to stop him. He could do with her as he pleased. Everyone in Kings Landing did. Tears fell slowly down her cheeks. She didn't bother wiping them away. If she stayed still maybe she would disappear and all would forget the girl with the flamed hair.
He placed his calloused fingers under her delicate chin and lifted her head. She kept her eyes closed. "Look at me." He ordered. She opened her eyes. She had never been this close to his face before. His eyes looked like the sky on a stormy day. Weather they did not see here in the South. They were more common in Winterfell. They reminded her of home. Home. New tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned away from him, the memories of childhood flooding her mind. Days spent playing in the hot springs in the middle of weirdwood trees. Nights nestled in the furs of her mother and father's bed. Her father's strong soothing voice reading to the younger siblings. Sansa pretended she hated it and thought it dull that they needed to be read to before going to sleep in their own large beds, but she secretly enjoyed it. Why have I always been so afraid to be myself?
The last few years back home she had begun to crave a different life. Ones she read about in her books, about knights rescuing young maidens from war and dragons! Her septa taught her songs as they did their needlework. Ladies fair and kind with rosy cheeks and elaborate hairstyles, that overcame tragedies with grace and welcomed true love with open arms. Oh yes, how Sansa dreamed of being like the maidens from those stories. She remembered stealing a book from her mother's bed chamber, sneaking it into her room, and reading it by candle light, when no one else was awake. She wrote down every detail of the main character. The way she dressed, phrases she used, even her favorite foods. Lemon cakes. Ever since then, Sansa decided that would be her favorite food too. She kept the book underneath her pillow. When her father announced that she and Arya would accompany him on his travels to Kings Landing Sansa sat on her bed with the book in her lap. She fingered the worn spine. Her father believed in the old gods, and her mother the new. Sansa had been free to follow whichever she wished, she was taught the ways of both, but this book was what she truly held dear, what she based her every decision on. Fantasies of Kings Landing seeped into her mind like poison, and she sat on the edge of her bed. A place where people knew of her, but did not know her. She could start a new. Leave behind the girl who liked to have her father read her to sleep and go there as a woman. One with confidence and grace, just like the woman in her favorite story. Along with that girl, she left the book under her pillow.
In this moment, she wished for nothing more then to have that book. She used to be able to recite it word for word, but now could only remember the picture sewn into the leather cover. It was a girl, with flowers in her hair singing to a wounded knight on the ground. That girl did not fear the death the knight was about to face. Instead she sat with him, welcoming it as she did love, for it was a natural and definite part of life. Sansa decided she must not fear the man who stood behind her. She must be brave. She turned and looked once more into the grey eyes of the hound.
"I do not wish to dance anymore tonight, Ser." She said calmly, preparing herself for his wrath. But he only starred. Almost pleased with the rejection. That fed her confidence. "Please, take me to my chambers, for the day has been long, and I am tired." She added.
"The pretty bird wishes to go back to her cage?' He teased. Why must he always be so rude? "As you wish." He nodded ahead, giving her the okay to walk on. Once she was certain this was not a trick she turned and started down the hall to her room but the broken heel on her shoe did not serve well to help the journey there be an easy one. Just as she was about to take her shoes off, the fearsome man was suddenly beside her holding out his arm for her to hold on to. She looked at him, as if silently asking permission, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. She carefully wrapped her hand around his forearm. Slowly, as if tip toeing around a sleeping beast.
"Oh go on girl! I may be a dog but I won't bite." He snarled, eyes still straight ahead. She held his arm tight. They started down the corridor, Sansa limping slightly from the fall. It did not go unnoticed.
'"Are you hurt?" He asked.
"I'll be fine." Sansa said. "Thank you for asking." He gruffed at that and took a sip from the wine skin he had tucked away in his pocket. The sudden movements sent pleasant aromas dancing into Sansa's nostrils. He smelled of wine of course, but there was something else. Something she liked very much. It was a mixture of the wine, leather, and the way the earth smelled before water came down from the sky. How was it that he smelled like rain when there was none here? She loved the rain, even though it saddened her siblings, for when it rained they could not practice sword fighting. The ground outside the castle turned muddy and too dangerous to ride in. They sat miserably inside while Sansa took her pillows and blankets from her bed on the small nook by the window. She curled underneath the warmth and escaped into the world of her books. Her mother sent her cups of melted chocolate. She never felt more safe then in the castle on those days. Everyone was inside, no harm could come to her.
In her slightly drunken state the aromas intoxicated her beyond self control. Gone was the conscious awareness of how she looked to the world around her. Gone were the lady like manners, for something that felt far more natural took over. She started leaning closer into his arm taking in his scent. Breathing him in deeply, the smells taking her away from this place and into her memories. She preferred to live in her past nowadays.
They walked on. His normally quick and focused strides slowed to match her pace. She closed her eyes, letting him lead, for he knew the way. She imagined they were on a stroll in a garden. Ha! She laughed to herself. The blood thirsty hound on a stroll! The thought was amusing and ridiculous but that was okay. It wasn't the thought of him talking about the flowers or the birds with her that made her smile sleepily. It was the feeling of walking peacefully with someone she didn't have to pretend around. She could just be.
"Little bird." He spoke softly. Her eyes fluttered open and reality came back to her. She starred at the large wooden doors that sealed her chamber from the halls. Her view, slightly slanted. Oh gods! She realized her head was resting on his shoulder. She lifted it and stepped back a few feet, embarrassed by her behavior. He laughed and threw his head back in a roar of laughter. She frowned at his behavior. How dare he laugh at me! Fuming, Sansa stormed in front of him and yanked the door open.
"Good night, Ser!" she huffed and slammed the door behind her. She took a few deep breaths, leaning her back against the wall. Her blue eyes trying to familiarize themselves with the pitch black room. A rush of loneliness surrounded her. She didn't like it. His loud footsteps grew quieter as he walked away. Before she knew what she was doing she flung the door back open and stepped into the hall.
"Stop!" She shouted, her hand flew to her mouth. I just yelled at the Hound! Gods he's going to kill me. But he did not. He only turned around and waited for her to speak.
"So the wolf does have claws." He said.
"I wish to thank you." Sansa slurred.
The hound's eye brows went up in amusement. He stepped closer to her, intrigued. "Oh? And why does my lady wish to thank me?" As he stepped closer she could smell him again.
"You know why." She trembled, not wanting to say it out loud, not wanting to remember.
The Hound stayed silent for a moment, she could see him recalling the days events. "Aye." He said, nodding his head. "Lock your door, little bird. You'll sleep better." He ordered as he walked off.
Sansa watched his hulking mass descend down the hall until he turned the corner at the far end and all she saw was emptiness. She let out a breath and walked back into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
This high in the castle, the noise from the feast could not be heard. The only sound that disturbed the silent halls was a lock being turned.