This one is kinda short but I warned you, it's gonna read like a one shot ore often than not. Happy fourth to my American readers! Happy Treason Day to my British readers!
"Welcome back, Hound." Elyria grinned from where she sat at her vanity, brushing out her tiresome mane of hair. She'd like to cut it, how it was when she was younger, but she wouldn't. The men liked long hair. Not that any of them truly mattered. When he said nothing she turned to grin at him cheekily. "Did you miss me?"
"No." Sandor remarked easily, shutting the door behind him. Elyria smirked, turning back to her vanity, earning a growl from the burly man. "Put the brush down. I don't care what your hair looks like." She heard him fumbling with his armor again. The man had been coming steadily over the past month and a half, this was his third visit to see her.
"As much as I would love to please you, I'm afraid I cannot." She finished without even looking at him.
"What silly games are you playing today? If you try to tell me your favorite color I'm leaving." The Hound growled at her. Elyria grinned, looking over at him and standing. That's when he noticed she was fully dressed, no sheer robe, no thong. He felt a growl building in his throat.
"I'm on my moon cycle, Not Ser."
"Don't call me that." He ordered her, his mood growing ever more foul. He'd been with the little prick king non stop the past several days. He'd seen the way he tortured the Stark girl, let his men beat her. Today he'd made Sandor do it and it left him tense and disgusted with himself. It was beneath men to beat a woman and those who did deserved no respect. He needed a release before he released his frustrations out on the ninny boy, because he rather liked his head where it was.
Quietly, Elyria moved to her bed, another book in her hand, however this one was a history book, of Baelor the Merciful. She watched him without words, placing the large book down beside her before pulling her knees to her chest. Oddly, he thought about how demure the whore looked in that position.
"What is your name?" she asked him finally, catching him off guard. He scoffed at her as he gathered himself again, reaching for his armor. He noticed a pout come across her lips as he grabbed it.
"The Hound." He scowled. Elyria chuckled, shaking her head.
"So I am fucking a dog then?" The Hound said nothing, but he did take pause before putting his armor on. "Then I shall name you myself. You look like a Fido." Elyria teased him dangerously.
"Shut your whore mouth, woman." He snarled. Elyria frowned, but this time it wasn't playfully. She was hurt, which she hated to admit and would never tell him. "I come to whore houses to fuck something, not to make a fucking friend and if you can't fuck me then I'd say that makes you useless, doesn't it?" The Hound quietly put his armor over his head, latching it, before turning to the door and yanking it open. He threw one more deadly look over his shoulder at her before stalking out, slamming the door behind him. Elyria flinched and several seconds later her door reopened, Petyr Baelish entering her chambers.
"My Lord," she said curtly, sitting up straighter. She said nothing to him, as she'd just chased out a customer and she didn't want to incur anymore of the Vale man's wrath than she no pointedly already did. Petyr seemed to inspect her from afar before joining her at her bedside.
"I saw him leave so angrily, I was worried he'd hurt you." Littlefinger told her, as he feigned sympathy. His words shocked Elyria, she expected to be reprimanded. While Elyria would ever be thankful for what he'd done for her, she wished he wouldn't be so fake. She was his wares and if she were to come up injured he'd be out of pocket. That is why Petyr Baelish was in her chambers. "that Hound, always so menacing. Thinks because he's the-"
"You know him?" Elyria asked Littlefinger, interrupting him. Petyr gave her a queer look at how greedily she'd asked him. "And he has a name other than Hound?"
"Why are you so curious?" Petyr said finally, finding himself deeply interested. Elyria shrugged.
"He comes in here so often. Won't tell me his name other than The Hound. I told him I was on my cycle and he was displeased. Did he take another?"
"No." Baelish told her bluntly. Elyria hummed to herself, amused.
"Thank you for checking on me, Ser, but I am fine." She dismissed him, picking up her book. Petyr nodded before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind him. Elyria couldn't read though, she was too wound. He hadn't taken another whore for the night. Somewhere inside of her, deep inside of her, she felt a butterfly or two. She squashed them quickly as she took sip of wine.
Sandor Clegane was angry and his body showed it. The people he saw in the street parted quickly, not wanting to be in the man's way for fear of his wrath. The Hound growled as he reached another pleasure house, this one of less notoriety than that of Baelish. But he didn't care.
I don't go to a whore house to play the question game. He scowled, hand on the heavy oak door. Sandor paused though, staring at his gloved hand. His eyes started down the street, back towards Littlefinger's house of pleasure.
"I go to whore houses to get my prick licked, not to make fucking friends." He swore, shoving the door open. A distinct stench hit him as he entered the establishment, the smell of sex and drink. The smell used to excite him but he was still irritated about that damn Dornish woman.
He noticed this house was lessened of light and not as vibrant as Littlefinger's halls. Then he realized why. The women here were not nearly as nice as those in Baelish's employ, most of them looking as if they'd been through one too many men. Sandor scanned the grouping of women, none of them seeming to catch his interest.
Too fat, too skinny. He huffed as he browsed. Just as none of them caught his eye, he noticed they all stared at him in disgust. His face was an acquired taste, that much he knew, but Elyria didn't seem to mind when he entered her establishment. Fuck blondes. Too pale. He gruffed, turning away a southern born woman.
"Ah fuck me." He groaned, turning on his heel, right into another hard body.
"Clegane, here for some cooze?" A hearty voice laughed. The Hound scowled as he found himself face to face with a jack ass; Boros Blount and his slimey friend Osmund Kettleblack.
"Aye, Dog, the master let you off your leash for the evening?" Kettleblack goaded, snickering as he did. The man, already drunk, took a swig from his ale, hurting into another fit of giggles.
"You'd do well to hold your tongue, Ser. The more it flaps the more I want to rip it out!" Sandor snarled, grabbing the man's tongue and yanking on it, pulling him forward. The Hound released his prey with a viciousness, all of his pent up aggression finding its way into Kettleblack's miserable tongue. The Ser grabbed at his mouth, swinging wildly at The Bound's face with his other fist. He missed, giving Sandor time to grab his wrist and run it up behind his back.
"Oi! Clegane! Please him at once!" Blount shouted, earning an equally vicious scowl from the Hound. Sandor let go of Kettleblack's arm, just shy of breaking it, and shoved him into his counterpart with a growl.
"You're not worth the effort, scum." Sandor told them menacingly, stepping around them and out the brothel door.
He found his way back to the red keep not long after his spat, where he raided the kitchen for any and all wine he could carry. With a sigh he fell down onto his cot, growling as he hit the hard mattress. Taking a swig of his wine he glared up at his ceiling.
"That damned whore." He muttered, taking another drink. "And her damn questions. With that fucking smirk." That lascivious fucking smirk and her deep brown eyes. His mind was cloudy now, the wine hitting him surprisingly hard. He frowned in his drunken state, he'd yelled at her for asking a question as simple as his name. He didn't rightfully want to give it to her, but it had been a painless question none the less. "Fucking woman." Sandor stewed until the early morning, drinking and swearing. He passed out in his armor, bottle of wine still clutched against his metal chest.
Stay Beautiful!