There's a nice lil easter egg hidden in here somewhere ;)

Elyria had come from Dorne, where she lived in Sunspear. As a bastard of the area, she was given the name Sand and when her over bearing family grew too overbearing, she made a deal with Petyr Baelish: Safe passage from Dorne for "employment." They had negotiated several terms with her working in the whore house. Petyr Baelish would get a Dornish beauty and she would get to pick and choose her clientele as well as leave the brothel whenever she wanted. She couldn't run, there was nowhere to go. Therefore her day started early today. She was headed to the market, where she planned to buy more books. Secretly she hoped she could find some from her homeland, but then she scowled at the idea.

Fuck them. She told herself as she stepped into the courtyard outside of Littlefinger's brothel. It was strange being outside of the sex house, she didn't have to wear any face but her own. She didn't have to watch her tongue, or put up with the shit of others. Her time in the market had gone long before she wanted it too, but it was getting dark and with all of her purchases today she needed to take a client tonight.

The brothel was bustling as she entered, her whore sisters already at work making money. Elyria weaved through the warm bodies, clutching her books to her chest as she made her way through the common room. The Dornish girl nodded as she passed Ros, the newest whore who came from up north.

"Oh! Elyria!" she called to her. Elyria stopped, turning to look at her quietly. "There's a man waiting for you," the redhead told her, nodding her head towards Elyria's closed bedroom door. "I told him you were out but he said he'd wait. Big, burley bloke, half a face?" Ros gestured to the right half of her face and Elyria froze.

"What?" the Dorne woman sputtered, coughing as she choked on her words.

"I can send him away?" Ros worried. Elyria shook her head, smiling at the girl.

"No, no," she recovered. Elyria was surprised to see him back, the last time they talked it did not end on good terms. That was at least two weeks ago. "I will take him." Elyria paused thoughtfully. "I need wine." She said, her face paling again. Ros nodded, putting a sisterly hand on her shoulder.

"Say no more, I will bring some." Elyria nodded, her stomach grumbling. "and I will bring up dinner."

"Enough for two?"

"Going on a date, are we?" Ros teased. Elyria smirked at the woman, turning back to her door.

"My mother always said the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." She called over her shoulder.

"Yeah, if your cooking for him!" the pair shared a cackle as Elyria entered her room. It was just as she suspected, in the corner by one of her vases, stood The Hound. He turned as she came in, eyeing her up and down suspiciously. Elyria paid him no mind, instead crossing to her vanity and putting down her books.

"More fucking romance novels." He grumbled under his breath. He watched her quietly, in all her full dressed glory. He'd never thought a whore to look good in clothes, he hated admitting, not until he met her. Elyria turned to look at him, finding that he was busy watching her hands, which sat calmly on her new stack of books.

"Just one." She cooed, tapping the stack with her fingers. That seemed to break him of his trance and his eyes snapped to her face. Elyria forced a smile at him, reaching up to take down her hair.

"Aye, leave it. Been waiting long enough for you to get back from your errands." The Hound growled. While he had been waiting for a while, he found he did like her hair the way it was. She didn't style it like a woman of southern heritage today. Elyria's hand immediately dropped from her hair and a knock rapt at her door. She crossed to it, to find Ros carrying a tray and another girl with two jars of wine.

"Thank you ladies." Elyria smiled at them, gesturing for them to set down the things on a nearby table. The Hound watched them quietly, his eyes lingering on the covered plates. Elyria crossed to the table, removing the covers and setting them down. "Come, sit." The girl said quietly, taking a seat at the table.

"What is this, woman?" the Hound growled, standing straighter. He didn't come here for dinner. He came to fuck. "I ain't paying you extra for a fucking meal." To his surprise she sighed, exasperated.

"I'm hungry, Hound." Elyria snapped at him. She was growing tired of his offensive attitude. "I've been out all day and I need food. I was taught it's rude to eat in front of others so I sent for you a plate. The wine is for getting over whatever fucking weird wall that has somehow sprung up between us." She said plainly, cutting into the chicken breast on her plate. "It's dinner, not a marriage proposal." The Hound said nothing as he stared at the girl in disbelief. She had balls, that much he had to admit, no whore would dare talk to a client like that.

Reluctantly, he took a seat across the table from her, taking a swig out of the glass of wine she poured before cutting into his food. Elyria smiled at him through a bite, quickly averting her eyes as he looked up at her. The Hound had never been much for table manners, but he used them here, begrudgingly so, as it felt necessary, another thing he hated about this damn whore. But if he hated it, why did he keep coming back?

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being their cutlery on the plates. The food was good, he had to admit it, but then what did he expect from Petyr Baelish. The man was a snake but he liked the finer things in life, what surprised him was how he allowed his whores the same fineries. Sandor dared to look up at her, he supposed she wasn't a typical whore.

His belly full, Sandor sat back in his chair, watching Elyria through narrowed eyes. She didn't eat nearly as much as he but he didn't care. He was hungry and she was tiny. But then she began to wrap her food up quietly placing it in the linen napkins that came with her meal. She stopped when she saw him watching her, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"We're allowed one meal a day." She whispered, standing to take her bundled napkin to her vanity. He grunted in reply, watching her walk. So that's how Littlefinger afforded his whores a meal, the cheap jack ass.

"You still want to know my name, girl?" He gruffed, much to Elyria's surprise. She turned to him with wide eyes, her expression making Sandor want to kick himself. Why did he open his big mouth? "Wipe that look off your face before I change my mind."

"I apologize, this is just rather unexpected." She resisted regurgitating his words about 'fucking and not making friends' at him. She never expected him to open up her at all and now that she was getting somewhere she'd e damned if she ruined it. The Hound growled, his eyes flickering back to her vanity where she placed her meal. It bothered him, though he didn't know why, even at the castle he got three meals a day.

"Sandor." He told her finally, looking up at her face. "Not Not Ser, not Dog." He debated on adding The Hound to his list but stopped. If she didn't want to call him by his name then that was her fucking problem not his. "Not Fido."

"Sandor," she said quietly as she returned to the table, stacking their plates quietly. He waited, in a surprising amount of suspense, for her to say anything more. "Much better than Fido." She teased, a smirk growing on her face. There it was, her jabs again. "Sand." She gestured to herself.

"Clegane." He told her, eyeing her quietly. "You're a bastard." Sandor stated bluntly. Elyria shrugged, sitting across from him again. Sand. He knew that name as something more than a bastard's title. His mind immediately flew to the damned Sand Snakes of the Martell House. But she was tiny, dainty, there wasn't an assassin hiding under her clothes. He took a sip of wine as he studied her small frame. No, he knew what was under her clothes.

"I suppose that's what that means." She mused to herself, picking up her fork and quietly playing with it. Surprisingly, she didn't take the term bastard as the insult that most people did. She received an education, she was loved by her father and his paramour. She was also certain that non of her father's children were legitimate anyways. Her dark eyes flickered up to him and he sat straighter, which delighted her.

"That why you're here, girl? Daddy didn't want to keep his bastard around?" he knew that wasn't true, the Dornish were a strange people. They took paramours and their bastard's were thought of as their own flesh and blood, not something to be ashamed of. He didn't know why he said what he did, but he assumed it had something to do with how well they were getting along. It felt wrong and foreign. She pegged him correctly when she said he was not a fan of intimacy.

"No," She laughed a light and bubbly sound. "My father was quite fond of me." She continued to play with her fork, tapping it lightly on the wooden table. It was a nervous tick. They were getting to close to her past, and thought she was fairly certain he'd never ask her enough questions to get there, Elyria was still wary. Sandor reached over, taking the fork from her and tossing it on to the tray. After the fork was finished with, he took a deep swig of wine.

"Wicked step mother then?" He teased. Teased. The Hound felt a growl grow in his throat. This damn woman.

"Reading another one of your story books?" Elyria gruffed, mimicking him as best she could.

"Fuck off." Sandor scowled, though he couldn't help but give a snort. The wine was setting in by now and he was feeling much less tense. She chuckled at him, throwing her head back as she looked at the ceiling.

"No, no wicked step mother." Elyria sighed, stretching as she did. "I just needed a change of scenery." She told him almost honestly. Elyria bit her lip as she watched him watching her. She could tell his mind was trying to work, though it was clouded with drink. He was trying to figure out her secret, but he couldn't through the fog.

"So you became a whore." He scowled.

"Well, I have always liked sex, my dear Sandor." She whispered, her foreign accent causing him shivers. Sandor felt his prick growing under his armor as she slunk over to him. Elyria pouted playfully, tapping at his breastplate again.

"Oh fuck off." He growled, reaching for the clasps. Elyria watched as he discarded his armor, losing her dress in the process. She pushed Sandor on to the bed, crawling on top of him quietly.

"Someone missed me." She purred, grabbing him lightly, pumping him with her hands. He gave a groan and growled, taking her hips and flipping her over.

Sandor woke later that night to a dimly lit room and, no surprise, Elyria reading another book. Blinking his eyes a few times, he let the room fade into view, he propped himself up on his pillow.

"Are you reading?" he growled, his words slurred with sleep and drink. Elyria hummed in response, marking her page with her finger before closing it. She smiled at him sweetly, causing him to scowl as he checked out the front cover. It was Dornish. But of course.

"It's a rather harrowing tale. Filled with knight's and swordfights, a dashing pair of brothers…" Elyria told him happily, seeing the disinterest growing in his eyes. "Quite a few people actually die." She whispered to him feverishly. She swore she saw a hint of interest sparkle in his eyes but as soon as it came it was gone.

"Fuck your storybooks." He growled, rolling back over. He'd paid for a full night and he'd be damned if he left early because she wanted to read.

"It's a very popular opera you know."

"I've never fucking heard of it." He shot back, eyes closed.

"The final ballad, when the eldest brother sacrifices his younger sibling to bring their mother back, is used as a lullaby I believe." Elyria smirked at him, the book settled in her lap.

"If you start singing it, I'm fucking leaving." The Hound growled, his body tensing. Elyria didn't care, she knew he wasn't going anywhere after paying the gold he paid.

"How can I repay you brother mine? How can I expect you to forgive? Clinging to the past I she'd our blood and stole your chance to live…" She smirked at him as he rolled over and looked at her in angry disbelief. She continued to sing, however, paying him no mind. Sandor didn't get up though, instead he listened. He found that he did remember this song, his mother would sing it to him when he was younger, before her death.

"Beautiful mother, soft and sweet, although you were gone, I was not complete. Back through the years we reached for you, alas, 'twas not meant to be." Elyria belted. Her voice wasn't very good but she didn't care. The song reminded her of home, before things got complicated. Before her childhood was stolen from her. Once she'd finished, she gave him a satisfied smirk. He growled at her.

"You can't sing for shit, songbird." He barked a laugh, the first real laugh that Elyria had ever heard from him. Elyria smiled at the man next to her putting her book on the nightstand before straddling his hips. She ran a single finger down his chest and then back up, running her hand on his shoulder, before leaning down and whispering into his ear.

"Good thing I'm a whore then, aye?" she chuckled.

"Aye." Sandor agreed, grabbing her hips in his giant hands. He held her there, not moving, not speaking, as his eyes wandered unashamedly over her body. She excited him, that was certain, and he wished that was the only reason he kept coming back to her, but it wasn't. He'd never had a woman talk to him the way that she did, poking fun at him and all around not giving a fuck what he thought about her at all.

Elyria watched him drink her naked body in, completely unabashed, not even trying to hide his wandering eyes. He held her hips firmly, but gently in his calloused hands, running his thumb gently along her hip bone. She wasn't sure what came over her in that moment, but her hand reached out to his forehead, brushing away a stray strand of his stringy, dark hair. He flinched under her touch but said nothing, and she bit her lip as she smiled at him through her lashes.

It was too much for Sandor, too close, and his grip tightened on her hips. He wasn't ready for that intimacy, wouldn't accept it, and he had to put something between her and himself. With only his hands, he lifted her, bringing her down hard on his cock, filling her. She moaned, and with the moan, their moment was lost, which relieved him immensely.

Stay Beautiful!