Welcome back lovely readers :)

It had been two weeks since the incident with Jofferey and Elyria and the other whore whose name was inconsequential. As far as Sandor knew Elyria had returned to her normal routine. She stayed in the castle a week while she was recuperating, unbeknownst to the queen or the king. Sandor stopped by once, the next day, before she woke up, but was quickly ushered out and was told that he was not allowed to visit. He'd usually tell them to fuck off and do as he pleases, but then he remembered how viciously the King had her beaten. He didn't want him to finish the job.

The Hound hadn't had a day off since the incident occurred. They were on the brink of war with Stannis Baratheon, and several days after the beating, the King's entourage had been attacked while seeing princess Myrcella off to Dorne. That was an awful day as he had to save the ninny King when all he wanted to do was let him rot. But he had saved the young Stark girl as well, which he supposed was alright. Sandor was certain that Elyria would have been proud of him.

The Dornish girl did nothing but live in his thoughts and as he made his way to Littlefinger's brothel, a strange feeling crept over him. Fuck all, he was nervous. The pleasure house was not so crowded, for which he was thankful, and he scanned the crowd of women for any sign of her. She wasn't there, but the redhead whore from that night, Ros, approached him cautiously.

"She's in her room, Ser." The girl told him quietly.

"I'm not Ser." The Hound told her, brushing past her and to Elyria's door. The red head stopped him.

"She's not seeing anyone." Ros told him, to which he growled at her.

"She will see me." The redhead nodded, opening the door quietly and peeking her head in. After a moment she came back out, frowning at Sandor quietly.

"She's asleep."

"I'll wait quietly." Sandor scowled, stepping into Elyria's room without another word. In all of his weeks of coming here, he had never seen the woman sleep. She was always up before him in the morning and he was always the first to sleep at night, so to see her fast asleep on her bed was a new sight.

The girl's room was slightly lessened of light. Several meals sat untouched where the girls had left them for Elyria and the flowers she had in her vases were all dead. Despite the fact that she was sleeping, she still looked tired, and Sandor had to watch for her breathing to be sure she was really alive. As quietly as his big body allowed, he took a seat at her vanity, elbows on his knees.

"Hound…?" A soft voice came, Elyria's voice, and the girl stirred under her sheets. Elyria thought she was seeing things but even after her eyes adjusted he still sat there.

"Hello, songbird."

"I'm not a songbird." She tutted weakly, one finger up as she shook it at him. "You said I couldn't sing for shit."

"Aye… you can't." The Hound joked with her. Elyria sat up slowly, brushing her hair from her face. It was unkempt and unruly but that was not what caught his attention. There on her cheek sat a jagged pink scar. The sutures had been removed, but the scar still remained, a reminder of her grim evening at the Red Keep.

"Will you hand me my hairbrush? I'd like to brush my hair…" Elyria trailed off, turning her face so he couldn't see her marred cheek. Elyria knew her face was ugly, she'd been told by quite a few John's that it was undesirable.

"I don't give a fuck what your hair looks like." Sandor told her impatiently. Elyria's hands dropped solemnly to her lap. Elyria went silent, staring at one of vases. She wasn't angry with him, simply disappointed.

"Shouldn't you be with your King?" She spat the word.

"Fuck him. And Fuck his crown. The little bastard doesn't deserve it." His answer made Elyria feel slightly better, but not by much.

"So. Should we just start where we left off then? I'll just let you in my bed and forget about that night? Or would you like a sack to put over my face before we begin?" Elyria chided him. Sandor growled, standing as he did.

"I didn't come here to pay my way into your sheets, Elyria. Nor did I come here to be yelled at. I don't give a fuck what your face looks like either, so don't go reading into that bullshit like the woman you are." He'd never used Elyria's name in a sentence before. Songbird, yes. Girl, even, but never her name. Elyria was beginning to think he'd forgotten it entirely.

"Why did you leave that night? I know you heard me screaming." Elyria asked him, her voice breaking. Sandor breathed deeply as he attempted to ignore the way she looked at him so disappointed.

"And what would you have had me do? Kill him? Beat him until he let the whore stop? Your memory may be hazy so let me remind you, Songbird; he is the fucking King. He would have had all of our heads on a spike had I barged into that room." Sandor growled, standing. Though he knew his words to be true, he still felt cowardly. "I ran to get the imp, he was the only way to stop the little shit." Elyria didn't say a word to him, still looking at her vase in defiance.

"You lied to me." Elyria whispered. She gave up on arguing her rescue. She knew he was right, it was a moot point. He did the only thing he could do which was to get help from someone in charge. Someone the King couldn't outright murder.

"What?" Sandor asked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. He did what? The Dornish woman looked at him fiercely, so fiercely in fact that he was certain that she could send him up in flames with a single look.

"You lied to me about being a knight! You and your King's Guard cloak! I bet that was quite the laugh you had at my expense!" Elyria yelled at him full tilt. Sandor sneered at her, gripping his chair with his giant hand so hard his knuckles hurt. "Is your name even Sandor or should I go back to calling you Fido-?"

"ENOUGH WOMAN." Sandor roared, tossing the chair to the ground. It broke as it made contact with the stone floor and Elyria jumped in her bed, clutching her blankets to her chest. "I am not a liar. I never once told you lies." He spat her, his blood hot. Elyria's heart was going a mile a minute and she found that she was terrified of the man in front of her. "But would it even matter? You're a whore! I could tell you I'm he King of the bloody Andals and it shouldn't matter! I pay you to take my prick and you deserve nothing more than what I tell you!" The words came before he could even stop them, but he wished he had. The way she looked at him was enough to break even his stone heart. Elyria clutched her sheets to herself, knees pulled to her chest , eyes wide with fear, it almost seemed like she was afraid he would pounce on her and he was reminded just how tiny she was, even if she had the mouth of a giant. Sandor may have been a shitty person, he'd never hurt someone who didn't deserve it, but Elyria didn't know that. "A Hound will die for you, but he will never lie to you." Sandor finished quietly, regurgitating his family words as he fumbled desperately for something to say.

"Leave." Elyria spoke quietly, her voice barely a whisper. She was beyond hurt, and tears threatened her eyes. Sandor inhaled deeply, reigning his anger in a little to late.

"Songbird-"

"I am not your fucking Songbird, Dog!" Elyria spat at him. "Leave it to silly Elyria, the Dornish cunt, to believe that anyone could have feelings for a whore! And mark her even more dumb to reciprocate those empty feelings!" The Hound was struck dumb as the woman he'd come to know as strong, crumbled before him. Had she just told him that she had feelings for him…? "I do not wish to see you right now, so LEAVE!" Elyria shouted at the top of her lungs. Her throat was sore and her voice echoed off the stone walls around them. She was vulnerable and had just bared all of her emotions for him to see.

Sandor scowled, more to himself than her, as he stood in her chambers dumbly. His eyes found her face, once again tracing the fresh, pink wound that was her left cheek. She noticed, looking away from him so he could no longer see her scar. With a heavy heart, the Hound turned, stomping towards the door, he wasn't angry at her, quite the contrary, he was angry at himself. He regretted speaking to her like that because now he was finding that he didn't believe his words to be true. She wasn't a whore to him anymore, she wasn't some Dornish woman he'd fucked. She was more than that now.

"I-" Sandor froze, his hand on the door knob as he looked back at her. She watched him expectantly, but apologies were never his strong suit. The Hound growled, throwing open the door and slamming it just as violently. He knew that she was crying, he knew the she was upset. And, fuck all, the way he cared.

Stay Beautiful!