The house Sandor had purchased was small, only one room. It had a bedframe built for two people, a fireplace, and a few half-melted candles smashed against the mantle. He bought the mattress and the sheets separately. He also bought a small dresser, and shoddy little table with two chairs.
"You live trapped in boxes? Why?" Sansa asked when he showed her the home.
"It's small, but we have to live off of only this gold for a while, so I was trying to be frugal." He growled. "And what in the seven hells do you think we do when it rains? Don't you remember how miserable I was when a storm came through on that little island? I imagine it never bothered you fishfolk much in the sea. It's not safe to be out in the open, anyhow, not for anyone."
And so she learned to live in her box. She liked to keep the door open during the day, which was fine with Sandor. She tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep in a bed, until finally he grabbed her and held her still until she slept.
She also loved her dresses. She would spin around and around in them, feeling the fabrics against her legs, until she grew dizzy and fell. Once she tried that outside of their home, and attracted every little girl on the street to join her. Soon there was a group of about twenty girls, Sansa in the center, spinning in circles until they grew dizzy.
All of the children of the street loved her after that. She acted like them sometimes, although she claimed to be nine and ten to others. Other times he was forced to remember that she had lived countless years, and that she was older than he was, although he did not know her exact age.
She loved human food, especially sweets. She would guilt him into buying them for her sometimes. She would go on about all the things she had sacrificed for him, and that he could spare just a little of the money, "which is really my money, if you think about it," to let her buy some food.
One morning, he awoke to her screams. He rolled over towards her and held her still, assuming she was just having another nightmare.
"Oh, oh no, I'm injured!" She held up her hands, which were covered in blood. "I don't know how it happened! I'm injured!"
He pulled back the blankets to see a spot of blood where she had been laying, and then stained through her nightshift between her legs.
"I suppose your fishfolk have no moonblood, then?" He asked, and she shook her head.
"Well, you've had your first moonblood at nine and ten, then." He shook his head. "I doubt this is your true flowering. You probably had that while you were half fish, although I'm sure it was different. The blood means you can bear children. Every woman has this. It begins when they are barely women. That's all I know."
"Every woman?" She sobbed. "What have I traded my kingdom for?"
"Legs and a cunt and an ugly old man at your side." He laughed. "What you wanted, remember?"
He knew no more about women and their moonblood, or what they did to manage it, so he went into town and hired a handmaid to attend her during those times.
The handmaid was an freckled woman with straw-colored hair named Esa. She helped Sansa bathe and dress, and cleaned the blood from the sheets herself afterwards. Sansa cried the whole time until she gave herself the hiccups.
"Poor dear." Esa had said, patting Sansa's hair like a child after she had fallen asleep on the uncovered bed. "So old to be havin' her first moonblood."
"She hit her head some time ago." Sandor tried to explain. "She only remembers a few things. Probably doesn't even remember her own mother's face. It's not really her first moonblood."
Esa turned her look of pity on Sandor. "I suppose it's good of you to be stayin' with her, seein' how she is now."
"She stayed with me through this," He gestured to his face. "It wouldn't be fair to leave her over a bump on the head."
That earned him the first smile he had received from someone besides Sansa since they arrived at Braavos.
It took some time, but eventually she got used to her body. She learned how to move her long legs and not fall over, and how to maintain her moonblood by herself (although she would not allow him to get rid of Esa), and dress herself.
One afternoon, he had nothing to do, so he decided to sleep. It wasn't an unusual decision. She spent most of her afternoons with the children on the street or chatting with their mothers, and Sandor would sleep. After so long on that island, he found a new appreciation for a dry bed that had no sand.
He was almost asleep when he heard her come in. She shut the door noisily and flung herself into the bed beside him, accidentally knocking his head with her elbow.
"What are you doing in bed? The sun is still out." She said, turning to grin at him.
"I have nothing else to do but sleep."
She turned her eyes away, suddenly shy. "You could kiss me. It's been so long since you've kissed me. Why?"
"I wanted to let you get used to yourself first." That was true, but he was also apprehensive of what else had changed about her.
"I'm used to it." She wiggled forward on the bed. "Kiss me." So he did. It was no different from kissing her before, only she was dry his time and only her mouth was wet. There was less salt to the taste of her tongue, but it was just as pleasant.
"Touch me, like I touched you before." She pulled her skirt up a bit. "What did you call this? A cunt? It feels nice to touch. Besides, I touched your cunt plenty of times."
Sandor laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. "I don't have a cunt, stupid fish, and you shouldn't call it that."
"Why not?" She asked. "You did."
"It's not a good word. It will seem strange to see a pretty lady use such filthy language."
"What do you call yours, then?"
"A cock." He shrugged. "I suppose proper ladies might call it something different. A manhood, maybe."
"I don't care what it's called, just touch me there." She pushed his hand under her skirts, so he did. She had to guide him a few times, but eventually he had her blushing and breathing heavy.
He pulled her dress off of her, and her smallclothes too. When he went to push a finger inside of her, he noticed that she had no maidenhead. A whole kingdom might buy her a pair of legs and a sack of gold, but it won't buy her a maidenhead? He almost laughed at that, but it didn't matter anyway.
"I'm going to take you." He told her when she gave him a confused look. He began pulling off his breeches as he explained. "It might hurt a little, I'm not sure. You've no maidenhead so I can't tell. I'll be slow."
"Will it feel nice?" She asked, brushing her hair from her face. "As nice as your hands?"
He nodded and kept his promise, pushing into her slow. It didn't seem to hurt her, so he sat up and thrust into her at an even pace. She groaned, tossing her head to the side as he pushed in and out of her.
"This is… so strange." She sighed, her hands finding his arms where he held her legs steady.
He watched as she wormed her hand down between her legs to rub herself, and after a moment she grabbed up one of his hands and put it where hers had been. "You do it." She relaxed beneath him and closed her eyes.
He meant to laugh but it came out a grunt instead. He rubbed her like she showed him, pushing into her with a bit more force each time until her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she shuddered.
He released inside of her with a long exhale, and lay beside her afterwards.
"That was so strange. What was that?"
"I fucked you. There's another filthy word for you to learn."
"But what was it?"
He sighed. "I don't know what else you'd call it. Only if you're not careful, you'll birth some screaming babe within a year. Ask your handmaid to make you some moon tea, or some such thing."
She tucked herself into the curve of his arm with her head on his shoulder. "It was nice. I liked it."
"Good. Can I sleep in peace now?" He grumbled, but she only laughed and pinched him.
Sandor awoke one night to find that Sansa was not in bed with him. It was not like her to wander off in the middle of the night. He sat up and found that she had not left at all. She had only wandered over to the small window they had, the only window of their house. She had opened the shutters and was leaning out.
He climbed out of the bed and went over to her, only to notice her heaving shoulders. He peeked over her head to notice that she was staring out over all of the houses and buildings of Braavos, out to the sea.
"I was made for the sea." She whispered to him, pressing her back to his chest. "Saltwater runs through my veins. The sea is my lifeblood. I don't know who I am anymore."
"You're still Sansa." He pulled her gently from the window and sat himself down on the bed, pulling her into his lap like they used to do on the island. "Do you regret giving your kingdom up?"
"I never gave my kingdom up. My kingdom was taken from me, and it was taken long before I went to the witch." Her tears soaked through the front of his tunic. "I traded what I no longer had for these legs. I only wish I hadn't lost it in the first place. If that were so, perhaps you would've been the one visiting the witch. We could've been like the Lady and her merman."
"Perhaps. But now you'll have to find a new song to content yourself with."
But Sansa never forgot the songs of the sea. She never forgot the language of the sea, either.
One day he found her surrounded by at least fifty children from the street, most of them filthy and covered in lice. She was singing one of her old songs to them, like she used to do for him on the island. All of them were sitting down around her, and some of the smaller ones even slept. She held one small girl in her own arms.
Soon he found himself drawn to watch her with them when he could. Another evening he caught her telling them a story, their story. Sansa told them how she had been a mermaid of the sea, a princess, and how she had to escape evil mermen who only wanted her claim. She told them how she rescued him, and how she fell in love with him, and gave up her kingdom in the sea for a pair of legs so that they could be together.
The children believed her, too. They called her Lady Sansa or Princess Sansa from that time on, but the townsfolk only believed her a gifted storyteller. She was very clever, and Sandor admired that about her.
They had been in Braavos for a year, and Sandor had found them another house to stay at near their old one. This one had another smaller room that Sansa insisted that they give to Esa. She refused to give up her handmaid, so Sandor did not argue.
"I'm with child." Sansa announced one afternoon as Esa helped her dress. She said it in the same manner that she might say that it were raining outside.
Sandor looked up at her. His jaw clenched. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I've always wanted a child, and it's managed to stop this horrible moon's blood. Anyhow, I won't have the baby for a year, so we'll be fine."
Esa exchanged a look with him. "Might I have a word with my wife alone?" And the handmaid quickly dashed outside, closing the door behind her.
"How long do you think you've been with child?" He asked.
"Oh, well, Esa thought me about the moon turning. I have my moon's blood at each turn of the moon, and I've not had it for two of the moons already."
"If you've had a babe for two moons already, then you'll have the babe in only seven more moons, not a year."
Sansa looked shocked. "So soon? How?"
"I'm no bloody maester, don't ask me. That's just how it is." He rasped. "I told you to drink the damned moon tea."
"I did, for a long time." She grimaced. "Only, I didn't like the taste, and I… I spend time with the children on the street, and I want one for my own so very much."
"Why didn't you talk to me first?"
"I didn't think about it. Are you angry?"
"Does it matter if I am?" He laughed bitterly.
"No, it doesn't." She crossed her arms. "If you don't want it, then I will take my gold and you can find somewhere else to go. Esa and I will live here with the child."
He laughed in her face. "You think that after spending years on an island with you, and swimming out into the buggering ocean to fight for you, and everything else we've been through, that I would leave you now?"
"I was only teasing." She smiled and kissed him.
Time passed and soon Sansa was heavy with child. She hated every moment of it and complained constantly. She said that it was different with mermaids. Her back ached and her feet would swell and her breasts became tender. In that time she became furious if he even touched her hair.
And then Sansa woke one night, groaning in pain and clutching her stomach. Not long later, water splashed out from between her thighs and Esa was ready to help her lady have her child.
It took all day, and the entire time Sansa was chanting about how she did not want a daughter if this is what a woman's life was like, but the Gods did not listen and she birthed a daughter instead. She was a little thing, red and screaming, and when Esa handed the girl to Sansa, she burst into tears.
"Quiet that wailing and name our daughter." Sandor said, leaning over to look at the child himself.
"You don't have anything you'd like to name her?" Sansa sniffed, raising her arm awkwardly to wipe her nose on her elbow while still holding the child.
"I'm no good with names." He said. "Call me when someone's trying to steal her, and I'll run them through. Otherwise, I'm useless. I'm sure you've thought of a thousand names."
Sansa brushed her fingers along the babe's soft face. "Dagny."
Dagny was tall for a child, but her long legs belonged to her mother, not her father. She was a sweet girl, but stubborn and strong-willed. She was as much Sandor's blood as Sansa's, and it pleased him to see that.
She enjoyed being pretty, much like her mother. Her hair was black as ink, but Sansa would brush it out and braid it herself. Dagny would then dress as nicely as she was able, and go out to play with the children on the street. If anyone messed up her hair or got mud on her dress, she would punch them in the eye or bite their hand.
Sansa waited a long time to have more children. Dagny was such a handful, so no one could blame her. The girl was six years old before Sansa stopped drinking moon tea again. The next child had been a boy, named Calder.
Sandor often thought about returning to Westeros. He had heard of his brother's death, and wondered if he would be allowed to return to Clegane Keep if he did return. His concern was only to give his children a good place to live, a maester to teach them, perhaps a septa to tame Dagny, and something for them to have when he was gone.
When he spoke with Sansa about it, she only asked him to wait until Calder was two years old before making his decision. She said she would follow him, if that's what he chose. Still, he worried what people might say or do if the Hound returned with a wife and children behind him. He was never well liked, and he doubted that would change.
"I dream of the sea, sometimes." Sansa whispered to him one night in bed, with their daughter sleeping between them.
"Do you often miss your home, even after all this time?" He asked.
She brushed a strand of hair from Dagny's face. "I miss what used to be my home, but I do not regret what my home is now. My home is you, and our girl, and our little boy. I love you and our children more than I love the sea."