Another thank you for the reviews, favourites, alerts and everything else. I was actually surprised that I managed to finish this chapter so quickly, but I just got so into it I just couldn't stop! I am getting better from my horrible bout of flu. I can now stand up and move around, which is of a great relief! But anyway, this chapter holds the first encounter between Sandor and Tarynn! So please review and favourite like you have been doing!

*Just a serious bit; in this chapter there are implications of a sexual nature, I thought I would just pre-warn you as I don't feel that this warrants the rating being turned up. It is rated T after all.*

Thanks!

Slightynerdy.

Wolves and Hounds.

Chapter 5.

As they neared the Great Hall, rambunctious laughing could be heard, the clanking of tankards, the call for more ale, wine, food, even women. She clasped onto Maester Luwin's arm tightly, and he gave her arm a reassuring pat. She had always hated walking into a room filled with people, she felt like their eyes were constantly on her. Sansa was the one who thrived on attention.

When they reached one of the doors that led into the hall, Tarynn could see all of the King's men and Winterfell's sitting together, the animosity and difference between them gone. She entered, Maester Luwin reassuringly at her side. She looked up at the Dais. Lord Eddard Stark was sat in his chair, the ornate wooden one which had the carvings of wolves adorning it. Her mother sat to his left, and there was an empty chair to his right, beside the empty one sat Cersei.

That empty chair must've been for the King, but where…"

She spotted the Royal Highness with his face between the breasts of a serving woman, she felt slightly disgusted with the fact that such a pig had been made a King.

"It seems I must take my place at the dais," She removed her arm from Maester Luwin's own, he gave her a sympathetic look, "I know how you are with crowds. Do not think about it."

She nodded, "Thank you Maester Luwin, you are most kind."

"My girl, it is you who is kind to me."

The Maester entered the hall, leaving her to loiter in the doorway; she could see her place, between Bran and Arya. Her mother had originally wanted her to sit beside Theon, next to Robb, but she had persuaded her mother against it;

"Who else is to watch Arya?"

"You need to allow yourself to be more comfortable in Theon's presence."

"Theon!" Rickon's voice was followed by a splash as he threw himself into the tub.

"Mother not now."

"Fine, you can sit between Bran and Arya, you have to get used to him one day Tarynn."

She thought back on the conversation, realising how wrong her mother had been. She didn't have to get used to Theon for now she was going to be going to King's Landing, and that meant never having to talk to Theon for the rest of her life. If she could help it.

I still have to walk past him though.

She could see him now, his chair further out from the table, blocking her only way to get to her own seat. She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders and went to face her foe. When she reached him, she watched for a couple of seconds him picking a chicken apart with his quick nimble fingers, she coughed and he looked up, she motion with her hand that he should move in so she could pass him. He grinned, and Tarynn felt her cheeks turning red.

Not here Theon, not in front of everyone.

He obviously couldn't read thoughts as he snatched her wrist, the same one which he had bruised earlier and pulled her down. His breath stank of wine and ale, his lips tasted of chicken and she could feel the bile rise up in her throat. She heard the scraping back of chairs, and then a random man shouting something vulgar.

"He's going to get laid tonight!" She heard the shuffle of feet and the man's laughter as he was removed from the hall.

She pulled away and raised her hand, about to slap Theon with all the force she could muster but she could feel her father's eyes, she looked up and saw her little brothers and sisters watching. In fact the whole hall had quietened down considerably.

I mustn't act like a fool. I have to act appropriately. Don't slap him Tarynn, although he does deserve it.

Instead she brought her hand down gently, stroking his cheek which was smooth and devoid of any stubble, she bought her lips to his ear and whispered venomously.

"Don't kiss me again Theon. Don't forget I read a lot of books on anatomy, I know more ways to castrate a man then you know how to fuck a woman."

She squeezed pass him, and smiled hugely as if she was happy with Theon kissing her. Theon himself didn't move and after a few seconds the whole room roared again with laughter and music. She sat down between Arya and Bran.

"You kissed Theon?!" Arya stared at her, her mouth slightly open.

"You must like him to do that." Bran had rolled his eyes, and begun to pick at a bread roll.

She reached for a plum, its skin soft and fleshy, "Shows how much you two know about me," She elbowed Arya, who elbowed her back, laughing. Bran grinned around his bread roll, "Pass me that flagon of wine Arya." She poured herself a glass, something to help with the churning sensation that was in her stomach.

"Try the beef, it's delicious."

"I'll do just that Bran." She took a slice of beef and served herself some carrots and other vegetables, "Sansa could you pass me the gravy."

The 11 year old looked at her with resentment as she passed over the jug that held the gravy. Tarynn soon worked out why, Prince Joffrey sat at the other end of the table, Sansa was giggling with her friend Jeyne over the fact that the prince was giving her attention, and Tarynn had just distracted Sansa from whatever had been going on.

Not all men are what they are appear to be Sansa.

"Would you like some gravy Arya?" The nine year old nodded, and so Tarynn poured a generous amount onto her dish, "Bran?" She held up the jug a little higher.

"No thanks."

She placed the jug back on the table, and began to cut her beef.

"Are you excited about going to King's Landing Tarynn, it's going to be such an adventure! All those knights and Tourneys, perhaps you could write a book. You can call it, 'The Starks and their Journey to King's Landing.'"

Bran leaned forward in his chair so that he could see Arya, "That's a boring name for a book, and too long, it needs to be shorter like 'The Starks and King's Landing.'"

"That's even worse…"

The pair squabbled about book titles, whilst Tarynn looked up. Theon had resumed eating and drinking, well more drinking than eating if she was to be honest. He was constantly knocking back whatever type of alcohol he could reach. Somewhere in the back of the hall a ruckus broke out which snapped her attention from Theon to whatever the fight that had broken out was about.

She watched as two soldiers fought over one of the Kitchen girls, she recognised her as Eve, a slender girl, no more than 16 with mousy brown hair. Her father's voice boomed out across the hall, "Separate them."

Immediately a man got up, he had lank black hair that covered one side of his face more than the other, as if it had been trained to be like that. His broad back was covered in a leather jerkin unlike the rest of the men in the hall who were wearing the best shirts and trousers that they owned. He grabbed one of the men and forcibly pushed him out of the hall; the man stumbled and swore so loudly that she almost covered Bran's ears. The other man who was party to the fight was pulled away by Jory.

So the animosity between North and South hasn't fallen away yet then.

The man with the black hair returned to his seat then, which was at the end of one of the furthest tables. She strained her neck to see who he was sitting with but she could see no-one beside him or in front of him, he held a tankard in his hand and sat ignoring the world. She hadn't seen this man ride into Winterfell this morning.

Perhaps he is just a foot soldier.

She went back to her food, the man and the fight pushed temporarily out of her mind as Arya began to chatter away, "Look there's the Imp, he's so small!"

Tarynn looked up and saw a short dwarf man waddle into the room, he had the same yellow hair as his siblings, a couple of men jeered at him and her eyes flickered between the Imp and the men who had been calling him names. The Imp said nothing, simply went to the one of the tables and sat beside his elder brother Jaime who clapped him on the back.

Tarynn wanted to meet him. They said that he read all night, and was so clever that even some of the Maesters struggled to keep up with his line of thought. She was interested in this short man; he seemed like an exciting character.

"Tarynn do you know how to speak Dothraki?"

"Dothraki Arya? Why no, that's the language of the savages, Maester Luwin says I'll have no need of it since hardly any Dothraki cross the sea. They are scared of anything they cannot conquer with their horses."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?" Tarynn took another sip of wine, the rich taste trickled down her throat warming her insides.

"I was just curious; you speak so many different languages…"

"I only speak three; the common tongue, Free Cities Valyrian and Myrish."

"You seem to have learnt a lot more from when I last came to visit."

Tarynn recognised the voice, she stood, her chair scraping over the wood before she flung herself at the man who had spoken, "Uncle Benjen!"

There were other exclamations and she felt Bran joining the hug that she had inflicted on the elder man who was a member of the Night's Watch. She released him stepping back and taking Bran back with her so that she stood behind him with her hands on her little brother's shoulders. She watched as Robb moved over to greet their uncle as well.

"How have you been Uncle?"

"As well as you can be on the wall Robb, when are you going to visit me?" The older man laughed.

"Never." Eddard Stark clasped his brother's hand in his own. The two brothers moved away, their conversation turning private.

She sat back in her place and speared a potato with her fork, she bought it to her lips and delicately bit into it.

"It's strange seeing Uncle Benjen here," Bran reached for one of the flagons of water that had been laid out on the table for the younger children, "I thought he was supposed to remain at the wall constantly."

"Perhaps he didn't want to leave father all alone with the Southerners," Tarynn watched Arya suspiciously as she loaded up a spoon with bits of food; she squashed it all down with her fingers.

"Maybe Arya… Or maybe he's come looking for recruits."

"Who would ever want to go to the Wall?" Bran's voice was questioning but still dripped with innocence.

"Brave souls… well and criminals."

There was a shout and then a scream of rage, Tarynn glanced up at Sansa who now had food dripping off her pale cheek. Jeyne dabbed at the mess while Sansa shouted at Arya.

"Arya!"

Tarynn knew that an argument was going to break out so she stood and moved over to Sansa, taking over Jeyne's pitiful attempt at trying to wipe the food from Sansa's face. Robb, who had been laughing before, went over to Arya hoisted her up out of her chair before dropping her back down on the floor and pushed her gently out of the hall.

"Bedtime."

Sansa's eyes were filling up, so with a clean piece of fabric Tarynn wiped away the tears that were spilling over her cheeks, "Why does she always have to do this? Why can't she just act a Lady?"

Tarynn had no answer, Arya was enigma. Constantly trying to do her own thing, always wanting to escape the stereotype of how little girls and women were supposed to act. Arya Stark was constantly looking to disobey and make trouble, but that wasn't necessarily a fault, occasionally times called for someone to be a bit more daring, a bit more adventurous. But Arya did it constantly, much to the chagrin of Sansa, to whom most of the trouble was generally directed to.

"She just doesn't understand Sansa…"

"Neither do you," Sansa stood up abruptly, anger and malice at being embarrassed in front of Joffrey in her eyes and voice, "You don't understand! You don't get it!"

"Sansa Stark sit down!" Her mother's voice was raised; the girl lowered herself down back in her chair.

Tarynn shook her head; she had expected an outburst from Arya, not Sansa. She had always been much closer to Sansa. The red haired girl was now slumped sullenly at the table.

I'm sure Joffrey finds you very attractive when you act like such a child.

She looked up at the Dais, silently asking her father permission to quit the Feast, he nodded, before answering a question that Uncle Benjen had put to him. She left the hall, her feet taking her as far away from the noise and mess. The guard opened the door and admitted her into the cool night air. Her cheeks which had been flushed from sitting in the hot hall began to cool as the icy wind stroked her skin. She let out a sigh, just standing there on the stone steps allowing the cold breeze to wash over her. When her heartbeat had slowed and she had regained some sort of composure, she took a step forward and then another. She moved towards the dummies were, stuffed with straw. One of the arms had been hacked off, the straw spilling from the sack like golden brown blood.

A blunt iron sword had been left on the floor in front of it; gingerly she bent down and picked it up. The metal was heavy in her hand as she tried to find a grip that was comfortable and wasn't likely to break her wrist or fingers when she swung the blade. She rose up the sword and brought it back down on the sack man, a small cloud of dust rose from where the blade had struck.

For Theon.

She raised her sword up again and was about to swing it when a voice broke her concentration. "It's all in the wrist." She dropped the blade to the ground, when it hit the stone floor the metal rang, echoing around the deserted yard. Willing his voice to be a figment of her imagination, she turned slowly, her breath caught in her throat. She half wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, to block him out, but of course that wouldn't help her in any way.

He was there, standing in between the gap between two of the posts that supported the wooden roof of this section of the yard. His face loomed, casting shadows as the fire from one of the torches danced across his features, his thin lips stretched into a menacing grin, white teeth bared.

He stepped closer and she stepped back, "I'm not going to hurt you…" His voice was a murmur, "Not unless you make me." She wanted to scream but her mouth would not open, she watched him with wide eyes as he reached out to her. His hand crawled up her arm like a spider, he stepped even closer and she tried to move back but the sack dummy blocked her way. His grin grew impossibly wide.

"Nowhere to run now, no one to help you, why don't you just accept the fact that I'm what you want. That I'm the one who excites you." His mouth began to descend on hers and her thoughts crashed and rolled over the memories of the last time he kissed her. She turned her face to the side, Theon didn't like that response.

He snarled, "I'll have you even if you won't willingly give yourself to me." He moved impossibly close, pushing his entire body against hers. She felt something hard press into her thigh and that was when she began crying. A thin howl could faintly be heard. He wrenched back her head with one hand, and with the other he ripped the front of her dress, exposing her breasts. She pushed him away, clutching her dress together with one hand.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice came out in a half sob half scream, she saw fire in his eyes.

He's going to rape me; Theon's truly going to rape me. I have to… Anything…

She groped around; Theon's mouth was on her neck next, his tongue wet and sloppy against her skin. She could smell wine.

He's drunk.

She clutched her dress tighter and closed her eyes, about to scream even louder when the feeling of Theon kissing her neck disappeared. She opened her eyes, only to see Theon being hauled out of the wooden shelter. She moved closer as whoever had stopped Theon from molesting her, drove a fist into his stomach. Theon doubled over, collapsing on the floor. He groaned in pain.

She was about to move towards him but stopped herself.

He was going to rape me… He was going to force me into…

She clasped her hands over her mouth, bile threatening to swim up her throat. She watched, her hands still over her mouth, as Theon struggled to his feet. He wobbled slightly and his words slurred.

"You're going to pay for that mongrel." He spat at the man who had punched him in the stomach. He was standing in the shadows so she couldn't fully see his face, but his voice…

"I'll just do it again."

It was raspy and deep, scratchy, filled with a thousand voices but combined into just one.

He was obviously not threatened by Theon for when the Ironborn ran towards him with a shout, he just picked him up and threw him over the fence into a trough filled with water. "Sober up."

Theon moaned, lifted his face out of the water and rolled onto his side. She moved to the gate, peering over to see if Theon was too badly hurt. He had just tried to hurt her, to take her maidenhood away, but she didn't want him to drown in a trough. Her mind bounced between getting him Maester Luwin and allowing the servants to find him when the feast ended. The man who had just saved her from Theon's intentions made the decision for her.

"Leave him, he's not going anywhere."

The man turned away then, his heavy footsteps ringing across the empty yard.

"Wait!" She ran after him, still clutching her ripped dress to her body, "I… I want to thank you."

He turned towards her and her breath caught in her throat.

His face…

The left side of his face consisted of twisted flesh, loose skin. Swirls were carved into his face; the bone that was his jaw was slightly exposed. His black hair that hung over this side of his face was just a poor attempt of trying to cover up the scars and burns. She wanted to look away but something compelled her to stare, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Having a good stare are you?" He gave out a short bark of a laugh, his voice filled with contempt and hints of anger. She closed her jaw with an audible snap.

His voice is so… Violent. Who is he?

She stepped forward, closer to him without quite realising. She put on her bravest voice but even then she could hear the cracks in it. She was still shaken over what had happened with Theon, "Who are you?"

The man shifted his weight, looking over towards the main door of Winterfell Castle, "Clegane, Sandor Clegane."

"Well Sandor, you have my thanks."

He scoffed, "Don't need any thanks," His eyes moved over to where Theon lay in one of the empty stables, "Watch yourself around him."

He went to move again but she had another question, and of course her inquisitive nature meant that she was going to ask it. "How did your…"

He laughed again, dark and menacing. "My burns?"

She nodded meekly, not trusting her voice.

This man scares me, but not as much as Theon. He has an interesting nature. He doesn't seem at all friendly and yet he stopped Theon. He helped me.

Blue and grey connected as they stood in the yard. There was something in his grey eyes as he spoke, as if he was speaking to her on another level, as if his words meant something else. "When you play with fire, you get burned." He left her then with his cryptic answer, she gazed on as he walked away from her, he retrieved a leather skin from his hip and held it up, stopping on the stone steps to take a swig of whatever was inside it. He didn't look back at her.

She shivered, no longer finding the cold air soothing. Her hands were frozen in place as she clutched her ripped bodice together.

I need to find Gerta. I need to tell her about what happened.

She looked back at where Theon had been left, sleeping off the effects of alcohol. She didn't want to make his life even more miserable.

The Starks are all the family he has, I won't make him even more of an outsider, and I won't make him even more hated. I'm sure he will manage that on his own. I will tell Gerta but no-one else. This Sandor Clegane will be the only other person who knows and I will implore him not to tell anyone what transpired between me and Theon tomorrow.

Her mind set she knew what she had to do next. She needed to find Gerta.

She sat on the edge of her bed, Gerta floating around her, righting clothes, making sure that she was warm enough. Tarynn had told Gerta everything, what had happened during the feast, what had happened afterwards, even about Sandor Clegane. She had even asked to promise not to tell a word of what happened to anyone. The handmaid had protested at first, but Tarynn had eventually managed to make her vow silence.

They had burned the silver dress, which had been a shame because Tarynn had planned on taking it to King's Landing. But it was easier than explaining how her dress got ripped. They had come up with a white lie to explain its disappearance; which was that a large amount of red wine had been spilled over the front of it and that Gerta had tried every concoction possible in order to get rid of the stain but to no avail, they had then decided that it was completely ruined and had burned it. Gerta had however cut a few large squares out of it, claiming that she would make it into a quilt for her youngest child to keep him warm. Tarynn had whole heartedly agreed with that idea.

"So you're just going to do nothing?"

Tarynn sat at her table brushing her hair as Gerta turned down the bed covers.

"Yes."

A silence stretched between them before Gerta asked another probing question, "Do you know this Sandor Clegane? Is he a north man from the village? I have never heard of him."

"His voice…" Her mind rambled over the rough sound of his voice, "His accent was distinctively Southern." Truth be told she couldn't really tell, his voice had been a magnitude of different tones. But she had remembered after their conversation in the yard that he had been the man who had dragged the Southerner knight out of the feasting hall, making him part of the King's Entourage.

"I wonder why he wasn't in the hall joining his fellows in the feast."

Tarynn put her brush down on the table and went to her bed, crawling in beneath the covers, she sat upright, watching Gerta as she finished her duties, "I'm glad he wasn't to be honest."

"Yes, the Gods know what Theon would have done had this Ser not intervened…" She blew out the candle that stood on a small table beside the door, "Sleep well."

She closed the door and Tarynn was left alone, the only source of light came from the candle beside her. Its light flicked softly, and her eyes grew heavy. She moved further into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and rolled onto her side. She closed her eyes, the light from the candle still glowing.

He scrabbled at the wooden thing that obstructed his way out, his finely tuned ears could hear her… them. Struggling and screaming, crying and pushing. He needed to reach her. He needed to save her. To protect her. He bayed to the moon, and one of the two legged creatures came out begging him to quiet, but he wasn't. He howled again and another of the two legged creature came to the place which he shared with his brothers and sisters. The creatures' voice was gruff and snarling. He scrabbled again at the wood wanting him to realise that she was in danger.

The man smelled of something stale but moved towards the wood that he could not get through; he yanked it with ease and stood there. He tried to slip thorough the creature's legs but he wouldn't let him get pass. With just a grunt the two legged creature moved into the large space beyond the wooden obstruction, closing it off from the other side.

He sat on his hind legs and once again howled, crying to the moon.

Tarynn gasped as she woke.