Hello, and another thank you for simply everything that you've been doing. This chapter might seem a bit confusing because I've added another POV and a couple of dream sequences as well, but overall I think it's pretty easy to follow. Please tell me what you think with a review, it's greatly appreciated.
I would also like to thank a few people:
Eidolon02 - I'm glad you're with me as I try to induct Tarynn into the crazy world of King's Landing. Your paragraphs are greatly appreciated! :)
Underthenorthernlights - I'm glad you think I have Sandor's voice down, he is such a hard character to write!
And all the others who have reviewed this story and followed it, each and everyone of you are inspiring me to continue writing this story.
Also Menthes - I will try to write all my life! And I was aiming it to be canon, I'm glad you are enjoying it.
Thanks!
Slightlynerdy.
Chapter 9.
Wolves and Hounds.
He didn't know what to do.
When Lord Eddard Stark had returned to the bulk of the King's party his face white and ashen as he commanded a group of soldiers to follow him, Sandor had strained his hearing to try and capture what was going on. He had been beside Joffrey, the spoilt little brat who had the façade of being able to control his savage Hound. But when a passing soldier said the name of the person who was in danger…
It was her. She was in danger. He couldn't explain the tumult of feelings that had rushed through him at the moment that the soldier uttered her name, and he didn't care to. He had abandoned Joffrey, the whiny boy trying to command him to stay where he was but it was too late. The Hound was already on the trail, sniffing out his prey.
And now here he was, standing behind a girl covered in blood, and throwing up the contents of her stomach. He wondered if he should help her hold her hair out of the way, and was about to move when she straightened up, still clutching her stomach. Her hair was wild, and her pale white face had a drawn look about it. Her eyes dazed and confused. But the most startling thing was the amount of blood that had drenched her. It had been a bright, ruby red when he had found her, huddled on the forest floor, backed up against a tree trunk as a Wilding loomed over her. Now it had dried, it began to flake, giving her ghoulish, inhumane look. But beneath the blood, and the dirt; beneath the confusion and wild look in her eyes, she still looked oddly…
He was brought out of his thoughts and snapped into the present by a hand covering his own, she was touching him, actually touching him. He looked up to see if there was any fear or disgust covering her features, but there wasn't.
"Take me…" Her throat was hoarse, and she swayed slightly, he reached out and gripped her other arm tightly to stop her from crumpling to the ground, "I need to… Return to the King's…" Her eyes drooped and she closed them for a few seconds before reopening them again, "Please."
Her eyes stared into his own, as if she was looking through his eyes and into his soul. The blue pools enraptured him, and he felt a stir in his stomach, the likes of which he had never felt before.
Keep away from her you pitiful monster, don't go getting ideas, hope is too dangerous. I'm a hound, a dog, I know what happens when a dog strays or bites back, they get put down.
He removed his hand from her touch, and guided her roughly back to the horse, hefting her up before mounting the horse himself, "I'm not going to leave you here, just warn me before your going to throw the contents of your dinner up, I like the horse the colour it is." He snapped the reins and again they went flying through the forest, the hound and the wolf.
When Sandor heard voices, shouts of 'Tarynn' and 'Lady Stark' reverberating off the trunks of the trees, he slowed down from a gallop to a trot; searching the bushes for any armor that might reflect the thin sunlight that drifted through the canopy of trees, or fur cloaks that snaked within the underbrush. From quite out of nowhere, a group of Stark guards burst into the natural forest path that Sandor was guiding his horse down, he called out to them.
"I've found the girl." He dismounted, and tried to help Tarynn down; she fell woodenly into his arms, her face pressed against the cool metal of his breastplate. "She's in shock, but not hurt."
"We'll be the judge of that Hound," Jory Cassell, one of the Stark men, pushed him aside and took Tarynn into his own arms. The girl, soaked in blood, looked over her shoulder, her unfocused eyes searching for something. When her dilated pupils locked on his a small smile graced her lips and she looked like she was having a moment of clarity. Pure unadulterated joy rushed across her features and she mouthed a couple of words. "Thank you."
She then turned around again as she was dragged away from him, he took a step back, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched Tarynn being escorted towards a horse. With the help of Jory she mounted, and was led out of the clearing.
He sighed, the sound rumbling in his chest. He spied a rabbit in the shadows, and moved towards it, stalking it like a dog would a cat. He reached out, quick as lightning and grasped the small creature round the neck. It kicked and squealed, screaming in fear. With a twist of his hand, it was dead.
A rush of release coursed through his veins when he felt the life of the rabbit ebb away, he felt better after killing; it gave him an unexplainable pleasure. He reached down to his hip, feeling for his wineskin. Once found, he brought the skin to his lips and took a hefty draught. The contents burned his throat as the liquid slipped down, but the regular mist that covered his mind and thoughts that had started to slip away, returned. He shook his head, and threw the rabbit in the general direction of the deeper parts of the forest. He turned and went to mount up when he heard a crunch, the unmistakable snapping of bones.
With one hand still on his horse's saddle, Sandor turned towards the noise, his eyes straining as he peered into the darkness. Two bright blue eyes, stared back at him.
His words were rough, grating, "Where were you Beast? When your mistress was in danger? I thought you were supposed to protect her." The direwolf growled and slinked from the shadows, his blue eyes unblinking, "Instead the Hound bested the wolf, a tale fit for the Bard's lyre." He gave a short bark of laughter and the wolf growled in return before settling down on its haunches. "I saved her, me, the disgusting, hideous Hound. And then those north men take her away, claim that they stopped a wilding from slitting her pretty white throat and raping her corpse…" He leaned into the saddle. "Who does that bitch think she is anyway? Getting into trouble and the expecting to be rescued…" Sandor Clegane groaned, before heaving himself into the saddle, he guided his horse around who skittered due to the Direwolf's presence. He was looking at the wolf as he spoke, "But I'll keep saving her," He took a swig from his wineskin, dulling out the presence of her in his thoughts, "Because she doesn't treat me like a mindless animal."
He rode off, away from the direwolf's howls which shook the birds from the trees.
The carriage rumbled and rattled, as Tarynn Stark lay unconscious on a soft feather mattress, an older servant fussed around her. She had been cleaned and was wearing a light weight white sleep dress, the linen fabric that was being used to soak up her moonblood had been changed, and the gash she had received when she had galloped through the low hanging branches had been cleaned. Her chest rose and fall, her face removed of any signs of worry or trouble.
Outside her father had issued four of his own house guard to ride next to the carriage, Ned Stark rode point, weary of any other wildings that may slink from the forests confines and attack them by surprise. Sansa and Arya were still inside the moving house that the Queen was in, even Joffrey had been ordered to stay within its creaking walls. This stretch of the King's Road was too dangerous, now that a wilding presence had been revealed.
The Hound hung back, having been formally chastised by the King for abandoning the person he was suppose to be guarding; Joffrey, but he didn't care. He shrugged, muttered "a yes your Grace", and moved to the back of the entourage where he could drink his wine, and watch over the carriage that she was in, a strange sensation fluttered over him and he leaned forward in his saddle, waiting for the carriage to stop, and Tarynn to get out.
Howling filled the air.
Colours merged, greens became browns, golds became reds as they flew past. Brother chased sister as they ran along the winding paths through the forests. Paths made by the indigenous creatures who had claimed this land as their own. He tumbled into his sister, snapping at one of her haunches as they tumbled together in the dirt, brown fur and grey rippling together. They were pulled apart by a short, curt bark. The other sister prowled around, not joining in, remaining indifferent to the situation.
He considered her; lean, supple but more lordly. She strived in being the gentle but commanding one. He moved away, disappearing into the bushes, padding along silently when he heard the noise that the creatures the humans rode upon made. And then the sound of something moving fast, disturbing the forest floor. He sniffed the air when he heard it.
He raced towards her, his charge, he was her guardian. They were connected by some unexplainable bond but by the time he had got there, the thing with two legs on top of the creature with 4 was already riding away from him, with his human. He was about to go after them, but the human that she was with smelled familiar, the one on the floor however, he smelled strange.
He moved towards whatever it was and pushed his snout against it. He recoiled, before moving forward again and biting it. It didn't stir. He slinked away, realising that this human had fallen prey to the other human astride one of the creatures that were afraid of him and his sisters. He gave chase then, following the scent of the human and the creature.
Tarynn sat up, her eyes flying open. Her breathing came out heavy and ragged. A woman she didn't know came towards her, a cup in her hand. She forced Tarynn into swallowing its contents, she had tried to push it away but her arms felt wooden and clumsy and her voice hoarse and dry. The liquid slipped down and she recognised the taste.
Milk of the poppy, but I don't want to sleep… The nightmares…
Tarynn's eyes grew heavy and she slumped onto the mattress, the last she saw was the woman's lined face, looming over her.
Distorted and vivid, stained with a red tinge; bones crunched beneath his teeth, and the flesh was tough, stringy. The dog man was staring, straight at him. He blinked once, before returning the steady gaze. The human started talking, in the rough language that his bond usually spoke to him in. He pricked up his ears as the human walked towards him.
"…Mistress…"
He growled, and moved forward out of the cover of the trees. He tasted the air, and the man made a noise in the back of his throat. He countered it with a growl before settling on his haunches.
"…Bitch… Save…Hound…'
He stayed unmoving until the skittish creature and its human disappeared between the trees. He let out a howl, before sprinting towards where he envisioned his bond was being taken.
Images flickered, lights faded, faces loomed. Fire burned, people laughed, blood ran a bright red. Rivers flowed, metal rang, screams escaped into the air.
She fell, down, down.
Deeper, deeper.
No bottom, no end.
Continuous, unchanging, unmoving, no- one to catch her; nothing to break her.
A voice, rasping, unemotional, distorted. Reached through, tendrils sweeping out, aching, hoping, wanting.
She fell, down, down.
No bottom, no end.
When Tarynn awoke next no-one was with her, the place was dark and still. The air cool but stagnant, and the unmistakable stench of antiseptic balms made her choke. She lifted herself up, pushing herself so that she rested against the wooden side of the carriage she was undoubtedly in. She touched her chest, then her face, and then her hair. Feeling, searching, for any of the gore that had covered her before; she was free of it.
Gingerly she moved back the covers and the cold air touched her bare legs, she felt around, patting around the mattress before moving her legs out of the bed carefully. Her bare feet touch the cold wood and she recoiled in shock, before standing up. She moved with the shadows, holding her hands out in front of her so that she didn't bump into anything.
She found a candle, and then a match, striking it against the rough inner side of the carriage she lit the candle and held it up so that she could take in her surroundings. She was in one of the carriages put aside for the soldiers to sleep in when they didn't have a shift and had had the sentry post at night, but the entourage was still moving. She found a chest, and upon opening it found some garments. She placed the candle on a metal candle holder which had a handle and held it to the chest, with one hand she pulled out a plain white shirt, linen trousers and what looked like some rough spun fabric shoes. She took them out and threw them on the bed, there was other things in the chest, daggers, and a pouch with some wild flowers in it but she left them be. All she wanted was to borrow some clothes.
Placing the candle holder on top of the chest, she took off her white shift and stood naked in the freezing cold air. She had no undergarments for her chest, not even bindings so she slipped on the thin shirt over her bare breasts, before turning her attentions to the trousers. They had no finicky hook and catch so she simply pulled them on and tied them up. Next she put on the shoes, they were rough and coarse on the soles of her feet but they were better than going barefooted. She then took the grey blanket from off the bed, and threw it over her shoulders before knotting it around her neck.
She went to retrieve the candle and remembered the daggers in the chest, and took one just as a precaution. She would return it, along with the clothes, later when she had cleared her head. Slipping the dagger into the waistband of her trousers, she pulled open the doors to the carriage and stepped onto the first step.
The sky overhead glittered with stars, a million of them shone down at her, winking and waving as they continued endlessly to float across the inky blue pool that was the sky. She took a deep breath of the chilly air and it washed through her lungs, freezing her insides. She sighed, and went down the rest of the steps. When she reached the ground, she saw a dozen tents set up on either side of the King's Road. She didn't know how long she had slept for, but it seemed that they were almost past the Wolfswood and had begun to enter the Barrowlands, which mainly consisted of flat, barren land.
She turned away from the tents, and away from the two guards who were standing quite close to where she was. She walked briskly towards the edge of the woods.
I probably shouldn't go back in there, what was it that Sandor had said? Looking for danger? Flirting…
She couldn't remember it, but she had known that she had almost been killed had it not been for Sandor rescuing her.
Once again, I owe him more than just my life now.
A twig snapped and it echoed out into the night, she thought someone had heard but no one came to inspect the noise if they had. She continued on her way when something brushed past her leg, something warm and large.
She looked down; by her feet was Tome, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the stars. She knelt and rubbed his forehead, her voice a whisper, "Are you going to accompany me? You have to be quiet though." Her wolf licked her hand, and a low whine escaped from him, "Hush."
Together, woman and wolf walked towards the trees, once beneath the natural canopy Tarynn began to talk, her voice quiet.
"Do you think he means well Tome? He saved my life, he stop that wilding from slitting my throat. I owe him…" Tome whined and snaked between her legs, "I don't know what to think, he's so brutal and uncaring, yet he risked being executed for neglecting and going against the King's orders to stay and guard the Prince." She held a low hanging branch out the way and turned to her wolf, "Is there a Godswood, or something similar, in these woods Tome? I want to pray for Bran." The wolf moved past her, his fur rippling in the moonlight.
Tarynn followed, and a small amount of time passed before Tome led her into a small clearing. There was a pool of water, and hanging over it was a tree. The same bark as the tree in Winterfell's Godswood but this one had no face carved into it.
She went to the pool and knelt, dipping her hands into the cool water, she washed. When she had finished she sat cross legged, and clasped her hands together.
Please, make Bran wake up. Watch over him, keep him safe. Allow Maester Luwin to cure him properly. Take care of mother, give her strength, make her cope. And Robb, Rickon, protect them and guide them. Now and forever.
She paused, looking up at the white bark of the tree, Tome had sat down beside her, he rumbled as he breathed.
Watch the Hound, and pray for me. Give me the ability to overcome whatever might get in my way.
She was about to stand, and return to the carriage but Tome began to growl his ears pricking up, his haunches rising.
"Tell your creature to leave me be wolf."
Tarynn closed her eyes.
His voice.
"Tome… Sit."
Her wolf did as he was told, sitting back down on the forest floor. Tarynn instead rose, and turned to the man whose voice had started to haunt her dreams.
"I didn't have the chance to…"
"Don't, you say thank you too much."
"Well what am I supposed to say? You saved my life!"
He shrugged, "Get me a cask of wine, that's thank you enough."
She took a step closer, her eyes floating over his figure. He wasn't wearing his armor instead wore similar to what she was wearing, a thin white shirt which revealed his well defined chest and stomach, and coarse brown trousers. On his feet he wore leather boots. She glanced back up at his chest and then realised, in a moment of self consciousness, that her own chest was practically bare. She pulled the blanket further over her shoulders, and folded her arms across her chest.
"Bit late for that…" He smirked and she looked away, her cheeks flushing a bright, furious red. "What are you doing out here."
"I could ask the same of you."
"To clear my head, and drink myself into oblivion," He held up his flask, "Want some."
"No thank… No."
"Suit yourself," He tipped some of the liquid into his mouth and swallowed, "This stuff is good shit, makes the nightmares disappear."
"You have nightmares."
He grinned, "You like asking questions don't you? When you've killed as many people as I have, men, women…Children, it starts creeping up on you. You see their faces, bloodless, lifeless surrounding your thoughts. The wine," He gestured to his wineskin, "Helps with that."
"Why do you kill?"
The Hound stopped drinking and stared at her, his brow furrowed above his cold emotionless eyes, "Why do you read? Why do you write pages of crap on history that happened fucking years ago?"
She recoiled in shock, taking a step back from him. "Why are you like this?"
"What do you expect me to be? Kind, considerate? Open your eyes!" He made a drunken sweep with one of his arms, "People are not kind, they are not considerate. They will take everything they can from you; your pride, your dignity… Your looks…" He brushed away some of the matted hair that hung over the burnt side of his face, revealing more of the scar that had carved it's way onto his flesh. "But I don't expect you to understand, I'm like this because I can, because people can't hurt you if you hurt them first." He took another drink, "You better go back to the carriage wolf, before they set the guards on you." He began to move, to turn towards the trees and disappear between the leaves.
"Wait!" He turned again, his unnerving gaze settling on her face once more. "I…"
"You what? Spit it out girl, I have better things to do."
She bit her lip, standing on her tiptoes, "I'm sorry, for you, for your… Scar. For the way people have treated you. But I'm not going to do that. So please… Don't treat me like I am. I want to understand, really Sandor I do…" She moved forward, closing the distance between them, "You can trust me; it's the least I can do…"
She stood on her tiptoes, stretching up to reach his scarred cheek. She kissed it, gently, and was surprised that the charred skin was in fact smooth and subtle. She moved away, suddenly embarrassed by her boldness. He gripped her arms, to stop her from moving away from him. Se feared that her arms would bruise, his grip was so strong. She was forced to look into his eyes. Grey steel, beneath thick brows. The scar stood prominent, giving him a monstrous appearance.
His face leaned towards her, and the stench of wine overpowered her senses. His voice was low and husky. And as he removed one of his hands from her arm, to brush aside some of her dark brown hair, his fingertips left a burning trail on her cheek.
"When you play with fire, you get burned…"