I don't really have anything to say! Which is kind of odd. :) Just keep doing what your doing!

Slightynerdy.

Wolves and Hounds.

Chapter 10.

His face was mere inches from her own; she could see the dark shadow of stubble that graced his features and his breath stank of wine.

He's going to kiss me. I'm not ready for this, not yet.

"Sandor please, not now, not yet." Her voice was timid, quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. She continued to stare at his features, most importantly his eyes. They were a cloudy grey when he had leaned towards her but now they were crystal clear. And as she continued to gaze into them she found something that she thought she wouldn't have never seen in the Hound's eyes.

Hurt.

"Huh," He let go of her hands and she stumbled back a couple of paces, making a condescending noise in the back of his throat. "A lying Wolf, and a hideous Hound."

"I am not a liar."

"So your whole speech about you… Treating me different was what? Sympathy on your part, well I don't need your fucking sympathy," His voice was sharp, and cut through Tarynn as if he was wielding a sword and had opened her up, revealing her insides. She clenched her fists. "You can shove it where the sun don't…"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"You better get used to it sweetheart because that's how those pompous fuckers down in King's Landing are going to talk to you like." He stepped forward, his words menacing, his eyes narrowed. Tarynn's heart began to beat faster, her rib cage throbbing. "You're an outsider, you come from the North, you don't belong in the South. You'll be torn apart," He jabbed a finger at her before retrieving the wine flask from his hip, opening it, and taking a large gulp, "Do you know what happens to Wolves who are separated from their packs? They starve, they die."

Tarynn felt rage bubbling up inside her, rage for this outlandish man with the voice that made her heart rate quicken and her mind throb, "And do you know what happens to Hounds?" She took a step forward, "They get separated from their pack and the hunter becomes the hunted. You're as much an outsider as I am, even more so. So don't chastise me over not letting you kiss me. Don't try and understand something that you have no hopes of trying to understand. You've been scarred, and so have I, I won't let you scare me. You're just like all the others, hiding behind a mask of rage and power. You kill because it's the only thing you're good at, and because people have already degraded you to the status of a monster, so your motto is 'why not act like it'"

She felt light headed as she concluded what she was saying.

"You're bold for saying that to me, I have killed many for less." His voice was deep and quietly threatening.

"But you won't kill me, you know why? Because I need you, but you also need me."

"I don't…"

I do need him, if King's Landing is as bad as he says it is I'm going to need someone on my side, someone to watch my back. Someone as ruthless and heartless as the Hound on my side would make King's Landing much safer.

She stepped even closer, pushing away the thought of Theon.

He's not Theon, he won't hurt me. He's feral and wild. But… He's got a different side too.

"You do." She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Where's your pack Sandor? Wolves and Hounds, we're not that different you and I. Please…" She reached for his hand, entwining his fingers with her own, her fingertips tracing over the hard calluses. "Please." She looked up once again, into his eyes.

A rumble sounded in his chest, "Cunning wolf," His rough fingertips brushed over the skin of her cheek and this time she didn't shy away, she stood her ground, refusing the thought of Theon to disturb this moment. "I think we can come to some agreement."

"Good, I'm glad that this didn't come to blows." She looked him up and down, pretending to measure him up, "I think I could have taken you."

He laughed, deep, a combination of voices which made Tarynn's heart beat perceptibly faster, "I'd like to see you try."

She grinned, and he grinned back. Both were happy and content in each others company but she knew that it would have to end sooner or later. She sighed, "I need to go, before someone finds I'm missing."

She unwrapped her fingers from his, and snapped her fingers, the signal that Tome should come to her side. She went to go past Sandor but he gripped her wrist;

*He gripped her wrist so tightly she thought it might bruise.* Sandor is not like Theon, I can trust him

Sandor's touch was gentle, surprisingly, "Why are you doing this… " She didn't answer him straight away, "Tarynn?" His voice was still gruff, still had the traces of his cold, menacing tendencies but it also held a level of intimacy. And Tarynn, for the first time in many years, didn't balk from this.

"I'm doing this because everyone deserves a chance; everyone deserves the opportunity to prove that they are not just a killer or an animal to be chained up and used, that they can be something else other than what is dictated to them."

Sandor loosened his grip, allowing her arm to drop, "What do you get out of this wolf?"

"Protection… Protection and a friend."

She walked away, leaving him staring after her as she vacated the clearing with its white bark tree and pool and disappeared between the leaves, Tome at her heel.

As Tarynn changed back out of the clothes she had borrowed, her mind replayed what had happened between Sandor and herself in the forest. How close they had been to kissing, to making their already confusing friendship into something even more confusing. Inwardly she sighed, as she turned back the covers of the makeshift bed and lay down.

She was scared. Scared of whatever this thing between her and Sandor was. She always favoured knowledge over romance, and logic and reasoning over the chaotic emotion that was love.

Don't kid yourself, this thing between me and Sandor is nothing, we just need each other. That's it.

She turned over and blew out the candle, enveloping herself in darkness. As she drifted back into the land of dreams she prayed, prayed that her sleep would not be plagued with nightmares and for all those she had left behind at Winterfell.

*Sandor*

He picked up a heavy stick; the end was snapped and jagged he gave it a few short, violent swings before throwing it as far as he could. It spiralled in the end and landed, out of sight, out of mind. He went to the pool, collapsing down on his knees as he scooped up the cold water and splashed it over his face, ridding him of the burning sensation that had started up after she had kissed him on the cheek. He lifted his head, water droplets running down his face and over his strong jaw line. The water soothed the itching of his skin, relieving the taut flesh. He stared at his reflection in the water, at the scars that marred his face. He would have been handsome, had his brother not held him against a naked flame.

All I wanted was the toys he didn't play with, that bastard. I'll gut him myself for what he's done, even he is of my own blood.

He knelt, much in the same position that Tarynn had been in earlier before he had disturbed her from her prayers. The girl confused him, her mannerisms, and her views, her tendency to shuffle on the spot whenever she was nervous. But this also intrigued him. He had never met someone so ready to accept him. Joffrey didn't count. The little shit ordered him around, forgetting that it would take only a fraction of a second for Sandor to thrust a sharp sword into his stomach. Tarynn was different though, she spent her time with books, spent her time looking out for her siblings, for her family.

She was so opposed to marriage yet family was one of the things most important to her.

He didn't really know what possessed him to agree with her, he wasn't good with the whole friendship thing. It had always been something that had eluded him. Even when he was young no-one wanted to play with him, he was maimed, a bad omen. No matter how many times he begged to join in with the other young boys when they played knights and maidens, or kicked a bloated pig's stomach around he was always refused. Always an outsider never accepted. He had resigned to believing that the world hated him, and in return he began hating it too.

All because of a brazier and a fucking retard of a brother.

He splashed the water, removing his reflection from the shimmering pool for a few seconds before it reformed. He stood, if he wasn't back at his post soon some annoying shit would come and harass him.

He would honour his side of the deal with the Stark wolf; he would keep her safe, offer her advice should she need it of him. He didn't really know why she would. But he wasn't going to compromise his position as the Hound to Prince Joffrey, even though he hated the task, he still held a little bit of power over the spoilt Prince, which hopefully he would be able to use in order to knock some sense into him. As he walked back towards the encampment he questioned himself. He hadn't expected to be so ready to help a woman before, he had never had a relationship like the one he had with the Stark.

But there's a first for everything, just don't try and kiss her again you fucking imbecile.

Sandor Clegane held away a branch from his face, and made his way back towards his charges.

*Tarynn*

When Tarynn stirred the cart was moving, it rattled and bumped as it made its way down the King's Road. She sat up, stretching her arms and back when she realised she wasn't alone. In the corner sat a young girl, a couple of years younger that herself she guessed. She had light blonde hair which looked brittle in the morning sunlight and wide, brown eyes which gave her the comical appearance of a deer trapped in front of an entire herd of horses. Tarynn gathered up her covers, hiding the fact that she was wearing practically nothing, she cleared her throat and addressed the girl.

"I'm sorry but who are you? I've not met you before."

The girl stood, and curtseyed slightly, her eyes fixed on Tarynn's face all the while, making Tarynn wonder about whether or not she had something unsightly on her face.

"Bronte, miss."

"Bronte? That's a really pretty name. Could you help me Bronte? I'm in dire need of clothes; dress, gloves, boots…."

"I have them here, Lady Cersei and his Grace have assigned me to you as your handmaid."

"And what does my father say to this?"

"Lord Stark accepted the offer; otherwise I would not be in this carriage."

"Uh huh," Tarynn stood, dropping the covers and reaching for the neatly folded undergarments, "I trust you've seen someone naked before?"

"Yes, miss."

Bronte hurried forward to help her, and slowly Tarynn began to get dressed. The dress that her father must have gotten from her trunk was a light grey and it had no inner lining, this intrigued her.

"Bronte?" The girl nodded, showing that she was listening, "Where are we?"

"We're just passing Moat Cailin,"

"Moat Cailin? Then we must almost be nearing the neck."

"You've been asleep for three days my Lady, this is the first I've seen you up."

"I… I see. We're moving at quite a fast pace then"

"The Queen is anxious to get back to King's Landing."

"Are you from King's Landing Bronte?"

The young girl slipped behind Tarynn, tightening up the strings of the bodice.

"Yes, lived there all my life, never even been out of the city until now. I used to be Princess Myrcella's handmaid until the Queen insisted that I become yours."

"I'm sorry; I can ask you to be returned to your former post if that's what you want."

"No, I'm perfectly fine miss. I'm sure you'll be much more interesting. One of the cooks boys, Tyson his name is, well he says you killed a wilding. He says that you're a beautiful warrior. Like one from the stories… He's older than me, I think he's reaching his 19th year, but I told him not to be silly… Is it true Lady Tarynn? Did you really kill a wilding?"

Tarynn didn't want to answer, she was ashamed of her act, even though it had been committed it self defence. She didn't like the fact that she had killed someone's son, someone's brother. Maybe he had been a father. Maybe he had a wife. She didn't like the fact that she had blood on her hands, so she decided to twist the truth a little.

"My horse… She got scared and galloped forward into the man. I think the weight of the horse running over him was what killed him."

She neglected to tell Bronte that she had in fact urged her horse on.

"I'm going to have to tell Tyson he was wrong later."

Tarynn sighed; she had just started her first lie. And it wasn't even a proper lie. She could just tell the truth but she was so ashamed, and people wouldn't look on her the same if they knew she was capable of killing people. A woman who killed? You're as good as dead to Westeros society. Wasn't there a female warrior from Tarth?

"Tell me about Tyson Bronte."

"Well where do I begin? Like I said he's a few years older than me but he's so good-looking. I mean Jessie and Hale both like him, but he says he doesn't like girls any younger than 16. Luckily I'm 16 now, so I guess I'm the right age for him…."

Tarynn listened to Bronte talk, nodding at the right spots, feigning interest in this boy Tyson, but really her mind was thinking of something else, more specifically someone else.

"… He really wants to meet you and I know he would be so impressed if I told him that I was now your handmaiden. We would get together for sure."

Tarynn was snapped out of her reverie, and turned to the young, slender girl. "Don't just get together with him because he looks nice, it's about personality, not looks."

Bronte looked down at the floor; she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "Well he does bully my brother a lot. And he's not all that nice to Hale… Or Jessie."

Tarynn put a hand on the girl's shoulder, "Don't rush yourself Bronte, pretty girl like you is bound to find someone worthy." The tension in the room dissipated, Bronte smiled meekly, and Tarynn smiled too, "We should hurry up. I need to find another horse."

The next few moments passed in silence, the two new friends listening to the carriage wheels rolling over every bump in the road, which is until Bronte broke it with a question.

"Do you have a betrothed miss?"

Tarynn stopped tying her shoes and stared up at the girl her mouth slightly open, not even Gerta had asked questions so personal and she was Tarynn's closest friend.

I wish you were here Gerta.

"I'm sorry?"

Bronte turned red looking down at the floor again, "I'm sorry milady I spoke out of turn."

Tarynn sighed, there was no reason to get angry at Bronte she had only asked a simple question. And she would learn of the answer soon enough when Eddard Stark started presenting good matches to his oldest daughter.

"Its okay, No I don't"

"Can I ask why?"

Tarynn resumed tying her boot up, even she didn't know the answer to that. Why wasn't she betrothed? Her father and mother could have had her betrothed to Theon years ago, or even a Frey, perhaps a Ramsay had Lord Bolton had another son. But she had remained open so to speak, she was to be auctioned off like a prize heifer to who 'gives the highest bid'.

"My parents just never discussed it with me, or felt that they should get me a betrothal at an early age. They don't really think about it. I guess they also wanted me to stay at home. Had I been betrothed I would have been married when I first started my moonblood and sent to live with whoever my husband was. By now I would have had children…"

Tarynn shuddered at the thought of having to squeeze out a baby.

"But it's so romantic."

Maybe you should have been Sansa's handmaid.

"It's just not for me. Never has. Never will be…" There was another silence. "I need to go find a horse Bronte; do you know where my father is?"

"I can get you a horse. Do you want me to bring it here or…?"

"No, no I'll come with you. I need to get some air, I feel like I've been in here for centuries."

"Okay, but we're going to be going to the back of the train."

"Lead the way," She gestured towards the carriage door when Bronte didn't move, "I'm following you remember?"

Bronte opened the door and went down the steps, jumping off the bottom one. Tarynn followed suit but took a more delicate way of getting from the bottom step to the muddy ground. They dodged between horses, and ducked over low hanging flags that hung off of the back of carts. They had just reached the back of the train when Tarynn felt something grip her arm. She turned to face whoever it was and was surprise to see who it was.

"What are you doing here?"

Sandor rasped, before coughing into the air .

"What are you?! You're supposed to be with the Prince."

"It's my morning off, where are you going?"

"To get a horse, my one died remember?"

Sandor looked above Tarynn's head, his gaze directed at Bronte who was standing idly behind her. "Beat it girl, I'll take Lady Tarynn to get a horse." Bronte was obviously scared of him for she darted off without a backwards glance, "Not much of a servant is she, if she had half a brain she would have questioned me and gone to get a guard."

"She's scared of you Sandor, surely you can see that."

"Everyone's scared of me Tarynn; it makes no difference these days. Now come on, do you want a horse or not?"

He stomped forward through the wet mud which had been churned up by the wheels and horses of the King's entourage. She shadowed him, stepping in his footsteps. She was looking down at the ground, conscious of falling over and she didn't see Sandor stop.

She collided with his back, she looked up slightly dazed, placing her hands on the leather jerkin he wore.

"Sandor? What…"

Sandor crouched in front of her, and lifted his hand, pointing to something over the fields.

"Look."

Tarynn, still behind Sandor strained her eyes, what seemed to be a hundred leagues away, a couple of grey dots were flying across the landscape.

"What are they?"

"I thought you would know wolf."

Then it dawned on her, "Direwolves? How can you tell?"

"Look at how large they are, and how fast their moving. I thought it would be obvious." She tapped lightly on the back of his leather jerkin, and fiddled with a strand of his hair, her attentions diverted from the wolves that were running towards the woods. His voice accompanying her thoughts, "It's strange to see wolves this far south." He stood abruptly, throwing her off balance. She gripped onto his broad, muscled arm with both arms, he looked over his shoulder at her, "You alright there?"

"Perfectly fine, but I'd rather keep my dress mud free thanks."

"You want to hold my hand?" He did a small sneer, and the fascinated Sandor that had appeared just a few moments ago disappeared. Now she was left with the spiteful, scornful Sandor.

"Keep your hands to yourself." She went past him, lifting the skirts of her dress up slightly so that they weren't trailing in the mud. He followed.

When they reached the spare horses that were being led by a young boy on top a light brown horse, the first thing Tarynn noticed was the straw like blonde hair and gullible large brown eyes.

"You're Bronte's brother aren't you."

The boy pulled his horse to a stop, his eyes widening just like Bronte's did when Tarynn had first addressed her, "Milady Stark!" He jumped off his horse, and almost stumbled had Sandor not pulled him up roughly, "Hey mister let…" The boy looked up and Sandor grunted, a smirk covering his scarred features.

"I eat boys like you for breakfast."

The boy went limp, his eyes widening even more, "Please sir, I ain't done nothing…"

Tarynn went to the boys aid, "Don't worry, he goes for fat boys, more meat on them." She turned to Sandor, a smile gracing her features, "Isn't that right?"

Sandor didn't answer, he threw her a dark look before righting the boy on his feet. "The lady needs a horse."

The boy looked Tarynn up and down before scrambling to the bunch of horses, "Yes sir, right away sir."

"And don't call me Sir!" Sandor practically shouted at the poor lad.

"Sandor…" Her voice was quiet, a mere whisper. She looked up at him, her hand placed on his forearm. Her eyes met his and she could feel the anger bristling inside of him ebb out. She caressed the leather on his arm, still looking in his eyes and she felt something ignite inside of herself, something that she had never felt before, a burning desire just to be near him.

The revelation was broken by the boy's return and she stepped away from him, resorting back to facade of him being her guard. The young boy handed her the reins. "Finest courser, she will serve you well."

Tarynn looked over the horse, it had a white coat and a soft white mane. "Thank you…"

"Teddy."

"Teddy?"

"Yeah, Mum had an obsession with different names; full name's Tedius." Sandor snorted beside her.

"Tedius is a lovely name Teddy."

"Thank you miss, but I must be back to my horses."

The young boy mounted his horse and Sandor led the white courser out of the way, Teddy urged the horse forward and his group of horses followed.

"Well now we have a horse with no saddle." Tarynn scanned the backs of the carts she could see, searching for any sign of a saddle.

"I know, not the best thought out plan. " Sandor led the horse back to the train of carts. Since they had stopped in order to get a horse, the entourage had moved on further. "I think I have a spare one."

"One that will fit? I mean your horse is quite large…"

"I have one that Stranger grew out of a long time ago, it should fit this mare."

He weaved in an out, his hand clenched around the horse's rein; soldiers parted from them, each one wary of the Hound and didn't question him as to why he was with the young Lady Stark. Men atop coursers, destriers looked down upon them. But if they did find the whole situation curious, they didn't say anything.

Sandor led them to another cart; this one was laden down with various bits of junk and rubbish. Broken kettles, pots, pans, everything broken could be found in the cart. He handed Tarynn the reins before jumping up onto the cart, sifting through the bits and pieces. A few moments passed before he lifted up a saddle, triumphant.

It was cracked and worn, gilded spirals decorated its surface. Sandor leant down, handing it to her. It was heavy and it took all of her upper arm strength to stop it from falling down onto the muddy ground. Sandor jumped down from off the cart with a grunt, he flexed the muscles in his arms before rolling his neck which cracked with an audible pop. He took the saddle off of Tarynn before putting it on the white horse and fastening the straps. He gave it a sure, hard jerk before deeming it safe to ride with.

He gestured to Tarynn to come nearer to him, "You know I could have just asked my father for a saddle."

"But this one's vintage." He patted it, "Consider it a gift, a symbol of our friendship."

She smiled, and Sandor lifted her by the waist, helping her onto the horse. She sorted her skirts before picking up the reins again; the mare neighed softly, snorting into the air.

"Thank you Sandor."

"There you go again, I'm just doing my job."

"I'm a job now am I?"

"Well saving you seems to be becoming a full time occupation. You and your fucking problems." His voice, although low and rough held no traces of enmity.

"I know, I'm just one big problem," She sighed. "I need to find father, tell him I'm awake and fine."

"Your father was quite worried about you, as was your little sister."

"Who Sansa?"

"No the other one… Arla?"

"Arya."

"Yes, the little one who seems to like to play with sharpened sticks."

"Well I must get back to them… Sandor?"

The Hound looked at her, his grey eyes betraying nothing, "What?"

Tarynn's question caught in her throat, she couldn't ask him, not now. "Nothing, don't worry. I hope you enjoy the rest of your morning off."

"Just keep out of trouble wolf."

They parted, she watched as Sandor Clegane weaved between the soldiers on horseback and the carts. He didn't look back once. Tarynn urged her horse forward, falling into step with those riding beside her. Now she had to present herself to her father, and to have him chastise her for reckless behaviour concerning the Wilding band.