Sansa
No pain she had ever felt could best the pounding of her head and the aching of her limbs. So stupid, Sansa, how could you be so stupid?
She allowed Sam to give her various drinks that he claimed would "fix her right up," but so far, the heavy ache remained. It was a struggle to keep her head up, and every loud noise had her whimpering. How does Sandor do it, night after night, when you wake like this? Vowing to herself that she would never drink again, Sansa murmured, "Thank you, Sam. You are always so kind."
Samwell blushed and busied himself with gathering the various concoctions that claimed to offer headache relief. His light brown hair was growing long, almost covering his brown eyes, and framing his round face. Overall, he was a rather round person, Sansa thought, and he was by far the kindest she had met. Something about his presence set her at ease; Sam reminded her of old Maester Luwin from Winterfell.
"Just doing my job, Miss Sansa," he replied humbly, taking care to speak softly. "How is your head?"
She smiled weakly and rubbed her temples, trying to quell the storm that raged between them. "Not so bad." She did not wish to worry the poor boy, so perhaps downplaying it was best.
"Good...yes. Anything you need, Miss Sansa, anything...the Hound says I'm to attend to you, whatever you need." He shifted on his feet, eyeing her as if she was a strange creature. "Miss Sansa...ah...like I said, anything at all." Sam paused and she waited patiently. "So if it is feminine help you'll be needing, I can provide you with uh...supplies." By the end of his speech Sam had turned the color of spilt blood, and refused to meet her eyes, choosing instead to find comfort in the floorboards.
Sansa blushed as well and raised her hands as if to ward off the embarrassment. I hadn't even thought of that! Hopefully we make land before that presents itself as a problem...
"No, no. I will not be needed that at this time," she said hurriedly. "Thank you, Sam."
The boy nodded, relief spreading over him like a fresh blanket of snow. "Good, good. Well not good, I mean it's no bother if you need something, I only was saying-"
"Sam?"
He looked up finally, eyes wide, awaiting command. "Yes?"
"Who brought me to bed? I...I'm afraid I do not remember much of last night," Sansa admitted shamefully. What would her mother say? Getting drunk, and with her captors on top of it. What had come over her?
"The Hound brought you, my lady. Carried you. You...you passed out."
Hopefully not in my own vomit, she prayed silently, remembering all too well the various sick drunkards from home. "That was," she hesitated, thoughts turning to the strange man that was her husband. "That was kind of him. I hope I have not angered him too violently." Sandor carried her to bed? A momentary wave of fright washed over her. What if he had...taken advantage of her? What if she had thrown herself at him? Why can I not remember anything? Anxiety welled up inside her; it was with strength that she forced tears back down. Sansa had cried so often the past few days it was wonder there was any water left in her body. Stop crying, her sister's voice played in her mind.
Surely Sandor would not have used her...altered state to his own pleasure. He wouldn't, would he? No, no. He had been kind to her, gentle, these previous days. The kindness confused her; Sansa almost preferred him angry - at least then he was honest. This strange compassion made him hard to read, and Sansa did not enjoy being unsure of his thoughts.
Uncomfortable from her silent contemplation, Sam continued to babble on. "We should be seeing land today, Miss Sansa. Yes, it will be such a relief to be on dry land once more. I was not made for the sea, my lady, not at all. Used to get terribly seasick..."
Feeling the heat of the small room, Sansa brushed her hair over her shoulders and glanced up when she heard Sam's sharp intake of breath that replaced his prattle. "What is it?"
Concern was etched into his face. "My lady...your neck..." he stepped closer and ran his fingers lightly over her throat. Sansa winced from the unexpected tenderness, causing her to overlook the fact that he had touched her without permission. It seemed invasion of privacy was common among this crew anyway. "Don't let the Hound see this, he'll throttle whoever dared..." A funny look came over the boy's eyes then. "Miss Sansa, did he do this?"
"Do what, Sam?" Sansa asked, a slight panic seeping into her voice. What was he talking about? She reached her own fingers up to brush her skin, and yanked her hand back with a gasp when she realized how swollen and tender it was. "What happened to me?"
"You cannot remember?" Sam turned to fumble through his satchel, eventually emerging with a looking glass. Gingerly, he held it out to her.
She held the cool glass carefully, and peered in, eyes widening at what she saw. Her hair was a tangled mess, framing her face in a fiery haze, causing her eyes to stand out violently. Her face were sunken in some, making her cheek bones stand out sharply. I look tired, like I have aged five years. Yes, her eyes seemed heavier than before, and did not sparkle like she remembered. But it was her neck that drew her eyes, and a gasp.
Like a collar, blue blotches wrapped around her throat. A distinct thumb imprint reached up toward her jaw; the rest of the hand was large enough to cover the distance to her opposite ear. I am so ugly, she thought instinctually, tears swimming in her eyes once more.
Sam was talking to her, though it seemed the conversation was more directed toward himself, as she looked on with horror. "He wouldn't...not the Hound...not with how protective he is of you. I don't understand. Who did this?"
A flash came back to her then: Sandor looming over her on the bed, his face lit by a candle, the terrible burns making him seem a monster out of her nightmares. His words she could not recall, but the feeling of his hand on her neck, the anger in his eyes - that she remembered.
"My husband did this," she said quietly, trying to piece back the events from last night in her mind. Her head hurt terribly, and her neck ached, but it was her heart that was causing her the most pain. She did not understand this man, this man that was gentle to her one minute, and leaving her bruised in his wake the next. He's a brute, a barbarian, a Viking! Why are you so surprised, stupid girl? Had you believed him good?
Oh, but good he had seemed as he treated her with respect, left her untouched in their bed, allowed her to roam as she pleased.
Dread hit her as sudden as a rain storm. Does he know what I did? "Leave me Sam," Sansa said, and when seeing his confusion, added, "Please. I wish to be alone."
The boy nodded, grabbed his things, and left the room quietly. Alone, her worries were free to eat at her. Sandor must have found out, that's why he was so furious. Sansa wondered if Sam had suspected foul play in the vile man's death. No, surely that couldn't be it. The Tears of Lys gave every impression of a natural death, only a master Maester would know the difference...right?
He knows what you've done, he knows, and he'll come back to kill you for it. Just like you murdered that man.
Sansa shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. She killed a man. She didn't even know his name, did not think, only acted. He spoke as though it was Jon he had slain! He deserved it! He was only a Viking! Yet the word Viking did not hold as much weight to her as it once had. Sam was a Viking, as was Osha. Both were caring in their own way, Osha's way being a bit rougher than Sam's. Her husband was a Viking! It's not the same, I did not choose him!
Though Sansa tried to reason with her actions, the only image that filled her mind was the weirwood tree's face, staring out at her with bleeding eyes, knowing what she had done. The Gods know of my sins.
It might not even had been Jon the man was speaking of. Dark curly hair, fair, and tall. Half the young men in Winterfell looked that way. But all Sansa could see when she heard that abominable Viking bragging was Jon's dead body. Jon, my brother, forgive me. Perhaps it did not matter if it wasn't Jon. That Viking had killed those of her village, and for that he deserved his fate.
Who are you to say who lives and who dies?
Robb would not have regretted it. Petyr would have said she did what she had to. Arya would have done it again.
You are a wolf, not a little bird. Wolves are made to kill. They do not regret it.
Slowly, she picked the looking glass up again and inspected her neck. "I won't hurt you, little bird." Sandor's voice played over and over in her mind. For some reason it was not the fact that he had bruised her that left her so angry, but the fact that he had lied. He had lied right to her face, and Sansa believed him. It was an irrational anger, for how many times had she lied to him? I made no promises, it is different. But it wasn't different, not really. Yet the rage remained, simmering like a tea kettle.
Sam had told her that Sandor had demanded her presence for the midday meal, but Sansa could not imagine anything she would like to do less. It would not do for the crew to see the shameful marks she wore around her neck. So instead, she pulled open the familiar floorboard, slipped the steel into her pocket of her borrowed breaches, sat in the sturdy chair and waited for him to find her. He knew what she had done. So let him finish it. If she was lucky, she could take him to the grave with her.
...
Sandor returned sooner than she had expected, only an hour or two after she had decided on waiting him out. He threw open the door in the fury she had expected, barring the door behind him. She tried not to let her fear show, and instead curled her hand around the dagger in her pocket, ready to yank it out the moment he got too close.
"You think you're too good for me, girl?" He snarled, leaning against the wall across from her, bulging arms crossed over his chest. "Think you can just send around that fat boy like he's your own servant? Informing me that you're staying in your cabin?"
Sansa refused to meet his angry gray eyes, and instead stared at her lap, hands dug deep into her pockets.
"You know what I think?" He hissed. "I think you need to learn your place, girl. I'm the only thing that stands between you and the depths of the ocean. How do you like that?"
Still, she did not meet his gaze, feeling a cold ice in her belly, and a shaking in her hands as she clutched the wolf knife.
Sandor seemed intend on taunting her enough so that she would be forced to glare at him. "Or maybe your not feeling well from your little game with Osha last night. No one forced you to drink, you stupid bird, so don't be staying in here blaming me. I could drag you out of here and make you be my dutiful little wife. I could pick you up right now and press you into that bed and fuck you bloody, how would that suit you my lady?"
"Look at me, damn you!" He gripped her chin roughly and forced her face upward, exposing her neck. Sansa watched as the anger left his face, replaced by bewilderment, then replaced once more by a storm of fury that make the previous anger seem calm.
Very slowly, Sandor kneeled in front of her and brushed his fingers over her throat, tracing the black and blue marks gently. He began to breathe very deeply as he held her face in his too-large hands. "Who did this to you?"
What? Did he not remember last night? Was he as drunk as she was last night, unable to recall their altercation? Not that Sansa could remember the cause of it either, but she at least knew he had grabbed her.
He took her silence as fear and said, "Little bird, tell me who did this and I'll kill the bastard."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You would have to take your own life then."
Sandor recoiled as if she had slapped him. "I did not do this."
"Yes you did." She argued. "You grabbed me last night."
Shaking his head, Sandor looked uncertain for the first time since he had taken her. "No...no I couldn't have done that." He ran his thumbs over her neck lightly, fingers resting on her cheeks. "You're lying. I couldn't hurt you."
Anger flashed through her, sudden and fierce. "You couldn't hurt me? You stole me from my home and killed my people and burned my village and you did this!" Alarmed by her assault, Sandor backed away, and that only spurred her on further. Past thinking, past caring, Sansa drew the dagger from her pocket and shoved it against his throat, grabbing his hair with her other fist. Surprise colored his face, followed by a silent understanding that she did not comprehend.
"You killed him," he said slowly. "Didn't you, little bird?"
A cold dread settled over her and Sansa tried to push it away. She thought she had accepted the fact that she had ended a life but hearing someone else say it made the deed so much worse. Her neck ached, and a small drop of blood appeared from his skin as she pressed the blade harder. Sansa willed herself not to faint. Unbidden, tears began stinging her eyes. "Yes." She whispered her confession. "Yes I did. I'll kill you too; don't think I won't."
Carefully, Sandor wrapped his hand around her own, and took the dagger from her grip. She allowed him to do so, because she knew he was right. He was the only thing that was protecting her as of now, and frankly she wasn't sure she could even stand to see more blood. Poison was an unseen death and that had damaged her more than she could've predicted. She absolutely could not draw the blade herself.
And then Sandor was holding her, and she allowed him that as well. She wound her arms around his middle and buried her face into his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of just being close to another human being. The unburned side of his face was toward her own, and she tried to imagine what he would look like if he had never been scarred. His leather jerkin was smooth against her cheek and his arms were warm around her.
"Little bird," he murmured and ran a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and clutched him closer, wishing for Winterfell, wishing for her family, but mostly wishing that she could learn to love this scarred man that had stolen her. I could pretend it was a secret romance, and he had to steal me away to be together. When speaking of Sansa's future husband, Lady Catelyn had always assured her that love would blossom eventually, even if he was a stranger on their wedding day. That's what happened for her parents, maybe it could happen for Sansa as well. She laughed at that thought, a broken sound, and knew the situation was entirely different. But still, love lessened any ache.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Sandor rasped, referring to her neck. "I will be more careful with such a fragile wife."
Sansa assumed that was as close as she would get to an apology. "I am sorry I threatened to kill you," she replied, wondering if he would take the dagger away from her now.
He chuckled at that and let her go, but keeping a hand on her shoulder. His dark hair was pulled back today, and she got a full view of the warped flesh that ravaged half of his otherwise handsome face. It still unsettled her, but not so much when he laughed and smiled at her. "Don't apologize to the likes of me. I deserve all of your hatred, girl." Sandor placed the dagger back into her hands. "Would you like to keep it? Or should I return it to it's place under the floorboards?"
Mortification flushed through Sansa's entire body. He had known the entire time. That thought was so entirely unsettling, she found herself completely speechless. Instead of attempting an excuse, she meekly took it from the intimidating man and slid it back into her pocket.
He spared her further embarrassment and took her hand. He looked at her neck once more, and his lips pressed into a hard line.
"I bruise easily," she offered, wanting to continue this uncertain peace that had grown between them.
Sandor cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Don't. Don't make excuses for me." Sansa began to feel uncomfortable under his heavy stare when he finally said, "This will not happen again. Damn wine."
She nodded, and that seemed enough for him. Gently, he tugged her toward the door. "Come, we can see the land now, most like. Should be there soon."
...
...
...
Woo chapter 5! The holidays are utterly busy and my teachers have left me with mountains of homework, so I'll do my best to update soon :) Please please please leave feedback, I appreciate every word. Happy holidays to everyone!