Set in the future with spoilers for ADWD; I do not own the characters but wrote this on Word, which is why it is has been written more quickly than someone that prefers DOS (not that I'm naming names…). Enjoy!
Slide
Her beauty had afforded her audience to a beheaded father, bruises and lashings by the enjoyment of her deranged betrothed, a blunt-nosed and misshapen husband, and forced kisses from a man that coveted her dead mother. The sight before her Tully blue eyes now filled her with hope rather than the revulsion that she had once felt. Melted and scared flesh, hidden behind greasy wisps of long hair falling out of an oversized hood, made Sansa catch her breath in rare, unbridled excitement. Careful training allowed her to return her gaze to her intended with a schooled smile. She was proficient at waiting; she would wait.
Harry's attention would have flattered anyone with less experience than Sansa had, for she had her own enraptures turned against her time and time again in her short life. Recently, she had calculated and lavished attention towards her deliverer, uncle, pseudo-father, captor and defiler and it provided her the upper hand. The Vale wept when they discovered their self-proclaimed protector had ended his own life in a warm bathtub. Alayne lamented for her sweet father, practiced tears flowing to hide Sansa's relief. When her intended arrived, their marriage already having been proposed but not accepted, she gladly donned mourning clothes and left her prison. Sweet Robin could fly out of the moondoor for all she cared, his pleas for her to remain falling on deaf ears. Her escape had arrived at her own hands, sequestered sleeping potions worked into food and drink until he slept. Careful slices had been hard, as she would have rather gouged out the eyes of the man that had ruined her body by force while whispering her mother's name. Anything soft in her soul had been lost that night.
Days in the company of Harry were of little consequence to Sansa. Alayne, however, was careful to show her gratitude and admiration once their betrothal had been decided. She had learned that a flashy smile and a lingering hand on his were enough to satisfy the young heir, much to her surprise. Having waded through the opposite sex via trials of disappointment and abuse, Sansa knew that she just needed to bide her time, covertly collect supplies and wait until she could flee, having decided to return to Winterfell no matter the cost. If she lost her life in the effort, it would be better spent than as wife to a man who had his cook serve his meat already cut into small bites.
When they announced a group of Septons as guests for dinner, Alayne couldn't contain her giddiness at meeting such well-travelled men. She had already been seated when they silently filed in and her eyes fell on his well-known scars, barely visible from the shadow of the hood. Under the table, as she smiled at Harry, she pinched her hand to relieve the nervousness; her savior had been delivered.
The Elder Brother spoke for the small group, recounting their journeys and relaying news of the battle-worn land. Alayne listened attentively, Sansa gleaning information like a seasoned spy. Sandor never lifted his eyes during the meal and followed the Elder Brother once they excused themselves for their evening prayers. Dismissing the irony of his career swap, Sansa drummed up an excuse to leave shortly after, desperate to find her silent rescuer.
The sliver of the moon provided no useful light on the grounds as Sansa strained to see which direction the brothers had left. Irritated that she had lost an opportunity to reconnect with the Hound, she stood in the darkness and breathed into her hands to warm them. The hair on the back of her neck stood up just before she heard his lowered, rumbling voice from behind. "Little Bird."
Her breath hitched before she quashed it with a cool reply. "I am no longer a little bird. I am a ruined widow, a pretender and a murderer." Long gone were her beliefs in tales of brave knights that he had mocked her about. She clamped her teeth together, the memory of his dagger at her throat and the fact that she still carried a piece of his cloak with her, like a failed talisman.
"You will always be my Little Bird." His voice was close enough that it tickled her ear from above. It was effortless to lean back into his hulking body, a sigh escaping her before she had time to stop it.
"If I asked to you take me away, like you asked so many years ago…If you wanted me to…" she whispered and then halted.
"Yes." Robed arms encased her slender body from behind.
"I am not the naïve girl you remember. I am not that bird in her cage. I filed my bars until I escaped and I have no song for you."
His answer lingered in silence before he muttered, "You have a song, Little Bird. It is in your nature as sure as your mother's eyes. You've just forgotten how to sing."
She turned and muffled her yell into his scratchy robe. "I will never sing again. All of the songs are lies and men are the biggest lie of all!"
Sandor laughed a curse. "Took you long enough to figure that one out." He lifted a massive hand to stroke her darkened hair. "I will take you home, as I know it's where you are flying to."
She turned her face to rest her cheek on his broad chest. "Yes," she replied, listening to his strong heartbeat. "I want to go home even though it is burned and empty. I have no home and no one to return to, but I want to see the walls of Winterfell before I die." Sansa looked up, barely able to see Sandor's ruined face in the dark, his hood having been pushed back. "If I asked you to kiss me, would you?"
He scoffed, "Nay, Little Bird. Have you made me into a knight from your stories?"
"On the contrary," she answered, reaching up to touch his scars, chasing his face with her fingertips when he flinched. "Your words to me were always in truth, as horrible as they were at the time." In the darkness, the ridges and lines of his burns fascinated her sense of touch as she moved her entire palm to stroke the destroyed side of his face. "More than once, the truth of your words haunted me as I was locked away in the Vale; mocking me, teaching me. Bend down, Ser, so that I may thank you for your wisdom." She felt his face pull tight in anger when she drudged up "Ser."
"No." He captured her wandering hand and pulled it away from his face while stepping back to distance himself.
"Sandor." Sansa employed her lowest voice, the one that enticed Petyr to the bathtub and Harry into her safe betrothal. Although his name was as familiar as her own, it was sounded foreign coming from her lips.
"I will not," he said before cursing as her hand landed again on his chest. "You seemed to have learned the game, and I may have been out of the game for a time now, but I will not be your pawn."
Sansa found that he had backed himself against the wall and pressed her body into his. "Had I to do it over again, I would've chosen you."
"Liar," he accused, pushing her off. "You were revolted by me!"
"I was." Sansa had no reason to lie to him. "But you were honest and the gods punished me for rejecting you."
"Why are you throwing yourself at me, woman?"
"I have, as you said, learned the game," she bitterly replied, disgusted at herself. She had been humiliated, beaten, forced into marriage, and raped. Alayne may still have had her innocence but Sansa Stark did not. "I did not jest when I said that I was ruined and a murderer. Survival is not…easy."
"Seven hells, woman! I could care less if you had killed Joffrey."
Sansa barked a resentful laugh. "If I could take responsibility for that, I would."
Sandor whistled long and low. "Well, your Imp is still alive, according to the rumors."
"No, not he. It was my good father."
"Ned?"
"No, my other father."
He had moved closer again. "What are you babbling about?"
"My cage, Sandor." Again, his name felt alien but more comfortable. "You did not hear my betrothed call me Alayne?"
"Aye, but I figured it was a pet name, like Little Bird."
"I do not want your pity when I tell you happened after you left. I do not need your pity, so give me none," Sansa began indifferently. She reiterated her story, leaving no disgusting detail or unwanted touch out. He had to understand that his "Little Bird" no longer existed, had died and risen stronger and colder, like the White Walkers from old Nan's stories. "So yes, I learned the game. And I will use the game, any man I want, to get what I need."
Sandor chuckled, "I don't believe it for a rutting second. You are still in there even if you have been defiled or abused or whatever you want to call it. You'll get no sympathy from me, Little Bird, and while I know you tell the truth, you have just gone and jammed yourself so far down in there and are so pissed that it'll be a long while until you find your song again." He had worked his way close enough that he gathered her head to his chest again.
"It is easier to be angry," she whispered truthfully. "I'd rather be angry at the world." True tears that had been denied for months finally spilled onto Sandor's septon robes. "Where did your anger go, Hound?"
He leaned down and planted a chaste but lingering kiss onto her head. She stiffened and held her breath before he answered. "I would be lying if I said that I gave it up long ago. It's always with me. That's how I know you're still in there, Little Bird, just as I buried the Hound deep down."
Somewhere within the walls, she heard her false name being called over and over. Instead of pulling away from the colossal man, she slid her arms around the only other human that knew her secrets and tilted her chin up so that he would hear her whisper, "Never lie to me, Sandor."
"I never have and never will." His lips moved so closely to her own that she stood on her tiptoes to try and capture them. "No, my Little Bird. You're still a lady and deserve more than a Hound."
As she readied a response, Harry frantically called her name from the doorway behind her. Sandor released Sansa, melting into shadows as the search party found their chilled and crying ward. Alayne weakly leaned into Harry's embrace while Sansa cast one last look into the shadows. He was there, she knew, and she prayed to the gods that had abandoned her that he wouldn't do the same to her.