The stale air hung about the room, stifling Sansa's every breath. In one fluid movement, she slipped from the bed and flung open the curtains that draped across the small window. With a grunt, she twisted the latch, pushing with all her might until it finally gave way.
Panting slightly, she stood back, eyes closed as the cool breeze wafted across her face. This is the last night I sleep with that blasted window closed. Crossing the room, she lay back on the bed and let her mind wander back to that night...
Sandor had never looked so handsome before, standing beneath the weirwood. Bathed in it's golden light, his armor glinted in the torchlight. His scars didn't scare her anymore, they only made him more dear to her - a testament of all he had suffered and all he'd overcome. There was never a more truer knight then him. She thought. Especially when he kissed me.
With a sigh, she rolled over onto her side, kicking the blanket away from her as the memory of his tender kiss filled her mind. Stop thinking about that! She chided herself. It is a marriage of convenience, nothing else! Screwing up her eyes, she was determined to sleep.
After a moment of lying still, she groaned, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. This is never going to work.
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Sansa slowly pulled the weeds away from the crops, the sound of hammering reverberating throughout the fields. Pausing, she glanced at the house, catching sight of Sandor's form as he framed in the new room.
He swung the hammer back and brought it down with a loud clang. Again and again he repeated the motions, sweat dripping through his shirt. Sansa rose quickly, heading for the well. After filling the bucket, she turned to him.
"Here." She murmured, touching his arm gently. He stiffened at her touch and she dropped her hand to fill the ladle with water, lowering her eyes to hide the hurt that sprang up in them. He took the ladle, raising it to his lips and draining the water before handing it back to her. She filled it again, eyes still downcast.
"It's terribly hot today." Sansa said, watching as he drank. Sandor merely nodded, finishing up the water before giving the ladle back. His breathing still labored, he retrieved the hammer and propped up another board. The hammering resumed as she slowly slipped away to the stable.
Ser's gentle neighing floated through the stable as Sansa knelt beside the pigpen watching Rosy amble around. The squealing ball of pink rooted through the mud, rolling around happily. A soft smile crossed her lips as she sat there before her mood once again turned serious.
"I know that he only married me to give me a name that could protect me but that night in the weirwood..." she paused, swallowing. "That night in the weirwood, when he kissed me it just felt like more than a contract. It felt...real."
Rosy stopped rolling for a moment, her pink ears twitching as she stared at Sansa with her big brown eyes. Sansa closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. Here I am, discussing my life with a pig and a horse - what would Robb say? A tear slipped down her cheek as she opened her eyes which shimmered with unshed tears at the memory of her eldest brother.
Taking a deep breath, she stood, smoothing out her skirt as she did. I am a Stark or Winterfell. She reminded herself, her face hardened with determination as she returned to the fields. We do not give up so easily.
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The Hound paused, breathing heavily as he wiped the sweat from his brow. A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to watch Sansa as she knelt among the golden wheat. A few stray wisps of hair had come loose from her tight braid, whipping up like flames as she pulled the weeds from amongst their crops.
A sudden longing filled his chest as he stood watching, his brown eyes full of desire. He found his breath becoming shorter as his heart beat faster. She's just a girl. He thought to himself. She has been put through so much already...lost so much - I can't ask it of her.
With one more regretful look at her small form nestled among the wheat, he returned to his work, steeling himself with each blow of the hammer.
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Sitting back on her heels, Sansa scanned the wheat slowly, her blue eyes narrowing as she searched. Finally satisfied that she had captured every stray weed, she rose, gathering the weeds into her arms. She headed for the back of the house to spread out the weeds in the sun to dry. At least they are useful for something.
She passed Sandor, peeking up at him as she did. Once she had deposited her weeds, she glanced at the sun, shading her eyes with her hand as she moved towards the house.
Before she could got far, the sound of hooves reached her ears and she froze, alarm mounting in her chest. A quick glance assured her that Sandor too had heard the noise. With a foul look on his face, he strode out to the front, Sansa trailing behind.
Two riders approached, their horses glistening with sweat as they halted before the fire pit. The men dismounted, carefully eyeing the surrounding fields before turning their eyes to Sandor.
"Greetings." Called the taller man, bowing as he flashed a smile. Dust covered his face making his teeth appear brilliantly white. "My friend and I have had a long, hot ride. We are in need of water - for both ourselves and our horses."
His grey eyes flitted quickly to Sansa before returning back to the Hound's scarred face. The smaller man stayed beside the horses, his dark eyes suspicious as he listened.
"Where are you headed?" Sandor asked, his voice thick with distrust as.
"Towards Meereen. We're going to pledge ourselves to the Second Sons." The man replied, watching him intently.
Sandor remained quiet, studying him for as the man's friend continued to scowl from across the fire pit. "Well is over there. Water the horses and then take what water you need, then be gone." He growled as he pointed to the well.
The man bowed again as the other lead the horses to the well. "Thank you, Ser." The man said, smiling widely. "I am Devon Lightfoot and my friend is Sterlen Cray. We've come a long way, across the Narrow Sea."
Sansa watched his face, leery of the glinting grey eyes. Uneasiness stirred in her belly and her gaze shifted to his friend. The man he had called Sterlen was peering into the stable as though searching for something. The horses stood restless, tails twitching as Sterlen glanced at his friend, nodding quickly.
"I heard a story from your neighbor, very interesting story but I'm inclined to think it isn't true." Devon shrugged nonchalantly before continuing. "He told me a fierce knight lived here under the pretense of having a wife. Now, I don't see a knight here, just a poor farmer that somehow managed to get a expensive suit of armor and his pretty little wench." He sauntered towards Sandor, who stood silently looking down at the man.
Devon grinned, his lips pulling back from his teeth. "That man promised us a lot of coin if we killed you and brought the girl back to him. Claims she'd fetch a high price on the slaver's block, though I am beginning to think that isn't what he wants her for." He leered at Sansa, her skin crawling under his gaze.
Sansa swallowed slowly, her eyes still focused on the other man. She heard a sound she knew all too well - a sword being drawn from it's sheath. Her heart pounded as she realized that the man meant to fight Sandor.
"I think my friend and I will take the girl along, just to keep us entertained until we reach the Second Sons." He brandished his sword, swinging it around in a dazzling array. "And then, maybe we'll sell her to slavers there once we're done with her."
"You have one last chance to reconsider, boy." Sandor spat, gripping the hammer tightly. Devon simply smiled and lunged towards the Hound, who shifted out of his path and brought the hammer down on his sword arm, a sickening cracking rang out, the man's scream filling the air.
His friend dashed towards Sansa, grabbing her violently by the wrist. He squeezed it harder and grinned, clearly enjoying the look on pain etched on her face. Sansa raked her fingernails across his face, twisting free and falling backwards in the dirt. "Why, you dirty little-" The man moved toward her, rivulets of blood appearing on his cheek as she crawled away.
The man reached out, grasping the coil of red hair hanging down her back. With a single motion, he drug her back, a small cry of pain escaping her lips. He lifted her from the ground, his hand closing around her throat. Tears squeezed from her eyes as she gasped for air, kicking out at the man. With a wild swing, she clawed at his eyes, stretching her arms as far as she could. He laughed as she frantically tore at his hand, the desperation plain on her face.
A resounding whack filled the air and Sterlen released his hold. Sansa fell to the ground, coughing violently. She glanced up to see Sandor's fist making contact with the man's nose. A soft crunching noise sounded on contact and then blood spurted from his nose, pouring down his face as his eyes widened in fear.
"Get off my land and don't come back." Sandor snarled, his eyes flashing as he glared at the two men. Sterlen cupped his face in his hands and scrambled backwards as blood dripped between his fingers. Devon grimaced as he stood, his sword arm swinging limply beside as he breathed heavily.
"I was wrong." Devon panted as he retrieved the horses, his eyes full of awe. "Sametyr was right about there being a knight here, ser."
"Be gone!" Sandor cried, his eyes wild with anger as he stepped forward. They hastened to mount, kicking the horses into a gallop when they had. Once they had faded into the distance, Sandor turned to Sansa, his face softened as he looked at her. Catching sight of the ugly red mark about her throat, his eyes darkened, anger filling his face.
"I'm alright." Sansa whispered hoarsely as he help her stand, her throat aching with every word she spoke. "It'll be sore for awhile but really, I'm fine."
Sandor pulled her into his chest, encasing her in his arms as he placed a tender kiss on her fiery locks. After a moment, he lifted her in his arms and carried her towards the house. Startled, she looked up at him, his face blank as he carried her into the house.
Gently, heplaced her on the bed. "You need to rest." He said quietly, heading to the door. She opened her mouth to protest but he had already closed the door behind him.
Sandor's jaw tightened as he closed the door, his pulse racing at the thought of that man's hand around Sansa's throat. This has to end now. He thought, his fists clenching. Striding out the door, he barred the little bird safely in her cage before heading towards the stable.
I'll never get any rest in this heat. Sansa thought, slowly rising from the bed, shedding her clothes until only her shift remained. She curled up on the bed, her brows puckered in confusion, her throat pulsing in pain. When will it end?
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A noise startled Sansa awake and she sat up, momentarily bewildered before remembering the day's events. Sliding off the bed, she stumbled to the window, her mind still hazzy with sleep as she peered through it. Straining to see in the dusky light, she caught sight of a man digging at the edge of the fields.
Quickly pulling her dress on, she rushed outside towards the man, her naked feet silently as she moved through the fields. Horses whinnied as she passed the stable and her forehead wrinkled as dread filled her soul. What is going on? Quickening her pace, she dashed towards the fields.
She slowed as she approached the man, anxious not to startle him but even more afraid to see what lay inside the grave. Sandor knelt beside the gaping hole, staring at something inside. Her heart racing, she crept towards him.
He didn't acknowledge her, only sat there looking down. Sansa peered over his shoulder, a sob of relief raking her throat. "It's all over." He murmured gently as he rose. He began to fill in the hole, the dirt covering the blood-spattered armor like a flood, his hound-shaped helm silently howling at the sky. Slowly the earth piled up until not even a glint of the armor could be see.
They sat in silence beside the mound. The dusk was overtaken by darkness and the stars began to twinkle in the sky. Finally, a quiet rasping broke the stillness of the night. "The Hound is dead."