Well...it's about that time, and I've started struggling with this fic again. Today you guys get a two-fer (as in, two new chapters), and hopefully it won't be an extremely long time before I'm able to update again...buuuut I can't promise anything, because, sadly, this fic does need to come to an end soon and I'm finding it very difficult to write said ending. But for now, I hope everyone at least enjoys the two new chapters :)
They were both fools, that much was certain. He hated to admit it, but clearly he was as much of one as the little bird. And to add to his frustration, now he had to sit through an uncomfortable meal with her and Ser Willem, if only for the small possibility that doing so would alleviate any suspicions that the knight may have regarding Sansa's presence in Sandor's room this morning.
Sandor still wasn't even certain how that had happened - one moment they had been lying in bed, sated but awake...the next...Bugger me. Sandor knew that he should have made her leave immediately, but admittedly...he hadn't wanted her to leave. And now...well, how in hells were they going to keep something like that from happening again, unless one or both of them kept their distance? Except that now, he'd given in to her - given in to himself, really - and he knew that he wouldn't be able to push her away a second time.
All the same, this is a dangerous, stupid game that we play. Sandor's lip curled as he considered what the future - at least, the near future - held for him. For us.
Likely it would include having to spend far too much time with Ser Willem, and though Sansa hadn't appeared to notice the expression on that young knight's face - the look in his eyes when she'd opened the door to Sandor's room that morning - Sandor himself certainly hadn't been able to ignore it. Disbelief, at first, followed very quickly by concern - and then, compounded by jealousy. The little bird had smoothed the situation over as only she could, but Sandor couldn't entirely forget his own doubts.Besides, she certainly can't deny that he wants her. Not anymore. His hands automatically clenched into fists at the thought, and he had to push it from his mind with the reminder that it didn't matter, because Sansa Stark didn't want Ser Willem the knight.
This was a fact that Sandor had to remember several times a day for the next fortnight. It seemed as if Ser Willem dogged his every footstep - or perhaps it was Sansa whom the young knight was following around, but either way it left little and less time for she and Sandor to be alone together. Perhaps once a day there would be a moment in which he could pull her aside and embrace her, maybe even press his lips to hers for far too brief a time - and after all those days and weeks spent apart, the fact that he still had to keep his distance from his little bird was nearly driving Sandor crazy.
Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone - not even to Sansa herself.
"Will it always be this way?" the little bird chirped in frustration one night. Sandor had pressed her up against the wall just outside of her chambers, clutching desperately at her hips as he bent to kiss her, but before their lips could touch they heard footsteps and were forced to leap apart just before Sansa's maidservant rounded the corner.
The young servant did her best to avoid looking at them as she let herself into Sansa's rooms, but the door remained open and rather than answer Sansa's question Sandor merely glared at her and whispered hoarsely, "Not now - keep quiet." The little bird opened her mouth to protest, but he jerked his chin toward the open door and, with a sigh, she obeyed his command to remain silent.
"Meet me at the pools later," Sansa murmured. "Make sure you aren't followed."
Sandor couldn't help but snort his amusement at the grimace that passed over her lips. Clearly she had noticed that Ser Willem did his best to never leave the two of them alone, and apparently - despite her courteous demeanor around the other man - she wasn't any happier with the situation than Sandor himself was. "I don't know, little bird...if we're caught..."
"We will be careful as can be," she promised, reaching up as if to straighten his tunic and letting her fingertips linger along its neckline, brushing them against his skin in a way that made him want to gather her in his arms and take her right then and there.
"Aye, as we always are, and it's still not careful enough," he growled as he pushed her hand away. For a moment Sansa looked hurt, but then her expression became a blank mask.
"But you'll meet me?" she pressed.
Sandor grunted in annoyance, but then nodded. Sansa smiled at him as if she'd known all along that he wouldn't refuse, then turned and swept into her room without a backward glance. He was left standing in the hall and wondering what to do to wile away the hours - not to mention wondering when exactly she would meet him at the pools. Sandor knew better than to return to his own rooms, or even to visit Stranger in the stables - doing either of those things would likely lead to Ser Willem finding and tailing him for the rest of the evening.
But of course, he couldn't very well stay here, right outside his little bird's room. Sandor glanced down the hall to make sure that no one else was around, then wandered off in the general direction of the pools, figuring that he could hide in the orange groves near them and keep an eye out for Sansa's arrival. He felt like a damned boy, sneaking around like this...but as much as he hated it and despised himself for doing it, apparently those feelings weren't enough to make him stop. Not when she was involved. Sandor snorted, amused at the fact that he had ended up in this place, physically - being in Dorne at all, that is - and the fact that he had ended up here emotionally, as well. Emotions. Other than the animosity he had for Gregor, Sandor couldn't even remember truly feeling anything before Sansa Stark had come into his life. And now...
He wandered through an archway and out into the gardens just before reaching the pools, not wanting to encounter any servants or children who would be bathing or playing in them. Sandor found a spot where he could sit on the ground with his back to an orange tree and see the entrance to the pools without being spotted himself, and he settled in to wait for his little bird.
My little bird. When had she suddenly become my, rather than just the? She was no item to be owned, yet he understood now that they were tied to each other. Understood it...and nearly accepted it. Nearly.
Sandor leaned his head back against the tree behind him and closed his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well lately; every time he laid down on his bed, alone, he recalled their many nights of traveling...how during those nights he'd been able to hold her close, and that he may never be able to do so - may never be free to do so - again. As he sat there in the warm yet shady garden and thought about Sansa Stark and how she'd pressed herself against him both when she was awake and when she was asleep, Sandor's cock went hard. He wanted nothing more than to stroke himself to release, but he could still hear the splashes of the Water Garden residents who hadn't yet abandoned the pools for the day - and he sure as seven hells couldn't risk being caught...
He awoke with a start when the breeze changed suddenly, blowing across him with a chill such as he hadn't felt since before he and Sansa had reached Dorne. Apparently Sandor had slept away the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening as well - it was dark outside and he could see only a few lights still burning through the archways of the Water Gardens. Fuck. Could he have missed Sansa's arrival? Was she now wandering the empty halls wondering where he'd gone, or even worse...had she been accosted by Ser Willem while trying to find Sandor? He clambered to his feet and rushed past the dimly-lit area where the pools were located, through an archway and up the hall toward Sansa's chambers -
And then, suddenly, there she was, both of them hurrying so fast to find each other that Sandor practically knocked her off her feet when he rounded the corner and ran into her. For a moment they were tangled together and he didn't even know who she was, but then he caught a whiff of her familiar scent and saw a nearby torch reflected in her shiny red hair and he almost laughed.
"Little bird, little bird, it's me," he insisted, and she finally stopped struggling in his arms.
"Oh," Sansa breathed. "I - I'm sorry, I ran right into you, I didn't know - "
"It's all right," he replied, holding her at arm's length for a moment while he gathered himself. "Though we should probably go to the pools now, before anyone else can find us here."
Sansa nodded knowingly and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Lead the way."
Yet again noting how much he hated having to plan out their every move together, Sandor eyed the hall behind them before pressing forward. When they reached a long, straight stretch and he was certain that no one was around, he noted, "I was worried I'd missed you. I fell asleep..."
"Sleep," Sansa sighed. "Sleep would be nice. I wanted to come earlier, but I was..."
"Detained by your friend Ser Willem? He wasn't...bothering you, was he?" Sandor growled. The thought that the young knight was being in any way persistent with Sansa lit his mind afire with jealousy.
"Not...not exactly," Sansa said slowly. "He has not tried to kiss me again, or even hinted that he wants to do so, if that's what you mean. But it's clear that he still...suspects something." Sandor looked down at her and saw that she was smiling in bemusement. "I believe he thinks that he is protecting me. From you, I mean."
"I know what you meant." It will always be like this, Sandor reminded himself. No one would ever believe that she had come to him willingly, and if they weren't careful it would cause more problems than - than what? More problems than it's worth? He had to stop himself from scoffing out loud. If there was one thing he'd learned in the weeks he'd distanced himself from Sansa, it was that this - she - was worth any and everything. Still, to lay that same burden on her, when she had the potential for a life he could never dare to dream of...
"Sandor? What's wrong?" She was looking up at him with wide eyes full of concern, but after everything else he'd put her through Sandor couldn't bring himself to tell her what he'd been thinking of just then.
"Nothing's wrong," he lied. "We shouldn't be talking just now, anyone could hear us." He quickened his pace and tried to push out of his mind thoughts of anything but the possibility that in just a few moments, he would be alone at the pools with his little bird.