Hello girls (and boys, if there are some, but I doubt it :P…)!
I'd like to thank everyone who takes the time to comment my chapters week after week; it really melts my heart every time I receive a review and so, thank you! :D
Also, I'd like to apologize if my pace is not that fast. I know some of you would like me to be a little faster but it's really hard for me with school and work; not to mention that since English is only my second language, I have to re-read myself millions of times… :S
Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy this one!
Maroucia :)
Sansa
The sun was slowly setting behind the high green peaks that crowned the horizon when they finally reached the stream that the Hound had predicted they would eventually meet. Giant shadows swallowed the foothills almost instantly, their spectral shapes absorbing trees, rocks and whole hills indifferently, leaving in their places a blank darkness that would inevitably overtake the rest of the valley in the hours to come. The Hound would not halt until dusk was truly upon them and so the unlikely duo continued their progression through the tall pine trees that thrived in the small vale. They followed the creek from afar, preferring the relative anonymity and protection of their thick branches to the openness of the riverbed where one could be seen from many leagues away. Careful to avoid the big, pale grey rocks that studded the area, Sandor Clegane let his stallion walk at a slow pace, each of its steps producing soft creaks as the beast's hooves crushed the dead, dark-orange pine needles that cloaked the ground.
Since yesterday night when they had briefly crossed the Goldroad, the Hound had kept heading relentlessly through the mountains and although she was not very familiar with the geography of the Westerlands, Sansa knew very well that with each stride that they made, she and the Hound sank deeper into the wild and further from the lane.
Breaking the silence for the first time since dawn, Sansa suddenly spoke. "Are we going to head back to the Goldroad soon?" she asked as she was getting increasingly curious about the man's plans and couldn't bear staying silent any longer.
"No, we're not," he simply growled without adding any further explanation.
"So where are we going?" Sansa uttered uneasily, frowning to herself as she wondered what Sandor Clegane had in mind.
Snorting, the Hound answered, "Don't you worry, little bird, I'm still bringing you to the Golden Tooth. Only, I have no fucking intention of passing by Lannisport now that the bloody boy is not with us. I don't think his family would welcome me with open arms when they realised that their damned son was nowhere to be found." The Hound barked a rough laugh at that, his breastplate moving against Sansa's back all the while.
Stiffening, she tried to move closer to Stranger's mane but the heavy arms that flanked her as Sandor Clegane held the horse's reins relaxed and he unconsciously leaned further into her, preventing her from putting any distance between them. Biting her lip, Sansa sighed deeply. Now that she had lost her mare, she had no other option but to ride double with the Hound and that forced proximity rendered her ill at ease, although she knew very well that given their current precarious situation, there wasn't much to do about it.
"We'll be cutting through the woods all the way to the Riverlands," Sandor Clegane finally added after a long moment of silence. "I know the area well enough to get to the exchange point without losing even so much as a bloody day from the original schedule. For all I know, we might even make better time cutting through the mountains."
"Oh… I see," Sansa whispered softly as questions by the hundreds overwhelmed her.
During the previous evening, the Hound had rescued her from her abductors, killing Robert on the way with the same facility and emotion that other men used to crush cockroaches under their boots. Sandor Clegane was a matchless warrior with unbelievable speed and strength that gave him an advantage in combat very few men could hope to rival. Sansa was convinced that he could have annihilated all four of Robert's companions with no difficulty if the desire had taken him, and so she couldn't help but wonder why he had decided otherwise and left Julius behind given all the trouble that it now brought him. True, the young man and Sandor Clegane had had no love for one another but Julius had nonetheless been the Hound's charge, just like Sansa, so why had he decided to abandon him whilst saving her?
Staring absently at the pommel, Sansa took a deep breath before giving voice to her confusion. "What… what will you do once we have reached the Golden Tooth? You can't go to Lannisport - you just told me so yourself - but doesn't that mean that you can't go to Casterly Rock either… or even to King's Landing?"
"Aye, that's exactly what it means, little bird," he rasped flatly with a hint of mirth in his gravelly tone.
Taken aback by the Hound's lack of concern for his own fate, Sansa turned in the saddle and jerked her head upward to lay her puzzled gaze on him. "You don't mind?"
Laughing hoarsely, the man shook his head slightly while boring wry eyes into hers.
"What will you become afterward, when you're done with me then? Where will you go?" she asked, totally baffled.
Smirking, Sandor Clegane answered, "Fuck me if I know or care, girl. One thing's for sure, I'm not going back to the Lannisters once I know your mother has set you safely in your new cage. I hadn't planned any of it, becoming a buggering deserter and all, but really, I'm almost gladdened by the turn of events. I'd had enough of those fuckers and especially of that little shit of a king-"
"But you have a good station with them, they like you-"
"Like me?" He snorted contemptuously at her words. "They like my sword when I kill their foes and the fear that I inspire everywhere I go, that's about it. I'll find work elsewhere, don't you lose sleep worrying about me, little bird," the Hound said mockingly, his dark eyes still staring down at her.
"Where do you plan on going?" Sansa asked in a softer tone.
"Not sure yet. I might go to the free cities… if there're still boats anchored in the Riverlands, that is," the Hound replied, his smirk slowly turning into a scowl as he raised his stare to squint at the horizon.
Lowering her gaze to stare at Stranger's mane again, Sansa murmured, "You would leave Westeros?"
"I might," the Hound grunted while spitting onto the ground beside them.
As if she hadn't been confused enough already, new questions were starting to sprout in Sansa's mind. The Hound's motivations and actions were becoming increasingly obscure to her. She couldn't understand why, now that he had decided that he would put his many years of loyal service to the Lannisters behind him and flee the Seven Kingdoms - becoming a free man all the while – Sandor Clegane still planned on delivering her to her family. It wasn't his concern anymore if the king's wishes were granted or not and thus he wouldn't gain anything by escorting her to the Golden Tooth to exchange her for Jaime Lannister. Even worse, the Hound would also lose precious time and effort in doing so.
It was almost as if Sandor Clegane genuinely and personally wanted her to be reunited with her family and aspired to be the one responsible for her safe return but the idea was too absurd to be considered seriously. That would explain why he has volunteered for this mission though. He gave his name. No one forced him, he told you himself, a small voice whispered in the back of Sansa's head. Shocked by her own silly thoughts, the young girl's eyes widened and she flushed in shame while flinching slightly away from the Hound.
"What is it?" the man asked pryingly, apparently puzzled by her sudden gesture.
"It's nothing! I'm only… cold," she answered nervously, relieved to have found a credible excuse so quickly.
"If you're cold, you won't get any warmer that way," the Hound rasped while bringing his cloak over her with one hand and pushing her shoulder against his torso with the other. "Better?"
"Yes. Thank you, my lord," she murmured, a rush of warmth staining her already pink cheeks.
You see, he cares for you, the small voice intervened once again. No, it's ridiculous. Why would the Hound care anything about me or my fate? The man had helped her on a few different occasions in the past, that was true enough, but he had never compromised himself before and none of his interventions had cost him anything. Apart from when he risked his life to save me during the bread riot but that was different, she reasoned. He did it for Joffrey's sake. Although even as she reflected on it, Sansa was discarding her own hollow argument: she was not naïve enough anymore to believe that the young king would have shed a single tear if she had been murdered by the press on that tragic day. Sandor Clegane had acted of his own will and nothing else, same as he was doing just now.
The revelations about the Hound were mystifying. They were showing him in a new light that allowed Sansa to see for the first time a man that gave every appearance of being nothing more than a coarse brute but was seemingly much more than that. The Hound had a hidden side, Sansa realised, that he might try to conceal but that she was nevertheless beginning to uncover without him even noticing it. Not only had Sandor Clegane accepted a risky mission with no other evident motive than her own well-being, but he had also rushed to her rescue when she had been abducted by bandits on their way, all the while forfeiting everything that he had ever gained throughout his life with no more concern than if he had lost a trivial copper. All of it sounded really… chivalrous. The Hound, chivalrous? That's impossible! Something was definitely amiss. Sandor Clegane was not one to sacrifice himself for the sake of a maiden like the knights did in the songs. On the contrary, he was a hard man who cared for naught but his sword and his wineskin; he would never forsake himself for anyone. He didn't care for her. Her heart suddenly beating fast, Sansa's eyes widened. What if he does? What if he's in love with me?
"We'll stop here. It's getting dark," the Hound rasped, taking her out of her reflections as he jumped from the saddle.
As his strong hands went to circle her waist, Sansa anxiously recoiled from them, too shaken by her previous thoughts to act naturally.
"What's the matter with you, girl?" the Hound barked, obviously annoyed by her reaction.
"Nothing. You startled me, that's all."
Grunting, the man helped her from Stranger's back before freeing the horse from his saddle. They were still only paces away from the creek and so the Hound led his stallion toward the fresh water before leaving the beast free to drink his fill.
"We'll light no fire tonight; too dangerous for now," he rasped, his stare boring intently into her, as it always did. With a mocking smirk, he added, "I have some stale bread and rock hard cheese. Want some?"
Not noticing the irony in his tone, Sansa nodded distractedly; her mind was elsewhere, totally absorbed by the conclusion that she had just drawn.
The notion that Sandor Clegane could have feelings for her was very unsettling to Sansa. She had never believed that a man such as he could feel anything beside hate but the more that she thought about it, the more she realised that all the evidence was pointing toward that very conclusion. Sandor Clegane was in love with her. What am I thinking? The Hound is not in love with me! I'm only a stupid little bird to him and I'm even stupider to believe that he would care for me in such a fashion, she mused, but the idea had already taken root in her soul and there was no way to chase it away now.
After having settled their lone bedroll on the ground, the Hound nodded toward it for Sansa to sit. She did as he bid her while the man himself crouched against a pine tree just beside her. His eyes were on her as he handed her a piece of bread. That gaze, always the same when he looks at me… It always troubled me and I never understood it, but now… Was it the way that a man looked upon the object of his interest? She wasn't sure; she had never been loved by a man before and thus had no idea how to recognise the signs.
"Cheese?" the Hound rasped as he cut a chunk of the old dairy with his dagger.
"Yes, thank you," Sansa replied anxiously, hastily grabbing it from him.
She ate with no appetite, too lost in her thoughts to truly enjoy the food. Even as she was still struggling against her recent conclusion, an additional realisation suddenly froze Sansa in place, sending her heart racing. As if the concept that the Hound could be in love with her, as she was foolishly beginning to believe, was not stupefying enough, Sansa now also had to recognise that she was strangely... flattered at the idea. A man such as Sandor Clegane was certainly not the kind to enamour himself easily; if her suspicions were founded, she would have unknowingly accomplished something that very few would have succeeded in before. The man was certainly nowhere near the ideals that she had set for herself throughout her young life but she nonetheless couldn't help but feel an unexpected thrill at the prospect.
"You're quiet tonight," she heard the Hound grunt.
Blushing, she answered while avoiding his prying gaze, "I'm tired, that's all."
"Tired, yes. Tired of being in the woods with the likes of me, I gather. Sleep tight, little bird. Soon, you'll be done with this nightmare," the Hound hissed, leaning further onto the pine tree as he closed his eyes.
Turning her gaze to look at him, Sansa sighed deeply. Sandor Clegane was always so bitter and angry at everything, but could she really blame him? With his terrible burns, had he ever been loved? Had he ever been kissed? I could kiss him, she mused while gazing at the man's scarred features. It wouldn't be so bad; I can look beyond his burns now that I know him better. The Hound had done everything to deserve to be kissed: he had saved her and was sacrificing himself for her. She'd be very ungrateful to refuse him that little gesture.
Without thinking further, she moved closer to him and softly pressed her lips against his.
For a numbed instant, nothing happened but then Sansa felt strong fingers firmly grab her above the elbow and push her away slightly. Her eyes popped open and she gasped in shock as she realised what she had just done. His grip still tight on her arm, the Hound was staring at her with an unreadable expression.
"What was that?" he snarled almost menacingly.
"I… I was kissing you… to thank you for everything you've done for me."
Relaxing, the Hound snorted. "How selfless of you," he scoffed, before falling into a brooding silence. For a long and uncomfortable moment, he gazed at her with the weirdest gleam shining in his eyes before adding, "I want no kisses from you though. I told you - long ago - what I wanted. Do you remember?"
Uneasy as ever, Sansa whispered, "No… what do you want?"
He laughed wryly. "I want a song."
"A song...?" she exclaimed, baffled.
"Aye," he said, laughing harshly.
Why would he want a song?
Staring at her more intently than before for a long and awkward moment, the Hound sighed and was about to release her arm when he suddenly smirked. "Forget what I said," he rasped. "I changed my mind, I'll take that kiss."
His grip tightening, Sandor Clegane pulled Sansa toward him. A heartbeat later, her body was against his, the roughness of his breastplate pressing against her. In a much more mature and demanding kiss than the one that she had offered him a mere instant before, the Hounds lips went searching for hers, their touch warm and wet as his tongue invaded her mouth, his free hand clutching at her waist all the while. Bemused by a situation that she had not expected, Sansa stood petrified, overwhelmed by a mix of known and unknown feelings. She shut her eyes nonetheless and let Sandor Clegane do as he pleased with her, every bit of willpower that she possessed leaving her as she leaned onto him. After what had appeared to her as a dreamlike eternity, the Hound let Sansa's lips go to look upon her, his hands still holding her tightly. For a few seconds, he almost glared at her but then plunged his head towards her neck, biting it lightly as he buried his fingers in her hair. With a passion not far from despair, the Hound sniffed it but then his touch loosened and he let her go.
Sighing, he gazed elsewhere and whispered nonchalantly, "Go to sleep now."
Momentarily dazed, Sansa stared at him with wide eyes but then came round and nodded before lying on her bedroll.
She shut her eyes, hearing the Hound as he stalked into the woods to join his horse near the creek. He was away for some time, only returning much later to lean against his tree when Sansa was finally about to lose consciousness. Her sleep would be troubled, overtaken by queer dreams that would leave her almost as tired as she had been before them.