It had still seemed very unreal to her. But the pain she felt inside was very real.
She had lost all.
Her heart was split in two, and internally she felt as if she was burning from the inside out. Sansa remembered songs from her girlhood of fair ladies dying from such heartache. Life wasn't a song, she knew; songs had morals and lessons. But in life, songs seldom applied.
No song expressed how endless and unbearable the pain of loss felt. The sorrow inside her had become a void, deep and black, that nothing could ever fill. The void was darkness, and it was consuming her whole. Her heart had become a night without the moon or stars, or a day without the sun. Happiness seemed to only be an allusion, like a shadow cast upon a wall. Her happiness was brief, the same way candles are blown out by the wind, and now she was left to subsist in her dark.
Sandor Clegane worried for the girl; she barely spoke or ate, and had become awfully frail. Sansa seemed to be a ghost of her former self, her countenance taut with grief. Although her features were more sharp, and sunken in, she was still acutely beautiful.
He had lived with grief his whole life-dealing with the pain of loss had not become easier over time, only he had learned to live with it. His pain, anger, fear, and rage consumed him; it lurked in the depths of his subconscious, and tore away at his heart until the man known as The Hound remained.
He wanted to comfort her, to kiss her, to give her warmth until she could no longer feel any pain. He wanted to lead her out of the dark. But she was broken. Like a porcelain doll dropped on the floor by a careless child, she'd never be whole again.
The only thing he could do was to keep her safe.
They stopped at a brook to rest and bathe for a while before they continued their journey east. Sandor discretely tended to his worsening leg wound while Sansa was given her privacy to bathe silently in the river. He had yet to tell her about his leg. Hopefully he could find a herbalist, midwife, or even a maester once they reached the Saltpans. It worsened every day, pussing and aching. The pain was sometimes so bad he could hardly sleep.
If the circumstances were different, Sandor would have heard his little bird singing to herself as she bathed, and he would have shouted lewd remarks at her to ruffle her feathers. He wanted to hear her laugh and to feel the warmth of her smile again. But there was silence between them, as there had been ever since they escaped The Twins.
Once they re-mounted Stranger she finally spoke. "Where are we headed?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Essos, girl."
"Why Essos?"
"That's where I originally planned to go, and it's probably the safest place because the Narrow Sea will be between us and our enemies."
"I have an aunt in the Eyrie, surely she'd take us in. I am her sister's-" He cut her off.
"Have you ever met your dear aunt Lysa girl? That woman is unstable and not right in the head," he growled at her. "Your Aunt never sent men to help your brother's cause, and it's the first place anyone would look for you."
Sansa's heart sunk deeper at the mention of her brother. Sansa wanted to cry, but no tears fell.
"We'll be safer in Essos; winter won't reach us there. We'll reach the Saltpans in a fortnight, and there we can find passage across the Narrow Sea."
He felt her nod, and they rode in silence for the rest of the day.
Notes:
This is a short chapter I know! It's basically a teaser for the chapters to come. Thanks for reading!