After the two felt they had seen enough of Braavos for one day, they retired back to the inn for the evening. It was still early to begin supper, so the main dining hall wasn't crowded. Usually they'd eat alone in their room away from everyone's curious eyes.
As they waited for their supper, Sansa tried to listen in on some of the conversation others around them were having. One, for practice, and also to find out any news concerning Westeros. Besides from casual fisherman talk, there was nothing else she could understand. Although, a curious word would be repeated throughout the night: zaldrizoti. It was said in hushed tones, as if their tongues would be burnt by the very enunciation of the word.
A group of Braavosi men sauntered in just as food was placed in front of Sansa and Sandor. Thier presence filled the room, and Sansa could feel twenty eyes on her. She was the only woman in the room besides some simple serving wenches. And she was much more beautiful than a simple wench.
With a sigh, Sandor pulled her sideways into his large lap, "Go along with it Alyssane," he rasped into her ear, "they'll leave us along as long as we're like this."
Sansa squirmed awkwardly, uncomfortably shifting back in forth in his lap. Sandor grabbed his cup of wine and gave it to her and said, "drink."
So she did, and the men paid the two no mind, as if they hadn't been there at all.
After a few days at the inn, Sandor found them a small place to live, five stories above a canal. There was a stable nearby that would house Stranger for a cheap price too. It was a two room apartment, one room with a bed, table and chairs, and brazier with caldron that hung on top of it. And a second room with a chamberpot and tub. It was a cramped space, and noises from the streets and canal below could be heard day and night. Although the windows blocked out some noise, they could only be closed at night, or else no light could enter the dim apartment.
Sansa was given strict instruction to no leave the apartment without Sandor. It's far too dangerous to be wandering a city like this alone little bird, he warned her.
So, in his absence Sansa tried to busy herself until he returned home. She'd embroider and sew, knit, and sing to herself. Even though she loved to do those things, she'd tire of them quickly. Pulling a chair up to the window, she'd watch people in the streets and the canal below, making her feel like she was a bird on a perch watching from high above.
I wonder what Sandor is doing now, she sighed, resting her hands on her arms on the window sill. Sandor spared no details of the job he found. The only detail he disclosed was that he worked for a silk merchant. Although there was not much in common with the two of them, Sansa missed her husband's company. When she woke in the morning he was often already gone, and he wouldn't return until after the sun set each day.
Watching people go about their business was quite dull, so Sansa would make up fantastical stories for each person that walked by. Some days she had hoped to find Sandor and the merchant in the distance, but never did. From her window she had a satisfactory view the market square, and a fat-bellied juggler in bright robes was performing. He was a performer from Volantis, and he juggled for money by day, and was an expert thief by night. There was a woman who washed clothes in the canal each morning, and her story was that she was a bastard. Her noblewoman mother having an affair with a comely fisherman. And there was the group of young girls that pushed carts of shellfish who called out names and prices in different tongues. Sansa had yet to come up with a good story for them.
With a sigh, Sansa rose from her chair by the window to lay in her bed for a while. Our bed, she corrected herself, thinking of whom she shared it with. How long it would stay their bed she did not know. It seemed that some strange force hindered the couple from settling down permanently. Besides, Sansa was not fond of the cramped apartment and secretly hoped that they would find somewhere nicer to start their new life in.
Sandor had brought me here to keep me far from my enemies reach, and to start anew. Sansa was still unsure what starting anew here entailed. Will we begin our life as a couple here, and even start a family?
Her mother had braided her hair in the northern fashion, and began to brush her auburn tresses until they shone like bright copper.
"Do you think Joffrey is as handsome as the princes in the songs?"
Her lady mother tried to hold back a giggle from her daughters sweet nativity and girlishness.
"Maybe," she smiled.
"Do you think he'll like me mother? Maybe we'll fall in love and I'll be queen someday," Sansa sighed dreamily.
"Love isn't like it is in the songs my sweet."
"Then what is it like? Haven't you and father always loved each other?"
Her lady mother continued to brush her hair in silence, mulling over the right words to say to her.
"Sansa dear," she said, sitting on the cushioned seat beside her, "When your father and I first met we were total strangers. We married and then he followed Robert Baratheon off to war, and came back a year later to find out that Robb had been born," she recalled.
"Did you not love him when you married him?"
"No, it wasn't love then dear. I had a duty to fulfil you see, to give him children. Did Septa Mordane tell you how children are made?"
Sansa's face flushed,,"Yes, she did. She said that-," stammering, she continued, "intercourse is a wife's duty towards her lords husband, and the Seven above."
"Septa Mordane is right. It is a wife's duty, but intercourse is also an act of true love between man and wife."
"Really?" Sansa said, shocked.
"Yes. Duty comes first, respect then trust, and hopefully love. You see, love didn't just happen to us. We built it slowly, stone by stone over the years."
Sansa and Sandor mutually respected and trusted one another. Though he did not say it in words, Sansa knew that Sandor truly cared for her. If he didn't care for me we wouldn't be here, she pondered. He wouldn't have risked so much.
If Sandor loved her she did not know it. Sansa had once thought that she loved the King with all her heart, but that hadn't been love at all. Though she never felt the same infatuation towards her lord husband, or the true love that her mother once spoke of.
"Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll do things for them that you know you shouldn't do. You'll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice."
Oh mother, what do I do? Sansa wished her mother were there, brushing her copper hair and answering all the questions she never got to ask her. Would she tell me to do by duty by him? Would she tell me that I would love his children too?
The silk merchant seemed to think well of Sandor. He was a short, round man, who said he could use a scary man to scare of thieves and hagglers. The man knew minimal Common Tongue. And whenever Sandor displeased him, he'd be chastised rapidly in Braavosi. Other than standing by the side of the shop and scrutinizing shady customers, his boss would make him carry heavy merchandise to and from his stall to the docks.
After eyeing Sandor's countenance and long sword at his side, men with hoods and other shady figures usually stayed away from the shop. However, there were some that were daring enough to try to snatch a piece of silk and try to run for it. They all ran, but not very fast. He'd rough the thief up until they begged for mercy and surrendered the silk.
The work payed well enough.
"Does man have wife?" Sandor's boss asked one evening when they closing the stall.
"What?"
"Do you have wife?"
The question was completely out of curiosity. Sandor had not divulged any information about himself to the man other than that his name was Cederic and could be his bodyguard.
"Yes"
"Poor wife," he tsked, shaking his head. He then handed him a long piece of maroon silk.
"For wife."
"Thanks," Sandor replied, feeling the softness of the silk in his calloused hands.
When he returned to the apartment Sansa was crying.
"Oh!" Sansa said, surprised by his entry. Quickly she dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.
"What is the matter?" He asked, setting the present aside. When she looked away, he moved to her side on the bed.
"I was thinking about my mother," she sobbed, "I can't believe that she's gone, that they're all gone."
Putting her face in her hands, she let out a wail. Instinctively, Sandor gently rubbed her back until Sansa seemed to calm down.
"You'll never stop missing them," he spoke truthfully. When Sansa finally found the courage to look at him, he continued, "The pain doesn't really go away either, it just becomes easier to live with."
Sansa wiped her eyes with her sleeve again. They were red and puffy, but still a beautiful Tully blue. Even when she's like this she'sstill pretty, Sandor reflected.
"When does it become easier?"
"I don't know little bird.. it just does," pausing, he thought of something sweet sounding that she probably wanted to hear, "Think of all the happy memories with your family, so that your mind is filled with those thoughts."
Sansa sniffled. "You're right. If I dwell on the awful things, I'll only remember the awful things that happened to them."
"Mhmm."
Sandor pat her hair and got up from the bed to retrieve the present on the table.
"My boss gave this to me to give to you," he said, unwrapping the long piece of silk to her.
"It's beautiful," she gasped, her mouth taking the shape of an 'o'. "Why did he give this to you?"
Poor wife, the merchants words flashed across his mind. Aye, and that she is, he thought. Freed from her golden cage, and put into a smaller, more dismal one.
"I don't know, he's a strange man." The lie was half true.
Smiled sweetly. "Tell him thank-you."
Sansa wrapped the long piece of silk around her shoulders, like a shawl. "I wonder what I should embroider onto it, flowers maybe?" She spoke to herself, smiling at the thought.
The maroon silk reflected the light from the sunset outside, and against her hair the silk looked like it was embers glowing in a hearth.
Against the roughspun material of her dress, the contrast was awful. Sandor would ask his boss for more silk tomorrow so that Sansa could have a proper dress made.
The next morning, the air was unusually cool. The sun had yet to burn off the early morning he arrived at work, two tall men in Westerosi amour were at the silk merchant's stall. Sandors fist tightened around his sword's hilt. Clearing his throat he greeted his boss in crude braavosi.
The men turned around, their eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. Then they smiled.
"I'd never thought I'd see The Hound on this part of the Narrow Sea"
Author's Note:
Cliffhanger! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, even though it might be a little more choppy than the others. I'm still trying to figure out what direction this plot is moving in!
Just putting that hint of Arya in there again. Am I trying to kill you with the irony of the situation? Yes, yes I am.
Also, some flashbacks! One before the arrival of the Baratheons to Winterfell, and one that actually did happen with the Queen after Sansa received her first moonblood. I've always loved Cat's quote about love (even if she says it to Robb, I feel like it would be something she'd say to Sansa)