She dreamt of hounds. She was running with them, and could feel the dry yellow grass beneath her feat. Their masters called after them, but their voices were lost in the harsh gale of wind. The sky was swirling, a deep turbulent grey. A storm was coming. She and the hounds felt it on their skin, in their bones, and in their blood. Then they smelt smoke. And at the edge of the field everything was ablaze.

Sansa woke from her dream and heard rain pouring outside.

"Sandor?" He sat at the edge of her bed by her feet.

"Didn't mean to wake you little bird, it seems that you were dreaming."

"I was having the strangest dream.." she rubbed her eye as she propped herself up. Whatever the dream was she couldn't remember it now. For a while she closed her eyes and listened to the rain.

"It hasn't stopped all day," she remarked.

"Aye, can't do too much in this weather." The consistent downpour pulled work at the contraction site to a halt, and Sandor was dismissed for the day. When he came home he found her there, in their bed. Her dress pulled dangerously high up her thighs, revealing her long pale legs, and silk small clothes. The entire room smelled of her, her heat, mixed in with the smell of the rain. Every part of him wanted to climb into bed with her and pull her lithe body up against his- to smell that auburn hair that he loved so much- to kiss her long white neck- to drown in her.

Instead, he sat by her feat and watched her dream. As of late she slept better. Without nightmares or restlessness she slept peacefully through the night. Every night he'd wait for her to fall asleep so he could look at her. She was so beautiful, he would never tire of doing so.

I am hers and she is mine, he scoffed at the thought of their wedding vows. She would never be his, yet in moments like these Sandor allowed himself to believe it to be true. He was hers, he had always been. He would never ask her for her love nor did he think he deserved it, only that he could continue to serve her. For him, that was enough.

Sansa stirred in her sleep, and then woke.

The anniversary of the uncloaking of the free city of Braavos was in two weeks, and Alyssane had much to prepare. There were ten days of celebration, and it culminated at midnight on the tenth day, when the titan roared and all the revers and celebrants remove their masks as one. Sansa had prepared two dresses for the occasion, one of light green with silver embroidered vines and flowers and a mask to match. And another of golden yellow complimented with a mask of black feathers, that she would wear on the final day of the celebration in hope to surprise Sandor.

Marga told Sansa all about the celebration as the two vigorously worked on their dresses and other commissions. In the main city, paper lanterns were hung by rope on every canal and bridge. And even through the thick fog, Braavos became a twinkling wonder at night. Vendors sold food, and trinkets. There was music, laughter, dancing, fighting, and singing everywhere, along with extensive feasting. Even if it rained the common people still came out to celebrate. There was no way in any hell that they were going to not honor their ancestry and their beloved city.

Outside the main city, and for the elite, the celebration was more refined. The wealthy would open up their gardens and welcome people into their homes for food and drink, and music and dance. The main fountain was decorated with garlands of flowers and shells, and intricately painted purple lanterns were strung above the central square. Marga was invited to a different manse each night and Sansa gleefully attended as her guest, never before have experienced such a grand festival.

On first day actors played out the the history of Braavos and its uncloaking in the square. The actors wore extravagant robes of deep purple, maroon, and blue with brilliant gold embroidery. Along with masks decorated with feathers, flowers and shells which extended past the top of their heads. The play was filled with lively music, songs, and dance which Sansa enjoyed immensely. Sandor was never a fan of songs, or anything of the like, so he watched Sansa react to the play instead, taking in every small nuance of her countenance. Afterwards Marga took Sansa in arm to one of her closest friend's gardens. There, Sansa ate delicious tarts off of fancy plates and was introduced to other women with whom she chatted with, and discussed embroidery, music and the festivities.

Sandor enjoyed the second day of the festival more than Sansa had. She didn't have the stomach to watch men gorge themselves as as many pies as a contest. The men were indeed large, but none of them as fat as Sansa remembered Lord Manderly to be. Sandor bet on the smallest of the men, telling Sansa how he watched a similar contest in King's Landing where the smallest of the men won. When the smallest man out-ate all the others, Sandor was given a fat purse filled with the bets he won.

The highlight of the third day were the dancers, acrobatics, and contortionists. Sansa watched in awe as the dancers moved, and their robes flowed as if they were an extension of their bodies. The acrobats did flips and tricks that Sandor enjoyed until one began to juggle with fire. In the end, the performer pulled it off without getting burned but: who in the seven hells would play with fire? Sandor thought. The contortionists move and twisted their bodies in ways Sandor and Sansa didn't think were possible, just looking at them made the two feel sore.

Sansa entered a cyvasse competition on the fourth day. She had begged Sandor to let her compete, but lost in the first round. For the rest of the day a smile was plastered on her face, happy that she had the chance to try.

Braavosi water dancing bouts with dulled swords was one of the biggest part of the festivities. Sandor thought the style strange, their movements too artistic and almost pointless compared to the Westerosi standard. The final winner of the bout was a young girl, who was unknown by the other competitors and did not give her name. When offered the prize money she bowed then sifted through the crowd and disappeared.

At a garden party Sansa tried wine for the first time in a long time. Mixed with fruit juices it mad much sweeter, and less harsh than any wine she had ever tried before. As a result, Sandor found Sansa at the end of the night, on a bench with her arm affectionately wrapped around another woman with whom she was trying to giggle quietly.

"Alyssane."

"My husband!" Sansa exclaimed, wobbly rising from the bench. "He is here for me I presume, goodnight!" She said to her companion as she tripped on her skirts trying to walk towards Sandor. He caught her in her arms and she giggled.

"You're very drunk little bird," he commented, linking his arm with hers to steady her.

"I wasn't planning on it… but it tasted so good and-!" She looked at him, "it's not very lady-like of me is it?"

"It's alright little bird, let's get you home." She stumbled and giggled the whole way home, finding her state of drunkness amusing. Sandor didn't mind however, for she unabashedly gripped and held his body for support.

There were boat races on the seventh day, but Sansa felt to wine sick to attend. By the waters edge, Sandor bet some of his winnings from the eating contest on a boat with a blue and red sail. He didn't know if he felt odd without Sansa beside him, or that he was being watched by someone else.

On the eighth day Marga took Sansa to the largest party yet. The decorations were lavish: hundreds of flowers that Sansa had never seen before with intoxicating smells filled rooms up to the ceilings. And people of a hundred different skin-tones who spoke a hundred different tongues attended. The smells, the sights, and the people overwhelmed Sansa to the point where she thought she might be drunk again. Surely there was nothing like this in King's Landing? If there was, Sansa had never heard of it. A tan handsome man that Marga introduced her too kissed her hand at the end of the night. Although it flattered her, it was another man's kiss she thought of.

Sansa visited there again the next day, and the tan handsome man she had met just the night before found she and Sandor, and asked if she wanted to see his collection. What he collected were birds from all across the world, and was happy to tell Sansa all of their names, and where they came from. He was about to tell her the name and origin of a small bird with wings the color of silver when someone asked for him, and he politely dismissed himself.

"Don't you think it's awful that they're kept in cages like this?" Sansa turned to Sandor.

"Aye, it is," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. All Sansa wanted to do was to open all the cages and let the birds fly free. Would they even know where to fly back to? Where would they go?

That night she woke shaking from a nightmare.

Half of the tenth day was spent with Sansa fussing over her appearance, wanting to make sure every detail was just right, even when Marga insisted that she looked wonderful. Her chest was fluttered. What would Sandor think when he saw her? Taking a deep breath she put on the new mask and called for Sandor. Annoyed at not knowing what was taking the girl so damn long, he pushed open the door. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Seeing his reaction Sansa blushed, and then twirled for him, "What do you think?"

There weren't any words that couldn't begin to describe the way she looked, or how it made him felt.

"Perfect," he rasped. She skipped towards him, took his arm, and out to the festivities they went.

The entire day was a blur. There was a magnificent feast, and as they ate Sansa laughed and touched him openly. Casually resting her hand on his forearm or on the small of his back.

Sandor had hated celebrations. In King's Landing celebrations meant Sandor would be on duty, making sure some pisspot didn't get violent or try to attack the royal family. After the celebration finished, he'd retire alone to his chamber to drink. That was all the merriment he was allowed. But after ten full days, he had finally knew what it meant to enjoy himself. Not once did he want to drive his sword through a man, which surprised him.

Before midnight, Sandor and Sansa found a place to stand by the fountain. First Sandor removed his mask, and then Sansa's. A stroke before midnight the whole crowd dissolved around them and it was just the two of them. The glow of her dress and skin under the flickering lantern light made Sansa glow. Holding the mask inches from her face, he moved his face closer to hers, and lingered there for only a second, then stepped away, removing her mask completely. He did not look at her.

Boldly, she stepped forward and pressed her lips onto his. Wrapping her arms around his neck and Sandor could feel her smile.

The titan's roar broke them apart, and everyone cheered around them. The festival was complete.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the wait (again)!

The dream was inspired by a post that was floating around a while back, about the implications of seeing "hounds" in dreams. Can be read here: post/96173638022/txwhitewolf-was-looking-through-a-book-i-found

So I recently bought the World of Ice and Fire book and made sure to read up as much as I could on Braavosi culture. When I read about the "Uncloaking of Braavos" I knew I had to write about it! I hope you enjoyed my interpretation.

Also, a kiss!