A/N: Just one note for this chapter. I feel like it would be obnoxious beyond belief to count out hundreds of gold coins to pay for a suit of armor, I decided there are coins of varying value in Tamriel. Specifically, a five gold septim is mentioned in this chapter. And that is all. Thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut, and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: It's Bethesda's and GRRM's.
Rating: M for language, sexual references and the consumption of alcohol.
When Sansa woke and realized she wasn't in her bed alone, her first thought was that she was back at home and it was Arya next to her. Her second thought was that she was still in King's Landing, sharing a bed with Shae on a night she didn't have a client after having stayed up all night listening to stories of the Summerset Isles while the older woman braided her hair. It wasn't until her tired brain caught up with her current situation that she considered it could be the Hound beside her.
After their argument the night before, he'd left her alone to cry for a while before finding her where she sat alone in the middle of the woods, handing her his roughspun handkerchief and a lukewarm bowl of soup and then leaving again. The rest of the night had been passed in silence. She figured it was as close as he would get to any sort of apology.
But now...had he presumed that her shy thanks was some sort of...advancement? The thought was equally thrilling and horrific.
Once she finally gathered the courage to open her eyes, the first thing she saw was the Hound sitting against the wall, sharpening his sword. The ruined side of his face was toward her and she studied it for a moment. It wasn't quite as terrifying by the light of day, though still just as ugly.
The next thing she noticed was the large dog lying on the bed beside her, its tail wagging happily when she met its gaze. Yelping, she sat up and put a hand to her chest, staring at the animal in stunned confusion.
Clegane snorted and looked up from his task with unconcealed amusement. "He was there when I woke up. I didn't want to wake you by moving him."
Sansa blushed and slowly lowered her hand to pat the dog on the head and then smiled slightly when he licked her hand. "That was...kind, my lord. Does he not have an owner?"
"Dead," the Hound replied, tossing a leather-bound notebook at her. "Mutt's name is Meeko."
Turning to the last page, she read silently to herself. Well, after all my years living in these woods, it looks like the Rockjoint will finally be the end of me. I guess that's fine. All my friends are long dead. The only one left is poor Meeko. He was always a loyal companion, and I know he'll be able to take care of himself. I hope someday I'll see him again.
"Was he here when we arrived?" Sansa asked quietly. When Sandor nodded, she found herself almost feeling some sort of gratitude toward him. Despite what he could've done, he had carried the body away before letting her in and had protected her from having to see the dead man. As horrible as he was, he seemed to have the occasional moment of compassion.
"Can we take him with us?" She knew the answer before she even asked, but allowed herself to hope she was wrong. It would be nice to have some company from a rather more affection hound.
"No. He'll only slow us down." When Sansa nodded sadly and ran her fingers through Meeko's tangled fur, Sandor sighed and then stood up. "Are you ready to go?"
"I..." She looked down at herself. Her dress was wrinkled and dirty from being worn and slept in for the past two nights now and she could tell that her hair was a mess even without a looking glass, but it wasn't as if she could do much about either of those things, so she nodded, earning a nod in return as Sandor walked out.
By the time she got up, hastily combed through her hair with her fingers, straightened her gown, and changed the bloody rag in her smallclothes while the Hound was outside, Stranger was already saddled, fed, and ready, with his owner standing beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
"Ready?"
Sansa nodded and then looked down at her feet when Sandor stared at her. Clearing his throat, he added, "And you're...okay now?"
She wasn't sure if he was referring to having recovered after their fight or being physically alright after her abdominal pains—probably the latter since he looked so uncomfortable—but either way, the answer was yes, so she nodded.
He looked relieved when she met his gaze again and she stepped forward so he could help her up onto Stranger's back before mounting behind her and walking the courser through the trees and back onto the main road.
Sansa could hear a forlorn howl from behind them and she glanced over her shoulder to see Meeko sitting in front of the shack with his head resting on his paws. Her heart went out to the poor creature and she sighed. I know what it's like to be alone.
"Where to today?" she asked cheerfully in attempt to lighten her own mood.
"Wherever the road takes us." Clegane replied with a shrug. "We should be to Morthal a little before nightfall."
"And how long will we stay there?"
"Why so curious about our plans all of the sudden?" he said warily, urging her to meet his distrustful gaze. "Expecting some knight to come and rescue you?"
Sansa sighed heavily. If only. "Just wondering, my lord," she responded curtly, sitting up straighter in the saddle so she wasn't leaning against the Hound for support.
A moment passed in silence before he gave her an answer. "We'll stay for about a day or so. Two nights probably. Since it's a bigger town than Dragon Bridge, there's more work to be done and more gold to be made. We run a higher risk of someone recognizing that pretty face of yours, but without coin we won't get anywhere fast so it's a risk we'll have to take."
Sansa wasn't entirely sure if pretty was a compliment or not coming from him, so she refrained from thanking him and merely nodded before turning her gaze back to the countryside.
She must have lost herself in her own thoughts because it felt like only minutes had passed before Sandor was nudging her roughly in the back with an elbow and gesturing toward a fort on the horizon with his other hand.
"Those men are your brother's."
"Pardon?"
"Look at the banners, girl," he snarled. "That's a Stormcloak fort. So when we get there, keep your head down, and not a word, do you hear me?"
"I..." She hesitated and then laid a hand gently on his arm to regain his attention. "Could you not leave me there? I'm sure they would pay you and then take me to my brother."
"Oh, they'd take you alright, little bird," he growled irritably. "But not to your brother. They're men that have been cooped up too far from a whorehouse for far too long. After they pay me, less than you're worth, they'll fuck you bloody and believe me, girl, you won't live to see your brother."
"But I'm a Stark!" Sansa protested in a whine. If she was to believe the Hound, every man they ran into wanted nothing more than to rape her and leave her to die. Was he the only one could see past what she had between her legs?
"Aye, you're a Stark, but their army ain't called the Starks now is it?" When she didn't respond, he snorted. "That's what I thought."
"We could use more food..." she suggested weakly, desperate for the chance to be among her brother's men. Perhaps one would recognize her as Robb's sister and take her from her captor. "I could wear the hood on my cloak. They might not recognize me if they can't see my hair."
Sandor pulled Stranger to a stop and crossed his arms over his chest. "And what of me? A hood won't hide my burns and every Stormcloak knows that the Clegane brothers are on the opposite side of the war."
"Do you have a helmet?"
Sandor hesitated and then nodded. "Yes, but it won't do much good. It's as recognizable as my face." When she raised her eyebrows, he reached into one of the burlap sacks behind him and pulled out an ebony helmet carved to resemble a snarling dog's head. She absentmindedly wondered whether it had been made before or after he'd earned his nickname.
Staring at the helm for a moment, she realized with a bit of confusion that she'd seen it once before, though where, she wasn't sure. As she puzzled over her inability to remember, the answer came to her.
"Did you fight in the tourney to honor Lord Stormcloak when he visited the capital as an anniversary of his victory over Markarth, my lord?"
Sandor looked at her through narrowed eyes then nodded curtly. "Aye. It was my first one."
Sansa smiled at the fond memories of her own dealings with the event in mention. "And you dehorsed the Knight of Flowers in the joust." At the time, she'd been far too worried about the health of the handsome young knight to even bother noticing his victorious opponent.
Snorting, the Hound nodded again. "Got a good bit of coin for that one. Made a few bets with some of the other fighters." After a brief pause, he added, "You were sitting with your lord father just below the High King. Your brother Robb was there too."
Completely taken aback by the fact that he had noticed and remembered her out of all the crowds that had been gathered there that day, she nodded, a bit guilty that she had failed to recognize him any sooner. In her own defense, he had never removed his helm at any time during the tournament.
"That's enough talk," Clegane said gruffly, interrupting her thoughts. "And we're not stopping." With that, he nudged Stranger in the side and the warhorse obeyed willingly.
They had barely walked more than a few feet when the bushes off to their right rustled suspiciously and a man clad in rusted iron armor emerged, pointing a weapon in their direction and signaling them to stop. He seemed confident until he got a good look at the man atop the horse.
"I...I heard you talking! I know she's highborn, so hand over your valuables or I'll gut you like a fish!" the man ordered, waving his warhammer to accentuate his point.
Not even bothering to slow Stranger's pace, the Hound sighed impatiently and loosened his sword in its scabbard, casting a look down at the wary outlaw with a muttered, "I don't have time for this," before adding a warning of, "Close your eyes, girl, you won't want to see this."
When Stranger stopped moving and she felt Sandor dismount behind her, she got up the courage to open her eyes again and promptly emptied her stomach in the dirt when she saw that the thief's head had been cleanly disconnected from his body.
After cleaning the dead man of his gold and giving Sansa a moment of privacy to compose herself, Sandor straightened up and, sighing, held out a bloodied iron helmet for her to see. "Alright, little bird, what's your plan?"
"A bear there was,
A bear, A BEAR!
All black and brown,
And covered with hair!
Oh come they said,
Oh come to the fair!
The fair? said he,
But I'm a bear!"
The first few men had already arrived at the gates before Sansa reached the third verse and she smiled at them from beneath the hood of her cloak as she continued to strum the tune on her lute. Sandor walked a few feet behind, having abandoned Stranger a little ways up the road for fear of the warhorse being recognized.
"And down the road, from here to there..." prompted one of the younger soldiers, returning Sansa's cheerful grin. With a laugh, she gave a shallow curtsey to the man and continued.
"And down the road,
From here to there,
From here! To there!
Three boys, a goat,
And a dancing bear!
They danced and spun,
All the way to the fair!"
The commander arrived before she could continue and looked her over for a moment, accepting her curtsey with a nod and giving a shallow bow out of courtesy. "And who might you be?"
"Alayne Stone," Sansa replied. "Traveling bard."
"And him?" As if for the first time, a few of the soldiers noticed Sandor standing silently behind her and they looked uncomfortable at the realization of his presence.
"Sworn shield," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We were just passing by on our way to Morthal, in hopes of picking up supplies here, perhaps."
"I'll pay you well enough to buy a feast if you'll warm my bed for the night," one of the men suggested. A few others laughed and murmured in agreement.
"I'm afraid that's not my trade." Sansa replied curtly, casting a brief glance back at the Hound when she heard him growl under his breath. "But I'll sing for your coin if you're willing to give it."
"I thought you said that wasn't your trade," the commander said with a smirk, earning snickers from a few of his men and a confused look from Sansa. Behind her, Sandor drew his sword and the soldier put up his hands. "Easy now...it was merely a jest. You're both welcome to the fort and enough supplies for the both of you, so long as you don't cause any trouble."
After nodding in agreement and establishing a general rule for where exactly they were allowed to go, they were given leave to explore and once Sansa had grabbed enough food for a modest lunch, they went to a small clearing just outside the fort and sat down, using Sandor's cloak to sit on.
"How many songs do you know, little bird?" Clegane asked through a mouthful of cooked beef, washing it down with a long drink of red wine.
"I'm not quite sure..." She carefully cut a piece of beef with the dagger Sandor had given her and then ate it properly with the wooden fork she'd retrieved from the fort's kitchens. "I learned the traditional ones at the Bard's College during my studies and picked up others from fellow bards or from books of songs. Why? Do you want to learn some?"
Sandor snorted and gave her a withering look. "Just trying to make conversation."
As Sansa momentarily abandoned her food to pick a handful of pink mountain flowers and braid them into a crown which she placed on her head, her companion stared absently into the forest and then turned back toward Sansa after a moment of thought. "How well can you defend yourself?"
"Not at all," she replied honestly, cutting a slice of cheese from the wedge they'd taken.
"Would you like to learn?"
"Would you like to teach me?"
He frowned. "What I'd like to do and what I will do are two very different things. I just want to know that you won't get yourself killed while I'm asleep or anything equally idiotic. I won't be around to protect you forever." Without waiting for a response, he added, "You still got that bow?"
"It's with Stranger. They might have one here we can use though."
Nodding in approval at her reply, he stood and put his helmet back on before walking into the fort and returning a few minutes later with an expertly carved hunting bow. "Get up."
Obeying, Sansa stood and waited for the next command, watching quietly as the Hound approached her and then silently handed her the bow and a few iron arrows before removing his helmet and shaking out his long, dark hair.
"Draw."
Hesitantly, self-consciously, she raised it and drew back the string as far as she could, looking back with a shy smile. Sandor narrowed his eyes and nudged her left foot forward with the toe of his boot then sighed and shook his head. "That's pathetic, girl."
"Then teach me," Sansa snapped back, a deep blush spreading from her cheeks down along her neck. Not wanting to see him laughing at her, she turned away and haughtily raised her nose, peering down the length of the arrow to a tree that stood a few meters away.
"Raise your hand." When he spoke, his voice was right beside her ear and she jumped slightly, earning a low chuckle. "Up higher, toward those lovely highborn cheekbones of yours." She ignored his mocking sneer, following his commands and trying to retain her concentration when she felt his hands on her waist, angling her slightly. His touch was firm, but not ungentle.
"Like this?"
"Mmhm..." His hands moved to cover hers, one helping her draw back further than her minimal strength allowed as the other helped to steady her aim. "Then aim and release. When you're ready."
"Am I ready?" she breathed, her own heart beating much faster than the slow but somewhat unsteady rhythm she felt against her back. Sandor laughed quietly and shrugged. "Nothing will happen if you miss, little bird."
Sansa nodded and then squinted at her target before taking a deep breath and letting go of the string. It whizzed away and hit squarely in the middle of the trunk, quivering for a moment as she stared in mixed shock and awe.
"I hit it!" In a moment of elation, Sansa turned and almost threw her arms around Sandor, but reconsidered when he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Aye, but with my help. Try it on your own."
Reaching for another arrow, she lined herself up as the Hound had shown her. He'd already sat back down and resumed eating as he watched her from a safe distance. This time, when she released, the arrow went off to the left and straight into a row of bushes, sticking out at an odd angle and prompting a cry of dismay from Sansa.
Trudging off to retrieve the arrow, she reached for it and was surprised to find that it seemed to be stuck in something and when she nudged in the brush with her shoe, her foot hit what she discovered was a rabbit upon pulling it from the bushes.
She could hear the Hound moving to stand behind her when she cried out and when he reached her side, he snorted in wry amusement. "Congratulations. You've slaughtered your first bunny."
"It's not funny!" Sansa retorted, on the verge of tears, frantically checking to see if the poor animal had somehow survived her badly aimed shot.
Sighing, Sandor knelt by her side and pulled the arrow from its body, giving her a look when it twitched slightly and pulling the dagger from his belt. "Not dead yet, little bird, but it will be soon." Slitting its throat in one quick stroke, he handed her back the arrow and shrugged. "Where did you think the rabbit your cooks served you came from?"
"...the kitchens...?" Sansa replied hesitantly, wiping the tears from her cheeks and laughing weakly at her own naïvety. "I never thought past that."
"Well, now you can have the satisfaction of knowing that our next meal was killed by your own arrow."
Sansa frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that 'satisfaction' was the right word. She was seriously considering never picking up a bow again in her life.
"We should head out. Get to Morthal before sunset. Put your hood back up."
As she tucked her curly auburn hair into the hood to hide her blatantly Tully looks, the Hound replaced his temporary helmet and gathered the rest of their food before following her back into the fort and standing at her side as she stopped beside the commander.
"Thank you so very much for your generosity, ser."
"My pleasure," he replied with a smile before reaching into his coin purse and handing her a couple of five gold septims. "That's for the song. Feel free to come back and finish it for us anytime."
"I'd love to," Sansa said sweetly, smiling back at the handsome soldier. After bidding farewell to him and his men, they rejoined Stranger where he stood pawing at the ground and snorting impatiently and started off toward Morthal in silence.
As the Hound had anticipated, they arrived a few hours before nightfall and tied Stranger to one of the posts outside the apothecary's shop before heading for the inn.
"Just stick with the sworn shield story, girl. It's more believable. People get suspicious when they see a pretty girl like you with an ugly mutt like me and hear anything besides 'guard'."
Sansa nodded quietly in agreement and approached the older Redguard woman behind the counter with a courteous smile.
"Good evening, my lady."
Looking up, she smiled in return and wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. "Good evening. Welcome to the Moorside. It's good to have some customers."
The offhand comment prompted Sansa to glance back over her shoulder. Sure enough, they were the only ones there aside from the owner and an Orc in the corner with a lute on the table beside him.
"There ain't much to offer here, but if you want a dry place to spend the night, I'll rent you a room. Twenty gold for the both of you. As for the room, take your pick."
"Thank you," Sansa replied courteously as Sandor paid for the largest room. "Why is business so slow, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Slow? No. It just ain't here at all. Few enough reasons to pass through Morthal before the war started. Now...Well, let's just say the front door doesn't get much use. It's just me and Lurbuk." She snorted and shook her head. "Fancies himself a bard, that one. He pays, so I let him stay. If I had any customers, I would be worried about him annoying them, but..." She trailed off and shrugged. "You're the only ones."
"I'm a bard," Sansa said with a smile, withdrawing her lute. "If you think it might get you a few more customers, I can play some for you on the morrow."
The innkeeper nodded and smiled slightly. "You're welcome to if you'd like. I won't pay you much, but you'll earn a bit of coin."
"Payment won't be necessary," she replied, beaming happily. "It would be my pleasure."
"As you wish. The name's Jonna. You need anything, just say the word."
Nodding her thanks, Sansa followed the Hound into their room and sat down on the large bed, tiredly rubbing at her eyes. Despite the early hour, she was exhausted from their journey and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and dream of her home or her family; anything to escape where she truly was.
"Going to sleep, little bird?" He sounded as tired as she was and looked to be too as he stood against the wall, fumbling with the buckles on his armor.
"Yes, my lord," she replied quietly, picking at the furs on the bed. After a moment, she looked up shyly and murmured, "I don't want to sleep in my gown again tonight. It's uncomfortable." Sandor met her gaze with an uncomprehending stare and she blushed. "I can't undo the laces by myself..."
A strange look passed briefly across his features then left just as quickly as he stepped forward with a noncommittal grunt. Sansa turned so he could reach the laces and a moment passed before she felt the rough pads of his fingers brush across the nape of her neck. She shivered.
His movements were clumsy as his big hands fumbled with the intricate laces, but he succeeded in getting them undone and then quietly obeyed when she requested help with her corset as well, his knuckles accidentally brushing across her bare skin when he finished and pulled away.
Sansa tried to ignore the foreign heat building in the pit of her stomach and she thanked him quietly, clutching the now loose fabric of her bodice to her chest as she turned to face him. His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them and his gaze wandered from her face for a moment before he swallowed and then looked away.
"Could you turn around please, my lord?" she whispered.
Sandor obeyed with a curt nod and she turned as well before shedding her dress and standing for a moment in her smallclothes, absently wondering if the Hound had kept his word. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was still turned away and she quelled the sudden and confusing sense of disappointment that bloomed in her chest.
"You can turn back around now," she said quietly, slipping beneath the furs and pulling them to her chin. When he did, he only regarded her for a moment before turning away and retrieving a handful of coins, to buy a drink or two she presumed. She had yet to see him without a bottle of wine or ale somewhere nearby.
"I'll be outside if you need me," he said gruffly as he turned once again to look at her. "Don't let anyone in. And keep this beneath your pillow." Stepping forward, he handed her the dagger at his belt and gave her a look. "Don't hesitate to use it."
Smiling slightly at his attempt to protect her, she took the blade and carefully slid it beneath the pillow. "I think I'll be alright, my lord."
"Not worried about you," he grunted, heading for the door. "I'm worried about my gold." And with that, he was gone.