Sandor
Sansa's continuously good spirits were contagious.
She sat in the drawing room with him and Babs, his grandmother was immersed in the same book she had been reading that morning at breakfast, while Sansa was sewing herself a new dress from the material he had bought her.
His eyes lingered on her, sitting on the white couch, facing Babs who sat opposite her in an armchair. From where he sat he could only see one side of her, her profile highlighted by the setting sun's rays that filtered through the windows lining the wall on the other side of her. Her hair glowed with the sunset, shining coppery red. It flowed down her back, a few strands falling down to curtain her face on one side. Her skin was creamy ivory, her blue eyes focuses on her work. He watched her dip the needle into the soft fabric then pull it back towards her, making one stitch then repeating the process over and over. There was something strangely hypnotizing in watching her work. Her pink lips were pulled in a small smile as she worked, her eyes studying the fabric before her which draped from her lap to pool on the floor at her feet.
She had changed out of the dress she had wore on the beach, wearing a simple, white high-waisted gown with a pattern of red embroidered leaves and flowers running down the hem of the robe and short sleeves. The dress had a low, square neckline and Sandor found his eyes drawn to the soft swell of her teats. He scolded himself and tore his gaze back to the letters he was reading at his desk. He cursed himself for oogling at the little bird like Joffrey did. The memory of waking in the Inn with her beneath him, looking up into him with wide, frightened eyes came back to him. Finding himself between her legs like that, pinning her down into the mattress – he hated himself for it. He was supposed to be the one to prevent things like that happening to her – he was supposed to protect her from Joffrey. And yet he was just as bad, it seemed.
And the little bird, she forgave him, as only she could, being ever kind. He had forced a wall between them, wanting to keep her from him and his sick desires, but she battled past and made him smile, laugh and grateful for her being in his life.
He remembered the sight of her at the beach today, how he had been completely startled to see her standing in the freezing cold seawater, skirts hoisted up to her knees, hair flying about in the wind like autumn leaves, laughing joyfully, eyes sparkling in life and happiness. She had been breathtaking. And he had found his spirits lightened.
And when she had fallen into his arms, he loved the feeling of her small body, weighing nothing against his chest. She had smiled up at him, completely unfazed by his scars. And she had sought his company the whole day, chattering away to him, smiling, laughing, and teasing. He found himself smiling now and gave up on his letters, getting up to pour himself a glass of wine.
He could hear the low voices of Babs and Sansa behind him as he poured the crimson liquid into his glass and raising it to his lips. He turned and sat with Sansa on the couch, keeping to his end. She smiled at him, that little smile that made his chest feel warm, and this time he couldn't blame it on the wine.
"I was just saying to Sansa she should play for us," Babs said, folding her book in her lap, "she told me she plays and sings for her family often – well, we are her family now, you should sing for us, Doe!"
Sandor knew she could sing and play – every accomplished woman her age could, "go on, little bird, it's either you or Babs and she's about as good as singing as your sister is at sitting still."
Sansa laughed loudly at that, throwing her head back.
"Oh very well," she said, putting her sewing to the side.
She stood and walked to the piano that sat before the windows, her dress flowing behind her with each movement, the setting sun silhouetting her body with a warm, orange glow as she sat, poising her fingers above the keys. Sandor turned in his seat to watch her fully and she paused, thinking of a song, then began to play.
Low, slow notes filled the silence that had been in the room. He watched her small, slender fingers move over the keys, making it look so easy. She smiled as she played, her eyes following her fingers, looking to each key before she pressed them. The melody was calming and somber, and when she opened her mouth and began to sing, Sandor forgot how to breathe.
"Gentle mother, font of mercy
Save our sons from war, we pray
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day"
Her vice was soft and smooth; moving through the melody like it had been created completely for her. Sandor felt gooseflesh break out on his arms and he couldn't take his eyes off her.
"Gentle mother, strength of women,
Help our daughters through this fray,
Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
Teach us all a kinder way."
She kept her eyes upon the movements of her fingers. She smiled softly as she sang, each note clear and perfect.
"Gentle mother, font of mercy
Save our sons from war, we pray
Stay the swords and stay the arrows,
Let them know a better day"
When she was finished the room was filled with silence. She blushed and raised her eyes to him and blinked in surprise at his expression.
He couldn't help it; mouth open, eyes wide and staring at her. She blushed harder and stood, "I haven't played that in quite a while," she excused, "I'm quite rust-"
"-oh, little Doe, that was beautiful," Babs declared, dabbing at her wet eyes with a handkerchief.
Sansa smiled at her gratefully, she looked to him and his throat was dry.
"Definitely much better than Babs" he managed to croak out.
She laughed softly, cheeks still highlighted red and thanked him.
They stayed up until it was quite late. They played cards – Sansa sulking when she lost the third time in a row. She read to them her favorite story about foppish princes and beautiful princesses until she hit Sandor over the head with the book after his fourth yawn.
Eventually Babs' soft snoring filled the air and Sansa woke her gently, leading her to her room and bidding Sandor goodnight.
He lay awake until late in the night, thinking about the woman sleeping in the room adjacent to his, listening to her singing over and over in his head until sleep took him and red hair and blue eyes and a sweet voice filled his dreams.
V