A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM
*My betas: gingerbeer48, swiftsnowmane, vargasse & onborrowedwings! I owe you so much and for that I thank you all once more!
*The story though mainly book canon, can still apply for the HBO show (I don't anything from the tv show either).
- The story will contain dialogue from both the books and the show from now on.
6. At the Inn of the Stormed King
Sansa was walking from one tree to the next, caressing their trunks lightly in turn with her fingers when she felt Sandor lay his hand on her shoulder and remark in a casual tone, "Look. There's a ship right over there."
Sansa gazed towards the sea's horizon and could indeed see a ship at long last anchored by the shore! Feeling the cold breeze on her face, she turned her head and looked up at Sandor smiling, only to find him grinning down at her already.
"Told you we would make it, little bird. Next time don't pout or doubt me when you have to wait to get the blasted thing I promised you."
Sansa lowered her eyes then, though she kept on smiling. If truth be told, she had been a little quiet this day because she just could not see why they couldn't go and get some food from the previous two villages they had had come across that day. Late afternoon was already at hand but this day they had finally arrived at the coastline. After waking up and moving on for the day it had only taken them less than an hour to start smelling the salty air that could only mean their escape through the Kingswood was close at hand. Sandor had let her ride the horse alone while he lead Stranger by the reins until they finally reached the ocean, and Sansa had spent that time recalling a trip she had made long ago to White Harbor with her father and little sister. The boys had asked to come too, but Father had promised them that next time he would take them along since this trip was meant to be only for the girls. Sansa remembered how excited she's been the first time she had heard the sea and the sight of it as they reached the top of a hill overlooking White Harbor. And now I'm going there again, only this is going to be a very different visit. No leisurely trip, only a means to an end to finally be with her family… And it's Sandor who will accompany me now, not Arya or Father…
She tried to muster all the memories she had of that visit but since she had been only a little girl at the time, it was difficult. What she did remember was that Lord Manderley was a kind, old man, loyal to the bones to the Starks, or so she had once overheard her father telling her lady mother, though he was offensively fat. But his seat was quite nice. The city had taken her breath away back then, and the court room where House Manderley's rule derived from had been an eerie yet strangely beautiful room where little Sansa had felt almost like a mermaid under the sea. She tried to imagine how different the room would look to her now when she was they ushered in to put forth her plea of help. Or maybe we should find a way to meet in private with Lord Manderley?
They had slowed their pace this morning, and by the time they came upon the first village Sansa was so happy she almost bolted off Stranger until Sandor stopped her.
"Where in seven hells do you think you're flying to, little bird?"
Incredulous she had looked between him and the village.
"No you're not. You see a ship anywhere nearby, do you?"
For a moment she just looked at him, but then she turned to search for a ship only to find none. The village contained about a dozen houses, but the closest thing to a ship where a couple of boats laying discarded in the sand.
"As much as I would like to enter the first place where I'm likely to get my hands on some wine, we can't go in there or to any other village unless we see there is a ship which can carry us away from here. If we go into this village right now only to get some food, no matter how isolated it is, word will spread sooner rather than later if they recognize me, which they are bloody well going to do no matter how lackwit and stupid the peasants are. Since there's no blasted ship to begin with we would have to move on to the next village with people already aware that we are nearby."
Understanding came to her long before he finished, and reluctantly she nodded. "How far must we go then?"
He shrugged. Only until a village that had a ship.
"Neither of these shits of hovels will be a port, little bird… Which I think might just work for the better for us at present. But don't worry. Cogs and galleys call on them, though not more than one at a time, so I think we should be lucky soon."
Around midday they came upon the second village. This one was smaller than the previous one and this time Sansa did not try to run towards it. There was not a ship to be seen in this one either… She was a little sullen with the anticipation of finding a ship after that, and could not help but wonder if they would have to trot around the coastline, keeping to the shelter of the trees for days until the longed for ship came into view.
So when Sandor finally spied the ship she was sure he was grinning as a way to mock her for her lack of patience and, faith and for her sullenness.
Sansa saw then that the ship was a big galley before she let her eyes travel to the village and counted roughly twenty roofs at the most. Even if there had been more people in it, it was still a fishing village, same as the last ones. Sansa tried to imagine her dinner. Some oysters or a nice baked fish in clay or a crisp lobster. She wouldn't be getting any of those of course, but they would hopefully have a roof over their heads, a bath and a hot meal.
"Now little bird, before we go in there, listen to what I'm about to tell you and don't you dare interrupt, understand?"
"Yes."
"Our presence will be on everyone's tongue in less than an hour. The innkeep won't bother with asking our names, but he'll be as curious as everyone else. If we act right they might not suspect we're fleeing, but I'll be damned if they don't know my face. At least I don't think they'll know who you are, though if one word escapes your pretty mouth it won't take them long to see you're highborn. So keep quiet no matter what. I'll ask the questions and give the answers. I'll order what we need and inquire about the ship. You just do as you're told in there, and if you have a bloody need to say anything then try and say m'lord instead of my lord. They may not know the difference from what a lady's companion or a servant raised in a castle sounds like compared to the sister of the bloody King in the North."
Sansa frowned up at him. "So you think they will believe I'm a servant?" She was both vexed and amazed by that.
"As long as they don't do anything about it, it's no hair off my arse. It doesn't matter. They can suspect you were raised with noble folk in sight but they may wonder why Joffrey's dog is guarding a servant."
Sansa had longed for someone to tell her what to do and take the weight of making decisions off her shoulders for a bit, but really, she wished Sandor could use nicer language! He seemed oblivious to her mounting annoyance though.
They left the safety of the woods and walked into the fishing village. There was hardly anyone around at this late hour, and if it hadn't been for some old people sitting on a porch outside a tiny house or for the lights inside the houses she spied from the windows, she would have suspected the place to be deserted. Sandor walked at her side, a little tense she noted, but that was probably him getting up his guard. Something in her made her want to reach out and grab his hand. Whether for comfort or to stop being a little nervous, she could not say. It was a fleeting thought, and instead of acting on it, she called herself a silly girl and took a better look at her surroundings.
Sansa looked around her and was glad to see a sept to her right. It was the smallest one she had ever seen, but it felt good to think she could go there and pray her thanks to the new gods for delivering her far and away from Joffrey. There probably aren't any weirwood trees around though. Besides the sept there were a couple of small shops and then more houses. The house that looked to be the inn was barely any bigger than the others, but movement could be seen through the windows, and there where horses in the stable. She suddenly felt a bit nervous and pulled up her bear cloak hood. It was stiff from all the dried mud, but it held up. Sansa looked up to see what Sandor was gazing at. She followed his gaze to the ocean, but with darkness now about them she could not be sure if the ship was a galley or a cog.
A small boy ran from the stables to take Stranger.
"Don't," Sandor warned him. "He'll bite off your head if I let him go."
The boy didn't answer. He just stood there gaping wide-eyed at Sandor as if he had never seen anything like him before. Sansa could sense Sandor's mounting annoyance and irritation. She was about to open her mouth and ask the boy politely to lead the way to the stables when she recalled Sandor's instructions.
"What the hell are you doing standing there with your fucking mouth open like that!" Sandor roared, breaking the silence and making the boy jump out of his skin. "Move away before I do let go of the horse so he can step over you…"
The boy did as he was bid finally and Sansa followed them into the stables after she noticed the name painted on the sign by the inn's door. The Stormed King. Sandor was taking all of their things off Stranger, Sansa offered to lend in a hand. He gave her Stranger's blanket and some pieces of his armor. He carried the horse's saddle, after he'd given the boy a hard glance and instructions to just look after the destrier and send word if anything went wrong.
"I'll come back later to check on both of you."
"You gave that boy the fright of his life," she whispered to him as they left the stable.
He grunted and shrugged. "I was scaring you not a week ago I think, and look how far we've come… But I will really scare you if you say one more word. I told you to stop that chirping."
He then pushed the inn's door open with his shoulder and they both stepped into The Stormed King's common room, Sandor loosening his sword from its scabbard.
The first thing Sansa noticed was that there were only men inside. She gulped and followed Sandor inside, as he closed the door shut with his foot.
It couldn't have turned out better. The inn was not a big house, but there was a room available, as well as food for them and even Stranger, which meant they would finally get some good rest, a much needed bath and warm food in their bellies. The innkeeper turned out to be a kind old man whom Sansa was sure had at least a notion Sandor was a dangerous man to cross, but he kept quiet and offered them as much comfort as their silver and copper could buy. Their room's floor was a little too dirty, but the bed was very big. The mattress looked incredibly old and was made of straw. Sansa could not help but frown at it a little bit but the inn keep swore it had no fleas.
He set his daughter Pia and his little son Lute, the boy from the stables, to prepare their baths and clean their boots, which were still in good shape. They prattled on about the weather, the story behind the inn's name (that of Durran Godsgrief and Fair Eleni), and of these troubled times. Sandor even allowed them all to call him ser. She was shocked by this, but in the end he only avoided her eyes and kept on grinding his teeth. Sansa asked Sandor quietly to ask Pia if the young woman had any dresses, smallclothes (Sansa had blushed when she said that word to Sandor), stockings and a cloak they could buy. It turned out Pia did have a nice blue wool dress she was willing to give up, and in the end Sandor even bought the innkeeper's old dark traveling cloak. They had thrown Sandor's bloodied Kingsguard cloak into the fireplace the first moment they were alone in the room.
Sandor had stood for a moment too long watching it burn, and Sansa just knew that he was remembering what his brother had done to him. She would have been very surprised had Sandor confided that he was actually thinking about what burning the white cloak represented.
He had the same look in his eyes that she'd seen when she had encountered him on the rooftop on the night of her first moonblood. Sansa thought she ought to do something to take his mind off that memory, but instead she asked if she should throw her fur cloak and her own clothes into the fire as well.
He blinked a couple of times before tearing his gaze from the fire and the burning cloak, and looked at her lost for a moment. Then he said, "Don't burn them. The first moment I can when we're at sea, I'll throw them overboard."
Later, as she was finally entering her bath, Sandor stood waiting outside in the hall. It had shocked her to see how dirty the bath water turned just moments after she had entered it. When Sansa had emerged from the bedroom clean, with her hair in a long braid and wearing her new dress, she had felt her heart fluttering as Sandor took a moment too long in taking his eyes off her. When it was Sandor's turn Sansa had to wait outside the room too, while little Lute cleaned her boots.
Besides the two of them, the inn was occupied by the sailors from the ship. Sansa hadn't been introduced to them yet, but there had been no mistaking them for what they were. Just as Lute was finishing his job Sandor opened the door of their room and said, "Ready for dinner?"
Sansa smiled and nodded, taking note that the cut above his eyebrow was healing neatly, it was barely visible now. He gave her a hand to help her to her feet, and even gave Lute a copper which slightly amended his past behavior with the lad. When the boy ran merrily downstairs Sandor gave her the dagger from the dead archer he'd been teaching her to defend herself with. "Hide it under your skirts and use it as I showed you if it's necessary."
Sansa saw that though he wasn't wearing his armor, Sandor had still thought it best to bring his sword belt with the sword in its scabbard and was wearing his mailshirt. He let her lead the way downstairs to the common room, resting his hand on her shoulder, as they heard the sailors downstairs breaking into a song.
"They don't sound very good, do they?" she teased.
Sandor made a noise that might have been a laugh.
"There's old deaf women in Dorne complaining of the din, I'll warrant."
Sansa suppressed a chuckle with difficulty. Really, who would've thought that the Hound could be this nice?
They sat down on the table next to the sailors, as Sandor called for wine. Sansa waited for their dinner to be served, while she stole quick glances at the men. Almost all of them were fair of skin and hair, with blue eyes that would match the sky, the sea or Arryn blue, and all of them were lightly armed. They didn't expect someone like Sandor to come out of the Kingswood bringing trouble. For sailors they were easy on the eye, Sansa concluded, but they didn't seem to be from Westeros. They didn't look like any other people in the Seven Kingdoms, and she knew that in the Free Cities men dyed their hair and beards. That and the fact that their voices as they sang sounded odd to her ears, let her imagination to wonder about them... Well, she was going to learn the truth soon enough. Their captain, she supposed, was the one with the blue dyed beard. He may be the captain of the ship that could take us North. The captain gave her a little grin and a nod of the head before locking his gaze on Sandor.
The crab stew finally arrived and though it looked nothing like the meals she'd been used to all her life, it tasted just right and warmed her to the soul. She would've liked to drink something else, but before she could protest Sandor poured her a cup of red wine from the flagon the innkeeper had laid at their table. Before the blink of an eye Sandor filled his own cup and in one long drink the wine was gone. He took the flagon once again and Sansa finally took a taste of her own cup. It wasn't as bad a vintage as she would have thought to find in this place. Apparently Sandor thought the same.
"This is a good red," he remarked a little too loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Though it isn't from the Arbor or Dorne."
The man with the blue beard had been jesting with his men, but at Sandor's words he looked at them and smiled broadly.
"Ahh! You like the wine, good ser? It's from our homeland, the beautiful Lys!"
Sandor's mouth twitched. He looked at the man, then at the wine in his hand, and then back at the man. "Lysene wine, is it? Yes, it's better than some of the piss tasting shit I've had to drink lately."
The sailors laughed at that, the man with the blue beard loudest of all. "Just so! We don't match the Arbor wines it shames me to admit, but… we are famous to the world for other things."
Sandor never glanced at Sansa, so she kept on eating her stew quietly, listening, knowing that Sandor was playing a part.
"So, you're from Lys," he commented. "Given that Stannis Baratheon hired a famous Lyseni pirate for his cause it would be stupid to wonder why you are all in this gods forsaken village."
The captain surveyed Sandor with those piercing blue eyes, taking in all of his appearance. He knows he is the Hound, Sansa thought in fear. Sandor didn't flinch from the Lyseni's gaze. She supposed Sandor was trying his best with this small talk in order to learn more about the sailors, but she had a strong suspicion he didn't do this very often.
"Clever man," the fair man replied, tugging at his curly blue beard. "Yes, we belong to Salladhor Saan of all people, the notorious banker, trader-"
"Smuggler and pirate," Sandor put in, breaking a chunk of bread.
"Just so, yes ser knight. A pirate and a smuggler he is, though that did not seem to matter to this Baratheon."
"Stannis is fond of having low scum near him I figure, or haven't you heard of the Onion Knight?"
"We have, and Ser Davos is a great friend of Salladhor, I believe."
"Since the days when they were both smugglers, I'm sure."
The Lysene captain had nothing to say to that. His smiled soured a little but only for a moment.
"So, you happen to know who won the battle?" Sandor asked, casually.
"Ahhh, a man must weep when he thinks of it. Stannis was defeated by the lions, I'm afraid."
A shiver went through her with those words. So the Lannisters had won! She almost dropped her spoon then. She could only think of two things; that the gods in their mercy had allowed her to escape them when she could, but that she must go as far as possible from Joffrey and his mother as soon as she could.
She could feel Sandor tense his muscles beside her. "Was he?" said, with only a brief moment of silence to gather his thoughts. "And how did he let himself be defeated by a twisted dwarf?"
"I don't know all the details, but words travels from ear to ear, and news reached this man that the Lannisters have formed an alliance of sorts with the Tyrells. They came when the battle was all but lost and Stannis was forced to flee back to Dragonstone."
Sandor laughed then. "Before he ended up like the Reynes of Castamere to be sure..!"
He drank some more wine and finally began to eat his stew, which wasn't so hot anymore. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment as the Lyseni with the blue beard drank some of his homeland's wine. "And why aren't you with him in Dragonstone? How is it that you survived the battle?"
"You are very curious, my friend, to know about this game of thrones these kings play… Well, as it happens, I like your rough manners, so I shall tell you. This High Lord Captain Stannis's named… what was his name? One of those lords with foxes in their sigils… Florent, that's the name! His name was Illy or Imy… Illry, that's the one..! Well, this lord fox decided that Salladhor Saan's ships were to stay outside Blackwater Rush in the bay defending the rear of Stannis's fleet. So we were spared the dreadful hell that the bay became… When Stannis returned to Dragonstone realizing he had lost, Salladhor returned with him, along with almost all of his ships, but the Prince of the Narrow Sea is not a man who will put all his eggs in a single basket. Some of the ships are to pick up any survivors from the battle along the shore, while we, as a trading ship, were instructed to make for the closest of the Free Cities to keep up our trade. To go to Lys we would have to brave the Stepstones, which we do not care to do, what with this war between Lys and Tyros… So we must go to Pentos and try and make poor Salladhor rich again with the help of the fat magisters who sit behind their tall palace doors. You see, Stannis only promises him gold in words, and words are winds as we all know, so…"
Sansa couldn't breathe for a moment. This was worse than learning the Lannisters had won for true. The ship wasn't going north. It was going across the narrow sea to Pentos of all places! What are we going to do now?
Sandor meanwhile ate his stew. Sansa wanted to catch his eyes so he could reassure her that everything would be fine somehow, but he determinedly didn't look at her. He didn't act desperate and didn't show his disappointment that the ship was only going to Essos.
"Pentos…" he finally said, musing. "And is your boat able to brave the journey with autumn storms at hand?"
The captain wasn't smiling as kindly as before now. Sansa thought that now his smiles looked more like the ones she'd seen in lords at court, and she had a strong suspicion that the man was wondering how much gold they had in their possession.
"My men and I have crossed the narrow sea in all seasons, and my beautiful Summer Bird has made the journey a dozen times through more perilous waters than the ones from the Straits of Tarth or Shipbreaker Bay!"
Sandor laughed aloud then as he tore a chunk of bread in two with his bare hands.
The captain looked puzzled, but Sansa knew exactly what had made Sandor laughed. It made her break into a little smile too to hear it. Summer Bird… The first night of her father's tourney when Sandor had told her the story of his burns, he'd also remarked that she was like a bird from the Summer Isles. A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite, she remembered. She had thought his words unkind but had found out later on that he wasn't lying when he said that, and now she even liked it when he called her little bird.
"Ser? Why do you laugh?" the foreigner asked as Sansa nibbled at a piece of bread.
"Well, if I'd wanted you to know, I'd have told you," Sandor told the captain.
"Hmmm!" the Lyseni looked a little annoyed. "Well… I do not claim that it will not be a hard journey, make no mistake, kind ser," he went on, clearly thinking Sandor had laughed at his words of having an easy voyage. "Even now some of Salladhor's ships may be sinking around Bravos, or Oldtown, or the Jade Sea, but Pentos is not so very far away. I trust the gods will give us good speed and strong sails."
"How come you are in this place then, instead of heading to Pentos?" he rasped.
"Ahh, for love, dear friend. You know Pia the innkeeper's daughter, yes? Well, she and my brother Icuaris happen to be quite fond of each other for some time now. But poor Icuaris was in one of Saan's ships that went to Dragonstone, so my dear brother bid me come here to reassure Pia he is all right in case he could not bring his sweet person here… But we strike for Pentos tomorrow before midday, as it happens."
The silence that met those words went on and on and on. Clearly Sandor had been playing a game of words with this foreigner, but for Sansa it didn't matter anymore. Not even the stew tasted good now…
"I'll sleep on it," Sandor finally replied curtly.
The Lyseni smiled. "Just so, to be sure. Well, if you feel like coming along then you must be ready before midday, ser knight."
"What's your name?" Sandor asked him.
"I, ser? I have the honor of being Captain Iytus Mollaris."
Sansa was sure Sandor was going to reply that he didn't see the honor in that, but instead said, "And I have the honor to be Ser Byan Flowers."
It was hard for Sansa not staring then. Has he just called himself a knight? It was simply too overwhelming.
"My pleasure, Ser Byan..! And may I ask the name of your charming companion?"
"Jeyne," Sansa blurted out, remembering the first girl of lesser birth that she could think of, her dearest friend Jeyne Poole. "Jeyne, m'lord."
Sandor grunted that it was time for them to get some sleep, and left the table. Sansa stood up as well, feeling light-headed. They went up stairs and when Sansa entered their room he said, "We'll talk in a moment. I have to go check on Stranger. Lock the door."
Sansa did as she was told. She listened to Sandor's heavy retreating footsteps down the stairs and let out a long contained sigh. She rested against the big wooden door and tried to stop herself from trembling. What where they supposed to do? They couldn't go back now that they'd been assured by both the dead archer and the captain that the Lannisters had won. It was hard not to weep then. She closed her eyes and tried to think, but all her thoughts passed through her head so quickly that nothing made sense. When she opened her eyes she realized for the first time that the room was almost in darkness. She took the oil lamp hung from the hook by the door, and went to light all the candles in the room. When she was done her hands had at last almost stopped shaking. She looked around her and noticed that the murky dirty water from their bath had been removed and now the tub stood clean and empty once again. Sandor had laid their things in a corner of the room, so she went to see if her jewelry box was still hidden inside Stranger's saddle. As far as she could see nothing had been molested in their absence.
She turned her gaze upon the tinny round table by the fireplace and noticed for the first time a little old mirror. She took it and gazed at her reflection. She looked gaunt but beautiful considering all she'd lived through. She sighed again and left the mirror and the oil lamp on the table. She walked over to the water basin to clean her face and wash her hands and mouth and unfastened the dagger from the folds of her dress with numb fingers. Her hands felt stiff and awkward as they touched the cold blade. Sansa put the dagger on the table and went to the window to look upon the sea, hugging herself. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was imposing. Despite her situation she could still appreciate the beauty of the ocean.
After a long moment she walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, untied her braid, and waited…
But she didn't have to wait long. In less than no time Sandor was finally back, knocking for her to let him in. She opened the door and saw his usual scowl back in place, as his mouth twitched. He was holding his wineskin, Sansa saw with a little dismay.
The instant he barred the door for the night Sandor cursed strongly, "Seven blasted bloody buggering hells!"
He walked by her and kicked one of the chairs by the table. Sansa backed away a little, his rage making her confused but not really afraid of being alone with the Hound cursing and angrily pacing the room, seething. What she was really wondering at how he had managed to appear composed up until now.
"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly, looking at the floor. Coming here had been his idea, yet she would never blame him for trying his best to protect her. Sandor had honestly thought this would be the best course of action, both because the Riverlands were in so much turmoil at the moment, receiving the real brunt of the war, and also because it would be the road the Lannisters would least expect them to take. "We can't go back. Joffrey won."
Sandor let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his black hair. His mouth began to twitch then. "And the worst thing is we heard the same from that dead archer we found in the woods. So that's two idiots crowing the same tale. And we can't go south now that we know the Tyrells joined the Lannisters… Even if we managed to get to the Dornish Marches, there is no point seeking refuge there."
"Because of Myrcella?"
"Bugger Myrcella, little bird," he said before he drank from his skin, long and deep. "Because if word got to any buggering dornishman that a Clegane was in their lands, they would form a line just for a chance to get to torture me themselves."
"What have you got to do with the Dornish?"
"Not me. Gregor," he rasped. "Everyone knows he was the one to rape and kill Elia Martell after killing her son. One of his pets killed her daughter."
Sansa shivered. She had heard rumors about the terrible deeds that had happened when the Mad King died and the Lannisters sacked King's Landing, but she was stunned by yet another dark tale of the Mountain's atrocities.
"So do you think the Captain was honest in everything he said to us?" she asked haltingly.
"Bugger me if I know… But some of the things he said were true enough. He looked me right in the eyes the whole time. That at least takes courage, and I'll be damned if he didn't lie but he knew all along that we were thinking about coming along with them."
Sansa met his gaze after that. "But how could he know?"
The Hound chuckled sourly. "I'm sure he is aware there are other villages outside the outskirts of the Kingswood, little bird. And yet we decided to go into the one with a ship in sight."
"Do you think he recognized you?"
"He has a pretty good idea of who I am, but if he is right and I am King Joffrey's sworn shield, then he must figure I have some coin about me. You heard him go on and on about making that pirate he works for rich across the narrow sea. In other words he was hinting that he will allow us to go with them, but only if we pay him well. He may suspect that I'm fleeing and that he may be the only chance for me to escape."
Just then they heard the sailors coming upstairs for the night to their rooms, trying to hush down some of the loud noise a couple of them were making. Sansa saw Sandor tense at that and grab the pommel of his sword, silently instructing her to get away from the door. But after a few heartbeats the sound of the doors closing was heard and silence descended on the little inn, except for the sound of the waves outside.
Sansa deemed it safe to resume their conversation again. "But… but we can't go across the narrow sea! It's so far away and my family… When the only word that reaches them concerning me is that I escaped the Lannisters, what will they do?"
"Little enough," he rasped. "Your mother will probably fret about it the most, but your kingly brother will do the same he did when you were a hostage: nothing. He'll exchange peace terms with Cersei and the Imp and now I guess their father, but to no avail."
Some part of Sansa wanted to slap him for speaking so horribly about her family, but the other part had to admit he was right. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you, she remembered. It was just so hard to believe that Robb would do nothing to save her. Before she could speak he drank some more wine and went on.
"What's more little bird, the Lannisters never admitted that your sister managed to escape them. The day they imprisoned your father her dancing master fought off Meryn Trant while she escaped, and was never seen since. Word never reached them of her afterwards. Maybe she died or maybe she's still living, but whatever became of her, since the day she tossed Joffrey's pretty sword into the Trident, he's hated her, and you mostly because of her. You don't want to think on what he'll do to you if he gets his hands on you again, do you?"
"No," she whispered, trembling. She had no idea what had become of Arya. At first she'd gathered that she'd managed to take the ship home after her father fell from grace, but now she wasn't so sure. And even if she had, Theon would have likely killed her along with their little brothers.
"The good thing is that they won't let word spread that they've lost you as well, so those flamboyant idiots from Lys won't know who you are, I'd wager," Sandor went on.
"But… I won't even be able to write a letter to my mother explaining what's become of me."
"Which is for the best. Letters get lost or stolen and seen by the wrong eyes." He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his arms on his knees. "I don't want to leave either, little bird. I have business with my brother," his voice trailed off.
Of course, she thought. If for some reason the ship never made it to Pentos or either he or Gregor died before they could meet again, Sandor would be unable to revenge get revenge on his brother for what he did to him. But after being told of one of the Mountain that Rides' crimes moments ago, Sansa was afraid of that meeting happening. Not because she might lose her protector, but because she might lose her friend. He may be one of the best fighters in the realm, but I don't think it would be the best thing if he faced his brother.
As she stared at him sitting quietly on the bed, scowling at the fire in the hearth, his mind clearly on very brooding thoughts, she knew she couldn't ask him to give up his longing of revenge for her.
"I understand," she said, breaking the silence once more. "It would be unspeakable of me to ask you to forget your brother and the horrible thing he did to you just so you can look after me. I would never do that."
Sandor looked up at her and finally said, "It's not just for me I want to kill him for, you know. Nor because what he did to our feeble mockery of a father… I have to make him pay for our little sister."
Sansa's mind went still. Little sister? She blinked at him, unconsciously wrinkling her brow as she tried to recall if she'd ever heard anything about this. She hadn't. "You had a little sister?"
Sandor nodded, his shoulders slumped. "Arwyn. She was younger than me, and a tough little girl. My mother died some months after giving birth to her. But before she died she summoned me to her sickbed and told me that I was meant to look after Arwyn if one day she wasn't around. That I was to protect her. My mother was sick but she wasn't blind. She knew the sort of man she was married to and the sort of son she had in Gregor. Arwyn became my friend and companion as we grew up under Gregor's shadow… She liked songs and dogs and horses and was loved by everyone at our keep. She was no beauty but she brought happiness into the grim life one lived with Gregor as your brother. Arwyn was five years old when he shoved my face into the burning coals. While my father told lies to cover up his heir's doings, my sister, young as she was, sat by my bed every day while I recovered. That is, until the day Gregor came back from the Rock…" As he spoke his voice was raw and harsh as steel on stone. "Our father had sent him to the knight he squired for, after what he did to me, but one morning he came back for a couple of days. Half an hour later our old septa told me Arwyn was dead. She was crying and I couldn't learn much from her but I knew Gregor had something to do with it. Even in the pain I was in I thrashed and screamed and managed to get outside my bedroom, demanding to know what had happened… I didn't make it to the end of the hall before I collapsed, crying. I wasn't strong enough after that to be there when they laid her to rest in our family's graveyard. But I watched from a window, cursing the world and myself for not being there when she needed me. She was there when I lay recovering from my burns, but I couldn't be there for her fucking burial..!" He stopped then to take a breath. When he continued Sansa could hear how much it pained him to remember all of this in his ragged breathing. "Gregor didn't stay longer than he had to, but before he went back to Casterly Rock he came to my room and told me how he'd killed Arwyn. Apparently she hadn't been allowed to see him after what he did to me, but she finally met him when he returned home at the top of some stairs and started kicking and hitting him with her little fists. Gregor told me he got annoyed by that, so without saying anything he hit her hard across the face and she went stumbling backwards down the stairs. By the time she hit the ground her neck was broken… I cursed and raged at him then, stumbling off my bed, trying to get at him so I could kill him some way or another, but he only laughed and left me there on the floor. I wouldn't even be surprised if he's killed his two wives like that… Some years later he made my father go hunting with him and some of his friends. That was the last time I saw the old man alive. Ser Gregor didn't admit to finishing him off, just said it was some hunting accident. He inherited everything then but I wasn't there to see it. I left my bleak home to join the Lannisters as a sworn shield and I've never been back. Not even to lay some flowers at Arwyn's grave in her memory."
Sansa could feel tears freely running down her cheeks by now. She had no words. It was just too horrible to be true. She longed with all her heart that both the old and the new gods should curse Gregor Clegane to burn in some hell forever. To kill a little girl of five..! His own sister!
Sandor didn't shed a tear, but Sansa suspected that was because he'd already spent so many over the years. She felt so much for him then. To have finally managed to find some little solace in a life only to have it snatched away, not only with Gregor disfiguring his face, but also killing his dearest sister. The way he felt he'd been unable to save Arwyn was just the way she had felt as she watched Ser Illyn chop off father's her head. It was too much. She couldn't bear to see Sandor sitting on the bed, brooding and tormenting himself like that anymore. He hadn't even looked at her face as he told her about Arwyn. But the fact that she was the only person he'd told the truth about his misfortunes to touched her beyond words. Emboldened by his trust and the fact that she understood what he was feeling, without thinking about it twice she fell to her knees in front of him and grabbed his huge hand in her two small ones.
It was as if Sandor was forcibly woken from a dream. He stared at her, then at their hands, then at her again. Sansa suddenly recollected the night long ago of her father's tourney when he'd told her about his face, though she knew this had been a memory just as painful as the one of his scars. But we've both come such a very long way from that night, she reflected…
She knelt silently before him trying so hard to find the right words of comfort she so desperately wanted to say to him, but instead only one word escaped her lips; but it was the right word.
"Sandor…"
His grey eyes blinked at her then. She'd never called him by his first name before. She couldn't recall calling any man by their first name before. He hasn't called me by my name either. But that word came to her so mouth so easily just then… she could feel the boundaries of formality breaking beyond repair now.
"I don't know why anyone should be meant to have to suffer so much," she finally said. "I could never begin to imagine what it must have felt to have your own brother do such horrible things- and your poor sister! Really I… I am truly sorry. I wish you could have been spared so much pain, but now I can see better why you've been so angry since I've meet you, and I was wrong to judge you for it. But… but maybe I understand at least a little of your pain. When Joffrey ordered my father's head to be brought to him I was unable to stop him, and I couldn't even look away when Ser Illyn killed my father. At least you were spared that… So you see? We both know what it means to be unable to stop others from hurting those we love. I don't know if it's my place to say it, but you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to your sister. You were just a little boy after all. Kill… kill your brother yes, but I don't think Arwyn would have wanted you to blame yourself for not being there when Gregor killed her…" she finally ended.
Sandor just grunted to let her know he'd heard her, gently disentangled his hand from hers and stood up. He walked over to the window, his back to her.
Sansa remained on the floor by the foot of the bed, remembering the afternoon before the battle when she'd visited Maegor's sept to pray. She had prayed for Sandor, she recalled. She had prayed to the Mother to save him from the battle and to gentle the rage inside him. The Mother had seen fit to answer her prayers in the most unexpected of ways. She had done more than just spare Sandor though…
If we have to flee across the narrow sea Sandor will be risking his chance of revenging his father and sister. She took a deep breath and said, "You don't believe there are true knights, but at the very least you must admit that you are true. And that to me is more valuable than knighthood now."
Sandor could only look at her with growing admiration. The little bird is finally learning her lessons, is she? He'd told her once dogs didn't lie, so he gathered that's what she meant now that she called him true. It was so unbelievable that he didn't know if he should laugh or scowl.
In the end he did neither. He was stunned when the proper little lady called him by his name. Her reaction to Arwyn's story had surprised him and for the first time in memory he had been unable to do or say anything when she tried to comfort him… He knew she had understood why it was so important for him to kill his fucking brother, but she had also entrusted herself into his care. At least he wasn't cursing himself for a drunken buggering fool this time for telling her about Arwyn the way he had when he told her of his burns long ago.
They were in trouble now. He'd honestly thought coming here was the best choice they had, and now they couldn't go back, could they? But the thought of leaving Westeros when someone else might end up killing Gregor made him ball his hands into fists. He had been waiting to kill Gregor his whole life. Was the little bird worth risking the chance of ever getting to do that?
Even as he thought this, a voice inside him answered. You know she is. Gregor has taken away your family and your face, your hopes and your dreams. He's taken everything, but you know you would never let him take Sansa. He had meant it when he swore to keep her safe, and no matter how long he tried to find another way out of this mess, the only solution he could see was taking the blasted ship to Pentos. We would be away for about a month, and before we know it we'll find that ship to White Harbor or the fucking Wall. The Night's Watch made him remember her bastard brother and the Watch's words: The Night's Watch takes no parts. She would be risking too much even if we do this. The Young Wolf may even lose the war… but he didn't like to think about that now. If that came to be, he would worry about how to keep the little bird safe then. It's not like they would be giving up their lives here in Westeros if they went for a time to Pentos. They just had to ensure they returned to Westeros before anything changed… The more he thought about going to the Free Cities to hide for a couple of weeks the better he liked it. It would be harder for anyone to know them there; to know he was a deserter, and to recognize Sansa, the daughter of Eddard Stark. If the bloody King in the North died then she would be the only Stark living; the only chance the north would have to rebuild itself. Too many people would want her dead. By all rights they should be on the first ship out of the Seven Kingdoms.
He walked over to her and helped her to her feet as gently as he could. She looked up at him, looking so trustful and beautiful and he knew he was lost beyond reason. She was the most precious thing in his life and he would never let any harm come to her ever again if he could help it. His hands closed around her arms and he said, "Little bird, listen to me. I have nothing to offer you but my sword, my shield, Stranger and me."
She made to interrupt him, but he hushed her up. "They're all afraid of me here, but that's just because they know who I am, but maybe in the Free Cities we could hide, couldn't we? The word will spread soon enough, even here, that there's a price for us. I really think that the best we can do is go to Pentos. There's a better chance of staying alive over there where no one knows us and won't trouble us. The moment we get there we'll go looking for a ship that's sailing north. If there's none for White Harbor then one for the Wall. I know you want your family, but right now you have to think of yourself, not them. They're safe at Riverrun and the Westerlands are surrounded by their armies. You're alone but for me and too close to the lion's clutches still. I don't care about your mother or your kingly brother. I care about you being safe and I think it will be easier to keep you that way across the narrow sea for now. The Lannisters won't expect you're in the Free Cities, I'm sure of it. We have to let them all play the game for a time, and maybe by the time we arrive at White Harbor your brother will have won the war and I'll be free to go and kill Gregor."
Apparently he had been tightening his grip on her as he went on and on, because she lowered her eyes and whispered, "Please… m-my arms."
Sandor released her immediately. He saw her gulp. "And if Robb doesn't win?"
"I don't know…" he admitted in his rough rasp of a voice. "Hopefully we will never have to worry about that…"
For a moment she didn't seem to know what to say, but finally Sansa looked up at him and Sandor caught a full view of the wolf in her.
"I… I know you care about keeping me safe, Sandor. You've done a pretty good job of it, and would still do so in Pentos. And I do know that Robb is fighting a war, and even if I do get back to them, it won't be like it used to be. As you said, I have to think about me for now, and I trust you with knowing what's best for me… I just don't want you to feel compelled to go to another land far away when your brother…"
Her voice trailed off, but Sandor knew what she meant. When your brother is still free and unpunished for the crimes he's done to you and so many others.
"Little bird," he gulped, trying to keep all the emotions and thoughts that ran through him clear. "My brother's day will come, I'll make sure of it. But I won't just leave you at your mercy so that I can run off to find Gregor, nor will I take you anywhere near him. So you see, there are other choices I could make, but I want to keep the promise I made to you before I send him to the deepest of hells."
He couldn't find any better way to put it. He desperately hoped she understood and would not press the issue, because he didn't want to keep on thinking about his fucking brother Gregor at this moment.
Sansa smiled. "Very well, if you are really sure of this then I'm very glad because the truth is, I don't think I could bear it if you weren't here. I need you."
Those words made him stare wide-eyed at her. How the hell was he supposed to restrain himself from kissing her when she was looking at him with so much trust and peace! Fuck me, he thought. Her words only made it worse. He was her faithful dog now and forever.
Something in him made him lift his hand to grab a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. Sansa didn't recoil from his touch as he twisted her auburn lock between his fingers. Her lips parted slightly then. Sandor had never thought he would be willing to damn his soul to the deepest hell for a woman, but that had been before he met Sansa Stark. Sansa. The pretty little bird. Should he risk it? She'd already done it twice. Bugger it all, he thought quickly before he finally called her by her first name too.
"Sansa…"
A tear ran down her cheek to join the already dried ones from when he'd told her about Arwyn, but he was certain this one wasn't because he had upset her. She smiled at him and laughed softly, blushing. Despite knowing he would look uglier, he couldn't help but genuinely smile at her in return.
Sansa realized her heart had been beating very fast, and that her cheeks had turned red, but none of it mattered. Sandor Clegane, as he towered over her, was smiling at her in a way she would never have thought possible of him. How silly she had been to feel frightened of his face! She could see beyond the scars now, for which she was grateful. And when he'd called her by her name… well, her tummy felt funny, but in a good way. Somehow something had changed and the thought of crossing the narrow sea didn't seem as daunting as it had moments ago. She had nowhere else to go but aboard that ship, but so long as Sandor was with her she told herself all would be well. And it had been strange, yet nice to see him so agitated and emotional as he tried to make her see that Pentos was their best course for now…. There is much reason in what he says, she admitted.
She didn't know if it was his protection that she clung to, or due to his being her only friend, but she knew he was not a bad man. Not really. He's just been lost and confused and angry all his life… He had talked about there being no true knights and even compared himself to a butcher and people as meat, telling her that the weak should die and get out of the way. But he had protected her going which went against what he said he believed in… The gods, both old and new, had sent her the Hound to save her, but maybe since he didn't believe in them, they had sent him to her as well so she could convince him otherwise..? After all, she had prayed for him before the battle.
He was brutal still, but gentle with her. He was the Hound to the world, but he was Sandor with her now.
"You said you would like to join Robb… After you've killed The Mountain, you'll go back North with us, won't you?"
Sandor looked at her long and hard, considering. "Promise me you will," she said.
Sandor's grin was a little sour. "If I kill Gregor, Clegane's Keep and all its glory will pass to me. You want me to give that up so I can go live up north and freeze my arse off?"
Sansa hadn't remembered Clegane Keep at all and what killing the Mountain would mean. "Well…" she said, thinking. "I didn't think you liked the place after what you've just told me. But of course that if you prefer your father's lands over serving another king no one could blame you."
"My grandfather's lands," he corrected her.
Sansa recalled the story he'd told her about his family's banner. "You liked your grandfather very much, didn't you? You must tell me more about him one day."
Sandor avoided her eyes. "He was more like a father to me than my old man ever was… Yes, little bird, I liked him."
Sansa was glad that there had been another person Sandor had loved as a child, but somehow she felt this was upsetting him, so she said the first thing that came to her mind to take his mind off dark troubling memories.
"You threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone your secret the night of my father's tourney… I suppose that threat still counts, does it not?" she asked sarcastically.
Sandor pulled his hand away as he snorted loudly. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"No."
"Then it doesn't count anymore."
They looked at each other for a long moment before Sandor went for his wineskin by the bed to take a drink.
"It's too bloody good, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"To have the ship named after a fucking summer bird."
They laughed together.
"But not as good as hearing you calling yourself a knight!"
That wiped the smile from his face quick enough. "I don't see how that's funny."
"Oh yes you do! I never thought I'd hear those words coming out of your mouth."
"Drop it, little bird," he warned her.
She was more amused than angry now, so she didn't push the issue further.
"It's late. Tomorrow we will have to wake up early. Best if you get some sleep."
"I was thinking… maybe I could ask Pia for some needle and thread to sew some of my jewelry and your winnings into our clothes so that they are better hidden."
"That's a fine notion but do it later. I won't have you ruining your eyes with this candlelight."
He did have apoint, she thought briefly as she brushed away her tears. Sansa sat on the bed and started unlacing her boots. "Sandor, can I ask you something?
He grinned. "It's nice you've finally found the right way to call me. No more sers or my lords…"
She smiled shyly at that. "If my lady mother ever found out about us sharing a bed, or Robb, or anyone else… Well, I don't think they would understand it... Could you please- ?"
"Little bird, your mother would probably be more concerned about her daughter going across the narrow sea with the Hound, but your family won't ever hear it from me," he told her as he took off his mailshirt and swordbelt, before hanging them on a peg by the wall.
Sansa believed him. She got under the covers and though the bed wasn't very comfortable, after nights and days on the hard ground it felt nice.
Sandor got into bed as well wearing his tunic and breeches, but she saw that he kept his sword and dagger just by his side. He crossed his arms beneath his head and said, "I suppose we ought to keep changing our names from now on to mislead. It won't do us a damn good if the Lannisters send a Faceless or a Sorrowful Man after me, but I doubt if they would even bother to send a hired knife…"
Sansa turned to look at Sandor in the dark. She wanted to ask him jestingly if he was planning on taking more knight names, but instead said, "I can speak a little High Valyrian."
Sandor took another drink from the skin. "I'm sure we speak the same amount, little bird. I had a maester too."
Sansa was surprised.
"Good," she replied. "That means we won't be as lost as we might have been once we arrive in Pentos."
Sandor grunted and closed his eyes, but after some moments Sansa could tell by his breathing that he still wasn't asleep.
"Sandor?"
"Yes?"
"Are you my sworn shield now?"
He turned his head to get a better look at her. Sansa could see the whites of his eyes shining in the darkness. "I am, little bird."
She smiled widely and hoped Sandor could see it through the darkness of the room. "Good. I've never had one before, but I would not want anybody else," she admitted with a genuine smile on her face.