A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM

*My betas: To gingerbeer48 and onborrowedwings, the way you've helped me with the development of the characters and with the spelling have served to make this fic what it is today: you are truly the best betas ever! / And to swiftsnowmane and vargasse, I hope you're holidays were great and if from time to time you can spare a moment to reading this story, please let me know what you think of it and how things are going for Sansa and Sandor!

*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.

Chapter 8: Pentos

It was the sound of laughter that woke him the following morning. One moment he had thought himself deeply asleep and the next he could hear people laughing as they passed the room outside in the hallway… Some part of him remained alert and tense since this had been his way of sleeping for years, unless he passed out from the wine… but the other part told him that there was no danger. That he should go back to rest since for the first time in a very long time he had been having a sweet, unperturbed sleep. There had been neither nightmares nor dreams, only some long needed rest. By now though he was becoming aware of his surroundings, and as day's light streamed through the window Sandor blinked back and tried to stifle a gasp as he realized at last in what position he'd been sleeping. Gods…

Sansa's back was to him, but that hadn't stopped him from tangling his limbs in between hers overnight. His left leg was thrown over hers, and he had a tight hold of her tiny waist with his left arm. The little bird was still very much asleep though, or else she would have noticed that the arm she had stretched above her head was on top of the arm he had put under the pillow, and their hands were entwined. His cock was hard against her backside, pressing against her cheeks, but Sansa slept on, her soft breathing the only sound now breaking the silence.

Bloody hells! What the fuck do I do now? Sandor thought. They had gotten so intertwined during the night that if he tried to pry himself away from her she would certainly wake up. And then what? Will she think that you were trying to force yourself on her while she slept or will she believe the truth? He supposed the best idea was to stay where he was and hope that he went back to sleep. If we manage to separate then maybe neither of us will notice it…

Sansa's warmth was beginning to allure his senses by now. He had never slept in a bed with a woman before. Not once had the whores he'd had interested him enough to stay the night even if they had allowed it, and the last night the little bird and he had been in Westeros, Sandor had been convinced that the Lyseni sailors might do them harm, so he had not slept one fucking minute. He had laid down in the same bed as Sansa's, but long after she had fallen asleep he had watched her wide awake, as the long night hours passed by, while he made sure that the bloody foreigners didn't try to steal Sansa or kill him, or both…

Yet last night he had allowed himself some time to rest, and whether it was because he had sorely needed it or because sleeping in a bed with Sansa felt right, he had been at peace.

Sandor raised his head a little bit to catch a glance of Sansa. Her red hair was everywhere, but it smelled so sweet that he rested his scarred cheek on it. His burned skin could not feel much, yet he imagined how soft her hair must be that it took all his will power to not put his twitching cock to use. Bugger it, he thought as he softly pressed his scarred lips on Sansa's white neck. A suffocating feeling took hold of him. He had never felt so bloody good in his whole life. Sandor couldn't even believe this turn of events. Last night she had kissed his cheek and willingly sung to him and had allowed him to kiss her forehead after that! His feelings for her had existed for some time, changing from annoyance to whatever it was he felt now. He didn't know if he was in love with her yet, but he did care for her as he hadn't even dared even think he was capable of… She's going to be my bloody ruin, he thought sighing. And I couldn't care less. I wish she was my little bird so much it fucking hurts… Reluctantly he broke the kiss and caught a glimpse of Sansa's face. He would've bet the little bird was still lost in her dreams, but there was a very small smile on her face now, and that was encouragement enough to let her breathing lull him back to sleep for some hours at least. It looked to be still dawn, and they had both bloody well earned the right to sleep late for a couple of days.

But as he tried to bring Sansa a little closer to him he felt his manhood twitching in his breeches as he slid further between her legs. There better be a sodding ship sailing north soon for her sake! He didn't know how he would be able to keep himself on hold night after night after sharing a bed with Sansa. Least of all if she keeps singing little songs to me and trying to take my armor off as she smiles at me the way she's been doing lately… Bloody crazy little bird. Now that she can look at my face I'm more at her mercy than she ever was at mine.

Grunting as he burrowed his face in the pillow and her hair, unsure as to whether he liked Sansa not fearing him at all due to what was happening with him, Sandor closed his eyes and went back to sleep in a manner of moments.

When he opened his eyes again Sansa was waking up too, but he noticed that he managed to somehow remove himself from her body. He sighed deeply in relief, yet he was not so certain if Sansa had woken up oblivious to the position they had been in due to the fact that she avoided looking at him as much as possible as they got up from bed, ready to start the day and their search for a ship…

Things didn't turn out as planned though. Whether the gods were having a go at them, or whether it was just plain bad luck, a fucking week later there was not a single blasted ship going north. The closest they came to finding a ship sailing near that freezing hell was to Gulltown, and what was the point of going there? It was too risky to set foot somewhere that wasn't the North where he was sure to be recognized. No, if we have to let the world know where we are, it must better be in White Harbor or Eastwatch-by-the-fucking-frozen-Sea!

Yet as things were looking so far, they were likelier going to find a ship to the former since most sailors were afraid of risking the wild storms up North.

The lack of results in their daily inquiries by the docks would've had Sandor feeling apprehensive that the little bird would star blaming him for being in the Free Cities rather than at Riverrun with her mother, but to his utter amazement with every passing day Sansa seemed to grow happier and happier. That's because Pentos is a fucking heaven for her after being locked away in the Red Keep for so long…

Neither of them could remember very well the lessons they'd had of Low or High Valyrian, but that didn't seem to hinder the little bird's awe of Pentos. Whether they were walking by the market or a grand manse, a temple or the harbor, a palace or a garden, Sansa would chirp on and on about how pretty everything was and how exciting it felt to discover a new place all by themselves. Look at how that dome shines against the sun! It's made of pure gold! She would exclaim, or Not even Myrcella's gardens were as beautiful as these ones are..! That temple looks a thousand times grander than the Queen's Ballroom back at the Red Keep!

Even the food was a buggering wonder to her. Once Sandor had been unable to stop laughing when Sansa asked for a second serving of sausages, only to go pea green when he remarked that it was funny she liked dog meat so much…

To Sandor the city was nice enough, but what he was enjoying most (however much he tried to make fun of it) was the little bird's company and the way she reacted to the simplest pleasures. It made him feel younger just to see her smile and laugh and sing every day without a care in the world.

Sandor couldn't help but notice that things were changing between them when they were alone in their room back at the inn after the second morning of their stay. Many little things were bringing them closer together, but having never experienced them before Sandor could only frown and brood about what the fuck it all meant. Even the most meaningless things had him wondering as he remembered them over and over in his mind the way Sansa went about humming to herself this song or that song. Whenever she genuinely and sincerely smiled at him across the table, or asked him what he thought about some buggering lace on a stand in some market, or just admired herself in the mirror only to catch him staring and not looking away, well… he was on edge all the time. He was content with only admiring her growing body and character, and with imagining how it would be like to kiss her sweet mouth….

However confused Sansa's actions left him, those days were the first in years where he'd let his guard down and could remember being really happy. The last time he could remember sleeping for hours without cares or worries or nightmares had been when he was a child, yet sharing a bed with Sansa was proving to be a great cure for that…

Sandor had been at first apprehensive that Sansa would blame him for coming to a place which was providing no means of going back home, but he'd soon found out that been bloody wrong about that! The little bird was showing an unnerving utter lack of worry for not finding a ship.

There weren't any godswoods or heart trees to be found in Pentos. Sansa had looked for them the first day they'd been in Essos, but that turned out to be a wild hope in this side of the Narrow Sea. She would have given much to sit with her father's gods for a little while, but had to content herself with visiting the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea. The Seven had answered her prayers and for that she dutifully thanked them in ardent prayer during all of the first afternoon she spent in the Free City, Sandor waiting outside all the time. Yet now that she prayed for a ship to take them north, the gods kept their silence…

It was very disconcerting that there wasn't a single ship heading north. Surely we'll find one soon enough, Sansa reasoned. We've only been here a little more than a week. Maybe sailors just fear to cross the autumn storms up by The Bite or the Bay of Seals..?

By this time next week they might be aboard a ship again. The thought of the ordeal crossing the sea was, and of repeating it soon, made her go white as milk. But knowing that it was coming she had decided to enjoy the present as much as she could, and that turned out to be an easy task. Pentos was such a beautiful city that Sansa almost felt like a little girl again; the girl she'd been when she'd first arrived at King's Landing. The experience of seeing the city through the eyes of a commoner allowed her to know and grow fond of Pentos in a way Lady Sansa Stark would have never been allowed to enjoy.

It was difficult not being too familiarized with the language, but Pentos was close enough to Westeros that almost all of the time Sandor managed to get their point across to the Pentoshi. Apart from things like that, Pentos was a completely new and exciting world. One Sansa would never have believed could exist. The very air smelled different. It was so rich and exhilarating, and the way women dressed up was so stirring! Transparent silks covered their bodies, leaving arms and belly and even legs at times unconcealed. Some wore glittering masks that gave an air of some dark mystery, and Sansa blushed at the thought of how she would look in them. They had the coin but she was practical enough to restrain herself from buying garments she would not have a chance to wear here, and could not even dream of wearing in Westeros. The lingering wish for them remained though, and even more so after Sansa caught a dark haired, purple eyed beauty undressing Sandor with her eyes without a bit of shame. Through her light clothes Sansa could see she was buxom and curvy and beautiful. It pleased her to see a woman like that noticing Sandor's muscled warrior body just as much as it made her sullen when Sandor noticed the woman's intent stare too and had communicated something through his eyes to her.

She had asked Sandor innocently what he thought of the woman, and he'd replied gruffly that she was a bed slave.

Sansa had arched her brows at that! "But there is no slavery in the Free Cities anymore! It was outlawed back in the days when-"

Sandor had snorted at her reaction and rasped, "What do you think those poxy fools with the spiked hats over there by that manse's gates are then?"

"Guards?"

"They're bloody eunuchs and slaves, little bird. And not just Unsullied. I've counted more slaves here in the past few days than rats in the Red Keep's dungeons."

"Unsullied?" she questioned. She'd heard the term before, but she remembered the famous Unsullied to be lean and strong, not chubby and plump like those guards were.

"I think the real Unsullied can be bought in Astapor at Slaver's Bay. The Free Cities mostly have to be content to be guarded by the likes of these, if they care about paying the high price of getting the real deal…"

The one thing Sandor didn't seem to like was the large Red God's temple. As they'd crossed it Sandor had grumbled about fucking buggering fools who deserved to be dipped in wildfire since they loved it so much.

"I think Lord Stannis burned the godswood at Storm's End as an offering to The Lord of Light. The talk was that his red priestess made him do it," she had commented.

"Bugger Stannis and his priestess. Bugger these red priests. Bugger their temples and bugger their bloody fires!" he growled passionately.

"If Stannis had won I would've liked it if he'd burned the Sept of Baelor," she had exclaimed then.

At that Sandor had looked at her with a little wonder and awe. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of his expression when he'd stopped her from killing Joffrey for showing her Father his sort of mercy…

Not even Sandor could've denied the beauty of the magister's manses and the palaces though. Sansa had imagined herself as the mistress of one of them, or what it would be like to be invited to one of them for a dinner or a ball, but Sandor said Lord Varys had many rich friends in the Free Cities, so there the matter stood.

The greatest place of all was The Prince of Pentos's palace. It stood atop a rising green hill overlooking the sea much like the Red Keep perched atop Aegon's High Hill. Yet Sansa had no desire to go there. A spice merchant had spied her buying a brush and new boots in the market as Sandor went to have Stranger shoed, and remarked that she was beautiful enough to become the next Fair Maid to the prince of Pentos. She'd felt honored at that, but the woman who was selling her the brush warned her about what happened to the Fair Maid and the Prince should they displease the Pentoshi.

Those days were filled with leisure; days where winter wasn't yet coming and they were free. Sansa thought she had forgotten what it was like to be careless and happy every day, but Sandor helped her remember. And she had a suspicion that she was helping him out too in the same way.

After waking up and breaking their fast, they would go to the docks to inquire about the ships. As the day faded away they would eat at little shops with the oddest foods Sansa had ever seen, only to spend their afternoons in different gardens, taking afternoon naps or talking about life. So far Sansa's favorite spot were the Gardens of Vente, filled with little ponds and streams and even a small waterfall, and where tumbling ruins of old empires still lingered on, reminding the world that they had once been alive. Their nights would be spent walking through the streets and markets, for Pentos came alive when the moon and stars appeared, and darkness covered the skies. During a festival the city had in honor of one of its foreign gods, Sansa entered her first wine skin shop where Sandor allowed her to drink more than she'd ever had. At first it made her head to spin around in joy and delight, but she woke up with the most terrible of pains hammering her hear unmercifully. It didn't help either when Sandor couldn't stop laughing at her. Those days saw Sansa growing up and growing into a more beautiful person both within and without. Those days, too, broke the hard wall Sandor had created around himself for years. It fell away in Pentos completely, and all thanks to me, his little bird… Sansa thought with pride.

As she looked at the sun vanishing to the west behind the high walls of the city, sitting outside in their room's balcony one afternoon, her elbows propped up against the balustrade and her chin resting on her hands, Sansa sighed, content.

Down in the streets children were playing and running around while mothers went about their business carrying baskets of food for later. Men strutted up and down the street never paying any mind to the foreigner girl some floors up at the inn who found them so interesting. Sansa could only see the top of the many houses and buildings, but even if some looked dreadfully old she decided that she like the landscape after all. The harbor could be seen to the distance, along with even more manses atop the nearby hills. It is such a lovely view!

The beauty of the city could not blind her to the change that had recently taken hold of her. What is happening to me? I hardly know myself these days... Many of the values and formalities she'd been raised to obey didn't seem so important anymore. Little Sansa Stark would've been shocked to learn Jenny of Oldstones had shared a bed with the Prince of Dragonflies before they were married, but Sansa these days didn't seem to mind so much whether the innkeeper or the other guests at the inn thought Sandor was either her lover or her husband or something else. No one seemed to care who they were or where had they come from, and if they did, they kept their questions to themselves. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I like it here. Nothing anyone thinks of you really matters and so it can't hurt you. She had also changed in other important regards though. Not a fortnight ago all she could think of was going to Riverrun to Robb and her lady mother, but now, though she still wished for that with all her heart, the idea of delaying the journey home for a little while was taking shape in her mind… To her this was beginning to feel like a long holiday in which she would be able to recover her strength.

Sandor was gone at present. He'd asked if she wanted to come along to the blacksmith's house down the street to take out the dents from his armor. She'd begged to stay in her rooms instead. She needed time on her own to think, and the view from the balcony oddly enough helped her with that.

How can I tell him that I wouldn't mind staying in Essos for a couple of months? If there had been a ship for them it would've been different. But there wasn't and Sansa was starting to suspect that maybe that was the Seven's way of telling her that it was better if she remained hidden in the East for some time. Not for very long, just enough to get to know these strange lands a little better. We can't stay in Pentos for very long anyways. Robb will have surely won by the time we get back, and if the Mountain that Rides is dead by then… well, so much for the better. She wasn't sure it would be as good for Sandor as he seemed to think to kill his brother. The gods hate kinslayers after all.

She knew there were other cities far into the east, but which one would be the best to head to, she still couldn't decide. Sansa just knew that it would be nice to get to see the world so she could tell her grandchildren one day about all the wonders of Essos. After all, we're already here. Why would I want to be stuck in White Harbor or even the Wall waiting for the war to come to an end when I can do the same thing here?

Enemy forces attacking White Harbor was always a possibility, as well as wildings descending on the Wall, if we were to make it that far…

Yet if she was honest with herself a big part of her change of mind was Joffrey and he hell she had lived through thanks to the Lannisters. The memories of being a captive were still too new to stop fearing the threat of turning into a captive again. I wouldn't bear it one more time. Not after I've tasted what freedom can be like, and Sandor has helped me remember happiness…

And so not all of her reasons had to with painful memories. The thought of getting to know the East with Sandor was a very exciting prospect as well. He knew how to get along even in a place he'd never been to, and his mere presence was so menacing to others that Sansa felt safe. Every time they walked side by side they would get stares and whispers, but she couldn't care less- which was odd since she had always liked to gossip, yet not be the person who provoked it. Here it doesn't matter that we walk side by side as equals and even live together of sorts… I'm sure this change of heart has something to do with the way Sandor has been behaving. The man she'd first met as the frightening Hound was turning into a pale memory with every passing hour, and Sandor Clegane was becoming something very dear to her. It was very confusing to think on exactly what this new regard of him could mean, but she knew that once she was back with Robb she would fall on her knees and beg him to let Sandor remain as her sworn shield if need be. She knew that this growing relationship with Sandor as her protector was unique and was even more special because it was just something which's depth was known to them and them alone.

She chuckled kindly when she recalled the day when she'd caught Sandor staring at her intently as she brushed her hair. There had been something in his eyes which she'd never seen in a man before, and for some reason she would never know she'd asked him if he would like to brush her hair himself. Regretting her words the moment they left her mouth, Sansa braced herself for Sandor's mocking and swearing and laughs, but just as she was going to tell him it was a jest, he'd surprised her. He had stood up and walked over to her, taking the brush from her hand and gently brushing out her hair for the night. Those strange kind moments had made her feel so many warm things as she recalled her childhood and her mother sending away her maids so she could brush her hair herself. The process had been carried out in complete silence, and when Sandor was done they had looked at each other without blinking for the longest of times. Sansa felt Sandor was waiting for her to break up in laughter, but she hadn't felt like doing that. It was pleasant to think that the fierce Hound enjoyed little things like combing out her hair. Back in King's Landing I had handmaidens to see to my every want and need: to comb my hair and help me wash and dress me up as they went to report to the queen about me. Well, she concluded after a moment, those things are nice but having Sandor brushing my hair is better. The gesture had been repeated several times in the last couple of days. He would always silently walk over to her and take the brush from her un-protesting yield, and then he would begin…

Sansa couldn't remember feeling so safe and happy and calmed, but there was something more to what was happening with Sandor these days. She only had to look at his burned face to have a wide smile on her own, and she mused she was on her way to becoming his squire: so much did she love helping him get into and out of his armor.

It had all began on the second morning they'd been in Pentos, and she felt as if the change had somehow been brought about by her…

The singing of the birds and the rising city had woken her from the sweet dream she'd been having. As she opened her eyes she saw that apart from having thrown her arm across Sandor's chest sometime in the night, she was mere inches away from his face. The scarred side faced her, but she wasn't startled by such close proximity as she once would've been not too long ago. Everything of Sandor was familiar to her now, and yet as she watched him sleeping Sansa thought she'd never seen him looking so utterly peaceful. He was breathing deeply and was lying backwards, and she liked the way her hand went up and down atop his chest as he breathed. He desperately needs to have his hair cut and trim that beard. His black hair tumbled across his cheek, hiding one eye.

She'd grown bold enough by then to push the strand of hair away from his face. It didn't seem right that it hide his burns somehow. As her fingers gently brushed it back, her hand delicately traced the path from his jawbone, down his neck to his collar bone. Sansa didn't move for a very long time, perfectly content with just taking his features in for some reason she couldn't even begin to explain to herself. A warm small smile spread across her face as she then gazed at the little crowfeet that settled near Sandor's eyes whenever he grunted or frowned in his sleep. She had never liked stables because of their stinky smell, but resting here besides Sandor, she could smell his unique scent, combined with the smells of horse and sweat; but now these musky scents were quite appealing. What an improvement from the night we ran away, she thought, and it wasn't meant unkindly.

When he began to stir she didn't pretend to be asleep or hurriedly move away. She waited for him to open his eyes, blink up at the ceiling and yawn before he finally looked at her. His intense glare didn't make her feel embarrassed that he'd caught her looking at him. And why would he? Isn't that what he's always wanted? Now both of them stared into the other's face, long and hard without speaking.

An eternity or a minute later, Sansa was not so sure which one it was, she broke the silence by saying, "Your eyes remind me of Winterfell…"

Sandor raised an eyebrow at her. "You're a crazy little bird, did you know that?" he growled, surprised.

"Mayhaps…," she whispered, smiling. "Good morrow by the way. Are you well?"

He grunted in assent. "I'm well enough."

The look in his eyes was now intriguing but he shook his head and cursed before passing his hand over his face and asking her how she was.

"Happy," she replied truthfully and simply. "Though… Sandor, could you please let me do something for you?"

He made a sound that was almost a laugh. "There's no need for you to do anything for me, Sansa."

"There isn't," she agreed slowly. "But I want to."

"And what would that be I wonder?" His voice sounded like two wood saws grinding together.

"To let me cut your hair. It's grown so long."

Sandor broke out into a harsh laugh. "The little bird wants to be a barber now, does she?"

She wrinkled her brow at him. "It's true that I've never done it before, but I am sure I won't be so bad at it!"

Half an hour later Sandor grudgingly sat by the fireplace, and though his mouth kept on twitching, the look on his face was one of amusement as she tried to measure just where would be a nice enough place for her to start cutting. His dagger was very sharp, but she didn't cut herself once. Sansa couldn't help but smile when she found two grey hairs at the back of his head. She considered plucking them out, but something steadied her hand. They don't look so bad... When she had to fuss about near his jaw his beard tickled her, so she said, "After I'm done you ought to trim that beard unless you want to look like one of those hairy clansmen the Imp brought with him to King's Landing. I bet you haven't cut it since before the battle."

He laughed. "So cutting my hair isn't enough, little bird?"

"No… wait… ah, there you go. I'm done!" She happily exclaimed as she left the dagger on the table and passed him the little mirror she'd bought yesterday at the market.

"Not bad," he rasped. "You did very well…"

Later that day they had gone to have a look at the famous bathhouses which had originated in the East, after going to the harbor and asking if there were any ships going North. There hadn't been, so Sansa had said she wanted to visit the bathhouses that a woman at the market had told her of the day before. They found one near the Sunset Gate, but they couldn't go in together since this was a public place and women went into the house on the right and men to the house on the left. In the end Sansa liked the experience of bathing in the immense tub that could hold ten people well enough. The water had been scalding hot and the air thick with steam. She preferred her tub back at the inn, but she didn't regret coming.

So far the only thing that could be called awkward and unpleasant, was that on the morning of their third day in Pentos her moonblood had returned. For the second time she woke up agitated not knowing what was wrong until she felt the wetness and stickiness inside her legs. Moving to the right she saw the red stain quickly marring the sheets. The sight of it transported her a month prior to her room in Maegor's Holdfast and all that had happened after that: trying to burn the evidence, the strange insolent looks her maids had given her, and finally breakfast with the queen… She had let out a desperate sob and when Sandor woke up and saw the cause of her distress she collapsed to the floor embarrassed.

Though her situation was far better now than it had been on her previous flowering, the thought of having it while she shared a bed with Sandor was just so embarrassing. She had lost track of time and hadn't realized it had already been a month since their escape. It seems like those days were such a very long time ago, and there wasn't even any pain to announce that it was coming this time…

Sandor hadn't been nasty at all though. He had ordered the sheets to be taken away to be replaced for new ones, and even asked the innkeeper's wife, who happened to be Dornish, to help her out. The woman had brought her many cloths to use and patted her shoulder as Sansa went on and on about what a silly girl she was. At least now I don't have to worry about bearing Joffrey's children. When the shock had left her she had smiled shyly to realize that though she was now no future queen to be, her life was much, much better. What surprised her more was that Sandor didn't seem disgusted about her whole outburst or about still having to share a bed with her. In the end, she was careful to use two cloths instead of one when she went to sleep to avoid waking up with another red surprise. From now on I have to mark the days despite anything and everything!

It was getting dark now and Sandor still hadn't come back. I hope he hasn't gotten lost or robbed or gotten into a fight..! And I hope none of those things happened because he got drunk. So far Sandor drank every day, but he didn't seem to be much different from whenever she had stumbled upon him drunk in the Red Keep. Perhaps he was even a bit more sober now. Yet he wouldn't go too far away from the inn, Sansa knew, and when he was finally home she had no idea what she would do regarding how to break to him her new proposition. She was nervous at present because she had decided to finally ask Sandor what he thought about not returning to Westeros just yet. As she waited for him to come back she tried to stay calm. Be composed, like a lady ought to be. Yet the same thoughts kept on going round and round in her head.

When he finally knocked the signal to let her know he was back, Sansa dashed to the door to let him in, smiling sweetly up at him, happy to see him safely back. She was wearing only her pink colored nightgown but she barely thought about that as Sandor asked her if anything had gone wrong in his absence and placed the armor in a corner of the room. It wasn't very proper to wear only her nightgown she knew, but after Sandor had pointed out the first time she tried it on that he had seen her in a nightgown before she let the matter pass, and so now it went unnoticed. The hot weather in Pentos made it impossible for her to sleep wearing her warm woolen garments, so she had to succumb to wearing lighter fabrics… The nightgown was, among three more gowns, smallclothes, a new pair of riding boots and some flat slippers were all presents from Sandor which he'd bought her three days ago. Even though she was used to wearing much finer garments, she couldn't complain; the gowns were very pretty. She had longed to buy many more but if she was planning on traveling by foot soon she knew that little luxuries like that would be wasted on the road.

Sandor had bought some new trousers along with some smallclothes, and a pair of simple tunics for daywear, along with one for sleeping and some boots for himself. Sansa was happy Sandor was finally letting go off his scuffed boots and patched breeches, yet the clothes he bought weren't really that pretty. There was no real color in them, only browns and grays and the occasional green, but when she told him to at least wash his water stained leather jerkin he laughed at her and told her that he was not Renly or the Knight of Flowers, to care about such things. He'd told her later that everything related to his armor was still in a very good use, so there was no need to buy more. He didn't refuse the new leather jerkin you gave him for a present. Nor the reins for Stranger. He hadn't refused them, but he had been very angry when he learned Sansa had sold a golden ring with an emerald for them.

"I didn't want them," she'd told him. "They were a gift from Joffrey. I don't want anything that the Lannisters ever gave me. If I could I would forget all the memories I have from them…"

That had made Sandor stop telling her off, though his frown of disapproval remained.

"Did the blacksmith get rid of the dents?" she asked him at present.

Sandor shrugged. "He did well enough. Not as good as some of the buggering fools back on the Street of Steel, but I won't complain…"

"It's nice everything went all right then."

He grunted. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded, a little nervous. Maybe I should tell him as we have dinner. "Yes, but… I don't want to go down to the cramped common room. Couldn't we have dinner here tonight?"

"Sure. Let me go down then and get our meal."

The food that was being served for dinner was hardbread, goose eggs, roasted goose and ale… As they sat by the fireplace eating, Sansa was sure Sandor could tell something was troubling her.

"What is it?" he finally asked her as she nibbled at the goose.

"Are you enjoying Pentos?"

"It's all right."

"But don't you find it exciting and strange and fun?"

"It is certainly strange, and if I've had any fun these past few days it hasn't been because I'm here, but because you amuse me."

Sansa tried to decide if that was an insult or a compliment, but his smile told her it was the latter. "We've come a long way since the first time we properly met, haven't we?"

Sandor put his wineskin on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Aye. For one you don't shit yourself every time I talk or lay a hand on you now."

She threw him a look. "Well, what could you have expected of me? I was a child back then and fool enough to think myself in love with Joffrey."

Sandor chucked sourly. "I think that can be forgiven because the little shit was good at playing the gallant suitor when it pleased him. And we've paid him back with our little elopement, wouldn't you say so…?"

She smirked at him. "Yes, if they were even suspecting it I can only imagine the incredulous looks on Joff and his mother's faces!"

They laughed together at that. "But we weren't talking about the bloody Lannisters, little bird. But of how far we've come."

Sansa looked at her plate. "It's so unreal to even think back on how much you scared me whenever you cursed or rasped something at me… Sandor, I'm so happy you chose me to open up to."

Sandor's gaze met hers and for a moment he said nothing. "I'm happy for it too, little bird. I'll bugger myself with a hot poker if I know what made me tell you about my face, but I'm glad I did it."

That night and those days brought her so many memories: her father giving her a doll and escorting her about the Red Keep introducing her to the noble lords and ladies fair; Arya proudly showing her all the bruises she'd collected during her lessons with her dancing master; Septa Mordane teaching her the ways of a lady of the south, and helping her with her knitting; Jeyne Poole sharing her dreams and secrets with her as they shared lemon cakes and strawberries pies...

She sighed long and deep. She sighed for all those she had lost and the girl she'd once been.

"What is it?" Sandor asked her.

"Nothing, it's only… I miss my needlework."

She couldn't have said anything more unrelated to their current conversation. Sandor's burned faced grew puzzled, the muscles near his neck and mouth stretching tight. That sight didn't matter to her one bit.

"You can get whatever the hell you need for that tomorrow after we go and check the docks, little bird."

She smiled at his way of trying to cheer her up and make light of the matter. "Yes of course I can, thank you. It's just that I wasn't really meaning needlework as it is. I meant that I missed my septa who introduced me to it. And I even miss Arya, though she hated sewing."

Sansa saw Sandor suppress a sneer. "No surprise there," he remarked. "Your sister was a buggering little she-wolf if I ever laid my eyes on one… I remember her very little, but I certainly can't see her warming up to the things you enjoyed."

They laughed at that a little for some reason, and when the laughter ended she steeled herself with courage to say her next words. "I know that recalling the past won't help me survive. I must think back on those dear to me whom I have lost, but I can't let those memories cloud my vision or my purpose…"

Sandor looked at her intrigued. "And what would that vision and purpose be, Sansa?"

"To survive," she answered simply. "To survive like you said back at the inn of the Stormed King. Robb won't win his war in a day. He's been fighting for months and months now, whether it be against the Lannisters or the Baratheons or the Greyjoys… My sweet mother is with him wherever he's at presently, whether it be in the Riverlands or in the West or in Riverrun. They must wait and bide their time as battles are fought and alliances are written or broken. Were I with them I would support Robb while I grieved with my mother for everything we've lost. Yet here I am; in Pentos, half a world away. I would like to be with them yes, but I can't let my feelings blind me. You already told me the perils of reaching them anywhere that isn't in the north. I may die at sea or in the north before I ever lay my eyes on their faces again… The King in the North must win, but until he does I've been wondering if maybe it wouldn't be best for us to hide here for a couple of months," she finally confessed, anxious for his reaction to her little speech.

Sandor didn't give away his thoughts though. He just looked on and on at her as she went on, both their dinners discarded for the moment.

"We are already here," she continued. "And we can bide our time waiting in the Free Cities just as well as waiting in White Harbor with Lord Manderley. Maybe in a couple of months and if the old and new gods are kind Robb will have won and we might meet my family in Winterfell instead of in the Riverlands. Yet for right now Sandor, I want to stay here in the east. Pentos is so exciting and now that we are here it would be a waste to go back to Westeros without having even getting to know Essos. Can you imagine the wonders that await us in some of the other Free Cities?"

"There are no gods, little bird. And if they are, they are seldom good," he finally replied, mouth twitching. "Are you sure you aren't letting any of your motives out?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you fear being a royal hostage it's understandable, but you would have me now little bird. I won't let anyone harm you ever again."

Sansa wanted to smile and tell him how much she appreciated that and believed it, but she didn't want to spoil the moment with talk about what had been like being a little bird trapped in a golden cage. So instead she ignored Sandor's last remark and said, "I'm not asking you to remain here with me forever. I know you have matters you must attend to back home as well, but I want to spend the remaining time of the war in a place where I don't have to mind my thoughts and chirp my empty courtesies. Here I feel alive and we can do whatever we like. Wake up whenever we want, eat whatever we wish, buy what we like, go where we please to without much concern. It sounds dreadfully as if I am throwing away my birth and not minding my duty or where my honor lies, but I think I've earned some care-free time after King's Landing. I am not planning on never returning. I do want to go back to the Seven Kingdoms, but I know that once we are there rules and duties will come back. Is it so terrible to wish to know what freedom feels like after being a prisoner for months and months to the monsters that killed my father? I'm sure you are starving for it as well after years of being treated with indifference… Gods willing, it may not even make that much of a difference if we took a ship heading north in three months rather than tomorrow."

Sandor quietly stood up and turned to look at the fire in the hearth. Sansa didn't like it when he did that. He is remembering Gregor and that horrible moment when he caught him playing with the wooden knight. She stood up too and went to stand beside him. The flames were crackling and the warmth felt a little too suffocating in this close proximity.

She quietly took his big callused strong hand in hers, looked up at him and the scars which were the product of getting too close to this sort of heat. Sandor didn't draw back his hand nor look away from the fires. Instead he said softly, "You're growing up, aren't you, little bird?"

Sansa blinked at him, surprised. Knowing Sandor she had been sure he would come up with some mockery about how her plans resembled one of the songs she loved so much, but never in a thousand years would she have imagined him telling her that her idea didn't sound so mad, and that she was growing up. It made her both sad and happy to hear that…

Sansa hadn't thought that growing up could be linked with her desire to see the world, but she gathered Sandor might be right. Though he was talking about the way she was changing her views, unbidden came the memory of seeing herself properly in a full length mirror some days ago. Sandor had gone to take a bath in the courtyard though she had insisted he could use the bathtub in the room, but when he still went away anyways, Sansa had gone over to the mirror and received a surprise. I suppose it has to do with my flowering. Her body was rapidly changing. There were many times when she was standing besides Sandor and was awed to see how she'd grown taller in these past few weeks. Her breasts were bigger now and sore at times, and she seemed to have more curves and hips than she'd had back in King's Landing. Her waist look tiny and her legs a little firmer than before. The change has been exciting. I am becoming a beautiful woman, she had thought with pride while at the same moment she mourned for her lost childhood… Even her face was different. Not too drastically, but it was a little narrower than before, giving her an air of poise and dignity she well remembered admiring in her mother. And her eyes looked changed as well. It's just because I no longer cry like before, can freely laugh and not be concerned about anything these days…

Sansa sighed. "I suppose I am."

"Not many thought so back in King's Landing, but by all the things you've just said you show that you really are a Stark; a northern wolf."

She had never felt for him so! She squeezed his hand and said, "If what I just said didn't seem like madness or desperate ramblings then, could you at least consider it?"

Sandor nodded, finally taking his gaze off the fire.

A/N: All the reviews I've received for the previous chapters have been wonderful and sweet and sooo encouraging! I really appreciate it that you all keep on reading this fic, and reading what you think of it always makes my day better!