A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM
*My betas: gingerbeer48 & onborrowedwings, you're wonderful and I deeply appreciate all the encouragement you've given me!
*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.
9. Friends and Peers…
Later that night, as Sansa slept besides him in bed, Sandor found himself staring into the darkness, unable to get any sleep thanks to Sansa's proposition. This night was the coldest one he'd known so far in Pentos, and outside a light rain was washing away all the dirt and filth of the city. How could I not see this coming? Sure, he'd noticed Sansa's increasing wonder for the marvels of the East, but to imagine she would be willing to stay here for a few more months rather than rushing back North on the first ship they could lay their hands on was unthinkable. And yet, here they were, and Sansa wanted to stay…
Of course it was bloody tempting, he mused, but apart from wondering what had brought about this change in Sansa, the thing that was bothering him the most was how he would be able to tour around the bloody Free Cities with Sansa Stark in tow without finally succumbing to his most basic desires. Sure, he'd surprised himself so far in not having laid a finger on her against her will, but the little bird was just too fucking beautiful for her own sake, and Sandor wasn't Baelor the Blessed come again. Apart from waking up every morning pressed against Sansa in one way or another, his cock hard, there was the other detail of Sansa feeling now so very much at ease with his presence that she had taken to walking around their room wearing her bloody nightgown, due to the bloody heat Essos had to endure. The sight of her pretty growing teats moving freely underneath the loose light fabric had already sent him out of the room more than once to get his release. He knew the little bird didn't think anything was amiss on those occasions since he always told her he was going for more wine, and indeed, he always returned with a new skin full to the brim…
Can I truly trust myself to keep at bay if we do this? Sansa was turning into an astonishing woman right in front of him, and with every passing day she was attracting more and more stares from all sorts of scrawny idiots who she passed by at the port and in the markets and gardens and even in the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea and every single fucking street in Pentos.
At least she doesn't have to suffer Joff anymore… Sansa couldn't fool Sandor. He knew she feared being taken captive again (he cursed Joffrey for the hundredth time for inflicting this kind of reasoning to the little bird) and it didn't matter if she feared a grumpkin or a wilding or someone else making her a hostage- knowing better than anyone else the torments she had been forced to endure, he wouldn't take her someplace where she feared this might happen again. Sandor was starting to remember all the sadistic comments the accursed boy king had one remarked he would like to do to Sansa, and they were just too horrible and twisted even for him to remember. He chose to forget that part of his life once more, as he easily dismissed the relatively creepy childhood he had seen Joffrey lived. I may have not minded him very much at first, but seven hells, he sure showed you what sleeping with your brother can do to one of your children!
Sansa sighed in her sleep and turned around so that he could now see her face. He sighed as well as his hand reached out for an auburn lock. If he was honest with himself, the more he thought about staying in Essos with her the more he liked it. When will I ever get another chance like this? The moment we get to White Harbor I'll be back to being her shield and she a sister to the King in the North. Back there she would be a princess and he a dog, but here they were peers and friends. Not that he thought she would treat him any differently when they returned to the Seven Kingdoms, but there would be no more sleeping together, or sharing their days with each other in such an intimate way. And it's not like there's been much improvement in the bloody war for our presence to be required. So far the news that they learned from the sailors down by the docks was nothing new: Stannis had lost and the Lannisters still ruled in King's Landing while Robb Stark fought on in the West, while Stannis Baratheon still sulked behind the ancient stone walls of Dragonstone. And I bet Gregor won't be dying on me anytime soon… Sansa is right. It's not like it would make much difference if we stay the remainder of the war here rather than with fat lord Manderley.
The question was where to go? Myr and Tyrosh were out of the question in part because of the war they were in but also because Sansa didn't want to get on another ship unless it was the one sailing North. I won't take her to fucking Lys either. Lys was famous for their trade in bed slaves and Sandor wasn't going to let some pale Lyseni take Sansa by force and turn her into some fancy whore. It will have to be somewhere we can reach by land… She will want to have a say in it too so it can wait until tomorrow.
His thoughts strayed then into the way she had proposed their prolonged stay. The things she'd said surprised him because she had really opened up to him, and there couldn't be a bigger contrast from the little girl he'd first met more than a year ago. She doesn't chirp about knights and fair maids anymore, he thought. She is more practical and can accept reality with its ups and downs. Though he was glad she was strong enough to see these things, he also found himself reminiscing sadly of the little girl full of hopes and dreams she'd once been… The buggering fool her brother will one day instruct her to marry probably won't know what a gift he's gotten to have the little bird as a wife. So far she had been a blessing in Sandor's life, but would whatever idiot she would be married to be able to see and appreciate all her goodness? If he doesn't I'll make sure he regrets it till the moon turns black! There were just so many things that bothered him about that. What if her husband is not only handsome but good? You won't do anything then, just stand by as he first wins her smiles and trust and then her heart…
The thought of Sansa's future husband also gave him pause. In a year she could be married off to some poxy lord from the riverlands or the north, and Sandor would be kicked out of the bedroom like the dog he was thought to be. And there would be nothing he would be able to do about it. He would have believed that his agreement to stay here for some months alone with Sansa was a selfish one, had the little bird not been the one who wanted it in the first place. She may not want to stay here just so we can keep on living in such closeness, but if that is one of the reasons why you are doing this, you can hardly blame yourself…
When Sansa woke up the first thing that she noticed was that Sandor's warm comforting presence wasn't right beside her. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, his face hidden in his hands. She lifted her arm and rested her hand on his back, tentatively.
Sandor stilled the moment their skin made contact but he didn't shrug her hand away. Instead he turned his face to look at her as she asked him what was wrong.
He attempted a smile. "Nothing's wrong, little bird. Go back to sleep."
"It's morning already, Sandor. I've rested enough," she informed him kindly as she sat up in bed. "Didn't you sleep at all?"
His shrug was all the answer she needed. She knew exactly what was troubling his mind. Moving closer to him, she placed her hand once more on his shoulder, barely noticing that her knees were resting against his lower back.
"I didn't intend for my idea to rob you of your sleep, Sandor. Really… if you're tired of me or if it's such a bad notion, then we can go back-"
Sandor shifted around in bed so he was facing her now. His eyes traveled from her eyes to her neck to her bare shoulders, as her loose nightgown had shifted down her arms. He sighed deeply. "Of course I'm not bloody tired of you..! It… it isn't that, little bird. It isn't as bad a notion as you think. I was just wondering where we could go to and how much we would be likely to spend."
"Do we have enough? Because I'll sell my jewels and-"
Sandor interrupted her. "You'll do nothing of the kind, Sansa."
"But you are wasting all of your winnings on me! At least let me help since it's me who wants to prolong this trip. Please."
Sandor grunted and said, "We'll talk about it later."
She knew him too well to try and argue at the moment. So instead Sansa just smiled and stretched. When she was done she said, "So my plan is officially approved now?"
He grinned wickedly at her and said, "It bloody well is."
Sansa gave out a little squeal of excitement and in the madness of the joy she was feeling she threw her arms around Sandor's neck, hugging him tightly, her cheek pressing against him scarred one tightly. She didn't want to let him go!
"You won't regret it!" she promised him. "You'll see, it will be so much fun and it will be a real adventure."
Sandor was apparently very surprised with her reaction since he just sat there without moving as she hugged him. After some moments of hesitation his strong, long arms encircled her, returning the hug! His hold on her wasn't as tight as the one she had on him though, and soon enough he rasped, "Sansa, I believe you, but let go off my neck, you're choking me, girl!"
She quickly released him, exclaiming her distress and apologizing. Sandor laughed and told her to stop that chirping.
"Get dressed," he barked at her. "We have to go look at as many maps of Essos as we can and prepare the other things we'll need if we are actually going to go through with this."
They went to visit the Hall of A Thousand Scrolls where Sandor said the maps would likely be truer to the actual routes than the ones found at the stands in the markets. Slipping some coins to one of the young acolytes that worked there, Sandor bought three maps for their use.
They ate their midday meal at a little shop they'd discovered days before which served the best stew they'd tasted in this side of the Narrow Sea and where one had to sit on little cushions spread all over the floor since there were no chairs, before they returned to the inn to spent the rest of the afternoon deciding where they should head forth next, as they shared and enjoyed a flagon of cider. Sansa thought wine tasted finer, yet cider was more to her taste than the ale the innkeeper was serving below.
"So little bird," Sandor had begun as he laid the maps across the table. "Let's see where we would be less conspicuous…"
They stared at the scrolls for the longest time until Sandor said, "I gather you wouldn't be that keen on another trip by sea, would you little bird?"
Sansa shook her head. "No thank you. If given the choice I would prefer to go back to our manner of living in the Kingswood than to those days in the Summer Bird's cabin."
Sandor mumbled something under his breath. Sansa took another sip of the cider until Sandor started talking outloud again.
"If we must travel only by land then we must cross out Myr, Tyrosh, the Stepstones, Lys, Volantis, Lorath and Braavos… I don't think going to Qarth or the freak cities around the Jade Sea would work either because they're too far away from the Seven Kingdoms. We would have no way of learning what was happening."
Sansa rested her chin on her palm. "You're right. Ashaii by the Shadow and Slaver's Bay are too far away. As are the Port of Ibben or the Summer Isles. But look, we shouldn't rule out Volantis since there's more than one way to reach it. Even Myr would still be possible. If we can cross our way through the Flatlands and the Golden Fields all the way down to Selhorys and Valysar, Volantis would be reachable."
Sandor arched an eyebrow at her. "Yes we might go south by that route, but if we did I wouldn't be taking you by land. We would need to hire one of the small ships that sail up and down the river, but even then we might be caught by river pirates or even catch grayscale down by the Sorrows. Besides, the Disputed Lands are filled with many sellswords companies. I don't want to scare you but if they got their filthy hands on us you would never be allowed to leave them, while I would be forced to fight for them."
Sansa bit her lips in a frown. "Oh," she said, a little put out. And then she added teasingly, "I would've thought you'd like the life of a sellsword."
"I know of worse ways to live out one's worthless life, but that's not the point here. So let's look for another place for us to go to."
"All right then… Hmm what about Qohor?"
"No," Sandor said at once.
Sansa made a face at him. "Really, Sandor, why not? We can't go North either since there's nothing but these Velvet Hills…"
"Remember what I told you about the Bloody Mummers, girl?"
Sansa had to think back for a moment before she nodded.
"Well their leader is from Qohor. Vargho Hoat, the goat. I can understand your position, but trust me little bird, if you had ever heard Hoat speak you would want to put as many miles from him as you could. He can't open his trap without slobbering and you're actually telling me to go to the place where the goat came from to hear his whole lot of shitless family and neighbors slobber me into an early grave?"
Sansa was trying very hard not laugh. "Oh really Sandor!" was all she could manage.
Sandor returned the grin. "Even if I wasn't afraid for Qohor being filled with useless mad goats, there's still the problem that it lays too close to the Dothraki Sea. Many khalasar's ride by Qohor whenever they want to come this far west for trade."
Sansa sighed resigned. "Fine, we'll cross out Qohor as well." She stood up from the little table to feed the fire. When that was done and she had returned to the table, she pondered the familiarity which she now shared with Sandor. It was the easiest and most natural thing in the world now to move behind him as he sat considering on all the different routes from the Disputed Lands to the Dothraki Sea, and place her hand on his shoulder. She felt him tense at her gesture, but she did not remove her hand. Instead she tried to knead the muscles beneath her as she took her cup of cider to her lips once more. She then bent over to see the map from Sandor's point of view, as the big man sat frozen beside her, staring at her from the corner of his eyes.
Sansa smiled. "Ah, there!" she said, pointing with her finger at a little black dot on the map surrounded by mountains from all directions. "We should go there."
Norvos.
She heard Sandor's hoarse agreement beside her as he grunted. "It might be our best option… It isn't too far away from Westeros and if our presence is required back home the road from Pentos to Norvos is almost straight and direct."
Sansa smiled. "Yes, and there isn't as big a threat for grayscale or sellswords or ships or Dothraki in Norvos."
"Don't be so sure, little bird. Norvos is going to be a busy city where the trading caravans from the west meet the ones from the east."
She straightened up and reluctantly took her hand away from Sandor's shoulder. She sat back down trying to remember what she'd heard of the place. There weren't many songs she knew regarding Norvos, but deep in her heart the certainty that it would be as beautiful as Pentos had been was growing.
The sound of Sandor kicking off his boots returned Sansa to the represent. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and went on.
"Well in any case I think it would only take us about half a year…"
If Sandor was reluctant to stay that long away from Westeros he certainly didn't show it.
So this is it! Norvos it is then! She thought excitedly.They spend an hour more discussing and imagining what would Norvos be like.
Sansa was running. Running through dark tunnels and stone hallways. She was scared and knew that if she stopped for the merest second to breathe that it would be the end. The darkness was already devouring the dim light the candles on the wall behind her gave out. So she kept running. As she turned right around a corner she realized she was running in the crypts of Winterfell where all the Starks who'd come before her were resting. If this is Winterfell, then I'm home. Why then am I in such danger? She wondered frantically. She began to cry out to her parents and then to her siblings, but there was no response except the echoes her voice cast. She ran trying hard not to stumble on the hem of her skirts, when suddenly she saw Lady sitting right in front of her. That made her stop dead on her tracks. Lady? She asked incredulous. She knew this was her wolf even though she looked so different. Sansa knelt on the floor besides her direwolf, the threat of the darkness forgotten. Lady licked her hand and Sansa giggled. Lady, what happened to you? she gasped when her wolf turned her head to reveal that half her snout and head were covered in scars. Sansa looked into Lady's grey eyes and just as she was drowning in them, a flaming sword came out of the darkness and impaled itself on the direwolf.
Sansa woke up screaming Sandor's name. Sandor was shaking her by the arms and telling her to wake up or hush up or calm down. After a bewildered moment where she focused on her surroundings, realizing it had all been a dream, Sansa let out a sob. There were already tears in her eyes, but when she remembered that horrible long burning sword she cried out Sandor's name again and threw her arms around him.
"Sansa, what the hell were you dreaming?" he asked her, as she pressed herself to him.
"It- it was too horrible, Sandor! Oh gods, I can't even say it! I was... I was… and Lady was there and then the sword!"
Sandor disentangled himself from her iron grip as gently as he could. "Little bird, it's all right now, it was only a bad dream. You're safe here in our room and no one will hurt you with their swords or anything else ever again."
As he wiped away her tears with his thumb Sansa cried, "But it wasn't hurting me! It- it killed Lady."
Sandor's brow wrinkled up. "That was your direwolf, wasn't it?"
She nodded, still too scared and in shock to do anything else.
"Little bird, it was Joffrey, that bastard and his cunt of a mother, who killed your wolf. But they can't hurt you anymore."
"I know, but it- it seemed so real."
Sandor smiled kindly down at her. "Silly little bird, it's done now. Come."
And without further ado Sandor pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She was a little taken aback by the way he was comforting her, but remembering that he'd done the same when she had cried in the Kingswood, she realized that it shouldn't really surprise her. She rested her head on his chest and after a moment of hesitation hugged him in return, her arm going around his chest.
Sandor kissed the top of her head and began to shift away the hair from her face. She strained her neck up so she could face him and was rewarded with Sandor's face for once relieved of all its anger and frowns. He did look a little worried, but in his eyes and face there was kindness. It felt so good to be comforted, and with every passing breath her horrible nightmare was disappearing.
"Won't you sing us a song, little bird? It may soothe you."
"No," she whimpered, her voice muffled by his tunic. "I… I would rather hear the sound of your voice. It makes me feel safe."
Sandor laughed. "The little bird wants to hear the Hound howl to the moon, is that it? Or have you taken me for your wet-nurse?"
Sansa frowned and looked at him again. "Sandor, you aren't the Hound anymore. Don't call yourself that please. And don't be mean either…"
Sandor opened his mouth to protest, and Sansa, already hearing the cynical retorts he would say to her, moved her hand towards his collarbone where his dark curls started covering his chest. She watched him watching her as she slowly began to curl her finger around them. "I didn't mean you have to sing me to sleep. I- I was thinking you could tell me a story."
Sandor didn't remove her hand from his chest. His grey eyes flickered to it but he only answered, "I could. I know lots of really boring ones that would have you dreaming in a heartbeat."
Sansa smiled at that. "Would it be too out of place if you told me a story from your childhood? About your grandfather? You seem to have… disliked him less than you did your father."
Sandor's face hardened instantly but Sansa didn't look away. When he turned his face towards the window, not facing her, she was sure she'd gone too far. Just as she was about to apologize though, Sandor began talking…
In the end as Sandor opened his heart to her once more he told her about the man he'd admired as he grew up, all the while cradling her body to his. Sansa lay relaxed with her head on his chest, hugging him to her, barely registering that at some point Sandor had crossed his leg so that they were slowly caressing each other's feet… What did surprise her though was that more than once she had to stifle a desire, born deep within her, to throw her leg over Sandor, particularly when his hand started to trace the line of her waist lightly in a very soothing and relaxing manner. Many childhood stories later, both Sansa and Sandor drifted off into sweet dreams.
The next time she woke up it was early morning and the world was bright and right once again. Sansa, still drowsy from sleep, managed to register she wasn't in Sandor's arms anymore, and as the memories from hours ago came back to her, she felt like burying her face deep into her pillows so she could just remember... Yet the morning didn't begin badly at all. The moment she opened her eyes she was greeted with the sight of Sandor standing by the waterbasin, wearing nothing but his breeches! She instantly stifled a little gasp and made herself lay very still. If he doesn't know I'm awake I can watch unperturbed. The question her conscience asked her, of why she would want to do that didn't seem of much importance at the moment. Sansa only knew that she wanted to see him like this.
Sandor was washing his arms with a wet cloth. The imposing sight of his muscled body made her remember days long gone at Winterfell when Jeyne Poole and she had watched Theon, Robb and Jon practicing with Ser Rodrik, when summer had reigned. Jeyne had been head over heels for all three then, and so she'd begged Sansa to spy on the boys with her. At the time Sansa had agreed mostly out of curiosity and because she had the best time trying to stifle her giggles when she and Jeyne were doing something… naughty. What a little fool I was! Sansa thought now as her eyes roamed Sandor's chest. Her brothers and Theon had been nice looking to be sure, but mere boys, and even then she'd not seen them with nothing to cover their upper bodies. To have Sandor as her first look at a man's nude chest was quite overwhelming. Sure, she'd caught swift glances of blacksmiths wearing only aprons at Winterfell and the Red Keep, but even then the only bare thing about them were their arms, and the only outstanding thing on them had been their big-bellies. Back in King's Landing she would have wondered what the Knight of the Flowers looked like behind his armor, but Ser Loras Tyrell was not in her mind this morning. Sandor Clegane was the only thing in the world she cared about at present, in these mad morning moments when the world outside seemed to slow down until it existed no more…
Her tummy began to flutter as Sandor dipped the cloth once more into the water before moving it to his chest. The water sliding down his skin was just as stirring as the way his muscles flexed when he stretched. He's so hairy, she marveled. But the thick dark hair on his arms and chest were actually nice on him. She felt a desire to curl her fingers in them once again. Another thing Sansa admired was the sight of so many battle scars upon him. There's a whole side of Sandor which I don't even know about. She wanted to ask him where and how he had gained so many, and maybe even slide her finger down each one. He is the image of the Warrior and the Stranger come together in the flesh. Sansa smiled to herself and bit her pillow as she supposed that might make her the Maid in whatever tale this was.
Sandor being her first look upon a man's body made it impossible to compare him with others, but she liked how wide his shoulders were, and the narrow waist he had. I wonder what it would feel like to caress his back slowly… There was now a warm feeling just below her belly which made her press her legs together.
That had her blinking a couple of times. What on earth was happening to her? If truth be told, Sandor's body looked dangerous and yet here she was marveling at the oddest things: like the way his thighs and legs resembled thick tree trunks or at just how big his hands were. He's killed many with his bare hands, I wager. And yet, he's never been anything but gentle when handling me or touching me are concerned…
Just then Sandor left the discarded wet cloth on the table and started drying his face, arms, chest, shoulders and neck with a towel. When he was done he turned to look over at her. She quickly closed her eyes, pretending that she had seen nothing. Sandor probably wouldn't even care if he knew I saw him, but keeping it a secret from him did give the whole moment an air of secrecy and excitement.
She heard him walking over to the bed, and then for the longest time, nothing. It took all of her will power not to open her eyes or move an inch. The thought of Sandor staring at her as she slept brought as many answers as it raised questions in her head where this new intimacy they shared was concerned. When she was sure she could hold this position no more, she felt Sandor's calloused fingers caressing the length of her leg! She'd shifted around so much earlier that her nightshift had tangled around her legs, baring one to the knee. That was the one that Sandor caressed. Every conscious thought in Sansa was telling her to open her eyes and tell him not to touch her like that, but every basic instinct was relishing this slight kind gesture from the big man. She heard Sandor sigh slowly and deeply before he brought her nightshift down to cover her up. The sound of his retreating footsteps was heard next, so she opened her eyes a little bit. Sansa saw that Sandor had gone to the balcony to stare at the beautiful view as he pulled on his tunic. She let out a long contained breathless sigh as well, covering her face, feeling flushed.
When he came back, Sansa was sitting by the edge of the bed, her auburn hair cascading wildly down her back and across her shoulders, and her nightgown sliding down her shoulder.
Sandor took one look at her and quickly stared at the floor, which suited Sansa just fine as she was blushing fiercely the moment their eyes met, feeling mischievous.
"Little bird," he acknowledged with a snarl of that deep, thick rasping voice of his.
"Good morning, Sandor… Have you been up long?"
"About half an hour," he replied as she stretched over to the little stool by the bed to grab a cup full of water, his eyes not leaving her now.
She got out of bed content, her legs just a little unsteady from moments ago, stretching. Then she passed right by Sandor and stepped into the balcony to have a look at the view. She did this every morning.
"Better stop gaping at the view if you want to eat, little bird," Sandor called from inside some time later.
Sansa stepped into the room and saw that Sandor was already halfway into his armor. She rushed to help him, and as she took the cold greave from his their eyes met for a moment; his uncertain, hers defiant. He sighed in reluctance and Sansa knelt down to tie the greave to his leg.
When Sana was done she went to wash her face and hands and took her cloak from the peg by the door. That was the queue for Sandor to leave the room so she could change. As he was opening the door though, Stranger's saddle under his arm, he said, "I think the time has come for your jewelry and some of the gold to be hidden in our smallclothes."
"I agree. I'll tend to that this afternoon," she said, blushing and trying hard to suppress a burst of chuckles at the thought of having to tend to his smallclothes too.
That morning, for the first time since they had arrived in Pentos, they didn't go to the docks to inquire about a ship sailing to the Sunset Kingdoms. Instead they went looking for a horse for Sansa. After that she'd gone for an hour to Sept-Beyond-the-Sea to thank the gods for everything, she left the temple wondering if she would find another one in Norvos.
Maybe I should take the gods with us, she suddenly thought, and ended up buying two wooden little figures of the Maid (for her) and the Warrior (for Sandor) in the market. It would make her feel better to pray to them at night, as she both thanked them for her present lot and asked them to continue to look after her lady mother and Robb. Sansa had wished to get the other five figures, but they would only be a burden on their journey. And besides, Septa Mordane, Mother and septons alike had always said that the Seven faces were the same god. So it makes no matter if I pray to the Maid and the Warrior. The Mother and the Father, the Smith and the Crone, and the Stranger would all be coming along with us…
The following days passed by very quickly. While they had been uncertain as to when they would be able to board a ship to take them North, time had gone on in such a fashion where it almost seemed as if it had stopped. Yet now that they knew where they were heading, one thing led to another and as quick as that, five days of preparations had already come and gone. Sansa was both glad and saddened by this. She was excited and even impatient to start off on their journey east, yet a part of her didn't want to leave Pentos behind. Here she had changed so much, not only in her friendship with Sandor but also in how much she'd grown up…
If we stay in Pentos any longer it will be impossible for me to leave it, Sansa thought, trying to reason with herself. She was very excited to see Norvos, and both she and Sandor tried to recall whatever they had heard of the city and to learn new facts in the Hall of a Thousand Scrolls.
Apart from learning about their new destination as much as they could, they also had to go shopping for supplies to see them through the journey. Sansa Stark would never have thought it possible that it would be fun to go out shopping with Sandor Clegane. She had been sure he would try to get their provisions as quickly as possible, while frowning at the shop owners and fellow buyers. Well, he did frown, Sansa mused, but he also jested and broke into barks of laughter and didn't seem in a hurry to hasten things up.
It seemed that Sandor took a perverse delight in fooling around with her and the way she became excited about shopping. Yet almost every time he had Sansa joining in the honest laughter.
By the sixth day their room back at the inn was full of the things they would need on the road, and now the inn's stables were lodging two horses belonging to them. Sandor had bought her a beautiful chestnut colored mare with a big white blaze on its forehead and muzzle. They hadn't gone shopping for her horse together though; Sandor had surprised her one night after dinner with the mare.
They had been sitting in a quiet corner of the common room in an alcove, finishing the last remains of their food when Sandor had asked her if she would accompany him to tend to Stranger for the night. She'd agreed of course, so after leaving some coins on the table and drinking down the last drops of their honeyed wine, Sansa had trailed after Sandor to the stone courtyard at the back of the building. Her eyes had traveled instantly towards the beauty besides Sandor's big ferocious destrier.
Sandor had stopped walking to peer at her face in the gathering darkness.
"Like what you see, do you?" he'd said, grinning.
Sansa had sighed. "Oh Sandor, its beautiful..!"
She had looked around her then and whispered, "Do you think its owner will be cross if I pat it?"
Sandor had shrugged at that. "It's a she, little bird, not an it. And as to the owner getting angry, I don't think so seeing as it is yours."
Sansa blinked up at him a couple of times. "What?"
"I bought the mare for you some hours ago while you were taking a nap. I take it that you like her then?"
Sansa's mouth had hung open at those words after she'd let out a gasp. A moment later, thinking that it must look unseemly, she had clasped her hand over it before she whispered, "Why?"
Sandor grunted, yet Sansa could see that he was very pleased with himself. "We cannot buy a wagon for our things. It would slow us down, and Stranger is strong but he won't be able to carry us and our supplies both. This way we can split up the weight and it may even go easier to you if you have a horse all to yourself instead of me taking away space from the saddle."
The mention of the saddle had Sansa laughing. "Oh you're wicked! So the new saddle upstairs isn't meant for Stranger after all then!"
Sandor didn't look abashed at all. "Well I had to come up with something so you wouldn't suspect a thing. It was a surprise."
A surprise indeed! She thought delighted. "Oh Sandor thank you so much! You're wonderful!"
She felt an instinct to throw her arms around him just so she could show him just how much this meant for her, but somehow being out here in the open stifled that impulse. Instead she gave him her most dashing smile before walking towards the animal. Stranger was more than used to her presence by now, and before she reached her horse she ruffled Stranger's hair lightly saying, "I think you like her, don't you? Else you would be thrashing in your stall in an urge to be left alone."
The dark horse snorted in agreement. Sansa blinked at him before going to stand before her mare.
Up close the horse took her breath away. She was absolutely perfect and looked the right horse for her. Sandor knows my tastes too well by now, she smiled, amused. It was funny that she was so happy about owning a horse when she had never liked them much before. It's the thought of having something of my own again that makes me happy. And I owe her and so much else to Sandor.
Having this horse for her own inevitably brought her Lady to her mind. She had shared a deep connection with her direwolf and would always have a place in her heart for her, but thinking about her and the way she had been unjustly killed made her fear for her new horse. What if she were to suffer the same fate?
Sandor walked up beside her in the stillness of the courtyard. Inside the inn and all around them light from other houses could be seen through the windows, and voices and laughter broke the silence of the moment. Only a cricket and a nightingale could be heard chirping their songs at them. The air was rich with the scent of roasted goat and rain and dirt and moss.
"Is something wrong, little bird? She won't bite you."
Sansa understood what he meant; she hadn't touched the horse yet. She had only stood there, staring intently at the horse's eyes as the mare looked back.
"I know. It's just… I was remembering Lady."
Sandor now understood what she was talking about. "Oh," he said softly before putting his hand on her shoulder; a reassuring and comforting gesture Sansa was grateful for. "Little bird, I won't let your horse die the way your wolf did. I promise."
Sansa turned her neck to smile once more at her friend. Yet as she gazed up at him, memories of King Robert's voice echoed in her mind. After the king had declared that Lady was to die in place of Nymeria and right after her father had pleaded with his friend to forget such folly King Robert had said, "Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."
And Sansa's world had crumbled. She'd understood what would need to happen next and had pleaded and sobbed for Lady to be spared to no avail. She could still recall her father hugging her then but not much after that. Sandor hadn't been there. I think he was hunting for either Arya or the butcher's boy, yet earlier that day we spoke for the first time. How he frightened me! Yet I thought he was Father when I bumped into him… Thinking of Lady dying and of her father and of Sandor made her wonder for the first time if Sandor, who was known as the Hound back home, wasn't in a way Lady's replacement. He would never be able to understand her the way the direwolf had, yet Lady wouldn't have outlived Father long with Joffrey as king. I don't have to compare one protector and friend to the other though. I should just be happy that I knew Lady, and that I am now with Sandor… and that I now have you, she thought returning her gaze to her beautiful mare.
Sansa's hand slowly and gently reached out to the horse's muzzle, and the moment she touched the horse her face lit up by a wide smile. Out of nowhere Sandor produced a sugar lump and handed it to her. As she fed her horse (and Stranger too) with the sweets Sandor asked her how she would name the mare.
"I want her to be called after someone I knew and loved," she admitted.
Sandor had looked at her, with softness in his dark grey eyes. "Little bird, I don't think it would be wise if you call her after your parents or siblings."
"It wouldn't…" she agreed. She thought long and hard and finally said, "There was this woman back in Winterfell who served as nurse and storyteller, and she was the oldest person in Winterfell. I learned all the songs and tales of knights and fair maids due to her, and she was always warm and cared and loved us all."
I wonder where she is now…
"What was her name?"
"I never knew her real name, but we called her Old Nan."
Sandor considered the option. "Nan… I would've thought you would call the horse after some lady or princess… Something like Bonnie or Jonquil."
Sansa chuckled. "Those names are nice but I think I will call her Nan. What do you think, Stranger?"
The destrier snorted again.
"Nan it is then!" Sandor exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Well little bird, I'm sure you'll warm to each other quick enough. She was the best I could get and the one most suited to you that I could find."
Sansa slipped her arm around Sandor's and leaned towards him. "I know. Thank you."
They spent some more time outside with Nan and Stranger before heading upstairs for bed. Right as they were going to step inside though, Sansa looked up to face the thousand shinning stars while a single tear ran down her cheek…
A/N: Thanks for reading & for all the reviews!