A/N: Disclaimers
- I don't gain anything by this. The characters & story are the brilliant work of GRRM. And the title of the fic is taken from Loreena McKennitt's, Dante's Prayer which is a huge inspiration for this story ;)
*To my lovely Betas: swiftsnowmane, onborrowedwings & gingerbeer48, I hope you don't get tired of how many times I tell you all how amazing and nice you are for helping me out with this! :D
- 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.
14. The Scabbard and the Swordbelt
"Oh it is beautiful!" Sansa exclaimed happily, clasping her hands together. "It is just what I had imagined!" She held her hands out for the new scabbard, immensely pleased with it. Two weeks previously (time enough to have found a decent present for the other) Sansa and Sandor had decided that the time to celebrate their combined namedays had arrived. In just two days Sansa would finally be able to behold the sight of Sandor's face as she presented him with his gifts.
All the arrangements were ready. They had planned to have a little outdoor adventure to celebrate, and while Sansa had decided to cook, for the very first time, the food they would be eating, it had fallen on Sandor to find a place outside the city where they could have their meal. Sandor had assured her that he had already found the place, but since it was meant to be a surprise, no amount of her pleading served to make him reveal the location.
Prior to their little picnic, they had decided to have an exchange of presents. While Sansa looked forward to that moment with excitement, it had been difficult to find a gift she thought Sandor would truly appreciate. After long days and sleepless nights of trying to figure out what she could possibly give to her sworn shield, the answer came to her as she sat on her couch in their living room. Alone and lost in thoughts of their namedays' celebrations, her eyes had fallen on Sandor's current scabbard- an old thing, which looked as though Sandor had been carrying it since long before he'd ever visited Winterfell with King Robert.
Sansa had then closely examined the scabbard with detail, concluding that something simple but of better quality would serve. But where do I get the coin to have a new one made? She had wondered, until she remembered the jewelry she had hidden in her smallclothes. I'll sell my moonstones and golden chain tomorrow.
The next step had been to seek Vintos and Frema's advice about where she could meet someone who could create a decent scabbard, and to make them swear to her that Sandor would not learn about her gift by their lips. I want him to be really surprised. He has to see that I know his tastes just as well as he does mine.
"You've done good work with this," Frema, who was standing besides Sansa, told Yuzma, a cousin of an acquaintance of Vintos, and the man whom Sansa had paid to make the scabbard. They were standing in the middle of the room where Yuzma worked, both girls admiring the new dark leather sheath, as they ran their fingers down the smooth surface of its parts. Sansa held the new sword belt she had also requested to be made for Sandor and attached it to the scabbard, more than pleased with the results. With two gifts it would be harder for Sandor to not like her present.
Yuzma bowed his short neck and gave a grunt for a response. In High Valyrian, Sansa asked him if he could please pack up the gifts, but it was a dialect this man must not have really understand, because Frema kept repeating her words to him in the Valyrian spoken in Norvos. When they took their leave and stepped outside Yuzma's entrance, Sansa's packages tucked beneath her arm tightly, they were greeted by the sight of a large crowd at the wide square in front of them.
Frema turned to look at her and said, "I think Edric is really going to like your gift!"
Sansa smiled at that, yet she couldn't help a small blush from creeping up her neck. She tried to behave as if she was not aware of it by saying, "Do you know what he is going to give me for a present?"
"Aye, I do," Frema replied, grinning wickedly. "You are going to go love it Alys, but I won't tell you what it is if that's what you're getting at. You will just have to wait till the day after tomorrow arrives to see it!"
Sansa laughed, and stuck her tongue out playfully at her friend, knowing that it would be impossible to divine any further clues from her.
"Here, give me one of the presents so you don't have to carry them both yourself."
Sansa shifted her parcels around as Frema grabbed the sword belt.
"Thank you," Sansa said.
They started to make their way through the crowd, yet it only took a few moments for Sansa to realize that the square had not been this full when they had passed through on their way to Yuzma's.
"Why are there so many people here? Is this a special day? A festival?"
Frema frowned. "I don't think so. It must be something else because it wasn't this crowded earlier. Maybe we should go back and wait till it clears up a bit."
Sansa thought that a fine notion but then she saw a flaming torch swirling in circles up towards the sky, and realized that there must be a juggler doing a performance since people all around them began to clap their hands in aproval. Sansa hugged her parcel closer to her heart and asked Frema if she would like to get a better look. Frema didn't seem to care much, so she shrugged and followed Sansa towards the center of the square, as the sun of Norvos shine up in the sky, a rare event in this particular place in Essos.
Yet sun or no sun, there was a great throng of people around Sansa, and if it hadn't been for her tall height she would not have been able to see a thing. As it was though, she did manage to glimpse a little man standing on the shoulder blades of another, as he juggled some torches with flames crackling up and swooshing through the air, while a little monkey danced around them a woman played the flute.
"Alys, it's too crowded here and I can't see a thing. Let's go back!" Frema called from somewhere behind her.
Sansa nodded in agreement, holding on to the wrapped up scabbard in her arms, casting one last look at the entertainment. As she turned around, she heard a man beside her suddenly yell, "You there, stop! Someone grab him, that boy is stealing my silver..! I said STOP!"
In the moment the man exclaimed the last word he flung his arms to his sides hysterically, and before Sansa could even blink, his flailing arm struck her so hard on her head that she stumbled against a man behind her, before slipping and falling to the ground, losing Sandor's scabbard.
The blow to the head instantly brought back into her mind all the horrible memories of Joffrey commanding the Kingsguard to hit her… and all of them had, except Sandor… Sandor… and amidst the pain and overwhelming feelings that this provoked in her, Sansa felt herself succumbing into darkness. Her head pounding in pain, she heard a woman screaming and towering shapes moving all about her; yet one descended over her.
When she opened her eyes again she heard Frema's voice saying, as if from far away, "Please Alys darling, please wake up!"
The next thing she realized was that she was in someone's strong arms, and she once again remembered. Sandor, he saved me again.
"Sand-" she began to say dizzily, before a voice said, "Do not speak please. Everything is going to be all right."
That's a man's voice, yet it isn't Sandor's rasping comforting growls. She fluttered her eyes open a bit only to be greeted by the sight of two beautiful blue eyes staring down at her.
"Oh" she said, before her eyelids closed and she was lost once again. The next time she woke up she felt a bit better, which was odd since her head hurt fiercely. Sansa blinked, adjusting her sight to her surroundings.
"She has woken up again, look," a voice said to her right. Sansa became conscious of sitting on a stone bench, with Frema hovering beside her, a look on her face of relief that words could not express. She also realized she had seen the man she had mistaken for Sandor before; the man with the strikingly beautiful eyes that she now remembered she had seen before. He is the nobleman inside the litter who acknowledged me with a bow of his head after he caught me staring at him! And it appeared that she was once again staring at the man, and while some instinct in Sansa knew it was rude, she could not seem to help herself. What is he doing here? Where am I?
"You gave your friend here and myself quite a fright, you know," the nobleman said, smiling kindly at her. His voice was deep, yet clear and reassuring.
Sansa frowned, and rested her aching head on her hand. "What happened? Where am I? Where are the presents?"
Remembering Sandor's presents, Sansa forgot her pain and turned around, only to sigh in relief as she saw the parcels containing Sandor's scabbard and sword belt were wrapped up beside her. Her fingers brushed against one parcel and rested there.
Frema opened her mouth to answer her, but was apparently still too overwhelmed for she began to cry into her handkerchief. Confused, Sansa turned to the nobleman, questioningly as she felt a little wet trickle running down her forehead.
"Pardon me," the man said, leaning closer to Sansa, as he produced a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed lightly and delicately at Sansa's head. "You scratched your head against a rock when you hit the ground and are bleeding a little."
"Bleeding..?" And then she remembered. Of course, they had been in the crowded square, trying to get a good look at the entertainers when some cutpurse had been caught trying to steal from the man who had been standing beside Sansa, and in his anger the man raised his arms and struck her accidentally. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros did it on purpose though. It does not hurt as much this time, but I still fainted, Sansa mused.
Sansa returned to the present as the nobleman's blue eyes met hers. She knew that she was probably acting rudely so, remembering her courtesies, she said, "I thank you for saving me, my lord…" When she saw him smiling again she grew hesitant. Maybe I got it wrong. "You did save me, did you not?"
"I see you are remembering what happened, so I do not think there has been any serious harm done. You were unconscious only for a few moments. Still, to be sure, would you like me to fetch a healer?"
"Oh no!" Sansa exclaimed instantly. She did not want to make a big fuss of this. After all, except for her current headache, there didn't seem to be anything wrong. I've suffered worse blows than that one, my lord; blows to my body, to my soul, to my heart. She did not say that out loud though. "Please, do not do that. Don't trouble yourself so. Just give me a few more moments and I will be all right once again."
The nobleman nodded and said, "Then I shall remain here until I see that you are indeed feeling better."
He turned his head around and ordered his servant to fetch his litter. It wasn't until the nobleman spoke again, that Sansa noticed a stranger standing nervously in the background, balancing on the heels of his feet. The servant nodded and was off at once.
When the nobleman looked at her again and smiled, two little dimples appearing in his cheeks, Sansa finally began to notice all the details on his handsome face. He had brown curly hair, was well-built, being tall and lean, and even had a ridiculous cleft chin which Sansa wasn't sure if she liked or not. The most beautiful thing about him though was his eyes. If she had been struck by how blue they were once, as she saw him pass by for a moment, now that he stood here in front of her, Sansa simply could not find anything made by man or the gods to compare them with. Not even the crown's jewels in Westeros shone like this nobleman's eyes. He does not look Norvoshi. He did not have the mustaches or the forked oiled hairstyles or the coloring common in these parts. He was clean-shaven and his hair was closely cropped. I can't be sure if he is younger or older than Sandor. She suddenly wished she did not have blood on her face.
Just then Frema sniffed and both Sansa and the nobleman turned to look at her.
"I am well, Frema dear. Please stop crying."
Frema threw her arms around Sansa's neck and hugged her tight. Sansa embraced her friend in return, noticing a twinkle of amusement sparkle on the man's eyes. Sansa felt like rolling her eyes at him too but instead she broke into a laugh and grabbed Sandor's gifts. "I think I am now all right. Thank you for not losing sight of the gifts, Frema."
She managed to stand up without her head spinning more than once, and sighed in contentedly as she took hold of Frema's arm. "Once again, I thank you my lord for aiding us."
Sansa gave him a demure curtsy after noticing that the top of her head reached his chin, but he waved it all away. "Please, will you two not allow me to accompany you to your house to make sure you arrive there safely?"
Sansa and Frema exchanged quick glances, as Frema nudged her in her ribcage, arching an eyebrow at her, her tears dried up by now. Sansa felt honored, but still…
"Excuse me my lord, but we do not even know your name," Sansa said, feeling the need to point that out.
He broke into a nice laugh at that and replied, "Yes, I am sorry! It would seem I have forgotten my manners. My name is Arman Nervere, a member of the benevolent and honorable magisters of Great Norvos, daughter of the mighty Rhoyne."
Frema's eyes went as wide as saucers when she heard that, yet Sansa was not surprised. I knew he was a nobleman since the first moment I saw him… I wonder if he will think the same of me?
"I am Alysanne and this is my good friend Frema," Sansa said, avoiding giving her false surname as well.
Arman surprised her then, because suddenly he began to speak in the Common Tongue, quite fluently, though with a slight accent. "Your accent tells me you are not from here, Alysanne."
Sansa agreed, noting that Arman had a quick and clever mind. She laughed and confirmed his suspicions by saying, "And your question leads me to believe that you are quite a learned lord. Forgive me, but would it be Lord Arman, or- ?"
"No, no just call me Arman. There are no "my lords" or "my ladies" in Norvos."
Sansa told Frema what had just transpired so she could know what was going on, and their odd little party began to walk down the street, heading for The Three Bells. It turned out that Arman was a very pleasant fellow, and had even offered his litter to Frema and Sansa in order to arrive more comfortably to the inn, but the girls declined, preferring to walk. When Arman went to give instructions to his servant, Sansa whispered to Frema's ear, "Are all noblemen so amiable in Norvos?"
Frema shrugged, beaming. "I don't know. This is the first noble person I've met!"
Sansa squeezed her hand then, wondering what her friend would say if she knew Alysanne was really Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, and sister to the Young Wolf, King Robb of the North.
When they finally arrived home, Sansa was hopeful no one would be around to see them arrive with their new escort, but fate was not kind in this, for when they finally spotted the inn, Medra was outside sweeping the entrance with a broom. The innkeeper looked at them with surprise, smoothing her dirty apron, as they approached.
"Alys, who is- oh, what happened to you, dear?" she asked as her eyes fell first on Arman and then on her cut.
"We were watching some jugglers over at Tenetze's square," Frema explained, "when a cutpurse stole some silver from a man standing besides Alys, and in his haste to get to the boy he accidentally hit Alys who went sprawling to the ground and fainted. But thankfully the noble Arman Nervere saw the incident and helped Alys."
"Nervere…" Medra repeated looking at Arman. Then she swore under her breath and curtsied. "Oh! That was very good of you, kind magister. I've always heard that the proud and ancient house of Nervere is known for their generous and selfless acts, and I am glad to see that it was not a lie… Alysanne, we need to clean your cut. Come inside child, I'll have one of the lads put some water to boiling… Please magister, won't you come inside as well? It would be a great honor."
Sansa was amused at how Medra was responding to this unexpected visit, and caught a glance of Arman's face that told her that he was also entertained, yet he surprised her when he agreed to pay a visit to Medra's establishment.
"Medra, have you seen Edric?" Sansa asked the innkeeper. She was anxious to see Sandor.
"Wha-? Edric?" she repeated, looking lost for a moment. "Oh Edric- no of course I haven't seen Edric, Alys. I've been cleaning the house all morning. Maybe Vintos knows."
"I'll go and see if Vintos is in the house," Frema offered.
"Oh please do," Sansa said, remembering. "Won't you take the packages and hide them in your house until I can give them to Edric?"
Frema nodded and took the scabbard from Sansa's arms, before quickly bowing in respect to Arman as she hurried to the courtyard behind the inn.
Sansa was left alone with Medra and an amused Arman, waiting at her side, with a coy smile on his face. The neighbors were beginning to appear, wishing to know what was happening as Arman's servant arrived with the litter, transported by four tall guardsmen.
Sansa did not wish to make her accident a bigger issue than it was, so she hurried into The Three Bells common room. Medra had her daughter heat some water, as she donned a new, cleaner apron. Thankfully, Sansa noted the common room was empty as she waited for Arman to walk inside before she sat on a chair. She wondered why a magister of Norvos would wish to linger with a girl he had just met, when surely he must have more important duties with to fill his time. Sansa had lived at court too long not to question this nobleman's behavior. I cannot think of many lords or ladies back in King's Landing who would have taken so much trouble to ensure a girl they helped got safely back home. Still, rare as it was, a man of high birth trying to win the people's love with these sorts of acts- like helping a maid or accepting a woman's offer to her house- was not that unheard of, she supposed.
Arman took the seat beside Sansa and thanked Medra when she brought him a cup of wine. He had not asked for one, but nonetheless he took a sip.
As Medra began to dab at Sansa's cut, she winced as she felt a sting.
"It's only the snail's vinegar, Alys. It will help close the cut much quicker."
"She is right, you know," Arman agreed, in the Common Tongue.
Medra looked at him at that, but returned to cleaning Sansa's cut.
"Excuse my asking Arman, but how did you happen to see that I was hurt? Why would a magister be in the middle of a crowd in the low City?"
Arman chuckled, and replied, "I was coming back from visiting a friend who lives down by the Noyne, and I told my servants to take me near the crowd to see what all the commotion was about, only to see the whole incident that befell you. When your friend Frema screamed I was out of the litter at once and went out to assist you."
"Oh," Sansa said again. Then she frowned, "May I ask you how do you know the common tongue, Arman?"
Arman smiled, remembering. "My aunt taught it to me as a boy. She lived in the Seven Kingdoms for many years and can speak it fluently."
"By the way you speak of her, I can tell that you are close to her."
Arman's dimples appeared again as he seemed to recall his aunt's face. "She is… She is my father's first cousin and I just returned a fortnight ago from visiting her at her estate on the hills of the Nizzis. She stays for half a year in her manse there, preferring the quiet of the mountains to the bustle of the city."
"And have you ever been to Westeros?" she asked him, since that was of more importance to her than where his aunt liked to retire to.
He laughed at that, making Sansa wonder how that could be funny. "No, I have not. Nor do I think I ever will. The Sunset Kingdoms are too far away and I do not see my duties to this city permitting me a trip any time soon."
Sansa nodded, wondering what she should say next. Thankfully the appearance of Vintos and Frema spared her the need.
"Alys, are you all right?" Vintos asked her, stepping beside her, looking worried as he tried to get a look at what Medra was doing.
"Yes Vintos, I am all right. It was just a little cut, nothing to worry about. I do not believe you've met my rescuer?"
Vintos took off his hat in respect when he saw Arman sitting with Sansa, and offered him his hand. Arman stood up and took it, saying that he was honored to meet him.
Sansa did the introductions and then asked if Vintos knew were Edric was.
"He's taken your horses for some new shoes. I'll go and fetch him."
"Thank you. Tell him I will be waiting at our house."
When Vintos was gone, Arman said that he had to leave as well, but was sure the kind innkeeper who had some very fine wine in her establishment would finish her work on the cut soon. Medra and Frema stood to the side as Arman kissed her hand and said, "It was very pleasant to meet you, Alysanne, even though the circumstances were unpleasant."
Sansa smiled, thanked him one last time and bid him goodbye, thinking that this had been a strange morning indeed!
"What a lucky girl you are, Alys!" Medra told her, chuckling. "He would be a good man to have for a friend, you know…"
A friend… That felt odd. She had just met Arman and would never see him again, so how could he be her friend? I want Sandor, Sansa thought yet again. She knew he would not be pleased with her cut, but at least she had managed to get his present safely back to the inn.
"Thank you for looking at my cut Medra, and thank you for everything Frema dear. If you would excuse me, I think I will rest a little bit."
She stopped at the door to say, "Frema, have you hidden Edric's gifts?"
When her friend nodded Sansa smiled, and said, "Good."
Sandor was instructing the blacksmith how to shoe a horse properly when he saw Vintos of all people running up to meet him.
"What is it?" Sandor barked out loudly, straightening up, his hand resting for support on Stranger's hindquarters.
"It's Alysanne! She got stuck on the head and-"
"WHAT!" Sandor yelled, incredulous. His insides tightened painfully as the words Vintos had spoken began to make more sense. Sansa is hurt?
A black, mad rage seized hold of him, desperate for answers as he was, and before he knew it he had grabbed Vintos by the front of his tunic and had pushed him against the wall. "What the bloody hell are you saying?" he rasped.
"Tha- that Alys got struck on the head and- and fainted… bu- t- t she's all right now. Frema and-"
"Where the fuck is she?" Sandor bellowed, letting go of Vintos and stepping towards Stanger. He jumped onto his saddled horse quickly, ignoring the blacksmith's frightened look.
"She is all right now", Vintos assured him, his hands shaking. "Medra cleaned her cut, but Alys asked me to tell you if you could go to her."
"Take Alys' mare back to the inn," he ordered Vintos before he galloped away, down the cobbled streets of bloody Norvos, urging Stranger to go faster, not caring if he rode someone down if they were in his way. Thoughts which could barely be called rational crossed his mind, one after the other, each more dreadful than the last. The little bird was hurt and fainted and I wasn't there to bloody help her. What kind of a sworn shield lets this happen? He asked himself. Thankfully Vintos said she was all right now, but Sandor wouldn't believe it until he saw her with his own eyes.
When Sandor finally arrived at the The Three Bells he rode right into Stranger's stall, dismounted, and crossed the courtyard towards their house. He heard some women calling to him, yet the look of anger that he gave them made them shut up all right. As he walked towards his and Sansa's house he spied those fucking twins who were in charge of filling the little bird's tub and who always goggled at Sansa without actually being able to say a bloody word to her, holding some flowers in their hands, loitering outside the door, looking uncertain. Sandor cursed out loud making them jump out of their skins as he had wanted them to, and they hurried away, still clutching their bleeding flowers in their hands.
In three heartbeats Sandor opened the door to the house and saw Sansa sitting in the living room, looking a bit pale, unharmed but for a red cut on her forehead. The sight of it drew a groan from him as he remembered the day of the riots in King's Landing when he had saved her from getting the same fate as Lollys Stokeworth. Did some bloody raper do this to her? They had been nearly a month in Norvos and Sansa was looking less like a young girl and more like the beautiful young woman with every passing day, and it wouldn't surprise him if someone had made the mistake of trying to get his way with the little bird. Already Sandor had caught men almost every day glancing back at Sansa several times after she passed them by in the street, his guts twisting in anger and jealousy.
Cursing himself once again for not being there to protect her, he walked over to his little bird, who stood up as he came closer, and without words, Sandor hugged her tightly. Sansa's arms embraced him as well, as she buried her head in his chest, making him tremble with relief that he was finally with her. He kissed the top of her head as his hands brushed her back and hair, both of them desperately clinging tighter to the other. Sansa's hands rested on the small of his back before moving to his shoulders, before settling at his sides.
After a long moment they drew apart slightly, and Sandor looked down at Sansa, getting a closer look at her injury. It wasn't that bad- even the slightest head-wound tended to bleed copiously, but the fear that had come over him still lingered, so out of instinct, he lowered his head and kissed her injured forehead.
Sansa whimpered at that and sighed his name, though she did not cry or shed a single tear. When he drew back, he cupped her cheek and asked her what had happened.
The little bird actually chuckled at that, and her hand came up to rest on the one that was holding her face. "I'm embarrassed to tell you, Sandor. It's so silly that I'm afraid you'll think-"
"Tell me," he said. He needed to know.
After Sansa was done, Sandor sat on the chair she'd been occupying before, thinking over it all. He had asked her what on earth she and Frema were doing over at Tenetze's square, and he did think that it was foolish to risk herself by being in a crowd just because they had felt like exploring the city this morning. Sansa had told him that it hadn't hurt as much as the blows she'd once received, which made his heart go out to her at the same time as he looked away from her eyes, remembering how he had just stood there when that sadistic golden piece of shit entertained himself with the sight of hurting Sansa. At least this nobleman had managed to help Sansa a bit, Aye, and did what you ought to have done yourself, and had been there for the little bird.
"I wish I could bloody well thank this man for what he did," he admitted to Sansa.
"He stayed for a while in the common room as Medra tended my cut, but what caught my attention was that he spoke the Common Tongue," Sansa said, walking to the chair in front of his.
Sandor shrugged. "He is a buggering rich magister, little bird. He has to know something in order to maintain that post."
Sansa gave him a look. "I know that, I'm sure he is very learned, but he told me that his aunt had been the one that taught him, and that this aunt had lived in Westeros for many years."
"I still don't see how that matters, Sansa. We won't see him again, so who cares who taught him how to speak? The only thing I care about is that he saved you and was there to help you when I wasn't."
Sansa caught his eyes at that, and he didn't look away. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to say in the end.
Sansa didn't say anything to that, making him regret having said even those two words at once. But how can I tell her that I am sorry for just standing there and allowing those bloodless worms to hit her back when we were under the Lannisters' control? And then, history had repeated itself, for instead of protecting Sansa like he'd said, he had been with a buggering blacksmith when she needed him.
"Sandor, it was not your fault, so don't do this. Don't start blaming yourself for it. Nothing happened. I'm here safe and sound."
"Sansa," he said, his voice sounding like two wood saws grinding together. "I'm sorry because I promised to protect you and when you needed me most, I wasn't there."
"Sandor, are you forgetting that you saved my life by taking me away from my prison in King's Landing? Have you forgotten that you've crossed half the world with me just so that I could keep my life?"
"Little bird, it's just that-"
"Just what? Sandor, honestly, you can't expect to be by my side every waking moment, waiting for the instant when I might get injured. What happened today could have just as easily happened to Frema."
Sandor couldn't help but look at Sansa with fondness and awe. She is all right and probably wishing to forget this morning and yet you come here reminding her of her ordeal, and making her comfort you when it should be the other way around.
So Sandor nodded his head and said, "All right, we will talk about this no more. Just promise me that tomorrow you won't leave The Three Bells. I don't want you exposing yourself so soon."
Sansa laughed at that and started walking towards the living room. "If I do not leave here tomorrow it won't be because I fear getting caught in another mob, you know, but because I'm going to be busy all day long cooking the meal for our namedays."
Shit, he thought. Our bloody namedays. If he was honest with himself, he was looking forward to the day after tomorrow, but he was also too bloody nervous about what Sansa would think about his gift for her (which Vintos and Frema were currently hiding in their house) and about the little trip he'd planned for them.
He snorted at Sansa's words about tomorrow though, and followed her into the bedroom.
"And am I actually going to be expected to eat it?" he said, teasing her.
"Sandor!" she said, throwing a pillow at him.
"It was a jest, little bird," he said, laughing harshly. "A bloody jest. I'll eat your cooking and have a second serving if you like."
"Be careful, I may hold you to your word you know."
A/N: I must give a shout out with a special THANK YOU to all of you who have commented and send me wonderful PM that warm my heart 3 You are all the best readers and mean a lot to me! To those who followed or favored my fic, also, a big hug and a thank you for it! :D Looking forward to more reviews from you to make my days better