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 the betas: swiftsnowmane, onborrowedwings,gingerbeer48, nysandra- you all simply rock! I am so grateful to have you girls helping me out with the story! :D Ily all!
- 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.
18. Of Horses, Men & Elephants.
Sansa woke up to the feel Sandor's arms around her, hugging her closely to him. For a moment she just rested there, her head on the arm he had managed to get under her pillow and her arm resting above the one he had enclosed around her waist. Their legs had tangled together during the night, and Sansa noticed they were even sharing the same pillow, and she could feel Sandor's breathing on the back of her neck, making her nerves tingle all around her limbs.
She could feel his heart thumping behind her, and the way his chest heaved forward whenever he grunted or snorted made her bite the pillow to avoid her giggles from becoming audible, as two little dimples appeared on her face. If he wakes up to find me laughing he won't understand. It will be like last night when he was being silly about me taking off his boots. Sansa had only wanted to show him that he would forever be more than a sworn shield to her, but since telling him that did not seem to have any effect on him, as he insisted on being a sulking shadow behind her that guarded her when others were around, for at least yesterday, the idea of doing something like taking off his boots came to her mind. A lady wouldn't be so familiar with her sworn shield. Once I would have given him a ribbon to tie around his sword, or a favor he could cherish close to his heart, but those days are long gone. It would have been ludicrous of her to think Sandor would like to be treated like the knights in the songs. So instead she had thought quickly on a gesture that seemed and felt more real, and since Sansa was more than Sandor's Lady and he was more than just her shield, taking off his boots and rubbing his big feet had hopefully had some effect on him. Sandor hadn't liked her doing that, though, but she had been forced to distract him with small talk about Magister Nervere and all the news and rumors he had told them about what was happening in the fabled east. Until the talk turned to Father. She sighed, remembering, even if it was painful.
Since Joffrey had shown her father his kind of mercy, Sansa had been all alone in the world. She had been the traitor's daughter to everyone, and it didn't really matter to anyone how she felt about being a hostage. And no one cared that the king liked to have me beaten. There had been times when it had all just been too much, and if it hadn't been for the lingering hope of Ser Dontos taking her away from the city one day, Sansa didn't really know how she would have been able to survive in the Red Keep after Stannis lost his battle against the Lannisters. I would not have been able to bear it if they made me marry Joffrey and have his children, I'm sure of it. Thank the gods that she had escaped just in time, right after she had had her first moonblood, since she was now considered to be a woman to the world. Those memories made her recall that in two weeks she would have her red flower blooming once more. At least now Sandor and I can pretend that nothing is amiss, except for the occasional pain in my tummy. I don't have to fear sharing a bed with Joffrey. No, the truth of her situation was very different from that. And it was one that she liked very much indeed.
After a time Sansa considered going back to sleep, but the way she felt was too good to ignore. She felt safe and warm and loved and she wanted these moments to last as long as they could.
When Sandor finally woke up too, he did so with a loud grunt, followed by an intake of breath. Sansa lay still in bed, and when she felt him lookign at her to see if she was awake or not, she said, "Good morning."
Sandor stiffened beside her, but when she refused to move so he could pry his arm away from under the pillow, saying, "Don't move" he ended up not taking away the arm that held her by the waist. His head slumped back to the pillow, and he said, "Hello, little bird."
Without saying it they both knew then that they just wanted to lie there for a time, without speaking. Just holding on to each other. Sansa could feel Sandor smelling her hair, and when he did that, she took hold of his hand.
I was not the only one to feel alone in the Red Keep some months ago, she mused, as she remembered the stories that Sandor had told her about his childhood. About how he and his sister had been close to their grandfather, and how horribly Sandor had lost Arwyn and his mother and father. And of course, how his brother hurt him.
The man known as the Hound had been thought by many (even her long ago) to be a merciless monster who was just a little less terrible than his older brother, The Mountain that Rides. Yet the whole world had been mistaken, for behind the mask of the Hound was Sandor, a man unlike any she had ever met. Somehow, amidst the pain and the tortures; the tears and the lies, we found each other all those times at night in Maegor's, and ended up giving the other comfort in the end. It had not been a simple task, for Sansa had had to learn to look Sandor in the face without fear, seeing beyond the scars and the burns; while Sandor had had to learn to be less horrid to her and stop scaring her with his view of the world. Yes, it was not easy, she thought, looking back. But it was worth it if this is our reward.
Eventually, though, Sansa, thinking that Sandor may have fallen back to sleep, commented, "I don't want to start this day. I want to stay here."
Sandor was silent for a while but Sansa could almost feel his reluctance giving in, and when he gave a defeated sigh she knew she had won. He won't push me away this time.
"I gather we can, since the only thing I had planned for the day was to go to Burnek's. But that isn't until later this morning."
"Oh right," she replied. Burnek was the big muscled blacksmith with whom Sandor sparred with. He must really like the feeling of a sword in his hands since he goes there every two days. Sansa had gone to see Sandor practice once, but didn't intend to visit the blacksmith's workshop again. Least of all when Sandor didn't even take off his tunic to reveal his bare chest as he practiced the way the squires and knights sometimes did back at the Red Keep. Sansa had never seen them at it, but one could always hear women whisper at the wells of Maegor's Holdfast as they compared different men's bodies.
"I know you won't come along. What will you do?"
Sansa sighed. "Help out Frema and Medra, I guess."
She shifted a bit in bed to get a better look at Sandor. The side of his face with the burns was facing her, but she had not minded that sight for quite a long time now.
"You aren't hungry, are you?" she asked him.
He arched his eyebrow. "No. Why?"
"Since we are not going to get up for a while still, I do not believe we will be on time for the breakfast at the common room."
"I figure we had enough food yesterday to last us for the whole week," Sandor replied, still a bit sleepy.
Sometime later Sansa and Sandor heard urgent knocks at the front door of the little house, along with the excited voices of their neighbors. Sansa recognized their voices even as Sandor cursed out loud about fucking noisy neighbors who had no bloody idea about what privacy meant.
"Good morning, friends," they heard Vintos yell.
"Alysanne, we have to talk!" exclaimed an excited Frema.
"Alys dear, are you and Edric awake?" Medra the innkeeper asked as her strong fist rattled the door.
"Wait a moment please," Sansa called, as she put on a robe to cover her nightgown since Vintos could not see her in that alone. Sandor didn't care what he wore. He just sat on a chair and put on his boots, saying that he had no intention of staying in the house as she told the neighbors what yesterday had been like at Arman Nervere's manse. Sandor then grabbed his new scabbard and swordbelt, and stormed out of the house rasping "Seven hells!"
Sandor walked out of the house with a curse as a response to the eager greetings Vintos, Frema and the fat innkeeper gave him. Trust those bloody idiots to be nosing around. He hadn't lied to Sansa when he said he wasn't hungry this morning, so instead of going to the common room to see if there was still some breakfast to be served, he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a skin of wine before he went to take a bath by the well. Any positive feelings he may have felt as he woke up to find that Sansa just wanted to rest in his arms was forgotten now that the bloody magister had been brought up again.
Sandor prolonged the process of cleaning up for as long as he could, but when it got wearisome he hazarded that Sansa was probably done with answering questions about yesterday and that fucking poxy prick Nervere. Yet he saw that was a wrong guess when he heard squeals of joy coming from inside the house.
Fuming, his eyes fell on one of the innkeeper's twins and he barked at him to let Alys know he had gone to Burnek's. That ought to make that slobbering idiot happy even if he won't get more than two words out of his mouth in front of the little bird.
A couple of hours later, after he and Burnek were finished with their practice, aching and a bit tired, Sandor returned to The Three Bells inn to find the place at long last quiet and with no signs of anyone around.
His eyes fell on the stables. I ought to check on the horses, he thought before walking off in their direction.
The moment he stepped into the inn he noticed that something was wrong with Nan and Stranger. In the blink of an eye, he knew what the matter was. Fuck, Nan is in heat again.
Sandor had grown up with animals all his life, whether they were dogs or horses or two-legged lions, so he could recognize at once when this sort of thing happened. On the Valyrian roads between Pentos and Norvos- even if Stranger was too hot-blooded- the destrier would reluctantly end up obeying Sandor if the latter took him away from the mare in heat, and young Nan had been manageable then. But this was different. The way Nan was presenting herself inside her stall at his horse made Sandor snort. It's time they get to fucking know each other better I guess. He didn't see why they shouldn't now that Sansa and Sandor didn't need them to travel. Dusk was still many hours away, if he got the horses to somewhere open enough, then by nightfall they may all very well be back again.
He spit into a bucket nearby and began to carefully put Stranger's harness on.
"There you are!" a little bird suddenly yelled behind him.
Sandor turned around to find Sansa standing in front of him. He saw that she was wearing a simple grey dress, and her hair was tied up in a pony tail, which was the manner of Norvoshi women, he had once cared enough to notice. She looked bloody perfect, as always. The way her hair was pulled back brought into sharp focus the way her face had changed. It had more angular points and she really did look like a young woman now.
"Oh, are you taking Stranger for a ride?" the little bird chirped at him.
"Yes," he told her, smirking. Just not the ride you expect.
"Can I come?"
"I… You…" Sandor frowned. He wasn't sure if Sansa should come or not, but after thinking about it twice he supposed there was nothing wrong with it, and he was curious to see how she would react to this. "Have the bloody fools left then?"
Sansa nodded, unconcerned with the way he referred to their neighbors. She walked into the stable, brushing her hand against his as she went to take Nan's harness from the wall. The moment the horses saw her, they began to get a little more agitated.
"What is the matter with them?" Sansa asked him, as she began to put the harness on her chestnut mare.
The moment the little bird was beside her, Nan began to nuzzle against her, lashing her tail. Sansa laughed. "Ah darling! You're tickling me. Why are you so happy?"
Good, he thought. At least Nan isn't one of those mares in heat about to bite ears off.
Sandor moved towards Stranger to get him ready. Sansa looked puzzled when she saw him leading the horses out of the stables by the reins while they remained unsaddled.
"Didn't you say we were going to ride them?" she asked him.
"Best not," he rasped, unwilling to tell her more. The horses were too restless for her to risk breaking her pretty neck by falling from Nan.
Sansa gasped a little as she saw just how agitated Stranger and Nan got when getting closer.
"Easy," he ordered, subduing them.
Nan began to lift her tail and snort loudly, as Stranger, carrying his head high, started to prance and sniff around, curling his lip back so he could get a better whiff of the mare.
"Where are we going?" Sansa asked him, walking beside him as they left the inn. "To the river?"
"No. I remember seeing an empty paddock near here."
It was the nearest place he could think of where he would be able to free the horses without fearing they would run off and get caught or lost. The paddock was apparently empty due to the unkempt overgrowth of weeds, grasses and bushes, so no one would tell them to bugger off their lands.
Sansa looked at him. "Why are we going there?"
"You'll see," he said, turning to the left around the corner of a street with many pot shops and stands.
The horses kept on snorting behind him, but Sandor kept them in check as they walked up some stone stairs a little above the foot of the mountain. The paddock he had noticed before was in a tough terrain due to it being on the side of the mountain, but he gathered the lack of smooth ground would not be a trouble for Nan and Stranger.
"How was your time with Burnek?" Sansa asked him.
Sandor shrugged. "Good enough. He almost had me when I lost my footing once, but the blow to the head I gave him later evened things out."
"Oh Sandor! It's a wonder to me how men can enjoy causing each other pain."
He snorted. "Didn't your brothers practice sword play back in Winterfell?"
Sandor remembered a morning some time ago, when Robb Stark and Joffrey had fought with wooden swords in the courtyard of Winterfell under the eyes of Stark, Baratheon and Lannister retainers. It had been clear who wielded the sword with more skill. Yet, when the green boys began to complain about only being allowed to fight with wooden swords, Sandor had stepped in to side with his charge, the crown prince, and had mocked Robb Stark. If the boy has forgotten that sally it may be for the best once we reach him. Sandor then remembered who else had fought that day. Sansa's crippled brother also defeated Tommen, I think. At the time he had thought with disgust how a promising boy such as Bran Stark could be longing for the day when he could grow up and be a bloody knight, yet the boy had ended up being unable to use his legs soon after. Sandor hadn't cared about that, and with his stomach clenching he remembered Joffrey had talked about wishing the boy would die. He was still licking his hurt pride over the fact that Robb Stark beat him in training. The news of a hired murderer failing to kill Bran Stark due to his direwolf (whom Sandor knew he had offered to kill if Joffrey liked due to its endless howling) had reached Robert and all the rest some time later. Sandor remembered wondering at the time why Joffrey was so upset when he learned the Stark boy hadn't died.
Seven Hells! Sandor thought, almost stopping dead in his tracks. Why am I remembering that? It doesn't matter anyways. The boy died when Theon Greyjoy captured Winterfell.
Sansa nodded, oblivious to his train of thoughts. "Yes, they did and they loved it. But I didn't understand it then any better than I did now. Arya loved to watch them play and I even saw her defeating Bran once with a wooden sword. I am sure I still don't know how and why she found it so interesting."
He grinned as he remembered Sansa's sister and imagined the fights those two must have had once. They passed beneath a bridge connecting two tall old buildings and only had to walk down an empty path before they reached the paddock. Sandor finally let go of the reins so Nan and Stranger could get on with it. The moment they realized nothing was stopping them from doing so, the horses ran away as quick as thunder.
"The horses!" the little bird exclaimed beside him, gasping.
"They'll be fine," he assured her, walking over to a tree and sitting down under its shade. He rested his back against the trunk and regretted not having brought some wine along. They would be here for a while.
"What is going on?" Sansa asked, frowning. She stood in front of him, hands at her hips.
"Nan's in heat," he informed her, shielding his eyes with his hand from the sun. He took a moment to weigh the little bird's reactions.
Sansa gasped and covered her mouth, surprised. "They're going to…"
"Fuck?" Sandor offered, laughing. It was interesting to see how quickly Sansa would blush at the realization of what their horses were about to do dawned on her.
"Mate," she corrected, giving him a look. She turned once more towards the direction where the warhorse and the chestnut mare had disappeared, and knelt in front of him, smoothing her skirts in the process. She looked at her hands and threw him quick little glances, biting her lips in a way that made him feel aroused. Sandor wanted badly to kiss her.
"You can call it that too, I guess," he said, grinning at her.
Sansa chuckled. "And what shall we do with ourselves while they are away? Do you think they will take long?"
Sandor shrugged. "Don't know, but we can't do much in this piss-hole paddock I think."
Sansa sighed, looking about her. "Yes, you're right. Those old buildings behind us block the sight of the city behind it, so there's not even much of a view."
The High City could be seen far above them, its walls protecting the uninteresting lifestyles folk lived up there, making poor idiots like Vintos and the others think it shielded one of the fabled nine wonders made by men behind them.
In the end, they could only rest and talk side by side under the tree, as the afternoon went by. Yet it wasn't dull. The little bird began asking him how he knew so much about horses since he had been able to form a strong bond with Stranger, and Sandor found himself telling her of the times when he was a lad and he and Arwyn would watch and listen as their grandfather instructed them in the best ways to treat their horses; how to bath them and brush their coats; how to soothe them and break their wild untamed spirits. He could not teach us how to handle Gregor, so he tried to make up for that. Gods, how he wished he could kill Gregor! Yet the fucker was leagues away and still had to wait for his reckoning to come.
"The old man couldn't stand up due to the lioness that took his leg," Sandor told Sansa, trying to distract himself from the hatred he felt for his older brother. "But whenever he wanted us to see the best way to shoe a horse, he would ask someone to carry him to the blacksmith so that we could see the process as he told us a little more about it."
Sansa was listening with eagerness. She was resting on her belly beside him, her head on her hand, propped up by an elbow. "And did Arwyn like them as much as you did?"
"Aye, the little spitfire was an even a better rider than me when we were young," he confessed, remembering.
Sansa laughed. "I was never a very good rider, but everyone said that my father's sister, Lyanna, was the best rider in the North. Did you ever see her?"
"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "I believe I would have been at the Rock around that time."
"Oh… Well, in any case, I believe your grandfather was not only an excellent master for horse care, but a good man. What was his name?"
Sandor took a moment to speak. It had been years since he said his grandfather's name out loud. "Halldor."
"Halldor Clegane," she repeated. "It has a strong ring to it. You know, I really do think he taught you well how to treat with horses, not only because of the way you and Stranger understand each other, but because you even made me end up loving Nan when I hadn't really ever paid any particular mind to any horse. It's to be wondered at."
Sandor was brought back suddenly to the days they had spend in the Kingswood shortly after their escape from King's Landing, and to the time when he had first properly introduced the little bird to Stranger. She was washing her bare feet in a stream and when she learned that it was time to get to know Stranger, she was afraid, yet trusted me that she wouldn't be harmed. Ever since then, she has trusted me.
Sure, she hadn't had much choice since they were alone in the woods, but it made him feel good to see the sharp contrast from the first time they had talked when they halted in Darry Castle as they made their way down the Kingsroad from Winterfell to King's Landing.
"I also taught you how to use your dagger."
A little sly smile appeared on Sansa's face. "Yes, that you did," she said, suddenly straightening up. Sandor was still resting his back against the tree with his legs askew, and now the little bird knelt in front of him, resting both hands on his knees. "Did your grandfather teach you that as well?"
"Aye, he helped," he rumbled, low in his throat, trying to ignore the thought that if he only opened his legs, Sansa would probably fall right onto his cock. He let her continue to rest her hands on him.
"Thankfully though there hasn't been a need for me to use it."
"Let's hope it remains that way," he told her, remembering that fuck Arman Nervere and the way he looked at Sansa.
The rest of the afternoon passed by with more talk of the same sort, and when they were heading back to the inn, with two happy horses walking behind them, Sansa took hold of his hand and didn't let it go till they reached the stable of the inn.
"When he touches me it feels nice," Sansa admitted, as a blush crept up her neck. "His hands are so big and calloused, but that only serves to make my tummy feel funny and my heart to beat faster. When he touches me, it feels right."
Sansa and Frema were sitting on a blanket at the gardens of Nerezelle, with a pair of baskets at their sides, a week after the day Sansa had been invited to the High City. One contained some lemoncakes Sansa had helped bake the previous day, while the other had threads of different colors she and Frema were using for their embroidery. Well, Sansa was doing embroidery while Frema knit in the fashion that Sansa could recall Old Nan practicing.
The girls had told Sandor and Vintos that they would be spending the morning in the gardens, but they had kept the real purpose of this little outing concealed. Sansa longed to have Frema answer her many questions regarding what happened in a marriage bed, along with other things.
"But Alys dear! There are many ways to understand that!" Frema exclaimed, eating a lemoncake. "Where does Edric touch you? Or when?"
Sansa blushed even more- a thing she could not believe to be possible. "Whenever our hands brush against each other, or when we wake up to find we are in each other's arms. When he massages my shoulders. Things like that."
"So he has never touched you between the legs or cupped your breasts?"
Sansa gasped. "What? No! Of course not." Gods be good, touch me between my legs?
Frema tried hard not to laugh at her friend's face. "Shh, Alys, lower your voice! It isn't like I asked anything unnatural."
"Yes, you did," Sansa hissed back.
Frema frowned. "Alys… have you- have you ever touched yourself?"
"What do you mean?" Sansa had a hint of what Frema was asking, but in case she got it wrong, she didn't want to elaborate.
"Well, it's just that I was thinking, and, without claiming to know or understand what happened to you two before you arrived in Norvos- he is the first man you've spent so much time with, isn't he? The first man you've shared a bed with and such?"
Sansa shivered. "Yes."
"And so you have never woken up in a man's arms, or had a pillow fight with one before Edric, right?"
Sansa nodded.
"Well, without taking into account the fact that you say it feels right whenever you and Edric have some connection, I think that you are a bit overwhelmed by these new sensations because you have never experienced before. You are leaving behind your childhood, Alys, and just as almost every other girl in the world before you, these sudden feelings below your belly or the way your heart beats are natural. But I think that long before you can even begin to contemplate what is happening between you and Edric, you should explore your boundaries. See what you like."
Sansa's eyes had gone big as saucers. What would Septa Mordane or mother think of me if they knew what I was talking about now? she wondered with dread. Yet maidens are supposed to gossip like this, aren't they? It was hard to even consider it as a possibility, but for all Sansa knew, Lady Catleyn may have once had the same questions as her daughter.
"What I like?" she repeated.
"Yes. Learn where you like to be touched, and such. Get a little taste of what it is to pleasure yourself before you can expect someone else to please you or you to please others."
Sansa Stark gulped. "Between my legs, you mean?"
"Yes," Frema answered patiently.
Sansa remembered the hot wet pressure she felt between her legs when she had spied Sandor washing his chest and muscled arms, or the time when he had rested his head almost on her breasts as he slept.
"And how will I know when- ?"
"Darling, this isn't like a recipe for cooking lemoncakes. There isn't a process to it. I guess Edric would be able to help you if you two were having that kind of relationship, but- "
"Vintos helped you?" Sansa asked, incredulous.
Frema bit her lip and considered Sansa for a moment, before shaking her head. "No. My darling Vintos didn't do that. Another man did."
"What?" Sansa shouted, gasping again. "You mean that- "
"I allowed another man to touch me?" Frema interrupted. "Yes, I did. And it isn't so different from what is happening with you, Alys… Tell me, do you see yourself marrying Edric one day?"
Once she would have answered straight away that she didn't. At first because she was Sansa Stark, betrothed to the heir to the Iron Throne, and he was The Hound. Later because she was still a Stark, and no matter how dear Sandor had become to her, once they reached the North when Robb won, she would be expected to marry some high loyal lord to her brother sooner or later. It was so new and strange to imagine herself married to Sandor though, that she said nothing.
"Well, regardless of what may happen in the future," Frema went on, "at present you feel attracted towards Edric. I felt attracted to a man as well, once. Two years before I fell in love with and married Vintos, a handsome man from Myr traveling with a troop of mummers stayed in my village. I was ten-and-four then, and he was twenty. I fell for him the first time I saw him, and before long he won me over. He took my maidenhead."
"Oh, Frema!" Sansa exclaimed, fearing this tale would have a sad ending. So she isn't as in love with Vintos as he is with her?
"It's all right, Alys dear, really. I don't regret it. He left a week after that, and broke my heart, but he made me very happy in the time we were together, so I can't look back on those days with regret."
"Does Vintos know?"
"Of course he does," Frema said, in a tone that suggested that Sansa's question was silly. "Though Vintos and I were born in the same village, our forebears- his on his mother's side, since his father was from Saltpans I believe- were neighbors for generations past. The fact that he moved to the city when young meant he was immediately wiser than me to the ways of the world. So when he came back to the village, it was a shock and a great disappointment to his mother that he fell in love with me. His parents couldn't bear the thought of having their son, whom they raised up hoping would end up marrying a merchant's daughter from Great Norvos, ending up with a common girl of their village who was rumored not to be a maid. I confessed to Vintos that the rumors were true before he proposed to me, because he loved me and he had managed to win my heart and make me forget my first love. Vintos' parents told him he would have no inheritance from them if he went on with our marriage, but Vintos told them that they'd raised a man who knew how to earn an honest living by himself, and thus didn't need to be maintained by his parents…"
Sansa took her friend's hand and kissed it. "Vintos is a wonderful man."
Frema smiled. "Yes, he is. He is the love of my life and the best man in the world."
What Sansa had just heard was such an odd concept to fit into the life of a sister to the King in the North.
"This is not exactly your situation, I know," Frema said. "Maybe it would be a little if you felt attracted to Magister Nervere and were torn between two men, but since you've quite convinced me that the handsome nobleman doesn't mean anything to you, I think that for you to have an idea of what a man can make a woman feel- or aye, what happens in a marriage bed- you ought to understand what leads to the fascinating things you will feel and do when you finally are with a man.
But I won't be for with a man for maybe years yet. She was expected to marry someone Robb chose for her, and that surely wouldn't happen until he had won the war against the Lannisters and rebuilt Winterfell. She felt sad thinking that she would have to wait so long to explore these feelings.
"I could tell you how it feels when they enter you or that it hurts the first time you lie with a man, but I think we can have another talk after you've done as I advised you to do."
"Does it really hurt the first time as much as they say?" she asked.
"It depends with everyone, I think. There is definitely a little pain and a sting, but nothing you wouldn't be able to bear if you trust the man."
Sansa nodded overwhelmed by the new world of possibilities her friend had opened for her. It's too complicated, she thought, sighing. Sansa had been raised with strict concepts regarding marriage.
"A woman should only be with one man, and that man would be her husband," Septa Mordane had told her, along with other things like, "All men are beautiful."
Little Sansa had taken those words to heart, but these days she had changed so much, Sansa could not find it in her to judge or think less of her friend.
Regarding Sandor though… Sansa knew Sandor found her beautiful in the way a man thought of woman beautiful- there were far too many hints he couldn't control that she could not dismiss: like the way his eyes had recently looked with a hungry longing look at her breasts, or the way she had felt what she had concluded was his manhood against her back when they were kneading the tension from each other's shoulder blades. Or the time we almost kissed when we had the pillow fight, or when I was brushing away beer foam on his beard with kisses. Yet kissing would be one thing, and what Frema had done was another.
She had always thought she would marry a man who loved her and a man she loved. What she had experienced with Joffrey had changed her mind somewhat, yet she still wanted to be loved for herself, and Sandor didn't even want to kiss her. Sansa knew Sandor cared for her, yet she could not be sure if she would call those feelings love. He certainly has done many things for my sake, and if there isn't anyone I trust more than him now. If I were to lay with a man, I would rather it was him than a stranger, kind as that man may be. She wouldn't feel anything for that man for a long time until she got to know him better, all the while being constantly aware that things would have been a lot more comfortable with Sandor, who knew her better than anyone else. Even if things lead to a point where I could be sure I wanted him to take my maidenhead, would he agree to it? And if Sandor agreed, two things could happen between them: two fates which seemed a bit bleak. Either they could both regret it and end up having their relationship changed for the worse forever, or they would both enjoy it, but when the time came for Sansa to marry, would she be able to give herself to another? Would Sandor allow her to go back to another man?
I don't think he would like it much. And neither would I. If the thought of not falling asleep with him beside me when we are in the North can sadden me so, what will happen when I miss him being my lover? And I am Sansa Stark. I have a duty to my House and to the man I will marry. I can't imagine a lord in Westeros accepting the fact that his bride came to him previously bedded by Sandor Clegane, his wife's sworn shield.
And then the thought of marrying Sandor hit her. Gods be good, what's happening to me? She felt so strange. If Sandor doesn't even want to kiss me, how can I expect he would be willing to marry me? She pictured herself and Sandor in the room which had been Lord Eddard Stark's solar, sitting by the fireplace, as man and wife. The way she pictured it felt so perfect it almost hurt when she tried to replace Sandor with the figure of another man, or when she reminded herself of the possibility that Sandor wouldn't want that kind of life.
Yet what does he want? He didn't like returning to being only my sworn shield any more than I did. He does like being my friend. Sandor was acting at present to be only her protector because he chose to, but Sansa knew that back in the Seven Kingdoms there wouldn't be a choice of pretending. It would be expected of them.
Sansa sighed, thinking of the man she would marry. What if he and Sandor had some quarrel? She would be expected to side with her lord husband; a man who would be intruding in this friendship she had formed with Sandor. And he would be in his right without ever knowing how much her sworn shield meant to her. If Sandor were my husband all of these could be avoided.
There were too many ifs in this matter; if Sandor wanted to kiss her; if Sandor was willing to change the relationship between them and take her maidenhead; if Sandor was willing to marry her… And then she realized, with a great impact, an even greater outcome to being with Sandor. We could even end up having a child.
For a moment she considered asking Frema if she knew someway beside moontea to stop a woman from becoming with child, but thought better of it. She is telling me to first discover what pleases me and I want to ask her the way I can avoid getting a baby.
If she ended up with Sandor's child for some reason, she would take care of him or her with every fiber of her being, but she did think it better to wait for a while till things settled and they saw how matters stood in Westeros.
Maybe it was better for things to remain as they were for now. All of this was just too confusing at the moment. If she was unable to help herself thinking like this when she was particularly close to Sandor, there was nothing she would be able to do about that, but to plan out her future like this didn't seem wise to Sansa. What has to happen will happen.
"Oh Alys, it's beautiful!" Frema suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Sansa's thoughts.
"What is?" she asked, puzzled.
"Your embroidery! The little bird you did is so detailed," Frema said, grabbing it
Sansa smiled. She had always been good at embroidery. "It's a handkerchief."
Frema examined it. "You know, if you did others I bet we could take them to the weaver's shop Vintos works at! You could sell them for a small prince and if they become popular, then you could even start asking how much you wanted for them."
Sansa laughed, her issue with Sandor forgotten for the moment. "I could, couldn't I?"
"Yes, you could. The products from this weaver shop are meant specifically for the people in the High City, so you could claim any price you thought fair."
She had a pretty accurate idea why Frema was saying this. Her friend had hinted at how nice it would be if Edric and she decided to stay and live in Norvos from now on, but Sansa knew that was impossible. No matter how beautiful her life with Sandor was here, she could not contemplate a future in which she didn't return to Westeros and reunite with her family. Besides, it wouldn't be pleasant to live in the same city with Sandor and Magister Nervere, especially when the latter was so closely linked to the Martells.
"And what would I be expected to do here forever?" Sansa had asked her friend. "Have Edric take up some trade while I clean the house?"
Yet Sansa knew that this idea of selling her embroidery may very well be worth a try. The winnings Sandor had won at the tourney in her father's honor were smaller than they had been when they ran away from King's Landing, and she didn't currently bring any income into the sustaining of their daily lives.
"All right, then. I'll try it. I shall begin working on them."
Frema hugged her. "You'll see you were right to listen to me!"
When the girls got back to the inn of The Three Bells, Sansa groaned, for there at the front door was the palanquin of Arman Nervere, flanked by the guards trained by the Bearded Priests, who wore shirts of copper-scales.
"Oh no," Frema whispered under her breath.
"What is he doing here?" Sansa asked, incredulous. It had been over a week since she and Sandor had visited the Magister's house, and for the last couple of days she had been foolish enough to think that due to Sandor's behavior Arman Nervere was going to stop bothering them.
Frema shrugged. "We will find out soon enough, I wager."
The usual crowd of eager and curious neighbors was gathered around the palanquin, afraid to get too near the tall guards with their sharp shining axes. Sandor's towering height would have allowed her to see him at once, but there was no sign of him outside. Maybe he is crossing words with Arman in the common room.
And so he was. Medra was fussing about the Magister, who was sharing a table with Vintos, while Sandor stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a terrible frown on his face. The sight of him made Sansa feel as if her heart had lodged in her throat. To see him again after considering the possibilities of giving herself to him, and of marrying him, and of having his children, was just too overwhelming. And then to see Arman in the same room was also upsetting.
"Alys darling, look who has come to pay you a visit!" the innkeeper yelled happily the moment Frema and Sansa closed the door behind them.
Sansa's eyes flickered to Sandor before she donned her smile and curtsied prettily. "Magister Nervere! How good to see you again, you are looking well."
The High Magister of Norvos did indeed look very well, wearing brown robes that matched his curls and made his eyes shine like jewels. It was a sharp contrast to the way Sandor looked. Casting a long shadow from where he stood, wearing patched brown breeches and scuffed boots and a studded leather jerkin, his burns making him the most menacing presence in the room. Sansa ached to hug him now that she saw him in a more serious and meaningful light. She smiled a little smile at him when his mouth began to twitch, before she turned her attention towards Magister Nervere.
Arman's blue eyes met hers as he stood up and kissed her hand. "My lady, and Alysane's friend, Frema, am I right?"
"Yes Magister, hello," Frema answered, blushing when Arman kissed her hand as well. "Vintos dear, hello."
"How was your picnic, girls?" Vintos asked them as Frema went to stand behind her husband, holding his hand.
"It was fun, my love," Frema answered.
Sansa cast a quick look at Sandor before saying, "To what do we owe the pleasure of your fine company?"
Arman was watching the way her eyes kept looking at Sandor. "My lady, I came here to ask you- and your protector as well, of course- to accompany me."
"Accompany you where?" Sansa asked, glancing at Sandor. Sandor chuckled, a sour sound, part rumble and part a snarl.
"He's come to invite you to see the bloody elephant," he rasped roughly.
Sansa gasped for the hundredth time this day. "Oh yes!" she said, before realizing that the words had left her mouth.
Arman smiled. "Yes, I remembered that you told me last week when we were with my animals that you longed to meet Nezza, my grey elephant down by the Noyne."
There was no need to fear that meeting Nezza would be dangerous if Sandor was with her. It would be nice to share this with him. She turned to look at him, trying to hide the excitement from her face, as his eyes bored into hers. She beamed at Sandor when he grinned at her, and though his burns pulled tight, twisting his mouth cruelly, it was a sight that warmed her heart. Sandor's huge hands rested on the pommel of his sword, she noticed, before he said, "Well then, let's get this over and done with as soon as possible."
Sansa was glad, yet remembering that Sandor was probably going to behave once again only as her sworn shield made her a little crestfallen.
It turned out she had been right in thinking Sandor would behave like her sworn shield. Yet the beauty of the encounter with Nezza was too thrilling to forget. Sansa fell in love with the big grey animal, which even got around to teasing her with its trunk. Sandor had asked if the elephant was like the ones in Volantis that people could ride, since it would suit the pattern of Arman's other caged animals, but Nezza hadn't been trained for that.
"Just a plain new plaything for your collection, then," Sandor had told Arman after hearing that Nezza hadn't been saved by Arman in some noble cause but because the magister liked animals of her sort. Magister Nervere only chuckled and said, "A man must have some flaws."
When they returned to the Three Bells Inn, Arman Nervere had surprised her yet again with an invitation, this time to a ball. As Sandor and Sansa were about to enter the courtyard to finally retire for the evening after reaching the inn, Arman had bid Sansa a moment to speak with her in private. She had gulped quickly and cast a look at Sandor: he looked so angry that she could almost see him piercing the magister's belly with his sword.
"Of course Arman," Sansa had replied with a heavy heart. "Edric, please, wait a moment."
With a grunt Sandor stepped beside a wall and was suddenly clad in darkness due to the shadows. That's the way he looked when I encountered him in Maegor's sometimes, after visiting Ser Dontos in the godswood.
"What is it, Arman?"
"My dear lady, it is the tradition of the magisters of Norvos to throw a ball for the people of the High City every year in honor of one of its members."
"Indeed," she nodded, quickly starting to realize what Magister Nervere was getting at. Her heart began to flutter at the thought of attending a ball. How long has it been? Oh, how my heart has ached for some dancing!
"It falls to the High Magister to throw the event. This year the ball, which will take place at my house in eleven days, and will be dedicated to the good deeds Magister Umeren has done lately."
"I am sure it will turn out to be a splendid and memorable occasion."
"If you would grace us with your presence I am sure it will indeed."
"Oh," she said, pretending to be surprised. Sansa could feel Sandor's eyes watching them, from wherever he stood behind her in the shadows of the night. "Arman, I… you honor me by saying so, but I do not believe two foreigners who no one knows would be of much consequence." She was sure to make it clear to Arman that Sandor would obviously come as well if she did.
"You would be if you came as my two special guests. But you are right that you would not be acquainted with everyone else. If I also extend a separate invitation for your married neighbors would you agree to it?"
Maybe… Sansa didn't think it would be nice to stop Frema and Vintos from attending a large celebration in the High City when it was evident they had a great deal of curiosity about how it looked. It would be a nice way to repay Frema for her advice about Sandor if I took her along to this ball. What she also had to consider was Sandor. "That is really kind of you, Arman. I do not know why you are so nice to us."
Arman smiled handsomely and for the shortest of heartbeats he brushed his hand along the length of her arm. His touch didn't make her shiver in revulsion, but it didn't awaken any emotions at all. Sandor doesn't even have to touch me for me to feel my tummy fluttering. "So you will allow me to hope then? In any case, I shall send you and your friends the invitations as the date grown nearer. If you and Edric do accept to be my privileged guests, I would like to make full use of that title. I shall invite the both of you to stay at my house for two days."
Sansa stared at him as Sandor rasped a laugh behind her. Arman paid him no mind. "T- two days at your house?"
"Well yes. The ball is only for one night to be sure, but I could send for you the day before. And if you are a guest at the house, there won't be any need for you to leave early so you can start the long journey down here."
If he continues at this rate he will start taking more liberties with us. Sansa was perfectly aware that Norvos had a very different culture from the ones in either the north or the south back in the Seven Kingdoms, yet it was alarming to realize that friendships(at least with the noble folk of the city) were established so quickly. I've known him for less than a fortnight and already he has invited me and Edric to stay at his house. "Arman, really, I am speechless, but-"
"I would provide litters for your friends as well, so they can arrive at the ball just in time. They could even stay with you at my house if they wish it, but you would be the one honoring me if you accepted my offer of staying there from the day before."
Sansa's mind and heart were a battlefield of emotions. She wanted to go to the ball and even have some fun with Sandor, Frema, and Vintos, but she didn't want to accept so much from Magister Nervere. He is the High Magister of the city and the richest man around for leagues. Frema and Vintos will surely agree to this. Can I really deny them this experience?
But most importantly, could she put Sandor through this? I know Arman said that neither his aunt nor any Dornish knights she may have with her will be in the city for some months, but still, many important people will surely be there. She couldn't ask Magister Nervere if Mellario of Dorne would be there, but what excuse could she give him as refusal that he would not only believe but not insist on talking about?
So she said, "Would we really be the only Westesori there?"
"I am afraid so, but I would not worry too much about that. It will be a great event with many diversions. You shall hardly feel alone."
Stop making it sound so nice! "I believe you. I shall think about it and send you my reply when the invitation arrives."
Sansa heard Sandor moving behind her, and in a moment he was towering beside her, scowling down at Arman.
"You better be done asking us to your house for this buggering ball because I won't stand outside in the cold any longer, and nor will she."
"Your fierce protector is right. I have been thoughtless making you sand here in the night chill. Very well, then, I shall pray to R'hllor, the Lord of Light that you agree," Arman said, bowing and kissing her hand.
Sansa did shiver at the mention of the red god. Bidding Arman good night, she turned around, stepped closer to the safety of Sandor's reassuring presence beside her, and walked into the cobblestone courtyard of the inn.
A/N: Please review! I always love reading your thoughts on way the story is going!