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 ;) and there will be times when her lyrics are used here.
*The betas behind this fic who make it possible are: onborrowedwings, nysandra & swiftsnowmane! :D I owe them so much!
- 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.
28. The Old Castle
Sansa stopped breathing for a moment, and quickly looked up at Sandor after hearing Hagen Edar speak that dreadful name that sent a chill down her back. Gods, must that man's memory haunt us wherever we go? After quickly recovering from the surprise of hearing Magister Nervere's name again in this beautiful but desolate place, she found that she was glad Hagen Edar was Arman's foe and not his friend.
But the fact that the outlaw was not fond of Arman did not mean the people of the caravan shared his view. They had all left Norvos on the day she exposed Arman's true nature to his city, but by the talk she'd overheard at times, none of them had attended the trial. And none of them knew he was dead, or that Sandor had killed him. Best if they never find out about all that.
Sandor had not returned Sansa's look. His eyes never left Edar's face, as he closely considered him with an expression that revealed nothing. So Sansa returned her gaze to the bandit, sprawled on the floor with his arm in a sling, and his nose broken.
"You want to kill Arman Nervere?" Sandor finally rasped, with a snort.
Hagen's dark eyes settled on Sandor, and narrowed. "I do. I swore it to myself never to rest until–"
"You can rest now. Arman Nervere is dead."
A surprised gasp was made by their fellow travelers gathered around the outlaw, everyone from the old women tending to Hagen to the leader of the caravan shocked by the news. But the one to react more strongly to the news was Edar himself. He blinked, and gasped loudly, forgetting he had a broken rib as he tried to hastily sit up, only to end up coughing at the pain the sudden movement caused. He laid his back on the grass again, and moaned, repeating, "What? No, no, he can't be! Surely this is a jest! Explain yourself, burned man."
"Are you sure? How did it happen, Byan?" the leader asked Sandor. "The High Magister, I–I can't believe it!"
Sandor fixed his grey eyes one more time on Hagen Edar before he returned his attention to the leader of the caravan, and said in a voice that suggested he did not care what his words conveyed, "I don't know the details, but we saw him die from afar at some square the day we left Norvos. We were preoccupied on reaching you lot, so we never found out more about it."
"Did you see his body?" Edar asked, starting to shake on the ground. Now that the sun was rising, it was hard to ignore the black eye Stranger had given him.
"Aye. We saw him fall from afar," Sandor replied, shrugging carelessly.
Sansa had been keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, afraid that her face would betray her if she met someone's stare as Sandor talked. I hope they believe Sandor, or else they may decide to turn back to Norvos to see if all hope of ransoming Edar is lost. She shouldn't have worried. No one was really paying her any mind. The news of Arman's death was accepted quickly among the caravan, for another person took hold of their attention.
Hagen Edar, the moment Sandor admitted seeing Arman die, had let out a desperate cry of "No!" so loud that even some of the birds on the trees were startled at the sound and took flight. He was shaking as much as his broken arm and rib would allow him, muttering to himself, "Oh, Sinan. Forgive me. I am so, so sorry. I failed you, my love. I promised to avenge you, but justice has been taken from my hands."
No one moved. No one breathed. They all stared at the outlaw, who appeared to be talking to someone he alone could see as tears slid down his face, making Sansa understand why people called him mad. She knew it was rude to stare, but she could not seem to be able to look away. What could Arman have possibly done to earn this man's enmity? Sandor meanwhile was also staring at the man with a raised eyebrow, and his mouth was pursed in dislike.
"Well," the leader of the caravan finally exclaimed with a polite cough, recovering from the spectacle. "We have to get moving. We've already delayed too much on Edar's account. Lads, put him on a wagon and look after him. I'll think about what we can do with him today. Since Magister Nervere is dead, there is no point in returning to Norvos and asking him for ransom."
Sansa breathed in relief, thanking the old gods and the new for this mercy. The travelers started to return to the places where they had settled for the night, to gather their belongings. The leader stepped closer to Sandor while five men tried to pick the outlaw to take him with a wagon, and said, "I think it's best if we have a meeting when we've settled tonight. We would be glad to have your voice in our council, Byan."
Sandor nodded, as they heard the sobs of Edar wrenching the morning air, and laid a hand on Sansa's shoulder. "Come, little bird," he said.
Sansa led the way, trying to ignore the sound of the bandit's cries. It sounds as if we were torturing him. They went back to the place where their bedrolls rested, and attached them to their respective saddles. The horses and the tree gave them some privacy, so without a word Sandor drew Sansa into an embrace. She buried her face on his chest, taking in his male scent. Everything about him appealed to each and every one of her senses.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, stroking her hair.
Sansa looked up at him, attempting a smile. "Yes, of course. It's just–what do you think happened to provoke such a reaction from Edar? He seems to really hate Arman."
Sandor's mouth began to twitch as he spared a look in Hagen's direction. "I can't blame him for that. The sheep was an annoying little piece of shit, little bird. But I gather it must have something to do with the woman Edar was talking to. He is out of his mind."
"Do you think he could be a threat to us?" she asked him, resting her hands on his chest. Sandor considered her question for a moment.
"Truthfully?" he said. "Not really. The man clearly wanted to kill Arman himself. So he can't give trouble to us for going against Nervere. Yet I don't think he should know that I was the one to kill the High Sheep."
"I agree. He was very disappointed to learn he would not be killing Arman himself. I think it prudent to keep up the story that you said back there. We saw the ordeal by combat from afar, but never even learned whom Arman was fighting with. No one in the caravan seems to have attended the trial, or they would have recognized us."
They fell silent for a moment, lowering their gazes, as they recalled everything that had happened before Hagen Edar's band of outlaws attacked the caravan. He loves me, and I him. Sansa smiled, her dimples appearing on her cheeks; she saw that Sandor was thinking along the same lines as she was, for he cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin.
"Sansa," he whispered, before he leaned down and kissed her once again quickly, his free hand resting on her waist. Sansa tried to stand on tip-toe to better reach him, returning his kiss lovingly. When they broke apart they looked around them, but no one seemed to have seen them. Sandor threw back his head and laughed upon seeing the color on her cheeks, and Sansa giggled in return.
The rest of the day passed by just as all the previous ones had. A long day of riding spent mostly in silence. Sandor and Sansa could hear people around them still discussing the outlaws' attack, but they were content in simply sharing the comforting warmth of the other as they rode Stranger, at times touching each other unconsciously in small gestures of affection.
When the caravan stopped for half an hour beside a well, Sansa went up to talk to the woman who had recently lost her abusive husband, and asked her if she would like to share some bread and apples and cheese with her. She'd told Sandor that it was best if she befriended the woman alone, and he'd agreed. She knew he didn't really care much about the woman, but when the widow returned her smile and accepted, Sansa felt content.
Before midday, the caravan's prisoner had finally stopped crying, yet when the tears stopped an utter silence descended upon Edar, and nothing anyone said or did would make him talk. He didn't eat the food they offered him, nor drink the water or wine either. Hagen only sat on the wagon, so still that Sansa even forgot he was there once. His eyes were swollen due to all the tears he'd shed, and when a man a little older than her asked the bandit if he wasn't afraid that he could be hanged tonight, Edar didn't respond. In fact, Sansa wasn't even sure that Hagen had heard the young man.
That night, after they'd settled down and tied a silent unresisting Hagen to one of the wheels of the wagon, the leaders of the caravan gathered around a fire to discuss their captive's fate. Sandor had been invited to join them, but not Sansa. Yet when they took their seat on the fire in silence, no one objected to her presence there.
The first to speak was the leader. "So, friends, what shall we do with our fabled outlaw?"
"We can interrogate him about his knowledge on where other outlaw bands can be hiding, and shun those places like Byan Storm said," one man answered.
"But do you think he will betray his friends? Why, we may not even be able to make him say a single word if he persists in that dreary silence of his," another man exclaimed.
"What do you think Magister Nervere did to him to have his death affect him so?" everyone started to ask each other eagerly, as if they hadn't just spent the whole day talking about that.
"He'll tell us where the outlaws are hiding," Sandor rasped, his voice steel on stone. Everyone turned to listen to him. "His bloody friends left him at my horse's mercy. They won't be coming back, since they probably think he died because of Stranger. I am willing to bet Edar won't mind telling us. Even if he is fond of his friends, the fact that he tells us about them doesn't mean we can do much about it. At least not for the present. Had we been a caravan of merchants, then perhaps Edar would've slit his throat by now before revealing a thing."
The leader stared at Sandor silently for a long moment, his hands entwined beneath his jaw. "Are you telling us that we should do nothing? Continue as we are, and wait for Edar to feel inclined to speak to us again?"
Sandor shrugged. "He is your captive. You can hang him or drown him or fuck him for all I care. But I'd wait a few days and see if he feels inclined to start talking. If he doesn't, we'll see what we can do with him then."
"So no one will ransom him now that Nervere is dead?" the youngest of the leaders asked out loud.
"I don't know," the leader replied. "It doesn't seem likely."
There were cries of anger at that, which left Sansa in no doubt that had the caravan been able to choose between having Hagen Edar as another mouth to feed, or having the ransom his head could claim, they would all have chosen the latter.
One day later, Hagen Edar finally started drinking again. The following day he accepted the food that was offered to him, and by the third day he was talking once again. And once he started he never stopped. When they asked him about where the other outlaw bands could be hiding, he told them everything he knew about that, and even promised in Sinan's memory to be speaking the truth.
"I was the leader of the biggest band in these parts. The others are comprised of between four to ten members. Yet word travels quickly among us. The other bands will have heard by now how that horrible black beast killed me, and they will think twice before they face the whole lot of you. No, I don't think I'll ever see my friends again, rest assured."
Sansa wasn't very convinced by Hagen's words. Yet the travelers apparently thought it best to earn Hagen's friendship, so that in case the other bandits did attack them, Edar could perhaps speak to spare them all if the caravan lost. But they shouldn't have worried. No more bands of outlaws attacked them again.
In the fortnight that followed, Hagen Edar won the caravan's trust. Sandor kept an eye on the outlaw's moves and told Sansa that he would first start telling their fellow travelers tales from his past to impress them, and surely enough that is how he began to earn back his freedom. By the time they were about to reach the Shivering Sea, Hagen Edar was no longer bound to the wagon as a captive. He was not given a horse to ride, nor was his sword returned to him, but he nonetheless had the freedom to do whatever he wanted.
Sansa also tried to pay close attention to Edar's actions, and concluded that the man was basically a sane madman. He was mad because some of the things he said and did could only be called that, and because no reasonable person would've ever thought of taming Stranger when the horse had just proven how ferocious he was. Yet Sansa could not help but admit that there was also honor in the hardened bandit.
He would always accept the invitations to share a fire and some dinner at nights, and in those moments he confessed to them all that he had once been a nobleman of Lorath who had been raised since childhood in Norvos. He'd grown up to become a powerful merchant himself, who was respected and much loved by his friends and customers. Yet one day he ran afoul of Arman Nervere and was exiled from Great Norvos forever.
When a young woman asked him why he had been exiled, the man looked at her with surprise, and started to lose himself in memories, staring at the fire as he fell silent. This, they all quickly learned, was a habit of his, and so they restrained their eager curiosity for a while and asked no more about what had happened to him in Norvos. The travelers turned their attention to his life as an outlaw, and ended up cheering him for only attacking merchant caravans, and not poor ones like theirs.
"We were always honest about what we were about," Hagen once said, biting a chunk of hard black bread with his teeth. "No poor folk. No peasants or small parties of families. Only merchants, and only out of Norvos or heading to the city. In the end, I think we attacked around ten and seven caravans. We spent the gold in whatever we liked, and gave the silver to the peasants living in these hills. The only thing I regret is that Nervere never came to meet us. May that bastard's soul burn forever!"
Upon hearing that, Sandor cast an approving look at Edar's back, which only had Sansa sighing. She didn't like to hear Arman's name so often. We left that part of our lives behind.
At long last there came a day when Sansa smelled salt in the air, the first sign of the caravan having reached the frozen shores of the Shivering Sea. She had been ridding Nan, a little tired even if by now her soft thighs had toughened, when she turned to look at Sandor, a relieved smile on her face.
The caravan settled between a small stream and the foot of a small hill by evening, with the sun low in the west. Sansa was warming her hands in front of the fire Sandor had lit up earlier to keep away dusk's chill, waiting for him to come back from asking the leader of the caravan what towns were nearby. They were planning on leaving the caravan tomorrow or the next day, as soon as they saw a village where they could settle for a little while till they had enough coin to buy them a passage aboard a ship.
The leader of the caravan had told them that the only ships that sailed the waters of Lorath Bay were those that came from the island of Lorath, and no others. The Lorathi were poor sailors, and only sailed towards the bay named in their honour, or to Braavos. That left Sandor and Sansa with no other option but to go to Lorath next, and from there take a ship to Braavos. And from there one to White Harbour and home. Sansa felt a funny fluttering on her tummy whenever she thought of her home. I've waited for months and months to reach the North. If the gods see fit to make me wait a little while longer, I can't complain. Not after Sandor and I confessed to each other how we feel.
Their relationship was still the same in the sense that they could find no privacy in the caravan. Yet the past couple of weeks knowing that they loved one another had been more beautiful to Sansa than any day she'd spent in Norvos or Pentos. She felt complete, and she only had to glance at Sandor to feel a smile appearing on her face; a smile that would reassure him that he still had her love, and when he would return her smile with a grin, she would find herself unable to restrain herself, giving him a quick kiss.
After finishing their supper by the fire, Sansa ventured with a low voice in case someone overheard, "Sandor, what sort of work do you mean to find in Lorath Bay?"
Sandor cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, "It will most likely be peasant's work, little bird. I don't think any service at the household of some merchant could be found hereabouts. Maybe some peasant will need to have someone cutting his lumber to help him build something. Yet it could take a while. The peasant won't have much to spare. We'll live at an inn in the meantime."
"What if there isn't any work, or if it takes you forever to earn enough?" she insisted, placing her hand on his knee, worried. "I was thinking that if you can't find any work, I could sell my remaining jewels instead. I still have my moonstone earrings and necklace. Surely that would get us a passage for four on a ship?"
"Little bird," he hissed, scowling, "how many times–I don't want you to sell your jewels. They are the only thing in this world that you have till we reach your family again, and I don't–"
Sansa couldn't help but snort. It wasn't very ladylike, but this was so silly. Sandor stopped talking as she knelt beside him, and taking one of his hands in both of hers, she said, "They are not the only thing I have, Sandor. I have you and I trust you know that you are more precious to me than any jewels I've ever had, or the crown I would've once worn. So long as we have each other, I don't care if we have to live for a while with that peasant you will be working with."
Sandor's eyes had widened, and he gulped as she brought his hand to her mouth and gave it a kiss, before brushing her cheek against it. She closed her eyes as Sandor hoarsely whispered her name, but then a polite coughing nearby caught both their attention.
They turned their heads to see no other than Hagen Edar staring at them as he stood before their fire, his merry bright dark eyes crinkling with crowfeet as he said, "I am so sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if I could join you?"
Sansa blinked, a little startled. Knowing Sandor, she quickly stood up and said, "Yes, of course. I–I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I'm Jeyne and this is Byan, but I believe you two have already met," Sansa said, noticing that Hagen's arm was still on a sling, but at least the black eye Stranger had given him was fading, and his crooked nose looked a bit improved since the last time she'd seen him up-close.
Hagen nodded at her respectfully before offering her his hand. Sansa stared at it with a frown, since it was a rare sight when a man would offer a woman his hand to shake. Nonetheless she took it and returned the bandit's smile as he replied, "Yes, I remarked to Byan the other day that his hell-horse was quite a magnificent beast. I don't bear it any ill feelings for what it did to me. After all, they've told me that he was the one to convince the others that they shouldn't hang me when they first caught me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jeyne."
Sansa chanced a glance at Sandor, who gave her a look that clearly dared her to disagree with his previous comments on the outlaw. About a week ago, when Hagen was able to walk again, Sandor had told Sansa that Edar was bloody mad in truth. Apparently, Edar had started talking to Sandor out of the blue one day about Stranger, complimenting the warhorse for his temper even as Hagen showed Sandor all the bruises the black destrier had left him on his arms and legs. Sansa had asked Sandor what he thought of the man, and Sandor had answered that he wasn't so bad for an outlaw. Yet he's never talked to me. I wonder what he wants.
"Have you come to say hello to Stranger?" Sandor sneered. "I can bring him here for you to tell him face to face how much you admire him. I trained him well. He won't break your other arm if I restrain him."
A bit of colour seemed to drain from Edar's face. "No, please, don't. I–I didn't come here to talk about him."
Sansa recalled her courtesies and said, "Please, won't you seat down? I'm afraid we've already finished our dinner, but if you want some wine, Byan still has half a skin beside him he will be willing to share."
Sandor threw her an affronted look, but just as she was trying to suppress her laugh, Hagen sat down on the ground and replied, "No, thank you. I've already had dinner. The family five fires to the right were kind enough to feed me tonight."
"Oh," Sansa replied, sitting down beside Sandor. "How nice of them."
"Yes, they are good. I feel sorry for having attacked them. When I was rich, before I was exiled from Norvos, I was never half as good as them. Yet now that I'm a beggar I find peasants sustaining me. One day I hope I can repay them."
Sansa agreed with him; she had found that sometimes smallfolk were usually good honest kind people, but she doubted that this was what Edar wanted to talk to her and Sandor about. Still, hearing so much about him over the past weeks had left her curious about him. She had never met an outlaw, and the deeds the caravan told of him reminded her of the stories Old Nan had told her and her siblings about the Kingswood Brotherhood.
"I bet you do," Sandor said, considering the outlaw before him.
"I'm sorry, but I was wondering if I could ask you a question?" Sansa asked.
"Of course," Edar answered, sitting cross-legged on the grass. "Fire away, Jeyne."
"Why do they say you wear only black?" She'd been curious about this, even going so far as to being willing to consider Hagen to be in truth a deserter of the Night's Watch. I wonder how Jon is faring at the Wall.
Hagen's smile disappeared, and he quickly met her eyes with a hard stare. Sansa was about to apologize when he answered, "I wear only black because it is one of the best ways to avoid being seen at night when you are about to raid a caravan, Jeyne. But that's just a cover. In truth, I only wear black as a sign of mourning for my wife, Sinan."
"I'm so sorry," she told him truthfully after a moment, lowering her gaze.
Edar sniffed, and shook his head after he'd stared at the setting sun for a moment, his hand toying with the black skull necklace around his neck. "Thank you."
Sandor patted Sansa's hand just as the bandit said in a merrier tone, "You know, talking about dressing up, I must give you a word of advice, girl. You should really start dressing up like a boy. Wear breeches and the like. One of my friends may have taken you had we seen you as we attacked the caravan. But with the cover of darkness, it would have been easier for you to hide or be considered as a lad and be left alone if you–"
Sansa opened her mouth, a bit startled by the change in the conversation. Sandor rasped in interruption, "You and your lot could've tried, but you would have earned a blade stuck in your guts for all your trouble."
It didn't sound exactly like a threat, more like a fact, but Hagen nonetheless stopped talking, regarding Sandor silently.
"I do not like the thought of dressing like a boy," Sansa put in, now recalling Arya and the way her little sister would've rolled her eyes at her if she'd heard her. "I find dresses very comfortable."
"You would find it easier to ride and such with a pair of breeches, trust me," Edar insisted.
"I don't trust you one bit," she admitted, making Sandor snort.
"That's a shame, seeing as I was planning to bring up an offer to you two."
Silence greeted his words. Sansa gulped, shifting uncomfortably on her place on the ground; Sandor narrowed his eyes at Edar. He flexed his sword hand before saying, "And what offer would that be?"
"Well," replied Hagen, running a hand through his yellow hair. "Now that my enemy is dead, and I am exiled from Norvos, I think it would be best if I returned home to Lorath, you see. I still have some family there, my sibling Bryar among them. But as I was saying a moment ago, I am quite penniless. I have no means to go home–"
"But you are the caravan's hostage. Surely you can't expect to be allowed to–" Sansa began before the outlaw interrupted her. "I have talked to the leader and made him see sense. There is nothing he can do with me now. The worm who asked for my head is dead, and the leader doesn't have the heart to kill me. He isn't a cruel fellow really, so he agreed to let me go. And he was the one to tell me that you two are meaning to leave the caravan now that we've left the Hills of Andalos behind, and I wanted to ask you folks if you wouldn't mind it if I tag along with you till we reach Lorath."
"Fuck" Sandor growled, clearly incredulous. "And do you think we would agree to that?"
"Well," said Hagen, surprised. "The leader of the caravan said that you were heading to Lorath, and I want to go home, so I don't see why you would object to it. I would work to pay for my own passage, and–"
"It makes no matter if you're heading to the same place as we are," Sandor said, shrugging. "You are not coming with us."
Hagen's lip trembled. "But why not, burned man? I am amusing company, and I would repay you both handsomely. Once you get to Lorath, you won't know your way around it, but I do. I remember it as if I had only seen it yesterday. I could help you with whatever you needed there, or tell Bryar to help with what I can't."
Sansa saw Sandor's hand reach for the pommel of his longsword for a moment, but then he said, "Bugger off."
Hagen Edar opened his mouth to speak, but he must have heard something in Sandor's voice that made him stand up and say, "Well, it's getting late. I must leave you to your rest and to consider my offer. Good night, friends. See you tomorrow."
When he was gone, Sansa couldn't help but remark, "What a strange man he is!"
"Told you he was out of his wits. Bloody idiot."
"Do you think he means it when he said he could help us once we reach Lorath?" she asked Sandor, looking up at him.
"Might be. Could be. I guess that if he is speaking the truth, it would be good for us. But we would have to stand him for longer than I care to."
Sansa laughed. "Before we even get aboard a ship, we will have had enough time to observe him and see if he is really honest and means to keep his word. But I am still not quite certain. Do you think he will follow us once we leave the caravan?"
Sandor sighed. "Aye, he will. I've known his sort before. He'll follow us at a distance, and show himself when he thinks we least expect him."
All of a sudden, a new thought came to Sansa. "Sandor, you–you don't want him to come along so that you can learn what happened between him and Arman, do you? Because I thought all of that was past. It doesn't matter anymore."
He shifted uncomfortably on his place on the ground, and said defiantly, "I'm just curious to know what that buggering sheep could've done to him. But I won't give us away, I promise."
Sansa was about to protest when a cold wind suddenly made her shiver, and she hugged herself. Sandor saw her and wrapped his wide muscled arms around her, hugging her warmly. Sansa knew that the Shivering Sea had not been named like that just for fancy, and was certain that once they reached the coast the weather would only get colder and colder.
"Try to get some rest, little bird," Sandor whispered in her ear, and she did in the end.
The following day, some hours after midday, Sansa and Sandor thanked everyone they knew in the caravan for their help and bid them farewell. Sansa was sorry to see some of them go, for she had become friends of a sort with a few, like the widow of that horrible abusive man, but after reaching the frozen shores of the Shivering Sea, she knew the time had come to depart.
The leader of the caravan told her and Sandor that there was a village called Munne a short distance to the east if they walked for a couple of hours. It wasn't a very large or prosperous place, but maybe someone needed a hand with fishing or building. When they departed the caravan, neither Sandor nor Sansa were surprised to see Hagen Edar discreetly joining them. The outlaw smiled at them expectantly, but when Sandor dragged him against a tree and warned him that he was not going to stand any of his shit, Hagen paled again and nodded, promising Sandor that he would not bring them trouble.
He started whistling happily beside them, and settled as far away from Stranger as he could manage. Edar had no horse to ride himself, but since Nan and Stranger were walking at an easy pace, he had no trouble keeping up with them. Near dusk they finally came upon the ocean, and Sansa smiled. The village of Munne could be seen at a distance, and though it wasn't a very nice sight, Sansa's heart rose as she imagined some hot dinner, a warm bath and a bed.
The landscape was desolate and bleak, with a dark blue sea and grey shores, sea gulls cried out loud up in the darkening sky, and there was smoke coming up from the chimneys of the town, and that was all that mattered. If there ever was a dismal forsaken place in this world, then surely this must be it, she thought, gazing all around her. Sandor asked Edar what he had heard of Munne, and the bandit simply shrugged and said, "Nothing of consequence. Nothing ever happens here."
Sandor spurred Stranger on and Sansa followed, with their new companion bringing up the rear. When they had finally reached the village's gates, Sansa saw some fishermen hauling nets full of wriggling fish from their boats at a distance, and even if thunder was heard up in the heavens at that moment, warning them all of rain, the men remained where they were.
Sansa saw Sandor staring at the fishermen with a strange look on his burned face, making Sansa wonder if that is what he would have to do to earn them their passage on the ship that would take them to Lorath.
"What do you want here?" an ill-looking short guard asked Sandor once they had asked to enter the town.
"We're looking for any work that we can find," Sandor spat, jerking his head at Hagen.
The guard considered them all for a moment before saying, "There isn't much work to be found here. But if you head to the Stinking Fish, maybe you can learn of one. It's down the main street to the right. You can't miss it."
Sandor nodded and dismounted from Stranger. He helped Sansa get off Nan. Sansa took her mare's reins as Sandor did the same with Stranger's, entering Munne without a backward glance at Edar to see if he was following. A light rain descended on them just then, making Sandor hurry to reach a roof after he threw Sansa a worried look.
Once they reached the Stinking Fish, Edar went inside while Sandor took Stranger and Nan to the little old stable that looked as if it would fall apart with the first strong wind to shake it. After threatening the man who was tending to the stables, Sandor unsaddled Stranger and Nan, carrying each saddle under his arms.
"Come, let's get inside. Don't want you to catch a cold," Sandor said, entering the inn. The place was quite dirty, yet it was the only diversion that the people of Munne could find, so it was nearly full even at this early hour. Now I know why it's called the Stinking Fish. Almost everyone in the room looked to be sailor, and they all smelled like fish, making Sansa feel dizzy. Sansa saw through the dim light two serving women that looked like mother and daughter handing out tankards and plates while the men sitting on stools started singing a sailor's song. The innkeeper knew at once what they wanted, and coming up to them asked, "Will you want rooms? The man with the broken nose said you wish for two."
Sandor laughed. "No. We'll need one room. That man can sleep on the barn for all I care."
"I'm sorry, but we have no barn."
"Well," snarled Sandor. "He can sleep where he likes, but I'll only pay you for one room."
The innkeeper eyed Sansa and shrugged. "All right, one. The thing is, the previous guest is just leaving, so his belongings are still on the guests' room. Would you mind waiting for half an hour so the wife can clean up the place?"
Sandor didn't look like he was pleased with that, but Sansa answered, "It's all right. We'll wait. Would you send some food for us? We're very hungry."
"Aye, I will. There's stew and ale. Two plates?"
Sansa was sure that Sandor wouldn't be inclined to pay for Hagen's food, so she was pleasantly surprised when Sandor rasped that he wanted three plates. "Don't you have any wine?" he also asked.
"No. Just ale," the innkeeper replied, and walked away.
Sandor and Sansa made their way to the table Edar was waiting for them, his face hidden in his arms.
"I hate that song," he said once they reached him and settled in their stools. "Reminds me of a cousin of mine."
They were mostly quiet till their food arrived, since the long tiring days on the road had left them all exhausted. As Sansa was finishing her greasy stew and wondering if their room was finally unoccupied, she decided that living in this gods-forsaken little village was not going to be a very pleasant affair. What else can we do? I doubt the next town will be different to this one.
"Your room is now ready," the innkeeper told them, suddenly appearing by their side.
"Do you know if there is work to be found here?" Sandor rasped, before the man could move away.
"Work? For you?"
"Yes, and for this bugger too," Sandor replied, looking at Edar, who was staring daggers at the loud singers standing at a corner of the room.
"I don't think there is," the innkeeper answered, scratching the top of his bald head. "I haven't heard of any. But if you wait here I'll go and see if you are in luck."
When he walked away from their table, Sansa said in the Common Tongue, "If there isn't any work, maybe we can do as I told you. I'll sell my jewels and we can head straight to Lorath."
Sandor chuckled. "And are you going to pay for Hagen's passage too?"
Sansa sighed, sparing a look at Edar, now readjusting the sling on his arm and didn't answer his question. Instead, she said, "I'm so tired. I wish we could just go to sleep right now and wake up a week later."
Sandor laughed, ruffling her hair unconsciously. "I thought you didn't want to stay here, and now you want to sleep here for a week?"
"What are you talking about?" Edar asked them.
"Nothing to concern you," Sandor replied in Valyrian, taking a drink of ale from his tankard. Sansa had asked for water instead, disliking the taste of ale, and had offered her own tankard to the outlaw.
"Oh, at last!" Edar suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands. "They're leaving."
Sansa turned her head around and saw the group of singing sailors exiting the inn. Now that they were gone, the place didn't look quite so crowded as before. She was about to tell Sandor if she could ask for a bath tonight when a man stepped in front of their table, and stared at Sansa for a moment.
This man looked to be in his fifties, yet his arms and chest looked as strong as those of a man twenty years younger. He had dark hair, dark eyes and a dark hairy moustache, and a kindly look about him.
"What do you want?" Sandor asked, resting his hand near his sword.
"The old man told me you were looking for a job," the stranger replied, turning his gaze on Sandor.
"Yes, me and him," Sandor replied, grudgingly letting go of his blade. "What did you have in mind?"
"I guess that a couple more hands would come in handy, but it's actually the young woman here whom we need. Can she read Valyrian?"
Sansa stared at the man, startled. She looked at Sandor, who looked just as surprised as she did, and replied, "I can. Why are you looking for someone to read Valyrian?"
"Oh, no, Barli!" the youngest of the two serving woman said. She had been walking beside their table when she apparently overheard their conversation. She looked at Sansa with worried eyes, and continued. "You can't be thinking of taking her to that old scarecrow!"
"What the bloody hell is going on? What scarecrow, and why do you care if she can read Valyrian or not?" Sandor growled.
"Your cousin left us three days ago, missy. So unless you have another one, I suggest you to go on about your business and let me find a replacement," the stranger called Barli replied, frowning at the girl.
"But look at her, Barli! The old man will scare the wits out of her."
"What are you all talking about?" Hagen put in, looking puzzled.
The young serving woman went away, shaking her head, without another word. Barli looked at Sandor and said, "I apologize. Please, would you let me sit down and I can explain what the job consists of?"
Sandor didn't seem inclined to agree, but something in Barli's voice made Sansa feel certain that this stranger wasn't a bad man. And we lose nothing by finding out what he is talking about, she thought, rather curious. So she said, "Yes, do sit down."
Barli thanked her with a smile and grabbed a stool from the table next to theirs. He sat down, and with his hands crossed before him said, "You see, my wife and I work up at the old castle. We alone pretty much sum up Hrolf's household. Hrolf is the one you would be reading to, lassie. What's your name?"
"Jeyne, and these is Byan and Hagen."
Barli nodded his head at Sandor and Edar in turn. "You see, old Hrolf, he–he is an old man, and many don't like him, really. He isn't bad, but he was never the same after–after the shipwreck. His daughter died in it just as she was coming home from Braavos, and… well, it hit Hrolf hard. He loved her very much. Some years after her death, he got it into his head to ask for some girl from the village to go read to him. His daughter used to do that, and I gather it reminds Hrolf of her. The thing is, in the past year we've had to dismiss about twenty girls. No one will stay for long because they don't like the master. He is a bit rude and hard to handle, so I won't tell you the job is a nice one. If you don't like it, I can accompany you to the next village. I was going there myself in search of a young woman since I've already asked everyone in Munne, but if you agree to try it out for a week or so, you may have spared me a long trip on the rain, Jeyne."
Sansa was frowning, looking at Barli, considering her and Sandor's options. It was sad that Barli's master had lost his child and was not trying to remember her by having people read to him, but Sansa wasn't prepared to stand an old man yelling at her for displeasing him.
"How much would you be willing to pay me for this?" she asked, making Sandor arched his eyebrow at her approvingly.
"Ten silver coins a week. Hrolf is rich, you see, so he can spare it. And you would be staying at the castle, so I can promise you shelter, a warm fire, food and rest for your horses."
"What about us?" Edar asked, interrupting. "Do you have work for me and Byan?"
"I guess you could help me out with the sheep and other such tasks. We live in a castle but with only three people living there, we don't use all the rooms and there isn't much to do. I don't know how much the master would be willing to pay you, though. We could ask him tomorrow when you meet him."
"Little bird," said Sandor in the Common Tongue, looking at her. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Sansa smiled at her big man. "It's a tempting offer. We can't lose really. If I don't like this man, then we can go away after a week with some coin, and if I do, we would only have to stay at the old castle for a month or so. With what they pay us both, surely it wouldn't be long before we had enough to buy passage on some ship."
Sandor looked at her face intently, considering hers and Barli's words, and finally gave a short nod, with an amused expression. He turned to look at Barli and said, "If there's wine as well, we'll do it."
Barli looked quite relieved that he had managed to get a girl to read to his master so close to home, while Hagen shrugged and said, "If it can get me home in time, I'll do it."
"I take it you didn't like the Fish's ale, did you?" Barli asked Sandor. "I don't like it either. But to answer your question, yes, there's wine. The cellars are filled with unopened casks. We should better be heading home now, then."
They stood up, and as Sandor went to pay the innkeeper for their food and tell him they would not need his room, Sansa smiled and looked at the floor, content. I hope the old man isn't as bad as that serving woman seemed to think.
Once they had saddled Nan and Stranger again, they all followed Barli out of the town of Munne, while Sandor remarked that is was good the rain had stopped as they were inside The Stinking Fish inn. Night had fallen, and there was an iron moon tonight, and to Sansa it was a lovely thing. She didn't know why she was suddenly feeling better, but she was. The thought of resting in a castle instead of at that inn was a good start.
As they left the town, Barli started to talk to them about life at the old castle. "You'll probably read to the master in the morning. And after that, you can do whatever you like. My wife can manage pretty much everything else by herself, but if you would like to help her in the kitchens or with the washing, we'll pay you for that as well."
Before long they finally caught their first look of the castle and its dark menacing towers. It looked to be the size of Maegor's Holdfast, and it rested on the edge of a rocky cliff, overlooking the sea. It looks so grim, Sansa thought sadly. There were few lights to be seen inside, confirming that few people were living in it at the moment.
Once they finally reached its gates and Barli had unlocked them, they turned away from the main entrance to a sideway roofless corridor that led to a rain-scoured stone courtyard beside a large stable housing three horses. Sandor and Sansa tied Nan and Stranger inside, attaching the sack of oats to their stalls so they could eat whenever they liked, and covering them up with their blankets. Sansa was sorry to see her shoes getting mud on them due to the grim earth on the stable as she patted Nan on the head.
A fat comely woman appeared in a doorway beside a large stone well, cleaning her hands on her apron, and exclaimed by way of greeting, "My, my, well this is a surprise. The old man sends you for a girl and you come back with two dubious looking fellows and a pretty maid, Barli!"
"I know, dear, but the girl would only come if her friends could stay too. This is my wife Merra, by the way."
Merra nodded her head at them and went on, "Ah, well. We'll see how this one fares tomorrow morning. Come in, the night is chilly. Have you had dinner?"
"Yes," Sansa replied, standing close to Sandor. "At the inn in the town."
"The Stinking Fish's famous stinking stew, I bet. That is no proper dinner. Come, I was just about to have supper myself. We'll all eat while you and your friends take turns and bathe. We can't let you catch a cold. The master doesn't like people sneezing around him."
Sansa was starting to feel unsure about meeting the old master of the castle, but she said nothing of her fears. They were here now and had nowhere better to go back to.
"Has he gone to sleep already?" Barli asked his wife as they all stepped in into a grand well-designed kitchen, making Sansa suspect that this dreary castle wasn't always so grim. There must have been laughter and balls here once. Judging by her surroundings, she was certain that the old man must be either a rich merchant or a nobleman.
There was a very pleasant smell coming out of the oven, and Merra ushered them to take a seat on the large wooden table at a corner of the kitchen as if she was a mother duck and they were her ducklings; Sansa caught sight of Sandor's affronted face and giggled. She sat beside him and took his hand under the table. Sandor squeezed it, and started to caress the length of her fingers with his knuckle as he'd seen she liked very much.
"There's smoked fish and apple cakes tonight," Merra said, as she headed over to take out plates from one of the many pantries to be found at the kitchen.
"Your husband said something about there being wine," Sandor told the woman.
"Barli, go and bring a bottle from the cellar for us, and after that go and prepare two rooms on the north wing. Build fires in the hearths, please."
Barli grunted that he didn't want to do so, but his wife paid him no heed, as she started serving them their share of the supper. Barli went away with an offended grunt. It turned out that Merra was an excellent cook, and Sansa could really find no fault with anything she tasted that night. If we stay here maybe I can ask Merra to bake some lemon cakes one day soon.
Merra sat down on the table with them and said, "So, has the husband told you everything about old Hrolf?"
She nodded, nibbling at a piece of the apple cake. Merra looked at her openly, and remarked, "You are too pretty to be from any place near here, but you speak Valyrian well enough. It seems that the master dislikes having farmer's daughters and the like reading to him, because the poor girls haven't really ever opened a book in their lives. But I am willing to bet that you are not a peasant's daughter and will do better than them. Where are you all from?"
"I'm from Lorath, but spent most of my life in Norvos," Hagen replied, devouring his dinner. "And I praise you, Merra! This food is the best I've had in years."
"I can very well believe that," the woman replied. "But I thank you nonetheless. What about you two?"
"We're from Westeros, from a place called the Stormlands," Sandor answered, taking a drink of wine.
"Westeros?" Barli exclaimed, excitedly coming back to the kitchen. "Why I had a friend from there once! He was called Will, and was from a place called Oltown or something like that, I think."
"We've never been to Oldtown," Sandor replied simply, as Merra stood up to start heating some water pails.
"Neither have we," she replied. "Well, once the water is hot enough we'll take it to your rooms so you can have a proper bath. I don't want you all to dirty the clean sheets, and you must look respectable tomorrow when you meet Hrolf. I'll put you and Byan in one room, and Jeyne can have the room overlooking the sea."
Sansa clutched Sandor's hand under the table and said, "Oh, no, thank you. It is thoughtful of you, but Byan and I will share a room."
She could feel herself blushing at the words, but no one said anything after eyeing Sandor for a moment.
"So that's the way of it, then," Merra finally replied, surprised. "All right. You two can have the room overlooking the sea, and Hagen here will sleep in the room next to the red stairs. Now come, lads, help a woman with the pails. Barli, you show Hagen to his room while I take the other two to theirs."
As Sansa bid goodnight to Hagen, who bowed his head as he was wont to do at her in respect, Sandor told her, balancing three water pails in his strong hands, "While you take a bath I'll go for our saddles."
"We will have to find you some satin tomorrow," Merra called behind her at Sansa. "The dress you're wearing won't be clean by tomorrow morning."
"I have some other dresses," she informed the woman. "Clean ones."
The room Merra took them to had a large ceiling and was very big. It had a wide long bed with an old feather mattress and furs for blankets, some old rugs decorating the floor, a grand hearth with a fire blazing warmly in it, some old tapestries hanging from the walls, a writing table and a small stone terrace overlooking the sea. And there was a small door that led to the room where the rusted bronze tub with a matching chamber pot was, and that is where Sandor took the warm water to.
"Will these suit you? There are other rooms, but they will likely be filled with dust and cobwebs. No one has been in them under the master's orders," Merra explained.
"This one will suit us very well," Sansa admitted, smiling as Sandor joined them.
Merra nodded. "You'll find me in the kitchens from dawn till midday, so you can break your fast when you please. Old Hrolf likes to be read to an hour before midday, so be ready by then. I'll take you to him. He will be surprised to see Barli found a replacement so quickly. I've been reading to him since the last girl left us three days ago. She was so silly that a single word from the master scared her."
Sansa bid Merra goodnight and when the woman closed the door behind her, Sansa sighed. She looked up at Sandor only to see that he was already looking at her with a quiet expression on his face that she didn't often see.
"What is it?" she asked him, smiling. He raised his arm, beckoning her to him, and she slowly made her way to stand in front of him.
"You look happy, little bird," he growled deeply as he put his arms around her, a quiet smile on his burned features.
Sansa looked up at him, wrinkling her forehead in wonder. "How could I not be? We found a decent place to rest and work at, and we are finally relatively safe after weeks and weeks on the road. Are you not happy?"
Sandor's grey eyes bore into hers as he brushed her tangled auburn locks out of her face gently. "I'm happy if you're happy. I only need you beside me to be happy."
Sansa smiled and kissed him quickly once he'd bent low enough for her to reach him, resting her forehead against his, hugging him back. "The water is going to get cold. Go on now, take your bath."
Sansa nodded, and Sandor turned around and strode out of the room. She took off her clothes and took a bath. The warm water felt so good that for a moment she was tempted to relax on the tub, and she even went as far as closing her eyes. But when she recalled that Sandor still had to take a bath himself and that he wouldn't take forever to return from the stable, she cleaned herself up, happy to see that Barli had not forgotten to place a bar of soap and some towels on the little wooden table beside the tub.
When there was a knock on the locked door of the room, Sansa gasped, but it was only Sandor. He said through the door, "I've brought you your saddlebag, Sansa. I'll stand outside as you get dressed."
"Thank you," she called back, quickly drying herself up with the towel. She found her saddlebag right outside the door, and when she had donned her nightgown as well as her smallclothes and taking out her brush, she opened the bedroom's door and told Sandor he could come in now.
As he brought out a clean pair of breeches and a tunic from his saddlebag, he winked at her and closed the bathroom's door before him. Sansa laughed and started brushing her hair, staring at the fire burning on the hearth against the cold night's breeze. She wanted to walk outside to see the ocean from the stone balcony, but the nights in Lorath Bay were truly cold, and she decided to wait until morning. She wished to talk to Sandor about everything that had happened to them in the last weeks, but she was very tired. I'll do that tomorrow. We have time for that. She turned around and walked over to seat on the large bed, her back to the bathroom door.
After Sandor was done taking his bath, he stepped into the room they'd given him to share with the little bird. His gaze was instantly caught by the mesmerizing sight of Sansa seating on the bed, wearing her nightgown, her wet hair coming down to the small of her back. He rested against the doorframe for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but when he opened his mouth he heard himself saying instead, "I can help you with that if you like." I haven't done that in a long time.
Sansa turned around to look at him before she nodded, a little tired smile on her face. Ever since the night when they had kissed by the lake, Sansa would always be smiling at him, yet it always caught him unawares when he remembered that if she was smiling it was because her made her as happy as she made him.
Sandor went to sit behind her on the bed, and took the brush from her hand, noticing how the fire brought out the red in Sansa's thick soft hair, making it shine like copper. He ran his hand and the brush through her long curls, remembering the last couple of weeks. It was a fucking relief to be able to finally be free to kiss Sansa whenever he liked, after months and months of shutting his mouth about what he was feeling for her–and they had only kissed quickly, shy of the people of the caravan around them, apart from their first two kisses. Now that they were alone, he knew that he could drop his restraints around Sansa.
Bearing that in mind, once he was done brushing her hair, he placed both of his hands steadily on her waist, and whispered from behind in her ear, "Little bird, I love you," before placing a kiss on her smooth soft long neck.
It still amazed him that such words would come so naturally to him of all men, but they did, and he was not about to start wondering about why it was so. Now that they knew how they felt for each other, he was sure he would never tire of telling Sansa this. She should know that she is loved, and that she will never be alone again. She deserves to be told often that she has someone who loves her more than she could ever imagine.
Sansa pressed herself close to him with a little surprised intake of breath, and brought her hand to caress his face, her fingertips brushing his burns. He could not feel her touch there, yet the knowledge of what she was doing sent a shiver down his spine, making him feel vulnerable. Sandor placed another kiss on her neck once more, taking in a deep breath, willing himself to remember how sweet it was.
Sansa shifted on the bed, turning around so that he was cradling her upper body in his arms while she threw her hands around his neck.
"I love you, too," she whispered, smiling. "Very much, Sandor."
At those words his heart once again constricted, but in a pleasant way. They never broke their gaze as they drew their faces closer to each other, till the tip of their noses touched. Rubbing them together for a moment, Sansa finally closed her eyes and surrendered her mouth to his, and he finally kissed her properly again.
He didn't want to scare or overwhelm her, since he was acutely aware that they were sitting on a bed, and there was an almost painful tightness to his breeches, but Sandor willed himself to put his need aside, before he gently began to kiss her sweet lips back, claiming them slowly, and taking his time to taste her. When they deepened the kiss and Sansa eagerly opened her mouth to let his tongue enter her mouth, he groaned into the kiss, pressing closer to him.
When they drew apart, Sansa buried her face in his neck, getting used to this closeness they could now share, while he treasured the feeling of having her in his arms, this woman who loved him as much as he loved her. After a moment of relishing the feeling of her breath on his neck, he drew her away from him gently. "Come, little bird, it's time we got some proper rest."
Sansa blushed and nodded in agreement, crawling towards the pillows and getting under the furs, looking at him almost sleepily. When he laid down beside her, Sansa drew close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and before long her hand was unconsciously drawing circles on the hair of his chest.
"Good night, big man," Sansa whispered at last, yawning as his fingers brushed lightly over her shoulder.
"Good night, little bird," he rasped in reply, and sleep overtook him as well.
A/N: Please review if you like :) Thanks for the new year well-wishes and the support !:D