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.
*Thank you for everything my excellent betas: onborrowedwings, nysandra & swiftsnowmane! :D
- The story though mainly book canon, can still apply for the HBO show (I don't anything from the tv show either).
- The story will contain dialogue from both the books and the show.
*I would like to dedicate this chapter to Lifeather, a great girl and an amazing writer! x)
29. A Place at the End of the World
Sansa tried to smile bravely as she looked up at her father before she declared, "I love him, Father, I truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."
"Sweet one," her father said gently, trying to hide a smile as he exchanged a look with Arya, "Listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong."
Brave, gentle and strong. The words echoed in the halls of her memory with her father's voice while she slept. Brave, gentle and strong. In her dream, she did not recall how this conversation with her father had ended, or that she had been longing for Joffrey Baratheon in those days. No, in her dreams she was just happy and content to remember those words, as she pressed herself closer to Sandor's warmth and the security his arms offered her under the furs.
Long hours later, after dawn had come and gone and the sun was rising outside the castle of the old man called Hrolf, Sansa woke up at last. She had been having the most pleasant of dreams, and felt utterly relaxed for the first time since her long journey with the caravan with just one good long unperturbed rest on a featherbed. Sansa blinked away her sleep, raising her head from Sandor's arm, to realize they were still resting in the exact position in which they had fallen asleep last night.
We must have been truly exhausted, she thought, as she turned her head to look through her eyelashes at the stone balcony outside their bedroom, hearing the loud sound of the ocean below roaring against the rocks at the foot of the cliff. She knew that the days would be cold in this place, but right now Sandor's warm body and the heavy fur blankets made her feel quite cozy. With a small grunt, she stretched her body across the bed and glanced back at Sandor, instantly still when she caught sight of his face.
He looks so peaceful, she thought. Sandor was still deeply asleep himself, breathing heavily, with the good side of his face towards Sansa. Sandor almost always woke up before her, but today she was glad she had done so first because his features looked relaxed and happy, and somehow serene, making her feel glad that in some way she had helped in bringing about this change to his strong northern looks. How long had it been since she'd seen him like this? How she had missed it! It's so wonderful to wake up beside him like this again.
Sansa stared at him silently for a long time, lost in her thoughts, and before she realized it, she found herself remembering the words her father had once told her about the man he would want to choose for her. It's so strange, she gathered, as her hand slowly brushed a strand of dark hair away from Sandor's face. Whenever I think of Father, I feel so sad, yet right now all I can feel is joy. In the end I found a man with the qualities Father spoke of, and I do not believe I would have any other, be it mighty king, proud prince, high magister or some noble lord if I had the choice.
And even if she was aware that Sandor Clegane was not the man her father, her lady mother or Robb would have chosen for her, Sansa felt no regrets.
She seemed to be smiling too much of late–ever since Sandor had told her how he felt about her that night by the lake. So it was not surprising when with a mischievous grin, she propped herself up with her elbows and gave Sandor a quick kiss on the mouth. He didn't even stir from his slumber one bit. Determined to see if he would like to be woken up like this, Sansa kissed him again, pressing her lips against his burned ones for a long moment this time, but there was no effect whatsoever on her big man, except for a loud snort.
Trying to hide her giggles, Sansa closed her eyes and started kissing Sandor everywhere, from his mouth to his nose to the rough stubble of his cheeks and jaw despite it scratching her, all the way to his neck and the hole that remained of his ear before it was melted away. But when she finally felt him stirring underneath her, Sansa could not help herself. She chanced a glance at him, and was met with a sleepy stare from his grey eyes, blinking away sleep, a bit startled as he realized what she was doing to him.
"What the–?" he growled hoarsely, but could not finish, for she eagerly placed a kiss on his mouth in that moment. Now that she had started, she couldn't stop. Sandor drew back a little, placing his large hands on her shoulders to gain some distance. He looked at her for a moment before remarking, "I was having a dream, Sansa."
Sansa stopped kissing his face, and with an arched eyebrow she sat back in the bed, trying very hard to keep her face straight. "Would you like me to let you go back to your sleep then, Sandor?"
Sandor smiled a wolfish grin. He brought his hands to encircle her waist, his eyes never leaving her face. "Bugger that, little bird, not bloody likely. This is better."
"Good, I thought so," she told him, as Sandor brought her closer to him. She lowered herself so that her upper body was sprawled upon his broad hard chest, and kissed him again on the mouth. This time it was not a quick kiss but one far sweeter. At one point Sandor brushed his hand down her back, and when they drew apart, Sansa let her fingers trail down his face, till they were caressing the nerve of his neck. They were both a little breathless when they drew apart, she noticed, feeling her swollen lips, as a blush crept up her neck.
While her eyes burned deeply into his, Sansa felt a sense of ease descending upon her, making her believe for a moment that nothing would ever come between them since it almost seemed as if they were completely and utterly alone, and this room was the whole world. The grey eyes which had once been drunken and full of hate and rage, never failed to take her breath away now, and for a mad moment she found herself wondering if her children would one day have Sandor's eyes.
"I like waking up like this," Sandor rasped.
"I thought you would. I like it as well, and yet you're still sleepy," she remarked, running her fingertips down to his collarbone. "I have to get ready to meet the man I must read to, but you can rest in the meantime before we go and break our fast, if you like."
It didn't look like any of those prospects appealed to him, but he nonetheless gave a resigned grunt, while she rose from the bed, her long nightgown trailing behind her, aware that Sandor was watching her. She went towards the stone balcony, unlocking the door that separated it from the bedroom, and was happy to see that in daylight this remote place did not look so bleak anymore. A strong salty wind met her as she stepped outside, noticing the pale wan sun up in the grey-blue sky.
The world was hazy in the morning light of this new day, yet Sansa stared all the same at the thin yellow shore below the cliff on which the old castle sat, and the coast was covered with sharp rocks here and there, with a beautiful unyielding pounding ocean covering the horizon and beyond as far as the eye could see. This sea and its waters are the same as the ones of the North that can be found in White Harbour and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Home didn't seem so very far away to Sansa now.
She was unconsciously wrapping a lock of hair around her finger and thumb when Sandor stepped onto the stone balcony, joining her. He strode in her direction, casting a look at the landscape, before he reached her, placing his hand on her elbow, while she placed her own on his narrow waist. She was long of leg, but he still easily towered over her, so when they drew close, he had to bend down so his forehead could rest against hers.
"It seems as if we have reached a place at the end of the world, doesn't it?" Sandor observed, in that raspy voice of his, as she turned her back to him so that he could embrace her from behind.
"It does," Sansa agreed, as he placed his chin on her shoulder. "We'll be safe here, won't we?"
Sandor pressed her close to him for a moment, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the rough dark stubble on his jaw tickling her. She felt him grazing his teeth and the tip of his tongue momentarily against her skin before he said in a reassuring tone, "I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think so."
The sound of the sea and Sandor's strong breathing were soothing sounds to her. She closed her eyes, wishing to treasure this moment forever.
"But that is not all that should concern us, Sansa. If that bloody old fool disrespects you in any way–raising his voice or calling you names, you tell me and I'll take you away from here at once, before I teach the man a lesson, understood?" he said, breaking the spell as he raised his face away from her neck.
Sansa smiled and turned around, placing her hand on his mouth to silence him. "Let's not talk about what could go wrong, please. You said we were safe and well; we're here now, and so far everything has turned out to be better than what I would've dared expect to find in the Shivering Sea."
Sandor looked like he was about to protest, so she let her hand run down to his muscled chest, placing it near his heart. He brought his own hand to hold hers, as he persisted, "You'll tell me, won't you?"
She nodded, resigned, and said, "We have to get ready. Merra said I must be prepared to meet Hrolf an hour before midday."
"Old Hrolf can bugger himself with a hot poker," he told her. "You're not going anywhere just yet."
Once again he wrapped his arms around her, but this time he did so playfully, while she struggled to get free, leaving them both laughing. It was silly, but it was nice to play like this with him. Everything that had happened in Norvos had been so serious, with their fates and lives at risk, making this fooling around more precious to her than it normally would have.
When she was unable to wriggle away from him, she went limp, yielding, and looked up at Sandor's face. His eyes searched her own, as if desperately seeking something in them, but Sansa could not tell if he found it or not. She smiled at him in reassurance and closed her eyes, turning her neck upwards a little, so that they could kiss once more, while Sandor cupped her face with both hands and she ran her hands across his muscled broad back, lowering them to the hem of his tunic, toying with it as her fingers crept beneath it to touch a little of his skin momentarily. Now it was her turn to trap him in her arms.
"Let's get going," he told her, lifting her from the ground as she, startled, quickly threw her arms around his neck with a joyous cry. Sansa knew he wouldn't let her fall as he carried her away from the stone balcony into the bedroom, yet it was nice to cling to him nonetheless.
After she'd washed her face and hands she dressed into her woolen gown of light blue fabric–which happened to be the one to have survived the long journey from Norvos in the best condition–and while Sandor waited outside on the hallway, Sansa looked at herself on the small mirror that decorated a small corner of the room, and smiled.
I look so pretty, she thought, brushing her hair, determined that the old man who was master of this castle would be unable to find any fault in her.
When Sandor saw the little bird coming out of their bedroom, he grinned. He had been resting against the wall beside the door, thinking that this old castle had definitely seen better days, when Sansa opened the door and stepped into the hallway, her eyes instantly looking for him. Fuck, she looked so beautiful and happy that the urge to hold her in his arms the way he'd been doing all morning once again took hold of him. Yet he knew it was best if they didn't delay anymore.
"Ready?" he asked, already walking away.
"Do you think I'll please Lord Hrolf?" she chirped worriedly, trying to keep up with his long strides as she smoothed the skirts of her gown.
Sandor said, "If you don't, it's because he is blind or as mad as Joffrey was."
Sansa gulped, straightening her shoulders. "Gods be good, I hope he isn't."
"He won't be," he assured her. "Barli and his wife don't seem to feel mistreated by him. That's something one could never say of the little Lannister shit."
"Do you think Hagen has already broken his fast?"
Sandor's lip curled at the mention of Edar. He couldn't care less if the outlaw had broken his fast or not, so long as he kept his promise and helped them out once they reached Lorath, but after seeing the way he had tried to tame Stranger, the madman had somehow grudgingly earned a bit of Sandor's respect, so he hadn't objected in the end to him joining them. He didn't seem to be a threat to the little bird, since the man was still crazy about losing his wife, but Sandor hadn't forgotten the hatred the man felt for Nervere. I killed the High Sheep, but that doesn't mean I can't wonder about what he may have done to earn Hagen's hatred.
He shrugged and replied, "He better have. All of us have to meet the sodding bastard to see if he will allow us to enter his service."
Once they reached the kitchens, they found Edar sitting at the wooden table where they had all dined last night, with his legs propped up on a chair, while he picked at his teeth and cleaned his nails in turns with a kitchen knife.
"Oh, hello!" he called at them cheerfully. "Trust you slept well? Personally, it was excellent to once again rest beneath a roof. But the floor was a bit colder than what I would have fancied."
"The floor?" the little bird asked, as she took a seat beside Sandor's. "Why did you sleep on the floor? Didn't Barli take you to a room with a bed?"
The outlaw shrugged. "Yes, but I've found that after years of living in the hills out in the open, my back sort of got used to sleeping on hard rock or solid ground. I can't rest on a mattress anymore."
"Oh," Sansa said, looking sorry. Sandor had known many soldiers who complained of the same. Old soldiers. The ones who live long enough to get used to sleeping on the cold earth. His belly gave a loud noise in protest, as he caught a whiff of the smells of sausages nearby. At least the sodding woman can cook well, I'll give her that.
"I'm used to it. Anyways, are you ready to meet the old bastard? Merra has done nothing but talk about him since I came downstairs."
In that moment, Merra herself appeared, stepping from the courtyard outside into the cavernous kitchen from the door where she had met them last night. She had a wide basket cradled on her fat arms. "So you two finally decided to come down! I was just asking Hagen here if you two always slept so late, but he tells me that he hasn't known you for long."
"We met him on the road to here," Sandor rasped, sparing a look at the woman. "And we're both heading for Lorath, so he stuck to us."
"That sounds like an interesting story," replied the cook, placing the basket on a stool. "I was just outside by the old dusty well washing up some bedcovers. Are you a good washerwoman, Jeyne?"
Sansa's eyed widened as big as saucers, and she answered in a hesitant voice, "W–washerwoman? I–I don't think…"
"Let me see those hands," Merra said, walking over to the little bird. Sandor was trying hard not to snort at the sight of Sansa making up her mind about feeling affronted or not at the way Merra seemed certain that she was. The woman grabbed Sansa's hand and examined it for a moment before she let it go, saying, "My, my, but your hands haven't seen a day's work in your life, girl! They're smooth as a baby's bottom."
Edar smirked as Sansa blushed, clasping her hands together, with a frown on her face.
"I don't think you'll be of much help around the castle. You look too delicate to know how to churn butter or skin a–"
"I thought she was here only to read to the old bugger," Sandor snarled. He didn't like to see Sansa shifting uncomfortably at the thought of doing a servant's work. "I reckon that if you needed a girl to help you with your work, then you can call back one of those girls from the village."
"Now, now, don't take that tone with me, Byan," Merra answered, pointing her wooden spoon at him, not the least intimidated. "I know the girl isn't here to help me out–though if she were inclined to do so, she would get paid for it. No, I was just wondering because there will be nothing else for her to do in this place besides reading to the old man once a day, and she is doomed to get bored soon enough."
"I can help you with sewing," Sansa exclaimed. "I'm very good with needles, and do fine embroidery."
"Embroidery for whom? For me and Barli? For the master? Don't think he would like that. But maybe there is some bedcovers that need mending. And you can make a pretty satin dress for yourself if you stay long enough. I know you said you have other gowns, but there are old yards of different fabrics up in the west wing that were never used."
Merra served them fried bread, blood sausages and a double serving of eggs to break their fast with. Hagen went on cleaning his teeth and nails while the cook went on and on about everything and nothing. She started telling them about the shipwreck that had claimed the life of old Hrolf's daughter, as she prepared her master's hot spiced wine.
Sansa and the outlaw would answer the fat woman; Sandor was too busy enjoying his food and the sight of his little bird that he didn't say a single thing. Sansa knew he was staring at her openly, but she didn't seem to mind it, for her lips parted in a smile whenever their gazes locked.
Before long, Sandor found himself remembering everything that had happened since he'd woken up, playing in his mind how Sansa had woken him up with little kisses on his face. I told her I liked waking up like that, and it's the truth. Fuck, she was his pretty little bird. His.
It still amazed him to think that she would probably be his woman in all ways if they both got their way, and that one day they would have children together. Not even back in Norvos would he have dared consider this a possibility, but now Sandor could feel a change in their relationship. They were growing used to touching and kissing, alternating between chaste kisses and deep ones, and he couldn't be happier with this turn of events. They had spent months living in a close growing intimacy, but he had always tried to keep his feelings at bay, restricting himself as they denied that they were falling for the other, and now that they were embarking upon this new journey as lovers, Sandor found himself reassessing the way he saw things. Under a better light.
Once she and Sandor were done breaking their fast, Merra came over to look at Sansa, nodding approvingly as she said, "Yes, you look pretty. You don't have to fear the master telling you that you have horse teeth, or that the wart on your nose is too distracting a sight for him to pay attention to what you're attempting to read to him. The last girl had a slight stammer, and you can imagine how scared she ended up when she left us, poor dear. Let's just hope you two have a good start."
Sansa stared open-mouthed at Merra, appalled at Hrolf's apparent audacity. No wonder so many girls have abandoned this work. She took hold of Sandor's hand as Merra lead the way to the rooms where the master of the castle had his abode, with a tray on her hands with a flagon and a cup placed on its surface. From what Sansa had understood, Hrolf had turned himself into a recluse in his own home after the death of his daughter, and by the respectful tone in which the cook spoke of the girl, she had been the only person Hrolf had ever really cared for.
They went up a serpentine staircase that led into a vast and empty hall that Sansa was sure had once been a ballroom, before mice and spiders took up residence in its corners and the ceiling. The castle had been built with dark rock, and in the places were no torches were lit or no windows were to be found, it was hard to see where she would place her next step in the dull light of the day. Merra seemed to know her way around, though, but when she grew tired of climbing upstairs, she fell silent, leaving their breaths the only sounds to echo in the narrow corridors and hallways. With the ghostly silence that descended upon their little party, Sansa began to feel just like when she accompanied her brothers into the old tombs of the Kings of Winter and her forbearers. She had been quite scared then, but now that Sandor was walking beside her, his hand in hers, there was nothing to fear.
When they reached the tallest tower of the castle, and had climbed up to the last story, they came upon a wide hallway flanked by great tall pillars. Merra turned to them, clutching her hip as she tried to regain her breath.
"We–we're here, and just in time," she panted. "Now, he is of old noble Lorathi blood, so mind your manners and be polite and respectful. Don't you ever mention anything to him about his daughter or the past. And only address him when he talks to you."
Sandor looked bored and Hagen mildly interested; Sansa nodded vigorously, steeling herself for the man who was waiting for her behind those oaken doors.
"I think it's better if you two wait here," Merra the cook told them, jerking her head in the men's direction. "If the master doesn't want her, then there is no point in introducing you to him. Come now, Jeyne."
And without another word, Merra grabbed Sansa's hand and knocked three times before stepping into the chambers beyond. Sansa didn't even have time to look back one last time at Sandor. When the oaken door closed behind her, she blinked, peering about in the dark at old Hrolf's wide rooms.
There was a grand bed decorated with dark green draperies, and very old but expensive furniture, such as tables and chairs, book shelves, sheepskin maps, tapestries, rugs, and curtains. The master's chambers also possessed a bathing room, bigger than the one in her and Sandor's room. In one corner instead of a wall, a tall entrance to separate the bedroom from the stone balcony had been built, and there is where she caught her first sight of Hrolf.
He had apparently been outside, staring at the sea as if it was his domain, when they entered, and once Merra called out politely to him, Hrolf turned his back on the landscape and entered the dark room as the cook placed the tray she'd been carrying on a small round table. He was a grim, gray thin man, with olive skin that was bitterly lined, a high noble brow, and a hooked nose. His dark shoulder-length hair and goatee beard had long ago turned to white, yet he did not bend over like Sansa recalled Master Pycelle doing. There was still a certain strength and dignity in the way the man held himself, which alluded to his rich birth and upbringing–a sort of proud bearing. He was wearing boots and a dark coat lined with fur, and underneath it she spied a green leather jerkin over an old loose tunic.
Sansa had remained by the door when Merra had stepped towards her master, so Hrolf did not see her at once. His dark green eyes settled on Merra as he said in a harsh strong voice, "So, it's time for you to read to me again, is it?"
"No, my lord. Barli found a new girl in Munne yesterday who agreed to come," Merra replied, bowing. She turned to look at Sansa expectantly.
Sansa stepped into the room, head held high. When Hrolf finally looked at her, she gave a small respectful nod, but didn't bow. I'm not a servant.
Hrolf took a step closer to her, a frown appearing on his hard features. He's probably wondering why I am meeting his gaze so openly, Sansa thought. That's what she would've thought had one of her handmaidens done this.
"This one isn't from Munne," the master of the castle said.
"No, she's from the Sunset Kingdoms. From a place called the Stormlands."
Hrolf quickly looked at Merra, surprised. "From the Seven Kingdoms? What is a Westerosi girl doing so far from home?"
Hrolf wasn't raising his voice, yet Merra looked nervously at Sansa, at a loss for words. Hrolf turned on Sansa, and raising his voice a little, he exclaimed, "Well? Why are you here? What brought you to this part of the world? Why don't you answer?"
Sansa gulped and replied, "I'm seeking to book passage on a ship to Lorath. Until I have the coin for it, I must look for employment, and your man Barli was kind enough to recommend me this position."
Hrolf narrowed his eyes. "My man Barli was kind enough to recommend…? Well, at least you're well-spoken and I can understand your Valyrian. You don't think it tedious to spend your days reading to an old man, do you?"
She shook her head. "I enjoy reading very much. It will please me to improve my High Valyrian by doing so, if you agree to hire my services."
"A well-spoken Westerosi maid who knows High Valyrian. Impressive. Tell me, what is your name, girl?"
"Jeyne," Sansa answered. She had lied about what she felt in King's Landing, and about whom she was in Great Norvos. Lies came quite easily to her now, and it was not going to be hard to create a history for her.
"Jeyne," the old man repeated, stroking his white beard. Sansa noticed that he was wearing a labradorite ring on his right forefinger. That was the only piece of jewelry on him. He turned to look at Merra and said, "There are no other girls, are there?"
The cook shook her head. "Not in Munne. Barli was going to go to the next town yesterday, but he came upon Jeyne and–"
"And thought it would be easier for him to spare himself the trip and return to the castle," Hrolf interrupted, waving his hand. "Yes, yes, I know how that husband of yours thinks. Very well, this one can stay. We'll see how she fares here soon enough."
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. They would be able to stay in this place! No matter how dreary the castle or Hrolf were, they were better options than going from village to village inquiring for work. She tried to hide her smile at those thoughts, and lowered her gaze to her feet, her hands entwined before her.
"Jeyne has come with two companions, my lord," Merra put in.
"Two companions? You know that I don't like you hiring mothers. Their brats want to cling to their skirts all the time and–"
"I'm not a mother," Sansa interrupted, frowning. "My companions are two friends of mine." Sandor was more than that, of course, but if she told that to this old man she was sure he would tell her that she would be a mother soon enough.
Hrolf looked amused at her reaction. "And I take it that you will only accept the position here if I agree on letting them work for me in the castle as well?"
"Indeed," she replied.
The old man looked at his cook as if blaming her for that, but said, "I'm sure they are waiting without. Tell them to come in. Let's have a look at Jeyne's companions."
Merra went quickly to the door and bid Sandor and the outlaw to come inside. As Sandor stepped into the dark chambers, his eyes caught hers, but she smiled at him in reassurance. So far, old Hrolf hadn't been exactly rude to her, so there wasn't much to complain about yet.
Sandor stood with his feet apart, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, making Sansa recall the days when she would be too scared to look at Joffrey's ferocious sworn shield, always standing behind the prince, glaring at everyone. Hagen meanwhile stared appraisingly around the room, and whistled admiringly.
Hrolf looked at them intently. "And what are your names?"
"Hagen," Edar replied, shrugging.
"Byan," Sandor spat, his eyes boring into those of the old master. "We seek to enter your service."
"By your accents, I can tell that you are from Lorath," Hrolf told them, pacing closer to the men, with his hands behind his back, "and from Westeros. It seems that the only way for me to get my wish and get someone to read for me will be if I allow you two to work in my castle. But I wonder what can you do? This one has his arm broken. He is useless."
"Well," interrupted Merra. "You know that Barli isn't getting younger, master. These lads could help him chop firewood, or hobble and brush the horses. Those sort of tasks. And Byan looks like he knows how to use a sword. Maybe he could protect us from–"
"From the rats and the roaches?" asked Hrolf chuckling sourly. "Those are the only guests we have here now, Merra."
"Still," persisted the cook. "It wouldn't be bad to have someone walking the walls or guarding the gate."
Sansa knew Sandor wasn't keen on doing that by the way he grounded his teeth in frustration, yet he thankfully said nothing. Hrolf took a moment before waving his hand in dismissal. "I accept your services."
"How much would you be paying us?" Edar piped in.
"You shall all be paid for your work at the end of every week," Hrolf answered in an annoyed raised tone. "But I warn you not to seek to cheat me, for I keep the numbers of how much is spent in this place, and nothing is ever lightly given. You may go now."
Sansa noticed from the corner of her eye that as Sandor and Edar turned to go, they didn't bow or nod in respect at Hrolf. She was about to follow them, believing that the old man's dismissal also applied to her when he spat, "Not you, girl. You have yet to read to me and see if I am pleased by it. Half an hour has already gone by. You may leave us, Merra. Set a task for the men to work on at once."
Edar walked out of the door, looking at her with a little pity for having to stay in this room longer; Merra nodded in encouragement at her as she ushered Sandor out of the bedroom, while he turned around his neck to get one last glance at her with a scowl.
She smiled encouragingly at him to show she was not afraid, and stared at the oaken doors until they were closed and she was alone with old Hrolf in the dark chamber.
Silence reigned for a long moment before Hrolf gave a snort and pointed to the bookcases. "Fetch the last book on the third shelf. The big dark blue one."
Sansa silently stepped towards the bookcase as Hrolf went to serve himself a cup of spiced mulled wine, muttering under his breath that it had gone cold. She wanted to tell him that it was rude of him not to say "please," but kept silent in the end. Running her finger along the spine of the heavy book, Sansa mouthed the title, A History of Sealore and Shipwright by Captain Zeger. Resigning herself to what promised to be a very boring reading, she looked around the dark chamber and went to sit on an arm chair upholstered in old silk.
Clearing her throat, she straightened her back and opened the book to the first page before she began to read out loud, "Many have been the ones to live before me who claimed to possess the knowledge and skill of what exactly compromises the great art…"
It indeed proved to be quite a tiresome book. Sansa had no special care for the way ships were built, so Captain Zeger's words made no impression on her whatsoever. She tried to read in a clear loud voice as her mind started to wonder if Hrolf's interest on the subject had anything to do with his daughter's death during a shipwreck. It would be better for him to read about old legends or some captain's record on his adventures at sea, she thought as she read about what was the best wood to build a ship with.
"It is advisable to build a ship with either softwood or hardwood," Sansa was reading when Hrolf interrupted her.
"No, no. That is not how you pronounce hardwood. You must emphasize on the "d" more, girl."
Sansa gripped the book by its edges and read that passage again, emphasizing on the silly "d," but Hrolf must have been pleased with her pronunciation now, for he let her go on. After reading forty long pages, the old man at last seemed to decide that he had been read to enough for today. He had spent the time pacing around his rooms, his hands behind his back, looking at the floor with a frowning expression, attentive to every word she uttered as if his life depended on it.
At last, he said, "That'll be enough for today, Jeyne."
Sansa looked up from the old pages, wondering if she should just stand up and leave. He continued, "That was a tiresome read for you, I'm sure, but you'd better get used to such now that you are here. Still, I feel compelled to congratulate you. Not one of those daft cows Barli has brought me managed to read five pages of that book without a single mistake."
Sansa was irritated by his insults on the smallfolk, but she said nonetheless, "Thank you."
Hrolf leaned against a pillar, swaying with the contents of his wine cup as he looked at her. She gazed back at him; he continued. "You are different. How is it that you came to learn High Valyrian, Westerosi girl?"
"I've been living in Essos for more than a year," Sansa lied. "I was forced to learn it to be able to live in the East." In fact, it was Maester Luwin the one who had first taught her the language, and she hadn't been living in Essos for so long a time, but the truth was out of the question.
"Where were you living in Essos before you came here?"
"In Norvos, and before that in Pentos," she replied. There was no use in concealing their previous location when Hagen Edar knew they had come from Great Norvos.
"It makes no matter what brought you to Essos, or why you are traveling with that man with the hideous burns. But you cannot hide from me the fact that you are not lowborn, girl."
Sansa drummed her fingers against the book's cover and stood up. "If what you mean by lowborn is a girl from a village or a farmer's daughter or the like, then no, I am not. But I do not see why my past life is of any consequence."
Something in her tone must have made it clear to Hrolf that she did not wish to continue talking about this, so he gave a shrug of the shoulders and told her, "You are right. It is of no consequence. Be sure to be here tomorrow an hour before midday and not a minute late. I don't like being kept waiting. You have my leave to go."
Sansa placed the blue book once again on its proper place on the bookshelf before heading for the oak doors. She murmured "Good day," and closed the doors behind her, with a creaking sound from them that announced they were old and needed to be oiled.
She leaned against the doors for a moment, staring at the empty hallway, letting out a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad, she thought. Time had passed by slowly inside the dark chambers, and now that her task was done, she had the whole day ahead of her to do with as she pleased.
I wonder where Sandor is. Sansa made her way down to the castle's kitchen, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding at the back of her mind that increased with every step she took in the dreary long corridors, where only her footsteps and her breathing echoed in the walls. Fortunately, she seemed to remember the way to her destination well enough, for she didn't get lost or take any wrong turns. She gathered in the meantime that she had to be careful not to tell Hrolf too much about her past and who she really was, and everything would be all right, and in no time, she and Sandor would have earned enough to be able to board a ship.
When she finally reached the cavernous kitchen, she laughed at the view in front of her. Only Edar the outlaw was in the room, but the sight of him trying to cut peppers and beets, and onions with only one hand was a bit silly.
"I hope that is not the kitchen knife you were using earlier to clean your teeth and nails with," she warned, looking at the blade in his hands.
Hagen snorted. "I think that cook would skin me alive with it if I did that."
"Why are you in the kitchens?" she asked him.
"Because that's all Merra thinks a man with one arm in a sling could do. She told me to cut these, and keep an eye on the boiling water while she went outside to collect some carrots from the garden patch. How was reading to the old man?"
Sansa shrugged, looking around. "It wasn't very bad. He wasn't rude or anything. Have you seen Byan?"
"He wasn't rude to you, but did you hear him call me useless? Anyways, Barli took Byan to the small woods beside the castle, to chop lumber."
Sansa groaned, her spirits falling. She had spied the small wood beside the castle last night when they arrived. It was not a large wood, but she didn't think it wise to go distract Sandor from his duty on their first day here.
"I'll wait for him, I guess," she said, sitting on a chair at the wooden table, missing Sandor very much. Just then, Merra came inside with a basket of carrots under her arm.
When the cook saw her, she wanted to know everything that had happened with Hrolf. Sansa told her everything and in the end the woman smiled. "I think you will do better than the previous girls. If he didn't bite your head off on the first day, he isn't likely going to do so later."
Sansa smiled, because that pleased her. Her mind started to stray as Merra turned her attention to Edar, and told him that he was chopping off the food into too big pieces.
"It's too damn hard with only one hand, woman!" he exclaimed in exasperation, with hurt pride. "I did the best I could."
"You are just as useless as Hrolf said. I think tomorrow we'll put you to till the earth. You are no good in the kitchens."
"I am a man, it is to be expected. My place is not in the kitchens."
After half an hour of their bickering, Sansa was starting to crave for solitude. She liked Merra and the bandit, but she felt she needed either Sandor or silence. Since the former was out of the question for the moment, the latter was the one appealing to her now. She was beginning to consider going to her bedroom when the cook looked at her in understanding and said, "Jeyne, why don't you go down to the beach? This is a solemn castle, but the seashore is pretty enough."
The sea. Yes that sounds lovely, she thought, her spirits rising. "I would have to leave the castle and walk down the road before I came to the slope that takes me to the shore, wouldn't I?"
Barli had told them that was the way to the beach last night, and she didn't feel keen on leaving the security of the castle all by herself. If Sandor doesn't take too long, maybe I can wait for him and we can then walk together down to the sea.
Merra cleaned her hands on the apron. "There's another way. A shortcut of sorts. Follow me, I'll show you."
Curiosity got the better of her, and with a nod at a sullen Edar who had just cut his finger with a knife, Sansa followed Merra out of the kitchen to the stone courtyard. They turned to the left, past the gates, and walked across an old shriveled garden. In one of its corners, a small gate hidden by overgrown bushes awaited.
Merra opened it with a key. "If you follow these stairs, it'll take you directly to the beach. Be careful, because they are quite narrow. Once you are at the bottom, there won't be anything to worry about. No one from Munne ever comes so close to the shadow of the castle. Even the sailors keep their fishing nets well away. They fear the master very much, the silly fools."
No wonder, considering what he thinks of them. Sansa looked at the stairs dubiously for a moment, and shook her head. She was being silly. Nothing would happen to her. Merra must have sensed her hesitation, for she said, "Once Byan is done with the wood and if there isn't another task for him, I'll send him this way."
"Thank you," Sansa told the cook before she left. Taking a deep breath, she looked before her. The shortcut was a long flight of stairs attached to the side of the cliff upon which the castle was perched, with high walls on both sides, and some dead trees' branches hanging over them. The stairs were many, long and narrow, but Sansa made her way with care and she didn't slip once. When she finally reached the bottom stairs, she stepped into the sand and looked out at the sea before her. "How beautiful!"
She turned her face up to look at the sky and saw sea gulls flying, and she felt a strong wind in her hair. Sansa closed her eyes, letting the sound of the waves crashing against the bottom of the cliff a short distance away take over her mind. A bare stretch of deserted beach was to her left, and that is where she headed to, smiling. She took off her shoes so she could feel the sand and the water with her bare feet.
After walking like that for a moment, she looked back, but when she was confident no one was seeing her, she started to run. It was silly and childish, but she wanted to behave like that if only for a moment. She ran as fast as she could along the coastline, till she was panting and her cheeks were flushed.
I don't want to go back just yet, she realized as she gazed up at the castle. Her eyes fell on the highest tower, where she had spent the morning with old Hrolf, and continued to walk down the seashore, pondering over what a strange mystery of a man the master of the castle was.
Before long, she came upon a small wooden cottage in the middle of the beach, with the front door overlooking the sea. It was clearly old and abandoned, but it looked very pretty. It must surely be part of Hrolf's lands. She doubted the man had allowed people who didn't belong to his household to settle so close to his castle. She stared at it for a moment before her making up her mind. Making her way towards it, she noticed a short flight of steps led to the small porch that served as entrance to the little house and the veranda surrounding on all sides. It was only one story high, but there was a chimney on the roof and a couple of windows to the side. It was large of length and short of width.
Sansa climbed the stairs hesitantly, fearing the wood was rotten and would break in two with the slightest weight upon it, but nothing happened. They only creaked a little. Gulping, she stepped into the roofed veranda and peered into one of the windows, noticing that boxes and old furniture were stored inside. Glancing back at the sea, she smiled, liking the view from here. She placed her hand on the balustrade that surrounded the veranda, and quickly took her hand away when she saw how dirty it was.
It looks like no one has lived here for years. She made her way down the front steps, and though she knew it would only get her messy, she lay back on the ground, eyes closed. Now that her view was gone, the sounds all around her turned acute, as well as her sense of touch. The rough scratchy sand clung to her wet feet and was starting to get into her gown, but Sansa Stark stayed where she was, letting a state of peace fall over her.
Nothing troubled her mind during those moments. She was living a simple life presently. She felt happy and calm in the knowledge that the days ahead of her were going to be peaceful and enjoyable. After a very long time, Sansa sat up, brushing away the sand from her skirts and her hands, afraid to even touch her hair, for it would be covered in sand. I should have brought a blanket with me. She didn't know for certain how long she sat there, lost in thought, but she was sure that it was quite a while.
When the sun started to go down, she decided it was time to return to the castle. She looked one last time at the cottage and headed back the way she'd come, retracing her footprints upon the sand. Just as she was reaching the stone stairs, she saw Sandor coming down. There was an alert expression on his burned features, and she noticed him loosening his sword on its scabbard.
"Sansa, where have you been?" he roared, reaching her, relief clear on his face.
Sansa smiled. "I found a lovely cottage a very short distance away. Come, let me show it to you."
"Another time," he said, refusing to move from where he stood as she tugged at his hand. "Fuck, little bird, you gave me a fright. I return from the woods and the bloody cook tells me you've been down here for hours alone. What if someone–"
"Don't worry, the villagers are afraid of Hrolf, no one ever comes here," she explained, shaking sand from her hair. "I'm sorry I lost track of time, but it was wonderful to sit by the sea and just–just rest, you know. To forget everything for a moment, and let the sound of the sea take over your mind, and–"
Sandor laughed in jest. "You are a crazy little bird."
She giggled. "I believe I've missed lunch."
"Me too. I cut so much wood that it took me and Barli all day to bring it all back to the castle. How was reading for that old sick bastard?"
"It wasn't bad," she said, holding Sandor's hand. "Come, sit here with me for a moment before we go back."
After looking at her face for a moment, he nodded and let her lead him to a place where the sea almost touched them. They sat down, Sandor cross-legged and she preferred to kneel. Sansa told him how her appointment with Hrolf had gone, and in the end Sandor's lip started to twitch. "As long as he doesn't insult you or worse, I guess it isn't so bad that you only have to read to him."
He sounded tired, and she felt for him at that moment for some reason. Wishing to cheer him up, Sansa crawled behind him, and straightening up, she began to knead the tension from his shoulder blades, marveling at how muscled he was and the breadth of his shoulders.
"Better?" she asked him when she was done, despite him never having said he didn't feel well.
"Much better, bird."
Sansa threw her arms around him from behind, staring out at the sea. Sandor's large hands held her own in front of him. His touch was gentle, but Sansa knew just how deadly the hands that held her own could be.
She pressed herself against Sandor's hard wide back as he asked her, "What are you thinking?"
"That I am happy to be here with you now," she answered truthfully. "And you?"
"About something my grandfather once told me. I never believed his words, but now I see he was right."
"What did he tell you?" she asked him. Sansa knew Sandor didn't mind talking to her about his past–painful experiences or good memories.
Sandor gazed at the ocean for a moment. "He said that the most important part in anyone's life is who you are sharing it with."
Sansa smiled, at a loss for words. Without thinking, she leaned down and, closing her eyes, she gently bit Sandor's good ear, grazing the earlobe with her perfect white teeth. She didn't know why she did it, but it just felt right.
"I am happy to be sharing my life with you too," she murmured, understanding what her big man was trying to tell her, as he stiffened underneath her when she sucked at his earlobe again.
Suddenly, he threw his wide arms behind him, encircling her as he rasped, "Hold still."
"Why?" she wondered, as Sandor stood up. He had meant for her to ride his back as he made his way to the shortcut, and so she clung to him, laughing.
Sandor noticed that the little bird was quiet for the rest of the day. There's something on her mind, he knew at once. He wanted to ask her what it was, but he knew he wouldn't get a chance to do so till they were in bed. Once they had returned to the castle, Sansa offered Merra her help to cook dinner, so Sandor went to take a long hot bath in the meantime. It had felt good to have the physical activity of chopping firewood, but now he was sore and tired. He didn't mind the pain, though. He welcomed it. Sandor had chopped about twenty times more firewood than they needed, but he had figured that if he cut enough, then they wouldn't set him to do so again for many days–days which he could spend in the castle with his little bird, not in the woods with old Barli for company. After his bath, Sansa said it was her turn to take one. He was clean already, but the moment he saw her leave the kitchens he could not help the thought of joining her in her bath from flashing across his mind.
Instead he went off to the stables to visit Stranger.
"Leave my bloody warhorse alone," he spat the moment he saw Hagen Edar trying to peer into the stables, too afraid to get inside with the warhorse being housed there.
The buggering bastard jumped at the sound of his snarling voice. "I can't help it! I was walking across the stone courtyard when I met his eyes, and they just rooted me to the spot. Hasn't it ever happened to you?"
"No," Sandor snarled, walking past the man into Stranger's stall. "I was never fool or crazy enough to try and tame him like you did–scaring the wits out of him while I set my dogs on him. Now bugger off. I'm tired of talking to you."
"You can be quite an unpleasant fellow at times, you know," Edar shot back, leaving with a laugh. But Sandor's attention was already caught by his black destrier. He brushed his horse's coat, and then he brushed Nan's. When he was done, he stepped outside of the stables and saw Barli's white and black Sheppard dog heading towards him. When the dog sniffed his feet, Sandor scratched his ear.
During dinner that night, Sansa asked Merra about that cabin she'd told him earlier she'd found. The woman said that it had once been a playhouse for Hrolf's daughter, and a favorite retreat of hers, but since her death it had been abandoned. Sansa nodded and went quiet, and Sandor knew at once what was occupying her thoughts.
"You are thinking on living there, aren't you?" he asked her the moment they closed the door to their bedroom, retiring for the day. "You want to live in that cabin on the beach."
Sansa looked at him, surprised, but ended up smiling. "How did you know?"
"I pay attention. And I know you too well."
The little bird closed the doors to the stone terrace. "Wouldn't you like living there? I mean, I guess we would spend most of the day here in the castle. But it would be so nice to go there every night and be completely alone."
He arched his eyebrow at her. Now that he thought of it, it didn't sound so bad. We would be alone and free to do whatever we wanted down there. Sandor wondered if that had occurred to Sansa as well. He looked at her, but when her eyes met his she dropped her gaze at once, blushing.
Sandor laughed, sitting on the bed as he started taking off his boots. "You think the old man will let you stay in the place where his daughter used to play?"
Sansa sat on the bed as well and got under the furs. She looked defeated, but it was true that he knew her too well. Sandor knew Sansa wasn't going to let go of her idea of living with him in the cabin by the sea so easily.
Sansa didn't know why, but she felt determined to at least try and see if there was a small chance of living in that little cottage by the beach for as long a time as they were to remain here. Something in it appealed to her greatly, and she knew it was not going to be an easy task to convince Hrolf to allow the place to be used again. Sansa had tried smiling at the old man whenever she met his cold green eyes, in an attempt to win his favor. She wasn't quite sure she had succeeded.
That had been this morning. Presently, she and Sandor had stolen away to the seashore to watch the sun go down. They had settled relatively close to the shortcut from the castle, and had spread a large blanket upon the ground, so that they could rest on it without getting sand on their clothes. Sansa had also brought down a basket with sweet biscuits straight from the oven, and a bottle of buttermilk. Sandor had preferred to bring a flagon of wine with him after he'd gone off to have a look at the wine cellar.
Sansa was nibbling at a biscuit as she rested on her belly, the plate of food before her, staring at the sea and the red and pink sunset. Sandor had rested his head on her back, and was absentmindedly scratching the head of Barli's large dog, which had apparently taken a quick fondness for Sandor and had followed him down the long narrow steps. She remembered him telling her once that he liked dogs better than knights. It felt nice that they could be together and not talk much or long, without growing bored of each other's company.
At one point, she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew her face was pressed against the blanket as she noticed that night had fallen. She waved her hair out of the way as she felt Barli's dog licking her fingers, and looked around, only to see that Sandor's tunic and boots were resting beside her, but of the owner there was no sign.
With a frown, Sansa saw huge footprints leading towards the ocean, till they disappeared at the spot where the water reached the sand. She was still feeling a bit drowsy, so the only emotion that took hold of her was momentary confusion before she saw Sandor coming out of the sea, wearing nothing but his breeches, his hair wet as water ran down his beautiful, muscled and broad chest.
It wasn't as if she had never seen him like this before. She had rested her head upon that same chest for nights on end as she fell asleep with Sandor beside her, but since she rarely got to see Sandor without his clothes on, it was always a very welcoming sight to see what lay underneath the armor or the tunics.
"I didn't know you liked to swim," she told him, unable to take her eyes away from him as he reached her, still sitting on the blanket. For some reason, she was nervous.
Sandor looked down at her for a moment, aware of the way her eyes were slowly tracing every line and curve and inch of his bare chest and powerful wide arms, before he grinned and pulled on his tunic, shivering.
Sansa felt crestfallen as she saw him shrug, before answering, "I've always liked it, since I was a boy and visited Lannisport. I just never got the chance to do so after I went to live in King's Landing."
She quickly stood up, grabbing the blanket she'd been resting on. "I–I didn't know that."
"Now you do," he replied kindly, the twisted mass of his burns visible even in the gathering dark. Sansa stepped towards him. "You're going to catch a cold. That water is freezing."
She meant only to offer him the blanket, but instead she found herself wrapping it around him herself. Once the blanket was around him, and he was clutching it to his chest, Sansa's eyes fell on the sea drops that were running down his neck, into the V opening of his tunic, disappearing from sight as they crossed the line where his hair started.
Sansa unconsciously took a step forward and placed her hand on Sandor's chest, feeling the wet tunic underneath her touch. He was standing still, looking down at her silently, as her hand ran down the ripples of his muscled chest, marveling at how hard his strong body was. She didn't realize she was holding her breath, intent on sliding her right hand across him, until she finally looked up and met his grey stare. I want to touch him underneath his tunic, she realized as her heart skipped a beat. The water on his clothes was cold, and yet her hand was burning.
What am I doing? She finally asked herself. He must think me a crazy little bird, her inexperience told her. But something in Sandor's eyes made her realize something important in that moment. Sandor was hers. She'd chosen him. She wanted him. He is the man who is going to be my husband and is going to take my maidenhead, and be the father of my children. Don't shy away from him now. He wasn't judging her. In fact, he was far from doing that.
Listening to her conscience, Sansa did not turn around to head back to the castle's warmth with an embarrassed blush creeping on her face. No, instead, she dropped her doubts and reservations and without a word as the tension left her body, Sansa threw her arms around Sandor's neck as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping them both in the blanket.
She pressed her body against his wet one, dampening the front of her gown as he lowered his neck and she raised hers and their lips were kissing, passionately and desperately, like they had done at their house at The Three Bells. She felt his need against her stomach at one point, but that only made her moan deeply into the kiss and encouraged her to kiss him harder, not to gasp away in surprise. When they broke apart, Sansa smiled sweetly at her love. He rasped with a smirk as he stroked her neck, "I think we are now both going to catch a cold, little bird."
The dog barked loudly at them. With the stars and the moon looking down on them, they made their way up to the castle.
A/N: So… hope you like this chapter! Please review if you like. I'm going back to Uni tomorrow, please keep your fingers crossed everything turns out well ;') Thanks so much for reading!