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.
*Girls, onborrowedwings & nysandra, you know how thankful I am to you! :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.
32. The Ruins
Sandor nodded, remembering the conversations he'd had with the little bird about what kind of a man Bryar Edar would turn out to be. Yet now that he looked with a little surprise at the woman, Sandor wondered how he hadn't realized before that she was Hagen's relative. They could almost pass off as twins.
"We thought you were a man," Sandor told her.
She snorted at that. "I'm not surprised. I'm sure my big brother didn't go into any details about me."
And with that, she turned her back on him and returned to have a word with her sellswords. Probably to warn them to still keep an eye on us. Her brother, Sandor saw, was rolling his eyes at the way the Edar family's steward was still insisting that he and Sansa ought to marry today, before any word of his affair reached anyone's ears.
Sandor strode over to the little bird's side, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder, while his free hand still held Stranger's reins in a tight grip. He was getting sick of hearing that Sansa and the bandit were lovers, and surely this would finally shut up that steward's fucking mouth.
It was still amusing, though, to see how red Sansa had turned, and the way she frowned as she looked up at him now was a pretty sight, with Nan shaking her head behind her mistress.
"He thinks I'm with Hagen," she said, indignantly in the Common Tongue. "That I'm his woman, and–"
"You're mine," he rasped, squeezing her shoulder, before lying and saying, "I don't give a shit what this sodding idiot thinks."
Sansa smiled a little, but Sandor was not pleased. He fixed his gaze on Amon, who had finally stopped talking, and was looking with narrowed eyes at the hand Sansa had tenderly raised to his, taking in the sight of her first, and then of Sandor. Sandor thought he probably knew what the old man was thinking. I know how we look together.
"Is this man bothering you?" he asked Sansa loudly in High Valyrian, jerking his head at Amon, his hand dropping from her shoulder so he could reach for the pommel of his sword.
"No," Hagen answered quickly, before Sansa could open her lips, fearing Sandor would suddenly attack the old bugger. "No, Byan. It's just a misunderstanding. This is Amon, my family's steward. Remember I talked to you about him? Well, the fool here thinks me and Jeyne are–are together, despite us denying it fifty times."
"So this is your famous wet-nurse, is it?" Sandor mocked. "He better not mistake Jeyne for a whore again, unless he wants my sword through his belly."
Amon puffed up with hurt pride at his threat. "Bryar's sellswords would kill you before you could draw your blade out."
Sandor rasped a laugh, choking with contempt. "Want to see if I can prove you wrong, old man?"
"I'm with Byan, Amon," Sansa said suddenly, moving closer to Sandor, to intervene. "But whatever my relationship with this man is, it should not be of your concern. We are Hagen's friends, and bear you no ill will."
Hagen nodded, his dark eyes glancing quickly at the hand Sandor still had on the pommel of his longsword.
After a few moments, the old bastard seemed to relent and said, "I'm sorry if I offended you, Jeyne. But understand that I just couldn't let Hagen return to his father's roof without being married if he was with you. I suffered too much anxiety with Bryar's affairs before marriage. I do not think I would be able to survive Hagen doing the same now."
"It's all right," Sansa said with relief. "I do understand."
She looked up at Sandor, with a clear smile on her beautiful face, making him wonder if it shouldn't be better for them to be married before they arrived at Westeros, in order to avoid anyone calling the little bird the dog's bitch, and even worse, calling her that to her face.
Sansa smiled at her big man, glad that a fight right here on the street had been avoided; his features were finally relaxing, and he gave her a nod she knew meant that he would let this matter rest. The sellswords that were still staring at them looked very threatening, and while Sandor was the best swordsman she had ever met, he was still outnumbered. It would have been horrible to draw blood the moment they first stepped into Lorath, and from someone as dear to Hagen as Amon.
Despite being a little affronted at the way the steward had seemed determined and adamant that the only thing that could explain why she was with Hagen alone on the harbor was that she was his woman, Sansa had quickly noticed that there was a deep love between him and Edar.
I am a Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, she thought. It had angered her that she had been mistaken for Hagen's mistress, but now, as Sandor's burned features softened as he looked down at her, Sansa wondered if the thought of belonging to another man that was not him had also been a reason for why she'd been cross. We may have lived as man and wife for months, but I am not yet Sandor's woman in the sense Amon meant… The thread of fleeting possibilities that followed those silent words made Sansa blush.
When she looked back at Hagen and Amon, she saw a woman stepping up between them, with an arched eyebrow and arms crossed before her, as her dark eyes regarded the outlaw from head to foot, remarking, "You look better than the last time we met, brother."
Hagen's face lit up. "Bryar!" he exclaimed, giving the woman who was apparently his sister a hug.
Oh, gods, so this is Bryar, hen? Sansa wondered, surprised, looking at the woman before her with wide eyes. But there was no mistake, since Bryar Edar looked very much like her brother. They were both lean and had the same dark merry eyes and wiry blonde hair, but she was shorter than him and even shorter than Sansa. Sansa noticed that Bryar was also wearing men's clothes, which explained why she blended so well among her sellswords, and attracted less attention. There was a dagger on her hip as well. She isn't pretty, Sansa concluded, but there is a boldness to her that draws the eye. Sansa almost laughed as she recalled thinking Bryar would look like Gregor Clegane.
"So you've come home. Is it just a visit or are you finally planning on giving up your mad quest, brother?"
Sansa saw the way those words affected Hagen. The grief of learning he would never be able to avenge his late wife still haunted him. The man looked at his feet, running a hand through his hair before answering, "Arman Nervere is dead, Bryar, and unfortunately not by my hand. Byan and Jeyne here saw him die at some public combat."
Amon the steward gasped at the news, and Bryar stared at her brother as if she couldn't believe what he had just said. She turned her eyes to regard Sansa and Sandor for a moment, before placing her hand on the bandit's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Hagen. You've always known my views on the matter, but I can also imagine how you must be feeling."
Hagen nodded, not wishing to keep on talking about this. "I'm forgetting my manners. Bryar, these are my friends, Jeyne and Byan from Westeros. I am in their debt."
Sansa smiled at Hagen's sister, who only nodded at them, saying. "If what my brother says is true, then I should offer the hospitality of our house to you both."
"Thank you, my lady. That is very kind of you," Sansa replied. "Your brother is a good man."
Bryar snorted at that. "I guess he is, in a way. I am eager to hear what happened between you two and Hagen, but I'm afraid it will not be possible for many moons. You must all be tired after your journey. Please, Amon, take them to The Ruins and make sure they feel comfortable."
"The Ruins?" Sandor asked, frowning.
"That's the name of our home," Hagen answered, smiling at how smoothly this introduction was turning out. "What do you mean by many moons, sister? Surely you aren't going away just when I've come home?"
"I must," she answered, looking back at her hired sellswords by the covered corner of a warehouse. "I'm waiting for a fat-bellied whaling ship that's taking me to Ibben for supplies."
Hagen's face fell at those words. "I see. And for how long will you be away?"
"A month or more. Don't know yet. But stop looking so sad face, brother, it is your fault. Had you sent word of your coming to me, I may have delayed the journey."
Hagen shouldered his sister affectionately and laughed, while old Amon shook his head in disapproval at the siblings.
"Away with you now," Bryar told them, her sharp features turning serious. "I see The Cold Wind on the horizon."
And with that she walked away from their little party, shouting a command to her hired swords to join her. Sansa saw a tall handsome-looking man join Bryar's side and whisper something in her ear that made her laugh as they headed for the ship.
"That's Bryar's new lover, Sym," old Amon told Hagen in a whisper. "They met three months ago."
Sansa's mouth dropped open at the way the Lorathi didn't seem to mind discussing each other's lovers openly, even when there were strangers present.
"It was easier for her to bear Reeve's death. She's always been stronger than me, or I would have let go of Sinan's memory long ago."
"You were better than your sister once, Hagen. In Norvos," the steward pointed out.
"I was indeed a better merchant than an outlaw, I think, but that was long ago," Hagen replied in a serious tone.
"Who is Reeve?" Sansa couldn't help but ask.
"He was a nobleman and Bryar's lover for years before they got married. He died some years ago," Hagen answered her. "They never had any children together."
The steward coughed and said, "She really missed you, you know. And needed you when the man died."
Hagen Edar took a moment before answering, "I missed her too. We should get going."
Hagen beckoned Sandor and Sansa to follow him, as he and his steward led the way away from the harbor of Lorath into the city, the provisions Amon had come to buy now forgotten. Sansa exchanged a look with Sandor, and giggled when she felt a hot breath on her ear. Nan was playing with her hair. She stroked her mare's muzzle as Sandor stepped closer to her, and asked her if she wanted to walk or ride.
"Let's walk, please," she answered, starting to lead Nan down the street by the reins, while Sandor looked all around him, rigid and with a fierce expression on his face, as he loosened his sword in its scabbard.
"Stay close, little bird."
"What do you think of Hagen's family?" she asked him.
"I think the steward is an idiot, and Bryar is much saner than Hagen, but not as friendly as her brother. Do you want to stay at their house or look for an inn, little bird?"
"At their house would be more prudent," she replied, realizing that Sandor was also the sort of man who didn't mind admitting that she was more accomplished than him in some regards. I wonder what he would say to this comparison he shares with Hagen. "They won't charge us for the food or the roof over our heads, or the baths." If I wanted to do some task similar to Bryar's, I know Sandor wouldn't mind it one bit so long as he was sure I was safe. This was another trait of her big man she hadn't dwelt upon much, but which she appreciated. Sandor would allow her to take her place as the King in the North's sister, and not try to rob her from whatever duty she had to perform under that title. He would encourage me as he did in King's Landing, when he told me to stop chirping the sweet words my septa taught me and made me say what I was really thinking.
Sandor smirked at her, staring at her face and her hair. "Aye, I think we both need to clean up. I stink."
Sansa shook her head, giving a resigned laugh. "Maybe you do, but I am sure I look just as dreadful as when we came out of the Kingswood."
She could still recall the scratches on her arms, and the twigs on the tangles of her auburn locks from that day. My face was dirty and my beautiful gown torn all over. Her current dress was a little dirty and crumbled, but not torn at least.
"We've come a long way from that day, haven't we?" Sandor pointed out thoughtfully in his deep voice.
Sansa nodded, remembering the voyage aboard The Summer Bird and their stay at Pentos; the long Valyrian roads they'd traveled, and their home and experience at Great Norvos; their escape across the Hills of Norvos, and the old castle by Lorath Bay. "We have."
They fell silent after that, as they started looking around them at the Free City of Lorath, making Sansa wish she could have eyes on the back of her head and on her sides, so she could take in all the details of her surroundings. This place was very different from any other that Sansa had visited in Essos.
Beyond the harbor and the warehouses that surrounded Lorath like a fortress, the waters of the Shivering Sea passed through the streets and heart of the city in wide canals that had bridges, both covered and uncovered, connecting the squares together. Sansa and her companions were walking down a very wide and long street, as Hagen explained to them that the principal streets were so big that thirty riders could ride abreast upon them. Skinny trees decorated the right side of the street, and a small market had been erected on the left where various Lorathi were spending their time, seated by small tables with the river before them, as both men and women fetched them drinks and food. Sansa smiled as she imagined spending some time here, with Sandor.
As they left the main street by the wide canal behind, Sansa noticed that the streets were becoming smaller, with houses built so closely together that they shared the same walls. Most of the homes had a flat roof and a small garden at the front of the house, and the top of a few small towers scattered here and there at a distance were the only tall structures here. While they passed a building in the middle of a large square that was hosting a mummer's show, Sandor asked Hagen what some structures that looked like the warehouses by the docks were, and was told that they used to indeed be warehouses, but were now used as a place where many families could live together.
"My family lived in one of those buildings once, along with three other families," he commented.
Lorathi, Sansa noticed, didn't seem inclined to decorate their city the way other places were. It was as big as Pentos or Norvos, and even if there were guild halls, alleys, drinking halls, and bath houses seen beside the canals, some of which were already frozen under winter's grip, this city didn't seem interested in frivolity and showing off their wealth. There wasn't much color to the buildings, and they all looked to be the same as far as Sansa's eyes could see. A few statues on their plinths were scattered here and there, but they were plain and simple work. There were fountains, but not so they could make the landscape pretty, they just served for the people to come and wash their clothes in them. This place resembles White Harbor. Even in the air. It's clean and cold. It smells of the North. Sansa had a feeling she was going to enjoy life here.
She focused her attention on the Lorathi walking around her and noticed that men wore furs and women had scarcely a piece of jewelry on them. The people paid them all curious glances, and some even avoided their eyes when Sandor looked at them, but there were some men and a woman who recognized Hagen and started talking to him, a smile on their faces. When they stopped right beside Edar and Amon as they waited for a small cart driven by a man to pass by, Sandor let his fingers brush against the length of hers affectionately, as if looking for a sign of reassurance from her, sending a small twinkling feeling up her arm. Sansa returned the gesture, her own fingers caressing Sandor's with a smile.
After walking for more than half an hour, Sansa was starting to consider riding Nan instead of walking when Sandor snarled at Edar to tell them how far must they still go.
"Oh, it's not long at all now," the bandit answered, pointing ahead of him to the top of a very small gentle slope a short distance away, where a large house stood at its top like some bird of prey perched upon some rock beside the sea. "That big house over there, that's The Ruins."
"Why do you call it like that?" she asked, curious.
"Apparently my great-grandfather was the one who named it that," Hagen replied, looking back at her. "There's this story about how, when he was just a boy living in the streets, he came upon the big house, and vowed to himself he would one day be rich enough to buy it."
At least the Edar's aren't shy of telling everyone about their true origins, Sansa thought, believing that not many people in the Seven Kingdoms would be this honest.
"But that doesn't explain why your family calls it The Ruins," Sansa pointed out.
"Because, when my great-grandfather was a boy, the house was just some abandoned ruin. Long ago, a rich family of noble Lorathi blood had lived there, but when they abandoned it for an even bigger house, they stopped taking care of this one. My great-grandfather saw some beauty in the old building, though, and wanted to be a part of what it represented. And so he went to work with a merchant at one of the warehouses, and over the years he became the most prominent man in the business and bought the house, naming it The Ruins. I wasn't born before he died, but my father said that when his time came, he died with a content smile on his face."
"Didn't he fix the house once he bought it?" Sandor asked, looking at the outlaw. "From here it still looks like some old ruins to me."
"Aye, they do, don't they?" put in old Amon. "I told Hagen and Bryar and their father to fix it many times, but all these Edars seem to like it the way it is. Bryar only tells me to run along as if I were a young boy whenever I mention the matter to her."
Hagen put his arm affectionately around his steward, and kindly returned his attention to him. Sansa and Sandor exchanged a look, not very sure what to make of this family tale. Amon and Edar walked down an alley to a street beside the small coastline of Lorath, a short distance away from where the harbor ended. Sansa saw many Lorathi strolling leisurely down the beach in the gathering dusk of late afternoon; small children and even some dogs played by the sea. It was a pretty sight.
A few steps down the road, they came upon the beginning of a tall red wall that enclosed the land belonging to Hagen's family. The entrance to The Ruins was a very tall door with three wide steps, and two statues flanking its side like sentinels. The steps and the statues were covered in green moss and looked very old. The entrance had a long pitched roof, with one short side and one very long side, erected by thick columns, also covered in moss.
Hagen climbed the steps enthusiastically, peering inside to the wonders beyond the entrance and sighed deeply. He then turned around, hand on his hips, and said, "Welcome to my home."
He looks so happy. I wonder if I will be so composed when I lay eyes upon Winterfell's old grey walls again. Sansa followed the steward, with Sandor bringing up the rear, both of them noticing that the entrance was thankfully wide enough for Stranger and Nan to pass through it. She let out a sigh just as Edar had done when she caught sight of The Ruins at long last. A very large garden, covered here and there with snow, surrounded the house, which had been erected in the middle of the family's lands, decorated with trees, bushes, flowers, all of which looked to have been allowed to overgrow more than was necessary. Birds were singing in the tree tops, and dogs and even some chickens could be heard some short distance away. The house itself looked to Sansa like some Westerosi castle, since it had towers at its side and was built of stone. It was two stories high and wide of both length and width. It also had many windows and a domed roof at the top.
"Where can we house the horses?" Sandor rasped.
Amon put two fingers into his mouth and whistled, quite loudly for a man in his sixties. Three skinny boys appeared from a corner of the house, followed by a trail of barking dogs at their heels. They stopped before their party, gawking at the sight of Sandor, failing to recognize that their master's brother was home.
"Boys, take the horses to the stable. See that they are fed and taken care of."
The bravest of the boys nodded and stepped forward to take Stranger's reins, but Sandor growled, "Unless you fancy a black eye and your ear bitten off, you'll show me the way to the stables."
Sansa passed Nan's reins to another boy, with a small apologetic smile, and watched as Sandor followed the boys to a corner of the garden where an old little shack that served as the stables.
"Byan saved my life when that black horse almost killed me, you know," Hagen told Amon.
The steward looked with wide scared eyes at his favorite family member as Edar recalled the night he had been caught by the caravan thanks to Stranger, and Sandor had been the one to convince everyone they shouldn't hang the outlaw straight away. Amon shook his head in disapproval at Hagen, and muttered under his breath all the way across the garden once Sandor returned with their saddles under his arms, and they began to walk towards the house.
Amon opened the wide tall doors and stepped inside, followed by the others. When Sansa stepped across the threshold, her mouth dropped open a little, all of their footsteps echoing. A very tall and vast hall was before them, with a candelabrum and colored leaded glass on the windows that decorated the walls all the way up to the domed ceiling that had old peeled off paintings on the inside for decoration. It was a dark hall, with only a long dining table and chairs for decoration, and many doors on the sides that led to corridors that took you to the kitchens, the garden behind the house, or some solar. A serpentine staircase was erected in one corner, which went up to the bedrooms as well.
Two elderly women entered the hall by a side door just as Amon closed the front ones behind Sansa, Sandor and Hagen. They ran to hug Hagen, tears appearing in their eyes the moment they saw him, while he laughed and hugged them tightly back. Amon waited for them to part before instructing them to ready the rooms in the left wing.
"No, Amon," Hagen said, casting a knowing look at Sandor and Sansa, standing by the door silently. "Give my friends the room by the sea. I think they would prefer that one."
Sandor narrowed his eyes at the outlaw, but Edar only laughed. "You'll see why soon enough. Jeyne, Byan, please follow Amon. He will lead you to your room. We will meet at dinner time."
Sansa nodded and said, "Thank you, Hagen. Your hall is very hospitable."
Edar grinned. "You should thank Amon. This old bugger is the one responsible for how smoothly things run in this place."
And with a short nod he turned around and climbed the staircase, two steps at a time.
Amon spared her and Sandor a look before saying, "Follow me. Leave your saddlebags here. I will have them sent to your room at once after you've taken a look at it and seen if you like it."
Sandor put the saddles on the ground carefully, and sparing one last look at them, he placed his hand on the small of Sansa's back, and strode behind her as she started to follow Amon across the hall. The old man opened the door to the garden behind the house, and led them across it, passed a small fountain to the right corner of the Edar's land a short distance away from the main house. A flight of stone quarry stairs was before them, that twisted to the right and onto a covered passageway with a wall on one side, and rectangular windowpanes on the other that overlooked the garden below. The windows had no glass on them but were covered with ivy instead. The waves of the sea could be heard from here.
"Here we are," said the steward, unlocking the dark door at the end of the passageway. "This is the room."
He stepped aside, and Sansa quickly entered their bedroom, a smile on her face, her heart beating excitedly for some reason. Sandor strode inside as well and they both looked around them silently, taking in the place where they would be sleeping for a time.
How lovely, Sansa thought, clapping her hands together, her eyes taking in the big hearth, the four posted bed with red velvet curtains, a big wooden round bathtub, a small table in a corner with a chair, some rugs scattered on the floor, a large tapestry and a mirror as decoration to the walls. The bedroom had a pyramid roof, and a window set in the wall across from the door. Sansa walked over to it and peered outside, eager to see the view from here. Her eyes saw the beach which she had spied earlier, filled with Lorathi spending away their afternoon, with the cold sea to her left if she craned her neck a little to the right.
"You like it?" Sandor asked her, with a grin. She knew he could already tell that she did, and very much.
She nodded and said, "And you?"
"It'll do. Steward, you said something about having our belongings sent to us at once if we agreed to this room. We do. Have the saddles sent here at once."
Amon took a moment to answer Sandor, looking daggers up at him. "Master Hagen said that you saved his life. Thank you."
Sansa saw how Sandor blinked, surprised at this turn of events. Her big man stared at the steward, at a loss to what to say. Finally, he simply shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "It was nothing."
Amon smiled at Sandor and bowed to Sansa, before closing the bedroom door behind him, promising them to have their saddles sent up at once and telling them that dinner would be ready soon. When they were left alone, Sansa smiled at Sandor and went to sit on the bed, unlacing her riding boots as she remarked, "That was very nice of Amon, and of you, even if you both forgot that it was thanks to Stranger that Hagen's life was in danger in the first place."
Sandor grinned in amusement. Sansa noticed that his grey eyes were regarding her hungrily. She bent her head down, resuming taking off her boots, her long hair falling about her face in auburn curtains that concealed her smile. She always felt butterflies in her tummy when Sandor looked at her like that.
He sat down, his warm strong body comforting beside hers. After a moment, she felt his hand on the nape of her neck, making her drop her riding boot to the floor, as he buried his hand in her hair. Then he bent his head to try and catch her eye. Sansa looked at him through the hair that was curtaining her face, and straightened up when she saw that Sandor was no longer smiling.
"What is it?" she asked him after an awkward momentary silence, placing her hand on his leg unconsciously, unsure as to how to discern his expression.
His eyes fell quickly to her hand, before he leaned closer to her and said in a rasping quiet voice, "Nothing."
Sansa laughed at that, but not unkindly. She slid the hand she had placed on Sandor's knee up his thigh and said, "My silly big man."
He raised his eyebrow at that, but she continued as a new thought occurred to her, "I think I know why Hagen wanted us to have such an isolated room, away from everybody."
Sandor laughed once he realized what she was daring to say, her cheeks blushing, before he replied, "Come here."
Sandor pressed her close to him, his hand on the back of her head, his hard arms going around her as she shifted sideways on the edge of the bed to face him better. When their heads were as close as they could get to each other without touching, Sandor rubbed the tip of his nose with hers, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to hers slowly, savoring it. Sansa sat still, letting his mouth gently part her own before allowing his tongue slip inside her mouth, opening it with a sigh.
It didn't matter how Sandor kissed her. Every time he did it she felt as if time stood still. She let her own tongue slide inside Sandor's mouth after he pressed her even closer to him, and as they kissed alternately hard and slow, their arms closed around each other, they allowed themselves to fall sideways upon the bed. Sansa opened her eyes when neither of them broke the kiss after this change of positions. She let Sandor press her down on the mattress; he shifted to move above her, and she forgot everything, as their long legs entwined together, and he sucked her tongue, making her instantly return the gesture eagerly. The voyage on the ship had only taken five days, but they were touching each other as if it had been five years since the last time they'd done this.
Sandor had left her mouth so he could start grazing his teeth on her neck, licking the skin there more than once, and then kissing her chest, right above the rise of her beasts, even as their touches became more insistent and arousing, his body upon her, making her acutely aware of his need against her legs as she tried to catch her breath.
A knock at the door startled them both, making Sansa breathe loudly after letting out an exasperated sigh, while Sandor cursed out loud and asked who it was.
"We've brought your saddles, my lord and lady," a servant replied.
Sansa gave a resigned laugh at the sight of Sandor's face, his eye burning with desire for her, as he answered, "Leave them out there, for fuck's sake!"
"Sandor, I am desperate for a bath," she remembered quickly, her heat thumping fast inside her chest, as she tried to sit up in bed, a task that was rather difficult with a man as big as Sandor above her, his body pinning her to the bed.
"Seven hells," he muttered loudly, before roaring at the servants outside their door, "And bring hot water for a bath."
"It's already here, my lord," the servant's scared voice called back. "Master Hagen told us to fetch some and bring it here."
Sandor grunted, letting his head drop, burying it on the crook of Sansa's neck, making her try and call out, "We… Please, wait a moment!"
Her arms held Sandor to her, as a sense of disappointment at being interrupted descended upon her. Her big man kissed her neck, then her cheek and then her mouth quickly before rasping, "Take your bath, little bird. I'll be back shortly and take mine."
He rose from the bed and offered her his hand to help her sit up. Sandor waited for her to adjust her hair and skirts quickly before striding over to almost wrench the door open from its hinges, turning around to give her one last look, before quickly pushing past the startled servants, walking away.
"Come in," Sansa instructed the servants, trying to calm the strong beating of her heart. She paced the room as they filled the tub, her mind so full of different thoughts she couldn't quite make sense of them all right now. It was only after the servants had finally left her and she was taking a hot soothing bath, that Sansa realized she wished the servants hadn't interrupted them. And then she found herself toying with the possibility of having Sandor inside this tub, bathing with her. She gulped, because the strong certainty of knowing how much she wanted those things to happen overwhelmed her a little. I must have the courage to enjoy myself with him with no restraints. She even bit her lip as she remembered the way Sandor's hands had felt on her, and the way his hard body trembled under her touch, as she rubbed her legs together.
Hours later, after Sandor had taken his own bath, one of the elderly women that had greeted Hagen earlier came to tell them that dinner was ready; and as she led the way back through the garden to the house with a lantern, Sandor took hold of Sansa's hand in the dark and kissed it. When they entered the hall, Sansa blinked. The place had been lit up with at least a hundred bright candles. Servants were placing plates and cups on the long table.
Dinner that first night at The Ruins was delicious. In order to celebrate Hagen's return, the cooks had prepared salted fish, crab stew, shrimp and lobster for everyone to choose from, along with fried bread, and wine and ale to wash it all down with. Sansa sat between Hagen and Sandor, the latter's hand holding hers on top of her knee under the table, their thighs touching. The steward stood at the back of the hall, instructing the servants what meal to fetch next, and when to remove someone's plate. Sansa enjoyed herself and learned a little more of the Edar family's history. Apparently, Hagen and Bryar had lived in Great Norvos since they were little after their father had taken them to that city to expand his business.
"Hagen," Sansa said, curiously at one point. "Why didn't you return with Bryar here after your father died?"
"I had already married at the time Father died, Jeyne," Hagen explained. "She wanted to stay in Great Norvos; her family was nearby, and I was a successful merchant there. But Father had seen that Bryar was just as smart as I was–or even more, really–and so he asked her to return to Lorath, and take care of the family business."
"And this is the first time you've returned to your homeland since you got married?" Sandor asked, before taking a long drink of wine.
"No," Edar replied, shaking his head. "After the High Worm exiled me, I came back for some days, to ask Bryar to help me out in my plans for revenge."
"But Bryar refused you, and rightly so, since it was a mad plan," the steward commented. "Ridiculous, I remember hearing her call it more than once."
"She didn't disapprove of me avenging myself on Nervere," Hagen explained, pointedly. "Only of the manner in which I wanted to do it."
Of course, Sansa thought. And since everyone thinks Hagen is mad, Bryar knew becoming an outlaw would probably not work.
"And rightly so," Amon insisted, his jaw set stubbornly. "Becoming an outlaw… If your father had been alive, he would've–"
"He would've turned in his grave," Hagen interrupted, knowing what Amon was going to say before the words were out of his mouth. "Yes, yes. He would've turned in his grave for almost everything I've ever done since my wife died."
Sansa searched quickly for something different to say so that this conversation didn't turn out to be painful for their host.
"Your house is very beautiful, Hagen.
The former outlaw laughed and looked about the hall. "You think so? Well, I suppose it has its charm, but I've never cared for how it looks much."
They all spent around an hour more in the dining hall, and Hagen promised her and Sandor that he would show them the city tomorrow. They finally retired for the evening, Hagen enthusiastically saying he was going out to a tavern to drink with his childhood friends. Sansa was content to let her head drop on Sandor's shoulder as they returned to their room across the garden, while she shivered and yawned, sleepily. It was a good thing that Amon had assured them that a fire had been lit in the fireplace and more fur blankets had been taken to their bed.
Her last thoughts before she drifted off to a heavy sleep, with Sandor holding her close to him, was that tomorrow she should get a new gown at a market, since she only had the one she had worn today and another one left.
A cold wind woke Sandor up. He opened his eyes, still lying on his back the way he'd fallen asleep last night, and saw his long sword handing by the post of the headboard were he'd placed it last night. Good, no one murdered us in our sleep, he thought vaguely, wishing he could just close his eyes again and return to his sleep. But the moment he'd woken up, he'd felt the weight of Sansa's head upon his shoulder; and it only took him one glance down at her to know he was not going back to sleep if he could spend some time instead looking at the beautiful face of the little bird, facing him as she went on dreaming. Sansa's arm was thrown across his chest, encircling him loosely, while her slender legs rested either above or in between his own long ones, and one of his arms was underneath her at an angle that allowed him to hug her. Sansa's neck was tilted up, Sandor saw, staring at her beautiful face for as long as he wished. The little bird's breathing matched the pace of his own, the rhythm of it causing her body to rise and fall on top of his chest. Despite realizing that he was going to want to take a piss soon, the weight of Sansa upon him felt so good, and her face looked so peaceful that Sandor couldn't bring himself to move, the warm body next to his making him feel bloody good.
The bed in this bedroom was big, but unfortunately not big enough for the likes of him, so that his cold feet were peering out of the fur blankets. Sandor stretched his legs lazily, trying not to disturb the little bird, listening to her soft breathing and the sound of distant waves outside their bedchamber, his fingers running up and down the curve of Sansa's tiny waist in slow movements, as well as from her shoulder down the length of her back, while he went on staring at her. I could stay here forever. Holding her like this, with not a care in the world. Sandor sighed resignedly at those thoughts. He couldn't just forget that there were many things to worry about, no matter how much he longed for things never to change between him and Sansa
When Sansa shifted within his embrace, Sandor rested his chin on the top of her head after kissing her there, marveling at the way the little bird could always smell this good before his mind strayed to more serious business that he just couldn't seem to be able to forget for a single day now.
This has been too easy. There hasn't been a price for us to pay yet. He had always known that the moment he feared awaited them in the Seven Kingdoms, but having heard yesterday about how Bryar Edar had fucked her husband for years before they got married, not caring one wit if the whole of Lorath knew about them, had brought once again to Sandor's mind the true meaning of their reality. It won't be like that for us. The Starks, the Houses of the North, the lords of the Riverlands, the Lannisters, and every fucking family will oppose our union, and destroy what we've built between us ever since we crossed the Narrow Sea. There was a way he and Sansa could take, though, and the more he thought about it, the wiser he deemed it. It would have to wait till they reached Braavos at least, since there were no septs-beyond-the-sea here in Lorath; nor any godswoods, Hagen Edar had assured him.
We can discuss the details later; the witnesses and so on. First, I need to see if the little bird will be willing to go through with this, Sandor decided, once again looking down at Sansa as she shifted beside him and sighed in her sleep a little. I hope she agrees. He knew how much she would want to have her family with her in that day. Sansa was the one that mattered. We have talked about it, but never where it would be or when. I only wish her family would accept our union for her sake, but that was stupid, like thinking Gregor could one day become a brother of the Faith.
Sandor must have been thinking for at least half an hour more, as he waited for her to wake up. He wondered in amazement how he wasn't more nervous at the thought of doing this. Instead, Sandor Clegane was as happy as he had ever been, certain he'd made the right decision, and deeply in love with the woman sleeping in his arms.
Dawn was long gone when Sansa finally started to stir up, making little noises as she stretched on the bed, her legs and feet sliding against his as the little bird brought her hand from caressing his chest to rub away the heavy sleep from her eyes with her fists, while he looked down at her with amusement.
"Morning, lazy bird," he rasped by way of greeting.
Sansa let out a little moan, still stretching, as she moved her head and turned her neck up to look at him.
"The crow calling the raven black," Sansa remarked with a smile that was full of warmth. "I don't see you up and about either."
Sandor snorted and shrugged, his hand still caressing the perfect body that melted so well with his.
"I couldn't move without waking you," he pointed out.
"How thoughtful of you, my big man" the bird chirped, giving him a sleepy loving look before pressing her lips to his, propping herself up with her elbows. "Thank you, Sandor."
Always so bloody polite and considerate, Sandor thought, as Sansa yawned again tiredly, shaking her head slightly making her locks shift before sitting up in the bed and stretching her arms behind her head.
She turned to look at him and said, "Oh, and good morning to you too."
Sandor shook his head resignedly. Sitting up in bed, he told her, "Stay," his arms encircling her waist, his hands fisting the fabric of her nightgown tightly. He didn't want her to go yet. Nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, he kissed the skin that her nightgown revealed, pressing her close to him. A moan escaped her, and Sansa threw her head back so that she could expose more of her skin to him.
Sansa brought her own hand on top of the one he had on her neck, her delicate fingers intertwining with his own long ones and moved it downwards under her nightgown to her collarbone.
"You have such large hands," she remarked, in a hoarse whisper, almost in awe.
He only grunted at that. After a long moment of him trailing the warm skin of the bird's neck with his mouth, teeth and tongue, she remarked breathlessly, "Sandor, we have to get ready."
"No, don't go," he whispered, bringing his mouth so close to her ear that his breath tickled Sansa, making her giggle and turn around so that she could kiss his cheek.
"We both must," she reminded him, smiling, showing all of her white teeth as he pressed the stubble of his good cheek against her smooth skin.
"No," he persisted, smirking like the bloody fool in love that he was.
Sansa must have seen something on his face for she arched her eyebrows, her heavy lids no longer sleepy.
"Why not?" she asked him, before Sandor began to tickle her on her stomach. Sansa instantly stilled underneath him, exclaiming, "No!" while she tried to wriggle away from his arms. Sandor began to laugh with her after catching sight of Sansa's face as she somehow ended up sprawled on his legs now, gasping in between breaths, when he didn't stop tickling her after she'd changed positions so abruptly, not even noticing that his hands were more than just grazing her breasts as he administered his little tortures.
"Sandor, please, stop!" she managed to gasp, with tears in her eyes, still giggling like a madwoman when he threw back his head and barked a laugh, moving his body above hers, pinning her to the bed even as she struggled for freedom. When he spread her legs apart with his knee her body immediately responded to his behavior, as Sansa, with wide eyes, brought her legs upwards so that she could pin him between them.
Sandor slowed down Sansa's tickles as her beautiful Tully eyes meet his with a love that made his heart stop beating for a moment. He felt the tension leaving her body, trusting him.
"Gods, you're merciless," she exclaimed, before he bent down, and she returned the kiss he had been longing to give her. Sandor caught Sansa's lower lip with his and kissed her slowly, taking his time to move his mouth against hers in a way that made both of them smile into the kiss at the same moment, their heavy breathing mingled, their eyes opening to peer at the other briefly, and no distances between them. When he slipped his tongue inside Sansa's mouth, the tip of hers touched his, toying with it and making Sandor felt his cock pressing hard against his breeches. Sansa kissed him back eagerly, their hips met, Sandor needing the friction of he received when he made certain the little bird was feeling his need for her between her long legs.
When they drew apart, Sandor cupped Sansa's cheek gently. Sansa's chest was heaving, and he knew she was aroused, as she pressed her forehead to his, throwing her arms around his neck, refusing to let go. How the fuck is it possible that I can feel so much for someone so easily when I never cared shit for anyone but Stranger before? he wondered as he finally collapsed beside her on the bed, holding her hand in his. After some moments, Sandor's eyes followed Sansa as she finally sat up on the edge of the bed, readjusting her nightgown, her head bent down so that her curls hid her expression.
Sandor still didn't want to stop this, though. So sitting just behind Sansa on the bed, one leg thrown beside one of hers so that they were in the same position as when they both were riding Stranger, Sandor brought himself close to Sansa's, pressing his cock against the back of the little bird's arse, leaving them both in no doubt that she could indeed feel him after she drew a sharp intake of breath. Sansa didn't move. She remained still as he drew even closer to her till her back was pressed against his chest.
When the little bird turned around, searching for his face, she ended up wriggling closer to his cock. Seven sodding hells!
Sandor heard her gulp, and he brought one of his hands to caress her neck, his breathing growing louder as he bit Sansa's ear, excited by the way his cock felt pressed against her back. He brought his large hand to cover her eyes for some reason as he asked her, "You want to get ready, little bird?"
Sandor removed his hand from Sansa when she turned to look at the wall, letting her head drop back till it rested against his chest, before bringing both of his hands to cover the little bird's eyes.
Sansa chuckled and shook her head. "No, I want to stay here with you."
He smirked at that and hugged her. They stayed there on the bed, touching and talking about what to expect of this day when Hagen would take them around Lorath, until the old steward sent a servant to tell them breakfast awaited them.
A/N: Hope you liked the chapter, my beautiful readers! Thanks for reading it :D Comments are love (: