Dreaming
Sansa lay behind her curtain, she knew Rickon at least did not like her staying here but no-one else seemed to care, which both pleased her because she wanted to sleep here and upset her, ‘why didn’t they mind?’ She pushed the thought aside and tried not to wonder again if the Hound has understood her or maybe he thought Sansa went around telling singers to call her ‘Little Bird’, ’it doesn’t matter’ she told herself firmly, 'it does not matter what he thinks.' She falls asleep with that lie firmly echoing through her mind.
Sansa knelt beneath a heart tree with no face, it wasn’t a real heart tree either, it was one of the island trees she realised grown to the size of a weirwood. They were still on the island, that meant there were no Lannisters but then part of her knew that wasn’t true. She could feel his eyes watching her as she prayed fervently, he was looking at her as he always did as if he was a starving child and she was ignoring him, she was, she wouldn’t look he would go away if she didn’t look.
She stopped and looked up as her Father stepped into the scene, for a moment she felt hopeful but then he put on his lords face. He knelt as well and looked at her, “You are a Stark of Winterfell,” he told her. Am I?’ she thought panicked. “you said the words.” He added, ’But I never meant them.' she could not say that, not to Father, she looks at him, "You made a vow, it is your duty." He says gently and the gentleness hurts so she looks away before she stands, a little unsteady and turns to face the Imp. “Husband,” she said, her voice trembling, the thought echoes as it did when she wed him ‘what have I done that the gods should punish me so,’ Tyrion Lannister was dressed in red and crimson, and he looked even shorter, perhaps she had grown some more, he was looking at her kindly now, which only made it worse, she looked away from his ugly livid scar, the tears she had been holding onto began to fall. It only made Father look disappointed, “I said the words,” she repeated, she took a single shaky step towards Tyrion.
Suddenly the woods seemed to blur and at once the Hound is there and she can’t see Father or Tyrion, only him, his sword flashed, and there is more anger than she has seen before in his dark eyes when he cuts Tyrion down the way he had cut apart the man who had tried to drag Sansa from her horse, during the riot. She felt nothing but relief even the blood could not inspire the horror it had before. He turned to her bloody sword in hand and grinned “Little northern widow,” he said gruffly, "Little Bird." ‘My Father is watching.’ She tells herself but she takes a step towards him none the less,
That is when she wakes heart pounding, stifling sobs, it is not the first time she has had this dream but it seems more intense each time she does, she pulls on the wool cloak which she sometimes uses as a blanket if it is cold in the night and exits Summerfell quietly there is usually someone moving in the night, there are six of them after all and she manages to get a small distance before she lets the tears fall she keeps walking, sobbing as she does, before sitting with her back to a tree, Father wouldn’t she tells herself, 'he didn’t want to wed me to Joffrey any longer, let alone the Imp' but part of her can’t help but doubt, ’you made a vow’ she tells herself and she cannot help but fear she may yet be required to honour it, and that is not the greatest fear why is it always the Hound who saves her, why not Robb, or even Jon though of course they had not been at court to help her before and would probably agree with Father's decision anyway, dreaming of the Hound disturbs Sansa and comforts her and she wishes more than anything she knew what to feel about the Hound, why can't she decide if he makes her feel threatened or safe? Why doesn't she know if she truly wants to seek him out or hide from him forever, she draws the cloak tighter round her and all at once wishes it was white, unadorned and blood stained, not brown and clasped with Petyrs mocking bird.
Sansa knelt beneath a heart tree with no face, it wasn’t a real heart tree either, it was one of the island trees she realised grown to the size of a weirwood. They were still on the island, that meant there were no Lannisters but then part of her knew that wasn’t true. She could feel his eyes watching her as she prayed fervently, he was looking at her as he always did as if he was a starving child and she was ignoring him, she was, she wouldn’t look he would go away if she didn’t look.
She stopped and looked up as her Father stepped into the scene, for a moment she felt hopeful but then he put on his lords face. He knelt as well and looked at her, “You are a Stark of Winterfell,” he told her. Am I?’ she thought panicked. “you said the words.” He added, ’But I never meant them.' she could not say that, not to Father, she looks at him, "You made a vow, it is your duty." He says gently and the gentleness hurts so she looks away before she stands, a little unsteady and turns to face the Imp. “Husband,” she said, her voice trembling, the thought echoes as it did when she wed him ‘what have I done that the gods should punish me so,’ Tyrion Lannister was dressed in red and crimson, and he looked even shorter, perhaps she had grown some more, he was looking at her kindly now, which only made it worse, she looked away from his ugly livid scar, the tears she had been holding onto began to fall. It only made Father look disappointed, “I said the words,” she repeated, she took a single shaky step towards Tyrion.
Suddenly the woods seemed to blur and at once the Hound is there and she can’t see Father or Tyrion, only him, his sword flashed, and there is more anger than she has seen before in his dark eyes when he cuts Tyrion down the way he had cut apart the man who had tried to drag Sansa from her horse, during the riot. She felt nothing but relief even the blood could not inspire the horror it had before. He turned to her bloody sword in hand and grinned “Little northern widow,” he said gruffly, "Little Bird." ‘My Father is watching.’ She tells herself but she takes a step towards him none the less,
That is when she wakes heart pounding, stifling sobs, it is not the first time she has had this dream but it seems more intense each time she does, she pulls on the wool cloak which she sometimes uses as a blanket if it is cold in the night and exits Summerfell quietly there is usually someone moving in the night, there are six of them after all and she manages to get a small distance before she lets the tears fall she keeps walking, sobbing as she does, before sitting with her back to a tree, Father wouldn’t she tells herself, 'he didn’t want to wed me to Joffrey any longer, let alone the Imp' but part of her can’t help but doubt, ’you made a vow’ she tells herself and she cannot help but fear she may yet be required to honour it, and that is not the greatest fear why is it always the Hound who saves her, why not Robb, or even Jon though of course they had not been at court to help her before and would probably agree with Father's decision anyway, dreaming of the Hound disturbs Sansa and comforts her and she wishes more than anything she knew what to feel about the Hound, why can't she decide if he makes her feel threatened or safe? Why doesn't she know if she truly wants to seek him out or hide from him forever, she draws the cloak tighter round her and all at once wishes it was white, unadorned and blood stained, not brown and clasped with Petyrs mocking bird.