"Promises" Sandor/Sansa Fic - Part 3
"Promises"
After Blackwater Battle Sandor and Sansa run across broken country and eventually the narrow sea.
Fandom: ASoIaF | Pairing: Sansa/Sandor | Spoilers: SoS
Rating: PG-13 (violence / sexuality)
Word Count: 37,000 total (parts 1-10)
Parts: 3 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The first day back in the saddle had been uncomfortable but it was getting better. She couldn't help blushing when he lifted her up, knowing just how much he had seen the day before, and it didn't seem to be any easier for him.
He'd always touched her almost thoughtlessly before- all those times at King's Landing he'd grasped her arm or held her jaw, it had felt so natural and easy for him, but he was stiffer now, as if he was perfectly aware of every way their skin touched or the warmth of their bodies blended together.
His awareness was only multiplied by her own and the first day traveling again on Stranger had filled the air around them with the snapping of thoughts left unsaid and awkward, uncertain actions.
He'd muttered something the second day about finding her a horse but that was as unlikely as it was frightening. Somehow feeling the heat of his body against her back made her feel… she wasn't sure what, but she knew that taking it away frightened her more than he did.
By the fifth day the second horse was all but forgotten and things seemed to be as they had been. She wasn't nearly as sore as she had been those first weeks now and when she got down whenever he said to her limbs weren't even that stiff. Sometimes they stopped, and sometimes they rode and she slept in the saddle. One morning, as the eastern light was just peaking past the hills, his voice woke her,
"Don't you want to know?" He said.
She turned to face him, jolted out of her half slumber. It was so easy riding when she didn't have to look at his burns, but she did now and for some reason it hardly seemed as frightening as she had once thought- it was his eyes, there was a sort of freedom there. She smiled slightly, he's as free of them now as you are.
"Know what?" She said.
"Where we're going. You haven't asked."
She remained silent for a moment, "Do you want me to?" She finally answered.
He snorted then and almost laughed, "Seven hells… I suppose little birds just follow the flock, but at least they know the flock won't fly them into the side of a bloody mountain."
"I know you won't lead me to danger."
Sandor pulled Stranger to a stop suddenly and snatched her chin, turning her to face him, "You don't know that- you can't know that, so don't say you do."
The rage was back in his eyes and she was having a hard time meeting his gaze but she made herself: you trusted him, you can't be afraid anymore.
"I do know. You said you would."
He let go of her chin a little roughly and she could still feel where his fingers had gripped her.
"I was drunk. I could have killed you." He growled.
She turned back to face the road, "You were brave. And you didn't. I knew you wouldn't."
He was silent behind her, and after a moment he spurred Stranger forward once more into a steady trot.
"Do you even know where we're going?" She asked.
"Hush!" He suddenly shot at her.
She spun angrily, "You're the one who--"
His meaty hand snapped over her mouth. She was so shocked at first that she hardly noticed that his second finger landed against her lips and in the haste had pressed just between them. Now she noticed, and felt the heat sneaking up her throat and deeper feeling in her stomach she wasn't familiar with.
She trashed against him for a moment but her held her tight, "Seven hells stop that, just be quiet." He cursed.
Sansa stilled, trying her best to breath evenly. The Hound was looking about them quickly, listening intently, and there was concern under his heavy brow.
There: a snap- and Stranger was galloping.
Sandor's hand snapped from her mouth to her middle, hugging her close against him while the other thrashed Stranger's bridle, surging him forward with as much haste as possible. Sansa tried to breath, he was holding her so tightly she could hardly work the air into her lungs and she almost screamed when Stranger suddenly leapt over a huge fallen trunk.
Where there other horses? There must be, but she couldn't hear anything over the rip of the branches and the underbrush and Sandor's breath hot against her face. And then she saw them- two to her right, armed and gaining.
Sandor swung to the left but there were more. She saw the flashes of burnt umber and grey as the steeds swung about and the glints of metal flashing against the brilliant fall light.
The Hound was starting to growl, "Hold on!" He shouted at her, and she looked about desperately, and finally latching to Stranger's mane. For the first time the crazed beast didn't seem to notice her touching him.
Sandor's steel sang as he ripped it from his side. She stared around, her pale blue eyes wide with terror: there were three.
There were the two from before and then another one, closing off their path from the front as the others sealed off the back. They had no sigils, and for all she could tell they looked like simple common hedge-knights… But the Hound dressed simply himself and she knew how dangerous he could be.
"No further." He snarled as they began to circle. Their swords were out too and Sansa couldn't help leaning back into him, trying to make herself a part of his heaving chest.
"There's three of us, dog. All we want is the girl. She won't come to any harm- that's a promise."
"Bugger your promise-"
"You can leave- we have gold," Another chimed in, "You know it's more trouble than it's worth."
Without thinking Sansa pressed her cheek into his chest and felt his breath catch. The hand that wasn't on his sword tightened on her arm in gentle assurance.
"Let me see," He called, "I want to see the gold."
She could hardly breath. You trusted him- you trusted him!
"Good, that's fine, fine. I'd say the same if I were you," The solider on the gray mare with the half helm almost laughed. He lowered his eyes and turned to fumble in his cloak.
Faster than she could have guessed was possible Sandor's hand snatched a knife from his hip and before she'd blinked it was stuck cleanly through the man's cheek. He slumped and slid to the side of his saddle as his horse started to run in a panic and the other's charged.
"Don't hurt the girl!" One of them screamed at the other.
They won't hurt me, I'm worth too much to them!
She turned and flung her arms around his chest and hung on as tightly as she could just as he swung out at the first one. The swords crashed together and she felt the vibration through her entire body.
It had worked- she felt the second man hesitate to slice at him with her so close, but he turned his steed and tried to maneuver closer to Stranger's twirling body.
Sandor roared as he threw another blow at the first man and this time the foe crumpled. She felt the opposition to The Hound's strike give but could hardly notice as the other man was almost right beside them and was raising his sword to slice at Sandor's unprotected head.
In an instant the blade he had given her was in her hand and then through the man's thigh. Sansa stared in total shock as the thick red welled out around her little fist and the man's scream filled the air.
The crunch of a skull sounded somewhere seeminly far off - the only thing she could see were her hands white-tight on the grip of the dagger and the blood gushing and gushing.
The man screamed again but she hardly seemed to hear it and then Sandor's iron hands were on hers, pulling her free with his heavy voice against her ear, "It's alright- it's done."
She gasped in a heavy ragged breath and then the shaking soaked her. Two were dead, the second's skull caved in where the broad-side of Sandor's sword had hit him. The third man had fallen off his horse, he didn't seem to notice his leg anymore and was instead staring at what remained of his hand and whimpering.
The Hound swung himself down from Stranger and lifted her off after him. Once her feet planted her legs curled into a small pile beneath her shaking limbs. Sandor didn't seem to notice. He was walking for the injured man.
The poor fool tried to scramble backwards but with only two working limbs his progress was stunted and spastic. She didn't want to watch- it was so wretched but inside the shaking shell her body something else was on fire. They came to take me back, to watch my skin break and blood spill. Joffrey didn't feel sick when others did violence for him… But I'm not Joffrey.
"No, no please," The man gurgled as he dragged himself away from The Hound's approaching shadow. Sandor didn't listen, he grabbed the knife, and twisted.
The scream shot through the wood and Sansa felt the fire in her chest fan into a blaze.
"Who sent you?" He growled.
The man whimpered, his limbs lashing unconsciously around him.
"You're not one of the Lannisters." Sandor continued, "It's been a month- more, there hasn't been one scout, one patrol. Why?!"
The knife twisted again and this time the scream broke half way through into a choked sob; "No one knows! They- they don't want anyone to know!"
"Know what?" Sandor asked pressing the knife slowly deeper.
The poor fool gasped, "That she's gone! If the Starks found out, if anyone found out--"
"Then they'd loose Kingslayer." Sandor finished for him, "But they're looking--"
"Of course they're looking!" He cried.
"But you're not them- and you're the ones who found us."
"It was Baelish- he sent us, he told us to get to her before anyone else. He didn't think she'd be with someone like you."
Sandor hit him. The knight groaned as a thick spittle of blood and bits of tooth leaked down his face.
"What did he say?" Sandor said.
The man's head had fallen back and his breathing was starting to stagger. The blood was still steadily pumping into the dirt with the constancy of dusk; "He said to find her- to bring her to the Eyrie, her aunt, her aunt would keep her hidden."
The Hound growled slightly under his breath. The man was hardly conscious now, drifting into the void. Sandor ripped the knife free and the last scream the sad pile of skin and leather had left in it escaped. The darkness seeped free in one thick stream and within a moment the ragged breathing crackled to a stop.
Sansa still couldn't seem to look away from him. She'd seen her father die and she'd screwed up her eyes and heard the screams while Joffrey dispensed his justice, but these bodies were here because of her, those screams sounded because of her. Boros had hurt her, hit her and beat her but these men, for all she knew they were just with families and didn't intend her any harm. It was all suddenly so real and when Sandor crossed and reached down to help her up she couldn't help flinching away from his blood soaked hand.
It wasn't conscious and she regretted it as soon as it happened. She knew that all she had to do was look into his face, let him know that she wasn't afraid, but she couldn't seem to make herself do it. Some part of her knew that if she looked into those grey eyes and saw the very fire the burning in her own chest that blaze would ignite and she didn't know what parts of her would burn away forever if she let that happen.
He stood beside her and she could feel the rage radiating off of him, but it hardly lasted a moment and then he was moving towards the horse still circling with one of attackers hanging sideways off his saddle. Before too long he was cut down and the gold was in Stranger's satchel.
Sansa got back to her feet.
"We should go. Now. Someone may have heard." Sandor said.
She nodded and silently made her way to Stranger's side.
"No- you get your own horse now." Sandor said.
She felt her chest sink sightly but nodded. She should say something- she had to tell him it was fine that she understood, that she was grateful, that she had trusted him, and still did, and wasn't afraid. But she was, and she couldn't speak, let alone sing a song she didn't know was true.
------
It was well into night before they stopped again. Sandor tied up his horse and Sansa got down by herself before he could turn her way.
All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep and forgot and wake up and hope that the feeling in her gut would be gone. Maybe she'd see the wolves again in her dreams- they made her feel strong, as if she still had her family around her and they weren't scattered across the seven kingdoms or worse standing with the seven themselves. But just as she started to find a place to lie down the silence broke.
"We have to talk, girl." Sandor's voice came from the darkness.
She knew there would be no fire- perhaps that was best, she didn't think she could brave his face until morning.
"Can't it wait till morn?" She asked, "All I want to do is sleep."
"No, it bloody well can't. Come over here and eat something."
"I'm not hungry," She insisted, stepping closer anyways, "My stomach--"
"I know what your stomach feels like, and I don't give a damn. You haven't eaten since yesterday."
She didn't answer and when he pushed a strip of meat towards her she ignored it.
"Take it!" He snarled, taking her tiny hand in his own and pressing the food to her. She'd never understood how he could sound so angry and touch her so gently all at once.
Sansa sat dutifully and nibbled morosely at one of the corners.
Sandor grunted and finished pulling the bedrolls from Stranger before sitting as well.
He seemed unsure of what to say.
"If we aren't going to speak, can't we please just rest, I'm--"
"Did you want to go with those men?" He asked.
It was so dark around them but she could feel his eyes burning into her and the tenseness of his body filled the air in a way she had grown to recognize.
"Why would you ask me that?" Sansa said.
"They weren't going to hurt you- they would have brought you to your aunt. You could have gone with them."
"I- I didn't want to."
"Why?"
Suddenly the strip of horse flesh felt awkward in her hands, "Because… because I didn't."
He said nothing but the anger still loomed like some wretched creature in the darkness.
"Did… did you want me to go with them?" She said.
"Why the Eyrie," He suddenly said, apparently not hearing her, "Why would that fucking whore-master send you there?"
Sansa was getting angry, but she wasn't sure why; "Lord Baelish has always been very kind to me."
The Hound snorted, "Kind- of course, well he would be, after telling half the realm how sweet your mother's cunt tastes."
The shock slapped her hard and she felt rage prickle over her skin, "How dare you say something like that!"
"I said I'd never lie to you girl- that's all, it's Littlefinger to blame for the rest of it. Or did you think all men who smile through their teeth have hearts as pure as those knights in your fucking songs."
"He was always kind to me!" She snapped.
Sandor laughed, "Yes, Little Bird, everyone in that snake pit of a capital was so very kind to you. Didn't you notice how they all fought each other to tell that shit of a bastard to keep his hands off your pretty little neck?"
"You didn't." She muttered under her breath and instantly regretted it. She hoped he hadn't heard her but the silence went on just long enough for her to know he had.
"If Littlefinger cares so much- why bring you to your aunt?"
"She's my family!"
"Why not bring you right to your mother?"
That stopped her, "It's too dangerous…" She tried.
"My arse it's too dangerous. He's still a trusted member of that fucking useless small council and not bound to the bloody hip with that little shit like I was. He could easily come up with some excuse, dance across the lines to negotiate and deliver you into your mother's arms. But that's not what he was going to do."
"Maybe--"
"No- he meant to keep your for his own purposes."
She fell silent. Was everyone horrible deep down? Was there no smile left in the world she could take comfort in?
Maybe he could tell that she was upset for after a moment he spoke again and his voice was softer this time, "We have to do something about your looks."
Her little head shot up, "What's wrong with my looks?"
She thought she heard him growl under his breath but it must have been nothing.
"They're yours." He said.
"Oh…" She answered, starting to understand, "You mean people will recognize me."
"People won't. People aren't looking- remember. The Lannisters want everyone to think they've still got you locked up in your cage singing sad songs. But spies will recognize you and I'm sure there's plenty about, especially if we have to reach a town."
"How will they know it's me?" She asked.
"A tall maid with long auburn hair- fair face--"
"I can't do anything about my face!" She cried, suddenly she was afraid.
"No- we can't, but your hair..."
Her hand's wrapped about one stray lock instinctively and she held on tight. Her hair… everyone had always told her how beautiful it made her, how graceful and noble. It made her a lady. She could only imagine her mother's face if she saw her without her hair… But she wanted to see her face again, needed to see it and she'd rather her mother see her ugly than Joffrey call her beautiful ever again.
"I couldn't do it myself," She mumbled weakly.
Sandor said nothing, and after a moment she thought he wouldn't answer her, but just then he stood and walked towards her.
Sansa felt her body start to tense as he approached, but then he stopped just close enough so that if he reached out he could touch her.
"It's too bloody dark- I can't see a thing."
"We could wait till dawn."
"No, we need to use as much daylight as we can."
"Maybe a fire--"
"NO! Seven hells I told you no fires!"
She turned away from him and wrapped her arms about her body in sullen silence.
He stood there for another moment and then moved towards Stranger, "I'll light a bloody torch." He muttered.
It took several tries for the flint to catch but when it did the sudden orange blaze sent light shooting into their small grove. The torch lit his face completely and it was just as that first night when he led her back and made her stare into the void of his hatred. She had to turn away, just as she wished to then, but thankfully he didn't notice, or was at least too preoccupied to be angry with her.
The ground under her legs felt so cold, and as he got closer and the snakes of shivers iced up her back. Sandor stuck the torch roughly in the ground and pulled a dagger from his waist. She felt a lump catch in her throat as she realized it was the same one she had used to stab through flesh and leather just hours ago- was it hours? It felt so far off suddenly...
She directed her head forward and shut her eyes tightly. Nothing happened. She waited. Still nothing. She was about to turn and speak to him when she felt one strand on her hair lift from her shoulders.
Her breath caught in her throat and she tried not to think. She could feel his thick fingers twirl the small copper strand around a finger more nimbly then the would have thought possible and then let it unwind once again smooth as silk. He turned his hand and let his knuckles drift down the side of her auburn waves.
Her heart was thudding in her chest as she tried to breath normally. And then his palm was on her shoulder, brushing the glossy tendrils to one side, and barring her pale neck to the light of the torch.
Her mind raced, this is wrong, wrong, wrong, he shouldn't be touching you like this, but it only shot back- he's cutting your hair that's all, don't be such a child. You need to be a woman, you need to be a brave as he is.
His thumb traced it's rough way up the back of her neck and she realized with a stab to her stomach that his hand was so large he could circle her entire throat in one grasp.
He came to my bed- he made me sing him a song!
He was drunk, and he was angry, and if he wanted you he would have had you by now… you trusted him for a reason.
His palm opened and he buried the tips of his fingers into the back of her neck where her hair began and ran them heavily up her head. She felt her eyes flutter in the face of the sensation- she heard him take one ragged breath, and then his hand was gone.
She stared straight ahead of her, trying to breath normally and calm the heat in her face.
"I can't." His voice came in a low rumble.
Her throat was dry but she made it obey her; "Can't what?"
"Cut it." He tossed the knife into the dirt point first and lifted the torch; "It's pointless," He tried to smile down at her, "Even if people don't know you- they'll always know me."
She stared up at him, right into his eyes without even realizing it and his face darkened as he gestured to his burns; "There's no hiding something as pretty as this, girl." And with that he drove the torch into the forest floor and the darkness hid him from her.
< Previous Part | Next Part >
After Blackwater Battle Sandor and Sansa run across broken country and eventually the narrow sea.
Fandom: ASoIaF | Pairing: Sansa/Sandor | Spoilers: SoS
Rating: PG-13 (violence / sexuality)
Word Count: 37,000 total (parts 1-10)
Parts: 3 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The first day back in the saddle had been uncomfortable but it was getting better. She couldn't help blushing when he lifted her up, knowing just how much he had seen the day before, and it didn't seem to be any easier for him.
He'd always touched her almost thoughtlessly before- all those times at King's Landing he'd grasped her arm or held her jaw, it had felt so natural and easy for him, but he was stiffer now, as if he was perfectly aware of every way their skin touched or the warmth of their bodies blended together.
His awareness was only multiplied by her own and the first day traveling again on Stranger had filled the air around them with the snapping of thoughts left unsaid and awkward, uncertain actions.
He'd muttered something the second day about finding her a horse but that was as unlikely as it was frightening. Somehow feeling the heat of his body against her back made her feel… she wasn't sure what, but she knew that taking it away frightened her more than he did.
By the fifth day the second horse was all but forgotten and things seemed to be as they had been. She wasn't nearly as sore as she had been those first weeks now and when she got down whenever he said to her limbs weren't even that stiff. Sometimes they stopped, and sometimes they rode and she slept in the saddle. One morning, as the eastern light was just peaking past the hills, his voice woke her,
"Don't you want to know?" He said.
She turned to face him, jolted out of her half slumber. It was so easy riding when she didn't have to look at his burns, but she did now and for some reason it hardly seemed as frightening as she had once thought- it was his eyes, there was a sort of freedom there. She smiled slightly, he's as free of them now as you are.
"Know what?" She said.
"Where we're going. You haven't asked."
She remained silent for a moment, "Do you want me to?" She finally answered.
He snorted then and almost laughed, "Seven hells… I suppose little birds just follow the flock, but at least they know the flock won't fly them into the side of a bloody mountain."
"I know you won't lead me to danger."
Sandor pulled Stranger to a stop suddenly and snatched her chin, turning her to face him, "You don't know that- you can't know that, so don't say you do."
The rage was back in his eyes and she was having a hard time meeting his gaze but she made herself: you trusted him, you can't be afraid anymore.
"I do know. You said you would."
He let go of her chin a little roughly and she could still feel where his fingers had gripped her.
"I was drunk. I could have killed you." He growled.
She turned back to face the road, "You were brave. And you didn't. I knew you wouldn't."
He was silent behind her, and after a moment he spurred Stranger forward once more into a steady trot.
"Do you even know where we're going?" She asked.
"Hush!" He suddenly shot at her.
She spun angrily, "You're the one who--"
His meaty hand snapped over her mouth. She was so shocked at first that she hardly noticed that his second finger landed against her lips and in the haste had pressed just between them. Now she noticed, and felt the heat sneaking up her throat and deeper feeling in her stomach she wasn't familiar with.
She trashed against him for a moment but her held her tight, "Seven hells stop that, just be quiet." He cursed.
Sansa stilled, trying her best to breath evenly. The Hound was looking about them quickly, listening intently, and there was concern under his heavy brow.
There: a snap- and Stranger was galloping.
Sandor's hand snapped from her mouth to her middle, hugging her close against him while the other thrashed Stranger's bridle, surging him forward with as much haste as possible. Sansa tried to breath, he was holding her so tightly she could hardly work the air into her lungs and she almost screamed when Stranger suddenly leapt over a huge fallen trunk.
Where there other horses? There must be, but she couldn't hear anything over the rip of the branches and the underbrush and Sandor's breath hot against her face. And then she saw them- two to her right, armed and gaining.
Sandor swung to the left but there were more. She saw the flashes of burnt umber and grey as the steeds swung about and the glints of metal flashing against the brilliant fall light.
The Hound was starting to growl, "Hold on!" He shouted at her, and she looked about desperately, and finally latching to Stranger's mane. For the first time the crazed beast didn't seem to notice her touching him.
Sandor's steel sang as he ripped it from his side. She stared around, her pale blue eyes wide with terror: there were three.
There were the two from before and then another one, closing off their path from the front as the others sealed off the back. They had no sigils, and for all she could tell they looked like simple common hedge-knights… But the Hound dressed simply himself and she knew how dangerous he could be.
"No further." He snarled as they began to circle. Their swords were out too and Sansa couldn't help leaning back into him, trying to make herself a part of his heaving chest.
"There's three of us, dog. All we want is the girl. She won't come to any harm- that's a promise."
"Bugger your promise-"
"You can leave- we have gold," Another chimed in, "You know it's more trouble than it's worth."
Without thinking Sansa pressed her cheek into his chest and felt his breath catch. The hand that wasn't on his sword tightened on her arm in gentle assurance.
"Let me see," He called, "I want to see the gold."
She could hardly breath. You trusted him- you trusted him!
"Good, that's fine, fine. I'd say the same if I were you," The solider on the gray mare with the half helm almost laughed. He lowered his eyes and turned to fumble in his cloak.
Faster than she could have guessed was possible Sandor's hand snatched a knife from his hip and before she'd blinked it was stuck cleanly through the man's cheek. He slumped and slid to the side of his saddle as his horse started to run in a panic and the other's charged.
"Don't hurt the girl!" One of them screamed at the other.
They won't hurt me, I'm worth too much to them!
She turned and flung her arms around his chest and hung on as tightly as she could just as he swung out at the first one. The swords crashed together and she felt the vibration through her entire body.
It had worked- she felt the second man hesitate to slice at him with her so close, but he turned his steed and tried to maneuver closer to Stranger's twirling body.
Sandor roared as he threw another blow at the first man and this time the foe crumpled. She felt the opposition to The Hound's strike give but could hardly notice as the other man was almost right beside them and was raising his sword to slice at Sandor's unprotected head.
In an instant the blade he had given her was in her hand and then through the man's thigh. Sansa stared in total shock as the thick red welled out around her little fist and the man's scream filled the air.
The crunch of a skull sounded somewhere seeminly far off - the only thing she could see were her hands white-tight on the grip of the dagger and the blood gushing and gushing.
The man screamed again but she hardly seemed to hear it and then Sandor's iron hands were on hers, pulling her free with his heavy voice against her ear, "It's alright- it's done."
She gasped in a heavy ragged breath and then the shaking soaked her. Two were dead, the second's skull caved in where the broad-side of Sandor's sword had hit him. The third man had fallen off his horse, he didn't seem to notice his leg anymore and was instead staring at what remained of his hand and whimpering.
The Hound swung himself down from Stranger and lifted her off after him. Once her feet planted her legs curled into a small pile beneath her shaking limbs. Sandor didn't seem to notice. He was walking for the injured man.
The poor fool tried to scramble backwards but with only two working limbs his progress was stunted and spastic. She didn't want to watch- it was so wretched but inside the shaking shell her body something else was on fire. They came to take me back, to watch my skin break and blood spill. Joffrey didn't feel sick when others did violence for him… But I'm not Joffrey.
"No, no please," The man gurgled as he dragged himself away from The Hound's approaching shadow. Sandor didn't listen, he grabbed the knife, and twisted.
The scream shot through the wood and Sansa felt the fire in her chest fan into a blaze.
"Who sent you?" He growled.
The man whimpered, his limbs lashing unconsciously around him.
"You're not one of the Lannisters." Sandor continued, "It's been a month- more, there hasn't been one scout, one patrol. Why?!"
The knife twisted again and this time the scream broke half way through into a choked sob; "No one knows! They- they don't want anyone to know!"
"Know what?" Sandor asked pressing the knife slowly deeper.
The poor fool gasped, "That she's gone! If the Starks found out, if anyone found out--"
"Then they'd loose Kingslayer." Sandor finished for him, "But they're looking--"
"Of course they're looking!" He cried.
"But you're not them- and you're the ones who found us."
"It was Baelish- he sent us, he told us to get to her before anyone else. He didn't think she'd be with someone like you."
Sandor hit him. The knight groaned as a thick spittle of blood and bits of tooth leaked down his face.
"What did he say?" Sandor said.
The man's head had fallen back and his breathing was starting to stagger. The blood was still steadily pumping into the dirt with the constancy of dusk; "He said to find her- to bring her to the Eyrie, her aunt, her aunt would keep her hidden."
The Hound growled slightly under his breath. The man was hardly conscious now, drifting into the void. Sandor ripped the knife free and the last scream the sad pile of skin and leather had left in it escaped. The darkness seeped free in one thick stream and within a moment the ragged breathing crackled to a stop.
Sansa still couldn't seem to look away from him. She'd seen her father die and she'd screwed up her eyes and heard the screams while Joffrey dispensed his justice, but these bodies were here because of her, those screams sounded because of her. Boros had hurt her, hit her and beat her but these men, for all she knew they were just with families and didn't intend her any harm. It was all suddenly so real and when Sandor crossed and reached down to help her up she couldn't help flinching away from his blood soaked hand.
It wasn't conscious and she regretted it as soon as it happened. She knew that all she had to do was look into his face, let him know that she wasn't afraid, but she couldn't seem to make herself do it. Some part of her knew that if she looked into those grey eyes and saw the very fire the burning in her own chest that blaze would ignite and she didn't know what parts of her would burn away forever if she let that happen.
He stood beside her and she could feel the rage radiating off of him, but it hardly lasted a moment and then he was moving towards the horse still circling with one of attackers hanging sideways off his saddle. Before too long he was cut down and the gold was in Stranger's satchel.
Sansa got back to her feet.
"We should go. Now. Someone may have heard." Sandor said.
She nodded and silently made her way to Stranger's side.
"No- you get your own horse now." Sandor said.
She felt her chest sink sightly but nodded. She should say something- she had to tell him it was fine that she understood, that she was grateful, that she had trusted him, and still did, and wasn't afraid. But she was, and she couldn't speak, let alone sing a song she didn't know was true.
------
It was well into night before they stopped again. Sandor tied up his horse and Sansa got down by herself before he could turn her way.
All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep and forgot and wake up and hope that the feeling in her gut would be gone. Maybe she'd see the wolves again in her dreams- they made her feel strong, as if she still had her family around her and they weren't scattered across the seven kingdoms or worse standing with the seven themselves. But just as she started to find a place to lie down the silence broke.
"We have to talk, girl." Sandor's voice came from the darkness.
She knew there would be no fire- perhaps that was best, she didn't think she could brave his face until morning.
"Can't it wait till morn?" She asked, "All I want to do is sleep."
"No, it bloody well can't. Come over here and eat something."
"I'm not hungry," She insisted, stepping closer anyways, "My stomach--"
"I know what your stomach feels like, and I don't give a damn. You haven't eaten since yesterday."
She didn't answer and when he pushed a strip of meat towards her she ignored it.
"Take it!" He snarled, taking her tiny hand in his own and pressing the food to her. She'd never understood how he could sound so angry and touch her so gently all at once.
Sansa sat dutifully and nibbled morosely at one of the corners.
Sandor grunted and finished pulling the bedrolls from Stranger before sitting as well.
He seemed unsure of what to say.
"If we aren't going to speak, can't we please just rest, I'm--"
"Did you want to go with those men?" He asked.
It was so dark around them but she could feel his eyes burning into her and the tenseness of his body filled the air in a way she had grown to recognize.
"Why would you ask me that?" Sansa said.
"They weren't going to hurt you- they would have brought you to your aunt. You could have gone with them."
"I- I didn't want to."
"Why?"
Suddenly the strip of horse flesh felt awkward in her hands, "Because… because I didn't."
He said nothing but the anger still loomed like some wretched creature in the darkness.
"Did… did you want me to go with them?" She said.
"Why the Eyrie," He suddenly said, apparently not hearing her, "Why would that fucking whore-master send you there?"
Sansa was getting angry, but she wasn't sure why; "Lord Baelish has always been very kind to me."
The Hound snorted, "Kind- of course, well he would be, after telling half the realm how sweet your mother's cunt tastes."
The shock slapped her hard and she felt rage prickle over her skin, "How dare you say something like that!"
"I said I'd never lie to you girl- that's all, it's Littlefinger to blame for the rest of it. Or did you think all men who smile through their teeth have hearts as pure as those knights in your fucking songs."
"He was always kind to me!" She snapped.
Sandor laughed, "Yes, Little Bird, everyone in that snake pit of a capital was so very kind to you. Didn't you notice how they all fought each other to tell that shit of a bastard to keep his hands off your pretty little neck?"
"You didn't." She muttered under her breath and instantly regretted it. She hoped he hadn't heard her but the silence went on just long enough for her to know he had.
"If Littlefinger cares so much- why bring you to your aunt?"
"She's my family!"
"Why not bring you right to your mother?"
That stopped her, "It's too dangerous…" She tried.
"My arse it's too dangerous. He's still a trusted member of that fucking useless small council and not bound to the bloody hip with that little shit like I was. He could easily come up with some excuse, dance across the lines to negotiate and deliver you into your mother's arms. But that's not what he was going to do."
"Maybe--"
"No- he meant to keep your for his own purposes."
She fell silent. Was everyone horrible deep down? Was there no smile left in the world she could take comfort in?
Maybe he could tell that she was upset for after a moment he spoke again and his voice was softer this time, "We have to do something about your looks."
Her little head shot up, "What's wrong with my looks?"
She thought she heard him growl under his breath but it must have been nothing.
"They're yours." He said.
"Oh…" She answered, starting to understand, "You mean people will recognize me."
"People won't. People aren't looking- remember. The Lannisters want everyone to think they've still got you locked up in your cage singing sad songs. But spies will recognize you and I'm sure there's plenty about, especially if we have to reach a town."
"How will they know it's me?" She asked.
"A tall maid with long auburn hair- fair face--"
"I can't do anything about my face!" She cried, suddenly she was afraid.
"No- we can't, but your hair..."
Her hand's wrapped about one stray lock instinctively and she held on tight. Her hair… everyone had always told her how beautiful it made her, how graceful and noble. It made her a lady. She could only imagine her mother's face if she saw her without her hair… But she wanted to see her face again, needed to see it and she'd rather her mother see her ugly than Joffrey call her beautiful ever again.
"I couldn't do it myself," She mumbled weakly.
Sandor said nothing, and after a moment she thought he wouldn't answer her, but just then he stood and walked towards her.
Sansa felt her body start to tense as he approached, but then he stopped just close enough so that if he reached out he could touch her.
"It's too bloody dark- I can't see a thing."
"We could wait till dawn."
"No, we need to use as much daylight as we can."
"Maybe a fire--"
"NO! Seven hells I told you no fires!"
She turned away from him and wrapped her arms about her body in sullen silence.
He stood there for another moment and then moved towards Stranger, "I'll light a bloody torch." He muttered.
It took several tries for the flint to catch but when it did the sudden orange blaze sent light shooting into their small grove. The torch lit his face completely and it was just as that first night when he led her back and made her stare into the void of his hatred. She had to turn away, just as she wished to then, but thankfully he didn't notice, or was at least too preoccupied to be angry with her.
The ground under her legs felt so cold, and as he got closer and the snakes of shivers iced up her back. Sandor stuck the torch roughly in the ground and pulled a dagger from his waist. She felt a lump catch in her throat as she realized it was the same one she had used to stab through flesh and leather just hours ago- was it hours? It felt so far off suddenly...
She directed her head forward and shut her eyes tightly. Nothing happened. She waited. Still nothing. She was about to turn and speak to him when she felt one strand on her hair lift from her shoulders.
Her breath caught in her throat and she tried not to think. She could feel his thick fingers twirl the small copper strand around a finger more nimbly then the would have thought possible and then let it unwind once again smooth as silk. He turned his hand and let his knuckles drift down the side of her auburn waves.
Her heart was thudding in her chest as she tried to breath normally. And then his palm was on her shoulder, brushing the glossy tendrils to one side, and barring her pale neck to the light of the torch.
Her mind raced, this is wrong, wrong, wrong, he shouldn't be touching you like this, but it only shot back- he's cutting your hair that's all, don't be such a child. You need to be a woman, you need to be a brave as he is.
His thumb traced it's rough way up the back of her neck and she realized with a stab to her stomach that his hand was so large he could circle her entire throat in one grasp.
He came to my bed- he made me sing him a song!
He was drunk, and he was angry, and if he wanted you he would have had you by now… you trusted him for a reason.
His palm opened and he buried the tips of his fingers into the back of her neck where her hair began and ran them heavily up her head. She felt her eyes flutter in the face of the sensation- she heard him take one ragged breath, and then his hand was gone.
She stared straight ahead of her, trying to breath normally and calm the heat in her face.
"I can't." His voice came in a low rumble.
Her throat was dry but she made it obey her; "Can't what?"
"Cut it." He tossed the knife into the dirt point first and lifted the torch; "It's pointless," He tried to smile down at her, "Even if people don't know you- they'll always know me."
She stared up at him, right into his eyes without even realizing it and his face darkened as he gestured to his burns; "There's no hiding something as pretty as this, girl." And with that he drove the torch into the forest floor and the darkness hid him from her.
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