"Promises" Sandor/Sansa Fic - Part 5
"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: 5 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The images trashed in her mind like caged animals.
Shadows swept over a dry land and a beautiful woman with silver hair was being pulled apart by a thousand hands but when they touched her blood they screamed and flew into flames and there was a mighty roar unlike anything Sansa had ever heard before.
She was alone in the snow, shaking and crying out but her mouth would make no sound. There was a shudder behind her- she turned and saw distant in the flying flakes the wolf from the wood with a little girl clinging to it. She reached out, but when the girl towards her Sansa saw she had no face.
A man with one eye was grinning and when he parted his lips blue worms wriggled between his teeth. He started to laugh and laugh and when Sansa trashed out and tore the patch from his eye crows exploded from the darkness: into her hair grabbing and snatching and pulling until she was lifted from the ground kicking and screaming.
Their eyes were red and then that was all that was left, red eyes and flapping wings and the smell of snow.
"Give her up."
"Never."
She felt a hand on her shoulder, fingers in her hair, a knife on her throat. Her back was tight against the clammy stone and her small clothes were melting away like ice and his eyes: I can't look, I can't look, I'll burn, why don't you see!
The blood poured under her fingers and suddenly she could taste it and it was hot and good and the strength filled her limbs.
Sansa coughed.
"Damn it girl, swallow." The rough voice swore.
Her eyes opened. She was in a dusky wood and he was sitting beside her, looking absolutely absurd with a small spoon and a bowl of broth in bandaged hands.
When he saw that she was awake his lip twitched and he sat back with a strange look on his face that could almost be relief.
She started to try and lift herself up on her elbows but her head swam and she almost swooned again. Sandor's strong arm slipped nimbly under her back and helped her upright.
Now that she could look around she remembered what had happened- most of the men from the inn were around them, and Bronn was ripping a leg off a rabbit by the fire and eyeing her all the while.
She spun on Sandor, "You promised to keep me safe!" She suddenly found herself shouting, "You promised! How could you--?"
"Watch that tongue girl." Sandor's voice shot at her sharp as a knife and low as thunder.
Bronn stood and was walking towards them, Sansa tried to scramble back but her head swung again and she held a hand tight over it. The horrible images still clung to her and she could hardly tell if she was truly awake.
She could tell Sandor was staring at her but she didn't know now wether it was more in concern or hatred and wasn't sure what she wanted it to be.
"Finally awake?" Bronn asked as he knelt down a respectful distance away.
She could hardly nod.
"You don't need to squeal like that- we're not going to King's Landing. My whole bloody job is to get you as far away from Lannisters as possible."
Sansa lifted her head in shock and stared at him, "What? But--"
"I know it's hard to understand," He said almost sarcastically, "I don't know why Tyrion wouldn't want something as pretty as you in his bed every night."
Sansa paled.
"You're asking for less teeth, sell-sword." Sandor snarled.
Bronn raised an eyebrow mockingly in The Hound's direction.
"But, but it was Joffrey I was supposed--"
"Joffrey's already married. To the Tyrell girl as much good as it will do him. Tywin wanted you for Tyrion- he was quite livid when you flew off and ruined all that careful planning."
"And Tyrion… doesn't want to marry me?"
"No. He doesn't."
Sansa was almost ashamed of her embarrassment, but she couldn't help it- her mother had tried so hard to make her the perfect lady, a true wife- that was a part of her that grew smaller every day but was still there and it felt shame at any rejection of that role.
"It might be unbelievable to you but the little lion has a heart a good deal too sentimental to be good for him. He wants you to go and be safe, he said he's 'tired of watching wolves suffer'…" Bronn continued, in a fairly accurate impression of Tyrion's droll arrogance.
"And thankfully I'm not the only one he has to do his dirty work- the Spider seems to want you elsewhere as well."
"Lord Varys!" Sansa cried, "Why would he want to help me?"
"Don't ask the messenger." Bronn continued, "I just know what I'm told- he said he tried to help your father, now he'd help you. He and Tyrion have secured a ship for you- you'll go to Pentos. The Spider has friends there who can keep you safe and hidden."
"Pentos…" This was too much, she could feel her head start to spin again and she closed her eyes and leaned back.
Thankfully Bronn had the sensitivity (or lack there of) to stand and return to the fire.
Sansa didn't know what to do. Her head was still full of her dreams and The Hound was sitting there not looking at her.
"I'm sorry." She murmured.
He almost laughed.
"Could we… walk, just for a moment. I can't think here, with all them, just… I just want to talk."
"You should rest," Sandor rumbled, she could tell he was uncomfortable, some of the men would shoot them glances every now and again and chuckle amongst themselves.
"Please." She insisted.
He nodded sharply and stood offering her a hand. She accepted it gratefully and carefully got to her feet. Her head was still twirling and she leaned on his arm to steady herself.
They stepped into the cover of the wood.
"Is he lying?" She asked softly.
Petyr, Tyrion, is there no one who was truly kind to me?
"I don't think so Little Bird," Sandor said, "The sell-sword said they'd been tracking us for weeks, waiting for a chance to trap us somewhere where we could talk. If he wanted me dead and you for the imp they could have killed me in the inn and taken you."
"They wouldn't have killed you," She said suddenly spinning, "I stopped them."
Sandor laughed outright, "You wouldn't have stopped anything girl."
And then he saw her face.
Her lips became one tight line of fury and the hot knot of pain caught in her throat. She hated the heat in her face and her neck and her chest, she hated the tears growing in her eyes and the scream trying to get out of her throat, she hated him and his laugh and his strong hand always on her arm reminding her how small she was and above all she hated her own foolish hope.
She was so simple, and so childish, surrounded by people who made her feel tiny and helpless and weak, weak, weak! And now she was alone, alone with her weakness and there was no one left to love her.
The tears started to spill down her face and her angry little hands shot up to wipe them away as she turned her back on him and her shoulders started to shake.
His big hand landed on her shoulder and then she was spinning and slamming her little fists into his chest as hard as she could and screaming and sobbing and there was nothing in the world that was going to make her stop.
"IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR! THEY DID NOTHING WRONG, NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING!"
Sandor's hands held her shoulders tight and he didn't seem to even feel the blows she was throwing against him and that only made her cry harder.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT- I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO IN! IF WE HAD JUST STAYED IN THE WOOD, JUST US IN THE WOOD THEN THEY WOULDN'T--"
A massive sob wracked her body and she slammed into him as hard as she could.
But his hands never left her shoulders and he never said anything, didn't laugh or even seem to breathe, he just waited.
And finally, when her hands were sore all over from the blows against his mail and her throat was raw and her eyes wouldn't cry anymore no matter how much she wanted them to, she slowed.
She slowly crumbled into his chest and her little hands hardly moved at all as she tried to keep striking him, sniffing and knowing how wretched she must look and not caring at all.
And then his arms were around her, one gently about her shaking waist and another along the side of her head, pressing her inflamed cheek ever so carefully against his chest. It was almost as if he thought she might break if he held her too hard- as if he really thought she was just a little fragile bird- but knew that she needed to be held all the same, and he was right.
She pressed her face against him into the smell of leather and heat and earth and steadily her body slowed and her breathing returned to her.
Once she seemed herself again, Sandor slowly pushed her away and then with his hands still on her shoulders knelt down to look her in the eyes.
"I think you should go to Pentos, girl."
She sniffed again and dragged her hand across her face in a very unladylike fashion but for maybe the first time in her life she that hardly mattered.
"I don't want to go- I want to stay here, we were safe in the woods, we could--"
"No," He insisted, "You were right before, I didn't know where we were going."
He was staring at her hard now, and she didn't want to look at him but she knew she had to.
"The north is gone, girl- you have to accept that, maybe one day you can go home, but not today and not tomorrow neither. With no wolves left there's only lions and liars: they will use you for your name and anything else and where ever we hide here, they'll find us."
"But Pentos, Lord Varys, I--"
"I don't trust any of them- but we're running out of choices. Think, Little Bird, what is it that you want?"
She held a shaking knuckle to her lips and tried to make her mind work. Home, home, home that was what she wanted… but he was right, there was no home for her now, not today at least.
"I think…" She said, "I think I want to be as far from Joffrey as I can possibly be."
Sandor nodded gruffly, "I think that's wise. I'm not saying to trust those bloody diplomats, but Varys… there is something honest in him, and Tyrion, well the little lion's a bloody arrogant cunt who doesn't know what's good for him, but I do think he hates his sister more than most, and I know how it feels to hate like that. You have to get away from Westeros. I couldn't get you to the port by myself, they'd be looking and with the Imp's bootlickers to turn suspicion it's the best chance you'll get."
Sansa nodded silently to her feet, "If you think it's a wise choice."
"You need to think it is!" Sandor snapped, "You can't go your whole life just listening to other's songs."
"I think it's a wise choice." She said with as much strength as she could and looked directly into his glowing grey eyes.
"But I can't unless… unless I know you meant what you said."
"What did I say?" Sandor asked, but by the way his mouth twitched suddenly and his hands left her shoulders she knew he remembered.
"When you took me… You said you'd keep me safe, you said you'd never let anyone hurt me ever again."
He seemed to have a hard time looking into her face.
Be as brave as he is.
Sansa reached out and grabbed his jaw and made him look at her, "Did you mean it?"
His shock was plain but there was something else there as well, and when he answered her his voice was low, "Of course I bloody meant it, girl."
She dropped his chin and tried to look as graceful as she could, knowing her face was red and splotchy, knowing her nose was still dripping and her dress was common and her hair was filled with dirt, but she tried, and she felt the strength surge in her chest.
"Swear." She said.
He smiled and for a moment she thought he would laugh at her, tell her she was a stupid simple girl and that he wasn't a 'fucking knight' to swear oaths of honor to ladies.
But he didn't, he stared at her hard, in a way no one else had ever looked at her before and she felt her heart beat hard in her chest.
"Aye, Sansa, I swear."
< 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: 5 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The images trashed in her mind like caged animals.
Shadows swept over a dry land and a beautiful woman with silver hair was being pulled apart by a thousand hands but when they touched her blood they screamed and flew into flames and there was a mighty roar unlike anything Sansa had ever heard before.
She was alone in the snow, shaking and crying out but her mouth would make no sound. There was a shudder behind her- she turned and saw distant in the flying flakes the wolf from the wood with a little girl clinging to it. She reached out, but when the girl towards her Sansa saw she had no face.
A man with one eye was grinning and when he parted his lips blue worms wriggled between his teeth. He started to laugh and laugh and when Sansa trashed out and tore the patch from his eye crows exploded from the darkness: into her hair grabbing and snatching and pulling until she was lifted from the ground kicking and screaming.
Their eyes were red and then that was all that was left, red eyes and flapping wings and the smell of snow.
"Give her up."
"Never."
She felt a hand on her shoulder, fingers in her hair, a knife on her throat. Her back was tight against the clammy stone and her small clothes were melting away like ice and his eyes: I can't look, I can't look, I'll burn, why don't you see!
The blood poured under her fingers and suddenly she could taste it and it was hot and good and the strength filled her limbs.
Sansa coughed.
"Damn it girl, swallow." The rough voice swore.
Her eyes opened. She was in a dusky wood and he was sitting beside her, looking absolutely absurd with a small spoon and a bowl of broth in bandaged hands.
When he saw that she was awake his lip twitched and he sat back with a strange look on his face that could almost be relief.
She started to try and lift herself up on her elbows but her head swam and she almost swooned again. Sandor's strong arm slipped nimbly under her back and helped her upright.
Now that she could look around she remembered what had happened- most of the men from the inn were around them, and Bronn was ripping a leg off a rabbit by the fire and eyeing her all the while.
She spun on Sandor, "You promised to keep me safe!" She suddenly found herself shouting, "You promised! How could you--?"
"Watch that tongue girl." Sandor's voice shot at her sharp as a knife and low as thunder.
Bronn stood and was walking towards them, Sansa tried to scramble back but her head swung again and she held a hand tight over it. The horrible images still clung to her and she could hardly tell if she was truly awake.
She could tell Sandor was staring at her but she didn't know now wether it was more in concern or hatred and wasn't sure what she wanted it to be.
"Finally awake?" Bronn asked as he knelt down a respectful distance away.
She could hardly nod.
"You don't need to squeal like that- we're not going to King's Landing. My whole bloody job is to get you as far away from Lannisters as possible."
Sansa lifted her head in shock and stared at him, "What? But--"
"I know it's hard to understand," He said almost sarcastically, "I don't know why Tyrion wouldn't want something as pretty as you in his bed every night."
Sansa paled.
"You're asking for less teeth, sell-sword." Sandor snarled.
Bronn raised an eyebrow mockingly in The Hound's direction.
"But, but it was Joffrey I was supposed--"
"Joffrey's already married. To the Tyrell girl as much good as it will do him. Tywin wanted you for Tyrion- he was quite livid when you flew off and ruined all that careful planning."
"And Tyrion… doesn't want to marry me?"
"No. He doesn't."
Sansa was almost ashamed of her embarrassment, but she couldn't help it- her mother had tried so hard to make her the perfect lady, a true wife- that was a part of her that grew smaller every day but was still there and it felt shame at any rejection of that role.
"It might be unbelievable to you but the little lion has a heart a good deal too sentimental to be good for him. He wants you to go and be safe, he said he's 'tired of watching wolves suffer'…" Bronn continued, in a fairly accurate impression of Tyrion's droll arrogance.
"And thankfully I'm not the only one he has to do his dirty work- the Spider seems to want you elsewhere as well."
"Lord Varys!" Sansa cried, "Why would he want to help me?"
"Don't ask the messenger." Bronn continued, "I just know what I'm told- he said he tried to help your father, now he'd help you. He and Tyrion have secured a ship for you- you'll go to Pentos. The Spider has friends there who can keep you safe and hidden."
"Pentos…" This was too much, she could feel her head start to spin again and she closed her eyes and leaned back.
Thankfully Bronn had the sensitivity (or lack there of) to stand and return to the fire.
Sansa didn't know what to do. Her head was still full of her dreams and The Hound was sitting there not looking at her.
"I'm sorry." She murmured.
He almost laughed.
"Could we… walk, just for a moment. I can't think here, with all them, just… I just want to talk."
"You should rest," Sandor rumbled, she could tell he was uncomfortable, some of the men would shoot them glances every now and again and chuckle amongst themselves.
"Please." She insisted.
He nodded sharply and stood offering her a hand. She accepted it gratefully and carefully got to her feet. Her head was still twirling and she leaned on his arm to steady herself.
They stepped into the cover of the wood.
"Is he lying?" She asked softly.
Petyr, Tyrion, is there no one who was truly kind to me?
"I don't think so Little Bird," Sandor said, "The sell-sword said they'd been tracking us for weeks, waiting for a chance to trap us somewhere where we could talk. If he wanted me dead and you for the imp they could have killed me in the inn and taken you."
"They wouldn't have killed you," She said suddenly spinning, "I stopped them."
Sandor laughed outright, "You wouldn't have stopped anything girl."
And then he saw her face.
Her lips became one tight line of fury and the hot knot of pain caught in her throat. She hated the heat in her face and her neck and her chest, she hated the tears growing in her eyes and the scream trying to get out of her throat, she hated him and his laugh and his strong hand always on her arm reminding her how small she was and above all she hated her own foolish hope.
She was so simple, and so childish, surrounded by people who made her feel tiny and helpless and weak, weak, weak! And now she was alone, alone with her weakness and there was no one left to love her.
The tears started to spill down her face and her angry little hands shot up to wipe them away as she turned her back on him and her shoulders started to shake.
His big hand landed on her shoulder and then she was spinning and slamming her little fists into his chest as hard as she could and screaming and sobbing and there was nothing in the world that was going to make her stop.
"IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR! THEY DID NOTHING WRONG, NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING!"
Sandor's hands held her shoulders tight and he didn't seem to even feel the blows she was throwing against him and that only made her cry harder.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT- I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO IN! IF WE HAD JUST STAYED IN THE WOOD, JUST US IN THE WOOD THEN THEY WOULDN'T--"
A massive sob wracked her body and she slammed into him as hard as she could.
But his hands never left her shoulders and he never said anything, didn't laugh or even seem to breathe, he just waited.
And finally, when her hands were sore all over from the blows against his mail and her throat was raw and her eyes wouldn't cry anymore no matter how much she wanted them to, she slowed.
She slowly crumbled into his chest and her little hands hardly moved at all as she tried to keep striking him, sniffing and knowing how wretched she must look and not caring at all.
And then his arms were around her, one gently about her shaking waist and another along the side of her head, pressing her inflamed cheek ever so carefully against his chest. It was almost as if he thought she might break if he held her too hard- as if he really thought she was just a little fragile bird- but knew that she needed to be held all the same, and he was right.
She pressed her face against him into the smell of leather and heat and earth and steadily her body slowed and her breathing returned to her.
Once she seemed herself again, Sandor slowly pushed her away and then with his hands still on her shoulders knelt down to look her in the eyes.
"I think you should go to Pentos, girl."
She sniffed again and dragged her hand across her face in a very unladylike fashion but for maybe the first time in her life she that hardly mattered.
"I don't want to go- I want to stay here, we were safe in the woods, we could--"
"No," He insisted, "You were right before, I didn't know where we were going."
He was staring at her hard now, and she didn't want to look at him but she knew she had to.
"The north is gone, girl- you have to accept that, maybe one day you can go home, but not today and not tomorrow neither. With no wolves left there's only lions and liars: they will use you for your name and anything else and where ever we hide here, they'll find us."
"But Pentos, Lord Varys, I--"
"I don't trust any of them- but we're running out of choices. Think, Little Bird, what is it that you want?"
She held a shaking knuckle to her lips and tried to make her mind work. Home, home, home that was what she wanted… but he was right, there was no home for her now, not today at least.
"I think…" She said, "I think I want to be as far from Joffrey as I can possibly be."
Sandor nodded gruffly, "I think that's wise. I'm not saying to trust those bloody diplomats, but Varys… there is something honest in him, and Tyrion, well the little lion's a bloody arrogant cunt who doesn't know what's good for him, but I do think he hates his sister more than most, and I know how it feels to hate like that. You have to get away from Westeros. I couldn't get you to the port by myself, they'd be looking and with the Imp's bootlickers to turn suspicion it's the best chance you'll get."
Sansa nodded silently to her feet, "If you think it's a wise choice."
"You need to think it is!" Sandor snapped, "You can't go your whole life just listening to other's songs."
"I think it's a wise choice." She said with as much strength as she could and looked directly into his glowing grey eyes.
"But I can't unless… unless I know you meant what you said."
"What did I say?" Sandor asked, but by the way his mouth twitched suddenly and his hands left her shoulders she knew he remembered.
"When you took me… You said you'd keep me safe, you said you'd never let anyone hurt me ever again."
He seemed to have a hard time looking into her face.
Be as brave as he is.
Sansa reached out and grabbed his jaw and made him look at her, "Did you mean it?"
His shock was plain but there was something else there as well, and when he answered her his voice was low, "Of course I bloody meant it, girl."
She dropped his chin and tried to look as graceful as she could, knowing her face was red and splotchy, knowing her nose was still dripping and her dress was common and her hair was filled with dirt, but she tried, and she felt the strength surge in her chest.
"Swear." She said.
He smiled and for a moment she thought he would laugh at her, tell her she was a stupid simple girl and that he wasn't a 'fucking knight' to swear oaths of honor to ladies.
But he didn't, he stared at her hard, in a way no one else had ever looked at her before and she felt her heart beat hard in her chest.
"Aye, Sansa, I swear."
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