"Promises" Sandor/Sansa Fic - Part 6
"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: 6 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The harbor was busy and her heart danced in her chest with excitement. Her hair was in the wind, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a smile, and people were looking at her and it didn't matter.
Sandor was shaking his head beside her as she almost danced down the street beside him but she could tell he was smiling when she couldn't see and hardly took his eyes from her.
It felt so amazing to stand and not hide- she knew maybe she shouldn't, that perhaps the freedom in her heart was too sudden and fool-hardy. But she didn't care, not this morning. Of course her chest still felt hollow at night when she tried to fall asleep, but somehow knowing that he was there, that he had sworn to her, made the hole feel smaller each day.
She tried not to think about her mother's face, about Robb's laugh, or the dreams that still tore through her brain, and today with the ocean's breath on her cheeks and the sounds of life around her it was easy to distract herself and she planned on clinging to that as long as possible.
Sandor had bought her a sweet roll from a cart while they waited for Bronn to check with the Captain and load their luggage. She held it like the most precious of jewels, letting the smell drift around her and the warmth flood her finger tips.
"You're supposed to eat it girl, not fucking stare at it." Sandor snarled, but she saw the smile under his stare and merely laughed.
"Let me enjoy this." She said and took a little bite, rolling her eyes back with a sighed.
Sandor snorted, "I thought you'd be more excited over those silks and jewels that eunuch sent along."
"Well, yes," Sansa said absentmindedly, "But… well-- I'm afraid such things might not suit me any longer."
She frowned as she lifted a strand of dirty hair and looked down at her roughened hands.
Sandor caught her face in his hand and turned her to look at him. His haggard mouth smirked as he pulled a large thumb across her cheek to remove a smudge of dirt.
"You were born for things such as those to suit you, Little Bird. It's not your fault some mutt's kept you in the woods for months."
"He's ready-" Bronn called as he returned, shooting them a lewd glance not for the first time. "We'd better get you aboard while the tide's with us."
Sansa felt her cheeks redden just slightly as she gathered herself but lifted her head tall and proud as they walked the dock towards the waiting ship.
The Captain seemed a pleasant enough man. He was short with dark hair and a full beard, but his eyes were steady and after the inn Sansa noticed that he looked right at her and held her hand without shaking or flinching.
As he grasped her palm he looked to Sandor standing just over her shoulder, "I owe the lord of whispers a great debt, ser, you can be sure your lady will be as safe as the seas can make her here."
"I'm no Ser," Sandor growled, "And if you can change this bloody fall weather then I'll be impressed."
He put his hand heavily on Sansa's shoulder and walked her on board.
Bronn's men finished handing over the last of the crates to the crew and he jumped nimbly over the rail to address them once more.
Sandor had wandered slightly to one side to help get Stranger on board. The horse was crazed and trashing and the crew eyed it uneasily but when The Hound stepped up to him and petting his nose he calmed and trotted after him.
Bronn stared for a moment and then looked down at Sansa wringing her hands.
"I knew your mother." He said suddenly.
Sansa's pale eyes rose to his face in surprise but he kept watching Sandor.
"Strangely enough if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have met the little Lannister, and I might not be here sending you off now, but I suppose we never know what sick twists that fickle bitch fate keeps for us."
Sansa followed his gaze and watched the sea lap infinitely into the distance.
"She was a strong woman." Bronn said, "And smarter than most. Almost fearless I'd say."
When Sansa turned back, this time he was looking directly at her.
"You have her eyes." he said.
And then he was gone, striding across the ship towards the dock once more.
"Look after her dog- or the imp will try to throttle me and that would be an embarrassing attempt."
Sandor snorted derisively, but nonetheless she saw him nod and meet Bronn's stare.
The sell sword nodded back and then within a moment had vaulted off the deck and was gone in the crowd of the harbor.
The hustle and bustle of the crew was sudden and thrilling: the throwing of ropes, the crying of voices. Sansa stood to one side and leant against the port rail enthralled.
"Haven't you been to sea before?" The Hound rumbled beside her.
She glanced back at him quickly before returning her attention to the fascinating chaos with glee, "No- never!"
He started to laugh and pressed a hand to his head, "Seven save us,"
She spun on him, "What? What's wrong with that?"
He chuckled to himself, "You'll see, girl, you'll see."
It was only the second day off land and she had never felt so ill in her life.
She had wanted to stand on the deck and feel the wind in her hair but then the storms had started and there was nothing to be done. Closed in her cabin she tried to rest and pretend the waves weren't there, lolling like uneasy beasts under her.
The Hound brought her food, not that she could keep any of it down, but the captain had told him to prepare her a hot tea with ginger and that did help some.
Sandor waited patiently while Sansa sat on the edge of her bed with the warm cup clutched in her hands trying to not vomit while he was in the room.
"How much longer?" She asked.
"Till we arrive?" He said, "Weeks."
She groaned.
"Don't worry girl- you'll be over it soon enough."
She tried another sip and was grateful when her stomach didn't surge.
"I wish we'd cut my hair," She moaned, "At least then it would be out of the way."
Sandor laughed at her and she was tempted to throw the tea in his face, but the feeling passed almost instantly, you're just seasick, don't be such a child.
"The captain says we should be through the storms soon enough, and then you can get back to the deck and the air and soon you'll forget all about this."
Sansa groaned and rolled back over onto her cot. Sleep crept in around her with the taste of ginger on her tongue lulling the nausea into obedience. He was there, just beside her, making sure all was well, and with that thought she drifted off. Somewhere far away she thought she felt a rough hand gently move her hair from her face before she heard a door shut her into isolation. But then the dreams flooded in and there was nothing else.
They were all there again, waiting for her in the black: the white haired woman breathing fire, the girl with no face, and that man with one eye.
The crows flew from his head screaming and lashing at her. She fought them as she screamed, clawing and kicking and biting but it made no difference. Their claws scratched her skin and their beaks drilled bright red holes through her flesh They wanted her eyes, her tongue, she covered her face: "No- please, please, help me, HELP ME!"
There was a cry and they were gone. Slowly she pulled her hands from her face. All that remained was one bird. It's eyes were red and its feathers were white and it was watching her.
"Be brave, Sansa." She heard it echo, and it was changing moving, suddenly the eyes were gold and warm and the feathers were fur, thick and grey and comforting, but the wings remained, "We're here, but you have to be brave."
She started to cry. Her fingers reached out and held onto the fur and she pulled it close, hiding her face in it, letting it soak her tears. It smelled so good- the smell of leather and heat and earth. There was a thumb on her cheek wiping the tears away and that hard grey stare.
"Never,"
She felt lips catch on her own, different and strange and so very, very warm. Her mouth was opening and there was nothing, nothing but the blank white heat racing over her body. Rough hands fumbled over her chest, a thumb running across her breast so taunt under the cold wet of clinging small-clothes.
There was the screaming sound of ripping fabric and the chill was gone. A mouth on her neck and teeth and breath. She heard herself gasp but it sounded far off. Her hand found dark hair and she pressed the warmth tight to her chest as a tongue burning and rough as the wolf's in the wood sought out her hard nipples and flicked and lapped.
Someone was singing- was it her? The voice sounded so young and so afraid, it couldn't possibly be her's.
Mother mercy full of grace…
A hand on her thigh and then higher and higher and she cried out as it pierced her soul, pressing into the inestimable softness again and again as the warm almost painful waves of heat pulsed through her.
No one will ever hurt you again…
She surged and felt her hips buck hard again and again and again, she could barely breath, she couldn't even think!
"I swear…"
The pleasure exploded over her and as her eyes flew open all she saw was white. Slowly, slowly, she calmed, and as she did the white fluttered apart into a steady fall of snow against the blackest night.
Sansa woke up.
She could still hardly breath and felt wet and cold and for a moment thought she was still in the snow but her mind caught up with her and she realized she was just covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Carefully she sat up and moved to swing her legs to the side but suddenly froze in terror and slid back down. Her thighs were soaking wet! Was it her moon-blood again? She had been so careful the last few months, counting the nights and making sure Sandor didn't even notice when she clean the cloth: it couldn't be so soon!
With shaking hands she reached carefully between her legs, trying to ignore the steady pulsing of heat still echoing from that region. But when she raised her hand again there was no blood, and for some reason that scared her even more.
The images still danced through her head and she could feel her nipples tight against her shift and the sweat remaining on her brow.
With sudden urgency she stood and hurried to her basin, washing herself with a near ferocity. When she was cold and shaking she finally climbed back to her cot and curled up tight.
The feeling remained, clutching to her limbs like the images to her mind. Suddenly she realized her stomach no longer felt sickened, and even though her heart was still fluttering with nervousness and a raw thrumming sensation, she let the waves rock her into a sound sleep.
--------
"Found your feet, girl?" Sandor almost smiled at her as she eased herself back onto the deck of the boat.
The sun crashed into her eyes and she had to throw a hand in front of her face with a wince.
Carefully, she stepped out onto the planks of the boat. The cries of the seagulls mingled with the shouts of sailors and she suddenly realized how hungry she was.
"I'd like something to eat if it's not to much trouble." She muttered to her feet. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
It made him angry, she knew it did, but all he did was stare for a moment before stalking off along the deck to find someone to bring them a meal.
Sansa caught the smooth wood of the rail in her hands and breathed in deeply. The sun felt so good! The salt of the air and the gentle warmth of the rays so cleansing and pleasant. She smiled brightly and leaned over the edge taking in as much of it as she could.
Sandor's hand hit her shoulder and she jumped despite herself.
When she turned his face was dark but she tried to brush it aside.
It was just a dream, you have no reason to avoid him, she insisted, it doesn't mean anything, you don't even remember the stupid dream.
She made herself look into his face with all the brightness she could manage and noticed with a small thrill of victory that his countenance softened, if ever so slightly.
"Here girl," He said, pushing a loaf of rather hard bread into her hands.
She took a delicate bite.
Sandor laughed at her and rolled his eyes.
"You'd better eat that up or the bigger birds I'll have it from you." He said, gesturing idly to the screaming gulls circling about the rigging.
Sansa smiled at him "You'll stop them, I'm sure."
He grinned at her idly, "We'll see."
There was something different about him she noticed with a sudden clarity: I could almost think he was happy.
"You seem… pleased." She tried.
He snorted roughly, "Is that so?"
She held her ground, looking up at him with her bright eyes, "Yes, it is."
He returned her gaze and when she held it he shook his head with a smirk, "It might be hard for an preened little thing like you too understand, but it can be pleasing to not have your life pledged to a murderous little shit, or a woman whose compensating for a cock can only be matched by her father's."
Sansa reddened and turned her head but couldn't help smiling all the same.
He's proud- he's proud for the first time in his life and it's because of you.
"Although I don't think that proper ladies are supposed to take vows from oath-breakers." He continued sarcastically.
Sansa let her stare drift over the endless waves, "If more men were honest enough to be oath-breakers my grandfather and my uncle might still be alive. There's no honor in standing by while the innocent suffer, doing harm to those who could never defend themselves--"
She felt her throat catch but she swallowed and pushed those dark memories away.
Silence fell and she realized how foolish she had been to mention it, but it was the past now, it was gone forever and there was no need to go back.
"It was my name-day while I was ill." She said.
Sandor turned to face her with surprise, "You didn't say anything."
"It doesn't really matter." She continued, letting her hand reach out the dance in the spray of the sea, "I didn't even realize until I heard the Captain talking this morning that it had gone past."
The Hound said nothing but she felt him watching her as she looked out to the sea.
"It's strange… I used to imagine my thirteenth name-day, when I was young. I certainly didn't think I would spend it sicker than I'd ever been in the belly of a strange ship taking me to some far off land…"
"Are you sure about that?" The Hound smirked, "It sounds like a bloody song to me, they could call it: 'The Green Maiden'."
Sansa laughed despite herself as Sandor reached out to snatch the chunk of bread she was holding and take a bite.
"I am 'green', aren't I?" She said, "There are so many things I don't know how to do, so many experiences I haven't had."
Sandor put a hand to his waist and tapped his dagger, "Not as green as some girl."
Sansa didn't want to think about the dagger.
"I was your age when I killed my first man." He continued.
Sansa laughed.
"What's so bloody funny."
"I'm, I'm sorry it's just- you at my age, it's a strange thing to imagine."
For an instant she thought he would grow angry with her, growl and turn and walk away, but his face softened and he leaned in so close she could almost feel the rumble in his chest,
"Not as strange as some things, girl. The sailors talk of dragons to the east."
The way he smiled she could tell he thought it was all a fantasy. If they were real he wouldn't look so pleased, she thought, there must be nothing more terrifying for a burned man than the shadows of dragons.
| 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: 6 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The harbor was busy and her heart danced in her chest with excitement. Her hair was in the wind, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a smile, and people were looking at her and it didn't matter.
Sandor was shaking his head beside her as she almost danced down the street beside him but she could tell he was smiling when she couldn't see and hardly took his eyes from her.
It felt so amazing to stand and not hide- she knew maybe she shouldn't, that perhaps the freedom in her heart was too sudden and fool-hardy. But she didn't care, not this morning. Of course her chest still felt hollow at night when she tried to fall asleep, but somehow knowing that he was there, that he had sworn to her, made the hole feel smaller each day.
She tried not to think about her mother's face, about Robb's laugh, or the dreams that still tore through her brain, and today with the ocean's breath on her cheeks and the sounds of life around her it was easy to distract herself and she planned on clinging to that as long as possible.
Sandor had bought her a sweet roll from a cart while they waited for Bronn to check with the Captain and load their luggage. She held it like the most precious of jewels, letting the smell drift around her and the warmth flood her finger tips.
"You're supposed to eat it girl, not fucking stare at it." Sandor snarled, but she saw the smile under his stare and merely laughed.
"Let me enjoy this." She said and took a little bite, rolling her eyes back with a sighed.
Sandor snorted, "I thought you'd be more excited over those silks and jewels that eunuch sent along."
"Well, yes," Sansa said absentmindedly, "But… well-- I'm afraid such things might not suit me any longer."
She frowned as she lifted a strand of dirty hair and looked down at her roughened hands.
Sandor caught her face in his hand and turned her to look at him. His haggard mouth smirked as he pulled a large thumb across her cheek to remove a smudge of dirt.
"You were born for things such as those to suit you, Little Bird. It's not your fault some mutt's kept you in the woods for months."
"He's ready-" Bronn called as he returned, shooting them a lewd glance not for the first time. "We'd better get you aboard while the tide's with us."
Sansa felt her cheeks redden just slightly as she gathered herself but lifted her head tall and proud as they walked the dock towards the waiting ship.
The Captain seemed a pleasant enough man. He was short with dark hair and a full beard, but his eyes were steady and after the inn Sansa noticed that he looked right at her and held her hand without shaking or flinching.
As he grasped her palm he looked to Sandor standing just over her shoulder, "I owe the lord of whispers a great debt, ser, you can be sure your lady will be as safe as the seas can make her here."
"I'm no Ser," Sandor growled, "And if you can change this bloody fall weather then I'll be impressed."
He put his hand heavily on Sansa's shoulder and walked her on board.
Bronn's men finished handing over the last of the crates to the crew and he jumped nimbly over the rail to address them once more.
Sandor had wandered slightly to one side to help get Stranger on board. The horse was crazed and trashing and the crew eyed it uneasily but when The Hound stepped up to him and petting his nose he calmed and trotted after him.
Bronn stared for a moment and then looked down at Sansa wringing her hands.
"I knew your mother." He said suddenly.
Sansa's pale eyes rose to his face in surprise but he kept watching Sandor.
"Strangely enough if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have met the little Lannister, and I might not be here sending you off now, but I suppose we never know what sick twists that fickle bitch fate keeps for us."
Sansa followed his gaze and watched the sea lap infinitely into the distance.
"She was a strong woman." Bronn said, "And smarter than most. Almost fearless I'd say."
When Sansa turned back, this time he was looking directly at her.
"You have her eyes." he said.
And then he was gone, striding across the ship towards the dock once more.
"Look after her dog- or the imp will try to throttle me and that would be an embarrassing attempt."
Sandor snorted derisively, but nonetheless she saw him nod and meet Bronn's stare.
The sell sword nodded back and then within a moment had vaulted off the deck and was gone in the crowd of the harbor.
The hustle and bustle of the crew was sudden and thrilling: the throwing of ropes, the crying of voices. Sansa stood to one side and leant against the port rail enthralled.
"Haven't you been to sea before?" The Hound rumbled beside her.
She glanced back at him quickly before returning her attention to the fascinating chaos with glee, "No- never!"
He started to laugh and pressed a hand to his head, "Seven save us,"
She spun on him, "What? What's wrong with that?"
He chuckled to himself, "You'll see, girl, you'll see."
It was only the second day off land and she had never felt so ill in her life.
She had wanted to stand on the deck and feel the wind in her hair but then the storms had started and there was nothing to be done. Closed in her cabin she tried to rest and pretend the waves weren't there, lolling like uneasy beasts under her.
The Hound brought her food, not that she could keep any of it down, but the captain had told him to prepare her a hot tea with ginger and that did help some.
Sandor waited patiently while Sansa sat on the edge of her bed with the warm cup clutched in her hands trying to not vomit while he was in the room.
"How much longer?" She asked.
"Till we arrive?" He said, "Weeks."
She groaned.
"Don't worry girl- you'll be over it soon enough."
She tried another sip and was grateful when her stomach didn't surge.
"I wish we'd cut my hair," She moaned, "At least then it would be out of the way."
Sandor laughed at her and she was tempted to throw the tea in his face, but the feeling passed almost instantly, you're just seasick, don't be such a child.
"The captain says we should be through the storms soon enough, and then you can get back to the deck and the air and soon you'll forget all about this."
Sansa groaned and rolled back over onto her cot. Sleep crept in around her with the taste of ginger on her tongue lulling the nausea into obedience. He was there, just beside her, making sure all was well, and with that thought she drifted off. Somewhere far away she thought she felt a rough hand gently move her hair from her face before she heard a door shut her into isolation. But then the dreams flooded in and there was nothing else.
They were all there again, waiting for her in the black: the white haired woman breathing fire, the girl with no face, and that man with one eye.
The crows flew from his head screaming and lashing at her. She fought them as she screamed, clawing and kicking and biting but it made no difference. Their claws scratched her skin and their beaks drilled bright red holes through her flesh They wanted her eyes, her tongue, she covered her face: "No- please, please, help me, HELP ME!"
There was a cry and they were gone. Slowly she pulled her hands from her face. All that remained was one bird. It's eyes were red and its feathers were white and it was watching her.
"Be brave, Sansa." She heard it echo, and it was changing moving, suddenly the eyes were gold and warm and the feathers were fur, thick and grey and comforting, but the wings remained, "We're here, but you have to be brave."
She started to cry. Her fingers reached out and held onto the fur and she pulled it close, hiding her face in it, letting it soak her tears. It smelled so good- the smell of leather and heat and earth. There was a thumb on her cheek wiping the tears away and that hard grey stare.
"Never,"
She felt lips catch on her own, different and strange and so very, very warm. Her mouth was opening and there was nothing, nothing but the blank white heat racing over her body. Rough hands fumbled over her chest, a thumb running across her breast so taunt under the cold wet of clinging small-clothes.
There was the screaming sound of ripping fabric and the chill was gone. A mouth on her neck and teeth and breath. She heard herself gasp but it sounded far off. Her hand found dark hair and she pressed the warmth tight to her chest as a tongue burning and rough as the wolf's in the wood sought out her hard nipples and flicked and lapped.
Someone was singing- was it her? The voice sounded so young and so afraid, it couldn't possibly be her's.
Mother mercy full of grace…
A hand on her thigh and then higher and higher and she cried out as it pierced her soul, pressing into the inestimable softness again and again as the warm almost painful waves of heat pulsed through her.
No one will ever hurt you again…
She surged and felt her hips buck hard again and again and again, she could barely breath, she couldn't even think!
"I swear…"
The pleasure exploded over her and as her eyes flew open all she saw was white. Slowly, slowly, she calmed, and as she did the white fluttered apart into a steady fall of snow against the blackest night.
Sansa woke up.
She could still hardly breath and felt wet and cold and for a moment thought she was still in the snow but her mind caught up with her and she realized she was just covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Carefully she sat up and moved to swing her legs to the side but suddenly froze in terror and slid back down. Her thighs were soaking wet! Was it her moon-blood again? She had been so careful the last few months, counting the nights and making sure Sandor didn't even notice when she clean the cloth: it couldn't be so soon!
With shaking hands she reached carefully between her legs, trying to ignore the steady pulsing of heat still echoing from that region. But when she raised her hand again there was no blood, and for some reason that scared her even more.
The images still danced through her head and she could feel her nipples tight against her shift and the sweat remaining on her brow.
With sudden urgency she stood and hurried to her basin, washing herself with a near ferocity. When she was cold and shaking she finally climbed back to her cot and curled up tight.
The feeling remained, clutching to her limbs like the images to her mind. Suddenly she realized her stomach no longer felt sickened, and even though her heart was still fluttering with nervousness and a raw thrumming sensation, she let the waves rock her into a sound sleep.
--------
"Found your feet, girl?" Sandor almost smiled at her as she eased herself back onto the deck of the boat.
The sun crashed into her eyes and she had to throw a hand in front of her face with a wince.
Carefully, she stepped out onto the planks of the boat. The cries of the seagulls mingled with the shouts of sailors and she suddenly realized how hungry she was.
"I'd like something to eat if it's not to much trouble." She muttered to her feet. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
It made him angry, she knew it did, but all he did was stare for a moment before stalking off along the deck to find someone to bring them a meal.
Sansa caught the smooth wood of the rail in her hands and breathed in deeply. The sun felt so good! The salt of the air and the gentle warmth of the rays so cleansing and pleasant. She smiled brightly and leaned over the edge taking in as much of it as she could.
Sandor's hand hit her shoulder and she jumped despite herself.
When she turned his face was dark but she tried to brush it aside.
It was just a dream, you have no reason to avoid him, she insisted, it doesn't mean anything, you don't even remember the stupid dream.
She made herself look into his face with all the brightness she could manage and noticed with a small thrill of victory that his countenance softened, if ever so slightly.
"Here girl," He said, pushing a loaf of rather hard bread into her hands.
She took a delicate bite.
Sandor laughed at her and rolled his eyes.
"You'd better eat that up or the bigger birds I'll have it from you." He said, gesturing idly to the screaming gulls circling about the rigging.
Sansa smiled at him "You'll stop them, I'm sure."
He grinned at her idly, "We'll see."
There was something different about him she noticed with a sudden clarity: I could almost think he was happy.
"You seem… pleased." She tried.
He snorted roughly, "Is that so?"
She held her ground, looking up at him with her bright eyes, "Yes, it is."
He returned her gaze and when she held it he shook his head with a smirk, "It might be hard for an preened little thing like you too understand, but it can be pleasing to not have your life pledged to a murderous little shit, or a woman whose compensating for a cock can only be matched by her father's."
Sansa reddened and turned her head but couldn't help smiling all the same.
He's proud- he's proud for the first time in his life and it's because of you.
"Although I don't think that proper ladies are supposed to take vows from oath-breakers." He continued sarcastically.
Sansa let her stare drift over the endless waves, "If more men were honest enough to be oath-breakers my grandfather and my uncle might still be alive. There's no honor in standing by while the innocent suffer, doing harm to those who could never defend themselves--"
She felt her throat catch but she swallowed and pushed those dark memories away.
Silence fell and she realized how foolish she had been to mention it, but it was the past now, it was gone forever and there was no need to go back.
"It was my name-day while I was ill." She said.
Sandor turned to face her with surprise, "You didn't say anything."
"It doesn't really matter." She continued, letting her hand reach out the dance in the spray of the sea, "I didn't even realize until I heard the Captain talking this morning that it had gone past."
The Hound said nothing but she felt him watching her as she looked out to the sea.
"It's strange… I used to imagine my thirteenth name-day, when I was young. I certainly didn't think I would spend it sicker than I'd ever been in the belly of a strange ship taking me to some far off land…"
"Are you sure about that?" The Hound smirked, "It sounds like a bloody song to me, they could call it: 'The Green Maiden'."
Sansa laughed despite herself as Sandor reached out to snatch the chunk of bread she was holding and take a bite.
"I am 'green', aren't I?" She said, "There are so many things I don't know how to do, so many experiences I haven't had."
Sandor put a hand to his waist and tapped his dagger, "Not as green as some girl."
Sansa didn't want to think about the dagger.
"I was your age when I killed my first man." He continued.
Sansa laughed.
"What's so bloody funny."
"I'm, I'm sorry it's just- you at my age, it's a strange thing to imagine."
For an instant she thought he would grow angry with her, growl and turn and walk away, but his face softened and he leaned in so close she could almost feel the rumble in his chest,
"Not as strange as some things, girl. The sailors talk of dragons to the east."
The way he smiled she could tell he thought it was all a fantasy. If they were real he wouldn't look so pleased, she thought, there must be nothing more terrifying for a burned man than the shadows of dragons.
| Next Part >