"Promises" Sandor/Sansa Fic - Part 7
"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: 7 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The city loomed against the hills of distant lands, shining red and golden in this land of summer's light.
Sansa grasped the rail of the bow as she leaned as far out as she could and stared in awe as it approached. The towers of thick red brick stood squarely against the sky and all the little houses roofed in layered tiles surrounding close streets that seemed bustling with the chaos of King's Landing but a calmer more luxurious attitude of embraced lethargy.
And beyond green rolling hills so perfectly smooth and welcoming. How strange to see no trees!
"Get back here, girl." She heard Sandor call to her, "The bloody sailors need to get there with out worrying about you flying overboard."
Sansa danced back over the planks and stuck her tongue out at Sandor as she spun into her cabin.
She ought to be nervous: for all she knew she could be captured and taken to the queen as soon as they stepped off the ship, but she didn't want to think about that. Her eager hands threw open the lid to the largest of the chests Varys had sent along with her and silks glowed with all the colors of the rainbow.
It would have been foolish to wear such things when she was ill or walking along the decks with nothing but common sailors to see, but now she was about the take her first steps in one of the great Free Cities and she wanted to look more beautiful as she ever had before.
It had been so long since she dressed herself in such finery without a maid that before she had managed to find a way to tie the back laces a heavy hand pounded on her cabin door with such a lack of propriety that she knew it was The Hound.
She stretched her fingers to try and reach the laces.
"Seven hells girl, they're waiting to unload the bloody chests!" Sandor roared outside the door.
Sansa rolled her eyes and finally let out a frustrated sigh.
"Do you hear?" Sandor barked, "If you don't get out here soon they're going---"
She tore the door open and stared up into his face.
His voice dropped out of his throat instantly. All he could do was stare at her with eyes wide and she smiled casually up into his face, feeling her heart dance at disarming him so.
She'd chosen a pale blue gown of layered silk so thin you could just see through it in the sunlight. It was slashed in an eastern fashion- one sash of translucent silk over her shoulder leaving the other bare. The bodice was twirling with the shapes of larks and swooping songbirds with a metallic thread that just caught the light as the form of the corset pressed her breasts high and proud.
It felt like the first dress she had worn in years that truly fit her across her chest and she was suddenly proud at the perfect pale hills of her beasts. She'd even draped a necklace of dark jade around her neck that was long enough to lie tight around her throat and the second loop fell into the hollow between her breasts. There were little bells on the earrings along with the jade and she'd pulled her hair into a casual mound held in place by only a few spears of matching stone tipped in silver that caught the sunlight.
He couldn't seem to stop staring at her.
"Yes?" She asked innocently.
Sandor cleared his throat roughly and mumbled something.
"What's that, my lord?" She said sweetly.
The Hound's eyes were drifting down her bodice, "Nothing… nothing."
"Well, if it's not too much trouble I could use your assistance." She said, turning her back to him where her laces where still undone.
Sandor paled, "I'm not a fucking handmaiden."
Sansa glared at him over her shoulder, "You're what I have."
He swallowed, looked around awkwardly and then lifted the strings, "Umm…"
"Just pull them tight and tie them there," Sansa said, trying as hard as she could not to laugh at the look on his face.
He must have seen the repressed mirth on her countenance for he smirked slightly and tugged the ties hard.
She gasped out in shock and heard him chuckle slightly as he tied the bow carefully and let her go.
Sansa turned back to face him, looked down over her skirts to make sure everything was in order and spun in a neat circle that sent the bells on her earrings tingling ever so slightly.
"How is it?" She asked.
A strand of her hair had flown free in her spin and he reached out gently and pushed it back into place; "Good."
A vicious whinny cut the air and Sandor spun in it's direction, "Seven bloody hells!"
Stranger was kicking and lashing on the deck in his anxiety to be off the boat.
Sandor reach him and calmed him down onto the red cobblestones of the street with Sansa close behind.
She suddenly felt uncomfortable standing on a dock in such finery but the feeling vanished when she noticed the ornate and massive litter quickly approaching them carried aloft by men whose skin matched the bronze of their collars.
Sandor had noticed as well and stepped closer to her, standing tall and fearsome with his still-bandaged hand on his long sword.
The litter came to a stop just as the sailors finished unloading the last of the chests and a pretty dark-skinned girl pulled the curtains aside.
The fattest man Sansa had ever seen rolled himself out into the road, wiping the sweat from his head with a lace handkerchief and approaching her with a broad smile. He stopped just before her and bowed his head as he took her little hand in his own and kissed it delicately, "My lady Stark, may I be the first to welcome you to the city of Pentos."
Sansa reclined her own head courteously, "I thank you, my lord…?"
"Just Illyrio, fair child, Illyrio Mopatis."
"Then thank you Illyrio Mopatis- I believe we owe our safe passage to your good guidance."
She could feel Sandor's irritation at her curtesy practically seeping out of him but she paid it no mind- you've lived his way for all this while, it's time he lived yours.
The massive man before her lowered his head once more, "I am merely glad to be of service to what remains of such a proud and noble house as yours, my lady. May I express my deepest condolences for all the cruel losses you have suffered."
Sansa lowered her eyes demurely and nodded in silence.
"And I was told you came with a brave protector." Illyrio continued as he turned to Sandor. Sansa watched as the man's eyes moved over him with speed and care, seemingly evaluating every inch of him within moments.
"Ser Sandor Clegane, 'The Hound', is it not?" He asked.
"No Ser." Sandor corrected, never looking from the blubbery Pentoshi's eyes.
"Well- I do not wish to seem too eager a host, but it would not be prudent to remain on the street any longer than necessary. My litter awaits to bare us to my manse where you can rest and remain as long as you like in safety."
As he finished he gestured towards the waiting litter and landed his eyes on Sansa.
She smiled pleasantly but made sure to look to Sandor.
The Hound nodded roughly, drumming his large fingers soundly on the hilt of his blade, and with that Sansa took Illyrio's offered arm and followed him delicately towards the litter.
Sansa stepped up to the litter, eyeing the bronze-collared slaves uncomfortably all the while.
"Will your body-guard ride with us?" Illyrio asked turning to Sandor.
"No," He growled, and gestured idly to the littler lifters, "I'm sure they've enough on their shoulders. I'll ride along side."
Sansa stared at him for a moment in fear but he met her gaze and nodded solidly, "Right along side."
She swallowed and pushed through the curtain to sit amongst the silk and pillows.
The dark woman who she had seen before was waiting and as Illyrio climbed inside and the litter began to move she lifted a plate of figs for Sansa.
"Lady?"
Sansa shook her head respectfully.
"This is Thya, Lady Sansa, she will serve as your hand maiden during your stay at my home."
The woman smiled to Sansa, her white teeth shining brilliantly against her ebony skin.
Sansa returned the favor, "I'm sure we shall do well together."
"I know you must be tired from your journey but I have arranged a small entertainment for tonight. I thought it would not be proper to introduce you to the Free Cities without at least a taste of our culture."
Sansa felt the excitement growing in her chest already, "Oh yes! I've heard much about the treasures of Pentos, I would feel foolish not to experience them while I have this opportunity."
"Good, I'm glad I had the foresight. Nothing large mind you- after such a journey and all the trials you've suffered through rest is vital. But I couldn't resist a small feast and some display of dance, just for you in your rooms of the manse, mind- I would not want to force too much societal pressure upon you, especially given the precarious nature of your safety."
Sansa nodded eagerly, "Yes, of course, that sounds most welcome."
"I have other business to attend to myself, unfortunately. I would rather spend the evening in the company of a lady as beautiful as yourself but the Prince does not wait on Magisters. Thya will be there to help with anything you may need."
"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this kindness," Sansa began.
"Tut-tut, none of that girl, it is as I have said: my pleasure." The Pentoshi smiled.
-------
Dusk was settling over the city. She stood on her balcony, watching with fascination as the last rays kissed the sky line. Behind her Thya was pulling her clothes from the chests and arranging everything that required it.
Sansa sighed, as foolish as it might be it felt so right to have silks on her skin and someone to put them there once more- knowing that there was a meal waiting for her and that she could sit elegantly and enjoy her evening like a proper lady once again.
It had been so long since she could feel safe in her own skin, not afraid that her beauty would entice Joffrey to some horrible violence. Of course there was still risk, she knew that, but she couldn't help herself- she had him after all, she knew she would be safe.
"This dress would be lovely on you tonight, Lady." Her new handmaiden called from the chest. Her accent had a thick low quality to it that reminded Sansa of the dark honey in the glass garden's at Winterfell.
The gown was dark green and it didn't seem to have a bodice at all, just two hanging strips of fabric that attached at the hips and behind the neck.
"I… I'm not sure about that fashion." Sansa said hesitantly.
"It is a Tyroshi cut, Lady, it has become quite popular in Pentos among the ladies of the Magisters."
"Well, I suppose if it's what's done." She answered, still staring speculatively at the neck line and looking for the fabric to the back that did not seem to be there.
"My Lady is so beautiful," The girl smiled, in that rather unnerving way that made Sansa feel like she had too many teeth, "You have the body of the maiden herself. You should be proud."
Sansa smiled shyly. Oh, what was the difference- it's not as if she was even entertaining, merely watching a dance with her meal, there wouldn't even be any guests the Magister had said.
Just him.
"Very well," She nodded, "I'm sure it will be perfect."
When the time for her meal arrived she stepped out of her room into the darkness of the hall. She was about to follow Thya when something moved in the black.
"You took your time, girl." He growled.
"What are you doing there?" Sansa gasped, holding one palm tight against her chest, "Lurking in the darkness like that?"
"Dogs guard doors Little Bird- you should know that. It's one of the few things they're good for."
She tried to still her breathing and ignored the nervous glances of her handmaiden behind her.
When she looked back at him he was staring at her dress, but looked away quickly when he realized she had noticed.
To her sudden shock he extended his arm to her and with a hesitant hand she took it and they followed the girl to the upper terrace.
When Sansa stepped outside she couldn't help but sigh. The air was filled with the smells of orange blossoms, and white lilac, all swirling on the slightly chilled breeze that brought just enough relief to the heat of the night.
Torches flickered all around and a fountain was tinkling amongst the greenery. Spread out across where the moss of the garden met the ancient stones of the terrace were stacks and stack of silken pillows- some even larger than her, and all surrounded by trays baring every manner of delicacy.
And wine! There were vials in all the colors Sansa had ever seen: the pale glow of arbor gold, the deep red of Dornish vintage, even green nectar wine from Myr.
For a moment all she could do was stare in awe at perfect peace and beauty before her. Music began to play and she pulled herself from the trace, making her way to the couch of pillows. She stood there for a moment, trying to sit down so low in an elegant manner while Sandor merely collapsed and reached instantly for the Dornish red.
When she finally settled herself the dancing began. There were beautiful women, dressed in flowing silks so thin she could see the details of their bodies underneath and the music was so strange to her: full of the beating of drums and unfamiliar strings that lulled and rocked with the dancer's bodies.
The food was perfection: light and bountiful with just the right variant of flavor. She found herself reaching constantly for another dish and taking a heavy sip of Arbor Gold each time to wash it down. Before too long she felt loose with relaxation and she found the uncomfortableness at the pillowed seating vanish as she lounged freely, watching the dancers with half-closed eyes and reaching across Sandor's body boldly to take food from his side.
"What happened to those manners, girl." Sandor laughed at her. She couldn't help noticing that his eyes were heavy too and all of the Dornish red was gone along with some of the Tyroshi brandy.
"Shhh," She almost slurred, and pressed a finger against her pink lips, "It can be our secret."
Sandor rolled his eyes as he smiled, "You're drunk, Little Bird."
"No," She insisted, leaning over the pillows towards him so the neck of the low gown draped open, "Ladies do not get 'drunk'."
Sandor chuckled, "Of course not- how could I forget?"
"You're allowed to drink as much as you want." She pouted, "It shouldn't matter what I do."
"No one's 'allowed' anything, girl- they do what they please."
"Mmm," she liked the sound of that, the wine on her tongue felt as light and warm as sunshine, "Yes- whatever they please."
He laughed into his cup next to her and she could almost feel the silk vibrate under the depth of his voice.
With a smirk on her lips she picked up one of the pillows and threw it at his face.
His brandy went spilling over the floor and he turned on her in sudden anger, "What in seven hells was that for girl?!"
"You!" She returned, "You're always laughing at me- its not fair. I'm only trying my best. I don't deserve to be made to feel such a fool."
He wiped the spilt brandy from his leg and snarled at her, "I didn't mean anything by it."
"You shouldn't be so unkind." She said, turning away from him and reaching angrily for another paper-thin slice of pork wrapped about dark and sinfully rich olives.
Her voice continued on without her even realizing it, "You should be kind to me- you don't know what it's like to loose the ones you love. You hate your brother. How could you understand?"
And then she looked at him and felt her chest go cold. He was staring at her so hard she felt she might burn.
"I had a sister. And a father, and you know nothing about what I understand." He turned away.
Sansa sat there for a moment staring down into the cup in her hands. And before she could stop herself her voice came again, softer this time.
"What happened to them?"
Sandor took a heavy swill of his drink, "The same thing that happened to me."
She wanted to reach out to him but he was too far off.
"He will meet justice." She said instead.
He laughed again, but this time the bitterness was back and she hated herself for putting it there, "Justice- yes little bird, everyone meets your bloody 'justice'!"
He drained the rest of his brandy and continued, "I'm the only justice that he'll meet… only…"
His voice trailed off and she shifted herself gently closer; "Only…?"
"I know bloody better now. When she…" He stopped for a moment and then continued, "I used to think I would grow and get big enough that it wouldn't happen again. And I did grow- one of the bloody members of that legendary guard, and what happened then?"
His eyes burned into her, "You- you and your bloody songs and those big eyes full of faith that never should have been there, and I still wasn't big enough. I'll never be big enough. A man the height of my bloody knee was the one who finally made sure you were safe, not me."
He drained another glass.
"I'm not a child anymore, staring at knights at thinking maybe one day I'll be big enough to kill the monster." He said.
He turned and looked at her hard: "The monsters grow too girl, don't forget that. They'll always be one bigger than any little hero from a song, its just waiting in the dark: it will catch him one day, but no one wants to hear tales like that… they're too real to be songs."
She couldn't look away from his eyes.
"That's not true." She said.
He was too angry to laugh this time. But she was angry too, she reached out and held onto his hand hard. His head spun and he started down at her little fingers lacing tight around his.
"You are strong enough," She insisted, feeling the tears swell in her throat but swallowing them into strength.
"You are strong enough to never let anything hurt me. Nothing can convince me that you aren't- I know that what ever comes for me, no matter when or how, you'll stop them, and no monster, no matter how large will be able to stand against you."
His face was so tormented but she didn't take her stare from his.
"Sansa," He began, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "It's not as simple as that."
"No," She insisted, "It is."
For a moment she thought he would argue again, but he only pulled his hand from hers to take another drink and tried to smile; "This talk's too dark for dinner."
She leaned back happily, feeling victorious.
"Every thing here is just perfect." She hummed, lifting her hands into the sky palm first and smiling.
"I won't complain about the wine." Sandor muttered.
"Don't you like the food?" She asked eagerly.
"Aye, it'll serve." He answered sarcastically.
"And the dancers?" She continued with an eyebrow raised.
His gaze drifted over them for a moment and she felt her skin prickle as the side of his mouth twitched.
In almost the same instant he pulled his attention away from the twirling bodies, "The women here dance like bloody whores."
Sansa sat bolt upright, "They do not!"
Sandor rolled his eyes drunkenly over to her, "Is that so? And how would you know how whores dance, girl?"
She felt her cheeks redden but fought it, "I don't care how whores dance- I like the way these women dance. They seem… free."
"Aye free," Sandor scoffed, "Free to earn dragons by flinging their tits about."
Sansa felt the anger growing in her chest, and then she was on her feet. Her head spun for a moment as she stood after all the wine she'd had but then she was spinning too and it didn't seem to matter.
The drums were pounding and she shut out everything but their song and the almost sad distant strings singing directly into her heart.
Her eyes were closed and she let the air sweep around her, directing her, moving her. She didn't think- she didn't want to, she just spun. The beating of the drums flowed from her chest down into her hips and she felt them rock under her, pulling against her stomach back and forth as her legs carried her blindly and confidently over the stones. Her arms were in the air, lifting and falling with the notes of the strings, clutching the smell of the orange blossoms to her chest, swimming through the gentle warmth of the air in perfect bliss.
The pace quickened and she felt her hips thrash unbidden, felt her hands slide down her body, luxuriating in the feel of the silk and the softness of her own skin, the hills and valleys of her flesh. Faster, and faster still and she spun with it all, her mouth falling open as she breathed hard and smiled to the night, and then, suddenly, silence.
She stopped and opened her eyes, staring right into his. Her hair was stuck to her face and her shoes were gone. Her chest was rising and falling with her heavy breathes and none of it mattered.
She laughed loud and free and watched as the dumb shock in his stare melted ever so slightly to grin with her. Sansa spun on last time and collapsed down into the pillows, giggling into the softness as she pulled her arms over her head into her hair and arched her back happily.
Sandor was laughing to himself in that low rumble that had become so comforting to her; "What would bloody Ned Stark say?"
She rolled over onto her stomach to look at him; "He'd say he'd never seen me so happy."
Sandor turned back to her in surprise, and she wasn't sure suddenly wether he was angry or sad.
"I would like one of those," She said, ignoring his look, "If you would be so kind."
"These?" He asked, gesturing the the plate of sliced blood-orange beside him.
She nodded eagerly as she lifted herself up and tucked her knees neatly under her.
"If you would, my lady." He mocked as he lifted one of the fruits, so dark in was almost black in the light and shining with sweetness.
He held the slice out to her and she bite into it, realizing only too late he just meant to hand it to her. She felt the heat seep into her cheeks and pulled back suddenly.
As she lowered her eyes in embarrassment she saw that a sanguine drop of juice had landed on the hill of her pale breast. She stared at it- somehow she couldn't seem to look away, the color was so deep and rich it was almost like blood against the northern pale of her skin.
And then he was reaching out and she watched, breathe gone and eyes wide, as his rough thumb, ever so slowly, ever so carefully, wiped the nectar away.
Her heart was beating so hard, he must feel it.
He lifted his hand and placed his thumb now wet with red on her bottom lip.
Sansa's stomach was pulled so tight she could hardly bare it, and as she looked into his face he didn't flinch, just stared like a man entranced, at his thumb against her.
He ran the darkness of the juice gently back and forth over her lip as if it required the most precise and delicate care and as he did she felt her eyes flutter and her mouth opened on it's own.
Sandor's thumb moved ever so slightly, just enough to run across the very edge of the wetness of her open lips and then he pulled his hand away.
She sat there, heart pounding in her throat, with a dull pulsing racing between her legs.
He met her eyes and she had never seen him look so angry. Within a moment he was standing and striding across the terrace, paying to mind to the wine he kicked on his way or the tray of fruit sent flying.
She sat there, alone, and perfectly still as the music swayed around her she carefully stood and let Thya lead her to her bed.
< 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: 7 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
The city loomed against the hills of distant lands, shining red and golden in this land of summer's light.
Sansa grasped the rail of the bow as she leaned as far out as she could and stared in awe as it approached. The towers of thick red brick stood squarely against the sky and all the little houses roofed in layered tiles surrounding close streets that seemed bustling with the chaos of King's Landing but a calmer more luxurious attitude of embraced lethargy.
And beyond green rolling hills so perfectly smooth and welcoming. How strange to see no trees!
"Get back here, girl." She heard Sandor call to her, "The bloody sailors need to get there with out worrying about you flying overboard."
Sansa danced back over the planks and stuck her tongue out at Sandor as she spun into her cabin.
She ought to be nervous: for all she knew she could be captured and taken to the queen as soon as they stepped off the ship, but she didn't want to think about that. Her eager hands threw open the lid to the largest of the chests Varys had sent along with her and silks glowed with all the colors of the rainbow.
It would have been foolish to wear such things when she was ill or walking along the decks with nothing but common sailors to see, but now she was about the take her first steps in one of the great Free Cities and she wanted to look more beautiful as she ever had before.
It had been so long since she dressed herself in such finery without a maid that before she had managed to find a way to tie the back laces a heavy hand pounded on her cabin door with such a lack of propriety that she knew it was The Hound.
She stretched her fingers to try and reach the laces.
"Seven hells girl, they're waiting to unload the bloody chests!" Sandor roared outside the door.
Sansa rolled her eyes and finally let out a frustrated sigh.
"Do you hear?" Sandor barked, "If you don't get out here soon they're going---"
She tore the door open and stared up into his face.
His voice dropped out of his throat instantly. All he could do was stare at her with eyes wide and she smiled casually up into his face, feeling her heart dance at disarming him so.
She'd chosen a pale blue gown of layered silk so thin you could just see through it in the sunlight. It was slashed in an eastern fashion- one sash of translucent silk over her shoulder leaving the other bare. The bodice was twirling with the shapes of larks and swooping songbirds with a metallic thread that just caught the light as the form of the corset pressed her breasts high and proud.
It felt like the first dress she had worn in years that truly fit her across her chest and she was suddenly proud at the perfect pale hills of her beasts. She'd even draped a necklace of dark jade around her neck that was long enough to lie tight around her throat and the second loop fell into the hollow between her breasts. There were little bells on the earrings along with the jade and she'd pulled her hair into a casual mound held in place by only a few spears of matching stone tipped in silver that caught the sunlight.
He couldn't seem to stop staring at her.
"Yes?" She asked innocently.
Sandor cleared his throat roughly and mumbled something.
"What's that, my lord?" She said sweetly.
The Hound's eyes were drifting down her bodice, "Nothing… nothing."
"Well, if it's not too much trouble I could use your assistance." She said, turning her back to him where her laces where still undone.
Sandor paled, "I'm not a fucking handmaiden."
Sansa glared at him over her shoulder, "You're what I have."
He swallowed, looked around awkwardly and then lifted the strings, "Umm…"
"Just pull them tight and tie them there," Sansa said, trying as hard as she could not to laugh at the look on his face.
He must have seen the repressed mirth on her countenance for he smirked slightly and tugged the ties hard.
She gasped out in shock and heard him chuckle slightly as he tied the bow carefully and let her go.
Sansa turned back to face him, looked down over her skirts to make sure everything was in order and spun in a neat circle that sent the bells on her earrings tingling ever so slightly.
"How is it?" She asked.
A strand of her hair had flown free in her spin and he reached out gently and pushed it back into place; "Good."
A vicious whinny cut the air and Sandor spun in it's direction, "Seven bloody hells!"
Stranger was kicking and lashing on the deck in his anxiety to be off the boat.
Sandor reach him and calmed him down onto the red cobblestones of the street with Sansa close behind.
She suddenly felt uncomfortable standing on a dock in such finery but the feeling vanished when she noticed the ornate and massive litter quickly approaching them carried aloft by men whose skin matched the bronze of their collars.
Sandor had noticed as well and stepped closer to her, standing tall and fearsome with his still-bandaged hand on his long sword.
The litter came to a stop just as the sailors finished unloading the last of the chests and a pretty dark-skinned girl pulled the curtains aside.
The fattest man Sansa had ever seen rolled himself out into the road, wiping the sweat from his head with a lace handkerchief and approaching her with a broad smile. He stopped just before her and bowed his head as he took her little hand in his own and kissed it delicately, "My lady Stark, may I be the first to welcome you to the city of Pentos."
Sansa reclined her own head courteously, "I thank you, my lord…?"
"Just Illyrio, fair child, Illyrio Mopatis."
"Then thank you Illyrio Mopatis- I believe we owe our safe passage to your good guidance."
She could feel Sandor's irritation at her curtesy practically seeping out of him but she paid it no mind- you've lived his way for all this while, it's time he lived yours.
The massive man before her lowered his head once more, "I am merely glad to be of service to what remains of such a proud and noble house as yours, my lady. May I express my deepest condolences for all the cruel losses you have suffered."
Sansa lowered her eyes demurely and nodded in silence.
"And I was told you came with a brave protector." Illyrio continued as he turned to Sandor. Sansa watched as the man's eyes moved over him with speed and care, seemingly evaluating every inch of him within moments.
"Ser Sandor Clegane, 'The Hound', is it not?" He asked.
"No Ser." Sandor corrected, never looking from the blubbery Pentoshi's eyes.
"Well- I do not wish to seem too eager a host, but it would not be prudent to remain on the street any longer than necessary. My litter awaits to bare us to my manse where you can rest and remain as long as you like in safety."
As he finished he gestured towards the waiting litter and landed his eyes on Sansa.
She smiled pleasantly but made sure to look to Sandor.
The Hound nodded roughly, drumming his large fingers soundly on the hilt of his blade, and with that Sansa took Illyrio's offered arm and followed him delicately towards the litter.
Sansa stepped up to the litter, eyeing the bronze-collared slaves uncomfortably all the while.
"Will your body-guard ride with us?" Illyrio asked turning to Sandor.
"No," He growled, and gestured idly to the littler lifters, "I'm sure they've enough on their shoulders. I'll ride along side."
Sansa stared at him for a moment in fear but he met her gaze and nodded solidly, "Right along side."
She swallowed and pushed through the curtain to sit amongst the silk and pillows.
The dark woman who she had seen before was waiting and as Illyrio climbed inside and the litter began to move she lifted a plate of figs for Sansa.
"Lady?"
Sansa shook her head respectfully.
"This is Thya, Lady Sansa, she will serve as your hand maiden during your stay at my home."
The woman smiled to Sansa, her white teeth shining brilliantly against her ebony skin.
Sansa returned the favor, "I'm sure we shall do well together."
"I know you must be tired from your journey but I have arranged a small entertainment for tonight. I thought it would not be proper to introduce you to the Free Cities without at least a taste of our culture."
Sansa felt the excitement growing in her chest already, "Oh yes! I've heard much about the treasures of Pentos, I would feel foolish not to experience them while I have this opportunity."
"Good, I'm glad I had the foresight. Nothing large mind you- after such a journey and all the trials you've suffered through rest is vital. But I couldn't resist a small feast and some display of dance, just for you in your rooms of the manse, mind- I would not want to force too much societal pressure upon you, especially given the precarious nature of your safety."
Sansa nodded eagerly, "Yes, of course, that sounds most welcome."
"I have other business to attend to myself, unfortunately. I would rather spend the evening in the company of a lady as beautiful as yourself but the Prince does not wait on Magisters. Thya will be there to help with anything you may need."
"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this kindness," Sansa began.
"Tut-tut, none of that girl, it is as I have said: my pleasure." The Pentoshi smiled.
-------
Dusk was settling over the city. She stood on her balcony, watching with fascination as the last rays kissed the sky line. Behind her Thya was pulling her clothes from the chests and arranging everything that required it.
Sansa sighed, as foolish as it might be it felt so right to have silks on her skin and someone to put them there once more- knowing that there was a meal waiting for her and that she could sit elegantly and enjoy her evening like a proper lady once again.
It had been so long since she could feel safe in her own skin, not afraid that her beauty would entice Joffrey to some horrible violence. Of course there was still risk, she knew that, but she couldn't help herself- she had him after all, she knew she would be safe.
"This dress would be lovely on you tonight, Lady." Her new handmaiden called from the chest. Her accent had a thick low quality to it that reminded Sansa of the dark honey in the glass garden's at Winterfell.
The gown was dark green and it didn't seem to have a bodice at all, just two hanging strips of fabric that attached at the hips and behind the neck.
"I… I'm not sure about that fashion." Sansa said hesitantly.
"It is a Tyroshi cut, Lady, it has become quite popular in Pentos among the ladies of the Magisters."
"Well, I suppose if it's what's done." She answered, still staring speculatively at the neck line and looking for the fabric to the back that did not seem to be there.
"My Lady is so beautiful," The girl smiled, in that rather unnerving way that made Sansa feel like she had too many teeth, "You have the body of the maiden herself. You should be proud."
Sansa smiled shyly. Oh, what was the difference- it's not as if she was even entertaining, merely watching a dance with her meal, there wouldn't even be any guests the Magister had said.
Just him.
"Very well," She nodded, "I'm sure it will be perfect."
When the time for her meal arrived she stepped out of her room into the darkness of the hall. She was about to follow Thya when something moved in the black.
"You took your time, girl." He growled.
"What are you doing there?" Sansa gasped, holding one palm tight against her chest, "Lurking in the darkness like that?"
"Dogs guard doors Little Bird- you should know that. It's one of the few things they're good for."
She tried to still her breathing and ignored the nervous glances of her handmaiden behind her.
When she looked back at him he was staring at her dress, but looked away quickly when he realized she had noticed.
To her sudden shock he extended his arm to her and with a hesitant hand she took it and they followed the girl to the upper terrace.
When Sansa stepped outside she couldn't help but sigh. The air was filled with the smells of orange blossoms, and white lilac, all swirling on the slightly chilled breeze that brought just enough relief to the heat of the night.
Torches flickered all around and a fountain was tinkling amongst the greenery. Spread out across where the moss of the garden met the ancient stones of the terrace were stacks and stack of silken pillows- some even larger than her, and all surrounded by trays baring every manner of delicacy.
And wine! There were vials in all the colors Sansa had ever seen: the pale glow of arbor gold, the deep red of Dornish vintage, even green nectar wine from Myr.
For a moment all she could do was stare in awe at perfect peace and beauty before her. Music began to play and she pulled herself from the trace, making her way to the couch of pillows. She stood there for a moment, trying to sit down so low in an elegant manner while Sandor merely collapsed and reached instantly for the Dornish red.
When she finally settled herself the dancing began. There were beautiful women, dressed in flowing silks so thin she could see the details of their bodies underneath and the music was so strange to her: full of the beating of drums and unfamiliar strings that lulled and rocked with the dancer's bodies.
The food was perfection: light and bountiful with just the right variant of flavor. She found herself reaching constantly for another dish and taking a heavy sip of Arbor Gold each time to wash it down. Before too long she felt loose with relaxation and she found the uncomfortableness at the pillowed seating vanish as she lounged freely, watching the dancers with half-closed eyes and reaching across Sandor's body boldly to take food from his side.
"What happened to those manners, girl." Sandor laughed at her. She couldn't help noticing that his eyes were heavy too and all of the Dornish red was gone along with some of the Tyroshi brandy.
"Shhh," She almost slurred, and pressed a finger against her pink lips, "It can be our secret."
Sandor rolled his eyes as he smiled, "You're drunk, Little Bird."
"No," She insisted, leaning over the pillows towards him so the neck of the low gown draped open, "Ladies do not get 'drunk'."
Sandor chuckled, "Of course not- how could I forget?"
"You're allowed to drink as much as you want." She pouted, "It shouldn't matter what I do."
"No one's 'allowed' anything, girl- they do what they please."
"Mmm," she liked the sound of that, the wine on her tongue felt as light and warm as sunshine, "Yes- whatever they please."
He laughed into his cup next to her and she could almost feel the silk vibrate under the depth of his voice.
With a smirk on her lips she picked up one of the pillows and threw it at his face.
His brandy went spilling over the floor and he turned on her in sudden anger, "What in seven hells was that for girl?!"
"You!" She returned, "You're always laughing at me- its not fair. I'm only trying my best. I don't deserve to be made to feel such a fool."
He wiped the spilt brandy from his leg and snarled at her, "I didn't mean anything by it."
"You shouldn't be so unkind." She said, turning away from him and reaching angrily for another paper-thin slice of pork wrapped about dark and sinfully rich olives.
Her voice continued on without her even realizing it, "You should be kind to me- you don't know what it's like to loose the ones you love. You hate your brother. How could you understand?"
And then she looked at him and felt her chest go cold. He was staring at her so hard she felt she might burn.
"I had a sister. And a father, and you know nothing about what I understand." He turned away.
Sansa sat there for a moment staring down into the cup in her hands. And before she could stop herself her voice came again, softer this time.
"What happened to them?"
Sandor took a heavy swill of his drink, "The same thing that happened to me."
She wanted to reach out to him but he was too far off.
"He will meet justice." She said instead.
He laughed again, but this time the bitterness was back and she hated herself for putting it there, "Justice- yes little bird, everyone meets your bloody 'justice'!"
He drained the rest of his brandy and continued, "I'm the only justice that he'll meet… only…"
His voice trailed off and she shifted herself gently closer; "Only…?"
"I know bloody better now. When she…" He stopped for a moment and then continued, "I used to think I would grow and get big enough that it wouldn't happen again. And I did grow- one of the bloody members of that legendary guard, and what happened then?"
His eyes burned into her, "You- you and your bloody songs and those big eyes full of faith that never should have been there, and I still wasn't big enough. I'll never be big enough. A man the height of my bloody knee was the one who finally made sure you were safe, not me."
He drained another glass.
"I'm not a child anymore, staring at knights at thinking maybe one day I'll be big enough to kill the monster." He said.
He turned and looked at her hard: "The monsters grow too girl, don't forget that. They'll always be one bigger than any little hero from a song, its just waiting in the dark: it will catch him one day, but no one wants to hear tales like that… they're too real to be songs."
She couldn't look away from his eyes.
"That's not true." She said.
He was too angry to laugh this time. But she was angry too, she reached out and held onto his hand hard. His head spun and he started down at her little fingers lacing tight around his.
"You are strong enough," She insisted, feeling the tears swell in her throat but swallowing them into strength.
"You are strong enough to never let anything hurt me. Nothing can convince me that you aren't- I know that what ever comes for me, no matter when or how, you'll stop them, and no monster, no matter how large will be able to stand against you."
His face was so tormented but she didn't take her stare from his.
"Sansa," He began, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "It's not as simple as that."
"No," She insisted, "It is."
For a moment she thought he would argue again, but he only pulled his hand from hers to take another drink and tried to smile; "This talk's too dark for dinner."
She leaned back happily, feeling victorious.
"Every thing here is just perfect." She hummed, lifting her hands into the sky palm first and smiling.
"I won't complain about the wine." Sandor muttered.
"Don't you like the food?" She asked eagerly.
"Aye, it'll serve." He answered sarcastically.
"And the dancers?" She continued with an eyebrow raised.
His gaze drifted over them for a moment and she felt her skin prickle as the side of his mouth twitched.
In almost the same instant he pulled his attention away from the twirling bodies, "The women here dance like bloody whores."
Sansa sat bolt upright, "They do not!"
Sandor rolled his eyes drunkenly over to her, "Is that so? And how would you know how whores dance, girl?"
She felt her cheeks redden but fought it, "I don't care how whores dance- I like the way these women dance. They seem… free."
"Aye free," Sandor scoffed, "Free to earn dragons by flinging their tits about."
Sansa felt the anger growing in her chest, and then she was on her feet. Her head spun for a moment as she stood after all the wine she'd had but then she was spinning too and it didn't seem to matter.
The drums were pounding and she shut out everything but their song and the almost sad distant strings singing directly into her heart.
Her eyes were closed and she let the air sweep around her, directing her, moving her. She didn't think- she didn't want to, she just spun. The beating of the drums flowed from her chest down into her hips and she felt them rock under her, pulling against her stomach back and forth as her legs carried her blindly and confidently over the stones. Her arms were in the air, lifting and falling with the notes of the strings, clutching the smell of the orange blossoms to her chest, swimming through the gentle warmth of the air in perfect bliss.
The pace quickened and she felt her hips thrash unbidden, felt her hands slide down her body, luxuriating in the feel of the silk and the softness of her own skin, the hills and valleys of her flesh. Faster, and faster still and she spun with it all, her mouth falling open as she breathed hard and smiled to the night, and then, suddenly, silence.
She stopped and opened her eyes, staring right into his. Her hair was stuck to her face and her shoes were gone. Her chest was rising and falling with her heavy breathes and none of it mattered.
She laughed loud and free and watched as the dumb shock in his stare melted ever so slightly to grin with her. Sansa spun on last time and collapsed down into the pillows, giggling into the softness as she pulled her arms over her head into her hair and arched her back happily.
Sandor was laughing to himself in that low rumble that had become so comforting to her; "What would bloody Ned Stark say?"
She rolled over onto her stomach to look at him; "He'd say he'd never seen me so happy."
Sandor turned back to her in surprise, and she wasn't sure suddenly wether he was angry or sad.
"I would like one of those," She said, ignoring his look, "If you would be so kind."
"These?" He asked, gesturing the the plate of sliced blood-orange beside him.
She nodded eagerly as she lifted herself up and tucked her knees neatly under her.
"If you would, my lady." He mocked as he lifted one of the fruits, so dark in was almost black in the light and shining with sweetness.
He held the slice out to her and she bite into it, realizing only too late he just meant to hand it to her. She felt the heat seep into her cheeks and pulled back suddenly.
As she lowered her eyes in embarrassment she saw that a sanguine drop of juice had landed on the hill of her pale breast. She stared at it- somehow she couldn't seem to look away, the color was so deep and rich it was almost like blood against the northern pale of her skin.
And then he was reaching out and she watched, breathe gone and eyes wide, as his rough thumb, ever so slowly, ever so carefully, wiped the nectar away.
Her heart was beating so hard, he must feel it.
He lifted his hand and placed his thumb now wet with red on her bottom lip.
Sansa's stomach was pulled so tight she could hardly bare it, and as she looked into his face he didn't flinch, just stared like a man entranced, at his thumb against her.
He ran the darkness of the juice gently back and forth over her lip as if it required the most precise and delicate care and as he did she felt her eyes flutter and her mouth opened on it's own.
Sandor's thumb moved ever so slightly, just enough to run across the very edge of the wetness of her open lips and then he pulled his hand away.
She sat there, heart pounding in her throat, with a dull pulsing racing between her legs.
He met her eyes and she had never seen him look so angry. Within a moment he was standing and striding across the terrace, paying to mind to the wine he kicked on his way or the tray of fruit sent flying.
She sat there, alone, and perfectly still as the music swayed around her she carefully stood and let Thya lead her to her bed.
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