"Promises" Sandor/Sansa Fic - Part 9
"Promises"
After Blackwater Battle Sandor and Sansa run across broken country and eventually the narrow sea.
Fandom: ASoIaF | Pairing: Sansa/Sandor | Spoilers: DwD
Rating: R (violence/sexuality)
Word Count: 37,000 total (parts 1-10)
Parts: 9 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
Sansa hurried back to her room as quietly as she could. She'd made the mistake to leave without anything to supply a journey the last time and didn't plan on making the same error twice.
The halls were so dark and haunting suddenly, she almost felt as if it were King's Landing once more- the silence and the pressing sense that everyone was elsewhere while danger crept in amongst the shadows.
Silently she scampered into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She hurried to her chest and pulled it open, taking out a light simple dress and struggling into it quickly. There were some dully shining fruits on a silver tray and she grabbed a small silk satchel, shoving them in as she slipped Pentoshi sandals onto her feet.
Suddenly there was the sound of a latch shutting and her eyes shot towards it, wide and pale in the darkness.
There was a figure by the door, small, and almost invisible in the black, but when it spoke white teeth shone; "My lady?"
Sansa stepped back, "I told you not to disturb me, Thya." She said as calmly as she could.
The girl stepped towards her, eyeing the thrown clothing and disarray, "What are you doing?"
"That is none of your concern. I asked you to leave!" She said, trying to put an edge on her voice and hating how frightened it sounded as it emerged.
"I hope you are not leaving us." The girl said, still stepping closer, "Why would do something like that?"
Sansa didn't know what to do, she stepped back again and felt the wood of the small table beside her bed behind her.
"You must know that you should not leave this place." The Thya continued, "It is not safe outside the walls."
Sansa's hands scrambled over the table behind her searching for something, anything.
"Come Lady, let us get you into bed-" The girl reached out to her and Sansa pulled a small marble statuette from the table, brandishing it awkwardly before her.
The girl almost laughed at her, "You should put that down, and then climb into bed like a proper lady… there are guards, close enough to hear me call out and they will put you to bed wether you wish it or not."
Sansa's breathing was ragged, the stone felt so clumsy in her hands.
"Is it that man?" The girl almost laughed, "Your loyal soldier? You do not have need of him. You will have a handsome Prince now. How can you even stand to look at such a thing- he is a monster---"
The stone shot out from the darkness and landed with a dull thump.
The girl's voice faded from the air and slowly her body collapsed to the ground like a pile of discarded clothing.
There was blood on the floor, blood in her hair. Sansa stood over her, her grip on the weapon suddenly strong, her breathing steady.
After a moment she grabbed the things she had gathered. She was about to leave when she turned back and pulled Thya's silken wrap from her body. One side was wet with blood, and Sansa looked down at the girl's body as she pulled the rest of the fabric around her head and wrapped the soiled end around her hand and tucked it into the folds. She looked smaller now somehow, but she couldn't think about that- she couldn't think about anything, she had to go- quickly, before the thoughts caught her.
Outside the door the hall was still in darkness.
She said there were guards, but there seemed to be no sign of them. Even so Sansa wrapped the shawl tight around her and tried as hard as she could not to run.
Her sandaled steps carried her down the hall, into the courtyard, and out onto the stairs behind. There was a man there- standing in the light of one torch, his bronze helmet shining with his skin in the firelight.
Don't stop- don't hesitate- don't look.
She let her feet carry her past at the same pace, trying desperately not to look back at him as she passed. But there were no steps following her and when she turned the final corner she started to run in earnest.
Her sandals slapped dumbly over the dirt and stone as she turned another wall and saw the torches burning in the stables.
Silence.
She stepped closer, her breath hard now after her haste. Only when she was close enough to touch the beams did she see the bodies pulled into the shadows- two, thin and again appearing so small in their slumped dumb forms.
A heavy hand hit her shoulder and she jumped but thankfully didn't scream.
She turned to see his snarl above her, standing tall and solid as the walls around with the black of Stranger behind him.
There was a thin line of bright red across his cheek and she reached out for it but he turned his head away; "It's just a scratch girl."
"They hurt you." She whispered.
"I hurt them." He replied coldly, "It should have gone quicker but my hands are still stiff after that bloody sell-sword… I can't grip as well as I should."
She felt her throat catch in anxiety at his words, "We will be able to get out?"
"I bloody hope so." He growled, "But if we cross paths with those fucking bronze headed mutes there will be trouble."
Before she could answer he had her by the waist and lifted her roughly onto Stranger's back as he swung himself up.
Stranger moved forward at a calm but steady trot, "Now keep your head down, and don't say a word."
Sansa nodded silently, pulling the shawl tighter around herself.
They moved quietly around the outer wall and finally the gates were looming before them. Sansa lowered her head to her lap and tried not to think about the blood that was hardening on her fingers.
The clip clop of Stranger's hooves was almost maddening and then that finally they came to a stop.
"What's your business?" A gruff voice came and Sansa almost sighed allowed when it was the rough drunken tones of a sell-sword and not the odd disciplined tones of the bronze-helmeted guards who never seemed to blink.
"Bloody whore tells me now I can only pay for an hour, has to get back for some magistrate before midnight."
Sansa felt her cheeks heat as the man glanced over them.
"She can't find her way back to the brothel alone?" The man said, and as he leaned in she smelled the raw stench of his breath, "I could look after her for you."
"I wanted more than a bloody hour," Sandor barked roughly, "If she's going back I'm finding another, maybe one that doesn't rush the fucking work."
As he finished he twisted her arm roughly and it hurt but she merely winced into herself, further from the eyes of the gate-keeper.
"You'll give her keeper a piece of your mind if you know what's good for you," The guard laughed, "These whore-masters are always eager to keep a customer, you might get your next on the house."
Sandor laughed loudly and lewdly, "Aye, that I will." And to Sansa's absolute shock he landed a hand heavily against her rump.
As she tried to collect herself the sound of heavy wood grated mingled with the laughters of the guards and then Stranger was running through the night. When she lift her head there were streets around her, close alleys with dim lanterns and up above high and far away the sparkling of stars.
Sandor's back was solid behind her and when she turned to look at him he ran a rough hand gently over her wrist, "I'm sorry about your arm."
"I don't even feel it." She answered, "Are we safe? Did we get out?"
"There's the manse behind you, girl." He rumbled, gesturing over his shoulder to the looming shape almost hidden by the square brick forms of other buildings close around them.
"It was so simple!" She almost laughed, "More than I ever would have thought."
"We're not out yet girl so don't start counting victories… but we did find some luck. I don't think anyone imagined you would have a mind to run." He sounded bitter and almost sad to her ears.
She turned to look into his face and it was set and angry, the side of his lips twitching slightly in the darkness.
Carefully she reached up and laid her small hand on the side of his face. He tensed and behind her back the muscles of his chest pressed against her almost subconsciously. Her fingers drifted down the side of his face and the thickness of his neck and she gasped ever so slightly as one of his huge hands left the reins to sneak up about her waist and hold her steadily against his chest.
She turned her back and leaned into him, feeling all his heat and strength against her and letting the security drench her limbs. His face lowered just enough for her to feel his breath on her neck, she shivered and he held her closer and she felt her stomach leap.
"Little bird," He growled against her ear, "Are you sure this is what you want."
She turned her blue eyes towards him and saw the pale grey of his shimmering under the darkness of his cloak.
He's afraid, she realized suddenly, you needed his strength, now he needs yours.
She wrapped her tiny hand around the back of his neck and lay her soft lips against his cheek.
"Yes," She whispered with her stare locked on his, hard enough that she knew he would feel her sincerity, "More than I have ever known anything."
She thought she saw him smile.
The Sunrise Gate was almost easier to pass than the wall of the manse. The guards were sparse and distracted as farmers and other mechanicals up well before dawn moved through under the wall with the soldiers and other rough men who'd come to the city for a night of indulgence.
Stranger slipped past into the night as unseen as a shadow and by the time Sansa turned back, the city seemed nothing more than a small red hill amongst the green.
She should be tired, she knew, but her heart danced as Stranger's raw strength ran over and amongst the seemly endless hills of blackness. She would stare ahead into the spilling landscape with the air in her hair and then lean back against Sandor's chest, feeling his breaths heavy under her as she stare up into the stars. They were so beautiful, white and shining against the black of the night and she thought of Winterfell and the clearness of those skies.
She would see them again, she promised herself, and when she looked at them she would know they were hers, not some dragon who had bought them with her maiden head or a lord who sat on the southern throne and did not know the clarity of winter's nights. It was her home- it was her name, and she would claim it again.
They rode and rode in silence and starlight, and finally as the dawn began to grey, Sansa let herself drift to a dreamless sleep in the stony safety of his arms.
----------
When she opened her eyes again all should could see was blue and green. The hills rolled infinity away under a brilliant blue sky that wasn't even touched with clouds and just below them in the valley of jade was the crystal clear blue of a wide still lake. It was so still and so serene that she was almost afraid, but his voice sounded behind her and she let the thought slip away.
"Awake?"
"Mmm," She mumbled, "How long was I asleep?"
"Longer than you ever slept on the road in Westeros," He said, swinging himself off of Stranger's back and looking around as the vastness of the hills and the clarity of the lake below, "Some bloody country," He scoffed, "Just grass and water."
Sansa stared about in happiness ignoring his vinegar "I think it's a beautiful place. But is it safe to stop?"
"Can't say. We've gone far into the hills- it would take some time to track us, but" He grumbled, lifting her down after him, "I still say that the sea would have been safer."
"I told you we had to go east." She said as stretched her back, staring up into the sky.
"Aye, and you said you'd tell me why once we were out of that bloody city, so what is it? What makes you think we're not running this time?"
"We're looking," she said as she slipped off her sandals and let her feet stretch in the grass, blithely enjoying his growing frustration.
"For what?" He barked after her.
She turned back to him, "For Dragons, for the Targaryen Princess."
Sandor stared at her.
"Are you mad girl?" His tone was low and dangerous but she tried to ignore it. It didn't matter anymore, she knew he was hers, knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth and whatever lay beyond… then why did his rage still make her soul shiver?
"You run from one dragon towards another?" He yelled, "We should have taken a ship, sailed to-"
"To where?" She asked spinning on him, "Myr? Tyrosh? All of the free cities in turn, one at a time until there's none left and Winterfell is still in ruins?"
He didn't answer her.
"I need an ally- someone who will help me regain what is mine."
"You could have married that dead Prince and had all that and more," Sandor spat under his breath.
"No-" She continued, "I would have been a Queen, to sit on the Iron Throne and look out over the seven kingdoms with just the memory of the smell of summer snows in my heart. I want Winterfell- I want the North, not a Prince who only marries me to put it in his own pocket."
"And you think that this bloody Dragon Queen will just hand that to you- not lock you up like the cheese-monger and deliver you to her brother?"
"She didn't know about her brother- how could she?" She said, "She stood and fought for herself, for her name and her birthright and that is what I will do. She will understand."
"That's a bloody mighty assumption," He growled.
She stood as tall as she could and let the light wind tussle against the copper stands of her bright hair, "It's what I have left… there's nothing else. I have to try."
He stepped towards her, "There is something else- you know there is, and when you meet this Targaeryn Princess she'll tell you again."
"I won't marry him," She said, looking up into his storming eyes, "You know I won't."
He stared down at her, and she saw all the grief and confusion battling in his face, "But you'll marry- some day, when this is all forgotten and you're safe again and the Lady you're meant to be. You'll find a lord, and you'll hear his vows, and you'll bear his children."
"Maybe," She said.
"Not maybe," He insisted, "You will. You were born to it, girl, to sit there, on a grand seat beside a grand Lord with the glow of new life inside of you."
Sansa felt heat pulse through her chest, "You think of me like that?" She asked.
When he reached out to her she felt her heart jump, but all he did was cup her face ever so lightly, "Always… endlessly. I see you when I dream, when I wake, when I drink, when I sober. Always, until I feel I'll go mad."
His hand tightened in her hair and she almost winced, but instead she put her small pale fingers on his and met his stare with all the strength she could; "And who is this Lord, that sits beside me, in your thoughts and dreams?"
His eyes were hard against her and she saw the anger lapping against their shores, "Someone with 'honor' and a name the lords can praise when it's placed next to yours, one of those bloody knights from your little songs, to wear your favors into tourneys and give grand feasts to celebrate your beauty with riches for the greatest singers of the land."
She felt his hand tighten against hers,
"Someone handsome, someone brave, someone right."
His eyes seemed to glitter in the brightness of the day and his grasp began to weaken but she held on tight.
"I don't want that." She mumbled, suddenly shocked at the way her voice caught in her throat.
"Of course you do!" He yelled as he pulled his hand away and turned his back to her, but she heard the same crack in his voice that had held to her own.
"I don't." She almost whispered.
His huge back still faced her as his low voice came back, "Then what is it you could possibly bloody want?"
She felt the first tears slip down her cheeks, "Someone who loves me."
He stared at her, empty, and suddenly it seemed he had nothing left to say.
She heard herself laugh in a choked almost wretched way as the hated tears still slunk over her pale face, "Isn't that what you want?" She said.
He turned and then he was holding her again and she felt herself let out a sob as his hand buried itself in her hair and lifted her face up towards his.
"I want you to laugh like you once did," He said, "And smile and sing," His thumb ran over her cheek pushing a tear away, "And never cry."
She turned her wide blue eyes up to his, "Then kiss me again."
His face darkened and she felt his muscles tense under her arms, all his strength growing beneath her fingers and her stomach tightened into a hot knot of need inside of her.
"I can't," He said, and moved to let her go.
But she held on as tightly as she could and held his gaze with all the anger as she felt, "You promised me, you said you would--"
"I said," He snarled down at her, "I said I would never let anyone hurt you."
And then his face softened: "I don't want to... hurt you."
She understood, and she saw the same pain in his eyes that she felt. Very carefully she lifted his big hand in hers and placed it against her chest.
"I do hurt," She whispered.
She saw the fire licking his eyes and the side of his mouth twitched silently.
"I won't be able to stop," He said, his voice so low and so rough.
"I don't want you to stop." Her voice was almost as hoarse as his.
He enveloped her so suddenly that she couldn't help but gasp: his huge hand sliding up her tight breasts with vital need as his other hand wrapped about her, holding the back of her neck so her face turned up towards his and his mouth met hers.
She opened instantly, her pink lips parting under the scratch of his stubble and the shocking smoothness of the burns. His tongue pressed into her and she felt her woman's place surge with heat as she pressed against him and met the endlessly sinful warmth of his mouth with her own.
His hand squeezed her breast so hard she threw her head back and gasped. As soon as her neck was lifted his mouth hit it, kissing gently and slowly but so deeply and the little trails of pleasure circled around her in a torturous way.
The smallest of moans escaped her lips when his teeth grazed her skin and he surged, a hand suddenly clamping on her arse and pulling her upwards and into him so both her legs were around one of his. Suddenly she felt him against her thigh, a hard heat that pressed urgently against her and in her shock she stumbled and he lost his balance, both suddenly tumbling down into the blinding green of the grass.
She landed on top of him and found herself scrambling off in humiliating shock at the presence of his manhood so tight and pressing, and large, under her.
Sandor laughed and reached out for her, locking a hand behind her neck and kissing her deeply again as he pulled her closer.
The warmth filled her again and when he pushed his hand back to her breast she lay hers almost timidly on his chest. She ran her fingers lower and lower in a nervous curiosity, the depth of his kisses stoked the fire in the pit of her stomach and when he released her lips only to bite her neck harder this time she heard herself gasp and felt her hand leap below his belt and land heavy and eager on the hot pillar of his manhood.
It was thick under her fingers and when she ran her shaking hand roughly down the concealed length she felt his chest rumble as he moaned low and heavy against her neck. She heard herself laugh and held on harder, suddenly relishing the way it made his body tense and his breath quicken. Her fear evaporated, and she wanted to see him, hold him, touch every part of this amazing stony heat to see what it would make him do.
She felt so strong and so free and as her hips urged themselves against his leg, parting to press that part of her that throbbed against him and rock it back and forth subconsciously, her hand quickened to match the pace her hips had set.
His breath caught in his throat with a hoarse rumble and his hand was suddenly around her waist, lifting her up and placing her squarely on top of him with maddening ease.
He sat, and with one hand hard on her rump, began to rock against her.
Sansa's eyes fluttered as the sensation snaked over her, the grind of his hard cock against her tingling loins was almost too much to stand and she wanted to press against him harder and faster until she didn't know what, but his hand was too strong and he kept her pace slow.
She looked at him and he was staring at her, marveling at her with such raw desire carved into his face that she had to kiss him and this time her mouth seemed to move on it's own, her teeth catching on his lip and her tongue pulsing with the steady thrust of his hips.
Sandor pushed her back and ran his hand infuriatingly slowly up her body, pausing just under her breasts and pushing them high so they it pressed rhythmically into the air each time he pulled her hips into him. She felt his hand tighten on her arse as he watched her chest heave against his hands and then both his hands were on the front of her dress, ripping it so hard she felt the shoulder seams cut into her skin but it didn't matter.
The fabric spilled away and her tight pink nipples shone in the sunlight.
He let out a low sound and she could hardly tell if it was a sigh or a moan.
He ran a thumb over one and the sensation shot up her, arching her back and send her pale neck to the sky. He did it again and then caught it between the base of two fingers and pressed hungry lips into the other.
She cried out, loudly this time and not caring how throaty her voice sounded in the clear blue of the air. His tongue darted over her again and again and then when she kicked her hips forwards with brutal strength he bite down and she moaned, a hand in his hair, holding him close as a babe with just as much fierce protection.
His hips bucked with hers and she heard his breathing catch in his throat as she pushed her hand between them to hold him again, shocked at how wet she was through her gown and small clothes.
He pushed her back onto the grass, harder than she was sure he meant to and when she hit the ground her breath left her and his lips hit hers again with animal urgency. She realized her fingers were scrambling at the strings of his breeches but she suddenly felt so clumsy and incapable and her throat made tiny sound of frustrated sadness.
At that she heard his chest rumbled with a groan so low she couldn't hear, and he raised himself off of her to undo the strings himself. She stared hungrily, feeling her own heart surging in her chest, her own throat raw with desire, watching as her hips still rocked dumbly against him in need, need, need.
He slowed suddenly and just stared at her, drinking in the look in her eyes as if it was all the wine in the world, watching as her bare breasts heaved pink and pale and tight for him in the sunlight, draped in the brilliant red of her hair.
And then he was back over her again, kissing her so deep and so slow that she felt she might burst. She felt his hands scrambling at her waist, pulling her skirts high and tearing her small clothes away. His thumb ran down her woman's-place trailing fire and she felt him growl against her mouth at the wetness he found there.
His breath was fast and urgent against her neck as his hand left her and then she felt the smooth heat of his member on her thigh and she whimpered in pleasure as her stomach leapt and she felt her legs press open under him. He was all she wanted, all she needed, and he didn't even so much as hesitate as he pressed into her.
She gasped pure and alive into the air as her eyes shot open and she felt the hot huge weight of him pressed deeper and deeper. Her hips opened to him slowly and steadily as the warmth filled her. It hurt, but it wasn't even a hurt- there was no pain truly, just him, him, him and the thoughtlessness that filled her internally and eternally. In one moment she was suddenly part of the grass and the air and the sky so far overhead, but above all him: his strength and his courage and his ferocity and it was all her now and forever.
He pulled back from her and she felt the slick length of him again and then gasped once more as he pressed it back into the soft tightness of herself. The feeling so was big, so colossal that she could hardly even make herself think. She felt her hands grip his shoulders and felt his muscles surge and tighten as he pulled back again only to press even deeper. There was nothing but the feeling wrapping around her in suffocating ecstasy and the concentration and constancy of his motions told her that he felt the same.
His hips moved again, as if he was trying so hard to keep the thrusts slow but was loosing the battle as each time he drove into her it was harder than the last with less control and more pure want.
Her own body was taunt and begging for the speed and strength she knew he was holding back.
She felt her cunt tighten around him in need and he suddenly gasped against her neck. His entire body seemed to lose itself in her and he surged again and again, deeper and harder and she heard herself scream as she threw her hands to either side and her chest arched into the air, grazing her nipples perfectly on his chest. The heat lanced up her and her whole body tightened and tightened and then rolling calm spread out over her as Sandor cried out and pressed once, twice, and very slowly thrice.
He breathed out ragged and long and she felt his whole weight sag over her and the thrumming in her body spread into a steady hum. The bulk of him over her felt so very real and solid and safe and she carefully pulled a shaking hand through his hair as another went over his back.
He shook slightly under her touch and then all at once he rolled off of her onto his back in the grass.
The breeze slipped over her and she realized that she had been sweating as the coolness caught on her skin. She lay there as his hand casually played in her hair and his breathing slowed. With the air on her skin and the heavy security of his presence beside her, Sansa smiled into the sky.
< 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: DwD
Rating: R (violence/sexuality)
Word Count: 37,000 total (parts 1-10)
Parts: 9 / 10
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] [ Part 8] [ Part 9] [ Part 10]
Sansa hurried back to her room as quietly as she could. She'd made the mistake to leave without anything to supply a journey the last time and didn't plan on making the same error twice.
The halls were so dark and haunting suddenly, she almost felt as if it were King's Landing once more- the silence and the pressing sense that everyone was elsewhere while danger crept in amongst the shadows.
Silently she scampered into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She hurried to her chest and pulled it open, taking out a light simple dress and struggling into it quickly. There were some dully shining fruits on a silver tray and she grabbed a small silk satchel, shoving them in as she slipped Pentoshi sandals onto her feet.
Suddenly there was the sound of a latch shutting and her eyes shot towards it, wide and pale in the darkness.
There was a figure by the door, small, and almost invisible in the black, but when it spoke white teeth shone; "My lady?"
Sansa stepped back, "I told you not to disturb me, Thya." She said as calmly as she could.
The girl stepped towards her, eyeing the thrown clothing and disarray, "What are you doing?"
"That is none of your concern. I asked you to leave!" She said, trying to put an edge on her voice and hating how frightened it sounded as it emerged.
"I hope you are not leaving us." The girl said, still stepping closer, "Why would do something like that?"
Sansa didn't know what to do, she stepped back again and felt the wood of the small table beside her bed behind her.
"You must know that you should not leave this place." The Thya continued, "It is not safe outside the walls."
Sansa's hands scrambled over the table behind her searching for something, anything.
"Come Lady, let us get you into bed-" The girl reached out to her and Sansa pulled a small marble statuette from the table, brandishing it awkwardly before her.
The girl almost laughed at her, "You should put that down, and then climb into bed like a proper lady… there are guards, close enough to hear me call out and they will put you to bed wether you wish it or not."
Sansa's breathing was ragged, the stone felt so clumsy in her hands.
"Is it that man?" The girl almost laughed, "Your loyal soldier? You do not have need of him. You will have a handsome Prince now. How can you even stand to look at such a thing- he is a monster---"
The stone shot out from the darkness and landed with a dull thump.
The girl's voice faded from the air and slowly her body collapsed to the ground like a pile of discarded clothing.
There was blood on the floor, blood in her hair. Sansa stood over her, her grip on the weapon suddenly strong, her breathing steady.
After a moment she grabbed the things she had gathered. She was about to leave when she turned back and pulled Thya's silken wrap from her body. One side was wet with blood, and Sansa looked down at the girl's body as she pulled the rest of the fabric around her head and wrapped the soiled end around her hand and tucked it into the folds. She looked smaller now somehow, but she couldn't think about that- she couldn't think about anything, she had to go- quickly, before the thoughts caught her.
Outside the door the hall was still in darkness.
She said there were guards, but there seemed to be no sign of them. Even so Sansa wrapped the shawl tight around her and tried as hard as she could not to run.
Her sandaled steps carried her down the hall, into the courtyard, and out onto the stairs behind. There was a man there- standing in the light of one torch, his bronze helmet shining with his skin in the firelight.
Don't stop- don't hesitate- don't look.
She let her feet carry her past at the same pace, trying desperately not to look back at him as she passed. But there were no steps following her and when she turned the final corner she started to run in earnest.
Her sandals slapped dumbly over the dirt and stone as she turned another wall and saw the torches burning in the stables.
Silence.
She stepped closer, her breath hard now after her haste. Only when she was close enough to touch the beams did she see the bodies pulled into the shadows- two, thin and again appearing so small in their slumped dumb forms.
A heavy hand hit her shoulder and she jumped but thankfully didn't scream.
She turned to see his snarl above her, standing tall and solid as the walls around with the black of Stranger behind him.
There was a thin line of bright red across his cheek and she reached out for it but he turned his head away; "It's just a scratch girl."
"They hurt you." She whispered.
"I hurt them." He replied coldly, "It should have gone quicker but my hands are still stiff after that bloody sell-sword… I can't grip as well as I should."
She felt her throat catch in anxiety at his words, "We will be able to get out?"
"I bloody hope so." He growled, "But if we cross paths with those fucking bronze headed mutes there will be trouble."
Before she could answer he had her by the waist and lifted her roughly onto Stranger's back as he swung himself up.
Stranger moved forward at a calm but steady trot, "Now keep your head down, and don't say a word."
Sansa nodded silently, pulling the shawl tighter around herself.
They moved quietly around the outer wall and finally the gates were looming before them. Sansa lowered her head to her lap and tried not to think about the blood that was hardening on her fingers.
The clip clop of Stranger's hooves was almost maddening and then that finally they came to a stop.
"What's your business?" A gruff voice came and Sansa almost sighed allowed when it was the rough drunken tones of a sell-sword and not the odd disciplined tones of the bronze-helmeted guards who never seemed to blink.
"Bloody whore tells me now I can only pay for an hour, has to get back for some magistrate before midnight."
Sansa felt her cheeks heat as the man glanced over them.
"She can't find her way back to the brothel alone?" The man said, and as he leaned in she smelled the raw stench of his breath, "I could look after her for you."
"I wanted more than a bloody hour," Sandor barked roughly, "If she's going back I'm finding another, maybe one that doesn't rush the fucking work."
As he finished he twisted her arm roughly and it hurt but she merely winced into herself, further from the eyes of the gate-keeper.
"You'll give her keeper a piece of your mind if you know what's good for you," The guard laughed, "These whore-masters are always eager to keep a customer, you might get your next on the house."
Sandor laughed loudly and lewdly, "Aye, that I will." And to Sansa's absolute shock he landed a hand heavily against her rump.
As she tried to collect herself the sound of heavy wood grated mingled with the laughters of the guards and then Stranger was running through the night. When she lift her head there were streets around her, close alleys with dim lanterns and up above high and far away the sparkling of stars.
Sandor's back was solid behind her and when she turned to look at him he ran a rough hand gently over her wrist, "I'm sorry about your arm."
"I don't even feel it." She answered, "Are we safe? Did we get out?"
"There's the manse behind you, girl." He rumbled, gesturing over his shoulder to the looming shape almost hidden by the square brick forms of other buildings close around them.
"It was so simple!" She almost laughed, "More than I ever would have thought."
"We're not out yet girl so don't start counting victories… but we did find some luck. I don't think anyone imagined you would have a mind to run." He sounded bitter and almost sad to her ears.
She turned to look into his face and it was set and angry, the side of his lips twitching slightly in the darkness.
Carefully she reached up and laid her small hand on the side of his face. He tensed and behind her back the muscles of his chest pressed against her almost subconsciously. Her fingers drifted down the side of his face and the thickness of his neck and she gasped ever so slightly as one of his huge hands left the reins to sneak up about her waist and hold her steadily against his chest.
She turned her back and leaned into him, feeling all his heat and strength against her and letting the security drench her limbs. His face lowered just enough for her to feel his breath on her neck, she shivered and he held her closer and she felt her stomach leap.
"Little bird," He growled against her ear, "Are you sure this is what you want."
She turned her blue eyes towards him and saw the pale grey of his shimmering under the darkness of his cloak.
He's afraid, she realized suddenly, you needed his strength, now he needs yours.
She wrapped her tiny hand around the back of his neck and lay her soft lips against his cheek.
"Yes," She whispered with her stare locked on his, hard enough that she knew he would feel her sincerity, "More than I have ever known anything."
She thought she saw him smile.
The Sunrise Gate was almost easier to pass than the wall of the manse. The guards were sparse and distracted as farmers and other mechanicals up well before dawn moved through under the wall with the soldiers and other rough men who'd come to the city for a night of indulgence.
Stranger slipped past into the night as unseen as a shadow and by the time Sansa turned back, the city seemed nothing more than a small red hill amongst the green.
She should be tired, she knew, but her heart danced as Stranger's raw strength ran over and amongst the seemly endless hills of blackness. She would stare ahead into the spilling landscape with the air in her hair and then lean back against Sandor's chest, feeling his breaths heavy under her as she stare up into the stars. They were so beautiful, white and shining against the black of the night and she thought of Winterfell and the clearness of those skies.
She would see them again, she promised herself, and when she looked at them she would know they were hers, not some dragon who had bought them with her maiden head or a lord who sat on the southern throne and did not know the clarity of winter's nights. It was her home- it was her name, and she would claim it again.
They rode and rode in silence and starlight, and finally as the dawn began to grey, Sansa let herself drift to a dreamless sleep in the stony safety of his arms.
----------
When she opened her eyes again all should could see was blue and green. The hills rolled infinity away under a brilliant blue sky that wasn't even touched with clouds and just below them in the valley of jade was the crystal clear blue of a wide still lake. It was so still and so serene that she was almost afraid, but his voice sounded behind her and she let the thought slip away.
"Awake?"
"Mmm," She mumbled, "How long was I asleep?"
"Longer than you ever slept on the road in Westeros," He said, swinging himself off of Stranger's back and looking around as the vastness of the hills and the clarity of the lake below, "Some bloody country," He scoffed, "Just grass and water."
Sansa stared about in happiness ignoring his vinegar "I think it's a beautiful place. But is it safe to stop?"
"Can't say. We've gone far into the hills- it would take some time to track us, but" He grumbled, lifting her down after him, "I still say that the sea would have been safer."
"I told you we had to go east." She said as stretched her back, staring up into the sky.
"Aye, and you said you'd tell me why once we were out of that bloody city, so what is it? What makes you think we're not running this time?"
"We're looking," she said as she slipped off her sandals and let her feet stretch in the grass, blithely enjoying his growing frustration.
"For what?" He barked after her.
She turned back to him, "For Dragons, for the Targaryen Princess."
Sandor stared at her.
"Are you mad girl?" His tone was low and dangerous but she tried to ignore it. It didn't matter anymore, she knew he was hers, knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth and whatever lay beyond… then why did his rage still make her soul shiver?
"You run from one dragon towards another?" He yelled, "We should have taken a ship, sailed to-"
"To where?" She asked spinning on him, "Myr? Tyrosh? All of the free cities in turn, one at a time until there's none left and Winterfell is still in ruins?"
He didn't answer her.
"I need an ally- someone who will help me regain what is mine."
"You could have married that dead Prince and had all that and more," Sandor spat under his breath.
"No-" She continued, "I would have been a Queen, to sit on the Iron Throne and look out over the seven kingdoms with just the memory of the smell of summer snows in my heart. I want Winterfell- I want the North, not a Prince who only marries me to put it in his own pocket."
"And you think that this bloody Dragon Queen will just hand that to you- not lock you up like the cheese-monger and deliver you to her brother?"
"She didn't know about her brother- how could she?" She said, "She stood and fought for herself, for her name and her birthright and that is what I will do. She will understand."
"That's a bloody mighty assumption," He growled.
She stood as tall as she could and let the light wind tussle against the copper stands of her bright hair, "It's what I have left… there's nothing else. I have to try."
He stepped towards her, "There is something else- you know there is, and when you meet this Targaeryn Princess she'll tell you again."
"I won't marry him," She said, looking up into his storming eyes, "You know I won't."
He stared down at her, and she saw all the grief and confusion battling in his face, "But you'll marry- some day, when this is all forgotten and you're safe again and the Lady you're meant to be. You'll find a lord, and you'll hear his vows, and you'll bear his children."
"Maybe," She said.
"Not maybe," He insisted, "You will. You were born to it, girl, to sit there, on a grand seat beside a grand Lord with the glow of new life inside of you."
Sansa felt heat pulse through her chest, "You think of me like that?" She asked.
When he reached out to her she felt her heart jump, but all he did was cup her face ever so lightly, "Always… endlessly. I see you when I dream, when I wake, when I drink, when I sober. Always, until I feel I'll go mad."
His hand tightened in her hair and she almost winced, but instead she put her small pale fingers on his and met his stare with all the strength she could; "And who is this Lord, that sits beside me, in your thoughts and dreams?"
His eyes were hard against her and she saw the anger lapping against their shores, "Someone with 'honor' and a name the lords can praise when it's placed next to yours, one of those bloody knights from your little songs, to wear your favors into tourneys and give grand feasts to celebrate your beauty with riches for the greatest singers of the land."
She felt his hand tighten against hers,
"Someone handsome, someone brave, someone right."
His eyes seemed to glitter in the brightness of the day and his grasp began to weaken but she held on tight.
"I don't want that." She mumbled, suddenly shocked at the way her voice caught in her throat.
"Of course you do!" He yelled as he pulled his hand away and turned his back to her, but she heard the same crack in his voice that had held to her own.
"I don't." She almost whispered.
His huge back still faced her as his low voice came back, "Then what is it you could possibly bloody want?"
She felt the first tears slip down her cheeks, "Someone who loves me."
He stared at her, empty, and suddenly it seemed he had nothing left to say.
She heard herself laugh in a choked almost wretched way as the hated tears still slunk over her pale face, "Isn't that what you want?" She said.
He turned and then he was holding her again and she felt herself let out a sob as his hand buried itself in her hair and lifted her face up towards his.
"I want you to laugh like you once did," He said, "And smile and sing," His thumb ran over her cheek pushing a tear away, "And never cry."
She turned her wide blue eyes up to his, "Then kiss me again."
His face darkened and she felt his muscles tense under her arms, all his strength growing beneath her fingers and her stomach tightened into a hot knot of need inside of her.
"I can't," He said, and moved to let her go.
But she held on as tightly as she could and held his gaze with all the anger as she felt, "You promised me, you said you would--"
"I said," He snarled down at her, "I said I would never let anyone hurt you."
And then his face softened: "I don't want to... hurt you."
She understood, and she saw the same pain in his eyes that she felt. Very carefully she lifted his big hand in hers and placed it against her chest.
"I do hurt," She whispered.
She saw the fire licking his eyes and the side of his mouth twitched silently.
"I won't be able to stop," He said, his voice so low and so rough.
"I don't want you to stop." Her voice was almost as hoarse as his.
He enveloped her so suddenly that she couldn't help but gasp: his huge hand sliding up her tight breasts with vital need as his other hand wrapped about her, holding the back of her neck so her face turned up towards his and his mouth met hers.
She opened instantly, her pink lips parting under the scratch of his stubble and the shocking smoothness of the burns. His tongue pressed into her and she felt her woman's place surge with heat as she pressed against him and met the endlessly sinful warmth of his mouth with her own.
His hand squeezed her breast so hard she threw her head back and gasped. As soon as her neck was lifted his mouth hit it, kissing gently and slowly but so deeply and the little trails of pleasure circled around her in a torturous way.
The smallest of moans escaped her lips when his teeth grazed her skin and he surged, a hand suddenly clamping on her arse and pulling her upwards and into him so both her legs were around one of his. Suddenly she felt him against her thigh, a hard heat that pressed urgently against her and in her shock she stumbled and he lost his balance, both suddenly tumbling down into the blinding green of the grass.
She landed on top of him and found herself scrambling off in humiliating shock at the presence of his manhood so tight and pressing, and large, under her.
Sandor laughed and reached out for her, locking a hand behind her neck and kissing her deeply again as he pulled her closer.
The warmth filled her again and when he pushed his hand back to her breast she lay hers almost timidly on his chest. She ran her fingers lower and lower in a nervous curiosity, the depth of his kisses stoked the fire in the pit of her stomach and when he released her lips only to bite her neck harder this time she heard herself gasp and felt her hand leap below his belt and land heavy and eager on the hot pillar of his manhood.
It was thick under her fingers and when she ran her shaking hand roughly down the concealed length she felt his chest rumble as he moaned low and heavy against her neck. She heard herself laugh and held on harder, suddenly relishing the way it made his body tense and his breath quicken. Her fear evaporated, and she wanted to see him, hold him, touch every part of this amazing stony heat to see what it would make him do.
She felt so strong and so free and as her hips urged themselves against his leg, parting to press that part of her that throbbed against him and rock it back and forth subconsciously, her hand quickened to match the pace her hips had set.
His breath caught in his throat with a hoarse rumble and his hand was suddenly around her waist, lifting her up and placing her squarely on top of him with maddening ease.
He sat, and with one hand hard on her rump, began to rock against her.
Sansa's eyes fluttered as the sensation snaked over her, the grind of his hard cock against her tingling loins was almost too much to stand and she wanted to press against him harder and faster until she didn't know what, but his hand was too strong and he kept her pace slow.
She looked at him and he was staring at her, marveling at her with such raw desire carved into his face that she had to kiss him and this time her mouth seemed to move on it's own, her teeth catching on his lip and her tongue pulsing with the steady thrust of his hips.
Sandor pushed her back and ran his hand infuriatingly slowly up her body, pausing just under her breasts and pushing them high so they it pressed rhythmically into the air each time he pulled her hips into him. She felt his hand tighten on her arse as he watched her chest heave against his hands and then both his hands were on the front of her dress, ripping it so hard she felt the shoulder seams cut into her skin but it didn't matter.
The fabric spilled away and her tight pink nipples shone in the sunlight.
He let out a low sound and she could hardly tell if it was a sigh or a moan.
He ran a thumb over one and the sensation shot up her, arching her back and send her pale neck to the sky. He did it again and then caught it between the base of two fingers and pressed hungry lips into the other.
She cried out, loudly this time and not caring how throaty her voice sounded in the clear blue of the air. His tongue darted over her again and again and then when she kicked her hips forwards with brutal strength he bite down and she moaned, a hand in his hair, holding him close as a babe with just as much fierce protection.
His hips bucked with hers and she heard his breathing catch in his throat as she pushed her hand between them to hold him again, shocked at how wet she was through her gown and small clothes.
He pushed her back onto the grass, harder than she was sure he meant to and when she hit the ground her breath left her and his lips hit hers again with animal urgency. She realized her fingers were scrambling at the strings of his breeches but she suddenly felt so clumsy and incapable and her throat made tiny sound of frustrated sadness.
At that she heard his chest rumbled with a groan so low she couldn't hear, and he raised himself off of her to undo the strings himself. She stared hungrily, feeling her own heart surging in her chest, her own throat raw with desire, watching as her hips still rocked dumbly against him in need, need, need.
He slowed suddenly and just stared at her, drinking in the look in her eyes as if it was all the wine in the world, watching as her bare breasts heaved pink and pale and tight for him in the sunlight, draped in the brilliant red of her hair.
And then he was back over her again, kissing her so deep and so slow that she felt she might burst. She felt his hands scrambling at her waist, pulling her skirts high and tearing her small clothes away. His thumb ran down her woman's-place trailing fire and she felt him growl against her mouth at the wetness he found there.
His breath was fast and urgent against her neck as his hand left her and then she felt the smooth heat of his member on her thigh and she whimpered in pleasure as her stomach leapt and she felt her legs press open under him. He was all she wanted, all she needed, and he didn't even so much as hesitate as he pressed into her.
She gasped pure and alive into the air as her eyes shot open and she felt the hot huge weight of him pressed deeper and deeper. Her hips opened to him slowly and steadily as the warmth filled her. It hurt, but it wasn't even a hurt- there was no pain truly, just him, him, him and the thoughtlessness that filled her internally and eternally. In one moment she was suddenly part of the grass and the air and the sky so far overhead, but above all him: his strength and his courage and his ferocity and it was all her now and forever.
He pulled back from her and she felt the slick length of him again and then gasped once more as he pressed it back into the soft tightness of herself. The feeling so was big, so colossal that she could hardly even make herself think. She felt her hands grip his shoulders and felt his muscles surge and tighten as he pulled back again only to press even deeper. There was nothing but the feeling wrapping around her in suffocating ecstasy and the concentration and constancy of his motions told her that he felt the same.
His hips moved again, as if he was trying so hard to keep the thrusts slow but was loosing the battle as each time he drove into her it was harder than the last with less control and more pure want.
Her own body was taunt and begging for the speed and strength she knew he was holding back.
She felt her cunt tighten around him in need and he suddenly gasped against her neck. His entire body seemed to lose itself in her and he surged again and again, deeper and harder and she heard herself scream as she threw her hands to either side and her chest arched into the air, grazing her nipples perfectly on his chest. The heat lanced up her and her whole body tightened and tightened and then rolling calm spread out over her as Sandor cried out and pressed once, twice, and very slowly thrice.
He breathed out ragged and long and she felt his whole weight sag over her and the thrumming in her body spread into a steady hum. The bulk of him over her felt so very real and solid and safe and she carefully pulled a shaking hand through his hair as another went over his back.
He shook slightly under her touch and then all at once he rolled off of her onto his back in the grass.
The breeze slipped over her and she realized that she had been sweating as the coolness caught on her skin. She lay there as his hand casually played in her hair and his breathing slowed. With the air on her skin and the heavy security of his presence beside her, Sansa smiled into the sky.
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