
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2595221.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Sandor_Clegane/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Sandor_Clegane, Petyr_Baelish, Gregor_Clegane, Harrold
      Hardyng
  Additional Tags:
      Magic, wild!west!, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Smut, Romance,
      UST, ust_everywhere, Sansa_you_saucy_minx, sandor_is_an_asshole, uove
      been_warned, im_not_even_sry, Suicidal_Thoughts
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-11 Updated: 2015-05-11 Chapters: 8/? Words: 15337
****** Wicked Game ******
by annie_rose
Summary
     In the Wild West, not only is the desert unforgiving, but the people
     who inhabit it too.
     All alone in the world, Sansa Stark struggles to keep her head above
     water. After being constantly on the move for three years due to her
     family being hunted, Sansa comes into financial debt. If she doesn't
     leave they'll find her. If she doesn't leave she'll die.
     Fortunately for her, a certain hound crossed her path before any of
     her enemies have a chance to. But will that keep them from finding
     her?
     Stay tuned to find out ;)
     (This'll probs be a slow burn...)
Notes
     Title taken from the song "wicked game"
     Everything but the story is GRRM's, all hail George!!! ;) xx
See the end of the work for more notes
***** https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gY8iy8S0S4w *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
December 15th 1876
"Sansa!!" She heard the room door open and slam as Harry ran in with a broad
smile on his face. They'd been together only a couple months, but she already
knew she loved him. He was her best friend, and she'd do anything for him. He
loved her too, she saw it in the way he'd never pushed her for more than a few
chaste kisses. The way he'd work himself half to death to keep a roof above
their heads as they traveled from town to town.
"Sansa!! I found work!!" He exclaimed running to her side and placing a big
kiss against her cheek. Sansa smiled up at him.
"What have you found work doing, my love?" She asked, draping her arms round
his shoulders.
He went quiet a moment and looked away frowning. He opened and closed his mouth
a few times, seemingly trying to find the right words to say. "Well, it might
sound bad at first, but a jobs a job, you know, and he even offered you a job
there too, not doing the .... Usual things women do there... But cleaning and
helping with the bar..." He trailed off.
"Well?" Sansa asked "where is it?"
Harry looked back to her with an almost cautious expression "It's the brothel
down the road, Baelish's place."
Sansa's smile fell. And with that, so did Harry's. She felt bad. She knew how
hard it was for him to find work this time, and he already owed Mr. Baelish
money for renting the room. She tried to smile again, "That's as good a place
as any... Sure, it's a little unsavory, but its not as though I'll be a whore
there. And we'll be able to pay back Mr. Baelish, and we could even work
towards buying a house. We could set up a life here, Harry." She paused and
looked up at him through her lashes, suddenly feeling somewhat shy. "We could
get married? Start a family?" She added.
Harry looked startled at first, but his expression quickly changed to one of
Happiness as he lifted Sansa up in the air and spun her around, planting light
kisses all over her face. She giggled and kissed him back.
* * *
The next day work began. They awoke early in the morning and made their way to
the brothel. When they got there, almost everyone was asleep and the place was
an absolute mess. The only person who wasn't asleep was Mr. Baelish, or as some
liked to call him, Littlefinger. He was sitting in the middle of the room at
one of the tables, looking through a pile of papers. As they walked in, Baelish
looked up from his work and smiled. Sansa smiled back warmly at the man, as
best she could, but something in his stare made her shiver.
"Ah, how nice to see you again Harry, and I'm so glad you decided to join us
miss?" Harry must not have told him her name, she quickly wracked her brain to
come up with a new one. She changed it each time they moved towns.
"Alayne," she replied demurely with a respectful incline of her head and a soft
smile.
"Alayne." He repeated and nodded his head. "I expect Harry told you of what
you'd be doing?" He raised his brow and Sansa nodded. "Good, I'll be showing
you around now then."
The downstairs part of the whore house was set up with the bar to the side of
the room and tables and chairs fanned out in front of it. To the back of the
room were stairs that led to the whore rooms. Sansa's job was just as Harry had
said, cleaning and being a barmaid. Harry's main duty was as hired muscle in
case things got out of hand, but also as an extra bar hand, if needs be. Sansa
was to come in and clean early each morning at around 6am, and be done by 10am.
Then she was expected back by 2pm, until 2am on Thursdays through to Sunday.
The rest of the week she'd have off.
* * *
At first the work hours were strenuous, but three weeks in, and they were used
to the routine. Some days were easy, some were hard. But none were like that
day. She didn't practice magic much anymore, but she still had a sixth sense
for when something terribly bad was going to happen. She hadn't told Harry of
her... Abilities yet, in case he think her a freak. Plus, it might attract
unwanted attention. That was what had forced her to flee in the first place,
that and the people hunting her family like it was sport.
She climbed out from bed and walked to the window and opened the shutters. It
was still very early, but she could already smell trouble brewing on the
horizon. She leaned forward through the window, and reached her hand towards
the sun. But when she reached she did not see light, but great darkness, that
shadowed the day. It scared her.
Sansa shut the windows and quickly climbed back into bed. She turned and
watched the rise and fall of Harry's chest as he slept. Sansa smiled and leaned
over to wake him, but when she touched his skin, she saw a vision of complete
darkness, just as she'd seen in the sun. As she jolted back it woke Harry. He
slowly blinked his eyes open and turned towards Sansa, smiling, not sensing her
worries.
Sansa masked her face and smiled back, she traced circles on his chest and
kissed his cheek. "Let's stay here today, we'll tell Baelish we can't work."
She said, trying not to sound desperate.
Harry looked at her, surprised, "We have to work," he said smiling back at her
fondly, "We've only payed him back half of what we owe him," he kissed her neck
"as much as I'd like to stay in bed all day,"
Sansa sighed, she didn't want it to be this way, but something dark was coming
today, and she'd do anything to keep him safe. "What if I were to say I want to
marry you today." She said looking up at him from where she rested on his
chest. He stopped breathing a second, and then broke into a huge smile.
"Sansa, are you sure? You don't even have a dress? And and... Are you sure?" He
asked breathlessly, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Yes," she replied smiling brightly back at him. "I've wanted this for a long
time, who cares about a stupid dress. I only want you." She said almost in
tears herself.
As they got dressed she planned it in her head. The less time they spent
outside the better. She could keep away the darkness. She'd change the day.
She'd keep him safe.
They'd go straight to the chapel and marry quickly and then they could come
straight back to the room and stay there for the rest of the day. She could do
a quick spell of protection over the room, and then nothing could harm them.
Not in here. She'd tried doing a spell of protection on Harry but her magic was
not strong enough after not being used in so long. She wondered if she'd ever
tell him of who she really was, or who she used to be. She'd lived so many
lives as different people in the last few years, it was hard to explain even to
herself. She sighed and looked across the room to Harry. He was tying up his
shoe laces and every few minutes he'd look over to her smile and then look back
down. She smiled warmly at him and blushed.
Thinking of spending the whole day with her new husband in doors sprung up all
manners of ideas in her mind. Yet she was still a virgin. So she was nervous
too. 'Nervous and excited' she decided and finished readying herself. When they
left the room they went straight to the chapel as planned the priest said he
could perform a ceremony at 7am. It was only 5am so, with time to kill Harry
insisted on going to see Littlefinger and telling their employer the good news.
Sansa didn't want to. She wanted the safety of their room, but Harry was
insistent so she finally relented. When they got there, Baelish was sitting
where he usually sat in the middle of the room at one of the bar tables.
He looked up and smiled at them. "You're early this morning," he said, looking
to Sansa.
"Well, actually, we came to give you news, Mr. Baelish. Unfortunately I'll be
unable to work today as.." Harry cut in, smiling brilliantly and grabbing
Sansa's hand proudly
"We're getting married sir!" He practically shouted.
Littlefinger smiled at the couple, "oh, how lovely! Well, I suppose a
congratulations are in order!" He shook Harry's hand kissed Sansa's.
"Congratulations." He said, and Sansa thought, he genuinely meant it.
Sansa smiled back warmly at her employer. Then Baelish seemingly remembered
something and reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a bag of coins, he
grabbed Sansa's hand and placed the coins in it, saying "Go but yourself a nice
dress, while I have a drink with your husband."
Sansa smiled brilliantly at the man and thanked him for his generosity. She
looked to Harry and he nodded towards the door. She was about to leave when she
remembered what today might hold. She looked back to Harry "will you be okay?"
She was asking it more to herself than to him.
Harry huffed a laugh and kissed her nose "I'll be fine," he said smiling "you
go and get the pretty dress you always wanted and when you come back ill be
here waiting to marry you."
The words sent butterflies to her stomach and made her dizzy in the head. She
supposed she'd only be gone a few minutes, she'd be quick about it, and choose
whatever she saw first that fit. Sansa nodded and kissed her husband-to-be and
left.
She knew which one she wanted straight away, and luckily, it needed no
alterations. It was simple but beautiful, short sleeves with a bright blue bow
around her middle that matched the color of her eyes. The hem came down only to
her knees, and underneath, the petticoat was the same vibrant blue as the bow
around her middle.
As she walked from the shop with a smile on her face, dressed in her wedding
dress, something made her stop in her tracks. She was almost at the brothel
when she heard it. Yelling, two loud gun shots, and then silence. Sansa's heart
stopped beating. The smile fell off her face. And it was as though the shadow
of today had revealed itself. She ran towards the whore house. She heard a man
say "I'll be back in a month," and the largest man she'd ever seen brushed
passed her as he walked out. As he made contact with her a burning sensation
shot through her body. She looked into his deep grey eyes and saw nothing but
death. It was then she realized he was the shadow. He smiled a disgusting
twisted smile at her. A smile that reminded her of someone from her past. A
golden haired boy, who loved the sound, smell, taste of fear.
Sansa ran inside the door, and felt as the air was knocked out of her. The
place was a mess, Littlefinger was in a heap on the floor, his face a bloodied
and cut. Chairs were broken, thrown around the room, bottles smashed. But Sansa
didn't care for those things, for in the middle of it all was Harry's dying
body.
Sansa ran to his side and lifted his head into her lap. He was still breathing,
and smiled up at her when he saw her. "Sansa." He said trying to lift a hand to
touch her face.
Her vision was blurred from all her tears and she caught his hand with hers.
"Hold on, okay baby? Hold on, I'll make it better." She repeated those words
over and over again, as she held his chest where it had been shot.
She tried with all her might, everything she had, to heal him. But her magic
was still so weak. She cursed herself for not knowing better. For not being
prepared. She kept trying until Harry's hold on her hand began to slip. She
looked back at his face, his eyes losing focus.
"No no no no no, Harry baby, look at me! Okay? Look at me! Harry," she cried
out as sobs wracked her body. "We were supposed to get married! Harry. We're
getting married."
She stayed that way for hours. Sobbing, clinging to his lifeless form. By the
time they finally pried her from his body the she was covered in her fiancées
dried blood.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you enjoyed it!!! I promise you'll see Sandor next chapter!!!
     Let me know what you think :)
     xxx
***** http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=L5jI9I03q8E *****
Chapter Summary
     Title chapter comes from Nina Simone's 'aint got no, I got life' it
     is like the perfect backing track for this chapter haha so here's the
     link if you're interested:
     http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=L5jI9I03q8E
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
5th February 1877
* * *
Sandor
* * *
The early morning sun against his good cheek, was what roused him from his wine
induced slumber. He groaned as he sat up and rubbed his temples, trying to will
away the wine sickness. As he gained a bit more consciousness he took in his
surroundings. Not too far off was a town, maybe an hours ride. With a sigh, he
scrunched his eyes closed one last time, when he opened them again he got up
and set into action, packing his few meager belongings, and saddling his horse.
The ride to the town was uneventful, but what he saw when he got to the town
was more than enough to make up for the boring morning, and the headache.
Standing before him was something he'd been waiting 20 years to confront. He
marched over to the giant of a man and shoved his shoulder. The giant turned
around with a snarl, it looked as though he was in the middle of terrorizing
the man across the table. A short man with calculating green eyes that seemed
to put on a mask of nonchalance. Sandor knew better than that though. He could
see the fear behind it. He could practically smell it. He turned his attention
back to his brother who was smiling down at him "Brother!" He yelled.
And then it began.
Without even thinking Sandor's fist made contact with his brothers jaw. His
brother grunted and a fire lot behind his eyes. Gregor didn't care about pain,
Sandor doubted he even capable of feeling pain. But Sandor had just
disrespected him in public, and he could see in his brothers eyes and clenched
jaw, this was no longer a game. Gregor charged towards him, but Sandor was
faster, with more surer footing, so as Gregor charged at him, he missed and
stumbled when Sandor moved out of the way. It was then Sandor realized his
brother was drunk. He rolled his eyes. Of course Gregor was drunk at only 7am.
Once again his hand moved of its own accord and Sandor found himself, with his
finger on the trigger, his brother staring down the barrel of his gun. Gregor
looked stunned a moment but then through his head back and laughed. Obviously
not believing he'd really shoot.
Sandor found himself pondering once again, if Gregor was able to feel pain. He
quickly moved his gun and shot 4 times. A bullet for each limb. Gregor roared
in pain, rolling on the ground, trying to get up. Having answered his question,
he then raised his gun back towards Gregor's face.
Gregor looked at him then. "See you in hell, brother." And with that the last
shot was fired.
Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Everything was changed.
He stood there standing at the last of his family's dead body. Suddenly the
small man, with the green eyes was next to him shaking his hand, thanking him,
offering him money, a drink, and a whore. He told him how he owned the brothel,
and would give him whatever he wanted. The man seemed to have not heard the
conversation between him and Gregor for he thought, he'd killed him to save
this man. Sandor was fine with that. He didn't mind extra money, and he could
do with a drink and a whore. Anything to take his mind from racing with
unanswerable questions.
"I'm Petyr, Petyr Baelish. And your name sir?" He inquired
"Not a sir. Names Hound." He answered back gruffly walking in brisk steps
towards the brothel.
* * *
Sansa.
* * *
1 month since Harry's death, and still it wasn't any easier waking alone. It
tore at what was left at her heart. She closed her eyes again and breathed. If
ever there was a day she needed Harry it was today. Since his death, she
struggled to pay off their debt to Mr. Baelish. And though once she believed
the man held a soft spot for her, he didn't anymore, only lust filled his eyes
at the sight of her. After Harry died, she was seen as fair game. So in
exchange for rent money, food, bills, she'd pleasure him with her mouth and
hands. He'd told her soon it wouldn't be enough, soon she'd have to start
working as a whore, because the bills were too expensive. Soon was gone. And
today was her first day. She'd been given a room in the house and now Baelish
as good as owned her. It was still early. 7:30? She didn't know. Whatever time
it was, the cleaning wouldn't do itself. She rose from bed and dressed. She
made her way downstairs, clearing the tables and sweeping the floors. She was
behind the bar when Mr. Baelish returned. She forced herself to smile at him,
but her smile fell as soon as she saw who stood behind him. She made eye
contact but tried to duck behind the bar as a last effort to not be recognized.
It was too late.
She heard his heavy footfall become louder and louder as he neared the bar, she
grabbed a bottle and stood abruptly, nearly head butting him in the process,
and schooled her face to a perfect mask. He looked at her with confusion.
"Sansa?" He questioned.
"No, Alayne. You must be mistaken." She replied, and with a mod from Petyr,
poured the Hound and Baelish a drink.
"Must be." He almost whispers, before he downs his shot. It sounded as though
he was saying it more to himself than anyone else.
After that they went over to a table at the back and Sansa was called over
every now and then to refill their glasses. Every time she looked over to the
table she'd meet the stormy grey eyes of her past, and wonders how she didn't
realize it was his brother that had killed Harry. She wonders what he'll do,
now that he knows she's here. She wonders where he's been the last 3 years.
She'd heard he was dead. And for some reason, she felt glad that he wasn't.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you liked the update :)
     xxx
***** https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wycjnCCgUes *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry it's been ages! Hope you enjoy the chapter :) xxx
* * *
Sandor
* * *
He couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was her. There was no doubt in his
mind. She didn't look like such a child anymore but it was definitely her.
Sansa Stark. Baelish was going on and on about his story of how he'd escaped
death so narrowly, how Sandor could have whatever he'd wish. All the while
Sandor watched the little bird flitter around the room sweeping up broken
glass, wiping up spilt drinks. She is one of the most wealthy women in the
states and she's working as a barmaid in some shithole town for some wimp of a
man.The pompous twat sitting across from him finally seemed to notice his
staring as he smirked with eyes flickering to the little bird.
"Alayne, bring us another round please." He called out to her.
Her blue eyes met his briefly, before darting down towards the bench focusing
on trying to pour their liquor with shaky hands. She clumsily and ungracefully
made her way over to them, looking pointedly at the ground before coming to a
halt by the table they were seated at. She turned to leave but this "Baelish"
character caught her hand. Spinning back around nervously she slowly rose her
eyes to her employers.
"Mr... Hound, looks weary, please show him to one of our rooms so he might
relax, and find some ... Comfort. He looks exhausted." 'Not just a barmaid
then' he thought to himself. The sly man had a light and almost friendly tone
but his eyes spoke of superiority. He looked at her, the way one might look
down to a toddler. Sansa's eyes ever so slightly widened before she schooled
her face to be a look of indifference. She'd gotten better at lying, only her
shaky hands revealed her true emotions. Sansa looked to him and gave a tight
lipped smile.
"Please sir, follow me." She turned away and started towards the stairs.
As they climbed the stairs he watched her arse move side to side, the sway of
her hips an ultimate source of hypnotism, what need was there of her magic when
just her body was enough to pull him under. They reached the top of the stairs
and to a room three doors down. Just as her dainty hand turned the handle and
opened the door, screeching, Baelish called her again. Her eyes flickered with
annoyance before the polite face and shaky hands were back.
"Please make yourself comfortable sir, I'll be with you shortly." Again she
gave that tight lipped smile and nodded her head towards the room.
"Not a sir." He grumbled as he walked into the room. She shut the door behind
him and took in the surroundings. There was a large bed in the centre of the
room an old wooden chest in the corner and a small desk and mirror opposite the
door with fake jewels and hairpieces tossed messily atop it. He heard them
talking down the stairs. Thin walls. He sat down on the bed and it gave a loud
groan under the pressure of his weight. Sandor kicked off his shoes and placed
his satchel on the back of the door, before returning to his spot on the bed.
Foot steps. He heard as they got closer and closer before they passed. He let
out a breath he didn't know he'd held. And shook his head. What was this
morning? It was like some strange kind of dream. Where he got everything he'd
ever wanted but not the way he'd wanted it. Or would soon anyways. He wouldn't
be the gallant knight and refuse her, even if it was only her job. Just cause
she chose to deny who she really was didn't mean he would to. No. He'd be
dishonourable, filthy even, take what he wanted without guilt or shame. And
then the door handle turned and she was standing there. In a different outfit
now. All done up, half undone- as was the way in these establishments. She
looked at him timidly and cursed him with another of those false smiles of
hers, and it made him wonder if she even knew how to give any other. She walked
into the room and knelt in front of him, her eyes lowered respectfully toward
the ground.
"What would you have of me?"
* * *
Sansa
* * *
As she walked up the stairs she felt his eyes on her. Almost burning her with
their intensity. She moved her body like she was shrugging a memory off her
shoulders. That gaze was something uncomfortable. Only one thing was on his
mind, and magic had nothing to do with the way she knew. She remembered that
feeling so well. It felt like being burnt by fire. No one forgets that feeling.
And then she wondered if their burns connected them somehow. If it Let them
know they were two of a kind. "Only a man who's been burnt, truly knows what
hell feels like." - He'd told her that, and later when her torture from Joffrey
progressed, she experienced hell first hand. She thinks back to the day she was
burned. He had already left. Sheriff Clegane, was no longer there to enforce
the law, not that he ever did really, just supervised- made sure nothing too
bad was done to her. But even for that she was grateful. She learned just how
much influence he had on her captors when he left. The beatings, the torture,
went from bad to worse in the space of a few days. Those few days is what gave
her what she supposed some would consider courage to escape her prison. Though
she knew it better as desperation, as something closer to not caring if she
lived or died. Something she never wanted to feel again.
When they reached her room she opened the door before being called once again
by Baelish, she had to fight not to roll her eyes, she knew he was watching.
She recited her lined perfectly and ushered Sheriff.. Not sheriff, he left that
behind. The hound then. She ushered the hound into her room and quickly went
back down the stairs to Petyr, still sipping his liquor with a sickly smile
painting his face an even sleazier shade of disgusting.
Petyr held out his hand to her and summoned her closer, he rested his
outstretched hand on her hip when she was within reach and rubbed small circles
with his thumb on her hipbone.
"Give him a show. Make him believe you want him. Make him tell you his secrets
and if you fail, then I want you to pleasure the hound until he is so tired
he'll fall into the deepest sleep he's ever had. And when he falls asleep I
want you to look through his bag and report your findings back to me." Sansa
looked at him questioningly. Petyr continued. "He saved my life but he's not
giving anything up. He might be just as dangerous as that other man. I'd like
you to find out who he really is." She nodded once more and made her way
towards the stairs.
"And fix yourself up a bit, will you? Get something more suitable from Randa's
room." This time she did roll her eyes as she climbed up the stairs.
She passed her bedroom and went to get a slutty outfit. An outfit to make men
want her and tell their secrets in exchange for sexual favours. Unfortunately
the hound was not as stupid as other men though. He'd take what she'd offer and
repay her in impassive stares and scowls.
She sifted through the whores treasure chest of costumes and decided on the
light green corset and matching panties. She tied her hair in a bun and put on
some light makeup before returning to her room once more.
As she stepped through the door she watched as what could only be described as
uncertainty, crossed the hounds features. His half burnt lip twitched and she
broke eye contact in favour of the floor. She placed herself at his feet
nervously chewing her lip.
"What would you have of me?" She remembered this time to ditch the sir.
Moments that felt more like hours passed and she felt as he gently tugged a
stray strand of hair between his overly large fingers. His fingers left her
hair stroked down her cheek. There it was again. That feeling like she was
burning. His touch rolled down her cheek to her neck to her collarbone like the
travels of a tear. Her eyes rose from the floor, mouth slightly agape in wonder
at the gentleness of his touch and curiosity as to what might happen next.
There was fear there too. But that emotion wasn't the one most prominent. If
she had to name one she'd say butterflies. Beautiful, exciting, scary
butterflies, flying up from her stomach and out of her open mouth.
"No." He simply said. And then turned away.
"No?"
"No" he repeated. She frowned. "I'm tired, haven't had a soft bed in what feels
like years. You can leave."
She frowned again "can I stay?" Sandor looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
"He'll be angry if I leave so soon." She went on. Sandor furrowed his brow,
gave a terse nod before moving over and falling back down amongst the cushions.
Sansa almost smiled at how he'd made room for her on the bed. A small act of
gallantry, more than most were capable of.
She laid down beside him and studied his features while his eyes were shut. His
breathing began to even out and she traced a line with her fingertip down his
profile, forehead to just below the bump of his Adam's apple.
Her hand was snared, and then thrown back to her side of the bed. "Don't" was
his only word and Sansa mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. She
settled herself amongst the cushions and once again waited for his breathing to
even out so she could do as Baelish had asked.
Seconds. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into too many minutes
to keep her eyes open. Sansa fell asleep and only woke when she felt like she
were being pinned down. Flashed of memory were awoken from the back of her
mind, her breathing came in short gasps and she almost screamed before she
forced herself to open her eyes. And then there was such utter relief. This
time only a sigh escaped her lips, no more butterflies. She looked down to see
Sandor's massive arm thrown over her waist. His hand curled around her waist,
moving ever so slightly each time he inhaled and exhaled so it felt like he was
caressing her. It left her feeling a quarter wholesome, and three parts still
in the dark. Who was he now? This man with gentle hands and violent tendencies.
Had he changed? He seemed... Calmer now. Sansa found herself more and more
drawn to his satchel now. Not because she valued or even cared to do her job,
but out of genuine curiosity as to who this man really was. Not that she
thought he was the type to be defined by the contents of his baggage. Or
maybe... She had to look.
She gently lifted his hand from around her, slipping out from beneath his grasp
and tiptoeing to where the doorway. Sansa gently lifted the strap from off the
hook on the door and placed it by her feet. She pulled out item after item
until it was empty. Compass, map, stale bread, whisky, a pocket watch and his
identification documents as well as a few wanted posters of different
criminals. Sansa picked one up at a time and her eyes rolled back into her head
as she saw their journeys. Inanimate but so alive with what they've seen. What
they hold on to. Sentimental is what all, things inanimate were, whether the
owner of said items agreed or not. She was just putting down the map when she
heard the bed groan. She looked up eyes wide with fear. The hound stared down
at her with annoyance.
"It fell. The bag. Your bag, fell. I was just..." She was cut off by his
rasping growl
"You were just going through something that wasn't yours." He finished for her.
"I..."
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to snoop, little bird. Rude to pry
and dig through people's personal belongings." He was almost yelling now. Sansa
started to curl into herself, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
"Obviously not." He huffed angrily. "Come here." He commanded after seconds of
awful silence. She stood up from the floor and walked over to him til she was
standing in front of him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to stand between
his legs. "Well?" He said almost snarling, yet his touch was still gentle.
"What were you doing?"
"I was only curious." She squeaked out.
"Well, your curiosity veers into the area of impoliteness. And when someone is
impolite they should be disciplined." "On my knee little bird." He commanded,
Sansa looked at him questioningly for a moment before moving to sit in his lap.
Sandor lifted her and turned her over so her bottom was facing up towards him
and her body almost flat face down. His hand stroked over her bottom and
pinched. She squeaked. "I'm going to spank you now, okay." He said it almost
like a question. But still not one. "Anything you want." She said. The only
reply she got was the loud whack that resounded throughout the room, before she
felt the sting of his slap on the tender flesh of her bottom. She gasped and
bit her lip trying to bite back the tears. Not from the slap, it hardly hurt.
But the indecency of it, she felt like a child. And for some strange reason the
thought of him thinking of her as a child made it even worse. His hand rubbed
over her panties until he pulled them down just over her rump so she didn't
have to lift her hips. Then his hand was gone again and she closed her eyes in
anticipation of the next slap. This time it was harder, she looked behind her
and watched as he stroked her and then gave a slight squeeze before lifting his
hand again. His hand made contact with her already sore bottom and squeezed
hard this time. Two slaps later and he pulled her underwear back up and lifted
her from his knee.
"I'd like to talk to your employer." He said. Voice void of any emotion. Her
eyes shot up at him and she had a look of pleading on her face. He answered it
with a single raised eyebrow. She nodded and left the room.
"Well?" Baelish asked when she approached.
"He wants to speak with you."
"Yes but what did you find out?"
"He caught me looking through his things."
Petyrs face went a light shade of red and his jaw tensed. "Stupid girl!" He
hissed as he stalked up the stairs to the bedroom. She caught Sandor's eye as
the door opened to the room, a brief moment where the air was sucked out of her
lungs and then the door closed.
***** https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zGDrN7j6esY *****
Chapter Notes
     FYI :
     I've decided to make my title chapters links to the songs I listened
     most to while writing them. :) xx
See the end of the chapter for more notes
*** Sandor ***
He hadn't meant to touch her. But he saw her prying through what little
possessions he had left and it was like something inside him snapped. He had
let her be, he'd been 'honourable' and she'd repaid it with looking through his
things, probably looking for spare coin like a real whore. He'd wondered if
she'd looked through his book, if she now knew, not only the contents of his
carry bag, but his secrets too. The book was still in the bottom of his bag but
what if she'd seen what he wrote about her. Anger began to brew in his veins
til he clenched the arms of his chair with white knuckles. He felt guilty, but
he didn't think he should. That was his problem. She was his problem. Always
making him contradict himself. He was a changed man now because of her - well,
more because of her memory, but a few hours together and he felt 2 years of
hard work, slipping away. How could that be? How did that work? She made him
better but she brought out the worst in him too? I'll make it up to her he
thought and was immediately angry at himself for thinking it. Why should he
make anything up to her? It was her fault? Because she's her, and you'll never
stop apologising for things you did and didn't do. Only because it's her. Her.
her. her! 
His attention snapped back to mr Baelish. Sitting across from him, one leg
folded over the other, one hand resting in his lap, the other waving around
madly so that cigarette between his fingers left a map of smoke wherever it
traveled. "Once again, Mr hound, I don't know what to say. We've never had an
incident like this before, if you'd prefer another girl... That could be
arranged immediately.."
Sandor smiled down at the small man. "I don't want another girl, I want her."
Mr. Baelish stared up at him almost dumbfounded but trying to put on an air of
nonchalance. "You can keep her, if that's what you want."
And with those words Sandor finally knew that he did. He'd take her with him
this time, she'd have no choice but to come. But that's not why he'd take her.
He was different, he wanted her to know that, needed her to know it. "Yes,
that's exactly what I want. I want her. And I don't want anyone else to have
her." He replied. "
You want...?" It seemed to him as though Mr. Baelish was beginning to find it
harder and harder to keep up his badly played facade. Sansa was probably the
prettiest whore in the house and losing her would be losing money. Whore. That
word wasn't for her. Even if that was what she was. "Yes, I want to take her.
To 'keep her' as you put it. I won't be staying in this town long. So when I
leave and I take her, i'll consider your debt to me payed." He winked at the
smaller man and lit the cigar hanging out of his mouth. "Now," he said while
rising to his feet. "I have business to attend to, I'll be back tomorrow to
collect what's mine- that is if we have a deal?" He said the words like there
was no choice as to whether this deal would go ahead or not. Because there
wasn't. He would take her away from here. Such beauty should not belong to him
but it sure as hell didn't belong in a dirty brothel either.
Baelish slowly nodded and stood to his feet. He smiled up at him, the smile of
an unhappy man and shook his hand. "Of course, of course, please let me show
you out." Sandor tipped his hat to the man on the way out and headed straight
for the police department.
***
"So you're the man who shot down the big fella outside the markets this
mornin'?"
"Yes sir,"
"And why, might I ask, are you confessin' to doin' so?"
Sandor pulled a poster out from his satchel. And placed it down onto the desk.
Moving it across the table with the tips of his fingers a smirk played on his
lips. He was about to get paid for killing his brother.
The sheriff looked down at the page and slowly read out the words one at a
time. "W..wa..wanted... Huh, wanted."
Sandor was not a patient man.
"God damnit!" He said losing what little left there was of his patience. "It
says wanted. Dead or alive. And that bounty down there says $1000. Now as you
can see this sketch matches the man who I killed this morning as does the
description. If you would be so kind..." He held out his hand expectantly. The
sheriff frowned at the paper still trying to read it. Finally. After twenty
minutes more of pissing around, the sheriff began to nod. "Yep, that's what it
says."
Sandor rolled his eyes. The sheriff wrote out a paper stating the bank owed him
$1000 and told him the directions as to where it was. "Also, before I leave,
I'll be taking whatever belongings he had on him too." The sheriff looked at
him strange, he dug into his bag and passed over his identification documents.
The sheriffs eyes went wide. "He was.."
"We weren't on speakin' terms." Sandor cut in before he could finish. The
sheriff looked disgusted but showed him to the back room where Gregors things
were sitting displayed on a table. He took what was useful: money, a couple of
guns, bullets, and the papers that stated he was now the sole owner of 400
acres of land. Clegane's keep. Maybe today isn't so bad after all he thought,I
could sell the land get something new, something without memories, live there a
happy wealthy man the rest of my days... Though he knew that wasn't true, he
was never one to sit still for too long, he'd get bored if he retired too
early. He needed something to keep him busy. Sansa. Her name came to mind
unbidden. Shaking his head, he stuffed the valuable items in his satchel and
left for the bank.
*** Sansa ***
"What do you think he'll do?" Randa's eyes were wide with worry, if only she
knew the day I've had... Sansa thought to herself while stroking Randa's hair
from her face, "it's okay, I'm sure he didn't mean it, I'm sure he'll come
back." She said softly to the other girl.
"He said he wasn't this time, he said he was done with me." Her friend wailed
holding tight to her hair. Sansa winced when Randa's hold became too much, and
she gently tried to pry the other girls hands off her.
"Oh! I'm so sorry Alayne! I haven't even asked how you're day was," she managed
between sniffles.
"It was fine, Randa. But If you are okay, I might go and rest, it's been a
tiring day."
Randa nodded and gave her a tremulous smile. Sansa sighed. "I'll stay here, you
need me." She sat back down on the bed and held the other girl as she closed
her eyes and smiled. "Oh thank you Alayne, I just don't think I can bear to be
alone right now," she curled up into her side and Sansa waited for her to fall
asleep before she attempted to leave.
Slowly slipping from her grasp she moved little by little of her weight off the
bed to ensure it wouldn't screech and wake Randa again. Slowly tiptoeing out of
her room she breathed a sigh of relief once she closed the door behind her,
only to almost squeal when she turned around and found that Petyr was standing
in such close proximity. "Alayne we need to discuss something, if you'll follow
me." He walked down to his room without waiting for a response. And Sansa
followed behind, all the while clenching her fists at his arrogant stride, the
way he held his chin up so that he could still look down at her.
She flexed her fingers and a floorboard lifted just before Mr Baelish took his
next step and stumbled almost losing his footing. Sansa tried to hide the smile
that threatened to turn into a giggle but Baelish seemed to see it anyway as he
turned back to see if she'd seen. He scowled at her. Idiot she hissed at him in
her mind.
They made it to his sleeping quarters and he closed the door behind her. He
extended his hand to the bed and Sansa paused before seating herself on the
edge of king sized mattress. Just a bit excessive she frowned. "I spoke with Mr
Hound, and for your insolence and as my payment to him for saving my life, he's
decided to take you as his personal.... Whatever. I don't know, it makes no
sense to me, but he wants you and I'm in no position to refuse him. So, you'll
pack your things tonight and as of tomorrow you will become his property."
As he went on Sansa's mouth slowly drifted wider and wider open. She was not a
piece of meat, to be bought and traded, given to the highest bidder. Well you
are, as a whore. With that thought she closed her mouth, and straightened her
back. One man is better than many, she thought. It'll be no different than as
if it were an arranged marriage without the marriage. She winced at that
thought. It won't be the same. He's not the same.
She stood, left the room, and made her way back to her own to pack what little
left she had. When morning came, she looked down out of the window to where his
big black destrier stood outside. She grabbed her bag and opened her door a
crack to see if he was inside. As soon as she spotted him flashes of their last
encounter came back to her. She began to panic. He's not Joffrey. It won't be
the same. Slap! And the sting returns. What if he is? And then the caress, the
feeling of his hand soothing that sting. What if he isn't?
Chapter End Notes
     So, I'd like to say, this isn't a story where Sandor is a nice a guy.
     He's mean, and dangerous and most of all confused. I won't portray
     him as a good guy when he isn't one. He's a bad guy who sometimes
     does good things, who's also got a soft spot for Sansa, but doesn't
     know how to show that to her. In this story he learns to be good, and
     that's through Sansa. With saying that she also tries his nerves and
     frustrates him and he doesn't know how to deal with it. I'm not
     saying that he'll ever truely hurt her in this fic, but that he's not
     exactly kind.
     Hope you liked the chapter, I promise there'll be more sansan action
     and angst next chapter ;) let me know what you think.
     Also if you'd like you can follow me on tumblr at anniephuckitt -
     I've put up a picset and will continue to do so with each chapter but
     I don't know how to put up a link hahaha you should all know by now
     that I am SHOCKING! With technology haha so my apologies :) xx
***** https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=j2N32PIYVHc *****
Chapter Summary
     And the bickering begins...
     Btw I totally recommend listening to the chapters title song,
     bluejuice, are the shit.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
*** Sandor ***
He watched as she slowly descended the stairs, her elegant hand gliding along
the hand rail, as the other lifted her skirts to display long, slender legs,
all dolled up as she always was. From then to now. From million dollar estates
to brothel houses. She would always be beautiful. It was something that would
never change. She was wearing a light pink frock, her hair done to the side,
with bright red lips- As if they need draw any more attention. He
absentmindedly licked his own chapped lips until he choked on his smoke.
Quickly putting out the cigar in his hand he looked up again, hoping she'd
missed his coughing fit. Judging by the slight curve shaping into a smile, she
hadn't. He'd forgotten that too. She was always so attentive didn't miss a
thing, always catching everyone out. Always caught out herselfhe thought,
remembering the look on her face as she'd turned around to see him watching her
looking through his things.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and extended her hand to him. Sandor
snorted.
Sansa scrunched up her face and dropped her hand to her side. "When shall we be
departing, Mr hound." It was his turn to frown. 'Mr Hound' sounded like a
goddamn pets name.
"Now." He replied curtly.
Sansa nodded her head and turned to Petyr "Mr. Baelish, I can honestly say I'm
ecstatic at the thought of never seeing you again."
Baelish's jaw tensed, and then he gave a thin lipped smile "A pleasure as
always Alayne." He nodded and then left them, in favour of his own company
apparantly, as he disappeared up the stairs.
"Is that all you've got?" He asked, looking down at the small bag by her side
"Yes, this is all." He thought he detected a note of sadness in her voice as
she replied, but he didn't much care to investigate further.
"Then let's leave. I want to make it to the next town by nightfall, and it's
already near midday." He grabbed her belongings from her hand and strode
outside to where Stranger was waiting.
"You don't tie him up!" She chastised.
"Why would I?"
"He'll run away. Or could get stolen!"
"No he won't. He's a good boy, aren't you" he said stroking the black beasts
neck. "Never strayed when I've told him to stay. And as for getting stolen,
horses are stolen all the time - tied or untied, but even if someone did
attempt to take him, I dare say they'd escape with their life" He chuckled, pat
stranger on the rump and fed him the last of his cigar.
"You shouldn't feed him that, it's not horse food, he could get sick."
Sandor groaned. Not even on the road yet and she's driving me insane. "Listen
here Alayne, I don't much like being told what to do, especially by someone
with the status of bed warmer. So shut your mouth and let me get the horse
ready." "
You and I both know I am not a bed warmer." She whispered as if there were
someone around to hear.
"See that's where you're wrong. Sansa, Sansa Stark of Winterfell, is much more
than that. But apparently she's not present. Who is here, is Alayne Stone, of
this here mangy whore house- professional bed warmer." He noticed how she
blanched at the use of her real name. But she quickly recovered her act of calm
and collected and raised her chin up at him as if it made a difference.
Arrogant, stuck up, bit...
He tripped over a rope he didn't even notice was there, into the water trough.
Great. Just great.
He looked to where Sansa was standing she gave him a sarcastic smile and went
back inside for whatever reason, he heard her giggle as she opened the door and
disappeared inside. Stranger nickered merrily as if he was laughing at him too.
He didn't care. As long as she was there when it was time to leave. He removed
himself from the trough and strapped his and Sansa's things to strangers
saddle. As he checked for everything he realised he only had one bed roll. That
should be interesting. If they didn't make it to the next town by tonight
they'd be sleeping outside. He wondered what little miss multiple personality
disorder would think of that. Just as he thought of her she reappeared through
the front doors holding an old blanket. She passed it to him. He looked at her
with raised eyebrows, deciding to communicate through body language rather than
speaking in case of starting another argument.
"To dry yourself with. " she explained. He nodded and dried himself as best as
he could. He almost thought to say thanks but thought better of it when he saw
her beautiful annoying face.
"Let's fly little bird." The nickname slipped off his tongue without him
realising, she looked as though she might almost smile, but then he was lifting
her into the saddle and he couldn't see her expression anymore. When she was
settled he jumped up behind her and grabbed the reigns. He clicked his tongue
to stranger and they started towards the edge of town at a steady pace.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Too close and not enough. Too close that's it was annoying, not enough that it
was a battle of self control for Sandor not to grind into her firm little
backside that was already rubbing against him. He decided to focus on the
cactus' instead. Is it cactus's or cacti?
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
For fucks sake.
*** Sansa ***
She understood her mistake in knocking him in the trough when she realised
she'd have to sit so close to him. Two hours later, and the back of her dress
was soaked right through. Every time she leaned forward to get away from him
he'd lean forward too, and pretend to pat Stranger or would just move forward
completely so she was almost sitting on the pommel if she didn't lean back. He
laughed as she huffed at him when she figured out what he was doing.
They only stopped once so Sandor could "take a piss". Sansa was mortified when
he'd said it, there were no trees or anything for coverage, just flat land. She
supposed it was silly being so offended when he'd already seen half of her
naked body, but she couldn't silence the voice at the back of her head that
screamed impropriety. Sansa needed to go too, but told herself she could hold
it until they reached the next town.
As their journey wore on Sansa began to find it harder and harder to sit still.
She felt as though her bladder might burst. Twisting and squirming in the
saddle and in such close proximity to Sandor, Sansa soon felt a large bulge
poking at her back, she gasped aloud as it nestled against her backside. The
hound laughed. "What did you think was gonna happen? Now sit still or I might
actually do something about it."
Sansa frowned and her mouth hung wide in repulsion. You were a whore. She
reminded herself. Not a whore, I was going to be, he saved y... There. Those
thoughts. That thought particularly was too dangerous to even think, let alone
believe. Because if he did save her, that meant she would owe him. There'd be
this invisible debt hanging between them, and she hated that. Hated that she
might actually have to be grateful to him. She stared hard at the horizon
watching as it set hoping, a town would come into view before it did. Camping
was not her forte.
Just as the sun was beginning to lose its shine and the southern sky filled
with random stars like freckles on her skin, the town came into view. "We're in
luck, was starting to think we'd have to sleep beneath the stars." Sandor
rasped close to her ear. She decided she liked the sound of his voice when it
wasn't mocking or arguing with her. It was a deep sound, like that of the sea
as waves crashed. Soothing almost. Calm yet almost sharp when he said certain
words a certain way. When he's harsh it sounds like knives being sharpened and
when he's... Agreeable, like the howl of a wolf. Safe. She decided. He sounded
safe.
She had not read his thoughts and intentions. Not yet, she'd wait until he was
asleep. Although without even searching she was overcome with a feeling she had
not had in a long time. It felt like home. Can you hate your home? She
wondered. She didn't hate him, not really. She just didn't like him. Not yet.
***
They finally reached the town 2 hours after the sun had set, Sandor had said
they'd stop but she practically begged him to keep going. He teased her, of
course. "Pretty little bird can't survive the harsh elements of nature."
"Oh no, I'm not half so strong as you Sir Hound!" She'd replied with as much
venom in her voice as a snake. She'd practically hissed the word Sir. Though as
soon as the words left her mouth she knew she'd gone too far.
He didn't talk back to her for the remainder of the way to the town, and when
they did get there he swung off of stranger took their things, and just left
her there!
"Hound!" She called out.
He turned so he was walking backwards a mean smile lit his face, "why don't you
fly down?" Then he was gone, disappeared into the entrance of the tavern he'd
rode them to. Great. She slowly slipped a leg over so she was half up half
down. One foot was almost at the ground when the saddle began to slide. The
next thing she knew, she was on the ground. Covered in dust and all manners of
unholy things. Someone could have pee'd here.She thought scrambling to her
feet.
When she looked up he was there, watching with amusement as she pushed past
him.
"What are you looking at?" she hissed as she made her way to the door, trying
to brush the dirt and filth off her skirts.
"Was just gonna ask if you needed some help." He replied trying to hide his
smile.
She clenched her jaw "you're horrible."
He winked at her and opened the door for her muttering a "ladies first".
"Oh what a gentleman!" She sneered.
"I try."
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you liked the chapter, next one should be up soonish... Comments
     and kudos are always welcome ;) let me know if you like it guys, and
     where I can improve xxx
***** Karma police *****
Chapter Notes
     I listened to a ridiculous amount of radio head while writing this
     chapter. You should listen to karma police if you haven't already
     heard it. Sorry this chapters taken so long to put up, I've been
     suuuuuper busy and when I'm busy and upset I lack inspiration. I
     tried my best with this chapter but I'm still having a bit of trouble
     getting back into writing :/ anyways, I hope you like it. And I'd
     love to hear what you think :) xxx
They entered the room and all eyes were on them. It was normal. Everyone too
nosey for there own good in the west. He rolled his eyes and pushed past Sansa
who was standing rooted to the spot, apparently not use to so much attention.
He made his way to the bar and asked for a whole bottle of whiskey and a room.
He could spare the cash, he had more than enough to last. He looked back over
to where Sansa was standing and asked for a room with a bath too. The barkeep
quickly gave him his key and his whiskey eager to get back to serving someone
less intimidating. Sandor scowled and snatched the key and drink from the young
man, and turned back to see Sansa, still standing in the same place staring at
something or someone.
He followed her line of sight and froze. There sat a man vaguely familiar to
Sandor but Sansa was staring daggers at him. Walter Frey, owner of a business
that worked in building and selling ships. He was set for a merger with the
Stark business but when the contract was set to be signed there was a shoot out
and the oldest Stark boy - Robb, and his mother were both shot dead. There were
rumours that Frey had something to do with it but Sandor hadn't given it a
second thought either way. Whether he was or wasn't he didn't care. It was best
they stayed as out of sight as possible, he made his way back over to Sansa but
it was too late. The pompous prick had already seen her- luckily for them he
didn't seem to recognise her though.
Frey smiled and leered at Sansa. Her face immediately changed. Her demeanour
went from cold and eyes filled with rage to light and playful. She moved away
from Sandor and went to sit at the table. Sandor gritted his teeth and caught
her arm before she sat. Sansa looked down to where he held her arm and raised
her eyebrows. He let her go. "I'm not waiting around to hear you make small
talk with some rich cunt, while I go thirsty. I'll be at the bar."
Sansa nodded and smiled. There was something so wrong about that smile.
Something so sinister. It was like looking into a mirror. He didn't trust it.
He looked at her with unsaid questions but she turned away again and went to
sit at the table. Sandor moved towards the bar asked for a glass and set
himself up for what he assumed would be a while. He couldn't leave her alone
down here. She might leave. Or get hurt. He didn't trust any one of these slimy
bastards down here. All looking at her with one thing on their minds. Sandor
shook his head and took a shot.
He looked back over to where they were and saw Sansa leaning forward pressing
her chest forward. Every mans eyes at that table were glued to her breasts. She
threw her head back and laughed at something one of them said in an
overdramatic show of interest. She flirted and winked, and at one point even
leaned across the table and took a sip of Frey's drink before putting it back
in front of him and licking her lips seductively.
He turned and focused on pouring his next drink. He watched as the Amber liquid
sloshed into his glass. Something mesmerising about the way the drink swirled
and settled. Before the glass had even touched his lips he heard gurgling, a
disgusting sound but one he had revelled in too many times to not know what it
was. He'd heard while listening to men choke on their own blood. He looked over
to see Walter Frey lying on the floor gasping for breath, his companions around
him looking to each other for what to do. All too busy to see the fire that
danced in Sansa's eyes as she watched on. She gracefully gathered her skirts
and walked over to the bar and asked for a rum. She was given it for free and
blushed prettily at the bartender, when he winked at her.As soon as her eyes
met Sandor's though, her smile fell. She made her way over to him and sat by
his side, without saying a word.
Time passed and once she'd finished her drink she turned to him. "Sorry, if I
kept you waiting. I suppose if there's one thing that being a whore taught me,
it was to go after the wealthy ones." She laughed bitterly.
Sandor eyed her warily "Yeah, and I suppose it's just a coincidence he's now
dead."
Sansa shrugged "It is most unfortunate." She said shaking her head and studying
her perfectly manicured nails with a frown. How she could still look so perfect
after a day of riding was beyond him. He wondered if she was ever, or could
ever be, anything less than flawless. She looked up to him then, and that smile
was back. It told all and nothing at the same time. She looked away before he
could study it too closely. "Shall we go upstairs?" She looked up at him
through her lashes and smiled again that seductive fake smile, that he'd
quickly begun to hate.
"Don't do that." He growled. Getting up to leave with what was left of his
whisky.
"Do what?" She asked trailing behind him.
He turned to her and looked down. "Don't do that fake, 'you're happy to be
here, you wanna fuck me' charade. It might work on those other dumb-fucks, but
you're not fooling me. So cut it out. I hate liars."
She rolled her eyes, "I know, I know, a dog will lie to you, but never die for
you.." She said absent-mindedly.
Sandor clenched his jaw and gave her a look that would make lesser men wet
themselves. Alas, Sansa was a woman. And a ballsy one at that. He wondered, not
for the first time, what had happened to Sansa to make her change so
dramatically. She was always so quiet and respectful, polite. He knew she used
to be a whore, but she played the part a little too well, he wondered who she
really was. She stopped and frowned "or was it the other way round." She said
mock thinking while tapping a finger to her chin. Sandor snorted. She was a lot
more like her hellion of a sister now, that was for sure.
He saw her lip twitch into a smile, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.
When they arrived at their room he shut the door behind her and latched it. All
of the sound and ruckus from down stairs was gone, they were eclipsed in total
silence. Sansa's nonchalant air started to crack as he saw her hand shake again
slightly as she filled a cup for him and herself with the whisky he'd just
placed on the table. He took it from her and tilted his head to her in thanks.
He swallowed it back in one gulp as Sansa daintily sipped at hers. Finally she
sighed and straightened her back, making direct eye contact with him "what do
you expect from me?"
"What do you mean, 'what do I expect'?"
She thinned her lips "Baelish sold me to you. You own me. What do you want from
me?"
Sandor frowned. He didn't want anything. Well, he did, but that didn't mean
he'd take anything. He liked to think he had standards. A certain set of morals
which he lived by. Though, come to think of it, none of the rules he'd set
himself prevented him from being able to fuck her. He looked up into her big
blue eyes though, and was immediately lost. "I don't own you. No body owns you,
Sansa. I think if there's one thing anyone knows about Sansa Stark it's that
she ain't the type to be kept." He chuckled.
"So you don't want me?" He looked up at her confused.
"That's not what I said,.."
"So you do want me?"
"I, no, I..."
"How do you want me? Like this or this?" She said bending in strange angles.
How could you even do it like that?
It was then he realised she was messing with him. Sandor let out a frustrated
sigh and buried his face in his hands. I'm getting real tired of these games.
He peaked through his fingers to see Sansa smiling. "Where'd d'you get such a
sarcastic sense of humour?"
"HA! From you!" She laughed.
Sandor smiled. She probably did. Usually he was the one with the biting
remarks, they just sounded so strange coming from Sansa's mouth. He nodded and
poured himself another drink. "So I belong to myself." Sansa stated.
"Yeah."
"Hmm." She smiled to herself and looked up "I don't think I've ever belonged to
myself. There was a year between when I met Harry and when I left the
Lannister's but, my life wasn't my own. I was in hiding. I like this. It's a
good feeling."
"Who's Harry?" He asked feeling a slight sting of jealousy.
"Just a boy, we were engaged. But he died. That's how I ended up with Baelish,
we were in debt and I couldn't pay it back." He could tell there was more to
that story, but he could see the hurt in her eyes as she spoke of him. It was
obvious he wasn't 'just a boy' but he decided not to push it for now. So
instead he went with "And so you became a whore?" There was more bite to the
comment than he'd intended.
"It's not like I had much of a choice. I had nowhere to go. And I swore I'd
never.." She seemed to stop herself before she got too carried away. He wanted
to know the end of that sentence but she was already gone. Sharing time was
over and she was moving to sit back down in the chair.
"I'm going to bed, you should do the same, big day tomorrow. Well, big day if
you're coming with me. You don't have to.." He trailed off. He didnt know why
he said it, but he knew that even if she chose not to stick with him, he'd
stick with her, make sure she didnt get herself into too much trouble. Sansa
smiled at him and nodded.
He took off his boots, and vest. He didn't remove anything else, for the sake
of Sansa. She'd probably seen plenty of men undressed before, but a tiny
nagging voice at the back of his head (that coincidentally sounded an awful lot
like Sansa) told him to keep covered. He moved to the bedside and blew out the
candle.
Sansa disappeared into the darkest corner of the room and changed out of her
clothes into a short shift that reached mid-thigh. He gulped as she stepped
towards the bed, her hair hanging loose down her back and so much skin on show.
It made him think of the last time he saw her undressed and he cringed at
himself.
Sansa hopped into bed and her freezing feet brushed against his, he almost
yelped in surprise as Sansa giggled. He turned over and looked at her.
"I'm sorry." He said quiet and low, unsure of himself. The words felt so
foreign on his tongue.
She frowned "what for."
"I shouldn't have.. Last night.. I.." He looked away suddenly angry at his
illiterate self, for not finding good enough words for her.
Sansa shook her head. "It's alright. I shouldn't have gone through your stuff.
I don't think I would have, but Baelish told me to. And then I was just gonna
lie and say I did, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know who you are now, and
where you've been."
Sandor chuckled "I'm not any better than who I used t' be. Maybe a little more
patient- on a good day. But that's about it."
"No." She whispered, touching his forearm, her face scrunched up in a way that
made her look earnest and adorable all at once. "You've definitely changed.
You're calmer. More collected. I think I have missed you without really knowing
you." She nodded to herself and looked into his eyes.
"Goodnight, little bird." He rasped, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her
ear. Sansa jumped as the tips of his fingers touched the side of her face, and
a look of wonder crossed her features before she schooled them back to a look
of nonchalance.
"Goodnight, Sandor."
The last thing Sandor felt before he fell asleep was little bird nestling into
his side and ice cold feet. He jolted and heard her beautiful girlish laugh
once more. He liked that sound. Liked it a lot.
***** That sinking feeling *****
Chapter Summary
     Hey guys, quick heads up, this chapter has suicidal thoughts through
     most of it, so if that's a problem maybe skip it. Just a short
     chapter, there'll be more soonish :)
A snake. A snake with one head, but when she tried to cut it off two grew back.
One, two, three, four, five. The snake became a hand. Many hands scratching at
her skin marking maps on her body with streams of blood and flesh. She goes to
scream but she has no voice. Covered in a sticky substance that can only be her
drying blood. A gun is under her chin. Cold green eyes are staring into her
own. Fat lips touch her cheek, teeth bite at her ear. A voice of far away
whispers threats. And she hears before she wakes "we'll find you." A thousand
voices in one sentence but the most dominant is one she knows too well, to
mistake. It taunts, sings the words like a nursery rhyme.
And she'd awoken. Drenched in sweat. She ran to the bathroom. There was a
broken mirror above the sink. She looked up to her reflection. And a single
tear drop, the colour of deep crimson, rolled down from her eye. Her breath
caught, and her hand reached for the tap to run the cold water to help cool
herself down. It was not enough. She looked to the tub and quickly went to it.
Hurriedly running the cold water until the tub was full to the brim. So early
in the morning it was still ice cold from the darkness of the night, Sansa
stripped and stepped into it without hesitation, and sighed. The cold felt like
home. She submerged herself completely in the water. And opened her eyes.
Finally, she felt like she could breathe again. She almost laughed at that, the
fact she had to literally hold her breath to feel like she could keep living.
Her eyes were open. Unseeing. She wondered if it'd be so bad. If she held her
breath until it drowned out all sound. She could die like that, she thought.
She'd be happy to. Sansa knew what awaited her sooner or later and she'd rather
die than go back to the Lannisters. The dream was a warning.
She was starting to run out of breath, the oxygen in her lungs finally running
out. She didn't struggle. She welcomed the feeling of fight in her body and
calmed it's rage at her for giving up so easily. She was slipping into the haze
of waves, she was at the bottom of the ocean, she thought she could see her
father. The figure got closer and closer until hands grabbed her. Warm hands.
Not her father then. Dead men have cold hands.
She's pulled towards the surface and suddenly sound, light, and air flood her
senses. It's a burning in her lungs the first breath she takes, and she's angry
she was stopped. Angry because now she knows what it's like to almost die, she
won't do it again. Sansa looked down to the hands that were still holding her
shoulders and looked up to her supposed 'saviour', before shrugging him off.
"What the fuck do you think you were doing?!?" He yelled, almost screamed at
her. He was too loud. She wished she was under water again, she looks back to
the water and sinks a little lower again. Although she'd barely moved an inch
before his hands were on her again, pulling her upright. He had a wild, crazed
look in his eye. The type he had whenever she'd seen him fight. He was
breathing heavily, and ran a hand through his hair before looking away. "What
was that Sansa?" He looked back to her again, brow furrowed but without the
usual scowl that accompanied that facial expression. He looked... Worried. She
almost felt bad.
"I had a bad dream." She said in between breaths, only just realising she too,
was still trying to catch her breath.
Then his face went from worried to angry. She almost smiled. This was what she
was used to. Now she could face him. "You're gonna drown yourself over a
fucking dream?"
"A bad dream." She retorted.
Sandor huffed and shook his head. His hand was still hanging down in the water
moving back and forth through the water. "Hop out of there, the waters like
ice."
"Don't have a towel."
"You gonna try drown yourself again if I go get you one?"
"No." She said in an all too haughty tone, even she could recognise she sounded
like a brat. Sandor narrowed his eyes at her, sniffing for lies. Sansa rolled
her eyes, "scouts honour." She said lifting a hand from the water and feigning
seriousness.
"You weren't in scouts."
"Well there ain't exactly 'whores honour' so..." Sandor grunted as he got to
his feet, and quickly got her a towel. When he stood by the tub he held it open
for her to step straight into. Sansa looked up to where he stood his eyes
weren't looking at her body but they would be if he didn't at least turn his
head. "Don't look." She said.
Sandor snorted. "Just get out of the tub."
"Promise you won't look"
He grinned at her. "Scouts honour."
* * *
He deserved a medal. Truly he did. It took all his strength and will power not
to look at Sansa's body. He berated himself every time he almost did. She'd
just tried to kill herself. Stupid bird. Over a fucking dream. (It scared him)
that's what he was truly angry about. The fact he thought he knew his
weaknesses and it turned out he didn't. He had a whole new shit-load, to worry
about when it came to Sansa.
He felt the towel shift and he wrapped his arms around her without looking,
until he knew that she was covered. Sansa was in his arms. He looked down as
she looked up and it was as if, for the first time in his life, he wanted to
stay, and just live in that moment for the rest of his life. Her perfect pink
lips opened slightly and her eyes were what he thought the Galaxy would look
like, light sparks, lightest of blues to darkest black, constantly changing. He
understood now, the term 'to get lost in her eyes'. It'd be easy when there's a
whole universe to explore.
His hand lightly brushed over her back and Sansa jerked. He frowned. "Are you
hurt." He tried to look over her shoulder but she turned.
"An old hurt. Just a reflex." She whispered. She was standing with her back
towards the mirror without knowing, and he could see the criss-cross of thin
lines that marked her back. Scars, from a whip most like. Or a knife. The
thought made his blood boil, Sansa turned to see what he was looking at and
frowned when she realised he'd seen! she walked away from him and studied her
reflection in the mirror.
He walked over to her and traced the thin silver stripes that covered her
shoulder blades with the featherlight touch of his fingertips. "When did this
happen?"
"About a month after you left. Joff's new toys. He'd always like to test them
out on me first."
He felt guilty. He should've made her come with him. "Why didn't you leave when
you had the chance."
She smiled to him in the mirror "You scared me Sandor, I was a stupid little
girl, and you were a mean drunk."
"I did what I could to help." He said in his defence. He was the only one who
ever looked out for her when she was under the Lannisters control.
"That doesnt change who we were though."
It made sense, he wouldn't push the topic. He was still tracing the lines
"whip." She whispered He touched another scar, it looked deep, thick in width,
but in height short. On the outside of her arm. "Steak knife." She giggled. "It
was worth it though." He'd have to ask her to tell him that story one day, but
at that moment he was too interested in knowing what had happened to her.
The towel shifted slightly lower and he could see a angry red mark he knew all
too well. He pulled the towel lower and Sansa adjusted it so he could see her
side. From her Ribs to her hip was a mass of twisted flesh. Pink and twisted.
He knew exactly where this one came from. He felt bile, rise up in the back of
his throat. "He.. Branded me, as his. A Lion down my side. As soon as I managed
to get out, I wanted it gone. I wanted it off of me. You can still kind of see
it though. I don't think I'll ever be rid of him."
"How did you get out of there?"
Suddenly Sansa closed off again. She pulled the towel back up into place and
smiled coyly, "A girls gotta have her secrets." She winked. It was all a farce,
of course. He could see the bitterness in her eyes. And maybe even
protectiveness? Like she had to keep him from judging her for whatever she did.
He didn't mind. It was day two, they'd both know each others secrets sooner or
later whether they wanted to or not. He couldn't help it, he hated liars thus
lying would make him a hypocrite. She, seemed to lose herself from time to
time, forgetting that she's saying things out loud. She could have her secrets
as long as she could keep them, but eventually he'd know.
***** And that's what tortures me *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Its long and hard travel. The sun beats down upon Sansa's fair skin until she
feels the burn, and the pink of it covering her sweat drenched face. They've
come across very few travellers and what ones they do, all say the same thing -
to never travel in the summer. But then, there are times when Sansa feels a
cool breeze or whispers on the wind, and the words 'winter is coming' echo in
the back of her mind. It brings a smile to her chapped lips.
"So, what have you been up to these passed years?" She tries to break the
silence.
Sandor merely grunts in reply and rummages through the saddle bag to find his
flask.
She tries again. "What kind of..."
Sandor sighs heavily and stretches his back, his hips inadvertently roll
forward, and Sansa jumps. He chuckles at her reaction. "Hmm. That stopped your
chirping, didn't it?" She doesn't reply, only moves further forward on the
saddle. She doesn't try to make conversation again throughout their ride. She's
angry he's always got to ruin everything. She thought that after this morning
things might be different. But, no. He is who he is and she should've realised
its a rare moment 'The Hound' is anything other than crude and vicious.
When they make camp that night, he goes hunting and she starts a fire. They're
camped by a rock face that seems to lean forward, giving them a small semblance
of shelter. By the time she's finished making the fire and getting their bed
rolls down and sorted; Sandor is back with a couple of fat hares slung over his
shoulder. He skins, guts, and cooks them as Sansa brushes down stranger.
Stealing peeks at him whenever she thinks he's not looking. Her mind drifts
back to the saddle today. Why does he have to be so crude? I thought with this
morning... He catches her looking at him and smirks. She thinks he goes to say
something, but he only looks back to the hares roasting over the fire. Still
wearing that stupid grin on his lips.
She huffs and focuses back on her task, but it doesn't take long for her mind
to drift once more. She thinks back to the feeling of his arms around her. His
body pressed to hers, his hips grinding... What am I doing?! She chastises
herself and puts the brush away into a saddle bag, before taking her seat
across the fire from him. He looks up and grins at her again. I'm beginning to
miss his scowling, She thinks irritatedly. "What?" She snaps.
Sandor chuckles and shakes his head, "Nothing, nothing at all." He goes back to
what he's doing but continues to laugh to himself.
What is so god-damn funny? He sneaks a peek at her again and snorts. Sansa
stands and stomps her foot like a child. "What is it?!?"
"Just a little something on your cheek, my lady." He says voice flat, but she
can hear the mirth creeping into his tone. She wipes at both her cheeks and
finds what can only be horse dung. How did that even get there? Yuck! She runs
over to their supplies and splashes water over hands and cheeks, scrubbing
incessantly. She hears Sandor's loud bark of laughter behind her and shoots him
a glare. "You could have told me!"
"I did!" He says defensively.
"Sooner!"
"Well, I would've. But you seemed kinda angry."
She bites down on her lip with a frown while she tries to contain her anger,
and sits back down again. The meal takes an age to cook, and after their last
interaction neither of them have the patience to try and start another
conversation. She studies his large form, once more. Taking in his bulky frame,
his broad shoulders, long legs, big hairy hands. She sees the beginnings of a
smirk again and without even realising what she's doing she flings a pebble in
his direction. She pretends to be digging through their bags for something
while Sandor's head shoots up and scans the perimeter for imaginary foes. She
almost laughs when she sees his expression out of the corner of her eye.
Eventually he goes back to roasting their meal. Feeling naughty, she focuses
all of her energy on a small stone, just by his side and watches as it
levitates. She moves it behind him and flings it at the back of his neck as
hard as she can. She snorts this time, when Sandor's hand flies to the back of
his neck and he turns around. He looks back at Sansa, and she does her best to
give him an inquiring look. "God-damn horse flies." He mutters, and Sansa nods
and bows her head trying to hide her smile.
It goes on like that a while, her throwing rocks at him and him muttering
curses until finally he stands, looking very distressed and asks if she's
getting bitten. Sansa shakes her head and offers to swap sides. He nods and
they switch sides. She waits a couple of minutes, until he looks calm and
unassuming again, before she flings another rock. This time when he jumps out
of his seat and waves his arms around to shoo away the 'flies'. Sansa loses
herself in a fit of laughter. She laughs until her sides hurt and Sandor stands
above her looking down with a scowl. "It was you." He growls.
"What? I'm... Offended, that you would think I'd do such a..." She doesn't get
to finish as Sandor lifts her and throws her over her shoulder while heading
across to where their bedrolls are. He slaps her arse, and Sansa shrieks, and
giggles as he mutters something akin to "peck at the dog and you'll get bit."
That's the stupidest threat I've ever heard. She wondered if anyone had ever
been idiot enough to actually be afraid of such a threat. He throws her down
onto the bedrolls and cages her beneath him with his broad chest and arms.
Maybe they wouldn't be so stupid... She thinks as her eyes meet his. They're
the colour of the sky before it storms, and she wonders what that means.
Her breathing becomes heavy as his face lowers, his lips just barely grazing
hers before she feels a pinch at her waist that makes her jolt. Mischief
alights in those grey eyes and another pinch to her side makes her squeal in
laughter. He begins to tickle her mercilessly until she's so out of breath she
fears she'll faint. After begging and pleading and apologising Sandor
eventually ceases his attack, and rests above her with his weight on his knees
and forearms. She's breathing heavy again, and Sandor's eyes flicker from her
lips, to her neck, to any little bit of exposed skin, before meeting her eyes
once more. Without waiting for the answer to the question he pleads with his
eyes, he crashes his lips to hers. It's a hard kiss, unrelenting. It's teeth
and passion and bruises. But the kind of bruises you love to show.
It's not until he pulls away she realises she hadn't kissed him back. He looks
unsure of himself now. He looks... Scared, almost. Sansa notices the longer she
waits the more angry than scared he looks. He goes to move off of her, but her
arms go around his neck, and her fingers untie his hair and thread through the
loose locks. She moves her lips towards his with her eyes wide open and
studying his reaction. He kisses her back, this time softly, the way she's
teaching him to. One hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to him. It moves
to her side and caresses her waist. Sansa hands are more adventurous, moving
from his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest, stomach, abdomen...
He breaks away from her and looks down to where her fingers tug at the laces of
his breeches. She undoes the laces and slips her hand under to take him in
hand. Sandor's hips buck, and hers do the same, longing for some sort of
friction. His hand hurriedly pulls up her skirts and dive inside her
underclothes to touch her. His fingers immediately go to her entrance and start
pumping in and out of her but it's not what she wants. With her unoccupied hand
she pulls down her underwear so they're out of the way, and shows him how to
touch her. She pulls at his hand until his fingers rest on the little button
just above her entrance and pushes down his hand. He soon gets the idea and
begins to rub tight circles there.
As her release draws nearer her movements on his shaft come to a halt, and she
cries out his name while her hips buck madly against his slick fingers. When
she comes back to her self, Sandor is kissing down her collarbone, licking the
tops of her breasts and pulling down her dress to expose more of her flesh to
his waiting mouth. As he takes one tight pink nipple into his mouth and sucks,
he caresses and weighs the other with his hand. Sansa's hands slide down his
body to find his erection once more. When she does she strokes slowly up and
down his shaft, squeezing tight as he bucks his hips into her hand. He kisses
his way back up to her mouth and Sansa strokes his burnt cheek. Sandor goes to
move his head away, but she pulls him back to her. She sees the uncertainty
there in his eyes and tries to plead with him to let go of his insecurities.
His eyes close and he moves his hips a few more times before he grunts his
release and cums in her hand. He collapses on top of her and kisses her cheek
before rolling off and pulling her into his arms.
Her eyes feel heavy and she's sated and warm here in Sandor's arms. When he
goes to get up she whines but he strokes her cheek and tells her they still
need to eat dinner. He puts himself back into his pants and stands to go take
their (slightly burnt) hares off the fire. They eat huddled next to each other
in a comfortable silence. Leaning against one another for support as they
become more tired. They could've just gone to sleep, but it would be a waste of
a good meal, and they didn't know when they'd eat next. By the time she
finishes Sandor's been done for a while, and he throws the left over bones and
scraps into the fire before taking her hand and leading her back to their
bedrolls. She snuggles into his embrace and falls into a sweet peaceful rest.
* * *
When she awakes it's to something warm traveling up the side of her leg. She
smiles and shifts away slightly moaning for Sandor to let her sleep. Without
opening her eyes she knows it's still night, from the chill she feels from the
uncovered parts of her body. It stops, for only a moment and then starts again,
moving further up her leg and coiling around, she swats at it and it tightens.
"Sandor, stop it." She laughs. Tighter. "Sandor, you're hurting me." She says
as she pushes more incessantly at what's squeezing her leg. She moves away the
blankets just in time to see the snake bite into her flesh.
The pain Is unbearable as she feels the poison moving through her veins. She
screams and Sandor, who was across camp runs to her. Quicker than anything, his
pocket knife is out and he kills the vile thing. She groans in pain as he pulls
the dead snake away and tries to such the poison out. It's too late for that,
she thinks as she feels the poison spreading.
She looks into the snakes dead emerald eyes and curses. She pushes through her
pain and sits up. "Get me the pot out of your bag."
"Sansa we need..."
"Now, I don't have time!"
He quickly gets the pot and under her direction places it over the fire. She
guts the snake and throws it's innards into the small tin pot. She whispers,
the old gods words and secrets over it until it boils, while Sandor looks on,
out of morbid curiousity.
Throwing the contents of the pot onto the ground she searches through the blood
and guts to find its tiny heart and swallows it whole. "Help me find all the
bones." She says at Sandor.
Once all the bones are collected she rubs them together between her hands until
they turn into a sticky, grainy substance and smooths it over the two fang
marks on her thigh. A coolness washes over her. Time slows to a halt and
ecstasy fills her veins instead of poison. Her eyes roll into the back of her
head and the journey of the snake is revealed to her. She sees green eyes, dark
green eyes, and pink lips that curve into a viscous smile. She sees a dessert
and a small party of hunters tracking. 
Her body jolts and She comes back to herself and coughs and sputters as she
tries to catch her breath. It feels like fire in her lungs, and a knife made of
ice cutting down her spine. She arches and writhes against the ground, until
finally she can take no more, and her vision turns black.
* * *
When she wakes again, it's morning. The stream of light from the open shutters
in the room kisses her skin. She hears voices in the corner of the room.
"There's no sign of her being bitten, are you sure...?"
"Yes I'm bloody..."
"Sandor." She croaks and he's at her side in an instant, followed by a frail
old man.
"I'll give you two a minute," the old man says and Sansa eyes him suspiciously
as her walks out of the room. Something about his smell...
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then, What the fuck was that?" He asks without any preamble.
"We need to go." She goes to get up but he pushes her back down.
"What. Was. That." He says slowly. I can't tell him. He'll hate me if her
knows. 
 "Nothing." She pushes at his hands and he punches the headboard, with a loud
crack.
"Stop lying!" 
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry! It's been ages, I know! Honestly I have no clue where this
     story is going so it's become quite hard to write. I've got a very
     vague idea for a couple of chapters, so hopefully it won't be as long
     a wait this time. Hope you enjoyed the chapter :) xx
     Ps: I'm sorry the magic scene is kinda shotty, I've never written
     anything remotely like this. Hopefully I'll get better haha some
     advice would be great.
End Notes
     So I hoped you liked it! Let me know what you all think ;) xxx
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
