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Sansa stepped over a suspicious looking mess on the floor carefully and hurried after Margaery who was already passing out bread to the forlorn inmates of the cells. They blessed her in the names of the Seven and cheered for the Lady Margaery.
“See Sansa, it was worth getting up this early wasn’t it?”
Sansa nodded and smiled, but she was still thinking about the softness of the sheets she had been forced to leave at such an early hour. Margaery had swept into her room, thrown back the drapes and announced that they’d be visiting the cells of the Red Keep’s gaol this morning to tend to the wretches there. Sansa had groaned and buried her head in the pillows, but the Tyrell girl was a force of nature and wouldn’t take her sickness as an excuse.
Sansa looked in at some of the inmates behind the bars. They looked how she felt.
A large man at the back of one of them caught her eye. There was blood on his tunic, dirt too. In fact, he was a mess. He raised his head slightly as the two girls came to his cell. It was the Hound.
“Guard! Guard! What is this man doing here?” Margaery asked imperiously.
“Took down three guards last night. Must have been in his cups, my lady.”
“Surely he should be back in the barracks of the Kingsguard awaiting punishment there!”
“Sent word didn’t we. Lord Commander’s message came back clear as glass, my lady. “Leave the dog in the kennel”, it said.” The Hound had slowly gotten to his feet and pushed his way past the other ragged men to hold onto the bars nearest the two ladies.
“Oh, very well. What a bad dog!” Margaery sniffed and moved away from him slightly. Sansa moved forward though, and passed a piece of bread towards him. As he took it, his fingers grazed hers, and in that low steel edged voice he gave her thanks. His eyes met hers, and she saw his true gratitude there. She curtsied slightly, bobbing down as a proper lady should. But when she rose, she was smiling at him. And he smiled back slightly.
***
The Day Before…
Sansa looked at the drooping flower on the page with disappointment. The flower in the vase was vibrant and tall standing but her attempt at replicating it in watercolours was limp and oddly shaped. She was glad then when Margaery swept into the secluded veranda and sat next to her in a wrought iron chair, cradling something in her lap. Her meetings here with the vivacious brunette Tyrell girl were the highlight of her torturous days. With the sound of the sea behind them crushing their words from straining ears they would lean together and whisper about the lords and ladies of court. So she was especially upset when the dark shadow of the Hound fell over them, moments after her arrival. She was upset... and also immediately red of face.
“Oh it is a bother. Joffrey is in one of his paranoid moods and he’s decided he has Kingsguards a plenty, and that his dog should follow me about. Something about a death threat made against me.” She sighed dramatically. “It wouldn’t be so bad… but he’s totally immune to my flirting, and that is so tiresome! The only good thing of it was the look upon her Grace’s face when he decided to give over his watchdog!” She giggled and Sansa felt her tensions ease again. She even hazarded a quick look up at the large warrior.
He was studiously ignoring them both, standing by the entrance to the columned veranda in his shining Kingsguard armour, and resting his hand on his sword. His eyes were two deep pools of grey, his face part in shadow…. the same blank look had been on his face every time she’d been in his presence since… since her name day. He didn’t even snap and growl at her as he once had. Sansa sighed internally and allowed herself the brief memory of their hours together… the ways in which he’d touched her and pleased her, with little concern to his own pleasure. It had been her name day, and she had hoped that she had a year of reaping what they’d sown that night. But in the morning his half of that bed in the hidden chamber was cold. As Margaery’s maid had collected her to sneak her back to her own chambers in the still of the morning, she had let her hand drift across the rumpled sheets where he’d lain. Cold and empty…
“Sansa? Sansa? Are you away with the grumpkins today? I know something that will capture your interest. Look what one of my cousins sent me from the libraries of Highgarden!”
She placed a small leather bound book on the table. “It’s called "the Lovers of Lys"…” She smiled darkly and pushed it slowly towards Sansa. Sansa moved her paints and quills out of the way and casually opened the book only to snap it closed again immediately, a red flush rushing across her face. Margaery laughed her bell like laugh and nudged her.
“Be brave, sweetling.” She opened the book in front of Sansa and leant in to examine the pictures with her. There were men with women… and men with men… and women with women… in the most adventurous of poses. Some of the men were loving the women with their mouths as the Hound had done that night and Sansa felt that tightening of her netherparts that made her shift in the iron chair. She looked closer. Some of the men were acrobatically rutting with the women, pushing their large manhoods into the women, who seemed to be singing. As she had sung as the Hound had delved into her with his tongue. She felt hot and dizzy. Margaery was leaning ever closer, her soft brown waves of hair a breath away from Sansa’s face . Suddenly the girl placed her hand on Sansa’s thigh and used her fingers to bunch up her skirts and raise them higher, exposing her pale legs above her calfskin shoes.
The sound of the Hound’s boot scraping on the stone floor of the veranda brought the girl back to herself and she let go of Sansa’s skirts. She giggled and flipped quickly to the back of the book where there a few blank pages. She took Sansa’s quill in hand and scratched out a few words there:
Was your name day present as big as that?
Sansa blushed, but took the quill from her hand and wrote one word:
Bigger.
Margaery laughed and snatched the quill from her hand:
Show me.
She stuffed the quill back in her hand as Sansa squeaked in surprise. But she set to her task, her pink tongue sticking out slightly from her mouth as she concentrated. In fact, she was slightly proud of her artistic attempt at recreating his manhood. All in all it had come out much better than her odd limp flower. As Margaery gasped, Sansa wrote a few words underneath her illustration:
Shall we have an adventure this evening?
What were you thinking of?
We could… Sansa paused, holding the quill above the page. We could creep into the kitchens and steal some cakes for a midnight feast!
Margaery read quickly and then frowned at her.
Boring! Let’s sneak out of the keep and have a REAL adventure. Meet me in the shadows by the red gate at the hour of the bat. Dress like a commoner. I’ll show you a few places I have heard tell of.
Suddenly a maid rushed into the gazebo, startling the Hound and making him clasp his sword hilt tighter. She curtsied to both the ladies, then addressed Margaery.
“Ser Gradon and Ser Edrin are set to duel for your honour my lady! Come quick, there’s sure to be blood!”
“Oh! How terrible exciting.” Sansa couldn’t decide if Margaery was being sarcastic or not, but the lithe brunette grabbed her hand and pulled her from the veranda before she had a chance to tidy her things away. It was only moments later, as the two girls ran through the gardens followed some way behind by the shadow of the Hound, that she realised that they’d left the book on the table behind them.
***
The hour of the bat. Sansa stood in the deepest of shadow by the red gate. She managed to acquire a scullery maid’s dress and a plain cloak. At first she had thought to wear one of her handmaiden’s dresses, but the silk was too revealing and too attention grabbing. Instead the scullery maid’s wore simple cotton overdresses, laced at the front and in dull colours. Now she waited with a rabbit’s heart for Margaery to arrive.
But when a shape came across the courtyard towards her it was not the pretty Tyrell but the Hound, his scarred face even more terrible in the night’s shadows, his battered old armour hiding him in the shadows better than the gleaming Kingsguard suit of armour.
He came close as she backed away.
“No adventures for you tonight, little bird. His grace requested Lady Tyrell’s presence at dinner and she’s gone abed with a headache after that… pleasure.”
He grabbed her hand and made to pull her back towards the buildings of the keep.
“Oh…” She sniffed a little and he paused. “I had so hoped to escape… just for a little while.”
“No escaping the cage little bird. Not tonight. Not ever.” His voice was deep as he growled out the words. It made strange things happen amidst her private parts. She remembered the growl of his voice in the dark as they had played… and touched… and licked.
She nodded her compliance and walked after him, with her head down. He stopped then, and pushed her chin up with a calloused finger. He peered at her, taking in the large hood of her cloak, the dull grey dress beneath her cloak. He brought his face closer to hers. It was terrible, but the crooked shapes of it still reminded her of that night, and she did not mind them so very much.
“Can you do what yer told? Even if you don’t understand? Can you obey my orders?!”
“Of course… anything you say!”
He grunted and looked about. The courtyard was empty but there’d be one guard on the gate at least. He suddenly pulled her close and held her to his right side, one arm around her back and clasping tightly onto her hip. His other hand delved quickly into her bodice to lie around her right breast. She gasped but fought the urge to push him away and they walked like that to the gate.
A gold cloak looked up as they arrived, taking in the large warrior with the small woman at his side.
“Going into the city.”
“Got company for the evening then. She got any friends for later?”
“Not for likes of you. Open the fucking gate.”
The guard grumbled but opened the gate. The Hound near pulled her through and they walked down the cobbled slope into the city. After a few moments Sansa coughed politely. “Do you still need to be…?”
“Best you stay close girl.” His fingers were moving slightly over her breast, coming together to feel the hardening of her nipple under his touch. She sighed, but covered the sound.
There were other couples about, laughing and pushing each other about. Under the influence of alcohol no doubt. The Hound pulled his hand away from her suddenly and the loss of his touch made her pout in the darkness. He grabbed a wineskin from his belt and shoved it at her.
“Get some of that down you, and splash some on that dress. Best to act the tart or you’ll get the kind of attention the Lady Stark of Winterfell would not want.”
She did as she was told. The wine was a sour red, thick and heady, and even after a few mouthfuls she felt more brazen. She let her other arm encircle his side as they walked further into the city.
“Now. What kind of adventure were you and the flower girl looking for?” He grabbed the wineskin and finished it. “I hope it included more wine.”
“Perhaps… dinner… and a show?”
He laughed darkly, pulling her closer to his side.
***
Dinner was a couple of greasy sausages swimming in something that might be called gravy, if you were being generous. They’d stopped at a tavern and Sansa was sure he’d chosen the worst he knew to scare the little adventurer. Men were already brawling in one corner, cheered on as well as doused in ale. In another corner there was a couple rutting, she sat aside him and ground against his lap, her skirts up to her thighs. And there was a splash of blood on the wooden floor near the dark corner he’d chosen for them. The Hound looked at her as she moved the sausages around the plate, looking over the rim of his goblet as he set about drinking the place dry.
“Not quite the fancy dishes you’ve been getting in the Red Keep.”
“At least I don’t have to worry about it being poisoned…”
“Don’t be so sure. Had sausages from here that had me in the privy for days…” He laughed darkly at her as she scrunched up her face. “Remember, girl, you’re meant to be a common tart this night…”
She looked over at the rutting couple. He had his face buried in her breasts now.
“Like her?”
He grunted, “Just some two coin whore.”
“And how many coins would I be worth…?” She drank quickly from her cup as he looked back at her with a curious look.
“Seems to me, I was the one bought and paid for… last time.”
She felt the wine emboldening her, so she leant in towards him.
“You were a gift. For my name day.”
“Aye. For yer name day.” He moved quickly and pulled at the laces on the front of her bodice.
“What?!”
“We got eyes on us. Remember you got to obey my orders.” He yanked at the front of her dress and exposed the thin cotton shift underneath, pulling it tighter over her so her breasts were taught against it. Her nipples were two darker pink circles under the cloth and he leant down suddenly to run a tongue over one of them.
Sansa’s head in its hood fell back as he licked and nibbled at her nipple through the material, and her fingers went to his hair and entwined themselves there. One large hand found its way to her leg and raised it over his lap as it worked his way underneath the skirts to her thighs, resting her boots against him and pushing the length of the cloak away. Sansa sighed as she felt his fingertips pulling slightly at the edges of her small clothes, brushing slightly against the curls beneath them.
“Dinner was it? Dinner and a show. Might be I eat you up for dinner now.” He spoke in a low, deep voice as he moved to start his attentions on the other nipple, soaking the cotton with his ministrations.
Sansa could not speak. She wanted to urge him on to touch her in her woman’s place, and she tried to move her hips to bring his fingers closer. But the man was teasing the edges of the silk small clothes, feeling the wetness of her on the material as he pulled them away from her hot cunt.
She put a hand to her mouth as she thought the word. He’d used it the last time they’d been together like this. Talked about what he would do with her… cunt… if he had the right to take her maidenhood. How he’d push himself into her and fill her to splitting. Then she remembered the pictures in the book and started to feel the spiralling rise of her climax, even though he still hadn’t touched her there.
Then he was grabbing her and lifting her over his lap, settling her down so that she straddled him as the two coin whore was straddling her customer. She blushed at the indecent way she was perched on him, but as soon as she felt the pressure on her cunt from his manhood, covered still by his breeches, she forgot all about it. In the shadows of the corner, with her cloak swamping them both, there was little anyone could see. The whore was more of a blatant performer than she was being.
His huge hands on her hips forced movement from her. Just a little, like some kind of dance over his strained breeches, the core of her rubbing against that bulge. He groaned and moved his hand to palm both of her breasts through the cotton, the opened overdress framing them. She hesitantly continued the movement of her hips and was pleased to hear another moan from his lips. She considered them for a moment. The scars pulled them on one side, and often they were shaped in cruel lines for her, but now, with him between her legs, all she wanted was to place her lips on his. They’d never done it, not once during the night of her name day. All those times she’d dreamt of sweet chaste kisses with knights, and her first true kiss… she no longer counted the kiss from Joffrey’s vile mouth… had been down in there, in the melting heat beneath her small clothes. She dipped her head and placed her lips boldly on his. He stopped his movements and neither moved. Was she doing it right? Should she move about as she had seen the whore moving her lips over her customer’s mouth? The Hound made no noise and she wondered if he was displeased. She pulled away and he looked up at her.
“Didn’t tell you to do that, little bird.”
He reached around her for his glass and drank it dry. He put it down, and then he put her down, placing her back on the bench at his side, and tidying up her bodice as best she could. She finished the tying quickly with experienced fingers.
“Did I… did I do something wrong?”
“No matter. Promised you a show didn’t I? Best we move on. Need to get the little bird back to her cage at some point this night…”
***
The blood sprayed across the sawdusted wooden floor of the cellar room as the large Summer Islands man connected his fist with the Braavosi man’s face. A tooth went flying out too, and landed down near the bottoms of Sansa’s skirts. The room exploded with cheers, curses and frantic betting. The Hound stood over her, a calm statue in the maelstrom of the room. He seemed to be calculating something as he watched the two bare chested men lay into each other. He had a new wineskin and was passing it down to her occasionally and she drank as though told to. There were other women here too, but whores like the one in the tavern. One was even as bare chested as the combatants.
“The Braavosi’ll win.”
“But… but he’s taken more hits so far.”
“He’s smarter. He’s spotted where the Summer Islander leaves himself unguarded.”
Sansa’s head was swimming from the noise, the smell and the wine. This wasn’t exactly the kind of show she’d had in mind. The Hound seemed to sense her disquiet.
“Bet you thought we’d be watching some tights wearing fuck of a bard sing of Florian and the Cunt.” He smiled grimly as she looked up at him.
The Braavosi moved quickly and rained a succession of punches to the large man’s head. He stumbled, reeled and fell.
A disgruntled fat man made his way to the Hound and passed him a coin purse. “Fuck you.” He spat.
The Hound just bowed as he took the bag and the man spat his leave. “Well, at least we won’t run dry of coin for wine.”
***
The Hound was weaving slightly as they made their way out of the cellar and onto the cobbled streets. Sansa would have helped him, but she was also finding it oddly hard to place one foot after another… She stumbled against him and the Hound turned the movement into a chance to pull her closer to him. Then he pushed her backwards her into an alley way.
“Are there eyes on me again” She felt the rough wall against her back as she stepped to where he was pushing her. It was dark here, dark and out of sight.
“Only mine, girl. Only mine.” And his eyes were two piercing lights in the dark. He ran a hand over her hair and grabbed a fist full of it. “I always have eyes on you, Lady Sansa.”
He pulled at her hair slightly, exposing her neck, and placed his hot mouth against her there. Even after her name day, and all that they had don then, she found herself surprised at the softness of his lips on her skin.
“What comes after dinner and a show, girl?” His voice was muffled in the swell of her breasts.
“Well…” She struggled to shape the words. “Well, it would be late… and a lady should go to bed.”
***
The room was simple but at least he’d chosen a better tavern than the first he’d taken to her. It was at least clean and the sheets were fresh. As soon as they had stumbled through the door, trying to get through it at the same time, he pushed her backwards onto the bed. Her hood fell back and her hair spilled red across it. He moved towards her, stripping his armour as he moved. She sat up slightly as the heavy mail clanked on the floor, watching as he lifted the tunic up and over his head, revealing the thick dark hair on his chest and belly. She blushed as her eyes drifted down to his breeches and the shape of him there. He watched her eyes.
“A fair drawing you did of it too my Lady. Is that the kind of art they teach young ladies in the North?”
He knelt above her, moving her legs apart with his thighs and pushing at her skirts. Panic flashed across her face.
“Ah… and there’s the scared little bird. Thought she’d been replaced by the two coin whore this evening, but there she is. I won’t be taking anything this night that you can’t give…”
She was exposed to him then, only her still sodden small clothes covering her woman’s place. He ripped into the laces of her bodice and opened that again, cursing as the manner of his dress blocked him from stripping her entirely. Then he seemed to remember his dagger. She went to protest, but growled at her, the wine on his breath a haze over her.
“You were to obey, weren’t you girl?”
She nodded mutely and he sliced at the dress, opening it to her shift and small clothes. Those were split soon too, and the Hound paused as he saw the complete bareness of her. “Ah, now that’s the dream that haunts me at night.” He leant forward and took a deep breath, breathing her in. “Thought you might come to see the old dog again… but you never did.” His words were slurred, but there was sadness in them too.
“But… but you never came to me!” Sansa struggled to focus. “I thought… I was meant to reap what I had sown, on my name day!”
“For all the year, aye? But that were bullshit spun for the shit of a king though….” He seemed to struggle to focus his eyes. “You thought… you meant me to come to you?” He sighed and ran and hand over his face as he leant above her. “Dogs come when they’re called. You wouldn’t even look at me after…”
“That’s not so!” Sansa was indignant, the wine in her blood making her anger louder and harsher. But it was also making strange thoughts occur and memories from Margaery’s book flash in her head. She ran a hand over his chest and down to the top of his breeches. She rubbed over the shape that lay there, remembering taking him in hand last time. But she’d never…
She moved quickly, and twisted about to kneel before him, keeping her hand moving over him. He was groaning again, and shuddered slightly as she worked at the knots on his breeches. Freeing him, she congratulated herself on her depiction again, it had been a more than fair representation. And he was bigger than the men in the book. In fact, when she ducked down to place her lips upon the tip of him… of his cock, that was the word he’d used… she wondered if she could get her mouth around him as the women in the book had done with their men.
But she managed, after licking him with the flat of her tongue, and holding him steady with her hand, she managed to fit him past her teeth and bring her lips to lie upon his length. He groaned louder and moved slightly in the warm of her mouth.
“Gods, Sansa.” He was almost beyond speech but he managed to tell her how good it was for him. “Don’t stop, oh gods, don’t stop!” He was shaking and twitching in her mouth as she moved him in and out between her lips. Then suddenly he wrenched himself away from her mouth and spilt himself over the ripped remains of her dress, roaring with the force of it.
He panted as he came back to himself, and Sansa watched what she’d done to him with wide eyes. She’d done this. She’d brought him to his climax with her mouth, and she’d unmanned him for a moment. Then he fell forward and lay her down again on the bed, a hand lazily twisting in her hair as he rested over her. He breathed deeply, smelling her again she thought. He raised himself up and looked into her eyes. “Call me girl, call the dog and he’ll come running to you.”
She cupped his face, and finally he leant forward, placing his lips to hers as she had done to him. Hesitantly the two of them started to move lips, and then tongues. He tasted of wine and something darker. Sansa felt close to sleep, the wine and the touch of him rocking her towards rest.
“Don’t close those pretty blue eyes. We need to get you back to the keep before this night’s over.” He staggered back from the bed, collecting his tunic and his boots. Sansa looked down at the ruins of her dress. Well, she could cover that with the cloak she supposed. She went to get up from the bed but reeled as her feet found the wooden floorboards.
Sandor was drinking again, and he passed it to her. It was a terrible, terrible idea. And it was the best idea ever. She drank deeply.
***
They were just staggering through the gates when the gold cloaks came across them. Sansa was under Sandor’s large arm, holding the cloak together to cover her bareness beneath. But as the three men walked past she stumbled, the wine making the cobbles shift beneath her feet, and for a moment the jagged edges of her dress and the shift below were visible, as well as the inner curve of her breasts.
“What have we got here then?” One of them looked to Sandor. “You done with her? We ain’t see a whore this night, and Frendon here is celebrating the birth of his first boy.”
Sandor growled and his hand moved to his dagger.
The speaker held his hands up. “Hey, I meant no harm if you’ve paid for more.” But then one of the others squinted at her under her hood.
“Hey, aint that…” But his words were beaten back into his mouth by Sandor’s fist.
“Go girl!” He pushed her as the two other men circled him and she ran as quickly as her weaving feet could take her.
***
The Next Day…
Sansa and Margaery walked away from the Keep’s gaol, and Margaery was smiling broadly.
“You see Sansa, it was worth getting up and out of your sick bed this morning. Nothing is better for a sick body than the virtue of charity. And of course… it washes away any of the sins of the night before.”
Sansa looked at the smiling girl with caution. Did she know? But she had been so careful…
Getting the book had been the trickiest part really, that had required a few favours of her handmaidens who could leave the Keep to visit the booksellers of King’s Landing. And then forging Margaery’s cousin's writing had meant borrowing letters from her desk on one of her visits. Faking the death threats aimed at Margaery had been easier, Sansa had just written them with her left hand and Joffrey was already a paranoid fool. And inciting Ser Gradon and Ser Edrin into a silly fight over the Tyrell’s honour… just a matter of whispers in the right ears at the right time, really.
Well, actually the trickiest part had been convincing the scullery maid who cleaned the Kingsguards’ barracks to scratch out an illiterate copy of the page on Sandor Clegane from the "Book of Brothers"… just so Sansa could discover the date of his name day. Once she’d known that she’d had months to put the rest together. And as an honoured ‘guest’ of the Red Keep Sansa had nothing except time to consider best how to reward her dog on his name day. She was already looking forward to the next one…