#sophie x rory | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mybworlds · 6 days ago

Text

Chapter 17: Seagard

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sandor and Sansa arrive in Seagard.

TW: Violence, language.

Masterlist

A/N thank you to follow me, I appreciate it. If you want to let me know thanks.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

When Sansa woke, her head ached and she felt dizzy. She didn't remember how she got there.

The last thing she remembered clearly was looking at the stars, and then nothing.

What she was doing in that cave and why she was so dirty she didn't know.

She looked around and only then did she notice something that clashed with the image she had always had of the Hound, of that man so strong and yet so human that she had learned to know: Sandor was sprawled on the ground, bleeding. So much blood. His arms stretched out along his body. His head bent to the side toward the ground. His lips parted.

"Sandor?" she called him.

She dared to touch his face, but he didn't move "Sandor?" She immediately thought of what to do, she tore off a corner of her already ruined dress, tore off part of the man's trousers revealing the huge wound and then she covered the wound with the edge of her dress, pressed with all the strength she had. She trembled all the time, shortly after the blood stopped flooding the ground.

Sansa untied the knot she had tied around him and then waited and hoped to see him open his eyes at once, but he didn’t. He was very, very pale. She wet his face, his hands, his wrists, and his wound.

Sandor did not wake up, she began to fear the worst. Frightened and cold, she lay down next to the man, resting her head on his shoulder. She was afraid. So afraid.

What would she have done if he hadn't survived?

Sansa fell into a deep sleep of clashes between wolves and lions, lions snapping and wolves snapping even harder. Blood gushing from the animals' wounds. Tufts of hair flying away. Flesh snapping under the teeth of other animals. Bones breaking.

Sansa began to stir and when she opened her eyes she saw his grey eyes watching her, "Sansa?"

"Sandor?" she sat up abruptly "You're alive!"

"Yes..." he said in a weak tone "We'll wait for this downpour to end before we set off again and then... I don't think I can stay in the saddle" he added shortly after, massaging his thigh and assuming an expression full of pain.

"Don't worry." she said, placing her hand on his. "We'll stay here tomorrow too, then if you feel up to it we'll continue. Don't worry."

He looked at her for a long time, perhaps searching for words to mock her with, but he couldn't. Only after a few moments did he add a simple "We'll see." then rest his head again against the cave floor.

They remained in silence for a few minutes, the only thing that filled the silence was the violent roar of the water hitting the ground. Sansa sighed heavily then watched the Hound as he tried to patch up his robe as best he could. "I'm sorry, but I had to." she apologized, the man looked up at her and said simply, "It's just a piece of clothing. Nothing worth wasting words or money on."

Was he telling her to shut up? Or just not to worry about?

Sansa lowered her head and gaze, then stood up and walked toward the entrance of their latest refuge. She placed a hand on the rocky wall of the cave and looked up at the leaden sky, the wind was sharp, night quickly began to fall on the forest and all its inhabitants.

Slowly, owls and other animal sounds began to be heard that Sansa had not known existed. Because of the cold, or perhaps because of fear, or perhaps for both reasons, she moved away from the entrance of the cave and sat down next to her traveling companion. She shrugged, shivering.

"Are you cold?” he asked her.

Sansa sniffed and a cloud of steam rose from her lips, it was dark, but the Stark was sure that Sandor had noticed anyway because he placed what remained of his cloak.

"Thank you." she said.

"Uhm, uhm." he said as if he wanted to say you’re welcome.

"What will you do when this is all over?" Sansa asked after a few moments of silence.

The answer didn't come, not right away at least, so much so that the girl thought he hadn't heard her, but his answer confirmed the opposite: "I'll leave."

Those three words, I'll leave, caused her an unspeakable pain, her lower lip began to tremble strongly and some small tears blurred her vision, she had imagined a different epilogue for them. She would never have expected him to answer her with such detachment and ease.

She had thought that their being together had somehow brought them together, but evidently Sansa was wrong again. Maybe he had really always seen her as just a little girl to be taken home, as an object to be carried from one place to another, as something devoid of will and feelings. Maybe that was the idea she’d given him.

He probably only saw her for her good looks and only wanted her physically. He wanted to possess her and then leave her.

Yes, maybe that was what he wanted from her.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Even though the pain seemed to have sucked the air out of her, she forced herself to answer, "And where do you think you're going?"

The Hound snorted, "Wherever my brother is. He must die." Sansa knew, she knew that Sandor was obsessed, his brother, the only one he wanted to fight and settle the score. All he had killed so far were nothing. He only wanted his brother.

He wanted to kill him. Nothing mattered more than that.

"Aren't you afraid of dying?" she asked him.

"No. I'm afraid I'll die without making him pay," Sandor replied vehemently.

"What do you want to say?"

"That I will die if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to see him suffer even half as much as I have." he replied vigorously.

Sansa swallowed, the Mountain was invincible, as strong as the Hound, if not stronger. She remembered that clash that had taken place between the two when Sandor had intervened to protect Sir Loras.

"What if I... asked you to stay with me?" Sansa ventured to ask him the question.

Sandor laughed "With you? And to do what? To embroider? To talk about clothes? Or about boys?"

Sansa took offence. "I wouldn't talk about such nonsense with you!" she snapped, pouting. "We could do all of Westeros together, but the way you see me as a fool will never change. You’ll never make the effort to think that others can change. Maybe even your brother has changed and regretted what he did!"

At that last exclamation Sandor laughed, a laugh without enthusiasm, a bitter laugh, "My brother changed? You're really stupid then! My brother was and remains a monster. A guy like him doesn't change! Even the Wall may fall on him, but he will still be a monster. He kills and rapes anyone who comes into his sights and he does it without remorse because he has no conscience, no pity, he doesn’t stop at pleas, at screams, at tears. Nothing stops him. Got it, you silly little girl?"

Sandor said those words to her with such force and vehemence that Sansa didn’t dare reply.

"Sleep. I've listened enough for today."

Sansa didn’t dare say anything else, Sandor didn’t speak or make any other sound. That silence slowly made Sansa slip into a sleep made of other ferocious clashes, not between animals, but between two men, two brothers.

The light suddenly struck Sansa who woke up suddenly and as she sat up she noticed that her head was resting on the belly of her traveling companion who was still asleep. His lips were half open and the sun was shining on the worn part of his face, making it almost transparent.

She wondered how she could have asked him to stay with her once all this was over, how naive she had been, how could she hope that a free spirit like him could stay in one place forever!

She stood up and walked towards the entrance, small drops of water were falling from the branches and breaking delicately into other small puddles, it had stopped raining not long ago. The air was fresh and it’d have been perfect to set off again, but it all depended on the condition Sandor Clegane was in.

She wouldn't tell him anything, in any case – she knew – he would do as he pleased whether she agreed or not!

She heard movement behind him, it was him.

She turned to him and looked at him, the light now illuminating his entire face which he promptly covered with a hand.

"You're already awake," he stated faintly, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Yes." she asserted.

Sandor looked at her, her hair seemed to be even more tawny, her face instead seemed to be rather pale, the features were tense. Her figure had become even slimmer, but harmonious.

He tried not to let her see that he had noticed her lovely appearance and stood up, his thigh was hurting incredibly, he needed someone to treat his wounds properly and not a little girl who, despite all her efforts, didn't understand much about it.

"How are you doing?" she asked him, coming closer.

"It goes as you see." he answered her brusquely and holding his breath because of the pain.

Sansa sighed, "Perhaps we must wait another day."

"No, no. Every day we don't move is a day wasted." he said.

It was as if Sandor was trying to keep his distance from her, as if he was trying to rebuild a boundary that had been destroyed, as if trying to contain that empathy that was leaking through those thick walls that Clegane had built over the years.

He stood up straight and with a slightly limping gait, approached his horse, Stranger, patted him almost as if to reassure him and began to speak into the animal's ear. A dense conversation, made of who knows what words and what secrets. A conversation from which Sansa felt excluded.

"Good," said the Hound suddenly, "now we can get going again."

"And your wound?" asked Sansa, approaching the two.

"There's sure to be someone in Seagard who can do more." he replied in a detached tone. Sandor gave himself a push and climbed up, Sansa looked at him with admiration: the pain was written all over his face, he had an incredibly tense expression, his lips tight and yet he exuded a pride that the young woman envied.

He held out his hand to her and she grabbed it and was forcefully hoisted into the saddle behind her traveling companion.

Stranger started off at a trot first and then accelerated, almost cutting through the air.

The city was not far from where they were, if they had not stopped they might have already left the city. It was a very beautiful city in appearance, the bridge was made of stone as were its tall, thick grey walls. The streets were mostly straight and cut cleanly across other streets in the city, with only a few alleys so narrow that a child could barely fit through them.

There were soldiers at the gates, they were not Lannister soldiers and that was already a good thing. They fought for the North, their coat of arms was a brown elk on an orange background. Sansa remembered them being a Northern house, but she couldn't remember the name at all. So many notions that had previously cluttered her head had disappeared and been replaced by much more practical and simple rules.

They didn't ask Sansa or Sandor's names, too busy scanning the horizon, who knows who or what they were waiting for...

The city, however beautiful it might appear from the outside, was populated by very poor people who asked for charity, who asked for help, who held in their arms a small child or a screaming baby, Sansa had seen similar poverty before in King's Landing, which she remembered with anguish and terror. Sandor had saved her from the angry mob on that very occasion and brought her back to safety in the palace.

Now she was one of them too, nobody called her, nobody tried to get her attention, she was one of them, dirty, her clothes worn out, the stench of someone who has been travelling for a while and the air of someone who hasn't eaten properly for a long time.

"Let's stay here for a while, I have to drink and sleep." Sandor announced to her without giving her time to ask what she thought about it, without asking her if she had a good or bad feeling about being there. Everything had already been decided and again Sansa was forced to accept everything.

"Good," the man continued, "Let's find a damn tavern and then someone who can do something for this wound."

And what about her?

He seemed to have forgotten all about Sansa. He spoke aloud, but it was more of a reasoning aloud than a communication with his traveling companion.

She followed him with her head bowed, not because she was afraid of being recognized, by now she was unrecognizable even to herself, let alone to others! She walked that way because, even though she tried to appear strong, there was him who with a word, a laugh or a look made her feel like the scared little girl she was in King's Landing.

She followed Sandor into a small, dark and smelly cabin, it was the place she was looking for. However, the man had two positive aspects: he always knew what to do. He knew how to make her feel protected despite his often hateful ways. As well as being tremendously skilled with the sword.

He almost forcefully made her sit down at a table and then walked away.

Sansa kept her eyes down and stared at the worm-eaten table, there was a chatter in the background, but she couldn't catch a single word, she was tired, had pain all over and needed to sleep.

"Here, this is for you." Sandor said returning with a bowl of stewed meat and a hunk of old, hard looking bread. "And here's this for you too." he said handing her a rusty key "As soon as you finish eating, go upstairs and sleep. The guy over there told me it's the last door on the right." he concluded, drinking a glass of what was presumably wine.

"Alright." Sandor started to walk away. "Where are you going?" Sansa asked before he left.

"To get this wound fixed and figure out what's going on," he replied curtly.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, perplexed.

"Something's wrong."

"So what do we do?" asked Sansa.

The Hound didn’t answer her and left Sansa alone and full of doubts.

A few minutes after the Hound had left, someone began to chatter louder if that were possible. Or maybe it was just Sansa who heard those voices louder than they should have. Her head was hurting more and more.

She was about to bite into the last piece of that hard bread, when the door opened and a young man with hair as black as night appeared, wearing the armor of a soldier, but Sansa sensed – from the way other soldiers spoke to him – that he wasn’t a soldier. The young man looked around and Sansa saw his bright eyes and terribly expressive.

"My beloved brothers, we are here today to fight against those who have unjustly imposed themselves on power here in the North. I know it shouldn't be me speaking to you, but Robb Stark should have been there to encourage you to fight for what's right: our land, our cities, our people, our women and children." He paused "Robb Stark has begun a battle against the usurpers of the North, against those who believe they are the masters, against those who believe they can reign over Winterfell as if it had always belonged to them. The Boltons." He paused and there was a great shouting, Sansa's heart pounding. "The Boltons are about to arrive at Winterfell believing they can establish themselves as rightful rulers.

I tell you that they will never be my, your masters, never! Tonight there will be a battle that must stop their advance, tonight we will fight for Robb Stark, tonight we will die if necessary and we will die for what is right: our homes and for the North!"

"FOR THE NORTH!" the diners shouted together, slamming plates, glasses and everything else they could against the tables of the inn.

Sansa looked at the young man better, he was the age of her half-brother Jon Snow and in some ways similar to him, but he had a grit that she had never seen in Jon. She wondered if Jon had changed as much as she had!

The young man seemed very determined, ready to die to defend what he believed in. Sansa wished the Hound was like him, strong, able to inspire others to fight for something greater than themselves like he did.

"I know you're afraid, we all are. There's no point in denying it, but if we do it, we do it for all of us, for our women and our children. For all the houses that were forced to submit to the Boltons." he continued, he was about to say more when he noticed Sansa and a small smile appeared on his face "What I have to tell you, however, cannot be heard by a woman's ears."

Everyone turned to Sansa, she had suddenly become visible to everyone present again and it made her blush as well as cause her heart to beat fast.

"My apologies for such talk based on death." he continued. "I hope I have not unduly upset you..."

Sansa had to say something, she had to do it, but without flaunting her culture. "You didn't... my lord."

"My lord?" he repeated. "Here, little girl, no one is lord of anyone. Everyone here is willing to give his life for the North. But I don't expect a little girl like you to be aware of what I'm saying."

"You’re wrong!" Sansa contradicted him indignantly. "I don’t know who you are, but I will not hear anything else from your mouth. Do you think a woman cannot understand a man's words? Do you think a woman is stupid? Well, today I am here to prove you wrong. I understand very well what you say, but I don't want to hear another word that comes out of your mouth!" Sansa replied as she stood up and went upstairs, at that gesture she heard many laugh and Sansa's anger grew, a blind anger.

When she reached her room, she pressed a pillow to her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Where the hell had the Hound gone?

Did he know that there would be a battle in a few hours?

Had he perhaps been added to the ranks? Or had he joined of his own free will, forgetting about her?

She wished she had all the answers to her questions, but there was no one who could clear up those doubts.

She could have told that arrogant man that she was Robb's sister, but prudence had prevented her from opening her mouth, from daring. If she had done so, there could have been two reactions: mockery from the young man or they could have handed her over to someone who claimed to know Robb, but who might have been another traitor. No, Sansa had done well to remain silent.

She fell heavily onto the bed and before she knew it, she was asleep; when she awoke, there were explosions and screams. The battle had begun...

2 notes · View notes