Selfish // Sandor Clegane

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗

꧁✯꧂

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐘 seemed peaceful. If we're talking about my companions' acts to each other, we're fine, but if we talk about other sons of bitches, well...I believe we'll never be free of them.

We watch the house, not quite sure what to do. "Could be food" Sandor suggested

"Could be solders" Arya argues

And yet we still approach it. We hear distant groaning, which turned to be the one of a wounded man.

"You shouldn't be sitting out here like this"

"Where else to sit?" the man asked "Tried to walk back to me hut, hurt too much. Then I remember they burned me hut down" he explains

"Who were 'they'?" Sandor questions

"I stopped asking a while ago"

"That's not going to get better" he kneels near the man, observing the wound

"Doesn't seem so" he agrees

"A bad way to go. Haven't you had enough?"

"Of what? I know. Time to go. Take matters into me own hands. The thought has occurred to me"

"So why go on?" Arya also kneels

"Habit."

"Nothing could be worse than this" she notices

"Maybe nothing is worse than this"

"Nothing isn't better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing." Since when my sister is such a philosopher?

"Who are you?"

"My name's Arya. Arya Stark" She reveals

The man looks at both of us"You her parents?"

"She's her sister, I'm her captor. Bringing her to her aunt for ransom"

"A fair exchange, that is. Always held the notion of fair exchange in all my dealings. You give me, I give you. Fair. A balance. No balance anymore" he confesses

He groans "Could I have a drink? Dying is thirsty work" Sandor approaches our water skin to the stranger's mouth. What good is water to a dead man?

"Wish it were wine"

"So do I" and then he draws his knife and gives the man his mercy.

"That's where the heart is" He explains to my sister, rising.

"That's how you kill a man" Suddenly, with a scream a man throws himself on Sandor.

I recoil at the unexpected act. Luckily, Sandor is quick to snap his neck and get him off.

After that he groans in pain, clawing at the side of his neck. I walk towards him at the sight, waiting to see to the wound.

"The fuck you doing?" He growls at the other man.

"There's a price on your head"

"Guess that's what the King does when you tell him to fuck off"

"The King's dead" I feel a small smile of satisfaction forming itself in the corners of my mouth.
"He drank poisoned wine at his own wedding. The bounty is on you for killing Lannister soldiers. 100 silver stags "

"And you thought yo uwere going to collect it? Didn't think veey hard did you?" he sneers at the man

"You were Yoren's prisoners when he was taking me to the Wall" Arya implied "He told me he'd fuck me bloody with a stick" She complains, looking at me

"This day's really not working out the way you planned. He on your little list?" He asks Arya

"He can't be. I don't know his name"

"What's your name?"

"Rorge" The dumb son of a bitch answers

"Thank you" Arya thanks him, then draws her sword, plugging it into his heart

"You're learning" Sandor stated

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"𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐒" my lover curses the men "Fucking whore"

"You're doing it wrong" I sigh "Let me help you" Sandor denies me for the third time I think

"You need to burn away that horrible bit there. Otherwise it's gonna get infected and fester" Arya tells him

"I know you don't like fire, but if you don't do it right -"

"No fire" he cuts her

"It'll only take a second" she gets up, taking a burning log from the fire. "It won't hurt that much"

"No fire!" Sandor shouts at her, stepping back and the little girl is a bit shaken up by him.

I also get up, grabbing Sandor by his arm "Let me help you with those stitches" I plead, but he stares annoyed at me "I either help you now or I'm burning it while you sleep" I state, not leaving room to argue now.

He calmed a bit and sat down again, letting me sew his wound.

"You say your brother gave you that sword" he looks down "my brother gave me this" he snaped from my grasp, pointing at his face. I glare at him, yet hopeful I didn't hurt him with the needle when he moved

"It was just like you said a while back. Pressed me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop" I lick my dry lips.

"Why?"

"Thought I stole one of his toys" Sighing, I sit down on his lap, trying to get a better look at his wound. He wraps a hand around my waist, searching for comfort.

"I didn't steal it. I was just playing with it" His confession sounds like a child's, with makes it even harder for me to stare at him without giving him the look of pity just like anyone did after hearing the story.

"The pain was bad. The smell was worse. But the worst thing was that it was my brother who did it. My father, who protected him...told everyone
my bedding caught fire"

I cup his cheek with my hand and kiss the other one-the brunt one "Let me sew it, please" his expression softens.

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