Vengeance // Sandor Clegane

- IV -

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Adora clenched her jaw as hard as she could, hoping that her ringing headache would stop. The Hound unsurprisingly went back to his quiet demeanor as soon as another male company disappeared.

There was nothing to be said, she wiped her teeth with the tip of her tongue. He was no different from his brother, she told herself as many times as it was possible. Her skin was covered with goosebumps while she would think of it, and a sudden breeze would go through her slicky hair. That and her whimsy, trembling fingertips were the only things she caught on the track of moving (or even if he was given his horse back from those thieves, they moved too slow for her mind to process any of it).

Was she afraid? Was her empty headedness a sign of fear or anger? She had no way to protect herself for him if it came to anything, no weapons and no muscle strength. Or at least that's what she deduced from her aching limbs as she kept tensing up from behind him on the back of the black stallion.

When they were released, the sun was staring to bloody the sky, now, at the time of a sudden halt, the moon was fighting to shine through packed tree branches. They didn't even exit the forest, and Adora was quite sure they were unexpectedly close to the cave they were held in.

The Hound got off the horse, then with a swift movement yanked her off it, too. Only now she felt how those damn ropes damaged her skin—this beast didn't underestimate her the way the Brotherhood did (she didn't know if the pride that swelled in her chest was a normal reaction to this thought), just as he was free of his own ropes he made sure to double knot and tighten hers.
As she was thrown off the horse, she trembled and fell over at the roots of the nearest tree. For a moment, everything stopped for her: should she stare him in the eye? Should she show her disgust by not doing so? Should she stay still and wait for a reaction out of him or for the forest floor to swallow her whole? Should she clench and tense and force herself to rise and run away? Should she fight back somehow?

Yet she snapped out of it in the moment he approached her. She looked up, pouring all the hatered she could summon into her glance, or at least she tried to while squinting her eyes because of the scorching pain around her bound wrists.

The Hound snorted loudly at her repulsion. "Thought you liked playing with this old dog" His rough voice and calloused hand approaching her cheek made her shiver, in response to his touch, her skin seemed to shrink. The night failed in hiding his ugliness, it was like it was radiating off him, the evil breeding evil. A terrible smirk was settled on the one of the corners of his mouth, on the side with the burnt skin.
An excess of saliva was secreted again in her mouth, she was going to puke if this horrid sensation persisted. She has first thought about biting some of his fingers off, but got slightly more creative, taking advantage of her current situation she gathered the unwanted wetness in her her mouth, sending the spit flying to his rotten cheek.

At one should expect from a man of his nature, the Hound merely laughed—a sound of horrifying intensity—, wiping his cheek with his hand he after slid into his breeches.

Adora's stomach twisted. He was jerking off with her spit. She could only keep swallowing the bile that was rising in her throat until soreness. The Hound buried his heels in the dirt when he spun her around and rose her to her knees, pressing her face to the hard wood. The tree bark was scratching one of her cheeks, but it was a far more pleasurable thing to feel than his corrupted touch. He leaned in drastically, with one hand, he sloppily stroked himself and the other he got under the ropes, hurrying to undo her belt and slide down her pants.

The sound of the forest stirring stopped him. Withdrawing himself, he turned her around to face him once more. "Don't try to escape. I don't like whores who try to escape" He spoke, and if she did as little as parting her lips she would've been able to taste the raw cruelness in his voice.

"Hope you know what happens to girls who run away" Was the last thing he barked out before striding away.

Adora watched him walk away for several seconds and then obviously she tried to rise. Her feet gave in immediately. She cursed, hard. She was all shivering and pathetic, helplessly stuck on the ground.
Before she could try rising again, the Hound was back. And he was not alone. Once more he had a girl to drag to his shitty camp.

A girl that Adora recognised as the Stark girl the Brotherhood carried around.

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