Wounds (Sansa & Sandor)

Chapter I

All rights to this story belong to G.R.R.M and the producers and writers of Game of Thrones. This is a mere divertimento.

"... what if the Dog had not died when consummating his revenge?" Sansa and Sandor

Winterfell during the festivities that followed the battle against the army of King of the night.

"- Without Meñique or Ramsay, possibly, I would have been a little bird all my life" ... - she said while caressing his hand, gently.

She noticed his reaction to her contact and she liked that.

She got up without stopping looking into his eyes, and walked away from the table, very upright, forcing herself not to turn to check if he followed her with his eyes.

Her steps, firm and slow, were the opposite of how she felt inside.

During all these years of fear and suffering, Sandor had been the only one she believed capable of saving her. His father, his mother and his brothers were dead or missing ... Jon lost in the North ... Winterfell destroyed in the power of the enemy ... Nothing remained, except for the hope placed in a rude man, who could hardly bear to look but that he had protected her when no one did, that he had saved her from rapes and humiliations, and that she had shown him that all the men who had to take care of her were, like him, murderers.

There were innumerable nights when she woke up expecting to find him, telling him that he was never going to hurt her, and that he would take her away from everything and everyone.

She had thought many times in that moment, when he went to look for her to leave that hell together, knowing that if he had said yes, his life would have been very different. He even wanted to have taken her by force. In the end, although he always denied it, he was a gentleman. Of course, with her, it always was ... until when it should not have been.

Sansa came to the entrance of the hallway that led to their rooms and there, turned slightly to be able to look again, taking advantage of the shadows of the door, away from prying eyes.

The Hound kept filling and emptying his glass. Some young women came closer, and he dispatched them immediately, hurling expletives with his unmistakable and powerful voice. Sansa smiled amused. He was uncouth, brutal and horrible ... he had not a shred of decorum ... but even so, she knew with certainty that if at some point he had left with one of those young girls, she would not have liked it.

"That was jealousy?" .- She asked herself.

She looked up slightly, fixing it on the ceiling of the great hall of her home. "She could not know what it was like to be jealous ... because she still did not know what it was like to get in love with someone really" - ... she thought, answering

She wasn't at any time aware of what Sandor had become for her, until she saw him again.

The first thing that surprised him was that she did not see his scars and it was not that they did not disgust him ... it was that she hardly distinguished them. Living with Ramsey had been so ... horrible, that nothing could be compared to what he did made her see ... and what he did to her ...

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, making an effort to put those dreadful memories back in the deepest part of her being.

Sandor was right when he told her that she could not bear to look at him before ... but, now ... now ... she was looking for him ... When she was close, she looked for his eyes, waiting for him to look at her.

Deep breath. A part of her was reflected in Sandor. The pain of injustice devoured her from the inside many times ... Her innocence and illusions had been taken from her, and he too, and their lives were conditioned by it ... The two were marked ... Sandor in his face and she in her body. The only difference was that she could hide it, and he could not ... although she could never hide it from herself. She had given up on being able to feel something for a man, but she had realized that, as incredible as it seemed, Sandor made her feel. Since they had met again, she dreamed of embracing that enormous body and being embraced by him, with both of them feeling the connection that she saw that united them ... but for now, he had hardly looked at her and much less had spoken to her , so she had taken the decision to do so.

Sansa shook her head from side to side. She came to take revenge on the two men who hurt her the most and he was on the way to do it. That was what could make him happy ... but would that really give them the peace they were looking for? ... could they be happy after that? ... She had not achieved it and was sure that Sandor would not mind dying killing.

He was still drinking, ignorant of everything that was going on in her head.

Sansa took another deep breath, and was about to retire, when she saw him get up, take a jug full of wine and a drink, and leave the room to the stairs that went down outside.

The impulse to go after him was so strong that it frightened her ... She smoothed her bodice, lifted her chin, turned around and started up the stairs that led her to her room ...

She had to be the Lady of Winterfell and stop being a little bird ... She had to go to her room to prepare the meeting tomorrow with Daenerys, with Jon and the others ... there had to be another war and she had to make clear her position in her. No one was going to handle it again.

To be continue...