The gentle orange glow of the sun cascaded through the window onto Rose's bed. The blonde rustled beneath the warm fur blankets when a loud knock sounded from the door.
"You decent?" Sandor's gruff voice called from the wooden door.
The room was silent, so Sandor pushed it open, his eyes landing on the mound of blankets with a small figure buried beneath it. The hoard of blankets rustled as the wooden door creaked open, Sandor grumbled as he approached Rose and ripped the warmth from her.
"Go away." Rose cried as she curled up into a ball, her thin slip bunched up around her back to reveal the smattering of green and purple bruises and cuts along her pale back.
"You're not going to break your fast?" Rose groaned and shivered. Sandor's shadow covered Rose as she buried her face deeper into her pillow.
"What's for breakfast?" Sandor huffed as he walked away from her bed, making Rose turn her head to face his retreating figure as Sandor poured himself a drink from the provided bottle and set of goblets. The wooden table creaked as Sandor slammed the bottle back down, sipping his goblet as he turned back to face Rose.
"Boar and mead for me. For you? Not sure."
Rose raised a brow, "What do you mean?"
"The Dragon Queen requested your presence at the high table today."
"Why?"
"She's a queen. All royalty do as they please; cunts don't need a reason."
"Sandor."
He sighed as he watched her face him, his eyes trailing over her broken body and shattered eyes.
"I meant what do you think her motives are?"
"She must have seen it fitting for you to emerge from your room, instead of staying within' for another day. That's why I've come 'ere every day. Grief is something best shared."
Rose turned her face back into the warmth of her mattress, nodding once. She reached towards the end of the bed where the blankets laid and gathered them in her arms. Wrapping herself in the warmth to cover what her thin slip couldn't conceal.
"I'll be ready in a minute."
"I'm not your fucking escort."
Rose smiled at his brass words, making Sandor's scowl deepen.
"You better get dressed quickly or I'm walking without you."
Rose's grin spread, but still did not reach her eyes. The red scratches and colorful bruises that painted her face were truly gruesome, and Sandor couldn't pull his eyes away as he settled into a chair.
Rose stood dragging the blankets with her as she approached a chest full of clothes that Sansa had been kind enough to give her. Her smile melted from her face and returned to a stone expression, the bruised canvas of her skin held no emotion at the sight of fresh, fine clothes.
Her calloused and chewed fingers brushed the gentle fabrics and thick fur cloaks, her eyes skimming the assortment of muted colored dressed and heavy armor. Rose reached in the chest and pulled out the simplest grey gown, holding the thick fabric and brown fur cloak to her as she turned to face Sandor.
"This one?" She asked, but no excitement danced in her eyes. The deep, purple bags and worried wrinkles showed her pain that her stone eyes hid away. The smooth long fabric was clearly different from the other extravagant gowns in the chest, merely meant for warmth and not as a display of importance.
Sandor's eyes lifted to her face after examining the gown, "It doesn't matter."
"I know it doesn't matter." Her eyes skimmed the gown she held in her arms, "I'm not really a lady."
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Fanfiction'Rose pulled them close, forcing them to look at her. The life fading by the second as they met with their killer's chocolate brown eyes. "I want you to look at me. You've caused Westeros so much pain, I wish you could feel every heartbreak you...
