Dragons and Wolves

Chapter 12

Sansa's hands flew up to grip the hand over her mouth, her heart thumping madly in her chest.

"I can't do this any longer little bird," The Hound groaned, the scent of sweet wine heavy on his breath, he was on top of her, pressing her further into her silken sheets. She stilled and they stayed, him on top of her, for a moment. He sighed and let her go, moving off of her bed.

She hadn't been asleep that long, her fire still burned in the corner, the cracking cinders cast a pale red glow in her room.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I scared you," He sat in her desk chair, almost too big to fit in it, it groaned under his weight, "I don't know what I was thinking..."

Before she could stop herself she replied, "It's okay, it just reminded me of that night, the battle of Blackwater."

"That makes me feel worse, I was horrible to you," He slurred, her eyes went wide in shock. The Hound was unapologetic and mean. Who was this man? Was it the liquor speaking?

"It-it's quite alright, I should've just gone with you, Joffrey's beatings, the marriage to Tyrion Lannister, Littlefinger's—err abuse, wouldn't have happened if I had just listened to you," Sansa whispered, she shuddered at the thought, not sure why she was sharing these things with him, she hadn't even felt comfortable enough to tell her brother Jon of what had happened to her. The only fond memories of those times was Tyrion's kindness to her. And Joffrey's death of course.

"I wish I would've killed Joffrey for the things he did to you, it still haunts me," The Hound put his head in his hands, as if reading her mind.

"The past is in the past," Sansa whispered, telling herself more that him, she crossed her arms and rubbed her upper arms with her hands, squeezing them around herself, "You were just doing your duty."

"It's never okay to beat a woman, if I was a man of honor I would've done something," The Hound shook his head, his hands still covering his face.

"You would've gotten yourself killed," Sansa sighed, pausing for a moment, "Is that why you came here and to pledge fealty to House Stark? Because you felt guilty about the past? You have no reason to; I harbor no grudge against you."

He snickered in his hands, "Want to get rid of me that badly ehh?"

"N-no, I-I just uh—don't want you to feel badly," Sansa wasn't sure why she cared but for some reason she did.

"I've over stepped my bounds already tonight, appearing in the private quarters of lady—in her bed even, uninvited too," He sighed, "What's one more transgression? I came back because I wanted to see you because ever since Joffrey had your father killed and I saw you almost push him off the castle ledge  and stand up to him, threaten that your brother Robb would behead him, I haven't been able to get you off of my mind."

"Master Clegane—" She started but the Hound shushed her with a wave of a calloused hand.

"I'm not done, I know I disgust you, my face, my temperament and the fact that I'm seven years older than you. You could never look past these things, I've come to terms with that over the years, imagining finding you."

She had thought him to be far older than her, probably due to the burns.

Sansa stared in shock as he continued, "In my darkest dreams I imagined being the one to rescue you and bring you home and being rewarded, becoming a Stark bannerman and having you married off to me as a reward. I'd imagine becoming those heroes you used to sing about and making you fall so deeply in love with me you wouldn't care about my face. And then I heard you were back home, brought back by Brienne of Tarth, I knew any shred of hope of that was gone, I convinced myself that I could come here and just watch you from afar. But I can't, I heard you speaking to Jon about arranging alliance marriages for you and Arya today and I couldn't stand the thought."