Chapter Text
You remembered the first night at kings landing alone. without your fathers protection, you missed, no matter how futile it might have been.
you wanted to scream and cry “father keep me, father stay with me, father hold me” but you couldn’t. you couldn’t make a sound. you felt numb, if someone had sliced your hand open with a blade you’d not have noticed. sometimes tears would fall from your eyes straight into the ground and you’d not even noticed you were tearing up.
that’s the hardest part of being so hard was that when you cracked it shattered more than you noticed. more than you’d be comfortable admitting even to yourself.
when you mother and brother died your father feared you’d be turn mute for good.
that’s what intrigued Sandor most.
you suffered silently. you suffered with expertise.
once he’d known your heart. your loyalty, devotion, and your fearlessness was when his fascination turned into something deeper. He thought it was obsession and maybe it was, but it was more personal than that too. Poets would call it love. He’d call it nothing. He’d never spoken of it therefore it had no language. It was just what he felt, he knew he cared that was it and that was all he’d admit.
A day had past since your escape. You both were hungry, he especially.
You were beginning to enjoy the freedom that came with this new way of life, however. There were downsides. The constant exposure to the elements, the lack of food, hot water, and the lingering fear. Fear of being caught, fear of what was happening now to your cousin, and what Loras would think of you leaving.
But you had freedom, no more hand maidens pawing at you the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep. You no longer had to endure the torment of the Lannister's. No longer had to marry a man you didn’t love, not really anyway.
As you rode that day, you stopped to water the horses. As you did, a group of five men were riding down the trail behind you. You looked back at them as you heard the sound of their horses trotting.
“Don’t look at em’” Sandor grumbled, not looking at you. You looked back to, Lika.
You pet Lika, trying to distract yourself as you felt a pit in your stomach. A pit of dreadful anxiety. You always felt that same anxiety every time you knew something terrible was coming.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at em’." He grumbled even lower this time as the men came closer. You looked at him and he was looking right back at you. Until his gaze went back to the water Stranger was drinking from.
It was a large watering hole, so it wasn’t surprising to Sandor when the five men stopped there as well to water their horses.
As soon as they did, Sandor walked closer towards you, guarding their view of you with his form.
The group of men were a little rowdy, and they looked over to you and Sandor.
“Hello there, friends!” A bald man shouted, and your stomach dropped.
Sandor looked over at the man, show him that permanent scowl on his face.
“I know you, you’re the hound, Joffrey's Dog.” A man with longer hair shouted again.
“How far til Saltpans?” The hound asked ignoring the mans comment.
“I reckon a day. Maybe another if you’re unlucky.” The bald man said.
Sandor took the answer and left it at that. Looking away.
“What’re you doing out there? Far from Kings Landing.” The Stout man said.
“I heard Joffrey's hound ran from the battle of the blackwater.” A tall and dark man said, he seemed angrier than the other men.
His tone made Lika spook slightly.
“Easy.” You whispered to Lika, stroking her snout.
“Pretty creature you got there.” the stout man said, you had the feeling he wasn’t talking about Lika, his eyes were on you.
Sandor stepped in front of the mans view of you, “You’ve got food there?” The men had sacks of what looked like food, and a lot of it. “Bring me it.”
“You got something to trade for it?” The tall man asked
“Not a thing.” The Hound said, it made you want to roll into a ball. He was aggressively confident.
“Now Dog, we know that ain’t true.” The tall man said tilting his head to get a better look at you.
“Your cunt friend speaks like that again and I’ll cut out his fucking tongue.” The Hound hissed
“Oh but he’s right the crowns offering a pretty penny for you my friend.” The bald man said.
“And you think you’re the ones to collect it?” The Hound asked with his eyebrows raised.
“Five of us, one of you, and the girl.” The taller man taunted.
“Tell you what, we’ll make a deal with you. It’s been a long journey for the five of us. We don’t want the trouble. We’ll let you go even give ye’ some of our food… for a go at your pretty friend there.” The stout man tried to ‘reason’ with the group.
“Fuck you.” You said with the same ever present venom in your voice.
The group of men began to laugh at your words, but when the Hound stepped forward with his grip on the tilt of his sword made their laughter falter.
“Ye have any fuckin’ sense you’ll drop the food and leave.” The Hound spoke coldly.
“You don’t seem to understand the situation.” The tall man spoke.
“I understand if any more words come pouring out any one of yer cunt mouths, I’m gon’ have to kill each one ye.” He stepped forward once more
“You gonna die for some broken in whore-” The stout man wasn’t able to finish his sentence before The Hound stormed towards them. The men caught off guard were late to draw their swords.
The first to go was the closest to him, the bald one. Unable to draw his sword in time, the Hound cut him down, nearly in half with one blow. You’d never seen anything like it, no, you had. It was like when Gregor cut his horse in half with one blow. You could stew on that thought long before he moved on to the next man.
The tall one, who at that point was able to draw his sword. Their swords clashed together, the Hound kicked his knees in, making the man drop to the ground. That's when he plunged his sword into his chest. He huffed as he retracted it from the mans body.
He moved forward to the next man, a man with long hair. He seemed startled by the whole scene unfolding. He threw his sword to the ground and raised his hands up quitting. Sandor rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration, he lowered his sword and punched the man so hard his neck must have snapped.
As the man hit the ground Sandor approached the stout man who said the final words that broke him. The stout man tried to climb his horse but Sandor pulled him down to the ground. Sandor loomed over him as he began to beat him with his hands.
“Say it again!” he shouted again and again as his fist plummeted into the man’s face again and again.
You were so entranced by this violent dance unfolding in front of you, you’d hardly realized he’d only killed three men, the fourth was under his fist now, and the fifth was…
“Sandor!” You shouted as the fifth man jumped onto his back. The man was able to cut the Hounds cheek with his nails, deeper than one would expect. The man tried to strangle him from behind, but Sandor was too tall and too wide for the man to. Sandor got ahold of the man, as he did Sandor managed to snap his neck.
He turned his attention back to the stout man who was still breathing.
Sandor took out his knife and stabbed it into the mans heart, wiped the blood on the mans sleeve.
He approached you, he was covered in blood. Huffing and puffing, he put his blade back in its sheave. He picked you up by your waist and sat you on Lika.
“Sandor…” You mumbled as you looked down at your clothes that he inadvertently smeared blood on.
He grumbled something that sounded something like “Sorry”, as he walked back over to the bundles of food still attached to the abandoned horses. As he untied each one, and carried all of them back to your horses, you couldn’t help but admire his strength. One man would struggle to carry just one but he could called all three without struggle.
꒰ ୨୧ ─・┈ ꒱꒱
You had washed your pants, your wool sweater, and Sandor's armor, in the water after the attack. They laid out on a near rock as they dried. You two sat beside one another in front of a warm fire.
Sandor sloppily shoveled meat and bread into his mouth with his large brutish hands. You watched him, in awe. How he could have killed five men and less than an hour later be eating like a king.
“Eat.” Sandor said with a mouth full of food. you shook your head, “Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe, ripping a piece of meat off and holding it up to your mouth, “I’m not that imp lord, I won’t let you starve. You can eat it or I'll make you eat it.” You pouted a little, looking from his eyes to the piece of food in his hands. You took his wrist and moved his hand closer to your mouth as you ate in as he wished, from his fingers.
As you chewed it your face scrunched up, “It’s-”
“Shit” He said shoveling more into his mouth.
“Hardly worth dying for.” You said as you grabbed some bread, hoping it’d be better than the meat.
“Those cunts didn’t die for the fucking food.” Sandor grumbled,
You stopped chewing for a moment and looked at him. His words, brutal but in some indecent way romantic. He’d kill five man for simply insulting you.
You watched him eat, in... adoration? Awe? Who knows. You watched him eat, and noticed the cut on his face still bleeding.
“Your face-“ You said reaching out to touch his cut cheek, he grabbed your wrist stopping you, “Stop it.” You rolled your eyes as you commanded and he actually gave in, letting go of your wrist. You ran you hand against his cheek, he looked down, avoiding your eyes. He pushed away his food, “come here.” You spoke softly. Instead of him coming closer he pulled you onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around you.
You used your sleeve to tap the blood away from his cut. Dapping at it trying to stop the bleeding.
“I told you… no one is ever gonna hurt you again.” He whispered, looking into your eyes.
“I don’t want you hurt either.” You said still trying to stop his bleeding,
“Too late for that.” He grumbled.
You leaned in and kissed his lips incredibly gently, running your hands against the sides of his face, letting them run down to his neck.
“I don’t deserve this,” He rasped as your lips parted,
You kissed his nose, “Too late for that.” You gently rubbed your nose against his own just before you kissed him again.
You kissed him deeper, but softly. His hands ran through your hair. He admired the length of it, the texture of it, the color of it, and the smell of it.
You moved you leg over his lap. He kept at petting your hair, his hands traveled down to your lower back, the other to your thigh. You knew he was going to push you onto your back. So you stopped him, moving his hands to your hips. “Gentle” You whispered into his mouth.
You began to rock your hips back and forth against his now stiffening cock. He groaned into your mouth. Your kisses still soft and gentle, but now increasingly sloppy.
You felt his hands begin to ready himself to flip you on your back again. So once again you stopped him. “A mans meant to fuck his woman.”
“I’m your lady?” You teased him with a subtle smirk as you kissed his jaw
“Well, youre not anyone else’s that for fuckin' sure.”
You pulled his cock out, grinding your clothed cunt against it, rocking your hips against it making his thighs flex involuntarily. He began to paw at your small clothes.
“I’ll fucking rip these off you if you don’t take em off.”
You grabbed him by his jaw with both your hands forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I told you to be gentle.” Your grip softened as his hands wrapped around your back. “Let me be sweet for you.” You whispered into his mouth.
You moved your small clothes to the side and pushed his cock inside of you, slowly. You were wet, but not wet enough for it to not sting a little.
You winced a little, “Nphm” You whined a little.
“Thats what happens when you don’t let me-” You cut him off by kissing him again,
Once his cock was in you, just barely brushing your cervix, you stopped moving. You just held him while you kissed him.
He bucked his hips, hitting your cervix in a way that made you arch your back.
“Don’t move,” You whispered in his ear, licking and nibbling on it lightly.
“The fuck are you doing-” he growled but then let out a small moan from your tongue on his ear.
“Shut up.” You said into his ear in a breathless moan as you felt yourself getting wetter. Fitting him better, molding around his now familiar shape.
It made him growl under his breathe, gripping onto the plushness of your hips.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, woma-” You cut him off again kissing him deeply, sucking on his tongue. He moaned into your mouth, and he bit your lip.
You lifted your tunic over your head, tossing it beside you. You still had on the top half of your small clothes.
Sandor leaned down and began sucking at your breasts through the fabric, his hands caressing them gently. But his grip tightened as you let out a moan and he felt you tighten around his cock.
He growled into your breasts, the vibration from it made you even wetter, soaking his cock and only making it easier for him to sink in deeper, pushing against your cervix.
He then discarded his own tunic, “Take that off-” His voice rumbled, so you did. You took off the top half of your small clothes. His mouth returned to your breasts, swearing against your skin, you could feel him pulsing inside you. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to fuck. Not be fucked, but you needed to fuck.
You rolled your hips and it made him bite down on the plush skin of your breast which made you mewl. You stopped after moving just the once,
“You want more?” You asked petting the hair on his head
“Fuck do you think?” You grabbed him by his jaw and chin, forcing him to look at you.
“I won’t do it if you don’t ask.” your hand trailed from his chin to his throat, squeezing it a little before dragging your nails down his chest. He bit his lip smirking a little, not letting allowing himself to ask, his pride stopping him. “No? Alright then.”
“Please..” He said through gritted teeth,
“What was that?” You teased him,
He grabbed your throat and pulled you to his mouth, “please…” He said again this time biting your lip.
You began to grind yourself on his cock. At this point you were so wet you did it with ease, it was all pleasure. You moaned into his mouth as he kept his grip on your throat.
“Fuck” He cursed into your neck as he licked and nipped at the skin, “At’s it- fuck me-” He whispered against your bruising skin.
“Nmm- Ah! Sandor-” You moaned into his ear as you clawed at his back.
“Taking me so-” He grunted, gritted his teeth “So fucking good!” He struggled to say without grunting.
Your legs began to feel weaker, and weaker, shaking. Fucking was a new skill you’d obtained and this part was just as new. You knew you couldn’t keep bouncing yourself on his cock alone. But rather than admit failure, you licked his ear, and moaned into it “Sandor, mmmphm, please, I need you to fuck me,”
Without hesitation his hands went to your ass, bouncing you on his cock. “Ah!” You moaned again and again, your breasts bounced against his chest, making you only that much wetter. You pressed your cheek against his, constantly moaning directly in his ear. It drove him mad. You could feel yourself coming undone, “I’m cuming!” You whined against his face. He turned his head slightly to kiss your cheek sloppily,
“Good, do it, cum on my cock, Birdy.” He groaned into your ear.
You felt your legs spasm, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing down his shoulders tight, digging your nails into his skin. You buried your face in his neck as you reached your peak, you moaned so loud, it could’ve been a scream.
He took your face from his neck, holding it so you’d look him in the eyes, he brushed the hair from your face, “How’d that feel, Birdy?” Strangely gentle. You kissed his lips sloppily,
“Keep going,” You panted into his mouth. To which he obeyed, pumping in and out of you with an increasingly erratic pace.
He looked down at your cunt sucking him back in, the thick ring of cream you created around his cock, the way your thighs were shaking, it was beginning to be too much for him.
His hand tangled in your hair, foreheads resting on one another, moaning into each others mouths, the way his hands made you feel safe.
“Sandor,” You couldn’t stop the words from coming, “I love you.” You moaned breathlessly, you hoped he didn’t hear but he did, it sent him over the edge unexpectedly.
He melted in you, you felt the heat spreading in your core.
As you laid against his chest, sweating, panting, exhausted, he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, “Love you..”
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
The next morning you woke in his arms. You both got dressed, and no real words were spoken.
As you readied Lika, Sandor came up behind you.
He put a piece of bread in your hands. As you looked at it, he wrapped one hand around your waist and leaned down to smell your hair.
You just smiled to yourself, looking at the piece of bread.
He patted your behind quickly, “Hurry up, got a long ways to go.”
Just as you were about to mount Lika, you and Sandor heard the sounds of at least twenty horses galloping closer and closer, and the sounds of men.
Sandor wasted no time picking you up and putting you on Lika.
“Go, take off that way and don’t stop-” He growled at you
“I can’t leave you-“ You tried to plea with him,
“Did it sound like a fucking question? Get the fuck out of here!” He shouted at you,
“No!” You shouted back with the same ferocity as he did.
“Stubborn bitch.” He said under his breathe, “Take this,” It was his dagger. “That ways North, keep going til I get you or you get to the Starks.” He said,
“Sandor-” You began but he hit Lika and yelled, making her take off with you on her. You couldn’t get her to stop, all you could do was look back and watch as a group of men surrounded the man you loved.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
It was miles til Lika was calmed enough to respond to your commands. By then it was no use. No point in going back, you knew if he needed help you weren’t able to give it.
Once you found a small creek you decided to stop let Lika drink.
As she drank, you sat there, wondering what to do.
Who were those men? Where they Lannister men? Raiders? Should you wait for him? He said he’d come, was he trying to give you hope? Unlikely, he wouldn’t be so cruel. As you were contemplating,
“My Lady Arryn!” It startled you, no one had referred to you as a Lady in so long, much less your house name.
You turned to see a older but handsome knight, in pretty silver armor. He had a blue cape. And was riding on a large Brown horse.
“Who are you?” You held out your dagger at him,
“Ser Varys Cole of the Vale, my Lady. I didn’t recognize you in those clothes, but how could any knight forget such a vision once he’s seen it.”
“Ser Cole? You served my father.”
“Indeed I did, My Lady.” You eyes still watched him like a… well a falcon, “So perhaps given the circumstances, you could lower your weapon?” He said with a smile,
So you did, trying to play the cards in your hand. “Ser Cole, I require your assistance, I need to find Robb Stark.”
He looked down regretfully, “My Lady, I am afraid I cannot assist you with such a task.”
“Why not?” You pressed,
“I am under the order of Lord Baelish to bring you to him directly.”
“The Vale is under the direct protection and order of the Arryns as it has been for generations, and you take your order from Baelish, not I?” You asked with furrowed brows and beady eyes,
“I am afraid so my lady.”
You looked at him with disgust, you walked back towards Lika. “Leave me then, I shall find my own way.”
“I am afraid I cannot allow that, my Lady.” He said, you looked back at him with a harsh gaze.
“You can, leave me. Just go and I won’t speak a word of it.”
“My Lady, your father would want me to see you to safety.”
“You believe safety is with Little Finger?” You questioned him like he were a child.
“It’s not out here.” He said looking around, you hoped Sandor would ride up and cut him down. “My Lady if you do not come willing I have orders to take you in ropes. I’d prefer you untied. So would your father.” It only angered you more that he mentioned your father so much.
You wanted your dog.
“I will not go to Kings Landing.” You said sternly, gripping on to your dagger.
“No my lady, I’ve been instructed to take you Lord Baelish.” He said as if it were an improvement.
You held the dagger in your hand. your thumb brushing the handle of the blade. You contemplated it. You could kill him. maybe. steal his armor, his sword. Travel north until you got to Winterfell. But that’s all to say you could take the armored man in combat, and that no one else along your journey would try to kill you either.
“How far?” You asked, hoping he’d say it’d be a two days journey to him. So you could run at night.
“Lord Baelish is occupying an Inn near by. He had a feeling you’d be around this area.” He was lucky you got separated from Sandor in that case.
He got off his horse and walked towards you, “You can go on your horse, My Lady. Or you can go in ropes.”
“Ropes.” You said, you pulled your dagger our and stabbed him in his leg, but he grabbed your wrist before you could remove it.
He gritted his teeth, “That was not necessary, my Lady.”
He pinned you on your back and tied your hands together. Placed you on your horse, then tied your horse to his own. All the while limping.
“Forgive me, My Lady.”
He said as he rode on, you prayed to all the Gods, old and new, for Sandor to be around a tree. For him to come up the rode, for him to kill this man, for him to untie you, and be in his arms again.
But no.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As you arrived at the Inn, Ser Cole carried you off your horse. You wanted to kill him for even touching you. He placed you on the ground and guided you to Little Fingers chambers.
“What is this? Untie the girl!” Petyr ordered,
“Yes, My Lord.” Ser Cole did as he asked.
“Leave us,”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Ser Cole left the room.
You rubbed your wrists and stared daggers at Baelish, you wanted to kill him right then.
But the knight outside the door would have killed you too, you’d have to wait til you had your dog.
“A sight for weary eyes, my lady. Even in rags.” He said with a twisted grin.
“Don’t take me back there, to Kings Landing.” You asked, but it sounded more like a command.
“If you wished to escape why wouldn’t you have asked me, you know I would have done anything-”
“You had ample time to help me and chose not to.” You interrupted him,
“You and Lord Tyrion seemed contented.”
“And you seemed contented to watch.”
“I know he has been positively bereft in your absence.” You felt your stomach drop. You’d wondered on him, for a moment, but you assumed he’d be fine.
“Lord Tyrion is a decent man,” You said with concern in your voice.
“Then why not marry him?”
“Because I am not a decent woman.” You blurted out with venom, “I rather you kill me then go back there.” You threatened.
“I’d never do such a thing,” He ran his finers against the skin of your forearm. Sandor would have cut his fingers off for it, you thought. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I asked your father for your hand, did you know this?”
You swallowed, “I did.”
“Do you know why I did?” You felt sick, a pit in your stomach, that same pit of dread.
“You want the Vale-”
“I wanted you.” He said as he leaned in and kissed your lips. Your lips did not move and your eyes stayed open. Sandor would have cut his throat for that, you thought.
As he pulled away you pressed your lips together and looked down.
“You aren’t taking me to Kings Landing are you?” You whispered.
“No, no my lady I am not.”
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You sat in a carriage as it rocked back and forth. You couldn’t help thinking of the first time you rode to Kings Landing with your father. And now you are going home. looked in front of you and saw the face of Petyr Baelish. That same twisted smirk he always had.
You turned your face away from him quickly. You tried to lift the blind from the window of the carriage but Petyr stopped you,
“Best you don’t, my Dear.” He said, his hand on yours, “If someone would see you they would turn you into the Lannisters.” You didn’t know which was worse, Lannisters or what scraps were left of your family in the Eyrie.
You pulled your hand away from his, “The knights and guards of the Vale will know me.” You huffed.
“That may well be true, but that is why they have sworn themselves to our house.” You held back a disgusted frown at him, referring to your house as ‘Our House’, “They are sworn to keep you safe, even if that means to lie. To say they’ve no idea where you are.”
“Does Lyssa know I am coming.” You asked as you looked down at your hands in your lap, you picked at the skin around your nails.
“She knows I went looking for you, she knows I would only return with you.” He grabbed hold of your hand. His consistent advances made you feel sick, but also, think of Sandor. Like what he’d have done if he saw this. “I would not have ceased my search for you til I found you.”
“And how does she feel about that?” You asked, ignoring his advances.
“Should she not feel happy? Contented her husband wishes to see her own flesh and blood safe?” He said with a smirk
“You see a particular side of Lyssa.” You said as you repositioned yourself uncomfortably in your seat.
“She has always been predisposed towards me.” You tried to conceal yet another disgusted expression, “It would be only fitting she saves her best self for me.”
“She's like a coin. One side is an entirely different being than the other.” That was true, she often switched from hot to cold within an instant. You always thought it was cause she was mad. It grew tiresome after some time.
“May I be curious? When you fled, what is it that you fled from, and what is it that you were fleeing to?” He asked, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
“I fled my marriage. I was fleeing for my family.” Technically the last bit wasn’t a lie. Which made it easier for you to sound convincing.
“I see, to tell you the truth, that only makes my curiosity greater. Ser Cole told me you were not… cooperative in his efforts to bring you to me.” You smiled to yourself, stabbing a knight is not what you’d call cooperative either.
“I don’t trust so easily. Any man could dress in silver plates and tell me he’s a knight.” You said, “And truth be told I do not see you as family.” You said leaning back into the uncomfortable cushion of the carriage.
“And what do you see me as?” He asked, his grip on your hand tightening
You ignored him. “I want to see my family. My mother and my brother.” Not technically a lie either, only not in the way he thinks.
“I wouldn’t think you’d wish to see Lyssa. After what you’d said.” His grip loosened,
“Our blood is our blood, our name is our name.” You said, with no emotion.
“I must admit that is not all I am curious about. You fled in the midst of a battle, a great war. Not one person saw you, not one knight. That is all without mentioning that you managed to flee without a scratch to you. Completely unharmed. It would seem almost impossible without help. Strong help.” He questioned you,
“Lika is a strong horse, and fast. And I, a skilled rider.” You responded quickly,
“So I hear.” He smirked.
“Now I must be curious.” You said, “You described Tyrion bereft, positively. In your words.” You perched your lips slightly and looked down, somewhat saddened by your own words.
“He is. I have no reason to lie to you on such a matter.” He said, his smirk disappearing.
“Tell it then, all of it.” Your eyes are sharp, and cold.
“Why burden yourself with another man's madness.” He asked, almost immediately annoyed by the question.
“To torment myself with my own guilt I suppose.” You shook your head,
“He was injured in the battle.” He huffed.
“Badly?” You interrupted
“Not as badly as they say. Deeply cut across his face.” He motioned a slash across his face, “Day after the battle, he demanded the city be combed for you. He was convinced that you were taken by some Baratheon men, that you might be in the city. Dead or alive he wanted you found. Once the city was clear of any sign of you he became convinced you were kidnapped, soon to be held for ransom.” You looked back down to your nails you picked at. Feeling guilty, but not enough to go back. “You certainly convinced him of your loyalty.” He chimed in, “Or perhaps he underestimated you.”
“Perhaps both.”
As you approached the Eyrie, you were stopped when it was time to walk to the Bloody Gate.
Petyr stepped out first, offering you his hand as you stepped out after him. You took it reluctantly.
Reminding yourself to play the part.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Meanwhile, Sandor had been captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners.
While he was taken to an undisclosed location with a bag over his head, he could hear the banter of the men talking. But the sounds of them could not drown out the anxiety he had over you.
A big part of him wanted to push you out of his mind, to focus on what was happening right then and now. Focus on getting out of this situation. But he couldn’t ignore the pit of dread in his stomach.
His thoughts kept coming, over and over again, “where is she, is she okay, has anyone seen her?”
It made him feel a certain kind of frustrated anxiety, knowing he couldn’t be near you, to be sure you were alright.
He was finally taken to some filthy tavern with an even filthier bag on his head.
“What an uncommonly large person, how does someone capture such an uncommonly large person?” He heard while he was blinded by the bag over his head, until it was stripped. “Ah! Not a man at all- A Hound!” Thoros said, a man Sandor recognized instantly.
“Thoros, the fuck you doing here?” He questioned with furrowed brows.
“Drinking and talking too much, the usual.” Thoros said drunk.
Another man who had captured Sandor spoke up, “There was another with him… A woman.” Sandors gaze dropped and went towards the man who spoke up, a soft groan leaving his lips.
“You sure about that?” Thoros asked, taking another sip of his ale.
“Oh yes, no mistaking that.” The man said as the others snickered, making Sandor groan a little louder. He hated men talking about you, it made him want to break their jaw so they’d talk a little less.
“Your woman I’d assume, hard to believe but stranger things in this world.” Sandor rolled his eyes and groaned even louder. “Oh well, still a pretty prize, Lads!” Thoros shouted, making the men who captured him cheer.
Sandor saw two boys leaving the tavern, and behind them, a girl, the girl You loved so well and helped escape.
“Girl!” He shouted, stopping Arya Stark, “What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark bitch?” He questioned Thoros.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You had made it past the Bloody Gate, the Knights knew who you were even though Petyr introduced you as his niece, Lennora. They did not question you, and allowed you in. Ser Donnel Waynwood going as far to welcome you back as Lennora.
After twenty more miles of travel, you’d finally arrived at the Eyrie.
It felt like a small comfort at first. A sight you once truly believed you’d never see again.
Stepping into the main room you noticed Lyssa seated on the throne. Seated where you should have been.
“Sweet child,” She called to you, rising from your throne “Come…” She said as ascended the stairs coming towards you, until she wrapped her arms around you. “My flesh and blood.” She said feigning happiness at your presence.
“Aunt Lyssa,” You said, feigning the same joy.
“You’re dressed in rags, my sweetling.” She said as she examined you,
“Couldn’t stand to wear Lannister colors any longer.” You said cleverly, avoiding further questioning, distracting her with her own biases.
“Of course you couldn’t.” She gripped onto your shoulders tightly, “Those monsters tried to marry you off to that imp. The very one who killed my husband, your father.” Her grip on your shoulders tightened, “He did not force himself onto you did he?” Her eyes darted to yours, staring deepening and intensely in them.
“No- of course not. We had not wed yet-” You stammered to explain, caught off guard by such a question.
“Still, you cannot trust such men now can you?” She said, her grip loosening finally.
“No, you cannot.” You said softly
Her hands ran from your shoulders to your hands, holding them tightly, “You’ve had a hard, and brave journey, my sweetling. You must bathe and dress.” She squeezed your hands once more before releasing them.
“Yes, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, slightly proud of yourself for containing such composure.
You nodded to your aunt and turned to leave, Petyr smirked at you as you passed him to take the back steps to your chambers.
It made your stomach turn.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
In the hideout of the Brotherhood, Sandor was tried for his crimes. Trial by combat.
As he fought, with brutality and efficiency, he could only think of you. He needed to cut this man down, to cut him down and get back to you. To find you.
Soon enough however, he did. Nearly cutting the man in half. Lord Beric Dondarrion was dead, but only for a moment.
As Arya shouted out and screamed, wanting him to be killed and tried for the murder of her friend.
Sandor couldn’t give this too much attention however as Beric arose from the dead before everyone. Within the cave.
After such a scene, Sandor was pardoned and set free.
“You’re pardoned, free to go. But all your gold is ours, to support the cause. It says it right there on that paper, once the wars over you’ll be repaid.” The man said, giving him paper pardoning him of his crimes.
“Piss on that! You’re nothing but thieves.” He barked loudly as he threw the paper onto the ground.
“We’re outlaws, you’re lucky we didn’t kill you, or go after that girl of yours.” Some man said, stupidly.
“Try it, archer, and I’ll shove those arrows right up your arse.” He said, his voice darkening. He couldn’t stand anyone speaking of you, even if they didn’t know who you were specifically.
“You can’t let him go! He’s a murderer!” Arya screamed as Sandor’s head was bagged again as he was led out of the cave.
“Not in the eyes of God. Go in peace Clegane, the Lord of Light is not done with you yet.” Beric said, as Sandor was led out.
But Sandor did not go far.
The sun had gone and the night had come. It dawned on him you could be anywhere. And he would have no way of knowing where.
That was when he heard the brotherhood yelling out for Arya, and soon saw the girl running through the forest he was hiding in.
That’s when he realized, If he couldn’t find you on his own, he’d find another way, and he’d get some gold out of it as well.
He grabbed Arya as she ran away. Covering her mouth as she tried to scream.
“Kick all you want, wolf girl. Won’t do you no good.” He said, dragging her off.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
While you bathed, you sat in the warm water, sinking deeply into the warmth around you. You closed your eyes, you tried your best to breathe, and calm yourself.
Sandor was a strong man, a man who cut down five men, a man who cut his way through a riot, and then four men after that. You shouldn’t worry. It would be silly for you to worry. But still you did.
As you looked at your body in the water, you could see the bruises left by Sandor. By his hands and his mouth. The thumb prints on your hips and the love bites on your sides and breasts. You ran your fingers over the prints, applying a bit of pressure to feel the lovely ache. It was like he was still with you.
You ran your other hand down between your legs, your other hand pressed down on the bruise again, to feel that ache, to feel like he was still with you.
However you heard a noise come from behind the door of the bathing chambers door.
Uneasy, you got out of the bath, and dried yourself quickly and you clothed yourself in a thick, warm, robe.
You opened the door, with caution, still uneasy. You stepped into the hallway, you hadn’t seen anyone. Even though you saw no one, you still felt uneasy. Like you were being watched.
You felt that familiar cold air flow through the castle, it only made your anxiety worse. ‘Tea would help,’ you thought. So you made your way to the kitchens, the only way to get to that from where you were however, was through the throne room,
As you stepped into the large room, you could feel the breeze worsen, the air colder, and the sound of wind louder. The moon doors were open, you knew what they sounded like better than anyone.
What was worse, Lyssa was standing over them. Staring down into the nothingness below.
“How pleasant it must feel, to be clean, and back in your Arryn clothes.” She said, not looking at you, still peering into the vast nothingness below the Eyrie.
“Quite pleasant, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, cautiously
“It was so kind of Baelish to return you to us. I asked him, why, why he wished for you back. It doesn’t make much sense, you’re the only thing that could possibly stand in the way of his position here in the Vale. Of Robin's position in the vale. And yet he feels responsible for you” Her voice felt sharp and unsteady,
“Lyssa-” You tried to begin
“Why does he feel responsible for you?” She interrupted you, her gaze shifting towards you quickly.
“I am your blood, I am part Tully-” You tried your best to calm her, to reason with her.
“Yes, Eloire Tully, The sister who hated him. Toyed with him, cruel and arrogant Eloire. You look just like her, are you toying with him too?” She said, her eyes were unhinged, and she stepped closer and closer to you.
An anger sparked inside you, “Don’t speak of my mother-” Your eyes and voice filled with disdain
“Did you fuck him is that it? Like those whores in his pleasure houses-”
You interrupted her “That is a vile accusation-”
And she interrupted you, “So you know the vile things they do, the vile things he lets them do to him.” She said as she pulled at your robe, exposing your breast and your side, she could see the large bruise on your side and one on your breast.
“I knew it.” She said her eyes widening,
You covered yourself quickly “Lyssa,”
“Who did it? Who did you let ruin you, you whore!? If it wasn’t Tyrion who did it!? Unless you lied to me!” She began to grab you, grab your arms tightly.
You tried your best to pull away, “I fell from my horse, Lyssa-” You exclaimed
“You think I’m a blind fool? Who did it? Petyr? Petyr did that do you? It makes perfect sense, You're no better than those whores in those pleasure houses, to him.” She exclaimed even louder, grabbing at you harder.
“He never touched me-” You pleaded,
“Then who did it-”
“I fell off my horse!”
“Lying whore!” She held onto your tightly and tried to push you towards the open moon doors, however the struggle between you and her was almost evenly matched. So she pulled out a dagger, raising it. But you were able to hold her arm off, “Why couldn’t you have stayed with them? Stayed far and gone! I won’t let you have him! You know what happens when people get in the way of Petyr and me?” She screamed at you as she continuously tried to push you towards the open moon doors, now at knife point. “My husband- your father, I killed him, all for me and Petyr!” She screamed, her admission however sparked a new kind of rage in you as you struggled back harder. No longer wishing to escape her grasp but to throw her into the moon doors instead.
“Lyssa.” Petyr said from the doorway, “Let her go,” He said calmly. Making the both of you halt,
“You want her? This ungrateful brat? I have lied for you and killed for you! Why did you bring her here? Why?” She sobbed
“I’ll send her away, I swear it.” Petyr said,
Lyssa threw you onto the ground, cutting your forearm with the dagger she had in her hand. She dropped it to the ground as she sobbed.
“My sweet wife. Silly wife.” He said as walked towards her holding her in his arms. You began to pick yourself up, your arm still bleeding.
“My whole life, I have only loved one woman.” He said, as she smiled. “Your sister.” He said as he pushed her into the moon doors.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
The next morning, Sandor and Arya had begun their journey north. Sandor had hoped that you had done as he said and made your way there was well.
As he ate, he offered a bit of the food to Arya, who simply pouted and looked away from the food. It reminded him a bit of you.
“Sulk all you want. Truth is you’re lucky, you don’t want to be alone out here, girl. Someone worse than me would find you.” He said, his voice gentler than it was the last day.
“There’s no one worse than you.” She spit at him.
“You never knew my brother. Once killed a man for snoring. Plenty worse than me, there's men that like to beat little girls, men who like to rape them. Save your cousin from some of them.`` He said lightly,
“You’re lying.” Arya said in disbelief.
“Ask her. You’ll be seeing her soon enough, you just ask her who came back for her during the riots.” He restated confidently.
“Is that the Blackwater?” Arya asked looking at a large river they approached,
“Blackwater? Where do you think I’m taking you girl?” He asked
“Back to King's Landing, Joffrey and the Queen? My cousin?”
“Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Queen. That’s the red fork, I’m taking you to the Twins.” He sounded somewhat offended.
“But why?”
“Because your mother and brother will be there, they’ll pay for you, and maybe even your cousin will be there.”
“Why would they be at the Twins?”
“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countrysides yapping about it. Your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. Your cousin’s probably heard about it too, she’ll be heading there.”
“Why do you care if she’ll be there?” She asked, almost annoyed by his constant mentioning of you.
Sandor ignored her question, “Quit your yapping, and we might make it for the wedding.”
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As the Hound lounged on the Hog farmers' stolen wagon as he ate a pig's foot. He looked over to the Stark girl who’d been peering over towards the Twins every five minutes.
The Hound huffed, “It’s not going anywhere.” He said as he took a large bite of a pig's foot.
“I know that,” Arya said, almost as if she were offended, still not taking her eyes away from the Twins.
“You keep looking back at it… like you’re afraid of it’s going to disappear.” He said going back to chewing on the fatty meat of the pigs feet.
“I’m not afraid.” She said, turning her pointed and angry attention towards him.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, a knowing smirk slightly appearing. “Yes you are, I know the look. I’ve seen it a lot. The closer you get the worse the fear gets.” He spoke almost from experience.
Arya turned to face him completely, her eyes hateful “I know what you’re afraid of… You’re afraid of fire.” She stepped closer, “And I know why too, your brother pressed your face to the fire like it was a nice juicy mutton chop.” She smiled slightly, mockingly.
The hounds' cold demeanor buckled from under him. “Your cousin tell you that?”
“She never talked about you.” Her brows furrowed, confused by the question. His predisposed feelings of betrayal went away.
He shrugged, going back to the pigs feet in his hand, “That give you some ideas?” He asked in a gruff tone.
She turned away from him, “Might do.” she said stoically.
He scoffed, “Go ahead then. You might even make it there on your own. It’s just over the river. Closest you’ve been to family since Illyne Payne snipped your daddy’s neck.” He said mockingly, his best way of deflecting any kind of pain.
Arya turned back to him, stepping closer. “Someday I’m going to put a sword through your eye and out the back of your skull.” Her eyes emotionless, her voice cold.
The sudden, abrupt, and seemingly not empty threat made him halt his chewing. He stared at the girl with eyes of shock.
He could see you in this girl somewhat. Stubborn and willful. But with this one it was more annoying, and less forgiving of his shit attitude.
He huffed, and went back to eating as the girl went back to staring at the river that divided them and her family.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You hadn’t seen or spoken to Petyr about the killing of your aunt.
That morning you felt sick, sicker than usual.
You had grown to appreciate the gesture of murdering someone who posed a threat to you. But with him it didn’t feel as unconditional as when your dog did it. When he did it, he did not want something in return. He did it because he wanted- no he needed you safe. With Petyr it felt as though it was something he would use, a new string tying to a limb of a puppet.
You spent most of your time avoiding him, in the high tower where the falconers keep their birds.
There were less birds than when you left. But your favorite was still there, Lenarea. The one your mother gave you.
“A hawk, a beautiful creature isn’t she? “ Your mother said, as she pointed to the flying creature, soaring above you.
“Yes, she is.” You said, somewhat disinterested, staring off at the falconers who were teaching their birds to hunt.
“A hawk is a forgiving animal. You could make mistake after mistake and she’d forgive you at the end of each day because she knows you’ve chicken feet in your pocket.” Your mother said, petting your hair. “A falcon however, doesn’t forgive so easily. She remembers what you did. and she’s not keen on letting you forget either. No matter how many chicken feet you try to shove at her.” She said as she poked at your nose, making you giggle. “So, what bird should you start with?”
“A hawk, but I want a falcon.” You said with no second guessing, you always knew what you wanted.
“You’ll have many birds, sweet dove. But your first should be one of a forgiving nature.”
“I won’t make a mistake.”
Your mother giggled, “You are a stubborn thing aren’t you? Alright then.” She said, just as she began to lead you to the high tower you were in now. There was a beautiful falcon whose chicks had just hatched. You pointed to the one you wanted.
As she placed the babe within your palms you caressed it, feeling its warmth as it chirped in your hands. Her feathers still fluffy, sparse, and white.
“Lenarea.” You named her quietly.
The memory soon faded from your mind.
Memory is merciless, ruthless. And this white prison evoked so much of it.
You put on that thick leather gauntlet, and you took Lenarea out of her cage. Her black eyes examined you fondly. You smiled at her. Until you saw the reflection of a short pale black haired sickly looking boy in her glassy eyes.
“Sister,” He said, his voice shaky.
“Hello Robin.” You said, turning to face him, “I am sorry about your mother. I was only a little older than you are now when mine died.” You said, you weren’t sorry for her, but for him.
“You hated mother,” He said, slightly confused.
“Even still, you shouldn’t feel pain. Too young for such pain.” You said, petting Lenarea’s shining feathers with your finger.
“My mother said, when you marry the baby man and I get old enough, I'll be lord of the vale.” He said childishly,
“I didn’t marry Lord Tyrion. I won’t be marrying him… ever.” You spoke to him with an intensity you wouldn’t normally speak to a child with.
“So, what will that mean?” He was confused, uncertain, as he was with most things now.
“Robin, you and I share blood. That means a great deal to me.” It did, somewhat… “I know you don’t care about what i am going to say but it would be wise for you to listen to it and remember it. I was born with this land as a promise. I was born with the titles of Lady of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, Defender of the Vale, Keeper of the Moon Door, and Head of House Arryn. I was born to it. And at certain moments of my life I would have given it to you. But I made a promise to my own mother. To keep this house safe.” It was somewhat a threat, but not quite.
“My mother said-” He began as Lenarea let out a short but sharp and shrill chirp.
“Your mother did not understand me well. I hope you do.” You said coldly, not proudly.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As Sandor rode the cart up to the entrance of the Frey’s gates. The men surrounding drinked and shouted, He stopped a man walking passed.
“You, have the Starks arrived?” He asked gruffly, Arya looked at the man with hopeful eyes
“Oh yes they have,” The drunken man said, smirking and letting out a devious chuckle. The man began to walk passed when Sandor reached out and grabbed the man by the arm stopping him.
“What of any Arryns?” He asked, a bit more gruff than the last question. Arya raised a brow at the question.
The man looked at the Hound's hand on his arm, surprised by how large it was “No Arryns here, big fellow.” The drunk man said with a hiccup as the Hound let him go.
He rode on, further up to the gate's entrance. He and Arya were stopped by the Frey’s guardsmen.
“Hog meat for the feast.” The Hound said, tilting his head towards the cart behind him.
“Feasts over.” The Guard said,
Hound looked over to the men singing and celebrating, “Doesn’t sound over.” He said looking back
“It’s over when I say it is.” The man said gripping onto his swords handle,
The Hound huffed and looked back at Arya only to see she was gone.
By the time the Hound was able to abandon the cart, and finish unhitching Stranger from it the loudness of the bannermen grew.
It wasn’t celebratory, no this was victorious, and brutal. A battle, he knew it well.
His thoughts immediately went to you, but satisfied with that drunk man's answer to his question earlier his mind went to Arya.
He couldn’t let her die, not when he knew how much she’d meant to you. Also the money. And he could try to deny he didn’t care for her even a bit but he did… only a bit.
As he hit the guards man hard, partially to move him out of the way and partially for his tone earlier.
Once inside he saw Arya, about to run into the wedding, as if the little girl could do anything.
“It’s too late.” The Hound said harshly, grabbing the girl by her shoulder.
Arya tried once more to run inside, unwilling to let her take her chances in a room full of savage, drunk, stark hating men, he hit her. Hard enough to knock her unconscious. He picked the girl up, tossing her over his shoulder and carried her to Stranger.
The Hound grabbed the Freys Banner as he rode on, to better disguise him and the girl he carried. Soon the banner men’s war cries rang out throughout the courtyard, Sandor held the unconscious girl close to his chest. The cries grew louder and louder, until a crowd emerged from the Freys gates. As Sandor looked closer at what they were dragging out behind them he felt something he didn’t often feel.
Disgust.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As your dreaming ended, you opened your eyes as a cloud passed your window bringing the sun, filling your room in its warm light. Its warmth cutting through the cold air of the mountains.
It shined in your eyes, you winced as you stretched your limbs and breathed in deeply.
You averted your eyes from the sun, directing them towards the dagger Sandor gave you. You kept it on a small table by your bed. Now that your bruises were beginning to fade it was the becoming the only thing you had to remind you of him aside for the memories that haunted your dreams.
You reached over and grabbed it. You held it in your hand, the handle had a weight to it. You ran your fingertip over the engravings on the handle. You kissed the tip of it, the way you would have if it were his cock.
You closed your eyes, and imagined as if it were. You imagined his groans that he’d let out. Deep and low, so low it’d rattle in his chest. And you imagined his teeth biting down on your sides, on your breasts, your neck.
You ran your fingers down to your cunt. You played with your clit the way he did, circling and rubbing your clit. You used two fingers, which was almost the equivalent of one of his.
You remembered the way his hands would grasp your thighs when he pushed inside you. How the heat felt pouring out of him and into you. You pressed two fingers inside you, using your palm to tease your clit. It was not nearly as satisfying or fulfilling as his cock but it was enough for now. You began to moan out, breathlessly. Wanting nothing more than to feel his hot breath against your neck, his beard against your skin. His tongue in your cunt.
You were closing in on your high, when suddenly-
“My lady-” Ser Cole said as he opened your chamber door, He saw you, with your hand in your small clothes. He turned his body away instantly, “My apologies.” He blurted out
You reasonably startled, removed your hand, sat up in your bed and covered yourself with your blanket, “Men should not sneak into a ladies' chambers!” You spat at him.
Still not looking at you, “Of course not, please, I beg you to forgive my rudeness. It is only I’ve a message of critical urgency.”
“Then tell it quickly!” You said, furious. Sandor would have taken this man's eyes, maybe hanged him by his guts as he liked to threaten often.
He began to turn back towards you, “Your aunt, Catelyn, and your cousin Robb. They were murdered last night.” His voice sorrowful
“What?” You asked softly, in disbelief.
His eyes finally fell on you, cautiously, “The Frey’s massacred them at the wedding of your Uncle.” He looked at you, waiting for a response “My Lady?”
“Leave me.” You said, stoically.
“My lady” He began
“I said leave me!” You commanded, and finally he left.
Alone, alone in your room, and alone in this world now finally. The last remaining bit of your family that weren’t political hostages were murdered. And your one chance at regaining your birthrights without an arranged marriage along with them.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Later that morning, you hadn’t washed, or changed. You found little point in it.
You began to walk down the marble steps of the Eyrie as Ser Cole stopped you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the stairs.
Assuming he was going to beg for forgiveness for catching you with your fingers in your cunt you pushed away with a huff, “Please, I do not need any more apologies-” You began before he pulled you into a hallway and covered your mouth with his hand. You began to struggle when you heard a familiar voice coming from the throne room.
“My condolences. Lady Lysa was a woman of strong character.” Tyrion said, you could tell it was disingenuous. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you felt yourself tense. Your eyes went wide, as Ser Cole pulled his hand away from your mouth.
“She was. My own condolences of your own lady.” Petyr said in response. You listened intensely.
“condolences are not needed.” Tyrion said, offendedly.
“Of course,” Petyr said, pretending to be sympathetic.
“She's not been found, is all.” Tyrion said, uncomfortably.
“It has been many nights.” Petyr began “You’re a smart man, you are aware of the terrible things that happen inside castle walls. Half her family was killed within them. Your walls and the Frey’s. And you know the kind of world that lies outside of castle walls. You know the terrible things that could happen to a girl-”
“(Y/N) Arryn is a woman of great intelligence, strong will, and a clever nature. I believe she’s alive, taken, but alive.” Tyrion stated, with confidence. The same confidence he always had.
“Another theory.” Petyr said, as if he were tired of hearing his constant wailing about you.
“She’s my betrothed. It is my duty to see to it that she is safe.” hearing him say those words made you feel sick. Or at least you thought it was those words that did it.
“It hasn’t crossed your mind she’s fled. Escaped upon her own free will?” Petyr said, why would he say that? You thought.
“It only crossed it for a moment. I’d be a fool not to consider it, but I would be a fool to consider it longer than a moment. She’s no reason to want to flee.” Tyrion was sweet to be so unaware of how disloyal you were to him.
“She didn’t?”
“She doesn’t.”
“Betrothed to the least desirable Lannister. A man accused of murdering her father-“
“Ah yes, and thank you for informing her of that.”
“You’d have rather kept her blinded to the truth?”
“There was no truth to the accusations. Only thing to come from such knowledge would be pain.” Tyrion stopped himself, taking a breath and reminding himself of what he came to the Eyrie for, “I want to ally our forces, The Knights of the Vale should be searching for her. She is their Lady-“
“They are looking for her. You act as though we want her gone.” Petyr acted like he was offended.
“You don’t? It would be convenient.” Tyrion's tone was pointed.
“I love my niece,” Petyr said and you felt vomit begin to rise in your throat.
“We all know that. You ceaselessly reminded her father of your affections when he rejected your proposals.”
“This is not about me, or you. I am willing to join our forces with one another. Though I believe it is wise for the both of us to anticipate… disappointment.” He talked about you like you were dead. It calmed you somewhat, “It has been how many days since she was seen alive?”
“I say that Dog took her.” A man's voice said, and you recognized it, the cut throat that Tyrion paid as his own bodyguard. Your body tensed, and you felt a wave of heat crash against you.
“Enough,” Tyrion said, tired of his words, as if he’d heard this theory before.
“I mean really, am I the only person with two eyes who could see how cunt struck that bloody dog was?” The cut throat said, it made the vomit rise even higher. You pressed two fingers to your lips to keep them shut.
“I said enough.”
“A theory you don’t like?” Petyr questioned.
“A theory not worth considering. It is blood and ash in my mouth. There is no reason for her to have left with him, no reason for her to have left me willingly.” Tyrion tried so hard to defend what he thought was your love for him. You felt the guilt in your stomach mix with the nausea.
“I’m not saying she went with the fucker smiling. Can’t imagine any lass especially one like her going with a man like that. That fucker never cared if anyone but the king lived or died. But the fucker went against his own king to save that girl from the riots.” The cut throat’s words only pushed you to gag slightly. You covered your mouth with your hand fully.
“There is a bounty on his head and people looking for him. But we are here to discuss (Y/N), finding her.” Tyrion said as a final and swift effort to shut the man up.
“We will ally our efforts to seek her out. They will work in tandem under the one objective of finding her.” Petyr said
With your hand covering your mouth you pushed Ser Cole away with your other hand, walking passed him. Lightly, making sure not to make a sound as you rushed towards the privy as you vomited.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You hadn’t left your chamber all day.
That night Petyr came in. He had a tray of dinner for you. And a tea.
“You’ve not dressed at all?” Petyr asked, concerned. You looked back at him with tear stained cheeks and annoyed eyes. “I am sorry. What the Frey have done…”
“I don’t wish to discuss it.” You said looking over at the food on the tray. You pulled it towards you and began to eat. Your stomach was empty from the sickness earlier.
“I believe we’ve matters of importance to discuss.” Petyr said softly as he watched you eat.
“The killing of my aunt?” You asked sardonically.
“Your aunt had made some worrying allegations against you, my dearest one. And the cut throat that accompanied your betrothed raised an interesting theory.” His eyes were filled with concern.
“You believe them?” You asked stoically
“I don’t know. That’s why I am bringing them to you. For your answers. I could bring you to a Maester and have you checked, but I don’t wish that for you. Nor can we afford the risk of any more people knowing you are here.”
“Lord Tyrion did not touch me. I’ve said it already-“ You began, sneeringly.
“I am not concerned with Lord Tyrion.” Petyr said, it made all the words you’d planned vanish. “Ser Cole might have found you alone but that doesn’t mean you were. It would take a great deal of protection to make it that far on your own.” His accusations were heavy but his voice was nurturing.
“I am intact.” You spoke like a mouse.
“Even still, I’ve prepared a tea… or rather a maester has upon my command.” He picked up the chalice and handed it to you.
“Tea?” You smelt it, it smelt bitter and ugly.
“Only to be sure. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.” Petyr said as he petted your hair, it reminded you of your mothers touch, your eyes stayed on the tea and away from him. You pretended that it was.
“Moon tea. I know it.” You said, nodding. Your voice was raspy.
“If you are intact, as you say you are, there will be no effect. However, if you are not, and if you are with child, it shall save you the shame.” He continued to pet your hair,
“You don’t believe me?” You still didn’t look at him. You sniffled, your face heating up, eyes watering.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, or what you say. What matters is that you drink this.”
You felt tears coming, you knew that feeling well… sorrow. “Will it hurt?” You felt submissive, that was new. Even when you had no power you knew a way to find your own power. But not here.
“Drink it, my dear.” He commanded softly.
“As you command it.” You said as you drank it. All of it, within one gulp. It was revolting.
“You are not as good of a liar as you might think, my dear.” Petyr said, he pulled you into a hug, you closed your eyes and pretended it was your mother, and hugged back. “Do not lie to me again, there is no need for it. I am your only ally now.” He threatened you sweetly, and softly. You hated that he was right.
He left you.
You thought about what Sandor would do. You thought about that often but right now you really wanted him. Not for his violence, but you wanted his touch. His arms around you. You wanted him to hold you.
But you didn’t have him, so you held onto your stomach, feeling the possibility of what could be slip away. You’d not know for certain if you were, or were not with child but now it was certain you were not. You day dreamed so often of what could have been. But now no more.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Sandor had seen every kind of brutalization. There was little that ever shocked him, even littler things sickened him. But what he saw that night truly did.
The Frey’s are animals…
It was early morning as Sandor sat beside a dying fire with the Stark girl still sleeping, his thoughts only turned to you.
Where the fuck were you?