The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog
Sandor Clegane x reader
+:✿ Chapter - 11 ✿:+ A War for a War
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Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.
CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, the boltons, drugged, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, minor character death
A/N: did i say this would be published monday? yeah. is it 3am on tuesday? yeah.
Word Count: 4.6K
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As Sandor laid on that rock in agony. He was bloodied and his bones were broken, his leg was the worst of it. He laid there and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get up and walk out from those Vale mountains.
The Falcon was his only company. You sent Lenaera to him as a signal to him that you were alive, that you were in the Eyrie, that you knew he had come, that you needed him.
Though he already knew. He already knew all of that before the bird came.
But now that he lay on that rock at the bottom of a cliff, he laid there thinking of all the terrible things he had done. How he deserved what he was given. And the worst thing he could think of that he had done was failing you.
That horse he saw in the stables could have been some other high bred white mare, or it could’ve been found by a Knight of the Vale and brought back without its rider.
You could have been murdered, you could have been sold, you could have been.. Something even worse.
And if you were, what was this bird? A beautiful, strong Falcon with a blue ribbon around her ankle.
He groaned in pain and shouted and the bird did not leave. It hardly fluttered its wings. He did not scare it. Maybe because the bird could recognize he was a dying man. Maybe because it was waiting for him to die so it could eat him.
But, he thought, if you did die, Gods forbid it, but if you did, maybe that bird was you. Or some form of you, a sign sent by you in the Seven Heavens. Maybe, or maybe his agony and blood loss made him think silly sentimental thoughts. Death does that.
He looked at the falcon perched on a rock. As the sun shined down on the magnificent creature he let out a labored breath, giving in to his sentimentality, “Are you here?” He asked you, only you weren’t there. “I keep seeing that bird, a fucking falcon with a blue ribbon.” He grumbled, “Is that you? You die, and you come back like that? How fucking cruel is that.” He laughed but the laugh forced a bloody cough out of him, once the cough settled he sighed, looking at the bird. “I miss you.” He admitted reluctantly, even when the Stranger was approaching he found it hard to admit it. “I think about you all the time.” He felt the emotion rise in his throat and tears well up, “I hear you in my dreams, your voice.” He shook his head, “I just miss you, simple as that.” When he finished, Lenaera let out a loud caw! And fluttered her wings, still staying by the dying man. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Can’t hear your voice.” He said, still wanted to believe that bird was for you. Lenaera tilted her head at Sandor. He sniffed and swallowed his emotion and nodded, “Aye, it’s time. I’ll be seeing you. Maybe. Or Maybe I’ll be in the Seven Hells and you the Heavens. Maybe I’ll be lucky and keep hearing your voice.” He said, closing his eyes. He was content to die now, his eyes were closed and he was at rest as the stranger approached him. But only it was a real stranger, not the old god.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Your body felt slightly numb, and your nerves calmed. You began to open your eyes slightly fluttering open, when you finally mustered the strength to open your eyes you looked around at the blue and silver carriage. The same one that you and your father took to King's Landing. You could tell that the carriage was not moving, and from the light coming in from the closed blinds of the carriage you could gather it was nearly night.
You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “Where-” You began until an armored glove covered your mouth.
“Sh!” You looked up at the man who silenced you, in full armor but his eyes shining through his silver helmet were familiar.
“Ser Cole?” You whimpered, still under the heavy fog of whatever had taken you.
He lifted the helmet so you may look upon his face, to see his true concern. “My Lady, please listen to my words. It is important that you listen.” You tried to widen your eyes, blinking hard in an attempt to focus them. “Baelish arranged your marriage to Ramsay Bolton. You were to leave this morning however, Baelish said that you were feeling ill and that you’d better be taken to Winterfell and examined by a maester. However I believe it was an illness brought upon you intentionally. Because you’d not accept it so easily.”
“Where am I now?” You asked sitting up from the plush silk seat that you were laying on, Ser Cole knowing better didn’t help you.
“You’re in your carriage, halfway to Winterfell.” He held his head lower, “Baelish has stepped out to…” He stopped trying to find a more delicate way of phrasing it.
“Just speak,” You whined as you held yourself up
“Piss, my Lady.” He spoke quickly
“Right.” You nodded,
“When he returns, be agreeable.” His speech picked up, he knew his time was limited, “Play along.” He must have gathered a plan while you were deep in a drug induced sleep.
“I can’t go there, Ser Cole.” Fear rose in you. You knew if you walked into Winterfell you wouldn’t be leaving it.
He nodded, “I know that. I will not let them.” His conviction was strong.
“How many men are out there?” You questioned,
“Fifthteen.”
“You can’t cut through that many men.” You said to him as if you were pleading he’d see reason.
“Command them.” He said as if he were tried to plead with you to see reason
“I’ve no power, I tell them to stop and Baelish will tell them to continue-”
He boldly interrupted you, “You have more sway than you may believe.”
Your eyes narrowed on him, “Tell me what you know,”
He looked behind him to be sure Baelish wasn’t approaching yet, “In short summary, My Lady, a little over half the men would follow you if you commanded.” He turned back to you, “Believe that. Believe in your blood.”
Ser Cole heard the “She has awoken…” He said calmly as he stepped to the side, allowing Lord Baelish to enter the carriage. He looked over at Baelish who was looking at Ser Cole with an expectant look, “My Lord.” He finished.
“Thank you, you are dismissed.” Baelish said insincerely, his voice filled with annoyance.
“The Lady wanted water.” He said handing you his pouch of water. You grabbed it with hast. You drank it down quickly, you hadn’t asked for it but it was true you needed it. Ser Cole starred at Baelish as you chugged it down with desperation.
As you wiped your mouth with your sleeve finally finished with your drink, “Alright, now you are dismissed.” Ser Cole of course looked to you, waiting for your decision. An action that did not go unnoticed by Baelish, “No, Ser Cole will ride with us.” you said confidently.
Baelish shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “My dear, I believe we’ve important matters to discuss, best discussed in private-”
You interrupted him, your eyes sharp and your tone dark and unfitting with your formal words. “Ser Varys Cole is sworn to me.” You lied, “He rides with me.” You said sternly as you moved over, allowing room for him to sit beside you.
As Ser Cole sat beside you, he slammed the carriage door closed. Almost making Baelish flinch. As he closed the door the carriage began to move again.
Bealish tried to assess the situation best he could, “How’re you feeling?”
“Is that the matter of importance you wished to discuss?” You practically spit your words at him. You knew Ser Coke had a plan but you’d a better and much more satisfying one.
His eyes lowly gazed on you, narrowed and predatory, “Please.”
“I feel anger.” You said plainly, “Though It is creeping toward a contemptuous homicidal rage.” You said with dark and intense eyes.
He took a moment, finally speaking, “I can understand-”
You interrupted him again, unwilling to hear his words. “Can you?”
“A House without change is a dead House. And there is an air of quiet death in this house and I do not like the way it smells.” He attempted to once again rationalize his stance.
“Is that why you slipped something in my tea?” You questioned. Baelish looked at Ser Cole who only stared back at him with the same venom that you had.
Baelish’s eyes returned to you, “You felt ill, no doubt from your overindulgence the night before.” Ser Cole’s grip on his sword tightened.
“And you used the opportunity to throw me in a carriage.” You responded quickly.
“The Maester was in the Gates of the Moon. You are aware of how long he takes.” You knew what he meant. Your mother. When she labored you were with her alone with a few handmaidens. The Maester was at the bottom of the Gates of the Moon. It took him far too long to come, by the time he did your mother was already gone and the babe was in your arms taking labored breaths. The memory surged through you. But instead of despair filling you, only more and more rage did. “Besides, we were meant to leave for the North this morning. Having you sleep off whatever was burdening you until we arrived in Winterfell seemed best.” His tone was careful and calculated.
“I am not going to Winterfell.” You were stern, and your anger created a dark cloud over you. “You will take me to Castle Black.” It was a split decision but a smart one.
He smirked slightly, letting go of whatever facade he had, “You forget whose carriage you sit in, you forget the direction you are headed.”
“The Lady of the Vale has commanded you.” Ser Cole spoke with a deep and low conviction.
“The Lord of the Vale has commanded her.” Baelish snapped at him,
As he did, you grabbed the dagger from Ser Cole’s belt. You lunged forward on top of Baelish placing the blade to his throat. You felt your own spirit split into two. Battling one another. If you killed Baelish, the power would not be left to you, no you would be thrown in a sky cell and left with Robin to decide your fate. But Gods you wanted to. Wanted to rip his throat out, watch the light in him fade. His memory dwindles over time. You wanted him dead and you needed to be the one to do it. But it would cost you the Vale.
Baelish began to reason with you, pleading. “I have been loyal to you. I took you away from danger and sheltered you from your enemy. I put my own life at reset sheltering you within the Eyrie, I put the Vale at risk doing so. I protected you-” “By killing my aunt.” You almost growled at him.
“She was going to kill you, not to mention she’d admitted to the murder of your father.”
“A murder she'd committed for you?” You pressed the blade against his throat harder, slightly drawing blood, Baelish winced, you took ultimate pleasure from it.
“Not by request.” He pleaded.
“She was mine to kill.” Your eyes were wide, terrifying.
His breathing picked up, “I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say.
“I will give you an opportunity. Explain to me your intentions.” You needed to hear it, needed to know what he had in mind, maybe it would give you the motivation you needed to finally kill him.
“Marry Ramsay Bolton. Poison his father, soon thereafter Ramsay himself. You’ll be Queen of the North.” He spoke with hast
“I don’t want the North.”
“The Vale. You want the Vale.” He spoke erratically as your blade still pressed deeply against his throat. “Once the Boltons are dead, you’ll marry me.” You sneered in disgust, “You’ll be queen of the North and restored Lady of the Vale. You’ll be more powerful than any woman in the realm.” He forced a smile,
You leaned towards the carriages window, “Stop the carriage!” You shouted, leaning forward into Petyr again, “If you won’t give it to me, I shall take it myself.” You spoke sternly as you removed the blade. He grasped at his throat, a small amount of blood trickling down his throat and hand.
You turned to open the carriage door when you looked over to Ser Cole. His face was one of not shock but a pleasantly surprised one.
You opened the carriage and stepped out.
“Lady (Y/N), are you alright?” A knight asked as Ser Cole followed after you.
You looked to the white horse tied to the back of your carriage, Lika.
You pointed to her, “Untie that Horse.” You commanded but the Knights attention was diverted when Baelish stumbled out of the carriage.
He began to loudly scold, “(Y/N), If you abandon your arrangement-”
“Your arrangement.” You loudly corrected back as Ser Cole mounted his own horse.
“If you abandon it, it will leave me in an uncomfortable position.” He pathetically pled,
You scoffed, “Don’t turn this on me, I don’t want your cloud over my head.” You looked again to a knight, “My horse,” you commanded again.
“(Y/N), Tyrion Lannister has wed Sansa Stark.” The words hit your heart like a steel blade. Though she’d be better off with Joffrey, she was a child, “I hear she is very eager to flee her own cage.” He said with a dark and devious tone.
“My horse!” You ignored him, commanding once more.
The knights did not budge, some were conflicted and confused by the scene laying out before them. Ser Cole then loudly reaserted, “The Lady of the Vale has commanded you.”
The knight looked at Ser Cole with disdain, “We’re under the command of Lord Baelish.”
You held your head high, and spoke with clear conviction, “You are sworn to serve the Vale under House Arryn. My father Jon Arryn is dead but the Arryn blood is not. You’ve sworn allegiance to my blood, to me. Let it be known I (Y/N) Arryn, rebuke the succession. You can either stand with me, or against me.” As you finished another Knight climbed off his horse and retrieved Lika from the back of the Carriage. Baelish stared daggers at the Knight but he did not care. As you Mounted Lika, Ser Cole then announced,
“Swear anew your oath to (Y/N) Arryn as your rightful Lady of The Vale, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, Defender of the Vale, and Warden of the East. If you support the usurper let it be known now. But let this be known if you swear loyalty only to choose treachery later, you’ll die a dishonorable death.” As he finished, nine of the fifteen Knights left their positions and aligned with yours.
“(Y/N), my little dove.” He attempted once more to manipulate you, using the name your late mother would call you.
“I want you to remember these words. If you choose this fight. You will die, screaming.” You said, as you tugged on Lika’s reins, turning her away and pushing her forward. The men followed, and of course Ser Cole was by your side.
“My Lord?” A knight asked, wondering if he should detain you.
“Let them go.” Baelish said, still holding onto his bleeding neck.
And so began the war
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Sandor opened his eyes, he was in a warm tent, surrounded by candle light, in a comfortable cot wrapped in a blanket.
He coughed, getting the attention of a shorter man with hard hair, “The fuck am I?” He asked, his voice was hoarse.
The man looked a bit surprised to be hearing the wounded man speaking, “In a small hut.” He replied with an amused smirk.
Sandor looked around with only his eyes, he hardly even had the strength for that, “(Y/N), (Y/N) where is she?” He asked, his words shaky and unstable.
“No one by that name here.” The man shook his head, his eyes narrowed on him. Curious of him.
“I gotta- got to find her.” he spoke as he shook his head restlessly attempting to get up,
The man placed a single hand on his chest, pushing him back into the cushioned cot below him, “You’ll find her later. Your bone snapped in half, you need rest.”
Sandor was slightly breathless, “Thought I was dead.”
The man nodded, “Thought you did a few times. Even when I found you, your leg was broken and you were covered in blood and bugs. Tried burying you but you coughed, nearly shit myself.” He laughed to himself,
Sandors eyes weakly tried to focus on the man looming over him, “Who are you?”
“They call me Ray, I’m a septon.” His tone was calming to Sandor,
Sandor closed his eyes, wincing from the pain in his now bandaged leg, “I don’t want to hear a sermon.”
Ray laughed again, “Wasn’t planning on telling one.”
“Ye all are.” Sandors voice was gruff and deep.
“You’ve met many?”
His eyes still closed tightly from the pain, “Met enough to know.”
“Must’ve been a big man to cut you down.” He said, looking at the massive man who laid on the cot in front of him.
He shook his head “It was a woman.” He corrected weakly,
Ray laughed as he left the tent that held the wounded Hound. Leaving him to only stew more on the thought of you.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As you rode on now further North than you’d ever been, you looked behind you. You felt a growing sense of power. Two of your men had left you, going back to Eyrie to gather more men. And even though you’d only seven men, you knew there’d be more. And only more would follow.
You looked then to your new companion, he was the closest thing to a Hand that you had. So you might as well treat him as such. “Ser Cole,”
“Varys, my lady.” He smiled at you, you smiled back slightly. Pleased with his insistence of familiarity with you.
“Varys, tell me about Jon Snow. Do you know anything about him?” You asked, your eyes narrowing slightly.
He nodded, “Yes my lady. Words have crinkled down from the North that he rose from the dead. Rumors of course but as I have heard it’s been done before. He’s been released from the Night's Watch and is forming an army.”
You looked at him somewhat confused, “An army? An army for what?”
“An army for the dead, my Lady.”
You raised an eyebrow and scoffed a bit, “The dead? Ser Varys, am I traveling to see a mad man?” You teased,
“Less mad than the man you were originally traveling north for.” You nodded in acknowledgment.
You looked back at him, with a soft earnestness in your eyes. “What of Sandor Clegane? Has there been any news of him?” You asked as if there was no emotion. But there was indeed quite a bit.
“No my Lady.” He spoke softly,
“Arya Stark?” You asked again, emotionless. Though your tone deceived your true emotion. And Ser Cole knew that.
“No my lady.” He spoke again in the same softness.
You took a deep breath in, allowing all your anxieties and sorrows to be pushed down, changing the subject to avoid more emotion, “Well if an army he needs he shall get it.” You looked back at the road ahead of you, “A war for a war.” You said as you tighten your grip on Lika’s reins.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
A week had passed, Sandor had made a surprisingly quick recovery, however his leg was still too weak to journey yet. So he took it upon himself to help the struggling sept build their community.
As he sat alone, eating the meal the commune had prepared. He looked up at the sky, blue and bright. It, as all things did now, reminded him of you.
He wondered where that falcon had gone, he missed it somewhat. Maybe it was you, maybe- he couldn’t finish his thought before he heard a familiar voice behind him,
“I think some of the other men are a bit afraid of you.” Ray said, stepping towards Sandor, handing him a drink.
“I’m used to it.” He said washing down a mouth full of bread with a cup of ale.
“(Y/N)” Ray said softly, Sandor looked up at him quickly, his eyes filled with anticipation, “You mentioned her name a few times when you were laid up.” Ray questioned softly, He pointed to Sandors bad leg. “She does that, do you?”
“No.” He asserted quickly, he looked back down to his bowl, “She was…” He struggled to admit it,
“Your woman?” Ray gathered,
Sandor nodded softly, “Aye. Got separated a ways back. Could be alive or not, don't know really.” He shook his head as he held it low.
Ray sighed, “If she’s meant to be here she will be. I thought you died a dozen times. You were stinking and covered in bugs. A bone sticking out here. But you kept breathing.” Sandor looked at him, “What kept you going?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Hate.” He nodded.
It wasn’t really a lie. He hated what the brotherhood did to keep him from you, hated the Lannisters for what they’d done to you, hated Baelish for stealing your land, Hated his brother for what he’d done to him. But mostly he hated whoever might have harmed you.
“No, there's a reason you’re still here.” Ray studied Sandor,
“Yeah I’m a big fucker and tough to kill.” He said, taking another bite of the bread in his bowl.
“No, the reason.” Ray asserted, standing in front of Sandor, “God’s not done with you yet.”
Sandor scoffed, “I've heard that before, man was talking about a different god though.”
“Maybe he was right, I don’t know much about gods.”
Sandor chuckled slightly, “You’re in the wrong line of work.”
“Oh, there's plenty of pious sons of bitches who think they know the word of god, or gods. I don't. I don't know their real names. Maybe it is the Seven. Or maybe it's the Old Gods. Or maybe it's the Lord of Light, or maybe they're all the same fucking thing. I don't know. What matters, I believe, is that there's something greater than us. And whatever it is, it's got plans for Sandor Clegane." Ray hasn't revealed that he knew who he was before. Sandor was slightly taken aback.
But Sandor sat with the words for a moment.
He looked at him, his gaze vulnerable but hard, “You didn’t know me back in my time, you don’t know the things I’ve done.”
Ray looked at him with a deep look, a darker one, “I’ve heard stories.”
“If Gods were real, why haven’t they punished me?” He found himself asking genuinely,
“They have.” Ray said, before walking away.
He wasn’t wrong. He was left not knowing if the love of his life was dead or alive. Left haunted by your scent and your memory. Haunted by the touch you gave to him.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As you approached the looming black castle. You’d never seen such a thing.
You turned to Ser Cole beside you.
“Grimm looking place.” You said wearily.
He leaned in closer to you, “You can do this, My Lady.” he said quietly only to you.
Your eyes focused on Castle Black, assessing it, “Even if I can’t, I have to.” You said quietly but sternly.
And with that you pulled the reins of Lika, pushing her forward, and your men followed behind you.
꒰ ୨୧ ─
Jon walked across the training yard to his commander’s chamber when he noticed Tormund looking into the Dining Halls.
Tormound turned around and noticed Jon walking closer, giving a look of confusion.
“You’ve a beauty waiting for ye’” Tormound said,
Jon raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to the Dining Hall. He saw you and Ser Cole, with seven other knights. You and your men stood.
“Lady Arryn?” He asked, taken aback by your unannounced presence.
“Lord Commander.” You lowered your head in respect,
“I’m not the Commander anymore.” He said walking towards you,
“I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you.” You smiled softly, trying your best to be friendly. “You are my cousin's blood. And so by some length I suppose you and I share some kind of… familiarity.”
“We don’t.” He said
You took a brief pause, giving up on an attempt to establish any kind of familiar relationship. “I hear you’ve seen the dead, walking.” Your eyes narrowed,
“Aye. Beyond the wall they march.” He spoke with an earnest fear.
“You’re building an army?” You asked
He nodded, “Aye, My Lady. I’ve been traveling to many great houses to ask for their aid.”
“But not mine?” Your eyes narrowed even more,
“Northern Houses. Besides, I’d rather not do dealings with Littlefinger.”
You almost interrupted him “Littlefinger is not head of House Arryn, Jon Snow, I am.” You said defensively, Jon was slightly taken aback, he nodded to your words, “I’ve not seen what you have. I cannot say that I am convinced, though I’ve no reason to assume you’d lie.”
“You’ll give your men?” He asked with a raised brow,
“I will.” You nodded, but before Jon could thank you, you continued, “But this exchange would need to be mutual.” You held your head high, “As you said you rather not do dealings with Littlefinger and recently I as well as more than half of the Knights of the Vale have decided the same.”
“You’ve rebuked the succession?” He took a step closer, his words sounded somewhat accusatory.
“The Lady of The Vale has claimed what she is owed.” Ser Cole spoke,
You raised a hand implying for Ser Cole to stop, “I have. The vale is a large and strong land. The Eyrie itself has never in three thousand years been breached. It would be invaluable to you and your armies.” You spoke with confidence, “If the house swayed in my favor, I would sever all ties with house Lannister. I would do it whether you offered aid or not. But I would join your forces. My house would swear obedience to yours. The Knights of the Vale would be at your service.”
“But you don’t have that?” His voice again turned to one of accusatory.
“I have half that.” Your confidence unwavering
“But not all of that?”
“Do you want the men or not?” You brought the confrontation to a dead end.
He thought about it in deep thought. “Will it be enough?”
“It will be.” ‘it would have to be’ you thought, you held out your hand “A war for a war.” He shook it.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As Sandor laid in that cot that was far too small for his body whilst being nursed back to health, he would often hold a pillow against his chest. Pretending it was you. Though it didn’t have your scent, your body's warmth, your plumpness, your weight, but it was all he had. He tried to remember the way your ways would look into his.
Your eyes always spoke loudly, they told him everything you felt.
From anger, sadness, fear, lust, ecstasy, and his favorite was joy.
Gods he wanted you badly. Like water, or wine preferably.
He laid there and thought of you, of all of the gentleness you gave to him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. And yet here he was dreaming of it at night. With his cock hardening against the soft fabric of the cott he laid in.
He moved off his bad leg rolling onto his stomach, using his strong leg to hold himself up as he clutched the pillow in his arms and grinded into the cott.
The pressure against his aching length was good, but it did not compare to the satisfaction only your cunt provided.
Gods he thought of how perfectly you fit with him. Your body molded to his and his to yours.
He rocked himself into the cot whilst he tried his best to remember how your walls would tighten against his cock, how your lips would find his.
He missed the wetness of your cunt, the plumpness of your breasts, the softness of your body.
He remembered the first time he’d taken you, truly and properly. You’d taken him so well, it was as if he’d been made for you. You held him so sweetly as his cock pushed in and out of you.
A sweetness he’d not ever forget. He needed you badly that was for certain and all he had not was a pillow and a cot.
“Seven hells” he hissed as he reluctantly filled back back into his back and pulled himself out of his breeches and began to stroke his length. He imagined the sounds you’d make. The beautiful moans of pleasure that you’d sing to him, the lustful and vulgar sounds your cunt made when his cock slipped in and out of you.
But what always had done him in was your eyes. Gods your beautiful beautiful eyes. They showed no fear, pity, or disgust. They showed a love he’d never seen before. How warm and soft they were- “Fuck!” Sandor hissed as he spilt his seed out onto his stomach.
Perhaps now he’d be able to sleep. But of course he couldn’t.
꒰ ୨୧ ─
Later the next morning, Sandor was deep within the woods and far from the community. He was finally well enough to walk and run further and further from the commune. That’s the way he liked it. Being far from the rest. He didn’t need any men and he certainly didn’t need any women.
As Sandor chopped wood, he heard a scream, a scream of a woman. Sandor dropped what he was doing and ran as well as he could with his limp he still had.
When he finally reached the sept everyone was massacred, and Ray, the closest thing to a friend he’d had since you or Arya, was hanged in the middle of the sept he helped build.
He picked up his ax and went hunting.
Hunting for the men who did what they did.
NOTE:
Does this one lowkey suck? Yeah. And what about it? This is going to serve as a good catalyst for the next chapter I promise.
K love you, xoxo
Bambi
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