The Crushed Flower

The sky shone fiercely with all the intensity of the Gods as if they, and not men, were the ones at war. Sansa could see the illuminating green surrender into the clouds and how it formed a macabre eerie foggy mist over the sea. It was spectacular and frightening all at once, but still she could not peel her eyes away. This was war. This was what the battlefield was truly like. Where men sauntered out in the thousands only to meet their doom.

If Sansa had ever felt like a feeble, simple minded and weak woman, it was now. She could hear their cries as she leaned over her bedside desk. It took deep breaths to soothe her, but she needed to find some source of comfort.

Frowning, she went over to her bed and gingerly picked up her favourite little doll. It had been a gift from her father and always served as a painful reminder of just how much she took for granted. A light smile began to make its way to her lips and a feeling of warmth began to make its way through her body until a distinct and dark male voice interrupted her musings.

"The lady started to panic…"

She gasped and whirled around to see Sandor Clegane perched casually in the corner of her room against a wall. A little bewildered, she cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?" She tried to sound hostile, but even to her, the attempt seemed quite shabby.

"Not here for long," he replied gruffly and Sansa stared at him in confusion.

"Where?" She protested. Her voice held much more emotion than she wanted to show, but she couldn't help the mixed feelings that welled inside her.

"Some place that isn't burning." Silence was what filled the room now and even though it was a few mere moments, to Sansa it seemed to stretch on forever. Of course she thought to herself dimly. He hates fire.

He looked at her and for once Sansa saw something that she had not seen before. Sadness perhaps. Maybe it was longing.

"North would be," he paused as he looked at her and continued "could be…"

Still holding the doll and uncomprehending of why Sandor was telling her this, Sansa said the first thing that sprang into her mind.

"What about the king?"

Sandor did not even hesitate. "He can die just fine on his own," he said carelessly as he took a swig of wine from his bottle. He gave a satisfied grunt and turned his gaze to her again. "I could take you with me, take you to Winterfell." He stood up and Sansa didn't dare take her eyes off him. Just what was he proposing? Why in the midst of battle had he come all the way here just to tell her this? To offer her this? Was it freedom?

"Do you want to go home?" He asked. Sansa was at a loss of what to say. Indeed what could she say? She was to wed Joffery! Surely returning home would have the king's army marching her way to either claim her back (with ramifications she couldn't even imagine) or to place her head on a pike. And she just couldn't put her two little brothers in even more danger.

"I'll be safe here," she surmised, albeit, reluctantly. "Stannis won't hurt me." Indeed why would he? She was merely Cersei's hostage and he had nothing to gain by killing her and making an enemy out of her brother Robb. Sandor stood there, but Sansa couldn't decipher his emotions. He was so stiff though. Suddenly he took a menacing step forward. Sansa let out a startled whimper and looked to the ground. Her body shook a little in fear.

"Look at me," he demanded. Reluctantly, she looked at him. His dark eyes bore into her own, but she couldn't see any malice in them. Sandor bent his head lower to meet her eye level. "Stannis is a killer," he said seriously. "The Lannisters are killers," he spat. "Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers." He moved away and sniffed. Sansa's heart was hammering in her chest.

Sandor huffed and looked at her in slight benediction. "So you better get use to looking at them." What passed with some heavy silence, gave Sansa some realization. Suddenly all her fear was gone. Sandor…

He had always been there for her. Always there to protect her from the king when he could, always there to wipe away her blood, cover her shame and intervene on her behalf. How could she have been so blind?

"You won't hurt me," she said, keeping her eyes peeled on his face. He likewise did not take his eyes off hers, but he seemed a little taken aback by her statement. However, the corners of his mouth upturned into the hint of a smile.

"No little bird I won't hurt you." Sansa did not know what to say, but as he turned away, Sansa could not bear to watch him go. Undoubtedly he was leaving and most likely she would never see him again. And that realization caused a deep ache in her bosom.

"Wait!"

Sandor stopped dead in his tracks and straightened up. Sansa didn't know what to say, but there was no way they could depart like this! "I-I don't want you to leave." It sounded pathetic and she wasn't sure what sort of ground she was treading on, but they just couldn't part like this. Sandor turned around to face her. His expression was gruff and somewhat emotionless as usual, but there was deep contemplation in his eyes.

"There is no way I can stay little bird. Not even for you since I abandoned the battle." Sansa swallowed hard. She understood this of course. If Joffery won there is no way he or anyone within the royal family and counselors would allow Sandor to live. "But…" Sansa whispered, suddenly overcome with a throbbing pain in her head and a deep ache in her throat. She did not want to cry in front of him, but yet she still wanted him to see her weep tears. Tears for him. Tears for his sake.

Sandor's rough calloused hand reached out to caress her face. His fingers traced the fine contours of her high cheek bones, the strength of her jaw. His thumb gently ran across her bottom lip. How was it even possible for man so intimidating, cruel and as strong as Sandor to be so tender and sympathetic? Sansa licked her lips as his hand cupped her cheek. She let her pale hand cover his before brazenly running into his chest and pressing herself against him. She didn't really understand what she was doing or why she was doing it, but for once she wanted a feel of what other women experienced. Her arms wrapped around his torso and she pressed the side of her head against his chest. "I'm going to miss you," she murmured sadly.

Sandor was stunned to say the least. He had not been expecting that, but the feel of her soft female body against his was enough to overwhelm his drunken warrior mind. His strong arms wrapped around her body and he held her close. His fingers ran through her glossy red hair and he closed his eyes. She smelt of everything that was beautiful. Rose water, vanilla and lavender coupled with her own natural female scent.

"I know," he whispered back to her. "I know little bird." He wasn't sure how long he held her like that amidst the sounds of explosions and battle cries. What worried him is that he wasn't sure if he would be able to let go. Now that he had turned back he didn't think he could leave without forcefully taking her with him.

"Why?" She said to him softly and looked up at him. He raised a brow at her question. "Care to be more specific little bird?" Sansa hesitated a moment and took a deep breath. "Why are you always there for me so much? Why did you save me all those times? Help me? Say all those things to me as if you were trying to tell me something? Why of all places did you come here?" Silence ensured as Sandor gave her questions careful consideration.

"You do know how I got this burn don't you?" Sansa looked away from him, but his grip tightening around her girth let her know that it was not to be tolerated. "Yes," she conceded feeling a little ashamed. He made a sound of disgust, but didn't let go of her. Either way, Sansa did not feel threatened staying in his arms.

"It is a cruel world out there. I think you know that now, but when I first saw you, I knew that you were a naïve girl full of illusions. Even now you still harbor those illusions." The words were as sharp as a double edged sword. Sansa's lips formed a thin line and Sandor released her. "I only did what was necessary. I tried to quell these illusions with what I said, but also offer you some hope with my actions."

It took a few moments for Sansa to digest what he was saying, but eventually she understood. He was merely educating a fool. And what a great fool she had been. "Why?" That was the only question left. Sandor chuckled and took another swig of wine. Sansa felt slightly disgusted, but it seemed whatever horrors were out in the battlefield had made him turn to Drink.

"Why? Well little bird, you simply remind me of all the injustices I myself suffered when I was a child. If ever I was one. I am certain now that all those childish foolhardy delusions you harbored are gone are they not?" She didn't reply and merely looked down. His words were cutting, but they were nothing but the truth. There was nothing else to do, but grudgingly accept his musings.

"Yes," she said sadly and went to sit on her bed. The thundering sounds outside the city's walls continued. An awkward stillness passed over until Sansa broke it. "I thank you Sir Sa…" He cut her off. "I am not a sir," he hissed between his teeth. Sansa shrank back a little, but nodded. "Thank you Sandor. Thank you for everything." And she meant it too.

Sandor said nothing in return and merely looked out the window with its many green and moonlit lights shining through. "Stay safe my lady," he whispered to her sadly and turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Sansa cried out again. Sandor let out a slight laugh and turned back to her. "My lady if you keep me here too long, my head will be off in the morning along with yours no matter which side wins." Sansa bit her lip. She had resolved to stay here and that she would, but she didn't want to forget Sandor and she didn't want him to forget her.

A thought came to her mind. One that no highborn lady should even contemplate especially not one engaged to a king. However it enticed her. It could be her own private revenge against Joffery and for once in her life she had wanted to defy all the natural order. She wanted to be defiant like Lyanna Stark as her father had often told her. Gods above, she wanted to rebel just like Arya. But most of all, she wanted to give this to Sandor Clegane and she wanted him to take it from her. It was irrational and impulsive. No doubt she would regret this come the morning, but for now nothing else mattered. And besides, it was Queen Cersei herself who told her the best weapon a woman had was between her legs.

"Are you…are you really going to leave without leaving me anything to remember you by?" Sandor's brows furrowed and he casually strolled up to her. "What is it that my lady bird desires? I am sure you can remember me in your thoughts or perhaps like so many fools, you need a token. Some sort of object to worship. Sansa…that will probably get you killed." Now it was Sansa's turn to laugh. The whole situation was laughable to say the least, but what did she care? How did any of it matter anymore?

"That is not exactly what I want," she said and then looked at him more seriously. Her blue eyes bore hard into his face and she grimaced at the hideous scar. No doubt there were probably countless of battle scars on his body. "I don't think I am ever going to see you again if you leave." Sandor snorted at her words. "There is no 'if' about it little bird. I will leave and very soon, but tell me, what is it that you want?"

"I want you to take something no other man can take from me ever again. Least of all Joffery." Sandor regarded her quietly and his eyes narrowed. He didn't understand. Sansa gulped and continued. "I don't think that I am ever going to…enjoy…I mean," she bit her lip and looked up at him. He was waiting for her to explain her request. "I don't want Joffery to be my first." She looked down when she said that and felt her cheeks grow hot. If anything, even the atmosphere seemed to rise in its heat. She was too scared to look up into Sandor's face for fear of what she may find there. Disgust? Rejection?

The silence stretched on and Sansa wondered if what she had said had stretched too far. Did it diminish any grudging admiration or respect Sandor had for her? "Sansa," Sandor began softly. She gazed up at him. She had never seen his expression become so gentle. Her gaze at him was expectant. He placed his hand on top of her head. "'You're just a child." Even his own voice sounded so unsure.

Sansa flared up a little. "I am not! I've had my blood. You were the one that barged in my chambers and saw for yourself." Sandor's lips pursed and he looked away. Please don't reject me Sansa thought desperately. "And still a child. Sansa if your maidenhead is broken you could…" she stood up angrily. Even her own confidence was a surprise to her. "I don't care. Plenty of women lie about their maidenheads on their wedding nights and needless to say there are plenty of tricks to make it happen. But I do not want Joffery to have it. I do not want him to be the first one to take my maidenhead."

Sandor breathed out. He was clearly at a loss of what to do in this situation as far as Sansa could tell. He could have easily walked out on her, but the fact that he was standing there even now was plain proof that he was definitely considering this. That he wanted this. What sort of man wouldn't?

"Please,"Sansa started. The desperation was evident in her voice. "I want it to be you. I could always remember the first man that took me." Sandor placed his hand on her shoulders. His gaze at her was rather pitying, however he briefly analysed her body. "Why me? I have no honour and hardly have a regard for women. I have killed women. Countless women."

"Have you raped women?" Sansa asked. Sandor grunted and his clasp on her shoulder tightened. "Would you still like to give yourself to me if I have?"

"Yes," Sansa said without hesitation. She would rather be raped by Sandor than Joffery if choice came down to it. He barked out a laugh. "I doubt it, but as per your question no. I have not raped any woman. That is one thing I cannot stomach." Sansa felt her respect for him rising within her chest a little more. How many men admitted to something like that? Plundering a woman was considered to be a glorified thing by many men in battle.

"I want it to be you. You have done so much for me and I want to thank you." Sandor scoffed, but Sansa was not going to back down. This was shameless to say the least, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She didn't want them to part without something significantly memorable. "Sandor please," she whispered pressing herself against him again. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "I want you to. I want it to be you and it would be nice to reflect back and think that at least my first time wasn't forced."

The air in the room ceased to subside. This could only end in two ways. Either Sandor would take her or he would leave. She certainly hoped it was not in the latter. "Don't cry little bird," he said to her and kissed her forehead. His thumbs wiped away her tears. "Sansa you do not understand what you are saying neither do you understand the consequences for it. You're a Stark girl are you not? The daughter of Eddard Stark? Don't forget your honour. Remember who you are. Remember your family."

They stared at each other again. "And I'm the drunk one," he mused. But Sansa didn't care. "It doesn't matter to me anymore Sandor. Honestly it doesn't. I want you to do this for me. Please. Please do this for me." Her pleading was in every fibre of her being. Her eyes were so sad, so desperate and so beautiful. If he had been sober, he would have brushed her off the moment she suggested he do such a thing (even though he wanted to), but under the haze of wine, how could he refuse her?

"Sansa…"

She looked up at him with furrowed brows and desperate longing. Tonight was her night and she would get revenge against Joffery in her own way. For once she would do something for herself and instead of being the perfect obedient Sansa Stark everyone knew her to be, she would become something else entirely. At least tonight.

She stepped on her tippy toes to reach closer to Sandor's face and only after a split moment of uncertainty, she pressed her lips against his.

Her eyes were closed and the kiss was innocent enough, but she wasn't prepared for what Sandor suddenly did. His arms wrapped around her waist and he crushed her against him. His lips were fiercely against hers and his tongue was licking her bottom lip. He tasted so manly. Bitter and sweet at once. She could also smell him so ardently.

He didn't exactly stink, but he had a mixture of smells within him. Leather, blood from battle, sweat and musk. It was overwhelming. A mixture of feelings ran throughout her and she couldn't even describe what they were even if her life depended on it. His tongue started pushing between the parting of her lips and Sansa opened her mouth to let him enter.

He was rough, but how could she expect him to be anything less? His hand clumped her hair and yanked it back to hold her head at an angle. She assumed it was for better access. His tongue vigorously played with hers even though she wasn't sure what to do. But he mercilessly sucked on her wet muscle and her bottom lip. Sansa moaned into his mouth. Although the pull against her hair was slightly painful and his arm around her waist was too tight, she was enjoying having his mouth against hers. He tasted of wine.

When he pulled away, Sansa was breathless, but his mouth went for her neck. He licked it and sucked on it and nipped at it. Sansa let out little whimpers. "Sandor," she whispered. His lips found hers again in their desperate need, but this time his hands were fumbling with the lacing of her gown at the back. He was pulling at it roughly and eventually became so fed up that he simply ripped the back of the outer gown in half. If his tongue wasn't in her mouth she would gave gasped.

Nevertheless, Sandor was getting desperate. He pushed her hard against a wall-his armour cold against her body. Her gown had fallen to her waist, but the petticoat was still on. On one shoulder though it had slipped far enough to reveal a small breast. Sandor grabbed it and pulled at the pink moist nipple. Sansa cried out into his mouth. She managed to pull away to catch her breath and say "I can't breathe." Sandor simply shoved her against the wall.

"Then don't," his voice was gruff, but still tender. It was dripping with arousal. His lips found hers again, but his hand was grabbing the skirts of her gown in folds. When it was high enough, he slipped his hand between her thighs. Instinctively, Sansa hoisted one leg around his calf to give him better admittance. She moaned into his mouth when his hand touched her womanhood. He didn't do much other than cup it and massage it.

The feel of his calloused warriors hand against her slick heat made Sansa go weak at the knees. She wore nothing underneath her gown other than some petticoats and her stockings. She hadn't bothered to place on the proper underwear because of the rush when Stannis's army arrived. She wondered what Sandor would think of this, but she doubted he noticed the lack of aforementioned attire. When he finally did pull away from her, he stared at her for the longest time before removing his hand from her womanhood and simply ripped her entire gown and underclothes off.

A blush came to her cheeks. No man had ever seen her naked before and her arms immediately went to cover her breasts. Sansa looked down in embarrassment, but Sandor placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. He stroked her chin and then moved away to look at her body.

"Take out your hair," he commanded. Sansa's lips ached from his kiss, but she dared not disobey him now. Slowly, she took out the pins that confined some of her hair back before letting it fall all down. She flicked it behind her shoulders and managed with a lot of self will, to look at Sandor Clegane again.

He looked at her in deep contemplation and he reached out to touch one of her little breasts. His thumb swirled around its hardened nipple and he smiled at her weakly. "Go to the bed." Although Sansa still felt extremely shy, it was too late to turn back at this point and nonetheless, she wanted this. She wanted this badly. With what little dignity she had left, Sansa walked over to the bed and sat on it.

Sandor was still staring at her or had he been staring at her posterior? "Sansa," Sandor said a little more harshly. She met his gaze and arched a brow. "I meant go to the bed and lie down. Spread your legs apart." The statement was forward, but Sansa remembered that this had all been her idea in the first place. She did as he asked and slowly spread apart her legs. However Sandor didn't approach the bed yet. He began to take off his armour and out of her peripheral vision, Sansa watched him. He removed the silver plating and the mail then his boots and leather tunic. His doublet came off next leaving him in nothing but his leather pants, which he took off too. Sansa blushed when she caught sight of his manhood at the nest of his black curls. It was stiff and alert. Ready for her. But she was also alarmed by it. She had never seen a man naked before.

He sauntered over to her and Sansa began to feel a sense of anxiety in the pit of her belly. She was scared no doubt, but on the hand, she had never been so sure of anything in her entire life. He moved between her legs and then on top of her. His hands on either side of her body. His gaze was a mixture of emotions rather than the warrior hard-faced anger she usually saw in him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured and took her full on the mouth. Sansa could feel his hardness against her legs and although it had a soft velvety feeling in regards to its outer sheathe, she had never expected it to be so…so hard! He pulled her nipples and she moaned into his mouth once again before his mouth began to trail down her jawline, along her neck and down to her bosom.

He began to kiss her breasts and lick them. Sansa gasped and sighed in pleasure. His tongue ran over them and under them and then he took a nipple full in his mouth and began to suck. Sansa whimpered. Sandor continued his ministrations and lapped at the other nipple. He bit them too, but not too hard. "So soft," he muttered as his hand trailed along the flat of her stomach. He gazed at it sadly. One day that stomach would grow big and round with sons. Another man's sons and deep in the darkest corner of his heart, he wished that things could have been a little different. That Sansa's belly grew big with his sons.

Sansa's hands came up to rest on his shoulders. "Do you still think I am a child?" Sandor looked up at her and held back a grimace. As much as he was enjoying this, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something sordid and filthy and that was fancy shit coming from a murderer like himself. "In many ways yes, but right now…no." She caressed his burnt cheek with her knuckles and Sandor began to kiss her belly. Whatever for, Sansa could not fathom. Perhaps it was a normal part of love making to kiss odd parts of the body. And that was something Sansa was soon to find out.

Suddenly, she felt Sandor's hot tongue against her left thigh. Her mouth opened in surprise but she didn't say anything. What was he doing? He tenderly licked her thigh in long languid strokes and Sansa relished in the feel of his hot mouth against the smooth pale skin. But she wasn't at all prepared for what he did next.

Without warning, Sandor grabbed both her thighs and pulled her close to his face. Before she could question him, she felt his tongue run its away along the inner folds of her wetness and that made her moan in surprise. "Sandor…" she panted in disbelief, but he ignored her shock. She was so ignorant about what happened in the bedroom that it wasn't even worth explaining to her. She could find out by herself.

His tongue continued to taste the intricate folds of her most secret part and he thoroughly savoured her scent and her taste. Meanwhile, Sansa had bunched his hair into her hand while the other gripped the sheets as she moaned and mewled and cried out his name. He loved hearing his name roll off her lips. His tongue moved up to the little pearl located on the upper part of her womanhood. Countless coming and goings with whores had taught him what women liked. He knew how to make them open up like flowers.

His tongue made its way over to that little sensitive area and if anything Sansa's cries became louder. No doubt they'd be muffled by the sounds of battle outside. "Sandor!" She groaned out and writhed as he continued his attention on her most sensitive place.

Sansa couldn't describe the feelings that overcame her. She couldn't even think properly. All she could feel, all she could think about was the hot place between her legs and how good Sandor was making it feel. The sensations were washing all over her body, but something else was happening too. She felt as if her body was coming to some certain overwhelming point and it wasn't long before that happened.

Everything began to feel like jelly. Her legs, her belly, her arms. Something was happening and her body began to tremble and shake. She never knew she could feel anything like this. She wasn't even sure how loud she had cried out, but to her ears it sounded like a scream. She also felt something gush out of her, but she was in too much of a daze to even contemplate on what that was. All she knew was that she was wet. So wet now that it had gone onto the sheets, although Sandor's mouth was still between her legs.

When the spasm was over, Sandor's mouth made its way from her womanhood and up to her stomach. He circled her bellybutton with his tongue before gently rubbing her thighs to soothe their trembling.

"Sandor," she said again in a hoarse whisper. She was breathing hard and her body was sweating. It was hot in here regardless, but he couldn't help but boil in passion for the site of her. This girl who was barely a woman. No older than fourteen. "Yes my lady?" He whispered back. She reached out to touch his face. Her expression was so soft. So tender. It only reminded him why he cared so much about her in the first place (not that he would ever let her know).

"I…" she didn't know what to say. He simply smiled at her and moved back up to kiss her lips. She could taste herself on him. She wrapped her arms around him and traced her fingers along the many scars on his body. Most probably from sword slashes and being hit by arrows. But she didn't see it as ugly. She saw them as a mark of honour. A testament of strength and courage.

She felt slightly embarrassed about the wetness between her legs and on the sheets, but Sandor didn't seem to mind. Was that supposed to happen? Was that normal? She was too shy to ask him. He broke away from her and wiped a few strands of hair away from her face. "You always had such beautiful blue eyes. Vibrant red hair to compliment them. A true Tully." The reference to her mother's house brought back the familiar sadness of being separated from her family, but she wasn't going to let the sadness ruin such a moment.

She smiled at him and kissed him gently and he spread her legs apart further and pressed his manhood against her heat. Sansa gasped feeling how hard and hot it was and how big. Could all that fit inside her? Sandor placed it against her entrance and used one hand to hold her shoulder. "It's going to hurt little bird. It's going to hurt a lot, but you do need to relax nevertheless," he said breathlessly.

Sansa took a deep breath and felt him attempt to push into her virgin barrier. Sansa, after what she had experienced, had not expected it to hurt despite Sandor's warnings. But it did. It hurt a lot. "Ah!" She cried out with an undignified yelp. Sandor paused a moment and watched as her face contorted to pain. He pitied her and felt bad for this, but it had to be done. This would be more merciful than what Joffery would have done on his wedding night with her and for once, Sandor could see why she wanted it to be him.

"Relax," he said again before pushing into her further. Sansa yelped again and her nails dug into his flesh enough to draw blood, but he kept pushing in. She was tight. Oh so very tight. So hot and yielding. "S-stop! Oh Gods stop please." Sandor stopped, but he didn't remove himself. Sansa was breathing hard and in an affectionate gesture, he placed a light kiss on her lips. "It has to be done little bird."

She looked at him in disbelief, but swallowed hard and nodded. He would not stop for her now. He pushed in and he pushed in deep as hard as it was. She was tight and she was resisting him, but there was nothing she could do to protect herself. He had expected her to cry more tears of virginal innocence, but instead she smacked him on the head as she cried out in pain. "Gods above," she seethed through her teeth. Perhaps the Stark girl had more spirit then he gave her credit for.

Her legs were trembling again, but in pain. Both their raspy breaths intermixed with each other. Sandor began to move in and out. Sansa let out whimpers here and there, but most of the time, she bit her lip. Hard enough to bleed. Sandor bent down to suck on her bleeding lips while he continued to move in and out between her thighs. Her groans of pain were muffled with his mouth over hers.

It continued like this for several minutes, but he took the pace up and slammed into her harder and faster. She whimpered and occasionally let out cries of pain when the friction became too strong, but he did not falter. It would have been a mercy for him to come quickly inside her, but he wanted to savour this. He didn't want it to end.

He kept up the laborious task until he could no more and gave in to Sansa's hot flesh. He released himself with a loud moan and almost collapsed on top of her. For several moments, they lay there together. Motionless. Panting. Sweating.

He moved off her and on to his side. Her legs were still apart, most likely from being in pain. Things were still loud outside. "Sansa," he muttered as he stroked her hair. She looked at him and let her thumb caress his bearded chin. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. She gave him a bland smile.

"Is it always going to be like that?" She asked him quietly, clearly referring to their love making. He stroked her hair gently. "You'll get use to it. The worst part is over. If you had a proper lover, perhaps after a few times, the final consummation would feel good. Indeed it does with practise, but…" he trailed off. He didn't have to say it. Sansa knew Joffery would never allow her such passions. He would hardly try to pleasure her the way Sandor had before entering her body.

"I'm glad it was you," she said to him. He kissed her lips, but knew they couldn't tarry. "You need to get dressed." The smile faded, but she did as he said and weakly pulled her aching body up. Even though there wasn't much light, Sandor could clearly see the blood splotch on the bed. Proof of it was stained on Sansa's thighs. She had bled more than usual, but maybe it was because she was so young.

She looked quite pale too. Grimly, Sandor jumped up and pulled open her oak chest to find her something suitable to wear. She accepted it gratefully, but Sandor could see she was trembling a little. "Go and sit down," he said and she did so on a nearby seat using the dress to hide her shame. Sandor rummaged about the room until he found some spare linen and proceeded to rip it. He then grabbed a jug of cool water and poured it into a bowl and brought it to Sansa. "Clean yourself up before you get dressed." Blushing, she accepted the items wordlessly while he turned away and grabbed his garments. As he proceeded to place on his clothes, he wondered if Sansa was starting to regret what they had just done.

She was awfully quiet now, but that was probably because she was in pain and feeling a little shameful.

Sansa sighed as she pressed the cool wet linen cloth against her thighs and her privates. Her fluids, blood and his seed had made a complete mess between her legs. She hadn't expected it to be so messy. There was a stinging aching rawness between her thighs, but she pushed it out of her mind. It was of little consequence now. She could feel and smell Sandor all over her. When she was satisfied that she had cleaned herself up, she slipped into her dress and grabbed her night robe to place over it.

Sandor was already fully dressed and was holstering his swords now. Sansa didn't know what to say to him. Once Sandor was satisfied that he was fully clad, he proceeded to make it over to the fire place and kindle it. The logs lit up and Sansa wasn't sure why he was doing that. It was hot enough already.

"Sandor," she began, unsure of his motives at the moment. He simply ignored it and grabbed the bloodstained sheet off the bed and proceeded to rip it. "We'll have to hide the evidence Sansa. Your dress, the one that is ripped. Hide it. Put it away and make a good excuse for its ruin." She did as she was bid by him knowing she could easily ask Shae to dispose of it for her without any questions asked. Indistinctly, she watched as Sandor torched the bloodstained sheets they had just made love on and dissolve within the fire. When that was finished after several minutes, only then did he turn to her with a hard look that made her shift uncomfortably.

"Sansa, you are a good liar. Make sure you speak nothing of this to no one. Not your handmaidens, not your family. Nobody you come to trust. Because as soon as the words leave your lips or someone deciphers the truth from your behaviour, Joffery's wrath will be unimaginable." She nodded her head. He made no move to comfort her or so such affection. Perhaps he thought of her as sullied now. Why was he being so cold?

"It would…displease me if you had to suffer such a horrible fate." Even though the words held no emotion, Sansa felt the warmth of them. She guessed she understood why he was being cold now. He was saying farewell. "I'll never forget you Sandor Clegane."

He sneered, but it was a playful sneer nonetheless. "Stay safe Lady Sansa, my little bird." And with that said, he turned away without a kiss or a caress. He turned away and left, leaving her standing motionless in the room.

Sansa's fist clenched and then unclenched. She struggled not to cry.

Sandor Clegane had left her and she couldn't go with him.

A/N: I in no way endorse pedophelia of any kind. This is simply a different world and set at a time when people were expected to grow up faster. Adults and children were treated much the same and the harshness of the environment made it crucial for early mental and physical development for reproduction and survival of the species. Perfectly understandable for such a time period. I had originally intended this to be a oneshot, but I could see a plot spinning in my mind. I have watched Season 1 and 2 of the HBO series and read part of the first book and a little of the second. I mainly go on to the fire and song wiki to fill in black holes. But anyway I hope you like this and please review. Would love to know what you think.