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the bird and the hound || bear & periodical

H

HeyThereLittleBear

Guest
The life of a woman was done in various roles - as a child she had been the dutiful daughter and had been the treasure of her mother’s eye. She had learned to sew and to sing, had learned to be a lady proper and had become quite a fetching young woman. She had played the role of blushing bride to be when she was brought to King’s Landing, and had even continued the role after the terrible loss of her father. But now her role was that of a frightened girl and she was having hard time making sense of it all. Joffrey wasn’t the king she’d thought him to be and her life was not the fairy tale that she’d ever imagined it to be.

Her one place of peace was the godswood of the Red Keep, a place that so few visited that she was almost guaranteed peace. Beneath the tree of the old god she felt at peace, as if a piece of her father lingered here still to watch over her. She needed the comfort so desperately, as her life had spiralled out of control. The one man she’d loved in her life had become a cruel demon that haunted her, and now had led to her almost being raped by several men. She’d been able to keep herself together then, but she could feel the strings that held her facade of strength together slipping.

Sansa sat herself in a place she would not immediately be seen, her hands gathering her dress up around her so that she could curl up as small as she felt at this moment. Her head bowed into her knees, a position that she had found herself in all too often for her comfort. Her shoulders sagged slowly before she allowed herself to cry, tears that were silent because she didn’t dare risk for someone to hear her and come investigate. At what point, she wondered, did the gods both old and new abandon her? It must have been when she came to King’s Landing, when everything had started to go foul.

Her father was dead. Her sister missing. Her family was disbanded and she was the prisoner of the new mad king that hadn’t even formally taken the throne yet. Her one hope was that she would manage to escape in the middle of the night, though that was a dream that was too lofty for her to think of outside of the privacy of her room. Sansa let her body settle into the ground completely, feeling like she was a child again, her forehead pressing against the cold stone as she tried to ease the tears that seemingly wouldn’t stop flowing.

Until she thought she heard the scuff of a boot, her body popping up from the ground, sniffling and wiping at her red-blotched face. As emotionally exhausted as she was, she couldn’t let anyone behind the mask that she held up so tightly, because if word got out that she was anything less than completely enamored with Joffrey… She didn’t want to think about it. “Who- Who’s there?” She called out, wiping the stubborn tears off her face as her eyes continued to betray her.
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

The man, was a born killer. Like a dog or a shark, his pupils dilated when the smell of blood filled his nostrils. He was at his best when he was fighting for his life, swinging a sword within an inch of death. When his heart was racing, and the fear of death was in the back of his mind, he was at his best. On the other hand, his upbringing had taught him out to hunt and how to track. He was a smart man, truly. A good mix of brain and brawn. He just didn't quite have the empathy that other well educated men seemed to have.

"'Ello Poppet."

His voice was monotone as he rounded the corner. He had taken his heavier armor off, figuring he wouldn't need it around King's Landing. He had been wrong before, but lucky enough for him, he could hold his own. Long brown locks hung in his face. His boots adorned with splatters of dried blood. Beads of sweat from the fight made his forehead shine in the light, yet he wasn't breathing heavily. Those men weren't even warmups. They were nothing but street trash.

"You know, if you wanted to hide, you shouldn't ask "Who's there?""

Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, he looked down upon the small bird in front of him. He figured he should give her a choice. Her husband to be seemed to like to throw her around and abuse her, but he would treat her with some dignity. After all, it was the least he could do. Things weren't going very well for Sansa and the other Starks lately. With her father being killed, one of her brothers being pushed out a window, and her sister being missing. Hell, she probably had so much swimming in that head of hers, she likely hadn't been eating nor sleeping too much. After this episode, she probably would be hiding in her room for the foreseeable future. Of course, Joffrey would find a way to draw her out of her room, but he would be there.

"Did you want to walk with me, or would you rather I carry you?"

A low hoarse voice emerged once more. Holding his hand out. She was going to have to take it one way or another, but he did need to get her back to Joffrey. He would protect her though, it was only right. After all, it wasn't like she had anyone else sticking up for her. Despite his reputation, he wasn't a brainless killer. He just liked to kill as evidenced by the pile of bodies in a building a few feet away. He had tracked her this far, and Joffrey didn't exactly give him any sort of feasible deadline. He wondered if Joffrey even cared.
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

The Hound was the last person that she’d expected to come around the corner, the blood still specked on his boots and face still wet with perspiration from what he’d done. He had saved her from a fate that surely would have been worse than death, but she didn’t know quite what to say about it. He wasn’t the type that she would have normally thought of as a knight, as he was far from Sir Loras, but he had been the only one that had stepped between herself and the savages that had been surrounding her with the darkest of intents in mind.

“I’m not hiding,” She lied, a poor one as her voice still wavered with tears, her hands wiping away the last of her tears that lingered on her cheeks. Her face was still flushed from her tears, but otherwise she looked only like she hadn’t slept well in the past few days and like she desperately needed someone to make sure she ate more than a bird’s amount of food.

Sansa was hesitant to come anywhere near him even as he extended a hand, asking a question that sounded more to her like he was offering whether she wanted to die by burning or beheading. “I came to the godswood to get peace. Am I robbed now of my gods as well as my decency?” She asked, her voice low and sullen, as she clearly didn’t want to go anywhere near where Joffrey was. He was worse than the other men would have been, a cruelty that no woman should be subject to.

“I just want a few more moments… Please.” She begged, too ashamed of her loss in dignity and in the fact that she was sitting here begging a man that was known for being unkind.
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

Breathing heavily, he shook his head. "You are a bad hider and a bad liar." He said with with little emotion. When she didn't accept his extended hand he made his way towards her. Kneeling down, the lumbering brute balanced himself on the ball of his feet. It was an awkward position and he wasnt used to it, but he didn't let his face show. Heavy gloved hands wiped the tears from her face, as he felt bad about her situation. He respected her father, he really did, and what Joffrey had done was inexcusable.

Reaching, Sandor produced a bit of cloth. Handing it to her, he stood up. As a favor to her father, Sandor determined that he would protect her, or at least do his best to protect her. "You have three minutes." He said before he left her by herself. Nothing he could say would ease the girl's suffering, they both knew it. His protection would only go so far. The best way to get her out of the situation, was to leave. Out in the world, he could protect her, well, better than while they were here.

The man kicked and viewed some of the dead bodies. Some of the men he had seen in Flea Bottom, though it was safe to make the assumption they were all from there. His eyes scanned over his own handiwork.
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

There was nothing and no words to explain the shame that hung in her chest at his calling out her obvious lie, her face red with her embarrassment as the otherwise blank man lowered himself down to her level. She could smell the stench of blood still on his clothes and the less copper smell of his sweat from his proximity, but what shocked her most was the soft hand that stroked her tears away. Her lips parted and she hesitated on the verge of a question, the words dying before ever leaving her throat as he passed her a piece of cloth.

Sansa let out a choked noised and covered her mouth with the cloth, letting it be the thing to catch her fresh tears as she struggled now to keep her composure. Her eyes watched him as he left her to herself for the moment, his figure just outside where she could see his outline. Her shoulders bowed and she let her face press softly into the cloth, which smelled of his skin, and wept until her eyes itched and burned and her cheeks were splotched with her shame.

She was sure that her three minutes were well spent but her eyes couldn't force any more tears to the brim and she wiped her face clean. Her eyes were red from her tears and her cheeks still flush but she looked less weak now that her shoulders were straight again and her hand holding the cloth like she gripped the hilt of a sword. She approached him slowly, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder tentatively, "I... Thank you." Her voice was soft, and she struggled to force a smile to her lips, "For... everything."
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

The Hound knew she likely would need more time, and while he worked to pile up the bodies outside of the house, he could hear her crying just feet away. Letting out a groan, his brow was beading with sweat. Dead bodies were heavy, fat wads from Flea Bottom were even heavier. Grunting and groaning as he moved the last body, Sandor took a moment to catch his breath. Glancing as some of the king's guard came with a cart, he made his way back inside, closing the door behind him.

The king was a little shit, but he knew he couldn't have dead bodies in the street or in his town. It was a liability and a health concern. Sandor didn't care, it had to be done. Glancing at the blood stains on the ground, he shook his head. Those poor men didn't have a chance. They were sluggish, and their moves were slow and predictable. They were lucky Sandor made it quick. The sad part was, he had exerted himself more moving the bodies than actually making them.

When Sansa put her hand on his armor, he turned to her. "For what?" He said, pushing past what he had done. He knew what he had done was nice, but he couldn't let the king's guard or Joffrey know he had been nice to her. He didn't want to see her cry, and he knew no one else would show her the light of day. Stopping before he opened the door, he glanced down at her. "Are you sure you are alright?" He said, glancing at her red eyes. He supposed there were some things that she couldn't cover up. Making his way back into the bedroom, he grabbed one of the knotty wool blankets, before throwing it over her head. "When we get back to the Red Keep, go to your room, and don't take the blanket off until you do." He said, grabbing her around her waist, easily picking her up and making his way to her horse. The blanket worked, and it served as a curtain for her.

Putting her on his horse, he climbed on. She lay across his horse in front of her as he began to ride back to the Red Keep. If Joffrey would see her tears, he would have a field day.
 
RE: The Bird and the Hound [ Bear & Periodical ]

For what? She was struck for a moment, hesitating on whether or not he truly meant that or he was trying to be humble, her brows knitting gently towards each other as she struggled with the decorum of a lady of her stance and her confusion. "For... Saving my life." She said, before glancing down at the cloth still clutched in her hands, her fingers curling more tightly around it before holding it against her chest, "And for this." She added, giving her head a soft bow to him as the rules of polite society told her to do.

He was very much not a creature of polite society. His hair was always uncombed and he typically smelled of sweat and blood, as if he never really got the blood washed from the men he killed. But perhaps that was all in her mind, because every time she looked at him she couldn't see anything but his sword and the way the men had fallen like broken dolls.

"I will be." She assured him, though she wasn't fully sure herself. She had to make herself be okay if she wanted to survive Joffrey's wrath and survive through her time here at King's Landing. Sansa didn't object to the blanket being tossed over her head, the sudden darkness giving her comfort to let her pinched face relax and her itching eyes get rest. As he settled onto the horse and got her positioned, she let her head shift slightly so that she had it resting in his lap. She could smell his sweat and the sharp tang of adrenaline still dewing out of his skin, her eyes closing. For once, the smell didn't remind her of a muddy field of potatoes but something more...Metallic and almost sweet.

She was silent for a long moment before she tugged the blanket away from her face. He loomed over her like any protector would, though he was by no means handsome as the Knight of Flowers. His face was scarred and he looked like he had been in many a battle, but he was still the one that had saved her when no one else would. "Why did you do this?"She asked, voice soft.
 
When Sansa elaborated on her question, Sandor couldn't help but roll his eyes. It was more of a rhetorical question, before he ignored her. Riding in silence for a long moment, he looked down before he met her eyes. "Hush now, little bird." The main said before he threw the cover back over her. It was the right thing to do, and he would protect her for as long as he could. "We are approaching the Red Keep." He said finally.

Personally, Sandor escorted her to her room, making sure to avoid Joffrey, taking a very back route through the keep itself. When they finally arrived, Sandor let her keep the blanket before he opened the door and let her in. Though on the surface he didn't look the part, in truth, he was a very dutiful man. He was protecting Sansa mainly because no one else would. It wasn't out of respect for her father, it wasn't out of disrespect for Joffrey. It was out of honor.

Brushing the hair out of his face, Sandor nodded before closing the door behind him. He would check on her in due time, but for now he needed to report to Joffrey.

After a few hours, Sandor returned. He held a metal plate in his hand, that was piled with some bread and some meat. Knocking on the door, he waited for Sansa to answer before he could hand her her dinner. At the end of the day, she still had to eat.
 
Little bird. Oh, how accurate that felt. She felt so much like a little bird that had fallen from its nest too early. She'd learned the horrors of the world in a way that had shattered her dreams of what everything was supposed to be and had been kicked down so many times that she could hardly gather the strength to get back up. But no. Defeat wasn't allowed. She was a little bird, but she hailed from the North. She was stronger than this.

Instead of pressing on, she lapsed into silence, a thoughtful silence that helped push back the ever rising tide of worry that threatened her confidence and attempted to undermine her strength. She was a little bird. But the little bird would learn to fly again.

When Sandor left her, she was left with nothing more than the lingering warmth of his hand brushing back her hair and the reminder that there was still good in the world. She had to gather her strengths.

She rid herself of the clothing that reeked of the fear, sweat, and blood of the ordeal she'd been through and washed away all of the grime that had turned her pretty face into one that looked weak and hurt. She scrubbed until her skin was raw and ached, but only then did she feel clean of the events. Her mind still played over what happened as if it wanted to remind her of what she needed to escape from.

By the time that Sandor had returned, she was dressed in a simple dress, her hair still damp from washing and pulled away from her face. She answered the door cautiously, barely cracking it to peek at the person outside. Her expression turned slow from distrustful to cautiously optimistic as she saw him, opening it slowly, "Would you come in?" She offered, stepping back to open it wide enough to invite him properly.
 
Still holding the metal plate, Sandor glanced over his shoulder for a moment. When his good eye assessed that the coast was fairly clear, Sandor quickly stepped inside before he shut the door behind him. He had to make it quick, otherwise, the action itself could land him in hot water. His eyes glanced up and down her for a moment, eyeing the simple dress that she had decided to wear, before he took a few more steps into her chambers.

Setting down the plate of food on a small end table, he glanced towards her. "You 'etter take care to eat. No one likes cold stew." The man said slowly. For a moment, he wondered how he had gotten to this point. Watching over the daughter of a man who had wanted him dead just years ago. Maybe he was crazy for taking his knighthood so literally and so by the book, but he knew he had to lie in the bed he had made. The words were thoughtful. If she was going to eat, now would be the best time, while the food was still semi-palatable.

The same armor he had worn during Sansa's little ordeal still hugged the man's body tightly. He never seemed to be able to take it off or enjoy anytime to himself. Pouring himself a glass of wine from the decanter in Sansa's room, Sandor took a long gulp, draining the glass easily before pouring himself another glass.

"Was there anything else I could get you my lady?" The man grunted as he drained the second glass before setting the glass back down on the table where he had found it.
 
It didn’t take the most observant of people to see that he was still wearing the same clothes and that he looked as if he’d hardly sat down a moment since the incident. Her face softened for a moment from her neutrality and she felt pity worm its way into her heart. He was a cold and careless creature most of the time, but there was a part of him that was softer than what he let on to be. Sansa closed the door behind him, watching him as he set down her plate of food. He’d thought enough of her to bring her food so she wouldn’t have to be around Joffrey just yet, which was more of a blessing than she could express.

To placate him, she picked up the bowl of stew and ate it in the proper way a lady should, her eyes moving to him as he poured himself wine and drank as if it were water. ‘Let him enjoy all he wants.’ She thought to herself. He’d certainly earned the right to drink more than anyone else had, and he’d shown his character in a moment of pure terror for her.

He looked, though, like he was ready to leave. She’d been in this room by herself for so long that company - even ill-mannered and angry company - would be better than the long hours of nothing. “I-- No, but… Would you stay?” She asked, feeling like a silly little girl once again, her cheeks pink as she set her empty bowl aside, “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.” She admitted, feeling every bit as small as she was sure she appeared to him. He didn’t call her ‘little bird’ for nothing.
 
The man's eyes watched behind a veil of his sweat soaked hair as she ate her stew. He had known all too well, it wasn't great food by any means, but it was still food. Of course a lowly peasent like himself, and a woman that was clearly abused like Sansa wouldn't be getting the venison, the rabbit, and the pig. Still, it was a meal in their belly, and it was something that would get them through to the next day. After an experience like that, Sandor knew she likely wouldn't want to eat too much, and he was honestly a bit relieved that she did.

When she asked if he would stay, the man eyed the door for a few long moments. He tried to think of where Joffrey would be and what he would have to do. If he recalled correctly, Joffrey would be out of the Red Keep entirely, likely for the rest of the day. Besides, he would have Ser Trant with him, which while an idiot, would serve as more than capable hands. Either way, if Meryn didn't do his duty, the world would likely be a better place.

Slowly, his eyes tracked back towards the nearly full pitcher of wine. Ultimately, the wine ended up being the ultimate decider for him. Shrugging, he gripped the pitcher and his glass before making it towards the table she was siting. Setting both down, he removed his greaves before clanking them down next to the chair. Unbuckling his sword, he lay that by his greaves. Sitting down slowly, he let out a sigh as his rump hit the chair. Turning towards her, he finally turned towards the wine, he poured himself another glass.

If she was just looking for company, he would provide it for her, so long as the wine was still there.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep. You've had a long day."

The man said finally, eyeing towards her bed.
 
Though he was by no means the most talkative of company, it was a small comfort to have someone in the room with her that wasn't a member of Joffrey's family, and though he was considered Joffrey's faithful dog, there was still something in him that was... Good. He wasn't the knight she had always expected from her story books and the songs of her childhood, but he was a knight nonetheless. He was the person she needed him to be when she needed someone. But it seemed he didn't seem too comfortable with her, as he downed the wine as if it were water.

Sansa didn't try to push conversation, but she did try to eat as most of the food as she could, though everything tasted like ash. She took the decanter from the table and poured her own glass, drinking perhaps too fast for her own good considering how little she'd eaten, but the warmth in her stomach was welcome and the dizziness in her head made her feel... Better. It was nice to have her world out of control for a reason because what had been happening had been senseless to her.

Their long silence was broken by his suggestion, her eyes moving to the bed reluctantly. It wasn't that she didn't want to lay down, because the gods knew she was tired, but every time she closed her eyes she saw death and felt that same rising panic. Her brows knit and she turned her eyes downward, "I... I can't." She admitted softly, looking a bit ashamed of herself, "I... Every time I close my eyes I see them."
 
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