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Serpentine - Ch. 9

The Hound stormed off, cloak billowing behind him. Even in his anger, he looked magnificent, with his massive shoulders and long black hair, his entire body muscled like a bull. Sansa waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps, and then waited a while longer, hoping he would come back and crush her in his embrace and let her show him how sorry she was for somehow making him angry. But after a long time alone in the corridor, she finally had to admit to herself that he wasn’t coming back, at least not tonight.

She entered her chambers and was grateful for the fire her maids had lit while she was in the godswood. Staring at the flames for a few moments helped calm her frayed nerves. Sansa could not for the life of her understand why the Hound had gotten so angry. She’d thought he would be happy that she wanted to give him her maidenhead. There was no doubt that he liked her and wanted her…

“I’m more than my cock, Sansa. I’m a man. Understand that.” Of course she understood. Couldn’t he see how much it meant for her to choose him instead of waiting until she was wed? She cared about him, not some stranger who would be chosen for her. As far as she was concerned, her future lord husband would only be a cock. He would treat her like a brood mare to give him heirs, and if she died giving him one of those heirs, well he would simply get another wife. He would already have Winterfell, what would it matter to him if she died after giving him children? Sandor, on the other hand, was… was Sandor. The Hound. The fiercest warrior in Westeros. The man who would never lie to her, but who had lied for her many times to save her from Joffrey’s wrath. The man whose rough words had helped her to understand the reality of court life, so that she could endure it without breaking. The man who saved her life during the bread riots. The man who had offered to take her away from King’s Landing the night of the Blackwater, and then for some reason stayed when she was too scared to go with him. The man who had transformed her from a girl to a woman, in all ways but one.

“Throw the old dog a bone, is that the way of it?” She flared with sudden anger, remembering what he’d said, and whirled away from the fire to pace the room, her fury building with each step. How dare he accuse her of such a thing? How dare he think of her maiden’s gift that way? As if she was just some lusty kitchen wench who didn’t care who she bedded down with and could… could fuck whoever she wanted because she wasn’t highborn and had nothing to gain or lose either way. Did he really have such a low opinion of her? I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, and I CHOSE you. He acted as if he was better than her, as if she was not good enough for him, when really she had meant to honor him with her choice. She wanted to give him what she should be saving for a husband. What greater compliment could there be? How could he not see that she held him in greater esteem than any high lord?

By now she was fuming. She marched to her window seat, yanked open the curtains, and threw herself down on the cushions, then jumped to her feet again, not wanting to be still. She wanted to write the Hound a long, angry letter telling him how… how unchivalrous he was. She wanted to yell at him to his face. She wanted him to beg her for forgiveness, just so she could give him the cold shoulder like he’d done to her tonight.

Sansa sighed loudly and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, knowing she would never be able to sleep in such a state. Wine, I need wine. A few sips of Arbor Gold always calmed her when she was feeling nervous. A full flagon sat on the little table she dined at when she wasn’t called on to sup with the royal family. She poured a full cup and drank it quickly, then poured another and went back to the window seat.

She stared out the window, unseeing, brooding as she sipped her wine. Will it be like this for the rest of my life? To always be denied what I want? She was sick of the Red Keep, sick of King’s Landing, sick of her gilded cage, sick of having to wear her lady’s armor at every moment. She had to calculate every facial expression and every word that came out of her mouth. The only person she had ever let her guard down with was the Hound, even before they became lovers, and now she had to be careful around him too. When she and Sandor became lovers, she had known happiness for the first time in years. It wasn’t just from the pleasure of his touch. For the first time since her father died, she didn’t feel alone.

When her cup was empty, she got up to pour a third one and tripped on her skirts. Her cup went rolling across the floor. Sansa giggled. I am getting drunk. She wanted more wine, so she made her way unsteadily to the table and then remembered she didn’t have anything to pour it into. She studied the flagon and shrugged, lifting it to her lips like she had done the night she and the Hound had been brought together. Thinking about it made her long for him again, so she took another healthy swallow. She didn’t want to want him right now, he had been too unkind to her this evening and she wasn’t prepared to forget it just yet. One more swallow of wine, and she set the flagon down heavily, swaying where she stood. Bugger the Hound. She stumbled to her bed and dragged her gown over her head, letting it drop to the floor, and then climbed under the sheets and immediately fell asleep.


Two flagons of wine hadn’t been enough. Take her maidenhead and then give her to some other man. What kind of bloody fool did she think he was? Did she think he had no pride? He’d fuck a kitchen maid and not give two shits about who she ended up marrying, but not Sansa Stark. He needed more wine. And a woman. He hadn’t had a good fuck since he’d started carrying on with Sansa, and he needed more than his hand tonight. His cock was hard again just thinking about the little bird. He’d been in an almost constant state of arousal since his first night in the godswood with her, and he’d reached a breaking point.

Sandor cursed and shoved his door open, heading to the kitchen keep for another flagon. Or two. He thought about going to his favorite winesink but he was in no mood for company. He’d find wine in the kitchens and maybe even a lusty wench. He didn’t fuck the women of the castle staff very often—though the gods knew he had plenty of invitations—because they couldn’t keep it to themselves. They’d talk about it to anyone who would listen, and the gossip would spread, and before long every detail would be known throughout the Red Keep. But right now his need was so great that he didn’t give a fuck if the wench wanted to announce it on every street corner in Fleabottom afterwards.

The kitchen keep was always bustling with activity, even at this late hour. One of the cook’s girls was making her way towards the storehouse, and stopped in her tracks when she saw him.

“What’s Joffrey’s dog sniffing around the kitchens for at this time of night?” she called out.

“The dog is looking for wine.” He looked at her, his eyes moving from her face to her breasts to her hips, back to her eyes where he could see that look that women got when they were sizing him up. She was taller than most women, blond, large-boned and voluptuous, with a sly grin on her face.

“Wine’s in the storehouse,” she said, her eyes fixed on his groin. His cock twitched, and she looked up, eyes glittering. “I can give m’lord a little something extra, if he wants.”

“Aye,” he agreed. She led him into the house, towards a dark corner in the back. There was a table with baskets, cloth sacks, wooden bowls and scoops and the like, and she swept them all aside and hopped up onto the table. She grasped the waist of his breeches and pulled him closer, between her legs, untying his laces with the other hand. Her bodice was already half unlaced. Sandor pulled it lower to expose her breasts and took them in his hands, kneading and squeezing them roughly. The girl pulled out his cock and stroked it with both hands, moving smoothly, up and down. The Hound growled and pushed her onto her back, dragging her hips closer to him so her arse was off the table, and she squealed with delight as she lifted her skirts and spread her legs.

“I like it hard and deep, m’lord,” she said breathlessly. “Do it like that and I’ll come for you quicker than you’d believe.”

Sandor rubbed the head of his cock along her slit. She was wet enough. He thrust into her forcefully and felt his primal instincts begin to take over at the feel of her hot, wet cunt wrapped around his cock. She gasped each time he slammed into her, hard and deep like she’d wanted. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and he held her hips in an iron grip. She cried out, and arched her back, gasping quickly as she rocked her hips against his, and he could feel her walls clenching his cock. With one last hard thrust he groaned and filled her with his seed.

He leaned on the table and tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t wait till he could fuck Sansa like this. The girl beneath him giggled. “I’ve never had no one so big as you, m’lord. I’d let you ride me all day long if you wanted.”

His cock was still inside her, and he was still hard. He needed more to take the edge off of his pent up lust. “I’ll fuck you again, then. Turn over,” he ordered.

“Oooh,” she giggled again, sliding off the table. “Joffrey’s dog is going to take me like a bitch in heat.” She bent over and braced her hands on the edge of the table. Sandor stepped behind her and nudged her feet further apart as he pushed up her skirts. He stroked his cock a few times, and then placed it at her entrance. She stood on her toes and wriggled her arse to position herself better, and then pushed her hips back to take him in and moaned as he buried himself in her cunt. She moaned again when he slid his hands underneath to cup her breasts. Sandor’s need was intense, and he took her hard and fast squeezing her breasts and tugging at her nipples while she pushed her arse against him and made little sounds of pleasure, until at last he grunted loudly and found his release for the third time that night.

He pulled out after a moment and tucked himself back in his breeches while she brought him his wine. “I’ll fetch wine for m’lord anytime he wants,” she said mischievously, and gave his cock one last squeeze through his breeches before getting back to her work. He never knew what to say to women when he was finished with them, so he left without another word and made his way back to his room. He’d had what he needed and could finally bloody well get some sleep.


As Sansa’s maids bathed and dressed her, she decided to spend the morning walking about the castle. She’d been cooped up in her room mooning over the Hound for days, and she wanted fresh air to clear her thoughts after last night. Besides, her maids were acting strangely and she thought she might overhear something by the wells and find out what was happening. Nobody ever told her anything. There was something in the way they’d look at her, and then look away, that Sansa didn’t like, but she didn’t dare ask them. She almost didn’t want to know. Almost. She threw a plain brown cloak over her shoulders before she left, so that she could pass more freely among the castle staff.

She headed for the kitchen keep first, but it was too busy. She hardly ever saw groups of people gossiping at the kitchens, but she had gone there anyway because she had nothing else to do all day. The stables would be a nice place to visit next. The horses were kept so beautifully, and once she had found a nest of tiny kittens in a dark, empty stall. They were too young to take from their mother, so Sansa visited them as often as she could, hoping to one day be able to hold one, but they were too wild and would never let her catch them. Eventually, they disappeared. Maybe she would see Sandor’s fierce black war horse. The massive courser scared her, but she liked to look at it and picture how impressive the Hound looked while riding him. She stopped a boy hauling a sack full of apples and begged a few from him.

At the stables, she walked up and down the rows admiring the animals, but she never saw the Hound’s horse. She hadn’t brought her knife with her, so she could only give her apples to a few of the horses. She chose a gentle, pale gold mare with a white mane and tail, a spirited grey filly that reminded her of Arya, and a proud blue roan stallion that made her think of her father. Her throat was suddenly tight with grief, and she could feel tears prickling under her eyelids. She immediately blinked them away and pushed thoughts of her family out of her mind, and walked briskly to the wells. That’s where all the best gossip was, because it was mostly women that spent time there.

The place was buzzing with excitement. Sansa walked slowly through the crowds, listening carefully, catching snippets of conversation.

“Who’s to take his place in the Kingsguard?”

“…lands and a lordship…”

“…leaving within a fortnight. The Twins...”

Who were they talking about? Someone was apparently being dismissed from the Kingsguard. That wasn’t so unusual though. The Queen was always appointing someone to the Kingsguard and then removing them later for other purposes. A thought came to her so abruptly, she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Gods be good. What if the Queen had found out about her trysts with the Hound and was dismissing him because of it? Who was leaving in a fortnight? Oh gods... She wondered with horror if it was her, if she was to be married to a Frey. Someone in the crowd had mentioned the Twins. The Queen might have decided it was time for Sansa to be wed before she dishonored herself and the royal family.

A woman’s loud laughter broke her train of thought and she turned toward the sound, straining to hear what they were saying.

“…fucked me twice last night.”

Her friend said something Sansa couldn’t hear.

“…call him the Horse instead of the Hound, if you know what I mean!” The women collapsed in laughter.

Sansa went pale. Did they really mean… Were they saying he fucked the tall girl with the blond hair, or did someone else fuck her and then they started talking about the Hound?

Another girl joined them and asked what was so funny.

“Anna made a jest about the Hound’s cock,” said the blond girl’s friend.

“He fucked me twice last night, and I said his cock is so big he should be called the Horse, not the Hound! And it’s no jest, I assure you!” They all laughed anew at the joke, but the newest girl looked jealous.

Sansa spun away from them and walked back to the Red Keep as quickly as she could, shaking from head to toe. She had never felt such fury in her life, and she was only capable of thinking one thing. He fucked a kitchen wench and refused to fuck me. He refused to fuck ME, and then fucked a KITCHEN WENCH. She was glad she wasn’t going to see him again tonight, because if she did, she would gladly throw a full wine flagon at his unchivalrous face, followed by the heavy silver cup she drank from. Once she was in her rooms, she sat at her windowseat seething, able to do nothing but stare out at the city. I am just as stupid as everyone says I am. She should never have let herself become fond of the Hound. Should never have dared to think he felt the same about her. A memory of the night she ran into the Hound on the serpentine, and all the feelings it had awoken in her, flickered in her memory. The gods brought us together that night, and answered my prayers. Surely it can’t all be for nothing.

A sharp knock at her door made her jump. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. “Just a moment,” she called, and quickly tried to compose herself. She took deep breaths. Gods, please don’t let it be the Queen, please don’t let me find out I’m to be married to a Frey. She slowly crossed the room and opened the door. It was the Hound.


“Come to the godswood with me, Sansa,” he said, without any preamble at all. He didn’t have much time. He shouldn’t even be here, but he wanted her to know about it from him first.

“I don’t care to go to the godswood right now, Hound,” she answered coldly.

Sandor squinted at her suspiciously. What in seven hells…? He had expected a warmer welcome from the little bird.

“Or maybe I should call you Horse instead!” she spat.

He frowned and gave her a hard look. Something was definitely bothering her. And it seemed to have to do with him. Horse? A day ago, he could have predicted how she would take what he was soon going to tell her, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Sansa, but you are coming to the godswood with me, whether you will it or no. We need to talk.” He struggled to control his temper.

“Yes, we most certainly do need to talk,” she said, her tone icy. “Let me fetch my cloak.”

They left her rooms and crossed the drawbridge. She walked up the serpentine with her head held high while Sandor walked stiffly behind her. Too soon, they reached the godswood. Sandor had never seen it in the daylight. It really was a beautiful place. He could well understand why Sansa was so drawn to it, and was glad he had decided to tell her the news here. He looked at her. Her face was a mask, but not the mild, expressionless one she used at court. He had never seen her like this. It was the ice-cold fury in her eyes that surprised him the most.

“Sansa, what in the seven hells is bothering you?” he asked, carefully.

“What’s bothering me?” She laughed. “I’ve been begging you to take my maidenhead for weeks, I’ve chosen you to give it to, and you won’t fuck me. You think of my maiden’s gift as throwing you a bone! And you tell me you’re more than your cock, you’re a man, as if I was so small-minded as to only want you for what’s between your fucking legs!” She stopped for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Sansa,” he started, but she cut him off.

“And at the wells today I heard some girl boasting about how you fucked her twice, just last night, and she called you the Horse because your cock is so big!”

“I swore no vows to you,” he snarled. “I’m a man, I have needs.”

“Needs!” she cried. She lashed out and struck him full in the face, hard. “Fuck your needs!” She slapped him again, putting all her strength behind the blow. His face stung and suddenly his anger died within him. He saw himself from her eyes, saw how he’d belittled her last night when she tried to explain why she wanted to give him her maiden’s gift and he all but accused her of being like the kitchen maid he’d fucked later. He realized what a fucking dog he’d been, but there was nothing he could have done at that moment to stop her rage.

“You could have fucked me!” Sansa’s voice was thick with contempt. “But I thank the gods now that you didn’t. How could I have ever thought so highly of you that I would want to give you what a maiden should only give to her lord husband? I hardly even remember why I thought you were so worthy of my… my affections.”

Without another word, she started walking back towards the entrance to the godswood, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Fuck.

“Sansa, listen to me,” he tried. “I—"

“Thank you, my lord. I shall be quite safe returning to my rooms alone,” she said, neither looking at him nor slowing her stride.

Sandor recognized her court voice, and he felt a stab of… of shame at what he’d done. He hated it, hated how powerless and small and angry it made him feel, but he had to own it. He’d spoken to her roughly before, but never wronged her, until last night, when she was resting peacefully on his chest after they had found their pleasure in each other. And to make it worse, he had gone too far just now and hurt her in the worst possible way. She expected Joffrey and the Queen and the Kingsguard and the gods knew who else to hurt her. But not him. And he had taken her trust and her fondness for him and thrown it in her face, disgraced her. It was a betrayal, and he knew it.

“Sansa…” he tried once more, but she would not respond. His words might as well have been wind. He followed her all the way down the serpentine and across the drawbridge, and when they reached her rooms she went through her door and closed it carefully behind her without a word. She never even looked at him.

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God, how I loved this chapter. How I love this fic! It's 4.30 in the morning here, and I'm going to work tomorrow and I definitely should sleep but I couldn't stop reading. I just couldn't!!

I beg you for another part soon.

I'm so angry at him for what he've done and yet I feel kind of sorry for him.. During their exchange I had this funny feeling in my chest, and my throat clenched... what have you done to me with this fic?? Good thing she slapped him in the face, he deserved it. Wonder how she'll react at the news, poor girl ;(

please don't keep me waiting for too long :D

Thank you so much for the glowing review! It means the world to me! I've added Chapter 10 to my LJ... I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again!! <3 <3 <3

Aww, Sandor!
Omg this is the best fucking fanfic EVERRRR!!!!
This was probably the best chapter because Sandor understood how he had hurt her. LOVE IT!

Thank you so much!!! I just wish I had a better way of saying comments like yours are just like GOLD to me!

I am so unbelievably happy that you said this: "because Sandor understood how he had hurt her." I thought it was really important to show his progression from "Why the fuck are you mad at me" to "Look, I know you're mad at me but [excuses]" to "I truly fucked up and I'm sorry I hurt you." And I was hoping so much that what I wrote delivered that message. Thank you so much, I am so happy that you got the message and that it was your favorite part!!

I also wanted to show that he realized he had to put in the effort, to emphasize how much of a major character growth this is for him. So many people were pissed off about him fucking the kitchen wench, and rightfully so, but I didn't want anyone to think that was gratuitous. Sometimes we can only grow through making mistakes and there's a reason why adversity is often called a "growing experience."

You made me very happy... :) and for you to tell me this is the best fanfic ever is just beyond my wildest hopes for this story. Thank you so much! <3 <3 <3

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