Chapter 10: The Liar

Sandor hasn't slept all night. His and Allayi's conversation has been rattling in his brain since she left to find the herbs, and his heart hasn't ceased in its pounding. His first order of business had been to get drunk, but when he'd asked Gared where the wineskin was, the shit had said he lost it in a tussle with Nyx. With that plan out the window, he spent the most of his night sitting outside the hut and sharpening his sword.

He focused on the way the whetstone drifted across the steel, the ringing hiss it made as the metal was honed, until his eyes started to burn from tiredness. Then he really did have to close his eyes and at least try to get some rest. Even then, his thoughts hadn't stopped hounding him, Allayi's words haunting him.

Do you have no control over self? she'd asked him, anger burning in her eyes. Do you come in your whores too?

No, he'd said. He was always careful… Well, with the whores that is. Sex with whores was meaningless. Sansa isn't a whore, though, not by a long shot. He loves her, and by some wild stroke of luck, she loves him too. He can feel her love every time she touches, kisses, looks at him. It's so completely overwhelming. Fucking her is different than fucking anyone else. Feeling her against him, being within her, hearing her cries and moans sends him to new blissful heights he never knew existed before. Everything feels so right and perfect, like he could die in those moments and have no regrets.

Except for one. He would not want to leave her alone in this world.

He really should do better by her, though. He knows what it takes to make a baby, and he should have been more careful. And now I'm about to lie to her. The thought makes his skin crawl and stomach turn. But it has to be done…doesn't it? He can't be a father. Nothing comes from the Clegane line but death and suffering and anger. He wouldn't know the first thing about raising a child. And they'd be a bastard. Sansa would never be able to politically recover from that. For men, bastards are a common thing, but not for women. She'll have a hard-enough time convincing the other lords of the North to take her seriously, much less with a dog's pup in her belly.

He can feel the space around him start to change as dawn approaches. The air is crisper, thicker. He can hear some of the Brotherhood members waking up and tearing down their camps. Sandor opens his heavy eyelids, lazily looking over the campgrounds. Gared is kneeling in front of his father's and sister's grave, whispering quietly to the mound of disturbed earth. Sandor shakes his head, averting his gaze to the dirt, watching as the sun's rays creep slowly around the stone walls of the hut. They can't hear the boy's words anymore. He remembers when Sansa had almost died of poison, how she'd call out to her father and brothers to make the pain stop, and it makes him shudder. That was just madness from the poison, he tries to reason with himself. But the little bird has confided in him that she can hear things in the wind, undertones no one else can hear, sounds that were so many leagues away from them. And those folk in the North who worship the old gods speak of whispers coming from weirwood trees. Sandor has never believed in any gods, but everything about the little bird makes him question everything he knows as true.

"Good morning, Sandor." He jumps when Sansa greets him, eyes darting up to meet hers. It's very odd, him looking up at her while she looks down to him. With him sitting down like this, he just barely reaches midriff height for her. His eyes glance at her belly, still flat and not yet showing, for just a moment before diverting his attention away, forcing himself to look at other parts of her body and face. She seems…happy. At the very least, she is smiling and there is a familiar glint in her eyes that he knows is only there when she is in truly high spirits. She's glowing, as well, absolutely breathtaking. The morning sun is catching her hair perfectly and enhancing its already burning color, and the strands free of her braids dance and twirl where the wind catches them. She looks so warm, so inviting. He would reach out to touch her, but she would burn him for sure.

"Good morning, little bird," he greets, voice rough from grogginess.

Sansa's wolf is at her side too, sitting on her hind legs and looking off into the eastern horizon. Sandor notices Nyx's eyes are golden in the light. The night before they had looked blue to him. The wolves seemed to do that every now and then, change eye colors. Mainly the two direwolves. He never saw any of the other wolves very often, but he wonders if they do it too.

"Would you come on a walk with me?" she asks.

"Isn't it a little early for a walk?" Don't you need rest? Rest is good for the baby, right? Though, he supposes it's unnecessary for him to think that. After Sansa drinks the moon tea, that'll all be over. Sandor just needs to keep up his part of the plan. Just don't tell her, he reminds himself, but it only makes his anxiety spike, and he can't look her in the eye anymore.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

His lip twitches. "Nothing." That's when he notices the large wicker basket she's carrying, the handle hanging from her elbow. "What's the basket for?"

Sansa's smile grows wider. "I wanted to collect some berries. Father used to take the boys out to the wolfswood and they'd always come back with heaps of blueberries and blackberries." She looks down to her feet, cheeks blushing prettily. "I never went, but I figure it won't be too hard to find some." She scrunches her nose up. "I'm sick of all this venison we've had. I want something nice and sweet and different. Won't you come with me, Sandor?"

Sandor sighs as he stands. "If it please you, little bird," he says.

"If it please me?" she chirps back, laughter in her voice. "Would it not please you to join me?" She giggles, hand lightly cupping and squeezing his forearm.

She's very cheerful today. "Well, I wouldn't want you picking the wrong berries and poisoning yourself again."

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Wouldn't that be ironic. To survive a poisoning, only to die by it by my own stupidity."

"You're not stupid, little bird," he says emphatically.

That makes her blush again, and she folds a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Sandor. So um, where do we start?"

"Well, blackberries and blueberries are distinguishable enough. They grow in bunches on bushes, and you know what they look like," he answers. "Just stay away from any red berries. Other than that, we can really start anywhere."

"Hmm," Sansa hums, glancing around the expanse of the farm and beyond. "We could go that way." She points to the east, where the tree line gets thicker.

"Alright," Sandor agrees. It doesn't take them long to cross over the field and break into the forest. The frost crunches beneath their feet as they duck below branches and check bushes. Nyx has abandoned them to her own task, only returning every few minutes to check on Sansa before leaving again.

Finally, Sansa calls out when she spots a bush with pale blueberries peeking out between the leaves. "I found some!" she exclaims. She pinches one between her thumb and forefinger and plucks it from the stem.

Just as she's about to place the fruit in her mouth, Sandor reaches over her shoulder and takes it from her. Her eyes snap immediately to him, mouth hanging open incredulously. "Hold on, let me try it first," Sandor teases, a smirk clearly on his face as he tosses it in his mouth. The sweet juice fills his mouth as he bites down.

She stamps her foot on the ground with an audible humph. "Sandor, that's so rude!"

"They're blueberries," he says matter-of-factly.

"I knew that!" Sansa whines

Sandor reaches down into the bush and plucks another one. He holds it up to Sansa's mouth. "Here, have one."

She raises a brow and wraps her lips around the berry, eyes lighting up as she chews. She makes a small contented noise that Sandor finds endearing. He could kiss her.

But no. If he kisses her, it'll be all over. He won't be able to keep the secret from her then.

She quickly kneels down, setting the basket on the ground. She pulls two more berries off and promptly tosses them in her mouth. "This is so much better than deer…" she sighs.

"You think this shit is better than deer?" Sandor questions. That sounds almost blasphemous to him. He'd had so much venison in Robert Baratheon's court that he'd grown accustomed to the taste of it. The man hunted at least three times a moon it seemed. Though, honestly chicken was his preferred meat.

"Of course, I do," she says, picking as many berries as she can and throwing them in the basket. "Aren't you getting sick of it?"

"It's food," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "The little bird is spoiled it seems."

"Oh, shush," she snaps, laughter in her tone. "Excuse me if I want to eat more than just meat." Once the bush is picked clean, she slings the basket over her elbow and stands, glancing around through the trees. "I wonder if we could find some blackberries…"

"Come on, Sansa. We should get back to the hut," Sandor suggests.

"We have some time I think," she replies. "Please, Sandor. I would really like to explore…" She reaches over and takes his hand in hers, eyes sparkling as she gazes up at him. "And I'm glad we have a moment alone with each other, don't you?" She smiles sweetly at him then gracefully twirls away from him, intent on finding more berries.

A pit begins to settle in Sandor's stomach as he watches her stride ahead, humming a pleasant tune as she steps. "You're in good spirits today," he comments.

"I want today to be good," she retorts, "I'm tired of all the death and sorrow that's been following us. I just want one day where everything goes all right."

Well, that just makes him feel more shit. His mind replays the same horrible scenarios that have been running through his head since Allayi told him the news. Nothing good could possibly come from this. He sighs, looking over Sansa once more. It doesn't look like she's gained any extra weight, yet. She's always been a little curvy, and her training has definitely shaped and toned her body. Sandor often finds himself marveling at the little dips and arches of her muscles when her skin is bared to him. Wanting to learn every detail with his mouth and tongue and teeth.

He shakes his head, realizing how sidetracked he's getting.

Sansa gasps. "Look over there!" she exclaims. She jogs over to a small clearing, sun peering through the trees and illuminating the area in a yellow glow. Flowers are growing and sparkling as the light hits them. Blue and pink and yellow mountain flowers. Flowers with bell like shapes and flowers that were like little standing purple beads. White flowers with little blue rings towards the center. Sansa kneels in the middle of the garden, plucking a red flower and gently holding it up to her nose. "How beautiful," she sighs before laying it in the basket on top of the berries. She picks another flower. "What color do you think would look best in Allayi's hair?"

"What?" he asks, "I don't give a shit about her hair… What are you doing, little bird?"

"Hm, I think that blue might look really pretty…but so would red?" She tosses two flowers of said colors in the basket. "I just think it would be so lovely for the two of us to braid flowers into each other's hair."

"You… want to braid flowers into my hair…?" Sandor asks, raising a burnt brow.

Sansa giggles, her dainty hand coming up to shield her smile. "Oh gods, no, silly. Allayi and I." She picks a small yellow flower, shaped like a bulb, and stands. "Though, I could braid your hair, if you really wanted me to." She turns swiftly and approaches him. A spicy floral scent envelopes him as she stops just in front of him, mere inches away, a smirk on her lips and pretty flush on her cheeks. His hand instinctively cups her waist as she secures the flower under the strap of his gorget. "I think having such lovely flowers in your hair might make you look a bit softer."

He's about to retort until she tenderly clasps his head between her hands. She stands on her tiptoes and steals his reply with her lips upon his. His arms automatically wrap around her waist as she claims dominance over the kiss and presses herself harder against him. He wants to return her affection so badly, his heart cries for the healing that he seems to only find when he's with her. But now Allayi's words have rose to deafening heights in his head, and he can't take it anymore.

He places a hand on her shoulder, effectively pushing her away. "Sansa," he starts, but she kisses him again, biting his lip and deepening their embrace. He groans when one of her hands sneaks down and caresses his growing hardness through his pants. He pushes her away again. "Sansa, stop," he pants, face feeling numb. "Sansa, I… I need to tell you…"

Her brows are furrowed as she stares up at him, lips red from their affection. "Are you all right, Sandor?" she asks, worry written all over her face. "You're so pale… What's wrong?"

"Little bird, I'm…" He can feel his throat beginning to dry out. He falls to one knee, bowing his head low in front of her. She's going to kill him. He'd let her. "I'm sorry… so sorry…"

"Wh-What are you talking about?" she asks, nervous laughter in her tone. "Sandor, you haven't- "

"Sansa." He looks her right in her pretty blue eyes. "When did you bleed last?"

Her eyes go comically wide, and a blush unlike any he's ever seen before spreads from her cheeks down her neck even to her hands. "Sandor! I- That's none of your…!"

"How can you not know, Sansa?" he asks. "Come on, think, little bird."

"Why are you acting like this?" she says, crossing her arms over her chest and turning a little away from him.

Gods damn it, you're fucking it up, man. He stands, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him. "Sansa, Allayi said… she thinks you have a babe in your belly."

Her eyebrows raise. "What?" She shakes her head, hand going to her stomach. "But I'm not… I don't understand. How could she possibly know that? How could you know?"

"Sansa, it's not impossible…" he explains, heart dropping to his feet. "It's my fault, little bird. I wasn't careful enough."

She starts taking deep breaths, placing her head in her hand, massaging her forehead. She starts to get this far-off look in her eyes, and Sandor knows she's about to faint. "Sansa," he soothes, "Stay with me, little bird."

But it's already too late. She falls forward, and he scoops her up in his arms. "Fuck," he curses, situating her so that she's in a more carriable position. He approaches the garden, bending down and picking up the basket, being sure to keep Sansa safe from falling. He begins to make his way back to the hut, trying to formulate some sort of excuse to give to the others. Nyx eventually joins him, smelling Sansa's hair that's cascading over his arm, golden eyes filled with worry.

"Sandor…?" Sansa groans in his arms. He watches as she comes to, as she lifts up her head and meets his gaze. "Sandor, put me down."

"No, Sansa," he answers, "You just fainted. You might fall again."

He can see fire in her eyes, and Nyx begins to growl. "Sandor Clegane, as your queen I command you to put me down."

He stops in his tracks. "Sansa- "

"Sandor, I'm trying so hard not to be angry right now," she snaps. "Put. Me. Down."

Sandor gently sets her down, keeping a hand on her waist to help her steady. Once Sansa's found her balance, she jerks the basket out of his grasp, and backs away from him. "Where is she?" she asks, voice laced with ire.

Sandor knows immediately who she's referring to. "Allayi's collecting herbs. She might be back at the hut by now."

"Is that what you two were plotting last night?" She places a hand protectively on her stomach. "You two were going to kill our baby and not say anything."

He furrows his brow. "How can you know that? I haven't even told you everything yet."

"I saw you two, Sandor," she replies, placing a hand on Nyx's back. "I heard what you said to each other."

"Sansa, can you just- "

"No," she interrupts. "Go get Allayi and bring her here."

"I can't just leave you here, Sansa."

"I have Nyx," she says, stroking the wolf's head. "Now, Sandor. Go get her."

Sandor sighs, bowing his head to her. "Yes, Your Grace."

He walks past her and the wolf, head hung low. He only looks back once, and he sees her put an arm around her wolf's neck, nuzzling her face in Nyx's fur. He turns back, shaking his head. He feels like such a shit head. He told her that he'd never lie to her, and he let her down. He should've told her last night after Allayi told him. He should've told her as soon as they were out of the camp. He was about to take her choice away, something that she escaped King's Landing for. All of this is his fucking fault.

When he makes it back to the hut, the brotherhood is breaking their fast on venison stew and hard bread. Allayi is no where in sight, so he makes his way into the hut. She's sitting in front of the hearth when he enters, pouring an earthy smelling tea into a wooden cup from a small pot. She turns her head to him at the disturbance, and he sees that her arm and neck are covered in white and red swollen hives.

"The fuck happened to you?" he asks, tone gruff.

"Bees," she says, using a spoon to collect some honey from a small jar and stirring it into the tea. "Where is Queen?"

"She's waiting for us in the woods."

She raises a brow as she stands. "And you left her there?" She shakes her head. "Edavrasakh."

"Shut the fuck up, woman," he says, though it lacks the usual annoyance that he usually addresses her with. He's too tired for this shit. "She knows."

Her face goes almost completely white. "She… knows what?"

"Everything," he answers. "She's waiting to speak with us now." She's just standing there, staring blankly ahead. She even starts shaking, and it looks like she's about to drop the tea. He rolls his eyes and takes the cup from her. "Come on. She can't wait forever."

He grabs her arm and leads her out of the hut. He can feel how cold she's gotten, and she's started murmuring words in other languages under her breath. It only takes them a couple of minutes to find Sansa. Immediately upon seeing her, Allayi rushes forward and falls on her hands and knees. The little bird stares down at her with wide confused eyes as the Dothraki spews out a slew of foreign words. She is so hysterical that it's hard to place the language.

"Allayi, I can't understand you," Sansa says, kneeling in front of the woman. "You need to calm down."

"I sorry, Queen. I sorry. I mean no harm," Allayi says, lifting her head and looking at Sansa with crazed eyes.

"You meant no harm, but you were going to take my choice."

She shakes her head and looks back to the ground. "I was wrong, Queen. I make horrible mistake, and I will accept any punishment."

"Punishment…?" Sansa says slowly.

Allayi pulls at the laces on her leathers, and removes her cuirass, exposing her naked flesh and pressing her head into the dirt. Sansa gasps when she sees the woman's back, and Sandor finds it hard to look. The expanse of her skin is covered in jagged scarring. At first, the scars look completely nonsensical, but as he looks, he can see that they are all words. In Valyrian from the looks of it. All of them crossed out, along with patches that look like the skin has been removed altogether.

"What are all these?" Sansa asks, voice shaking with concern.

"The master cuts words when I am bad, and my sweet Jaehra cross them out," Allayi replies. "But cut the word liar, Queen, and I will keep it. That is what I am and deserve. I never lie again, this I swear."

Sansa just stares at the Dothraki's back, expression unreadable. She lifts her hand and ever so tenderly runs her fingers across the range of the scars, and Allayi whimpers and flinches at the contact. Sansa averts her gaze to Sandor, eyes glancing over the cup he's holding.

"Is that the tea?" she asks.

"Yes," he answers.

She stands and approaches him, taking the cup when he offers it. She gazes into the tea, rotating her wrist and swirling the liquid around the cup like it's a glass of wine. She then tosses the cup to the side, the warm brew melting the frost on the ground where it spills.

She turns back to Allayi. "Stand up and put your leathers back on, Allayi." The Dothraki freezes and looks over her shoulder, eyes wide with disbelief. She collects her cuirass and laces herself back up. She stands and turns to Sansa. "You will not betray me again."

Allayi shakes her head. "No, Queen. I never lie."

"Good. If you try anything like this again, I won't be as forgiving."

Allayi folds her hands in front of her and bows her head. "Yes, Queen. Thank you, Queen."

"Don't thank me," Sansa says, "Go back to camp now."

Allayi nods and jogs back in the direction of the hut. Once she's gone, Sansa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Sandor reaches up and gently places a hand on her shoulder, but she jerks away from him the second he touches her. She looks up at him, eyes becoming glassy.

"And you," she sobs, "why did you keep this from me?"

"I shouldn't have kept it from you," he says, his heart sinking. "I just…Sansa, the babe's going to be a bastard. No one will follow you if you're pregnant with my child."

"I don't care what others will think," she snaps. "I love you, Sandor. I swore to you that I would never take any other lover, and here you are trying to undo it. I don't care how many bastards I have by you. If the lords don't follow me then they're traitors, every last one."

"Sansa, if this is what you truly want, I'm not going to stop you. But I…I can't be a father, little bird. I don't even know the first thing about fatherhood."

"And you think motherhood will be easy for me?" Sansa asks, placing a hand over her heart. "We both knew the risks when we started this. If you didn't want to father my children, why would you finish inside me?"

"Sansa- "

Sansa dismissively waves a hand. "No. No more excuses. This is my choice, Sandor, not yours. I'm going to have our baby, whether you accept it or not."

He reaches up to place his hands on her shoulders. "Sansa, let me- "

"Don't touch me." She backs away again. "I can't believe that you'd do this to me. I just can't."

He kneels down on one knee. "Then take your justice. I won't keep it from you."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sandor. I only… I can't talk about this with you right now." She turns her head and calls Nyx to her side. The direwolf obeys, stopping to Sansa's right. She grips the direwolf's fur and pulls herself up. "I'm going back to camp. You need to decide what you want, Sandor. You can join us once you do."

And with that Nyx sprints away, leaving him alone in the woods. Sandor groans, running a hand down his face. You fucking twat, he thinks to himself. Why do you always have to fuck everything up?

Author's Note:I meant to post this yesterday on Mother's Day cause Sansa's a new mommy, and it would've been so perfect, but my medicine took over and decided "lol bitch you thought!"

Dothraki Dictionary:

Edavrasakh - useless thing