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FLOWER BASKETS AND WINE
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THE HOUND WATCHED AS DAHLIA PICKED A SMALL WHITE FLOWER. Her long, slender fingers clutched the small, green stem, her fingers touching the petals with fondness as she brought it to her nose, taking a small sniff and placing it in her basket. The sun was shining today, as was Dahlia while she moved through the gardens as if she hadn't a care in the world. She wore a taupe gown today, a colour that was cross between dark and light that brought out the brown in her eyes. She had worn her hair down today, the long dark locks drifting passed her shoulders, ending at her waist. She glided through the gardens like a breeze, shifting from here one moment, then here another. She was like a ghost, quiet and quick and almost gone unseen by the Hound on numerous occasions.
She had adjusted well after the attack, and spent almost every day outside, soaking in the sun. She didn't say much, merely drifted around the gardens or around the Keep in an attempt to occupy her time. The Hound was beginning to think more of this girl as she fluttered around him like a butterfly, there was something so familiar about her that he couldn't put his finger on.
They had spoken much more since the night they spent together, but Dahlia didn't make her disappointment of him leaving early in the morning known. But as the weeks passed, Dahlia and become even closer with Sandor, and had been getting small and enjoying conversations from him, and the same was with him.
But what Dahlia was most thankful for, since the night he had remained with her in her chambers, Dahlia had never slept better, and she was thankful he continued to sleep in her room protecting her as he had done. Sometimes, Dahlia would not sleep, but look upon him with such adoring eyes she could hardly contain her hummingbird heart. Despite what many had said, Sandor Clegane was not ugly, or completely violent, he had a softness in him that Dahlia believed not many had seen; but she believed she had.
The Flower of Griffin's Roost moved towards a bench, seating herself down and scanning through the flowers she had picked. From pinks, to purples, to white and reds she examined all of them before revealing a small knife. The Hound moved forward quickly to snatch the knife from her hands, Dahlia looked up at him, retracting her hand and frowning. "I'm cutting off the stems," she spoke innocently, her large dark eyes looking up at him with a smile. He watched as she sliced off the chunky stems of the flowers she had picked, a craft that she skilfully seemed to master as she delicately shortened the green stems.
Dahlia felt the Hound's stare on her, she could feel his eyes examining her closely. She enjoyed feeling him watching her, looking over her with complete fascination. Dahlia admitted that she would often watch him, imagining him with a smile, or even a hint of amusement.
Although, Dahlia knew that her position in Kings Landing was only temporary, and her connection with Sandor Clegane would be broken sooner or later. A part of her scolded herself for allowing such a bond to form between them, but the naive lovesick child that Dahlia used to be cheered with excitement for the connection between the two. But Dahlia knew better, she knew better than to allow her heart to be given to Sandor, mostly because it could never happen, and because she believed he'd never take it.
But the whole time, as he watched her, something in the back of his mind kept gnawing at him. It had been there since they had first met, there was something strange about Dahlia. How she walked, talked, and even looked. She was familiar, but foreign all the same.
Perhaps it was her soft curls, or her wide eyes that caused some familiarity, but he couldn't remember where he had seen them before. For all he knew, she might have resembled a whore he fucked once, he had paid for pretty, black-haired whores before, and many of them looked pretty enough to be highborn.
But none of them compared to Dahlia.
She was stunning, with full lips, wide eyes, and smooth skin. Her smile was brighter than a full moon, and her flesh glowed with happiness even in the darkest of times. Her wounds had healed, the slash on her forehead a fading line now, and she went back to wearing semi-low-cut gowns again, and the scratch marks had completely healed, and only a few scars of the deeper scratches remained. Her hand was still badly bruised, but it was hardly noticeable. But in truth, Sandor didn't mind her scars, he quite enjoyed them, the slightest imperfections that were weighed down by her perfections.
For the whole day, Dahlia's face plagued his thoughts, twisting and turning as well as completely overtaking them. He searched his memory for a woman with black hair, warm eyes, and soft curves. But he came up with nothing.
Soon enough, they were at the docks watching the last of the ships leave before nightfall, the sun sinking beyond the horizon. There was a small bench that Dahlia had seated herself on, her basket at her feet and her hands clasped in her lap.
Sandor watched her as she gazed out into the sea, watching the ships leave with longing. He wondered if she hated it here as much as everyone else did? He wondered if she longed for home like so many others did?
Sandor began to wonder what Griffin's Roost was like? Was it like all the stories he had heard around court, or even as a child. He had once been told that there were statues of large Griffin's guarding the walls of the Keep, but he wasn't so sure if he believed it now. His childhood fantasies melted away with the side of his face.
"Where have you ever been, Sandor?" Dahlia's soft, alluring voice spoke, breaking through his thoughts.
Furrowing his thick brows, Sandor glanced down to her. "What?"
A smile gifted her lips. "Where have you been, in Westeros?" She patted the seat beside her with a genuine smile, her eyes wide with kindness.
He eyed the seat wearily, but took it anyway, placing his large self beside Dahlia, his seated body still towering over her shrinking her already small frame. "Why do you want to know?" He spoke in his usual raspy voice.
Dahlia shrugged and turned back to the blue waters. "I've only ever been to Griffin's Roost, Storm's End, and Kings Landing. I doubt I'll see anymore of this world."
Sandor looked down at her with heavy eyes, his eyes that could be so cold, but never for Dahlia, not anymore. He couldn't help but be warm with her, he couldn't help but want to feel her against him, he couldn't help that he wanted to help her see the rest of their world. But only the good, he wished no harm or hurt against Dahlia, he wanted to protect her until the day he died.
"I've mostly been to the Westerlands," he spoke, glancing to his feet. "Casterly Rock and Clegane's Keep mostly, I've been to Winterfell, travelled along the Kingsroad, and Kings Landing."
Of course Sandor had been to other places throughout most of Westeros, but he had never been further South than the Kingswood, he had never thought to venture deeper into Westeros nor had he been allowed to since he was a sworn-shield to first Cersei Lannister, and now to her son.
Dahlia's sweet laughter filled his ears and warmed his belly, not to mention the stir in his groin at her amusement, he enjoyed seeing her happy. "Surely you've seen more than that?"
Sandor felt his lips prick up into a smile, but he was quick to push it down. "When you're constantly on the move, you don't really think much about where you are," he grunted grasping his pommel out of habit.
"That's to bad," sighed Dahlia. "I would have liked to hear stories about your travels."
He could see and hear her disappointment, it rolled off her tongue and shimmered in her eyes. He almost felt terrible guilt for disappointing her, but his anger at himself was wiped clean when she turned back to him with a warm smile.
"Perhaps one day you will remember, and I hope you tell me about all of it," she smiled kindly.
That's when she did the unexpected, the hand that was not holding his sword, but lazily laying in his lap was now wrapped in soft flesh that was warm and cozy. He had the instinct to yank his hand away, snap at her to never do something like that again, who knew what would happen if someone saw them like this together.
Sandor very well knew the infatuation Joffrey had over Dahlia, he knew all to well considering he had heard the Boy King speaking of her over and over again. Dahlia was Joffrey's new plaything, and it terrified Sandor to imagine Joffrey punishing her for giving Sandor affection.
But on the other hand, the softness of Dahlia was something Sandor had never truthfully experienced. His mother was a hard woman, as was his father, he never truly got along with his brother and he could hardly remember his sister. He couldn't even buy affection from the whores he would visit, they wouldn't touch him anywhere else but his dick, and even then, it was with hesitation.
Sandor Clegane had never even imagined that Dahlia would touch him without grimacing or curling her full lips in disgust, but she had, on numerous occasions. She didn't care about his scars, or his angered face, or even the plain fact he was an angry, violent being. She accepted him, even when he didn't accept himself.
And so, he didn't pull away from her, in his own selfish desire for any type of human connection, he let her hold his hand. And for a moment, just a moment, Sandor Clegane believed he could be loved.
But that was only a moment.
"Do you have any wine?" Dahlia's soft voice spoke, the end turning slightly high-pitched, a tone of excitement he could detect.
Of course he did, when was Sandor Clegane ever seen without wine?
Restraining from smirking, he reached to his side and pulled the 'water skin' from his belt, the sound of the rich, red wine sloshing inside made his tongue go dry, itching for a taste. But he wanted her to try it first, to have it pool in her mouth and turn the inside of her lips red. He recalled the few times she had drank wine in front of him, on nearly every occasion, a droplet seated itself in the corner of her mouth, that mouth he wanted to taste and devour as much as he did the wine.
Sandor didn't care if he thought about his sexual desires, he knew he would never act on them, but that didn't stop the bleeding of his insides when he thought on how he would never touch her the way he wanted, never kiss her or give her the temptation he had felt for so long. Dahlia was much more intoxicating than any wine he had tasted, and it bothered him beyond anything.
Her small hand pulled from his own and she took the skin. "Thank you," she spoke gently, her deep brown eyes flickering up to him before focusing on the skin, she twisted off the top and brought to rim to her lips.
He could recall when she wasn't a fan of drinking, but that had seemingly begun to change.
He blamed himself for that, but it was only a little bit at a time, she wouldn't become some drunk any time soon.
She took a small sip and passed it back to him, Sandor shook his head and pushed it back to her, his rough fingers grazing the hem of her gown as the bottle touched her chest. "You call that a drink?"
Dahlia's eyes sparkled - he hated that word, but it was the best way to describe them - she pulled the skin back to her lips and took another sip, though this time much deeper, than another, and another, and another until the ringing from inside the bottle was gone.
Sandor didn't mind, he just hoped it wouldn't effect her as quickly as it usually did; he wasn't in the mood to carry her all the way back up to the castle, no matter how easy it would have been.
Luckily for him, that never came. Within an hour, the sun was behind the horizon, the night was dark and Sandor and Dahlia were headed back up to the castle. He may not have had to carry her, but he did have to help her up the stairs since her feet hurt from her heels.
And so, Sandor Clegane tucked Dahlia of House Connington back into her bed, pulled off her shoes and wrapped her in her silk sheets. He brushed her hair away from her face and took his place outside the door as he did nearly every night.
But one thing was for sure, neither of them, were ever going back to who they used to be.
A/N
Short chapter I know, and I'm sorry. It was mostly just a filler so all of you can get a deeper insight into Sandor and Dahlia's relationship.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next chapter!