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Sansa hated all those stories her mother and septa were telling her. All of them.
Well, it was complicated. She liked the plot, the way the brave and strong knights were saving their fair maidens, or how Florian the Fool was falling in love with his Jonquil, or how the star-crossed lovers were finding their way to the eternal happiness. But she hated how all those stories were ending.
The knights and the maidens were sharing their kiss, and none of them shrieked in pain or jumped away, as if they were kissed by fire. Of course, all those imaginary people had to be soulmates, who were destined to each other and whose kissed were bringing them joy and happiness. And not the pain.
Sansa hated it. Maybe she was envious, just a little bit. After all, she was still a little girl, there was a chance that one day she will meet a person whose soul was connected to hers. They will fell in love and share their kiss, and she will never feel the nasty pain again.
But it was unfair. Why the Gods have decided that only destined people were able to kiss each other without any discomfort? Sansa loved the Gods, but they were too cruel regarding this kissing thing. And the most unfair thing was that it was just about the kisses between two lovers - any kiss was harming people, even the courtesy kisses on the hand were making Sansa flinch or even shriek. And she was a lady, which meant more discomfort and pain were awaiting her in her adulthood.
At least the Gods allowed kissed between children and their parents. Sansa wasn’t able to imagine herself going to bed and not receiving a soft kiss from her mother. And a quick pecks on her cheeks from her brothers when they were wishing her all the best on her namedays. Or rare, but warm kisses from her father, after them Sansa felt safe and protected.
But she wanted to be able to kiss someone apart from her family. When Theon tried to steal a kiss after her eleventh nameday, Sansa felt as if a huge flames of fire were touching her face, she even cried and run away, pressing her small hands to her lips and fearing there will be a scar on her face.
The pain from the kisses was just in her head, maester Luwin explained. They never left any marks on the faces or hands (or even bodies, he added with some discomfort), so there was nothing for Sansa to worry about. She nodded, but still felt miserable. She wanted to be kissed and to be able to kiss someone. She envied all those knights and fair maidens from the stories so much. She envied even her parents, whom she saw to share kisses from time to time, and there was no pain or discomfort on their faces.
Sansa’s worst fear was that one day she will be married to the lordling, whose soul won’t be connected to hers. She knew that thousands of people were living without their soulmates, even her mother was initially betrothed to a man who wasn’t destined to her by the Gods. She didn’t want to have a miserable life with a man whose kiss will make her flinch during their wedding ceremony.
When her father announced she was betrothed to the prince, Sansa pressed her lips together and decided to give him a chance. Joffrey Baratheon was a son of the King, quite handsome and well-mannered. Of course, he took her hand to place a little courtesy peck, and when Sansa was able to feel his hot breath on her skin she held her breath, hoping for the miracle to happen.
There was no miracle, she even made a quiet whine because of the pain which pierced her body straight away. It was so strange, the peck was quick and very light, but the level of pain Sansa experienced was way worse than from that time Theon kissed her almost on her lips. The Gods decided she wasn’t compatible with Joffrey at all, but he was her betrothed now. Which meant Sansa had to prepare herself for a good amount of pain during the rest of her life.
She was right.
There was pain, loads of it, but not from his kisses. After her father was executed, Joffrey stopped pretending he cared for her and never kissed hand her out of courtesy anymore. But he enjoyed watching her flinching and whining from pain, and that was when the beating started. Sansa felt so much pain and ugly marks were appearing on her body over time. Her scars reminded her of her stupid childhood fear about damaging her lips or skin because of the kiss from someone, who wasn’t her soulmate, and Sansa knew she was so stupid back then.
She heard that she was stupid almost every day now. Joffrey and the Queen liked to hurt her with their words, even though they didn’t even touch her anymore. And then there was the Hound, Joffrey’s beloved member of the Kingsguard. He was mocking Sansa all the time, saying she was a stupid bird who had no clue about the life, but at some point, Sansa realised she didn’t mind his remarks at all.
His words were harsh, but not cruel. His eyes were full of rage, but he never touched her, trying to soothe her pain as much as he was able to do in front of their King. And he was kissed by fire, literally. Half of his face was damaged because of the monster the others called Ser Gregor, and Sansa didn’t want to imagine how painful it had to be for him, to went through something like that as a kid. She thought she was able to feel the fire to touch her face after Theon’s sloppy attempt to kiss her, but after meeting the Hound she knew she was wrong.
Sometimes she was thinking about the Hound, his scars, and his experience. And kisses. Not that she wanted to kiss him, but she was so curious if he found the kissing as painful as she did. Probably not, he went through something more terrible, so the pain from the kisses had to be like an insect bite for him. Maybe he even liked kissing other women, finding as much pleasure in it as her parents did, even though they weren’t the Hound’s soulmates. Or maybe there was someone, whose soul was connected to the one of Sandor Clegane. Sansa had no clue if that person existed, but she envied them anyway. She envied anyone who could have a soulmate, to be honest. The other thing was that the woman destined for Sandor Clegane had to be the luckiest person in the whole Westeros, Sansa was sure about it. Maybe he wasn’t a good-looking or noble person, but he was strong and loyal, that was what she learnt during her time in King’s Landing. And being under the protection of such a man would be the greatest gift the Gods could give to any woman.
It would be almost like in the stories she loved and hated at the same time.
But she wasn’t living in a story about a brave knight and a fair maiden. The knights around here had handsome faces and ugly souls, and the man with the fair soul had an ugly face and hated her for her dumbness and naivety so much he was barking at her all the time. His hands were doing anything to protect her from Joffrey, from his guards, from any other man who wanted to hurt her, but his cruel lips were twisting in a disgust every time he spoke to Sansa.
He hated her so much he came to her room with his sword and dagger, his eyes wild and drunk. He barked at her, somehow offended that she didn't want to leave his place with him, and suddenly his face was so close to hers Sansa wanted to flinch. It looked like he wanted to kiss her, and kissing would mean even more pain than his dagger could bring. The Hound hated her so much he was looking forward to experiencing some pain himself just to make her cry and flinch. It was unfair.
Sansa gathered herself and closed her eyes. She knew it will be painful, but there was a mixture of fear and anger and insult bubbling inside her soul, and she wanted Sandor Clegane to regret his actions as well. Even though it will be just like an insect bite for him.
She tilted her head up and prepared herself for an enormous pain, her trembling lips meeting his scarred and rough ones.
They looked scarred and rough, but the touch she felt was very soft. And warm. And tender.
And not painful at all.
Sansa’s face was on heat, it was like being kissed by fire once again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t like Theon’s kiss, it was nothing like the pain she experienced from Joffrey’s wormy lips on her hand.
She wanted to jump away, to scream, to run out of her bedroom, but she was simply unable to break the kiss - not even the kiss, just a simple touching of their lips.
It was Sandor Clegane who moved away, his eyes wide and full of panic. And pain. And something else, something that Sansa saw in her father’s eyes from time to time, when he was hugging her mother and whispering some sweet nothings in her ear. But there was no more anger in Sandor Clegane’s eyes, and Sansa decided it was a good sign.
There was too much fire in their lives before. Maybe the Hound… Sandor Clegane… her soulmate was right and they had to go somewhere North. It was colder there, but somehow Sansa knew that the nice heat she felt from his kiss will keep her warm and safe. Just like the knights from her childhood stories. Just like Sandor Clegane himself.
But now she needed more of that warmth, and Sansa raised on her toes, leaning into his awkward embrace and pressing her lips to his once again.
She didn't envy the woman Sandor Clegane could kiss without the pain anymore.