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Velika knew that this was her punishment for asking the last customer to stop. Littlefinger didn’t take it kindly if his whores didn’t lay back and did what the client wanted. She barely had enough time to clean up and she was sent to the Hound. She has never serviced him before but she knew enough from the rumors. Some girls said they had to drink before just to be able to look at him. He was ugly and had a temper, but he never really hurt anyone. He wasn’t brutal or unusually perverted in his demands, but still, most of the girls avoided laying with him. It was mostly due to the fact that his brother, the Mountain had fucked many whores to their deaths, and they didn’t want to risk it with the younger one, either. Velika tried to control her shivers as she entered the room. It still hurt to walk, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as she greeted the man.
“Come on girl, undress. I don’t have all day for your courtesies.”
Velika loosened the straps of her dress, letting it fall on the floor.
“For fucks sake, at least look at me while you do it.”
She looked at his face. It was ugly, but not so horrendous as she feared. The right side was mangled with scars, but the left one wasn’t so bad. She slowly walked towards him, swaying her hips in a seductive manner, and climbed into the bed. He took off his shirt and climbed on top of her. She automatically reached for his trousers, freeing his cock. She gulped at the sight. It was big, so this was definitely going to hurt. He reached down, pushing one finger into her. She couldn’t help it, she hissed with pain. The Hound immediately withdrew his hand.
“What the fuck is this?!”
He held his hand in her face. There was blood on his fingers.
“Is it your moonblood? Did they sent me a bleeding whore?”
“No, no Ser. I assure you, it isn’t my sickness. It is just that my last client, he was very rough, you see.”
He pushed her away and stood up.
“Go, girl. Tell them to send me one that isn’t damaged.”
Velika could feel the panic rising in her.
“Please don’t send me away. Littlefinger is already angry at me, that’s why he sent me here. He will send me to a worse client if he learns you didn’t want me.”
He let out a humorless laugh.
“Worse client then the scarred monster?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Ser.”
“I’m no Ser, girl. And you shouldn’t work in your condition.”
“Please, I can make you feel good in other ways. I can suck you off, or do it with my hands. Just please, don’t send me away.”
She knew she was begging, and that it was useless. But anything was better than Littlefinger’s furry, even the Hound. He held his hand up to stop her rambling.
“Go on and fetch me a bath, girl.”
She hurried away, relieved that it wasn’t a no. Soon she returned with pitchers of hot water and filled the tub in the corner. The Hound eased into it with a sigh. Velika didn’t know what to do. Did he want her to join him? Or just wait until he is finished and then do her job?
“Come on, girl, don’t just stand there. Bathe me.”
She reached for the rug and gently ran it through his back. It was covered in scars, old and new, mostly healed but there were a few fresh ones. She worked her way downwards from his shoulders to his torso, scrubbing the dirt away. She hesitated when she arrived to his lap. He was still half-hard. She ran the washing cloth over his length. When he let out a grunt, she took that as encouragement and reached for him with her hands, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.
“I don’t want that now, girl. Just finish bathing me then you can go on your way.”
She didn’t know if this was good or bad. She really hoped he wouldn’t go complaining to Littlefinger afterward, but she didn’t dare to object anymore. When she finished scrubbing his skin, she brought another pitcher of water and some scented oil. She dunked it over his head, then massaged the oil into his scalp and hair, then started to carefully untangle it with a comb. He seemed to tense up when her hands were so close to his face, but after a few minutes, he relaxed into her gentle touches. He closed his eyes. Velika risked a peek at his face. Now that he wasn’t growling it wasn’t as scary as before. It was almost peaceful. As if he felt her gaze he suddenly opened his eyes.
“What are you staring at, girl?”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t staring.” She was stuttering, but she made sure to keep eye-contact with him.
He emerged from the bathtub, standing in front of her naked, starring right into her eyes. Velika didn’t look away and didn’t flinch when he stepped closer. There was something captivating in those brown eyes. For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss or slap her, but instead, he just let out a laugh.
“Brave little girl. Go on, bring me a towel and my clothes, then you don’t have to look at me anymore.”
When she returned to her quarters she tended to her bleeding and changed her clothes that got wet from the bath. Then she went looking for Ilona, one of the older whores, to ask her which client she had to entertain now. Her answer surprised her.
“You are free for today. The Hound paid for the whole night. Said he was very satisfied with you.”
***
The next time he came to the brothel he asked for her. Velika arranged her dress and her hair, then hurried to him. He was sitting on the bed, waiting for her. She noticed the fuming logs in the fireplace. He must have put it out. One look at his face explained why. She shyly smiled at him. He didn’t return it, but that was alright.
“I hope your cunt isn’t bleeding this time.”
“No, Se..no. Thank you for…”
“Then get to it, girl.”
She undressed slowly this time, teasing him with her body. She could see the lust in his eyes as she lost the last pieces of clothing. She sat on his lap, helping him out of his shirt. That’s when she noticed it. A cut, down from his shoulder blade to his chest. It wasn’t too deep, but it was angry red. When she brushed her fingers over it he hissed with pain.
“Let me take care of your wound. It will get infected if you don’t clean it.”
“Did I pay for a fucking nurse or a whore? Leave that wound alone, I will survive.”
“But it will cause much pain if it’s left untreated and gets infected. I know what to do, one of the girls here was a herb-woman. ”
She stood up, not hearing his protests. She knew he wanted to scare her away, but he helped her last time. He didn’t fuck her, didn’t sent her away. He even lied about their time together. This was the least she could do to repay him. She didn’t bother to dress up. She was used to being naked, it was a long time ago that she still felt shame over it. She fetched some wine and oil, perfect for disinfecting the wound. When she stood in front of him he covered the wound with his hand, as if daring her to touch it. But she wasn’t afraid. Velika gently preyed his hand away and started cleaning the wound. She kept talking, about Trish, the herb-woman, how she learned the basics of healing from her. It was nonsense talk, just to calm his nerves because he seemed oddly uncomfortable by her touches.
“This might hurt a little.”
He barked out a laugh.
“This might hurt, she says. Like you care, girl. Pour me a cup of wine instead of chirping, you have it at hand anyways.”
She poured him a cup then continued her ministrations until the wound was clean. Then she wrapped in a bandage and secured it. Thankfully, there was no shortage of bandages in every room. After all, whores often got hurt.
“There. It’s all better now. We can continue with the fucking.”
She settled back on his lap, caressing his arms. He pulled her closer.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Velika.”
The sex was almost pleasant, far better than what she was used to. When he finished she stood up to get dressed, but he grabbed her arm.
“Stay.”
He didn’t say please, but she could hear it from his voice. She climbed next to him.
“What do you want to do?”
“Just, tell me more, about that girl and her herbs.
***
From that day on, the Hound always requested her whenever he visited Littlefinger’s brothel. The other girls gossiped about the atrocious things he did with her. She could see the pity in their eyes whenever he arrived, and the relief that it wasn’t them. But she didn’t mind it. With time she began looking forward to his visits. Maybe it was because the sex was surprisingly gentle despite his size and reputation. Or maybe because he cared about her pleasure, too, and not just the fake moans most customers wanted. But most of all she loved what happened after the sex. After they were finished she would cuddle him, and tell him stories or sing him songs. It became a habit of theirs. Sandor rarely spoke, and even if he did he could be cruel with his words. But he was never cruel with his fists, at least not to her. And Velika sensed that there was something beneath those angry words. He was like a dog, barking at anyone who dared to come close, not knowing if he was going to be hit or petted. She learned to like him. She liked the way he was experienced and sure in himself when it came to fucking, but afterward when she cuddled him he was almost shy. She liked how his eyes glistened whenever she told a story about dragons. She learned that he didn’t like to be kissed, and he never let her touch the scarred side of his face. The two of them grew to be something more than a client and a whore, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself.
***
“What the fuck is this?”
He took her arm in his hand. There were purple bruises all over it. He spun her around and ran his hand through her back, which was covered in red welts.
“Who did this, Velika?”
“It’s nothing, it will heal within a few days. I don’t need you running around beating up people over it.”
“I hate seeing those bastards hurting you.”
“Well, sometimes it comes with the job.”
He gently stroked her face. It was a hesitant move.
“Please, Velika. I promise I won’t kill that son of a bitch.”
“Lord Barnard. He isn’t usually this rough, he just got carried away today.”
“Don’t worry, girl. He won’t hurt you again.”
Lord Barnard didn’t request her the next time he visited, and somehow, she wasn’t surprised.
***
She was pleasuring a client with her mouth when she heard it. Shouting, the sounds of things breaking and screams. She lifted her head to listen to what was happening, but the client let out an unhappy grunt, so she returned to her task. A few seconds later the door swung open. It was Rhea, one of the girls in charge. She seemed scared.
“Velika, you have to come right now. It’s the Hound. He is drunk, and crazy, going around breaking everything. You have to calm him down before he causes any more damage.”
“But I paid for her!”
“I’m so sorry, Ser. I will send another girl, and you don’t even have to pay.”
Velika quickly put on her clothes and hurried towards the noise. It really was Sandor, but he wasn’t himself. He was very drunk, that much was obvious, and he had a crazed look in his eyes that scared even her. He had a wine jar in one hand and his sword in the other.
“Where the fuck is that little shit? I’ll kill him” he slurred.
He staggered forward, flailing his sword. The girls ran in every direction, screaming. There were guards in the brothel for throwing out guests who got too drunk or violent, but even they didn’t dare to come close to the Hound.
“That little blonde cunt, thinks he is so powerful. I could fucking kill him with my bare hands.”
Velika’s heart clenched. He was talking about the king. She couldn’t let him say anything else, or he would get into serious trouble. The king wouldn’t care that he was drunk if it gets back to him from Littlefinger. She stepped forward, carefully avoiding his sword.
“Sandor. Please, calm down.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He swung the jar and emptied it into his mouth, then threw it to the wall. Velika barely avoided it.
“Son of a bitch. No better than his cunt mother.”
Instead of running away, as any sensible man would have, she slowly crept closer to him. He finally noticed her, and he stopped flinging his sword, which was a relief. Velika put a hand on his arm.
“Sandor, please look at me.” She tried to sound soothing.
“Velika” he muttered, “The girl who is always chirping.”
“Yes, it’s me. I know that you are angry, but can you please put your sword down?”
“I can’t. I want to kill the fucking ki…”
She couldn't possibly let him finish that sentence. So he did the only thing she could do to silence him: she kissed him. It surprised him long enough that she could prey the sword out of his hand. The guards stepped closer, but he held her hand out and stopped them.
“It’s okay.” She said, half to the guards, half to Sandor. "I'll take care of this."
She took his hand and led him to the closest room. He followed her like a sad puppy, without resisting. She put the sword down at the farthest corner of the room, while he sat down on the bed.
“Give me more wine, girl.”
“I think you had enough.”
She kneeled in front of him, resting her arms in his lap.
“What happened, Sandor? What did the king do to you?
He was silent for a while, then he rolled up his sleeve. There was an angry red burn on his arm, the size of a palm.
“Oh, Sandor.”
Fuck. A burn. She knew how much he feared fire, it must have been terrifying to be burnt again.
“One of his cruel little jokes. Because it’s always fun to kick the dog.”
She took his arm in her hands. It was probably going to scar.
“Let me bring an ointment for it.”
He grabbed her arm when she stood up.
“Don’t leave. Please.”
She wanted to argue that he needed the medicine, but one look at his face changed her mind. He wasn’t angry anymore, just sad and afraid.
“I won’t. I promise.”
She ended up wrapping his arm in a bandage soaked in olive oil, the best she could do without leaving the room. Then she maneuvered him to lie down. She covered him with a blanket, then slipped under the covers, snuggling close to him. She made sure to put the fire out the moment they entered, and the room was already getting chilly. Sandor rested his head on her breasts, but there was nothing sexual about it this time. He was just seeking comfort.
“Tell me a story.” He rasped.
Velika brushed his hair from his forehead and gently started to play with it.
“Once there was a knight, stronger than any man in the Seven Kingdoms.”
“No, not like that. A real one. About you.”
She ran through her memories, trying to choose one that wouldn’t upset him.
“My mother, she would always tell me that love isn’t for whores. But she loved my father. That’s why she didn’t drink moon tea when she found out she was with his child. She hoped that he would buy her freedom, and take her away from the brothel, or at least claim the child. She was wrong. But despite his betrayal, she still loved him, so she kept me. She would often look at me, and I knew that she remembered him, because her eyes started to water.”
“Stupid woman. What was she like?”
“She was kind. Tried to shield me from her lifestyle for as long as she could. If her clients brought her dried fruits and sweets she would always hide some and give it to me. She would tell me endless stories about dragons and princesses when I couldn’t sleep, and she made sure I learned to read from one of the older women. She died when I was twelve. Scarlet fever, it took her within a week.”
“My mother died when I was five.”
It was the first time he told her anything about his family. Velika continued brushing her hands through his hair, afraid that if she spoke he would retreat back to his silence.
“It was when my sister was born. Elina. I wasn’t even angry that she took my mother. She was the sweetest girl. I don’t know how she was born as a Clegane.
“I didn’t know you have a sister.”
“Had. Gregor killed her. He took everything from me. Elina, my father, my face.”
Velika gasped. She had heard rumors that Sandor got his scars in a childhood accident, but she would never imagine it was by his own brother.
“Yes, he did that too. Shoved my face into the fire and held me there. I was only seven.”
“But why?”
“He thought I stole his toy knight. I was just playing with it. You know, the worst part wasn’t the pain or the smell. It was that my own brother did this to me. He cursed me with this ugly fucking mug that no one can bare to look at.”
She wanted him to know that that wasn’t true. She rolled on top of him, taking his face in her hands, not caring about the scars. She kissed the right side of his face. It felt uneven and rough under her lips, but it wasn’t anything terrible. She kissed down from his temple to the corner of his burnt lip. Then she kissed him, really kissed him. When she finally pulled away he was looking wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe what she had just done.
“Why?” His voice was so uncertain.
“Because I care about you, Sandor.”
***
He didn’t come back for a long time. At first, Velika was afraid that the king had somehow heard about what happened and punished him. But then she heard some of the other girls gossiping about seeing him at another brothel. She didn’t want to believe it at first, but more rumors came. She tried to tell herself that she isn't jealous, that he can fuck as many whores as he wants, but it still stung. Finally, after a month Ilona sent her to a room and told her that the Hound was here. She was fuming with anger as she opened the door. He was sitting on the bed, sober this time, looking at her like nothing happened.
“Oh, I see you decided to finally show up here.”
She wouldn’t have dared to speak like this with another customer, but he wasn't another customer, he was Sandor and she was fucking pissed at him.
“What’s your problem, woman?” he grunted.
“Nothing. Only that after everything that happened you disappeared. And I worried about you. Stupid me, right? Because turns out, you just decided to fuck other girls. And then you come back like nothing happened at all. I told you that I cared about you.”
“And how do I know you weren’t lying? That’s what whores do, lie so men hear what they want to hear.”
Velika was beyond pissed right now. She didn’t care that she was shouting, she didn’t care that someone might hear it.
“Yes, because I’m just a whore! A stupid, lying whore.” She stripped, throwing her clothes at him. “Why don’t you fuck me then? That’s what whores are for. Just stick your cock in me and then you will have your coins worth and you don’t even have to listen to my lies.”
Sandor crossed the room, grabbing her arms and pulling her close, forcing her to look at him. His grip hurt.
“And what if you told it because you are afraid of me? To calm the angry dog.”
“If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t have stepped close to you when you were wasted and swaying your sword around. I would have let the guards deal with you, or even better. I wouldn’t have stopped you from cursing Joffrey, so he could have had you gutted when Littlefinger decided to tell him. But I didn’t do that, did I? Instead I took care of your burn, and told you about my mother and kissed you. Because I do care about you, and I was stupid enough to believe that you did, too."
Damn. This wasn’t what she meant to say. Sandor released her arm and stepped back. His gaze softened.
"I’m not good with my words Velika. Never was. But I do like you. And not just your cunt. I like your chirping, how you aren’t afraid to look at me, and fuck, everything else, too. But I never imagined you did any of it for anything besides coin. And I never told anyone the truth about my face, not even when I was blind drunk. That was humiliating enough. And then you told me you cared about me and kissed me like you meant it, and fuck, girl how was I supposed to react? No one told me things like that since my mother died. So I figured if I didn’t come back I didn’t have to deal with it. And I tried to fuck other whores, I did, but I couldn’t. Because they weren’t you."
He fell silent. Velika just stared at him. This was the most she had heard him speak, ever. Did he mean it? Was he playing with her? But he wasn’t cruel, not like that.
“Please, Velika.” His eyes were begging, too, not just his words. “Can you forgive this old dog?”
She walked over to him and took his face in her hands. He flinched when she touched his scars.
“I can. But don’t you ever dare accuse me of lying again. I never lied to you.”
He didn’t dare to kiss her, so she pressed her lips against his.
***
They settled back into their routine. Except now instead of tales and songs they told stories about themselves. At first, little things. Like how Sandor bought Stranger, his horse, and what tricks he thought him, or how Velika learned to play the flute. But they also talked about darker things, things that made their eyes tear up and their voice choked. Velika talked about her first time with a client, how young and afraid she was, and in return, Sandor talked about Gregor’s torments. And slowly, step-by-step they opened their souls up to the other one.
Then came the Mother’s feast. It was one of those rare days when even Littlefinger let his girls have a day off. Velika wandered into the city. The streets were filled with vendors, side-shows, and food being cooked on open fires. The air smelled of spices, perfumes, and sweat. It was nice to be here, in the middle of the crowd. She rarely got out of the brothel. Not because she couldn’t, they had their free days, although Littlefinger liked to take them away as punishment. But outside she wasn’t welcome. The so-called decent women sneered and cursed after her, the men thought her body was free game, even when she wasn’t working. So she liked to stay in the brothel, reading or playing the flute. It was her home, after all, with her sisters in there. But on a day like this, with such a big, celebrating crowd, no one paid mind to her. She liked it this way. She bought roasted meat from one of the vendors, which smelled incredible. She looked around to see if she could find a place to sit down, and that’s when she noticed him. Sandor was sitting by himself at one of the tables, eating chicken. No one dared to sit close to him, even though the other tables were crowded. So Velika took her bowl and slipped into the seat across him. He looked up, surprised.
“What are you doing here, girl?”
“Believe it or not, I do get out sometimes.”
“I see that. I was asking why are you spending your free time with the old dog.
“I was just looking for some pleasant companion while I eat my meal.
He snorted.
“Pleasant companion isn’t a term most people would describe me with.”
“Most people don’t know you.”
He seemed to accept that explanation. He ate silently, while she led the conversation. This wasn’t the brothel, where, in the privacy of their room, under the sheets, they talked freely. He was way more withdrawn and surly here. It was part of his image, so she didn’t mind. She liked talking anyway. When they both finished she stood up and hooked her arm around his.
“Shall we walk?”
Sandor pulled his arm away, and he looked even more sullen than usual. Suddenly anger washed over her.
"Are you ashamed to be seen with a whore? I'm good enough to fuck, but not for walking? Or maybe afraid your lover would see us?"
Her heart clenched at the thought. She never thought about Sandor having someone outside the brothel. It wouldn't be unheard of, men often kept visiting whores even if they had a lover or a wife. And although Sandor's face and demeanor were scary, he was nicely built and kind, if he wanted to be. Maybe a kitchen maid or even a lady had her eyes on him. But Sandor's laugh took her worries away. He laughed like even the idea itself was ridiculous.
"Yeah, because there are tons of women running after me."
She grinned and took his arm.
"Well then, you shall have no problem being seen with me."
They walk and talk, occasionally stopping to marvel at the show-people or to sample the various foods offered. Velika could feel Sandor slowly relaxing. It was nice, pretending that she wasn’t just a whore, more like a lover, someone man would take to a festival. And she was happy that it was Sandor next to her, too. Strange though it seemed, she really did care about him, deeply. Suddenly, he stopped.
“Wait here.”
He disappeared in the crowd. Velika wondered where he went. Maybe he would buy her a present? Clients sometimes did that, buying jewels and sweets to the women. Sandor never did that, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Whenever it happened with other men she always felt the obligation to do something in return. But maybe it was different, here in the festival, not in the brothel? She barely noticed that Sandor returned. He held out his palm.
“Here, girl. Since you are always chirping stories.”
It was a small silver brooch, in the shape of a book. It was small and delicate, perfect for her taste.
“Thank you, Sandor.”
She hugged him tightly, then stood on her toes to kiss him. When she pulled away she could see that his cheeks were pink. He quickly looked around and mumbled something. Velika guessed that he wasn’t used to being kissed in public. His large hands stayed on her hips, and she could feel wetness gathering between her tights. He had this effect on her, something none of the other men did. She kissed him again, slower this time, and whispered into his ear.
“Show me where you live.”
They were close to the castle. The doors were open, the vendors set their tent up in the garden. No one stopped them, even if they wanted to question her presence, the sight of the Hound was enough to shut them up. He led her through the corridors, opening a wooden door. Velika stepped in. The room was bare, only a bed, a trunk for the clothes, and a table. The fireplace didn’t have any wood beside it.
“Not much to look at.”
“It’s not the room I’m interested in.”
She stepped closer to him. The strong urge of want and need filled her body. She had sex for a living, but it was rare she truly felt lust, in her mind as well, not only in her body. Of course, she could make herself wet with the ministration of her hands and oils, she could make it look like she wanted it. But this was different. She could see the hunger in his eyes as well. She held his face in her hands as she kissed him, caressing the scarred part. He pressed against her, and she could feel how hard he was through the fabric of his trousers. She tugged at his shirt and helped him get rid of it. His chest was covered in hair, and he had a few scars there, too. The years of training and fighting left him with muscles and broad shoulders. She explored every inch of it, occasionally clawing at him, just to leave a mark, just to claim him as hers. When he broke their kiss she was panting. She still had all of her clothes on, as opposed to him.
“Come to bed.”
It sounded more like an order, and she found she liked to be a bit bossy with him. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Then he started to fumble with the laces of her dress. He suddenly stopped and had this unsure look on his face.
“What is it?”
"I can pay you." He offered.
Velika knew that she should be offended by his words, but all their previous encounters were paid for, so it didn't surprise her that he didn't know how to approach this.
"No. I always laid with someone out of fear, or for coin, or because I didn't have a choice. For the first time in my life, I want to do it because that's what I want, not for any other reason."
Sandor seemed to understand it. He kissed her, first on her mouth, then down her neck to her breasts. Her nipples were hard, showing through the fabric of her dress.
“Then let me do this for you.”
He kneeled in front of the bed, making her sit on the edge of it. He took her shoes down and kilted her skirt up. Sandor ran his hand up her tight, finding her dripping cunt. But instead of pressing inside, his fingers danced around her hole, rubbing and teasing. It made her throw her head back and howl with pleasure. When she looked down, Sandor was smirking, then the bastard put his mouth on her, lapping at her cunt just right. It was too much and not enough at the same time.
“Fuck, fucking hells, Sandor.”
“Didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth on you.”
“Don’t you dare stop now.”
So he didn’t and soon Velika came with a cry, slumping forward. He caught her in his arms, gently laying her back on the bed. She just laid there for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath. Then she sat up, unlacing her dress. Sandor quirked his eyebrow.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
He was already naked, and although she hasn’t touched it yet, his cock was hard. She climbed on top of him, taking him into her hands, slowly stroking.
“You will be the death of mine, girl.”
Sandor moaned and brushed his hands against her tits. He took her nipples and played with them, rolling them in his palm.
“So pretty. So pretty and mine.”
“Yours.” She agreed, then leaned down and kissed him. “Mine.”
She was done teasing him. She slipped his cock into her cunt, and started moving. It filled her and pressed on something good inside. It was also great to be on top, to see how his chest heaved and face scrawled with the pleasure she was giving him. She fastened her pace, riding him until that feeling in her exploded. He soon spilled inside her, moaning. She slipped off him, standing. She went to the water pitcher, wetting a towel. She cleaned herself first, then wiped Sandor off too, and only then returned to bed, snuggling close to him. Sandor kissed her hair and she rested her head on his chest. None of them talked like they usually did, but they didn’t need to. It was enough to hug each other close, and lay there, far from the outside world, if only for a little while.
***
"What do you let the Hound do to you?"
Gilda looked at her expectantly. She was all ears, ready for the juicy details. Velika shrugged.
"You know, the usual. Nothing too extreme."
She seemed disappointed, but Velika wouldn't betray the intimacy she shared with Sandor for the sake of gossiping.
"Well, whatever it is, you must be doing it really well, from what I heard."
"Why, what did you hear?"
Gilda leaned closer, the joy of being able to share the news evident on her face.
"Ilona overheard him asking Littlefinger if he could buy you."
Velika just blinked in surprise. That can't be true. Sure, Sandor liked her, but he wasn't rich by any means. Why would he spend so much coin on ber, when he could just pay the reasonable price of his weekly visits? Littlefinger's whores weren't cheap, but buying them out of the contract would cost a fortune. So the next time Sandor visited she couldn't help but ask him.
"Did you really try to buy me?"
She tried to sound casual, but her voice was full of hope. Sandor just grunted.
"Who told you that?"
"Word gets around fast here. But did you?"
"Aye, I did. He laughed in my face and told me that I should ask again a few years later when you are too old or too loose for him to make enough money of you."
Velika could feel her eyes watering.
"Thank you, Sandor."
"Didn't you hear me, girl? He didn't sell you."
"Yes, but you tried. That's more than what anyone ever has done for me."
He brushed her hair through his fingers.
"Hey, don't cry."
But Velika couldn't stop. She cried because Sandor cared, even if he didn't say it. And she cried because she would always be a whore, it didn't matter what she or Sandor wanted.
***
Velika was running down the stairs. Most of the girls were already hiding in the basement, but she turned back because she thought she heard someone upstairs. The city was under siege. She could hear the screams and the clatter of weapons from the distance and see the green light of wildfire. She was terrified of what would happen if Stannis’s army won. She knew what soldiers did to women, especially to whores. But she wasn’t only afraid for herself. She was worried about Sandor, too. How did he react to the fire? What if he died in the battle? He was a great warrior, but the king’s soldiers were grossly outnumbered. Suddenly she heard a noise, the rattling of armor. She hid behind a curtain, her heart beating in her throat. Did they already breach the city walls? She risked a peek. She instantly recognized the figure and relief washed over her. It was Sandor. He was covered in blood and filth, and his sword was red with blood, but he was alive and he was here.
“Sandor!”
She ran up to him, checking his body for scars.
“Here you are, girl.” He sounded relieved, too.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought about what those cunts could do to you if they invaded the city and I had to come here.”
“What about the king? Shouldn’t you be beside him, protecting him?”
“Fuck the king. You mean more to me than any king ever could.”
Velika knew that this was the closest he would ever come to confessing how he felt. And it felt so comforting to know that someone in this great city cared about her, not the king, not those fancy ladies, her, the little whore, enough to risk their lives. So he hugged him, and then kissed him, as a thank you.
“Come with me, Velika.” He whispered into her hair. “This city is fucked anyway. Let’s leave it behind, I can’t promise you much. I have no money, and if I leave the Kingsguard, I will have no honor left either. But I swear, I will protect you, no matter what.”
Maybe she should have thought more about his offer, but she just took his hand and laced their fingers together.
"Let's go. "