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swiftsnowmane) wrote2012-10-02 08:10 pm
Not Today
Title: Not Today
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing/Characters: Stranger, Dog, Sansa/Sandor (implied)
Word Count: 713
Warnings: Brief mention of past (animal) abuse
Disclaimer: The setting and all characters belong to GRRM :)
Beta: Unbeta'd
A/N: Just a one-off drabble, slightly different take on a personal favourite scenario. Slight deviation from canon perhaps in that I have Dog living permanently on the QI, but there you go. ;) Originally written for the 'One Sentence Meme Weekly' on the Sansa_Sandor comm, and slightly expanded from the original post. Enjoy. :)
~
In the dusty gloom of the tiny stable he paces restlessly, every so often craning his well-muscled neck over the door of his stall, pinning his ears and barring his teeth at any man or beast that passes by. The boards of the stable wall rattle as the wind from the sea sweeps through the cracks, creaking and moaning.
Nostrils flaring, he shakes his dark mane and draws in a gust of sea air; its saltiness both excites and annoys him. The next one who comes for me who is not Master will see what a stallion bred for war can do—and I don't mean biting off ears. The fearful ones in the long brown robes had approached him with red-hot irons, and though he had not known the instrument's precise purpose, he had sniffed its sadistic intent.
He had been marked by such fires before—long ago, as a young colt. Even then it had taken seven strong men to drag him screaming and bucking from the open, sunlit field into the cramped, stinking paddock. He could still feel the press of heated metal against his flank, could still smell the scorch of his own flesh. Never again had he trusted men, and had sought ever to end their wretched, hateful lives. Never again had he counted himself among those who bent to man's will.
Never again, until Master.
And now they keep him from me.
With sudden ferocity he slams a massive hoof into the door, sending Dog—who's been sniffing around—scrambling. That's right, run to them.
For though the big black warhorse gazes upon lower creatures with disdain (as horses, knowing their own beauty and power are wont to do), secretly Stranger is envious that the shaggy hound has the freedom to come and go as he pleases, especially since more often than not these days Dog is found at his master's side. Now that winter is coming, Master will surely come for me, he thinks, snorting and pawing at the damp, rush-strewn earth. This pitiful barrier won't hold me for much longer—I will break free, and soon, he muses with a gleam in his black eye. What is the point of being named for the god of death if I'm not allowed to kill anyone?
Ears pricking, he hears footsteps approaching and for a glorious moment he thinks it might be his master come to loose him from his confines at last. But no, this one does not have the heavy, thudding gait of the one who limps. This one's gait is soft, light as air, more bird than girl, and her scent is unlike the man-sweat of the others; rather, it is one of the hundreds of strange, exciting smells he remembers from long ago, from the sun-baked lands in the south. Lemons.
As she approaches, his first instinct is to jerk his head upward and lash out at her, like he does to all the others who come at him with sudden, harsh movements—movements which remind him of before. Before he found Master. But this lemon-girl with dark, chestnut mane moves with such grace, and stands before him so calmly, humming a little tune under her breath, that he feels a strange peace settle over him. Very carefully, she lifts her open palm so he can sniff the tangy yellow lump. An offering.
He snuffs at the treat suspiciously, huffing and wuffing into her hand, so that his whiskers, grown long in the chill air, tickle her. She giggles. He snorts, but continues eating the tart, delicious treat. He lowers his head, sheepishly hoping for more, and the lemon-girl whispers, "That's a good boy. I've come to take you and the—your master away with me. I hope you don't mind."
Oh, to set hoof beyond the bounds of this windswept prison at long last! To bear his master upon his strong back once more! Even in his swiftest dreams, Stranger has rarely felt such a sweet rush of freedom as he does at hearing those words.
Still, a part of him longs for the lists, for the battlefield, for the feeling of his hooves striking home. Mayhaps I will kill again someday, he whickers, reaching for another lemony treat. But not today.
~
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That ending was so adorable how he promises himself that he'll kill just not today...How this too is reflective of Sandor's mindset; still the killer but the need is no longer there. That the peace Sansa has given his soul is as tempting as the darkness one had been...
Lovely tale thank you for posting it up!!
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it's great to read the way Sansa can calm even the most bad-tempered of war-horses, who can think of killing and enjoying a sweet treat at the same time :D
Looking forward to more of your fics!!
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It's great that you can write about two diffrent themes (SanSan & horses) and come up with wonderfulstories. I am looking forward to reading more of your fics!! :D
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You did a great job Swiftsnowmane!
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Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment... so glad you enjoyed it. :)
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You're welcome, it was a great read!
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And a beautiful ending with a great deal of hope for us :)
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