Chapter Text
“Welcome to the Lucky Stag! What can I get for you two? Ale, perhaps. Or maybe you would enjoy a bite of freshly cooked venison, killed and skinned just this morning.” You gave the two newcomers a welcoming smile, your hands fixed on your wide hips.
The tall woman, whom you had originally thought a man, looked at the younger male, presumably her squire. “Just some bread and wine, thank you.” She said in a clipped voice. The boy, obviously craving something more than just bread, gave a look of displeasure. With a soft chuckle and a nod, you moved back to the kitchen and prepared two small loaves of bread. You grabbed a pitcher of wine on your way back to the table, ignoring the leering gazes from some of the men you walked by. Setting down what was requested (and a bit more for the boy), you gave a smile to the pair. “So where are you two headed?” You asked.
The boy answered quickly, his mouth full of bread and venison. “We’re on our way to the Bloody Gate.” He started but suddenly stopped talking, a bashful expression settling on his face. The woman glared at him, and he seemed to wilt under her gaze. What an odd pairing, you thought to yourself.
“Well, you still have a long way to go for that. Maybe some food for the road?” The woman nodded, motioning for some more bread. Sauntering back to the kitchen, you wrapped up a few more loaves of your bread and another small bit of venison before returning to the woman. The two of you exchanged the packaged food and the money she held out. With a smile and a nod, you bid them a good day and watched as they walked out, the boy waving appreciatively at you before rushing out. He seemed like a sweet lad.
The night went on as expected, with your normal clients stopping in for a pint of ale and a bite of venison. It was a favorite at your tavern. Even though you received plenty of distasteful looks from the younger men who stopped in, you gained more appreciative ones from the older gentlemen. No matter what, people always thanked you when they left, whether it be for the rather calm tavern, the good food, or the sights that some men loved so much. You knew why the younger lads detested your appearance so much. Despite everything, you were a plump girl, with large breasts and a tummy that stuck out a bit more than the average woman. You didn’t care though. They were still paying you, no matter what they thought of your body.
Finally, you closed down the tavern for the night. Everyone left, aside from the girl who was infatuated with Jeremiah and the young lad who had accompanied her. After far too long, you managed to sweep them out so you could close properly. You cleaned the dishes and made sure everything was put away nice and neat before heading to bed as well.
Sleep didn’t come easily though; it never did. You could stay up for hours after laying down in your bed, no matter how exhausted you were after a long night’s work. Jeremiah’s soft snores were audible through the thin walls. He would be up in a few hours to go out and hunt, as he did every morning since the day he could properly hold a bow and fire an arrow at something other than a still post. It was his way of supporting the family. Instead of working in the tavern at night, he hunted for the food that you sold and dealt with anyone who tried to create problems in the Stag. After you heard Jeremiah rise and leave for his hunt, you fell asleep. It was dreamless, but rest nonetheless.
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You stood behind the counter of your tavern, preparing for another busy night. Jeremiah had gone out on a hunt nearly two hours ago. For every second of it, you prayed for his safe return back home to you. You had already lost one brother and you weren’t ready to lose another. To busy your mind, you turned back to the grimy countertop and wiped it down with a greased rag. The shinier, the better. Next, you moved to count earnings from the night before. You had made some decent money, with that armored woman and her squire stopping in. They paid well. After a while, it seemed like far too long and you were ready to run out to find your dear brother. However, that ended up being unnecessary.
The door swung open, banging against the wall behind it. You let out a yelp of surprise. Looking at the intruder, you saw your brother. He wasn’t alone. It seemed as though Jeremiah had a giant’s arm swung over his shoulder and was dragging the poor man inside with the help of one of his friends while another carried in a large stag. “Sister! This man, he needs help.” It was strange for you to see someone larger than your brother, as he was the tallest man you’ve ever seen. You frowned softly in concern before motioning for him to lay the man out in the backroom and for the deer to be laid next to him. Rushing to your room, you grabbed a needle and thread, a knife, and some ointments that you no longer used.
You returned quickly, looking over the man. “Jeremiah, go start skinning the deer. You two are going to stay here.” You said, receiving instant nods from all of them. The man was unconscious, but he wasn’t bleeding. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a vicious wound. His armor dangled precariously off of his body, so you began by removing the heavy material. It dropped to the ground with a clatter, forcing one of the boys to jump to the side. “Get me some water and a rag.” The boy you addressed nodded and scurried away to fetch what you needed. Cutting away at the undershirt the giant wore, you grimaced as more wounds were revealed to you. You didn’t have time to appreciate his muscled chest, so you turned your appreciation to worry. What in the seven hells happened to him?
It didn’t take you long to patch him up. He had woken with a start while you had cleaned the largest of the wounds with fire, his voice a ragged scream of fear. Your brother’s friends had to hold him down at the shoulders, pressing him down with their full weight. He had to be a very strong man, since the two boys were almost as large as your brother and just as strong. Jeremiah ended up having to help hold the man down for you to finish cleaning the wounds with stitching and ointments. Once you finished, the man passed out from the pain. You sighed and shook your head before turning to the boys. “Take him to my room and lay him on the bed. Gently. You musn’t open his stitches.” They nodded before taking him to the designated space. You wondered if he would fit on your bed.
Jeremiah had finished skinning the deer after the man fell out of consciousness. He then turned over the carcass to you and your knife. It didn’t take long for you to cut away the parts you would cook for tonight. Within an hour, you had a fire burning brightly and the deer roasting over it.
You sat behind the bar, waiting patiently for a weary traveler to walk through your doors. Your brother entered the main room and called for you. Standing from the stool you sat at, you turned to him in question. “Our guest has awoken. Again.” With a nod, you made Jeremiah stay out front in case anyone walked in. The pace you set was quick and light-footed, hoping not to disturb the man too much as he woke to pain. You had no milk of the poppy to help with it.
When you entered, he had a scowl painted on his face. “What the fuck do you want with me?” His voice was a growl, but you weren’t intimidated. Scaring you was a difficult feat. You crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a silencing look.
“I want nothing from you. My brother found you half dead and I healed you. A simple thank you would have been good enough, but whatever you want to say is fine, I suppose.” Pulling up the stool close to the bed, you sat delicately and looked down at him. He struggled to sit up, wincing and gripping his shoulder carefully. “Don’t tear your stitches!” You hissed at him, swatting his hand away from his shoulder. He quirked a brow at you, his face holding a confused look.
“You should have killed me on the spot.” He said in a dark tone, his hand falling to the blanket that covered the bed. You simply rolled your eyes at him. Men these days, always wanting to “die valiantly, with a sword in my hands.” You thought it to be incredibly stupid. Not everyone could die heroically by slaughtering their enemies. If they did, then there would be no one else to fight the silly wars of lords and kings except for the women, children, and elderly. The boys would fall as quickly as their fathers. Mankind would become womankind, and then no kind at all.
With a soft shake of your head, you picked up the skin of water, handing it over to him. “A little late for that now, isn’t it?” Your voice was soft as you looked him over. Before that moment, you had never really looked at him, simply seen him. A horrid scar covered a majority of the right side of his face, disfiguring his skin and right eye. Greasy hair attempted to cover what it could of the burn, though it failed as none grew on the part of his scalp that shared the burn. The rest of his head was covered in thin, dark brown strands of hair while sharp gray eyes peered at you suspiciously. With a nod of your head to the main room, you spoke after the long silence. “There’s food, if you want it. Deer meat and bread. Ale, if you’re feeling up for it.” He simply nodded before tossing his feet over the edge of the bed. You stood, pushing the stool to the side. “Here. It’s an old one of my brother’s. It may be a bit tight.” Holding out an old shirt, you shrugged. It would probably fit well enough.
He pulled it over his head, nodding as the shirt slid over his head and settled on his chest. It seemed a bit smaller than the one that you had torn from his body, but it seemed to be nearly the perfect size. The thought placed a bitter smile on your face as you watched him stand. He shook, so you put out a hand to steady him. Instead of accepting your help, he simply batted your hand away with a glare. You could barely hide the growl that grew in your throat, instead leading him out to the main room. A few people had shown up; Jeremiah was serving them ale as you walked in.
“My favorite tavern owner! How are you? It’s been nearly two whole days since I last saw you.” A grin formed on your face as your eyes landed on your old friend, Marlys. She sat at a table with her husband, the two often showing up at your tavern for a quick drink after a long day of working at the market in the town a few miles off. “I didn’t know you had family visiting.” She nodded at the man standing behind you, a small smirk on her face. You understood why she would say as much. Men in your family tended to be built tall and heavy, with a tendency for dark hair and dark eyes. You shook your head in reply. “Simply a guest, then?” You nodded and chuckled, the wink you received from your friend drawing another soft laugh from you.
The man behind you, who you still guessed to be The Hound, glared at you as he sat heavily in a chair. “What?” You asked with a grin as you served him a plate of bread and venison. He ate it quickly, downing it with ale. The liquid dribbled down his chin and into the scruff of his beard. “You can stay here as long as you like. I won’t kick you out until you’ve healed completely. At least then I’ll know that supplies haven’t gone to waste.” He seemed like the type to start fights over little to nothing.
Over the course of the evening, you had nearly forgotten about him. You were flooded with customers, people wanting food for the road or ale to talk over with friends. The building was echoing with the sounds of merriment, and someone had begun singing at some point. It all brought a smile to your face. It was the reason you loved The Lucky Stag so much. However, the song and noise died down when a yell erupted from the crowd. “Sandor Clegane! The young King’s hound.”
You frowned softly as you turned to look at your guest, as did many others. He too looked up from the crowd, a fist already curling at his side. A short, reedy man stepped on to one of your tables, some nearby clients attempting to get him off. You hated people standing on your tables. “I heard you ran from the Battle of Blackwater, more like a bitch than a hound.”
Some people began to yell at him, but Sandor stood up as well, not showing any sign of pain or weakness. Still he said nothing. You knew better, however, and you could see the fists forming at his sides. The knuckles on his hands were turning white. “Jeremiah!” You hissed, and your brother managed to look up from the woman he was flirting with long enough to see the event unfolding. Turning to the man on the table, you frowned and stomped towards him. “You. Down.” He snickered and looked at you with a mixed face of ignorance and arrogance. “Now.” You said, your voice nearly a growl. The both of you noticed people beginning to back away. Whatever was about to happen, no one wanted to be caught up in it.
“What are you going to do? Feed me?” He was the only one who laughed, yet he stepped down to the floor nonetheless. Scowling at you, he stood still for a split second before sealing his fate. He spit in your face, a triumphant look settling on his face. Anger began to make your blood boil as you wiped the disgusting substance from your face. Quickly, your hand snapped out and slapped him across the face. The crack was heard across the room and everyone fell silent again. The man cradled his face, the skin red where your hand had met it.
“Jeremiah, take him outside. Take his money as well. He still has a tab to pay.” You walked to the bar with a calm expression as you heard the man struggle against your brother uselessly. It didn’t take long for Jeremiah to return with a bag of coins and slightly swollen fist. “Thank you.” You stated, a small smirk on your face. You tolerated many things in your tavern, but disrespect was not one of those things. Sandor returned to his seat, looking at you with a strange mix of shock, respect, and something close to arousal. He’d never seen something like that happen before.
The night finished a bit early, and as you were locking up, you heard Sandor approach slowly. “Where would you have me sleep?” He asked, his voice raspy. Turning to him, you smiled softly. It unnerved him a bit. “Go ahead and take the bed again. I won’t be going to bed for a while anyways, and I’ll just steal Jeremiah’s when he leaves in the morning.” The Hound nodded, looking at you one last time before walking towards the bedrooms slowly. “G’night.” He said before disappearing into your doorway. You bid him a good night before returning to the cups you were cleaning.