The hound and the wolf (Sandor Clegane X OC )

Wailing

I walked soberly over to his chest, pushing the lid open before carefully laying out all of the contents inside. I traced down some nicer of his clothes aswell as some belts and jewelry that was neatly laid out in a smaller box that had been hidden under the piles of clothes.

I picked out a clean, matching set of black trousers and his signature long black coat that he so often wore. That was until it got to hot for his tastes and he would hang the coat off the light wooden rail of the wheel perch while panting like a dog a out the "ungodly heat". One of his many quirks that brought a smile to my lips even in somber moments as these.

I folded them, setting them to the side as I scanned through his many rings, gliding ny finger across each of their smooth surfaces before picking out a large red one and a plain silver band. I inspected them all together for a moment as the hollow feeling of dread seeped into my heart so slow it was almost as if it was always there.

With that I packed the rest up, neatly folded as it was before. Though I'd planned to get help with the changing of his clothes I could make no move as my body sat on the ground, staring at the pile of clothes and jewelry in a bit of a daze.

After a bit of a struggle with myself I slowly slid to the ground, curling into a ball as if to shield myself from the cold feeling id become reacquainted with in these past days. Silently, I let tears slide from my eyes as if it was nothing till my soft whimpers turned to wails as I mourned the man who laid a mere foot away, mourned my sisters who were somewhere across the sea dead or alive I wailed for them. I wailed for my mother, my father, my brothers, my home. My world stripped away and each time I found something kind, something safe to hold onto, to steady myself of the unstable tide it was stripped from me as if I was undeserving of the comfort, of the stability.

My wails deafening of my surroundings as Peter busted into the room. He would later admit, The sight of a young girl screaming on the floor a shock but instead of running away from the indeed uncomfortable and weak scene infront of him he crouched down. Gently, his fingers ran through my hair as if to calm the worlds weight that sat atop me.

"I can't do it, I can't do it." I wailed, turning to launch myself into his arms, yearning for the comfort of a friend, dare I say my only.

The burning of tears in my gashes and shame to my ego brought about even louder cries as he rocked me back and forth, shushing me as you'd do an upset child.

After a time my cries died down, now only hiccups and sniffles accompanied his shushes as he still pet my head. The first fatherly comfort id had in the year since my fathers death. I shut my eyes, imaging the smell that clung to my father at anytime of the day, pine and dirt always accompanied by the lavender oil that my mother would wear.

It was like I could almost smell it as he rocked me gently, sleep tugging at my eyelids as I resisted, not ready to let go of the fantasy just yet.

"Go on the deck for a little, hm? I'll take care of it." He whispered, tucking his fingers under my chin to lift my eyes to his.

I nodded, sniffling one last time before climbing off him and walking out the door. With every step away from that room the pull to go back strengthened, a want turned to a need the farther I creeped away till the seas salty winds blew across my face gently.