#tpinath

[mybworlds]

Chapter 14: Running again

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sandor and Sansa are forced to run again.

Chapter Warnings: Violence

Masterlist

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Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

He was going to say goodbye to the only person who had been able to see him beyond his hideous face, beyond his skillful use of the sword, beyond the ferocity and anger behind those dark eyes, the only one who had seen a good side in him despite his ever-sharp words. Sandor did not know how to deal with this, he bit his lip several times thinking about how much of an asshole he had been in allowing someone to get so close to him and allow him to show him that he had a heart too. He had been a fucking asshole, the little Stark totally screwed him with her beautiful chirps and those pretty blue eyes, damn her!

He had ruined the Hound forever, he would never be able to be what he was again: if he had been what he once was, he would have collected his reward and left immediately, but how was he going to do it now? What was he going to say to her? There was no use denying it to himself; he had grown very fond of that red-haired maiden and could not help but think of her tenderly. He had come to know the sweetest feelings and sensations with her, the purest and most innocent looks, he had seen how in spite of the horror she had endured it had not affected her unlike what had happened to him in the past. That deep pain, that horror had damaged him not only in appearance but also in soul, had hollowed him out and transformed him. He had told himself that nothing could ever heal a wound such as his, he still remained convinced of this, yet in Sansa he had found someone who could heal his wounds, for a while. Even though, Sandor knew that everything had started with Gregor and everything would end with him. He opened the curtain and saw Sansa in the company of a young woman who was brushing her hair, she was laughing and talking about clothes and receptions, he heard her tell about the meeting she had had on the road with a dark-haired young man, he heard her say that he was handsome but he used ugly ways, but what struck him were the following words: the young woman who was supposed to be a sort of lady-in-waiting asked her what it had been like to be with the Hound, Sansa had smiled and answered her thus "At first I was terrified that he might hurt me at any moment, he was like a dog who was always rabid and aggressive, then I realized that he was not bad even though he growled, he was only hurt." "Did you treat him?" the young woman asked her. Sansa tightened her lips "I don't think I did, I wish I could take that credit, but I think his wound is too deep and too nasty to be cured by any kind of potion." Sandor closed the curtain again and went to sit down next to Stranger which champed the grasses near a tree; he wanted to drink -he had been sober for too long. "Sandor Clegane." he looked up and found by the serious blue eyes of Catelyn Stark. "Lady Stark." he greeted her by standing up and finishing by towering over her. "My son has just informed me of your willingness to receive no compensation for what you have done, why? You have risked your life so many times according to my daughter Sansa." "No, your daughter is just a little girl who is afraid of everything and has seen danger where there was none. It's been a smooth journey." "Really?" she asked perplexed, and Sandor realized from whom Sansa had inherited that inquiring look, those polite but firm ways. He nodded. "All right. I must thank you then for protecting her more than it was necessary, for allowing me to see her again and hold her again. What do you want in return? No money, so what?" Sandor was about to answer, your daughter, but those two words choked in his throat; how could he, a cutthroat, a dog, ask for the young Lady of Winterfell? "Wine." he answered her. "Wine?" she asked him puzzled. "Yes, some damn wine." "I'll see that you get as much as you want for your journey." Catelyn made to leave, but then reconsidered "I know you care for my daughter and she cares for you, I hope you have noticed and understood." Catelyn Stark was about to tell him probably more words of warning, when the air suddenly became strange around them: birds flew away, drums were heard in the distance, and the echo of an eerie song

And who are you?" The proud Lord said "That I must bow so low

The Hound looked around and so did the woman next to him, the air suddenly became tense.

Only a cat of a different coat That's all the truth I know

The Hound knew that song fucking well....

In a coat of gold or a coat of red A lion still has claws Mine are long and sharp, my lord As long and sharp as yours

"Go, run to your son!" the Hound suddenly shook her "Tell him that the Lannisters are here and there are many of them, run as fast as you can." Catelyn cast a quick glance at the Hound and then in the direction from which that mournful song came, then ran...

And so he spoke, and so he spoke That Lord of Castamere

Sandor untied Stranger and ran to the other tents in the Stark camp: his mission there was far from over. The camp lit up in moments: everyone quickly lit hundreds of flashlights. "Don't waste arrows unless you have a safe target," Robb shouted. The Stark army arranged itself in a double line, in the first there were infantry equipped with shields and spears, in the second were knights on horseback, just behind them were the archers ready to string and shoot their arrows. Shouts were heard in the clearing in the distance, then shadows were seen, many swift shadows running toward the Stark army. The archers nocked and then shot, a shower of darts filled the forest and then struck the horde of mounted and foot soldiers that had rushed at them. Moonlight sparkled on their spears, on their swords, illuminating the banners on their shields. More arrows were nocked and shot, more men fell, others proceeded screaming. Then some knights threw themselves against the first line of horsemen: some were pierced through from side to side, others managed to open a small gap and with their swords opened their way, killing and maiming the Stark army. The air around the camp became thick and choking, black smoke and burning strands of straw rose swirled through the air. The flames rose with a roar so loud that it almost swallowed the howl of the Lannister warhorns. At least fifty warriors advanced in close ranks, their shields held high, protecting their heads. A furious, desperate fight was going on there on that plain, axes against long swords. "Fucking hells!" There was no time to think, no time to organize otherwise. The Hound looked around half-closing his eyes: he saw Sansa fleeing from a tent and the man rammed Stranger.

Fuck Robb Stark, fuck any gold coin, that was Hell and he was going to save Sansa Stark from it once again!

He caught up with her and made to bring her up, but she shook her head hard crying and curled up at someone.

Fuck!

He imprecated and as if maddened got off his horse; when he did, Sandor saw why Sansa was crying: not because of the smell of death that began to rise in the air, not because of the fire, not because of the smoke, but because of her mother, the woman was bleeding from an arm. It was not serious, but this the Hound could not tell her on that occasion. Sansa slumped against her mother and cried for help, but in response it was Catelyn Stark who turned to him. "Sandor Clegane, please take my daughter with you and bring her to safety. I entrust her to you, beware of anyone. We don't know who has really remained loyal to us. NOW GO, FORCE!" she shouted pushing her daughter toward the Hound, he quickly mounted his horse and then hoisted Sansa before him. She wept and totally relied on him, laying her head on his chest and clutching his armor tightly. With a thrust of his spurs, Sandor Clegane quickly set off Stranger, which cleaved the air as he rode away from that hellish scene.

The Hound rammed for what seemed like hours Stranger, as the two walked away from the furious battle, the screams and that stench of death faded away more and more until they were left immersed in total silence and the scent of the small forest into which they entered.

Sansa did not speak, said nothing the whole time she and Sandor were walking away from what was left of her family; she had not even had time to see if Robb had been wounded, if he was fighting well or if someone had disarmed him; she could not help her wounded mother, could do nothing but be dragged away again by another battle. Sansa felt her eyes pinch, she pulled up with her nose, and before she could think about it, she felt tears line her cheeks, she pulled up with her nose again. The pain, the despair were breaking her. "Don't cry," the Hound told her, "your mother only had a small wound on her arm." She understood that he meant to comfort her, yet his words failed to soothe that agitation and anguish that troubled Sansa Stark deep inside: she had once again been separated from her family. "Your brother's army seemed to me ... capable. I'll bet my dagger that Robb Stark will win," he resumed. Sansa pulled up her nose again "What if someone had stabbed him in the back instead? What if someone had killed both him and my mother and slaughtered all the Northmen?" Sandor Clegane did not have an answer that could really reassure the little girl; he would have been lying if he had told her that surely things would be all right because he did not know for sure. She laid her head against his chest as she continued to cry, he looked around warily as he held her just a little tighter to himself. The girl would have liked to sleep, she would have liked to be awakened by her mother's hand caressing her forehead and cheek, she would have liked to see her brother Robb's sweet and reassuring smile again as soon as she woke up, she would also have liked to hear her sister Arya's pestiferous squirrel voice, she would have given anything so that everything she had seen and experienced up to that moment would have been just an interminable and horrible nightmare, but Sansa did not sleep. She could not close her eyes, they burned terribly, and her throat was very sore from the smoke she breathed in; she could think of nothing else on that journey whose destination remained unknown to both her and the Hound.

The two stopped as the first light of day illuminated their path, a stream flowed a short distance from the two. Sansa dismounted and walked to the foot of a tree, leaned against its thick roots sticking out of the ground and sat down. The Hound looked at her unable to formulate any meaningful sentence that could, above all, wrest her from that muteness and turn her somber expression into a more serene one. He wished he could have been more, he wished he could have told her more, he wished she could have felt calm, but he merely watered Stranger and then fed him some fresh grass, he occasionally looked at his traveling companion: he just stood there, saw that she moved her lips in a mute prayer to some god probably. Silly, innocent Sansa Stark, there is no deity who can soothe your wounds! You must find the strength within yourself and that's all, thought Sandor absentmindedly stroking his steed.

Sansa was praying, looking up at the sky in the hope of finding an answer to what she was requesting, but nothing, there was only the wind shaking the trees and her long hair; the girl did not know whether to interpret that wind as a happy event or an inauspicious manifestation...she did not know what to believe in anymore. Maybe Sandor was right! There is no such thing as gods. And she was a fool to have believed it for so long. She wondered if her mother... if her brother... oh, if her family members were alive! She yearned for that answer, hoped to see a raven telling him that they, the Starks, had won, but nothing seemed to be able to reassure her. She sighed and lowered her head, then lifted it and saw Sandor glance at her while stroking his horse in a gesture of distracted tenderness; when he saw that she was returning his gaze, he turned his head toward Stranger. Sansa stood up and walked toward him.

"This beast is eating so much grass he could be fine for two days!" exclaimed Sandor. She walked up to the black stallion and stroked his mane, Stranger raised his head turning it toward Sansa and whinned softly then lowered his head again and resumed eating. Sansa just smiled, "He needs it." "Let's sleep here tonight, you are too tired to go on and my ass needs to rest too." she did not flinch "Were you praying?" he asked her. "Yes. I was praying for a sign, something ... anything to know." Sansa looked toward the gray sky "I don't know how to interpret this wind...do the gods want to tell me something or is it just wind?" Sandor knew the answer, but he did not tell her. He understood how much at that moment Sansa Stark needed to believe in anything, even a little wind. "Do you think ... if we met someone we could ask them if they know anything about what happened to my brother and mother?" "We could, of course. But remember your mother's words? Pay attention to anyone. You should dose your words well." he answered her strangely in a calm tone. "I've been doing that all my life," she told him darkly, "A life in a gilded cage. All about good manners, smiles, clothes, words to say and words to avoid." Sansa fell silent and barely squeezed Stranger's mane, her lips tightened into a hard line "Useless ways of living. What have they served me for? To make me a fool, to make me a prisoner, to drag me from one place to another as if I were a being without will." Stranger whinnied "Perhaps it was better if Joffrey... had killed me that day in King's Landing!" Sandor approached her abruptly, taking her hand that was clutching the animal's mane, and turned her to face him "Stop it! Stop it! You are alive! I know your brother and mother are too, but if they should no longer be, you have a duty to at least live for them and avenge them, do you understand? You are Sansa fucking Stark, not just any commoner! Fight. You are a she-wolf and you have to fight, do you understand? Stop uselessly chirping and start biting and mauling!"

Harsh, but sincere. It was just in the Hound's nature to be so, Sansa thanked the gods-assuming they existed-for sending him to her: he was at least helping her out of that state of deep despondency she was holing up in.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 13: Face to face

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sandor and Sansa realize what they feel, but their social rank will be a problem.

Chapter Warnings: /

Masterlist

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Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Sansa couldn't sleep well at all that night: she constantly dreamed of two pairs of gray eyes staring at her, dreamed of kissing, touching and being touched by those big hands, of being loved by him. When the first light of dawn woke her up, she discovered herself… gripped by desire.

She felt shame mixed with excitement at that new sensation. She had never felt for anyone those sensations as strong and as all-consuming as she was feeling at that moment. Inevitably she wondered what her mother would do or say, she would have liked to confide to her all that she was feeling, but she feared that if she did, her mother might remind her of her origins and how he instead was of too low a lineage to even hope to be able to- but do what?

She wondered as she took to barely moving away from the camp what was happening to her: maybe she really was as stupid as Arya had told her on several occasions, maybe for real there was something wrong with her, maybe she should have just left things as they were. She and her sister were with Robb and their mother, the Hound probably would have been pardoned.

Perhaps it would have been enough for Sansa to just keep quiet and follow the course of events…but the strong beating of her heart reminded her that she could never just be a bystander to that sequence of events, but that she would have to play her part as well. And never more than at that moment would her part be truly important not only for her own fate or for Sandor Clegane's, but also for the House Stark itself.

She sat at the foot of an oak tree and closed her eyes: if he had been a knight or a lord, things… would have seemed acceptable to her family, but he was… a free man, yes he could use a sword, but he disdained having a title before his name and disdained belonging to anyone but himself. Moreover, he had been in the service of the Lannisters, had witnessed the beheading of Ned Stark, and had done nothing. Robb would never have consented to the union between them, she thought, but a moment later Sansa also thought that the Hound had never said anything to encourage her, it had probably all been a fantasy of hers due to the many hours of sleep lost, due to not having eaten as one should for weeks, due to the fear of being alone.

Yes, she was probably just very grateful to Sandor and that was it.

When she opened her eyes, Sansa met Jeyne's shy, dark eyes "Hello Sansa." she greeted her.

"Good morning." she returned the greeting by sketching a smile.

"Are you awake yet?"

Sansa nodded, "At this time we were leaving… when I was with Arya and the Hound." she explained.

"That must have been hard!"

"Yes, especially in the beginning. You live in the comforts and then…"

"I meant before I left with them. Robb told me about King Joffrey's cruelty, you had to marry him, right?"

Sansa breathed deeply feeling foolish for that childish wish of hers "Yes, but not doing it and running away was the best choice. You could never know if you would see the stars again with Joffrey. He was - he's a monster."

"Then let's say thanks to the Hound, shall we?" she said, smiling at her.

Sansa smiled "Yes, it's thanks to him that I'm free and that we are, both my sister and I, alive and here."

"Yeah. Sometimes the most unthinkable people surprise us." Sansa found herself nodding, their conversation interrupted by a shout and then an ever-increasing hubbub.

The two women approached the source of the din and saw the Hound holding a Bolton soldier by the throat and crushing him against the cage in which he was imprisoned.

"What's going on?" asked Robb followed by his mother and a little further behind by Roose Bolton and other soldiers "Dog, let him go!" spat the Young Wolf.

"Sure, Wolf, but not before this filthy worm has shown what he's hiding!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Catelyn Stark.

"About the message just received from the Lannisters, come on shit show him the message!" Sandor exclaimed jolting the man who was holding.

"Die." he hissed and Sandor clutched his throat tighter "Go to Hell!"

"So you really want to die?" spat Sandor, finally the soldier gave up and threw the message away.

Robb grabbed the message "It's the Frey seal." said Robb assuming an expression first confused then incredulous "We are ready, the trout is biting, for his wedding he will receive a pair of wolf furs, what does that mean?" he asked assuming an angry expression and turning to Roose Bolton.

The latter turned snow white and assumed a confused expression "I have no idea. My king, you know my loyalty to you. It's just a trick to separate our forces."

"Yet other rumors have spoken of your plotting behind my back with the Freys and Lannisters, now this. Too many coincidences. Lock them all up." sentenced Robb "And release the Hound! I've got to figure out what the hell is going on!" he blurted out, as the Stark army scrambled to carry out their King's orders, however, not everyone was locked up, unfortunately many escaped and Robb was forced to let them go. The King of the North ordered that Roose Bolton be assassinated for high treason; he would behead him himself by nightfall. The others would receive treatment not too different from their commander.

The Hound was given a small tent in which he could wash, change and eat.

He lay down on the small bed that had been prepared for him, and suddenly all the fatigue of the previous months seemed to suddenly wash over him. He closed his eyes and at that moment he saw Sansa enter.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her surprised as he sat down.

Sansa did not answer him, that little girl was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable and good at the same time.

She simply threw her arms around his neck holding him tightly.

"You are free." she said.

It was the first time she had addressed him on a first-name basis and without using much ceremony.

He melted into that embrace, reciprocated by squeezing her and laying a hand in the red cloud that was her hair.

Their embrace barely loosened, the two were a very short distance from each other, their noses brushed, they were eyes to eyes "This time I'm not going to ask you…" he told her as if to warn her of what he would do.

She smiled slightly confused "So it really happened?"

"Yes." he answered her in a huff.

"I knew it happened." she admitted, looking him straight in the eye.

She covered the distance between the two of them, she did it with élan and at the same time with innocence, that innocence of one who is giving herself completely to the other. Their mouths and tongues tasted each other first gently, then more and more intensely; Sansa felt herself on fire so much the transport she had toward him and toward that kiss, she wished it could be forever, but her breath soon failed and she was forced to pull away. She felt… embarrassment, but at the same time happiness because she knew it had been a gesture they had both sought and wanted.

"Sansa?" he called her and she looked up at him, "Now, go. Your brother will be looking for you."

She nodded, got up and went toward the exit, but before she did, she looked again at him who was still watching her, then she went out.

A few steps later she heard a voice calling her, it was her mother.

"Mother."

"Sansa, come." she invited her.

Her mother's tent was definitely larger than the Hound's, the bed that had been prepared for her on sight seemed to be more comfortable than Sandor's, and there was a large rug on the floor.

"Sit down." she said to her "Had breakfast?"

Sansa shook "Actually, I don't eat much."

"You've experienced too much that has forced you to change." it wasn't a question, it was a certainty.

Catelyn could only imagine how much her daughter had experienced, could only think of what Joffrey or Cersei had said to her while she was in King's Landing.

"Yes, Mother, it was… really hard."

"The Hound helped you," she told her, it wasn't a question. The woman was trying to make sense of what she had just seen: her daughter coming out of the man's tent.

"Yes, he… he was always abrupt, but he always showed me a semblance of goodness. He never laid a finger on me, indeed. The times he touched me were to wipe my split lip from a slap from a Royal Guard or when in the woods some knights attacked me and he rescued and cared for me. He took care of me, I never thought that someone like him could show such… it makes me smile to say it, but he showed great gentleness and above all respect for my person."

Catelyn sat down next to her daughter "Why then does your sister say that he touched you and beat you?"

"Mother, I lied in the past and said words that condemned a friend of her to death. That's why she said those things, because she knows that I care about him." she answered her impetuously before thinking about the words she used.

Her mother looked at her inquiringly for a long time, and Sansa blushed violently.

"Do you… love him, daughter?"

Sansa looked up at her "Mother, I don't know. What I know is that … when I am with him I feel so safe. I don't know if that's what love is… I thought I felt it for Joffrey too, but… the Prince I thought I was seeing was… just a mask hiding the monster. Sandor is… has a face… I mean, he's not handsome or charming, he doesn't wear jewels or lavish clothes, he doesn't have titles, but none of that can even compare to what he has done for me, to the protection and respect he has always shown me and granted me. I feel strong if I'm with him, and he is the first person to make me feel that way in so many moons."

Catelyn's gaze softened, but it was an instant "Sansa, you know how these things go, don't you?"

Sansa nodded sadly "He is of too low a lineage." she replied as if it were an answer learned by heart.

"Yes, unfortunately, one cannot marry solely and only for love."

"But Robb… he…"

"He's a man, Sansa," her mother reminded her, "Women cannot simply choose whom they marry. He should ask Robb for your hand, but I am sure he would not be ready to agree to marriage to him. Not now at least. He has much more important matters to think about."

"Yes. I know."

"Go eat something now. When the war is over we'll talk again, I promise."

Sansa smiled and then walked out of the tent.

Sansa joined her brother in his tent, Robb looked extremely worried and tense "What happened?" she asked him, trying to find an answer to that expression.

"Your sister Arya."

"What happened to her?"

"It's… read her message." said Robb, Arya's handwriting was unmistakable: messy and utterly ungentlemanly.

This is no longer my place, from today I will seek my own way.

Sansa looked at her brother puzzled "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. We had just found each other and she… she runs away, why? Can you give me any explanation?"

"No." replied Sansa "Robb, what about the marriage agreed upon between our uncle and the Frey?"

"I'm thinking about it. We needed that passage, but if we went there as we found out yesterday we would be ambushed. It would take us longer, but we would still get to King's Landing, even without the Frey's help." Robb explained to her.

Sansa simply nodded.

"I will send a messenger to warn Walder Frey that the wedding has been cancelled."

Sansa nodded "That's the best choice, Robb." silence descended between the two for a moment "What do we do about Arya?"

"You know how stubborn and especially wild as a squirrel that little girl is," he left that sentence hanging for a moment, then added, "I'll send three of my best knights after her. They will find her quickly."

"Good."

Sansa made to turn and walk away.

"Sansa?" Robb looked at her for a long time "You're different."

Sansa barely smiled "What do you mean?"

"You've… grown up. You look more like our mother every day, that look at least is the same."

Sansa's smile grew "I'm proud I can be like her."

Robb nodded "Father would have been very proud. You are a Stark, a true Stark. A proud young she-wolf, ready to bite dogs, lions and anyone who stands against us and our return as victors."

Sansa on hearing the word 'dog', barely flinched, but smiled anyway and then made to take her leave, but Robb held her back again "What shall we do with the Hound?"

Sansa swallowed, wanting Robb not to notice her attachment to Sandor Clegane, but at the same time not intending to cause his death or removal "Why do you ask me?"

"Because you know him, you alone can tell me what is really behind that face… you know him more than any of us," Robb answered her as he looked into her sister's eyes.

"He's among the bravest men I know. If father were alive, I think he would appreciate the courage and loyalty he showed me. No one would. He helped me and extended a hand when everyone there in King's Landing was laughing at my beatings. He cleaned my blood caused by Meryn Trant's beatings. He was the only one who never affected me but made me understand what the world is. The real one. I owe to him my return here, I owe to him the fact that I made it in time to warn you,you owe to him the fact that I discovered the deception hatched by Roose Bolton behind your back, he made me realize who I really am."

Robb looked at her for a long time "You know, sis, you have expressed praiseworthy words toward him. I hope he knows he deserves them from you!"

Sansa barely smiled "He may not know who he is, but thanks to him I know who I am."

Robb had the Hound summoned to his tent. Sandor was dragged in chains all the way inside, but there then those bonds were removed from him. Despite his sister's flattering words, Robb decided to leave two soldiers at the entrance anyway. "Do you not trust me, Lord Stark?" he asked them. "King in the North." he pointed out. "Ah, I've lost count of the kings lately!" he exclaimed wryly. "You'd better be less witty!" the Young Wolf admonished him. "What do you want from me?" the Hound asked him directly. "I was very impressed by my sister's words about you," he told him. "Really?" he asked puzzled. "Yes. She sees good in you." Robb fell silent, "Is there really any?" Sandor looked him straight in the eye "Ask your sister." he replied "On me I wouldn't bet anything, I live for myself. I stopped caring about anyone other than myself a long time ago." "You are either very stupid or very clever. Sansa, for some strange reason believes in you. She praises you, she uses admirable words. You, on the other hand, defame yourself." the King of the North looked him straight in the eye "Why? What are you trying to prove?" "I don't understand," Sandor replied. "What I want to understand is, have you come only for money or for other reasons? I do not completely believe in your innocence, but I believe in my sister and her words. If she trusts, I will try to trust what she says about you. But I need to know from you, from your voice, your intentions." The Hound lingered on his answer for a long time, but then decided to admit a half-truth "On the night of the Battle of Blackwater, I left everything behind, my place in the Royal Guard, my place next to the Child King, the Imp giving me orders. Everything. I was going to leave, but then I remembered your sister and all the suffering she went through day after day and decided to take her with me. She could have said no, she would still be there now, maybe that crazy Joffrey would have given her in marriage to the Imp to make her suffer! I decided to take her with me and I did. I did it for money… then I met that other little devil of your sister…" "Watch your mouth!" warned Robb. "And I decided to take her too, the reward would be double. That's it." "Did you ever hit my sister? At King's Landing or when you brought her here?" he asked him. "Never. I'd cut off my arm rather than hit her," he answered him, barely raising his voice. "Have you ever… touched Sansa?" Robb wanted to understand exactly if Sansa's words were true and if there was any truth in what Arya had told him, but from Sansa's words and the man's words before him he understood almost immediately that Arya had not been honest with him and that this had probably been the decision that had prompted her to run away. "I would never do that. I would rip my balls off if only I did it against her will!" exclaimed Sandor with fury. Robb lingered for a long time over the words that would follow, but finally resumed by telling him, "I believe you. How much do you want for your service?" Sandor thought about it for a while, but then chose to follow his heart for once, the heart he no longer even believed he had before the long road he faced with Sansa Stark. "Nothing." "What, you just said you came here to collect a reward, but now you want nothing?" "That's right." "Why?" he asked him narrowing his eyes and frowning. "You can't buy what you feel." In an instant Robb understood and put together his sister's words and Sandor Clegane's last sentence. Had they fallen in love? Robb thought about it for a few seconds, then dismissed him, saying, "All right. Thank you for what you did. I wish you a safe journey and safe arrival at your destination, whatever it may be." Sandor gave a half bow "I will leave in the morning, if I may." Robb simply nodded, then the Hound turned and left. He had to say goodbye to the young Stark girl.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 3:  The Black Forest

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sansa and the Hound start their journey but their journey won't be easy as Sansa or Sandor thought...

Series Warnings: language, age gap, violence, blood, sexual content

Before to start... Thank you very much about your little support, I appreciete it, for me write here on Tumblr is a sort of "experiment".

If you want let me know what do you think.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Sansa woke up abruptly, raised her head from the straw pallet she was on, her head pounding. She looked around; this wasn't her room in King's Landing. Where was she?

She put a hand to her temple, feeling pain, attempted to get up, but her legs gave way.

The door to what seemed to be a stable opened, and the Hound entered. He looked almost taken aback to see her standing. "You shouldn't have gotten up," he reprimanded, then took her by the arms and helped her sit as comfortably as possible.

"Where are we? This isn't King's Landing, is it?" she asked.

"No, it's not. We're almost to the Black Forest," he explained.

"The Black Forest?" Sansa repeated.

"Last night's blow didn't do much harm," Sandor remarked ironically.

"What happened to me?" she inquired.

"Drink this. It was given to me by... someone, a healer, to make you drink."

"What is it?"

"Poppy milk," he replied. "What struck you could have killed you."

"Who treated me?"

"The little bird should learn not to sing too much."

Sansa fell silent. She wanted to know, but the Hound either responded evasively or teased her. In the end, she began to drink the potion her savior had given her. Slowly, she slipped into dreamless sleep, and the last thing she saw was the face of Clegane. She wasn't certain, but it seemed to her that she had thanked him.

When she opened her eyes again, the sun had lost its intensity, and its now feeble rays pierced into what Sansa recognized as a stable, but there wasn't a single animal inside, only her and the Hound.

She raised her head once more and looked towards him. Sandor had his back turned, gazing outside. Sansa wasn't sure what exactly he was observing, so moved by curiosity, she got up and approached him quietly.

"You've slept quite a while, little bird," he remarked.

He hadn't turned to face her, but she still heard him. Perhaps the story that he descended directly from dogs was true!

"I'm well, thank you," she affirmed.

Sandor looked at her. "I didn't ask."

"Yet you took care of me. Thank you," she said, trying to hold the man's gaze.

"You should thank me if we make it out alive, not for that potion!" he exclaimed abruptly, averting his eyes.

Sansa couldn't understand his attitude. She tried to be sweet and polite, as her septa had taught her, but with Sandor Clegane, it was truly difficult.

"And what are you looking at, ser?"

Sandor cast a glance at the young woman, filled with disdain and disgust. "To hell with the knights and all their ilk! I'm no ser, no knight... my brother is..." his voice trailed off, and Sansa didn't delve into it, even though she wanted to ask if that contempt was solely for the terrible act that had cost him half his face or if there was more to it. But the Stark didn't ask.

"I'm waiting for a guard change, there always is at sunset," he informed her without looking at her.

"And what will happen then?"

The Hound smiled. "I'll kill them."

Sansa shuddered. "No, please spare their lives! What have they done to you?"

"You're too kind, little bird. You won't witness it; you'll stay in your pretty cage, and then I'll come for you."

"Thank you, but... why kill them?"

"What should I do, ask them if I can pass? It doesn't work that way, my pretty little bird. In the world, you make your way with a sword, there's no other way!"

"There's always another way!" she reminded him.

"Oh really? Try telling those six guards to move, you know what they'd do to you? They'd laugh at you and then they'd rape you. No, little bird, there's no other way."

Sansa couldn't dissuade him from his intent. The young woman felt powerless in the face of that fierce look, in the face of his harsh words, and in the face of his sword.

The change of the guard happened not long after, and the Hound, without saying another word to his travel companion, drew his sword and left their hiding spot. The knights stood no chance; they fell one after the other. When their assailant had finished delivering his deadly blows, he sheathed his sword and returned. Sansa flinched but then followed him.

The Hound stole the only horse the fallen men had and helped the Stark girl onto it. They walked slowly along a cobbled, slightly uphill path, and Sansa had to cling to her steed several times.

"You're a man of few words!" Sansa exclaimed, trying to start some kind of conversation. But Clegane gave her an amused look. "And so are you, little bird, and believe me, I appreciate that."

The young woman turned to him and blurted out, "Stop calling me that!"

Sandor gave her a look that was both annoyed and amused. "Only when you stop singing and always having sweet words for everyone, even someone like me."

"Just because I thanked you doesn't mean I sing!" she clarified.

"No, but they've prepared you for a world you can no longer live in because your father is dead, your younger brothers are dead, and your other sister has probably been raped and killed. What the fuck kind of thanks do you think I need?" he asked aggressively once more.

Sansa didn't say anything else. The man's brutal words had taken away any other possible foothold for initiating some form of conversation.

The moon, with its rays, illuminated the path for the two travelers, and an owl sang in the distance, filling the eerie silence that hung between them. Sansa dared not turn her gaze towards her companion or savior; she feared that if she tried to speak to him, he might attack her again. Sansa found herself reminiscing about those happy days spent at Winterfell, the days when she complained to her mother about not having enough clothes or not being able to style her hair like the queens she had read about. She hoped to be a queen herself with a handsome, kind, and generous man by her side.

Today, those thoughts seemed very ridiculous. None of what she had hoped for had come to pass. Sansa felt a profound sense of failure and disappointment. Small tears began to streak her cheeks. She put her fingers under her eyes and quickly dried her tears, hoping to do it as quietly as possible, but she couldn't help but sniffle, so the Hound raised his head toward her and shook his head. "What are those tears? Birds don't cry; they shit."

"Could you please stop being so vulgar?" she implored him through her tears.

Clegane shook his head again. "Have you stopped singing, then? Now I have to carry you around with your whining?"

"If you whine, you won't go unnoticed, and I'll never be able to get you to your beloved home."

"Winterfell?" she asked, sniffling.

"Unless you have another home, yes," he replied in a less gruff tone.

Sansa sniffled again. "I'm sorry... I don't want to cry... I know it's silly, but... I'm scared. I don't know if you can understand, but... I feel so alone. I miss my home, I miss my brothers, I miss my mother, and I'd give anything to have my father back."

Sansa didn't even know why she was confiding in that rough and vulgar man in that way. Maybe she just needed to.

After a moment, she thought the Beast beside her hadn't even heard her, but then he commented, "You'll have protection from me. I'm taking you home."

Sansa wanted to say 'thank you,' but she feared that the Hound would growl at her again, so she just nodded and lowered her head.

"Do you know why they call that forest in front of us the 'Black Forest'?" Sandor suddenly asked. Sansa shook her head. "Because it swallows all the light, there's no light there. Only the cursed know what's really in there."

Sansa shuddered; the place in front of them was truly a dark mass with barely visible treetops. The moon seemed not to touch that place at all, as if all the darkness was concentrated there.

"Do we have to go through there?" the girl asked.

"Unless you know another way," Clegane replied, initially taking what seemed to be a log but that Sansa recognized a few moments later as a human forearm. She turned her head away, almost sickened. "Come on, little bird, don't faint on me now."

"What do we do now?"

"Get off the horse," he ordered. "Take this and stay close to me." Sansa trembled as she took that limb, but she gathered her strength and obeyed Sandor Clegane's orders.

As they advanced, the air around them became almost suffocating. Sansa felt as if a thousand invisible eyes were watching her, and a sudden sound echoed through the air. Sandor stopped and raised his sword, and Sansa looked ahead, squinting her eyes to allow her vision to adjust to the "light." She saw a figure approaching them...

[mybworlds]

Chapter 12: A dog can’t survive in a pack of wolves

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Arya, Sandor and Sansa reunite with their brother Robb and their mother Catelyn, but Sandor is imprisoned and Sansa begins to understand how she feels about him.

Chapter Warnings: language, attempted rape hint

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, I appreciate it. This is a fairly long chapter, so take your time to read it and if you want to tell me what you think, thank you.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Arya and the Hound were waiting for her outside the inn, the musicians departed, and all that remained of the party was just a great silence interspersed with crying, shouting, and the occasional crash of a shattered plate. When Sansa met the Hound's gaze, she wondered if she should say something to him and what she should say to him, but then she thought that - if nothing happened between the two of them and it was all in her imagination - he would only taunt her not to mention Arya who would surely point at her as a fool accentuating the incident even more.

"Have you finished sleeping?" Arya complained, throwing a wood she had in her hands.

"Yes." Sansa Stark just replied.

"You know we don't have all day!" she added again.

"Sorry."

"Come on, princess, get on!" Arya taunted her.

Sansa did not reply, she simply mounted on Stranger, the Hound tried to do the same thing with Arya as well, but the little girl bit his hand so hard that even someone as strong as him gave up. Sansa suddenly felt uncomfortable: she wanted to talk to him about what had probably happened, but she did not have the courage.

The opportunity came when a few hours later Arya went off to attend to her needs.

Sandor made the little red-haired girl come down so that Stranger, too, could rest, drink and eat some fresh grass. She cleared her throat and approached Sandor. He took to rummaging in the grass, "You want to ask me something, right?" he asked her noticing how Sansa was torturing her hands.

"Yes, but how-?"

"How do I know you wanted to ask me something?" he said, "You are tense, even Stranger became so. What do you want to know? If you gave away your virtue with that musician?"

Was he teasing her? Sansa was not sure about that.

"N - no, I - I…"

"Come on, little bird. It's easier than you think!" he urged her.

He knew what question was pressing in Sansa Stark.

"Did it really happen?" she asked him.

Yes.

"What?" he continued.

"What happened tonight." she replied embarrassed to know, but at the same time curious to know the answer.

"What would you like to hear?" he asked staring at her.

She wished to have a confirmation of what happened.

"The truth." she replied, looking into his eyes.

Would she like?

"Do you really want to know?" he replied without giving her the answer she was looking for.

No, that she does not want to know, Sandor thought.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

He knew it, Sandor was convinced. The little girl had a title, she was so beautiful, she was too much for someone like him, and that kiss happened because surely Stark had mistaken him for that cheap storyteller, certainly not because she wanted to kiss him!

Without looking away he told her again, "Don't worry, none of what you imagine happened. You collapsed in my arms."

"Thank you for your answer." he nodded with a half snort and then lowered his head "Here, eat these! And stay here, I'm going to look for that little demon of your sister."

Sansa didn't know whether to be pleased or be disappointed about what she knew. She didn't speak about that anymore, she simply ate and found herself thinking that basically everything was back to the way it was: she - as a Lady - escorted by a brave man who kept her at a distance. Nothing had changed, she thought.

But in their souls - and their hearts - everything was changing.

When Arya returned, she read on her sister's face, but also on those of the man's burned face words to which neither wanted or knew how to give voice: the Hound's biting humor had given way to a dull silence from which none of the three wanted - or could - escape.

They waded a river, then another and then another again, up hills and through a thicket. By the time it was evening, the two Stark sisters were too tired to continue their journey, so Sandor chose to stop in a small clearing where he lit a fire for the two of them, even though he was only cursing his hatred of the fire and of the "bastard who made him like that."

Arya despite her physical exhaustion, did not fail to have harsh words toward the Hound calling him ugly and obscene, Sandor shook his head calling her brave for her such blunt words.

"There is no one worse than you," Arya commented after casting a glance toward her sister.

"You never knew my brother. Gregor once killed a man because he snored. One of his own." the Hound sneered, the burned half of his face tensing, distorting his mouth grotesquely.

"I know you're taking us back to King's Landing!" she blurted out.

"Fuck King's Landing and Joffrey and the Queen," spat the Hound, "That river was the Trident, little girl, not the Black Rapids. We should reach the King's Road in the morning. And after that we'll travel faster, maybe we can get ahead of your brother's army before they get to the Twin Towers. And I will be the one to deliver you back to your mother and brother. So stop berating and gnashing your teeth, I'm sick of it. Keep your mouth shut, do as I say, and maybe we'll make it in time to save your family's life."

"I can't tell if you're doing it for money or to screw my sister."

Sandor looked at her "Your language, little girl, is definitely obscene for a Lady!"

"I'm not a Lady." she replied "And then you of all people talk to me about obscene language? Really? You'd better shut up."

"I'm not going to cut you in two just because of your sister," he told her hoping to intimidate her, but Arya simply huffed and then walked away and fell asleep away from her sister, who became a stranger, and that filthy murderer.

The next day, as Sandor said, they reached the King's Road: they found themselves crossing immense devastated plains. On either side of the track, stretched miles and miles of blackened fields, of destroyed orchards in which tree stumps stretched upward similar to target poles for archers. Even the bridges had burned. This forced them to wander along the banks of the river in search of a ford.

"But what happened here?" asked Sansa, looking left and right.

"My damned fucking brother! I'll bet a wineskin on it!" the Hound asserted.

"They might see us if we follow the main road," objected Arya.

"True, but we're after your brother's army, remember? I think it's not long now."

"And how do you know that?" asked Arya.

"Do you see that dung? Whoever it is is not far away. It's still fresh." explained Sandor and then gave spurs and quickened Stranger's pace.

"It could be anyone, scarred!" exclaimed Arya offensively.

It seemed to Sansa that this time the Hound was wrong, there was no one but endless expanses of ash, burned houses and fields, not a trace of their brother, their mother or the Stark army.

Dusk soon came and Sansa began to lose hope of reaching Robb in time, Arya then was of little help to her because she was constantly barking at her and ranting against her overconfidence toward that Dog. She prayed and hoped that it was Arya in the wrong instead…just as she was about to call upon the gods, a howl was heard and the ears of the three wayfarers strained in the direction of that cry.

"Grey Wind." said Arya in a whisper that did not escape Sansa's notice "This time you may not be talking nonsense, Scarred." she added, turning toward the Hound.

Gray Wind, Robb's direwolf, appeared moments later followed by his master, a young brown-haired woman, his mother plus some knights Sansa had never seen before.

"SANSA! ARYA!" her mother shouted, going to her daughters and hugging them tightly.

"Mother." said Sansa squeezing her and closing her eyes. She was home. They did it.

The Hound stood by in silence.

A dog cannot survive in a wolf pack, at least not for long.

"How did you…?" asked Robb as he approached his sisters, smiling and hugging first Sansa and then lowering himself slightly so he could hold his other little sister as well.

"You are safe now." he said as he hugged Arya.

Arya looked at him, "We did it in time!"

"In time for what?" asked Robb squaring her sister and turning serious.

It was Sansa who took the floor "Robb, I must speak to you, but I must do…" she looked toward those knights whose names and lineage she ignored "…I must do when we are alone, I heard…things…serious." she told him looking straight into his eyes.

Her brother wrinkled his brow and narrowed his eyes as if puzzled, "You talking about…non-princess things?"

"It's a long story, hope I can tell you someday, but not today," Sansa stated in a grave tone.

"What is he doing here?" Robb spat noticing the Hound who remained motionless and silent until that moment "Did you come to spy on us and report everything to the Lannisters?"

"I piss on the Lannisters and their banner," Sandor answered him bluntly.

"Robb, it's because of him that Arya and I are here," Sansa explained while all eyes were focused on Sandor Clegane who did not know whether to draw his sword or look resigned "He left the Lannisters, he led me - he led us - all the way here so that we could be safe," Sansa continued.

"My beloved sister omitted, however, that he wants money," Arya added venomously.

"He shall have all the money he wants," Catelyn intervened, "She brought you home."

Sansa and Arya were led to a tent where they could wash, comb their hair and dress decently.

When Sansa finished dressing, she reached her brother: she had to talk to him and tell him what she heard. She had to do it right away.

"Sis, there are enough meat and vegetables over there, why are you here? Arya ran right away to eat!" her brother told her with a big smile.

"Yes…I know, but I have to tell you about what I heard. It's - it's not easy. I saw the Boltons' banner along with ours outside…"

"Yes, house Bolton sworn allegiance and is helping us."

"Robb, I heard from…some knights while I was traveling that the Boltons and Lannisters are conspiring against you and will use the wedding as…I don't know, but don't trust the Boltons and especially don't go to the Twin Towers, it's a trap."

"Sansa, are you okay? It's a crazy story you're telling me: a conspiracy. Why would the Boltons do that?" asked Robb.

"Do you remember what our father used to tell us about the Boltons? Do you remember what he told us about them? The Boltons thousands of years ago were allied with the Greystarks and together with them they rebelled against us Starks of Winterfell."

"I don't follow you. I mean, this happened thousands of years ago and Roose Bolton never gave us any reason to think of a conspiracy against our family."

"I know, I know it may sound crazy as I imagine I myself must sound crazy to you in talking to you about politics or power plays between the houses, but please, Robb, listen to me. It's the truth. And the truth sometimes hurts only because you don't really want to see it."

The brother stared wryly at his sister for a long time, "You've really changed, you know? You're a woman. And you've become … wise." he concluded, smiling at her "And about what you told me, as Jeyne says, the night brings counsel."

"And who is Jeyne?" asked Sansa.

"She is…my wife."

"What?" asked Sansa surprised, smiling at him.

Robb nodded smiling at her, "Yes, I got married."

"Is she of noble birth?"

"I love her." it was his brother's eloquent reply.

"Of course, love." it was her comment.

For the first time after talking to her brother, Sansa could catch her breath and allowed herself to ask him where the Hound was, Robb's face stiffened "Now he's kept prisoner."

"But he brought us safely here," Sansa replied contritely.

"Arya told me he beat you and even touched you, and then we don't forget his past, Sansa. The North remembers."

Sansa was speechless for a few moments, then exclaimed, "Arya lied! He ... didn't hurt me, he ... treated me with respect, defended me, cared for me, he cared for me when some men tried to.... take my -- I mean, Robb, Arya didn't tell the truth! Sandor Clegane is a rough man, sure, he uses a terrible language and bad manners, but he didn't lift a finger against me."

"Do you know what his brother did and does yet? Do you remember that he was King Joffrey's dog who killed our father?" Robb reminded her.

"What's going on?" asked a young woman entering the tent, the woman was the same one who Sansa saw near Robb a few hours earlier, heart-shaped face, brown ringlets and wide hips.

"Nothing, Jeyne," Robb replied, "My sister must be very tired."

"I'm tired yes, but that's not the problem," replied Sansa infuriatedly "Please, Robb, I swear to you by the Old and New gods that Sandor Clegane is a man who can be trusted and whom I trust completely."

"Sansa, we'll talk later again. Now go eat something, you must be exhausted." Robb said, his sister with a deeply displeased air left her brother's tent.

Sansa entered the tent where she found Arya intent on eating as much as she could; her sister didn't look up at Sansa, but she heard her coming despite the background hubbub.

"Have you spoken to Robb?" she asked her without looking away from his chicken leg.

"Yes." she answered her simply by looking toward his sister.

"And?" Arya asked again without yet looking at her older sister's face.

"He will make a decision tomorrow," the elder simply answered her.

"Good." Arya commented.

Sansa ate as little as nothing: she thought about what Arya reported to Robb; she took her revenge for her lie that had led to Mycah's death and the letting go of Nymeria. Arya hated her.

By now, even Sansa who was trying to see the good in her sister, she understood.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Arya continued.

"Neither do you, and that's something I really appreciate," Sansa replied, remembering those same words Sandor used it when they were in the woods when their journey was just begun.

"Won't you ask me why I let the Hound imprisoned?"

"You did it to punish me," Sansa replied without dignifying her with a glance.

"This journey opened your eyes - at least you are not the fool I remembered!"

"You, on the other hand, have changed: you became cruel." she commented and then stood up.

She wanted to see him.

She walked through the whole camp, many soldiers recognized her and made a half bow as she passed, others just looked at her, she saw the Stark's banner, then the Boltons', she passed many tents and many hearths still burning. The camp was over and she saw it, huge, it was almost totally dark the cage Sandor was in, there was only a flashlight planted on the ground near the front door.

There was no one there at that moment to stand guard, and so she ventured to call his name.

"Sandor."

Since when did calling him by his name cause her that heartbeat?

He lifted his head, the thick, uncombed mass of hair revealed the still intact part of his face, and the man's dark eyes spotted and recognized her despite the darkness "Little bird." he replied "Can you see?" he resumed, raising his hands and showing the chains on his wrists of his hands and on his feet, chains that held him against a trunk of a small tree placed in the center of the prison itself "What a jerk! I should have left you there and escaped at once!"

Sansa moved closer so she could stand in front of him "You were brave, even braver because you faced the wolves." she smiled weakly at him.

"A dog does not survive among wolves, and in fact look where I am!" he exclaimed.

"You're only here for a lie," Sansa revealed to him.

"It was that little bitch, wasn't it?" Sandor blurted out "If I catch her--" the chains bashed heavily slamming to the ground.

"Tomorrow you will be free. You will have your gold and. . . you will be able to ... l - leave, even if ..." she said, leaving the sentence hanging.

"Even if what?" he asked her.

She was uncertain for a few moments about the answer to give, then confided to him, "I'd like you to stay with us, with me. I know who you are, I know you. You are among the best men I have ever had by my side."

"Why? Why should I stay?" he asked looking into her eyes.

Sansa's heart was pounding in her chest, she didn't know how to tell him what she felt, she didn't know how to tell him that it was because of him that she became who she was, she didn't know how to tell him that - even though he was not the knight she once dreamed of - she loved him.

"Stay." was the only word that came from Sansa's lips.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 11: The party

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Arya, Sandor and Sansa arrive in an unknown village where there's a party. Sansa meets a handsome young man triggering strange thoughts in Sandor who wonders about their relationship, Arya notices all this and can't stop herself from commenting on their strange relationship.

Chapter Warnings: language, attempted rape hint

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, please remember English is not my first language.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

The next day, they stopped at an inn, there was a party in that remote village, there were storytellers, jugglers, musicians, none of the three of them knew what the party was about: Sansa once knew everything about it, she did everything to know what the others were celebrating so that she too could take part in it, but that time Sansa knew nothing.

The village was not among the richest ones they had been to so far; however, the cheerfulness that exuded from the pale, emaciated faces of the people who animated the streets of that unknown village made Sansa smile. There, the girl could finally buy a dress; it was not like the fine clothes she left behind in King's Landing or Winterfell, but at least she was covered and could avoid Arya's comments, the stares that some of the men were giving her, and Sandor's gradually more intense stares. She loved parties, even if the ones she loved were parties of a very different kind! In spite of this, she was enchanted in observing strange colored fruits with aphrodisiacal powers, a salesman said, or in observing strange wooden objects at the end of which there were small dangling colored feathers, it was Arya and the Hound who pulled the girl away. "For tonight we stop here." the Hound declared. Sansa was pleased and smiled, at that moment her eyes fell on a boy with dark curly hair, an upturned nose, and full lips, he was not like her prince charming, but he really came close. He was handsome, she thought. The dark-haired boy looked up and noticed her watching him raptly, so he decided to dedicate a song to her, a song about a young maiden with hair kissed by fire. Sansa smiled: no one dedicated a song to her in a long time. The first and only time was when a storyteller dedicated a story to her about the beauty of a future princess of the North. "My sister is like this," Arya said somberly. They were at that inn for a few hours, Arya and the Hound were sitting at a dusty old table eating and drinking, he mostly drinking. Sansa, on the other hand, was laughing and dancing sinuously beside the commoners who laughed and shouted contentedly at the fleeting joy that the drums, harps and lutes conveyed to the dancers. "What do you mean?" he asked her, gobbling down another big gulp of red wine. "All she has to do is blink a little, smile and everyone falls at her regal feet," she spat venomously without losing sight of her older sister. "Are you jealous or am I wrong?" the Hound asked her, looking away for just one fleeting moment from the little girl with long red hair. "Me? About that lying princess? Not a bit." she spat in an aggressive tone. "Sure." he commented, however, not believing his tablemate's words. He watched as Sansa, elated, danced. It was regal even the way she danced, even how she smiled. Sandor watched her rapt, "I'd say that's how it went with you, too, right?" Arya resumed. "What?" he asked caught out. "You like my sister." that was not a question, Arya was sure "I've seen the way you look at her. You want her before you kill us, scarhead?" she provoked him violently. "Careful, you brat." he admonished her in hopes of making the young girl beside him stop. "Or what? Afraid of the truth?" the little girl resumed "You fool!" Arya railed and then got up and went outside, something told him to follow the younger Stark who just walked away, but something else told him to stay there. Sansa was fucking beautiful that night, in addition to being damn drunk, and everyone was eating her up with their eyes, including that boy she immediately eyeballed as soon as they got there. Sandor called himself a fool; it was obvious that she was looking at a good-looking young man who also spoke well to her, who especially spoke sweet words to her; on the other hand, she deserved that.

Sansa was having a good time, she was as happy as she had been in a long time, even accomplice to a few too many drinks. She allowed herself to be persuaded by Lian, the boy who immediately attracted her attention, to let loose and enjoy herself. He sung to her and danced with her, and she felt happy. She could not even remember how long it had been since she experienced such a feeling. It almost felt like feeling good again. However, from time to time she found herself looking at Sandor, "Hello Stranger." greeted her Lian "You look beautiful." he certainly was a straightforward guy, Sansa thought as she lowered her gaze slightly embarrassed. "Thank you." she said simply. "What is such a rare beauty doing in such a village? You ain't from around here." "No." she replied offhandedly only to remember in a glimmer of lucidity about what the Hound told her which means not to talk too much and especially not to reveal her identity for any reason in the world. "Where are you from?" he asked her, taking a glass with some amber liquid with a spicy smell. "You?" she replied. "Cape Kraken, I live in a small village." he replied, Sansa frowned. She cast another glance toward the Hound who was drinking more and more, she sighed and then looked back toward the good-looking boy: in doing so she noticed a coat of arms, a tree and three snakes entwined around it. Sansa whitened and looked toward the young man who noticing the change on her face asked her if she felt well, she asked, "Is that your banner?" Lian turned his head toward the direction indicated and he replied, "Yes." Sansa looked at him with disdain "What's going on?" he asked interdictedly. "Are you their leader?" he asked again. "Leader?! I lead them, but … I don't like to call myself leader." "Your soldiers attacked me and were about to rape me in the woods." she blurted out as she stood up, he stopped her by the wrist "Let me go you're hurting me!" she shouted, but without arousing anyone's attention since they were all too busy singing, dancing, drinking and eating. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for-- for what they did. They have all been punished." "Liar! My friend punished them!" Sansa never attacked someone before. That attitude would be typical of Arya: strong, resentful. Sansa was not like that, but she became: her experiences up to that point and the Hound's harsh words like slaps opened her eyes. Sansa learned what to do with those people she did not know: no fine words, no ceremony. She was a Stark of Winterfell and would be respected, by noble or commoner alike. But most of all, she wondered how long she considered the Hound her friend?

"The only two survivors have been punished, please, princess, believe me." "I'm not a princess," she objected harshly. "But you are as beautiful as one, your skin is so … perfect, your lips …"

Was that young man courting her? If Sansa had spoken like that a long time ago, she probably would have blushed and fallen at the man's feet, but today… oh, for a moment she deluded herself that she could be as happy again as she was when she was in Winterfell with her whole family, but that illusion had lasted but a blink of an eye: reality immediately reminded her of what she was actually experiencing. Her eyes caught a movement: the Hound gotten up and was heading upstairs, he was going to the room they paid for that night, she would have liked to reach him, stop him and drag him there with her, but Sansa did not. "Stop." she told him in a firm voice, "Your flattery don't interest me." "Because of my men?" "I'm not interested," she replied hastily and turned away from him. She was too tired to continue drinking or dancing or hearing singing, so she went up the stairs and opened the door to the room, the one she learned with embarrassment a few hours earlier that she had to share with her sister and the Hound; when she opened it, however, she saw not her sister, but only the Hound abandoned in a chair drinking. "I thought you were already asleep." Sansa looked at him and seemed to him as if he suddenly aged despite being not too much older than her; she approached him and resumed, saying, "Why don't you sleep?" "I couldn't." he replied simply and slurring the two words. "Why?" she asked her. His hair fell uncomfortably in front of his face and she, maybe it was the thrill, reached out to push those strands of hair away and caress his face, he reacted in a way that made Sansa wince: he grabbed her wrist and stood up abruptly. "You frighten me," she said, looking toward his face hidden by hair. "You shouldn't be…not of me…" he said letting go of her wrist and placing a hand in her hair "…Sansa." she looked him straight in the eye: it was the first time he called her by her name and not using one of the usual nicknames. She found herself swallowing hard, the air around them became charged with a strange and unfamiliar force and neither he nor she knew what to do, Sansa looked as if she wished she wanted to do something or expected something, but she did not know what to say or do, Sandor knew against what to do, but was afraid to do it with her. She was not just anyone, she was not just some whore found in the first brothel, she was Sansa Stark, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Shit, that little girl totally clouded his mind! "Sansa?" he called her in the semi-darkness and she pointed her blue eyes into his gray ones "I'm going to kiss you." he warned her, if she wanted she could have pulled away and run out, maybe she could have even yelled at him, but Sansa didn't move, she just stood there waiting and he asked her "Do you really want this? Do you really want this kiss?"

Was he, Sandor Clegane, really asking for someone's wish? The world and its order were being completely turned upside down.

And so, was this what it felt like to kiss someone, she thought as his imperfect lips rested on hers, is this really what it felt like? Surrendering and strong at the same time? Sansa thought for a moment about her mother, when she used to talk to her about how beautiful it was to love and be loved by one's lord, she hoped and dreamed with all her heart that the lord her mother spoke of would be a knight in a shining armor and on a white horse would lead her to his castle where they would live together as happy as her mother and father. Life, however, gave her a man in a dark armor always smeared with blood, with long dark hair and a weathered face, a man always ready to bite and attack, but a faithful, fearless and strong man. Sandor held her close by wrapping one arm around her and with the other slipped a hand through her hair. When Sansa opened her eyes, the light illuminated the room and she was alone there, lying on the bed wearing the Hound's cloak, her head ached and then she remembered that kiss… but had it really happened or was it the effect of alcohol that revealed to her what she really wanted? That is, to kiss and be kissed by him. By Sandor Clegane.

Before you leave... thank you for reading and if you want consider to like, reblog or leave a comment, or if you want you can leave me a pm. I leave with this question, Sansa and Sandor shared a kiss or it was a dream only?