Blood was trickling down Sansa's brow from a deep gash on her scalp.

"They…they were throwing things…rocks and filth, eggs…I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them. A man tried to pull me from the saddle. The Hound killed him, I think…his arm…" Her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. "He cut off his arm."

Clegane lifted her to the ground. His white cloak was torn and stained, and blood seeped through a jagged tear in his left sleeve. "The little bird's bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut."

-A Clash of Kings

Her feet stole quickly, quietly over the stones of the bridge, her black cloak shielding her from the eyes of any man on watch. When she reached the godswood, she felt herself let go a breath she had not known she held. She looked around in the darkness, listened to the still trees, but heard nothing.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and made a trilling bird noise with her tongue and lips.

There.

She saw him fold out from behind a tree like a shadow and her heart clamored up her chest and threatened to jump out of her mouth. Wordlessly, he closed the distance between them and took her thin form in his strong arms. Nothing felt more right, more real, than his arms around her.

"Are you alright? You were hurt. Let me see." he whispered, cupping her face in his gloved hands. He tipped her face up towards him, looking her over ominously.

"It was but a scratch. I am fine." she told him, gentling his hands from her face. She looked up into his face, all of it, the good and bad, and a tear slid from her blue eye.

"Little bird," he said, brows furrowing as he reached up to wipe the tear from her cheek, "Why do you cry?" She covered his hand with her own and kissed it.

"I feared…if the crowd seized me…I feared losing you. Death would take me from the King's torture, but it would also keep me from you. I could not bear it." she whispered, gripping his hand in hers. She was so small to him, so frail, and so beautiful. The only living being that had ever loved him, wretched creature he was, and she was beautiful.

"I would have killed them, every one, the King himself, to be with you." he answered her, gently smoothing his hand over her silken auburn hair. It was pitiful how he adored her; pitiful, painful, and wonderful. He knelt to meet her height and gently found her mouth. When her hands snaked up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck, he lifted her off her feet. She weighed little more than a child, but beneath her maiden's gowns she was a woman.

He hardened as their tongues played together, and moaned wretchedly as she wrapped her pale white legs around his waist. He cupped his arms under her buttock to support her, and cringed as his back crashed into a tree.

"Make me forget today," she whispered against his scarred flesh. He heard her plea, though there was no ear. "Please…" she begged, near panting.

"I'll hurt you, my heart." he answered, capturing her lips again.

"You never hurt me." She gently kissed his scarred cheek, stroked his burned scalp. She loved him. The gods be damned, she loved him. He was not a knight, he was not a King, but she loved him. He thought he was hideous, but she saw the beauty in every inch of him. She could hardly stand to look at him in the Castle, for fear of anyone seeing how deeply he had dug himself into her heart.

"They will be looking for me," he tried, nuzzling the soft white flesh of her neck.

"Let them look. Tonight, be mine." she asked, her long white fingers undoing his tunic.

"Tonight," he answered, turning and leaning her against the bark of the tree, "And every night."

He pulled his gloves off and helped her push the tunic off of his shoulders leaving him bare-chested before her. They crashed together again and he pulled her leg up, holding her pretty white thigh in his hand. He pushed her skirts up and found that she wore no smallclothes beneath.

"Oh gods," he breathed against her cheek. She was wet and ready, which made him even harder. He wanted her so desperately that it hurt.

He let go of her momentarily, but kept his lips locked with hers, and he undid his breeches. He was taken by surprise when her smooth little hands gripped his hips, pulling him towards her. When he entered her, she threw her head back and gasped. For a moment, they just looked into each others' eyes.

She pulled herself up by gripping his shoulders and she wrapped her legs around his waist again. He held her gently, but tightly, and together they began to move against the other. He claimed her mouth again, putting his arms around her back to protect her from being crushed into the tree over and over. Her dress fell from her shoulders and he kissed her, taking in the sight of her white shoulders. More of the dress fell away and her breasts were exposed. He moaned, retracting one of the hands behind her so that he might gently tease her tiny, pink nipples. He'd never seen anything so beautiful before.

"Oh gods!" she moaned, her nails scratching over his back painfully. Their pace quickened, both of them panting now, grasping the other tightly. She'd never felt this before, this immense warmth and tingling feeling. Faster and faster they moved with each other, until she felt a strange tingling warmth spread from her toes up to the hairs on her head. She would have screamed had she not taken the opportunity to bite down on his shoulder. His own release came as her muscles tightened around him and he groaned her name into her hair. Before he crushed her, he switched their positions and leaned heavily against the tree, holding her against him.

For a long while neither of them spoke. They just held each other, gently running their fingers over the other's bodies and hair. Gingerly, he slid out of her, letting her skirts fall back to her pretty little feet. After lacing his breeches up, he turned her so he could re-lace her gown.

"I've torn your pretty dress." he said, doing the best he could to lace the back up. She let out a light laugh and turned in his arms, kissing him again. He felt her smile against his mouth and he returned it.

"No one will notice. They'll think it was one of the people in the street." she said, picking his tunic up. She moved behind him to slide it on and gasped.

"I've made you bleed! I'm so sorry!" she said, taking her sleeve and gently dabbing at the blood she had found. He turned to her and gripped her arm tenderly.

"I've had worse. It's nothing, my little bird." he said, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing each fingertip. His heart lifted every time she smiled.

She looked up at the sky and then back to the entrance of the godswood. He knew she had to return to her chambers soon, and he too would be missed.

"I must go, my love. Would that we could run away and live each night in the wood like this." she said, letting her fingers trace lightly over his scarred cheek. He leaned down and kissed her again, tenderly, a lingering kiss to last them both until they could next sneak away.

"I will take you away from here one day. I will part that little miscreant's head from his body and whisk you away from all of this horror." he told her, brushing a hair from her face.

"Until that day, we have the godswood, we have our trees and touches and glances. They cannot take that away from me. They will not." she said, donning her cloak again. He finished dressing himself and looked at her in the moonlight.

"You should go. I would rather not watch them strike you again for being late…" She placed her hand over his and leaned up for one last kiss. He met her lips and lingered.

"Goodnight…Sandor." she whispered, turning regretfully to go.

"Goodnight, Sansa, my little bird." he answered. Watching her go, his heart sank yet again into the darkness created by her absence.

As he walked through the godswood, weaving through to avoid the eyes of the guardsmen, he could think of nothing but her. He doubled back again, sneaking through the brush as though he should be ashamed that he loved a woman like her, and that she too loved him. The horizon was just beginning to glow with the threat of sunrise, and birds began to sing in a tree above him.

"Mocking wretches…" he muttered.

They were not his little bird.