Only A Dream

Alayne Stone slept off her fears. Her father had said that she would marry a man she didn't know. He was known as Harry the Heir. Petyr Baelish's daughter would be happy that a base-born woman like her would marry a man with so much status and power. Instead, Sansa Stark was hesitant. She had married of man with status and power before, the Imp, or Tyrion Lannister. He had been cold to her, and didn't even bed her. Sansa wondered if it would have been better if he did. She didn't love Harry the Heir, nor would she come to love him. Littlefinger didn't fool Sansa Stark inside Alayne, even with his "gift." She would win back Winterfell, not as Alayne Stone, but as Sansa Stark. She would be the heir of Winterfell. As a girl, that alone would have pleased her, but not now. Sansa did not want Winterfell. She did not want the cold and lonely walls of her childhood home. She did not want to walk the halls where her little brothers, Bran and Rickon, had lived and died. They had been murdered some time ago.

Where would she go? Sansa Stark had no home to speak of, and her father controlled Alayne Stone. Her home would be Harry the Heir's home, even though both girls didn't want that. "You're nothing but a little bird, imitating of what they say and do." His voice echoed in Sansa's mind again. She remembered the tall, rough, and ugly man known as the Hound. Her protector. He alone had spoken the truth, and had made her see beyond the web of lies. You were right. We are both nothing but little birds. Sansa wondered why she wasn't crying. Thinking of the Hound always made her cry, out of fear and pain she couldn't tell. Tonight she didn't shed tears, for him or for herself.

Sansa dreamt she was in the godswood again. The trees were the same, dark and unyielding as stone. She shuddered, but somehow she felt a vague sense of comfort being near her father's gods. It was as if she could feel his warm arms around her, comforting her fears as he did many times before he died. "Father…" she whispered. If only he wasn't dead, if only her mother was alive, if only… Sansa let the wishes hang. Those thoughts belonged to a girl long lost. She was never coming back. Even so, she could picture Eddard Stark's face in her mind. Her father's face framed his dark hair, and he faintly smiled as he reached for her. Suddenly Sansa gasped. Her father's face dissolved until the Hound's face was in front of her. She saw his cold, hard gray eyes, so much like her father's. She saw his hideous burned face. He had no ears, and his face was twisted in an uncanny smile. The Hound laughed, his hollow and raspy laugh that had echoed in Sansa's life during her imprisonment in King's Landing. Her heart beat faster, although she wasn't certain if it was fear. She backed away into a tree, and the Hound's face disappeared into the mist.

"Hello, little bird."

Sansa turned, and saw the man that had haunted her dreams for the past fortnight. His gray eyes were cold as ever, and he towered over her. She noticed that his dark hair was cut short; it only came to his neck, and he wasn't carrying a sword or any weapon. His scar pulsed from his face, and Sansa forced herself to look at him. A mass of scar tissue framed the left side of his face. Both of his ears were gone, and part of the skin was ripped away. Sansa was about to look away when she noticed that his eyes were not fevered with rage. He did not smell of wine, or of blood.

"Do you still fear me?" he rasped. Sansa swallowed, not willing to meet his gaze. She had feared the Hound for some time, mostly because of his face and demeanor. He was sharp towards her, even when she tried to be kind to him. And yet, he was the only person that she was willing to trust now. Her Florian had turned out to be a fraud. He had protected her when the mob had tried to murder her and…rape her. He was there when she needed him most. Sansa clutched a piece of his bloody cloak in her hand, squeezing. She still kept the piece, although she didn't know why she still kept it. It was true. She didn't fear him as much as she did before…but the fear was still there.

"Yes," she whispered. Now she met his gaze. Sansa expected him to laugh, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed her face with his hand and held her chin roughly.

"I protected you." The fire that had been gone before now appeared again. His eyes were wild, smoldering with rage. "I protected you from those vile human beings. I tried to take you with me that night, remember?" He was breathing heavily now, and trembling. "I tried to take you, just as I took that blood song!" He made a queer sound, and it was a couple of moments before Sansa realized that he was sobbing. The Hound was sobbing. "I tried to take you with me, and you said no!" He forced her to look into his eyes, and she saw the raw pain and agony in his gaze. "I took that blood song, and I left you for that dwarf." He spat that word out like poison. Then he let her face go, and stood there, still shuddering, still sobbing, as Sansa ignored the pain from his rough hands and came near him.

"He didn't take me," she said. The Hound wouldn't answer. "He wouldn't take my maidenhead."

"I would have taken that first," the Hound rasped. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"You mean…" Sansa eyes widened. "You wanted me?"

"All the time," he stated. Now he looked at her. His eyes were red. "I tried…to take you with me, just like with her." His voice reduced to a whisper. "I tried to take her with me. She said no, too. Then she was fucked bloody and murdered by our brother." He took her face in his hands. This time his hands were surprisingly gentle, and he stroked the bruises that he had caused. "My…sister looked just like you, little bird. Auburn hair with startling blue eyes." His voice choked. "I promised her that I would protect her, but I didn't. I failed." Tears were welling in his eyes again. "Not you. I could never let something happen to you, little bird. I could never let something happen to you that he did to her." Then his face crumpled, and he sobbed. Sansa held the Hound as he cried. She wondered if he had cried before like this. Maybe he had, when his sister had died. Sobs shook his huge body, and Sansa had to stop herself from crying. All these years the Hound had been in pain. The sobbing slowly ceased, and the Hound was still. He gazed at her, and somehow Sansa didn't feel afraid. She was startled to find that he had high cheekbones that she had somehow missed, and she felt a strand of his hair, which was soft and fine. He would have been handsome if not for the fire, Sansa thought.

"Do you…still fear me?" he whispered.

"I…" Sansa was surprised to find that she wasn't daunted at all by this man. Not even his face caused her to look away. "I don't fear you now, Hound."

"My name is Sandor." Almost unconsciously, he put his strong hands around her waist. She pretended to not notice.

"Then, I don't fear you now, Sandor." Their noses touched.

"Little bird – " He couldn't finish his sentence because Sansa's lips touched his own. She found that his lips were cold and hesitant. She pulled him closer, and after a moment, his lips became warm and inviting. Her stroked his fingers though her auburn hair, and she touched his face, the burned side and unburned side. He kissed her again, and Sansa thought that she felt she hadn't felt anything so wonderful. "You were my knight," she whispered as he stoked her hair with his warm large hands. "You protected me when no one else did, and you gave me comfort when no one else would. And you gave me something else, too. Love." She stared into his eyes.

"You cannot love me."

"I already have."

"The Hound –"

"The Hound is dead, Sandor." Sansa whispered to him. "You can't make me go away because I'm not afraid of the man I love."

Sandor Clegane was about to respond when their surroundings gave into the darkness. The trees and then Sandor himself disappeared. Sansa called for him, but he either couldn't answer or wouldn't.

"Sandor!"

Then she woke up. It was only a dream.