Authors Note: I own nothing.
Fur-ladened men wearily burst in the Great Hall of Winterfell. The bitter cold shone on their faces. Sansa Stark scanned the men with a look of relief as she saw Jon's familiar face but her gaze then shifted to another. A memory of a green-flamed night long before flashed through her mind as the tall figure approached.
"It's The Hound." The whispers from the crowd mirrored her own thoughts.
Sansa embraced Jon tenderly. When she walked to Sandor Clegane, Sansa felt her confidence mellow as she stated, "We all heard you were dead. Thank you for your support of The King of the North, Sir…" She stopped herself expecting his correction, but he simply handed her a letter.
The men were shown to their guest chambers. Later in her own room, Sansa opened the letter.
Little Bird,
Were you fucking daft to not take my offer of escape? Did Stannis take care of you as you imagined? No, I imagine not. I imagine you remained imprisoned by that sadist fuck of a boy-king as his scapegoat. I am not there to shield his beatings anymore.
Sansa slammed the paper down on her dressing stand. How the words stung. Why would The Hound deliver her such a hateful gift?
All of Winterfell gathered for the morning arrival of Daenerys Targaryen. Sansa attempted to slide by The Hound as he caught her arm. Turning to face him, she sputtered, "I find your gift distasteful." Seeing that the words had not changed the stone cold expression he wore, Sansa wormed her way out of his grip.
Hours passed and Sansa found herself in the same situation with the letter as the prior evening. She reluctantly read on.
After I left, I found your wolf-cunt of a sister. She almost ended me when I told her of how I should have fucked her pretty sister bloody to have one happy memory. She left me there to die, but I did not.
Flames flashed before my eyes. I figured they were the flames of the fire that ruined my face, but it was your hair. Each night after I saw your hair and heard you chirping. You never gave me that song.
Word came of your marriages to the Imp and Ramsay Bolton. Bloody knights and fucking fairy tales. At night, your chirping turned to screaming. I was not there to save you, but not letting me may have made you a wolf.
Now, I travel with fire worshipers and a godsdamned Dragon Queen. Fire follows me no matter where I fucking go, but there is only one kind I desire. Although I imagine you no longer need my shielding, an old dog like me might bring you solace before these ice fuckers kill us all. Fire lines my skin. Your fire lines my heart.
SG
A warmth filled her belly. Sansa gripped the letter in her hands as her chest heaved and tears fell from her eyes.
Wrapping in her furs, she crept to the guest wing. The knock on the door awoke Sandor Clegane from his tired daze. He staggered to the door propping himself up on its frame and unlatched the lock. Sansa stood there with her hands still grasping and twisting the soft paper.
"You love me?" Her bottom lip quivered from emotion.
Sandor reached his hand up to brush her lip with the pad of his thumb. "Yes, Little Bird. I love you." Their lips met, fire consuming them both.
Fin.