No one had bothered to ask Sandor why he was at Winterfell, why he had gone beyond the wall, why he had come back to the fight instead of retiring elsewhere. He wandered Winterfell, coming to rest in the weirwood grove. He sat underneath one of the great trees, resting on its cold, hard roots.

After a while a familiar flame-haired figure appeared, observing the trees.

"I'm not very devout, but i have yet to see you pray Little bird. Do you follow your father's gods or your mother's?"

Sansa lowered the hood of her cloak, giving away no expression.

"After all that i've been through, I am nowhere near devout. Where was the mother then? The old gods gifted Bran but I see no proof otherwise. This grove has always had a certain aura, I will say. My father would come here often to get away."

"From porcelain to ivory to steel."

Sansa gazed at him curiously, having said something similar once. "Give me a drink," she ordered.

He obeyed, as she knew he would. "A wolf grown now, drinking like a highborn lady shouldn't."

She looked at him balefully, "I've more than earned it."

The Hound nodded, having heard what had befallen her since their parting in Kings Landing. "Could have saved you all that if you had left with me."

Sansa met his eyes, "if only the past could change."

Sandor was silent at that, lost in the memories of his scarring. "Should I leave you to ponder?"

"No," she said, "I've never minded your company." She paused for a few moments.

"Tyrion never touched me for the brief time we married. I thought it was bad then. But I was so naive. Ramsay hurt me every day. Not once did I enjoy any part of it."

"Had a real man been in your bed that might have been otherwise."

Sansa smirked, " and what would a dog know about bedding maidens?"

"The only thing women have ever disliked is my face. Never have they slandered my giving nature."

"Giving? That doesn't sound like the Hound I remember."

"If only you knew; I would be happy to demonstrate. Then you would really sing for me."

Sandor could see her face flush with embarrassment and he briefly felt apologetic. Another moment of silence lapsed between them.

"I would worship and protect you always if you were my lady."

…..

Sandor kept still, not wanting to scare her or force her. Sansa stood in front of him, staring intently into his eyes.

"Tell me what you want," she spoke plainly.

"To be left the fuck alone."

"But that's not it is it, you've had plenty chances to leave. You sought battle out, you even sought my sister out. Why?"

"I've always wanted to defend you, Little bird."

"That you did."

Sansa reached out and gingerly touched his face. Who knew the last time he had had physical touch outside of a fight? She edged closer, knowing even all these years later that he still would never hurt her.

"I want to know what bedding should be like." She looked at him expectantly.

"I will sire no bastards on you."

"How do you think I bore no Bolton babe?"

Sansa lifted her skirts and straddled his legs, slowly sinking onto his lap. Sandor was not in armour for once and her knickers just happened to be with the laundress.

He was still as stone, not sure if he was dreaming; he had wanted this day to come but had doubted it ever would.

"Show me," the Lady of Winterfell ordered.

Sandor swallowed, suddenly more nervous than the first time he had taken a maid. Neither of them wore gloves despite the cold; he cupped her jaw and bent down to kiss her. Softly at first, like how a proper knight should have, and then more gruffly. He slid his hands under her skirts, his calloused hands grazing her smooth thighs. He grinned when he realised she was bare underneath. Sansa unlaced the top of her gown after taking off her leather over jacket. The Hound scooped a breast out of her dress and played with her nipple, making her jerk at the sensation.

"Tell me what you want me to erase," he spoke solemnly.

She pushed his head down back to her chest, this time he slid a hand into her dress to fondle one Breast while he sucked on the other. Sansa was actually enjoying herself for once. She grasped one of his hands and guided it back under her skirts to what lay between her thighs. Sandor had large hands so he started with one finger. He stroked her slowly, tantalisingly.

Sansa clutched his head again, so he nuzzled her neck, nipping and sucking. "I want you inside me."

The Hound growled and let her unlace his breeches. He would not take the lead this time; he wanted her to have the power for once. She lifted up, knowing he was already hard as rock. She rubbed him against her slippery folds, rocking back and forth against the tip.

"Do you want me?" Sansa asked, a glint in her eyes.

"Yes Little bird."

She took inside her, having no maidenhead to slow it. He was far longer and girthier than Ramsey and she could feel pressure deep within that almost hurt but she wanted more.

"Then fuck me like it."

Sandor stood, grabbing her ass to lift her with him. He leaned her back into the weir wood, sliding her skirts up to reveal creamy thighs partially hidden by wool stockings. He lowered his head to take a rosy nipple in his mouth while he pulled out and slowly rocked back into her tightness. Sansa gripped his hair, clenching her long legs around his hips as he continued thrusting.

"Harder!"

The Hound slipped his arms underneath her knees, spreading her wider; his hands grasped the tree behind her leveraging his thrusts as he made them deeper and faster. Her legs began to tremble as she edged closer and closer. His thick cock stretching into her over and over, the ridges of it making her toes curl inside her boots.

"Will my Little bird sing for me?"

Her moans had progressively gotten louder. He put her down letting his still hard cock slip from her. A look of frustration flashed across her face. He spun her around and ordered her to lift her skirts again. Biting her lip, she complied. He told her to keep her hands on the tree. She felt him fill her again, seemingly bigger from this angle.

"Does the lady like having her braids tugged?"

He none-to-gently grabbed her hair and pulled until her head tilted back. Lightning raced through her veins at the sensation and he plowed harder. She could feel him nudge her foot with his to spread wider. Each thrust her ass smacked against his pelvis and his balls tapped against her clit. His large hands now gripped her hips, pulling her back as he thrust forward. Sansa ached to rub herself and took a hand off the tree to do so. Sandor slapped her ass, halting his thrusts.

"I told you not to move your hands."

He slipped out of her, turning her again. Before she could blink her feet were back off the ground and her back was against the tree, the chill seeping through her cloak. This time, right before entering her, he pinned her hands above her head with one of his. His other hand supported her plump ass while her legs snaked around him. Sandor kissed her, sliding his tongue between her lips to mimic what his cock was doing below. She kissed him back with a hint of teeth like a true she wolf. The Hound growled as she nipped his bottom lip. His hand encircled her throat; he gently squeezed and she let out the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"Are you going to cum all over my cock Little one?"

She closed her eyes and grabbed his ass with her now-free hands. She dug her fingers in and forced him deeper. Her back was now sliding up and down the trunk of the tree with the force of his thrusts. His hand tightened on her milky throat and he felt her wet quim begin to flutter.

"Yes, Hound!"

"You know my name, use it."

"Cum inside me Sandor," she moaned.

His face was vulnerable for just a moment, she would have missed it had her eyes been closed. He pounded into her even harder. Her slickness making a sucking sound every time he ground his pelvic bone into her clit.

"Oh gods," she groaned, "I think I'm about to cum."

Sandor grunted and lifted her from the tree, his hands cupping the underside of her ass; spreading her cheeks for optimum penetration and friction. He locked eyes with her, her gaze not wavering despite his scarred features. Sansa clutched at his jerkin, tensing up as he sent her over the threshold.

Her eyes rolled back into her head as her orgasm started. Sandor continued to lift and drop her onto his throbbing cock, groaning in pleasure as he tried to delay his orgasm. He began to suck at her neck as she clawed his shoulders. Last second she decided to lick and suck his neck and his knees nearly gave out with the force of his delayed orgasm. She kissed him as he pounded his hot seed into her wet pussy.

They stopped, he was still stiff and twitching inside of her; feeling his seed begin to leak out of her engorged cunt. He set her down, both adjusting their clothing.

"Fuck me until the dead arrive," she ordered, "but first..we need more ale." She guided him back into Winterfell.

Only the watchers remained. The Weirwoods saw everything