A/N - This is a plot bunny I couldn't get out of my head after episode 8. It appears our favorite couple will soon meet again, and this is how I would love to see it go down. I know it won't, but hope springs eternal. Anyway, since the idea comes from show cannon, I will be following show cannon throughout the story, and all descriptions of characters will be based on the actors who portray them.

I own neither Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire, and my only profit from this story will be the satisfaction of getting the plot bunny out of my head.

I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review!

The Price of Redemption

Chapter 1

"You're a fighter, you were born a fighter. You walked away from the fight. How did that go?" Dondarrion couldn't know the nerve he had hit with those words, but Clegane was assaulted by the memory of the dead villagers, Brother Ray hanging from the rafters of his own sept. Yes, he had tried to walk away from the fight, but the fight had found him.

Beric continued with his pitch for the Hound to join his cause. "Good and bad, young and old, the things we're fighting will destroy them all alike. You can still help a lot more than you've harmed, Clegane. It's not too late for you."

Sandor Clegane thought hard on those words. He took another swig from the wineskin – watered down and awful but better than anything he'd had lately – and regarded the one-eyed knight.

"You going North, you say?" he asked finally. North. The Little Bird. He had told Brother Ray it was hate that kept him alive, and that was true enough. But it was hatred for himself, mainly. Hatred for not saving her when he had the chance. He had left her to that lion's den, and now last he heard she was missing, probably dead. He had failed her. He had promised to keep her safe and he had failed her.

What was worse was he'd failed her sister as well. Couldn't even fight off that big bitch with the Lannister gold to keep her safe. Now she was probably dead too. He was a worthless shell of a man, with nothing to live for. So why had he? Why hadn't he died underneath that tree so many months ago?

He had now heard from two different holy men that the gods had spared him for a reason, still had some purpose for him. He never cared much for the gods, save the Stranger, and the Stranger seemed to keep rejecting him. Gods knew he had wrought enough evil in the world at the behest of his masters. Mayhap it wasn't too late for him to do some good.

Brother Ray had preached peace, but that peace had got him good and dead. Sandor had once told the Little Bird that strong arms and sharp steel ruled the world, and he'd had the right of it even then. What Beric said was true, he was a fighter. He was a man of violence, always would be. But could that violence be used to help instead of harm?

Dondarrion said there was an enemy in the North that threatened everyone. Aye, he could go north, help end this threat. Might be he could even find the Little Bird's bastard brother on the wall, help him where he had failed his sisters. Would that make him hate himself any less? Likely not, but it felt like the right thing to do. And for once, Sandor Clegane truly wanted to do the right thing.

Clegane turned is head and spat, then looked back and Dondarrion. "When do we leave?" he asked roughly, and Dondarrion lifted the corner of his mouth in what might be interpreted as a smile. But it was Thoros who spoke.

"If you're ready, we leave at first light. We'll take the Kingsroad north until we reach Moat Cailin, then we'll have to take to the woods." Thoros explained.

Sandor frowned. The Kingsroad will take us right past the Twins. Aren't you worried the Freys and Lannisters will see us?" He asked. "I'm sure the Freys are not too happy with your men for hanging so many of theirs, and the Lannisters want my head."

Thoros stood and pulled another chunk of roasted rabbit off the spit. "They're too busy laying siege to Riverrun. They'll not even notice our passing." He said.

Sandor nodded in understanding. He had been out of touch with the rest of the world for nearly a year. He had no idea what was going on now. "And what's going on at Moat Cailin then that we have to hide ourselves?"

"Ah, "Beric answered, "That's a different story. Moat Cailin is held by the Boltons, as is the Dreadfort, of course, and Winterfell." Sandor looked up sharply at the mention of Winterfell, a reaction that Dondarrion did not miss.

"It was the Boltons that double crossed the Young Wolf at the red wedding." Sandor said, almost to himself. He had heard that much as he traveled the Riverlands with the little wolf bitch. She had added Roose Bolton's name to her list, he remembered.

"Aye," Thoros answered, "And now they have wardenship of the North. I've even heard tell that they got hold of the oldest Stark girl and married her off to Roose's bastard, Ramsey. An heir off her would strengthen their hold."

At that Sandor felt a rush of something he couldn't understand. Relief that Sansa was alive and back in Winterfell where she belonged maybe? Or was it anger that she had once again been sold off like livestock, good for nothing but her name and her claim? Dondarrion interrupted his thoughts before he could further analyze them, and what he said made Sandor's blood run cold.

"That Bolton bastard is as sick as they come." Beric said with a look of disgust on his face. "They say he tricked the Ironborn out of Moat Cailin with a promise he would send them all home, then he flayed them all alive and left their bodies hanging on their crosses all along the Kingsroad. I also hear he makes a hobby of kidnapping young girls from nearby villages and sets his dogs loose on them. From the things I've heard he's got to be insane."

Sandor sucked in a breath to stifle the moan that tried to force its way out of his lungs. This is who his Little Bird was married to? A psychopathic butcher? He clenched his fist in rage and felt the overwhelming urge to kill….something.

As if reading his mind, Thoros shook his head sadly. "That poor Stark girl." He said sadly. "I can't bear to think of what he's likely done to her."

"He can't kill her." Beric replied. "He needs to get an heir on her."

"That doesn't mean he can't torture her." Thoros said grimly. "And once she's given him his heir she'll have lost her usefulness."

Sandor stood angrily and kicked the log he had been sitting on. "We have to get her out of there!" he growled. "If we're going north we have to help her!"

Thoros laughed bitterly. "And how do you propose we get past the Bolton army? What's your interest in the Stark girl anyway? Didn't her sister want you dead?"

Sandor almost laughed at that, remembering the look on the wolf bitch's face when she denied him the gift of mercy and left him for dead. He hoped if she was somehow still alive she considered their debt paid. His thoughts turned back to Sansa and he hesitated wondering how much to say. Finally he let out the breath he had been holding and began to speak.

"The Little Bird….Sansa…I tried to help her." He started, not looking at the two men out of shame for his own failure. "That cunt Joffrey was cruel to her. He berated her, called her stupid, made her look at her father's head rotting on a pike. She was tough, though. She almost pushed him off the battlements before I stopped her." His mouth twitched as he remembered the look on the girl's face. He had been both proud of her and terrified for her in that moment. That's when he knew he had to look out for her, because no one else would.

"Little Bird?" Thoros questioned with a raised eyebrow, but Sandor ignored him.

"The little bastard had his Kingsgaurd beat her, with their fists and with the flat of their swords" he continued. "I remember the bruises and cuts across her back and legs. He had her stripped in front of the court, called her traitor."

"You were Kingsgaurd, Clegane…" Beric began but Sandor cut him off.

"Aye, but I never laid a finger on her, not to hurt anyway, and the King was smart enough not to ask me to." Sandor growled. "I wanted to save her, to keep her safe. I tried to take her with me when I left, but she thought Stannis was going to win the battle, thought she'd be safer with him. Silly little bird, I should have taken her anyway."

Sandor swallowed a lump in his throat as he remembered that night and the way she had looked at him, as though she was looking into his soul. 'You won't hurt me.' 'No, Little Bird, I won't hurt you.' But he had hurt her. He had left her behind to fend for herself, and that was the cruelest thing he could have done.

"And what, Clegane, drag her through the woods?" Thoros questioned. "Where would you have taken her? Nowhere would have been safe for her. You couldn't have saved her then, and we can't save her now."

"The hells we can't!" Sandor spat. "You say the gods have a purpose for me? Sansa Stark is my purpose. If we're going north we're going to get her away from that bastard, and I swear by all the gods, old new and otherwise, I will never let anyone hurt her again."

The three men stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Dondarrion on the red priest looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation. For all Sandor knew they were. Finally Dondarrion spoke.

"Alright, Clegane." He began, "If it means that much to you, we'll try to get her out. There's still the matter of the army between us, but if the Lord of Light truly wishes it, he'll help us find a way."

Sandor could care less about the fucking Lord of Light, but if it meant saving his Little Bird, he would take all the help he could get. "Good." He said, "It's settled then. Tomorrow we head north."

Dondarrion nodded. "Aye, tomorrow we head north."