At first..
In the empty yard of a battered inn, two men prepared their horses for the day's journey.
From a distance they seemed two strangers, each unaware – or uninterested – in the other. The tallest strapped his stallion in hard, jerky movements; when finished, he made light of his great size and mounted his horse with ease. The other man moved languidly, as though unable to summon the spirit to saddle up. Before mounting his beast he drank deep from a water skin; the gold of his hand glinted in the morning light as he brushed away a rogue rivulet of water from his chin.
"You need a ladder to climb your horse, Kingslayer?"
The golden man smirked. "Aye, she's a tall one, but I am well used to mounting lofty mares." The dark man snorted before the golden man continued. "If we are blessed with luck she may not be the only filly I ride this day."
With little warning the Hound dismounted his horse and strode across the yard towards the Lion, dragging him from his saddle to the ground. Jaime grinned up at his aggressor who stood over him with teeth bared.
"Come now, Clegane, I am not against sharing her with you."
Jamie's grin weakened when he felt the point of a knife against his throat. The hot, stale breath of the devil above him told the truth of a long night with a wineskin or three.
"If you touch her, I will gut you like the fucking pig you are."
Jaime stilled beneath the Hound, whose eyes seemed darkened by his rage. He spoke low and quiet, lips throbbing with the venom of his words.
"And what if the scarred dog should touch her? What then should I do to you? Kick you? Chain you up, lop your tail off and starve you?"
The two men stared at each other, each unmoving, until the sudden call of a crow broke their feud. The Hound withdrew his knife and mounted his horse; the Kingslayer followed suit, kicking his heels into his mare to keep pace with his companion.
Over the violent din of hooves pounding hard-packed earth, Jaime shouted.
"You won't take her without me, Clegane."
The Hound pulled hard on the reigns, bringing his warhorse to a stop.
"Is that a threat, Kingslayer?"
The man with the golden hand laughed, shaking his head as though he were dealing with a child's tantrum.
"It is a fact. You need me."
The Hound spat his disgust at the ground. "What in the seven hells would I need with an incestuous shit-stain like you? You're useless to me – fuck, you're useless to yourself. You can't even tie your own laces, for fuck's sake."
"Yes, yes, I'm missing a hand and I can't swing a sword like I used to. None of this is new to me, Clegane, and none of this changes the fact that you need me. What is your plan of action, hmm? You'll stride into their camp with your sword raised and your teeth bared and you'll be cut down before you've even caught sight of her."
"I'll kill them all. Do not think me afraid, Kingslayer. A dog needs no courage to chase down rats. They'll be pissing themselves at the sight of me. Did you not hear the whispers of Saltpans in every fucking inn we've stopped in?"
"You can lay no claim to the crimes in Saltpans. You wouldn't want to, for fear of scaring off your Northern lass."
The Hound shouted, his voice raw and dangerous. "Don't speak as though you know me. You know nothing of me!"
"I know you have a soft spot for the girl." Jaime nudged his horse closer towards the dark stallion. "I know you aren't the man you used to be in King's Landing – perhaps you never were. I also know that if you let your heart rule your actions, you will die and the girl will be lost to you. You need my steady mind as much as I need your violent hand."
A sweet breeze touched the face of the Hound as the weight of the Lion's words engulfed him. He looked towards the horizon, towards the road that would lead them both to the campsite of Littlefinger and his followers.
The road that would lead them both towards Sansa Stark.
"I failed her once..."
"It won't happen again. Come, the ride is long and we both have promises to keep."
At last...
The Lady of Winterfell stood tall in her furs as she overlooked the training yard. Beneath her, boys with wooden swords pressed forward and parried in time with the shouted commands of their trainer. Resting against a stone wall, Jaime Lannister watched and shouted at the group.
"My Lady, the raven has been sent. I fear they will not take your refusal with grace."
"Let them take it as they will, Brienne. We are safe here."
Brienne followed her Lady's gaze across the yard, settling her eyes on the laughing lion. "Yes, I suppose we are."
With a shouted threat of a beating for any misbehaviour, Sandor Clegane dismissed the sweating pack of boys. He strode to the wooden trough and began to splash his face with the icy water, his dark hair hanging like wet string.
"They're an odd pair, aren't they?" Sansa spoke softly, as though she hadn't meant for another to hear her words.
The women watched as Jaime offered a clean cloth to Sandor. The scarred man nodded his thanks and dried his face before chuckling at something that Jaime had said. They seemed as different as a night and a day; Sandor stood tall and strong, pushing his wet, dark hair back from his horrendous scarred cheek as he listened to a relaxed and golden-haired Jaime, so physically beautiful that at times it was hard to believe he could be real. The Hound laughed, slapping his companion on the back before reaching for a water skin. Jaime seemed encouraged and continued, gesturing to his crotch and grinning as he told his tale.
Brienne smiled. "I think that they are not as different as you and I would imagine, my Lady."
"Oh, really? I think we shall have to share our own bawdy stories, Brienne, if we wish to be certain."
At the sound of laughter the men looked up; the two women smiled and nodded their greeting.
"Our fair ladies, Clegane."
"Piss on that. My fair lady and your... shit, I don't have the words to describe her."
"She may not have the Stark girl's beauty but she's a lady fair when it counts."
Sandor chuckled. "Aye, so the servants have reported. The cook's boy thought he heard you wrestling a wild pig in your chambers. He came running up to me in a panic, snotty nosed and squealing, shouting that I had to come and help you."
Jaime grinned and leaned closer to Sandor. "You're damn lucky that you didn't come in, you know. If memory serves, that was the day that I introduced Brienne to the many talents of a one-handed man."
"Enough, Lannister! You'll have my guts on the floor in a moment. Now, the Lady of Winterfell beckons and I must obey."
Sandor winked at the lion besides him before walking off. Jaime spared one last look at the smiling women standing above him before he too left the yard, just as day follows night.