The road hadn't been as vexing as Sandor expected. He might have even admitted he liked Sir Davos' tales of his days on the sea. How he'd earned the name the onion knight and how a poor nameless wretch from flea-bottom became an advisor to the king in the north. However, sometimes he would speak of the Blackwater, forcing Sandor to recall the green flames that seemed to burn everywhere.
'It's always fucking fire' he thought bitterly scratching his beard and taking a large swig from his wine skin. They'd stopped a few miles from Winterfell to rest the horses before making the journey to the gates. Sandor had wanted to press on, the thought of a warm bed, good ale, and a pair of clear blue eyes urging him forward. Davos had been the one to beg them to break and now they were lounging near a half frozen lake when all Sandor wanted was to keep riding. He was antsy and mean and begrudgingly a little afraid of what welcome he could expect once they'd reached the keep.
"Are you sure you don't want to wash up a bit?" Asked Sir Davos kneeling by the lake and attempting to wipe the last fortnights grime from his face and hands.
"You're just going to give yourself frostbite" he bit back "It's colder than king Joffery's cock out here"
"Aye, but we wouldn't want to disappoint the ladies my Lord" Davos continued ignoring his companions grumpy crudeness. Sandor looked up and over to him like he'd grown a second head.
"I'm no perfumed cunt. If they don't like it they don't have to look" he sneered. It was ridiculous to think that putting some freezing water on his face would make him look any less grotesque than he was.
Sir Davos chuckled earning another glare from sandor as he rose to sit across from him by the fire.
"You know you're more handsome than you think. I know of a few ladies that might"
"What you want to suck my dick now?" Sandor interrupted with annoyance. "I bloody knew it, 2 hours from Winterfell and what you want your chance before we get there?"
"If you'd take some advice from an old man" Davos started, clearly ignoring Sandor's blatant irritation.
"Oh Mother"
"You might want to clear up that foul temper before we are greeted by Lady Sansa and give yourself a good washing too" he finished giving him a pointed look.
"Ha like the Lady of Winterfell would Dane to greet a dirty hound on her doorstep" Sandor scoffed and leaned back against a tree wishing he had some warm ale and a chicken to fill his empty stomach.
"Not a hound but she might be wanting to greet the Lord Protector of the North. You are after all her equal now" he said pointedly but only got another scoff from him in return.
"She told me a story once, about her time in King's Landing. How she'd met a brave and strong knight"
Sandor shifted uncomfortably. He'd noticed that Davos liked to bring up the little bird and tell him her stories and he had gotten the vague feeling that he knew just how much it unnerved him.
"Aye no doubt that fancy rose knight she'd mooned over. Sword swallowing cunt" he answered taking another swig from his wine skin and disappointed when he'd found it empty.
"She didn't say his name, only that he'd saved her from three men in a riot and he'd tried to rescue her from the battle of Blackwater. Said he was the only true knight she'd ever met" Davos continued eyes betraying that he knew more than he was telling.
Sandor held in a breath trying to look as non plussed as he could but his heart began to race. The little bird had mentioned him, had thought well about him since they'd been separated? It didn't seem possible. Somehow Sir Davos had made him feel like a guilty little boy in front of his father. He hadn't even seen her in 6 years. He couldn't imagine there was any world where she still thought of him let alone well of him.
"And why are you telling me this? She probably made him up. She liked making up songs about pretty noble knights that never were" he deflected feeling uncomfortable. He didn't like the feeling of hope that arose in him when they spoke like this. It was cruel and he couldn't stop himself from it. It festered in the back of his mind like an arrowhead. It's sharp point poised and ready to pierce his armor if he let it.
"Well, we'll be there before night fall I'd wager. I, for one am looking forward to a hot bath and good drum of ale." Davos finished with a sigh giving the hound another quick glance before standing to ready the horses once again.
Sandor took a moment to look out at the frozen lake and scratched at his beard. He could feel how the hair matted together with sweat and dirt from the road and for the first time he found that feeling unpleasant. With a grunt he stood and made his way over to the lake where Davos was watering the horses. Crouching down he took a brief look in the water.
'I've looked worse' he thought but couldn't remember when. His face was splotched with dirt and grease and his eyes looked weary and tired. With a sigh he scooped some water into his large hands and attempted to clean some of the dirt from his face and beard. He shivered at the cold but felt energized just the same. He even went so far as to swish the water around in his mouth attempting to lessen the smell he was sure he'd acquired. Spitting out the water he looked up to see Sir Davos smirking at him. He glared back hastily taking the reins of his horse. Turning is back on Sir Davos with a grunt he walked forward not caring to see if he was even following.
It was just nearing dusk when they reached the Hunter's Gate. Sandor hadn't remembered it being as tall and impressive as it was now. The banners for house stark hung to either side of the massive wooden and steel doors that lay open for their arrival. He held in a breath attempting to curb his excitement, his hope. He hesitated a moment allowing Sir Davos to ride ahead of him still unsure of what welcome he would find.
With a slow trot they made their way through the gate and down the narrow corridor to the courtyard. He was surprised to see that a crowd had gathered to welcome them. It reminded him of when he'd first come to Winterfell as a dog to the King's son. They'd stood in a row and welcomed them with respect as one would expect for a friend and a King. Sandor certainly hadn't expected it for them. Coming to a hesitant stop he dismounted and turned to face the crowd. Sir Davos was already speaking when he caught a glimpse of her. The lady herself had come to welcome them. He suddenly felt dirty, even with the washing in the river and he wished he'd had a chance to comport himself before meeting her.
Sandor openly stared.
'Gods' he thought. He'd remembered how pretty he thought her in Kings Landing but he wasn't prepared for her beauty now. Her red hair stood out against the grey backdrop of the keep and he could swear there was an ethereal light surrounding her as she walked toward him. She was older, with the body of a woman, and curiously the look and confidence of someone who'd seen bloodshed and not turned away.
"Lord Clegane" she said curtsying to him. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one?"
He barely registered what she said and grunted a small response. His heart was pounding in his ears. The only concern was that she could hear it where she stood.
"I see you're not dead yet" he heard a voice come from behind Sansa and suddenly Arya was in view. She looked every bit the warrior he knew her to be and it made him proud to see her look strong.
"Aye" he rasped with a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm a tough fucker to kill. It looks like I could say the same of you."
Arya beamed with pride holding one hand on the hilt of her needle. Sansa looked between them for a moment before looking back at Sandor.
"I'd love to show you how difficult it is to kill me now. If you think you can handle it" Arya bated him. He felt a surge of pride flow through him. Though he knew he had little enough to do with it.
"You must be tired Lord Clegane. Allow me to show you to your quarters" Sansa interrupted moving to take Sandor's arm. He went absolutely rigid and pulled away from her touch as if she'd burned him.
"I'm no Lord" he chided feeling almost light headed with the pounding in his chest. He avoided eye contact with her and tried his best to look disinterested. It wouldn't help either of them to pretend there was any would where she would come to want him.
Sansa looked up at him and smiled. If she'd felt offended by his rebuff of her touch she didn't show it. She merely continued to smile surely unaware of how she was affecting him.
"And what shall I call you if not Lord?" She asked playfully brushing past Arya and forcefully taking his arm. This time not pulling back when he flinched.
He paused at this, he really didn't know what he wanted to hear. It felt ridiculous to call him anything at all and thus any name he gave her felt too familiar. He stayed silent allowing himself to be led by her back through the keep and into the main hall.
Sansa seemed irritated at his silence. It concerned him but he didn't know how to engage with her. At king's landing it seemed so easy to fall into the role of predator. She was young and was afraid of him. He knew what to do with that Sansa. He didn't know what to do with the woman who looked him in the eye and touched him of her own free will.
"I know you must be tired, my lord" Sansa continued after leading him through the great hall. "If it would please you, I can show you to your chambers?"
A mere grunt and a nod served as his reply. Sansa smiled and shooed the others away. Suddenly, as they passed through the back doors of the great hall and into the residence Sandor realized how alone they were. He stiffened still allowing her to lead him down the dimly lit hallway towards his room.
"I hope you will like your quarters, I've had them bring in the colors of your house. I thought it might remind you of home" Sansa said cheerfully and if Sandor was any other man he would have thanked her. But he'd not had much of kindness in this life and he hadn't ever known how to deal with it when it came along.
"You needn't have bothered, what does a dog care where it sleeps?" He grunted though secretly glad to have a warm bed for the evening.
" A dog may not care, but I'm sure a man will be pleased to see a bed after such a cold journey" she replied unfazed by his rude bluster.
"Aye" he paused unsure if he should continue. "A man might"
They reached his door and Sansa went about ordering the maids to bring him chickens and ale and all matter of comforts. He liked to see her this way. She was powerful and commanding and not at all afraid like he remembered her in King's landing.
Once everyone was gone ordered to their tasks Sansa lingered. Sandor took in the large expanse of the room eyes settling instantly on the strange and ornate metal grate that covered the expansive fireplace in the center.
"I had them cover the fireplace thinking you might not want such a large open fire" she said softly coming to stand next to him.
Sandor continued to look at the metal work noticing the intricate depictions of humming birds and ivy. He didn't know how to respond. She had prepared this room thinking of him. Of what might make him comfortable.
"I have a gift for you, if you will accept it." She stated and he turned to regard her with a stern bewildered look finding that for the moment he was unable to speak. He watched as she went to the cupboard near his bed and pulled out a large cloak lined with fur. She presented it to him and he noticed that embossed into the dark yellow leather was three black hounds, the Siegel of his house. His hands roamed over the leather noticing how intricate and delicate the details were created. It must have taken her a long time.
He took the cloak gently from her hands and gave her a puzzling expression. She was looking at him intently waiting for his reaction. He honestly didn't know how to react. He'd never received such thoughtful attention. He could feel that cruel sliver of hope widen and it frightened him. He knew in his soul that a beautiful creature like Sansa could never…
"I should let you rest my lord. I'm sure the journey has been tiring." She replied when he had remained silent. There was a look of hesitation in her eyes. Like she'd wanted to say more but had decided against it. He found he still couldn't speak and merely grunted in return hating himself for allowing her to effect him so much. He vowed that tomorrow he would reign himself in and regain his icy grumpy exterior.
She looked disappointed at his lack of response but smiled anyway and turned to leave the room just as the servants began to return with meat and wine. He watched her go and vowed to himself again that he would gain control over himself. But looking down at the cloak she gave him he couldn't stop that pang of hope resurface and nothing he could do would squash it.