As the night carried on, no more words were spoken between them. Sandor had allowed Sansa to look out upon the star lit sea of Blackwater Rush. The taste of salt was in the wet air, as well as the fresh scent of earth.

For once it doesn't smell of pig shit. Once the moon had risen to its highest point, Sandor motioned for her to follow him back. This time, she did as he bid.

After taking a few steps forward, she slowly looked back at the ebony sky that inhabited countless specks of shimmering lights. Sansa had once prayed here within the bounds of lush greenery. Some time ago, she had prayed about her betrothal to Joffrey. Other times, she had asked the gods to have mercy on her father...and to see that her elder brother may be triumphant in the war. She had even prayed for Sandor Clegane.

Her eyes darted forward with a gasp. Again, his strong hand had her within his grasp. This time, it clenched tight around her wrist and pulled her along. She could no longer look back.

Sandor wanted to scold her again...to tell her of the danger she had put him in. At some point, he had considered throwing her over his shoulder and taking her back to her cage.

Doesn't she know what happens to men that are caught out alone with stupid little girls? He huffed just as they arrived at her chamber-door.

Her eyes peeked up to see his grimace. She knew he must have been angry with her. So, she swallowed hard before she spoke, "thank you, Ser."

Again with the Sers. His thick arms were folded tight against his armored chest, while those dark eyes looked through her, and he said nothing. Yet, the expression on his face seemed to soften when he nodded.

Sandor watched as the little bird fluttered back into her cage. A heavy sigh escaped him. Now all he needed was an entire barrel of wine.

The sound of the door shutting from behind nearly made her jump. Sansa had not taken the Hound's words lightly. He was right. Joffrey would soon come for her.

The light from the moon peeked in through her window. It served to aid her vision so she could prepare for bed. Her long slender fingers slowly unbuttoned her gown. Her movements paused at the last fastened button as she recalled his words, "Do you think your fancy dress with all its elegant stitchings will serve as armor from his blade?" The thought made her tremble, and she suddenly felt alone.

Desperately, she tried to push thoughts like that out of her mind. With haste, she began to put her dress back in its wardrobe. The sooner she did… the sooner she could hide under the comforts of her blankets. No, a quilt could not protect her any better than a dress. Frantic now, she had collapsed onto the floor. Her hands carelessly tossed neatly folded silks out of a chest as she dug through it.

At last, she found the treasure she sought. The white blood stained cloak would serve as a much better shield. Just as she bundled herself within it, she noticed a shadow under the door. Sandor was still out there.

Her eyes welled up when she realized that he had stayed to guard her chamber-door. She took to her feet and quietly walked over to it. His cloak dragged behind her for it was much too long for her height. Gently, she pressed her body against the barrier that separated them and let her hand slowly slide down the rough wooden grain.

She knew he could not stay there all night. It would be best to try and sleep while she had a bit of relief.

...

The feeling of the soft luxurious feathered blankets brought her little comfort. Though her somber eyes could see very little in the pitch black room, they laid awake. For when she closed them, all she could imagine was the color red. The cool air made her eyes feel dry and forced her to blink, while the thought of death weighed heavily on her.

The burden of her thoughts made her feel as though she couldn't breathe. Her chest felt a sort of sharp pain in it. The ache was either from the stress of fear or that of heartbreak. Perhaps, it was both. There were no sounds of sobbing, but the stream of tears ran down her face all the same. The shadow beneath the door was all that kept her calm. Motionless, she laid, until her restless mind gave in to exhaustion.

….

Within her dreams, she fared no better. Even more vividly, she saw the blood that streamed down her mother's neck and the bare bone of her spine. Though Sansa was not but an apparition, her silent scream rung through her ears. Those innocent eyes looked on as her mother's body was carelessly thrown into the river. The water's dark blue hue was tainted with blood. The crimson water soon began to overflow and stain the white hymn of her dress. It would continue to rise. Soon she would drown in it.

Her attention was pulled from the pool of blood by the sound of a horse galloping towards her from behind. Quickly, she turned and saw a vision a Robb riding towards her with the sun at his back. For a moment, she rejoiced. He was here to save her from her inevitable doom.

As he came nearer, his head transformed into that of a beast. Again, she cried out. Sansa wanted to run, but her body could not move, for it was incapacitated by slumber in another realm. The horse meant to mow her down. Just before she was crushed, Sansa's eyes darted open with a heavy breath.

…...

That soft cushion, which her head had been resting, was stained with tears. Her chest moved rapidly with each breath of air she tried to gasp. Light crystal eyes quacked, but before she could allow herself to mourn, fear struck her. She was not alone. The feeling of another's presence caused her eyes to warily searched about the room.

Sansa wanted to scream for help. Her mouth fell open, but out came no sound. It mattered not. No one would come to her rescue. No one, except...Clegane. Her attention snapped to her door. The hallway light was dim, but his shadow no longer lingered.

The unknown intruder said nothing and just sat beside her silently in the dark. Their body was heavy and left a deep hollow in the mattress. The hazy silhouette was that of a larger man. That fact, washed her worry away since that meant it was not Joffrey. However, it could still be a member of his King's Guard. Her mind raced through all the possibilities, and she trembled with fear.

Before long, she felt the intruder's hand gently stroke her auburn hair. For whatever reason, the feeling set her mind at ease. Just then, she slid her hand up, what felt like, cold metal armor before grasping the man's rough cheek. Her soft finger-tips traced the craters of his face. "San-dor Clegane?" It was more of a question to herself. Who else could this be?

She leaned up just enough for her lips to brush against his. She could feel his warm breath against her mouth and the coarse hairs of his beard on her chin. Sansa could almost taste the trace of wine that lingered on his lips.

Silent moments passed as she hovered over his lips. Her forehead warmly nuzzled against his while she breathed in his rough groan. With that, she eased forward into a slow gentle kiss.

When their lips parted, the man nearly crushed her with his tight embrace.

A soft smile pulled across her flushed cheeks. She hadn't felt another's touch in so long. His grasp was warm and protective similar to her father's. Her father was most likely the last to have held her, but she had told him that she was too old to be cuddled.

Before long, he eased her back down against her cushion. The feeling of his lips upon her forehead forced her to close her weary eyes.

Just as soon as she had risen, she was back asleep. This time, her dreams were not plagued by ghosts. Instead, she was back home, at Winterfell, being guarded by a stray dog.

….

To be continued…

(Thanks for reading! The next chapter will mostly be through the Hound's POV. )