After another long night dreaming of Sansa, Sandor rises at dawn, drawing water to fill the large wooden tub in his room. Hard and aching with need he eases into the bath, the cool water temporarily quenches his heated passion for her. It has been a long time since he's taken a woman and thinking of the Little Bird daily has built his desire to a fever pitch.
Typically he would find relief by drinking, whoring or taking himself in hand. There are no women for miles around. During his training Elder Brother made it clear there is no alcohol to be found on the Quiet Isle and the faith of the Seven frowns on self abuse.
"Self abuse?" he remembers laughing ruefully, "Those poor bastards are doing something wrong if it feels like abuse!" Elder Brother is very patient with Sandor; he has learned to keep most of his thoughts to himself as a token of gratitude, though struggling daily to meet the standards of a faith he does not share annoy him to no end.
Dipping his head down while rinsing his hair, he catches his reflection in the water. Shoveling dirt and digging graves has left his arms, back and chest well-muscled, however the rest of his body has grown markedly weaker the past months he has spent recuperating from his grievous injuries. He is far past being the warrior he was the last time he saw his Little Bird.
Skilled at healing, Elder Brother took him into his care and cut out all of the infection in his leg. He used a wide variety of herbs and teas made from bark as well as many other things unfamiliar to Sandor as treatment for his remaining ills.
All of it either tasted or smelled like shit; if he had any strength left at the time he would have knocked him cold for forcing such foulness down his throat. Over time the medicines worked and Sandor is grateful for Elder Brother's help. It is more than anyone has done for him since his beloved sister passed away.
In recent months Elder Brother has been teaching him how to identify and use herbs and bark for healing and Sandor is a quick study. The deep gash in his leg has healed well but when he least expects it the slightest movement sends a sharp stabbing pain down his thigh; Elder Brother says it's the scar tissue from cutting out the infection. He doesn't care what the fuck it is, he just wishes it would stop.
Remembering how fat King Robert grew after the war ended, the change in his body is no more than Sandor expected after two months spent in bed. Actually he never even expected to survive, let alone stay in the same shape he had been in prior to the fight at the inn.
She made him beg for the gift of mercy but in spite of his taunts the wolf bitch rode off, leaving him to die. He came about as near as anyone to doing just that and if it wasn't for Elder Brother's care Sandor is sure he would occupy the symbolic grave marked for the Hound.
Sandor retreats further into himself as time passes; he rarely seeks out conversation with anyone anymore and prefers brooding in silence to associating with the other men. Day after day spent digging graves gives Sandor plenty of time to think. He supposed to be repenting though he's not sure how grave digging qualifies as repentance.
Elder Brother tells him it is to remind him of the lives he's taken over the years. Sandor cannot remember even half the people he's killed but one thing he's certain of-never once did he bury any one of them. The only people grave digging reminds him of is his sister, his mother and father-all taken by Gregor. Even though he was very young, he can still remember the days he spent burying each of them; his only solace was planning his brother's death in gruesome detail as he worked.
In the end an enormous female direwolf tore into his throat and ended his miserable life, denying Sandor the satisfaction of spilling Gregor's blood, though he is vaguely pleased by the primal brutality in the manner of his death. He amuses himself at times by imagining it was the wolf bitch's pet that killed his brother-now that would be justice. She never went into the details but judging by her haunted eyes he figures she went through quite an ordeal with Gregor at Harrenhal.
His curiosity is piqued as to whether the girl in the Eryie may actually be Sansa- the squire Pod called her Alayne. The thought of Littlefinger sinking his teeth into his precious Little Bird is more than he can bear and fuels his desire to ride to the Vale in hopes of seeing the girl Alayne for himself. Driven to distraction with worry, Sandor needs an outlet for his inner turmoil now more than ever.
Unable to turn off his thoughts of the Little Bird, the beginnings of a new kind of plan form in his mind throughout the days, though the exact details of how he will execute his complex scheme still alludes him. He needs coin and leave from Elder Brother but he absolutely must find a way to the Eyrie; he is haunted by Podrick's words "she could pass for Sansa's twin"; he is now certain Sansa is being held by Littlefucker, brown hair or not.
Since the day the female knight Brienne left the Quiet Isle, Sandor secretly trains with his sword in the barn late into the night honing his warrior's body back into fighting shape while Stranger watches curiously from the stall. The war horse often huffs and stomps his feet, just as eager for battle as his master. Sandor decides to exercise him daily as well, riding him for many miles around the Quiet Isle as thoughts of Sansa fill his mind, hoping he will find answers in the solitude he enjoys there.
Elder Brother notices Sandor's worsening demeanor, watching silently as he leaves for his daily rides. Awaiting Sandor's return in the barn, he gives him the opportunity to confide in him but Sandor has been in no mood for talk and so far rejects all attempts at conversation.
Sometimes late in the afternoon thinking of her brings on a sharp aching pain deep in his stomach. At first he feels it might just be love-sickness and he laughs at his own foolishness. The intensity of his pain continues to increase as the days pass; one day after an especially strong episode Sandor mentions it to Elder Brother.
He listens carefully, pausing in thought before speaking. To Sandor's surprise he claims it possibly could be empathy pains for her, yet another sign the Seven want Sandor to help her. Sandor knows Sansa and the rest of the Stark children have some type of special bond with their direwolves; he had heard of it from some of the soldiers traveling with Robert to Winterfell but had dismissed it as northern superstitious shit. Then witnessed it himself on the Kingsroad, he tells Elder Brother.
Somehow Arya's direwolf had perceived her anger at Joffrey and attacked in response. He never faulted the fearsome creature for trying to protect her mistress. The wolf bitch's direwolf would have done the world a favor if she'd killed Joffrey. Arya's wolf escaped; Robert had made him search high and low for that damned beast. Sandor halfheartedly searched for the animal before losing its tracks and Robert had the Little Bird's pet killed in her stead. She had cried the rest of the way to King's Landing; it upset him to see his beloved Little Bird in distress.
Wolves and dogs have uncanny loyalty and he had no desire to kill her direwolf; he has always carried a special fondness for his sigil, and wolves are related to dogs after all. Her father ended up doing the job anyway. Sandor keeps this part of the story to himself as Elder Brother thoughtfully considers his words.
He never believed in dragons, the pyromancers, the red priests-before he battled Beric Dondarrion, that is. Nowadays he's not so quick to discount things he can't explain, like the connection the Starks have with their direwolves. Sandor's dreams have progressive felt more real, the pain in his gut continues worsening daily. Could it be...
Finally Elder Brother speaks. "When her sister was threatened by Joffrey her direwolf responded to protect her. You felt a similar urge to protect her in King's Landing as well. Perhaps Sansa has formed similar kind of bond with you as well."
"In King's Landing she was always on my mind...I had to drink, fight or whore to forget about her. But the feeling was never as strong as what I have now." Fear and understanding grip Sandor, constricting his chest. "Is she being threatened? Could that be why I'm having these dreams and feelings?"
Elder Brother nods definitively, "Many things that cannot be explained are possible. Such bonds are born out of a deep connection, even love-the Targaryens with their dragons, the Starks and their direwolves. Though I'm sure you would deny it you have powerful feelings for Lady Sansa. She lost her beloved direwolf, her protector and companion-that connection was violently broken when she was killed. Over time if she developed such feelings for you as well, a bonding very well may have occurred in King's Landing and continues now despite the present distance between you," he says. Sandor isn't sure if he believes him but it deeply distresses him to think he may be feeling the Little Bird's suffering just the same.
Elder Brother takes this information in stride and seems to be reading his thoughts. "Brother Digger tell me truly, do you love Lady Sansa?" Life on this damn island is making me soft. Of course I love her; isn't it as fucking obvious as the scars on my face? She isn't meant for the likes of me; she's gentle and beautiful. She's supposed to marry some buggering high lord, who will never appreciate and love her as I do, he growls under his breath. Sandor turns away from him, hoping Elder Brother will just drop the subject altogether.
Elder Brother's words clear the fog of emotional upheaval clouding his mind. "Have you never wondered why your life was spared Brother Digger? The Seven teach us love is the most powerful bond there is, ...it is what calls you to her each day."
Sandor snorts in derision. "There is no shame in it, Brother. You have taken no vows; and I have long known your devotion lies elsewhere. The pain you feel comes from hiding your love for her; perhaps she is suffering, trying to hide her love for you as well."
Disbelief and a feeling akin to hope fills his heart; Sandor can hardly believe such a thing is possible, let alone happening to him of all people. Averting his eyes Sandor begins brushing Stranger; he would rather look anywhere than at Elder Brother right now as he ponders his strange words.
Raw emotions rage inside of him, his true feelings for her surface and he is unable to hold back any longer. "Yes I love her, more than anything," he hears himself say, his voice barely above a whisper.
Elder Brother smiles and pats him on the back,"Go to the Vale, see if this Alayne Stone is your Lady Sansa. It is clear to me now it is the will of the Seven. I give you leave of your duties here; take as much time as you need. You must follow the will of the Seven to find peace Sandor, and you will never be at ease until you know the truth."
This is the first time Elder Brother has used my given name since I first arrived, he must be serious. Still he hesitates; belief in the gods is something Sandor has resisted his entire life. Is Elder Brother right-is his love for her causing the deep aching pain he feels inside? Or is it her grief and distress he is feeling? Thoughts of Sansa continue to haunt his dreams and waking hours alike-does this mean she loves him and needs him to come to her aid?
Elder Brother's voice stirs him from his thoughts. "Despite the differences between the two of you, true love is the bond you share with her. You owe it to yourself and Lady Sansa to acknowledge your feelings. She must feel the same for you; it is the only explanation for the bond you are experiencing with her. If you continue down this path, the two of you will find your suffering only continues to intensify as time passes."
Elder Brother has fed him a lot of religious horseshit about the Seven since he's been here on the Quiet Isle but for the first time Sandor feels the echo of truth deep within his heart. His need to find Sansa has become of force longer to be ignored. Sandor will prepare immediately to leave at first light.
Lady Brienne left them over a month ago; if Sansa is indeed with Littlefinger as he suspects she no doubt has heard of his so-called death by now. He cannot bear the thought of her suffering unnecessarily on his behalf. Determination replaces unmitigated worry in Sandor's mind; tomorrow he will saddle Stranger and head to the Vale in search of his Little Bird.
Sandor awakens long before dawn breaks over the Quiet Isle; he sharpens and oils his swords before strapping them on. He finds comfort in the cold steel resting in its familiar place on his hip and back-he has felt naked without them. Saddling Stranger and packing provisions takes a bit longer now that he is out of practice.
Elder Brother says a prayer over him and makes the seven pointed synbol of the Seven as he turns to leave. Into the distance he sees an unfamiliar man astride a white horse; Sandor pauses to investigate the approaching stranger before heading out on his journey. "A message for the Elder Brother my Lord," he calls out as he nears, eying Sandor's menacing appearance. Handing Elder Brother a small envelope, he announces,"From the Lord Protector of the Vale, Petyr Baelish."
Sandor and Elder Brother exchange glances as he opens the note carefully. After reading it briefly he hands it to Sandor; it is a wedding invitation from Petyr Baelish and Alayne Stone. Rage rings in Sandor's ears, partially blocking out Elder Brother's next words. "Lord Baelish honors us with his gracious announcement. May I ask what he may possibly need from the poor brothers here on the Quiet Isle?"
The young man looks around, making certain no one else is listening. "Since you are men of faith, I am finally at liberty to share it. My Lord, he means to reveal his bastard daughter Alayne Stone as another young lady, a highborn of considerable importance; he has shared her actual identity with no one, not even the septons. He desires you to perform their marriage ceremony."
"Why would he have you travel so far for a septon to perform the wedding? Surely the Vale has brothers of the Seven who are familiar with the couple." Elder Brother treads lightly, feeling heated fury rolling off Sandor. "No my Lord, the brothers there will not perform it. Petyr is a man with...shall we say, a somewhat questionable moral background. The septons do not know her true identity and in fact the young woman is altogether unaware he is planning the marriage."
Deep growling rasps from Sandor's throat, "Questionable morals-that's a fucking understatement if I ever heard it!" Shocked speechless the young man stares at Sandor; Elder Brother is quick to smooth over the situation."Please forgive our newest apprentice, my Lord, he is a penitent and struggles with his vices. However, the reasons you cited for the brothers at the Vale are indeed valid. If the young woman is not willing, or as you say, unaware...well that is a difficult situation to overlook. Marriage is a sacred union; please be aware I am not inclined to overlook the other septon's judgment lightly." He pauses long for his words to sink into the steward's mind.
"I am to brook no refusals my Lord," the steward replies, his quivering voice betraying nervous tension. "Lord Baelish has no other options; he has given me a substantial donation to ease over any difficulties. Much depends on this marriage taking place, I assure you."
Out of the corner of his eye Elder Brother notices Sandor gripping the hilt of his sword; when the steward looks away he winks and nods at him. "Alright then, allow my apprentice leave to travel ahead of us. Send word that we will may be expected in the Vale. I must speak to the girl first and make sure all is well before any ceremony is performed. Is she devoted to the Seven?"
Eagerly the steward replies,"Yes, my Lord, she keeps the old gods and the new, and every day spends hours in the godswood praying to the Heart tree." Sandor nods at Elder Brother; without a doubt the girl in question is Sansa.
Elder brother pauses in prayer for several moments, then raises his eyes and smiles broadly. "It is the will of the Seven that I attend this matter myself. I will settle my affairs, pack my things and follow along with you on the morrow; does that suit you my Lord?" Chuckling low, Sandor positions Stranger toward the road. "Oh yes Elder Brother that is very fine indeed," the young man beams.
"Stupid fucker, he just saved your life and you don't even know it," Sandor growls to himself as he spurs Stranger in the flanks, heading North toward the Vale and his Little Bird. When he finds her, all of the gods in Westeros will not be able to save Littlefucker from the worst possible death imaginable.