Hi everyone! Sorry for the super long delay but RL got in the way, as always! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter nevertheless. If you do, please don't be shy to share your thoughts with me! :)

ETA: Once more, a giant THANK YOU to Kimberlite8 for her help betaing this chapter! :D :D :D

For the following week or so, Sansa and the Hound travelled through similar desolated landscape they had previously. Their progress was extremely arduous and made difficult mostly by the rain that kept falling over the forest. While it was never heavy, it was almost continuous and transformed the earth of the road into a deep and thick mud. The horses couldn't be pushed too hard in such conditions, lest they risked injuring one of them and thus, they were forced to travel at a maddeningly slow pace.

As if that wasn't enough, the weather rendered their cloaks and most of their clothes wet or at least, dank at all time. Whenever there was a respite in the drizzle and the clouds became thin enough to let some sunbeams pass through, Sandor Clegane always called a halt no matter how early it was, so that they could empty their saddlebags and spread their contents under the sunlight. It was important that they did so if they wished to avoid the rot taking hold into their food and clothes. If it was past noon when they stopped, they made camp right away - after all, they couldn't turn their noses on a chance to dry some wood and tinder under the sun and have a campfire that would last them until dawn for a change.

Yet most nights, no true fire was possible and Sansa and the Hound had to sleep close-by under pine trees whose thick branches protected them from the rain. Despite the cold and their general discomfort, the man took her every single day, sometimes more than once. He had been right though. It didn't hurt anymore, apart from when he first entered her or became more agitated just before he spilled himself in her. Still in both cases, the pain was only momentary and nothing Sansa couldn't endure. Besides, their new intimacy did have its advantage for they now always shared blankets and furs and the girl was glad of the warmth Sandor Clegane offered her given how freezing the air became once darkness was complete. Whenever he felt her shiver against him at night, the man wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her body with his large hands until she was soothed enough to fall asleep. Sansa was grateful for that at least.

"Little bird, there's a village nearby," the Hound announced as they rode one rainy afternoon.

"Really?" Sansa squeaked, jerking her head his way.

"Look ahead of you, girl. See the smoke columns?" The man pointed a finger at the grey lines which lazily rose over the canopy ahead. "These are no campfires or burning houses, trust me. Especially not in this buggering weather."

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods," she let out disbelievingly.

"You've no bloody gods to thank. The village was always there and I got us there. Thank me if you feel the need to be grateful." He laughed, his voice as sharp as the sword he had sheathed at his hip. "If my reckoning's right, it's Lord Harroway's Town. We'll find an inn there. Or if not, at least a shelter."

That was good enough. "Thank you then," the girl said softly.

The Hound snorted. "We're almost there. You'll thank me later tonight," he said, glancing slyly at her.

Then, he kicked his stallion with his heels to urge him as fast as was safe on the muddy road and they both headed to the village.

It was the first village they had come across in a long time that was not burned down and abandoned. When they arrived and Sansa saw the clearly inhabited little stone houses with fires burning in their hearths and livestock walking about in some of the yards, she almost cried tears of joy. There was even an inn, intact from the war and ready to receive them. The innkeeper was glad for customers for travellers were still rare despite the new peace and he immediately called for a boy to take care of their horses.

"How many rooms will you be needing?" he asked amicably.

"Two," Sandor Clegane replied while tossing a few coins on the counter. "And a bath in both rooms."

While they waited for their chambers to be ready, Sansa and the Hound sat by the common room's large hearth. Both of them were soaked to the bone and the heat of the fire was more than welcomed.

"Bring us something warm to eat and some wine, if you have any," Sandor Clegane demanded to a middle-aged woman that was probably the innkeeper's wife.

He had removed his sodden cloak and the sight of his unconcealed burns glistening with rainwater and wet, black hair plastered to his face and scalp seemed to frighten the woman. Nodding nervously, she hurriedly went away before coming back with everything only a few minutes later.

"Mmm," Sansa murmured as she ate her stew, too content to care how unladylike she sounded.

"It was a long time coming, wasn't it, little bird?" the Hound rasped. He had already finished two bowls of the stuff and was watching her with a smirk on his lips from his place at the other side of the table while chewing on a piece of bread.

Sansa swallowed her last spoonful of stew and agreed. "Yes, indeed," she admitted while timidly meeting his gaze.

"Here, take some wine now," he bid her, bending over the table to push a full tankard just in front of her. "It'll do you some good. Kill off any cold you might have caught before it has a chance to start."

Sansa obeyed, knowing he was probably right. The wine tasted awful though and the Hound sniggered at seeing her grimace after her first sip. Yet in spite of how bitter it was, the girl managed to drink it all in only a few minutes and afterwards, she felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Come on now. Let's go and see what those rooms we paid for look like," the Hound prompted, rising to his feet.

Curious also, Sansa stood up at once, yet as soon as she did, she realised the wine had gotten to her head a little more than she'd thought and almost lost her balance.

"Careful, little bird," Sandor Clegane told her while catching her by the upper arm. His teeth were bared in a wolfish grin but he didn't comment further and headed to the stairs once he was certain she was stable on her feet.

A smile creeping on her lips, Sansa strode after him. A room and a bed, she thought happily.

When they got upstairs and opened the first door, the girl brought both her hands to her mouth and let out a small cry of joy at seeing the bed she would sleep in. The room was modest and simple and the mattress was filled with straw but that was good enough for her at this point. A fire had been lit in the fireplace and a steaming bath was already waiting for her.

Sansa walked to it and gazed down longingly at the clear water. "Oh! I barely can believe I'll soon be clean again," she whispered.

"Hum," the Hound grunted. There was a small and old-looking mirror on the wall and he was studying his refection in it with a critical air about him. "I need to shave, do I?" Running a hand over the long stubble that covered his unburned cheek, he barked a short, dry laugh and turned around to face Sansa. "I'm on it. Clean up and I'll do the same. And don't forget: you don't open to anyone but me," he said, pointing a finger at his chest. When Sansa nodded, he put his back to her and exited the room.

Oh gods, a bath, the girl thought as she barred the door behind him. A moment later, she was immersing her nude body into the hot water with a cry of delight. She had forgotten how good it could be to feel so warm. After having scrubbed her skin pink, she decided to relax in the bathtub just a little longer but with her belly full and the wine she had drunk, she soon dozed off without realising it. At some point though, a knock on the door woke her to reality.

"Little bird?" the Hound's voice was asking.

At first, she was confused and even wondered where she was. "Yes?" she replied drowsily as memory came back to her.

"Open."

Shaking herself, Sansa stood out of the bathtub and wrapped the towel that waited on a chair nearby around her body. "I'm coming," she said, walking to the threshold.

She opened and the man immediately entered, locking the door behind him just as soon. Then, he walked across the room, inspecting it all the while drinking from his wineskin.

"Cozy isn't it? Or at least, a whole lot more than the fucking forest floor." As he spoke, Sandor Clegane settled his wineskin on the small table that flanked the bed and stretched his tall frame, his hands easily reaching the ceiling. "I think I'd take a little nap now," he added before comfortably installing himself on his back over the bed with his arms folded behind his head.

Sansa bit at her lip. Until then, she had hoped the fact that they were in civilised country and especially, since he had asked for two rooms meant he would keep his distance from her but now, she wasn't so sure.

The Hound guessed her thought. "The other room will come to waste. I took it just to save your reputation in case anyone is taking note."

It came as no surprise in truth and so Sansa only nodded stiffly.

"Come over here," he told her, lifting an arm before him and gesturing for her to approach. "I'm sure you're getting cold, standing there all wet in that little towel."

Sansa sighed. She would never get rid of this. Not until they reached Winterfell. It's all right. I don't mind it anymore, she reminded herself. Letting the towel fall to the floor, she walked naked to the bed. As soon as she got near enough, the Hound pulled her over him and began caressing her body all over.

"Take me in your hand, little bird," he rasped in her ear.

It was not the first time he made her such a request and while the idea of it still brought a deep blush to her cheeks, the girl unlaced his breeches and freed his hardened member just the same. Sandor Clegane groaned in satisfaction as she started moving her fist along his length exactly as he had taught her, his touch on her growing more insistent and his fingers finding their way to her cleft. Soon though, he was pushing her from him and rising to hastily undress himself.

"Put it in," he instructed her once he was lying on his back again. "I want you to ride me."

Holding his erection upward in a large fist, he directed her over him with his other hand around her waist. His shaft slid into her in a few quick trusts and once Sansa was accustomed enough to the intrusion, she began timidly moving her hips against his. As always in that position, the Hound was being lazy and let her do most of the work. Instead, he trailed his hands over her curves and cupped her breast in his palms. Sansa kept her head thrown back and her eyes shut. She didn't like being the one on top, it made her feel so awkward and exposed, and thereby when the Hound finally had enough and flipped her on her back, she was secretly relieved.

Without delay, he plunged his swollen manhood into her again. "Feel how hard my cock's for you, girl? Huh?" he asked, the question sounding like a threat.

"Yes," she replied a little breathlessly. She did indeed. There was obviously no way she ignored it, nevertheless the man liked to remind her of how aroused he was as he claimed her. He did it often and Sansa assumed it added to his pleasure.

Holding her arms against the straw mattress, Sandor Clegane was mounting her as vigorously as a beast. With her body constrained under his, the girl was completely helpless and had absolutely no choice but to submit to his lust and at the awareness, she relaxed faintly and moaned. Sansa had realised throughout the prior week that if the Hound was to take her, she preferred that he pinned her to the ground and possessed her in the most dominating and savage manner possible. At least that way, she was not truly participating and there was no mistaking she was a victim, unlike when he asked her to do things to him. When she was straddling him or pleasured him with her hands as she had both done just before, it gave her a false impression that she had control over the situation and she disliked the illusion very much since being in control implied she was consenting and serviced him of her own free will. At least when he seized her wrists firmly enough to leave bruises and brutally pushed her under him, the fact that he was forcing himself on her was as clear as the day. She didn't have to feel guilty about what was being done to her then – it was not her fault after all – and only with that knowledge could she truly abandon herself.

But why would I want to abandon myself with him? The question was there, unanswered and troubling and yet, there was no denying that was what she so as Sandor Clegane restlessly pounded himself into her, Sansa sighed and whimpered at the odd but pleasurable sensation which was arising from between her legs. A distant part of her knew she would regret her lack of restraint later on but she was passed caring at the time being. The bed was creaking noisily under her and the man, grunting like an animal. It was easy to forget herself in the mist of all that racket and action – it even seemed logical – however after a few minutes of that, the Hound's release came on him and he poured all his desire into her. Cursing under his breath, he collapsed onto the bed by her side and once the room became quiet and peaceful again, all Sansa was left with was the heavy silence and the now all too familiar bitter aftertaste of shame.

The sound of the heavy rain was what woke Sansa on the next morning. The Hound was still by her side but he was not sleeping either anymore. She could hear him grunt and yawn and soon, he sat up on the side of the bed, the mattress bending under him.

"What the fuck is that?" he grumbled, standing up.

Sansa was lying on her stomach and as Sandor Clegane walked to the window, she rounded her back and stretched her arms, growing aware of her nakedness as she did. She did not remember falling asleep but she had been so exhausted yesterday afternoon that it was not really surprising that she'd have slumbered until now without realising it. The Hound had probably woken up sometime during the evening and installed her under the blankets. The idea of having shared a bed with a man, both of them completely nude, made her uneasy somehow. It seemed utterly intimate and was another milestone she wouldn't have to share with her future lord husband. It doesn't matter, it's just a detail, Sansa mused, pressing her lips into a thin line. It wasn't like it changed anything at this point anyway.

When he got to the window, the Hound pushed the curtains open and looked outside. "Seven Hells… It's the end of the world out there. Seen that, little bird?"

Sansa rolled on her back and propped herself up to see. The glass window was completely covered with running water and she could barely discern anything from outside. It was no light drizzle anymore. Her face grown long, she stayed silent all the while trying to picture how horrific this promised to be. I'm a Stark of Winterfell. I can do it, she tried to convince herself without much success.

After a moment of staring at the pouring rain, Sandor Clegane turned away and strolled to the chamber pot to relieve himself. Wincing, Sansa averted her eyes from him and let herself fall back onto the bed. Why can't he go to our other wasted room to do this? she wondered, a frown creasing her brow, as the sound of his water echoed into the pot.

"I don't know about you but I'm not too eager to face that buggering weather," the man started once he was done. "There's no sense in us going out in this rain. Perhaps we should stay here until it gets better."

To stay here? Sansa repeated inwardly, her eyes growing wide. Her irritation all but forgotten, she rose on her elbow again and gazed at the Hound. She was quite taken aback by his proposition but at seeing his expression, she could tell he was not jesting.

Sansa wasn't sure what to think. She badly wanted to get to Winterfell and resented the idea of staying in this faraway village a moment longer. At the same time, that rain terrified her. It was worse than anything they had known so far. And besides, the bed she was in was incredibly warm and comfy. And she was so very tired. She had not slept a full night since they had left King's Landing before yesterday and she could feel she still needed more rest. Being lazy was tempting, all too tempting, yet she had been raised too well to forget her duty to her family. She had to object.

"What do you say, little bird?" the Hound inquired from his place by the chamber pot. "We wait for the end of the rain in here. We could get all of our clothes cleaned. I know all I have stinks by now and badly needs washing. Wouldn't it be nice?"

"Yes, it would. But I don't know if…" Sansa trailed off as she saw the man's expression darken.

"If what?" he demanded in a calm but dry voice, taking a step toward her. He had obviously not expected her to hesitate and was not pleased by it. "The rain won't last forever, Sansa. We'll be on our way soon enough."

Sandor Clegane had lately taken to call her by her name. He didn't do it often though, only when he was being serious and wanted to convince her of something, like now. Herself, she did call him 'Sandor' sometimes too, although she avoided doing so as much as she could and only used his name when she absolutely needed to grab his attention and saw no other way.

"Waiting is the wisest thing for us to do," the Hound asserted, his mouth twitching just once.

From her place on the bed, Sansa watched as he approached her, naked under the wan morning light. His manhood was at rest at the moment but Sansa had lately learned how quickly that could change. The man still scared her despite everything they had done and the stony expression he was sporting at the moment was not helping in the least. To behold his muscular and hairy body tower over her by the side of the bed was so very intimidating. Everything about him was steel-hard and imposing and reminded her of her physical inferiority.

"So? What will it be, Sansa?"

"We'll wait," she heard herself reply meekly.

"Clever girl," the man rasped, lowering himself over her.

As she had predicted, he became hard in no time and took her again as fiercely as ever. As he filled her with his shaft and stroked her everywhere, Sansa told herself it was probably indeed better they waited here a day or two longer. As much as she feared the downpour, she was now also apprehensive of facing her family. She was not the maiden they expected anymore and she dreaded most of all that they guessed it from the moment they saw her. She needed time to prepare herself for when she'd be reunited with them to be certain she'd be able to lie convincingly and an additional couple of days surely wouldn't hurt.

When Sandor Clegane was done with her, he snaked an arm around her and fell asleep. There was no way Sansa freed herself from his hold and since unconsciousness couldn't come to her as efficiently as it had him, she snuggled herself against him. It was not that she liked the Hound or wanted that proximity but he was a warm and solid presence and she badly needed something steady to lean on. He was that at least. Thus, she circled her arms around him and took whatever comfort she could from him. Her head propped against the side of his chest, she listened to his strong heartbeat and distractedly let her hands trail over his brawny torso and arms. He was a very powerful man with arms bigger than her thighs and with her fingers and palm, she traced the width of his biceps in a mix of awe and anguish.

I've no chance against him, she reflected. Yet, just as the idea propelled her deeper into despair, she could also feel warmth pool down her lower belly.

There's no sense in any of this. I'm losing my mind, Sansa thought, sad and frustrated at once. Squeezing her eyes shut, she emptied her mind of any thought and soon, she had fallen asleep nestled against the Hound.

Sansa and Sandor Clegane spent the following night at the inn but when they woke up on the next dawn, the weather was still as horrible. It was thus decided that they stayed another day, however with each new morning that came, the rain never faltered and they kept delaying their departure. In the meantime, Sansa tried to keep herself busy by mending some of her clothes and even started working on a new piece of embroidery. The Hound left her alone a few hours each afternoon to take care of the horses and do whatever other business he had to but he was never gone for very long. And of course, he took her everyday at least twice, sometimes hours at a time. At one point, Sansa genuinely started to wonder if the weather would never improve and she would spend the rest of her life locked in this little room, yet after about a week of that, the rain stopped at last and they prepared to leave.

"It's freezing," the Hound said as he brought their mount out of the stables.

Sansa was not about to disagree. Waiting just outside, she was shivering all over and steam came out of her mouth anytime she breathed.

With the extreme cold of the previous night, the shapeless and deformed muddy earth of the floor had become as solid as rock and the puddles of water that covered it turned to ice. They would need to be even more careful than before as they progressed, for the horses would have a hard time staying stable over such uneven grounds.

"This won't do, little bird. I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this," Sandor Clegane grumbled. Circling Sansa's waist with large gloved hands, he lifted her from the ground and installed her over her mare. "We've reached freezing point tonight. It's still early and I'm sure the ice will have melted in a couple of hours but it's still not a good sign."

From her place on her mare, Sansa was watching him in grim silence, unsure where he was going with this.

The Hound seemed in no better mood. A scowl on his face, he swung himself on his saddle and they headed toward the road. After a few minutes, he turned his gaze on Sansa again. "I don't think crossing the Neck in this weather is a good idea. From what I remember, there's no inn over there - not much anything else either." He paused then, seemingly pondering over something. "We'll take a ship to White Harbour instead. Much safer. Don't want to risk you catching a cold on our way and die before I have a chance to bring you back to your family."

Sansa's heart skipped a beat. "A ship? But from where?"

"Saltpans. It's not far from here, don't worry. We just have to switch paths once we reach the next crossroad and we should be there in a few of days."

To take a ship…? It surely seemed more comfortable than travelling on horseback in this weather but Sansa was still extremely confused by the abrupt change of plan. "I… I don't understand. Why… why not take one from King's Landing in the first place then?"

"I didn't plan for this to take so long. Didn't plan for this bloody weather either. I won't lie to you: I have no love for ships. I've taken a couple in the past and I can't stand staying idle with nothing to do at all for weeks at a time and no place to train. I'd rather be on horseback and live the hard life. Yet now it's not just me, there's you also I need to think of. I wouldn't be surprised if there was already snow in the Neck. Tell me, little bird: does the idea of sleeping in the open during a snowstorm in that buggering swampland enchant you?"

At first, Sansa thought the question was only rhetorical but then she realised he was watching her through narrowed eyes and waiting for her answer.

"No, of course not," she admitted quietly.

"Then why aren't you thanking me for that change of plan?" he reproached, glaring at her.

"Well… thank you. It's just that… I'm surprised. I wasn't expecting it but… I guess you're right and this is a better idea."

Sandor Clegane snorted with something like irritation. "You bet I am. Now come. I hope to be at Saltpans before the weather has a chance to get worse so we need hurry now."

Sansa nodded and taking a deep, uneasy breath, she followed him toward their new destination.