Author's Note: This chapter is/was inspired by the lovely caroh99 whose exploration of Sandor's relationship with his grandfather in her tale How Fragile Is the Heart is the reason why I wrote this chapter. So this one is for her too!
Also there is a scene here that was similar/inspired by a scene in GOT. As such credit goes to the god of this ASOFAI series GRRM...
Pairing: Adult!Sansa/Sandor
Disclaimer: All this belongs to GRRM and Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont. Am just playing with the characters/theme. I promise to return them safe and sound when I'm done. ;)
Beta Reader: A huge thank you goes to onborrowedwings for your advice and your help, ensuring this tale more than a piece of tripe. I owe you so much!

The days bled into weeks and the weeks became months, as Sansa adjusted to life within Clegane Keep. Remembering her lessons as a child the young maiden worked hard to ensure everyone who lived there was comfortable and happy. Respect is not something freely given, it must first be earned. Care for your people like they were your own children, and you will never need fear the loss of their respect,her father often said. Sansa took her father's wisdom to heart as she set about her duties as Lady of the Keep. Her kind heart and eagerness to help others complete even the most menial tasks had left its mark on her people. It was not long before the maiden was loved by all who lived there. Under her humble guidance and gentle care, the old keep was transformed from a desolate fortress into a warm and welcoming abode.

By day, Sansa's path rarely crossed the Hound's. Her duties often kept her within the confines of the castle walls, while his own ensured much of his day was spent out in the blustering cold. Every so often, while gathering wood from the storage sheds, Sansa would catch a glimpse of the burned warrior sparring with his men in the practice yard. The sight of him fighting left the maiden with mixed feelings of fear and awe, for the Hound was a formidable warrior. She shuddered to think how her father, brother or even her cousin Jon would fare against a man such as him.

Upon one such occasion, Sansa had caught sight of Sandor attacking one of the stuffed practice targets while riding his war horse, Stranger. The force of the blow had caused the straw quintain to explode, showering the yard with pieces of straw, wood and sackcloth. The men cursed loudly in shock, but it was the soft sound of Sansa clapping that had caught the Hound's attention. Garbed entirely in battle armour, even his scarred face was hidden behind a helmet fashioned after a snarling dog. The giant man was a terrifying sight to behold, like the great beast men from Old Nan's tales. Reminded of her visions of before, Sansa felt a strange sense of pride in his unbridled strength. Upon seeing her smile, the Hound gave a bow of his head, causing the jaws of his helmet to move as though in acknowledgement. Turning back to where his men sparred, Sandor continued to train as though Sansa were not there. With his face hidden, she could not say if he was pleased or annoyed by her interruption.

After that day, whenever she helped the servants fetch firewood the young maiden would always find the scarred warrior diligently training in the yard . When time permitted she would watch as he sparred. Sandor fought with a ferocity and skill she had seen in very few men. No matter the weapon he wielded, the Hound was a force to be reckoned with; it came as no surprise that he was both feared and respected in the battlefield. Watching him fight reminded Sansa of the heroic tales her brothers used to enjoy; the great battles fought to save the realm and the mighty warriors who emerged victorious.

Every evening the Hound would join Sansa as she supped in the small solar. Seated at the far end of the table he would drink his wine and watch her; always mindful to keep his burns hidden from her sight. When sober, Sandor was a quiet man; when drunk he was entirely verbose. Though he lacked social graces and cared not for court politics, he was always honest with her. It was not long before the young maiden came to enjoy his company, for in his own way, Sandor was a true man of honour. His burns, though ugly to look upon, never once troubled her. It was the blind rage that flashed in his grey eyes whenever he spoke of knights or his brother which terrified her. Such hate and anger Sansa had never witnessed before in a man. She knew not how to heal him of the pain that made him so hateful of the world; this too, broke her heart .

It was in the third month of Sansa's arrival when the longest snow storm of the winter so far descended upon the Keep. It had been over two weeks since she had seen the night sky covered in a blanket of stars, or the glitter of snow when the winter sun gazed upon the land. Only a wall of white could be seen beyond the windows of her bedchambers as the eerie howl of the winter winds filled the heavy stone walls .

It was midday when Sansa found herself staring down the darkened hallway of the keep's northern wing; just beyond her bedchambers. With Lady by her side, and a torch in her hand she contemplated whether or not to explore it in detail. It was the last region of the keep that she had yet to visit; the one the maid servants and even the elder maester had warned her about. The Keep's northern wing was considered a haunted place, and was best avoided.

Don't tell me you believe that shite about spirits roaming the halls too! the memory of the Hound's words that morning replayed in her mind as she began her journey down the darkened hallway. There are far greater threats beyond these walls, than anything in here girl.His gruff assurances did little to ease her trepidations; even the Hound avoided the northern wing. Yet his assurances did little to sate her curiosity either, Sansa longed to learn the secrets that it held, and the mysteries that lay beyond.

The majority of the chambers were in various states of disrepair and decay leaving Sansa feeling a bit disappointed. Dusty empty rooms with half rotted chairs and old tables decorated with cobwebs were not at all the sort of mystery she had in mind. Mindful of her duties, the young maiden took note of what needed to be replaced, and began to clean the chambers that were still considerably intact. What little she could find in the old rooms hinted that the northern wing of the castle may have once been the living quarters of the keep's original owners. Nearing the end of the long hallway the young maiden saw what appeared to be three small bedchambers; the sort that belonged to children.

Curious, she stepped into the first bedchamber and discovered much to her delight a broken toy, shaped as a wooden knight, strewn about on the floor. Even in its ruined state she could see it was once a finely crafted piece of work. Sansa wondered who resided in this small room; had it once belonged to the Hound, or his dead brother Gregor? Across the first bedchamber was another room. The ruined embroidery of flowers on the tattered bed sheets revealed it once belonged to a little girl. Resting on what had been a pillow was a moth eaten form of a little doll, the sort Sansa had enjoyed as a child. As she held the ruined toy in her hands the young maiden heard the sound of a little girl's laughter. The bedchambers belonged to the phantom she had seen three months prior in the rose gardens. Whispering a prayer to the Mother, then to the Stranger, Sansa returned the doll to its resting place and moved onwards.

The last of the Clegane children's bedchambers was just beyond a small solar, where the children were most likely taught to read, write, and play. It was spartan, save for a large half rotted bed and an empty bird cage that lay on its side, half buried by snow that had blown in through the large broken window. Upon closer inspection, Sansa noted the bed sheets, what was left of them bore dark stains that resembled blood. Disturbed by the sight, the young maiden made a hasty departure back into the hallway.

This time the sound of children's laughter could not be mistaken. Sansa stood watchful as beside her Lady began to whine. Resting her hand on the dire wolf's head, the young maiden sought out the phantom girl she had seen three months prior. The flickering light of her torch revealed nothing save Lady's and her own shadows.

Sansa.

From the walls, Sansa heard a woman whispering her name. A moment later the sound of faint footsteps, one of an adult, the other a child, could be heard walking away from where she stood. Only one room remained unexplored at the end of the hall, but the young maiden could not bring herself to move. Sansa remembered her father's words; how her mother and her little brothers had guided him to safety from the snowstorm. Was Mother here to protect her? Or was it something else that brought her from beyond? Then what of the child's footsteps? Was it Rickon or perhaps Bran? Sansa's heart ached as tears stung her eyes. How she missed them, and how could it be that they had returned?

Come this way child.

This time there was no denying that it was not her mother's voice that she heard echoing down the dark halls. Beside her, Lady continued to bark, though she remained by Sansa's side. The torch in her hand began to flicker violently as though a wind unseen, and unfelt, threatened to snuff it out. A prickle of fear ran down the maiden's spine as her eyes flickered to the bed chamber with the blood stained tattered sheets.

Lady continued to bark loudly, her tail wagging eagerly as she paced eagerly as though it were all but a game. It was then that the young maiden saw what she could not moments ago. Smiling at her and gently petting Lady's fur was none other than the little girl from the ice-rose gardens. Beside the child stood a woman; tall as Ser Brienne of Tarth, and as beautiful as the Maiden. The phantom of the lady smiled kindly at Sansa and immediately her fears slipped away.

With a grin the little girl motioned her to follow and soon was running down the hall, disappearing through the door of the last chamber she had yet to explore. Lady immediately followed the child towards the door where she eagerly barked and scratched at the wood frame. Sansa soon joined her dire wolf, pausing only to study the grand door before it. It was made of redwood with trimming that was carefully painted with faded, yet delicate, images of roses intertwined in ivy.

'What lies beyond this door?' she asked. Only silence answered her question; the beautiful maiden and the little girl were nowhere to be found.

Sansa approached the vast door with caution; uncertain what to expect. About to turn the handle, the young maiden caught sight of something unexpected. Carved into the wooden door was a simple, yet poetic message written in an elegant hand:

Dearest (the name had been scratched out),
May your spirit feed on bread of knowledge,
And drink the wine of dreams.

Stepping inside, Sansa found herself in a small aged study. Large shelves filled with books she had never seen before decorated the edges of the room, while a worn yet elegant rug covered much of the stone floor. A fireplace sat unlit at one end of the room with two large chairs in front of it. Across from it was a large paned window, where there sat the most beautiful harp that the young maiden had ever seen. As her fingers danced over the delicate strings Sansa smiled sadly to herself. Like the songs she had once loved, she had long since forgotten her skills at playing the harp. The young maiden could almost hear the Hound's raspy voice softly whispering in her ear, asking for the one thing that she could no longer give.

Will you sing for me, little bird?

Every night since the first night she had dined in his presence, the Hound asked for a song, and every night Sansa would politely refuse. 'My pardons, but I can no longer recall the songs of my youth; nor do I have the voice to sing them anymore,' she would sadly explain. The scarred lord never got angry, nor tried to demand a song; he would simply breathe a sigh and quietly depart from the small solar. As her eyes studied the eloquent beauty of the harp, Sansa decided she would find a way to remember all that she had lost. The library was certain to have tales that could be put to music.

Turning away from the harp, the young maiden noted that the library was well kept. Despite the thin layer of dust that covered the floors and shelves, someone had been mindful to care for the books themselves; the bindings were well oiled and clean. Thoroughly pleased by the unexpected discovery, Sansa, an avid reader, soon sought the shelves for good books to read.

Not long after, Sansa was seated beneath the vast window; entirely lost in the realms of old legends and forgotten tales.

'Tired of my company at long last girl? Too cowardly to tell me to my face, so you decided to hide from me in here instead?'

The harsh sound of the Hound's rasping voice caused Sansa jumped in fright. The book she had been fervently reading moments ago flew from her fingers landing with a soft thud on the floor. 'Answer me!' he growled. The young maiden was swift to her feet, instinctively dropping to a polite courtesy, her expression a mix of fear and confusion.

'My pardons, my lord, if I have offended you I am truly sorry!' she stammered, unable to meet his enraged gaze.

'Spare me your titles, and buggering curtsies. Do you really think you could hide from me, and in my own keep? You're a stupid little bird aren't you?' he rasped.

Sansa stood to her full height as a sudden rush of courage coursed through her body. It was as though another woman were speaking the words that came from her lips. 'If I no longer sought the pleasure of your company, I would have bid you leave, as you have asked of me upon many an occasion,' she politely but firmly said as she held his gaze. 'I truly meant no offence. I was exploring the northern wing this past noon when I stumbled upon this study. I must have forgotten the time when I began reading one of its books,' she softly confessed. Had her mother been there, Sansa was certain she would have been sternly chided for not being more mindful of the time.

The Hound fell silent as he glanced to the floor. The giant man looked as awkward and as embarrassed as Sansa felt. 'You never came to dinner. Your food—its cold now,' he muttered as he gathered the book she had dropped on the floor and offered it to her.

As he relinquished the book to her, Sansa's fingers brushed against the Hound's own. Briefly, her hand lingered on his as a profound emotion overcame her. There was no fluttering of the stomach, no starry eyes, no quickening of the heart. It was a connection that ran far deeper than these physical signs, the beginnings of something that only her spirit could understand, though her own conscious mind could not. When Sansa's eyes met the Hound's own, she knew he had felt it too. Her dire wolf nuzzled her head against the young maiden's hand, as Sansa accepted his unspoken apology with a smile. The moment as quick as it came, was lost.

'Do you read?' she politely asked as he held his gaze.

'Are you asking if I can read? Or if I enjoy it?' the Hound said as his burned face twitched. Sansa immediately regretted her words. He laughed amused by her embarrassment. 'The answer is both yes and no,' he answered with a smirk.

'Those are my grandmother's tales,' he said as his eyes fell to the tome in her hands. 'She wrote them so that her children, and her grandchildren, would always know who and where they were from.' Sansa's fingers gently caressed the soft leather cover as she contemplated the scarred man's words. The book held more than mere fanciful stories; it held the secrets of Sandor's forefathers, and the life they had lived beyond the northern wall .

'The library pleases you, little bird?' the Hound's voice drew her thoughts forward. Sansa nodded her assent, watching as he silently moved through the room. The study though old, and forgotten, was lovely and the young maiden could envision the beautiful sanctuary it had once been and could be again with proper time and care.

'I've never seen so many books in one place before; I don't think I'll ever tire of the mysteries within this place,' the young maiden admitted with a smile.

Seemingly satisfied by her answer the Hound gave a nod to the door. 'Come, the hour is late. I'll have one of servants light the fire in your chambers, and get Hot Pie to prepare something hot for you to eat,' he rasped.

'If it pleases you, I should like to remain here a little while longer for there is much yet to see,' Sansa replied.

The scarred man gave a snort. 'Have it your way then, girl. I'll have a servant light a fire here then,' he said.

'I thank-you, but that won't be necessary. I wish not to needlessly trouble, or frighten them,' the young maiden said. 'I know most will not venture into this wing because of the spirits that wander these halls.'

'Trust me, My Lady. They fear me more than any spirit,' the Hound replied with a wry smile.

Sansa furrowed her brow but she knew better than to argue with him once his mind was set. 'Then you have my gratitude,' she graciously said.

'No need to thank me girl. They're the ones doing the work,' he said departing for the door.

'Will you return?' she called out in hope.

The Hound paused, his back still turned to her and his head bowed. 'Would that please My Lady?' his voice was quiet, yet Sansa heard him clearly.

'Yes, it would,' the young maiden truthfully admitted as her cheeks grew warm.

Sandor briefly glanced back at Sansa, his expression oddly vulnerable. 'I will do as the Little Bird asks.' He then turned away and swiftly departed. Not before the young maiden caught sight of the tiny smile that graced his scarred lips.

True to his word, the Hound returned, bringing with him a maid servant who promptly started a fire in the hearth, and set out fresh hot food for Sansa to enjoy. Sandor having already eaten instead drank Dornish sour from a fresh flagon. The old maester was there as well, to act as the young maiden's chaperone; he was mindful to remain unobtrusive.

Together, they remained in the study, discussing all manner of things until the storm had settled and the winter sun had risen once more.

So began the first of many pleasant evenings they enjoyed together in the peaceful sanctuary of the forgotten library. There the beginnings of a strong emotional bond silently continued to grow, until even they could no longer deny what their hearts had known all along.

Additional Author's note: A huge thank you to Melcangel and gemma smells like apple cake for noticing that chapter 5 was still tacked on at the bottom O.o! Very wierd I guess my attempts to delete it didn't go through as planned lol. Thank you folks for pointing it out and for being so kind about it! =D Also a huge thank you to my guests who have taken the time to read this tale and for your reviews! Your support is always appreciated! I hope you'll continue to enjoy the ride! ^^