Author's Note: Well, hello everyone. I hope you're enjoying the tale so far. I'm sorry about how long it took me to prepare Chapter Four, and I hope you thought it was worth it. I've been battling some recent illness, but I hope to have a new chapter ready every few days for the next...until whenever I get tired of this plot. Things will be heating up in the next few chapters. How do I know that? I don't. Just guessing.

Anyhow, if you have questions or comments, feel free to leave a review. I'll answer your questions, if you have any, for all the world to see in the following chapter's AN. With all that being said, and no further ado, here is Chapter 5.

CHAPTER FIVE

In a frosty clearing in a land he was sure he would never lay eyes on again, he stood silently as he gazed upon a snow-covered cairn. He tucked a fur- lined riding glove behind his belt, and drew his sword. He murmured softly, "I have failed you. I have brought shame to my name." Sliding the blade against the open palm of his hand, he held it over the icy stones. "With my blood do I make this oath. I will redeem the honor of my name." Squeezing his fingers into a fist, dark red droplets dripped into the otherwise unblemished white. He turned away, unable to bring his eyes to the single upraised boulder in the center, plain lettering carved into its bare face. Names in small characters adorn it, with two words etched in bold print across the middle: HOUSE AUSTRIMAN.

He awoke.

Jerking upright, he pressed bare hands to his face, streaked with perspiration. He stared up into the sky. His lips moved slowly. "Mid morning." He shook his head, as if to clear it. His eyes were bleary, and it appeared as though all the world moved through fog. He felt the cool breeze against the nape of his neck, blowing through now shaggy, unkempt hair. He was surprised at the mildness of the day, him sweating like a Wildling south of the Wall. Then a thought struck him, and he cursed softly, "Gods! Damned wounds must have festered. Fever sweats and fevered dreams. Nothing more." He paused, now confused. "How is it, though , that I yet live? Am I a captive? And what about-Sansa!" He scrambled out from beneath a woolen blanket to find he had been stripped of his clothing. As he began to push himself up, an agonizing jolt ran up his leg, and coupled with the burning pain in his shoulder, he collapsed. Cursing loud enough to wake the dead, he laid still. He would need assistance to rise, this much was plain.

Corlen inspected his wounds. Glancing down at his leg, it seemed the deep hole in his thigh had been cleaned and stitched shut by someone with very fine needlework. The spear had buried itself deep in his thigh, if the nearby bloody rags were anything to judge by. "At least it didn't hit anything important," he chuckled without any real mirth. Turning his neck to inspect his shoulder, he saw it was bound with a fresh cloth. "They want me alive, whoever 'they' are. Where is that bloody girl?" He exclaimed this in open invitation to all the world.
He briefly paused beside a thick shrub bearing some all berries and supported himself against a nearby oak tree before a sweet voice called out, "You asked for me?"

He glanced up with a start. "Sansa?" He hazarded.

She laughed happily, and swept into view. Her dress was filthy; he took a second look at his bandages, and realized they were scraps from her clothing which had been in his saddlebags. "I'm glad you decided you'd had enough of playing the slug-a-bed," she quipped with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He couldn't help but release a relieved laugh. "I'm pleased to see you're alive and...unharmed."

She shrugged slightly, "Certainly less harmed than you were, Ser Knight. Perhaps I should carry the sword and wear the armor, and you the dress."

Corlen's face darkened, "I...I am sorry. I failed to carry out my charge. Again..."

Her eyes softened, losing their teasing light. "Corlen, you did all you could. More than most men could. You nearly died to protect me." She stepped closer. "Never doubt that you have all the courage, valor, and honor of any knight alive or in the tales."

He grunted at that, rubbing his hands against his eyes. "Gods, Sansa, don't make me laugh. I'm no hero. All I want is to atone for my sins." As she drew closer, he realized he was still unclothed. A faint flush entering his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "Ah...Sansa...I think it might be best if you withdrew for a while, as I am a bit...indecent."

Sansa's own cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. "Who do you think got you into that state in the first place?" she asked, eyes demurely locked at her feet.

"Oh," was all Corlen could say. "I see." Deliberately turning his back to her, he awkwardly hopped on one leg back to his bedroll. His foot catching on a root poking up from the soil, he fell flat on his face with a loud thump.

"Corlen!" Sansa screamed in an anguished cry. She rushed over to where he lay, and laid a hand upon his bare shoulder. "Are you all right? You are not hurt, are you?"

He rolled over, all pained groans. As he did so, Sansa could not help but glance down at his naked form beneath her.

Her enormous knight was far different from the boys she and Jeyne Poole had whispered and giggled about. She had always imagined that she would marry a handsome, slim and kind knight, like Ser Loras Tyrell. Corlen Austriman, however, was a different specimen indeed. His shoulders, for one, were broad like those of an ox, and his chest was wide and deep, packed with thick slabs of hard muscle. His arms were a frightful sight, each thicker than her own legs, and seemed strong enough to crush her with ease. To so many others, his face was hard and grim, but whenever their eyes met, those icy mannerisms seemed to melt away, and she could see the warmth and gentleness that lay beneath. She supposed he was rather handsome, in a common sort of way, but those piercing eyes of his...She felt as though he could see beyond whatever facade she might wear to what lay beneath. Her gaze trailed beyond his hairy chest, covered in thick, black curls, until it passed his waist and-

Her pulse quickened. She had seen him naked before, but it had been dark, and the firelight poor. She had known him to be a large man, but beneath the light of the sun she knew how large.

She had not expected...well, THAT. While her erstwhile 'love' had attempted to force himself upon her, back in her rooms in the Red Keep, she had thought him to be normal. Seeing Corlen bare properly for the first time, she decided either she had been mistaken or her Northman must truly have giant blood in him. His tool was long and thick, much like the rest of him, and pale as the snows of the North. Its tip was pink and decidedly blunt. Sansa felt her cheeks flood with crimson at the sight, but did not turn away. Corlen was still moaning from the pain, and Sansa wondered for one delirious moment what it might be like to lie with him, as a man does with a woman. He ended her trance by jerking his cloak about him, clenching his teeth but otherwise ignoring the pain. "Sansa, I...That is to say, you mustn't .." He tried to explain stutteringly, before finally stating with a sigh, "I am sorry you have had to see me like this."

She quickly rose to her feet, and folded her hands at her waist. Sansa blinked, surprised. "Are you? You seemed happy enough to find me in a similar state."

Corlen ran a hand through long, filthy hair. "Sansa, whatever bond we share..." He trails off. "What I mean to say is that you are a Princess. I am a hedge knight. Nothing can happen between us. It would not be permitted." He stops, and adds softly, "Besides. I would never dishonor you so." With much grunting and muffled cursing, he forced himself to his feet. "You are a wonderful girl, little wolf, and will make some Southron lord very happy. Whatever else might have been, in another world, is just that. I will protect you, to my death, but we know our duty. To your brother, my King. To the North."

Sansa's eyes widened as he spoke, and with his talk of duty she sprang towards him and flung her arms about his waist. "You are the bravest, kindest man I ever met! You saved me from the Lannisters. By yourself!" Tears dripped freely down her alabaster cheeks. "You cheapen yourself too much, Corlen Austriman. You are the most honorable, truest knight I have ever known."

Corlen returned her embrace vigorously, but stopped, and placed his hands upon her shoulders and pushed her away. "Little one, you call me true and valorous, but you know nothing of me. Of who I am."

She dismissed him, and snapped back angrily, "Don't condescend to me! I am not a child! How old are you, anyway? Some old man with grey in his beard, I shouldn't doubt."

At that, he grinned. "I've counted but nineteen winters, Highness."

Sansa blinked in surprise, and a small voice whispered in the back of her mind, he's not all that older than you, you know. Her voice adopted a lower, more interested tone. "Oh really?"

He sighed, turning away from her. "You truly know nothing. Well, you seem intent to hold to these notions of my grandeur. I shall disabuse you."

He sat down upon a likely looking log, cloak still wrapped about himself. "I am the last Austriman. My father, brothers, sister, mother...even the servants were all slain one evening when I was young. Like you."

Sansa perched beside him, smoothing her skirts. "I'm so sorry, Corlen. I...I did not know." One of her hands rose to rub his shoulder, and she leaned her cheek against his arm.

He coughed, his voice growing hoarse. "It was my fault."

Sansa jerked away from him, eyes filled with shock. "You...what? Don't say such things!"

Corlen twisted angrily to face her, grief-driven rage in his face. "And why damn well not? It was! I went gallivanting off after a wolf when I was to watch for intruders, and when I returned, Hearthglow Hall had been burned to ash, along with every bit of family I had in this world! Everyone I'd ever loved-dead, because I was a foolish child!" He roared this, and slammed his fist into the trunk beneath him, bloodying it quite well but leaving a sizable impression in the wood. "You see? I am no hero. My failure as a protector was complete long before you ever were in any danger, Sansa."

Sansa's eyes brimmed with tears. "You carry such pain. How can you hold it all inside? You will destroy yourself Corlen. You need to let go."

Corlen turned back to her, his own pupils wet with unshed misery. "How can I dishonor the memory of my family like that? How could you ask me to forgive myself for murdering them all!"

Sansa pressed a finger to his lips, "Ssh...You were a child. You could not have stopped the men who did this, yes? All that would have happened is that you too would have died. And I would still be imprisoned as Joffrey's...concubine."

Corlen cautiously perked up, "You think...you think they would understand? That they have forgiven me for not being there?"

She nodded, pressing her head into his chest. "Yes, my knight, they have. They love you, and look down in pride upon the warrior of justice, valor and honor you are."

He slowly placed a hand upon her back, and it rose to gently stroke that fiery auburn hair. "Then I will bring justice to those who did this. They will all pay for what they have stolen from me. But first...first, I will see you safely home." He smiled then, and for the first time in a very long while, he was free.